— CHAPTER 13 —
THE DE-WEEDERS

FRIDAY 2nd NOVEMBER,
1984

WHEN Daphne had selfishly thought of excuses to get out of meeting Tonya's mother, getting kidnapped by the Hawkins Lab was not one of them. She is still convinced this is the stuff of her nightmares. For who knows how long by now, the three of them have been cooped up in a white-washed room with no windows, and not a single explanation given to them. All that they have been given is a metal table, three squeaky chairs and their own company.

It is too hollow of a space for Daphne's thoughts to not eat away at her. Of course this place was going to come back and bite them back. It was naive of them to assume the lab couldn't track them down, follow the breadcrumb trails to a group of teens thinking they know better. But what do they want with them? How long are they going to be cooped up in here?

The screech of Nancy's chair against the floor rudely interrupts her spaced-out train of thought with a jolt. The sealed-off room, with no outside light and ventilation, makes Daphne feel like a caged animal shrinking more and more into herself. Jonathan also seems dazed and occupied by the whole ordeal, leant back in his chair with brows knitted together. Nancy, however, is fierce — fists balled at the sides of her coat, her gunmetal eyes glare up at the security camera in the corner.

"Hey! Hey assholes! Let us out of here!" she snaps.

     "I don't think yelling at them is gonna help our situation," says Daphne tiredly, letting her head sink down onto the table's surface and turn to look at Nancy.

     "Well, do you have any better ideas?"

     "... None that don't involve ignoring the problem. So, fair."

     "Both of you just relax," Jonathan interjects wearily, "I'm sure we'll get answers soon. They can't keep us in here forever."

     Don't be so sure, thinks Daphne sceptically. Last year, she remembers hearing about how Joyce and Hopper were detained just like this by Dr. Brenner. For a moment she hangs onto the idea that maybe they can't do this to legal adults, but then quickly recalls her eighteenth birthday only days ago... suddenly being an adult isn't so fun anymore.

     So when the door suddenly opens, she almost thinks it's a dream, or a fatigue-induced vision — but surely enough, when Daphne lifts her head from the cool metal table, Dr. Owens is standing in the doorway. The man is still as recognisably upbeat as he was a year ago, but the greying sideburns and tired under-eyes suggest otherwise. He manages a little chuckle as he tilts his head at Daphne. "Having a little nap over there?" he says, perhaps expecting a reaction.

     However, none of the trio are in the laughing mood.

     "Well, not that I can blame you. Not very pleasant in here, is it? Sorry about that. Hospitality's not our strong suit. You know, scientists and all..." When the three of them remain silent and cynical, Dr. Owens sighs heavily with the realisation he's got some tough teens to work with. "Yeah. Okay. You up for a little walk?"

Daphne exchanges a hesitant glance with Nancy and Jonathan; can they really trust him? In the distance, they hear Owens add, "I'm assuming you're behind me!" which finally prompts them to scramble for their things and follow him.

     "Stay calm..." Nancy whispers to Daphne — easier said than done — before slipping her hand into her bag and subtly retracting it again. The gesture puzzles Daphne, but she is too occupied otherwise to question it.

     Following Dr. Owens down the corridors of the Hawkins Laboratory, she can't help but feel an ominous reminder of all the bad things that still haunt this building. She thinks of Eleven, the extraordinary little girl she only knew briefly, but who endured so much pain in these four white-tiled walls and gave so much to save them all. The fluorescent ceiling lights bathe them all in a sickly, dim light which doesn't lighten the atmosphere in the slightest.

     "'Men of science have made abundant mistakes of every kind.' George Sarton said that. You guys know who George Sarton is?" Owens asks. When the three of them gaze at him blankly, he gives a little dismissing wave of his hand. "Doesn't really matter. The point is, mistakes have been made. Yes."

     "Mistakes?" Nancy retorts.

     "Yes."

     "You killed Barbara... and Tonya."

