— CHAPTER 21 —
JEKYLL OR HYDE

SUNDAY 4th NOVEMBER,
1984

THOMAS can't remember a time when Bob Newby wasn't somewhere in his life. They had met when Bob was the new kid from Maine, bouncing into Third Grade with an irresistible joy about him. When he met the cautious, shy Thomas on the walk to school, their destiny to be best friends was sealed. As they grew older, old friends came and went, lost touch or moved away — but Bob never left. He was always there, even if just in the background like the sun behind the clouds...

     But now, just like that, the sun is gone.

Bob's violent, unforgiving death has taken its toll on the whole group — an inconsolable Joyce has wrapped herself in an old blanket in Will's room. Even those who weren't there when it happened sit and grieve. The other kids hang their heads at the kitchen table, Steve letting out a weak-spirited sigh. Jonathan sits by the couch where Will sleeps, stroking his brother's hair as Nancy watches.

     Hopper, meanwhile, makes an aggravated phone call to get reinforcements: "Sam Owens. Dr. Sam Owens... I don't know how many people are there! I don't know how many people are left alive... I am the Chief of Police! Chief Jim Hopper!... Yes, the number I gave you, yes..."

     When he hangs up, not everyone is pleased. Mike immediately pries from the kitchen table. "They didn't believe you, did they?"

    "We'll see."

     "We'll see?" Mike echoes his words incredulously, slamming his hands on the table. "We can't just sit here while those things are loose!"

     "We stay here, and we wait for help," Hopper insists through gritted teeth.

Thomas just sits there in the living room and listens. It's hard to know how he feels. He has experienced loss in his life, a number of times he doesn't like to count. But times like this, where you don't even get to say goodbye... it leaves him hollow. Like something has been surgically removed from his beating heart, leaving a patch of cold instead. And then there is what he witnessed — he will never get that image out of his head. The ripping, the screaming, the blood. And perhaps always the insatiable guilt that Thomas could have done more.

He felt that way when Martha died the way she did. Helpless.

There is a difference this time though, with Bob's death. He isn't alone. Thomas sits sandwiched between his two daughters, who have been nothing but consoling through their grief. Cath's arm is hooked through his, her hand gently resting on his bicep, while Daphne's head nestles comfortably on his shoulder. It might as well be two beams of sunlight thawing him from either side. For now, Thomas can hold onto this feeling — just the quiet comfort that he has the two most important people in his life safe and sound.

     Then for now, he wants to block out anything about Bob until it's safe enough to feel it again.

     "Poor Will... can't believe the kid has to go through this," Thomas speaks up in a whisper, nodding towards the pale child on the couch.

     "I know," says Cath.

     "And I can't believe you've gone through this," he glances between the two girls. "Both of you."

     Daphne and Cath share a glance, swallowing thickly. It is the eldest who finally speaks up. "We weren't even allowed to tell you about what happened last year. It was for your safety. Please don't be mad, we hated that we had to, it's just—"

     "Honey, I'm not mad. Not at you, anyway. I'm just... glad I can be here now."

     Thomas throws his glance over to Will, fast asleep on the couch. Jonathan is sat next to him on the floor, running his fingers through his brother's hair as he whispers how sorry he is for not being there. He sees a little bit of himself in the older Byers then — Thomas knows all too well that Lonnie Byers was a good-for-nothing piece of crap to the family, and it was clear to him that Jonathan felt the need to be the 'man' of the house. Especially with the events of recent years, sending Joyce into constant paranoia, he was juggling the weight more than ever. Thomas knows how that feels.

     The sooner the Byers can catch a break, the better. And not just for Will.

     Thomas shifts in his seat and grimaces slightly — sitting on the floor for this long as a forty year-old isn't as easy as it was when he was a boy. Whilst stretching his back, he leans on his bag used as a pillow and feels the soft cushion squash slightly. That's when he remembers something. "Hey Cath," he nudges his youngest daughter's shoulder, "I brought something for you..."

     Out of the bag, he pulls out a fluffy stuffed rabbit, the one she always sleeps with. He pokes the head out first, animating it with a little turn of the head, before revealing it completely like it's out of a magician's hat. Cath breaks out into a huge grin, chuckling as she takes it from him and squeezes it into a tight embrace.

     "I know it might be stupid," Thomas says sheepishly. "It's just I know you like sleeping with him, when I went out looking for you, I thought maybe... you'd want him."

     "Thank you, Dad," Cath smiles tenders. She wraps him in a one-armed hug before falling back to her seat, legs outstretched as she sits the rabbit on her lap. Both her hands hold the paws, smoothing her thumbs over the matted fur from years of love. Cath's gaze seems to reach out further over the rabbit, way out to Will, her features serious and contemplative.

     Thomas folds his arms across his chest, leaning his head back on the wallpaper. Into his periphery walks Mike Wheeler, eyes glossy as he reflectively stands by the small coffee table at the doorway. On top of the table is a stack of board games and puzzles — with a glance, Thomas soon realises this must have been what Bob brought over earlier. Oh, Bob... Mike picks up the cube on top and soaks in its shape in his hands for a moment.

     Still looking at it, Mike says, to no one in particular: "Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?"

     "Really?" replies one of the other kids.

