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Chapter Text

November 1983

Duran Duran's Hungry Like the Wolf echoed through the frigid midnight air as Veronica and Jacob sped down the deserted, dark roads of outer Hawkins.

Despite the icy temperature, the passenger side window was rolled down, Veronica's outstretched arm turning goose-pimpled and red as the wind whipped her skin. She let out a gaping yawn before smiling relaxedly.

Jacob released a small laugh, turning down the volume on the radio slightly. "You're that tired?" He asked, his tone light and unpatronising. That was a nice change from what she was used to.

Veronica's eyes flicked to him as the ends of her small smile curled mischievously. "I wouldn't say tired," she started, picking at her cuticles in an act of faux innocence. A long tendril of hair smacked her unceremoniously in the face. She angrily dragged it back behind her ear. "But this whole thing with Byers' brother's got my head all screwed up. And now Barbra?" Jacob's eyebrows pinched in understanding, thoughtfully humming in agreement.

Will's disappearance, and now confirmed death, had rocked Hawkins. Search parties of fifty people, flyers in every shop window, and a funeral so bleak it'd been practically freeze dried into the memory of every attendee. Nancy's worry over Barb's sudden vanishing was just as jarring.

The small girl had practically hunted Jacob down in the library, demanding answers as to whether he'd seen Barb leave the night of the pool party, or if he knew where she was.

But he knew nothing, having watched over Veronica all Tuesday night. He hoped Nancy found her friend soon.

"What if there's some freaky murderer running around, targeting social outcasts?" The boy groaned as Veronica let out a barely concealed cackle at her joke, miming a fake stabbing motion to her neck, braclets and bangles clattering.

"You shouldn't joke about stuff like that, Ron, a little kid just died. And Barb is missing." Jacob asserted, sending his passenger a disapproving look. His grip tightened around the wheel. "I thought you were better than those guys."

Veronica huffed as she looked away from him, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. She crossed her arms defensively over her body as her mind raced back to Tommy, Carol and Steve hurtling off jabs at Jonathan earlier that week.

She may have mooted one or two, herself. The sight was just too depressing not to comment on.

That's what Steve had basically said, anyways.

" Oh, God, that's depressing." He commented, hands planted on his hips. He did it all the time. Veronica guessed it was a subtle way for men to make themselves feel and appear bigger. Given he'd just been asking Nancy to his party, she liked to think she guessed right.

"Very." She affirmed mindlessly.

"Should we say something?" Nancy questioned, looking between the different faces of the popular group for approval. It was silent for a moment.

Jacob shook his head. "Personally, I don't really think it's my place." He scratched the back of his head where the hair was short and prickly, where Veronica liked to run her fingers over it. "I don't know Jonathan all that well and, I don't wanna, you know, make him feel patronised,or anything."

Nancy hummed thoughtfully in response, and Veronica laced her hands around one of Jacob's now crossed arms, nodding her head and looking down to her feet. Jacob had always been kind, understanding. Veronica used to be, too. She wondered when she began to switch paths, turning out more bitter like Carol, than empathetic like Jacob. 

"I don't think he speaks." Carol commented snidely.

"He even moves funny." Veronica added, the two girls giggling between themselves. She felt Jacob shift in her hold uncomfortably.

Way to make her feel like a piece of shit.

What's more, they'd gone to Steve's stupid pool party that night, where Nancy had brought along the less than amicable Barb. Jacob said she was just shy; Veronica felt as if the taller girl were judging them all as she'd sat by the pool, refusing to engage- acting as if she was above all of their shenanigans.

Her face soured at the memory alone.

"What, think you can beat us, Barb?" Veronica chided after the shy girl vehemently refused to chug a can. "Don't wanna put us all to shame?" She smirked wolfishly as Barb's sheepish eyes darted to the floor, an embarrassed smile on her soft face.

Feeling a tug on her arm, Veronica whipped around in her lounge chair to meet Jacob's confused, brown eyes. He stood over the back of her seat, hands moving to sit on her padded shoulders. She was donning one of his expensive navy blazers. "What's gotten into you, recently?" He asked quietly, face morphed in concern.

Veronica rolled her eyes in response and faced away.

Tommy and Carol snickered at her faux questions, and Nancy simpered. "Just... just give it a shot." The petite girl encouraged her friend, handing Barb a can and Steve's ancient pocket knife. Said boy passed Veronica another cigarette from his place in the chair next to her.

She didn't even have to ask. She placed it between her lips before leaning towards Steve and letting him light it, taking a long drag.

They watched in twin anticipation as Barb attempted to pierce the can, only to cut her hand, blood spilling from the cut and into the pool.

Veronica felt bad after that.

She'd felt even worse when Nancy spent the next two days hounding her as to whether she had any information on Barb's whereabouts.

"Did you see Barb leave?"

Apparently, she'd never made it home after the party.

"I know nothing, Wheeler." Veronica answered, chucking the declaration behind her to Nancy, who was hot on her heels. Speeding through the carpark, Veronica's face was stamped with a frown, lips curled in annoyance. Nancy wouldn't let up. She stuffed another cigarette between her drying lips. "She's your friend, isn't she? Shouldn't you have made sure she got home safe?" Stopping to fish through her bag to find a lighter, Veronica groaned, tilting her face to the sky in frustration when she came up empty.

Where was Harrington when you needed him? Probably flipping some poor kid's lunch tray, or something. Either that or carving his and Nancy's initials into a tree somewhere, smitten as he was.

"Hey!" Nancy yelled, running up to Veronica, grabbing her left bicep and spinning her around. The small girl was stronger than she looked. She stared up at Veronica with a barely concealed viciousness. "You don't have to be a jerk about this, I'm just trying to find my friend! Anything could've happened to her." Nancy paused, voice faltering. Her eyes flicked to the side. "And- and something bad's happened, I just know it."

Veronica watched -the knot that had been growing in her stomach since Tuesday night tightening- as tears welled in Nancy's eyes before being mercilessly swiped away by a small, shaking hand.

Eyes softening, she let herself feel pity towards the girl for a small moment, the chaotic tempest of emotions brewing and bubbling inside of her swirling freely. It couldn't hurt to let herself feel pity for Nancy, for just a moment. She wasn't totally heartless.

Because of that, that beating hunk of muscle in her chest, hidden away behind the bony bars of her ribcage and much more, Veronica couldn't imagine losing anyone, let alone her best friend.

As much as it hurt to admit, which she'd never do  to his face, running the risk of boosting his ego way too high, she'd be lost without Steve.

After all, she'd heard through the grapevine that that Nancy and Barbra had been close since childhood, just like she and Steve had. His mother's hoarded photo books would be proof enough.

Nancy's guilt must've been crippling.

Nevertheless, Veronica concluded with a hardening of her features, she didn't have time for it all- this pity party. Her mom had already tore her a new one after she'd heard the cops pulled her out of class, asking questions and making accusations.

She'd had no answers, of course, having left the disastrous party with Jacob at nine as per her curfew. But that didn't matter much in the eyes of her mother.

And now, Nancy was making her late for tennis practice. She couldn't afford another mistake.

Veronica plucked the unlit cigarette from between her lips and raised her eyebrows before responding, mustering the meanest words she could think of. "Maybe you should've thought about that before you went upstairs to go play hooky with Steve. I heard Byers got some photos if you feel like reminiscing."

She didn't stick around to answer any more of Nancy's frazzled questions.

"Yeah, I guess." Veronica muttered half-heartedly, winding her window back up to distract herself. She wasn't trying to be mean, it was just a joke.

Tommy and Carol would have laughed at it. Steve would've, too, if Nancy wasn't around. It's not her fault all her friends turned into jerks. She was just playing along. It didn't bode well to be unpopular in Hawkins.

Turning once again to look back at Jacob, Veronica froze. Her eyes caught a freakish grey mass standing ominously in the road ahead of them, cutting a lethal line through the midnight darkness.

Her mouth turned as dry as sand paper and her heart's rhythmic beats came to a slamming halt.

That couldn't be right.

She squinted her eyes, as if to reassess, but the creature's unmistakable form was perfectly illuminated by the car's headlights. Gangly arms. Skin and bone. No eyes to lock on to.

Her painted lips parted as if to speak. No sound breached them.

In the split second her eyes dared to linger on the horror, she glimpsed the unmistakable smattering of blood on its lengthy, clawed fingers and mottled, grey face. Its figure was severe, and shiny with some sort of iridescent, slimy substance.

"Jay!" She finally screeched, pointing a now juddering finger ahead of her in alarm.

As if he'd been snapped out of a daze, Jacob suddenly reacted to the sight in front of them, swerving the car out of the way and off the road with a terrified jerk of the steering wheel.

Screaming as they careered into the wall of trees fencing in the road, Veronica braced her back firmly against her seat, red painted nails digging into her shoulders painfully as she once again crossed her arms defensively over herself.

This time, she tucked her head between her arms, hoping and praying the action would offer any sort of protection against the deadly impact that was soon to come.

Unavoidably, the nose of the car smashed into two strong and unmoving trees. The two teenagers were flung forward, exploding airbags doing little to cushion the blow of their heads slamming against the steering wheel and dashboard respectively.

Veronica heard the sickening sound of her skull cracking upon impact. A wet and warm liquid began to trickle down her skin.

For what seemed like a brief moment, there was a fuzzy silence buzzing in the space between Veronica's ears. Her skull pulsed and throbbed. Then, frantic shaking of her limp body began to pull her from the depths of whatever pit her mind had fallen into.

"Ronnie!" Jacob's frightened shouts of her name roused her into consciousness, her now wet and heavy eyes tearing open. "Ronnie! There you are, Baby! You gotta get up, c'mon!" A fleck of spittle hit her face as the hands that had been shaking her form awake suddenly turned to grabbing and pulling.

Jacob yanked her from the wreck, her legs kicking and arms frantically flailing, incoherent noises spilling from her lips, just as the rancid smell of smoke and gas began to sneak up her swollen nose.

The two flopped onto the muddy, leaf-covered forest floor as one big tangle of limbs, breathing in deep, guttural huffs of the grounding, earthy scent, their noses mushed into the peat.

"Ugh," Veronica let out after some silent moments, save their heavy breathing. "What the- what the fuck was that thing?" She coughed as the pungent and stuffy smoke from the wreckage stifled her lungs.

Painfully and slowly, she dragged her numb body to its feet. Every movement was marked by a throb of her skull, and stabs of pain ricocheted around her body in pinpricks. Her stomach dangerously churned.

"I don't know." Jacob breathlessly responded, wrapping a strong and supportive arm around Veronica's shuddering shoulders after he too, stood. He gulped. Swiped his free hand down his muddied face. "But I know we need to get out of here before it comes-"

As if their referral to the creature had summoned it, the horrifically tall and lanky thing burst free from the surrounding foliage and straight into Jacob's chest. Like a demented flower, the creature's face was split open, each petal demonised with rows upon rows of jagged, yellowed teeth.

The screech it let out pierced Veronica's eardrums, combining with her throbbing skull and the monster's weight to concoct a riddling pain that sent her crashing back onto the forest floor, clutching her head as a scream tore free from the depths of her stomach.

While her eyes were clenched firmly shut in agony, sickening squelching sounds seemed to find their way through the forest and directly to Veronica's victimised ears. Jacob was futilely screaming out. She ground her teeth. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

She could hear as Jacob began to be devoured by the monster- even through the barrier of her hands plastered over her ears and waning consciousness. Squelch. Suck. Squelch. Rip. Repeat.

"Veronica! Please!" He hollered into the void of the forest, voice now hoarse after his endless pleas and agonised shrieks. "Help me! Please!" Leaves scrunched and twigs snapped as his hands dug into the wet earth, body writhing in red-hot pain, legs sporadically kicking at the beast crouched over him. Another round of screaming started.

Her temporary paralysis was lifted as Veronica mindlessly clambered to her hands and knees, heaving thick breaths in and out. Crawling in the direction of Jacob's steadily quieting yelps, she plotted to startled the monster, and rip Jacob from its grasp. She had to. Despite the crippling pain, she would save him.

She had to save him. 

As she crawled, memories of their first date at the Hawk flashed through her mind, snapshots of his blinding smile and gentle, caring touches. He'd patched up her bruises and cuts more times than she could count, through the years, and was always there to smooth the wrinkles of her crumpled forehead with a light kiss. Friends first, lovers later- one beautiful relationship blossoming into another.

In recent weeks, when she'd started to reflect Steve, Tommy and Carol's bullish behaviour, he responded with questions and concern; not anger. He was too kind, too good-hearted, to consider that, maybe, she was just becoming a bad person.

Or, that maybe she'd been one all along, and finally felt confident enough in her skin to show it.

She couldn't let that light of his be taken. The world would be a whole lot darker without it.

Fresh determination reverberated through her bones from head to toe, and Veronica steeled her previously pitiful expression as she moved forward with a renewed ferocity.

But the monster caught onto her game.

In the throngs of pain, her sneaking must've been about as quiet as an elephants.

As if to scare her away from stealing its meal, the creature turned to face Veronica, reopening its horrific maw and once again searingly screeching at her. Its teeth caught the light from the full moon as it watched this debauchery from the night sky, and they glinted a bloody red.

At the fright, Veronica flung herself back with a scream and scrambled out of sight from the creature.

Away from the smouldering wreck she fled, away from the forest devoid of light.

Away from Jacob.

Her legs kept moving. Before she knew it, she was running- tearing down the middle of the road, tears and snot streaming down her face as her body was overcome with wracking sobs.

She fruitlessly wiped a muddied and bloodied hand down her face, attempting to rid it of the grime from the forest and her own filth. Except, she was covered in it.

There wasn't an inch of her once pristine appearance that hadn't been begrimed by mud or blood. The dark, sludgy mixture had settled under her long nails and sunk into the fine wrinkles of her skin.

Her feet were being murdered in the small navy pumps she was sporting. They offered no stabilisation to her shaking legs.

Still, she didn't stop. She couldn't. Her legs refused to carry her anywhere other than away from the threat.

She was a coward, a fucking coward. She'd left him to die, get eaten by that horrific thing. She hoped, as she ran faster than ever, that the creature would come chasing after her. Probably, she now realised, in the same way it would have hunted after Barbra and poor Will.

A shaky smile spread across her face at the thought, and a defeated laugh jumped out her throat. She wanted it to grab her by the ankle, drag her back into the forest and eat her alive- as it was doing to Jacob. It would be justice. It would be fair.

***

Soon, or maybe not, a small trailer presented itself to Veronica on her mission away from the monster. It was sat between two gatherings of trees along the road, and had a quaint stairway to the door.

There might be someone in there. She could get help. She could save Jacob. If he was even still alive.

Shaking her heavy head back and forth, Veronica changed course and began heading straight for the trailer with a determined sniff of her bloodied nose. She couldn't afford to abandon Jacob a second time.

Scarpering up the little set of stairs, she reached the door in no time and began to frantically hammer her fist on it. "Hello? Is anyone in there?" She hollered, knocking the side of her fist on the door over and over. The tears restarted their endless streaming down her cheeks, her body falling weaker.

"Shit. Please! I need help! I-" She sucked in a deep breath as a wave of nausea washed over her, her forehead dropping to rest on the door. "Me and my boyfriend have just been attacked and I need help!" She hit the door again. "Please!"

There was no response.

"Fuck," she whimpered, now resting her full weight against the creaking front door. "I'm fucking useless."

Slowly, unable to fight the exhaustion and overwhelming pain in her head and body any longer, Veronica slid down the door and sat, in a ball, at the top of the staircase.

Her pulsating head was hung low between her arms, which were curled around her knees. Feeble fingers dug into the expensive cashmere of her sweater, malformed it.

This was comfy enough, she concluded in a haze. It was still freezing cold, her head felt like it had been caved in, her body was prickly and her stomach hummed with a dull pain, but this was comfy.

Before she could help it, Veronica slipped into sleep at the foot of the door.

Chapter Text

With a gasp, Jim Hopper shot up from his couch, eyes wide and mouth agape. Coated in a stifling sheen of sweat, he felt disgusting, wiping his slick forehead with an equally sweaty hand.

But that was the least of his worries.

He'd been at the lab. Seen that... fissure in the wall. And now he was here.

Home.

He didn't remember making his way back.

Grunting, he leapt up from the couch and grabbed his gun, which had been kindly placed on his coffee table for him. Fuckers.

He raced across the small living room, ripping open the front door, and tore out of it, gun raised. His head was spinning, vision swirled and hazy, heart beating out of his chest. He needed to figure out what the fuck had happened. ASAP. Only, barely a step out, his lagging foot caught on something at the stoop of his door.

He fell, face forward, over it.

He landed with a thud, awkwardly sprawled halfway down the wooden, rickety steps leading to his trailer.

In his panicked haze, he jumped back to his feet swiftly, pointing his gun down at whatever those shit stains at the lab had gifted him, chest rising and falling dangerously quickly.

Could it be a bomb? Or some other sort of demented gift, left there for him to find and throw him off of their trail? Whole lot of good that would do.After everything he'd seen and heard, Jim's fight with those scientists at the Lab had only just fucking started.

The unconscious body of Veronica Mason was at the end of his revolver, however, covered head to toe in grime and blood.

Hopper blinked. Then blinked again, before his arm dropped back to his side and a haggard breath rattled out of his hollow chest.

"What the hell," he croaked, a clammy hand swiping down his face.

He crouched next to her coiled form, reluctantly tilting her bloodied face upwards before hovering the back of his hand over her lips and nose.

Thankfully, he felt faint, albeit present breaths, hitting his skin. Something inside of him relaxed, at that, curling back up into a ball in his chest and growing dormant once again.

But stress still remained, pumping through his veins and stifling his body with dizzying heat.

What the fuck happened to her?

Dried blood was caked on the sides of her face, nose, and in her swathes of dark hair. Her hands, curled in tight fists, were similarly covered— except with mud.

Could someone have done this to her?

Did she see something those scientists didn't want her to? Did they dump her here?

Was this linked to Will and Barbra?

"Kid, you've gotta wake up for me." Hopper started, lightly shaking the girl's freezing shoulders. She was worryingly cold, her body stiff, statuesque.

Had she been out here all night?

His worry only grew as his eyes caught her blue-tinted lips, the skin of them dry and crusted.

"Mason," he warned sternly. "Wake up, girl, c'mon."

They'd met only briefly a year or so prior, Veronica and her spotty friend Harrington at the receiving end of one of Hopper's infamous reprimands.

The two teens had been reported for smoking and stinking of pot on a bench in town one warm, summers night.

Because he's so kind, Jim let them off with a warning, despite the fact that their bloodshot eyes and slurred responses suggested they didn't hear a word he said.

"Mason, wake up!" He shouted, his patience waning and fear deepening.

Drawing himself back, he took in a deep, stabilising breath. He didn't like this. He really fucking didn't. She looked like death. And fuck, was it haunting.

He could handle good for nothing randoms, shitheads that deserved whatever shitty situation they'd wound themselves not in. But he couldn't handle kids, not when they looked like this.

It reminded him of Sarah.

Before Jim could worry himself over it anymore, the beads of sweat on his brow having doubled, he drew his hand high in the air and smacked it down onto Veronica's cheek. Not the kindest move, perhaps, but there wasn't much time for any of that soppy bullshit, right now.

Not when Jim had a near dead girl on his porch, and a couple of missing kids knocking around town. She could cry about it to her Mommy after he figured out what the fuck this big mess, was.

At that, the girl's eyes shot wide open.

For a few moments, while Hopper's shoulders slumped in relief, head tilting back to huff into the sky, she mindlessly rolled to and fro, groaning in pain as she went.

What... what the fuck?

The pain was everywhere, dull and sharp at the same time, stabbing and thrumming under her skin, up and out, tearing her apart from the inside. Her teeth gritted, nails dug into her palms, scraping up tethers of pressure to keep herself lucid.

When her aimless, frantic eyes found his, she paused, save a few confused seconds.

"Chief Hopper?" She strangled out, voice grating. It felt like there were rocks rolling around in her throat, scraping against the soft tissue at every rumble of her chest.

She sniffed, and attempted to sit up, barely making it a few centimetres off of the platform before flopping back down with a whimper, bottom lip wobbling.

Her fists unfurled and shaky fingers reached for him. It was only then that Hopper's eyes drifted to her stomach.

His heart stopped.

Starting from the left-hand side of her stomach, three long, deep and wide scratches had tore open her once baby pink sweater, all the way down to her right-hand hip.

Raising a cautious hand, Hopper gulped, and hesitantly plucked at the slices in the clothing, revealing the injuries hiding beneath.

To his horror, the slices on Veronica's tainted sweater were mirrored on her skin. He couldn't mask the gasp that escaped him at sight.

"What?" The girl questioned as roughly as she could, not liking that the Chief could obviously see something she couldn't. Her brows angrily pinched, and lips pursed. Even when barely lucid, her attitude stood resolute. Kids these days. "What is it?" She gritted out between teeth clenched in pain.

"You," Hopper paused, picking his words carefully. "You don't know?"

Veronica blinked at him, her eyes darting away as tears welled in them. "I- I could... guess."

The monster, the creature, that damned thing, it must've gotten her. How in hell she hadn't realised, well, it must've been down to how shit-scared she was, far too busy with being a fucking coward to even consider any pain flashing across her skin.

Either that, or she'd been injured in the crash.

She let out a shaky sigh and covered her quivering lips with a dirtied hand.

Tears slipped down her face, tearing clean pathways amongst the dirt, blood and grime caked on her skin. "Hopper," she started, heart rate rising. A demented, flower-like mouth ripped open and screamed at her, in her mind. "I'm gonna sound crazy, but something really, really bad happened last night."

With a grunt, Jim rose to his feet.

He stayed silent as he stepped behind the girl before simply putting his hands under her armpits, and lifting her up. She howled in protest, wounds flaring hot in burning pain, but he had to bring her inside, get her cleaned up.

Given the mud she was plastered in, the slices on her stomach were likely already infected.

Regardless, he'd do his best to help.

"Don't say a word." He warned, lifting Veronica through his living room, past the kitchen, and towards the bathroom near the back of the trailer.

He manoeuvred her in his arms so that one arm rested beneath her knees, the other around her shoulders.

"Someone... could be listening." He whispered in her ear through thin lips, before setting her feet back down on the floor. Her body slumped against the wall almost immediately, which made Hopper's confidence in his next decision waver. He spoke before he could second-guess himself further. "Go in there, get cleaned up. I'll leave some clothes out for you. I've got something to deal with while you're in there." Veronica's brows furrowed in suspicion. "I'll stitch you up afterward."

Without another word, Hopper placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, before pushing into the bathroom, and frantically starting to pull items from shelves.

Horrified, Veronica's slumped form was frozen against the wall.

Had the Chief gone mad?

She watched with wide eyes and a slack jaw as he tore the light fixture from the ceiling, ripping apart the bulb, inspecting it, before growling in annoyance and throwing it carelessly onto the counter.

Next, he went for the lid of the toilet.

She couldn't believe her eyes.

After a few more frantic dismantlings of household appliances, Hopper wordlessly shoved past Veronica and stormed back down the hallway.

She took his exit as her queue to lock herself in the bathroom, and do as the Chief told her.

Once alone in the now dishevelled bathroom, Veronica braced her hands against the small counter, her head dropping between her shoulders as she let out a shaky breath.

The last, what couldn't have been any more than a six or so hours, had been... a lot.

Talk about understatement of the year.

Jay was likely dead, thanks to her cowardice, and rotting on Kerley Road in the early morning sunlight. Tears began to dribble down her cheeks at the thought, her body juddering with quiet sobs. She tried swallowing them down, biting and tearing at her lips to keep the wails inside, but they clawed their way up her tight throat and out.

Why wasn't it her, that the creature had gone for? It should've been.

Comparatively, or just objectively, Jacob was the far better person, over Veronica.

He didn't make fun of people who were a little different, he didn't make fun of kids who'd probably been eaten by a monster. He was all smiles, soft touches and warmth. A great, blinding ball of kindness bundled up into the body of a teenage boy.

He was better than Veronica.

Yet, here she was, still alive, albeit wrecked, in the Chief's trailer, while he was dead, mauled and debauched, alone in the dark forest.

She supposed, running a shaking hand over her matted hair, that survival was her punishment. Never quite adequate, not even the same or more than she deserved. But it was fitting. So long as one day, she got to stand over that thing and watch it die, she resolved to happily serve her term for eternity.

Her new mission in life, marked by a sniff of her stuffy nose, was one of revenge. Fuck everything else. Fuck it all.

Lifting her head to look in the mirror above the counter, to affirm her new resolve, Veronica's eyes were greeted by her rugged appearance.

Her eyes were puffy, and bloodshot, with dried blood having carved a dark path from somewhere in her hairline down over her brow, ending in a smudge on her cheek.

The next disaster site was her nose, which leaked a trail of blood of its own. It was swollen, and crusted with mud from where she and Jacob had smushed their faces into the forest floor.

Mud marked the remaining canvas of her face, mixed in with more smatterings of brown blood. She looked like something out of a horror movie.

She painfully gulped.

Her throat was sore.

She looked like she'd been through Hell.

She resigned, with a breath, that she had been. Or, as close too as possible, while in this Godforsaken, Earthly realm.

After some painful manoeuvring out of her wet, sticky clothes, which she chucked in the sink for easy cleaning (save her bra and pants), she stepped into the cosy shower stall, grabbing a few bottles of assorted soap from the floor as she went.

She hoped they, combined with the disregarded back scrubber on the floor, would be enough to scrub her skin clean of all the grime.

Who was she kidding. She'd never be clean.

Under the warm stream of the shower, Veronica's wounds opened and pulsed as her tensed muscles mellowed.

Stepping back for a moment, the sudden heat and influx of pain from her head wounds causing her to sway, she made way for the shower stream to unforgivingly spray her stomach.

She yelped in pain, arms shooting to protectively wrap around it.

"Kid, you good in there?" Hopper asked from outside the door, voice muffled.

He must have finished whatever it was he was trying to do. She hoped he hadn't been listening to her pity herself.

Bracing her hands against the cool, grounding tile of the shower wall, Veronica nodded.

She was fine.

She refused to look at her stomach, out of fear or disgust, she didn't know, but she was fine. She had to be, if she was going to kill the creature and avenge Jacob.

"Yeah, I'm good." She shot back, picking up the scrub and lathering it in a body wash, before getting to work.

God knows how much time passed, stood alone under the eventually burning heat of the shower stream, but soon enough, Veronica was clean again, or as clean as she could get, with all the blood stained eternally on her hands. Save for her stomach, of course, which she left as it was, hoping Hopper had some sort of industry grade antiseptic to tackle it with.

Even the underside of her nails and shells of her ears had been fully decontaminated. Some parts of her skin burned an angry red from where she'd scrubbed so hard.

Hiding her body behind the door, Veronica crouched and cracked it open, finding a small pile of clothes on the floor as promised.

She snatched them up, shutting the door again before pulling them on as quickly as she could, trying not to irritate her wounds.

Whether or not he'd believe her, she had to tell Hopper what happened. Fast.

Even if it was just so that the cops could go and recover Jacob's body before animals got to it.

His car would need to be towed as well.

His parents would have to be informed.

God, his parents.

Could she ever face them again, the lovely man and woman who'd invited her into their home, time and time again?

They'd said they were delighted Jacob was dating such a precious girl. Her spine shivered at the thought.

That would have to be left to the cops.

For now, she had a monster to hunt.

After that, she didn't know what she'd do. Hiding from them seemed like the most realistic possibility. She sniffed.

The denim skirt, which came to just above her scraped knees and fit snugly around her hips with the help of a belt, fit surprisingly well.

She tried to tuck the white and blue pinstriped shirt she'd been gifted into it, but the movement aggravated her already pulsing scratches, pinched by the high-wasted skirt and belt.

Veronica resigned to leaving the shirt untucked for now, and released the belt and the first few poppers on the skirt.

She didn't realise hopper had a wife, and a relatively shic one at that. She'd thank her for the clothes when she saw her.

Wrapping her sopping hair in a towel on top of her head, Veronica quietly stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway, blue pumps and grimy socks held loosely in her right hand.

As she wandered to the living room, her bare, blistered feet weaved around the scattered items littering the floor. Picture frames, lamps, even kitchen utensils, had all found a new home on the carpet.

It seemed like Hopper had done some remodelling while she was showering. A small breath escaped her in amusement.

She found him sitting stiffly on his sunken couch, elbows resting on his knees. Between his fingers, which he held close to his face, he twiddled a small, round object.

"What's that?" Veronica asked, unable to blanket her curiosity.

She supposed her story could wait a few minutes, Hopper had obviously been through something disturbing.

"A bug." He blankly responded, eyes not leaving the device.

"Like, one of those things that spy on people's conversations in movies?"

"Exactly." He said, placing it down on his disarrayed coffee table.

On the surface sat small, yellow bottles filled with white pills. One or two had fallen over, the pills having spilled onto the plush carpet. Veronica recognised those, she'd seen them in her mother's vanity.

They were anti-depressants.

Next to the bottles sat a shining revolver, the same one he'd pointed at her only a short while ago.

She shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

So, Hopper had been bugged. Why? By who?

What the fuck was going on in Hawkins?

His eyes finally drifted to her. "What happened to you, Veronica?" He questioned after a heavy beat of silence.

The girl sniffed, her eyes darting to the sliding glass door to her right.

It was now or never.

Her throat bobbed, eyes welling with tears once again, her heart beating out of her chest. She swallowed down the queasy feeling that struck her, and her eyes swung back to Hopper.

"Me and my boyfriend, Jacob Kelly, we were driving down Kerley road last night-" Hopper muttered something under his breath. Veronica didn't catch it, far too wrapped up in the horrors of the previous night. She gulped before carrying on. "He'd, uhm, he was dropping me back at my place. I'd spent the evening at his, and he didn't want me going back to mine alone in the dark, you know, given everything that's happened, recently. He lives... lived, a way out of town."

Hopper stood and slowly started walking towards her. She blinked, teetering away on wobbly feet, fingers curling anxiously around the shoes she was clutching. Once in front of her, he placed big, reassuring hands on Veronica's shoulders. Without realising it, her breathing had grown erratic, and her figure was shaking with rattles.

"Kid, you've gotta tell me what happened." Tears slipped down her cheeks, dripped onto her feet. She felt pathetic. She was about to admit to the Chief what a deplorable, evil person she was. The truth felt like a ball in her throat, balancing on the verge of barrelling its way up, and out, or dropping down into her stomach, never to be uttered. "Everything's going to be okay, kid, I just need you to tell me. So I can help."

Veronica sucked in a deep breath, nodding.

She had to do this, whether she enjoyed it, or not. Whether everything was going to be okay, or not.

She had to do this. For Jacob.

"Everything was normal, until we saw this- this thing in the road."

"What thing?" Hopper questioned. "The thing that scratched you?"

She nodded. "It looked human when I first saw it, but... but it was so much worse." A sob choked out of her throat, and she reminded herself that she had to do this. "It's face, it, it looked like a flower. It opened up, and the petals were covered in teeth. So many teeth."

Hopper shushed her as Veronica's form burst open with sobs, unable to trample them down at the reminder of the horrific creature. He awkwardly patted at her shoulders before herding her to the couch, gently pushing her to take a seat.

Veronica nodded in thanks, eyes closed and face crumpled. Flashes of the thing danced behind her eyes, taunting her. But she had to do this.

"Jay swerved out of the way to avoid it, and, and we crashed into some trees. For a second, we thought we were in the clear, you know, before it jumped out and got Jacob." She stopped, mind working over the events. "That, that must've been when it scratched me..." About to admit to the worst of it, her head dropped to rest in her hands. Nails dug sharply into her scalp, scraped against skin. "That's- that's when I ran away. It started eating him and, and I tried to get Jacob back, I swear, but- but the monster screamed at me and I got so scared, I-"

Hopper pulled her into a side hug, quieting the girl's cries in his chest.

Shit, he thought to himself. What the fuck.

Joyce had been right. Not insane, not deluded, not clouded by grief. But right.

There was a monster in Hawkins.

She hadn't been hallucinating when she'd said something broke through her walls.

What's more, she'd been right about Will's body being a fake.

He needed to get to her place, make sure she wasn't bugged either, and tell her about the new puzzle pieces he'd scrambled up. And the poor, broken one he'd found on his porch, now bundled up in his chest.

As much as it broke his heart to hear Veronica's story, it was one more segment he could fit into the massive, unsolved picture of Will's disappearance.

Only, Hopper didn't doubt that, when she heard about what'd happened to Jacob Kelly, and took a look at Veronica, Joyce would fly into a fresh fit of anxiety.

What kind of mother wouldn't?

He shook his head back and forth as if to rid it of those thoughts.

He'd think about Joyce later, for now, he needed to reassure Veronica that she wasn't crazy, tell her what he knew.

"Stay here," Hopper said quietly, standing and heading to a chest of drawers on the other side of the living room He pulled a hefty first aid kit out of it, and wandered back over to Veronica. "Tell me, what do you know about Hawkins lab?"

Chapter Text

Having patched up Veronica, which was a mammoth task in and of itself, she and Hopper prepared to head to Joyce Buyers' house.

The mother was in an incredibly frazzled state, according to Hopper, who'd been subject to hearing about what he, until recently, assumed were her troubled hallucinations.

"Won't that only make her more worried about her son?" Veronica questioned, referring to telling Joyce her story, while tentatively pulling on a spare pair of Hopper's socks over her sore, blistered and bruised feet.

He'd chucked them to her after he glimpsed the bloodied and soggy state of hers. They were massive, but dry. She appreciated the gesture.

"Of course it will," Hopper responded. "But, she deserves to know everything that's going on, everything that could be connected to Will." He sighed, rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion, leant against the glass doors leading to the lake. "Those bastard scientists aren't telling anyone shit, and are covering up whatever they've unleashed."

Veronica nodded, and stood from the sunken couch. Now that Hopper had cleaned and stitched up the slices on her stomach, and covered the haggard site with a few large gauzes, tying the belt around her waist, and tucking in the button-up, felt a world more comfortable.

She still hadn't dared to look at the wounds. Hopper had warned her that he'd done a shoddy stitch job. The scars weren't going to be pretty.

That was, however, a problem for Veronica to tackle another day. Once all of this was over. For now, she'd do her best to forget all about her forever changed skin, the permanent reminders of what she'd been through, what she'd done.

Walking towards a window at the front of the house, she peered out of it in curiosity. It was fully daylight now, and the sun illuminated a barely visible trail of blood leading up to Hoppers door. That wasn't a good look.

"Chief?" She called out uncertainly. "I uh, I think I made a mess." Wordlessly, the giant man stomped over to her side, and followed the direction of her pointed finger with his eyes.

"Jesus Christ," he huffed. "I'll kick around the gravel before we leave, should cover it up. For now, anyways."

Veronica nodded, leaning against the window for a while longer, staring out at the tall trees on the opposite side of the road. She wondered whether Jay had been found yet.

As if the universe heard her inner musings, a cop car swung onto Hopper's drive. Gasping, she flung her body away from the window and onto the floor beneath it, wincing as her stitches pulled. Thankfully, she didn't feel any snap. "Hopper!" She called out again. "We've got company!"

"Shit," the Chief groaned, revolver now back in his hand. The poor man hadn't even had a chance to shower yet, too busy patching her up, and putting back together his living space. She felt like a burden. "Stay here. Don't look out the window. They'll see you." Hopper warned, the implication of disobeying his words punctuated by the thrusting of his gun in Veronica's face.

She gulped and nodded, not needing to be told twice.

She listened from her spot on the floor as, with a certain agitation, he ripped open the door, it having been banged on by a lackadaisical sounding officer.

"Jesus, chief, you alright?" A new voice questioned.

"What're you doing here?" Hopper gruffly rebuffed. Veronica snorted. He wasn't doing a very good job of sounding normal. She guessed that being a good cop didn't always mean you were a good actor.

"We tried calling, but-"

"Yeah, phone's dead."

Zoning out from their tense conversation momentarily, Veronica quietly began to slip her heels back on. She guessed that, after this, Hopper would want to leave for Joyce's ASAP. He was scary, despite his generosity, large and imposing, and she didn't want to get on his bad side.

A shrink had once told her she had a fear of men, angry ones anyway. It was something to do with her dad, apparently, and past associated 'traumas'. Maybe she'd go back to her therapist, once all of this was over.

Catching the road name, "Kerley" amidst the strained conversation, Veronica shifted her focus back to Hopper and the officers.

"Mirkwood," she heard Hopper mutter. He'd told her, whilst cleaning her wounds, that was what Will and his friend group called the road. That was where he'd vanished from, where she and Jacob had been attacked. The location held significance.

"What?" One of the officers questioned Hopper's mumble.

She heard him sigh. He did that a lot. "Okay," he started, "you go back to the station, I'll take care of this, alright?

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, leave it." Veronica turned to face the door as she heard Hopper begin to step inside. Their eyes caught momentarily, before he was dragged back outside by the exclamation of one of the officers.

"We went down there, scoped it out. We found a car." Veronica paled. It must've been Jay's. Why only mention the car, though? What about the mauled body lying right next to it? "And a lot of... blood." The officer cleared his throat. "The scene was very disturbing. We haven't ID'd who the car belongs to yet. But-"

"No bodies?" Hopper vocalised her thoughts, interrupting the officer.

"Nope, car was empty, Chief."

Hopper grunted in response. That monster... either it'd dragged Jacob's body off somewhere, or he'd been taken by someone else. Veronica's fists clenched in her lap. It could've been the scientists from the lab. How disrespectful to him, to his corpse, to his legacy. Her want for revenge flared within her chest.

"Oh, and one more thing. State troopers found Barbra Holland's car this morning."

"What?" Hopper asked, as if he hadn't heard the officer right. It was convenient, Veronica pondered, that they'd find her, considering their involvement in Will's body double situation. Suspicious, more like.

"Yeah, just before they got to the crash site on Kerley. They've taken over the investigation there." Shit. They'd gotten to the car? To Jay? Had they taken his body away, then? Taken it before the officers could see it, only to conveniently return and take over the investigation?

Were they going to sweep his disappearance under the rug, like they had Barba and Will's? Had they taken Barb's body? Will's?

No. Apparently, Joyce was adamant that her son was still alive, and communicating with her in covert ways- blinking Christmas lights. Steve had even reported to Veronica, a few days before, that Jonathan and his mother had engaged in a shouting match in the middle own town. She'd been screaming something about Will still being alive.

Veronica had called the woman mad, at the time, remarked that Joyce was a nutcase, and laughed when Tommy commented that of course she was mad, she had a murderer and a queer for sons.

Veronica's stomach twisted in remorse.

"It's funny, they keep doing our jobs for us." She rolled her eyes and scoffed. How could someone this stupid qualify to be a cop?

"Yeah," Hopper replied, "it's funny." Wasting no time, he excused himself from the conversation and pushed back through the front door.

Huffing out a deep breath, he leant back against the door in relief that the tense conversation had ended. The poor man looked exhausted.

At that observation, Veronica was reminded that she needed to thank him, for his generosity. Had anyone other than the Chief answered the door this morning, well, she'd rather not think about what could've happened.

Clearing her throat, she stood and walked closer to Hopper, forcing his eyes to meet hers when she refused to look away.

"What're you doing?" He spat.

"Uhm," she began nervously, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Veronica wasn't used to thanking people. "Thanking you," she forced out, "'cause, you know, you stitched me up. And- and let me know everything." She cleared her throat when Hopper's expression remained grim and unbothered. "So, thank you."

Hopper let out a sorry snort, shaking his head. "You don't do that often, huh?"

Was she that easy to read? Well, maybe she needed some acting classes, too. She blinked, eyes wide, before similarly smiling. "No, not really."

"Nothing like a near-death experience to make you have a change of heart."

Veronica couldn't agree more.

***

Hopper had asked her to wait outside while he got cleaned up and made a phone call. He didn't specify to whom. Maybe, it was Joyce, warning the woman that he was coming- wouldn't want to give her any more reason for a heart attack by turning up unannounced, Veronica considered.

The mother lingered in her mind, as she stared over the mirror-like lake. Would Veronica's mother be half as persistent as Joyce, had she been the initial child to go missing?

Veronica supposed she'd find out soon enough. She hadn't made it home last night, and she hadn't phoned to say she was staying at Jacob's place.

Given everything going on in Hawkins, her mother would be mad not to find that suspicious or worrying. But, Veronica wouldn't put it past her. Her mother was an enigma, sitting just out of reach ever since her husband, and Veronica's father, left.

Hopper snapped Veronica out of her ruminations by siding open the glass door and grunting out a summons, nodding his head to the front door and barging out of it. She blinked before following.

The ensuing car ride was characterised by a stale silence, Veronica fiddling with the edges of a card Hopper had handed her. Scribbled on it in crude handwriting was a message: DON'T SAY ANYTHING.

Veronica was to shove it in Joyce's face, with a finger to her lips, when the older woman opened the door. The lab might've bugged her place, too, they couldn't be too careful.

The teen did as she was told, Joyce's eyes wide as her white-knuckle grip on a brandished hammer softened. Hopper shouldered his way through the entryway, Veronica following close behind as Joyce flicked her eyes confusedly between the two, mouth opening and shutting as she struggled to form words.

Walking further into the unlit space, Veronica's jaw dropped as she took in the state of the small home. Draped all around, across ceilings and walls, were Christmas lights, multicoloured bulbs obstructing a clear path through the living room.

On a far wall, a couch sitting beneath it, the alphabet was painted in thick black letters over floral wallpaper. Was this how Joyce was communicating with Will?

To her side, a huff rattled out of Hopper's chest. "Oh, Jesus." He grumbled. Unscrewing all of the bulbs to hunt for a bug was going to take a lot more effort than he'd anticipated.

Veronica resigned to helping him, without reaching too high and straining her stitches, as Joyce watched on, hammer still in hand and a frazzled look slapped across her face. Wishing Joyce would put it down, Veronica side-eyed the woman every once in a while, making sure she wasn't swinging it anywhere close.

Eventually, all of the bulbs in the house had been unscrewed and assessed for bugs. There was nothing. The teen huffed in equal parts frustration and relief, glad that the exhausting work was over, but annoyed that they'd wasted such time and energy to turn up nothing.

She supposed that was better than realising Joyce's 'delusions' had made their way back to the Lab, potentially endangering her. They could target her, make her disappear, too, if they realised that she knew their secrets.

They could finally speak freely. Hopper was breathing heavily, and swiped his brow of sweat before plonking down into a firm looking armchair. "Okay, should be okay, I mean... I can't guarantee it, but it should be okay." He affirmed between laboured breaths, mostly to himself.

"What the hell is going on, Hopper?" Joyce challenged, arms gesturing wildly. Veronica felt herself slack in relief at seeing the hammer no longer in the older woman's clutches. "And who is this girl?" She questioned, somewhat accusingly, while shoving a thumb in Veronica's direction.

The girl blinked and shuffled in her spot as Joyce eyed her up and down in suspicion.

"I'm-" she went to answer, before Hopper raised a hand, eyebrows raised. Her lips smacked shut and eyes darted away.

"They bugged my place." The Chief started tentatively.

Joyce's face creased in bewilderment. "What?"

"They bugged my place." Hopper confirmed, scratching at his forehead. "They put a microphone in the light. It's because I'm onto the them and they know it. I don't know..." Veronica watched on as the man shook his head back and forth, breaths still not calming.

It was as if the reality of the situation were crashing down on him, eyes refusing to look at Joyce. She suspected he might break if he did. They must have a history of some sort. Veronica's eyes flicked between the two.

"Who?" The older woman pleaded, eyebrows slanted.

"I thought they might be watching you, too. I don't know, the CIA, the NSA, Department of Energy... I don't know."

"You gotta explain this to me," Joyce responded, letting out a sorry chuckle and throwing her hands in the air. She moved to walk away. "Cause I am not—"

"I went to the morgue last night, Joyce." Hopper softly cut in, finally landing his eyes on the brown-haired woman in front of him. Veronica watched as her hackled shoulders sloped, and all the air drained from her at the Chief's words.

"What?" She shakily questioned.

"It wasn't him. Will's body, it was a fake." Joyce lowered herself to her knees in front of Hopper, an unsteady hand rising to cover her quivering lips. Her other hand gravitated to his knee and squeezed. Veronica, oddly, felt like she was intruding, and lowered her eyes, lips pursed. "You were right. This whole time, you were right." Hopper's voice shook as he dwarfed Joyce's hand with his own, placing it comfortingly on top of hers and squeezing.

Tears slipped down the older woman's cheeks, finally having gotten the understanding that she deserved. Veronica could only imagine, as she watched Joyce cry, what it must've felt like to not be believed, to not be treated with sensitivity and care around the circumstances of her terrible loss.

She'd been fighting for Will this whole time, alone, and now, Hopper was right at her side, finally on the same page as her.

Veronica would try her hardest to be there for Joyce too. For Jay's sake. It's what he would've done.

After a few quiet moments, only punctuated by sniffles, Joyce chose to address the elephant in the room- which stood right behind her, eyes firmly on the ground.

"That's all well and good," she started, wiping her hands over her face, "so insanely, incredibly good. But, seriously Hop, who is this girl?" She turned to look at Veronica, standing from her spot on the wooden floor. "What's your name, honey? Why's Hopper brought you here?"

"Last night, she was attacked by a monster." Hopper grunted, finding Veronica's eyes as he leaned to the side, peering around Joyce to fix the teen with a firm look; one which read: go careful.

"A- a monster?" Joyce stuttered, flinging her head from Hopper back around to the, upon further inspection, roughed-up looking girl. Her hair was in the middle of drying, and her eyes were puffy from crying. Never mind the small scrapes framing the side of her face and arms, rolled up sleeves revealing the trauma. "What.. what kind of monster?"

"A grey one," Veronica wheezed out. Just like Hopper, she could barely stand to look Joyce in the eyes. Only, in her case, she wasn't set to give the woman newfound hope in finding her son like he had; her reveal as to what she'd endured would likely ruin Joyce with a fresh wave of worry.

"It... it um, attacked my boyfriend and I last night." Tears began to gather in Veronica's eyes, no matter how much she willed them to retreat. Her fists clenched at her sides. She had to stay strong. Sucking in a deep breath, she continued.

"We were driving along Kerley, or, Mirkwood, as Hopper said Will called it." Joyce gasped, hand flying to her mouth once again. "We almost hit it with his car. After we got out to look for it, it came back."

Veronica concluded her story there, unable to continue, she doubted, without bursting into tears. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as Joyce processed the younger woman's words, one hand on her forehead, the other on her hip. "And, your boyfriend... what happened to him?"

Veronica's face crumpled, the tears she was holding back bursting free. She was going to have to tell Joyce what a coward she'd been, how she'd left whatever was hunting the woman's son, alone with her boyfriend, to get eaten.

"State troopers found his car this morning. There was no sign of a body." Hopper interjected. Veronica let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and wiped at her face just as Joyce had done moments ago. "He may have been taken to this...dark, cold place, where Will is, by the monster." He suggested firmly.

Veronica knew that, if the monster had done that, it would only have been to eat Jay in privacy. She shuddered at the thought, the sickening sound of tearing flesh rippling through her ears.

There's no way he'd survived the injuries he'd already sustained, let alone any more. Hopper was only speaking to Joyce's anxiety in that moment, and trying to dampen her worry. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Regardless, Veronica felt like a coward, unable to admit her depraved actions. She was a criminal, a murderer and an abandoner. She deserved whatever vitriol Joyce would've thrown at her.

Sniffing in frustration, she glared at Hopper. Why wouldn't he let Joyce whip her with the admonishment she deserved?

"I'm so sorry, honey. So sorry," Joyce cooed, shakily placing her hands on Veronica's crossed ones, her eyes still harsh, brows furrowed, now on Joyce. "It's not your fault. Ok? It's not." She took the teen in her arms, lightly pushing the back of Veronica's head so that it could rest on her shoulder. "We're gonna get them back."

Veronica's heart dropped to her stomach. Jay was dead.

There was no getting him back.

A sob shuddered through her at the thought, Joyce's arms wrapping more firmly around her. Will might be soon, too, the fierceness of the monster not having yet been revealed to Joyce. She and Hopper were giving her false hope.

But, right now. Will was not dead. He was still out there, talking with his mother, who was so impossibly kind. How Veronica escaped seemingly unharmed must've told Joyce at least something about how she'd gotten away, and Jay had not.

Yet, she was giving Veronica grace regardless.

Joyce's kindness, and the injustice of her son being taken away, soon to potentially face the same fate as Jay, only served to fan the flame that burned in Veronica's stomach. She wanted revenge.

Pulling herself away from the woman's arms, she threw Joyce a shaky smile and wiped her eyes. "Of course," she sniffed. "If it's the last thing I do."

Chapter Text

Sat on the hood of his car, coke can to his forehead, Steve decided that he hated Tommy and Carol.

Thanks to Tommy's chiding, Carol's jabs, and maybe a little bit of Steve's own anger and jealously, he'd just fucked up his only chance of a future with Nancy; the only girl he ever actually loved.

The others were just practice. First Sarah, then Kaitlin, then Jane- after that all the faces kind of blurred together.

But Nancy was the one. His six little nuggets, his amazing army of future children, would be with her. They had to be. Him and Nancy worked. The jock and the priss, experienced and inexperienced, rough and soft.

The more he stared at his sneakers, now scuffed and battered after running like hell from the cops, the more he realised that, maybe, it was actually a lot of his own anger that spurred him into confronting both Nancy and Jonathan (which ended with Steve's ass on the floor) and letting Tommy write that message on The Hawk.

Regardless, every glance Steve stole at the couple, standing next to him and muttering some bullshit he didn't care to listen to, made his stomach lurch in disgust.

He groaned, nuzzling into the delightfully cool can as it numbed his swelling, bruised forehead. Jonathan had gotten a good few, lucky hits in.

If Veronica were here, at least he'd have someone other than Dumb and Dumber to talk to.

She'd rattle off some snide comment about how Steve was a shit fighter, and that he should've just left her to do the hitting— all the while twirling a strand of long black hair around a ringed finger.

Steve had gotten his ass saved by her a few, embarrassing times, in the past.

Only, He hadn't seen or heard from Veronica for almost two days.

A pang of nausea radiated from his stomach at the thought, and he coursed a bloodied hand through his thick hair.

It wouldn't usually bother him, he knew the girl like the back of his hand. She regularly skipped school, always making sure to register at the start of her lessons, and then escape, so that her mom couldn't question her seemingly immaculate attendance.

But, today, and yesterday, she'd been nowhere to be found.

She'd missed their weekly meet-up at the diner, Jenny's, too.

Steve had sat there, for an hour, after seeing Jonathan in Nancy's room, ready to tell Veronica everything that he'd seen, practically vibrating with anger, just for her to pull a no-show.

What's more, her mom knew nothing, Steve having learned via phone call that his best friend hadn't made it home from Jacob's place, the night before last. How on earth he'd remembered the home number, he had no idea.

Steve only ever called the girl directly. She had a separate phone in her room;  it made gossiping easier.

He lost count of how many times they'd traded secrets over the phone, Veronica probably lounging on her bed in one of her numerous silky slips, Steve in a garish pyjama set his mom had gotten him for Christmas.

Apparently, she had called to let her mom know that Jacob was driving her home, in his new awesome chevvy that Steve was totally not jealous of, and then never arrived.

Jay hadn't made an appearance at school, either.

Something had happened to them on that drive back, and Steve knew it. There was no way it hadn't.

Byers's brother had gone missing, then turned up dead, and Barbra had vanished, too. From Steve's own party, no less.

It was all building up to make for a very weird situation, Veronica and Jacob's disappearances only adding to the potential pile of... bodies.

Steve hoped his gut was wrong, just like he had when he saw how Nancy helped Jonathan pick up the smashed camera and photos, and his head began to swirl with all sorts of anxiety-riddled thoughts.

However, Veronica always told him he had incredible intuition, and he wasn't about to doubt her, not when it could be an insult to her memory.

Maybe, he was just being dramatic.

She'd barely been missing a couple of days.

Maybe, she'd wander out of the tree line in front of him, ask why he was looking like such a sad, beaten sack of tears, then lump him on the shoulder for ever doubting her opinion.

He huffed out a laugh at the thought.

Surely, she wasn't dead. There was no way.

She was a stubborn girl, nothing short of a mountain dropping on top of her, capped off by a bomb and a few hundred hammers, would she let take her out.

Jacob would've protected her with his life, as well, had anything happened.

Protected her with his life, that wasn't a nice thought.

Steve only really knew a Jacob through Veronica, the girl having sunk her claws into him a few months ago, and dragged him to almost every meet-up they'd had since.

Not the ones where they did weed, though, Jacob didn't approve of it, apparently.

What a loser.

Still, he was a nice guy, annoyingly so, and he evened out Veronica's new-found bitchiness.

Steve guessed it was just hormones, making her act that way. Girls were riddled with them. Nancy could be just as bad. His mother, even worse.

He was going to have to look for them himself, soon. The police hadn't done anything, they hadn't even brought Steve in for questioning, like they had for Barbra. He was Veronica's best friend, and associated with Jacob, surely he'd be a person of interest.

That's how it worked on cop shows, anyways.

"Don't worry," Tommy assured, chucking Steve a bottle of pills. He barely caught them in time, pulled out of his thoughts without warning. "He'll need more than aspirin when we're done with him."

"Yeah, if the creep ever gets out." Carol added, looking to her boyfriend with a smirk. "The cops should just lock him up forever. Did you see the look on his face?" She started fake punching Tommy while making pathetic groaning sounds, the freckled teen laughing at her antics.

Steve groaned again, her voice was the auditory version of a scooter hitting your ankle.

"He probably had that same look whenever he killed his brother, right?" Tommy smacked Steve's arm, causing him to almost lose his precarious balance on the hood of his car, as his face soured in anger.

Did they ever stop?

The three of them had just been humiliated, at the hands of their bullying victim, and Steve's... girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend? And even that wasn't enough to put a stop to their endless blabbering.

Carol's smirk widened, eyes glinting with the tell-tale sparkle of a new idea.

"Oh, God, I just got an image of him making that face while him and Nancy are screwing-"

"Carol, for once in your life, shut your damn mouth!" Steve exploded, his head throbbing with the sudden burst of energy.

The giddy couple responded with thick silence, staring at him with slack jaws. Steve's head returned to resting on the cool Coke can with a sigh.

Finally, he'd got them to be quiet.

"What?" Carol asked dejectedly.

That didn't last long.

"Hey, what's your problem, man?"

Steve turned to face them, brows firmly furrowed. He'd had enough of their childishness, and Carol's gross innuendos about Nancy.

Jonathan's punches must've just beaten a change of heart into Steve.

"You're both assholes. That's my problem." He stood, slamming his hand down on the hood for leverage as he turned to confront Tommy, closing in on his space.

A wave of anger was washing over Steve, and he was powerless to control it.

Everything with Nancy and Jonathan, and Veronica disappearing, it was all coming to head inside of him, bubbling up from his middle and seeping into every vein.

"Are you serious right now, man?" Tommy questioned, startled. Steve shoved him in the chest, pushing the boy back towards the front of the gas station.

"Yeah, I'm serious. You shouldn't have done that." Carol stood, helpless and confused, as she watched the boys fight, eyes flicking between the two.

Steve and Tommy didn't fight often, they got along perfectly, most of the time.

Whenever they did disagree, they'd tend to keep their opinions to themselves, Carol being their mediator.

But, this was a physical fight.

She wasn't about to put herself between them. She took a step back, white heels clacking on the tarmac.

"Done what?" Tommy shot back, prowling towards Steve in retaliation, the bloodied boy's back now facing his car. Carol gulped.

"You know what."

"You mean call her out for what she really is?" Tommy settled into Steve's space, standing before him and sizing him up with his eyes, as if he were assessing his next meal.

Steve met his eyes with fierce defiance, face hardened, not backing away.

He was going to show Tommy that he wasn't putting up with this childishness anymore, that he was done with it, with him.

"Oh, that's funny, because I don't remember you asking me to stop."