     The last name makes Daphne wince in remembrance. Dr. Owens seems to flinch too, but masks it with a professional guise. "Abundant mistakes, but, the men involved with those mistakes, the ones responsible for what happened to your brother," Owens says, nodding to Jonathan, "and the deaths of Miss Holland and Miss McCarthy, they're gone..."

     A stranger in a long, dark coat brushes past Daphne's shoulder, seemingly occupied with places to be. When she looks the other way, a glass window gives insight to a sealed-off experiment — a scientist donned in a pristine white lab coat and face protection injects something from a syringe into a tall vial, their gloved hands steadied with the most careful precision. Daphne can't help but stare at the scientist for a few moments, transfixed by the procedure. What are they working on? Knowing the lab's history, it can't be anything less than off-putting.

     "... They're gone," Owens still insists about the former lab staff, "and for better for worse, I'm the schmuck they brought in to make things better. But I can't make things better without your help."

     "You mean without us shutting up?" Nancy fires back. Daphne glares at her; the last thing she wants to do is piss off the lab after everything. Although she can't say she wasn't thinking the same thing...

     Still, Dr. Owens takes it in his stride and sighs lightly. He glances over at Jonathan and jokes, "She's tough, this one. You two been together long?"

     "We're... not together," Jonathan stammers awkwardly.

     Shrugging, Owens mumbles under his breath: "Could've fooled me..." Although it feels entirely out-of-character for the situation, Daphne purses her lips into an amused smile for a moment. Jonathan couldn't have been more obvious if he tried; eyes darting to every corner of the corridor, and he was blushing. But the brief levity soon subsides as they approach a set of double doors, and Dr. Owens whirls around to face the trio.

     "Wanna see what really killed your friends?"

     Daphne feels her heart catapult against her ribcage; what does he mean? But before she can ask, the doors swing open into a darker room also dotted with scientists. Some are seated at control panels, others walking around with clipboards — but they all stare at the teens judgmentally the moment they enter. "Teddy, I brought you an audience today, I hope you don't mind!" Owens remarks cheerfully to one of the scientists. In the corner, Daphne notices someone being fitted with a hazmat suit and oxygen tanks strapped to the back. She starts wondering why, just as her vision pans across to the giant wall of windows in the control room...

Daphne is almost sure that her blood turns to ice.

Right in front of them, only separated between a thin wall of glass, is what looks like the mouth of hell. An entire wall is eaten up by swathes of vines blackened and glistening with slime; they creep along the ceiling, the walls, the floor. Behind the centre of it glows a scarlet ember — too hidden to be clear what it is, but Daphne recognises it all. It's an opening to the Upside Down. Paralysed in fear, she remembers being torn through dead leaves by her ankles into that place; how the vines tightened around her like stringing up meat for the next meal.

     "I'd call it one hell of a mistake, wouldn't you?" Dr. Owens says finally. Daphne can only swallow thickly, re-focusing on her terrified reflection in the window to the apocalyptic image. He goes on: "See, the thing is, we can't seem to erase our mistake... but we can stop it from spreading."

     "Spreading?" Daphne echoes with dread. "Is it... has it spread already?"

     "Maybe... a little. But that's why we're here. It's kind of like pulling weeds." Feeling Dr. Owens looking pointedly at her, Daphne turns and meets his grim stare. "But imagine for a moment if a foreign state, let's say, the Soviets... if they heard about our mistake... do you think they would even consider that a mistake? What if they tried to replicate that?"

     She knows why he focused on her then — it's almost verbatim for the exact conversation they had almost a year ago. It all comes back to the exact reasons why everything is being kept under wraps. Weighing up the moral dilemmas is overwhelming; Daphne knows deep down that if this were to get out, like it already could be, then Felix, Amy and everyone else she loves would be more at risk than ever. And that's exactly what she doesn't want... as well as being shackled to the burdens of what happened last year. She can never just be anymore.