     "He petitioned the school to start it and everything, then he had a fund-raiser for equipment. And Mr. Delaney was one of the co-founders." Mike now turns to the man, curious lacing his voice. "Is– is that right?"

     Thomas nods slowly, getting to his feet. Cath's lips part in surprise while Daphne smiles. He remembers it very well. Walking over to stand just opposite Mike, he replies: "I don't know if you call me a co-founder, but yeah, I helped him get the AV Club up onto its feet at the beginning. I was the first signature on the petition. Martha, Cath's mother, was the second. I remember no one was that interested yet, and the teachers found it a little too new-fangled for their liking..."

     The other kids, particularly Mike, stand and absorb all this information with great interest. Thomas himself suddenly feels warm with the memory of sitting in the small AV Club room, organising the equipment — he helped Bob learn the basics about electronics and repairs, should something go wrong. Martha herself had shown huge interest, asking every question she could think of and watching as Bob enthusiastically explained. Thomas and all their friendship group helped out in every way they could.

     "But it was all Bob's brainchild... Bob the Brain," Thomas says, a ghost of a smile on his face.

     "It was pretty awesome. Apparently he taught Mr. Clarke everything, and then he taught us."

     "... You really know your stuff, don't you?" says Thomas. When Mike looks sheepish at this, cowering slightly, he reaches over and squeezes the boy's shoulder. "Bob would've loved that. To see the club go on with someone who really cares."

     Mike perks up at this bit of praise. He gives him a small smile, which is promptly returned. Thomas finds it's actually nice to remember those times — the Bob he will always remember and love, not the one left behind in the Hawkins Lab. His memory should not have to be defined by his death. The past does not have to be an enemy kept behind wardrobe doors and in sealed boxes. It's an epiphany that suspends time for a moment.

     "We can't let him die in vain," Mike declares suddenly, voice heavy with intention.

     Thomas sighs, folding his arms. "I know, Mike, but I think there's only so much we can do. You heard Jim. All we need to do now is sit and wait."

     "Mr. Delaney's right," says Dustin solemnly. "We can't stop those demo-dogs on our own."

     "Demo-dogs?" echoes Cath, who has emerged with Daphne into the kitchen. The eldest daughter walks over to the kitchen counter and leans against it, next to Steve, and listens.

     "Demogorgon dogs. Demo-dogs. It's like a compound. It's like a play on words..." When the Henderson boy realises he isn't getting anywhere with his explanation, he sighs. "Okay. I mean, when it was just Dart, maybe—"

"Who's Dart?" Thomas whispers to Cath.

"The baby demogorgon Dustin adopted."

"Oh." As if it's obvious.

"— But there's an army now," says Lucas gravely.

"Precisely," Dustin agrees.

"His army..." Mike says, tangled up in deep thought.

From the kitchen counter, Steve Harrington shares a glance with Daphne, who's none the wiser. "What do you mean?"

"His army," he repeats. Not helping, kid, Thomas thinks helplessly. "Maybe if we stop him, then maybe we can stop his army too."

Mike suddenly storms off, and all the Middle Schoolers and Daphne follow in tow. Thomas and Steve are the only ones who linger behind, both as confused as the other. Is there some hidden message they've missed? In a rare moment of common ground, Thomas glances at Steve, who can only shrug cluelessly before following the rest. When they re-join, Mike has snatched a scribbled illustration of a large, spider-like entity that almost looks like a shadow. It looms large over the roads and power lines in the drawing.

"The Shadow Monster," Dustin says in instant recognition.

"That's the Shadow Monster?" Thomas raises his eyebrows and points at the drawing.

"Yes, it's what got Will that day on the field," Mike explains, tripping over his own exasperated words as he does. "The doctor said it was like a virus. It infected him."

"So this virus... it's connecting him to the tunnels?" asks a young red headed girl in a green tracksuit. Thomas does a double take; he hadn't noticed her during the immediate aftermath of Bob's death. Hang on, who is she now? Is she involved in all of this too?

"The tunnels and the monsters in the Upside Down, everything—"

"Whoa, slow down, slow down..." Steve interjects, overwhelmed by all the new information as he squints at the drawing.

"Take a deep breath and say it again," says Thomas, agreeing with Harrington's sentiment. "... Slowly this time."

Mike sighs, before slowing his words down only by a fraction of a second; it's all still a rapid mess. Well, it's an improvement, even if just marginal. "Okay, so, the shadow monster's inside everything. And if the vines feel something like pain, then so does Will."

"And so does Dart," Lucas adds in a matter-of-fact tone.

"So basically, Will's like a puppet —" says Cath.

"— And this Shadow Monster's pulling all the strings..." Daphne says, saddened with realisation.

"Yeah. It's like what Mr. Clarke taught us," Mike clarifies. "The hive mind."

"Hive mind?" Steve echoes, forever confused.

"A collective consciousness," Dustin proudly butts in to explain, with impeccable expertise. "It's a super-organism."

"And this is the thing that controls everything. It's the brain."

"... Like the Mind Flayer."

Lucas snaps his fingers, as if a stroke of genius has just happened — only the three boys seem to know what this means though. The Delaneys, Steve and the young redhead are all left in the dark, a couple of them muttering pleas for some kind of explanation. "Did you understand a word that just came out of that boy's mouth?" Thomas whispers to Cath, hoping for more commentary like she's offered so far.

