***TRIGGERS: Homophobia, Cursing, Mentions of Suicide and PTSD, Mentions of Child Abuse*****

Saturday, November 12, 1983

The first two times Meg really interacted with Steve Harrington, she ended up yelling at him. The third time, she saved his life.

It's really no wonder that the dude never knew what to think of her.

Meg's first interaction with the boy was a normal enough scene. It was a mild summer afternoon in Hawkins, Indiana. While the temperature was in the lower eighties, a nice cool breeze passed through every so often to keep the residents cool. This particular day would stand out to Meg for years, not just because it was her first meeting with Steve Harrington, but because it was her first quiet memory.

Before her dad died, Meg and her mother never had quiet days. Every day of Meg's short life had been loud screaming, bottles thrown at the wall, and the overwhelming feeling of panic that permeated every single crevice of their lives. But that day was quiet. It would be the first of three different times that Meg's dad left them. That time he was gone for four months, four blissful months in which the little girl was loved to the extreme that all children should be loved in.

And so, to celebrate this small bit of freedom, Deb took her five-year-old to the local playground. She sat back on the chipped wooden bench, watching her daughter and reading a well-used paperback with a shirtless man on the cover that Meg's grandma had lent her. Meg would note later that whenever her dad was gone, her mother would often do things like that. Little rebellious things simply because she could. She'd read trashy romance novels and sport flannels and jeans. She'd play Fleetwood Mac and she'd be happy.

Meg took this quiet day to take after her mother. She wasn't worried about being yelled at for being too loud or too dirty or too boyish. Meg, in her large overalls and yellow and black striped shirt, was on a mission. The second they arrived, she made a beeline to the empty sandbox, ignoring the group of slightly older kids playing kickball on the other side of the playground. Her small red backpack at her side full of supplies, she knew exactly what she wanted to do.

She had a war to stage. A battle to fight. A monster to vanquish.

Deb, seeing her daughter so concentrated on her task, had laughed aloud before plopping down. She and Meg were almost twins, really. Deb was younger than most of the moms around Hawkins, at only twenty-five. Still, bits of gray had begun to show, and her face was lined from stress. More startling perhaps was her scar. A pale, white scar ran from the bridge of Deb's nose to her ear, just under her eye. It served as a reminder to Deb, of not only the harshness of her husband's rage, but also a marker of the day that she'd brought her daughter into the world.

But, that was not the day to dwell over such thoughts. That was their day of peace, and Meg and Deb were both bound to make the most of it.

Tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth in concentration, Meg carefully accrued a sizable pile of sand. She ignored how hot it was from the summer heat and didn't even bother to wipe the granules off that remained on her sticky hands. Then, like a good general, she took the little green soldiers out of her backpack and strategically placed them to defend the structure. Unfortunately, one of her men was on the verge of a mutiny.

"Stay!" she ordered, batting away at the hairs that kept getting into her eyes. The strands had come loose from her braided piggy-tails. The little plastic soldier kept falling and bringing half of her structure with him. He just wouldn't follow orders. "You have to stay where you are you stupid son-of- a-bitch!"

In the distance, a well-dressed woman looked upon the scene, horrified at what had just come out of the little girl's mouth. She'd just opened her own, presumably to call over to the mother of the child to demand her action. However, Deb's hearing was just fine and the sight of the girl's mother merely told this prim woman that there would be no help from that arena. The small girl was obviously a heathen being raised by heathens. Deb wore a long flowery dress and woven hat that were typical of the other local moms, but she'd long ago discarded her sandals. Her feet were perched up on the side of the bench, toes wiggling each time the heroine in her story swooned.

It was the sight of the bare feet that had sent the prim mother into near vapors.

Deb, caring not about her growing group of judges, flipped her page, reading about the rugged Scott's devotion to his captive English beauty.

"Language Meg!" she rose her voice just a bit to be heard over the kickball game in the distance, but didn't really bother to look up from her story. She was confident that despite the violent language, her daughter wasn't doing anything that warranted interrupting the starring couples first romantic interlude.

"He's being insubordinate!" the little girl responded immediately. "Uncle Dan said that when he was in the army, if a man didn't follow orders, he'd be court marshalled and shot or thrown in the brig! I don't have a brig or a gun, so I have to settle for insults!"

