𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 5.0k

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𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 the Sadie Hawkins dance. It may have been in part due to the hot pink curlers Diana insisted she sleep in, but she also felt like someone would have to surgically extract the butterflies that had appeared in her stomach at some point. Butterflies which she didn't even know the source of!

The next morning, she chalked it up to nerves about her very first high school dance. Nobody had ever bothered asking her to one of these functions before and she sure as hell wouldn't attend on her own accord. So, being basically forced to go with Steve seemed to be the only plausible way anyone would see her at a school function. Still, something deep within her rejoiced at the idea of getting dressed up and dancing with a guy like Steve.

A normal night, finally. They had certainly earned it.

Diana made sure Owen kept the curlers in all day, despite all of the strange little pieces sticking out every which way. Law was quick to snap a polaroid of her the moment she stepped out of her bedroom, before quickly informing her that the picture was going in the family photobook as soon as possible.

The rollers stayed in even as Owen helped decorate the house for Hanukkah. As it turns out, Diana was Jewish, too, just like their mother was. Since her passing, the Webb family had strayed from the culture's traditions and holidays. It was Diana's idea to get them back into the spirit, seeing the celebration as a way to honor their mom's life when she was alive. Although he didn't say anything, this seemed to win her some points with Gordon who had come home for winter break. Owen could tell just by how excited he was when Diana pulled out a dreidel she had played with when she was a little girl.

It was dark outside by the time Owen was allowed to unravel her hair from the curlers. Diana tried to help, but there was still quite a bit of complaining as the curlers managed to yank on every single sensitive spot on Owen's scalp. Thankfully, they were able to get them out without tearing out all of her hair. But more importantly, the hair that remained actually looked nice. Pretty, even.

Diana fixed a couple pieces with her curling iron from home (a home that she was rarely at lately) and then doused the masterpiece with copious amounts of hairspray. They were both sent into coughing fits after inhaling the tacky mist, but it was worth it.

When it came to doing Owen's makeup, Diana was more than happy to retreat to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. She knew better than to attempt anything like those crazy, colorful looks girls wore today. That risk was fully in Owen's hands.

And Owen took the challenge in stride, abnormally confident after the look she had created on Eleven the weekend prior. So, she leaned over the sink and got as close to the bathroom mirror as possible, then went in with cheap, blue eyeshadow. She dragged a black eyeliner pencil along the delicate edge of her waterline as she had seen their mother do years ago. Then, she applied some mascara and a little bit too much blush. Finally, Owen swiped cherry chapstick across her lips and called it good.

She stared with intensity at her reflection, trying to decide whether she liked this stranger in the mirror or not. But even under the unwavering scrutiny, Owen felt content and even a little excited. She felt light as air as she disappeared into her bedroom to get dressed. If this is what girls like Tina and Nancy felt like every single day, she could understand how they navigated the world with such ease.

Owen hopped around her bedroom on one foot, desperately trying to pull a pair of fishnet tights into place. Ultimately, she had to sit on the floor to get them on, only realizing this after falling flat on her face. Then, the dress was shimmied up her thighs and zipped it into place. Then, Owen laced up the pair of thrift store Dr. Marten's boots that were just a bit too small for her. But she had campaigned for them to an embarrassing extent after she found them while shopping with Diana, who begrudgingly compromised on them.

A smile snuck up on her as she eyed herself in the full-length mirror this time. Once she was able to tear her gaze away, she practically floated into the living room, settling in between her brothers on the couch. Owen's mind was so far up in the clouds that she totally missed the shocked reactions each of the boys gave her, just as unaccustomed as she was to seeing her in such clothing.

And the three of them sat there, waiting for Steve to arrive. They waited so long that their dad got home from work. Eventually, Diana joined them to pass the time and got through a whole cup of coffee with no sign of Owen's date for the evening. Each second without a knock at the door cast a darker shadow upon the household.

Although the TV was playing, Owen's eyes were fixed on the warped wood of the front door, unsure what had happened. Steve knew the dance was that night, right? She knew he did – she had called to remind him just yesterday. Owen glanced at the clock on the wall, her boot thudding as she tapped her foot.

In an attempt to save face, Owen pretended to perk up as if she had remembered something. "Oh, I totally forgot! Steve and I agreed to meet at the dance. He told me that last night on the phone," she lied. "How could I forget?" Owen forced a breathless chuckle, one that completely lacked any amusement.

She stood from the couch, walking over to grab her bag from the hook Diana had hung up recently. But Gordon stood up just as fast with that knowing, older brother look in his eye. "I can drive you. I don't know how safe it would be for you to drive in those boots," he pointed out, eyes lowering to the platformed soles.