But even she's as stumped as he is. Luckily, the boys immediately round everyone up for a meeting around the kitchen table. Dustin dumps a large book onto the table, which might as well be the bible of all things Dungeons & Dragons. The page he flicks open to has an illustration of the so-called 'Mind Flayer' with a written description. It looks like something out of a fantasy game... perhaps because it is.

"The hell is that?" Hopper deadpans from the back, unimpressed.

"It's a monster from an unknown dimension. It's so ancient that it doesn't even know its true home..." When this description gets lost on people, Dustin rolls his eyes and tries to water it down. "Okay, it enslaves races of other dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly-developed psionic powers."

"Oh my God," grumbles the Chief of Police. "None of this is real, this is a kid's game."

"Okay, first of all, it's a manual? And it's not for kids."

"I don't think we should dismiss it," Daphne pipes up one person down from the kid. "Just because fiction isn't fact, doesn't make it any less useful or important."

"Thank you! And unless you know something that we don't, this is the best metaphor—"

"Analogy," Lucas quickly corrects him.

Dustin stares wide-eyed at him, as if he can't believe the audacity to question his expertise. "... Analogy? That's what you're worried about, 'analogy'? Fine. Analogy, for understanding whatever the hell this is."

Nancy, who stands next to the boy, quickly interjects with a shake of her head; it slices straight through the childish bickering to get straight to the point. "Okay, so this Mind Flamer thing—"

"Flayer, Mind Flayer."

Closing her eyes, Nancy clenches her jaw with a deep breath. She might be this close to punching a child tonight.

"What does it want?" she asks, finishing her question at last.

"To conquer us, you know?" Dustin says. No, I don't know, thinks Thomas. "You see, it– it believes it's the master race."

Finally finding an avenue to appear well-informed, Steve casually remarks: "Oh yeah, like the Germans."

"The Nazis?" Dustin corrects him, after which the longest, most awkward silence stretches around the table.

Cowering slightly with knitted brows, Steve sheepishly replies, "Yeah, yeah, the Nazis..."

"Uh... yeah. If the Nazis were from another dimension, totally. It views other races like us as inferior to itself."

"It wants to spread and take over," Mike adds earnestly.

"We're talking about the destruction of our world as we know it!" Lucas emphasises.

"The destruction of– oh, that's great, that's great! Jesus..." Steve despairs, walking off to the side and running a hand through his hair. Thomas strains at the Mind Flayer's description in the book, trying to understand it all. Meanwhile, Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose in the back like he's losing brain cells with every second... along with his patience for the kids. But maybe they're getting somewhere.

"Go on," says Thomas, nodding to the book while rubbing a hand over his chin. "I got a little lost on you with the whole Nazis thing, but you're onto something."

Dustin nods dutifully, while Nancy picks up the book to cradle it in her arms. "Okay, so if this thing is like the brain that's controlling everything, then if we kill it—"

"— We kill everything it controls," her brother answers.

"We win."

"Theoretically," Lucas adds pragmatically.

Hopper swoops in then, his figure looming large behind Nancy and Mike as he scoops the book from their hands. "Alright, so how do we kill this thing? Do you shoot it with fireballs or something?" he mutters gruffly, flipping between pages.

"No, no, no," Dustin chuckles and shakes his head, as if the Chief couldn't be more wrong. "Uh, no fireballs. You summon an undead army, because– because zombies, you know? They don't have brains, and the Mind Flayer, it– it likes brains..."

The silence that bloats in the room is palpable. Thomas blinks at the kid, whilst Hopper's glare could kill. They didn't seriously jump around analogies about Nazis just to get here, did they?

"It's– it's just a game," Dustin admits.

"What are we even doing here?" Hopper huffs, slamming the manual down on the table.

"I thought we were waiting for your military backup?"

"We are waiting!" he snaps back.

"But even if they come, how're they gonna stop this?" Mike challenges Hopper. "You can't just shoot this with guns!"

"You don't KNOW that! We don't know ANYTHING!"

"We know it's already killed everyone in that lab!"

     An image flashes through Thomas's mind: Bob pinned down to the floor, struggling to escape as a demodog plunges its claws into his side. And another. And another. It makes his heart ache.

     Over at the side, now on the fringe of the group, Cath stands almost alone at the kitchen table. Throughout the whole Mind Flayer lecture she stayed silent — like she does in most large conversations, fading (often happily) into the background with little room to chip in. She flicks back and forth through pages absentmindedly, her features pinched in concentration. That's when she mumbles something. No one quite hears her, but a few like the Delaneys, Mike and Lucas notice. When Cath notices she's suddenly the centre of attention, she seems to get cold feet and gulps.

     "It's okay," Daphne gives her an encouraging nudge. "Go on..."

     Cath takes the book in her hands, awkwardly cradling the manual's weight. "Well, I was thinking... maybe that whole D&D thing wasn't as pointless as seemed."

     "You know I was just doing a bit, right?" says Dustin.