"Language Meg. Besides, if we are going to insult men, we shouldn't do it by insulting their mothers."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Thank you," Deb flipped her page, ignoring the absolutely flabbergasted expression from the group of three mothers who were now looking upon the duo with shock and horror.

"Stay!" Meg ordered again, this time shifting the sand to keep the little army man in place. "Good! Now prepare for battle while I get out the monster!"

From the depths of her backpack, Meg pulled out the most horrifying monster she had in her toy chest. It was...a giant princess monster her grandma had given her last Christmas. Well... technically it wasn't a monster, just a normal doll in a poofy dress. Same difference, really. Whenever Meg got into her head to play dress up, the doll was just as unhelpful as the soldiers because her glitter gown always got caught on her fingers, nearly ripping the dress apart. Really, she needed more cooperative toys.

"Behold!" she gestured between the army men and the doll. "The ferociously fashionable Barbie Doll! Ahhhhhh!" she imitated her little army men panicking at the sight. "Retreat men! Retreat! No sir! We must maintain our posts! Protect the fort!"

Meg McConnel had been playing happily by herself, and for the first time, but not the last, her contented loneliness would be monumentally disrupted by the one and only Steve Harrington. She hadn't even noticed that the group of kids playing kickball were getting closer to the sandbox, and neither had Deb.

Steve Harrington, as he always would be, was surrounded by people and having a grand old time. He was playing with a group of little boys who'd been in his class at school, and not to brag, but he was sure that he was the best player. Then, when the ball came for him, and he'd made the kick towards where he thought their goal was...it landed directly into the sandbox. On top of Meg's sandpile. Destroying it.

The other little boys had giggled and walked back to their main playing field, but it was obviously expected that Steve would be the one to get their ball back. Only fair really, since he'd been the one to kick it out of bounds. Wanting to get back to his game, he did a little jog in the direction towards the girl in the sandbox who was holding the blue ball away from her as if it was a slug.

"Ooops!" he called out to her kindly. Already, his hair was slightly longer than the other little boys, sticking right out from his head. He wore an oversized smile and a blue t-shirt that almost matched the color of the kick ball. He was friendly enough when he held his arms out. "Can I have the ball back?"

"Did you kick this ball over here?" the little girl asked him, her voice very, very angry. At that, Steve had to do a double take.

This ruffled up little girl with dirt on her nose and loose braids had the meanest scowl he'd ever seen in his short life. The expression made him back a way a little bit in fear. He was seconds from abandoning the ball and running away, but if he did that all the other boys would laugh at him for being scared and they'd be angry he didn't get the ball back. He had to be brave.

"Uhum," he stuttered. "Yes?"

"You ruined it! You ruined my fort!"

"Right," he gulped. "Well, I didn't mean to. I tried to kick it over there-" he pointed in the direction to where their makeshift goal was. "But..." he trailed off under her harsh gaze.

"I don't care! Here! Take it!" she threw the ball right into his face, and well...it hit him so hard in the stomach that he fell right back onto his bum. "Stupid boy!"

Grabbing a tight hold on the ball, Steve quickly scrambled away, back to his friends who were all looking at the little girl the way he was. In confusion and a little bit of awe and a healthy dose of fear. However, the minute the ball was in motion again, the little girl and her destroyed fort and scary glare were barely a memory.

Except for Steve Harrington, who couldn't help but be a bit sorry. He'd been really angry when his brother, who was four years older than him, liked to destroy his block towers. He wished to apologize, but she hadn't acted like she'd like him to. So, he went back to playing. Not knowing that he'd purposefully avoid that little girl for the next ten years.

"Meg," her mother chastised, looking at the retreating boy and back to her daughter who was angrily...and tearfully, picking up all of her army men and putting them back into her backpack. Her playtime completely ruined. "It wasn't very nice to throw the ball at him like that."

"He ruined my fort without an apology."

"He did," Deb agreed, putting her book inside her purse and coming over to her daughter. "You should have given him the chance to apologize on his own or asked for one. You did neither."

"He wasn't going to say sorry," she said stubbornly. "Boys are gross, and they never apologize when they do something wrong."

"Some boys do," Deb disagreed.

"Dad doesn't," Meg retorted instantly, and Deb had absolutely no response. Her little girl was a lot smarter than she was, she knew.

"I know he doesn't," her mother began gently once she'd recovered, "But boys like Uncle Dan apologize. So, until you know what type of person they are, you shouldn't always assume that boys will be like Dad. Alright?"