     "The more attention we bring to ourselves, the more... the more people like the Hollands and the McCarthys know the truth, the more likely that scenario becomes," explains Dr. Owens. "You see why I have to stop the truth from spreading, too. Just the same as those weeds there. By whatever means necessary."

     Daphne's attention returns to the scientist in the hazmat suit again, acclimatising to the different environment as they go forth into the chamber where the Upside Down's entrance lurks — she can't think of anything braver. Heading voluntarily into that hellhole seems totally out of her league, when for Daphne the mere sight of the ashes floating in the air behind the glass is enough for sweat to run down the nape of her neck. The scientist is armed with some kind of weapon that breathes torrents of flames onto the vines; remembering the demogorgon burning in Jonathan's house, she watches behind the glass as the vines writhe and flail in the flames like tentacles.

"... So, we understand each other now, don't we?" Dr. Owens asks rhetorically.

If Owens's aim was to scare them into submission, then it definitely worked. Daphne happily lets the burly security guards escort the teens out of the building — she needs fresh air, sunlight, any glimpse of the real world right now. Seeing that only reminded her of every reason she should be scared of the Upside Down and the Hawkins Lab (regardless of Owens's intentions). When the front doors finally open and they're outside, she inhales a big gulp of the outside air, feeling its coolness hit her clammy skin. The trio stand around in the parking lot in a daze after the doors close behind them.

"Shit..." Daphne whispers, hiding her face in her hands for a moment. She feels a hand placed gently between her shoulder blades, and looks around to see Jonathan trying to comfort her. Only under the contact of his hand does she realise she's shivering. After shooting him a thankful look, he retracts his hand from her.

     "Well, that was pretty horrible, huh?" she says weakly.

     "Yeah..." Jonathan mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. "A whole other level of messed up." He seems just as weary as she does — and no wonder, considering his family and his brother were at the epicentre of everything that happened last year. But there's also something sharp behind the tiredness in his eyes. A determination.

     Nancy certainly has that look, as they all file into Jonathan's car again. "So, what now? Are we still meeting their parents, or...?" asks Daphne, as Jonathan begins driving off.

     "No need," says Nancy calmly, "because we have this." The Wheeler girl pulls out a tape recorder from her bag. She clicks her finger into a button on the side and the tape inside starts playing — almost instantaneously, the voice of Dr. Owens fills the car, repeating exactly what he was telling them before. Daphne stares at it, stunned. How did she...? Then she thinks back to Nancy slipping her hand inside her bag in the lab — she must have been turning on the tape recorder. For a moment she's impressed, but then does a double take. Why did Nancy think of bringing a tape recorder anyway? Then it hits her...

     "You... did you know they'd find us? That we'd get taken to the lab?" she asks, eyes wide as she glares at Nancy from the back seat.

     Nancy and Jonathan exchange a look in the front seats, and that's all she needs to know. "Well, not exactly," the Wheeler girl replies, "but—"

     "Did you even hear anything Dr. Owens just said? Do you know what deep shit we're getting into here?" asks Daphne, her voice shaking slightly out of incredulity.

     "Right, like we can trust a word coming out of that guy's mouth... good guy or not, Owens is still with the lab, and the lab is responsible for everything that's happened."

     "I never said I trusted him, I don't. I just think we're way out of our league here. And if this was your plan, why didn't you tell me? You too, Jonathan?"

     "We thought you might panic if we said the whole plan, so..." Jonathan trails off, tensed up at the wheel.

     Daphne falls back into her seat. 'Betrayed' isn't the right word to use, because she knows what Nancy and Jonathan are doing is with all the best intentions — she wants justice for Tonya and Barb more than anything too. But had she known this is the route they were taking, she isn't sure she would have agreed as quickly. Daphne doesn't know if she can cope with facing all of this again. She doesn't feel strong enough.