     "No, listen. Do you remember last year? When everything with the Upside Down was totally new, and we had no idea how to handle it? We used what we knew to make sense of it all... whether that was D&D or other things," says Cath responsibly, her voice timid yet firm. "It's not like we had any other option at the time. So, who's to say we have to wait for the military help? I'll– I'll be honest, sitting around here just waiting for something to happen is driving me insane."

     A beat of silence follows, in which Thomas can't help but admire not just Cath, but all the youngsters surrounding him. When he thinks about how last year, they all worked together in the pursuit of finding their friends, combining their resources to bring Will back... he can't think of any young people more intelligent or driven. Thomas knows he was never like that as a child.

     "She's right. They all are."

     A new voice has entered the room. Everyone turns to see Joyce in the doorway, clinging the blanket around her shoulders tightly still. But she looks far from weak — she may be shattered, but now it gives way to pure unfiltered fury. It is clear she wants revenge, justice, whatever it's called. And she wants it now.

     "We have to kill it," Joyce says. "I want to kill it."

     "I agree with her, Jim," Thomas finds himself saying suddenly. He is thinking of Bob. "Like Mike said, we can't promise those military guys can do anything for us. You saw how those... things tore down those folks at the lab."

     "I... I know. I want to kill it too," Hopper seethes silently, voice only softer in the presence of Joyce. "But how do we do that? We don't exactly know what we're dealing with here."

     "No..." says Mike, "but he does."

     He? Thomas follows Mike's gaze to the pale, unconscious Will lying flat on the couch. Everyone is drawn around the boy, both their last hope and their greatest enemy. "If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, it's Will. He's connected to it. He'll know its weakness."

     "I thought we couldn't trust him anymore? That he's a spy for the mind flayer now," says the red-headed girl, who Thomas still doesn't know by name.

     "Yeah. But he can't spy if he doesn't know where he is."

━━━━━━

     THE plan is as follows: conceal the shed in the Byers' back yard, so Will or the Shadow Monster couldn't possibly recognise the location. Then, with enough coaxing, Joyce and some of the others will try to get information from Will — wherever he is inside — to find the Achilles' heel they can strike.

     Daphne has headed with Nancy and Steve to the shed with supplies... admittedly a slightly awkward duo to be third-wheeling, given the break-up still being very raw. Not only that, but Daphne hasn't spoken to Nancy since their messy departure from the Hawkins Lab. With Steve and the Middle Schoolers, they'd emerged from the woods in the dark by flashlight to find the lab, and two silhouettes... who were none other than Nancy and Jonathan.

And now, just like last year, all the threads have come together for the final push. But can they fight the darkness as they did in 1983? Daphne isn't so sure.

But they have to try. For Will.

     Carrying large tarp sheets, the trio start clearing space to reach the walls — every potential gap in the boards must be covered. Over in the corner, Daphne places down a bucket of duct tape and two hammers, while Nancy lingers next to the ladder Steve has just propped up. There seem to be unsaid words that stain her lips, and they demand to be said. Anyone can see it from a mile away. Of course, they have unfinished business.

     Nancy casts a tense glance over her shoulder at Daphne, then back to Steve, as if to say: "Is it awkward if I do this now?"

     In response, Daphne sheepishly places her hands over her ears like earmuffs, replying: "I can't hear a thing."

     A smile slips onto Nancy's lips, and she turns back to him as he's about to scale up the ladder. Daphne faces the wall and pretends to be none the wiser — of course, she can't not eavesdrop anyway. "Hey," she says, catching his attention. "What you did, um, helping the kids... that was... really cool."

     When Daphne sneaks a peek, she catches Steve's expression soften over Nancy's shoulder; stepping down from the ladder, slightly humbled. A million complicated, intricate little emotions flash across his face in one moment — but at the end of it, there is peace... or at least, the decision to make peace with whatever they had.

     "Yeah," Steve scoffs. "Those little shits are real trouble, you know?"

     "Believe me, I know," Nancy smiles back.

     And just like that, nothing more needs to be said... for now.

     "Hey, Delaney, come give me a hand with this tarp," says Steve, nodding to the other corner while Nancy holds her palm flat on the sheet. Daphne drifts over with a weightlessness giving the illusion of having heard nothing just then — whether she's actually fooling anyone is another thing.

     Daphne picks up the top corner of the tarp, and tries reaching up to the space between the wall and ceiling. Too high up. She tries standing on her tippy-toes, straining to reach the top, but she just can't quite get there. By the time she resorts to hopping gently, Nancy is biting back a smile while Steve just observes from the top of the ladder, amused.

     "You're supposed to lift the corner up."

     "I am lifting, Steve, what does this look like to you?"

     "I don't know, it looks like you're too small to reach the top."

     "I can reach it... just... gimme a sec!"

     "Alright, we'll swap, let me get down..."

     Steve climbs down the ladder, trading places to Daphne can go up and hold onto the top left corner of the tarp. Standing on his tip-toes, he can just about reach the other corner to the place it needs to be. Nancy passes up a nail to Daphne and she begins hammering carefully, afterwards swapping sides to do the same. Then when the tarp is hammered to the wall, the trio apply large strips of duct tape to all the sides — every gap must be covered. When their handiwork is complete, the three stand back and take in the sheet haphazardly nailed and taped to the wall.

     "We're gonna need a lot of duct tape..." Steve sighs. "Alright, I'll be back in a minute."