"I should've put that spray paint right down your throat." Steve responded, almost whispering at Tommy, whose fists were shaking in anger.

"What the hell, Steve?" Carol shouted, arms thrown wide in confusion. She'd never seen him act like this, before. Like he actually had a spine.

Said boy turned to face her, looking her right in the eyes as he chose his next words carefully.

"You know," he started, "neither of you ever cared about her. You never even liked her, because she's not miserable like you two. She actually cares about other people." Steve ranted, lips pursing and hair becoming more and more floppy as his trusty spray lost its hold with his shaking and frantic movements.

"The slut with a heart of gold!" Carol teased, fuelling Steve's anger, his teeth bared as his lips curled. "Ronnie's no better than us, you gonna shout at her like this, too?"

"I told you to watch your mouth!" He roared, leaning towards Carol with a pointed finger. She flung herself back in fright, her lips pursed and nose flared as she shut her mouth, eyes blazing.

She knew what she was doing, bringing up Veronica, she just couldn't help herself.

Steve hated himself for becoming so heated, but it couldn't be helped.

The pit, which had been growing in his stomach since yesterday, deepened tenfold at Carol's mention of her.

His best friend wasn't stupid, Steve was sure she could undergo a change of heart with a talking too. She wouldn't need it to be punched into her, like Steve had.

Tommy and Carol were different, though, far more headstrong and disturbingly stubborn. And, frankly, Steve didn't want them to change.

He wanted to be able to hate them, forever.

"Hey!" Tommy shouted, pushing Steve into the side of his car. The boy's face stayed hardened, refusing to give Tommy a reaction, despite every nerve in his body igniting in hatred. "I don't know that's gotten into you, man, but you don't talk to her that way."

"Get out of my face." Steve spat, anger boiling over as he shoved Tommy back, unable to control himself.

"Or what?" Suddenly, the collar of Steve's jacket was in Tommy's fists, and he was flung into the side of his car once again. Pinned under the weight of Tommy, Steve's hands weekly grappled with Tommy's own jacket, but he was powerless to move him. "Or what? You gonna fight me now, too? Huh? You gonna fight me now, too?" Tommy's voice dropped in volume as he repeated himself, staring at Steve with dangerous eyes.

The pinned boy groaned and gulped, at Tommy's infamous mercy.

He'd watched many others be in his position before, and never imagined himself in their shoes.

He wished that he'd taken notes, recorded them as they'd wriggled out of the bully's tight hold; it would've been useful.

"Because you couldn't take Jonathan Buyers... so I wouldn't recommend that."

With a shove, Steve was released from the vice-like hold, and Tommy backed slowly away.

Sniffing, Steve stole a final look at Carol before tuning and gripping his door handle. He stopped before opening it. Tuning back around, his eyes flickered between the two bullies, before resting on Carol. "You're wrong, about Veronica." He started calmly, Tommy rolling his eyes and cackling, head tilted back in disbelief.

Carol's eyebrows shot up, a smirk spreading across her face.

"She's only an asshole, because you two miserable shitheads turned her into one!" Steve shouted, arms thrown wide. "You don't even care that she's been missing for like two days!"

When Steve had asked Carol if she'd seen Veronica in their shared chem class, as she'd yet to appear for lunch, Tommy had interrupted, joking that she'd probably ran off with Jacob, the couple eloping for a sex fest.

Steve had laughed, but his concern quickly grew when his best friend refused to make an appearance, later in the day.

Tommy and Carol didn't share the same sentiment, seemingly ignorant to the potential implications of the situation.

"Who knows," Carol began, "maybe Byers got to her." Steve's anger flared, and it took all of his self restraint not to fling himself back at Tommy, just to let off some steam.

Said boy approached Steve once again, and opened the car door. His eyes glinted in that same way that Carol's did, the couple sharing a knowing look that Steve wasn't privy to.

Steve levelled Tommy with a blank expression.

"Well, it seems like you care enough about her for the three of us, Stevie." Grasping a bunch of his hair, Tommy shoved Steve down into his car, and slammed the door.

Shocked, but frankly grateful to have a barrier between him and Tommy, Steve wasted little time before turning on the engine and speeding off.

He could faintly hear Tommy shouting at him over the roar of the engine, undoubtedly hurtling insults at him as he drove away. But Steve didn't care.

Not at all.

Finally, he'd seen reason.

Finally, he was away from those soul-sucking devils, and he couldn't be happier for it.

A grin spread across his face, and laughs spilled from his split lips as the wave of relief, at being out of their clutches, washed over him with warmth.

Flicking the radio on, he stared down the open road ahead of him, and settled on heading to Veronica's house.

In shows, they'd always investigate peoples rooms for clues.

Maybe, there were some in Veronica's. Perhaps she'd left a note, passing on the message that she had ran away, but was safe, and happy.

Steve didn't know how to feel about that avenue of possibility.

Regardless, his mind was made up. If no one else was going to look for his best friend, well, he supposed he was just going to have to do it himself.

Chapter Text

"Look, we've gotta go through this again." Joyce asserted, fingers shaking around a cigarette. She'd reluctantly given one to Veronica after the teen had sat, practically salivating, next to the woman at her small kitchen table. She tiredly stared down at the quickly filling ashtray, now. 

They'd been going over details for hours, nothing was enough for Joyce.

Veronica hadn't slept properly in almost two days, it was dark out again, and she was feeling increasingly awful. Her stitches ached, occasionally throbbed, and her attention was wearing thin.

She understood Joyce's eagerness for every detail, but they couldn't work effectively without the appropriate rest.

They were going to crash and burn. At least Veronica was, anyway.

"I told you everything that I saw." Hopper responded, equally tired, holding his own cigarette. News was coming out that they were bad for you. Veronica pondered to herself, as she tilted her head back to look at the mould-spotted kitchen ceiling, that if this monster didn't get them, then maybe all their smoking would.

"Oh, God. Tell me again."

"Upstairs or downstairs?"

"Upstairs." Joyce demanded, hand coming down to the table, but refraining from hitting it. Despite the woman's shaking hands, Veronica had to admire her composure.

She'd yet to cry again, and had managed to throw together some sandwiches for the three of them. Veronica had felt bad, just watching, but Joyce refused any help as she flew around the kitchen.

Hopper had looked almost frightened by the forceful woman, in the moment, as he stood in the corner of the cramped space as he'd been told to. Veronica snorted at the memory.

"There was a laboratory." He recited for the umpteenth time. "It was where they must do experiments or something, and then there was... there was this kid's room."

Veronica's lips downturned at the edges, the thought of some poor kid, maybe Will, being kept in there, made her stomach churn. What was it that those scientists could want? Were they keeping him there, to then send him periodically into the cold, dark place with the monster? She couldn't fathom it.

"How do you know it was a kid's room?" Joyce shot back, eyes wide.

"More like a prison." Hopper grumbled, his head in his hands. Veronica watched him go for another drag of his cigarette. She followed suit, sighing when she noticed how short it'd gotten. Either, she was going to have to ask the seemingly prone to ignition, Joyce, for another, or steal one. The latter option seemed more safe.

"So why would you think it was a kid's room, then?"

Veronica rolled her eyes and scoffed

God, it was like being stuck between her parents fighting at breakfast again. Only, this time, there were a lot less flying pieces of cutlery and accusations of adultery. Veronica preferred this, despite the grim circumstances, much more.

"Because, I told you, the size of the bed, there was a drawing, there was a stuffed animal—"

"You didn't say there was a drawing" Joyce criticised, shoving an accusatory finger in Hopper's direction. Veronica gulped, deciding to intervene, before Joyce's brandished cigarette ended up halfway down Hopper's throat.

"I think he did—" Hopper shot the teen a dark look, shutting her up. He must enjoy doing that, given how often he employed the silent method of communication. Veronica averted her eyes, suddenly finding the fridge very interesting.

"Yeah there was a drawing of a... an adult and a child. It said 'eleven' on it." He said evenly, slowly taking his eyes off of Veronica and dragging them back to Joyce. The woman nodded, enthusiastic. What was so important about drawings?

"Was it good?"

"It was a kids drawing, Joyce. It was stick figures." Hopper deadpanned. He went for another drag.

Ignoring his tone, Joyce stood, and retrieved a crumpled piece of lined paper from the counter behind her. She slammed it on the table for the two of them to examine.

"Was it Will?" Hopper and Veronica leaned over to take a look.

There was a wizard, dressed in purple robes, his face adorned with a long, grey beard. He looked like a character Eddie used to describe to her in music class, 'Gand' something, from a Tolkien book. A group of other oddly dressed men stood behind the wizard. For a child as young as Will, the drawing was certainly detailed. Each man had a distinct face and unique features.

Next to her, Hopper suddenly stood, muttering to himself. Veronica and Joyce shared a concerned glance, moving to follow after him in tandem, as he left the kitchen. "Earl.. the night that Benny died," Veronica loved Benny's, his cheesy fries were to die for. "Earl said he saw some kid with a shaved head with Benny." Hopper took a seat on Joyce's brown couch, its owner taking the place next to him. Veronica hovered awkwardly behind, placing what she hoped was a reassuring hand on Joyce's shoulder. "Now, I pressed him, he said it might be Will, but maybe..."

"Wait.. maybe it wasn't?" Joyce questioned, chucking a confused look up to Veronica, who shrugged in response.

"Chief?" She promoted. He needed to get to the point. Her fingers drummed anxiously on Joyce's shoulder.

"Look, this woman, Terry Ives, she claims to have lost her daughter, Jane." He began, elbows resting on his knees. Jane, Veronica thought, what a pretty name. "She sued Brenner, she sued the government. Now the claims came to nothing, but what if, I mean, what if this whole time I've been, I've been looking for will, I've been chasing after some other kid?" Hopper questioned, lost in his own thoughts, eyes locked on nothing.

The kid spotted with Benny, must've been held within the lab- the room Hopper described must've been Jane's. The realisation made Veronica's stomach twist. There were so many children involved in this mess. She sniffed.

"Let's..." she started, "let's go see her then. This Terry lady. Maybe get some answers." Hopper nodded, and Joyce squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Good idea, hon."

***

"So...you're not heading back to school?" Joyce asked, a soft smile on her face as she looked back at Veronica, who was sat contentedly in the backseat.

The mother had cooked up an immaculate breakfast of jam on toast served with orange juice that morning, Veronica and Hopper having stayed the night.

She'd wondered where Jonathan was, when Joyce ushered her into her eldest son's room, and encouraged her to take his bed. Maybe, he was out with Nancy. Scandalous, but not impossible- Veronica had been whiteness to Nancy's kindness towards him, but she supposed that was just common courtesy, an attitude that, at the time, she couldn't grasp.

Or, refused to. Being mean to someone was easier than being kind. Steve's hair would set alight if he ever caught wind of such debauchery. She snorted.

"No," she responded evenly. "I don't really feel like it'd be right, given how involved I am." She staved off of mentioning how she wouldn't be able to handle the many questions about Jay that would undoubtedly be hurtled at her. Crude words scored onto her locker, notes passed to her in class, paper balls chucked at the back of her head, heckling in the hallway; she had it all to look forward too. Her face paled at the thought. She was going to have to go back to school at one point or another. "Plus, I wanna hunt down this bastard monster, and rip it a new one."

Joyce was frozen for a second, gentle smile stuck in place as her mind buffered. He eyes widened, and she blinked away the shock that struck her at Veronica's violent words. "That's, that's fair, but you're so young-"

The driver side door was wrenched opened and Hopper swung back in, the car jolting. Joyce clutched her black leather coat around herself and fixed the man with a concerned look, any motherly worry over Veronica's schooling forgotten. The teen was grateful for the shift of attention, and went back to picking at her peeling, red nail polish.

"Did you get her?" Joyce asked the Chief, referring to Terry Ives' address.

"I got it." He confirmed, before turning on the ignition and speeding down the road.

Again, it was a tense drive, not too dissimilar to the one Veronica and Hopper embarked upon to Joyce's house the day previous. To pass the time, Veronica lent back and stared out of the window, admiring the passing views. Indiana was so beautiful at this time of year, the brisk autumn weather turning the leaves a beautiful shade of copper, a sea of which blanketed the soggy ground.

When she first moved to the Midwestern region, she hated it. It was too cold, too wet, too depressing, and stank of cow shit, thanks to the farmers.

It was a bore.

There were no beaches to spend the long summers lounging on, or waves to surf. And there were so few people. 

She arrived as a big fish into a very small pond- moving from California was cool, and so was being rich. Befriending Steve, Tommy and Carol only made her prospects better. Even as a measly middle schooler, social status was everything.

Hawkins became a whole lot more bearable after that, even if the cow shit stench still bothered her.

Summers began to be spent by Steve's pool, and winters, suddenly amplified by the regular appearance of snow, were soon characterised by making snow angles and sledding down the bank in Jay's backyard. Hawkins became her home.

Whatever was wrong with it now, whoever had dared to defile the peaceful nature of this town, Dr Brenner, was going to have to pay.

Soon enough, the group arrived at Terry's home. A quaint, panelled house, with wind chimes clanging on the front porch. Stepping out of the battered sage car, Veronica clutched the ends of her shirt sleeves in her fists and wrapped her arms around herself. She should've asked Hopper or Joyce for a jacket.

"Should've asked for a jacket, hon." Joyce said softly, wrapping an arm around Veronica. She must've caught her trembles. The thought alone, of being recognised, and cared for, brought a smile to Veronica's face, a warmth spreading over her cheeks.

They made their way up the wooden steps to the door, the Chief leading the way. He knocked impatiently on the glass door, a lace curtain obscuring the inside of the home. Veronica shuffled in her spot beside Joyce, wringing her hands together as they waited for an answer.

A stern faced woman peeled away a corner of the curtain, before unlocking the door.

"Can I help you?" She asked, brown eyes flicking from Hopper, to Joyce, to Veronica, who flashed the woman a lopsided smile. They must've looked like quite the group.

"Hi, we're looking for Terry Ives," Hopper introduced. "Does she live here?"

"Who's asking?" The woman questioned, arms defensively crossing over her chest, body moving to block the entryway. She was acting as if the group of them were a threat, as if she was defending something precious.

Terry must be inside, Veronica surmised, and, for whatever reason, this woman was protecting her. Was Terry also targeted by the scientists? It would make sense, given her past, that they would torment her.

"The Hawkins chief of police." Hopper responded, before taking out his badge and showing the woman it. She looked him up and down, assessing him.

"And you want to talk to my sister?" Veronica blinked, head swivelling to share a surprised look with Joyce. So, she was Terry's sister. That explains why she was guarding the entryway, and acting so defensively. Terry must be vulnerable, her sister acting as her guardian.

"Well, if your sister's Terry Ives, then yeah, we do."

The woman looked down and sighed before speaking again. "Okay, well, you can come in, but if you want Terry to tell you anything, you're about five years too late." She stepped aside and opened up the door for them. Again, Veronica and Joyce shared a look, confusion and concern sliding over both of their faces. Could Terry not speak? Hopper stepped inside, past the women, not wasting a second of precious time on his hunt for information.

Veronica sniffed, giving Joyce's arm a reassuring squeeze, before following after Hopper, weaving through the small hallways behind Terry's sister. The drone of a TV could be heard from the back of the house, the group eventually being herded into the small, cluttered room, where the sound originated from.

"Terry, you have some visitors," her sister announced, arms gesturing towards Terry, who was sat in a worn, wooden rocking chair in front of the TV. Her eyes were directionless, unable to lock onto Joyce when the small woman crouched in front of her. Something wasn't quite right with her, the woman having not moved a muscle at the appearance of three strangers in her space.

"Hello, my name's Joyce Buyers." Joyce started nervously, quickly moving back to her full height. "Uh, this is Hopper and Veronica ." She pointed to the two figures hovering behind her, both of them waving awkwardly in greeting. "We drove over from Hawkins. Uhm, you see, uh, my son... he's been missing for almost a week now, and, um, we were wondering if we could talk to you about your daughter, Jane? If there's anything that you could tell us about when she was taken..." Joyce's words tapered off the longer Terry's eyes and face remained unmoving and unresponsive, even the rocking chair she was sat in staying completely still. Veronica was ashamed to admit it somewhat unnerved her.

"What was your relationship with Dr Brenner?" Hopper asked, breaking the stale silence that had settled over the room. "You guys keep in touch?" Terry, again, said nothing. Her only moments came in the form of breathing and blinking. Veronica gulped, tentatively stepping forward.

"This is, uh... this is him. This is Will. Uh, you may have seen him on the news." Joyce continued, before Veronica placed a hand on her shoulder, and moved past the older woman. She looked down at Terry, and tilted her head, eyes narrowing. The woman's eyes stayed firmly settled on staring into nothingness, despite Veronica hanging over her.

"You might've also heard about Barbra Holland," Veronica said, eyebrows raising as she bent at the knees in an attempt to meet Terry's eyes.

It was futile, the woman's directionless orbs shifting to another meaningless corner of the room. Veronica huffed and retracted to her full height, turning to meet Joyce's sad eyes. A pang of guilt radiated from her stomach; Joyce deserved answers, but this was another set back, and there was nothing Veronica could do to help.

"What's wrong with her?" Hopper asked Terry's sister, the woman having stood silently to the side, observing.

"I told you, you're wasting your time."

***

"She was a part of some study in college." Terry's sister, who'd given the group her name -Becky- on the way to the kitchen, began. She sat smoking a cigarette, handing Veronica one with a roll of her eyes after she'd caught the girl eyeing the box of them, discarded on the table.

"MK Ultra?" Hopper supplied. That sounded ominous. Veronica took a drag of her cigarette to settle her nerves.

"Yeah, that's the one," affirmed Becky. "Was, uh, started in the fifties. By the time Terry got involved, it was supposed to be ramping down, but the drugs just got crazier. Messed her up good." Drugs? The government? Veronica didn't think those things were allowed to go together, but, oh well. She supposed she was learning a lot of things that she didn't think could go on, actually went on, recently.

"This was the CIA that ran this?" Hopper asked again, probing Becky with questions. Veronica preferred it were him doing this, the interrogation, than herself or Joyce. He had intimidation on his side, and experience as a cop, to help him get the answers they all desperately needed.

A smile stretched across Becky's lips at the litany of the Chief's questions. "You and Terry would've gotten along," she told him. He smiled kindly back. "'The man', with a big capital 'M'. They'd pay...you know, a couple hundred bucks to people like my sister, give 'em drugs, psychedelics." Veronica's eyes widened. That was serious stuff. She'd only ever dabbled in weed, and that was enough to get her more than mellowed. "LSD, mostly. And then they'd strip her naked and put her in these isolation tanks."

Jesus, this programme sounded weird as fuck. Veronica dabbed her cigarette over the crystal ashtray, and itched lightly at her stomach with the opposite hand.

Her stitches had become irritated, during the night, and the shirt she'd been gifted was rubbing increasingly uncomfortably against them.

"Isolation tanks?" Joyce probed, eyebrows raised. Hopper had mentioned seeing something similar, in the Lab. Was this programme ongoing? What is that, from which this massive mess stemmed?

"Yeah. Like these big bathtubs, basically, filled with salt water, so you can float around in there. You loose any sense of, uh, sense, and feel nothing, see nothing." That sounded horrifying, to Veronica, who looked to Hopper. His eyes caught hers, and he nodded in reassurance. She looked back to Becky with a stiff smile. "They wanted to expand the boundaries of the mind. Real hippie crap. I, I mean it's not like they were forcing her to do any of this stuff." That was the only reassuring thing about the entire story, Veronica thought. "The thing is, though, is that she didn't know she was pregnant at the time."

Veronica's eyes glinted, her mouth forming the name "Jane," before she could even fully process the thought that ran through her head. The papers that Hopper had read were true. Terry had a daughter, Jane. She could be the mystery child, connecting the lab and Will's disappearance in some, inconceivable way.

"Do you have any pictures of her?" Joyce asked quietly, eyebrows slanted, and tone considerate.

"I don't think you guys understand." Becky said grimly, eyes flicking between the trio seated at her kitchen table. "Terry miscarried in the third trimester."

***

After Becky's bombshell statement, the group followed her into yet another room. Veronica spotted a painting of a rabbit on one, yellow wall, and an empty crib on the far side of the room. Discomforted welled in her stomach at the sight.

"She keeps all this up. Been doing it for twelve years." Becky said with a sigh. "Terry, uh, pretends like Jane is real, like she's gonna come home some day." As he passed the crib, Hopper hit at a toy hanging over it, causing a lullaby to start playing. Given the grim circumstance, a shiver made its way down Veronica's spine. Those scientists had been ruining lives and minds for years, and no one had done a thing. Were all of them going to end up the same as Terry? With everyone thinking that they're crazy? "Says she's special. Born with 'abilities'." Becky jokingly wiggled her fingers at the thought, but Veronica didn't find it funny. She gulped at the thought of child having such powers, the thought of being at the receiving end of it almost sweat inducing.

"Abilities?" Joyce prompted, looking nervous as her fists shakily clenched and unclenched at her sides.

"You read any Stephen King?" Becky asked, smirking and chuckling when three unamused faces started back at her. "You guys look scared, actually. I mean, it's all make-believe."

"What... what kind of abilities?" Veronica persisted. With her single cigarette having long since been smoked, her only remaining vice were her already ruined nails, her thumbs angrily grating over each other in an effort to peel at the red gel polish coating them.

"Telepathy, telekinesis. You know, shit you can do with your mind." Becky answered, gesturing to her head. "That's why the big, bad man, stole Jane away. Her baby's a weapon, off fighting' the commies." The woman laughed to herself, unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth. Veronica wished she still had that privilege, hands dropping to rest around her midriff, where the permanent reminders of what she'd endured resided. "You know, the doctors all say it's a coping mechanism. To, you know, deal with the guilt."

"Do you think there's any chance she could be telling the truth?" Joyce asked, Becky's eyebrows jumping to her hairline in disbelief. Joyce quickly corrected herself. "A-about having had the kid."

"There's no birth certificate, nothing form the hospital. Doctors and nurses all confirm that she miscarried." Veronica didn't believe it for a second. If they could make an entire exact replica of Will's body, down the the very moles on his skin, then they could fake a few documents.

"Yeah, but that could've been covered up. Right?" Hopper gruffly offered, confirming Veronica's thoughts.

"Like I said, you and Terry would've gotten along."

Chapter Text

"Yeah a fight broke out here, and, it's Jonathan Byers. You haven't seen Joyce, have you?"

The familiar voice of a policeman rattled down Hopper's radio, the group having made their way dejectedly back to the car. The Chief offered inspiring words, but they didn't particularly hit for Veronica, who'd left Terry's feeling frightened, and as if they'd made no progress.

Her ears perked up at the familiar name, eyes flying from the muddy floor of the car to Joyce, who had astonishment slapped across her face.

Jonathan had gotten into a fight? Veronica could guess with whom... Steve was a terrible fighter, and she'd hate to learn that he'd humiliated himself in the supposed name of Nancy's honour, which was the most likely reason for their brawl, she surmised.

Hm. Veronica couldn't exactly make fun of the 'freak', anymore, now could she? She was reformed, hunting with his mother for his missing brother. Perhaps her new-found charity would make up for all the years of torment, she, and her gang of bullies, had subjected him too. With a roll of her eyes, she doubted it.

How would Joyce react, after learning that Veronica had bullied her son? The woman had been so kind and welcoming towards her, she didn't want to lose that connection.

Clearing her throat, Veronica snatched her eyes away from Joyce and settled them on the window. She'd think about the consequences of her actions later. For now, she'd try as hard as she could to will away the ever tightening coil in her stomach.

***

They soon arrived at the station, Hopper having hurtled down the roads at Joyce's insistence. Veronica suspected she'd gotten whiplash on at least three separate occasions, during the journey.

Jumping out of the car, she raised a hand to rub at her sore neck, speedily following after Hopper and Joyce, who raced ahead of her on their hunt for answers.

"Hey, Jonathan." Joyce greeted, eyes wide in worry. "Jesus, what happened?" Sat a desk, clutching a towelled, frozen bag of peas over his left hand, was Jonathan Buyers, face grim.

He was hunched over, as per usual, as if trying to curl in on himself and hide from the world.

His dark jacket did little to disguise him, however— long, gangly arms poking out of the too-short sleeves.

Next to him, was none other than Nancy Wheeler, the girl's doe eyes wide in surprise as they landed on Veronica.

In all fairness, she must've been the last person Nancy expected to rock up with Hopper and Joyce, especially looking the way that she did: hair, unstyled and wild, framing her bare face, and sporting the odd scratch or bruise.

It was a far cry from her usual, immaculate state.

"Why is he wearing handcuffs?"

"Well," an officer started; Veronica remembered him as the stupid sounding one, from back at Hopper's trailer. "Your boy assaulted a police officer. That's why."

Damn, Jonathan had some balls after all, then.

Veronica's eyes flew to him, brows high in disbelief. His eyes caught hers briefly, before shooting away. Then, he double took, as if only just processing her presence, confusion spreading over his features. She only shrugged at him.

"Take them off." Joyce demanded, pointing a stern finger to the floor. Veronica could practically see the blood boiling beneath the woman's skin.

"I am afraid I cannot do that." The officer unhelpfully responded. He obviously wasn't aware of what buttons he was pushing.

"Take them off!"

"You heard her. Take 'em off." Hopper intervened, attempting to de-escalate the situation. Veronica nodded in agreement, as if she held any power, and migrated over to Nancy's side.

The two shared a glance, Nancy's eyebrows slanted in worry, as she looked up at Veronica, who stood over her with a stony expression. Whatever Nancy looked so worried for, the other girl had no idea. It's not like she'd been attacked by a monster, or anything.

"Chief, I get everyone's emotional here, but there's something that you need to see." Another officer offered, leading Hopper, and Joyce, back outside the station.

The stupid, bespectacled officer followed after them, after attempting to shoot the three remaining teenagers stern glances.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room for a few moments, before Veronica turned, and perched on the end of the table Nancy and Jonathan sat at.

She stared down at the nervous couple, whose eyes refused to meet hers.

"What did you guys do, huh?" She started, trying to tease them, alleviate the tension a little. Neither boy nor girl responded. Lame. "I heard you got in a fight, Jonathan. Did you win?"

Nancy was the first to break her staring contest with the table top, fierce eyes shooting to challengingly meet Veronica's.

"He did actually." The smaller girl asserted, to Veronica's surprise. "Turns out Steve's not a very good fighter."

Veronica smirked, letting out a small chuckle. "I guessed as much. What was it over, hm? Are you with Jonathan now, or something?" She asked, knowing it'd get a strong reaction out of the two.

To her amusement, the couple's heads span to look at each other, before blabbering out objections, hands flying wildly to dissipate the idea.

"What? No, I could never." Nancy rebuked.

"Y-Yeah," Jonathan agreed, a raging blush spreading a cross his cheeks. "She's, she's like a sister to me or something."

Veronica let out a cackle as Nancy's face indiscreetly fell, her face burning bright as she turned to stare up at Veronica in outrage.

"What're you doing with the Chief and Joyce, anyway?" She asked, attempting to change the topic of conversation, before pausing and catching herself. Nancy wheeler was never quick to anger. "You've- you've been missing for two days, Veronica." She stated, a slight note of worry laced through her words.

Feeling as if she tortured them enough, Veronica sighed. She supposed it was nice that people had noticed that she'd been gone.

"You still haven't told me what you guys are hiding, what's so interesting that the cops have held onto it." She sang, bottom lip jutting out in faux sadness, wanting to know what they'd been up to.

She wanted to hold onto this game for a little longer, escape reality for a second.

She watched as the couple shared a glance, having an unspoken conversation. A dark cloud settled over the room.

Jonathan frowned and looked back up to meet Veronica's eyes. "You wouldn't believe us." He declared.

"Try me." Veronica retorted, brows furrowing. Her lips parted, to elaborate, but the sound of clanging metal broke the tension that had settled over the room, Joyce storming back inside.

The woman threw down a box of assorted traps, bullets, and weapons. Veronica's brows flew to her hairline in surprise, choking out a laugh, eyes flying from the miniature armoury to flick between Jonathan and Nancy, who both sat looking guilty.

Had they been planning to... hunt something? It certainly looked like it. Most alarmingly of all, a bear trap was nestled amongst the other supplies. Veronica could think of a creature she'd like to see caught in that. It'd have to writhe, helplessly, in impossible pain, before she'd wander along and slowly put it out of its misery. It deserved no less.

"Why're you going through my car?" Jonathan asked, leaning forward and staring up at Hopper in defiance. Veronica spied a nasty bruise forming on his left cheek. At least Steve had gotten one good hit in.

"Is that really the question you should be asking right now?" Hopper rebuffed, also leaning forward, resting his hands on the small table and ominously looking down at Jonathan. The boy gulped. "I wanna see you in my office."

"You won't believe me," Jonathan muttered out, mirroring his response to Veronica's questions, only a minute earlier. Her eyes glinted in interest.

Hopper, unamused, responded, "why don't you give me a try?"

***

Having lead the rag-tag group of teenagers, Joyce and himself, into his office, Hopper sat on his desk, staring quizzically down at the photo Nancy and Jonathan had produced of the monster.

The monster. Veronica didn't think she'd be hearing about it again any time soon, let alone seeing it.

While only immortalised in a crappy photograph, it was enough to stir up all the feelings she'd been trying to quash down over the last two days. The scratches on her stomach throbbed, her head dropping to her hands. She'd only been able to stare at it for a moment before passing it to Joyce, like a hot potato.

"You say blood draws this thing?" Hopper asked the couple, who sat quietly on a sofa. Veronica sat below them, back against an arm of the couch, legs straight. She shook her head in disbelief at the situation.

"We don't know." Jonathan responded, unhelpfully. Thankfully, Veronica had experience with the bastard monster, enough to cancel out his and Nancy's gaps in knowledge. The two of them had rattled off everything they thought they knew about it, from it snatching Barbra, to eating a deer in the forest, before taking out the photo.

"It's just a theory," Nancy added, eyes on the floor.

Hopper and Joyce looked expectantly to Veronica, who'd yet to say anything. She sighed, lifting her head from her hands and staring at the wall ahead of her. She didn't feel like enduring the pitiful looks of the others.

"When it attacked me and Jay," she began, voice trembling slightly. She cleared her throat. "Uhm, neither of us were bleeding. Not to my knowledge, anyways." Nancy gasped behind her, and Jonathan turned stiff as a rock. Hopper hummed in thought. Veronica kept going. "But, uh, we did kinda just almost hit it, so, it may have smelled blood somewhere, been on route to that, then decided to get us back for nearly running it over."

An uncomfortable silence strangled the room, Veronica picking at her nails, teeth digging into her bottom lip, as she fought back the tears that suddenly prickled behind her eyes. Without a word, Joyce stood, placing a comforting hand on the girls shoulder, before nodding to Jonathan, the mother and son stepping out of the claustrophobic office space.

Veronica heard Nancy shift nervously on the couch behind her, the sound of nails scratching against a scalp reaching her ears. "You..." Nancy started, her words tapering off, unsure of how to begin her line of questioning. "You, you were attacked by the monster?"

Veronica sniffed, turning to look at Nancy. The petite girl's eyes met hers, pity swirling in the chocolate irises. Veronica frowned, she didn't deserve any of that. "Not so much me, but Jacob. I got a pretty good look at it, though." Her mind flashed to the monster's flower-like face opening up, screeching, the rows upon rows of sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight.

"Where, where is Jacob?" Nancy breached tentatively, fingers drumming against the surface of the couch. Veronica closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. She knew this would happen. Of course she'd have to answer questions about him. But that didn't mean it hurt any less.

All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe. Her throat felt like it'd been clamped shut by some invisible force. Veronica shook her head violently back and forth, before swallowing down the breathless feeling. She took in a shaky, deep breath, planning to answer, before Hopper beat her to it.

"We think, either, that the monster dragged him away, like the deer that you saw, or, that the 'feds', took him away. They moved Barbra's car, they can hide a body." Hopper said, answering Nancy's questions, and saving Veronica from the pain of summoning words about Jay. She blinked, not knowing whether to feel thankful, or robbed of the opportunity to speak for herself. She'd have to do it one day.

One day, she was going to have to admit, again, what a coward she'd been.

Before anyone could speak another word, frantic shouting erupted from outside the office. Hopper stood from his desk with a despondent grunt, and headed out of the door, making sure to step over Veronica's outstretched legs.

She sniffed, running a finger under her nose, and stood, following after him. Nancy was left in the office, alone. But Veronica didn't care. She was going to distract herself with whatever she could, to avoid confronting anymore feelings. With Nancy around, she doubted that'd be easily accomplished. The girl was too damn curious for her own good.

"What the hell is going on here?" Hopper questioned, as he strode into the noisy precinct. A woman was stood, with a boy, chastising the stupid cop. Callahan, his badge read.

"These men are humiliating my son!" The woman shouted, voice hoarse from all her hollering. Veronica leaned against the doorway; staying still was easier on her stitches, than any sort of movement. Jonathan joined her, standing at her side. They shared a baffled glance.

"No, no, no. Okay, that's not true." Callahan defended himself, putting down his pen and notepad. Veronica guessed, that it very much was true.

"Yes." The woman disputed. "A psychotic child broke his arm!"

"A little girl, Chief, a little one." Callahan added, gesturing to his midriff to convey the height of the suspected perp. Veronica snorted.

"That tone! Did you catch that tone!?"

Hopper heaved a raucous sigh, body deflating in exhaustion. Veronica was reminded, once again, of just how much he'd been through, recently, and that he was in need of a break just as much as she was. "I don't have time for this right now," he told the other officer, Powell, "can you please just take a statement and-" he pointed to the door, gesturing to get her out of the building.

Veronica nodded, and turned to head back to Hoppers office, eager to sit down, and take whatever rest she could get. She managed all of around ten seconds of relaxation, on the couch next to Nancy, before the Chief stormed back in and corralled the group with the fact that, the child of the angry mother, had been attacked by Jane. Eleven. The girl with telekinetic, and telepathic powers. Apparently, she'd been hanging around with Will's friend group.

Veronica smiled, drying lips cracking.

Finally, a lead.

***

Jonathan and Veronica sat, cramped, in the back of Joyce's sage green car. Why the Chief couldn't have chosen to take his truck, and have them sit in the back, and look cool, Veronica didn't know.

She'd also not have to sit practically on top of the lanky boy. The back was only meant for two people, and Nancy was going to have to squeeze back in, after she'd returned from observing her house, which was being raided by the feds. So, there they sat, close as close, and awkward beyond words.

"You know," Veronica started, a smirk creeping across her face, teeth glinting wolfishly. She saw Jonathan's eyes roll, dreading whatever was about to leave the girl's lips. "I slept in your bed, last night."

"You what-"

Before he could question her any further, Nancy slipped back inside the car, inadvertently squeezing Veronica further into Jonathan's side. The girl barely manage to get her foot in, and safely shut the door. If this was going to become a regular thing, then Joyce would need to invest in a people carrier. Veronica's stomach plummeted at the thought. She hoped this wouldn't become a regular thing.

Hopper also hoped back in the car, quickly turning to address the bundle of teenagers in the back. "Look, we need to find them before they do." He asserted, referencing Jane, Nancy's kid brother, Michael, and his friends. "Do you have any idea where he might've gone?" He asked Nancy.

"No, I don't." She answered, at a loss. Veronica spied tears in the girls eyes.

"I need you to think." Hopper encouraged sternly.

"No, we don't talk a lot. I mean, lately."

"Is there any place that your, your parents don't know about that he might go to?" Joyce questioned, desperate to find answers. Nancy had to know something.

"I don't know." The girl stated resolutely, hands flying in exasperation.

"I might." Jonathan inserted, after a pause. His eyes were settled somewhere to the side, lost in thought.

"What?" Veronica let out, face creased in confusion. Why was he only saying something now? Could he not have said something earlier?

"I don't know where he is, but I think I know how to ask him."

***

Scrambling through the Buyers' home, a mad search was underway for Will's radio. Veronica wrenched open his desk drawers, only to find piles upon piles of drawings.

"I've got it!" Joyce announced, wriggling out from under Will's bed. The mother handed Nancy the device, who wasted no time switching it on and speaking frantically down it, in an effort to communicate with her brother.

"Mike, are you there?" She asked, stood statically in the middle of the room. Veronica lowered herself onto a desk chair, and sighed in relief at being off of her feet. Hopper sent her a look, raised eyebrows, are you ok? She nodded, and looked back to Nancy, who'd had no response yet. "Mike, we need you to answer. This is an emergency!"

After another minute of unanswered pleas, Hopper snatched the radio from Nancy. "Listen kid, this if the Chief. If you're there, pick up. We know you're in trouble and we know about the girl." He stated, eager to get a response. "We can protect you, we can help you, but you've gotta pick up." The man plead, itching at his forehead. Veronica sighed as he dejectedly set down the radio, after receiving no answer. "Anybody got any other ideas?"

Silence enveloped the room after Hopper's question. No one had anything, they were completely in the dark. The kids were at risk, and all of them, gathered in Will's bedroom, were powerless to save them.

Veronica's fists clenched at the unjustness of the situation, hating the feeling of helplessness that stiflingly blanketed her.

"Yeah, I copy." Rang out a response from the discarded radio, Veronica sitting up to attention. "It's Mike. I'm here. We're here." The entire room breathed a sigh of relief, Veronica watching as Nancy and Jonathan leant into each other, smiling.

While Veronica found it fun to tease them, she noted the was an undeniable chemistry brewing between them, one that conflicted with Nancy's relationship with Steve. Although, given the fight Steve and Jonathan had, Veronica supposed that could be on the rocks, or even done for. 

The girl hummed to herself, standing as the Chief readied himself to leave and collect the kids from the scrapyard.

She'd keep an eye on them, and report her findings back to Steve once all of this was over. Veronica was sure he'd be very eager to learn what she'd witnessed.

Chapter Text

Thunder clapped across the dark, night sky, a florescent streak of lightning shooting down and striking somewhere, far away.

Veronica grimaced, moving away from the window, which was being pelted by rain, and gravitated back to her seat on Joyce's couch, with Nancy and Jonathan.

Waiting for Hopper to return, with the kids in tow, was becoming tedious, Joyce already having lapped the small living room countless times, practically having burned a trail of footsteps into the carpet.

Thankfully, headlights soon illuminated the space, everyone jumping up to see the kids.

Veronica winced when rising, her stitches having pulled, staggering a little behind the others, who had already flown out of the door.

She stabilised herself against the frame, watching the reunion in front of her, unfold.

"Mike. Oh my God, Mike!" Nancy exclaimed, running forward to envelope her brother in a tight hug.

The kid was quite tall for his age, lanky, like Steve used to be, and had shaggy black hair. His long arms stayed hanging at his sides, refusing to reciprocate Nancy's affection.

"I was so worried about you." Nancy continued.

"Yeah, uh, me too." Mike responded, wholly awkward.

Veronica snorted, thinking that he must still be in that weird teenage phase, wherein loving your family, or anyone at all, was weird.

She watched from her spot against the door frame, as Nancy leaned to the side, catching sight of an almost bald girl in a dirtied, pink dress.

That must be Jane.

She looked so small.

"Is that my dress?"

***

After Mike's stuttered explanation as to why he'd been rifling through Nancy's wardrobe to clothe Jane -the young girl had been in a hospital gown when they first stumbled across her-, he and his two other friends, Dustin and Lucas, herded everyone around Joyce's kitchen table.

The middle schoolers sat themselves down at it, and scribbled an unimpressive diagram onto a stray piece of paper, before beginning to explaining it.

"Okay, so, in this example, we're the acrobat." Mike asserted, pointing to a stick figure standing on a line, with a pen.

"Will, Barbra, and Jacob, and that monster, they're this flee." Veronica felt pinpricks ignite along the surface of her skin at the mention of Jay.

While she, and Hopper, given the way he described their theory to Nancy, earlier, thought him to be dead, the others still inexplicably held out hope that he was alive.

Maybe, they thought that, if Will was alive, then so was Jay.

But, Veronica watched him get mauled, and left him behind to be more so. She doubted there was much coming back from that. There couldn't be.

A hand flew to her neck to anxiously itch at it, long nails grating red lines across her skin.

"And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding." Joyce sent a puzzled look to the teenagers beside her, Veronica returning the glance just a second too late. "Mr Clarke said the only way to get there, is through a rip of time and space."

This was beginning to sound like a whole lot of nerd crap.

"A gate." Dustin helpfully simplified.

He had no front teeth, and round, soft cheeks. His big hat, wide eyes, and curls, almost made him look adorable.

"That we tracked to Hawkins lab." Lucas supplied. He had a camo bandana around his forehead, like he was playing soldier.

Veronica hoped that's all this was to them, right now. That the severity of the situation hadn't necessarily hit them, that they could still be childish and enjoy their youth, treating this all as a game, rather than life or death.

They were just children, after all.

"With our compasses." Elaborated Dustin, spurred by the confused looks his words received to continue further. Veronica was perplexed; science never was her strong suit. She just liked the classes where they got out the Bunsen burners- she liked setting things on fire. "Okay," the boy groaned. "So the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the directions of a compass needle."

"Is this gate underground?" Hopper chimed in. Veronica was reminded that'd the man had seen something similar. A fissure in a wall.

Jane, who'd yet to say a word, fixed the man with a firm look. "Yes," she confirmed, voice monotone.

"Near a large water tank?"

"Yes," the small girl said.

The group of boys shared confused looks amongst themselves, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted.

"How do you know all that?" Dustin challenged Hopper.

"He's seen it," supplied Mike, after a brief pause.

They were so young, Veronica considered, and yet they were already all so smart, putting together pieces of this massive puzzle, that no one else could.

"Smart kid." She acknowledged, Mike sending her an awkward smile in thanks.

Joyce took in a deep breath before speaking, her fingers threading together in her lap. "Is there any way that you could... that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this-"

"The Upside Down." Jane provided, Joyce nodding.

Jane replicated the same movement, confirming that she'd be able to talk to, or at least try, and locate Will.

This was a massive step forward, the entire group edging ever closer to finishing this terrible chapter of their lives, and moving on.

Veronica gulped, considering whether or not to moot the idea of trying to find Jacob. His... body had yet to turn up anywhere, and she would appreciate some closure, knowing concretely whether or not he was actually dead.

She'd abandoned him once before, she wasn't about to repeat the same mistake.

Only, Jane was so young, and pressure was mounting on her, already, to find Will. Veronica was reluctant to burden her with more people to find.

Then Nancy asked whether or not the girl could try and locate Barbra. Jane agreed, a small smile growing on her face.

She looked almost proud.

Veronica looked to Hopper before breaching her question, the man giving her his blessing with a nod of his own.

She cleared her throat before speaking. "Sorry to have to ask, but, could you also give finding Jacob, my boyfriend, a go?"

***

Having had no photos of Jay on hand, Joyce cut out a photo of him from the latest edition of the Hawkins Post.

It was from a photo of him and Veronica, captioned with a single word, 'missing'.

Veronica looked down, unnerved, at the photo of them. It felt like it burned the skin of her palm, as she clutched it tightly in her hand.

It was from the school photo day a few months previous, when they'd bribed the photographer to take a snap of them. They looked so happy, teeth shining and eyes glinting. Jay had an arm around Veronica, and she leaned into his side.

With a frown and a quivering lip, she realised that she'd never look, or be, that purely happy, ever again.

In the attack, in leaving Jay, part of her had been lost forever, and she was never going to get it back. How could she live freely, knowing something so evil, so ready to take a beautiful life, was out there, ready to strike at any moment, and claim a victim? How could she live with herself, knowing she'd ran, and left Jay, to spend what was likely his final moments, in the throngs of horror and pain, all alone?

She blinked, cursing away tears which had snuck into the corners of her eyes.

She'd consider all of that later.

Now, it was time for revenge, time to strike down this monster, and stop it from ever committing a streak of terror again.

Placing the photo onto the table, Veronica joined the circle of adults and children alike, that crowded around Jane, or El, as Mike referred to her.

Static played from a radio as the small girl's eyeballs frantically shifted behind her lowered lids, searching for Barbra, Will and Jacob in the Upside Down.

The lights suddenly flickered, and gasps sounded from the group.

Jane slowly opened her eyes, brows lowering, the corners of her mouth drooped.

Something was wrong.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, looking to Joyce with wide, glazed eyes.

"What's wrong? W-what happened?" The woman questioned, Hopper's hand firmly within her grasp.

Veronica shoved that observation away for further thought, later.

"I can't find them." Jane murmured between an onslaught of sudden tears.

At the girls words, Joyce flew up from her seat, hands clutched over her mouth, as if she were about to be sick.

Veronica sighed, looking away, before heading to the couch to sit with her thoughts, a storm of different emotions surging to life around her. Jonathan took the seat next to her, head in his hands, frame shaking with the occasional sob. Nancy looked distraught, the kids seemed entirely unperturbed, and Hopper resorted to more huffing.

This wasn't the end of the world.

Veronica didn't need closure, she'd just like it. Plus, it wasn't like piecing together what'd come of Jay was rocket science, she'd practically hammered the nails into his coffin, herself.

She only had herself to blame, for not knowing concretely whether he was dead or alive. She should have stuck with him.

The group of boys gathered everyone back together, eventually, despite the dampened mood.

A begrudging Veronica followed Nancy, who'd tugged her back into the kitchen, before plopping back into a seat at the small table.

She'd only been here the night previous. This, to her chagrin, was starting to become routine.

Dustin's grating voice was shouting down the Buyers' yellow phone, demanding information on a sensory deprivation tank from his science teacher, Mr Clarke. Veronica didn't remember having been taught by him, he must've been new.

"Why're you keeping this curiosity door locked?" The boy demanded, his metaphor being the seeming final  push for Mr Clarke, as Dustin yelped in success, earning the information required to make a sensory deprivation thingy for Jane, fist pumping in the air.

He quickly made a scribbling motion, Veronica perking up in realisation, before snatching a notepad and pencil from the countertop and handing it to him as he hurriedly took a seat.

He scrawled down notes at lighting speed, soon ending the call and putting down the phone triumphantly.

Veronica and Nancy shared a look of surprise, eyebrows risen.

It was almost comical, how this tiny kid took charge and assembled what resembled an entire operation.

"Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed apples in?" He questioned Joyce, Veronica snorting in disbelief.

"Uh, I think so, yeah." The woman considered, looking to Jonathan for assistance, who tiredly nodded.

"Good, then we just need salt. Lots of it."

Hopper grunted in what seemed to be annoyance, already anticipating something absurd from the boy in front of him.

"How much is lots?" He demanded, dragging a hand down his face.

"One thousand, five hundred pounds." Dustin answered amicably.

Nancy breathed out of puff of air. "Well," she said, "where are we going to get that much salt?"

***

To Veronica's surprise, Hopper's answer to Nancy's question was Hawkins Middle School, the group quickly bundling into Hopper's truck and Joyce's car, racing there, despite the late hour.

She supposed there wasn't much time to lose, although all of her senses protested her staying awake.

Thanks to Dustin's expert planning, Veronica had been deployed to help him and Lucas, the three of them in charge of setting up the pool for Jane. She and Lucas watched in amusement as the boy rolled the compressed pool across the gymnasium floor, grunting and huffing with each movement.

"I'm injured," she started slowly, "so you twerps are gonna set it up, while I direct you."

Lucas turned and gave the girl what was supposed to be a blistering look, while Dustin stopped dead in his tracks.

He lifted his bowed head to show her an unamused expression.

"Really?" Lucas questioned, "what did you do, break a nail?" The boys laughed amongst themselves as Veronica placed a faux offended hand to her chest, brows shooting up.

"Just do as I say, nerds, or I'll give you much worse than what I got." She crossed her arms over her chest, signifying her resolute decision.

The boys rolled their eyes, before begrudgingly following her instruction to untie the rope bundling up the pool.

While she'd love to help set up, her scratches were already screaming in pain, the last thing she needed right now, was to tear a stitch setting up a goddamn kiddie pool. She doubted Hopper would be too keen to perform much more impromptu first aid, and, honestly, she wasn't keen to endure it.

When Dustin and Lucas started fighting amongst themselves, the walls of the pool not co-operating with them, as they kept falling in, she stalked over with an over exaggerated sigh. Huffing, she stepped into the pool, and booted the walls with her foot, forcing them to engage, while the boys held up their ends. She kept the stupid dance going, the kids laughing at her antics, until Nancy and Mike arrived with the hoses.

Veronica jumped out with a yelp when the pool started filling with water, resuming her position of director as Lucas reported the temperature to Mike, the latter boy on the taps.

Apparently, the water needed to be perfect temperature in order for buoyancy to be achieved.

Jane needed it to float, as she would've done in a sensory deprivation tank, where her powers worked best.

Veronica just nodded along with a smile, when told, and migrated over to Nancy's side, staying there until the pool, which was soon being supplied with salt, evolved to perfect condition.

Jane, still in Nancy's pink dress, donned her taped-over goggles, and stepped into the pool. Veronica's heartbeat started thumping in her ears, fingers tingling with energy.

Static from a radio echoed through the hall, and everyone waited with bated breath as the girl settled into the water, quickly floating.

Veronica was positioned next to Hopper, the man having dragged her hands apart, after her fingers started picking at each other.

As Jane settled, the electricity quickly surged, and the lights flickered once again.

Veronica looked around in awe at the effects of the girl's power, in disbelief as to how such a small body could be capable of exuding such force.

"Barb... Barbra?" Jane muttered, seemingly to no one. She paused. "Jacob?"

Veronica bit down on her lip, hard, unable to physically conceal her worry and fear any longer.

Her hands rose to grip the lip of the pool as the power surged once again, the lights burning out, leaving them all in darkness.

Her mind flooded with hope, desperation, in that moment. It was her brains final, last-ditch effort at attempting to reassure Veronica that maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok. There was a slither of chance, that Jay might still be alive, after all. He could be like Will, running around the Upside Down, avoiding the monster, as he clung on to his last dregs of life.

Veronica leaned forward in anticipation.

"What's going on?" Nancy asked from across the pool, the brown haired girls nerves quickly and visibly heightening. "Is Barb okay? Is she okay?" She hounded Jane, whose breathing had grown erratic.

Veronica frantically clawed at the skin around her nails.

"Gone. Gone. Both. Gone." The floating girl responded, tears evident in her voice, as she repeated the damning words, over and over.

Veronica's eyes widened, a hand flying to cover her mouth in horror.

That was it.

Jacob was dead.

Nothing more or nothing less.

Just a lifeless corpse; cold, decomposing, without his usual softness, only a solidified, calcified rigidity left. Bones and rotting flesh. Blood and gas. Closed eyes and pale, blotchy skin. Cold, cold, cold, so cold. Far away from home, never to be returned, alone.

She watched, her throat constricting faster by the second, as grief overtook Nancy's face.

Her beautiful brown eyes shone with unshed tears, trembling lips opening and closing haphazardly, unable to form words.

Veronica felt compelled, obligated, even, to cross the pool and reach Nancy, to comfort her. She'd just learned that her best friend was dead.

But, Veronica was rooted to the wooden floor, unable to move a muscle, far too consumed by her own grief.  Her jaw tightened, and her head dropped to the floor as previously withheld tears escaped, dripping into her shaking hands, which were cupping her face, shielding it. What she couldn't see couldn't hurt her.

But her eyes weren't the problem- it was her ears. 

"Gone. Both. Gone." The words echoed tauntingly in her head, bouncing off of one disbelieving side of her skull to another.

She jumped into the air at the touch of a hand on her back, the attempt at comfort overstimulating her, and forcing her legs to stand.

Looking down at Hopper, who had an aghast expression slapped across his face, she grimaced, wiping at her tears with a fist before storming out of the gymnasium and into an empty hallway. She couldn't help it. Her legs just moved. She was far too overtaken by her own emotions, to stick out the rest of the experiment for anyone else's sake.

Either that, or she was just a coward, running away at every bad turn.

Mindlessly, she stormed down the locker lined hallway, fists clenching at her sides as tears tore down her face.

She heaved out sobs, finally in the comfort of her own privacy, and free to let out whatever pain she wanted.

She was as good as a murder.

Anything, would've been better than running away, that night. Anything.

Even if she'd ended up dead with Jay, stuck in the Upside Down for eternity, it would've been better than having to live life as a gutless coward.

God, death would've been a mercy, at this point.

Killing the monster would be cathartic, if she ever got her hands on it, and taking down the lab would serve as a win for all of them. But, nothing would mend the gaping hole inside her chest, where the love for Jay, and respect for herself, once resided. It hurt, fuck it hurt so bad. It throbbed, deep and gutting, weighing down her every step, straining every breath.

Heaving a deep breath, she finally stopped walking away, sliding in defeat down a locker and onto the cold, tile floor.

She could've sat there for hours, minutes, days. She didn't know.

Eventually, the sound of the gym door banging against the wall echoed down the hallway, reaching Veronica's stifled ears.

She didn't spare the source of the noise a look, continuing to stare down at her hands, which had taken off her gold band, a gift from Jacob, and began rolling it between her shaking fingers.

Echoing footsteps pounded towards her, and soon, Nancy settled down with a huff next to her.

The girls sat there in silence, absorbed by their own troubled thoughts, until Jonathan arrived, sliding down the wall next to Nancy.

"We have to go back to the station." The petite girl announced, her voice soft, despite its teary intonation.

"What?" Jonathan asked, but Veronica knew what Nancy was thinking. Because she was thinking the same thing.

She couldn't get Jay back. Nancy couldn't get Barbra back. So, for now, the least they could do, was use the shit ton of weapons cached at the station, to destroy that bastard monster, and send it right back to the hell it came from. It was the least they could do.

Veronica sniffed, stuffing the ring back on her finger.

"I want to finish what we started." Nancy said, looking to Jonathan, before turning to Veronica, and matching the girl's determined scowl. "I want to kill it."

Nodding firmly, Veronica slowly stood, grunting in pain and clutching her stomach as her wounds throbbed.

Nancy and Jonathan quickly got to their feet after her, rushing to the injured girl's side, each grabbing a bicep to support her.

"You okay?" Jonathan asked, eyes scanning up and down Veronica's form.

She grunted, nodding again before lightly waving the two of them away. "I'll be fine." She asserted, raking a hand through her hair. "Let's go kill this thing."

Chapter Text

The trio, Veronica, Nancy and Jonathan, snuck into the station and retrieved the assorted box of weapons and traps without a hitch. Callahan and Powell slept away behind their desks, and hadn't even bothered to put the box of weaponry and supplies back in the lock up.

Speeding down the dark, empty roads of Hawkins, Jonathan at the wheel, the group devised their deadly plan.

After having arrived back at the Buyers' home, they worked quickly to screw each discarded, colourful bulb, back in. Their flickering would alert them to the monsters presence, apparently. That's what Joyce had told Hopper, who then told Veronica, anyway.

Her heart swelled at the thought of the adults, hoping that the two of them were making it safely through the Upside Down, soon to find Will, who Jane had found alive. There was some hope left, at least.

Veronica left the particularly high up ones for Nancy and Jonathan to fight over, neither of whom questioned her antics. She was being careful not to overexert herself; in order for their plan to work, she'd need all the strength she could summon.

Something was bound to go wrong, after all, and they'd inevitably have to fight the damned monster. She couldn't have broken stitches weighing her down, then, there was just too much at steak.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

She didn't want to watch another person get devoured, which meant she'd have to fight every urge in her body that'd push her to run.

Could she do it?

Really?

Yes. A million times yes. She had to. She longed to see the monster dead, defeated, unable to ever hurt anyone again. Her heart beat for it, bloodlust settling into her bones. It had to die. And she had to have a hand in making that happen. Otherwise, could she ever forgive herself? If she couldn't avenge Jacob, then what?

Once that job had been completed, they moved onto setting up and securing the promising bear trap into the floor of the home. Veronica started down at it with a sick smile, envisioning the monster caught in it, suffering a slither of the pain its victims had endured.

Nancy poured a trail of gasoline toward it, from Will's room, further fuelling the passion for revenge that burned within Veronica.

She'd take disgusting pleasure in watching it burn, writhing in pain just like Jacob had, before dying.