The little girl didn't agree. She couldn't agree because wasn't it better to be safe than sorry? Wasn't it better to not touch the stovetop at all than risk burning your hand? Still, she trusted her mom more than anyone else on the planet. A trust that Deb McConnel knew that she didn't deserve, because she broke that trust every time she let her husband back into their house. 

Taking her daughter's silence for the contemplation it was, Deb helped Meg pack up her stuff and together, they went about their day. For the next few weeks, Meg would dwell over the little boy who destroyed her game. Then, later, she'd have bigger problems to deal with when her father came back home. She had no idea that she'd purposefully avoid that little boy for the next ten years of her life.  

Their second real interaction, ten, almost eleven years later, didn't go much better than the first had. However, it did involve a lot more violence.

Meg McConnel was on shift at the Hawk, the local movie theater in town. The Hawk looked like about every other old movie theater would in mid-America. Its marquee surrounded by yellowing bulbs and the posters showing movies that the place hadn't shown in months, but no one was quite sure how to replace them since one of the many disastrous recent hires had lost the key before he was fired. Still, as the only theater in town, it had a decent crowd for so early in the day.

It was just a regular shift for her, or well, it was supposed to be but it didn't turn out like that AT ALL because, once again, Meg had just been enjoying her life, minding her own business, when the likes of Steve fucking Harrington had to make things complicated.

She'd just finished giving the last couple in line for their matinee showing of All the Right Moves their popcorn, internally cursing her coworker who hadn't shown his stupid face since he'd clocked in. Allen Jenkins was going to die, and she'd make sure it was a long and painful process. He was supposed to be doing concession, because he was the newest one, but obviously he sucked and she was taking tickets and doing the concession, dreading when the crowd would inevitably come in. It was during her fantasy of running him over with her truck that her manager found her, and basically changed the entire trajectory of her life by doing so.

"Hey! Meg!" Cal, an old man with white hair who served as the Manager, had to holler to get her attention.

Cal was generally cool, she supposed, but she preferred working with Keri, the assistant manager, in charge. Keri at least understood that Meg generally preferred space in between faking human pleasantries to the hoards that invaded them on weekends. Cal thought that she ought to be more pleasant, but given the turnover rate the theater had, there wasn't much he could do about it. She was one of the best workers, so he couldn't really fire her. He just liked to bring up her attitude every so often.

"Yeah?" she straightened up a bit and rolled her neck, attempting to release some tension, because given Cal's tone, she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"Some customers just said that juvenile delinquents just sprayed the marquee outside. Check it out, call it in, and then get to work on cleaning it up and before you ask, Keri had to leave early to pick up her boyfriend from the bus station or prison or whatever."

"What?" her fists began to clench. I can't get into a fight at work, she mentally chanted. She took a deep breath and, slowly unclenching her fists, she straightened the wrinkles in her required red polo to attempt to calm down. "Why can't Allen do it? He's been on brake since he got here."

"Which I noticed. He's now cleaning the women's restroom. I could give you that job if you'd rather-"

"Nah," she sighed, tucking a strand of hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail. "I'm going."

It wasn't a surprising thing, this vandalized sign. It happened every few months. Usually it was something generic, dirty words, a sexual pun based on the movie titles, or even some artist critiquing whatever movie they were showing. This wasn't the first call she'd have to make to the cops to report damage like this and it wouldn't be the last. However, the second she looked up, she found herself becoming pissed because...

WHAT THE HELL?! Those fucking dickheads!

She knew who did this. She knew exactly who did this.

Right there, under the marquee letters announcing their newest showing of All the Right Moves, in red spray paint, read the words 'Starring Nancy THE SLUT Wheeler'. Not only were they going to clean this up, but how dare they do that to someone! Meg didn't know Nancy well, but the girl had always seemed nice enough, even if she did seem to be dating a tool like Steve Harrington, the fort smasher.

She went back inside and quickly called the cops to report the damage. After the lady loudly declared that the officers were all out but that she'd send them over when they got back, Meg had little confidence that much would be done.

Sighing, she grabbed the ladder and carried it out, cursing as a few splinters from the old thing dug their way into her hand. She'd have to get Cal or Allen out here anyway because there was no way this ladder would hold steady when she climbed up there. A little awkwardly because of the size, she leaned the ladder against the side of the brick building and looked back up at the sign.