      Steve disappears from the shed, leaving Daphne and Nancy alone in the dim room. A cold draft creeps through the cracks in the floorboards and nips at their joints. The girls get to work on separate things, although it soon becomes painfully obvious that they're procrastinating to dance around the elephant in the room. Daphne sniffs and glances hesitantly at Nancy — the gunmetal blue eyes catch her gaze, serious but more approachable than last time. Just go ahead, she seems to say.

"Can I just say something?" Daphne asks anyway, and the Wheeler girl nods. She swallows thickly. "I'm... really sorry I ditched you guys after the whole Hawkins Lab thing. I was just so... so terrified of being dragged into that world again, and I didn't know how to face it all. Maybe I figured that me tagging along would only drag you and Jonathan down. But trust me when I say I felt awful for leaving you two alone. You were probably scared shitless too, and—"

"Please, don't worry about it," Nancy insists, fiddling with a thin silver ring on her finger. "Now I have to say something... I'm sorry for forcing you into it in the first place. It was wrong of me to assume you were comfortable with it, just because we didn't have a choice the first time. You have your boundaries. I should've respected that, and– and not made you get involved—"

     "Could we just... decide we were both right and wrong, and call it a day?"

     Sighing with relief, Nancy purses her lips into a smile. "Yes, please. That sounds much simpler."

     Daphne returns the smile. It's been a long time coming — not just after their clash outside the lab, but since the events of 1983, really. From the moment they joined forces to find Tonya and Barb, they proved to be very different characters. Daphne was open-minded, empathetic and humble, while Nancy was surprisingly stubborn, forceful and unafraid to push boundaries. But they both shared a curiosity and determination to do the right thing, and at the time, that was all they needed. What about their lives outside of monster-hunting, though? That's what has enticed Daphne the last year when they haven't talked. Besides, Nancy lost a best friend when she lost Barb... perhaps they need each other more than ever. The same goes for Jonathan, who she regrets neglecting in friendship again.

     Maybe this is the path to a blossoming friendship.

     Her eyes carrying a mischievous glint, Nancy squints at Daphne. "Although... I suppose you did get involved anyway," she says, "with Steve and the kids."

     "I honestly have no idea how that happened," she scoffs, still perplexed by that fact. "But, it's strange, Steve's a lot more resourceful than he looks. And that nail bat... you should've seen him. He just ran straight into the danger without a second thought. And, I– I don't know whether that amounts to stupidity, or just bravery on another level."

     "Probably a little bit of both."

     "Yeah. And it rubs off on you, too."

     "You make a pretty good team," says Nancy softly.

     A beat passes. Daphne holds her breath. "You... really think so?"

     "Yeah, sure."

     "And it's not weird to you?" she asks, wincing slightly. In other words: You don't find it weird that I refused to hang out with you, but instead teamed up with your kind-of-ex boyfriend and became buddies?

     But to her surprise, Nancy just shrugs, as if it's water under the bridge. "I'm just trying to move on from the whole thing. So is he, I think. The odds were just against us, I guess," she says. Then, tucking some hair behind her ear, the brunette adds, "But speaking of teams, I spoke about this with Jonathan, and... I feel like last year, after everything, we never really hung out again. And it's kind of sad. What do you think?"

     Daphne's shoulders drop, flooding with relief at the mutual feeling. She nods. "It's just been a weird year, I guess. We all had our own stuff going on. But I've still got a few months until, fingers crossed, I'll be off to college... so maybe we should try making up for lost time until then?"

     Nancy lights up at the promise of this. "Any suggestions?"

     "Ooh, well... I sometimes have movie nights with my friends, so we could do a girl's night or something. No Jonathan, no Felix and definitely no Steve. Do you have any favourites?"

     "Usually anything with Tom Cruise, I guess. God, I don't think I've had a girly movie night since Barbara..." Nancy suddenly stops herself, her breath hitching in the back of her throat. She really does need a friend. Daphne tries nudging her arm with an empathetic look. This seems to ease the gloom for a moment, Nancy straightening up. "But yes. Yes, I'd love that so much, Daphne."

     "Mmm. Because I don't think we should do what you and Jonathan do together, if you know what I mean..."

     She's never seen Nancy blush so instantly. "Oh God, is it really that obvious?!"

     "Nah. Just my intuition, I guess," Daphne teases. She's been onto Nancy and Jonathan ever since they all teamed up last year. There was an unmissable spark between them, a magnetism that only strengthened with each bonding experience. The pair seemed to understand each other in a way no one else did. Daphne almost yearned for a connection like that — so watching them dance around each other for a whole year was painful. Yet, when they reunited just hours ago, she sensed a shift between them. A new kind of closeness. It didn't take long to connect the dots. Whatever happened at Murray's house, it must have worked the charm; speaking of which...

     "So, how'd it go with Murray Bauman?" she asks.

     "Oh yeah. He's a character. Drunk, slobbish, foul-mouthed..." Nancy sighs, then stares at her. "But it's done."

     Daphne almost does a double take, stumbling on the spot. "Wait, really?"

     "We gave him all the evidence, including the tapes. Now we just have to wait and hope."