While Jonathan hammered metal nails into a bat, which Veronica had a hard time envisioning the boy swinging, and Nancy fussed over her revolver, Veronica mused over the box of weapons sitting beneath her, tapping the edges of it with anxious fingers.

Inside, another revolver laid, shining silver and glinting in the soft light emitted from a lamp.Hm. Not really her thing. Not hands-on enough.

Next to it, jutting out of the top of the box, and then some, sat a long handled, felling axe.

Her dark eyes lit up at the sight of it, a hand gravitating towards it, grasping it, chucking it from one hand to another, testing it's weight. It felt good. It felt deadly.

Her split lips stretched into a delighted smile. With this axe, she'd kill the monster, and end this nightmare. No more missing kids, no more deaths, just peace, calm and a return to regular programming.

Stuffing it between her belt and jean skirt, Veronica migrated back to the middle of the living room where Jonathan and Nancy stood waiting for her, grim-faced.

With a solemn look, Nancy handed the girl a sharp kitchen knife. The green, plastic handle felt smooth in Veronica's hand. She cleared her throat, nodding to the both of them. It was time.

"Remember..." Jonathan began, voice shaky with nerves.

"Straight into Will's room," Nancy continued. It seemed like they were going back over the plan.

Veronica blinked, deciding to join in. "Don't step on the trap," she said, eyes flicking between the two teens in front of her. Never would she have imagined herself here, fighting a fucking monster, let alone with Hawkins' local freak and the school priss. What had she done in her past life to deserve this cruelty?

Well, her past life didn't really matter, did it? She'd done enough fucked up stuff in her current one to deserve this nightmare. 

"Wait for the yo-yo to move." Nancy added.

"Then," Jonathan flicked the lighter open, the flame glowing tantalisingly with promise, signifying the eventual roasting of the monster. "Alright, you guys ready?"

"Ready," the girls affirmed in unison, raising the knives over their palms in preparation to slice.

To lure the monster with their blood, and as not to only put the burden of pain on one person, they'd agreed to each of them slicing open a hand.

Veronica supposed that she could just lift her shirt, reveal her stomach, and maybe snip a couple stitches, but she'd rather not show off her injuries to Nancy or Jonathan, uneasy as to what questions and emotions the reveal would incur. And the undeserving pity. 

"On three," she instructed, taking a deep breath. "One... two-"

"You guys don't have to do this." Jonathan suddenly blabbered, his focus on Nancy, and the knife ready to attack her palm.

Veronica watched as the girls eyes hardened in response, while Veronica's practically rolled to the back of her head, eager to get to bludgeoning the monster, as soon as possible. Now was not the time for confessions of love of damn chivalry; it was time for fucking revenge. She respected Jonathan for shooting his shot, really, but, time and place, damn it.

"Jonathan, stop talking." Nancy demanded, just before Veronica ended the discussion for them.

"Three!" She shouted impatiently, all of them slicing at their hands, blood pooling on the floor beneath them.

Having cut a little deeper than intended, the wound quickly began throbbing and pouring blood, Veronica making quick work of dropping the knife and disinfecting the wound with a stinging alcohol wipe.

Grunting, she lowered herself onto the floor, back against the coffee table, eyes on the couch in front of her.

She was momentarily ignorant the intimate gestures taking place on the couch, until she looked up, one end of her bandage between her teeth, the other between her fingers, eyes catching Nancy caressing Jonathan's hand.

Her face soured at the display, eyes rolling. They needed to be banned from PDA, or whatever the hell it was that they were doing, that rom-com dance of affection around each other, teetering on the edge of something more. How gross. Romance was only cute when it involved Veronica.

"Did you hear that?" The petite girl asked, a tiny sound echoing outside of the home.

Veronica shook her head in disbelief, and quickly finished wrapping her slice, securing the bandage with a knot.

Wasn't Nancy with Steve? Sure, they'd fought or whatever, but she was moving on a little fast. Then again, Steve had been flying from girl to girl since he'd started sprouting all that beastly chest hair of his, it was only fair that Nancy let herself loose a little. Give the guy a taste of his own medicine.

Maybe, Jonathan really had made Steve look like a massive wimp. That was a funny thought. Jonathan 'The Freak' Byers towering over the King of Hawkins before stealing his girl. Only, sure, Steve could be a bit of a baby sometimes, but he was hardly a massive push-over. Not when it came to people like Jonathan, anyways, people he viewed as lesser than him. That's how it was with all bullies. Veronica would know.

Or, Steve really had done something bad. A tight ball of uncertainty coiled in Veronica's stomach at the thought, not wanting to think of her best friend as that big of an asshole. Surely he hadn't gone too far, right? He was a jerk, a piece of shit, but he wasn't a bad guy, not really. 

"It's just the wind." Jonathan kindly comforted, pulling Veronica back into the moment. The wind started picking up, then, the window panes clattering in their frames "Don't worry, my mom, she said the lights speak when it comes."

His eyes were fixed on Nancy while he spoke, the two of them seemingly having forgotten Veronica's presence below them, too wrapped up within themselves.

The girl grimaced.

"Speak?" Nancy questioned, eyebrows adorably raised, eyes glinting. 

"Blink." Veronica supplied blankly, deciding to interject before things got too heated above her. She didn't really feel like testing whether or not she was a voyeur, right now. Nancy and Jonathan's heads shot down to her, brought back down to Earth. "Think of them as alarms." She added.

Nancy hummed in understanding, and finished wrapping Jonathan's hand.

The girl's fingers lingered over it for far longer than necessary, inching closer to Jonathan's own, almost linking their sliced hands.

Suddenly, a raucous series of bangs hammered down on the front door, snapping Veronica out of her staring battle with Nancy's hand, and startling the couple out of their bubble.

She gasped, a hand flying to her heart as it started hammering inside her chest. Shit. Who the hell could that be?

"Jonathan?" A voice rang out in question from behind the wood. But, not just any voice.

Holy shit.

It was Steve.

Veronica's eyes widened to the size of saucers at the revelation, head swivelling to look at a Nancy and Jonathan, each of them wordlessly sharing their shock.

Steve Harrington, who she hadn't seen in days, her best friend, only friend, really, was at the door, pounding on it like his life depended on it. The door, which, normally would've opened to the Byers' house, only, now, it was a tightly-wound trap, susceptible to kickstarting into action at any moment, ending up as the place of death for the monster.

The thought made her stomach twist in discomfort, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She couldn't let him get involved in this. She just couldn't. It didn't matter whatever the hell he'd done to Nancy and Jonathan, Veronica wanted to be selfish, damnit, and have one good, untainted thing left over by the end of this bloody fiasco. 

She didn't want to look at Steve and think of monsters and death and her failure, of Jacob, she wanted safety from him, nights spent at his pool, at Jenny's, smoking away their fucked-up family problems and finding some much needed solace. Normality, the tantalising illusion of it, fluttering through her fingers with puffs of warm breeze or spinning ceiling fans. 

Shit. She had to get him out of here.

 "Are you there, man? It's, it's Steve!"

Veronica scrambled up, supporting herself with a now shaking hand on the covered coffee table.

Frozen, she found her feet rooted the floor. Fucking damnit. Now wasn't the time for her pussyfooting to act up, her anxiety to seize her by the extremities and hold her hostage in her own, statue-still body. She needed to leap into action, or, just move and do something, anything, to get Steve away from this shit-show. He didn't deserve to get caught up in this, either.

"Listen, I just wanna talk!" Steve continued, banging his fist on the door over and over, until Nancy begrudgingly stood, making her way across the room to open it.

Veronica tried to grab onto her arm as she passed, attempting to stop her, but Nancy shrugged off the touch, barging her way towards the door with a firm look.

Veronica bit her lip in nervousness. This could be bad. Really bad.  Steve would freak out if he found Veronica here, looking like this, bloodied, cut up, dressed in rags, in Jonathan fucking Buyers' company. Let alone Nancy, his precious little girlfriend.

He'd probably try and fight Jonathan again. That's the last thing they needed, right now, not when the monster could attack at any moment.

Steve could get injured too. The scenario wasn't one Veronica allowed her brain to entertain for long, shaking her head back and forth to dismiss the thought before she could pass out from worry. That'd be too much to bear.

"Steve, listen to me," Nancy started after slowly peeling open the door. The lock chain was still attached, however, so he couldn't barge his way in. Good thinking.

Veronica couldn't see him, Steve's face obscured behind Nancy's head. She could spy his hand, though, leaning against the door. It was bloodied, and bruised, specifically around the knuckles, the odd one appearing swollen. She huffed out a snort. He'd seriously gone all out on Jonathan, and still lost. It would've been comical, had the moment of his appearance not been so inopportune.

"Hey." Started Steve amicably, before realising who had answered the door. "Wait. Nancy, what- "

"You need to leave." The girl asserted, her voice harsh.

Veronica admired her steel, not expecting that level of harshness. Over the past day or so, however, she'd learned to expect the unexpected from Nancy. Or, just to expect the unexpected in general- government drug programmes, telekinetic girls, interdimensional monsters. 

"I'm not trying to start anything, okay?" Steve assured, voice frantic.

"I don't care about that. You need to leave."

"No, no, no, listen, I messed up, okay?" The boy stammered, ever expressive hands opening and closing, rising and falling in emphasis of his words. "I messed... I messed up." He admitted quietly.

Curious as to why Steve was so passionate over this, and how his injuries had gotten so extreme, Veronica moved closer to Jonathan, looking to him for answers. 

"What did he do?" She quietly asked the boy, a hand over her mouth to shield the noise from reaching Steve.

"He... wrote a message on The Hawk for Nancy." He started slowly, matching her volume. His eyes stayed firmly on Nancy while he spoke. "He saw us in her room together, after we'd seen the monster. Must've been trying to sneak in, or something. He tried to beat me up, but then the cops came."

Veronica snorted. That sounded like Steve to punch first, ask questions later.

But, whatever he wrote on The Hawk must've been horrible.

An odd mix of emotions brewed in her stomach at the thought of Steve publicly humiliating Nancy. Disappointment, mostly, and a little embarrassment. In a small town like Hawkins, something like that could ruin someone. Veronica didn't want to bring Nancy down, like that, there were only so many things Steve could've written, after all, each as disturbing as the last.

Damnit. She really didn't expect slut-shaming from him. That was more-so Tommy's gig. 

"Please. I just wanna make things right." Steve begged, voice desperate, almost whiny, behind the door. "Please- hey, what happened to your hand? Is that blood?" He quickly asked, Veronica watching as Nancy's bandaged hand was snatched from the door frame and out of view. Jonathan jolted at the action, grip tightening around his bat.

"Nothing. It was an accident."  Said Nancy resolutely, arm jerking as she attempted to free her hand.

It was to no avail, Steve holding on firmly, set on examining the hidden wound.

"Yeah, what's going on?" He asked, concern lacing his tone.

"Nothing." Nancy rebuffed, head shifting to flick her eyes to Veronica, a plea for help screaming out of her brown irises.

Veronica gulped, feet still firmly rooted to the floor, seemingly unable to move a muscle.

"Wait a sec. Did he do this to you?" Accused Steve. Jonathan sighed, head dropping to hang between his shoulders in defeat. He couldn't catch a break. You take one photo of a girl getting undressed and suddenly you're a woman beater.

"No."

"Nancy, let me in!" Steve shouted, growing agitated as he started to barge at the door.

Veronica watched in alarm as Nancy quickly shifted out of the way, obviously sensing what was about to happen, and avoided the boy's weaponised body with a yelp.

"No. No! No, Steve!" She hollered, trying to grapple onto him as he burst through.

The boy careered through the door regardless, before abruptly stopping his charge in the middle of the living room, a deer caught in headlights. Veronica gulped. Shit. 

His eyes flew from the bat with nails, to the lights, to Jonathan, and finally, to Veronica, who'd resorted to perching on the end of a couch, settling herself down as her hummingbird heart started making her feel woozy.

"Hey, Steve" she greeted amicably enough, raising a hand to wave. She could blag her way through  this. One hundred percent. Easy job.

"Veronica!?" He exclaimed, disbelief slapped across his face.

Steve looked gobsmacked for a moment, jaw bobbing like a gold fish as he failed to voice the words hurtling through his head. Veronica simpered at the sight, rising to her feet.

Despite the circumstance, she couldn't help but be happy to see him, again. He was her safe space, after all.

"What- what the hell are you doing here?" Steve blurted out, "I, I thought, you... I, holy shit, I thought you were dead."

The confession made the pit in Veronica's stomach plummet to new depths, guilt churning in the chasm sickeningly. God, she was a piece of shit. Why couldn't she have just called him and pretended she was fine? Why did she make him worry like this? He didn't need to. She didn't deserve it.

She didn't deserve the softness rolling about his eyes at his confession, either, the relieved slump of his shoulders as he let out a huff to the ceiling. He should be mad at her, or something, shoving at her, shouting at her, getting angry that she'd saddled him with all this unnecessary worry. 

Because killers didn't deserve to be fussed over. To be worried for. They deserved to be shunned and banished, ostracised and cut-out. She didn't deserve that blanket of safety that Steve provided, weightless and warm settling over her shoulders all the same. Their friendship should be stamped out, the flame that'd been fanned for years murdered with a bucket of cold water.

Could he not see it on her? The blood, covering her hands all the way up to her elbows, staining her flushed skin while Jacob's was pallid, dead and cold. Steve could always read her like a book, predict her every want before she'd even uttered it, ready to answer her every call. 

What about the one she was sending out now, with the firm setting of her features? Leave. Leave me. Maybe. Probably. His eyebrows slanted in something like sadness. Definitely.

Regardless, he stepped forward, then again, one foot in front of the other, until he was almost right in front of her. Not quite an olive branch, not quite a helping hand. No, Steve made himself the help, until he was in touching distance, an arm raising to grasp her arm.

God, what had she done to deserve him?

"You need to get out of here." Nancy shouted, unapologetically hounding Steve.

Veronica's shoulders slumped, and her face grew indifferent. The girl wasn't wrong; Steve needed to get out, and fast. She could want to revel in his warmth all she wanted, needed, lean into his touch until she could close her eyes against his heart and forget about everything, but now wasn't the time.

With aching legs, Veronica made her way to her feet. Standing, she could see the confusion swirling in Steve's dark eyes, the fear poking through the tightly-bound anger on his face.

She grappled hands over both his biceps, attempting to herd him back towards the front door, away from imminent danger. 

"Let's get you out of here," she murmured quietly, lips quickly pursing. She didn't know whether she could control herself, around him, whether the truth was about to tumble free from her worry-bitten lips. It couldn't.

With his thunderous footsteps as their only warning, Jonathan stomped over to Steve's front, unapologetically pulling at the boy's collar, before attempting to drag him out of the door.

"Get out! Now!" He bellowed, yanking a writhing Steve towards the exit.

"Listen to me. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you, get out of here!" Nancy hollered, seemingly siding with Jonathan and his violent withdrawal of Steve.

With a grunt, Veronica dragged the boy back into her chest, where she could protect him, and practically snarled at Jonathan in retaliation.

She understood their anger, really, but they didn't need to fucking body him, like this.

Steve squirmed between them, eager to be released from the human confines caging him in.

"I'm getting him out!" Veronica rebuffed, attempting to hurry Steve out of the door as the couple milling around them grew quickly more violent.

This was not ideal.

This was not how it was meant to go.

Steve needed to get out, fucking ASAP, so that they could smoke the monster and be done with this. Now.

"What is that smell!? Is that, is that gasoline? Ron?" Steve rattled out, the two of them shoving off  a freshly returned Jonathan, as Steve turned to question the girl, who was lethally glaring up at him. He quickly silenced himself, feet freezing. He knew what that look meant.

"Steve, get out!" Nancy shouted, finality riddled throughout her words.

Wondering as to why the girl sounded so determined, Veronica turned, only to be met with the end of a gun barrel.

Nancy had her revolver pointed right at her.

"Nancy!" Veronica almost screamed, horrified at the turn of events, ice-cold terror shooting up her spine. "Get that thing outta my face!"

"What!? What is going on?" Steve questioned, shaky hands flying to Veronica's hips to move her behind him protectively, shielding his best friend with his body.

What the fuck was going on?

"You have five seconds to get out of here. Or I shoot her!" Nancy declared, a certain craze descending over her features.

Veronica could see it, the girl was turning just as desperate as her, desperate to get this entire shit show over with, desperate to kill the damned thing and get some revenge. Seemingly, at whatever cost.

"One!"

"Jesus Christ, Steve, just get out!" Veronica moaned, shoving him towards the door. She didn't want to die like this, damnit, and she couldn't let Steve stick around for a second longer.

"Ronnie, what the shit-" he stammered, turning to look at her and grapple at her biceps as Jonathan's voice raised, shouting something incoherent in the background. "I, I can't just leave you guys! Nancy's gone crazy!"

"Two!" The gun slinging girl hollered, further fuelling the ever climbing intensity of the room.

Their heads flung together share a horrified look.

"No, no, no! No, no!" The best friends shouted in unison, arms flailing in surrender.

With a huff, Veronica shouldered Steve behind her protectively. If Nancy really was going to shoot, hopefully Veronica's body would be enough to save Steve from the line of fire. She wouldn't let someone else be the victim of her cowardice and selfishness, this time.

"Nancy! Veronica! The lights." Jonathan's voice finally broke through the cacophony of intense background noise that Veronica hadn't even registered, during her fear fuelled daze.

Electricity buzzed all around them, the Christmas lights flickering. Dancing, multi-coloured flecks dazzled the room, one surface to another coated in a weirdly joyous smatterings of light, a dreadful feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong ripping open Veronica's stomach.

Oh shit.

"It's here." She muttered.

It was now or never.

"Wait, what's here?" Steve asked, placing a worried hand over her shoulder, as if to peer fearfully over it. She unsheathed her axe, rising it in front of her, ready to swing at the damned creature. If only it'd actually show it's face. Bitch.

"No time to explain, dumbass, just..." She herded the boy behind her further, an arm flying to move him with her as she migrated to the middle of the room. They stood in solidarity with Nancy and Jonathan, who stood back to back. "Stay behind me."

"Easy with that!" He squeeled, uncertain that she should be wielding such a large, imposing weapon. What the fuck were they about to fight? "Hello!? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going-"

Veronica mindlessly blocked out Steve's panic induced shouts as the monster broke through the now crumbling ceiling.

First, a thin arm emerged.

Then, its demented face broke through the membrane separating reality and the Upside Down.

Her eyes zeroed in on the monster, everything else irrelevant, her surroundings blurring, ears ringing.

All she could see was its disgusting figure, flopping onto the floor with a heavy thud, a gross head lifting to stare at her.

Time stretched, in that moment, the girl and the monster locked into a searing staring match. It had no eyes. But she knew it could see her, her axe, the anger, dread, horror and bloodlust radiating off of her in waves. It could probably smell it on her.

Snapping out of her daze, she remembered the plan, because, fuck, she had too, and she turned, and grabbing Steve's arm tightly. With the him in tow, they all raced to Will's room.

Eager to get everyone away from the creature as fast as possible, Jonathan chucked a hand behind him, grasping onto the front of Veronica's shirt, surging her forward.

The sudden jerk pulled at her ever weakening stitches, a shriek of pain tearing out of her throat when the snapping of three or four of them reverberated across her torso. 

"C'mon! Get out of there!" He hollered, none the wiser to just having handicapped Veronica.

The monster's shrieks and growls sounded ominously from behind the group, pushing them to run fast and faster, jump higher over the trap, towards their seemingly unreachable destination.

Images of that night flashed through Veronica's head at the distressing sounds, flopping onto the floor like a sack of potatoes after having reached Will's bedroom. Fuck, her stomach hurt like a bitch. Her head hurt too, and her feet, and her arms, and her hands. Everything hurt, her entire body thrumming with a boiling undercurrent of pain.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Steve screeched, but Veronica was far too preoccupied with herself to care.

Amidst the stress of the last minute, beads of sweat had broken out on her hairline, and her lungs burned. Her freshly opened wounds buzzed in sharp pain, making her head spin. She curled in on herself as if to shield her stomach from further damage.

"Jesus, Jesus! What the hell what that?" Steve continued.

"Shut up!" Everyone shouted, fed up of the boy's cries.

Even Veronica, who was near tears herself, summoned enough energy to shout.

Steve could be a real bitch, when he wanted to be.

Behind the door, the creature could be heard inching closer.

It made unnatural clicking noises, followed by guttural growls. Its heavy footsteps pounded periodically against the carpeted floor.

Veronica gulped, eyes closing in defeat, as she resigned herself to another round of torture. She was in too deep, she wasn't about to tap out now- no matter how bad she just wanted to sleep and forget all about this shit-show.

As she clambered back to standing, an arm on Will's bed, pushing herself upward, Steve rushed to help, hauling the girl up, and holding her almost limp body against his sturdy one.

After nodding in thanks, Veronica looked forward, glad to see Nancy and Jonathan holding up the fight; the former once again standing with her gun brandished, the latter at the ready to toss the lighter into the gasoline.

"You okay?" Steve whispered into Veronica's ear, voice barely catchable.

Despite the stress of the moment, she appreciated the check in all the same.

She huffed out a laugh, a sorry smile spreading across her lips. "Just peachy." She responded, moving to pick her axe back up before moving out of Steve's arms and standing in line with Jonathan and Nancy.

This was their fight.

"What's it doing?" Nancy asked as the creature continued to click and groan behind the door, but not trigger the yo-yo trap.

Surely, there was no way it was smart enough to figure it out, right?

"I don't know." Jonathan answered, distracted.

"Playing. Maybe stalking. Sick fuck." Snapped Veronica, seething with fresh anger as a new wave of energy washed over her.

So long as the monster lived, she'd be there, ready and waiting behind every door to kill it. It didn't matter how exhausted she was, how much she just wanted to fucking sleep, her existence was all for killing the monster. That's what she'd promised herself after Jacob died. She wasn't about to insult herself, like that.

Soon, the noises dissipated, and the flickering electricity zapped back to normal.

Sharing nervous glances, the group wordlessly agreed to step out of the room, uncertain as to what would greet them on the other side.

Veronica sniffed, axe raised in front of her at the ready.

"Bastard." She growled, kicking at the nearest wall in frustration.

They'd discovered the untouched trap, and an empty house. The monster had somehow slipped between their clutches. How the fuck.

"Hey, we'll get him." Nancy reassured, patting Veronica on the shoulder as the girl vibrated in anger, refusing to acknowledge anything around her.

How, in a God fearing world, could anything this demented exist?

Again, the creature was free to kill, to torment, to destroy lives. And Veronica was powerless to stop it. She was usueless.

"This is crazy," she heard Steve start muttering to himself, over and over again.

Veronica's patience had worn thin for the final time that evening, and there was no replenishment of it in sight. Not so long as they continued to be faced by setback, after setback, anyways.

Fixing him with a blank look, Veronica's fists tightened around the handle of her axe, which now hung defeatedly at her side.

"This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy!" He shouted, flying to the phone hanging on the wall, as if to call for help, before Nancy snatched it out of his hands, and smashed it against the wall.

Fuck yeah, Wheeler.

"What're you doing? Are you insane?" Steve whined, sounding near to tears.

Flopping down on the nearest sofa with a huff, Veronica supposed she couldn't blame him for his almost pitiful reaction- she hadn't faired any better, after seeing the monster for the first time. She'd ran away like a little bitch. Still, his voice had a particularly grating quality, in the moment.

"It's going to come back!" Nancy asserted, shoving at his shoulder. "So you need to leave. Right. Now."

Veronica watched at the boy's shoulders slumped, eyes darting behind Nancy to lock them with Veronica's own.

They emitted a certain darkness, a sadness, almost defeat. Steve blinked away and swallow.

"Just do as she says, Steve." Veronica spoke, staring at him, despite his refusal to return her gaze.

He huffed, running a hand through his hair. He loitered for a moment longer, hands settling on his hips as he stared up the ceiling like it'd give him answers.

"Fine." He suddenly gritted out, moving quickly towards the front door and darting out of it.

Veronica sighed out a deep breath of relief at the sudden reprieve of weight from her chest, snuggling momentarily into the couch, exhaustion nipping at her.

Thank God he was gone. Sure, that blanket of him and warmth and calm was gone, left alone with near strangers and whatever the fuck else, but, at least he wasn't in harms way, anymore, at least she'd have someone to go to, to hide behind, once this was over.

Then, to her utter dismay, the lights started flickering again.

She could've cried, in that moment.

It never ended. Fuck.

Getting to her feet, she grunted, and lifted her axe once again to hover in front of her face, at the ready to jam the blade into the monster's disgusting body.

Her back was to Nancy and Jonathan, the three of them rotating in a circle, frantic eyes examining every inch of the home that they could for any sight of the monster breaching it.

"Where is it?" Nancy asked, voice laced with worry.

Only, neither Jonathan nor Veronica responded, far too engrossed in their chiding of the monster.

"C'mon! Bastard!" Veronica shouted out.

"Come out, you son of a bitch." Growled Jonathan. "You see it?"

"No." Replied Veronica, tone clipped. This had gone on far, far too long. It needed to end, damnit. They had to kill it, this time.

"Come on. Where are you? Come on!" Jonathan continued to yell, goading the monster, waving his bat from left to right threateningly.

To answer their chiding, all of the lights suddenly shut off, dousing the trio in complete, indiscernible darkness.

Veronica's stomach plummeted to the floor.

It was back.

The thing's clicks and growls suddenly sounded from beside Jonathan, Nancy yelping out the boys name, before the creature pushed him into the floor, crowding over him with its slimy, grey body.

For a torturous second, Veronica was frozen. Her limbs burned with the pressure to run.

Beneath the monster, it wasn't Jonathan, but Jacob, and she was about to watch him get devoured, murdered, all over again.

The sound memory of squelching blood pounded in her ears, a metallic smell slithering up her nose. She looked down to find the thick, red liquid staining her hands.

Then, if a switch had been flipped, Veronica's eyes glazed over, and she swung her axe down from over her head into the body of the beast.

She wouldn't let someone else die on her watch.

Not again. Never again.

She was a weak girl, with a heart even weaker, even blacker, it couldn't take another death, it'd kill her.

It screamed out, its demented flower face ripping open as blood shot out from the wound, Veronica yanking the blade out, before bringing it down once again. She cried out with effort, her stitches tearing themselves apart.

Blood from the wounds sprayed all over her, but she didn't care.

She was going to kill it. Even if it was the last thing she did.

"Go to hell, you son of a bitch!" Nancy shouted, beginning to unload rounds into the prone, bludgeoned body of the creature.

With a low growl, regardless of its fatal wounds, the creature started indescribably rising from its position over Jonathan.

It screamed and convulsed, the bloodied and jagged surface of its skin shivering, slithering, as the near-corpse moved to stand.

It stood to its full height, hovering over Veronica menacingly.

A beat passed.

Nancy was out of bullets. Veronica was paralysed, slack jawed as the monster demonstrated its bottomless pool of strength.

It was endlessly strong, able to best her, and outsmart her, at every turn.

She'd never kill it.

With a final determined swing of her axe, she embedded the blade into the monster's forearm.

Shrieking, the creature swung its injured arm into the girl, flinging her across the room, and into the nearest wall.

A sickening thud echoed throughout the dark room as Veronica's limp body slid down the surface and crashed onto the floor.

She was completely still, for a moment, dead to the world, until her eyes began to peel, slowly, open.

Her ears caught the familiar buzz of surging electricity, and her wet eyes glinted, reflecting the flickering multicoloured bulbs.

In muted disbelief, the girl watched as someone started beating the monster with Jonathan's discarded bat, over and over.

With expert confidence, they twirled it in their grasp, gearing up for a bigger more impactful hit.

The quick-thinking worked, the mystery silhouette, with a familiar, infamous head of hair, backing the monster further and further towards the poised bear trap.

Holy shit.

It was Steve. Again.

With a soft smile on her face, cheek mushed into the carpet, Veronica watched in glee as the monster stumbled into the trap, thick, spiked metal digging into its ankle and snapping the creature in place.

"He's in the trap! He's stuck!" Steve hollered, backing away from the monster on stumbling legs.

He wasted little time in scrambling to Veronica's side, and yanking the girl to her feet.

She yelped in pain, Steve ignoring it with a pained expression to drag her back to safety quickly.

"Jonathan, now!" Shouted Nancy.

The boy obediently clambered to his feet, snapping open the lighter, before tossing it into the trap, igniting the monster in a matter of seconds.

The dishevelled group stood watching, in awe, as the monster satisfyingly writhed in blinding pain.

Hands flew to cover their faces when the flames grew too bright.

Veronica watched through cracked fingers, a crooked grin spreading across her face, as the thing finally got what it deserved.

They'd done it. Fucking finally. 

Her bones were mellowing, as the fire roared, her skin warmer and shoulders lighter than what felt like in years. Revenge was sweet, just like they said it was in the movies. It was a breath of fresh air, despite the smell of rotting flesh. It was renewing.

Before the fire could spread, Jonathan sprayed the stolen fire extinguisher all over the trap, filling the small room with smoke.

Steve released Veronica from his hold to cough, the girl clutching his arm to stay upright while her lungs fitted.

Once the smoke cleared, Steve's arm slithered back around her waist, the touch aggravating her opened stitches, slightly.

She grunted, and his eyes dropped to look at her in concern.

"Where'd it go?" Nancy suddenly asked, breaking the triumphant silence.

Veronica's tired eyes widened, taking in the sight of the empty trap in front of her. What. What the fuck?

That couldn't be right.

She blinked, as if opening and closing her eyes would conjure the monster's corpse into existence. Yet, nothing changed.

The trap was still empty, the only remnants of the monster some burned flesh and charred blood.

"No." Jonathan muttered defeatedly, looking down at their failed, final effort dejectedly.

Veronica sniffed, her blood boiling beneath the surface of her skin.

"It has to be dead." She asserted, more so to herself than anyone else. She shook her head back and forth, lips quivering. They couldn't have endured all of that, almost died, and gotten an inch within killing the monster, just for it to slip away. Veronica refused to believe it. "It has to be."

A small buzzing sounded from behind the group, Veronica's skin turning goose-pimpled in terror.

Was it back?

Steve clutched the girl tighter to his side in support, before shuffling her behind him when a single bulb illuminated, and another one after that, indicating a path.

He raised his bat, ready to attack, while Veronica latched her hands onto the back of his green sweater, breathing laboured.

They followed the path, more and more bulbs illuminating as they went, before they were back facing the front door, inches away from stepping into the harsh, November cold.

"Mom." Jonathan muttered to himself, moving to head out of the door.

Steve and Veronica shared a perplexed look before following after Nancy and Jonathan, who had already descended the porch steps.

"Where's is going?" Nancy asked as a nearby street lamp flickered.

Jonathan smiled softly. "I don't think that's the monster."

Chapter Text

Moving back inside the home, the group migrated towards the couches, limbs sore and nerves fried, eager for a rest.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, each teen mentally exhausted, combing over the traumatic events of the evening.

Veronica's head was swimming, Steve sending her nervous glances, as her eyes fluttered open and shut, body limp against the couch.

"Is, is she oka-" the shrill ringing of the phone cut through his words, all heads snapping to stare at the offending object in shock.

Nancy and Jonathan shared a questioning look, before the girl stood, and made her way slowly over to it. She raised it to her ear with a jittery hand.

"Hello?" She started, Steve and Jonathan rising to stand near her, trying to listen in. "You got him?" Relief flooded through her features, spare hand flying to cover her mouth as an almost sob racked through her body.

"Will? They got Will?" Jonathan frantically asked, voice lowered as not to disturb Nancy too much.

She firmly nodded, an infectious smile on her face, which spread to both Jonathan and Steve, who let out relieved breaths.

The former sank to the floor as his knees buckled beneath him.

They'd done it.

They'd distracted the monster long enough for Will to be saved. Damnit, as much as he wanted the thing dead, that was all that mattered. His little brother was safe, again. Alive. A tear slipped down Jonathan's cheek, a hand swiping it away as soon as it appeared.

Steve, while relieved that they'd supposedly found Will, a crooked smile on his face, stood there confused, scratching at his forehead.

Had they not found Will Byers, dead, days earlier? In the lake? What the hell happened?

"The Hospital? Why would she-" Nancy stammered into the phone, a frown etching into her features, as Hopper's firm voice could be heard rattling off unintelligible demands. "Okay, okay, we'll get her and Jonathan there ASAP. Bye."

Nancy put the phone back into the holder with a huff, swivelling on her feet to stare at Veronica, who'd yet to move from her position on the couch.

In the soft light emanating from the bulbs, the blood she'd been smattered in looked almost black, her shirt, face, and hair drenched in the disgusting liquid.

She looked like she was sleeping, finally peaceful, head rolled back, eyes closed.

"We need to head to the hospital," Nancy asserted after a short silence, heading towards Veronica with freshly determined steps.

"To- to see Will?" Jonathan asked, getting to his feet quickly, invigorated at the mention of his newly safe brother.

Steve moved with him, still perplexed, as Jonathan followed after the girl.

"Of course," smiled Nancy kindly, Steve frowning at the exchange. "But, Hopper said we've got to take Veronica too, he said she needed doctors..."

The girl inched closer to Veronica, rising a hand to poke a finger at her dirtied cheek.

Veronica groaned, smacking Nancy's hand away with a grunt.

"Leave me alone," she slurred, wriggling in her seat, sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch.

The teens around her shared concerned glances, Steve wasting little time in surging forward and lifting the girl into his arms.

He grunted at her weight, but held her tight regardless, looking down at her pinched face in worry.

Veronica moaned in pain as she was jostled, head lolling too and fro as her grip on consciousness loosened further and further. "Get me a ciggy," she murmured into Steve's chest, the group around her snorting.

While her sudden change in condition was worrying, she never failed to put her smart mouth to good use.

"You know you don't have to ask, princess." Steve muttered, heading towards the door, pausing at it when no one moved to help him open it.

He turned to send scrutinising looks at Nancy and Jonathan, both of their faces the picture of surprise.

"Hello? You guys just gonna stand there, or what?" He admonished, tone clipped. The couple opposite him shared amused glances. "C'mon, let's get her to the hospital, or whatever."

***

Getting to the hospital was a bumpy, and deadly, affair.

Turns out, as well as being pants at fighting, Steve was also inept at taking directions while behind the wheel, almost ending the drive with the hood of his precious car crumpled by numerous walls and lampposts.

Veronica had been seated in the back, squished between Nancy and Jonathan once again, in order to keep her upright.

She managed to contentedly smoke her gifted cigarette well enough despite her weak and shaky hands, however, so she didn't mind the constant jostling too much.

After haphazardly 'parking', the remaining, lucid members of the group worked to pull Veronica from the car and into Hawkins Memorial Hospital.

Steve had to resort to carrying her again, as, whenever anyone attempted to touch her middle, she jerked away.

Something was seriously wrong with her, the girl acting like a wounded animal, or something.

Steve pulled his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it, as Veronica shook in his arms. He'd never seen his friends this sickly looking, before— her skin pale, covered in a sheen of sweat. Sure, he'd seen her sick a few times, dropped a wellness basket to hers at the demand of his mother and caught his best friend looking less than stellar, but, this was different. 

Her sickness was bone-deep, her arms hanging loosely at her sides other than to reach up and grapple onto Steve's gore-covered sleeves.

Once inside, Hopper, who'd seemingly been waiting for them to arrive, rushed over to the group, taking Veronica wordlessly from Steve's arms despite the boy's protests.

"Hey!" He hollered, standing taller to try and intimidatingly look Hopper in the face. The man started down at him blankly. "Be careful with her!"

"Will do, kid." Hopper grunted, before looking down at the girl in his arms with expertly veiled worry. She was practically green, beneath the weird substance covering her, and an arm rested protectively over her stomach. He should have gotten her to a hospital sooner, regardless of the potential consequences. Regret swirled uncomfortably in his stomach. He'd failed her. "The hell is this gunk, all over her?"

Nancy sniffed, arms bending to cross over her chest protectively. "Blood. From the monster." She revealed, Hopper's eyes rolling to the back of his head in disbelief.

"That's what you were doing back at home?" He asked Jonathan disappointedly, eyes squinting at the boy as an angry snarl made its way across his face. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

Steve snorted, gesturing to the limp Veronica in Hopper's arms. "Pretty sure we know, old man."

Nancy gasped and Jonathan turned away in astonishment, hand smacking against his forehead.

Hopper was practically seething, a vein popping out comically from his forehead. "You can shut your damn mouth, Harrington." He grumbled, watching in satisfaction as Steve gulped, backing away. "Jonathan, your mom's in the room down the hall. Nancy, your brother's sitting outside of it. Go be responsible family members."

Not needing any more encouragement to check on their respective siblings, the two nodded, Nancy sparing Veronica one final, concerned glance, before speeding down the glaring white hallway behind Jonathan.

"Now," Hopper started again, staring down at Steve once more, eyes burning with fire. The boy's nervous, brown eyes flickered up to his, then quickly away, unable to hold any eye contact. "I'm gonna go get her checked out, and you're going wait here until she's free to go home. Then, you'll drive her back. Understood?"

"Yes. Yes, Sir." Steve responded, arms stiff in fear against his side. Shit. This guy was scarier than his dad.

He was glad Veronica was finally going to get some help, despite his fear. He didn't want to let her go, after seeing her in such an worrying state. It wasn't like he could do anything to help her, he wasn't a doctor, but still, a protectiveness tussled just beneath his skin. His arms twitched, almost moving to reach up and grasp at her arm, sleeve, hand, anything.

But, the blazing threat radiating down onto Steve's head from Hopper's glaring eyes stopped the boy's movements dead.

"I won't disappoint you." He bit out between clenched teeth and pursed lips.

Hopper hummed thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow at Steve in suspicion, before turning and heading down a separate hallway, his destination, unknown.

***

As it turns out, by the end of that horrible night, her torn stitches had been the least of Veronica's problems.

She'd had them professionally restitched, by a silent and scary doctor, and given a treatment plan to reduce the risk of terrible scarring. But, she wasn't promised anything.

Tears lined her eyes after she awoke, lifting her hospital shirt to reveal the horror show etched into her stomach. The three, long, jagged scratches had grown red, and inflamed, the fiery wounds stretching from a hip bone to just below her breasts.

This was that she'd have to live with, forever. The permanent reminders of her cowardice, Jay's death, and the horrors she'd endured at the hands of the monster, warping her skin and changing her forever.

Veronica resigned herself to looking to them as little as possible.

What's more, the monster's blood, as it was from the other dimension, the Upside Down, had contaminating and debilitating qualities, having been the reason for her rapid decline and sudden dreariness. Never mind all the blood loss.

It's essence had sept into her skin, and attacked her lifeforce. She could only imagine how Will felt, after spending close to a week in the demented realm.

The scientists demanded that they had to hose her down, Hopper reassuring the girl that he'd had the same done to him after he entered, and came in contact with, material from the Upside Down.

Nonetheless, being naked, and blasted with hoses by men in hazmat suits, had not been on her bingo cards for this evening. It was gross, humiliating, and beyond all else, fucking cold.

Lying in bed, however, alone and staring up at the tiled ceiling, Veronica was contented as to how everything turned out. Well, as much as she could be.

A soft smile stretched across her cracked lips at the thought.

The monster had been well and truly defeated by Jane, who'd supposedly evaporated upon her victory, but Veronica had a sneaking suspicion she was just hiding somewhere. The girl was smart, and been through so much already. She could survive anything.

And, of course, Will had been found and brought home safely.

Despite all the death and darkness of the last week, there had always been light at the end of the tunnel, and the group had reached it.

With a sniff, her hands began plucking at the white sheets, mind settling on Jacob.

Now that this whole debacle was over with, she'd have to face everyone again. She'd have to look them in the eyes, and fight tears as they asked what happened to him. Veronica didn't know what the story would be, or what narrative the feds had already conjured up, in place of his murder. But, she was aware that she'd have to go along with it, for now.

And she could live with that. Tonight, they'd achieved at least some kind of justice, for the boy.

He deserved that much, at least. She'd completed her purpose. Fulfilled her end of the bargain. For now, killing the monster and doing away with Dr Brenner would have to be enough. She could only handle so much excitement.

***

The next morning, Steve drove her home, dropping her at her front door in a fresh change of clothes, courtesy of Nancy. She donned a purple sweater, and a long, flowing, white skirt.

Her battered heels were clutched between her fingers, feet too sore to wear them for yet another day.

"Give me a call when you're in the clear, okay?" Steve said, leaning out of his window to hit Veronica with a firm look. He was well aware of her mother's attitude.

The girl nodded in understanding, blowing him a kiss before turning, sucking in a deep breath, and breaching the entryway.

Silence greeted her, the house completely still, Veronica breaking the serenity by placing down her shoes with a thud.

"Mom?" She called out, only to be answered with nothingness. She frowned, and glided her way to the living room.

She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight that met her, eyes widening.

***

Her mother had been on a bender, while she was missing, it turned out.

The woman hadn't even noticed her daughter was gone, really, far too consumed by the alcohol and prescription drugs to notice anything happening around her.

She mentioned having got some questionable calls from Steve, but she'd obviously started drinking after those, using alcohol as her crutch in difficult times as she always did.

Just like she had been upon Veronica's return, her mother now sat slumped in a reclining arm chair, wine glass in hand, as Veronica neared the front door.

She slipped on a pair of white sneakers, and hollered out a goodbye, before prancing out of the door, heading to the Wheeler house.

After Dustin had gone missing with everyone a month previous, his mother had posted an advertisement for someone to bike around with her precious son and keep an eye on him when he travelled. In need of a little pocket change, and, honestly, wanting to keep an eye on the kids, Veronica went for it.

She was now an honorary member of the Henderson clan.

Biking hadn't always been the girl's strong suit, especially not in the freezing cold, or while she wore a skirt. She made it work, though, speeding down the open roads and slow estates relaxedly.

Arriving at the home, she slowed, hopping off of her bike and dropping it on the large grass garden in front of it.

Heading towards the door, she heard the familiar rumbling of a clapped out car, smirking and turning to spy Jonathan rolling up, there to collect Will.

Veronica frantically waved at him as he stepped out, the boy rolling his eyes and slamming his door before stomping over.

"Hello, Veronica." He sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and refusing to stand side by side with her.

"Hey, Jonathan." She responded amicably. "You here to pick up Will? Or make heart eyes at Nancy?"

She cackled when the boy groaned, shoulders rising and face burning in embarrassment.

"You're evil, you know that, right?" He asked, Veronica turning to jokingly snap back at him, before the front door flew open, a smiley Karen Wheeler herding the two teens inside and towards the basement.

Jonathan kindly opened the door for her, and Veronica descended into the room where the party practically lived with a nod of thanks.

Her nose burned with the gross stench of teenage boy the further down she went, groaning and pinching her nose.

"Yuck," she spluttered, sticking her tongue out. The boys rolled their eyes, small, almost proud grins stretching across their faces.

"Jeez, what's that smell?" Asked Jonathan, smirking as he neared the board game table. Veronica didn't really understand it, it all seemed a bit too nerdy for her, but she understood how the kids enjoyed it so much. It provided an escape for them, all the magic and monsters something fun and adventurous instead of deadly and murderous. "You guys been playing games all day? Or just farting?"

Veronica huffed out a laugh, the kids joining in.

"That's just Dustin," Lucas teased, pointing to the curly haired boy in blame. "He farted. Dustin farted!"

Veronica watched in amusement as Dustin's face fell, the boy sitting up in alarm to rebuff the claim. She rounded the table, moving to stand behind him.

"Very mature, Lucas!" He screeched, face red.

Veronica flicked Dustin's cap off of his head as Lucas continued blowing raspberries, Will standing to leave with Jonathan.

"C'mon, squirt, let's move." She urged. Dustin grumbled in response, fixing his hat back on his head before standing and heading to the stairway.

"Bye guys!" He shouted, waving to Will and Mike, before starting to play fight Lucas, their fists flying into each other's sides.

Veronica snorted, before grabbing Dustin gently by the scruff of his shirt, and tugging him towards to stairs.

"Move it, before your mom deprives me of my salaried apple pie."

"Ugh, fine."

The two trundled their way up the stairs, Veronica poking the back of Dustin's legs in, riling him up further, as he hollered in disproportionate anger.

Making the kid rage was quickly becoming the favourite part of her job.

"Hey guys," Karen called from the kitchen, apron wrapped around her waist, as they crested the stairs. She always looked so chic, Veronica considered, maybe she'd ask the woman for styling advice, soon. "Get home safe, okay?"

"Will do, Mrs Wheeler," Veronica responded, a kind smile on her red, painted lips. She chucked a protective hand onto Dustin's shoulder. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

As they passed the living room, Veronica spied Steve, wearing possibly the ugliest Christmas sweater she'd ever seen, sat with an arm lazily wrapped around Nancy.

Veronica winked at her friend as she passed with Dustin, Steve responding with his own wink in return.

She fake gagged before taking her leave.

She was happy for the couple, that they'd worked everything out, she really was. But, that didn't stop an odd feeling from settling in her stomach at the thought of them together.

Nancy and Jonathan had a chemistry like nothing Veronica had even seen two people share, before. Sure, it was a little gross to watch them be so sappy with each other but, she almost hoped that the two of them would give it a go.

Nevertheless, she mounted her bike, chucking a glance at Dustin, chuckling as she watched him almost slip clambering onto his.

"Be careful, Dusty." She jabbed, cackling when the kid smacked face down onto the ice.

"Shut up, plebeian." Dustin grunted, sniffing, before standing and finally settling onto his bike. "Race?" He challenged, eyes glinting playfully.

Veronica smirked, cracking her knuckles, as if gearing up for a fight. "Get prepared to eat my dust, Henderson."

The two sped off, laughing at the near slips and crashes, the ice and snow intensifying the route.

Smiling to herself, sore, rosy cheeks whipped by the cold wind, Veronica found that she felt content. This was nice.

She could get used to this.

The last couple months may have been unimaginably hard. But, in living these small, happy moments, it made all the pain worth it.

She'd relive it over and over, just for the promise of this happiness.

She really would.

Chapter Text

October 1984

Mornings were such a bitch.

When Jay was around to give Veronica a lift to school, they weren't so bad- she could maximise her time in bed, down to the very second, then quickly apply her makeup, do her hair, and glide into her eagerly awaiting passenger seat.

Her outfit was always chosen the night before, sorting it in the morning would've added an impossible, extra half hour to her routine. She could be very indecisive, holding up embarrassingly similar tops for evaluation for minutes on end.

But now, Veronica had to drudge herself out of bed at the ass crack of dawn, don her travel appropriate outfit, put on some makeup, slip on her sensible shoes, then bike to Dustin's. And, make her way to school with the tetchy child and the rest of his gang, from there.

He hated mornings just as much, it sometimes made for stiff conversation.

Veronica kept her heels in her bag, to slip on at school, if her outfit required her to wear some that day, and would always keep her hair rollers in, safe under a pink silk wrap, until she could take them out in the tranquility of the school bathrooms.

She wasn't about to ruin her blowout in the wind and rain, now, was she?

Smiling to her mirrored reflection, Veronica assessed her outfit with proud eyes. It was comprised of: a white, billowing blouse, white office trousers, which were cuffed just below her knees, and a red knitted sweater, the arms tied over her shoulders chicly. It coupled well with the thick red belt synching in her middle and patent leather flats of the same colour.

She'd stolen the outfit from a magazine clipping of Lady Diana, a few posters of the woman pinned up against Veronica's bedroom walls for inspiration.

Turning away, she snagged her light blue handbag from a bedpost and ran down the stairs, time slipping away from her. She hopped onto her bike, and sped to Dustin's, the boy standing, with crossed arms, when she rolled up to his driveway.

"Chill, man," Veronica started, grinning at the boy's frown and tapping foot. "I'm here, I'm here." She slowed to a stop in front of him, raising her arms in a show of surrender.

Mews, Dustin's fat ginger cat, lay on the driveway, belly to the sky. The girl bent to scratch at it, smiling softly as the animal purred.

"What time do you call this?" Dustin said, raising an eyebrow before also getting onto his bike, heading off in tandem with Veronica. "It's two minutes past eight. A man with suspicious motives could've snatched me away."

"Ew. What can I say? Beauty like mine requires pampering."

"Beauty?" Dustin snorted, wobbling on his bike as the movement rocked his balance. Veronica pretended like she didn't notice. She couldn't bully him for everything. "You've still got your granny rollers in, if you hadn't noticed. I'd hardly call those the epitome of beauty."

"Shut it, twerp. The wind ruins the volume, so I've gotta keep 'em in."

Soon, the two were joined by Mike and Lucas, the group biking to Hawkins Middle.

Veronica felt grossly out of her element, as the kids locked up their bikes. While she was hardly the tallest girl out there, she still managed to tower over the middle schoolers- even Mike, who'd shot up in height, over the past year.

"Alright, I'll be back here at three fifteen, Dustin." Veronica advised, messing with the boy's hair to his utter horror. He shrieked, stealing his hat from her clutches and kicking at her shins. She yelped and dodged. "You're feral. Don't make me wait around, alright? No more of this staying after class to talk nerd crap with Mr Clarke."

"It's not nerd crap!" Lucas protested, Mike hollering in agreement. "It's an enquiry into the space-"

"Yeah, yeah," Veronica dismissed, arm waving away their words as she began to edge closer to Hawkins High. "Sounds like nerd crap!" She called behind her, biking down to her destination, minutes away from being late to class. "Say hi to Will for me!"

Today, he was going for a check up at the Lab, meaning Jonathan would've dropped him off, so that Joyce could pick him up later, and not leave his bike locked up at school for too long.

Veronica's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of Will going in. He'd been faring okay, all things considered, but he'd been having concerning nightmares. She could relate to that.

Every other night, Veronica was tortured with flashes of the Demogorgan, as the kids had named it, devouring Jacob or stalking her, forever nipping at her heels. Either that or she'd watch him die, over and over again.

Fishing out her pack or Marlboros, she plucked out a stick and jammed it between her lips, quickly lighting it. Smoking usually coaxed her mind into less traumatised territory.

After locking up her bike, she wandered her way up the car park, knocking on the hood of Steve's car. She watched in amusement as he and Nancy flung apart, embarrassed smiles breaking out across their features, having been caught in the act.

Veronica made her way around to Nancy's door, leaning down to greet the couple as the girl inside lowered her window.

"Getting in some last minute studying?" Veronica teased, snorting when Nancy buffered, eyes blinking rapidly, a furious blush spreading across her cheeks. Steve winked behind her, making Veronica roll her eyes.

She was happy, if they were happy.

The low grumble of a strong engine rumbled towards the quiet car park, Veronica turning and leaning back to her full height to examine the sound. She pulled the cigarette to her lips and dragged. A dark blue Camero was rolling up, the mystery driver shrouded behind the glass.

It was an attractive car, she thought, head tilting to the side. She wondered who could be behind the wheel. Maybe, Tommy's daddy had brought him new toy.

Steve and Nancy pulled themselves from the car to also look to the sound, the girls sharing a confused look.

The driver side door flung open, after the car was parked, a denim-clad, mullet-wearing man stepping out, smoke from the cigarette perched between his fingers in billowing from his nostrils.

He had strong, blue eyes, and a tall stature. His sandy brown hair was lightly curled, unnoticeably styled to the untrained eye.

Veronica's eyes narrowed. He was quite attractive.

She heard girls fawning over him behind her, Tina commenting on his ass as the group around her giggled. Veronica chucked a look to them, lips drooping.

While she was happy hanging with the kids, and glad to be closer with Nancy, Steve and Jonathan, than she'd ever imaged herself being, part of her missed being 'popular.'

If she were to walk over to the group of girls now, and attempt to join in on their gossiping, they'd walk away, muttering about how she was some kind of freakish loser.

Ever since Jacob vanished, and Veronica emerged from her sudden disappearance seemingly unharmed, people began disgusting rumours. Apparently, she'd killed him- catching him cheat with some girl a year younger drove her over the edge, and she stabbed a knife into his heart.

People shoved at her in the hallways, scratched horrible words into her locker and stole her belongings, often stringing them up at some unreachable height.

Veronica supposed she deserved it, after everything she'd initially said about Will and Jonathan, back in November of last year. It was only fair she'd get some of what she gave.

Nancy grabbed the girls hand, wrapping it in her smaller one, and beamed at her, leaning into Veronica's line of sight. "C'mon, we're gonna be late." She said, dragging a despondent Veronica towards the school, Steve sneakily plucking the cigarette from between her lips and tossing it onto the concrete.

"Asshole," she grumbled.

***

"Oh my God," Steve whined, walking side by side with Veronica into the hallway from their classroom. "I fucking hate chem."

Veronica snorted, waving to Eddie as he passed. He'd just started growing out his buzz, it suited him.

"Yeah, you and me both, Harrington." She responded half heartedly, eyes locked on the girl handing out orange flyers down the hallway. Ten bucks said Veronica wouldn't be handed one.

"But, you're like, good at it though. So you can't complain."

"That's because I revise outside of class, Steve."

"Ugh," the boy groaned, dramatically dropping a large hand onto her shoulder and shaking. Veronica was tossed too and fro from the movement, a disbelieving laugh breaking free from her chest. "You know that doesn't work for me. How do you do it, Mason?"

Veronica shrugged off his hand, readjusting the strap of her handbag. Her eyes slid to meet his; they were pleading, shining in the florescent white lights. "A girl never tells."

Before he could break out into another dramatic plea, the flyer girl shoved a slip into Steve's face, blushing wildly. "Make sure you're at Tina's party, okay?" She asked, smiling demurely.

Steve awkwardly nodded, plucking the piece of paper from the girls hand. "Uh, yeah, sure." He said, the girl giggling and running off in excitement.

Veronica rolled her eyes at the exchange. "Jesus Christ," she huffed. "How do you do that, huh, Harrington?"

Steve's eyebrows shot up, surprise casting over his features. "What, you wanna talk to someone?" He barked in shock.

Given how Veronica's last relationship ended, she supposed it was quite the step forward. She'd steered clear of anything romantic, for the past year.

"God, lower your voice." She bit, not keen for the male population of the school to start cowering away from her in the halls, fearing they'd be her next victim. She sighed, shrugging. "I don't know, it's just, a girl has needs, you know?"

An odd feeling swirled Steve's his stomach at her admittance, making his face fall momentarily.

He forcibly dismissed whatever it was, nodding and plastering on a wide smile. He could try and stew over it, later. He probably just didn't want her getting hurt, again. 

Smirking, he playfully wiggled his eyebrows. "I get you, I get you." Veronica scoffed, a twinge of pink blooming on her cheeks and the tips of her ears. "Good job we've got this party, then. There'll be plenty of men for you to... explore."

"Oh, God." She balked, "never, ever, say that again. Plus," she paused, grip tightening around the straps of her handbag, "I wasn't even invited."

Steve rolled his eyes and groaned, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Wherever I go," he started, voice lowering as his head turned, staring down into Veronica's dark eyes. "You'll be right there with me. And vice versa. Got it, Mason?"

An odd sensation fluttered in Veronica's stomach at the boys words, butterflies she hadn't felt in a year dancing underneath the scarred skin. Her jaw bobbed open and shut as she struggled to form a response, a furious rouge breaking out on her skin.

Did Steve really just fluster her? She really must be desperate, then.

"Sure, Steve."

As they rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, the couple spotted Jonathan and Nancy chatting. Steve's eyes lit up, and he turned to Veronica with a finger over his lips. She smiled, shaking her head in disbelief as she watched the boy sneak up behind his girlfriend and pull her into his arms.

Nancy yelped, giggling as Steve twirled her. Veronica and Jonathan caught each others eyes from opposite sides of the now kissing couple, the girl making her way over to stand next to him in solidarity for a few moments.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess how Jonathan felt about Nancy, he practically swooned every time she looked in his direction. Veronica hated to watch the poor boy be tortured like this, thinking back, once again, to how she wished that a Nancy would've given Jonathan a chance.

But, Nancy made the choice to give Steve another shot, and everyone had to respect it.