Owen's lips pressed together firmly, but she nodded in acceptance. She threw the keys to Gordon before pulling the front door open. She half-expected, or maybe half-hoped, to see Steve standing on the front porch with some apologetic look in his eye. But all that she could see were the swaying dark trees across the road.

"See you guys later!" Owen called out before stepping outside with Gordon at her heel. The instant the door shut behind him, he was muttering all sorts of insults and expletives as they made their way to the car. Owen could only hear a few beneath the wind.

"That dim-witted... rich asshole... piece of..."

She could fill in the blanks on that last one.

Normally, Owen would have defended Steve's honor and insisted that there was more to him than meets the eye. But she found herself agreeing with Gordon, aware that standing a girl up was a "dim-witted-rich-asshole-piece-of-shit" thing to do. Even if you were Steve Harrington.

"I swear to god... if I see that dickhead while I'm back home..." Gordon grumbled over the Joy Division song playing in the car. But Owen was silent the entire ride to the school, wallowing in a special cocktail of embarrassment, anger, and... genuine disappointment.

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Owen had been sitting at the top of the bleachers from the moment she arrived. There was still no sign of Steve. Truthfully, Owen had given up hope a while back. Her chin was pressed against her palms as she glumly watched all the other teenagers move to the music. But with each depressing hour that passed, the size of the crowd diminished.

It wasn't until there were only a couple other stragglers remaining that Owen decided to descend the bleachers. If she gave him a call, Gordon would probably come pick her up early, anyway. Her eyes were lowered as she walked across the gym, silently counting the pieces of blue and white confetti that covered the floor.

The sudden noise of the gym doors being flung open caught her attention. There, in the doorway to the gym, stood Steve. Actually seeing his face in person felt surreal, like he was something out of a dream. But if this were a dream, he would probably look less frantic. Owen immediately noticed the way his chest was heaving, as if he had run all the way to the school.

Although, once she allowed her eyes to wander, she saw that he was far more dressed up than she had ever seen him, having ditched his usual Levi's for a pair of black dress pants. His white button up was tucked into the waistband and paired with a poorly tied black bowtie. And to no one's surprise, his hair looked as amazing as it always did.

From where he was standing in the doorway, Steve took a quick moment to stare at her. His wide eyes admired the sight of Owen beneath the glittering light of the disco ball. His feet began to move before his mind told them to, as if he was instinctually pulled towards her. Most anyone else would have been deterred by the scathing look that had formed on her face, but not Steve. He just wanted to see her up close — even if she was yelling at him for being so late.

"You look... great, Owen," he said once he was standing in front of her. Understatement of the century. Despite how upset she looked to see him, Steve wasn't sure he had ever seen someone look more beautiful.

Flattery was going to get him nowhere. "Where have you been?" she snapped, arms crossing tightly in front of her. "I've been waiting for you all night," Owen mumbled, eyes dropping to the floor again. It sounded even more pathetic out loud.

"Report cards came home yesterday," Steve reminded her.

All this got him was a blank stare in response. "And? What does that have to do with you being hours late?" Owen grumbled.

"Let's just say... I don't think I'm going to make Valedictorian," he confessed with a soft laugh. "Very long story short, my parents went totally ballistic when they saw my grades. So, I'm super grounded right now and supposed to be on academic house arrest until further notice."

The anger on Owen's face began to slowly melt away upon hearing his explanation. So, Steve hadn't really stood her up at all. As a matter of fact, he had even snuck out just to make sure he didn't stand her up. She almost felt bad for being so irritated with him. Almost.

Endeared by the effort, Owen's lips curved into a subtle, lopsided grin. "Well, I guess we better make your last night of foreseeable freedom pretty memorable, then," she said, decisively.

But before either of them could say another word, the DJ was speaking over the mic and stealing their attention. "And this will be our final slow dance of the night, folks! Calling all lovers out to the dance floor!" The DJ announced with over-the-top excitement. Then, the opening chords of a David Bowie song crackled through the speakers.

Owen felt Steve's stare on the side of her face, pulling her in to meet his gaze. The moment their eyes met, he outstretched his hand and she took it automatically. By then, such a gesture was second-nature for them. But still, he made sure to ask, "May I have this final slow dance?"

The formality of the question formed goofy smiles upon each of their faces. But not even the silliest of phrases could have caused Owen to do anything other than fondly accept his offer.