     Nodding slowly, she absorbs all of this. So the truth is going to get out there. About Will, Barb, Tonya. Everything. The mess that the Hawkins Lab unleashed can at last be undone. Daphne feels her heartbeat in her throat as she remembers finding the mint Green car, then Tonya, before she was killed moments later. All of the pain that's been created... can it finally mean something?

     "It's about damn time," is what Daphne finally says through gritted teeth.

     Nancy hums reflectively at this. Her hands are shoved into the pockets of her long camel coat, jaw clenched shut.

     "Barb would be proud," Daphne tells her.

     At this, Nancy looks up with shimmering eyes and nods.

     "So would Tonya," she replies softly.

━━━━━━

     THE unconscious body of Will Byers — the shell in which the Shadow Monster resides — has been strapped to a large pole, tied up like a prisoner for interrogation. His pale limbs slump in the chair, lit up freakishly by the harsh light bulbs all focused on him. The shed has been completely blotted out of any other gaps or lights, boxing them into this strange, tinny atmosphere. Around him in the darkness stand the small handful of those deemed closest to him; Joyce, Jonathan, Cath, Mike, and then Hopper for security's sake.

     Cath wasn't sure she wanted to go in at first. Seeing Will like this was hard enough, but the whole process that's about to begin... would she even be any help at all? But it had been Mike who'd given her the courage to go in: "Will would remember you. If he's in there, he has to. He trusts you more than most people."

     "But Mike, I– I don't– what am I supposed to say to him?"

     "Say anything. Literally anything. Please... it's our only chance."

     So she has followed the group inside, and now here she is. There was one thing she had to do before she did, though, and that was to take her father's bag with her. It wasn't so much about the bag itself, but the contents inside it. Cath hugs it close to her stomach now, chewing the inside of her mouth anxiously. She holds her breath while Hopper crouches in front of Will, holding a cotton bud soaked in a strong liquid under his nostrils.

     A few seconds later, the boy snaps up awake with a gasp.

     Initially he has to squint, but there's something that Cath notices instantly — the lovely hazel hue of his eyes is gone. It's thicker and murkier now, more like a darker brown. She cannot recognise this boy. He looks around slowly, blinking to adjust his eyesight. They all appear strangers to him.

     "What... what... what is this?" Will asks, struggling in his bonds.

     Sitting in the creaking chair opposite him, Joyce answers, "Will, we just wanna talk to you. We're not gonna hurt you."

     Ignoring her, he asks again, "Where am I?"

     "Do you recognise this?" says Hopper, showing him the illustration of the Shadow Monster. Going slack for a moment, Will exhales and shakes his head as if nauseated, squeezing his eyes shut and bowing is head.

     This is not the Will who Cath knows.

     "Hey. We wanna help you," Joyce encourages softly. "But to do that, we have to understand how to kill it."

     "Why am I tied up?" Will just hisses back.

     The hope for co-operation is diminished. Joyce raises a shaky hand to her face in despair. He keeps on asking and asking, growing more vicious and interrogatory. Suddenly it turns into a growl; Cath feels Mike step back a little, closer to her. The lights begin to flicker and buzz furiously as Will continues raging in the seat, his face a pale and feral blur. Hopper wraps his strong arms around the boy to restrain him as he shrieks over and over:

     "WHY AM I TIED UP? WHY AM I TIED UP? WHY AM I TIED UP?!"

     His voice becomes distorted, deeper even, on the last question. It is not Will talking.

     "LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO..."

     Cath almost fears something might escape him and attack them. But the longer Hopper holds him, the more he calms down and grows hoarse. When he finally goes silent out of exhaustion, Joyce seems to seize the opportunity. Her eyes glow with the warmth of a memory as she searches for her son in the boy.

     "Do you know what March 22nd is?" asks Joyce, smiling sadly. "It's your birthday. Your birthday. When you turned eight, I gave you that huge box of crayons. Do you remember that? It was 120 colours. And all your friends, they got you 'Star Wars' toys, but all you wanted to do was draw with all your new colours. And you drew this big spaceship, but it wasn't from a movie... it– it was your spaceship. A rainbow ship is what you called it, and you must've used every colour in the box..."

     Will goes still in the chair, eyes growing gentler with each word she says. Joyce's voice chokes up as she goes on.

     "I took that with me to Melvald's, and I put it up and I told everyone who came in, 'My son drew this.' And you were so embarrassed..." she chuckles, then grows serious again. "But I was so proud. I was so, so proud."

     None of the rainbow's colours appear in Will right now — but there is a flicker of something there. Jonathan takes the opportunity to go next, crouching down by his brother.

     "Do you remember the day Dad left?"

     Will turns to him, a magnetic focus.

     "We stayed up all night building Castle Byers... just the way you drew it. And it took so long because you were so bad at hammering." At this, Jonathan manages a choked laugh, as does Joyce. "You'd miss the nail every time. And then it started raining, but we stayed out there anyway. We were both sick for like a week after that. But we just had to finish it, didn't we? We just had to..."

     "Do you remember the day we first met?"

      The voice belongs to Mike. Cath turns to her left to look at him; when she sees him, her heart almost breaks. He looks barely pieced together. Tears silently dribbling down his cheeks, it's kind of brokenness she has only seen in him once — when Eleven made her sacrifice. When he'd lost a friend. And now, he is losing another.