"C'mon." Veronica said, wrapping an arm around Jonathan's shoulders. He groaned, trying to struggle out of her hold, only making her arm tighten. "Let's get some lunch."

The two walked ahead, leaving Steve and Nancy to themselves. After a few paces, Veronica chucked a glance behind her, eyes catching on Nancy's, the girl already watching them.

***

"Why do you treat me like I'm a kid?" Jonathan asked, rejecting Veronica's offer of a cigarette with a shake of his head.

The two were hiding away under the bleachers, their most common lunch spot for when Steve and Nancy got a bit too carried away with their PDA. Or, when they just wanted to hang out on their own. They'd gotten quite friendly, over the past year. Shared trauma, and all that.

"Do I?" The girl questioned, shoving the beaten up box of sticks back into her handbag. Jonathan nodded. "How?"

"You know... whenever Nancy and Steve get all gross you, you take me away somewhere, act like I can't handle it."

"Maybe I do that because I know you can't handle it." Veronica supplied, taking a bite out of her sandwich. Jonathan huffed, rubbing a hand over his head in aggravation. "You cant fool me, Jonathan."

"I don't know why you're so determined to talk about this- to, to let me hold onto this. You know it's not gonna go away." The boy rebuffed, face scrunched in a mixture of emotions.

"You should be helping me to move on, or, or, I don't know, telling me to pull myself together. She's with Steve, I'll never have a chance."

"Jonathan," Veronica began, voice level. It wasn't often that they had serious conversations like this, they usually just sat and made fun of each other's interests, or something similar, to pass the time.

Only, they were friends. Real friends. And they were there for each other.

Jonathan had been harbouring his apparently unrequited feelings for at least a year, it was only fair that she gave him a shoulder to cry on. She hoped that he'd do the same, if the roles were reversed.

"I'm the last person who should be telling you to move on, or get past it, alright? You, you need to let yourself feel things, otherwise it'll really never go away."

The boy sniffed, and dropped his head to rest against the palm of his hand. He stared out across the empty football field and into the dark forest next to it, seemingly considering something, before shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, Veronica's brows furrowing. "You're right. I- I just like feeling sorry for myself, I guess."

"What're you saying sorry for?"

Jonathan turned to fix his friend with a pleading look, nervously nibbling at a nail. "You're a good friend, Veronica. I feel like, I feel like we just talk about me and my stupid feelings for Nancy, all the time. I don't really give anything back to you, you know?"

"You help me more than you could ever know, John." Veronica smiled, leaning to lie her head on Jonathan's shoulder for a second. While he wasn't a massive fan of physical affection, she knew he appreciated the little touches.

They shared a small laugh, Jonathan shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn't imagine himself ever really helping anyone, but, here he was.

***
Veronica puffed out a plume of smoke, cigarette perched between her fore and middle finger, as she stood patiently on the steps of the Holland residence. It was a chilly night, her nose running. She swiped the top of her hand under it to no avail, it just kept on streaming.

In the distance, she spotted Steve's car parking, Nancy and him quickly hopping out and speeding over to the home.

"You guys ready?" Veronica asked, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath her heel. Her eyes lingered on Nancy, watching in concern as the girl's chest rapidly rose and fell.

"Yeah," she breathed out, sounding wholly unconvincing.

"Awesome."

Steve pulled a face, catching Veronica's eyes as he moved forward, and pushed at the doorbell. She hugged her fur-lined coat closer, arms buzzing with nervous energy. The cigarette hadn't done much to help her, this time. Nothing really did.

The trio was quickly ushered inside by Barbra's mother, Marsha, after she answered the door with a beaming smile, seating them at the extended dinner table.

Already sat was Barbra's father, Aaron, and Jacob's father, Craig. Veronica could barely stand to look in the latter man's direction, standing stiffly when he rose to wrap her in a supportive hug.

"It's so good to see you," he greeted, releasing Veronica from further torture when he sat back down. She had no choice but to take the seat opposite him. "How's school been treating you?" He asked. "Has the bullying stopped?"

Straight into the tough questions, then.

Veronica huffed, eyes scanning around the room desperately for an escape. All they landed on were haunting photos of Barbra. She cleared her throat before starting. "It's definitely not gotten worse," she assured, smiling awkwardly. Her fingers drummed nervously against the dark wood of the table. "But, uh, not particularly stopped."

"God, I wish people had more tact." Craig responded, angrily sinking his teeth into a chicken drumstick. "You had nothing to do with what happened to our... my, boy."

After the feds declared that Jacob and Barb had inexplicably ran off together, somehow sweeping the discovery of his battered car, and the bloody scene around it, under the rug, Jacob's mom and dad divorced, their marriage unable to handle the loss of their only son.

His mother moved to New York, far away from any of her troubles down in Indiana.

Guilt festered in Veronica's stomach at the reminder, immediately turned off of any food, more-so than she already was. Her heart thrummed, and pulsed with the want to tell the man exactly what'd happened to his son, call Jacob's mom and summon her back to Indiana.

But, even then, their son was still dead. Nothing was going to change that.

Veronica's mouth dried, and she cleared her throat once again. "Hopefully they'll come to their senses soon." She said, smiling briefly before attacking her own drumstick, eager to deprive herself of any ability to converse.

"I love KFC," Steve assured Marsha, Veronica only just tuning into the ongoing conversation beside her.

"Yeah, me too." She agreed, dipping her chicken into some gravy. Marsha sent the girl a radiant smile. Despite it all, the woman remained impossibly positive.

"So, I noticed a 'For Sale' sign out in your yard." Nancy broached slowly, nervously twiddling a fork between her fingers. Veronica paused mid chew. She hadn't caught that, and she'd stood outside of the home for nearly ten minutes. She needed to become more observant. "Is that the neighbours' or..."

"You wanna tell them?" Marsha asked Aaron and Craig, the latter man taking a deep breath before nodding.

"Go ahead." Aaron affirmed.

"We hired a man named Murray Bauman." Marsha began, hope spreading across her features. Veronica looked to Craig, who looked almost sheepish. She frowned in concern, not liking where this was headed. "Have any of you three heard of him?"

"No," she quickly responded, looking to Nancy and Steve, who answered similarly and looked equally perplexed.

"He was an investigative journalist for the Chicago Sun-Times." Marsha elaborated, and Veronica's heartbeat began to pump in her ears. Suddenly, she couldn't swallow her chicken.

"Pretty well known, too." Aaron supplied, handing Steve the journalist's business card. He passed it to Nancy, who stared at it suspiciously, before passing it to Veronica.

The man on the card looked almost crazed, with wild hair and an off-putting smirk. He didn't sound, or look, all that convincing.

"Anyway, he's freelance now, and he agreed to take the case." Marsha concluded, tears brewing in her eyes, looking between the trio.

Veronica was puzzled, looking to Craig with furrowed brows. The man started down at his plate below him, twirling a piece of chicken between his hands. What exactly did that have to do with moving?

"That's... that's great." Steve said, his head swivelling to fix both Nancy and Veronica with a pleading look, urging them to say something. "That's great, right?"

Nancy shook her head, clear confusion written across her features. "Uhm, what exactly does that mean?"

"It means he's gonna do what that lazy son of a bitch Jim Hop- " Marsha cleared her throat and placed a grounding hand on her husband's arm, Veronica's expression darkening. She knew no one knew what Hopper did last year, but it still stung to hear him be badmouthed.  "Sorry," Aaron muttered, "what the Hawkins police haven't been capable of doing. Means we have a real detective on the case, right, Craig?"

The quiet man nodded, eyes flicking up to meet Veronica's momentarily. He didn't seem entirely convinced. But, what other options did they have? "It means, we're going to find our kids." He asserted, that guilty feeling swirling faster in Veronica's stomach. She was going to be sick. "If anyone can find them, it's this man. He already has leads."

"By God, he's worth every last penny." Aaron added, chuckling in disbelief. Nancy leaned forward, fork clanking as it dropped from her hand.

"Is that why you're selling the house?" She asked, astounded.

Surely, Bauman wasn't charging that much, Veronica considered. It was practically criminal. Especially, since there was no way he knew the actual truth. It was impossible.

She gulped, the thought that this could all get blown open making her sweat.

Marsha smiled sadly, dropping a hand over Nancy's shaking one. "Don't worry about us, sweetie," the woman reassured, "we're fine. For the first time in a long time, we're hopefull."

"Don't worry about them, they'll be staying under my roof for now." Craig said, looking to the trio opposite, who stared back somewhat blankly, too emotionally scrambled to really register the information.

Because they couldn't tell the truth, to the few people that deserved it most, they were watching lives fall apart. Marsha and Aaron would've worked their entire adult lives for this house, and now it was going down the drain. How long would it be, before Craig was in the same position? Where would they go from there?

"Um excuse me, I'll be right back." Nancy muttered, wasting little time before rising from her seat and skirting around the table. Veronica looked to her with worry, standing to follow after her.

"Uh, me too." She said, chasing the girl down the small hallways of the home. "Nancy!" She whisper shouted, but the bathroom door was slammed in her face before she could get to the girl. Nancy didn't want her help.

She probably just needed some time. Veronica could respect that.

She stepped away, moving her ear away from its position against the door, pausing as she caught the soft sound of sobbing. A hand raised to her lips, the plush skin quivering beneath her fingers.

They were getting through it, Veronica thought. They had to.

The new normal was hard, living with crippling guilt was hard. It was a ball and chain shackled to both ankles, weighing her every step. It was bags of concrete dust on her shoulders, a blazing heat searing into her back, hot coals under her feet.

But they were getting through it. They had too.

Chapter Text

Halloween was Veronica's favourite holiday. It was very closely followed by Christmas, but the unhallowed day took the number one spot all the same.

It meant costumes, it meant sweets, and it meant parties; all three of which, Veronica couldn't live without.

Her first party of the day, on the Halloween of 1984, came in the form of biking the kids to school. It was set to be a riot. Dustin had made sure to hype up the party's costumes for months in advance, yapping on and on about their 'Ghost Busters' get ups every chance he got. It was kind of sweet, regardless of being nerdy.

Rolling to a stop in front of the Henderson residence, Veronica huffed out a laugh, catching sight of Claudia snapping photos of a posed Dustin through a window.

The woman had kindly given Veronica the night off, her son deserved a night of freedom after all of his good behaviour, recently, and Veronica apparently deserved one, too.

For Tina's party later, she was planning on dressing up as Stevie Nicks, a far less ambitious look than what Dustin and the boys had gone for. She thought about a wig, or even dying her hair blonde, but she wasn't that committed- it was hardly like she was still Queen Bee, being the hottest girl at the party didn't matter anymore.

"You're the late one today, Dusty." She chastised, Dustin barking something in response as he fumbled to holster his proton blaster, scrambling down the driveway. "Make haste, lest you arrive late and everyone gets to class before they can laugh at you in the hallways."

Dustin scoffed, hopping onto his bike and speeding away in disgruntlement. "I think you'll find everyone will be laughing at you, actually." He said, not even looking back at the girl. "You're not even in costume, getting old must make you boring!"

"I am not old, you little shit!" Veronica shouted, working her legs harder to speed up to Dustin, biking next to him. "I only dress up when the occasion calls for it; like a party. Oh, wait, you don't get invited to those."

"And I wouldn't want to." Dustin said snobbishly, nose stuck up in the air, as if he were above the mere idea of them. "Why hang around with a bunch on inebriated assholes, when I can hit all the best trick or treating spots with the party? We're very efficient."

Veronica smiled softly, ducking her head to hide the stretch of her painted lips from Dustin. She was glad the kid was confident enough not to need that kind of socialisation, and was, for now at least, immune to the pressures urging him to fit in. As much as she made fun of him, Veronica wished she'd had his same will power a year ago.

"What about girls, huh? You meet many of them trick or treating?" She responded, smirking. Dustin, surprisingly, grinned back. Veronica's jaw dropped in disbelief, an amused breath tumbling out of her. "Dustin Henderson, have you met someone?"

"Oh, I've met the one." He affirmed, sighing in longing. "Mad Max."

Veronica's brow pinched in confusion. "Like the movie? You can't date-"

"No!" Dustin screeched, rolling his eyes. "The new girl, Maxine. She plays at the arcade and she beat my awesome Dig Dug score. Her player name is Mad Max."

That made sense, it was only right that Dustin went for someone equally as nerdy as he was. The name Maxine rung a bell in Veronica's head, sure that she'd heard Tina and her posey gossiping about Billy's, the hot new guy's, little sister. "Oh, Max? Does she have an older brother?"

"Yeah, we spied her getting out of his car at the arcade, they were fighting." Dustin said, confirming Veronica's suspicions. That was funny, he and Veronica both had interests in the same family. If they went all the way, it'd make for interesting Christmas'.

Not that Veronica was thinking of a future with Billy. Not at all. Not even when she was daydreaming in class, yesterday. Never. He just had very nice lips, and very pretty eyes. Eyes that Veronica wouldn’t mind staring into her own, flicking to her lips, before slipping closed as he leaned in-

"Wait, why're you asking?" The boy questioned, suddenly suspicious.

"No reason." Veronica blurted out, a blush growing on her ears. Dustin fixed her with a knowing look, eyebrows bobbing up and down. God, he and Steve would get along annoyingly well. She could never let them meet, it'd be the end of her. "I mean it, Dustin. Alright?" She spoke, putting on her scariest face and starting down the boy. He groaned and stopped his staring. "Good...also, she's totally gonna dig your costume."

"You think?" Dustin's said, hope glowing from his words. While it was a good way to distract him, Veronica felt bad about making fun of him. The kids at school would do enough that.

"Yeah, chicks love that stuff."

"Thank you, Ronnie." Dustin responded, an uncommon calm settling over the two. Dustin coughed before ruining it. "I'll remember that when she rejects me, and I'll make sure to never trust your dating advice ever again."

Veronica groaned and rolled her eyes, letting a moment of silence pass. "Wait... what do you mean you spied her?"

***

The library was a nice reprieve from the constant buzz of the hallways, and cacophony of shouts and slamming dinner trays in the canteen, for Veronica.

She was sat opposite Steve and Nancy, scribbling out equation after equation from her textbook. It was mind-numbing work.

The mix playing in her walkman helped the time pass, the girl often spending minutes staring at a bookcase, blowing bubbles of gum, lost in thought, daydreaming. Fantasising.

Her dark eyes followed Nancy as the girl suddenly rose, moving to sharpen her pencil. She stood, mindlessly winding the machine, her eyes fixed on a ginger girl plucking books from the history section.

Veronica's brows furrowed, pulling off an ear cover, slotting her eyes to meet Steve's, the boy already looking to her. His face was creased with a similar worry.

"Should we go talk to her?" Veronica asked, Nancy's eyes still blank. The girl had evidently been struggling, her breakdown at the Holland's was seconds away from being in front of everyone. Veronica's heart hummed with concern; Nancy was barely keeping it together.

"Uhm," Steve started, running a hand down his face. He sighed, eyes flicking between the two girls. "I've got this, you stay put, okay?" He asked, flipping his book shut, eyes pleading.

"Yeah, sure." Veronica agreed, watching as he too stood, rushing over to Nancy and breaking his girlfriend from her dissociation.

An odd feeling swirled in Veronica's stomach, and she looked away, shaking her head and dismissing whatever odd thoughts were brewing in her head. She was reacting oddly, to Steve recently. It made her feel weird. The guy was about as attractive as a toad, to her. She'd seen him go through puberty, for God's sake, that was enough to put anyone off.

She moved to cover her ear back over, curling some loose strands of black hair back her hind her ear and large, gold hoop, but a hand stopped her.

"Do you get off on third wheeling, or what?" An unfamiliar voice sounded from behind her, a denim clad arm entering her vision as Billy, of all people, moved to settle into the free chair beside her.

His jacket was black, matching his pants, and he wore a half-open buttoned, blue shirt; left earlobe pierced with a hanging, silver dagger. Her certainly knew how to dress himself.

Veronica blinked, lips pursing. She supposed she'd become a bit of a third wheel, over the last year.

Usually, Jonathan was there to even out the imbalance, but he was in photography class, right now. So, here she was, fending for herself. 

"They're my friends, so..." the girl dumbly forced out, eyes desperately avoiding Billy's, his piercing blue ones trying to bore into hers.

It kind of made her uncomfortable. In all the wrong ways.

Maybe she wasn't as ready to get back into dating, as she had thought.

"What about you, Veronica?" Billy purred, leaning back and spreading his arms out, one slinging over the back of the chair, from where he sat side-on, and the other sitting lazily on the table top, flicking Steve's pencil off of it. "Have you got a boyfriend? Pretty girl like you 'oughta."

Veronica snorted, eyes rolling in disbelief. An uncomfortable smile made its way across her red lips, eyes darting around the room. Billy's own lips stretched wolfishly at the sight, white teeth gleaming. He was sizing her up like his next meal.

"I'm sure you're already well aware of my situation." Veronica responded blankly, a single eyebrow raised knowingly. There's no way someone hadn't already warned Billy as to the fatal dangers of hanging around with Veronica Mason, squandering her chances, which, as it turned out, she was no longer eager to pursue, anyways.

She barely was, to begin with. Whatever embers that had been fanned, were now been crushed.

"The past is in the past." Billy dismissed, leaning forward, and crowding Veronica in. She moved back, eyes wide in alarm, to the very edge of her seat. Billy was attractive, sure. But, he wasn't quite right.

The fact that he was so dismissive of the rumour of her supposedly murdering her ex-boyfriend solidified her suspicions. The guy was a freak.

"You should come to that girl's party tonight," Billy continued, eyes flicking to watch as Veronica shuffled further away, carrying on regardless of her evident discomfort. It made her skin crawl. He was enjoying this. "I'll help you let loose a little."

Veronica's eyes gleamed in relief when her frantic searching located Steve and Nancy returning, a confused look settling over her best friend's face when he caught sight of the interaction on the far side of the library. He grabbed Nancy's hand and pulled her along, footsteps gaining speed.

"Awh, are we gonna dance?" Veronica asked, forcing the words out despite her increasing heart rate, smile cracking at the edges.

Billy leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of her exposed ear. "We can do whatever you want, sweetheart." He muttered, quickly standing and stalking away, heading for the library doors, smirk on his face, a few seconds before Steve and Nancy returned.

"What the hell was that?"

Veronica shrugged at Steve's question, his and Nancy's eyes pleading in twin concern. Veronica wasn't exactly sure, herself.

She hit her lip, shooting a look to the swinging library doors, before bringing her headphones back over her ears, blocking out her surroundings.

She needed a cigarette.

Chapter Text

George Michael blasted from the speakers littered around Tina's house and surrounding garden, making the ground vibrate and porch railing thrum with energy.

Veronica stood at the front door, unmoving, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Around her, people danced, carefree and blissfully ignorant to anything and everything negative in the world. Arms were reaching up into the warm air, and feet were tossed haphazardly, broad smiles and loud laughs echoing through the night. Right here, right now, this party was a sanctuary.

Veronica wasn't exactly feeling the vibes.

She'd yet to be heckled, or harassed, but no one had rushed up to greet her, excited that she was finally here, the life of the party. That version of her died a year ago, after all.

She sniffed, puckering up the courage to enter, and picked up the long flowing fabric of her white dress to step over a boy slumped in the entry way.

"Gross." She muttered, noticing the drool dripping onto his chest from his open mouth.

Arriving to a party on your own was always a bit of a risk. It came with that slow, sad, ten minute period of hunting high and low for your friends, but it'd pay off. Veronica was looking forward to letting semi-loose, tonight, at least knocking back a couple of drinks.

It was the least she deserved; she'd had a rough day or two.

"Oh my God," a familiar voice started behind her, Veronica smiling at the sound. "Are you Stevie Nicks? I'm a massive fan. Can I get your autograph, please?"

The girl let out a laugh, turning around to find Eddie standing behind her, hands on his hips. He was sporting some sort of wizard outfit, with a tall pointy hat and a long, grey beard to match.

"Very funny, Eddie." Veronica responded, flattered.

"Veronica?" Eddie gasped mockingly, causing the girl to laugh again. For dramatic effect, he placed a hand to his forehead, as if swooning. "Damn, girl, your costume's accurate, I got confused."

"I'm dedicated to my craft." Veronica replied, proud that her hours of thrifting in bargain bins had paid off. It'd been strenuous work.

Eddie smirked, eyes glinting as an idea kindled in his mind. "So am I," he said, fishing a hand around the deep pockets of his robe before pulling out a weed baggie, and dangling it in front of Veronica's face. "You want any?"

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head back and forth and backing away slightly. She wasn't looking for any of that, not tonight. "I'm alright, thanks. Someone's gotta stay sober here."

"You're not gonna get wasted?" Eddie whined, lips curling in exaggerated sadness. Veronica groaned and tipped her head back. "C'mon, you haven't been out in like, a year."

Veronica paused, a frown tugging at her features. She jutted her bottom lip out in displeasure. "Yeah, I wonder why." The girl grumbled, reminded of the horrors of last November. Tonight was supposed to be a reprieve from all of that, not a reminder. She sighed, shaking her head back and forth, catching Eddie's aghast look. He'd never mean to bring that up. Veronica ran a jewelled hand through her raucous locks. There was no reason to dwell on it, even if it made her feel like the floor fell out from underneath her feet. "Sorry, I don't mean to be a bummer."

Eddie awkwardly smiled in understanding, hands waving back and forth. "Oh, no, it's fine! Are you designated driver or something?"

"No. I just-"

"Hey, Ronnie!" Nancy interrupted, swinging the girl around with a hand on her shoulder. Veronica blinked down at the shorter girl, shocked. Nancy's strength never failed to surprise her. "I didn't- I didn't know y'were gonna be here!"

"Yeah, I was invited by the King himself." Veronica said, chucking a thumb in Steve's direction, the boy standing stiffly to Nancy's right. They were dressed in matching Risky Business costumes.

Veronica's eyebrows pinched together at Nancy's swaying and slurred words. The petite girl was blinking slowly, and smiling wildly at nothing, occasional hiccups escaping her painted lips.

Holy shit, Nancy Wheeler was wasted.

Veronica's concerned eyes flitted to Steve's, the boy shaking his head, eyes closing. He looked almost disappointed, a hand flying to massage his forehead. He took in a deep breath before responding.

"Please, Hargrove's made it plenty clear I don't wear the crown anymore." He grumbled, looking around the room, as if hunting for a distraction.

"Billy? He won the keg?" Veronica asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Steve had been keg king since eighth grade. She'd watched as he'd won every single competition, front row, cheering him on.

A thrum of adrenaline strummed through her body, accompanying the reminiscences of the keg, at the mention of Billy. Veronica was still reeling from their encounter in the library, and, her near death experience, at his hands, while biking the kids home.

He'd almost ran all of them over, as he roared down the roads of Hawkins, speeding half way to hell in that damn Camero of his. She had to pull Lucas out of the road at the last second, his leg millimetres away from becoming roadkill.

Fucking crazy asshole.

"Yeah, by a frickin' mile, too." Steve grunted, placing a hand on top of Nancy's shoulder, the petite girl's eyes darkening in anger, lips quivering in disgruntlement. Veronica's concern grew at the sight, unsure of what she was watching unfold. "I don't care," he shrugged, and, weirdly enough, Steve really couldn't. Veronica could read him like a book, and there wasn't a single hint of jealousy gnawing at him. Huh. "He can do what he wants."

"He's a total jerk, Steve, don't let him get to you." Veronica assured, eyebrows slanting.

"Get to me? Nah, he could never. Not when I'm in the mood to dance." The boy responded, electing to change his tune, flicking his sunglasses over his eyes from their perch in his thick hair, smirking.

Veronica guffawed, huffing out a laugh when he grabbed Nancy by her limp arms and began swaying with her.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth. Now, how am I gonna kiss anyone?" Veronica joked at his antics, fake gagging. Her eyes flicked to Nancy, unable to ignore her unusual state any longer. "You good, Nance?"

"Wouldn't... wouldn't you like to know, murderer?" Nancy muttered, glazed over eyes sliding to meet Veronica's pleading own.

The concerned girl froze, save for her blinking eyes, unable to process Nancy's words.

There's no way Veronica had heard right. She couldn't have.

Nancy would never say something like that, call Veronica something like that.

Not when Nancy saw, every day at school, how much that rhetoric ate up Veronica's confidence and spat it back out, mauled and mutilated at her feet.

Had Nancy always thought of Veronica, like that? As lesser than?

Drunk actions were sober thoughts.

Veronica swallowed, bile rising to her throat. The crowd broke out into cackles of laughter around them.

"Nance! What the hell's gotten into you!?" Steve hollered, trying to herd the girl away from the crowded space and into a more quiet corner.

Veronica didn't take notice, slowly backing away. Tears welled in her dark, smudged eyes. This was her worst nightmare. She thought she could trust Nancy.

Nancy refused budge, however, breaking out of Steve's hold and stomping toward the punch bowl in the kitchen, the mocking crowd clearing a path for her.

"I am so sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry." Steve said, raising a hand to the girls frozen frame. Veronica flinched away, face now over taken with grief. She sucked in a deep breath, fighting off the tears and pathetic wobble in her voice. God, she was not ready to hear that. Nancy may as well have shot her.

"S'fine. Go check on Nancy." Veronica dismissed, eyes practically begging to be left alone. Steve sighed, head dropping to stare at the floor. "Steve please."

He wordlessly moved off without much more convincing, face grim, racing after his girlfriend through the throngs of people cramped into Tina's trashed home.

Veronica stood there, alone, for a moment, her head filling with a deafening buzz.

"Hey," Jonathan voiced, startling Veronica out of her reveries. Peopled just loved sneaking up on her, tonight. "What's going on?" He asked, standing at the girl's side. They watched as Nancy dipped a red cup into the punch bowl and lifted it out before chugging it. Jesus.

"I don't know." Veronica levelled, wiping at her eyes, and cringing at the sight in front of her. She sniffed away the snot threatening to run from her nose. "Nancy's been acting a little off, recently. And, she just called me a murderer, so... I think the guilt's eating her up."

Jonathan was stunned into silence for a few moments, jaw slack, unable to form words. "You think she's trying to get wasted?" He settled on after a while. Veronica frowned.

"Trying? She already is. Girl musta been necking down drinks all night." Veronica responded, rolling her eyes. Jonathan hit her with a disappointed look, causing Veronica's frown to deepen. "I just got here, Jonathan. I did try and ask what was going on, but she wasn't having it."

"I- I believe you. Jesus." Jonathan stuttered out, gulping. His worried eyes flicked back to watch Nancy.

They watched in shock as Steve tried to wrestle the cup out of Nancy's shaking hands, the battle ending with the cup's red contents splashing all over Nancy's pristine white shirt.

The crowd around them once again broke out into noises of surprise, horror and disbelief, acting as the soundtrack to Nancy's escape up the stairs. It was like they were in the colosseum, or something. Veronica watched with bated breath as Steve chased after the small girl, bottom lip held hostage between his teeth.

This night had turned out worse than Veronica could've ever imagined.

And she'd sat, getting ready at her vanity, imagining it going wrong in a lot of different ways. It was easier that way. In building it up to be bad in her head, she couldn't be disappointed when t inevitably went to shit. But, even so, everything that had gone wrong still stung, hitting somewhere deep and vulnerable in Veronica's chest.

She'd wanted this to be nice.

"Should we go after them?" Jonathan asked, concern riddling his tone. Veronica sighed, and shook her head. God, tonight was supposed to be fun. She should've just stuck with Dustin. Even if he'd hate her for babysitting him on Halloween, of all nights.

"No," Veronica deadpanned. "This is their issue, they need to handle it on their own. Like adults."

Jonathan grumbled something under his breath, Veronica turning to him, jaw clenched. "But-" He stopped, eyes flicking to watch something behind the girl.

Veronica turned to look for herself, an eyebrow cocked. Everything was pissing her off, now.

She paused her readied attack, catching sight of Steve flying back down the stairs, tears welling in his eyes.

The boy cut through the thick crowds as he weaved his way closer and closer to Veronica and Jonathan, face distraught. What on Earth had happened, up stairs? Was Nancy still up there, on her own?

"C'mon, we're going." Steve snapped, grasping onto Veronica's forearm as he approached. He tugged her along to the front door, ignoring her screech of shock. She wriggled in his loose hold, but followed regardless.

"Steve!?" She yelped, fixing the back of his head with a shocked look. He chucked a sad look behind him, saying nothing.

At that, Veronica closed her mouth. They could talk about this somewhere else. Something had gone wrong.

She felt the crowds' eyes on the back of her head, judging. But Veronica didn't care. They could stare all they liked. She'd only gone to this stupid party for one thing- the chance to forget.

And she couldn't even be afforded that; these stupid, shitty people couldn't afford her that, her torture their spectacle. 

In a sense, Veronica supposed she didn't deserve the reprieve she longed after so ardently, a woman on a hunt for water in the driest desert. This outcome was only fair. It would be, so long as Jacob still rotted inside the belly of the beast.

The crowds were oblivious to Jonathan racing up the stairs, inevitably looking for Nancy. Veronica caught it, however, and she smiled softly to herself. Even if this group had tensions, even if not everyone loved each other...

At least everyone would make it home safe, tonight.

Steve walked them away from Tina's house, and down the lamp-lined street. The further they strayed from the party, the gradually more peaceful it became, their hands slipping together, Veronica's nerves settling.

Parties didn't agree with her system, not anymore.

She wished she could turn back time, to a year ago, when everything was alright, and as good as it would ever get- reverse time back to when every experience wasn't plagued by the want for Jacob to face it with her, when everything wasn't so hard, when she wasn't bullied.

But, as much as monsters and alternate dimensions existed, to her knowledge, time travel was still impossible. She'd have to live like this, like a murder, forever.

Veronica hated her new skin.

She sniffed, slowing to a stop once she realised that Steve had walked them to her house.

It was as proud looking as ever, glowing white slacks even in the heavy night, with prim flower gardens fashioning ever window sill. Looking up at the dark windows, save the glowing one of her mother's bedroom, Veronica decided to look back to Steve. They needed to talk.

"Hey," she started, "what the hell happened up there?"

Steve sighed, releasing his hand from Veronica's, and lifting it to itch at the back of his neck. He kicked at small rocks on the pavement. "Nothing." He grumbled.

Veronica's frown returned full force, stomping into the boy's personal space to stare him down. As much as she could from a few inches below his nose, anyways. Steve's wet, brown eyes rose to meet Veronica's darker ones. "Don't do that, Steve," she admonished firecly. "What happened?"

He sighed before responding, eyes dropping to look at the floor as he answered. "She said we were bullshit. That I was bullshit. That we were acting like we were in love." The words tumbled from his sad lips, Veronica's stomach twisting at the image that the words painted. "I've given her everything, and she..."

Veronica knew Nancy wasn't particularly into Steve, anymore. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the girl was just playing it safe, playing by the rules, following the white-picket-fence prescription.

Nancy loved Steve, sure, who wouldn't? He was emphatic. Magnetic. But that romantic spark was dead, buried somewhen amongst the life changing events of last year.

And, it wasn't Veronica's place to break that news, regardless of how much it hurt her to watch Steve get beaten up over Nancy. He didn't deserve it.

"Hey, it's okay." Veronica supplied, smiling kindly. She placed a tentative hand onto Steve's shoulder, the two of them dropping to sit on the pavement. Steve was warm beside her, still burning like a furnace despite it all. "She's just drunk."

"No, she's not just drunk! You know that's not what this is." Steve exploded, hands flying around in the cool midnight air to punctuate his words. Veronica blinked at the show of angry energy, considering her next words carefully. "Stop lying to me. I've had enough of that, tonight."

"I'm sorry." Veronica spoke softly. Steve sighed beside her, annoyance still nipping at him. "I'm so sorry. I just... you really love Nancy, Steve, and I know she loves you, too. This is just a complicated situation."

"It's not, though." Steve levelled at Veronica, a silent resignation overtaking his features and frame as his expression evened out and his back hunched. "Either she wants to be with me, or she doesn't."

Veronica huffed, thinking of all the pressure on Nancy to settle down, and find a respectable relationship. "It's not that easy, Steve, and you know it." He scoffed.  "But, regardless, what she said was hurtful and if she's been holding that in, and it's how she really feels about you guys, then, yeah, she should've told you sooner."

Veronica didn't like playing therapist, especially when she had so much of her own shit going on. She was wholly unqualified. But she liked helping her friends. She'd do anything to keep her little rag-tag group together. They were all she had left, really.

"You should be, like, a councillor or something, Ron." Steve aired after a while, running a hand over his magically voluminous hair. Veronica huffed out a small laugh at his words, a real smile settling over her lips for the first time in an hour or so.

"Please, I'll be on babysitting duty for the rest of my days, probably." Steve turned to look at her, eyes reflecting the soft, orange glow of the street lamps.

His skin was smooth, and Veronica stared at the small moles on his right cheek. The cool autumn breeze filtered through the stands of hair hanging over his forehead, making them flutter. It looked so soft. Veronica fought the urge to run a hand through it.

"You like it, though." He responded, fixing her with an equally blissed out smile.

"No, I don't." Veronica laughed, shoving at the boy's shoulder.

"Yes, you do." Steve affirmed, lightly shoving Veronica back. The two giggled like kids. It felt like old times. "What's so fun about the kid, huh? He got cool jokes?"

"No, just nerdy references." Veronica responded, watching in amusement as Steve dramatically rolled his eyes. "You'll fall into the Henderson trap when you eventually hang out with him too, Steve."

Steve paused, eyes flicking away momentarily before settling back on Veronica. His hazel eyes lingered on a small scar on her cheek bone- the legacy of a graze she'd gotten during her first run with the monster. "Hopefully, I'll never have to."

Veronica clocked what he meant. He meant that, hopefully, he'd never be forced into proximity with the kids, like she'd been. Because, that'd mean a repeat of last year.

The calm that had settled over the two of them like a blanket suddenly felt paper thin.

"Fingers crossed." She mumbled half-heartedly. With a groan, and the pop of her knees, Veronica rose back to her full height, stretching her spine. "Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow, okay? If you think you're gonna start crying yourself to sleep, give me a ring!" The girl hollered, smacking Steve on the shoulder before jogging to her doorway.

"Always, Mason!"

Chapter Text

The night after the party was terrible. Veronica spent the remainder of it curled up in bed, sobbing to herself underneath her silk sheets. Shaking fingers grasped at the soft material, sharp, red nails digging into her palms.

For a while, she stared numbly up at her popcorn ceiling, her head the only body part poking out from the sheets. This was what her life had come to. Her bitten lips quivered around silent sobs at the revelation, which her mind arrived at over and over. It was an endless cycle of punishment.

The mixture of what Nancy had called her, the constant reminders of what her life used to be, and her confusing feelings towards Steve rendered Veronica practically incapacitated.

She'd started thinking his hair looked pretty, for fuck sake. She always used to think it looked stupid, like a damn Lego piece.

All she could do was wail helplessly and drag dirtied hands over her face, wiping tears and snot into her pores.

She didn't care to clean herself of the snot, or the tears, before she drifted into the realm of sleep. She was far too exhausted, her bones thrumming with aching lethargy.

Puffy and crusted eyes stared back at her the next morning, her body waving weakly like a piece of seaweed as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror. They blinked open and closed slowly, unmotivated, unexcited.

With a grunt, she splashed freezing water onto her face, ridding it of residual makeup and fluids.

But, it didn't feel like enough. Veronica resorted to scrubbing at her face with a harsh towel, after a few cold dousings. Everything, from last night, needed to be erased, scratched away. She needed a blank canvas to rebuild from.

Sniffing, she resigned herself to a tired day. She'd only managed a couple hours of sleep, last night. Maybe she could wrangle a few more at school. A desk nap sounded like heaven, to her pounding skull.

***

"You're early." Dustin yawned, trudging down his driveway with his bike. Veronica huffed, rolling her eyes. "And you don't look any different. I thought that, after your insane party, you'd be super hungover and look like a zombie."

"I'd never look like a zombie, Dustin."

The two pushed off at the same time, Dustin's brown eyes flicking to study Veronica in concern, lips pursed. "Did you not have a crazy night? What happened to snogging loads of boys?" He smirked, making his babysitter want to kick him off of his bike. Veronica wasn't in the mood for being made fun of, today. She sent him a blazing look.

"That was never gonna happen." She grumbled, Dustin losing his smile. Something stung in her chest at the sight. "It was awful. I should've taken a leaf out of your book."

"You can come trick or treating with The Party next year." Dustin offered, causing a sad smile to spread across Veronica's lips. She was such a loser, now. "We went with Max, last night. She was super awesome."

"I'm glad, Dusty." The boy groaned at the nickname, but Veronica ignored it. The kid had a special way of making her feel better, even if he was a little shit. His happiness was infectious. "Anything particularly spooky happen?"

"Will kind of had an episode..." Dustin mentioned quietly, Veronica whipping her head around to stare at the boy in shock. Will was having them so frequently, now, it was incredibly worrying. Her fists clenched around the bikes handle bars. "He's ok! And we handled it and he got home, fine." Veronica breathed out a sigh of relief at Dustin's words, hackles lowering. "Then, I found this thing in my dumpster. I thought it was Mews. But, boy was I wrong."

The boy laughed to himself, leaving Veronica confused. A thing? That's what she first called the monster. She didn't like the feelings that the rhetoric he used, swirled. "A thing? You found a thing? What kind of thing, Dustin?"

"I'm still in the process of researching, but given my initial findings, I'm guessing it's some sort of pollywog." The boy answered, wholly unaware of the worry stirring inside of Veronica. She frowned.

"The fuck is a pollywog?" The words bit out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Think of a tadpole."

"Damn. Awesome, Dustin, you found a frickin' frog." At least it wasn't a demogorgan, Veronica mused. Her drumming heartbeat calmed its attack on her ears, and she sniffed. "What're you gonna tell me next, a mouse crawled out of your shoe? Give me something interesting, here, kid."

Dustin smirked, looking to his babysitter with sparkling eyes. "Well, that's the thing. Dart isn't a normal pollywog. He doesn't look like any of the ones already identified."

"You named a frog?" Veronica bellowed after a pause. Frogs were disgusting, one of the grossest and slimmest creatures she'd ever had the displeasure of learning about. A shiver crawled up her spine as a memory of Steve chasing her with one resurfaced.

"Pollywog. Unidentified species. And, yes."

"Jesus." Veronica breathed out, perplexed at Dustin's peculiarities and ability to find himself in unusual situations. One morning, he'd walked out of his house, head stuck inside a plastic cereal container. "Well, I don't know how you'll go around getting it like, recognised, or whatever. But good luck, man."

"Thanks, Ronnie."

***

One of the shitty school shower heads spat out a pathetic stream, Steve milling around under it for at least a minute, before he was anywhere near wet enough to start lathering soap.

Could nothing go his way, today? Or this week, for that matter.

Billy, who'd just pushed him to the court floor in an embarrassing display, as if Steve hadn't suffered enough already, pulled up next to him, shooting water from his nose.

God, Steve hated him.

Ever since he'd caught the new boy creeping on Veronica in the library, a hatred for him began to fester.

Steve couldn't care less about the keg stuff. That was meaningless.

It was the threat that Billy posed which made his skin crawl, tiny, disgusting bugs slithering around on his skin. The guy was creepy; that freaky, wolfish grin of his, sharp eyes and sharp brows all predator, no prey.

Coach was definitely going to bench Steve this year, because of the flash bastard.

"Don't sweat it, Harrington. Today's just not your day, man." Billy unhelpfully supplied, no doubt revelling in Steve's damp mood, despite his shitty façade of understanding.

"Yeah, not your week." Tommy ruined the silence next, that stupid look of his, which he happened to always wear, slapped across his freckled face. "You and the princess break up for one day, and she's already running off with the freak's brother."

Steve's stomach dropped at the revelation, disguising the feeling with expert blankness.

Nancy had run off with Jonathan? That's why she wasn't in English? That's why Jonathan wasn't in calc?

Steve should've guessed, in hindsight. After the party, he should've grasped that Nancy wasn't particularly concerned with him, anymore. Let alone after her half-assessed attempt to win him back.

There was nothing to stop her from being with Jonathan, now; it was all out in the open.

Steve's disgruntlement grew at the thought, unable to wrangle himself back from levelling his old friend with a glare.

"Oh, shit. You don't know." Guffawed Tommy, smirking as if he'd not just ruined Steve's day, and won an award, instead. "Jonathan and the princess skipped, yesterday. Still haven't shown. But, that must just be a coincidence, right?" He cackled out a shrieking laugh, slapping off his shower knob and turning to flash Billy and Steve his spotty, white ass cheeks.

The boys grimaced at the sight. Even so, the comedic display did nothing to dissipate the deepening of the pit in Steve's stomach.

He knew Nancy didn't love him. He knew she couldn't even bring herself to pretend to, anymore.

The intermission in his last game, wherein she'd pulled him to the side to so-say hash things out, only to crush him, proved that.

"Tell me!" Steve cried, heart ready to jump out of his throat.

Nancy was acting like this was nothing, like their love wasn't teetering on a knife edge, right now. How could she be so naïve? This was everything; if Steve lost this, their love, he didn't know what he'd do, how he'd cope. He needed this like he needed air, like water.

Nancy scoffed. "Tell you what?"

"That you love me!" The demand billowed out of Steve's chest before he could wrangle it back in, embarrassment brewing in it's wake. 

He was so screwed. The confession of insecurity hung in the air for a murderous moment, ready to either be brought in with delightfully warm arms and coddled, or cut down, stamped under the sole of Nancy's brown Mary Janes.

For a hopeful second, Steve thought he'd done it, her big, stormy, grey eyes swinging up from the gravel to confess her love. But then her head tilted to the side, something like pity stirring in her sharp features, and Steve knew he was done for.

He stomped off without another word, following after Harrison, hounding him to re-join the game.

Had she ever loved him? If not, how did she do it? Lie to him so convincingly every time she'd uttered it, pulled him into her trap. A trap that, apparently, she hadn't even been all that keen on setting in the first place.

"Don't take it too hard, man. A pretty boy like you's got nothing to worry about. Plenty of bitches in the sea." Sniped Billy, Steve rolling his eyes in response.

He wasn't in the mood for a pep talk, right now. He needed to sit down with his best friend, and have a rant. Or a smoke. That'd do it. Maybe, Veronica had some of Eddie's weed stashed away, somewhere. That'd help. Smoking always made him feel better. Especially with her. Only with her, these days.

His social status had taken as big as a nose-dive as hers had, since last fall. Something about hanging around Jonathan Byers did that to a guy.

"What about that friend of yours... Veronica, was it? Pretty thing. You'd make a hot couple."

Steve's stomach lurched at the disgusting sound of Veronica's name slipping past Billy's smirking lips. The bastard shouldn't even know about her, breathe the same air as her— let alone speak her name.

He didn't deserve it, in Steve's humble opinion. Wasn't good enough for it.

What was it that Billy was suggesting to him, though? That he should try and date Veronica?

Steve blinked away the odd feelings that the musing stirred in his stomach, the dark cloud which had been hovering over him, dissipating somewhat.

Veronica was just his friend. Nothing more.

She was a great girl: objectively pretty, snarky, powerful. But, she was just a friend.

Right. That was it. Nothing more. Never would be.

Why did arriving at that conclusion... almost hurt? That's what it felt like was stirring in Steve's stomach, anyways, a hollow, throbbing pit. What was wrong with him? He was probably just hungry, or something. he'd forgotten breakfast, this morning. Sure.

"Actually, I think I know her. We're both from Cali, after all. Might have some history." Added Billy, his smirk ever growing. Steve could've sworn it curled and stretched all the way to his god damn ears, it was so wide.

There it was, that predatory glint, a flash of a sharp canine.

The implication of his words made Steve's stomach flip, his skin igniting in angry pinpricks. The thought of Billy's hands on Veronica was enough to send him spiralling, blood rushing in his ears.

"Dream all you want, she wouldn't touch an asshole like you with a ten foot pole."

"That's what you think." Billy teased, leaning impossibly closer to spit vitriol into Steve's ear. A shiver ran down his spine. "Get her. Before I do."

***

The days of the week passed slowly and uneventfully.

Most of Veronica's school time was spent comforting a moping Steve, him and Nancy having unsuccessfully hashed it out mid basketball game. She wasn't particularly enthusiastic about having to play both sides, but, hey, that's what friends were for.

Now, she sat in her room, passing the time in what was truthfully, her favourite way.

"Dustin, I don't have time for this shit." Veronica ranted into her phone, swiping the nail polish brush over the nail of her big toe. Between her lips dangled a precariously balanced cigarette, ash fluttering onto her bed as it moved up and down with her speaking.

"What're you so busy doing, huh?" The boy fired back, sounding aggravated at her lack of cooperation. Veronica rolled her eyes.

"Smoking, painting my nails, and watching Top Gun for the tenth time. Leave me alone, nerd. The beach scene is coming up."

"Sounds riveting." Dustin deadpanned, Veronica almost hearing his eye roll through the phone. She scoffed at his sassiness. God knows where he got it from. "I can't. This is a... a major situation. A code red."

Veronica's heart stopped, her body freezing. Something had happened- something to do with the Upside Down. "A code red?" She sat up from her reclined position in a flash, fingers rising to pluck the stick from her lips. "I'll get there as quick as I can, stay safe in the mean time, alright?"

"Affirmative."

Jumping up from her bed, she slammed down the phone and stubbed out the cigarette in her crystal ashtray.

She knew it. She fucking knew it. From one word, Veronica knew something was up. And here it was, a code red to bookmark the fact that something had gone wrong again.

Maybe, Jane had something to do with it, finally having made her way back to them all. Veronica doubted it. This was probably something to do with the creature that Dustin had found. It was probably spawn from the Upside Down. She should've asked to see it.

Veronica changed out of her pyjamas and into more practical clothes: light jeans, old reeboks, a pink knit sweater synched to her midriff and a thick, jean jacket. It wasn't the prettiest outfit, or what she'd usually go for, but it would keep her warm, and hopefully protect her extremities from scratches and scrapes.

Finally, before biking to Dustin's, she snagged her trusty axe from its place between her mattress and the slats beneath it. She chucked the handle between her hands, reacquainting herself with the weight of the weapon, before slotting it into the red leather holster at her side.

She brought the accessory purely for this situation, hoping to never have to use it. With a sigh, she mused that at least she was getting use out of it, her moneys worth.

The bike to Dustin's had never been quicker, Veronica's legs buzzing with lactic acid by the time she hoped off of her bike and paced to his door.

She hammered on it with unbridled determination and a burning undercurrent of fear, scared for the boy who'd she'd, against all odds, grown to care for.

"Dustin! Let me in, you little shit!" Veronica shouted, face severely crumped with lines of emotion. Jesus, she was going to have wrinkles by the time she was twenty. And grey hairs.

"My God, woman! I'm here!" Dustin finally answered, opening the door the reveal his eye-bulging outfit. He was dressed, head to toe, in hockey gear. Veronica's jaw dropped, a disbelieving breath stuttering out of her throat.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"Protective gear." Dustin supplied, his face utterly serious. Veronica studied him with squinted eyes. "I don't have any extra for you, so, you'll have to stay behind me."

"Stay behind you, are you serious?" Veronica questioned, chuckling at Dustin's commitment. "What is it that I'll be protecting you from?"

Dustin rolled his eyes and waved Veronica inside, stepping out of the doorway to let her through. The girl went to kick her shoes off, as not to track mud across the carpet, but Dustin stopped her, shaking his head and ushering her to follow him further into the house.

"So, do you remember Dart?" He asked, peering around a wall with his hockey stick raised. Veronica pulled out her axe at the boy's tentative moments. Whatever they were preparing against, must've been bad. If it was that damned monster again, Veronica thought she might bring her axe to her neck and swing.

"Your freaky frog thing? Yeah..."

"Well, he kind of grew." Veronica fixed the back of Dustin's head with a fierce look, dreading the direction the boys words seemed to be heading in. Dustin paused before he continued. "And then today, he, he ate Mews."

"He ate Mews!?" Dustin darted forward, to the next corner, at Veronica's outburst. She loved Mews. More often than not, the fat, ginger cat would make sure to greet her, in the mornings, nuzzling against her ankles. "Dustin! What the hell, man!? I frickin' love that cat! What's your mom gonna do?"

Dustin froze, turning to smack Veronica with a scalding look. "My mom will never know!"

"Your mom has to know!"

"Not if we can help it!" The boy screeched. A silence settled over the two of them, both refusing to look at each other after their shouting match. "Look," Dustin broke the silence, "I've devised a plan. Dart is locked in my room, right now. We'll lure him to my basement, then lock him in there."

Veronica cleared her throat, finally dropping her eyes to settle back on Dustin. She felt bad at getting mad at him. He was just a scared kid. "And? We can't just let him rot in there."

"After that we'll go get the others, or at least some of them, and we'll kill him." The boy said, an unfamiliar finality lacing his words. At least it seemed like he wanted this over as quickly as Veronica, did. "You're the only person who picked up."

"Oh." The girl blinked, her stomach twisting. Had really no one else answered him? Even to a code red? She'd tear Mike and Lucas new ones, later. Will was too cute to want to verbally smack. "Well, that sounds good." She affirmed, raising a hand to jam it under Dustin's helmet and tussle his hair. "Can I just ask, what does Dart look like now, exactly? Is, is he a-"

"No, he's not a demogorgan." The boy answered, Veronica's shoulders slumping in relief, a massive breath releasing from her tight lungs. "But, he's adjacent- his face opened up the same way. Except, he's like, a dog."

All relief was squandered at Dustin's continuation. Why couldn't he have led with that? Why did he have to give her false hope? "Shit, Dustin." She muttered, fingers covering her lips while she silently ruminated over the boy's plan. "I'll go along with your plan for now, but, after that, we're calling Hopper, alright?"

"Affirmative."

"Stop saying affirmative." Veronica bit, moving to stand in front of him, axe raised. She'd protect the kid with her Life. "Where are we headed?"

"No. It's cool." Dustin hit back, making her knee buckle as he jabbed his hockey stick into the back of it. "My bedroom."

"Jesus Christ!" Veronica hollered, grumbling as she clambered back to her feet, Dustin cackling behind her. "Now's not the time for jokes, twerp."

The two crept forward, shimmying through the hallways of the home to edge closer to Dustin's room. Eventually, they made their way to it, Veronica counting down from three until she wrenched the door open, only for a second, to catch a glimpse of Dart, and make sure he was real.

Holy shit. The scene that lay beyond the door was horrifying. Blood was strewn all across the carpet, a thick stripe of it leading to a corner, from where what Veronica could only assume was Dart jumped out of, familiar flower face opening to attack her.

She slammed the door shut before the horrid creature could reach her, taking satisfaction in the sound of it slamming against the wood on the other side.

"Alright," she huffed, wiping her forehead of the sweat which had accumulated there after all the stress. "Let's trap this bastard."

Dustin lead her to the kitchen, Veronica following the boy after a he performed a dramatic beckoning motion. She snorted at his theatrics.

"Take this, please, my servant." The boy asked, fishing a bag of assorted meat chunks from his freezer and handing it to Veronica. The girl grimaced at the gross paper bag, disgusting brown and red liquids staining it and dripping onto the floor.

"Don't call me that." She demanded, flicking Dustin's forehead. "And let me get some gloves first, damn it. You're disgusting."

Veronica pulled some florescent pink kitchen gloves from one of the many under-the-sink cupboards, each one stocked with an incredible amount of cleaning supplies. Mrs Henderson was quite the clean freak.

"I'm on it, Dustin." Veronica called out, heading back to his bedroom to start laying the trail.

"Affirmative."

***

"Alright, Dart, breakfast time." Dustin said quietly, leaning around Veronica to push open his bedroom door and encourage the beast out of it. He demanded that he be the one to lure Dart out, because apparently they had a special connection. Veronica couldn't believe her ears.

"C'mon, Dustin, move it." Veronica reminded the boy, pushing him backwards as soon as she started to hear the signature growls and clicks of an Upside Down creature. "Get to the shed!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

The two skedaddled out of the home, Veronica chucking looks behind her to make sure the creature wasn't silently sneaking up on them, and towards the old shack, near the basement entrance in Dustin's garden.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." Dustin moaned as Veronica pushed him forward, the boys waddling due to his protective hockey gear, slowing them down. "Shit, shit, shit, shit."

He continued his fearful ramblings until they reached the green shed, Veronica shoving the boy inside before following, and quietly closing the door behind them.

"Fuck," she breathed out, "we made it."

"He still needs to take the bait." Dustin huffed, wasting little time in scrambling to the window, covered by a tea towel, and poking out of it to spy for Dart. Veronica settled next to him, sending the suddenly calm boy a glare. He'd just been shitting his pants a second ago. "Come on. Come on, I know you're hungry."

Veronica watched with bated breath as Dart emerged from the open doorway, the freakish creature scuttling across the concrete to eat up fresh pieces of meat.

Dustin was right, it did look like a dog- except, it was hairless, had dark, slimy skin, a pointed tail. Its petalled face opened and closed as it chewed on the pieces of meat, Veronica's stomach twisting at the memories that the creature dragged back up.

What did she do, to deserve revisiting this hell?

Dart descended the stairs heading towards the shed, eating up the meat as he went. Veronica and Dustin watched in twin eagerness as the creature trotted to the entrance of the basement, a paw poised to step inside.

"Yes." She whispered, leaning down to look through a gap in the planks of the structure, just in time to watch as Dart span around, landing to look directly at the shed. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

"Shit!" Dustin shouted, one of Veronica's hands flying to cover his mouth as they heard Dart step closer and closer, clawed paws crunching the orange leaves beneath them.

The boy shot her an angry look, Veronica replying with an equally fiery one in retaliation. Dart already suspected something, she wasn't about to let Dustin blow their cover with his wailing.

With little warning, the boy wriggled in Veronica's hold, breaking free with a battle cry as he charged out of the door, and batted Dart down into the basement.

Veronica stood, frozen, as she watched on in disbelief. "What the shit?" She huffed, wiping the underside of her nose. She couldn't believe her eyes. Dustin Henderson just beat a demogorgan. A baby one, but a demogorgan all the same.

Dustin flopped down on top of the basement doors, Veronica racing over to do the same, trapping Dart inside.

"Ace shot, Dusty."

"Thanks."

Chapter Text

Veronica bit her lip, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to will away the tears that were brewing in them. She loved animals. Mews didn't deserve Dart's vicious attack, and Dustin was being far too nonchalant about it for her liking.

How could he be so in-empathetic towards his own pet?  

"Aren't you gonna help me burry her?" Veronica groaned, stabbing her shovel into the ground. Her clothes were dirtied with flecks of mud and grass stains, her hair frazzled with humidity. She tied half of it up, out of her face, with a scrunchie. "Or, are you just gonna keep blabbering down that radio? You already said no one answered, Dustin. We'll just hunt 'em down."

The girl stared at her partner, who was pacing the garden rapidly, his fists in tight balls. He threw her a blazing glance.

"Shut it." Dustin spat, angrily fiddling with the microphone hovering over his mouth. "Keep digging, I'll get through to someone."

"Whatever, asshole."

With a grimace, Veronica kneeled to picked up Mews, wrapped in a blanket, and place the poor animal into its grave. Another innocent victim of this shit-show, to add to the list.

She stood, wiping her knees of wet dirt and ripping off the confining kitchen gloves. Her hands were slick with uncomfortable sweat.

"This is a code red, I repeat, a code red!" Dustin shouted down his mic, practically steaming with rage. Veronica rolled her eyes at his attitude, dusting the soggy dirt over Mews with her shovel.

Violently groaning, the boy stomped back into his home, past the meat residue dampening his path. Careful with her actions, as to not disrespect the cat's corpse, Veronica quickly finished up her impromptu grave digging, and headed after Dustin. He was grossly impatient.

"Alright, it's Dustin, again. Seriously, I have a code red." The boy continued, dropping to scrub at the blood stains in his carpeted bedroom. There's no way those'd come out without a fight, Veronica mused.

She'd spilt enough makeup in her time to know the consequences of not cleaning carpets minutes after contamination.