She was filled with nearly overwhelming rage. She'd have to clean this up. Not them. Never them. Their rich mommies and daddies wouldn't let them go to jail. This probably wouldn't even make it onto their permanent record. She, who had so much work to do with her uncle, who had so much else going on with her life, would have to do this extra work, all because one of them got upset with Nancy Wheeler. It wasn't fair! Not for her, and it certainly wasn't fair on Nancy whose only obvious fault was her taste in guys.

Speak of the devil, that's when Meg heard laughter coming from the alleyways between the theater and the warehouse that the furniture store across the street used for their stock. Meg was pretty sure a lot of the eggheads around town used the place to get high in too, but she couldn't really bring herself to care. Still, she rounded the corner, and was not surprised in the least. The four people who she now knew with certainty, had spray painted the marquee. The four people who would, for once in their pathetic lives, pay consequences for their actions.

Steve Harrington and his little pack of friends didn't have a care in the world as they hung around the fire exit stairs, laughing at their work. Meg recognized the likes of Carol Perkins, Nicole Wainwright, and Tommy Hagan. Together, they were the most popular people at Hawkins High. They all lived in Loch Nora, the wealthiest neighborhood Hawkins had. They had the newest clothes, newest cars, and for some reason, they thought they were God's gift to humanity because of it.

Well, that's all well and good because Meg was going to kill them.

"What the actual fuck?!" she stormed back there, glaring harshly.

I can't get into a fight at work, she began chanting to herself. I can't get into a fight at work. I CAN'T GET INTO A FIGHT AT WORK.

The laughter on the girls' face died down and they stepped back, behind Steve and Tommy who each looked warily at each other and back at Meg's approaching figure. She could practically see them trying to figure out a way to avoid her and still appear cool.

Tommy and Carole were the worst. Tommy who'd been spray painting something else onto the side of the building, straightened up and dropped the can. He wore a black, orange, and white striped shirt, jeans, and a red and blue bomber jacket. His girlfriend, Carole, well despite their animosity, Meg would admit to admiring some of the other girl's clothes. Carol was wearing a cute striped shirt with tight jeans, white boots, and an oversized jacket. She was as stylish as she could be in a place like Hawkins, Indiana without being labeled as too 'out there' to fit in.

Lingering at the back was Nicole. Nicole was so like her friend that it would have been concerning outside of the halls of a high school. After all, in high school all you wanted was to fit in and next to Carole, Nicole fit in so well that she might as well not have existed at all. Nicole had long curly red hair that poofed out way too much to be stylish. She wore a long blue dress and a denim jacket. Her hands were tucked deep into her jacket pockets and she appeared more scared of Meg than Carole was. As she should have been really.

"I called the cops, you jackasses! I hope you have fun explaining to your rich mommies and daddies why they had to bail you idiots out of jail!"

"Careful," Carol warned them, shaking her head so that her brown hair flipped away from her face even more than it had after what Meg was sure was ten cans of hair spray. "Crazy bitch carries a knife on her."

"I won't pull it out, unless threatened. That's about the only similarity I have to your boyfriend. And you-" she turned to Steve.

Steve Harrington was the King of Hawkins High. He was the Captain of nearly every single sport the school had to offer: basketball, football, and the swim team. He was the quintessential All-American boy, and every girl in Hawkins had at least at one point, fancied themselves in love with him. Well, every girl but the two who'd become the most important people in his life.

Steve wore a plain green shirt and a navy jacket, his sneakers a shiny white. He made the simple outfit look effortlessly cool, and his collar of course, was flipped up. Steve, as if a bit nervous under her sudden attention, began to pull at that collar, as if to ensure it was still flipped. It was a surprisingly uncertain action from someone like him, like he was adjusting his armor against an enemy. That glimmer of insecurity might have been spotted by Meg, but she ignored it, too furious to focus on anything else.

"I don't care what issue you have with your girlfriend; you don't treat ANYONE like this! Also, do you know who will have to clean that up? YOU! Because I sure as hell won't!"

"You don't even know-" Steve began defensively, his arms up, but she was on a roll.