     "Look..." Holding the tape recorder up and pausing it, Nancy's gunmetal blue eyes are skewed with intensity. "This is our proof. We're going to take this to Murray Bauman, the detective the Hollands wanted to hire to find Barb. With his help, we could finally bring the lab to its knees. Just like we wanted."

     "Well... good luck to you both. 'Cause I'm out."

     "What?" Nancy exclaims. "I thought this was what you wanted... to show everyone the truth about Tonya."

     "What I want is for none of this to ever have happened!" Daphne blurts out in a panic. "Pull over, Jonathan."

     "Daphne, come on—"

     "Please just pull over!"

     Jonathan does as she says, wearing a regretful expression. Daphne stumbles out the back of the car, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She circles around to Nancy's window as it rolls down. "Listen..." she sighs. "You two can go through with this if you really want to. But I just don't think I have it in me. I'm... I'm really sorry. Good luck, okay? Make 'em pay."

     Nancy's gaze wilts at her, more pitiful this time like Jonathan's, and Daphne doesn't know how long she can look at them without feeling like a coward now. So she turns her back to them and starts off in the other direction; she doesn't watch as she hears the car rumble off down the road.

━━━━━━

     WHEN Thomas was down in the dumps, his first resort was always to go to Martha — of course, for the past thirteen years or so, that had been impossible. So since then, he's had to explore other options.

     As far as his family went, minus his daughters, they weren't all too reliable. His father, had he been alive, probably needed Thomas to lean on more than the other way around; and his mother was a little too stern for the emotional help he was searching for. As for Peggy... the only help Thomas could think of asking her for is how to let loose and be irresponsible.

Of course, he has some friends who still lived in Hawkins too. There are the mothers of Felix and Amy, Colette Rancourt and Rin Nakamura — once their children had become friends, they all ended up relating over their struggles as single parents, and established a mutual trust and respect with one another. Thomas always found it pleasant dropping by the library to see Colette, the kind of woman who had a breezy approach to life and could smooth out anyone's anxieties... for the mere price of a library book on the way out. And Rin Nakamura was a doting presence in Hawkins, perhaps a little worrisome and overbearing at times (especially over Amy), but all with good intentions. He could count on her for concerned comments about him working late at the Hawk, or shoving some relaxing teas down his gullet.

Some of the parents of Cath's friends Thomas got along well with too. The Sandovals, for instance, were way more exuberant than Hawkins would ever allow, and quite the breath of fresh air — Juliana was bubbly and lively, while her husband Samuel was a more grounded man who Thomas could talk business with. Then there were the Sinclairs, both sturdy and responsible parents who he could have good chats with... after that it really started to go downhill. If Thomas needed advice or encouragement, Claudia Henderson was too anxious to put him at ease, whilst even if Karen Wheeler wasn't too bad, Ted was just... well, he was Ted. Of course, there was always Joyce and Hopper, but lately those two seemed like they had enough on their plates.

Regardless of the options, Thomas knows that for the kind of problem he has today, there is only one available person who can offer him what he needs. And that person can be found in Radio Shack — the shop bell tinkles gloriously as he opens the door, starting to survey Bob Newby's whereabouts between the shelves of electronics. He finally finds him tending to a customer over the counter, jovially explaining the ins-and-outs of some small device. Thomas tries to remain discreet to leave them un disturbed at first; but in the typical non-subtle Bob nature, he notices him instantly and waves excitedly.

"Hey, you! Long time no see!" Bob chirps from behind the counter. Just seeing his childhood best friend grin back at him already calms Thomas considerably. "What brings you here?" he asks, once the customer has vanished.

     "I, um... I was hoping we could maybe grab coffee sometime soon and chat? There's just a lot going on at the moment, and I could really use someone to figure things out with," Thomas says sheepishly, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. He has never found it easy to ask for help when needed — it feels awkward, like he should be the responsible one, not the one who has to ask for a good chat. Still, Bob Newby is one of the few people who he can comfortably open up to about things.

     "Sure thing," says Bob. "I'm, uh– I'm actually free now if you want."