Dustin paused his angry scrubbing, body freezing. Veronica looked to him in confusion, gesturing to her ear. Had someone picked up? Dustin nodded in confirmation, Veronica's mood lightening slightly at the revelation.

Finally, they'd have another person to help unravel all this mystery.

"Erica?" Lucas' sister? She wasn't going to be much help, Veronica considered. She had met the preteen a couple of times, over the past year. She was cute, with a charming smile and enough compliments to flatter anyone, but, looks could be deceiving.

Veronica had heard enough horror stories about the girl from Lucas to know she was not exactly what she seemed. "Erica, is Lucas there? Where is he?"

Dustin stayed silent for a moment, shrugging at Veronica when the older girl motioned for him to say something. "Is he- is he with Mike?"

It didn't sound like he was making much ground.

"Please tell him it's super important. Please tell him that I have a code r-" Dustin was interrupted, his eyebrows flying to his hairline in disbelief. Veronica snorted from her place above him, holding gently onto Dustin's tortoise. "Yep, code red, exactly. Er- Erica?"

The boy, suddenly sheepish, pulled off his headset and shook his head. So, no Lucas, then. Veronica huffed out a breath of disappointment, placing the tortoise down and flopping onto the bed. This was proving to be disastrous.

There was no way that the two of them could tackle whatever had caused this, on their own. Hopper was mysteriously still MIA, Veronica having called the station and his home phone numerous times before burying Mews, as were Mike and Will.

Veronica had even called Joyce, reluctant to worry the woman who'd been through so much, and pull her back into misery. Yet, again, there was no answer. Pus Jonathan and Nancy had fucked off to wherever, together, so they were no hope. The least they could do was come back and have banged.

Dustin and Veronica were, for now, alone in this fight. Her chest ached uncomfortably at the resignation, a hand rising to rub at the spot above her heart.

The girl rose, sitting with her arms behind her. "Alright," she started, "We'll bike to Mikes, and if he's not there, we'll go buy some meat and lure Dart away ourselves, got it?"

Dustin stayed quiet for a moment, before rising and determinedly pulling his headset back on, fixing his babysitter with a resolute stare. They nodded to each other in confirmation. They could handle this. "Sounds good. Ready the chariots, I'll finish cleaning."

"Jesus," Veronica moaned, standing and moving to wander out of the bedroom. "Why do you always have to make everything sound so stupid?"

"Because it's not stupid... it's cool."

***

The cold November air whipped through Veronica's hair as she and Dustin sped down the quiet roads to the Wheeler house, leaves catching in the spokes of her wheels.

Her axe hung annoyingly at her waist, the long handle occasionally banging into her bike frame or hitting things as she passed them. She hoped the wing-mirror that she clipped with the weapon, hadn't sustained too much damage.

Approaching their destination, the two slowed, dropping their bikes and moving quickly to the front door.

Veronica banged her fist on it rapidly, determined to engage with their luring of Dart as quickly as possible. They couldn't risk him somehow escaping, and wreaking havoc across Hawkins.

God, she deserved a payout for all of this.

"Your line had been busy for over two hours, Mr Wheeler. Do you realise this?" Dustin asked Ted, the father having opened the door much to Veronica's disdain. She turned away, hands flying to rest on top of her head, letting out a defeated breath.

Ted Wheeler was one of the most infuriating people she'd ever had the pure displeasure of encountering. He was like a human sloth.

"Oh, I do realise." He answered, Veronica rolling her eyes.

"Is Mike home?" She asked hastily, moving Dustin to the side, her best fake smile plastered across her face. They needed this done as soon as possible. Knowing Ted, he'd drag this out.

"No."

"No? Well, where the hell is he?" Dustin demanded, exasperated at the entire situation. They were only a couple of hours into this whole debacle, and it already felt like years.

"Karen, where's our son?" Ted turned, shouting his question in what Veronica assumed was the direction of Karen, who was undoubtedly on the phone.

"Will's!" Came the woman's echoed response, causing Veronica and Dustin to groan in twin aggravation.

"No one's answering there, either." The boy said, brows furrowing as he considered their options.

Veronica beat him to it, begrudgingly asking after Nancy, and where she was. As much as Veronica wanted to keep the girl out of it, given how much she was already struggling, they could use all the help they could get. Dustin shot her a fierce look.

"Karen, where's Nancy?"

"Ally's!"

Veronica didn't believe that for a second.

"Our children don't live here, anymore. You didn't know that?" Ted commented, leaning down teasingly to speak to Dustin, as if the child were unable to understand him. Veronica poked the man back to his full height with a single finger against his shoulder, Ted refusing to acknowledged the contact, as he leaned back casually into the door frame.

"Seriously?" Dustin questioned, unable to believe the display the father was putting on. It was toe-curling.

"Am I done here?" Ted droned, eyes finally landing on Veronica, who scoffed, and settled her hands onto Dustin's shoulders, urging the child to move away. They'd do better off without him.

"Son of a bitch. You're really no help at all, you know that?" Dustin raged as he walked away, heading back up the concrete path to their pile of bikes.

"Hey! Language!" Ted hollered in the boy's direction, Veronica's patience wearing thin.

"Useless asshole." She spat, shutting the door in Ted's face and forcing the man to scurry out of the way, before following after Dustin.

The two walked in silence for a moment, both near the ends of their tethers.

Veronica leant down and lifted Dustin's bike for him, wheeling it towards him. The boy nodded in thanks.

"Holy shit, he's the worst." He groaned, Veronica guffawing at the admission.

"Tell me about it."

As the two hopped back onto their bikes, ready to head to Melvald's, a familiar, burgundy BMW rolled to a stop in front of them, causing the teenagers to pause.

Veronica's jaw dropped, a surprised breath spluttering out of her suddenly tight throat.

What were the chances, that Steve Harrington would turn up, just in time to catch them?

The universe worked in funny ways.

Veronica hadn't even considered calling him, amongst all of the hassle of the day.

The boy, whilst involved in what had happened last year, having saved Veronica, Jonathan, and Nancy, at the crucial moment, had barely associated himself with the party, or preparations for another event, since.

Sure, Steve knew what a code red meant, but Veronica highly doubted he'd want to know anything about one. He acted, in her considerations, as if he wanted to sweep last year under the rug, erase it from his mind as much as he could.

Veronica could understand that, and therefore didn't blame him for it. Why should he have to subject himself to the terrors of the Upside Down, other than out of the sheer kindness of his heart? He'd already saved them all once, he didn't need to shoulder that burden again.

Veronica's stomach twisted at her thoughts. His arrival only meant one thing: he'd be dragged back into all of this again. He'd be in danger, again.

The girl only hoped she'd be able to save him, if anything were to go wrong. Which it almost, definitely would. 

Dustin nudged Veronica with his elbow, his eyes flicking suggestively to the boy leaping from his car, red roses bundled up in his hands. Veronica groaned at the sight, lifting her leg back over the body of her bike.

Was Steve really here with apology flowers for Nancy? After he'd done nothing wrong? Happy wife, happy life, she mused.

"Listen, I've been thinking..." Steve muttered to himself, hands gesturing wildly. "I love you, I'm sorry." He paced down the grass, straight past the two watching him, and in the direction of the Wheeler residence. "I'm sorry? What the hell am I sorry, for?"

"Steve!" The name blurted out of Veronica's mouth before she cloud stop it, Dustin pulling the girl along by her sleeve as he made his way over to the older boy.

Steve's head swivelled in their direction, his now frantic brown eyes settling on Veronica, softening once they'd caught sight of her. "Veronica?" He questioned, face crumpled in confusion.

"Hey Steve," Dustin interrupted, the older boys eyes flicking down to study Dustin, who was quickly approaching him. "Are those for Mr and Mrs Wheeler?"

Steve's brows furrowed, shooting Veronica a questioning look, the girl only shrugging in response. Dustin was beyond her comprehension, a lot of the time.

"No?" He responded, jaw dropping when Dustin ripped the flowers from his hands and threw them onto the ground. Veronica gasped, almost reaching to pick the bouquet back up, she wouldn't want them to be wasted. They weren't for her, though.

"Good." Dustin affirmed, smiling brightly and moving towards Steve's car. Jesus, he was too much.

"Dustin! Just slow down." Veronica admonished, raising her eyebrows in warning at the child, who spared her a teasing look. Her brows furrowed at the action, what exactly was Dustin teasing her for? Her suddenly shaking hands landed on her hips.

"Hey! What the hell is this kid doing, Ron?" Steve questioned, the girl sending him a disbelieving look. 

"He's not my property, Steve! The little shit's an uncontrollable force." The girl shot back, unhappy that she was being blamed for Dustin's rashness. She didn't have the kid on a leash, she couldn't control him. Steve huffed out a breath at his friend's rebuttal, patting her shoulder reassuringly.

He could probably tell how stressed she was. All he had to do, was look at her muddied outfit, and garner that sowmthing was awry. She was always pristine.

"Nancy isn't home." Dustin asserted, flipping open Steve's trunk and moving to shove his bike into it. Veronica's head dropped to rest in a hand, feeling a headache form.

"Where is she?" Spluttered Steve, likely feeling suspicion nip at his heels, accusation and worry dripping from him tone.

"Doesn't matter." Dustin unhelpfully supplied, his babysitter rolling her eyes and stepping in front of Steve. His eyes moved to lock with hers. Hopefully, the action would ground him, and keep that anxiety from eating at him too much.

"Karen said she's at a friend's house." Veronica reassured, smiling in relief as Steve's shoulders slumped inside his grey racer jacket.

"We have bigger problems than your love life." Dustin interrupted once again, the best friends, standing on the grass verge below him sharing disbelieving glances. Dustin was too dramatic for his own good. Everything he said, sounded like a sound-bite from a cringy action movie.

Nevertheless, Veronica mused, the situation with Dart really couldn't wait.

The girl groaned, nervously itching at her forehead beneath her bangs. "He's right." She said, Steve looking to her in alarm.

"Do you still have that bat?" Dustin hollered, Steve swivelling to shrug in the boys direction. Too much was going on for the older boy to comprehend, his arms hanging at his sides in defeat.

"Bat, what bat?" He questioned, face the picture of confusion. Veronica snorted, knowing that Steve knew exactly what Dustin was asking after. He was a good actor, unlike Hopper.

She knew that Steve kept the nail-hammered bat hidden in the back of his closet, either for preparedness, or... reminiscence. She'd caught a glimpse of it, only a night or so ago, during their movie night. It even had the demogorgan's blood still stained into the wood.

Part of her had longed to touch it, sanctify the creature's death in her mind. But, it would've been remiss, given what'd transpired with Dustin's pollywog. Maybe, that's why she didn't, recoiling and slamming the closet doors shut.

"The one with the nails." Dustin answered, teasingly waving his arms, as if he were speaking of some great weapon of old. "Ronnie told me all about it."

The girl's face burned a bright red as she felt Steve's eyes flicker to her in surprise, begrudgingly confirming Dustin's words with a shaky nod. He was going to get her into so much shit.

Mentally kicking herself, Veronica's mind raced back to one journey, with Dustin, wherein she'd spent the majority of the time emphatically retelling the story of Steve's attack on the demogorgan. It was purely objective, she swore.

"You told him about me?" Steve asked, somewhat breathlessly. Veronica nodded mindlessly in answer, eyes closed in embarrassment. If she couldn't see Dustin's smug face, then maybe he wasn't actually wearing it. Said boy cleared his throat, prompting Steve to continue, having watched the interaction with gleaming eyes. "Uh, why? Why do I need my bat?"

Veronica stepped forward, also clearing her throat. She clapped Steve on the shoulder as she passed, huffing in amusement when her friend jolted at the unexpected contact. "We'll explain on the way." She assured, heading for the BMW.

"Now?" Steve asked, somewhat dumbly. His pointer finger aimed at the ground, emphasising his words.

"Now!" Dustin screeched, hopping into the backseat, while Veronica beckoned a now running Steve up the grass and slipped into the passenger seat.

***

"Watch the car and watch the weapons, okay, Dustin?" Veronica asserted, leaning to look down at the boy, who was still sat in Steve's car, a displeased frown stamped on his face.

A hand was braced next to her, Steve glaring down at the almost-stranger in charge of watching over his precious car. Dustin gulped when he caught the look.

"Why have I got to be-"

"Cause you're a kid, man. Me and Veronica are gonna do the adult stuff and buy all the supplies." Steve interrupted, taking enjoyment in ribbing Dustin. Veronica tensed next to him. "What'll you pay with, huh? The sweeties in your purse? The lego bricks in your pocket?"

Dustin choked on a disbelieving laugh, looking to Veronica for support. She only raised her brows and shrugged, before clapping Steve on the shoulder, moving away with the older boy towards the store.

"Hey!" Dustin hollered after them, receiving an odd look from a woman walking past. He beamed up at her, the woman frowning and speeding away.

"Steve," Veronica started lowly, her friend turning to her with a slight worry written across his face. She tightened the arm looped across his shoulders, the boy turning stiff in her hold.

"Yeah?" Steve questioned, brown eyes pleading.

"I'm the only one allowed to make fun of Dustin, alright?" She scolded, feeling Steve frantically nod against her in affirmation. While it was fun to jokingly make fun of Dustin, she didn't want anyone walking all over him. He got enough of that at school, already.

"'Course, of course." Steve blabbered, lightly pushing at Veronica's side in an effort to release himself from her vice-like hold.

He knew she was strong, what with the tennis and all, swinging around that axe of hers was hardly light work, either, but he didn't realise she was hiding this much muscle.

A firm bicep nudged the back of his head. Steve chuckled at the feeling, cheeks flushing.

Veronica released him with a snort, shoving the boy away, and watching in amusement as he stumbled, as if in a daze. He chucked the girl a sheepish glance, a small smile gracing his face. She nudged his shoulder in return, lips pursed as to not let her own smile slip.

"I'll get the meat, you'll get the snacks?" Veronica mooted, taking the basket Steve lent her with a nod of thanks.

"Your word is my command, Mason."

Chapter Text

Hammer to fall played quietly from the car radio, Veronica strumming her fingers absentmindedly against the outside of the car door, the window rolled down.

Her bangs skittered across her forehead, tendrils of hair whipped around by the wind. She was far too lethargic to try pinning them down- it was cold, and her body thrummed with its last dregs of energy.

After shopping for the meat, buckets, and snacks, the clock had already struck eleven. The late hour was definitely taking its toll. Her head ached with a dull pain, and her eyes stung with dryness.

Regardless, the two boys also occupying car mysteriously buzzed with energy.

Dustin was excited to stay the night at Steve's place, so say finding the older boy 'cool', and Steve was ecstatic to be having a sleepover with Veronica. They didn't get to do them that much, anymore.

When agreeing to stay, Veronica had just wanted to make sure Dustin wasn't alone through the night, sick with the thought of leaving him in danger of Dart. Plus, it'd give her an opportunity to call home and make up an excuse for her sudden absence.

She didn't fancy being as risky with the prospect of her mom freaking out, like she had last year.

With a yawn, the girl's bleary eyes blinked slowly, a hand rising to rub at them. The attempt at rejuvenating them was in vain, her head rolling back to hit the headrest with a thud.

Once her and Dustin proved to Steve that Dart was real, she was going to have the deepest sleep of her life. She'd need it, for the undoubtably gruelling day that would follow.

Good job Steve's bed was comfy as sin. Veronica almost groaned aloud at the thought of it.

"Wait a sec. How big?" Steve questioned, tone disbelieving as he broke the calm silence blanketed over the car.

Veronica wasn't surprised at his lack of cooperation, already having guessed that her friend would have a hard time wrapping his head around a resurgence of the Upside Down.

It came with the territory, she supposed. Steve had done everything in his power to shove the events of last year down. He and Veronica had never even spoken about them- certainly not deeply.

It was all in the past, or had been. There used to be no reason to keep kicking at the dead horse, other than to sort through trauma. And Steve didn't really do that kind of thing.

"First it was like that," Dustin answered, Veronica turning to check the approximate sizes the younger boy was making with his hands, and replicating them for Steve to see from his place in the drivers seat. His lips curled in thanks. "Now, he's like this."

The girl watched with squinted eyes as Steve shook his head, dismissing Dustin's claims. "I swear to God, man, it's just some little lizard, okay?"

"Oh my God, Steve. I saw it. It's not a puny lizard." Veronica pleaded, just about ready to melt into her seat from exhaustion. Why did he have to make this so hard?

With a grunt, she leaned forward and ripped open Steve's glove compartment, fishing around inside of the dark space before grasping at a beat-up box of Marlboros.

She plucked out a cigarette and stuffed it between her lips, snatching a plastic lighter from the dashboard and flicking the flame on, igniting the tobacco. She took a long drag and blew the smoke out of the opened window.

Cigarettes weren't miracle workers, if anything, they were the opposite, but they hit the spot. Her skin didn't feel like it was about to spontaneity peel off, anymore, and her heartbeat stopped pounding in her ears, the red mist over her eyes lifting.

"How do you know?" Steve asked innocently, and the cigarette suddenly lost all of its calming qualities. She needed to start drinking herbal tea, or something.

"How do I know!?" She shouted indignantly.

"Yeah, how do you know if it's not just a lizard!?" Steve hollered back, one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel, while the other waved around frantically in tandem his words. He groaned and rolled his eyes, pausing. "It's not a stupid question, Ron-"

"His face opened up and he ate my cat." Dustin interrupted from the back, slicing through the growing tension in the car and finally delivering an answer.

Steve slowed his frantic movements to a stop and shook his head once again. His eyes closed, mentally sorting through what he'd just heard, before wordlessly opening them wide and focusing back on driving. Veronica felt like she'd just watched his brain explode.

Maybe she had, but she didn't care. He'd finally listened, that's what was important. She could take his quiet as a win, for now.

With a raucous sigh, she nestled her cigarette back between her lips and dragged. She needed some sleep.

***

Arriving back at Dustin's house, after a quick stop at Steve's to grab his bat, Veronica hopped out of the older boy's BMW.

The frigid midnight air slithered under her layers of thick clothes and chilled her goose-pimpled skin, folding her arms protectively over herself as she rounded the back of the car. Coming to a stop, she dropped her cigarette and crushed it beneath the sole of her trainer.

Steve popped open the trunk and lifted his infamous bat from it, twirling the lethal weapon in a strong hand. A smirk wormed its way onto Veronica's face at the sight- she'd enjoy watching him decimate Dart with it, just as he'd done the demogorgan last year.

Dustin looked up at the boy with stars in his eyes. Steve, catching the awed stare, blinked, and quickly slammed the trunk closed, heading in the direction of what he could only guess were the basement doors. The loops upon loops of chains around the door handles probably gave it away.

Stalling in front of the large doors, Dustin flicked his torch on, illuminating the swathes of mud lining the entrance. They hadn't made trapping Dart a very clean job, had they?

Steve grunted, creased face glowering. "I don't hear shit." He grumbled, tapping the top of his bloodied bat on the metal doors. The trio waited with bated breath, listening for any signs of life within the basement. Silence was all that was sent back. Damning silence.

"He's in there." Dustin attempted to reassure, fumbling to try and place the torch suavely behind his ear. He failed, the large object tumbling to the floor. Veronica quickly bent and picked it up, snatching it away from Dustin with a disappointed glance, before he could muddy the item further.

"Maybe he's taking a little nap, Harrington." She supplied, eyebrows raised. She had no idea what Dart could be doing in there, his silence honestly a little unsettling. But, there was no sign of escape, and they'd locked him in good. The creature was in there, and they were going to kill it.

"Like hell those things sleep." Steve rebuffed, hitting the basement doors, to no avail, once again. Angered at a lack of proof, he span, angling his own torch to shine directly into Dustin's eyes.

The boy shrieked as he was blinded, hands flying to protect his eyes, while Veronica guffawed at the action. She was still prone to enjoying the odd bit of bullying, every now and again.

"Alright, listen, kid. I swear if this is some kind of Halloween prank, you're dead."

"It's not!" Dustin squeaked, moving to cower behind his babysitter. Veronica swatted at the boys hands as they attempted to grasp onto her jacket for support.

"And, Ron, I can't believe that you're letting a freakin' kid control you." Steve added, flicking his torch once again, this time blinding Veronica with the offending beam of light.

"Jesus Christ!" She squawked, lowering her head and covering her eyes with her jacketed forearm. It wasn't so funny when she was the one being blinded. "Why're you being such a dick, Steve?"

"It's not a prank! Get out of my- our face!" Dustin demanded, sighing in relief when Steve dropped his torch to safely face the ground. Glowering at him, Veronica snatched the torch from Steve's hold and stuffed it into her belt. He only rolled his eyes petulantly in response.

"You got a key for this thing?" He muttered, pointing to the basement and nodding in thanks as Dustin shot him a thumbs up. The boy began routing a fist around his pockets for the item, tossing out sweet wrappers and receipts onto the ground before holding the key triumphantly high in the air.

Veronica and Steve shared an brief, amused look, the older boy reaching over to snatch the key from Dustin's fist.

With a grunt, he dropped to untie the reams of chains wrapped around the handles, Veronica clearing her throat awkwardly as he struggled for a good few minutes. Maybe her and Dustin had gotten slightly carried away.

Finally having wrenched the heavy doors open, the trio peered down the dark chasm of the basement, nervous energy buzzing amongst them.

Dustin and Veronica shared a worried glance, both of them fearful over the clear lack of Dart amongst the darkness. To no avail, he shakily flung his torch from one wall of the basement to another, having pinched it back from her, the light catching on no sign of the Upside Down creature.

"Let me see that." Steve grumbled, swiping the torch from Dustin's hands and inspecting the chasm himself. His search turned up nothing.

What the fuck? They left Dart here. They locked him inside. Where on Earth had he snuck off too? Veronica tried not to get too nervous, swallowing down a hint of bile that festered at the back of her throat, but the taste lingered. If they were going to kill the little bastard, she needed to be calm. Not whatever this was.

Sighing, Steve stood, shooting her a disgruntled look. She rolled her eyes in response.

She knew she hadn't dreamt Dart up. She couldn't have. The monster was down there somewhere, damnit. They'd just have to go down and look for it themselves. No big deal. Totally not.

"He must be further down there." Dustin aired, creeping gradually away from the opening.

Veronica nodded, humming. He hadn't gone anywhere, he couldn't have. "Probably hiding in a corner like he was, earlier." She supplied. Knowing their luck, Dart had hidden himself away in the darkest corner of the basement. Her face soured at the thought. Sneaky bastard.

"I'll stay up here in case he tries to... escape." Decided Dustin shakily. Veronica snorted, patting the boy on the head. She was more than happy for him to stay out of harms way, while she and Steve figured out where Dart had concealed himself.

"Swell." She affirmed, turning to Steve with a determined smirk and tilting her head in the direction of the descending stairs." Head down together?"

Steve frowned, his lips pursing. After a pause, he shook his head in disagreement. "No, no, no. No way, Ron." He asserted, raising his hand as if to stop her from moving further. "Not a chance in hell I'm letting you down there."

The girls eyes bulged in outrage, her hands chucked up into the cold air in utter disbelief. "What the hell, Steve? You can't just banish me up here." Who did he think he was, bossing her around like this? She could hold her own just fine. He was the one that couldn't even land a good hit on Jonathan, not her. She'd totally paste him.

"Try me. Stay up here with the kid. Make sure he doesn't, like, run off, or something weird." Dustin's face scrunched at Steve's comment, looking to Veronica to defend his honour once again.

"I've fought the monster more than you." She hissed, stepping closer, breaching her friend's personal space, glaring up at him challengingly.

She didn't know exactly how much fighting she'd actually done, she'd only met the damned thing twice, but she'd landed a few good hits. If Steve wanted to deny that, then, well, he could have as much fun with Dart as he wanted. He stared down at her, his expression equally stony, hands settled resolutely on his jutted hips. His eyes flicked down to her soft, painted lips for a second, forcing her to blink away the torrent of embarrassing thoughts that flowed at the action.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, despite her internal fluster, Dustin's wide eyes flicking between the two suspiciously.

"Fine," Steve grumbled after their brief stare-down, his rigid form deflating. Prying his eyes away from Veronica's face, which he'd realised wasn't so bad to stare at, soured his loss ever further. The girl turned to Dustin, high-fiving him in victory, before Steve cleared his throat and spoke up again. "Just, for the love of God, babe, stay behind me, alright?"

Veronica blinked, her cheeks blazing at Steve's use of a pet name. Babe? Really? "O- okay." She stammered, looking away from his eyes, which felt as if they were boring into her soul. Maybe they were.

Maybe they could read all of her disgusting thoughts, maybe he'd figured her out, and was about it cast her into Dart's jaws, for it. She hoped not, she really did, but Steve was annoyingly good at all this romance bullshit. He probably sniffed her out before she'd even realised herself.

Sniffing, she pulled her axe free from its holster, and lifted it to hover vigilantly at shoulder height, both hands wrapped securely around it. Squeezing the life out of the handle gave her mind something to channel its multiple, raging emotions into.

She was not finding Steve hot. She couldn't.

"Wait for my signal?" Said boy mooted, Veronica nodding and staying put at the entrance, while he tentatively descended the concrete staircase into complete darkness.

The shadows unnervingly began to swallow his crouched form, Veronica watching on with her bottom lip between her teeth.

She felt a tug at her sleeve, turning to find Dustin looking up at her expectantly. "Did he just call you babe?" He whispered, a smirk spread across his small face.

"Yeah, happens sometimes, you know? Slip of the tongue." Veronica assured, grimacing at the boy's gross expression and turning back around.

It never really happened. Sure, things between her and Steve had been confusing for a while. Only on her end, though. Plus, he never called her stuff like that. Maybe she'd just failed to notice it until now, or something, as she'd never been so hyper-fixated on everything about him before. She'd never been attracted to him, before.

God, that felt wrong to think about. 

What was it about him that even got her going? Was it the movie-star hair, or the boyish charm? Those aspects of Steve were only fickle, anyways. Did that mean her feelings were just that, fickle? Wavering, fleeting, there for now, only to be gone by tomorrow? She hoped so.

"Uh huh. Totally." Hummed Dustin, his eyebrows lifting up and down suggestively. Veronica groaned at the action.

"Whatever you're insinuating, twerp, I don't wanna hear it. Shut your damn mouth." She admonished, jabbing an angry finger in Dustin's face to prove her point. The boy only smirked wider, stepping back slightly to avoid losing an eye. He revelled in teasing her, just as much as she did him.

"No can do, I'm afraid. There's too much going on for me not to comment on. I feel like a third wheel, like a child watching their parents be all kissy and gross."

Veronica snorted, smacking her hand over the entirety of Dustin's face and shoving him away. He screeched in protest, arms flailing. "I'm tuning you out."

"You can't do that. It's physically impossible." The boy shot back, wrenching Veronica's arm away and readjusting his cap to rest correctly on top of his head, again. The girl stood silently next him, eyes fixed on the basement. "Hey!" Dustin squawked, after getting no reaction.

Suddenly, a bang clattered out of the basement, the two stood at the entrance jumping at the sudden sound.

"Steve?" Veronica nervously hollered out, stepping slowly into the darkness, axe poised. She bit at her bottom lip, praying to whichever God there was, that Steve hadn't been pounced on by Dart.

"Is he okay? Steve?" Dustin shouted, peering down as far as he could lean. "Steve, what's going on down there?"

A beam of torch light flicked up from the bottom of the staircase, Steve's eyes flitting between Veronica, who froze in shock, and Dustin, his features firm. "Get down here." He demanded, turning back into obscurity. Had he found Dart?

Veronica nodded at Dustin, the boy hopping into action and following behind the weapon wielding girl. She slowly descended the barely visibly stairs, step by agonising step.

As they neared the bottom, the abyss gave way to soft lamp light, Steve having flicked on a bulb.

He stood with his bat held out loosely in front of him, a gross, dripping sheet of what looked to be skin hanging from the end of it.

"What the shit?" Veronica breathed out, lowering her axe to stand by Steve, and share a confused glance with him. Was this Dart's skin? Had he malted, and grown again?

It was thin, translucent, and scaly, exactly the type of skin that Dart would look to shed. Did that mean he was closer to the size of a fully grown demogorgan, now? Veronica's spine shivered at the thought of having to face one again, having convinced herself that she'd put that fight to bed a year ago.

"Ah shit." Dustin groaned from behind them, having caught sight of the slimy skin.

Steve cleared his throat, and angled his torch light to shine into the far left side of the basement, where the bricks had been ripped apart and a tunnel extended from. Dirt and roots were scattered across the floor, sprinkled with chunks of cement.

Holy shit.

Dart had burrowed his way out.

Just how strong, and big, had he grown?

"Oh, shit!" Dustin screeched, moving forward to get a closer look.

Veronica placed a protective hand on his shoulder, moving with him, Steve following, to approach the tunnel. The trio crouched before it, Veronica's eyes squinting at it in disbelief. How were they supposed to deal with Dart, now?

Just hope and pray that he'd take the bait?

Dustin shook his head, glaring down the tunnel. "No way. No way."

***

Veronica trundled down the softly lit upstairs hallway of the Harrington residence, passing spare bedrooms, an office, and three cupboards, on her meandering path to Steve's room.

The stone-blue painted walls were lined with shelves, covered in sports trophies, and photo frames, some featuring Steve as a kid, and others Mr and Mrs Harrington when they were much younger.

Soon, she arrived at Steve's bedroom door, knocking softly and entering after a muffled "you're good" sounded from behind it.

"He's settled in, for now." Veronica greeted, referring Dustin, who'd gleefully accepted the offer to sleep the night away in a spare bedroom. It even had a double bed, with a delightfully thick duvet, extra blankets, and fluffy pillows, and its own ensuite bathroom.

It just needed an oven, and a fridge, and it'd be a home within a home.

Steve snorted, opening up his wardrobe and shifting through the many shirts hung up, looking for one Veronica could wear while sleeping. "You sound like his mom." He joked, tossing the girl a grey T-shirt.

Having already showered and changed into a loose shirt and a pair of joggers in Veronica's absence, the older boy flopped onto his bed, groaning into his pillows in bliss.

"Don't compare me to Mrs Henderson, Steve, that's insulting. To her." Veronica replied, moving to Steve's own ensuite, and pulling the door closed, just shy of shutting it completely. She wanted to be able to hear him, while she changed.

"What's so bad about you, Mason?" Steve huffed, rolling over and onto his back, staring up at his ceiling. Now that he thought about it, nothing was really bad about Veronica, at all.

At that musing, his eyes drifted from the ceiling and towards to bathroom door, wide brown irises flying away when they caught sight of the girl's almost naked back.

Steve's cheeks flushed, embarrassed and ashamed. He wasn't about to creep on her. He'd never. Ever. Despite the almost magnetising pull between his eyes and the forbidden sight.

The girl paused her movements, having stripped off her jacket and pink sweater. Tired eyes caught the three horrific scratches etched into the skin of her stomach in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.  "You know what's bad about me, Steve." She mumbled, quickly shoving the gifted T-shirt over her head and wriggling out of her jeans.

"Hey. None of that, alright?" She heard Steve lightly reprimand, the bed creaking as he sat up, catching her saddened tone. Silence waned between the two of them for a while, Steve opting to tentatively break it. They couldn't not talk about this forever. "Is, is this about Jacob?" He breached, Veronica's face crumpling at the question.

She gulped, dropping to sit on the closed toilet seat. A shaking hand dragged itself through her knotted hair. Were they really doing this? Talking? "Maybe." Veronica murmured.

Steve shifted again, moving to the edge of the bed, his leg jumping with anxiety. "You wanna talk about it?"

Veronica's throat closed up, her lungs tightened. This is what she'd wanted, what she'd needed. Keeping it all inside, the guilt, the shame, the terror, was too much. It ate away at her every time she clocked her scars in the mirror, or she caught a whisper of Jacobs name.

Only, she didn't deserve a reprieve from it all. She didn't deserve liberation, in the form of a shoulder to cry on. She deserved all the pain that ground her down, every single day. She always would.

"No. I'd- I'd rather not." Was the reply that weaselled its way out of her bitten lips, eyes closing as shame consumed her. She didn't deserve Steve's concern, either.

"Okay. Another time." The boy reassured softly, lying back down on the bed, tiredness starting to consume him. It'd been a long day, for all of them. "C'mon, Ron, get your ass in here." He moaned, patting the spot beside him impatiently.

"We're not thirteen, anymore, Steve." Veronica laughed, poking her head out from beside the door. She looked pointedly at Steve, sprawled out and almost comatose on the bed. "Plus, I need some shorts, or something. I'm not sleeping in my jeans."

"Oh, on it." Steve grunted, prying himself from the bed quickly, as if ripping off a band aid.

He made his way over to a chest of drawers, pulling open a compartment and rummaging around inside of it until he found a suitable pair. He tossed them to Veronica, the girl barely catching them in time before they fell to the floor, out of her reach.

"I may have a new mattress," Steve started, flipping a corner of the duvet off of the bed and crawling under it. "But I can assure you, it's still just as comfy. The bed's got me in it, after all."

Veronica snorted, shimmying into her sleep pants for the night. The plaid pair of pyjama pants were garish, but comfortable nonetheless. They were probably a gift from Steve's mom. "God, you're terrible." The girl said, finally emerging from the ensuite and making her way over to the bed.

"Yeah, but you love me." Steve teased, sticking his legs out and kicking at Veronica. She shrieked, and leapt out of the way before the attack could land. He looked up at her with fond, sparkling eyes, while she laughed. It was nice seeing Veronica like this— less dolled-up; more natural, more relaxed. Care-free.

She'd always been a pretty girl, a really, really pretty one, Steve supposed, he'd just never really realised it, until now. How on Earth had he managed, that?

Slowly, as if preparing for another strike, the girl made her way under the bedding, snuggling into the delightfully comfy sheets.

Thank God, she mused, the bed was still to die for.

Chapter Text

Soft beams of light streamed into the peaceful bedroom, the puffs of gentle, rested breathing, the only sound resonating around the space.

Situated against the right-hand wall, the double bed was a beacon of warmth, the two bodies bundled up under the covers, toasty and safe from the biting, winter air.

Veronica, wrapped up in her sleepy haze, snuggled further into a suspiciously airy and ticklish pillow, awakening with a barely-there huff of laughter as the sensation brushed the tip of her nose.

Enjoying the feeling, she nuzzled further into it, pausing as her face rubbed against a firm surface hiding behind the plush pillow.

With a a jolt, she realised it was a skull. And the pillow was hair. Steve's hair.

Flinging in herself away, Veronica glued herself to the cold, far end of the bed with an aghast expression slapped against her sheet-wrinkled face, clutching a portion of the duvet and hiding behind it.

A good distance away from the cocoon of un-platonic energy that enveloped Steve, the girl peaked out from behind her shield of duvet, breathing out in relief to find Steve sleeping, undisturbed.

Why couldn't she be normal, around him, recently? Why couldn't her body be normal around him, recently? Had she seriously developed something, for him?

The questions flew around Veronica's head in a flurry, the girl flopping down onto her back with a raucous, defeated sigh.

The thoughts sent a shiver tearing down her spine. It was wrong. It just couldn't be true. Steve was her best friend. Had been for years. She didn't like him like that. Never had, never would. But, here she was, a flustered, frazzled mess, while Steve slept like a baby, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

With a sigh, she mused that, hopefully, it was just her loneliness acting up. That's probably what it was.  She hadn't been involved with anyone for over a year, now, it was only fair that her body would start crying out for the touch of, or connection with, someone— anyone.

Even Steve, the boy who'd she first met when she was eight, and kickstarted their almost decade long friendship by gifting her a pencil, of all things. A pencil, which, she may or may not have kept, squirrelled away under her bed in a memory box. And that wasn't just because it was pink and sparkly.

Regardless, she could never entertain these feelings, of hers. Feelings which, may or may not even be legitimate. She just needed a good fuck, or something.

Steve was beyond smitten with Nancy, and undoubtedly only saw Veronica as a friend. Even if he had called her babe, yesterday... which was just a slip of the tongue, just like she'd told Dustin.

Plus, Veronica knew, no matter how much it hurt to admit, that she was nowhere near ready for another relationship.

Jacob still haunted her every step. Did she really deserve to go on, and love another, while he rotted, forever alone?

The girl's heart sunk at the thought, body suddenly hot, and itching to free itself from the now confining duvet and blankets.

How dare she even think of getting with someone else, after what she'd done? She should never be afforded that kindness. It'd be an injustice— more so, even, that what'd already been dealt.

To move on, would be to disrespect, and insult, his memory. His death.

Breaking Veronica out of her reveries, Steve stirred, groaning and stealing some duvet as he rolled over, Veronica watching with a sorry smile as the boy blinked open his bleary, dry eyes, and sent her a smile of his own.

God, it was hardly a surprise that she'd fallen for him.

Even in the throngs of early morning grossness, Steve still looked swoon-worthy. His clear skin glowed, the intensity of his eyes was unbridled by the sleepy haze that naturally glazed them, and his hair was magically voluminous, as always.

Some strands kissed his forehead, Veronica huffing out a laugh as he pulled a hand free from the swathes of blankets and swiped it across the skin, then his scalp, seeking the perfect look even when half-asleep.

She realised, in that moment, that Steve didn't need to do his hair, use his surprisingly feminine Farah Fawcett spray, to look perfect. He just did.

Veronica's eyes mindlessly dropped to his lips, squawking and giggling when Steve quickly moved to flick her forehead.

"My eyes are up here, Mason." The boy teased, pulling himself up, the top half of his body hovering over Veronica's.

She blinked up at him, a blush having flooded the entirety of her face. She must've looked like a tomato. She felt warm all over.

"Oh, really?" She grinned, snapping out of her flustered state and jabbing her knuckles into his gut, cackling and escaping from the bed, while Steve groaned and fell forward into the pillows, face scrunched in pain.

"Jesus, you're evil."

The girl snorted, and flipped Steve the middle finger as she fled to the ensuite bathroom, quickly locking the door behind her.

With a sigh, she slid down the wood, and fell to the tiled floor.

It'd be hard, but she could get through this. She could grin and bear it, pretend as if she wasn't harbouring feelings for her best friend, as if everything he did, didn't send sparks popping along the surface of her skin.

Looking at Steve wasn't so hard, after all. There were much worse punishments, out there.

***

With a grimace, Steve peered into the trunk of his car, sharing a pleading look with Veronica before dropping his hands inside and begrudgingly pulling out his trusty, yellow kitchen gloves.

Here they were again, he considered, involving themselves in something so much bigger than they ever should.

Snapping the plastic on, he turned to watch in amusement as the girl at his side followed suit, smiling and shaking his head at her pink pair.

Even amongst this shit-show, Veronica managed to stay true to herself.

She'd rushed around, that morning, showering, doing her hair, and fixing her face with an emergency make-up pouch she always kept at Steve's.

It was endearing, if not vain. It was Veronica.

"You ready?" He broached, passing her a heavy bucket of meat chunks, courtesy of the local butchers. She accepted the bait with a nod of thanks, dropping it onto the gravelly forest track at her feet.

Veronica pulled her axe free from the trunk, twirling the weapon in her dominant hand, examining the blade. It looked sharpened, freshly so, glinting in the subdued, winter sunlight.

Steve had no doubt that she paid it special attention, the long handle seemingly stained with a dark varnish. It wasn't that colour, last year. It used to be a light, sanded shade. He'd never forget it.

The vision of Veronica powerfully swinging her weapon into the monster, over and over again, while he watched helplessly from the door, must've been seared into his brain.

A deplorable shiver ran down his spine at the reminiscence— the Christmas lights dancing across her skin, the copious blood coating her.

God, it was tantalising, seeing that side of her.

Shamefully, he hoped to see it again, soon, bask in her power. It was a privilege, only he and a few lucky others got to indulge in.

A small part of Steve longed to be the only one, who got to behold that part of Veronica.

His skin prickled at the thought, mindlessly pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it.

"More than ever." She grinned, slamming the trunk shut, having pulled out all they needed during Steve's musings.

The loud bang from the action pulled the boy from his thoughts, Steve blinking away the images of his best friend that had infested his brain against his will.

What had gotten into him? Was it weird, to think of Veronica, like that? As alluring? She was his best friend, and he had Nancy, who'd he fought tooth and nail for, over the past year. He loved Nancy, no one else compared.

Then again, that chapter of his life seemed to be coming to a natural close, anyways. Nancy couldn't even pretend to love him, anymore. Couldn't being herself to say it.

The reminder that he'd probably been strung along for a whole year made Steve's stomach sink. He really did not want to think about that, right now.

There were more pressing maters, beginning to pile up on his plate.

"What about you, Harrington? Ready to kill this monster bastard? He'll probably go for you, first. Dustin told me he's got a thing for jocks who wear sunglasses in the middle of winter." Veronica jested, her dark eyes flicking to lock with Steve's.

"Ha, ha, Mason." He sarcastically replied, catching Dustin talking to someone down his headset out of the corner of his eye.

The kid was definitely weird, and wore nerdy clothes. And spoke like a nerd.

But, Veronica cared about him, and, Steve supposed, he was kind of endearing. He was just a kid, after all. It was a shame that he was wrapped up in all of this, too.

"You'll be changing your tune when I have to save your ass again, trust me." Steve added, levelling Veronica with a prideful look, an eyebrow raised in expectation. He dramatically pulled off his sunglasses, and folded them, slotting an arm of the accessory under the top of his jacket to rest them there. "You'll be like: thank you so much Stevie, you're my hero!"

The boy added to his insulting impression of her with flailing hand movements, and faux swishes of his imaginary, long hair. If only, Veronica internally wondered, Steve realised that he also religiously flicked his hair.

Moving to barely kiss the tip of her axe to Steve's chest, the girl guffawed, Steve pausing and gulping. His wide and unblinking eyes flicked between her wolfish smirk and the blade.

His heart stuttered, an unwelcome blush rising to his cheeks.

What was she doing, to him?

"We'll see about that." Veronica said slyly, moving to pick up her bucket, seemingly oblivious to the internal meltdown she'd just sent Steve spiralling into.

Had he seriously just gotten flustered, by her threatening him? What was wrong, with him?

First, he'd almost creeped on her getting changed, last night, and now this.

With a sniff, Steve determined that he needed to pull himself together. Otherwise, this could get out of hand.

"Meet me, Ronnie and Steve at the old junkyard." Dustin demanded into his microphone, struggling to pull on his own, yellow gloves.

Veronica snorted, he and Steve had a matching pair. It was kind of cute.

"Alright, let's go." Steve said, having pulled himself together. Moving away from their makeshift base of operations and towards the abandoned train tracks, he huffed. They'd planned, last night, to plant the meat chunks and start luring Dart to the abandoned junkyard, from there. Hopefully, it'd work. It needed to.

"Just be there stat," Dustin demanded. "Over and out"

***

"Alright, so let me get this straight." Steve started, chucking down meat chunks as he walked.

He was side by side with Veronica, the girl covering ground that he missed, a cigarette hanging from her lips. She rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. This was going to be interesting. Steve and Dustin hadn't had much opportunity to get to know each other, yet. The girl hoped it wouldn't end in tears.

"You kept something you knew was probably dangerous, in order to impress a girl who, who you just met?" Steve questioned, staring at the back of Dustin's head in confusion.

"Alright, that's grossly over simplifying things." The younger boy defended, angrily throwing down his own bait.

Veronica snorted, switching the bucket to her dominant hand, while the other rose to pluck the cigarette from between her lips. "Yeah, don't beat him up too much, Steve. Dustin actually met her a whole two days before. That's plenty of time." She commented slyly, watching in amusement as Dustin swivelled, levelling her with a disgruntled glare.

How was she supposed to stop making fun of him, when he made it so enjoyable?

"Hey! You encouraged me to go after her!" He screeched, a heat rising to his small cheeks.

"Not like this, Dustin." Veronica replied, her tone conveying a dramatized disappointment. It really was stupid of Dustin to have kept Dart, even more so to try and impress Max with the creature.

While inter-dimensional stuff could be kind of cool, to the right people, and impressive, it could also be very dangerous. What if Dustin had gifted his crush it, and Dart had eaten her, instead of Mews? That would've been an interesting conversation.

Steve choked out a laugh beside Veronica, pausing and blinking in exaggerated disbelief. "Stop, stop, stop. You're telling me that you're taking dating advice from her?" He threw a gloved thumb in the girl's direction, her jaw dropping at the implication of his words.

What was that supposed to mean?

Was he referring to how her last relationship lasted? She doubted that Steve would be that blatantly ignorant.

Was it because of her year long strike of celibacy?

Probably.

Damn Steve and the bounty of notches on his bedpost.

"Yeah?" Dustin replied, uncertain. His eyes flicked between the two older teens opposite him, suspicious once again. They were so... engaged. He felt like he was watching one of his mom's cringey TV dramas.

"No wonder you're getting all these bad ideas, man; you're getting advice from the wrong person." Steve elaborated, Dustin's eyebrows shooting up in surprise, while Veronica huffed out a disbelieving laugh, fixing Steve with blazing eyes.

Her teeth glinted wolfishly, and Steve turned to match her challenging look with a prideful one of his own.

"What's so wrong with me giving dating advice, Steven?" Dustin 'ooooed' at Veronica's use of her best friend's full, first name. The boy doubted it was used very often, unless for reprimanding reasons.

He almost felt fearful for Steve, whose expression suddenly turned pleading, the older boy's eyes flicking to Dustin's and screaming help me.

"Oh, no. No, no, no!" Steve rattled out, hands flying to shake away the accusation in Veronica's tone. She only grinned wider, enjoying watching him squirm under her scrutiny. "It's just that, that I'm right here, and, you know, I've got the most experience."

"Uh huh," she noncommittally hummed, taking another drag of her cigarette and lightly bowing the smoke into Steve's face. He spluttered, and shoved at her shoulders, fighting fits of choked  laughter with a plastered on frown.

"Jesus," he croaked, waving away the smoke with a hand. "Ron. I told you to stop that years-"

"Yeah, Yeah," she dismissed, crushing her cigarette between her gloved fingers and sprinkling the ash onto the tracks. Maybe, Dart would like the taste of it, his strict diet of cow and cat, diversified. Probably not. She hoped he'd choke on it. "Come on, King Steve. Impart your wisdom to Dustin."

Steve nodded, turning to fix Dustin with a determined look. It seemed as if he were taking his role as dating advisor very seriously.

Dustin wasn't complaining. Everyone in Hawkins, and likely a little beyond, had caught wind of Steve's magical ability to woo women.

If Dustin could learn even just a few of his tricks, it'd surely be enough to get Max to fall in love with him, and they could play DigDug together, forever.

"Well," Steve began, resuming his laying of bait for Dart. Veronica silently watched on, lagging behind the two, and following Steve's lead. "Even if she thought the lizard was cool, man, which she didn't, I... I just— I don't know, I feel like you're trying way too hard, you know?"

Despite Steve's tentative delivery, Veronica still spied the darkening of Dustin's expression, the younger boy's head drooping between his shoulders. "Not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?" He bit, tossing an angry look behind him to Steve.

The older boy blinked, shocked, while Veronica leaped forward to ruffled at Dustin's curly hair, stuffed under his hat.

He squawked in surprise and shoved her hand away, grunting when the older girl disagreed, and declared that his hair was perfect.

"It's not about the hair, man." Steve reasoned, Dustin turning to look at him with bated curiosity. "The key with girls is just, just acting like you don't care."

Veronica snorted in disbelief, shaking her head. That may have worked for Steve on some girls, but, it didn't work on the only girl that ever mattered, Nancy.

It certainly wouldn't work on Veronica, either. She liked Steve attentive. Because that's how he really was. And she loved that, about him.

A genuine connection required care, Dustin wouldn't get anywhere by acting suave. The pain that came with putting on a façade wouldn't exactly bode well.

"Even if you do?" Dustin questioned, mood lightening.

As much as it hurt Veronica to watch the boy be lead astray, she could stomach it, so long as he started smiling again, and Steve didn't let things get too out of hand.

While he was a reformed womaniser, he wasn't disrespectful to women— at least, not anymore.

The Steve of last year had no problem publicly declaring his girlfriend a slut, whereas, the new Steve, would likely start fitting if the defamation was even breathed in the direction of a woman he was involved with.

How things change. And, God, was Veronica glad for change.

Yeah, she could trust Steve for now.

"Exactly, drives 'em nuts." Steve affirmed, smirking. Veronica's stomach fluttered at the action, cheeks flushing. She looked away, scowling into the trees, and shoving the flustered feeling down.

Dustin nodded along eagerly, hanging on the older boy's words. It was sweet, how quickly he was coming to admire Steve. "Then, what?" He questioned.

"You just wait until, uh... until you feel it." Supplied Steve, smacking Dustin knowingly on his shoulder with the back of his hand, so as to not cover the boy's jacket in meat residue.

"Feel what?"

"It's like before it's gonna storm, you know?" Steve broached, eyes dropping to the ground thoughtfully, plush lips pursed. "You cant see it, but you can feel it. It's like this, uh, electricity, you know?"

Veronica knew. She knew it all too well. She felt it every time she and Steve jokingly butted heads. She felt it whenever he got too close, and whenever he spoke too lowly.

Damnit. She was a goner.

Dustin blinked up at Steve innocently, brows furrowed. Then, realisation settled over his features. "Oh," he mused, "like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere-"

He was too cute.

"No, no, no, no, no. Like a, like a sexual electricity." Steve supplied, Veronica grimacing out loud, and sending her friend an unimpressed look. Did Steve really have to use that kind of language, with a thirteen year old?

The older boy's simply shrugged, and turned to acknowledge whatever his pupil's response would be.

Veronica had made a mistake, allowing the two to interact. She should've kept them isolated. God knows what disaster would come of this.

"Oh," Dustin began, "like what was happening between you guys yesterday? When we were at the basement-"

Veronica guffawed at the boy's words, once again turning that shade of neon tomato. Was she really that obvious? Or, did he mean, that it looked like Steve as reciprocating? There was no way.

"Ew! Dustin. No. Stop!" She screeched, glaring at the boy while he grinned knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows in her direction. Little shit.

"No, man!" Steve hurried out, talking over Veronica, equally flustered. "God. That was just... that was friendly. There's a major, major, distinction, man."

The girl nodded profusely, "Yeah, yeah. 'Cause we're just friends." Her gloved hand pointed back and forth between her body and Steve's, a nervous smile spread wide across her aching cheeks.

She was going to die here. It wouldn't be the Upside Down stuff, and it wouldn't be the cigarettes— it would be getting called out for having a crush. How pathetic.

"What's the distinction?" Probed Dustin, his hunt for knowledge untamed.

Steve paused, looking to Veronica for help. She could only shrug, far too frazzled to form cohesive thoughts. Looking away, she bit her lip, removing herself from the conversation.

"Well, uh..." Steve stammered, eyes flicking to the sky to think.

What was stopping his interactions with Veronica from breaching romantic territory?

Had they, already?

Dustin seemed to think so.

And yet, the girl had been adamant that they were just platonic, nothing more.

Steve's chest ached inexplicably at the thought. Why did that prospect hurt so much? Was he seriously starting to develop something for her?

Deciding that it wasn't worth making himself sick over, at least, not in that moment, Steve cleared his throat, and steered the conversation back on track. "Anyways, you feel that, and then you make your move."

"That's when you kiss her?" Dustin questioned, Veronica's eyes bulging out of her skull at his words.

"Whoa!" She hollered, taking a step back and raising her arms in surprise.

"No, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Romeo." Steve similarly exclaimed, the two older teens sharing equally amused and perplexed looks.

Dustin, embarrassed, let out a small "sorry," and kicked at a pile of leaves coating the tracks. It wasn't his fault that he was so bad, at this stuff. Veronica felt a tug on her heart strings at the mumble.

"Sure, okay, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a... I don't know, like a lion."

Dustin hummed at Steve's words, while Veronica tired hard not to create mental images of them. Of Steve. Hot and heavy.

She was going insane.

Deciding she couldn't bear the torture, anymore, she sped ahead, past Dustin and Steve, to her own section of the track, where she could be alone and ground herself. Otherwise, she'd melt right into the forest floor.

Steve followed the girls sudden departure with his eyes, blinking away confusion that settled over him. He hadn't actually upset her, earlier, had he?

"But, uh, others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy. Like uh, like a Ninja." He continued for the kid's sake, not wanting to have two mopey people on his hands.

Dustin nodded, before pausing to think. "What type of girl is Ronnie?" He broached, looking to Steve with thinly veiled mischief glinting in his eyes.

"Ron?" Steve barked, not expecting the boy's question. God, where could he even start? "She's... I don't know, she a little different, from the other girls. I don't really know how she works, if I'm being honest."

"But she's your best friend." Questioned Dustin, an eyebrow arched in suspicion. "If not a little more." He purred, a grin spreading across his features.

Steve groaned, frowning and chucking his head back to look pleadingly up at the sky. Why was he being tortured, today? "Shut it, Henderson. I don't need you getting on my ass about that, too. We're just friends. That's it."

"So, I'm not even the only one who sees something?" The younger boy dug deeper, Steve's despair only growing.

No. He wasn't.

"Get her. Before I do."

Steve sighed, his head dropping to hang lowly between his shoulders. "I don't wanna hear it, man, so just shut your damn mouth." He grunted, throwing down more meat, the chunks hitting the wooden tracks with a harsh slap.

"Alright, alright." Dustin quietly responded, quickly looking away.

Damn it. Had he been to harsh?

Steve's chest ached with guilt, itching at his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. What could he say, to make Dustin smile again? The kid was cool, he didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Steve's bitchiness.

To add to his guilt, his eyes caught Veronica's, the girl stopping to look behind her with a glare, sending beams of anger straight into Steve's skull.

Did she have a detector, going off every time the kid got upset? Or had she heard their conversation? He hoped it was the former option.

"Fabergé." Steve muttered quietly, pulling his eyes away from Veronica's threatening ones and dropping them to the ground. He didn't want to look at Dustin, when he revealed the secret of his hair.

"What?" The younger boy questioned, unfamiliar with the brand.

"It's Fabergé Organics." Steve supplied, gesturing to his hair before throwing down some more meat. "Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair's damp, not wet, okay? When it's damp... you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray."

A small grin began to spread across Dustin's lips, eyes glinting. "The Farrah Fawcett spray?" He giggled, fixing Steve with an awed look.

"Yeah. You tell anyone I just told you that, and your ass is grass. You're dead, Henderson. Do you understand?"

"No one's ass is anything, Steve." Veronica interrupted, throwing herself back into the fray after successfully bringing herself back down to Earth. She could look at Steve without spontaneously combusting, for now. "Except for mine. Because it's fabulous. Anyways, let's go, losers, we've got a monster to kill."

The two boys shared a look, before following after Veronica, who skipped ahead.

Chapter Text

Cresting the small, grassy hill overlooking the junkyard, the trio came to a stop, examining the site where their plan would come to fruition.

To the far, right-hand side of the yard, an abandoned school bus lay, rusted and barely wearing the signature shade of yellow it would have in its prime.

That'd make for a good base, Veronica internally mused. Holing up in there and waiting out Dart hardly sounded like the worst thing.

She could sit herself down, maybe have a nap, maybe have a smoke— anything, to pass the time.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, this'll do." Steve announced, nodding at the sight in front of him and vocalising Veronica's thoughts.

From her place at the side of him, she watched him in thinly veiled adoration.

A soft breeze ruffled his thick hair, and his shoulders looked impressively broad beneath his grey jacket, their width accentuated by the small backpack and respective straps that he donned.

Gloved fingers flexed at Veronica's side, the urge to feel at his shoulders for herself, and learn whether they were as firm as they looked, grappled under control by a short, wavering leash.

"This'll do just fine. Good call, dude." He continued, removing his sunglasses and heading down the hill, oblivious to Veronica's internal struggle.

A wide grin stretched across her lips when her eyes dropped to watch his ass, unable to starve herself of such a sight.

God, when had she become this crazed?

Was it Yesterday? Today, on the tracks? Or, had this obsession been festering for a while? Weeks, months, maybe?

No way in hell, had it been years.

Either way, It had snuck up on Veronica without her even realising it.