     "It was... it was the first day of Kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends, and..." Mike sniffs, his voice tight and wobbly. "I just felt so alone, and so scared, but... I saw you on the swings and you were alone, too. You were just swinging by yourself. And I just walked up to you and... I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend. And you said yes. You said yes. It was the best thing I've ever done."

     When he's finished talking, Cath slowly reaches her fingertips across the space towards Mike. A small gesture to say she's there. As she gently touches his arm, the effect is almost like an electric shock — in an instant, he whirls round to look at her, half-stunned but still vulnerable, before sniffing and wiping his cheeks with his sleeve.

     A glimpse of Will, the real Will, seems to be fighting to break through. His brows wilt and his lip trembles, seized with more emotion than the cold Shadow Monster could ever feel.

     "Cath? Sweetie, did you want to say anything too?" says Joyce

      Squeezing the bag, she stares at Will. His dark eyes are fixated purely on her now — he can't figure out whether he is remembering her fondly, or sizing her up as the Shadow Monster's prey. Cath nods.

     "Um, can I– can I sit?" she asks, gesturing to the chair.

     "Of course, honey."

     Clearing her throat, Cath steps out from the darkness and into the full beam of light from the lamps. Will's eyes are on her the whole time as she sits down, the chair squeaking beneath her. The silence is palpable between them. At first, she just stares at him. Waiting for him to recognise her. He stares back. Nothing. Cath's mouth feels like tar and her pulse drumrolls in her ears.

     Well, nothing to lose.

     She reaches into the bag and pulls out her matted stuffed bunny. Almost instantly, Will jerks in recognition and his eyes fight between darkness and the want to remember it. Cath sits the bunny down on her lap, her hands holding it around the belly.

     "Do you remember this?" she asks.

     Will doesn't say anything — just stares, chest rising and falling.

     "You gave it to me," Cath reminds him. "It was in the third grade, when I had bronchitis. Do you remember that? It turned into really bad pneumonia, and I was off school for two weeks. It was miserable. One night, I remember being unable to breathe, and for a moment we even thought I might not..." Her breath catches, grimacing at the memory. The feeling that she was cold to the bone, her lungs rattling and her heart throbbing on, like she was floating out to sea with no rescue. No guiding light.

     She shoots a wary glance behind her, wondering if she's doing this right. Joyce gives her an encouraging nod, while the others listen intently. Say anything, she remembers Mike's words. Literally anything.

     So Cath continues... wherever she's going with this. "Anyway, I was lying at home on bed rest, just... wondering if people were thinking about me. I think that was the time when I started feeling invisible. I hoped for cards, get well soon messages, like I'd given my own friends when they had, I don't know, tonsillitis or something. There was nothing... and then my ninth birthday came around. I was still sick. But then, from my room, I heard this knock on the door. I could hear it was you, with your mom. You'd made me a beautiful birthday card — I've still got that card, in a little box in my closet. But you also got me something else..."

     With a little flourish, Cath holds up the bunny and makes him dance a little. She smiles — and she swears she almost saw the corners of Will's lips quirk a little.

     "Dad brought him upstairs and I haven't slept without him since. Apparently you told my dad his name was Silver, but I could call him whatever I wanted. He's still Silver. He always will be."

     Leaning forward in her seat, Cath lets Silver slump to the side of her lap with a soft thump. She stares down at Will's hands on his lap, pale and cold. Wonders what she should do. Finally, she reaches out and takes his hands in hers, cupping them and caressing them to warm them.

     "And I never forgot that time..." Cath tells him, getting choked up. "... Because whenever I've felt invisible, you have always seen me. Always. So, if you're in there now, Will, just give me a sign that you can still see me. Please."

     A breakthrough seemingly happens — a single tear rolls down Will's cheek, and for a moment, Cath thinks she can see all of him. She wants to rush forward, hug him tight and never let him go. But then as quickly as she saw it, it fades. All of the emotion leeches itself from his face in a second, leaving the snarled and neutral expression from before.

     "Let... me... go..." he says again, through gritted teeth.

     Cath is shattered. What was that all for? She stares hopelessly at Joyce, as if to apologise for failing her, but the woman instantly shakes her head and comforts her through the despair. Jonathan lets out a defeated sigh, and Mike sniffles sadly again. Hopper, however, seems otherwise occupied — mainly by the erratic tapping on the chair's side that Will started doing at some point in the conversation. He ushers the others back into the house, deep in focus with an idea.

     "What happened?" Dustin asks when they get in.

     Scribbling something on the nearest paper he can find, Hopper answers: "I think he's talking, just not with words."

     Soon he has written out a sheet of dots and lines, which it takes a moment for Cath to recognise — she's seen this in a library book before, and somewhere among the stories her grandfather had from the war. Morse code. And already, Will has given one clear words for them: H-E-R-E.

     Here.

     Somewhere, Will is in there, and he can hear them and speak.