With a gentleness that surprised her, Steve reached out and placed his free hand upon the dip of her waist. Owen took a second to consider her next move before she reached up and firmly pressed her free hand against his shoulder. Her movements were still rather stiff and awkward, a trait of her inexperience with physical touch. Owen still barely knew how to hug her brothers without feeling a bit weird about the whole ordeal. So, slow dancing with a boy? That was a whole different ball game.

"Hey, it's just me, okay?" Steve murmured, somehow picking up on the way she was getting lost in her head. His head dipped slightly, earnest brown eyes meeting hers. Owen searched his face for any sign of judgment or disappointment, but found none on the surface.

Making a conscious effort to relax, Owen's hand began to drift away from Steve's shoulder. It smoothed over the reachable expanse of his back and felt the dips of muscles hidden beneath the linen. Her eyes followed her hand with curiosity, never having touched someone so brazenly before.

Steve studied Owen's expressions, soft gaze watching for any minute shifts as she got comfortable. Her wandering hand came to rest at the nape of his neck, certainly not bold enough to move any lower than his collarbone. Even so, Steve could feel the edge of her fingers grazing the soft hair at the base of his neck. His hand tightened unintentionally against her waist and pulled her closer to him, a move that snapped her eyes back to meet his waiting ones.

For a split second, their closeness brought back memories of their incident in the tunnels. Just a month prior, the two of them had truly believed that they were going to get killed by a mob of bloodthirsty, otherworldly monsters. But here they stood, in almost the exact same position, slow dancing to David Bowie. Life can be funny like that sometimes.

Owen shoved her fear of touchiness into the back of her mind and leaned forward, closing the gap between them and pressing her cheek against Steve's chest. The action caused him to stop swaying to the music for a beat, caught off guard by the display of affection.

"Is this okay?" Owen murmured self-consciously, feeling the way he had frozen in place.

Without even having to think about it, Steve's head began to nod. "Yeah. Totally okay," he croaked. God, when did his throat get so dry?

Although, he was more worried about her being able to hear the rapid thump of his heart. Such a reaction made sense when they were in the tunnels, facing death head on. But slow dancing with a girl who was supposed to be your friend? A racing heart would be a little more suspicious.

Thankfully, if Owen noticed the way his heart was nearly beating out of his chest, she didn't mention it. Still, Steve felt like he could finally breathe again when the song faded out and he theatrically spun her out and away from him in a way that was both charming and dignity-saving.

By the time the last slow song ended, Owen and Steve were the only students left in the gym. A couple of the chaperones had started to clean up the decorations, but Steve had one final song request. Just to really make it up to her for being so late, he managed to bribe the DJ into making SOS by ABBA the last song of the night. It had to be Owen's favorite if the volume at which she sang it in his car was any indication. And just as he expected, she sang it just as loudly beneath the twinkling disco ball.

They were the last students out of the gym that night. The DJ basically had to tell them to leave, as they were still singing along and laughing even after the disco ball had been turned off and chaperones were sweeping around them.

Steve and Owen stumbled outside, out of breath and still chuckling about some awful dance move Owen had pulled on the dancefloor. Their fingers were still mindlessly twined around one another's as they walked to Steve's car and their breath swirled in front of their faces, turning into visible puffs in the December air.

But as they rounded the corner of the gym, Owen stumbled to a stop, bringing Steve to a halt, too. Her smile dropped instantly at the sight of Dr. Owens waiting for them, accompanied by a large armored vehicle and a group of other, very official-looking, individuals. If Owen had to guess, they looked to be government agents, with their suits and badges that dangled from around their necks.

"Hello, Miss Webb," Dr. Owens greeted her, then turned his gaze to Steve beside her. "Mr. Harrington."

Owen's stomach turned at the way the doctor addressed Steve by name without having ever met him. Her eyes narrowed at Dr. Owens, lips forming a scowl. "What are you doing here?" she gritted.

If didn't know better, she would have perceived the smile that he gave her as one of amusement. "Well, I think you already know the answer to that." She did. "You stole something that belongs to us and we're just here to retrieve it. But hopefully, we won't need to utilize these theatrics, if you'll just cooperate," Dr. Owens stated in a way that seemed well-intentioned on the surface. But it was hard to take his words at face value when he was threatening force if she didn't comply.

Owen's eyes trailed across the agents before returning to the doctor. "I don't know what you're talking about," she stated, holding indignant eye contact with him.

"We have security footage of you entering my office. That alone is a breach of security," he informed her. "Then, your file was missing the very next day. You wanna call that a coincidence?"