Coming to the conclusion that she needed to cage this, and soon, she sniffed, looking away from Steve.

It wasn't right.

She wasn't right.

Beside her, Dustin let out a barely audible "yay," a proud smile breaking out across his features at Steve's comment. He really admired the older boy.

She patted him on the head softly, her smirk simmering to something softer. Dustin swatted her hands away and squawked, making Veronica cackle.

He had done a good job, to be fair to him, having planned pretty much all of this. She didn't give him nearly enough credit.

"Well done, Dusty." The girl admitted, heading off after Steve, periodically dropping chunks of meat along the way, before meeting him in the middle of the yard.

The two shared a determined nod, and dumped the remaining raw beef, fermenting in their buckets, onto the grassy floor.

Veronica grimaced at the disgusting sound the action created, leaning away.

"Stinks, right?"

She hummed at Steve's rhetorical question, kicking some stray chunks that had rolled off, back onto the pile.

Looking up to find him already watching her, she turned to fixate on the hill behind Steve, avoiding his searing stare. His soft brown eyes were filled with something she couldn't quite place, stirring the feelings inside of her that she'd freshly determined to quash.

Steve frowned at the action, confusion settling over him like a blanket, thick, uncomfortable and stifling.

"I said medium well!" Lucas's familiar voice suddenly rang out from somewhere, Veronica's gaze flying around the area until it landed on his small frame.

A huff of relief rattled out of her body at the sight, comforted by the arrival of more of their group. Maybe, another adult would've been more beneficial, but these kids were made of strong stuff.

Waving frantically, one arm keeping his bike standing, a contagious smile was etched across his face.

He was donning his usual combat bandana, Veronica huffing out a laugh at the sight, relieved that the young boy was still able to revel in playing soldier, despite it all.

Someone's happy, she considered, responding with her own smile and wave.

Glancing to Lucas's side, her face scrunched, eyes squinting, the object of Lucas's radiance standing proudly in the form of a young girl.

She had long, ginger hair, and wore a teasing smile, waving down to Dustin, who'd joined Veronica and Steve at the meat pile.

"Who's that?" Steve asked, perplexed.

He and Veronica looked to Dustin in question, finding the boy frowning, lips pursed.

Oh.

It must've been Max.

With Lucas.

Sharing a knowing look with Steve, Veronica patted Dustin reassuringly on the shoulder.

Honestly, kids and their relationship drama.

***

"Hey," Veronica broached, approaching Max. The girl looked up from her work, compiling scrap, with an indifferent expression, tucking an obstructive strand of fiery red hair behind her ear.

"Yeah?"

"Do, do you, uh," stuttered the older girl, itching at her scalp. "Do you know what's going on, here?"

"You mean, do I know the story that Lucas made up?"

Veronica scoffed, leaning against the side of the weathered bus. She could've guessed that Max would react this way. Any sane person would've, really.

It's not every day that you hear about telekinetic girls, monsters, and incriminating government programmes in Hawkins, Indiana. Let alone, anywhere else.

It was no surprise, that she'd met Lucas's admittance with disbelief.

"It's not a story." The older girl rebuffed, moving to help Max lift a particularly heavy sheet of metal. "And, I don't want you getting involved in this if you don't want to, alright? You're just a kid, this is dangerous stuff."

"You know, you're like the third, or fourth, I don't know, person to tell me that." Max groaned, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "But, no one ever has any real proof. It just looks like you're all playing some stupid fantasy game!"

"I-" Veronica stammered, an idea popping into her head at the girl's words, unsure of whether or not to implement it.

She had proof. Scars, written all over her stomach, detailing the potential lethality of this entire situation.

She closed her eyes, breathing out a massive sigh.

Was she really about to do this?

No one, other than Hopper, even knew her scars existed.

Was Max, some girl she'd only just met, really about to be the first person she told?

"You, you have to promise not to tell anyone, alright?" The words flew out of Veronica's mouth before she could stop them, staring down at Max with a harsh expression. She blinked up at Veronica, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. "I'm serious! No one knows about this, and I don't need a pity party, okay, Max?"

"Jesus! Of course. Cross my heart and hope to die, all of that crap."

Veronica nodded in confirmation, an uncertain feeling settling in her stomach. "Alright, uh..." she peered around the junkyard, hunting for a private spot to run off too. Further down the hill, could work.

"No one follow me and Max! We're going for a pee!" She declared, hoping that'd get the boys out of their hair, for a while. God know's they couldn't do anything on their own.

"Thanks, Ron. Really needed to know that!" Steve hollered back, pouring a trail of gasoline from the meat pile to the door of the bus. Hopefully, Dart would go for the big pile off meat, and they'd be able to roast him.

"Any time, Harrington."

Blowing the boy a kiss, Veronica beckoned Max to follow her, wandering down the hill further and behind a stack of crushed, abandoned cars.

Max hovered a few metres behind, chucking a look over her shoulder nervously, in the direction they came from. "Uh, what're you about to show me?"

Veronica's face exploded in colour, an embarrassed laugh bursting from her chest. Yeah, this probably looked kind of weird. "Oh my God! Nothing weird I, I swear." She pleaded, hands raised in innocence. "It's just, I have scars, on my, on my stomach."

Saying the words out loud almost threw Veronica's world off balance, expertly blinking away small tears that brewed in her eyes at the admission.

This was a massive step forward, for her, and she was taking it for a stranger, of all people.

In a weird way, that was a whole lot easier than even thinking of telling the people that cared about her.

"Scars, what, from the made up monster?" Max barked, disbelief marking her tone.

Veronica rolled her eyes, electing that, in this situation, actions, or sights, would speak louder than words.

Shrugging off her denim jacket, she untucked her pink sweater from her jeans and lifted it, stopping just beneath her breasts, to show Max the trio of scratches etched permanently into her skin.

The small girls jaw dropped, blinking in fascination, and likely disgust, at the mess on Veronica's stomach. She said nothing, a small hand rising to cover her mouth. Her feet stuttered backwards.

"I wont show you, because that'd be a little too weird, but they go all the way down to like, my undies." Veronica said, the cool November air nipping at her stomach, and making the exposed skin shiver.

Already uncomfortable enough, she began stuffing her sweater back into her jeans, nervousness gnawing at her, as Max stayed silent.

Was this too much?

It was real, was what it was.

If max was really going to be in on this, some scars were the least of her worries.

"I-" Max floundered, Veronica's eyes flicking up from the ground to study her reaction. "I'm sorry. I, I didn't know." Max admitted, her eyebrows sloping in empathy. "I thought that, you know, Lucas was just talking about a rabid dog, or something."

Veronica huffed out a small laugh, stuffing her arms back into her jacket, and thinking back to how she'd acted when things first started going awry in Hawkins.

Max hadn't been too bad, in comparison.

"You weren't wrong to be sceptical. It took a whole monster attacking me, and eating my boyfriend, for me to get the memo, so, don't be too hard on yourself." She joked, grinning wildly at the younger girl.

Max let out a disbelieving laugh, before snapping back to a serious expression, sniffing.

"It's ok, you can laugh. Just not too hard. It's still kinda fresh."

***

Darkness descended over the junkyard with the arrival of night; a blanket of fog, which covered the ground, accompanying it. The late hour brought with it a torturous cold, Veronica's skin shivering under her thick layers of clothes.

Thinking of a way to warm herself up, she fished out the packet of Marlboros she'd nabbed from Steve's car, from her jacket, and picked out a cigarette.

Placing the stick between her lips, she didn't even need to look in his direction, before Steve offered up the lighter he'd been tossing up and down.

Smiling, and nodding in thanks, she leaned towards him, humming as he lit it; protecting the small flame with a large, shielding hand of his.

What would she do, without him?

Go cold turkey, probably.

Shaking the quickly emptying box in his direction, Steve silently shook his head, declining Veronica's offer. His cigarettes and lighters were probably only kept around for her use, these days, anyways. She hadn't seen him smoke in months.

She rested her head on his shoulder, from her spot next to him, taking a tranquillising drag.

They'd been holed up in the bus for what must've been near on half an hour, awaiting the imminent arrival of Dart. It was practically torture.

"So, you really fought one of these things before?" Max broached, breaking the silence which had settled over the bus, everyone's nerves too fried, to attempt any light hearted conversation.

Steve and Veronica nodded, the latter squinting at Max in question. Had their conversation earlier not brought Max onto their page?

The subtle glint in the ginger girl's eyes told Veronica everything she needed to know to know— this was just a bit of fun, for Max.

Everyone coped in different ways, she supposed.

"And you're, like, totally, one hundred percent sure it wasn't a bear?" Max continued, looking to Dustin for an answer.

Pacing, he turned to fix his crush with a scathing glare, Veronica's face crumpling in confusion at the boy's uncharacteristic behaviour.

"Shit. Don't be an idiot. Okay? It wasn't a bear." Dustin spat, petulantly resting his hands on his hips.

Gobsmacked, Veronica choked out a cough around her cigarette, ripping the stick from her lips, while Steve slapped at her back, trying to stop her from asphyxiating.

"Why're you even here if you don't believe us? Just go home."

To Max's credit, she simply stood, removing herself from the situation and beginning to climb the ladder to the roof, where Lucas sat on look-out. "Yeesh. Someone's cranky. Past your bed time?" She grunted out, dismissing Dustin's anger.

Veronica sat, slack jawed, after watching the peculiar display. What the hell was that all about?

Clearing her throat a final time, she moved to level Dustin with an unimpressed look, an eyebrow raised in question.

"That's good. Just show her you don't care." Steve unhelpfully offered, receiving a harsh look from Veronica.

"Shut up, idiot. That was not good." She bit, eyebrow's threading in anger. "Dustin, I— Steve would never talk to a girl, that way, alright? He's just trying to be cool." At her words, Dustin paused his pacing, and Steve's frame stiffened. "You think he'd talk to Nancy that way? Really?"

Steve cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the sudden shift of conversation topic. Well, Veronica mused, he could rot in it, for all she cared.

She wasn't about to let Dustin start shitting on women, just because he wanted to score some cool points, with the kid.

"I don't know," Dustin murmured, head hung low. "Some girls mi-"

"Did Max seem impressed? She just left."

"Doesn't matter, anyway. 'Cause I don't care." Dustin mumbled, flopping down to sit in one of the rotted seats, huffing into the darkness.

With suspicion, Veronica watched as his face suddenly lit up, turning slowly to find Steve obnoxiously winking at him.

"Stop winking at him, Steve."

"I'm not!" Steve protested, turning his palms innocently to the sky.

As if to show his disinterest in the entire situation, he returned to tossing the metal lighter up and down, the light glinting off of its smooth surface, blinding Veronica.

"Yes, you are! And- " she leaned over Steve, shoving a hand into his face, the other reaching up to try and seize the offending item. "Gimmie that."

"Hey! Get off!" He protested, attempting to hurl the girl off of him, only for her to settle all of her weight into his lap, pinning him to the floor of the bus.

Steves face flushed at the action, head immediately spinning.

Oh.

Dear Lord.

Despite the cold, Veronica's body miraculously emitted a tantalising heat, Steve having to fight every fibre in his boy, which urged him to lean into it, and relish in her warmth.

Her legs, which straddled his hips, felt inexplicably strong, trapping Steve under her. He looked up, finding her mouth smirking down at him wolfishly, the heat on his cheeks intensifying.

He was practically drooling, mouth dropped open in awe, at the pure vision settled on top of him.

Holy shit. He wanted her.

Bad.

"No! You lost your lighter privileges! You don't even smoke!" Veronica persisted, snapping Steve out of his haze, and back into their wrestling match.

He didn't exactly have time to unpack all of that.

Veronica was, by her own admission, just Steve's friend.

So, for now, he'd have to act accordingly. Even if his body and mind fought him, at every hurdle.

Oh, and Dustin, and Billy, who both seemed to suspect something.

"Good job this one's only for smoking monsters!"

After wrestling some more, and dangerously wiggling in Steve's lap, Veronica eventually won the lighter. She flopped off of Steve with a huff, and settled back into her position at his side.

"That's what I thought." She breathed out, moving messed strands of hair out of her face, oblivious to the near death experience she'd just subjected Steve to. He huffed a sigh of relief next to her, body finally relaxing. "Dustin, you'll apologise to Max after all of this, alright?

Dustin gulped, nodding nervously, not wanting to be bodily attacked like Steve had just been. "O-okay." He stuttered out, Veronica smiling and nodding at his acceptance.

"Being dark and brooding doesn't suit you, Dusty."

She stood, and made her way over to Dustin, pinching his cheek playfully. He squealed, a begrudgingly wide smile breaking out across his face, wriggling in her hold.

"Get off, woman!"

Steve watched on, a calm having settled over him.

Before all of this, he hadn't really seen this side of Veronica.

Sure, he knew that she babysat one of Nancy's brother's friends, and that, really, she quite enjoyed it.

But, he didn't know that this was how she got.

Around Dustin, and Lucas and Max, she had that air of relaxedness that rarely settled over her, these days. It flowed over and exuded from the girl in waves, when she was with them.

She was great with kids.

She enjoyed being with them.

Steve’s heart hammered harder and harder inside of his chest, the more his mind spiralled into uncharted territory.

He'd always wanted a family. A real one. Nothing like what he shared with his parents. He wanted something loving, unconditional, and joyful.

Watching Veronica play with Dustin, Steve could see it— his future, his family.

Was it was wrong of him, so incredibly wrong, to position Veronica like this, in his mind? Probably.

Again, she didn't think of him, like that.

Only, the image of her standing by his side, while they nurtured something innocent and pure, was too charming to dismiss.

He wanted a family with his best friend. His best friend, who had also been driving him insane, recently.

Why did the universe have torture him, so?

"Did you hear that?!" Veronica's shriek pulled Steve from his ruminating with a jolt, his frame shoved out of the way as the girl and Dustin squatted down next to him, peering out of the caged bus window and into the darkened junkyard.

Steve's confusion was soon answered by the undeniable roar of an Upside Down creature in the distance, echoing throughout the sky, and penetrating his psyche.

It was real. He was about to put his life on the line, again. Veronica’s life.

"You see him?" Dustin asked, Veronica and Steve answering with a negative in unison. The older boy had joined them in their search, Dart nowhere to be found amongst the pitch black shadows of the night.

Veronica shared a brief, concerned look with him, before snapping her neck to the ladder. She was in game mode, now. Steve would've enjoyed it, were the stakes not so high.

"Lucas! What's going on?" She hollered, determined to get some sort of information to work from, amongst the indiscernible gloom.

"Hold on!" The boy yelled in response, no doubt scanning their surroundings with his binoculars. "I've got eyes, ten o'clock. Ten o'clock!"

Veronica's eyes darted in the pinpointed direction, locking onto the barely visible shape of Dart amongst the fog.

Found you.

"There." Steve pointed out to a struggling Dustin, the two boys sharing a confused glance, as Dart simply hovered, refusing to inch any closer to the pile of meat.

"What's he doing?" Veronica probed, at a loss. If Dart wouldn't take the bait, then, what?

She knew what it meant. And she hated it.

"I don't know." Steve answered, squinting.

"He's not taking the bait. Why's he not taking the bait?" A worried Dustin blabbered, his small fingers curling around the wires of the caged window, lips drooping.

Clearing her throat, Veronica resigned herself to standing.

If Dart wasn't eager for anymore cow, then she'd introduce him to a new flavour.

Her axe.

"Maybe he's not hungry." She murmured noncommittally, sliding up behind Steve.

"Maybe he's sick of cow." He joked, chucking a look behind him to the girl, who jerked her head towards the door of the bus.

His eyes shone with fear. They both knew it, that this was life or death.

Veronica squinted down at him, her face neutral. She wasn't in a particularly compassionate mood, right now. They didn't have the time, for it.

"Steve." She grunted, unsheathing her axe and holding it loosely by her side. "C'mon. Let's go."

Blinking away his fear, he nodded resolutely, standing and steeling his features. They'd done this before, they could do it again.

No problem. Totally.

Steve pulled his bat from his bag, following after Veronica as she stepped quietly to the bus door, grasping at the rusty, makeshift handle.

"Steve? Ronnie? What're you doing?" Dustin frantically questioned, concern dripping from his tone. He clambered up, rushing to go with them.

Steve raised a firm hand, stoping the younger boy from moving any further. They'd deal with this, and protect the kids. No one else needed to be endangered.

"Just get ready." Steve levelled, raising his eyebrows at Dustin and chucking the boy his lighter, entrusting him with the responsibility of torching Dart.

In support, Veronica nodded at Dustin, catching his eyes as he took a step back, and gave her a brief smile.

Everything would be okay. It had to be.

With that, Veronica slowly opened up the folding bus door, cringing at the horrifically loud sound that grated from it. The second that her eyes were re-exposed to the junkyard, they settled back onto Dart, the beast still hovering.

What the fuck was wrong, with him? What was his game?

The uncertainty of the situation set Veronica's nerves on edge, the girl creeping further and further away from the bus, her axe raised, poised to strike.

Her teeth grated, and her heartbeat pulsed in her ears. She could smell dew on the grass, and the stench of rotting meat. She gulped.

Breathing deeply, she began whistling, coaxing the monster into giving it her full attention.

Dart refused, making the girl growl and bare her teeth in aggravation. The hatred that pulsed through her veins, whenever she thought about the demogorgan, was beginning to flow through her body, full-force.

She wanted blood.

"C'mon, you son of a bitch." She grated, eyes wide, hands tightening their grip on her weapon. She could almost smell the monster's blood in the air, longing for it, as hard as she was.

Watching her axe sink into Dart would afford her peaceful sleeps for months to come, she bet.

Steve, following Veronica's lead, also started whistling, swinging his bat slowly, to and fro, hopefully lulling Dart into emerging from the dark.

"C'mon, buddy." He mumbled, sneaking a glance to the back of Veronica's head. The girl was practically vibrating in anticipation, ready to swing at any second.

Steve could put on a brave face, sure, but that didn't stop his hands from shaking, or his mouth from drying. He envied her ability, to lose herself in the depravity, of it all. He could see it. Deep down, that she was revelling in another chance to avenge Jacob.

"It's dinner time, c'mon." Veronica snarled, nearing Dart's hiding place.

The creature's body was a mere shadow in the fog, until it stepped forward, Veronica's stomach plummeting to the floor.

He must've grown to at least double the size that he had been, a day or so ago. If he'd dared to stand on his hind legs, he'd be almost as tall as the demogorgan.

Veronica blinked. And blinked again. Then swallowed.

So what, if he was a little bigger, than she'd been anticipating? She'd fought the big one last year, and managed to get a good few hits in.

More than that, really.

She'd practically chopped it to pieces.

She wasn't about to let this shitty little downgrade fry her nerves.

She couldn't.

Not when Dustin, Lucas and Max, were back there, hiding away in the bus.

So long as they were around, Veronica would always be willing to lay her life on the line.

What's more. She loved the thrill of it. The game.

It was undeniable.

It made her feel alive.

Near death experiences had a way of doing that, she supposed.

Chucking a look behind her, Veronica found Steve motionless, the swinging of his bat stuttered, digesting the sight in front of him. He blinked and licked his lips, forcing down the fear that bubbled up inside of him, determination stirring on his features.

Dart was a little bit bigger, than a dog. Veronica and Dustin could've described him a smidge better.

"It's just a little doggy, Steve. Half the size of the bastard we crushed last year." The girl helpfully aired, nodding her head at nothing in particular, and backing away slightly, to stand in solidarity with Steve.

He cringed and shrugged his shoulders, not exactly convinced.

It as fine, though. Totally. All of this was one hundred percent fine. Like Veronica said, they’d crush it.

"Ronnie! Steve! Watch out!" Lucas suddenly shouted out, cracking through the stifling silence with his fearful voice.

Veronica gritted her teeth at the sound, refusing to tear her attention away from Dart— the bastard could pounce at any moment.

"We're a little busy here, Sinclair!"

"Three o'clock! Three o'clock!" The boy persisted, Veronica begrudgingly ripping her eyes away from Dart, to find another creature, identical, creeping towards herself and Steve.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Her jaw bobbed open and closed dumbly as she stared at it, suddenly frozen solid. They could take one, barely. Two, was just unfair.

"Abort! Abort!" Dustin screamed from the bus, rattling against the caged windows.

Veronica steeled herself. If these bastards wanted a fight, she'd give them one.

Sparing Steve a fleeting look, the two resolutely nodded at each other, freshly intent on their goal.

At that, Dart's face opened up behind Steve, Veronica screaming out his name in alarm.

Her attention was snatched away when the second creature answered the first's call, similarly screeching and opening the fleshy petals that made up its face, before charging at Veronica.

Wasting little time, she leapt to the side, avoiding being crushed between the monster's body and the car behind her. Yanking herself back to her feet, she swung her axe into the side of the creature.

Firmly, she planted a foot on its writhing, slimy body, wrenching the blade out, before swinging her trusty weapon back down again.

Once more, she found herself coated in a sheen of thick, black blood. Spurts of the liquid splashed onto her face, the majority of it staining her baby pink sweater and jacket.

That'd be a bitch to clean.

For the inconvenience, she pummelled the creature a final time, before deciding to make a run for the bus.

These things were practically immortal, the extra exertion wasn't worth it.

Scarpering towards the bus door, her eyes land on the kids, all the of them shouting out, beckoning her and Steve back with their frantic waving.

"Steve! Ronnie! C'mon!"

Steve. Where was Steve?

Throwing a frantic look behind her, Veronica found him running just a few paces back, Dart and yet another creature hot on his tail.

Jesus Christ. The fuckers were going to get in the bus, if they didn't make it back quick enough.

Then, they'd have nothing to worry about at all, vindicated of all their stressors, because they'd be too busy being dead.

That thought pushed Veronica's legs to work harder, practically flinging herself through the opening of the bus and toppling into the kids, Steve landing on top of her barely a second later.

There was no time to rest, though, as monstrous snarls got closer and closer, the kids making their way out from under the heaving teenagers and towards the door, slamming it shut.

Veronica watched in horror, for a second, while she made her way back to her feet, as the monster broke through, its rows upon rows of demonic teeth dreadfully close to the children's petrified, unscarred faces.

Mindlessly, she rose her axe high above her head, moving to the side, while Steve herded the kids of the way.

With a pained shout, she brung her blade flying down, lobbing the creature's head off. It rolled into the footwell of the bus, stopping at Veronica's blood-soaked Reeboks.

"Shit!" She screeched, blood spurting from the place where the monster's head used to be. Steve rushed to her side, pulling her away from the blood fountain, and swiping at her soaked cheeks, looking into her eyes.

It was okay. They'd survived.

"We're at the old junkyard, and we are going to die!" Dustin screamed into his radio from somewhere in the bus, Veronica's head swivelling rapidly to try and find him, calm him down. She was meant to protect him.

"We're not gonna die, Dustin!" She hollered out, moving to head towards him, before freezing in her tracks.

A thud sounded on the roof. And then another. And another.

Holy fuck. One of them had made its way on top of them.

They were about get eaten, from above.

Max, who was stood at the bottom of the rickety ladder, screamed, flinging herself away, as Dart leered down into the bus.

"Out of the way! Out of the way!" Veronica cried out, yanking all of the kids to stand behind her.

Steve moved to the front, their plan wordlessly communicated.

Veronica couldn't do much damaged, to something with the higher ground. Steve could, with his bat, though. She'd bask in every tantalising second, of it.

"You want some? Come get this!" He shouted, shoving his bat into Dart's now screeching face. The jagged nails pulled and sliced at the sensitive flesh of the monster's maw, teeth grating ear-piercingly against the metal.

Jarringly, Dart paused. He wrenched himself back and looked East.

Everybody in the bus froze, their breath bated.

Suddenly, He roared into the sky, spittle and blood flying everywhere, before he scrambled off of the roof, and into the darkness.

Veronica blinked confusedly, arms still wrapped tightly around the kids, as the bus shook.

What the fuck?

Slowly, Steve moved towards her, placing a hand around her waist. He lead her back towards the door of the bus, raising his bat, and nodding at Veronica to do the same.

She copied his action, creeping out of the bus with him, prepared for anything.

Only, this time, they were greeted with stillness.

Heaving out a raucous sigh, Veronica flopped onto the grassy floor. With her adrenaline rapidly depleting, her limbs became floppy, and noodle-like. Her fingers were tingly, and she could feel her pulse in her feet.

"What happened?" Lucas asked, peering around the door of the bus, but refusing to step out of it.

"Ron and Steve scared 'em off?" Dustin supplied, though his tone was unsure.

"Nope. No way." She grunted, wiping her forehead of sweat, and standing back up.

They had, yet another, long night ahead of them. It wouldn't do any good to lull her body into a false sense of security.

She looked to Steve, the two of them sharing a knowing glance.

This wasn't over.

Dart had been called, somewhere. And he'd responded to that call.

"They're going somewhere." He supplied, turning the fix the kids with a determined stare.

It was time to go monster hunting.

Chapter Text

Veronica stomped her way through a brief stint of boggy ground, refusing to spare the sanctity of her trainers even a second of thought.

They had been lost to the copious amounts of blood from the creatures she'd decimated, there was no chance of salvaging them.

Why not destroy them more?

The mud did make her feet cold, though, which didn't help her already freezing state.

Steve had refused to give her any more cigarettes on the basis that, if she smoked any more, she'd apparently turn into one. So, she was left to shiver the night away.

Reminded of her ban, she sent daggers to the back of the boy's head, wiping at her face with a wet wipe that he had the foresight to pack.

He was such a mom.

Already having gone through three or four wipes, she ripped another from the packet, immediately dirtying it with slowly drying, black blood, that was caked into her hairline.

She'd managed to get all of the gunk off of the important parts of her face— the eyes, nose, lips. At least she thought she had.

Now, it was just the extra parts that needed attention.

"You good, Mason?" Steve asked, turning to question the girl. His bat had found its way back into his backpack, coated in a fresh varnishing of monster goo and blood.

The protruding object made his silhouette look silly, in the low light of the forest.

She nodded, huffing out a sorry laugh.

"Just peachy."

The two stared at each other for a moment, stupid smirks on their faces.

"Here," Steve started, pulling the wipe from Veronica's hand, and beginning to gently clean her face.

His touch was feather-light, tracing the planes of skin with meticulous care.

He tilted her head to the side, one hand gently pinching her chin. Swiping at the corner of her mouth, his thumb ran over the fullness of her lips reverently, eyes flicking down to watch them, mesmerised.

He was torturing her, again.

Clearing her throat, Veronica gently tilted her head down, avoiding the advancement of her friend's touch. Her cheeks burned with blush, and her eyes blinked away the tears that brewed in them.

Whatever was washing over Steve, she couldn't allow it to develop. For his sake.

She would never be deserving of his love.

Or, anyone's.

He slowly pulled is hands away, swallowing down the impassioned emotions that had barrelled over him.

She really didn't want him, huh?

Looking to the forest, Steve felt his stomach swirl uncomfortably, confronted with the seeming lack of reciprocation.

Watching her chop off the monster's head, while horrific and gory, was enchanting. He couldn't stop the mental video he'd taken from looping behind his eyes.

It had only served to deepen his sudden realisation of want, for her.

She was willing to do anything, for the kids. She was willing to do anything for him. She was perfect. A tantalising package of beauty, fun, violence and anger. Bloody anger.

But, she didn't want him.

Regardless, he mused with a sniff, he'd a still be the best friend that Veronica needed. It was the least that she deserved. Abandoning her wouldn't be fair.

It was painful, though. God, it was painful. Even now, pulling his blessed hands away from her soft skin, doll-like and smooth even with all the gunk, something in his chest died at loosing her touch. He didn’t know how he’d manage to do it for years to come.

He’d find a way, though. Just for her.

Noticing her shivers, Steve rolled his eyes, smiling to himself. He pulled off his grey jacket, Veronica's jaw dropping open, guffawing.

"Steve, it's November, and the middle of the freakin' night, now's not the time for a gun show." She joked, eyes involuntarily dropping to catch a glimpse of his biceps, accentuated by the short cut of his sleeves.

"Oh, no, this isn't for show, Sweetheart." He responded, sending her a smirk. He extended the jacket towards her, nodding to it, her expression turning perplexed. "You're cold. Take it."

Veronica choked out a laugh, a crooked smile spreading across her lips. "I couldn't," She said. "You'll freeze. And then, who'll stop me from falling into nicotine addiction?"

Steve's face crumpled into a theatrical grimace, eyes glinting. "I think it's a bit late for that, Ron."

"Oh, eat me, Harrington." The girl rebuffed, realising her words far too late, as Steve stared at her with wide eyes; the picture of a deer caught in headlights.

Snatching the jacket, she forced out a strangled, quiet thank you, before sliding her arm's into the impossibly warm sleeves, and wrapping the body of the piece around her.

Steve must've been a furnace, if his coat was this residually warm.

Veronica focused in on the kid's ongoing conversation in front, clearing her throat and sending Steve a quick, nervous glance.

Their eyes met. He was already staring down at her with shining eyes. Hungry eyes.

She darted he gaze forward.

"You're positive that was Dart?" Lucas probed, squinting at Dustin in suspicion. They must've been talking about one of the creatures that'd attacked them.

"Yes. He had the same exact yellow pattern on his butt." Dustin responded.

Max's eyes flickered to Veronica, seeking some kind of approval from the older girl before she spoke. "But, he was tiny two days ago." She aired, brows furrowed.

"Not anymore..." Veronica murmured, receiving a harsh glare from Dustin. Her lips curled teasingly.

"That's 'cause he's moulted three times already."

"Malted?" Steve questioned, staring at the mushy ground in confusion.

"Moulted, hun." Veronica supplied, her friend oohing in understanding.

"Shed his skin to make room for more growth, like hornworms." Dustin elaborated, always the smartest in the room.

Or, forest, in this case.

"When's he gonna moult again?" Asked Max, uncertainty laced through her words.

Veronica could tell the girl was spooked by the whole situation, despite her steely demeanour. It was natural to be so, after one's first encounter with a demogorgan. Veronica had heatedly faired any better. Well, she hadn’t faired better at all. She’d ran away like a little bitch.

"It's gotta be soon. And, when he does, he'll be fully grown, or close to it. So will his friends."

A spike of dread stabbed through Veronica's chest at Dustin's words, her grip tightening around her axe.

The three or so creatures were hard enough to handle when they were on all fours, multiple fully-realised demogorgans would be nothing short of a horror show.

"Yeah, and he's gonna eat a whole lot more than just cats." Steve mooted, oblivious to the outrage his words would spur.

"Wait. A cat!?" Lucas screeched, stopping to spin Dustin around by the shoulders. "Dart ate a cat?"

"No. What? No." Dustin pitifully rebuffed, Veronica's jaw dropping. She and Steve shared a perplexed look, communicating something along the lines of what the hell is wrong with this kid.

"What're you talking about?" Steve questioned, hands settling on his hips.

"Dustin, he ate Mews." Veronica reminded, crossing her arms.

"Mews? Who's Mews?"

"Dustin's cat." Veronica and Steve answered Max in unison.

"Hey!" Dustin yelped, staring at the two older teens in betrayal.

"I knew it! You kept him!" Lucas snapped, shoving at his friend's shoulder.

Had Dustin been asked to get rid of Dart? Jesus, this whole situation really did not reflect well on him. Veronica would have to teach him a few things about thinking before committing actions, after all of this.

"No! No. No, I... No, I..." Dustin stammered, before deflating and huffing out a sigh of defeat. "He missed me. He wanted to come home."

"Bullshit!"

"I didn't know he was a demogorgan, okay?"

"Oh, so now you admit it?"

Max groaned, tipping her hair back to stare at the canopy of trees in frustration, the boys' fight infuriating her. Veronica giggled at her exaggerated reaction.

Snapping her head back down, Max levelled Dustin and Lucas with blazing looks. "Guys, who cares? We have to go." She hurried, flicking her eyes to the leafy path they were following.

Veronica nodded, patting Max on the shoulder reassuringly. She opened her lips, the beginning of an agreement breaching them, before it was deafened by more shouting.

"I care! You put the party in jeopardy! You broke the rule of law!" Lucas continued, jabbing an angry finger in Dustin's face.

"So did you!" The accused boy snapped back, smacking Lucas's finger out of his face.

Fed up, Steve rolled his eyes, pulling Veronica, by her sleeve, away to continue their mission. She followed along happily, the kids would follow along at some point.

They trudged up the path in a comfortable silence, Steve wrapping a protective arm around the girl's shoulders.

She leaned into the offering of yet more warmth, an arm sneaking around Steve's waist to hug him closer.

Wrapped in each other's warmth, the two older teens suddenly paused, their ears catching the unmistakable sound of screeching Upside Down creatures, in the distance.

Veronica's stomach dropped, her heart rate spiking. She sent Steve a worried glance, his eyebrows slanting in a similar gesture.

At least they had something to follow, now, instead of walking aimlessly, like they had been. That's what Veronica told herself to keep the sickening of her stomach at bay, anyway.

"Hey, guys?" Steve hollered, trying to catch the kid's attention, his arm dropping from Veronica's shoulders. She stepped away, trying not to linger on the debilitating loss of heat.

Annoyingly, they continued fighting amongst themselves, Veronica looking behind her to catch sight of the circle they'd formed to attack each other.

"Guys!" She shouted, their heads swivelling to look at her in anger. "Let's go!"

The freshly noticed screeching of the monsters spurred the kids to follow Steve and Veronica as they broke away from the track, nearing an opening in the forest, where the noises could be heard more clearly.

Fear was written across all of their little faces, Veronica's chest tightening uncomfortably. She shouldn't have allowed them to be involved, this time. Endangering them wasn't fair.

"I don't see him." Dustin aired, looking out over the trees from the hilly clearing they'd crested.

Veronica squinted her eyes, trying to find anything amongst the boggling expanse of black, the night concealing their enemies. Her search turned up nothing, only more trees and more howls of almost-demogorgans. They were chasing air, at this point.

Pulling his binoculars away from his face, Lucas turned to face the group. "It's the Lab," he announced. "They were going back home."

At the mention of the place where this entire mess started, Veronica's ever burning, hateful flame for the entire shit-show that was Hawkins Lab roared back to life. The damned place was supposed to have all of this under control, and yet, here they were, clearing up its mess, all over again.

"Shit." She grunted, swinging her axe to rest against her shoulder, and beginning to descend the hill in the direction Lucas had pointed. "Let's go, losers."

***

Spying the huge, imposing structure of Hawkin's Laboratory through the trees, Veronica powered ahead, eager to hunt down the creatures and finish her fight. Steve walked at her side, illuminating their path with a torch in one hand, his bat, the other.

"Hello? Who's there?" A voice suddenly rang out, piercing through the thick veil of silence that had descended over the rag-tag group. "Who's there!?" The voice persisted, Veronica's eyebrows rising in confusion and surprise, her frame freezing to process the sound.

Was that Jonathan?

She would recognise his distinct voice, anywhere. She'd heard him screaming in horror enough, last year, to know what he sounded like while petrified and trying to sound fine.

"Jonathan!" She shouted out, Steve shooting her a confused look, while she began jogging ahead.

She hadn't seen her friend in days, and he was loitering around the Lab, of all places.

Had something happened to him, too?

It had to, have.

Upon breaking through the tree-line, her face broken out into a wild grin, while Steve's confused features only grew more so.

What the hell was going on?

Jonathan was standing with Nancy at the gate to the Lab, one of the boy's hands wrapped around Nancy's bicep. His car was haphazardly parked only a few metres away, it’s path blocked by a menacing gate.

"Steve? Ronnie?" The couple barked in confusion, Steve hollering out his ex?girlfriend's name in equal confusion.

So, Nancy had skipped with Jonathan, like Tommy had teased.

Steve's stomach twisted with something; something a little more heavy, less hot, than he was used to, when spying Nancy with Jonathan.

He blinked at the odd sensation, swallowing down the confusion, and trying to sort through what was descending over him.

It felt like concern. Measly concern, when compared to the usual ball of seething jealousy which would rise to his throat, and choke him up.

Surprised at his own lack of reaction to the sight in font of him, which would have sent him into a coma only a week earlier, Steve moved to herd Nancy into their own little private sphere.

While broken up, kind of, while on uncertain terms, he still cared for her massively. He wanted to find out what had lead her here, of all places. Had she been attacked by Dart, too?

Veronica watched Steve steer Nancy to the side with thinly veiled disappointment, the couple engaged in their own discreet conversation.

Guess Steve wasn't over Nancy as much as Veronica had hoped.

Was 'hoped' really the right word?

Hopefully, not. She wanted Steve to be happy, even if that meant more torture for her.

That's what friends were for, right? Setting aside their own feelings, to offer support no matter what?

Nancy was Steve's first love, after all. Who wouldn't want to let that go?

"Hey, what the hell is all of this?" Jonathan asked, saddling up to Veronica, and gesturing to the blood soaking her hair and clothes.

She chuckled, and looked down proudly to stare at her clothes. She really was a state.

"Would you believe me if I said it was more demogorgan blood?"

Jonathan paused, blinking, before a smile broke out across his face, crows feet crinkling. Veronica wanted to give him a hug.

"Why're you always covered in their blood?"

"'Cause I'm badass." She responded, brought back from her miserable thoughts. Chucking her axe into her non dominant hand, she clapped Jonathan on the back, jostling him with a teasing shove. "What're you guys doing here?"

"We're looking for Mike and will." Nancy responded for the boy, her tone clipped. She sent Veronica fiery glare, before moving back to Jonathan's side, almost protectively.

Guess they finally banged, then.

"They're not in there, are they?" Dustin questioned, gesturing the towering shadow of the lab.

None of its usual lights were on, and a horrific alarm could be heard emanating from it. Something must've happened in there. Veronica hoped and prayed the kids weren't trapped in there, with the monsters.

They'd stand no chance.

"We're not sure."

That was hardly reassuring. A tense silence blanketed the group, Veronica gnawing at her bottom lip in worry. At least, maybe and Hopper and Joyce were also in there, that way, the kids had some protection.

They'd been MIA, recently, surely they would've gone in with the kid's had anything major happened.

Jonathan cleared his throat, breaking through the thick tension. "Why?" He asked tentatively.

At that, the familiar screeches of the monsters echoed out from the Lab, answering his question.

He and Veronica shared a resigned look, the cumulative horrors of the evening, weighing heavily on both of their shoulders.

Scared chatter broke out around them, everyone sharing their theories as to what could've happened, while Veronica and Jonathan moved to stand resolutely next to each other.

She could see it in his eyes— he was scared shitless for Will. For his Mom. Again, he was being tortured with the disappearance of his brother, and he was walled from finding out any answers.

Moving her eyes to look dejectedly at the floor, Veronica caught the flickering of the power inside the Lab, before it surged fully back to life, the surrounding flood lights buzzing with electricity.

"Hey!" She hollered out, a small smile stretching across her previously pouted lips. "Power's back on!"

A flurry of people raced past her, eager to get to the gate, and pry it open. Jonathan smacked at every button within the small, windowed office outside of the gate, which a guard would usually man, but, nothing happened. The wall of wire an metal pillars stayed eerily still.

At this rate, Veronica was going to have to scale the damn fence.

"Let me try." Dustin announced, shouldering Jonathan’s boney frame out of the way, and examining the board of buttons at his disposal.

"Hey-" the older boy began to protest, before being swatted away by Dustin.

"Let me try, Jonathan!"

Veronica watched on, astounded at Dustin's continued bitchiness. She and Steve were terrible influences.

"Hey! Watch your manners, twerp." She reprimanded, leaning into the small station to have a look at the buttons for herself.

Nothing particularly stood out to her, other than the big red one Dustin was already pushing angrily. She tried to have her own stab at pushing it, only to receive a whack on her hand from the kid.

He grumbled the persistent lack of progress, smacking at the button for a final time before giving up. "Son of a bitch, you know what..."

"Yeah? That's what you get for being such a little shit." Veronica teased, poking at Dustin's stomach with the handle of her axe. He sent daggers at her, which were deflected by her wolfish grin.

"You don't have to defend my honour, Ronnie." Jonathan assured, shaking his head bashfully.

Taking in a deep breath, Veronica fixed him with a theatrically firm expression. If they couldn't revel in the five minutes of freedom they had, now, when would they?

"Yes I do, Jonathan. Yes I do."

He huffed out a laugh, before his attention was snapped away by a buzz, and then the opening of the gate.

Her face lighting up, Veronica and the group scrambled over to the now accessible entrance.

Jonathan sent her a stern look, hopping into the driver’s seat of his car, Nancy heading for shotgun. She nodded back to him, watching with slanted brows as the couple sped into the private lands of the Lab, eager to locate their family.

Veronica prayed that everyone inside was okay, the cynical voice inside her head shooting down the sentiment as soon as it bloomed. If the monsters had made their way inside, there had to be some casualties.

It was a sad truth.

Selfishly, she hoped it wasn't anyone that she knew. She hadn't even considered that Bob, Joyce's kind-hearted boyfriend, could be in there, with them. He had no idea about all of this, how dangerous it was.

He'd be totally in the dark.

"You okay?" Steve asked, standing by Veronica, looking at her with soft, caring eyes.

"Uh, yeah," she distantly responded, moving nervously from foot to foot. "Just worried about the kids, you know."

He nodded in understanding, parting his lips to speak. The spamming of a car horn interrupted him, the two looking ahead to see Jonathan's car racing back down the road, straight towards them.

"Look out!" Veronica screeched, dragging Steve with her as she scrambled off of the road. The boy grabbed onto as many of the kids as he could, bringing them to safety as he went.

Jonathan hurtled past them, watching him speed into the night from their human pile on the wet, grassy ground.

Veronica took a head count of the kids, huffing a sigh of relief to find all of them present and alive, none having been turned into roadkill.

Yet another car, Hopper's truck, this time, roared down the road, slamming to a halt in front of them.

"Let's go!" The truck's owner bellowed from his place behind the wheel, Veronica's eyes widening.

He was in hospital scrubs, and covered in flecks of blood.

Jesus, just how wrong had tonight gone, for everyone?

"I said, let's go!" He reiterated, the frozen group scarpering to follow his orders and clamber into the truck.

Steve ushered Veronica in last, climbing inside after her and the kids were securely inside. In the front, Veronica was seated between Hooper and Steve, the kids making up a big, wiggling pile in the back.

The girl looked over at Hopper with unbridled confusion and fear, taking note of the massive gun sitting in his footwell, and his blood-soaked shoes.

"What the hell happened, Chief?" She croaked out, gulping down her fear to speak.

"Ask me when we've settled down, alright?" The man responded, his grip tightening around the wheel, knuckles straining white.

Veronica shot Steve a nervous look, the boy covering her shaking hand with his own in response.

Whatever had happened, they'd find out, together.

Chapter Text

Veronica stood, knuckles poised to knock, in front of Joyce's bedroom door.

She knew that the mother was behind it, no doubt wrapped up in grief.

Bob had been eaten.

Hopper pulled Veronica to the side and broke the news, after they'd driven to the Byers' house.

The place was in disarray, drawings taped to the walls and scattered over the floors, reflecting the storm of confusion which had blown through it prior to Will having been taken to the Lab.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, the teen tried to wade through the waves of sadness that were battering against her, dropping her hand to rest her head in it.

She wanted to be there, for Joyce, as the woman had been for Veronica the previous year.

There was no doubt as to what thoughts were swirling through Joyce's head— self hatred, blame, anger, a longing to have her place swapped with Bob's. Veronica was all too familiar, with those lines of thought.

Sighing, she finally knocked, pushing the door open after a moment of silence. Waiting would only make her more anxious.

She closed the door quietly behind her, eyes settling on Joyce's small form, cocooned in a knit blanket on top of her bed.

The strong, fearless woman looked so frail, in that moment, all of the horrors she'd endured seemingly having eaten away at her.

"Hey, Joyce." Veronica tentatively broached, quietly stepping to the bed, and settling herself onto it slowly. "Do, do you need anything? I can fix you some-"

"I'm okay, thank you, hun." The woman rejected, voice burdened with the heavy intonation of tears. She didn't look up from the spot she'd zeroed in on, the carpet near the foot of her dresser.

Veronica swallowed thickly, her throat suddenly dry and scratchy.

"I, uh, that's okay." She paused, thinking carefully over her next words. "I just wanted to say, that... no, no matter what you're thinking," the words were almost impossible to get out, her jaw bobbing open and closed silently. "It wasn't your fault."

Joyce let out a sorry laugh, which quickly descended into a sob. Tears leaked freely from her deep brown eyes, and Veronica couldn't resist the impulse to pull the woman into her side, and rock her supportively.

"I- I just stood there and watched." Rattled out from between the between Joyce’s quivering lips, her frame jolting with violent shakes.

Her breathing soon grew rapid, coughing and choking helplessly, overcome with guilt.

"What were you supposed to do? Pry the bastard off of him yourself?" Challenged Veronica, blinking away the tears that were teetering on her own lashes, and taking in deep stabilising breaths.

Regardless of how painful this was for her, she needed to be there for Joyce.

"Anything, I could've done anything."

Veronica shook her head, vehemently dismissing Joyce's words. The vitriol that was spewing from her lips sounded eerily like the guilty voice in Veronica's head. Even if she couldn't combat that, she could do her best to relieve Joyce from it.

"Nothing that wouldn't have got you killed too, Joyce."

The mother's sobs slowed, her frame gradually stilling. Veronica watched as she slowly blinked, her lips flatlining. She processed the teens words, stewing them over.

Would it have been better, if she'd died with Bob? For Bob? Joyce raised a hand to bite at her thumb, despondently pondering to herself.

He didn't deserve what he'd gotten, he didn't even know about their situation, until hours before he'd been devoured.

Really, it should have been her.

Joyce swallowed, parting her dry lips to speak. "Maybe—"

"Don't you dare!" Veronica bellowed, grabbing the woman by her shoulders.

She had spotted deadly resignation written across Joyce's withered features, spelling disaster. That wasn't who Joyce was; a defeated woman.

Not to Veronica, anyway.

Joyce was power. Joyce was strength. Joyce was travel into a different dimension to save her son. Joyce was infallible, unshakable.

Nothing could bring her down. She stood resolute, in the face of it all. Veronica couldn't stand to see her crumble, like this.

For, how could she go on, if even Joyce let this defeat her?

"You start down that road, you'll, you'll never come back from it, alright?" Joyce merely blinked up at Veronica, fresh tears brewing in her eyes. "Don't you dare!" Breaking, Joyce fell into another fit of cries, falling into Veronica's chest. The girl welcomed her with open, loving arms, bringing Joyce into a fiercely protective hug. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She murmured into the top of the mother's head, unable to keep her tears at bay any longer, letting them flow freely.

"No. No, Thank you, honey." Joyce murmured, pulling herself free from the girl's hold, and shaking her head.

She fixed Veronica with a shaky, though warm smile, all the same. It only made Veronica want to cry more.

That was the Joyce she knew.

"You're such a strong girl." Joyce mused, lovingly pinching Veronica's cheek, the two of them peeling into watery giggles.

A soft knock on the door broke them from their bubble, Veronica sniffing, and giving Joyce a final supportive hug, before standing.

Hopper walked in, looking comically large as he ducked through the door frame.

"I'll uh," Veronica started, nodding at the Chief, who's pleading eyes begged her to leave. "I'll give you guys a minute."

She'd seen how he had struggled over the past year, much like Jonathan, watching another man love the woman he adored.

It took a lot of love, and respect, to live through that.

Because of the love he harboured, Hopper would support Joyce no matter what. He was her pillar, bonded securely after the horrors of last year, as if they didn't already have enough history.

She could trust him to support Joyce, in this terrible moment.

Walking away, Veronica's hand was given a final squeeze by Joyce, the girl reciprocating the gesture. She didn't say anything to Hopper, as she left. He found this hard enough, already.

She made her way across the hallway and into Jonathan's room, pulling open a drawer and taking out the single change of clothes that she kept in there.

They'd had a couple sleepovers of their own, Veronica and Jonathan, over the past year, mostly spent listening and critiquing each other's favourite music.

Plus, the clothes, along with a pair of pyjamas, were there for the rare occasions when Veronica was asked to babysit Will, both of the older Byers working late, or spending the entire night out.

Locking the bathroom door closed behind her, Veronica peeled off her dirtied clothes and quickly scrubbed all of the blood from her skin and scalp.

She didn't want to risk severe contamination, and consequent lethargy, like she had last year.

Once clean, she pulled on her fresh change of clothes: an oversized red sweater and some light blue, linen pants. Her bloody trainers would have to make do, for now.

Quickly drying her hair, she combed through the knots with her fingers as much as she could. By the end of the whole process, she didn't look half bad.

She still had a stick of lipstick in her old jacket pocket available, too.

After applying it, she wandered into the solemn kitchen, taking a seat on the counter next to Steve.

He barely offered a reaction to her presence, too absorbed in his own thoughts, fiddling with his lighter once again.

Steve didn't really know Bob, much like the kids, and much like Veronica, but, that didn't take away from the fact that yet another innocent had fallen victim to this shit-show.

Veronica told herself that she'd put a stop to all of this. Stop the demogorgan from ever killing anyone again.

That was her single slither of a chance at redemption, after Jacob.

Yet, here she was, powerless once again, to save anyone.

Her hands shook in their place, buried in her lap. She picked at her cuticles with sharp, painted nails, ripping and scratching at already scabbed skin.

Would it ever end?

Wordlessly, Steve reached over, and placed a strong hand over her shaking ones. The transferred warmth mellowed out her stress, and she folded into his side.

He pulled her into a hug, one hand at the back of her neck, the other wrapped around the small of her back.

Like this, they could block everything out, and bask in each others presence, as if nothing could hurt them.

It was safety, sanctuary.

Veronica would've gave anything, to stay like that, locked securely in Steve's arms, forever.

The universe was rarely so kind.

"Well, what do you wanna do, Mike?" Dustin's angered shout pulled the two from their momentary reprieve.

Veronica pried herself free from Steve's hold, and settled back into her spot at his side. At this rate, the only rest she'd get, was when she was dead.

That wasn't nice to think about.

"The Chief's right on this." Dustin continued, "we cant stop those demo-dogs on our own."

Veronica blinked at the unfamiliar, though catchy, term.

"Demo-dogs?" Max questioned, face scrunched in similar confusion.

"Demogorgan. Dogs." Dustin moved his hands together, as if merging the two creatures. Everyone watched and listened in painful silence. Now wasn't exactly the time for joking around. "Demo-dogs. It's like a compound. It's- it's like a play on words."

"Okay!" Max nodded frantically, her confusion rectified.

Dustin looked down at his lap sadly, no one having praised his new creation. Veronica rolled her eyes and strolled over to him, patting the boy on his head.

"It sounds good, Dusty." She reassured, Dustin's face lighting up in response.

"Thanks."

She cleared her throat to speak, somewhat eager to get back on track, if only so that, hopefully, this would all be over quicker. "I mean, when it was just Dart, maybe..."

"But there's an army, now." Lucas lamented, shaking his head at Veronica.

It was true. As much as they could all band together to try and beat the ever-loving shit out of a bunch of demo-dogs, the bastard creatures were immortal.

They wouldn't stand a chance.

Veronica had no doubt that even the one she'd decapitated, was already back on its feet. She'd try and finish it off, when they were inevitably reunited.

"His army." Mike murmured to himself, staring straight ahead, lost in thought.

"What do you mean?" Probed Steve, sitting up straighter.

His eyes flew to connect with Veronica's, as if she'd have any insight. She simply shrugged, as lost as Steve was.

The kids spoke in a language of their own, half of the time.

"His army,” Mike repeated. “Maybe if we stop him, we can stop his army, too."

After airing his seemingly revolutionary rumination, the boy sped away, darting through the hallways of the manic, disheveled home until he arrived at Will's bedroom, the walls covered in the same scribbled drawings of connecting tunnels.

"The shadow monster." Dustin said, looking own at the drawing of a spider-looking creature in Mike's hands.

"It got Will that day on the field." The gangly boy elaborated, "the doctor said it was like a virus, it infected him."

Veronica was reminded of the small boy, lead up alone on the couch. Apparently, he’d suffered a major episode, and been attacked by something.

This creature was that something.

When she found it, she’d chop its damned legs off.

"And so this virus, it's connecting him to the tunnels?" Max asked.

"To the tunnels, monsters, the Upside Down, everything."

"Whoa. Slow down, slow down." Steve urged, eyes nervous. This must’ve been a whole lot, for him. He’d barely even interacted with half of the kids until yesterday.

"Okay, so, the shadow monster's inside everything. And, if the vines feel something like pain, then so does Will." Mike helpfully explained, the two older teens nodding along in gradual understanding.

Lucas agreed, adding that Dart also felt pain.

"Yeah. Like what Mr Clarke taught us. The hive mind."

Veronica blinked. She swore she’d heard that term somewhere before. Something to do with bees?

"Hive mind?" Steve aired, clueless.

"A collective consciousness. It's a super organism." Somewhat simplified Dustin.

So, everything was connected.

And nothing to do with bees.

That would explain why Dart and his friends ran away from the junkyard, earlier.

"And this is the thing that controls everything. It's the brain." Mike concluded, pointing at the monster.

That made enough sense for Veronica to internally wage war against it, her expression turning determined.

"Like the mind flayer." Dustin mentioned.

Veronica’s face scrunched in confusion, much like Steve’s and Max’s, while Lucas snapped his finger triumphantly.

"The what?”

***

Back at kitchen table, Dustin threw down a Dungeons and Dragons manual, everyone, bar Joyce, gathered around it.

Veronica was stood next to Steve and Dustin, peering over the kid’s form to catch a glimpse of the Bible.

All she found were drawings of men with octopus heads and three-headed dragons.

Yikes.

"The mind flayer." Dustin announced ominously, pointing at an Octopus man. That didn’t look much like the spider drawing.

"The hell is that?" Hopper mumbled, completely disinterested. Veronica resisted the urge to snort.

"It's a monster from an unknown dimension. It's so ancient, it doesn't even know it's true home. It enslaves races of other dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly-developed psionic powers." Dustin, ever a fountain of knowledge, informed, spreading fear across the people in the room.

"Oh my God, none of this is real. This is a kids game." Hopper disregarded, hands stuffed petulantly into the pockets of his coat.

"No. It- it's a manual. And it's not for kids." Dustin corrected, Veronica’s eyebrows flying to her hairline. It took some balls to talk back to the Chief. “And unless you know something that we don't, this is the best metaphor—" the boy continued, jabbing an accusatory finger at the man, and amplifying Veronica’s surprise further.

"Analogy." Lucas unhelpfully corrected.

"Analogy? That's what you're worried about?" Dustin fumed in response. Lucas stayed silent, knowing he was right . "Fine! An analogy for understanding whatever the hell this is."

"Okay, so this mind flamer thing—" Nancy started, almost sending Dustin into a conniption. "What does it want?"

"To conquer us, basically. It believes it's the master race." He supplied, Veronica gulping in fear.

This was all turning out to sound a lot scarier than just another fight against a demogorgan or two. Could they really beat this thing?

"Oh, like the, like the Germans." Steve added, a proud smile on his face. Veronica snorted, unable to stop the sound before it left her.

He thought in such intriguing ways.

"Uh, the Nazis?" Dustin questioned, Veronica spying Nancy’s bewildered expression behind him and suppressing another ugly laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, the Nazis." Steve nodded, eyes flying around the table for some sort of support.

His best friend unhelpfully shook her head. He practically deflated in defeat.

"It wants to spread, take over other dimensions." Mike urged.

Lucas nodded in agreement. "We are talking about the destruction of our world as we know it." He added, Max shrinking in fear next to him.

"That's great, that's great, that's really great. Jesus!" Steve blabbered, hands flying to run through his hair as he broke away from the table, unable to keep calm. It was oddly reminiscent of his freak-out last November.

Veronica pressed a reassuring hand to his shoulder, stopping him from wandering away completely. She didn’t want to have to re-explain all of this to him, later.

"Okay, so if this thing is like a brain that's controlling everything, if we kill it..." Nancy began, waiting for someone to fill in the gap.

Veronica liked the way that she was thinking.