"I don't know what?" she got into his face and pushed him backwards, sending him stumbling despite knowing that it was a bad idea. She had an anger problem, and she knew it. It wasn't nice to push people around...but this guy had seriously crossed a line. Was it warranted? Maybe? Yes? No? She didn't know and she didn't have her mom around to ask anymore, which only made her angrier. What she did know was that at least three of these people had made others lives a living hell and while Steve didn't seem as bad as his friends, he was complicit which was almost worse.

"I know you defaced private property, and you are acting like a petty child. Just because someone hurts you doesn't mean you lash out like this. It certainly doesn't mean that you get to break the law! Are you kidding me? Just break up and don't punish other people for your issues you spoiled jackass! And while you're at it, grow up! Get better friends!" She pointed towards Tommy, Carol, and Nicole. "Ones who don't think it's cool to bully people and deface public property when you get upset! I-"

Meg was preparing herself to give them more of a thorough tongue lashing when the victim of the bullying herself stormed into the alleyway.

"Hey there princess!" Carol said far too happily, but from a safe position behind Tommy, completely believing that Meg was going to kill her if she got too close.

"Uh-oh," Tommy chuckled a bit, taking advantage of Meg's momentary distraction. "She looks upset." 

Nancy strode right up to Steve, and seeing the expression on her face, Meg just knew something was coming, so she took a few steps back to give Nancy room to say her peace. Instead, she went up and smacked Steve Harrington in the face. The alley was momentarily stunned, and Meg almost fucking clapped. Although she wasn't sure if she had the right to hit someone, pushing Steve had been a spur-of-the-dazed-fury scenario, Nancy certainly did after that display.

Besides, she couldn't get into a real fight. She was at work. Should she definitely leave and call the cops back, to report that she knew who the people were who spraypainted the marquee? Yes. Should she be taking tickets, working concessions, or literally doing any number of things she got paid for? Probably. But...well she had to see this.

"What is wrong with you?" Nancy demanded.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can't believe I was worried about you." Then Steve scoffed, as if disgusted by his own idiocy. 

"What are you talking about?" Nancy demanded.

"I wouldn't lie if I were you," Carol interjected, because if there was drama, she had to be in the middle of it. "You wouldn't want to be known as they lying slut, now do you?"

"You wouldn't want to be known as the slut with a broken nose, now do you?" Meg had absolutely no problem stepping between this group and Nancy. She fucking hated bullies and she knew from firsthand experience that Carol could be the worst. Then she looked behind her where on the side of a boarded loading dock, Tommy had spray painted, 'Byers is a Perv'.

"You're fucking cleaning that too," Meg pointed. She was officially the barrier between Nancy and Steve's three friends, using herself to let the girl have it out with her boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, or whatever he was after that marquee.

"You going to make me?" Tommy laughed, but even he sounded a bit nervous. He'd heard the stories. She'd put Harvey Campbell, a football player bigger than Tommy, in the hospital.

"I will," Meg retorted, not backing down.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist McConnel and wait for the show. The Devil has arrived."

Meg wanted to say that the Devil was already there, but the same time, she was curious. Nancy and Meg turned around to see that Jonathan Byers lightly jogging down the alleyway towards them. Jonathan Byers might have actually been a bigger loner than Meg, if that were possible. He had brown shaggy hair that hung into his eyes and usually walked around with a camera in his hand. He wore jeans, and a flannel.

"You came by last night," Nancy told Steve, as if in realization. 

Oh, Meg thought. That was a twist. So, for some reason, Nancy had been with Jonathan last night. Steve had seen them together, and it looked bad. Meg didn't care what had happened, she just wasn't about to stand for these jerks to get away with making her clean up their mess.

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?" Carol chimed with a laugh. Meg clenched her fist.

"Ding! Ding! Ding! Do you get a fist in the throat or a black eye?" Carol and Tommy both backed up, nearly sending Nicole to the ground.

She could not get into a fight at work. She could not get into a fight at work. She could not get into a fight at work.

Despite the impending violence between Meg and his friends, Steve didn't pay attention. His focus was solely on Nancy and Jonathan and Nancy was mostly focused on Steve. Jonathan, however, was trying to figure out what entirely was going on because why the hell was Meg McConnel there in a red uniform. Then it registered. She worked at the theater and had probably been sent out about the paint. Yeah. He'd stepped into a full crowd. 

"Look, I don't know what you think you saw, but it wasn't like that," Nancy told Steve, doing her best to ignore Carol, which was made easier with Meg standing between them.