Her eyebrow twitched upwards at the frustration hiding in his tone. "I think I do, Dr. Owens. Perhaps you misplaced it," she shrugged. Owen removed her hand from Steve's, stepping closer to the line of armed guards and agents. "But I promise you, I don't have it," she told him with an emphasis on each word. Their proximity allowed Owen to see the frustration in the doctor's eyes, hidden beneath that polite, unmoving smile.

In hopes that that would be enough to get them off of her back, Owen turned to walk back to Steve's side. She couldn't stand how scared and confused he looked, his eyes only on her.

"I'm the one who saved you, you know!" Dr. Owens called out, causing her to freeze in place.

Owen's head turned, glaring at him from over her shoulder. "What?"

Dr. Owens was quiet for a second, trying to decide if this was the best move. "Dr. Brenner was in charge of the program when you were a subject. You were the first attempt at a replication of One. He called you Zero so that he could erase you from the program without any questions if he failed," he went on. Owen fully turned to face him, eyeing him warily.

"Your abilities were ones that he couldn't control. Just practicing them could cause mass destruction and bring attention to the facility. But you were too young to turn into an orderly. So, he and the other scientists decided it would be best to just kill you and dump your body somewhere. You had no family, so no one would've looked for you or been able to identify you," Dr. Owens explained.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, lower lip wobbling as she heard her story for the first time. "I was just visiting at the time because I was working for the Department of Energy. But it was my idea to drop you off in Detroit. At least that would give you a fighting chance or maybe even a normal life," Dr. Owens finished, looking all too satisfied with himself.

Owen's jaw clenched, her vision going red. "So, what? You expect me to thank you or something?" she growled, marching toward him again. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the agents reach for their bolstered weapons. "You think you're some saint because you dropped a five-year-old on the streets of Detroit alone instead of just murdering me?"

"Well, no. That's not what I-"

"I've seen what Will Byers has had to go through because of your ambivalence. Just being some passive component to someone's traumatic experiences doesn't absolve you from them, Dr. Owens. And now, it turns out you've had a hand in mine?" Owen scoffed before squaring her jaw and looking him dead in the eye. "If you think I should be thanking you for the shitty cards you dealt me, then I think you should be thanking me for not leaking that file the moment I found it."

Swiftly, she turned on her heel and made her way back over to Steve. Once her back was turned, the waterworks began. Her tears caused the black mascara to pool beneath her eyes and trail down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she had intently crafted. And even though he had a million questions, Steve's main priority became getting Owen away from these people and out of the cold.

"I only want to help you, Owen," the doctor spoke in a way that was both forceful and gentle at the same time.

"Well, I don't want your fucking help," she rasped, throat tight. "Just do us all a favor and get the hell out of Hawkins." Steve began to lead her to his car, his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced nervously between her and the collection of intimidating people behind them. But to his surprise, Owen stopped again to face the crowd.

"Actually, there is one thing you can answer for me..." Owen started. "On my file, I saw where it said that my mom died," she recounted, watery eyes watching Dr. Owens closely.

He gave a curt, uncomfortable nod. "Yes, she died from birth complications. Might have been related to the experiments they did during her pregnancy," he sighed, remorsefully. Owen winced at the thought, mind instantly going to all of the atrocities her mother may have faced while at Hawkins Lab.

But she forced her stare to narrow suspiciously. "What about my dad, though? It didn't say I even had one on the file." This caused Dr. Owens to pause and think. He had seen many kids enter the program, each with a different story. So, sometimes, it was difficult to remember how each test subject first joined.

After a moment's thought, he was reminded of the man who had accompanied Owen's mother. "Ah, I remember him. Your parents weren't married at the time. So, when you were born, your father wasn't legally required to be present on the documents. To avoid any ramifications, he was left off of the paperwork and told that you and your mother died during childbirth."

Owen could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had always believed that her parents were just bad people who messed with her as a kid before giving her up. But there was so much more to the story, a story that completely changed her perspective of them. And even more surprisingly, her biological father was still out there somewhere, thinking that his girlfriend and their child died eighteen years ago.

"Do you know where he is?" Owen interrogated, her voice still rough from crying.

Dr. Owens pursed his lips in thought. "Last I heard, he was in Chicago," he told her, earning the most hopeful expression he had seen on her all night. "But that was years ago. He could be anywhere now," he added. Her shoulders slumped at the broadness, aware that she was in a world full of both possibilities and dead ends.

"I wish I could give you more info, Miss Webb. I really do."

Owen's head bobbed in a slow nod. "Well, I was serious about you getting out of Hawkins. You've done enough around here," she muttered in a strangely calm voice.