They needed this thing dead. ASAP.

"Then we kill everything it controls." Mike supplied, the table breathing a sigh of relief.

"Great, so how do we kill it?” Veronica probed, eager to get to the good part.

"Shoot it with fireballs or something?" Hopper grunted, snatching the manual up from the table and examining it for himself.

Veronica once again tried to get a decent peek at it, to no avail.

Dustin chuckled smugly at the Chief’s words. “No.” He said. “No fireballs."

"Then what is it, twerp?" Asked Veronica, staring down at Dustin with crossed arms.

"Uh, you summon an undead army, uh because... because zombies, you know, they don't have brains." Dustin stammered, gulping at both Hopper and Veronica’s scrutinising gazes burning down on him.

"It's just a game. It, it's just a game." He deflated, head dropping to hang between his shoulders.

"Jesus Christ, Dustin." Veronica groaned, moving away to take in some stabilising breaths.

Did they seriously have no idea how to fight this thing?

"What the hell are we doing here?" Hopper yelled, throwing the book down and making Veronica cringe.

Steve put both hands on her shoulders and pulled her back into the fray, patting at her reassuringly.

"I thought we were waiting for your military backup!?" Taunted Dustin.

"We are!"

"Even if they come, how're they gonna stop this? You can't just shoot this with guns!" Mike retaliated, the children seemingly dogpiling on Hopper.

Veronica’s chest ached. He was just trying to keep everyone safe.

"You don't know that! We don't know anything!"

"We know it's already killed everybody in that Lab." Mike jabbed, Veronica’s eyes widening.

The demo-dogs had gotten everyone?

Just how much of a shit-show was this?

"We know the monsters are gonna moult again." Lucas added.

"And we know that it's only a matter of time before this tunnels reach this town." Dustin implored, burdened with responsibility despite his young age.

"They're right." Joyce, who’d just snuck into the kitchen, affirmed. Veronica bit her lip at the sight of the mother, still shaking and frail.

“we have to kill it." She firmly continued, resolute despite appearances, never failing to impress. “I want to kill it."

"Me too," Hopper agreed, moving to stand with Joyce. "Me too, Joyce, okay? But how do we do that?" He asked, at a total loss.

Everyone here, Veronica was learning, felt the burden of this. Everyone felt like they had to know the answers, or find them.

But, they were all so deplorably under-qualified. This wasn’t even their mess.

Her eyes dropped to the floor, ruminating over the fact that they were massively out of their depth, this time.

How many more people were they going to lose?

"We don't exactly know what we're dealing with, here." The Chief stressed, Joyce growing defeated again.

"No, but he does." Mike suddenly asserted, pointing at Will after a tense silence.

Veronica’s brow creased, confused.

How on Earth would Will know anything? The kid wasn’t even lucid, right now.

"I thought we couldn't trust him, anymore? That he's a spy for the mind flayer now?" Max asked, Veronica nodding. That was what she’d guessed, after hearing how he’d been taken over at The Lab, lashing out.

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

***

"You're not covered in blood, anymore." Jonathan started, a joking smile stretched across his lips.

He started snipping at the washing line, helping Veronica in her task. Joyce had no string lying around, so, this was the next best thing.

The group was currently assembling every material they could to turn the Byers’ shed into a makeshift holding cell, wherein they’d pull some answers from Will.

Veronica, personally, hated the idea. It sounded like they were about to torture him.

But, what other option did they have?

She hoped Joyce and Jonathan could get through to the kid painlessly.

"Yeah, finally broke into my emergency clothing stash." She replied, shooting the boy a tight smile.

She was horribly cold again, and running out of patience for it. Her fuck-ass soggy trainers only served to make her predicament worse.

She was going to buy some boots, after this.

For next time.

Because there was always a next time.

"How'd you end up wrapped up in all of this again? And with a whole gang of kids, and, and Steve?" Jonathan asked, his breath coming out in puffs of fog, illuminated by the small, singular light hanging above the back door.

"Long story short, Dustin found this frog looking thing, that actually turned out to be a baby demogorgan." She heard Jonathan choke in surprise at her side, almost fumbling his scissors. That brought a genuine smile to her face. “The little shit kept it, even though everyone told him to get rid of it. And, when it got big and ate his cat, he called me to come take care of it."

Jonathan snorted, looking her up and down. "Jeez, you've got a reputation."

"As I should, I turn those bastards into mush." Veronica proudly bit, a devilish smirk showing off her teeth. She was way too happy about killing monsters. "Anyways," she continued, "we trapped Dart, that's what Dustin called the baby demogorgan." Jonathan huffed out a laughed, shaking his head back and forth in disbelief. "And when we went to Nancy's to get help, we found Steve."

"What was Steve doing at Nancy's?"

"He was gonna give her some flowers." Veronica answered, glancing at her companion, who'd suddenly turned very red and perplexingly mute. Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Why've you gone pink?"

"What're you talking about? I- I'm not pink." Jonathan stammered, looking anywhere but the girl beside him.

"Yes you are, Jonathan. You look like a freakin' tomato."

A tense silence descended for a moment, neither eager to break it. Veronica levelled the boy with a suspicious gaze, eventually making him crumble.

His shoulders sagged and he released an exaggerated groan, tipping his head back to stare at the night sky.

Jesus, Veronica internally mused, Jonathan was never this... animated.

It had to be Nancy. Nothing, or no one else, could get him this fired up.

Veronica’s lips curled in anticipation.

They'd had like, two whole days together, anything could've happened.

"You- you do know that Steve and Nancy aren't really together anymore, right?" He started, turning to look directly at Veronica. She quickly evened out her expression.

"Uh, I guess, yeah. Why?" She answered noncommittally, fiddling with the impromptu ties in her hands.

If she seemed too eager, Jonathan would get embarrassed and lock up; she needed to play this right.

"Just 'cause, when me and Nancy went away, we, we... you know."

Jonathan gestured forward with his hands, his face scarlet, as if he didn't have the words for what he was about to say.

Oh. My. God.

Veronica's jaw dropped to the floor, a guffaw bellowing out of her. They really had screwed while they were away.

"Holy shit!" She screeched, rattling Jonathan's shoulders back and forth.

He laughed, a grin, like Veronica had never seen before, slapped across his features.

"Shut up!"

"Jonathan! You devil!"

"I- I don't know if it's gonna like, lead to anything, or whatever." He simmered, breaking out of his friend's hold and swiping a hand over the top of his head.

Jonathan's anxiety was biting at him, again. Veronica pursed her lips, before shaking her head in disagreement.

"She almost bit my arm off for talking to you, earlier, John, I think you've got something solid."

"You- you think?"

"Yeah! I mean, you and Nancy, you work." She reassured, softly smiling at her friend, who couldn't quite meet her eyes. Her heart sunk at his evident feelings of inadequacy.

Once upon a time, she would've exploited that for her own enjoyment.

How could she have ever been so cruel?

"You balance each other out, but, you also complement each other in the best ways."

"Really?" He tentatively asked, nervously shuffling his feet.

"Of course! Plus, the fact that she's always doing all the scary stuff with you, like trying to kill monsters and expose government secrets, is kind of a big tell as to how much she trusts you."

Jonathan paused his moments, settling shaking hands on his hips. Looking down at Veronica, he slowly nodded, talking heed of her words. Or, at least pretending too.

"I didn't- I never really thought about it like that, before." He muttered, shifting his eyes to look down at his shoes in thought.

He was so considerate, even if he tried to consider too much, sometimes. He'd be brilliant for Nancy.

"I'm glad I could be of assistance." Veronica smiled, smacking him jokingly on the shoulder.

Jonathan snorted, and moved out of the line of fire.

"You know what this means though, right?" He broached, lifting a brow. An uncharacteristic smirk was spreading uncontrollably across his lips, Veronica turning suspicious.

"What, what means?" She questioned.

"Well, you know, now that Nancy's with me...you and Steve..."

Veronica sniffed, turning back to her work.

This couldn't be happening.

There was no way Jonathan was actually trying to talk to her, about this.

No one was supposed to know.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She snapped, pointedly looking anywhere but him.

"Ronnie, you're not as cool and mysterious as you think you are." He said, taking the scissors from her hands, and forcing her to acknowledge him.

She fumed, eyebrows furrowing.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Exploded out of her, snatching the scissors back from Jonathan.

She'd cut him with them, if he didn't tread carefully enough.

"I- I'm just saying that, well, I, I can kind of read you like a book." He levelled, suddenly nervous.

He'd dug something sensitive up, without really realising it.

He sighed, disappointed with himself for not clocking it sooner, not bringing it up more tentatively.

Only, as much as she didn't want to talk about it, the Steve shaped elephant in the room, Jonathan couldn't ignore it. Not anymore.

He was going to try his hardest to be just as good of a friend to her, as she'd been to him.

"The way that you look at Steve..." He began, Veronica pursing her lips. "You know you say I give Nancy heart eyes?" The girl begrudgingly nodded. "Well, you give them to Steve. All of the time."

"No I don't!" She barked. She couldn't do this. She wouldn't do this.

Steve deserved someone better, than her. And Jonathan should know that. If he could read her so damn well, peel apart her every page and read between the lines, he should know how rotten she is, how sick.

Steve doesn’t deserve that. He deserves daisy freshness, innocence and purity. The white Pickett fence life.

She’s blood, she’s gore. She’s betrayal. Steve deserves the furthest thing from her, that life can form. Why can’t Jonathan see that?

"Do to."

"Shit." She groaned, sniffing. Her eyes suddenly felt very wet, and her nose was stuffy.

He wasn't letting up.

Was she really that easy to read? In the respect that, her heart was on her sleeve. Maybe not the rotten parts, the parts that made her leave Jacob, but the parts that longed for Steve, and his love and touch. Whatever he would offer her, really.

She’s take anything, so long as she got to live in his orbit.

"This, this isn't easy for me, Jonathan." Veronica caved, refusing to look up at her friend. She'd never torture Jonathan with false hope, like this. "This isn't really, you know, fun. I don't know if I'm ready yet."

"That's- that's okay." Jonathan reassured, his chest tightening at the sight of tears growing in Veronica’s eyes, and her shaking fists.

"I, like, over the past couple of days I've realised that, yeah, I really like him. And that, I, I want him." She started, her voice burdened with heavy tears. She felt so small and fragile, under this scrutiny. "But, I don't think I can do it."

Jonathan gulped, blinking. He could guess a good reason as to why.

How would Veronica react, when he brought it up, though?

Would she break down? Would she start screaming at him? Tell him to mind his own business?

Truthfully, he had no idea.

She was a loose canon, right now. Talking about her feelings was uncharted territory.

Sighing, he decided to go for it. He needed to. He’d been enough of a coward, over the past year, refusing to even ask about Steve. Acting now, finally prying her out of her self-bound cage, was the least he could do.

"Because of Jacob?" He quietly asked, and Veronica almost collapsed at his words.

Her throat seemingly closed, and all of a sudden it was near impossible to breathe. She started gulping in any air she could manage, hands flying to grasp at her neck.

She was splitting at the seems. Her skin burning, her eyes burning, everything burning. She was hot and cold at the same time, sweating but shivering, teeth jittering but biting into her lips. If she wasn’t tearing into the flesh, stamping it down, it might mould around the word yes.

"Is it because you're not ready to move on? Or, or because you feel..." The words caught in Jonathan's mouth, grimacing before pushing through the momentary blip. "You feel guilty? Like, like you don't deserve something good?"

That was it. That was exactly it.

She deserved noting but torture. Nothing but pain.

She couldn't even properly avenge him, for fucksake.

Jacob's death put a permanent hit on Veronica's head. Everything she suffered through, was just penance.

Sucking in a deep breath, she levelled Jonathan with a lethal stare.

"Are you trying to say I'm weak?" She bit. If she couldn't get him off her scent any other way, she'd have to guilt him.

If that didn't work, she'd resort to the tried and true insults.

"What? No! No, that's not, that's not what I'm saying at all." Jonathan stuttered, hands waving away the accusation.

She refused to take any notice, shooting daggers up at him.

"It's just... after Will came back, I didn't feel like I could ever be normal around him again, you know? I felt like, like I didn't deserve him. Everyone forgets that, if I hadn't worked late, the night he'd gone missing, that I could've been there, to help him, or, or save him."

Veronica sniffed, looking away. She knew that Jonathan suffered with guilt, too. Especially in the beginning.

But, hers was different. Will came back. Jacob didn't.

He never would.

"But, you can't live like that, Ronnie." Jonathan continued, tears brewing in his own eyes. Veronica pushed back the urge to bring him into a hug.

Why was he determined, to waste his time on her?

"You can't torture yourself. You told me that, remember?"

She let out a watery sigh. The memory was barely there, a little foggy around the edges, blurred and softened with time. But she remembered.

Somewhen in May, they were parked up somewhere outside of town, smoking away their blues.

Jonathan had suddenly started crying, moaning on and on about how everything was his fault. That, if only he'd gone home that night, none of this would've happened.

She’d grabbed him by the shoulders, and told him that he couldn't think that way.

After all, it was hardly a way to live.

"Isn't it time you took some of your own advice?" Jonathan finished, his words a punch to Veronica's gut.

Was that it? That she deserved to take her own advice? Was that the big revelation?

Maybe, a part of her did, the part that longed for more, that yanked on its chains to be free and just live again. Maybe that part of her, deserved to take her own advice. It didn’t deserve an age of torture, just because those rotten parts of her ruined everything.

But did those rotten parts deserve something kind too? Some forgiveness and grace? She’d grown, she’d changed. She knew she had. If she hadn’t, Dustin would be nothing more than a kid she tripped in the street, a nerd she’d stick her gum onto.

Steve had changed, too. The kids had, everyone, who went within a ten foot radius of this mess, had. So, why should she cage herself in, like this? Why condemn herself to an eternity of static? Why shouldn’t she listen to Jonathan, and just let go?

It would feel so good, too. So freeing, to finally live without crippling guilt weighing on her bones, every second of the day. She’d be able to feel the wind in her hair, bask in it, roll in fields, be close with Steve, indulge in herself, indulge in him, for once, and not feel dead eyes boring into her from above.

She didn’t really deserve any of that, though. Not after Jacob. It was his lifeless eyes that followed her everywhere, after all, darkening every day with his lingering presence. She’d killed him.

But would he want this, for her?

Of course, he wouldn’t.

He’d give her grace. She hated it, but she knew he would. That was just Jacob. He’d always been too kind. Even when they were just friends he’d always been the impossibly pure.

It was almost sickening, almost damming, to be haunted by someone so unfailingly good. But that’s the card she dealt herself.

So, to honour him, instead of disrespecting him further, she’d take a leaf out of his book. She’d be kind.

And her soul sang.

Was this what relief felt like? What being seen felt like?

Her shoulders were ten, no, twenty times lighter, and she could suddenly breathe again. Every beat of her heart wasn’t punctuated with hatred, anymore, a dull ache of anger that bubbled through her veins and out of her finger tips.

Sobs spluttered out of her uncontrollably, and her fingers curled around the material of Jonathan’s jacket. He pulled her in tight, a few of his own tears escaping, coddling the girl in his arms with unshakable support.

It was tough, but he'd broken through. Fucking finally

"Jesus," Veronica moaned, pulling her face away from his chest and levelling her friend with a faux glare. "What is it with you Byers and making me cry, today?”

She wasn't completely guiltless. She never would be.

But she couldn't carry on, like she had been. When everyday was a punishment.

She didn't exactly plan on dying any time soon, torturing herself would accomplish nothing.

It'd only make for more misery, in the world.

Jacob wouldn’t want that.

"Who else made you cry?" Jonathan asked, his eyes glistening with happiness.

"Your Mom."

"I'm sorry on her behalf, then." He offered, Veronica shaking her head back and forth with a watery smile. "So, are you gonna do it?"

She blinked, confusion settling over her features. Jesus, this conversation had been a rollercoaster.

"Do what?" She asked.

"Go for him. For Steve."

Letting out a small laugh, she wiped away her tears and paused to think.

Did she really have any chance, with Steve?

He had seemed a bit odd, around her, lately. He was a bit odd in general, though.

Who really knew? Who really cared?

She was free, relatively unburdened. She was ready to be impulsive, ready to be brave, and grab her life by the reigns, again.

"Shit yeah, I am." She purred, a wolfish smirk spreading across her lips.

If Steve didn't want her, well, she'd deal with that bridge when she crossed it. But, for now, she'd let herself dream.

"That's what we like to hear."

Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Chapter Text

In record time, the group managed to complete their operation: transform the shed into the perfect interrogation chamber.

Veronica stared at it, eyes squinted, seated on the steps at the back of the Byers' house.

Their plan wasn't going to work, she concluded.

Maybe it was just her cynical nature, or maybe it was her penchant for getting in the heads of monsters, that made her think that way.

But, whatever it was that was inside of Will, the Mind Flayer, it wouldn't be leaving him anytime soon.

It wouldn't let Will tell them anything, so long as it had control.

They were doomed, pretty much.

The sound of the rickety porch door opening pulled Veronica from her thoughts, swivelling her head to find Nancy approaching.

The petite girl, clad in a tan button up coat, was stone faced. She planted herself down next to Veronica with a huff.

A tense silence settled over them, for what felt like a year. It was probably only a brief moment, a fleeting second. But a heavy weight settled in Veronica’s unsettled stomach. They had a lot to talk about.

"I, uh," Nancy started, unsure. She refused to look at the dark haired girl next to her, instead staring off into the forest beyond. The tree-line was impossible to look beyond, the darkness of the night consuming the trunks of the trees, swallowing up any slithers of pesky light. "I don't know where to start."

Veronica bit her lip, dropping her head to stare at her lap.

Where should Nancy start?

With the whole name calling situation, at the party? That'd make sense, it'd be chronological.

"I guess, I should- I should really start with saying sorry." Nancy tumbled out, finally steeling herself and facing the girl next to her. Veronica blinked at the prodding eye contact, Nancy's gorgeous brown eyes pleading to be listened to. "What I said to you at the party, what a I called you..." Veronica's spine shivered at the memory, fear scratching at her skin.

Murderer.

"It's unforgivable. I was projecting, a total mess about Barb." A sorry laugh bubbled up from Nancy's chest, her hands flying into the air only to drop back down to her side in defeat. “If- if you don't want to be friends anymore, I totally get that. I humiliated you, I picked at your weakest spot, I- I." She sighed, biting back tears. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry."

Dumbfounded, Veronica blinked at her friend, her mouth open, unable to form a response.

Was she ready to forgive Nancy?

The answer was hopelessly simple. Of course, she was.

Had what she'd called Veronica broken her down, and contributed to the crushing guilt that liked to live on her shoulders? Yes.

Had she publicly humiliated her, and further alienated her from their peers at school who revelled in bullying her? Yes.

But, she was Veronica's friend.

They'd been through hell together, last year. That bonded them, for better or for worse.

Thankfully, it was for the better, on the whole. Nancy was just struggling, that's why she'd lashed out.

Veronica should've been a more proactive friend, and helped Nancy before she could reach the destructive point that she did at Tina's party.

If Nancy could forgo even mentioning that, Veronica could forgive a drunken mistake.

"Of course I still wanna be friends." She affirmed, a soft smile settling over her features, while Nancy’s tense form deflated in relief. "You're like, my best friend."

Nancy raised a brow, a smirk spreading over her lips. "I thought that title belonged to Steve?"

"I- well-" Veronica stammered, looking away as a ferocious blush raged across her cheeks.

"It's okay," Nancy said. "I know what's going on."

Veronica’s heart dropped to her ass. She stifled a choke. "You know what's going on? C'mon, Wheeler, you've gotta give me more than that."

"I have eyes." Began Nancy, sending Veronica a knowing look. The dark haired girl shrunk in response. "I see how you look at him. At Steve. I see how he looks at you, too."

"Nance, I-" Veronica stammered, suddenly nervous. The last thing she wanted, out of all of this, was to lose Nancy over her stupid crush on Steve. "I swear I only just realised that's how I felt. Actually I, I think it's only recently that's even how I felt, at all. Steve's always been just a friend, I promise."

Nancy nodded, smirk still wide, seemingly enjoying her teasing way too much.

"I know, I know." She sung. "But some things are undeniable, Ron. You two have always been close, maybe it was all leading up to something. To this."

"You've only just split, Nance... I don't want you to think I'm some kind of boyfriend snatcher, or something.”

The petite girl giggled, wrapping her coat around herself tighter. While it was cold, Veronica found herself feeling warmer than she had all evening— other than when she'd been in Steve's arms, of course.

She pouted at Nancy's teasing, feeling a little attacked. First Jonathan, and now Nancy? God, they were going to be torturous together.

"I'm serious! I've got a bad enough reputation in this town, already."

"You don't have to worry about me thinking that." Nancy said, her smirk simmering to something softer. "I'm sure you already know what's happening with me and Jonathan, you're observant."

"Oh, he's only been moping to me all year long, so yeah, you could say I know."

A blush of her own kissed Nancy's sharp cheeks, her eyes sparkling. "A whole year, really?" She asked coyly.

"It's always been you, for Jonathan. But, he can tell you himself about how he's loved you since the first time he saw you, picking up Will from a play date with Mike."

Veronica watched with thinly veiled adoration as Nancy broke into harmonious peels of laughter, brining some joy to the gloomy evening.

After a few more minutes of teasing jabs, from both girls, they stood, stepping back into the glowing home, hand in hand.

With a squeeze of her palm, Veronica split from Nancy, and made her way over to Steve, who was sat on a sunken couch.

His knee bounced restlessly, and a hand picked at a patch of scalp under his thick locks of hair.

He hated this. Waiting.

He wanted to take action now, head into the Upside Down, and attack this Mind Flayer bastard himself. Who did he think he was, getting off on attacking children?

Fucking freak.

"Hey, Steve." Veronica aired, breaking him from his thoughts, and settling down next to him. "You good?"

"Yeah, yeah." He said, sending her a brief smile.

God, she was so caring. Even amongst all of this, even after just having chopped a damned demo-dog's head off, and learning that one of her kids was possessed, she still managed to keep an eye on him, offer a hand to hold.

It was unfamiliar to Steve, to have someone caring for him.

His Mom and Dad were never there, always away on business trips, or couples therapy retreats. That's what the excuses were when he was younger, anyway.

Now, they’re open about how they upped and moved to Chicago, seemingly determined to be involved in their son's life as little as possible. How loving. How supportive.

At least he was getting that sweet, sweet trust fund money, and a big house to live in... all by himself.

"You sure?" Veronica's soft voice wandered its way into Steve's ear once again, reminding him that he was, in fact, cared for by someone. The best person anyone could ever ask to care for them.

"Yeah, thanks, Ron." He replied, reaching over to squeeze her hand, and intertwine it with his own.

They fit together like puzzle pieces. Always had.

Steve's had was big, knobbly, and coarse, with some hairs on the back. Veronica's was spindly, pointed with those red nails of hers, soft due to her rigorous moisturising routine, and scratched at the cuticles thanks to her anxiety.

He couldn't imagine what he'd done to ever deserve her. No one else seemed to get what was so good about him, after all.

"Seriously," he reiterated. “Thank you. You're, you're perfect."

A bashful smile spread across her cheeks, and Steve tampered down the excitement that brewed in him at the sight of a blush exploding on her cheeks. It was probably just the warmth from inside, contrasting the cold settled on her skin from outside, right?

"Whatever you say, Steve."

From across the room, Dustin sent Veronica a terribly executed wink, his mouth opening with the action.

She suppressed a snort at the sight, rolling her eyes and settling into Steve's side.

He lifted an arm, settling it onto the back of the couch, titling his head to rest on top of hers.

They could wait out whatever horrible news that was to come, together, like this.

They always could.

Chapter Text

Max hadn't been anywhere to be found the entire day. Not that Billy had been looking, or cared, at all.

In fact, he much preferred it when the little shit stayed out of sight. At least then he didn't have to wrestle with the anger that festered in him, at her mere presence, all up close and personal.

But Neil would care.

It was all part of his doting father act, which ended up wooing Susan, much to Billy's disdain.

He knew, for the most part, how to work around his father. He'd dealt with him for years, after all. But these two, the new wife and sister, they were greenhorns.

Every other day Susan would do something to set him off— move his reading glasses, forget to set out his beers, forget to chill them before hand. It was infuriating.

Billy wanted to grab them and tell it to them straight. Tell them that, damn it, this shit was life or death.

At least he could treat Max like that, drag her around, scream at her, control her.

For once, he had power over something in his life. Whole lot of good that was doing; she was a disobedient little shit.

A small, hidden part of Billy admired her for it. It meant one person in the house actually had balls.

Only, that was so long as her shenanigans didn't get him into shit. Which, as Billy heard the front door slam open, only to be smacked shut a second later, he predicted it was about to.

He continued messing his hair in the mirror, spritzing it with hairspray to lock his curls into place.

So what, if pampering was a little gay? So what, if only fairies used hairspray? That was all according to Neil.

Billy just liked to look good for the ladies.

No one else.

No men.

Billy saw Harrington use it, after basketball. Jesus, you'd have to be nose-blind not to smell it, on the guy.

And, Billy knew for a fact that he was straight as a ruler, the heart eyes he had for that pretty friend of his, so big they teetered on the verge of bursting from his weirdly cubic skull.

Billy took a long drag from his cigarette and turned his music up louder, shoving own the dread that bubbled up from his stomach at the sound of thunderous footsteps approaching his door.

Scared or not, that didn't change the fact that Neil was about to tear him, punch him, hit him a new one.

That was an unchangeable fact.

Until Billy got out, he'd be flattened under the sole of that bastard's steel-toed boots for every second of his miserable existence.

Three soft knocks sounded from his door, and Susan called out his name.

Shit.

"Yeah, I'm a little bit busy in here, Susan." He shot out, turning to get another peek at his ass. These jeans always did him justice.

"Open the door. Right now." Neil asserted, his voice terror-inducing even trough a good couple of centimetres of wood. Ice shoot down Billy's spine, his eyes dropping to the floor.

Show time.

Placing his cigarette in the ash tray by his mirror, he walked to the door with soft steps, breathing in a deep breath before opening it.

Neil and Susan stood stiffly on the other side, his father staring down at him with wild eyes and thin lips.

Billy refused to even spare his step-mother a glance, far too preoccupied with staying vigilant against Neil's every move.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Neil frowned deeper, his wrinkled face creasing. "Why don't you tell us?" He spat, fast as a whip.

"Because I don't know."

"We can't find Maxine." Susan aired, her brows slanted in worry.

Billy almost felt sorry for her, before his anger at Max overtook him and everything else was shoved to the side.

That little bitch had snuck out. Billy'd tear her a new one, when he got his hands on her.

"And her window's open."He looked away, his stomach dropping. He's fucked. He's fucked, he's fucked, he's fucked, he's fucked.

Neil probably thought she got kidnapped, or some absurd shit. He always told Billy how vulnerable women and girls were, to that type of thing.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know! Look, I'm sure she just, I don't know, went to the arcade or something. I'm sure she's fine." Dismissed Billy, wandering towards his closet— a futile attempt at establishing distance between them. Neil only followed.

He tried to stay as calm as possible, pulling a jacket from a hanger, while Neil's presence hovered ominously behind him.

He could strike at any moment, Billy's heartbeat thundering in his ears, palms growing slick with sweat.

"You were supposed to watch her."

"I know, Dad, I was." Billy pulled on the leather jacket, a sudden burst of anger bubbling up inside of him. It was threatening to spill out of his mouth before he could stop it, dangling from the tip of his tongue.

He bit it back with a sigh.

"It's just, you guys were three hours late, and, well, I have a date." Fixing Neil with his best attempt of an apologetic face that he could muster, Billy darted his eyes to Susan for a dangerous second.

She stood hovering in the doorway, petrified like a little mouse. Grow up.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"That's why you've been staring at yourself in the mirror like some (f slur) instead of watching your sister?"

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over Billy's head, his face contorting in momentary horror, eyes blinking in confusion.

Did Neil know?

No. There was no way.

Billy had left that behind in California, and Neil showed no inklings of suspicion before they left.

He was probably just spewing more homophobic shit that he'd heard from his 'friends' down at those dive bars he frequented.

Nevertheless, the comment struck deep, and all of Billy's self control flying out of the window. Fuck Neil and fuck his fucking accusations.

"I have been looking after her all week, Dad. Okay? She wants to run off, that's her problem, alright? She's thirteen years old. She shouldn't need a full-time babysitter. And she's not my sister!" His voice grew louder and louder with every syllable spilling from his near-quivering lips, slamming the pause button on his stereo.

He was getting overwhelmed. Too much noise, too many eyes, too much pressure. He felt like curling into a ball.

Silencing his overbearing thoughts, Neil slammed Billy into the stack of shelves behind him, photo frames and trinkets falling to the floor.

A toy airplane shattered at Billy's feet— a gift from his mother.

Neil's stinking breath made him want to stare at the floor harder, but his blazing eyes and snapping teeth made him impossible to ignore.

His fists curled in the collar of Billy's jacket, creasing the supple leather, and shoving it high enough to kiss Billy's cheekbones.

"What did we talk about?"

Billy said nothing, afraid that, if he opened his mouth to speak, only sobs would spill out. How pathetic of him.

Neil smacked his hand down onto Billy's cheek, hammering the boy's head to the side, disorientating him.

His eye was stabbed by the sharp corner of a toppled photo frame, before Neil snapped his head back to eye level with a yank on his freshly shaven chin.

"What. Did. We. Talk about?" He repeated, black, blank eyes boring deep into Billy's, demanding an answer.

The boy gulped, swallowing down the teary weight to his voice. He couldn't give Neil anymore weakness to work with, than he already had. "Respect and responsibility."

"That is right. Now, apologise to Susan."

Before Billy could complete his order, he had to bite back the urge to snarl at Neil, and rip off his ugly, smug face.

What would happen, if Billy did that?

He'd just runaway, flee back to California, and live alone, like a freak. At least then he'd be alone. No one would be there to bother him.

Even if he got caught, it'd be worth it. Neil would never be able to spout stupid shit at him, ever again. It sounded like heaven.

"I'm sorry, Susan." He grumbled out, tears teetering on his lashes.

Who was he kidding? He'd never hit back at Neil.

Sure, Billy could shout and scream at the bastard, hurtle vases at him, punch walls... but he'd never have the courage to hurt him.

The second he raised his voice, the second he put his hands on him, Billy was a little kid again, powerless and indefensible.

Susan trembled behind her husband, unable to watch the scene unfold in front of her, eyes stuck to the floor.

Billy wished he had that privilege, to be the onlooker, and not the receiver, just for one moment in his damned life.

"It's okay, Neil, really-"

"No, it's not okay! Nothing about this behaviour is okay!" Neil roared, hurtling around to face Susan.

Billy sniffed, not doubting for a second that Neil would find something to pick on, and use as an excuse to teach her a lesson, too.

"He's gonna call whatever whore he's seeing tonight and cancel their date." The father declared, finally releasing Billy to speak to Susan directly.

He watched in disgust as she cowered away, disappearing back into the hallway. Coward, Billy thought.

"And then, he's gonna go find his sister. Like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is. Ain't that right, Billy?"

Suddenly fixed with another of Neil's scalding stares, Bill froze against the wall he was leant against.

He felt like a tiny ant at the mercy of a shoe, or a droplet of rain. Either could hit him at any second, and send him spiralling to the floor, pummelled and destroyed.

"Isn't that right!?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

Billy breathed in a deep breath through his stuffy nose, blinking slowly. "Yes. Sir." He repeated, louder this time.

He'd do anything to get Neil off of him, in that moment. He felt like he was abut to burn, shrivel up like a raisin under a beam of magnified sunlight.

Neil huffed, seemingly as satisfied as was possible, for him. Billy refused to move a muscle, however, poised for the next attack.

The father simply walked back into the hallway, unfazed. He hollered from his bedroom to find Max, Billy's resolve crumpling with the final order, his body sliding down the wall, tears slipping down his cheeks.

At least, his hunt would allow him some time out of the house.

What an optimist, he was.

Chapter Text

Sitting peacefully on the couch, Veronica looked down at her hands with a smile, her anxiety induced wounds having been kindly bandaged by Jonathan.

He really was a great friend, she mused, spotting her pain, physical and mental, and doing his best to alleviate it. She'd treat him to something, once all of this was over. Maybe some new cassette tapes? Some tickets to go see The Clash?

Snuggling into the couch further, she resolved to stewing his gift over, while waiting for them to finish up in the shed.

It was the least that she could do.

Steve watched Veronica from across the hall, eyes squinted in suspicion at the soft, admiring look on her face.

Did she like Jonathan? Surely not. He wasn't her type like, at all.

The guy wasn't ugly, not by any means, but, he didn't have that... swagger, Veronica liked in her men.

Jacob didn't have swagger, though. He was a nice guy. All hugs and righteousness.

What type of guys did Veronica like? And how did Steve not know this?

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, continuing to stare at her in scrutiny, fingers drumming thoughtfully on his hips. She really was an enigma.

Steve wanted to learn everything, about her.

Everything that he didn't know, already, anyways— like her Jenny's order (which he, more often than not, bought), her makeup routine, her favourite colours (she couldn't pick just one, even if it was probably pink) and her most devout fashion influences.

Was any of that really Veronica, though? Materialistic? feminine?

The girl he'd been privy to the last couple of days, was a far cry from the picture-perfect, magazine cut-out he'd gotten used to.

Veronica was blood-thirsty, she was angry, she was dirty. Well, not in the freaky kind of way, just, ready to sink into the mud, eager for a fight or a tussle. She was also caring, protective— almost motherly.

Was this apparent duplicity just part of her charm? if it was, it was working wonders on Steve; every facet of hers, he wanted to hold in his hands and admire, decipher. Peel apart her layers like some kind of beautiful onion skin, or a flower, each petal a new, incredible fact.

His cheeks heated at the thought of getting to really understand her, know her answer to every question before she could even answer it herself. He wanted to be her person.

God, he was practically melting at the thought of her. Was she some kind of witch, or something? She'd enchanted him.

Nancy rocking up to his side snapped Steve out of his creeping, the girl sending him a teasing look. An embarrassed laugh bubbled out of his chest at the glance, having been caught in the act. He'd probably gone tomato.

The ex-couple had hashed it out, properly this time, while gathering materials for Will's interrogation chamber. They were broken up. For good. And, on relatively good terms.

It was evident that their hearts longed for others, why drag it out?

Sure, it still fucked with Steve a little that he'd been so ignorant to Nancy having googly eyes for Jonathan for a year, but, part of him probably knew, anyways.

He knew about the rumours, the long stares when they shared when thought no one else was looking, the way Ronnie would whisk Jonathan away whenever Steve and Nancy kissed. But Steve was determinedly ignorant. He'd wanted to live the fantasy, feel loved, even if he knew it wasn't real.

He loved hands in his hair and sneaking kisses, a warm body to wake up next to on the weekends. Sue him.

Maybe, he'd get to do that with Ronnie, one day. And it'd be real. There would be no hidden subclause, no undercurrent of lies. It'd be healthy.

Nancy huffed out a laugh, revelling in Steve's sheepish expression.

He and Veronica were a fountain of enjoyment, she considered, their giddy crushes on each other bounties of potential bullying material.

Sudden flickering of lights broke the two from their small intermission of fun, spasms of light smacking from one beige wall to another. 

"Oh, what the fuck." Steve moaned, dread welling in his stomach.

The house hummed with a surge of electricity, every metal object a potential hazard.

Steve still had nightmares of flashing lights, glimpses of the monster, and Veronica's limp body— snippets of their fight with the demogorgan last year. They surged back up in that moment, holding Steve's conscious in tight, angry hands and saying don't let that happen again.

Swallowing down his fear, he and Nancy fled to the window facing the shed, the kids already having gathered there with Veronica.

She glared through the glass, watching beams of light sporadically shoot out from under the shed doors.

What was happening, in there?

Was the Mind Flayer acting up?

Steve placed a reassuring hand on her stiff shoulder, prying her away from the window as her worry intensified.

Stuck inside the house, separated from Will via walls and locks, she was powerless. A-fucking-gain.

"They're making progress, alright?" Said Steve, Veronica nodding along as he pulled her to sit at the kitchen table. "They've got this."

"But..." She trailed off, sighing and swiping a hand down her face. "Don't you feel like we should be doing more?"

The boy nodded thoughtfully, his eyes shining with empathy. "For now, we've done everything we can."

She sent him a grateful, though tight smile, squeezing his outstretched hand for support. Steve reciprocated the gesture, his gorgeous chocolate eyes twinkling in the soft overhead light.

Their moment of quiet was destroyed by Hopper barging into the home, Joyce, Jonathan and Mike following behind him.

Catching her friend's eye, Veronica sent Jonathan what she hoped was a supportive expression. He silently nodded, jamming his hands into his pockets stiffly. She couldn't imagine how he felt, right now.

Hopper grunted obnoxiously as he ripped a piece of paper from the wall, breaking up a branch of tunnels. He flipped it, so that the blank side faced up, and collapsed into the seat next to Veronica.

"Chief?" She asked, an eyebrow arched in confusion.

"I think he's talking, just not with words." He fired out, scribbling at light speed onto the paper.

She couldn't catch sight of what he was scrawling until he leant back from the table, revealing dots and dashes on the page.

Blinking at the peculiar writing, she shot Steve a questioning look. He simply shrugged.

Had Hopper gone mad?

"What is that?" Steve and Veronica asked in union.

"Morse code." All of the kids supplied, the two older teens sharing yet another perplexed look.

Wasn't that like, army talk, or something? It came up in movies, sometimes, if her memory served correct.

Hopper wrote H E R E beneath the lines of code, causing the girl to blink in a flurry of further confusion. Her brain felt like it was about to melt out of her ears.

"Will's still in there. He's talking to us." Hopper announced, Veronica oooohing in realisation.

Maybe, they weren't completely doomed after all. She shouldn't have underestimated Will, he was made of incredibly strong stuff, of course he'd be able to fight back against the Mind Flayer.

At Hopper's discovery, the group monitoring Will raced back out to him, a stereo in tow. Hopefully, playing some familiar music would encourage him to come out more, be more bold.

In the mean time, Hopper clicked down a radio any coded messages Will secretly gave, supposedly via tapping his fingers, Dustin scribbling down the pattern.

Lucas and Max had a translating card, English letters corresponding with patterns. They shouted out a litany of letters, Veronica hovering over the backs of their chairs and watching on vigilantly.

'Close' was the first word to come through, Nancy scribbling down the word letter by painstaking letter.

'G', 'A' and 'T' quickly followed, scratched down on a stray piece of cardboard in red crayon.

"E!" Was the final one, Lucas shouting it triumphantly, while everyone gathered behind Nancy to read the completed message.

Veronica squinted at it in thinly veiled disgruntlement, one familiar word leaping up from the page.

"Close gate."

Jane had opened it only a year prior, the bridge between this dimension and the Upside Down. Veronica's stomach flipped at the reminder of the small girl, the one they'd lost to this farce.

Terry Ives also flashed in her mind, the woman whose life and sanity was stolen by Dr. Brenner.

Had the Lab not been monitoring the gate, and ensuring that it stayed stable? They'd promised that they would. That's why they'd been looking after Will, bringing him in for check-ups.

Then again, what good had any of that done? Will was still possessed, and arguably in a worse place than he was this time last year. What a shit-show.

Before the group could fully decipher the meaning of the message, the shrill scream of a ringing phone sliced through any thoughts.

Veronica's head snapped to the sound, scrambling to silence the offending object.

Nothing was ever easy, was it? The universe always had to throw a spanner in the works.

Dustin got to it first, quickly lifting it, and answering, before slamming it back down.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief at the return to silence, Veronica flopping back down into a chair.

Only, it rung again a second later. Nancy grappled with the base of the phone for a second before ripping it from the wall completely, smashing it onto the ground with a grunt.

Veronica blinked at the viciousness in shock before relaxing once again. Maybe she wouldn't bother Nancy for a little while.

"D'you think he heard that?" Nancy asked, referring to the Mind Flayer, eyes flicking around the group for an answer.

"It's just a phone." Steve assured, shrugging. "It could be anywhere, right?"

As if. Knowing their luck, the Mind Flayer would've worked out where they were at the first shriek of the damned thing.

"When does anything ever go our way?" Veronica groaned, dropping her head to rest in her shaking hands. "We're so screwed."

The distant screeching of monsters quickly cemented the growing feeling of despair within the girl, her lips quivering. Great. More monsters. More killing. More potential death. The thought of it all was soul-sucking.

She heaved in a deep, stabilising breath, standing and retrieving her axe from its place leant against a cabinet.

There'd be time for crying, later. Right now, she had more monsters to behead.

"That's not good." Dustin commented, sharing a despairing look with Lucas and Max.

No shit, Sherlock.

Hopper barged back into the house with a slam, Veronica and Steve, weapons already raised, jumping into the air in surprise at the sudden burst of noise, their vigilance cranked all the way up.

Will was wrapped up, unconscious, in the Chiefs arms. He placed the boy down on a couch before pulling two rifles from somewhere.

"Hey. Hey! Get away from the windows!" He steamed, positioning himself at the front of the quickly gathering group in the living room.

The kids, who'd flown to catch a glimpse of the approaching monsters, flew away from the glass as if burned.

Jonathan herded Joyce behind him, while Mike scurried to stand with Dustin and Lucas. The group of kids, including Max, who had a tight grip on Lucas's hand, rallied behind Veronica and Steve.

"Do you know how to use this?" Hopper asked Jonathan, holding up a rifle.

The boy stammered unhelpfully in response, before Nancy interjected that she could, face firm.

She really was made of tough shit.

The chief nodded and chucked her a hunting rifle, Nancy quickly turning the safety off, checking the barrel, and pointing it at the door.

With that, a tense silence settled over the house, even breathing barely catchable above the strangling quiet.

Veronica huffed steadily through her nose, eyes flicking from window to window, the growls and roars of the demo-dogs drawing eerily closer. Her grip on the handle of her axe tightened, voiding the layer of sweat that began to form on it. 

"Where are they?" Max fearfully aired. Lucas was now protecting her with his loaded slingshot, aimed directly at the door.

The growls of the monsters intensified as they got nearer, spiking in a deafening shriek from the side of the house.

Yelps broke out as everyone swivelled in that direction, weapons now pointed towards the living room's right-hand window.

"What're they doing?" Nancy rattled out, still staring down the barrel of her gun.

"Playing with us. Like usual." Veronica sniped, brows furrowed.

Why, and how, were these damned things so smart? Why did they like to play with their food, so much?

Familiar growls sounded in the direction of the front door, the group pivoting once again to face it. It was like a demented game of cat and mouse.

The noises drew closer and closer, before suddenly turning silent.

Veronica's heart hammered in anticipation, fingers wiggling, lips and eyes twitching.

Any second now, one was bound to pounce.

Sweat beaded on her temple, suddenly feeling as if it were the middle of summer, and not winter.

Any second, one could come flying through the door, or a window, or ripping through the ceiling like the demogorgan had done last year, and there'd be a frantic fight to the death- shots fired, axes and bats swung, screams ringing out.

Answering her thoughts, the front window suddenly exploded. Glass flew everywhere as a demo-dog came speeding through, its limp body slapping against the carpet with a wet smack.

Veronica blinked at the sight, the creature lying, unmoving, amongst the rubble its entrance created.

Was it dead?

It could be pretending, laying still on purpose. They were smart, after all.

Hopper crept forward, the nose of his rifle locked onto the body. He tentatively nudged its head with the weapon, heaving out a massive sigh when it remained limp, the petals of its face flopping open like the peels of a banana.

Veronica, her body deflating, grimaced at the gross sight, drool leaking from the creature's maw onto the carpet.

Her heart trailed into a less intense beat momentarily, before sneaking back up, drumming in her hears.

How did it even end up coming through the window? Was it a dumb one, killing itself in the pursuit of The Party?

Or had someone killed it?

Small metallic sounds clinked from the front door, the girl swivelling to find the numerous locks being magically loosened, unfastened.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, the grip on her axe unconsciously floundering.

What the fuck was going on?

The door slowly creaked open, her axe poised after sniffing and catching herself.

Seconds dragged into what felt like hours until it opened fully, a gust of frigid, icy wind billowing into the home.

None other than Jane stood in the doorway, a small trail of blood flowing from her nose.

She was dressed in peculiar, dark, oversized clothes, with slicked back hair and smudged eyeshadow framing her eyes.

Holy shit.

She was alive.

The small girls face crumpled as she locked eyes with Mike, Veronica dropping her weapon to her side as Jane ran forward and enveloped the boy in a hug.

"Oh, Mike." She lamented, tears spilling from her tightly shut eyes. Veronica's heart swelled at the sight, meddling with her utter confusion at the situation to concoct an odd feeling in her stomach.

Had Jane been alone, surviving and fighting, this whole time?

Or had she been stolen back by the scientists?

"Is that..?" Steve muttered, raising a finger and pointing at the newly-alive girl in question.

He'd heard all about her, the girl who was able to do things with her mind. Veronica was reminded, at his confusion, that'd he hadn't even met her, last year.

She nodded in confirmation.

"Why wouldn't you tell me that you were there?" Mike asked Jane, tears still pouring from his eyes. What exactly was he referring to?

Jane opened her mouth to speak, only for Hopper to stop forward.

"Because I wouldn't let her." He levelled, towering over Mike with a glare.

Veronica's face scrunched in shock. Her heart stuttered.

Hopper... knew?

This whole time he knew that Jane was alive?

And he'd kept it from everybody?

"The hell is this? Where you been?" He jabbed, shooting Jane a fierce look.

To Veronica's complete bewilderment, the small girl looked up at the man with a retaliatory glare. "Where have you been?" she snappily responded.

Rolling his eyes, Hopper pulled her into a firm hug, much to the surprise of the onlooking group. Veronica was pretty sure her jaw dropped.

"You've been hiding her." Mike announced, an accusatory finger pointed at the Chief. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"

He hit at the man with pathetic fists, blubbering through fat tears. Steve's arms stuttered in the corner of Veronica's vision, evidently torn over whether or not to intervene.

"Hey!" Hopper hollered, grabbing Mike by the collar and restraining him. "Let's talk. Alone."

Veronica thought that sounded like a good idea. For everyone.

After locking themselves in Will's bedroom, their shouting match could be heard through the entire house.

The older teen girl plopped down into a couch and covered her ears— she didn't need to hear whatever they were saying, no matter how loudly they were broadcasting it. It was private.

Eyes sliding to Jane, Veronica was conflicted over whether or not to go up to the girl. Opting to send her as kind of a smile as possible and a small wave from across the room, she leant back into the couch, releasing her ears.

Jane reciprocated, her small smile having grown ever so slightly bigger from the year previous. Despite having been taken care of by Hopper, of all people, she was still so tiny.

"You opened this gate before, right?" Joyce suddenly asked, shooting Jane a questioning look. The older woman had that frazzled look about her, practically vibrating with eagerness.

"Yes." Jane said, a firm expression settling over her features.

"Do you think that if we got you back there you could, you could close it?"

***

"It's not like it was before. It's grown." Hopper grunted, referring to the Upside Down gate in the Lab. He dragged a calloused hand down his stubbly cheeks and chin, huffing out a raucous sigh. "A lot. And, I mean, that's considering we even get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs."

Veronica shivered at the thought of the demo-dogs and their victims, splayed, leaking blood all around the Lab.

She'd happily wage war against an army of them, clear the path for Hopper and Jane.

But that was a stupid idea.

She'd be dead in seconds.

"Demo-dogs." Dustin corrected, his babysitter rolling her eyes. She loved the kid, really, she did, but he could be so pedantic.

The Chief, towering over Dustin, sent down a scathing glare. The kid cowered as his head burned, the beams of anger shooting from Hopper's eyes hitting their mark spectacularly. "I'm sorry." The man huffed. "What?"

"I said demo-dogs. Like demogorgan and dogs. You put them together they sound pretty badass-"

Watching Hopper's eyes almost bulge out of their sockets in frustration, Veronica raced around the table to place a protective hand on Dustin's shoulder, dragging him away.

"Not the time, Dusty." She angrily whispered at him, shooting daggers. Dustin recoiled at the sight, mindlessly following her as she herded him away from the ticking-time-bomb that was Hopper. "Sorry," she offered, "he's just really detail oriented."

The Chief just nodded, his fingers drumming against his hips.

"I can do it." Eleven announced, everyone's eyes flicking to her. Had she not heard the Chief? They'd get minced the second they stepped foot in the damned place.

It was beginning to sound more and more like there was no hope, this time.

"You're not hearing me." Hopper gruffed.

"I'm hearing you. I can do it."

Veronica's eyes flew back and forth between the girl and her apparent father figure as if watching a riveting tennis match. She'd dread to imagine the fights they'd had over the past year— they were both stubborn as they came.

"Even if El can, there's still another problem." Mike interjected, his face crumpled in worry. There was more bad news? "If the brain dies, the body dies. If we're really right about this... I mean, if El can close the gate and kill the Mind Flayer's army..."

Suddenly unable to swallow, Veronica's heart dropped to the floor at the implication of the boy's words.

Will could die, if they closed the gate and killed the Mind Flayer.

There had to be another way. There had to be. They couldn't just... sacrifice Will. Or sacrifice the world as they knew it, for his sake.

"Will's a part of that army." Lucas supplied, those in the room who hadn't already caught on, deflating in defeat or gasping in horror. "Closing the gate will kill him."

Loaded silence settled over the small room, Veronica watching as Steve collapsed into a chair, dropping his head to rest in his hands defeatedly. She ran a hand through his hair in support, biting her bottom lip when he stayed frozen in place, wrapped up in his own thoughts of failure and uselessness, no doubt.

On the opposite side of the room, Joyce blinked in a sudden flurry, scarpering to her feet and sending her chair collapsing to the floor.

Veronica's head snapped to the sound in surprise, her hand flying to reach instinctively for her axe.

"He likes it cold. That's what Will said to me." Joyce scrambled, the teen girl frowning in confusion. What did that have to do with anything? "We keep giving it what it wants!"

The mother flew from the kitchen and into Will's room, where he rested in his bed. Lace curtains fluttered with the cold November breeze, chilling the room, before Joyce slammed the window closed.

This obviously meant something important, then. Veronica and Steve sent each other perplexed glances, each confused as the other.

"If this is a virus, and Will's the host, then..." Nancy trailed off, seemingly thinking out loud.

God, Veronica wished she'd paid more attention in science class, in that moment, maybe then she wouldn't need whatever this revelation was spoon fed to her.

"Then we need to make the host uninhabitable." Jonathan continued, the new couple sharing a knowing look. They had only been together a day or two, and were already finishing each other's sentences. Veronica would've swooned, had the situation not been so dire.

"So, if he likes it cold-"

Oh. Veronica, the penny having dropped, finally caught on to what Nancy was airing. If the Mind Flayer was like a virus inside of Will, then he needed to sweat it out.

"We need to burn it out of him." Joyce concluded, her eyes burning with the want for revenge and reclamation of her son.

The poor woman had already been through this whole ordeal once before, she'd likely want to bubble-wrap Will, once they got him back. Veronica would happily give her the tape.

"We have to do it somewhere he doesn't know, this time. Somewhere far away." Mike added, Dustin and Lucas nodding along.

Hopper, exclaiming that they could use his cabin (since when did he have a cabin?), raced out of the home in a flash, dragging Nancy, Jonathan, who was carrying a still sleeping Will, and Joyce with him.

From her spot in the house, Veronica could hear the man shouting directions at the small group, his booming voice intimidating even within the safety of four thick walls.

She nervously bit her lip, suddenly aware of the fact that she and Steve would be left to safeguard the kids while the others went off to save Will and close the gate.

They'd managed to keep Lucas, Max and Dustin safe in the junkyard, what extra stress could Mike be? Plus, this time, they had four actual walls to protect them.

The extra security failed to alleviate Veronica's sudden stress, however, and she almost collapsed with nausea, folding into a couch with a huff.

How many more times could she do this, before the pressure of it all gave her a heart attack? She doubted she had many more beheadings in her.

Jane threw the remaining group a small wave, after having hugged Mike goodbye. She followed after Hopper, and jumped into his truck. The two sped off, creating a flurry of dust that Joyce quickly chased, Jonathan, Nancy and Will bundled up inside rusted her car.

Their plan would work.

It had to.

Steve flopped down next to Veronica, already clutching his bat in preparation. At least they had each other, to tackle this with.

How hard could keeping an eye on four kids really be?

Chapter Text

Snatching the cigarette from between his teeth, Billy flicked the burning stick out of his car window, huffing out a plume of smoke from his nostrils.

His radio was playing shit music, again. It had the audacity to start blasting Kate Bush. He had no time for that Hippie crap on a good day, let alone when he was seconds away from imploding.

His fists practically bent the wheel, and his chest heaved up and down dramatically, drawing in massive, quick breaths.

Max was going to pay for this.

Big time.

Punching the radio off, his eyes narrowed at the dark road ahead of him. Why was she hanging out at Zombie Boy's house?

Who the hell would wanna hangout with anyone who'd died and then magically came back to life? It was weird as shit, and smelled of it too, to Billy.

In fact, this whole situation fucking stank.

Max was hanging out with weirdos. The wrong kind of people. Especially Sinclair.

The blood in Billy's veins boiled at the reminder of the boy.

If he was anywhere near Max, when he found her, the little shit would get one hell of a rude awakening.

***

Lucas and Max were playing with a cat's cradle in the living room, tucked into the corner of a couch. Mike watched them with squinted eyes, confused as to how they could be so careless, while Will was fighting for his life.

In the kitchen, Veronica was pointing and cackling at a despondent Steve, her crush cradling the corpse of the demo-dog that Jane killed.

Slobber leaked onto his expensive grey jacket, no doubt staining it. A couple of sharp teeth had snagged on the material, too.

Dustin had ordered for the body to be kept in the fridge, preserving it for... later examination.

Her uncontrollable, teasing laughter echoed throughout the home, the small boy shaking his head back and forth at the sound.

"This isn't funny, Ronnie." He admonished, shooting her a firm look. "This is for science- shit, Steve! Be careful with it!"

Almost dropping the heavy creature, Steve attempted to shove the body into the fridge. Its head, limp and heavy, refused to fit, despite fits of frantic shoving.

"Little help here, please?" He begged, chucking a pleading look behind him to Veronica.

Sympathising, her laughter slowed and she moved to shove the creature's head in, only for the fridge door to swing back forward and close in on Steve.

"Get the door, GET THE DOOR!" He screamed, the girl breaking out into peels of laughter. He was so dramatic.

After pulling the door open, they managed to shove the demo-dog inside. Shutting it with a huff, Dustin joining in, she turned to fix Steve with a smile, the boy just rolling his eyes and grunting in response.

He smacked a hand on top of Dustin's head, as if messing with the curly hair hidden beneath his cap. The small boy's face glowed at the action, his eyes practically sparkling.

Who knew Steve was so good with kids?

Veronica's stomach flipped at the thought of Steve as a father, the army of children, that she knew he dreamed of, following him and worshipping the ground he walked on.

He'd worship the ground they walked on too, answering their every beck and call, nurturing the best family that he could.

Her cheeks heated at the thought. She wanted, inexplicably, to be at his side while that dream came into fruition.

During her musings, the kids had began to fight in the living room.

Lucas, kindly asking Mike to calm down, had gotten verbally smacked by the tense boy, incredibly worried over Jane heading into the Lab.

Veronica's expression stuttered at the action, cringing when Dustin once again had to correct someone's incorrect reference to the demo-dogs.

"Listen, dude." Steve started, wandering into the living room, Veronica in tow, wiping his hands of slime with a rag. "A coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. Alright?"

Nodding, she agreed. While it was hard to sit back and do nothing, getting involved would only put more lives on the line and complicate things for Jane and Hopper.

It was tough, and uncomfortable, sitting the big fight out, for once. But, it was necessary.

"Okay, first of all, this isn't some stupid sports game." Mike fumed, Veronica's jaw hitting the floor.

"Hey!" She reprimanded, defensive over Steve's sports analogies. For some reason, she happened to like his use of them.