     "... Wait, you are?"

     "Uh-huh. About to start my lunch break. Speaking of which, I'm dying for a bite to eat. Whaddya say we grab some lunch at the Hideaway?"

"Sounds good to me," Thomas smiles.

"You're not off to work afterwards?"

"Not until this evening. I have Friday mornings off and most of the afternoon... but then I make up for it in the night."

"Well great, then we won't be interrupted! Let me just grab my coat..."

When Bob emerges from behind the counter ready to go, the two old friends fall into step with one another down the street, already engaging in light and casual conversation. All the while Thomas finds himself wondering how long it's been since they have done this — hung out just the two of them, a friendship standing the tests of time. He thinks it might be embarrassingly long ago. By some coincidence, Bob must be pondering the same thing, because when they find a table at the Hideaway and place their orders, he poses the same question:

"Gosh, it's been a while since we did this, hasn't it?" he remarks.

"I know, I know, I'm just trying to think of when the last time was..." Thomas replies, racking his brain. "I remember you were wearing that plaid tie, and it was Cath's tenth birthday, so—"

     "Must be '81."

     "... Wow. We're terrible."

     "Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," Bob reassures him. "These things happen. Life, work, family, it all gets in the way. You've got the girls, and I've got... Joyce and her boys."

     "Oh yeah, how's that working out?" Thomas asks smugly, taking a sip from the cup of coffee just placed down by the waiter. He still remembers how smitten Bob was with Joyce in high school. To think they were happily together now was a sign that miracles really did exist in the universe.

     At the mere mention of her, dimples appear in Bob's cheeks as he grins fondly. "Really well, actually," he replies. "She's wonderful. And the boys too, I really feel like I'm connecting with them — maybe Will more than Jonathan, but I'll get there. Will's actually sick today, poor kiddo. I thought I might bring some games by later... anyway, they're such a great family, Thomas, I love them to pieces."

     "So can you see this going anywhere?"

     "Well, actually, I've been thinking... if maybe the four of us moved out of Hawkins, maybe up to Maine near my parents. That way they wouldn't have to be so close to all the things that've happened to them. Of course, only if Joyce and the boys wanted it of course, but..."

     "Wow, Bob, that's... you really feel that way about her?" asks Thomas in awe.

     "I do, Thomas. I really do."

     "Well... cheers to that." They raise their cups to clink them together with good-natured chuckles. He hadn't realised just how strongly he felt about her until now — it's not only what Joyce deserves, but Bob too. He had always thought Bob would make an excellent father, but perhaps missing the opportunity to have his own by now, Thomas couldn't think of a better stepfather to the Byers boys than good old Bob Newby.

     Noticing the slight grin on his face, Bob squints sceptically at Thomas. "What are you smiling about? Go on, tell me."

     "No, I was just uh... thinking about high school. And how if I could get a time machine right now, travel back to the sixties and tell Bob Newby that his crush actually liked him back—"

     "Hey, don't act like Mr. Smug about that, I remember all too well your infatuation with– oh, what was her name..." Bob snaps his fingers, trying to remember. "Oh! Wendy Stryker!"

"Wendy? Wasn't that in the Fourth Grade?" Thomas retorts, although he's grinning too.

"Don't act like it didn't count. You practically ran away every time she came within a metre of you, you were so shy..."

     Both of them chuckling among themselves, the air feels laced with the silver lining of nostalgia for the good old days. Thomas leans back in his chair, his cheeks aching slightly from smiling so hard while Bob's eyes twinkle. "I get it though..." Bob says fondly, a softness in his voice. "I guess phases like Wendy faded away after Martha came along, huh?"

     Thomas smiles in reminiscence, mumbling a soft "Yeah..." — most things felt that way after she walked into his life. In hindsight, it felt like his life had a Before and and an After when they met. It's a tender thought at first, that soon turns into a reminder of all the things weighing him down now. His smile starts to wilt. Noticing this, Bob clasps his hands together.