Dr. Owens just watched sorrowfully as she walked away and got into Steve's BMW. He ignored the biting words of the government agents, instructing him to follow her and see if she was bluffing about the file. But Owen's caustic words made him realize that she and the people in the small town deserved to be left alone. He and the lab had put them through enough, whether they knew it or not.

So, he and the others climbed into the back of the armored truck and rumbled out of town for good. Maybe it was just better that way.

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Owen was sprawled out of the floor of Gordon and Law's bedroom later that night, examining every poster on the walls that she could see. The dress and makeup had been ditched instantly and swapped out for a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. Gordon had his music turned up higher than one would probably recommend at midnight, but their dad seemed to be too preoccupied with Diana to care.

Law was draped over the end of his bed, his head hanging upside down as he flipped through a Spiderman comic book. Meanwhile, Gordon and Eddie were piled up on Gordon's twin-sized bed, talking as though they hadn't seen each other in years. Really, it had only been a couple of weeks between the Fall and Winter breaks that allowed Gordon to come home. But Owen would be damned if she intruded on their happiness to see one another.

Gordon had been talking to and about Eddie a lot since that Halloween party at Tina's. And although none of them talked about it, Owen could see the way that night changed the three of them. As she kept their secret, the boys learned that they could trust Owen. She wouldn't judge them or put them in an uncomfortable position.

In fact, the only way they even knew that she knew about them was on nights like these. The knowing look in her eye when the boys' hips would press together as they shared a bed or lingering arms around each other's shoulders that would've seemed platonic to anyone else. But that night, Owen was noticeably preoccupied, too lost in her thoughts to fondly study the love between her brother and his boyfriend.

"Why so quiet, Charlotte's Web?" Eddie teased her with a smirk on his face. With how often he had been coming over to the house, it seemed like Eddie had a new spin on the family's last name each time he came through the front door. 'Little Webb' had pretty much stuck for Law, but apparently, he was still at the drawing board for Owen's nickname.

Her eyebrow quirked as her eyes trailed away from a Dead Kennedys poster. "I'm always quiet," she retorted.

"Well, that's just not true," Law chimed in, never too distracted to bother his sister.

Gordon sat up further, leaning his elbows onto his knees. "I'm sorry, but I've gotta agree with them. You're even quieter than you usually are," he shrugged. "You still upset with Steve?"

Immediately, Owen shook her head. "No, it's not that... It's just..." she trailed off before making eye contact with a poster of Han Solo. "Where did my name come from?" She craned her neck to be able to look up at Gordon from her place on the floor.

"Your name?" Gordon repeated.

Owen nodded.

"I mean, I don't know the full story, but... you kind of named yourself," he said, simply. Owen still looked pretty confused by the statement, so he went on. "They didn't have a name for you or anything. But apparently, that was the only thing you said for the first two weeks you were at the adoption agency. Just over and over again. Or, well, Owen's. They thought you were just stuck in that super possessive stage."

Owen blinked at him. "Wait, was I saying Owen or Owens? Like, without the apostrophe?"

Gordon's brows dipped, unsure why she had latched on to that specifically. "Like I said, I don't really know the whole story," he said, disappointedly. Owen pursed her lips to refrain from them sloping into a frown.

"If mom was here, she'd remember every last detail that those social workers told her," Gordon chuckled in a way that was both amused and a little sad.

Owen shook her head. "No, it's okay. I honestly appreciate anything at this point," she made sure to reassure him, tilting her head back down to stare down the poster version of Han Solo again.

Then, everyone returned to whatever they were doing before: chattering, reading, listening to music. But Owen was still stuck in her head. Surely, she didn't accidentally name herself after Dr. Owens... right? That shithead who credits himself for saving her life? The mere possibility of it made her eye start to twitch.

Owen swiftly talked herself off of that mental ledge, effectively bringing herself back into the real world before she got all worked up again. Peeking around the floor beneath her, she grabbed a dirty sock and launched it right at Law. The smack of it against his face tore him away from his comic book as he disgustedly sputtered.

"What the hell was that for?" he griped.

"Just testing your Spidey Senses," Owen shrugged with a grin that made Law roll his eyes. "Oh, and that was payback for your dumbass comment earlier."

Although Law grumbled a few phrases under his breath, he ultimately accepted his punishment and went back to reading. Owen's hands folded atop her stomach as she studied the speckled ceiling above her. Dr. Owens' words about her father just kept replaying in her head.

He could be anywhere now.

And while that was true, Owen had suddenly decided to make 'anywhere' a much smaller place.

All she knew is that she needed to find her dad — the last living piece of her puzzle.