"What you just let him into your room to...study?" Steve said the word 'study' mockingly.

"Or for another pervy photo session!" Tommy chimed, too confident for someone facing death.

"OKAY! THAT'S ENOUGH!" Meg yelled. "EITHER CLEAN THIS PAINT OR GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

But, alas, her common sense was ignored for the teen drama. Assholes.

"We were just..." Nancy floundered, trying to make Steve understand.

"Just what? Finish that sentence." Then, when it was obvious that whatever was going on, Nancy couldn't talk about it, Steve moved forward so he was looking down on her. He was obviously trying to intimidate her, and Meg, bristles up, knew that if that boy even tried to raise a hand, she'd have him on his back in two seconds. "Finish. The. Sentence."

She was silent.

"Go to hell, Nancy," Steve said, walking away.

"Come on, Nancy," Jonathan reached forward and pulled her back towards the exit of the alleyway. "Let's just leave." 

I can't get into a fight at work, Meg kept chanting to herself. I can't get into a fight at work. BUT OH HOW SHE WANTED TO PUNCH THOSE JERKS IN THE FACE.

"You know what Byers?" Steve turned back to the pair suddenly, startling Meg back with how fast he'd erupted. "I'm actually kind of impressed. I always just took you for a queer, but I guess you're just a little screw up like your father." Then, because he was a dumb jock who liked to throw his weight around, he pushed Jonathan in the shoulder.

Meg saw red, but in her fury she was rendered completely speechless.  

She wasn't the biggest fan of Jonathan. She found him to be a bit too intense, but she got it. She had a jerk of an absentee dad too, and even when she'd been home, her mom had been strapped for money and one step away from being strung out. Meg had been working since she was fourteen to pay for necessities and a few nice things. She knew exactly the type of homelife that Jonathan had and related to him all too well. The very last thing that Meg would want anyone to do to her would be to compare her to her father.

More than that though, Steve had just called someone a queer...like an insult. Meg thought of her uncle Ben. He hadn't been her real uncle. Not by blood. But he'd been really, REALLY close with her Uncle Dan. They had, at one point, been her only example of a loving relationship. She obviously hadn't been able to see such an example in her parents. Unfortunately, Ben had died before Dan had moved to Hawkins. He'd killed himself. Both from PTSD acquired in the army, and because of small-minded people who had no idea what real love looked like. Meg knew that his death was a big reason that Dan had agreed to move back. Indianapolis had too many memories. 

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah," Steve was working himself up now. "Yeah, that house is full of screw-ups. You know, I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. A bunch of screw ups in your family." Push. Push. Push. Steve both physically and verbally pushed Jonathan, right to the exploding point.

"Jonathan," Nancy looked back at the boy that Meg was sure was getting angry. "Leave it."

"I mean," Steve kept going, "your mom...I'm not even surprised what happened to your brother."

Will had been missing and Meg knew exactly what Jonathan and his mom had been going through. The worry. The uncertainty. The fear and then the eventual numbness. When Will Byers went missing, Meg had been right there. She'd packed up one of her rifles and her hunting knife, and she'd joined the party searching the woods when she wasn't working or going to school. She looked with them because she lived where they had been, in that state of unknowing, and all she'd wanted then was for someone to look with her. She was there, but the Byers...they'd just had their worst fears confirmed. They'd just buried Jonathan's brother and this stupid jock was really had the nerve to say that!?

Besides, Meg had liked Will Byers. He and his three friends came into the Hawk often and they weren't like the other loser middle schoolers. They didn't throw popcorn or leave gum under the seats. Or, well, if they did then they didn't leave it behind. They were a nice group of kids, and Meg didn't want to think about how hard life must have been for them, trying to come to terms with the death of their best friend.

It didn't matter what had happened between Nancy and Jonathan. It didn't matter, because no one should ever talk to another person like that. Ever. Steve was spewing pure venom.

"Jonathan, leave it," Nancy begged.

"Shut the fuck up, Steve!" Meg yelled, horrified.

"I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but the Byers, their family is a disgrace to the entire-"

Then, Meg watched, half-impressed and half-horrified as Jonathan Byers proceeded to beat the crap out of Steve Harrington. Nancy yelled for them to knock it off. Tommy egged Steve on to kick Jonathan's ass even though it quickly became obvious who the victor would be. Carol and Nicole backed away, worry marring their expressions.