"God, I'm so sorry, I totally forgot to ask about you," Bob apologises. "That's what we're here for, right?"

"Hey, don't worry," Thomas assures him.

"How's the family?"

"They're... good. I think."

Hesitating, Bob squints at him. "Uh oh. That didn't sound too convincing."

"Well, they're fine overall I guess," Thomas shrugs. "Cath's been hanging out more with Will recently, which I'm sure you know all about, and then Daphne's busy applying for college, so..."

"I can't believe it," his friend scoffs with a head-shake of disbelief. "I was just saying this when I bumped into Will and Cath the other day, that I can't believe she's eighteen already. It feels like only yesterday she was a toddler waddling around the theatre lobby. But just a few weeks ago, Joyce and I went to see a movie together, and she was all professional getting our tickets for us... blows my mind."

Thomas chuckles in agreement, both in awe of how Daphne has grown up and slightly reluctant to let her leave the nest. But that's not the point of why he asked Bob to chat. "Bob..." he sighs. "I kind of feel like I'm at a loose ends here. Something's definitely going on with the girls. I mean, there's something they're not telling me. I don't know how much Joyce has told you about last year, what happened with Will — is it much?"

"I have a good gist of it, yeah," he says sadly.

"Right, well, Daphne and Cath somehow got mixed up in all of that last year. They both went out looking for him and, although I don't know exactly what they did or saw, I think it messed them up a little. The problem is they won't tell me anything. When they started sneaking out last year to look for Will, they were acting all shifty and secretive, and lately they've been doing it again... I don't know, I talked to Hopper and he says everyone's pretty on edge coming up to the anniversary, but... something feels off."

Bob nods slowly, a solemn look hardening his features. Thomas folds his arms across his chest and leans his elbows on the table, the frustration nagging at him now. "I mean, I don't wanna step on their toes or be overbearing, but... what kind of a father am I if I don't even know what my kids are going through?"

     "Don't say that. You're a great dad, and you're doing a great job. I actually took some notes from you when it came to the boys, and how to be there for them."

     "Aw, Bob..." Thomas tilts his head at him, touched but still occupied with the insatiable shame that he might be struggling to reach out to his kids. Something else pops into his head. "Oh, and also, Peggy showed up at my house out of nowhere the other day. Middle of the night. Said she didn't have anywhere else to go, something about losing her job and leaving her boyfriend, so now she's camping up with me."

     Bob's brows shoot up in alarm. "So... quite a week then?"

     "You can say that again."

     "Well, have you told them how you feel?"

     "Well, yeah, I keep telling them if they wanna talk, I'm here, but—"

     "No, I mean how you really feel," Bob interrupts him earnestly. "Tom, I know you. You may not like to admit it, but you've always had a lot going on in your head, whether you show it or not. If this is bugging you, sit the girls and Peggy down and tell them exactly why you're concerned. Just like you told me. Because it feels like a perfectly good reason; but to them, they might think it's some... I don't know, some empty offer for help. And they should be so lucky, 'cause on a good day you give some of the best advice I've ever had. Just be open and honest with them."

     Thomas knows Bob is right. He knows it deep down. But there is one more thing that's bugging him, and for a minute he wonders whether he should say it. He wants to tell him about Martha, and how Cath suddenly has a newfound fascination with her, and how he can't figure out why he struggles so much to just talk about her. However, as their food gets brought to the table, the seriousness between them dissipates and Thomas decides that it can wait. It can just be another excuse for time well-spent together.

     "Thanks for the advice, Bob."

     "Oh, it was nothing. Just good ol' Newby wisdom."

     "Yeah, and it worked. I needed that. Just... not talking with someone who just I know 'cause our kids are friends, you know what I mean?" says Thomas. Besides Bob, his other closest childhood friends are more distant — Martha gone, and the other two moved out of Hawkins years ago. Having someone who knows him for him, and not for being the father or the colleague or anything else, is refreshing. But then, with a laugh, Thomas realises something. "Actually, never mind. If this thing between you and Joyce works out, then you're also a parent of my kid's friend."