     It sets a new plan in motion. As Cath and the group go back into the shed, they work on triggering more of Will's memories. Jonathan plays The Clash's 'Should I Stay Or Should I Go' on a stereo, reminding him of the mixtape he made him while their parents argued, and how it was the first time he got into real music. Mike recounts with great passion how Will saved the whole arty in D&D, thanks to casting Fog Cloud against a swarm of sewer insects. Joyce lovingly reminisces of the time he gave a girl in the sandbox his Tonka Truck because she was sad. And as for Cath, she re-tells everything from their earliest childhood memories to their most recent time walking around Hawkins together.

     Meanwhile, the rest of the gang work on de-bunking the morse code that Will relentlessly taps out, Nancy and Thomas taking the lead. By the time it fills out a complete message, it spells a simple command:

     CLOSE GATE.

     There seems to be hope.

      ... But then the unthinkable happens. The shrill tone of the telephone inside the house. Will instantly latches onto it, wide-eyed and alert. Then he shuts his eyes, the shape of them shifting around with intense concentration under his eyelids, as if searching for something. No, no, no, this is not good.

     Inside the shed, they are none the wiser about this development until a voice informs them gravely over the walkie:

     "It knows. It knows where we are."

     "Oh, shit," Joyce curses.

     In the distance, a chorus of monster screeches send chills down Cath's spine. The small group vacate the shed and run out onto the lawn, desperately searching through the darkness to see if they're near. Suddenly, Jonathan can make out a faint shape in the distance and he calls out, "They're coming!"

     Grabbing a large gun, Hopper leads them back into the house. When they reach its warm glow, he barks: "Hey, get away from the windows!" And at his command, the other kids lurch back from the glass. Cath realises he means it could break... if they can get through. Everyone backs up in the living room, frozen and anticipating an onslaught of demodogs any minute now.

     "Do you know how to use this?" Hopper asks Jonathan, who just stammers. "Can you use this?"

     "I can."

     The voice comes from Nancy Wheeler. She steps forward, taking the rifle from Hopper's hands and loading it, before aiming it with laser-focus precision at the door. Her gunmetal eyes are hardened like those of a hunter. Cath's jaw drops a little — she knew Nancy could fire a gun, because Daphne had told her, but seeing it herself makes it more tangible. Speaking of her sister, Daphne grabs a pitchfork and holds it out, while Steve next to her wields a bat with dozens of nails hammered into it. Lucas loads his wrist-rocket with some rocks and aims. Thomas steps protectively in front of Cath, still possessing the gun from the lab (now re-loaded), and Jonathan also stands to shield his mother. And Mike, he has... a candlestick. Better than nothing, she supposes. She hates how defenceless she feels as an individual. So, desperate for some kind of weapon, Cath grabs a frying pan from a rack over the stove — not that she would ever know how to use it to attack.

     They wait, and they wait, and they wait.

     The growls suddenly howl from the other end of the house, making the group whirl round the other way.

     "What're they doing?" Nancy whispers, her knuckles waiting to squeeze the trigger.

     The guttural shrieks come back from outside the front windows again. Some aim to fire, while the others hold their breath. It sounds like a demodog might pounce through any second — but then it whimpers, a squelching cry after a loud crunch. Suddenly an invisible force sends its blurry shape flying through the window in an explosion of glass. Everyone yells and staggers back. Hopper gets ready to fire, but then stops... the demodog isn't moving.

     "Holy shit..." Dustin whispers.

     "Is it dead?" Max asks, squinting at the carcass.

      Finger still hovering above the trigger, Hopper carefully approaches the demodog and nudges the head with his foot. There is no response. It just lulls lifelessly to the side, but with no sign of a wound or injury. What the hell happened?

     The door clicks behind them.

     Cath whirls around with the others, holding her breath. Demodogs can't open doors now, can they? But the door seems to unpick itself like some kind of magic, or an invisible key. Almost with the oddly human politeness of wanting to enter the right way. Slowly, the door squeaks open, revealing a vision of black...

     She sees the shoes first, a foot size similar to hers. Then the dark jeans with the black broad-shouldered jacket, and the slicked-back hair, and the bold ebony eye-liner. It could be a stranger — but Cath takes one look and knows. Suddenly she can see that intense stare which could also look so timid and tender. The buzzcut hair, the wrist tattoo, the ultimate sacrifice which has somehow led her right back here.

     It's Eleven.

━━━━━━

A/N;

AHHH THIS CHAPTER WAS SUCH A ROLLERCOASTER 😭 and also a whopping 8K words?? HUH?? well, consider yourself blessed for now, because this might be the last chapter you get before christmas, since i'll likely be busy with family and the festivities. so apologies for the cliffhanger! however i'd like to get another chapter out before the new year if i can.

thoughts on this chapter? i struggled to get into it for the first half, but by the possessed will scene i gained more momentum. that scene where they're trying to make will remember gets me EVERY. TIME. also it's some of noah's best acting on the snow, absolutely stunning from him. hopefully i did it justice — some feedback would be greatly appreciated!

also if i don't get to update beforehand, happy early birthday for december 29th to thomas delaney, who'd be turning 79 this year... somewhere out there is a lil' grandpa thomas blowing out a fire hazard's worth of candles. and another note, the chapter title was inspired by jeykyll and hyde (inspired by the story, where hyde is jekyll's evil alter ego — haven't read it yet but thought it fit will and the shadow monster very well!)

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

— Imogen

[ Published: December 13th, 2022 ]