"Jonathan! Jonathan stop! You're gonna hurt him!" Nancy yelled, as Jonathan had Steve down on the concrete of the alleyway. 

Then came the sirens.

"Finally," Meg breathed, turning back to the car rolling up. "Where were you guys?!"

"Taking another call!" Officer Powell responded. Officer Powell was a middle-aged African-American man who just wanted to go home at the end of the day. He was competent and a nice guy if a little gruff. On the other hand, his partner, Officer Callahan was a lost cause. He was a younger, dorky fellow with glasses who reminded Meg of a Boy Scout Troop Leader. The difference in their skill level was obvious.

For instance, Powell had Jonathan off of Steve in no time and restrained him. Callahan said, "Come here you little guys!" to the other teens who took off the second that Jonathan was off of Steve, and well...they got away and Callahan got punched in the nose by Jonathan.

"I'll tell them where you live!" Meg called after the four of them cheerfully. Then she turned back to Powell, "Listen. I can get you names, but the addresses are in the phonebook. I can't do your entire job for you."

"We just had an officer assaulted Meg," Powell grunted as Jonathan was slowly beginning to calm down from his rage induced high. "We can worry about the rest later."

"Absolutely not. Callahan was an accident and the other guy definitely had it coming."

"Meg," Powell sighed, exhausted. "Be honest. Did you hit someone?"

"No! I didn't! I'm at work, Powell. I can't hit anyone at work." If she hit someone at work, then Cal could actually fire her for her bad attitude. At this point, it was a matter of pride.

"Thank the Lord for small favors," the man muttered to himself. "Look. I'll take a picture of the graffiti and we'll call you to take the rest of your report later. Will that work?"

"It'd be better if Callahan caught them and made them clean the marquee, but let's be honest, he's already given up and is going to be turning up in the alley any-"

"Those. Kids. Got. Away. From. Me." Callahan came into the alley, gasping for air.

"My point is made. Uhhhh," Meg looked uncertainly between Jonathan and Nancy. "the guy really did have it coming. I'd testify to that."

"Yeah," Powell agreed. "I bet you would, but we have to take him in. He assaulted an officer."

"On accident," she argued, which seemed to stir Nancy out of her horror.

"Yes! Please! It really was an accident!"  The Wheeler girl begged.

"Besides did you read the words on the marquee?" Meg pointed out. "Gross! You better take a picture if you have to for evidence, because we'll be cleaning that off tonight."

Nancy winced at the mention of taking pictures, and Meg felt sorry for her. She certainly wouldn't want pictures up to remember her boyfriend being a sexist jerk. 

Powell sighed as Callahan meandered up their way, holding his nose protectively now that he wasn't running.

"You two," he gestured between Jonathan and Nancy, "are coming with us. Do you have a car around?"

"Yes," Nancy admitted. "A couple blocks down by the Hunting and Camping store."

"Well, you and Callahan will pick that up and follow us to the department. Meg...just...stay here and don't get into another fight."

"But I didn't this time!" she argued, but Powell had already moved on, and Meg...well she sighed loudly as she spotted her manager out front.

"You alright kid?" Cal asked, coming out as the cops dragged Jonathan and Nancy away.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Okay. Well...I think you should probably just head out of here. There's been way too much excitement for one day. Keri's back and Allen is finally on concession. We can handle the rest of the shift." Meg was surprised, although Cal had just encouraged her to deal with cops and watch someone be led away with bruised and bloody knuckles. He probably felt guilty.

"What about the marquee?" Meg asked, not because she wanted to but because she felt she had to. "I should-"

"Leave kid! Allen's done with the bathrooms, and he can hold the ladder for me."

"But-"

"Before I change my mind!" She didn't wait to be told again.

 She practically ran to the back room to get her jacket and keys.  She would just stop at her uncle's store and put everything from that afternoon behind her. She wasn't about to get involved with whatever drama Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan had going on more than she already was. Meg would have kept that promise, definitely had circumstances been different. 

Because, as it happened, Meg McConnel was already more involved with the secrets of Hawkins than she even knew.

That's how she'd find herself encountering Steve Harrington for the third time. 

Hello Lovely People! Read, Comment, Vote! Give me your thoughts, feelings, and ideas! 

I actually LOVE Meg so, so much and she and Steve are going to be so fun to write together.