     "Wait, you're right! Ha-ha!"

     "I can't escape them..."

     As they tuck into their lunches, the two old friends reconnect over memories of their youth, laughing and conversing together. All of it puts Thomas more at ease and makes him able to have a clearer head. Just get straight to the point, he thinks optimistically. By the time he and Bob part ways, agreeing they should do this again very soon, Thomas already wants to jump in and get to things already; he can start with Peggy. He drives home as swiftly as he can, and coincidentally finds her olive green Hillman Imp pulling in at the same time.

"Peg, you're here! Just the person I wanted to talk to..." Thomas says cheerily. Watching his sister get out of her car, he notices her carrying a plastic bag in her hand. "Hey, what you got there?"

"Nothing important," she replies, suspiciously quick as her eyes dart around. "Where've you been?"

"I just had lunch with Bob. We haven't done that in years, and it was great to have a chat. Kind of like old times."

"Well, that's nice."

"Yeah. It was."

Opening the front door, Peggy scurries in with a strange urgency, hightailing it to the bathroom until Thomas stops her: "Peg, wait, I wanna talk to you..." he starts, and she freezes on the spot. She turns slowly to face him, the plastic bag dangling in her hands. Thomas sighs and takes a step nearer to her. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry, okay?"

"... You're sorry?"

"Yeah. If I've been a little harsh on you since you came," says Thomas. "Look, this situation isn't desirable for either of us, but I want to help you out. I do. So I just wanted to say, don't worry about having to clear out in a few weeks or having to pay under our roof. If you need help, we can go find you a job together in Hawkins, and if you plan on living here again I'll help you find a place. I was thinking renting might be easier — you know, 'cause you wouldn't have to maintain things so much, and as long as you have a job with a good income that could work fine. Heck, you can even work at the Hawk if you want, as long as you're not embarrassed by your big brother—"

"Thomas..." Peggy interrupts him. The colour seems to have drained from her face, but she manages a weak smile. "That's, uh– that's really nice of you to offer. Thanks. I mean it."

He nods, frowning slightly. Wasn't this what she wanted? The help she needed? Thomas glances down at her plastic bag again, noticing the box-shape protruding from inside, and curiosity gets the better of him. "Okay, I'm not trying to be nosy, but what did you buy? It wasn't anything expensive, was it? Splashing out now isn't gonna help—"

"It's... from the drugstore."

"That's why you went?" he asks, puzzled. "Why? What's it for? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

Peggy swallows thickly, fiddling with the handles of the bag. She almost looks as if she is debating whether she should tell him or not — it worries Thomas, because suddenly he has a hunch that there is something big she's not letting him in on. Even so, the words that next come out of her mouth are ones he least expects:

"I think I might be pregnant."

━━━━━━

A/N;

THAT ENDING, OOP—

^^ me knowing how everything is going to pan out, drip-feeding the readers (you) bit by bit 👀

the pregnant-or-not peggy subplot will be explored in a couple of chapters time — until then, there are a lot of other big things happening which will change and shape the story, so buckle in buckaroos... now we are really hitting a climax, in the sense that all the secrets are unravelling and it is having a domino's effect on the relationships. also thomas might be on his way to finally figuring it all out. when do you think he'll finally learn about the upside down?

also, the kind-of-reveal about nancy (and jonathan) planning to get into the lab the whole time was thrown together last minute, because i couldn't remember whether that was their intention in the first place or not? because she had the tape recorder with her in the lab, but they both also seemed surprised when they got spotted in the park? so i just made it like daphne didn't know and slapped figurative duct tape on that plot hole 🤷🏼‍♀️

thank you for reading as always, and hope you have a lovely day/evening!

— Imogen

[ Published: August 20th, 2022 ]