Mike rolled his eyes, continuing. "And second, we're not even in the game. We're on the bench."

Steve blinked, blindsided. "Right- so- my point is..." He stammered, trailing off, unsure of how to respond. He shot Veronica another pleading look.

"Right, yeah, we're on the bench, so, uh, there's nothing we can do." She supplied, flashing her teeth in an exaggerated smile. "I don't wanna hear any more shit, alright? We're gonna wait here until everything's fixed. It's safest."

"That's not entirely true." Dustin sniped, earning two burning beams to be shot into him from Veronica's blazing stare.

Why did he have to butt in with something all of the time?

"I mean, these Demo-dogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away." He continued, causing Max and Lucas's faces to light up in understanding.

Veronica only frowned harder. She didn't like where this was going.

"So, if we get their attention..." Lucas aired.

"Maybe we can draw them away from the Lab." Max added.

Mike nodded, staring into space, lost in thought. "And clear a path to the gate."

No. Nope. This was not happening. Her and Steve had been entrusted with the kids, made responsible for keeping them safe.

Luring a hoard of demo-dogs towards them was not going to do that.

"Yeah, and then we all DIE." Steve concluded dramatically, chucking his hands up in disbelief.

"We can't do shit against those things." Veronica said, making sure to look at all of the kids individually. Unknowingly, she'd adopted the same stance as Steve— hands settled firmly on her hips.

"Not that many of 'em, anyways." She added. "We almost got bodied by like, only three of them. We aren't winning against an army."

"Well, that's one point of view." Dustin rebuked, almost sending Veronica into a conniption in front of him. Steve settled a grounding hand on her shoulder.

"No, that's not a point of view, man. That's a fact." He said, turning to stare at Dustin. The boy just blew a raspberry in response, Mike scurrying off down the hallway.

Lucas and Max followed blindly, Dustin smirking at the two older teens in victory before following.

"I've got it!" Mike declared, kneeling to point at a particularly wide section of drawn tunnels taped along the walls. Veronica squinted her eyes at him in confusion after begrudgingly following.

Why could they not just explain things like normal people?

"This is where the Chief dug his hole." Mike continued, frantic with energy. What hole? Why had Hopper dug a fucking hole? She resigned herself to checking in on him, after all of this. "This is our way into the tunnel. So..."

The boy got back to his feet and scarpered back to the living room, everyone following after him in a convoy.

"Here, right here, this is like a hub." He said, standing on top of a black blob spanning multiple pages in width and length. "So you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire—"

"Oh, yeah? That's a no." Steve interrupted pointing at the ground in defiance.

"The Mind Flayer would call away his army." Lucas contributed, ignoring Steve. Veronica's brows furrowed at the action.

They were getting carried away, overzealous. This would end badly, if she and Steve couldn’t stop them.

As much as the kids were strong, and smart, she doubted they'd be able to pull it off. They'd need the help of the older teens, and they were unwilling to give it. It was simply too dangerous.

"Guys." Steve tried again, only for the kids to continue their planning.

"Hey! Listen! This is not happening!" Veronica hollered, finally causing the kids to spin, and fix her with unbothered looks. It wasn't perfect, but at least she had their attention.

"But—" Max tried, eyes blazing.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Steve interrupted, shaking his head back and forth. "No buts! I promised I'd keep you shitheads safe, and that's exactly what I plan on doing. We're staying here. On the bench. And we're waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand that?"

Veronica stared at him in awe, the final and domineering words flying out of his mouth at rocket speed. Who knew he could be so assertive?

She liked this new side of him, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"This isn't a stupid sports game." Mike spat again, receiving a vicious look from Veronica.

"Shut up, Wheeler." She gritted out, staring into the kids' eyes. Dustin looked to the floor in fear. "Does everybody understand? We need a yes."

Before they could respond, an angry engine revved in the distance, everyone's heads snapping to the front of the house.

Veronica shot a perplexed look to Steve, wondering that, surely, Will hadn't already been saved and Jane hadn’t closed the gate.

Plus, neither Joyce's car nor Hopper's truck sounded that mean. There was only one car in Hawkins that did.

Shit.

"It's my brother." Max said, staring out of a window at the approaching car in fear, and confirming Veronica's thoughts.

It was Billy, driving up to them.

Billy Hargrove, who'd literally threatened her with a good time, and almost ran her and the kids over, and antagonise the shit out of Steve.

This wasn't good.

This really wasn’t good.

They couldn’t be doing with a liability, right now.

"He can't know I'm here. He'll kill me." Max continued, an unusual amount of fear lacing her voice. Veronica's brows furrowed, confused. The girl was legitimately scared, of him. "He'll kill us."

Gulping at Max's words, Veronica backed away slightly into the kitchen, her skin suddenly prickling with fear.

She could fight monsters, she could even chop them into pieces— why was it that a mere man could set her on edge? Max seemed petrified, curling up into a ball on the couch. Billy was legitimately dangerous.

Veronica had her run ins with him, she knew there was something off with him, but she didn’t realise he was this bad.

Pulling her to the side, a hand around her waist, Steve fixed Veronica with a determined stare. She blinked up at him uncertainly, her lip quivering slightly.

"I'm gonna go out there and talk to him, alright?" He said, Veronica practically turning white in horror.

"Steve—" she stammered, hands flying to grapple at his biceps. "I don't mean to be a bitch, but he could beat the crap out of you."

"I, I know." He huffed, a sorry smile spreading across his lips. Despite his strong front, Veronica could spy the fear in his brown eyes. No doubt, Billy would smell it on him, sniff out his every weakness.

Her mouth turned dry, and a rock formed in her throat.

"But I've got a better chance than you, right?" Steve continued, causing a sad smile of her own to break out across Veronica’s red lips. "Just, stay inside, keep— I can't believe I'm saying this— keep your axe close, and, and just be ready for him if he barges in, okay?"

Sniffing, Veronica nodded, admiring Steve's resolve.

While she was strong for a woman, working out regularly, swinging her axe and playing tennis, she was no match for Billy— a tall, muscular man, who benched double— no, triple her weight, and could easily tear her limb from limb.

She was weak, again.

The feeling was equally embarrassing and invigorating.

If Billy tried anything, tried to hurt the kids, he'd quickly become familiar with the taste of metal. She’d prove to him that she wasn’t to be messed with.

She was a monster killer, damn it.

"Yeah," she breathed out, nodding, before pulling Steve into a tight hug.

He was warm, and somehow still smelled of his glorious aftershave. She breathed in the scent deeply, spice and wood, finding comfort in it, before pulling away and smacking him on the arm.

Her eyes helplessly flickered to his lips, before she snapped her head away and stepped back. Now wasn't the time, for that.

Steve deserved a proper love confession, not a spur of the moment snog— no matter how much she wanted to grab him by the collar of his jacket, and kiss him senseless.

"Go get 'em, tiger."

"I'm not a tiger," Steve answered, notching an eyebrow up and smirking. "I'm a lion."

Veronica snorted, watching with slowly depleting happiness as he wandered to the front door and stepped out of it, sparing her a final glance.

He'd be fine. Of course, he would be. Steve always had a funny way of worming his way out of tricky situations, like these.

The sentiment didn't help alleviate the deepening out of dread in her stomach, however, or the tingling of fear along her skin.

Sighing, she looked to the kids. They were gathered at the window, peering out of it in anticipation.

"C'mon, nerds, away from the window." She said stepping up behind them and tugging on Lucas' and Dustin's shoulders. They refused to moved, frozen in place. "I said move it, you little—"

Suddenly, they all flung back, toppling into Veronica.

"Shit! did he see us!?" Dustin screeched.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Billy must've spotted them.

He knew they were in here, knew Max was in here.

He’d be inside, trying to take her back, any second.

"That's why I told you to stay away from the windows!" She hollered, eyes wide with fear. They were so screwed. How was she meant to defend them against Billy? "Of course, he saw you. Just our luck."

The small children all started up at her with fearful eyes, Max's blue ones brimming with thick, unshed tears.

The sight pulled at Veronica's heart strings, and she itched at her forehead before huffing out a sigh.

"Alright, get behind me." She levelled, reaching for her axe as the kids thankfully rallied behind her, huddled up in a small circle.

Hopefully, Steve wasn't getting the shit beaten out of him, right now.

Maybe, he'd actually gotten a hit in on Billy, and sent the crazy bastard packing.

The thunderous stomps up the porch voided those hopeful thoughts, however, her breathing intensifying.

Billy was about to burst in.

Her fingers readjusted around her axe, scrunching her nose. She never imagined that she'd have to use it on a person, and yet here she was.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

The front door burst open, slamming against the wall as Billy took up the open space, seemingly looming over the entirety of the room, casting a deadly shadow.

His skin looked sizzling to the touch, veins bubbling up along his hands, forearms, forehead and neck. A sheen of sweat glistened across his skin.

He was literally boiling with rage.

Behind him, Veronica spied an unconscious Steve lying on the driveway.

Shit.

She prayed that he was okay, that he was even alive. Surely, Billy wasn’t insane enough to actually kill him, right?

The thought sent Veronica spiralling into depths she never wished to descend to, and she pulled herself back with a clearing of her throat.

Of course, Steve was okay. He had to be.

"Well, well, well." Billy muttered, smacking the door closed. His voice was hauntingly steady, despite his appearance.

For some reason, he looked straight past Veronica, and at Lucas.

The older teen blinked the action, confused. She took a step back, and sent the small boy a questioning look. He peered up at her with petrified eyes, wells of fear in the soft lamp light.

Oh.

Not only was Billy a fucking asshole, he was a racist.

The development only served to set Veronica's nerves on edge further, blinking up at the seemingly hulking man with plastered on determination. Bigots were loose canons.

"Lucas Sinclair. What a surprise." He continued, waltzing forward, face stopping an inch away from the blade of her axe.

He stank of cheap cologne, and drugstore hairspray.

"Don't even think about it, asshole." She growled through gritted teeth, blocking his vision and swallowing. Billy's black eyes slid to meet hers.

At that, the universe stopped, for a moment.

She almost collapsed under the crushing weight that the glance piled on her shoulders. Her breathing stopped. Her hold on the axe involuntarily loosened.

She was staring straight into the eyes of someone unhinged, someone unbalanced.

"Shut your mouth, bitch." Billy said.

Veronica tried to steel herself, sniff and swallow down her fear. But Billy's eyes were daggers, angry heat billowing off of him in waves.

He was an animal. A predator.

Any second, he could strike.

Unhelpfully, her jaw bobbed open and shut, unable to form a response. All she could focus on was Billy; his power, his menace, his dominance.

He was suffocating, his presence swallowing her whole and capturing her, holding her prisoner to fear.

A sickening smirk spreading across his lips at Veronica’s blatant incapacity to respond, obviously riddled with fear.

It was unusual, for him to be in this position of power. Only an hour earlier, he was the one cowering, the one sweating bullets, dreading the strike.

Now, Billy got to reclaim that pathetic nature of his, and flip it into power. He was the man of the house, right now. And he was going to teach this bitch a lesson.

All of those thoughts came to a slamming halt, the smirk sliding off of his face, when a response eventually tumbled from Veronica’s painted lips.

"Is that what daddy used to call mommy?"

A stark silence settled over the room.

Fuck. Fuck.

Billy’s lips settled into a freakishly flat line, his eyes hollowed.

She’d hit a nerve.

She gulped.

It was obvious, that Billy was projecting. Of course he got shit at home, most bully’s did. She did, Steve did. It wasn’t bold to assume the main instigator of that shit was his father. It often time was.

That didn’t mean it was smart to bring it up. Not at all. It was fucking stupid. This was life or death, not a therapy session.

And she’d just hit what seemed to be the root of it all, for Billy.

Without warning, he slammed his hand into the side of Veronica’s face.

He walked her backwards until her body met a wall, her face mercilessly flattened it into it. A tooth broke at the contact, stabbing into her cheek and filling her mouth with blood.

Her axe clattered to the floor, her hands racing to brace against his stomach as he used his body to cage her in.

The red liquid leaked out of her mouth as she screamed, her skull being crushed.

”You think you’re so big and strong!?”

Billy continued to squeeze Veronica’s head against the wall as if trying to burst a watermelon, slowly but surely breaking through the thick skin to reach the wet, red interior.

His nails sank into her scalp, drawing blood. His thumb snuck its way between her lips, and pulled them back towards her ear.

The delicate skin shrieked in protest, searing pain ripping across the now mottled surface.

Billy snarled above her. His teeth were bared. He was enjoying this.

”You're nothing!”

Through her moans, Veronica could hear the kids shouting, begging the man to let her go, for Steve to wake up, anything.

Her eyes darted around aimlessly, bleary vision limited to the wall; one eye forced closed, dribbling tears, the other perpetually jabbed by a finger.

It felt like her skull was about to pop, her brain explode.

Billy was going to kill her.

She was going to die.

All of this, and she was going to die to a fucking man.

She tried to bite at his thumb, free herself from his hold. Her hands flew to his face and neck, scratching at the skin with sharp nails.

Billy flung himself away with a loud howl, grasping at her sweater and throwing her onto the floor.

She fell like a sack of potatoes. Her head swam with the sudden release of incredible pressure. The scent and taste of blood invaded her senses, as if they’d been incapacitated by the attack, until now.

It was sickening, the girl almost gaging. Her disgust was only fuelled after her eyes found Billy hovering over her vulnerable form, his chest heaving.

He wasn’t letting up, hungry for more.

”Youre hear me, bitch!?”

Her fingers twitched, eyes spotting her axe lying abandoned on the floor a few metres behind him.

If only she could get to it, and carve the bastard up with it.

Black spots started to dance across Veronica’s vision, despite her determination to stay awake.

Her eyebrows feebly furrowed, jaw slipping open to hurtle another jab at Billy.

Only, it failed, all that flopped out of Veronica’s mouth her swollen tongue and whines of pain.

Before she could help it, she slipped into unconsciousness. The darkness swallowed her vision, and her eyes fluttered shut.

Chapter Text

Steve's fingers buzzed with the rampant flow of blood beneath his skin, his feet pulsating with the same, warm, sensation.

The energy fizzled up to tingle around his body, reigniting his limp limbs. Fingers twitched, toes wiggled, before his bleary eyes blinked open painfully.

They found a fleshy, black-haired blob hovering over him.

"Veronica?" Steve croaked, his throat ungodly amounts of sore. His windpipe was probably five different types of fucked. How on Earth did Billy get so strong?

Phantom fingers gripped at Steve’s neck at the reminder of the man, having been trapped under him and throttled with punch after punch.

Billy was a beast, and Steve had been too late to save Veronica from him.

As Steve's vision cleared, he found that it was actually Mike staring down at him, brows furrowed and pouting petulantly.

At least the kids were alive, then. And seemingly unharmed.

How on Earth they’d survived, Steve had no idea. The last thing he remembered was stumbling back into the Byers’ house and tackling Billy, shortly before being pummelled.

Despite getting the utter shit beaten out of him, miles more so than when facing Jonathan the year previous, at least Steve had managed to keep the kids safe. Kind of. Surely he could take some credit for it, right?

He was the one who’d happily taken all of the hits, after all.

And Veronica, of course. It was a joint effort.

Veronica.

Where was she?

Steve's stomach plummeted as the thought of her hit him like a truck, his every nerve pinched with the need to find her— see if she was even alive.

His lethargic and beaten limbs decided not to cooperate with him, however, his ears ringing as Dustin told him not to touch at his bloody face.

He was touching his face? The skin must've been completely numb, as there was no feedback when Steve dragged a hand down the mottled flesh.

The ceiling of the car waved and undulated as he looked up, ripping his eyes away when the hazy visual made his stomach swim.

Wait.

Car?

Steve's eyes bounced from kid to kid in the vehicle, Mike and Dustin hovering over him, Lucas and Max in the front. The latter was at the wheel, glaring at him through the rear-view mirror.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Steve slurred, groaning when the car suddenly lurched forward.

He tried to pull himself up, already half draped off of his seat, only to fail miserably. He flopped back into a defeated slump, before Dustin started stroking at his blood-matted hair.

"It's alright buddy." The boy reassured, his toothy grin doing little to alleviate Steve's spiralling confusion.

Why was Max driving?

Were they going through with their dangerous plan?

Where was Veronica?

She wasn't in the car, unless someone was sat on top of her. Had they left her back at the house? With Billy? Surely, not.

Suddenly, a thumping began thrumming through the body of the car, vibrating the seats. Incoherent shouts and groans followed— female shouts and groans.

Steve's eyes widened, bulging out of his skull, when a blanket of realisation fluttered over him.

Holy shit.

They'd put her in the trunk.

Steve flung himself up with little resistance, prying the bag of frozen peas from his forehead.

"Slow down!" He shouted to no one in particular, eyes blinking slowly and authoritarian fist shaking. "Why'd you put my..." An ear piercing shriek rang out, distinctly Veronica in its grating tone. "My Veronica in the, in the trunk!? Put me in the trunk!"

"I told you he'd freak out!" Lucas screeched, slamming down the map he was studying.

The sound was like needles to Steve's ear drums, clutching at his throbbing head. He tried to turn, reach into the back of the car, but from his position, the trunk was unreachable.

Another shriek rang out, followed by what must have been punches and kicks to the ceiling and walls of the compartment.

It sounded like there was a rabid raccoon trapped in there, and not a near-adult woman.

Steve pawed at the back of his seat helplessly, dropping his forehead to rest against the leather in defeat.

"What were we meant to do, leave them with Billy!?" Responded Dustin. He dropped the can of gasoline he'd been clutching into the footwell of the backseats, leaning forward to shove at Lucas' face. "Yeah, great idea, man! Leave the two concussed people with evil Popeye!"

Lucas slapped Dustin's sticky hands away, shooting him a disgusted look. "Get your gross fingers outta my face! Max can't drive if those two are freaking out!”

"Max also can't drive if she doesn't get her directions!" The ginger girl admonished, her feet dancing between the boxes of cardboard taped to the accelerator and break peddles.

"Shit! Take a left!"

"Right here!?"

"Right here!" Lucas confirmed, pointing down a dark road.

The car plowed through a mailbox as it swerved onto a grassy verge, everyone inside screaming. Steve clutched Dustin like a security blanket, his arms wrapped tightly around the small boy as they wailed together.

Mike watched on in judgement, his fists wrapped tightly around his firmly fastened seatbelt.

Eventually, they arrived at a dirt field, a massive hole having been dug in the middle of it. A single spade sat discarded by it, surrounded by heaps of shovelled dirt.

Steve cared little for the scene, however, scarpering, with a few stumbles along the way, to the back of the car and flinging open the trunk while the kids fussed over bandanas, ski masks, and swimming goggles.

Sprawled inside of the small space was Veronica, frozen and blinking at Steve with poised fists.

The white of her right eye was completely bloodshot, a deep red that seemed to swallow even the rich brown of her iris and the black of her pupil. Her face was mottled with circular bruises; her mouth was surrounded by thick smudges of blood.

Jesus Christ.

Why hadn’t Steve gotten to Billy sooner? How could he have let this happen to her?

“Holy shit, I thought Billy fucking kidnapped me!” With little warning, Veronica flung herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Steve.

He turned stiff at the sudden show of affection, legs almost buckling beneath him, before he relaxed and returned the hug.

Burrowing his face into the top of her head may have been painful, aggravating his litany of wounds, but it was worth it, when he got to breathe in the grounding scent of her strawberry shampoo.

“Nah, just a group of crazy children.”

Pulling herself away, Veronica gasped, her hands shakily making their way up to cup Steve’s cheeks.

“Oh my God,” she breathed out, “what’d he do to you?”

Both of Steve’s eyes were swollen shut, the yellow, purple and green skin surrounding the sockets bursting with pools of blood.

A cut hidden away somewhere in his thick hair bled torrents of the precious red liquid, flowing down his face in rivers. It flowed over the tender swell of his beaten cheeks, and the tears in his planes of once unblemished skin

A small, sad smile tugged at Steve’s split lips, stinging as they stretched. “He beat the shit outta me, Sweetheart.”

Veronica was helpless to stop the swelling of her heart inside her chest, at both the nickname and Steve’s attitude.

No matter the circumstance, he always managed to put on a brave face, for her.

It may have been an unhealthy coping method, pretending that everything was fine when, really, they both knew it was anything but.

And yet, smiling in the face of danger, of defeat, was so Steve, how on Earth was she meant to not fall for him more, at the action?

“Earth to Ron, you okay?” Steve waved a hand in front of the girl’s face, breaking her out of the absence she’d unknowingly slipped into. “Concussion making you give me googly eyes?”

A startled laugh poured out of her, finally clambering out of her temporary prison after Steve offered her a hand.

She was going to have insane nightmare’s about that damned boot, she just knew it.

Begrudging, she slowly slipped from his hold, lamenting the loss of his warmth as the cold air quickly began attacking her.

“Nice of you love birds to finally join us!” Dustin squawked, shinning a vengeful light into the faces of the two older teens, cackling when they hissed like vampires awoken from their slumber by burning sunlight. “You gonna help us out, or what?”

“No, nerd! And get that outta my face!” Veronica groaned, attempting to swat the torch from Dustin’s hold, only to stumble and lose her balance.

Steve caught her at the final second, hauling the girl back to her feet before he too lost his footing, slamming into the side of Billy’s camero with an embarrassingly loud shriek.

“We’ve already discussed this, man, you’re not going down there.” He attempted to assert, grunting as he shakily pulled himself back to his full height, squinting at Dustin through limited vision.

“Oh, yeah? Does it really look like we care about whether or not you two want us to?”

Dustin shined his torch at Max, Lucas and Mike gathered at the entrance to the hole, suited-up in protective eye gear and coverings for the lower half of their faces.

As dumb as this plan was, at least they were taking the proper precautions for entering the Upside Down, Veronica mused internally.

She knew first hand how coming in contact with anything from the damned place could cause damage, having suffered with a stuffy nose and temperature for weeks after being doused in the demogorgan’s blood, last year.

“We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear!” Steve continued, following after Dustin who suddenly turned and slapped a colourful bandaid onto Steve’s forehead.

The older boy groaned and smacked Dustin’s hand away, ripping the boy’s box of plasters from him and throwing it into the darkness.

Veronica’s jaw draped open with a sickening click at the sight, quickly averting her surprise.

Billy really had done a number, on her. She was lucky he hadn’t crushed her skull.

Max broke Veronica from her dizzying thoughts, eyes flying up from the ground to meet the child’s piercing blue ones.

She’d thrusted a bandana and a pair of pink goggles towards her, asking her wordlessly to join the fight.

Veronica bit her lip, thinking over her choice.

The kid’s plan did make sense. But, it was also incredibly dangerous.

When was anything that they did, to do with the Upside Down, not dangerous, though?

Very simply, never.

Every time an issue arose, every time someone was in danger, they’d all throw themselves into the fray to help.

Why was this situation any different?

If there was even a sliver of a chance that this would work, and help Jane close the gate, then of course, they had to help.

The least Veronica could do was watch over the kids and make sure they got out of this safely.

Nodding in confirmation, she snatched the protective gear from Max. She’d protect them, axe in hand, and cut down any demo-dogs that got in her way.

Snapping the goggles on was torture, her head throbbing in protest. The mask was even more of a struggle, Steve jogging over to tie the fabric at the back of her head.

He took special care to not secure it too tightly, avoiding potentially putting pressure on her painful bruises.

They shared a firm nod, before gathering the kids, ready to drop down into the hole. She double checked that her axe was secured to her side, finding the prospect of facing the fight without it, impossible.

They’d need all of the metal that they could get, for this.

Dustin swung a rope down into the chasm after Steve took the plunge, having anchored it to the car.

They’d use it to climb back out, once all of this was over.

Steve landed with a grunt, his signature nailed bat poking out of a backpack, before he turned and shot Veronica a thumbs up.

He looked like a comic book hero, with his weapon, ski goggles, and bandana. His amazingly voluminous hair only added to unreal nature of his appearance.

The look oddly suited him.

If only Veronica had a camera to capture the moment, and cement it in time forever.

Heaving in a grounding breath, she dropped down next, Steve catching her with all the suaveness of a knight in shinning armour.

She allowed herself a couple of seconds to admire him, eyes shining, before she cleared her throat and scrambled out of his hold, a blush raging over her mottled cheeks.

As much as she’d love to revel in the warmth of his arms, they had a mission to complete.

The kids soon followed, Mike trying to take up point position and direct them. His torch illuminated the way, the dank, wet and oddly echoey tunnel totally impossible to navigate without it.

Veronica looked around it in awe, blocking out the sound of Steve’s authoritative shouting as he snatched the impromptu map from Mike, as well as his torch, before proclaiming himself team leader.

The muddy walls were lined with thick, slithering vines, the air blotted with floating ash. It was a hellscape, down here.

“Yeah, I’ll take up the rear.” She supported, sending Steve a salute, and bringing herself back into the moment. Steve nodded, before speeding away, around a corner and into obscurity.

She’d have all the time in the world to admire the scenery, once they got moving.

The kids followed in single file, a caravan of ants, as eager as the two older teens to get the whole thing over with, now that they were actually in the danger zone.

The group soon arrived at a sort of crossroads, or roundabout, numerous tunnels splitting off in differing directions.

“God,” Lucas groaned, sharing a horrified look with Max.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be in here a second longer than we need to be, guys.” Veronica reassured, receiving disbelieving looks from the two of them.

Steve barely spared a second to consult the map before heading down the left-hand tunnel, his white trainers now coated in a black, slimy substance. “C’mon, let’s hustle!” He ordered, refusing to even spare a look behind him.

He really hated this, endangering the kids. It looked like literal torture, for him.

Veronica shook her head, focusing on the mission and careering forward, only to topple into Dustin.

“Hey! Keep on moving, twerp!” She reprimanded, growing angry when he stayed silent.

He was looking up at the ceiling of the tunnel, frozen solid.

Following his eye-line with furrowed brows, Veronica’s eyes landed on a pulsating…spot? It was fleshy in colour, and protruded from the mud with its alarming movements.

Suddenly, it spluttered a dusty plume at the boy. Dustin broke into a fit of shrieks and screams at the attack, rolling around on the wet ground in horror after toppling backwards.

“Hey! You’re okay, man!” Veronica hollered, pulling Dustin back to his feet. He was such a drama Queen; no wonder he got on so well with Steve.

Her words did little to alleviate his worry, however, the rest of the group scrambling back to the two of them in worry.

“What happened!?” Steve demanded, shoving a torch into Dustin’s face.

“It got in my mouth! It got in my mouth!” The boy wailed, pulling at his suffocating bandanna helplessly.

Veronica pulled it off for him, snapping his head to her so that she could examine him.

While she was sure the dust was nothing overly serious, it looked reminiscent of the ash that was already floating in the air, after all, Dustin was scared.

She’d do whatever she could to check that he was okay, and help him.

“How bad is it, Ronnie?” He asked, looking up at her with wet eyes.

With a groan, she dropped his head unceremoniously and moved to stand next to Steve. His mouth looked perfectly normal. There was nothing in it, nothing around it. He’d just been a bit of a baby.

When only silence responded, everyone looking down at Dustin with thinly veiled annoyance, he seemed to blush, pulling his mask back on in embarrassment.

“I’m okay.” He shrugged, eyes crinkling at the corners as a nervous smile must’ve made its way across his lips.

“Are you serious?” Max asked, before trudging off in the direction they’d been heading. Veronica shook her head, knocking Dustin’s shoulder with her fist. He made his way back over to her side sheepishly.

“Nice. Very nice. Funny, man.” Steve admonished, following after the fiery girl.

Veronica watched in amusement as Lucas struggled over and elbowed Dustin the stomach, the curly haired boy doubling over in pain.

“You’re an idiot, man.”

Soon, the group arrived at what must’ve been the hub Mike had described— a wide, open expanse that held a thick twine of vines in the centre.

“Let’s drench it.” He said determinedly.

With what bottles and canisters they’d assembled, the kids flooded the space with gasoline. Steve and Veronica watched on with bated breath, the former rubbing at his forehead, lighter clutched in a tight fist.

Veronica sent him what she hoped was a supportive look, and squeezed at his bicep.

Once every inch of the hub had been drowned in the flammable liquid, she ushered all of the children back, herded behind herself and Steve.

He kneeled, and flicked open the lighter.

“I am in such deep shit.” He groaned, before tossing the small metal rectangle, engraved with his initials, into the open space.

Immediately, the small flame grew to blanket the space, blinding the group with the sudden burst of incredible, bright light and wave of burning heat.

Vines freakishly writhed as they burned, horrifying Veronica to her very core, and rooting her feet to the floor.

“Go! C’mon, Ron, let’s go!” Steve yelled, wasting no time before grabbing onto her limp hand and running with her down the tunnel, away from the fire.

They’d done it.

Against all odds, once again, they’d won the fight.

“I- I’m alright.” She affirmed, ripping her hands from Steve’s. He shot her a dejected look, before she smiled and shook her head. “I’ve gotta take up the rear!”

She waited for the kids to pass her before continuing away from the fire, speeding down the maze of tunnels and back to the entrance.

It was starting to become disgustingly claustrophobic, down there, the thought that they were literally stuck underground running laps around Veronica’s anxiety riddled brain.

Suddenly Mike tripped, Veronica barely swerving out of the way, and avoiding toppling over him.

“Get up, Wheeler, c’mon!” She roared, grabbing him by the armpits and attempting to haul the boy back to his feet, only for him to be dragged out of her hold.

To her horror, a vine was wrapped around his ankle, holding him hostage to the floor.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, her body freezing momentarily.

What the fuck.

Blinking rapidly, she sprung into action.

Pulling her axe from her side, she drew it high into the air. Mike screamed the sight, his writhing turning increasingly feral.

“Hold still! Else I’ll chop your freakin’ leg off!”

“I’m scared, damn it!”

Groaning at the entire situation as a whole, she swung her axe down, sparing herself no time to second guess her actions. They didn’t have time for that, right now.

The demo-dogs, answering the hive mind call, would be on them any second, ready to tear them all limb from limb.

Mike heaved in raucous breaths as he scrambled back, away from the pathetically writing vine, longing for the remainder of its chopped body. It was still wrapped around his leg, but the boy kicked it off with petulance.

Veronica kicked at the dismembered plant, leaning into Steve’s touch as he raced to reassuring wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“You good? You’re good? Okay, great! We really gotta go, Ron-”

Before Steve could finish his hurried spiel the unmistakable growl of a demo-dog sounded behind them, Veronica’s heart dropping to the floor. Her eyes flew to connect with Steve’s, twin dread settling over them.

“Get behind us!” She hollered, Steve shouting out similar demands at the kids.

It really was one thing after another.

Max, Lucas and Mike followed their orders, her eyebrows furrowing when Dustin stayed stood, resolutely, in front of the creature.

“Hey, Dart,” he offered simply, a hand outstretched in offering.

This kid.

“Dustin, get back here!” She reiterated, fingers curling around the handle of her axe in fury, the weapon poised high in the air.

Babbles of similar phrases poured from the rest of the group, begging the boy to join them.

But he refused, simply holding a hand up to them, demanding silence. “I got this!” He affirmed, eyes looked onto Dart.

Veronica, personally, was in no mood to liaise with the damned creature, and had to stop herself from fainting when Dustin kneeled to talk to it.

Had he learned nothing from when it nearly devoured her and Steve, at the junkyard?

“Will you let us pass?” He asked, only for Dart to open his freakish, petalled maw and scream at him.

What the fuck was she watching?

Why was she letting him do this?

It was the concussion, probably.

“What about this, huh? I’ve got our favourite.” Dustin pulled a Three Musketeers bar from his bag, opening it and settling it in front of Dart. “You still like nougat?”

Veronica watched in disbelief as the creature crept forward tentatively, before lowering its head and gnawing at the chewy treat.

Dustin flashed the group a proud smile, having pulled down his bandana to talk more personally, it seemed, to Dart.

“Alright, let’s go.” Steve said, ushering Veronica forward with a hand on her back, and urging the kids to follow.

She sent Dustin a proud smile, clapping him on the back.

“Well done, kid.”

They sped through the tunnels, gradually making their way closer to the entrance. It seemed like miles before they finally stumbled across the dangling rope— salvation.

“C’mon! Max, you’re up first!” Veronica declared, kneeling so that the girl could use her leg as a step.

Max froze for a second, almost dropping her torch, then jumping at the opportunity to escape. She clambered onto Veronica, before being practically thrown out of the hole by Steve.

Her liberation was punctuated by the thunderous beat of an army of demo-dogs approaching, their clawed feet thumping violently against the muddy floor of the tunnels as they neared.

Shit.

They were going to die, if they didn’t get out of here quick.

Veronica’s heartbeat started hammering in her chest, the noise bleeding into her eardrums and making her head throb, the gap in her mouth where a tooth had resided, earlier that day, the perfect spot for her tongue to nervously prod.

“Sinclair!” Steve hollered, waving the boy forward with flying hands. “We’ll need to move, move, move!”

As if they hadn’t already been eager enough to escape, the quickly approaching army only served to spur the kids on more, each of the successfully escaping in a matter of seconds.

The two older teens supportively shoved and pushed each kid up, leaving the two of them down there, lamenting over which of them would be the final person to escape.

Standing, ready to have to tackled Steve into climbing up the rope first, Veronica’s eyes caught shadows of demo-dogs running, against a wall.

Her mouth dried at the sight, the fact that her doom was practically already on top of her, hitting her like a freight train.

Steve’s doom, too.

Having sensed the coming impact, Steve bent at the waist, and hoisted Veronica onto his shoulder.

“Put me down, Harrington!” She screamed, hitting futilely against his back, and kicking in his hold. His arms only tightened around her thighs in response, gritting his teeth through the wave of nausea that washed over him.

She wouldn’t leave. She refused.

She couldn’t leave him.

She couldn’t leave Steve.

She promised herself, that she’d never leave anyone ever again.

“Not a chance! Get out, Mason!” He replied, ready to all but throw her out of the tunnels. He spied the demo-dogs rounding the corner.

Holy shit.

Holy fuck.

It really was a damned army.

A whole wave of monsters was racing towards them, kicking up clumps of dirt under their demented paws.

Veronica watched in horror as they raced closer and closer, dreadfully close to Steve’s legs, ready to rip him to shreds, and drag her down with him.

At least, she wouldn’t live on with guilt, after this. She’d be too busy being dead.

And she wouldn’t change that for the world, if Steve got taken down.

She closed her eyes, awaiting the imminent impact.

At least they had each other, in this desperate moment.

She sighed, and waited for the inevitable.

Chapter Text

“Here we are,” Steve announced, pulling up outside of Hawkins Middle.

The gym doors were wide open, the warm orange glow from inside pouring into the darkness, and inviting in attendees. A massive, festive-themed banner above the entrance read ‘Snowball of ‘83’

Veronica stared at it with pursed lips, casting her mind back to her final Snowball dance.

It’d been with Jacob, the two of them barely aquatinted at the time, and wearing the garish red, green and white outfits their mothers had secretly coordinated.

It had been like something out of a movie, with kitschy music and onlooking, cooing parents.

What she’d give to be that innocent again, that care-free— back when her biggest issue was whether or not she had a Twinkie in her lunch box that day.

Disrupting her thoughts, Dustin jammed an elbow into her side, making her squawk. He didn’t even try and apologise as he clambered his way to the rearview mirror, examining his coiffed hair.

Little shit.

Steve had styled it, spending all afternoon pouring over the Five Step, Instant Volume, Farah Fawcett Routine, with the kid.

It’d made Veronica’s heart beat out of her chest, her cheeks flush and fingers shake. She’d excused herself from the room to suck in deep, grounding breaths on more than one occasion.

Steve’s kindness was just so emphatic, barrelling into her, and knocking her to her feet without so much as a look; it was an arrow, that hit her square between the eyes, knocking her senseless, every time.

It continued to affect her as she watched him lather Dustin in compliments, assuring him that all of the ladies would love his new look.

He’d be an incredible dad.

“Yeah, man, all the chicks are gonna love you.” She mooted, opting to channel her energy into anything other than fawning over Steve.

She’d done a whole lot of that, recently. Especially when tending to his finally-healed wounds, dreaming about their escape from the demo-dogs, and sighing longingly over the fact that he and Nancy had split.

In the tunnels, when they’d thought they were about to be made into demo-dog dinner, the creatures simply ran right past them, racing after Jane, who’d managed to successfully close the gate.

It’d meant another victory, and another difficult return to normalcy. Only, this time, the new normal didn’t feature a Steve and Nancy romance.

Veronica knew, of course, why Nancy was so ready to leave, having watched the girl give Jonathan heart eyes, all year. But, Veronica was dumbfounded to find that Steve wasn’t that sad at all, about the breakup.

After leaving the hospital, she thought she’d have to spend the rest of her days consoling him, before finally shooting her shot.

Instead, Steve seemed perfectly contented, worried much more over Dustin and ‘training him up’ for The Snowball.

Veronica guessed he’d already moved on, pining after some other petite brunette. Or, maybe he’d gone for a blonde, this time.

Dustin turned to fix her with a suspicious look, drawing her once again from her thoughts.

“Last time you told me that sort of thing, I ended up getting bullied. Severely. Therefore, I’ve gathered that you’re trying to sabotage me, and I won’t be listening to any of your romantic advice from here on out.”

“But—” She stammered, frowning in confusion. “I’m saying the exact same thing that he is!”

“Yeah but I’m me,” Steve said, clapping Dustin on the shoulder in support. “And you’re, you know…”

He faux-grimaced, much to Veronica’s chagrin. “Oh, hah hah, Steve. Like your love life’s any better.”

His jaw dropped in outrage, a disgruntled noise tumbling out of him.

Veronica ignored him, turning her attention back to Dustin. Tonight was his night, and she was going to be there for him, whether he wanted her to be or not.

“You’re gonna slay ‘em dead, Dusty, okay?” The small boy nodded, seemingly having forgone his declaration. She knew it, he loved her really.

“Yeah, go get ‘em tiger.” Steve supported, giving Dustin a high-five. After blessing Veronica with one, too, he hopped out of the car, adjusting his blazer and strutting into the gym.

“Ugh, they grow up so fast.” She joked, watching Dustin greet Mr Clarke with an enthusiastic wave and his signature toothless grin. Blinking when Steve stayed silent, she followed his eyeline, his eyes fixed on something inside.

Or, someone.

Nancy hovered in the hall, laughing at something or other, and looking stunning as ever. Her deep purple dress contrasted her pale skin, and her hair had been permed, fresh curls pinned up in a stylish ponytail.

"It's okay,” Veronica muttered, picking at her cuticles, “to, you know, think about what could've been."

Steve blinked in faux-confusion, having been caught red handed.

"I-I'm not—" he stuttered, cheeks blazing.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, much to his dismay. She knew what she’d seen. "Steve, you're talking to like, the queen of doing that so... you can't hide from me."

"Oh, yeah?" He smirked, having spotted a way out of her uncomfortable probing. He prayed that she’d take the bait— she usually did. She was a smart girl, but always ready for a fight.

It was one of her very, very few flaws.

"Yeah, I can read you like a book, Harrington."

Thank God.

"What am I thinking right now, princess?" Steve asked, an eyebrow raised, smirk wide.

Veronica squinted, trying to get into his brain and find an answer. He schooled his expression, giving away as little as possible. Unconsciously, his tongue poked out to lick at his lips.

"Uh..." She huffed, wholly unsure. Steve was a simple guy, operating on either a women or food-based thought process. “You're hungry? I don’t know, Harrington. You licked your lips.”

Steve bit back a cackle at her response, his lips unable to restrain from stretching further into a teasing smile. "Not quite, Sweetheart."

"Ugh,” she groaned, head rolling back to hit at the chair behind her. “Then, please, enlighten me."

"Let's get some food first. Jenny's?"

“So you ARE hungry!”

***

Dazzling off of the mirror-like surface of the lake at Sattler Quarry, the moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the dark night.

It's reflected light shone like diamonds, sparkling in Veronica's midnight eyes. She stared at the sight beneath her in awe, never having felt quite so lucky to be living near such beauty, before.

Steve had parked them at the lip of the massive drop, not dangerously so, but close enough to appreciate the steepness of the potential fall.

"It's so gorgeous, up here." She said, turning to fix Steve with a fond look.

He looked like a magazine model— thick, brown hair perfectly styled, as per usual, and donning a lush red sweater. His side profile was to die for, that sharp, smooth nose of his cutting through their dark surroundings softly, despite its lethal shape.

That was just Steve's charm, his softness, oozing out of him, even when he was stuffing his face with fries.

Slumping into his seat, he huffed out a contented sigh. His lips were spread into an adoring smile, which he flashed in Veronica's direction. She tried not to outwardly melt at the action, too much.

Her efforts collapsed when he licked at his salty fingers, unknowingly sending the girl beside him into a flustered whirlwind.

"Do you remember when we were play fighting with Tommy and Carol, and he almost pushed you off the edge?" Steve casually broached, pulling his burger from its styrofoam container.

Veronica cleared her throat, blinking. "Shit, yeah. I'd never been so scared in my life. Think I peed, a little." She recalled, trying not to let the memory put her off of the chocolate-drizzled waffles nestled in her lap.

Jenny didn't usually do takeout boxes, muttering something or other about them being bad for the environment. But, she let Steve and Veronica in on the privilege, seeing as they were her favourite customers.

"He was such a fuckin' asshole."

"Still is." She grunted through a sweet mouthful, dropping her fork to tie her hair up with a scrunchie. With the heavy locks out of face, she could properly tuck in. "You tore him a new one."

Steve blinked, mentally playing back through the near-decade-old memory. His mouth hung open as he pondered, giving Veronica an awesome insight into what a half chewed burger looked like. "I did?"

"Yeah, man. Don't you remember? You literally beat the shit out of him." She arched a teasing brow in his direction. "Where'd all that childhood aggression go?"

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I've got aggression."

"About what?"

He paused, and placed his burger back in its box. Sucking on his teeth, he genuinly considered her question.

Veronica squinted at him quizzically, not expecting him to get so introspective.

"You, still." He said after a short silence, sliding his eyes to meet hers. She pinched her expression, and tilted her head in question.

Steve got aggressive about her? Veronica knew she could get on his nerves, sometimes, just like Steve could, hers. But, she didn't realise she made him legitimately angry.

The revelation turned the girl off of her food. She looked out towards the sparkling surface of the lake with a glare, tossing the box of sickly dessert onto the dash.

"After Billy pushed me over, I musta hit my head on a rock and knocked out. When I woke up, I- I got back to the house and... shit, Ron, I thought he killed you."

Oh.

Veronica's head flung to look at Steve, no, examine him, dig into exactly what he was getting at.

Surely, he wasn't leading to what she thought he was, right?

That was impossible.

"I saw red, and I just started hitting him. Thought I had it for a sec, you know, that I'd saved you an’ the kids." A smile settled over Steve's lips, his hands resting on the steering wheel, burger long since discarded. His gaze was locked onto the lake.

The smile slid off of his face almost as soon as it had appeared. "Then, he hit me with a plate, of all things, and he beat me five days into next week."

"The second I think you're hurt, a flip just gets switched in my brain." He continued. "Like, last year when I actually did something, for once, and got the monster. I thought it'd, I don't know... you were just there, on the floor, again, all bloody and, and still."

He paused, pursing his lips. With a sigh, his head dropped to hang between his shoulders. It was as if the words he was uttering burned the very skin of his throat.

Veronica simply watched on, enthralled, fingers twitching to reach out and support him.

"When you first went missing, I literally broke into your place, tried to find any trace of where you might've ran off too. I found nothing, 'course, and I swear my heart literally dropped outta my ass. I thought, shit, how the fuck am I meant to do any of this without her?"

Veronica’s heart soared, and she huffed out a laugh from her nose. She couldn't speak, her lips fastened shut, an uncontrollable smile plastered widely across them.

She probably looked like a love-struck fool.

Steve's sheepish eyes found her gaze, before he choked out an alarming cough.

"As well as being super worried about your well-being, of course. For a little while, I thought Jacob might've gone psycho on you, or something."

Veronica snorted, Steve smiling softly along. He looked away before continuing.

"I- I guess what I'm getting at, is that... you're my person, Ron. Without you, I literally don't know how I'd function. Your heart, it keeps me alive as much as it does, you."

The smile on Veronica's face only stretched wider, turning almost painful.

Despite all odds, this was happening. Her ears weren't deceiving her.

She even pinched her side, just to be sure this wasn't all some elaborate dream. Pain stung the area, and she shuddered out a stifled breath.

This was real.

"When I see you with Dustin, with Lucas, Max and Mike, it, it makes me imagine things that I never imagined I could ever have, before. A- a family, you know? You're strong, you're protective, you're awful hot covered in monster blood, and fuck, I, it..."

Oh, Jesus Christ. Steve, weirdly, inexplicably, impossibly, was really confessing.

Veronica was all but frozen, her fingers deathly still at where they’d been picking at the skin around her nails.

She could really go for a cigarette, right about now.

While impossibly happy, her smile practically widening the actual width of her face, her skin felt like it was about to slide off her bones, with how much she was vibrating in anticipation. She wanted to watch him say it, not just imply it.

She needed it to be concrete, infallible.

"You're smart, you're caring, you're loving, you're supportive, you're— you're perfect, Veronica. You're everything I'm unworthy of and more."

Oh, no I'm not.

"I don't deserve you, shit, it'd take a million years for me to ever earn you, but, I can't help but want you all the same, Ron."

You deserve triple, no, quadrupole, whatever I could give you.

"I think I'm in love with you, Ronnie. And, I'm sorry, I know this is like, totally fucking up our friendship, and I know you're still, still mourning—"

"Steve." Veronica said, trying to pull him out of his ramblings. A sad smile had settled over her face, having pulled herself back from the throngs of hysteria.

"But, I can't help it.” He continued to rambled. “There's like a, a magnetic pull dragging me towards you, all of the time, and I'm, I'm powerless to stop it, god damn it."

"Steve." She repeated, raising as hand to poke at him. He continued regardless, completely lost in his chatter.

She supposed, that she should appreciate all of this, his compliments, his elevation of her. But, she couldn't do that while he was bringing himself down, in the same breath.

"And I don't wanna stop it. I want to be with you, love on you, show you how fucking gorgeous and perfect you are. K-kiss you and, and hold—"

Veronica ignored the flushing of her cheeks and the goose pimples popping up on her skin at the sound of his words. She cleared her throat.

"Steve!" Finally grabbing his attention, his head swung up to look at her with wide eyes, his jaw dangling open in surprise. "You're not ruining anything, alright?"

The boy buffered, his eyes blinking confusedly. "W-what do you mean? We're just friends—"

"I'm in love with you, too."

The words tumbled from Veronica's lips before she could stop them, a pregnant silence blanketing over the car.

She had to fight the urge to cover her mouth in regret, shock at her own admission bubbling up, bubbling and boiling in the depths of her stomach.

Steve looked practically broken— one eyebrow arched impossibly higher than the other, while his eyeballs bulged out of his skull to an almost worrying degree.

Instead of backing down, Veronica pushed through the turmoil, her expression turning determined.

Steve deserved an explanation, not some shitty, rushed confession. He'd practically performed a soliloquy for her, after all.

Regardless, she refused to look him in the eye.

She knew he loved her back— he'd just vocalised it, for fuck sake. Why was accepting this love so difficult, for her?

"I didn't wanna admit it. I really didn't. I thought that, that I didn't deserve you, let alone anyone else."  Steve's expression hardened, and she combatted the urge to bite at him.

These were her feelings, and she was allowed to speak them, regardless of how much he disagreed with them. "I thought that, after what happened, I'd never get blessed with love again, ‘cause I'd just fuck it all up."

Memories of that night crashed down on her, constricting her throat. She was scared all over again, the urge to run away buzzing up her legs.

"I mean, you don't even know what happened, Steve. What I did."

"I don't care, Ron. Seriously." He gritted, reaching out to grasp at one of her hands, only to be smacked away. He swallowed down the rejection that swirled in his stomach at the action. "You were scared—"

"Doesn't matter." She said. "You were scared, too, you know? And you ran right back!" Steve was silent, staring at her with watery eyes of his own. "How, how could someone as shitty as me ever deserve someone as perfect as you?"

Steve sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head back and forth. She was wrong, disgustingly wrong.

"I've hardly been an angel my whole life, Ron." Began steve. "How I used to act, what I said to, and, and about Jonathan..." He paused, sighing. "What I'm saying is that, no matter how much either of us, you know, disagree, or whatever, we're not actually perfect." He continued, grasping the tip of Veronica's chin tentatively, and lifting it so that he could stare into her dark eyes. "But we can try to be. For each other."

"Fuck." She whimpered, voice watery. She screwed her eyes shut, slamming a lid down on the tears attempting to escape down her cheeks.

She'd always try to be her best, for him. Looks wise, attitude wise— whatever. Veronica would do whatever it took to keep Steve, like this.

He was everything she wanted and more, and she couldn't wait to begin loving him with abandon.

"Fuck, I love you so much." Steve was looking at her so lovingly, it took her all not to collapse into him in that moment, and curl into his lap. Instead, she continued, the words flowing out of her lips like an untameable, roaring river. "I love your hair, I love your warmth, how you are with the kids, how quick you are to put your life on the line... even if it makes me want to kill you myself, sometimes." She blabbered, dragging the backs of her fingers down his smooth face.

"Love you more, Sweetheart."

How had she gotten so lucky?

"Never."

Simultaneously, their eyes flickered down to stare at each other's lips, having moved searingly close without realising it.

Steve could feel the heat rolling off of her in waves, fingers twitching to give into that magnetic pull that thrummed between them. She mindlessly bit at her plush bottom lip, totally enraptured with him.

He wanted to kiss her, acquaint his tongue with hers, slide his warm hands down her impossibly warmer skin.

It was sinful, debauched, the two of them practically salivating over each other so suddenly, that thin veil of restraint still fluttering like silk between them, keeping them apart.

But Steve wanted to rip it apart, fall into the glorious essence of Veronica, and bathe in everything her.

"Kiss me." She whispered, her lips brushing his. He practically melted, a huge breath billowing out of him.

"God, what're you doing to me, Sweetheart?" He groaned, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. She leaned her head back, and lovingly brushed the tips of their noses together.

"Everything I've ever wanted."

With that, Steve's self restraint crumbled, and he surged forward, capturing Veronica's lips with his own.

She moaned in surprise, a hand flying to cup Steve's cheek and caress it. The other slid through his thick locks, smooth and impossibly hard not to tug on.

How long had she dreamed of doing this? Of loving on him, giving him her body, and appreciating him so? She didn't know, she didn't even care.

All she knew, was that this was the most natural thing she'd ever allowed herself the pleasure of indulging in.

Steve bit down on her bottom lip as she gave into the urge to pull at his hair, the hands that had settled on her hips and at the side of her head squeezing in appreciation.

He groaned into her mouth, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Their lips pulled and pushed, swollen and pink, already dazzling with a sheen of each other's saliva.

Veronica swiped her tongue along Steve's bottom lip, begging for permission to slip it between his lips and greet his own.

He obliged, parting his lips, and intertwining their tongues.

It was hot, the hottest thing he'd ever done, and yet, all of his clothes were still on. It must've been her, all of Veronica's perfectness, tantalising him in a way he'd never quite experienced before.

His cock jumped in his pants as she let out another wanton noise, the weight between his legs already starting to strain painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He was like putty in her hands.

Shit, he was already addicted, chasing after her lips when she pulled away to suck in a deep breath. A string of saliva hung between them, a filthy promise of more kisses to come.

They crashed back together, Steve casting a hand away from Veronica's hip to feel for the bar beneath his car seat. Grasping it, he pulled it up, and pushed back the seat with his legs.

"Come here," he insisted, love drunk hands pulling Veronica into his lap. She squawked unattractively at the sudden movement, nervously blinking down at Steve through fluttering lashes.

The blush on her cheeks increased tenfold when she settled against the prominent bulge in his pants, heat throbbing between her legs.

It was too much, her own wetness encouraging her to rut against his firmness, chase a high that nothing other than her own fingers had brought her in over a year.

Shit.

She hadn't done this in a long time. She was rusty.  What if she wasn't good enough?

"What're you thinking, babe?" Steve asked, stroking his thumbs across her face as his fingers cradled her head. "T-too much? I'm sorry—"

"No! No, no, no." She scrambled, settling her hands onto his chest. Her fists scrunched into the soft, red cashmere, his fast heartbeat palpable through the material.

Was he just as nervous as she was?

"I just, you know, haven't, haven't done this kinda thing in a while."

Steve's brows pinched in understanding, his gentle brown eyes shining. "That's ok," he reassured, sliding his hands down to hug at her waist. "We can take things slow. Whatever you wanna do, Ron."

"I- I want to do this. I just, what if I'm, like, I don't know, rusty or whatever?"

Steve worried his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flickering away to think over his response. He sighed, a shaky smile breaking out across his features.

"If it's any help," he broached, raising his eyebrows. Veronica stared down at him in confusion. "We've barely been making out five minutes, and I'm already having to stop myself from cumming in my pants, so..."

Oh.

Oh.

Did, did she really have that effect on him?

What would've been embarrassing, or even a turn off for some, only deepened Veronica's arousal. She'd brought Steve to that point, pulled his body to the precipice of ecstasy; and with only a few kisses, too.

It made her feel powerful.

Her hips rolled into his, and he let out a skin prickling moan. She captured the sound with a kiss, swallowing up his muffled noises as she continued her motions.

A thick heat stirred low in her belly and her wetness grew.

Shit, the middle seam of her jeans was catching just right on her clit, making her throw her arms around Steve, draw him ever closer, as she chased the delicious feeling.

Her toes curled. Her breathing stuttered. Her nails scratched at his scalp. Her skin was igniting with the feeling of an impending orgasm, and it was delectable.

The hard, warm line of Steve's cock was glorious, even through the confinement of his jeans. Hot and rigid, it dragged addictively against her aching heat. She was so, so close, her skin tingling, looking down in love-struck awe that Steve was, too.

He whined, tossing his head back and pawing at those tight jeans she often sported, teasingly hiding what was bound to be the warmest, sweetest pussy he would ever have the privilege of appreciating. His eyes were blown, dark and rich, filled to the brim with desire and love. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, wet and pink. He was gorgeous.

"Do it." She begged, pulling away from his glistening lips to stare into his eyes. "C’mon, Stevie.”

Steve groaned at the filthy words, his hips stuttering. It was becoming too much, the strain on his dick, the tightening of his balls, the band in his stomach about to snap.

He couldn't hold it much longer, too wrapped up in Veronica's mouth-watering smell, her warmth, her undulating hips.

He was about to cum, embarrassingly quickly, and here she was encouraging him. Fucking devil.

"Shit," he huffed, dropping his head to rest against her shoulder. She thrusted down especially firmly, his cock throbbing in disgusting appreciation, toes curling. "Shit! Ron, Ronnie."

He pulled at the collar of her top, exposing the blisteringly hot skin of her shoulder. She howled out a moan when Steve sunk his teeth into the delicious flesh, sucking and nibbling at the abused skin.

He tongued and licked at it, softening the blow. Only, the violence only seemed to spur on her movements, and she scraped her sharp, red nails down the back of his neck with fervour, her movements becoming buffered.

She was just as close as he was.

Holy shit.

They were both about to cum in their pants, dry humping in Steve's car.

What rabbit hole had she fallen down, to end up in this new, mysterious, and gloriously tantalising land?

With final, punchy movements, they both fell apart. Veronica collapsed into Steve's arms as her entire body unwound, suddenly falling limp and powerless.

Steve suffered a similar aftershock, his floppy arms rising shakily from her hips to hug her closer, and rock her supportively in his arms.

"God, I love you." He breathed out, face stuffed into the soft wall of hair swooped onto her front.

She giggled, and fixed him with a giddy look. "I love you too, you freak."

"Oh, I'm the freak?" He guffawed, cocky smirk spreading over his lips. "You were into it just as much as I was, Sweetheart."

At the embarrassing reminder of just how horny she'd became, Veronica dropped her head to Steve's chest, and hid from his probing gaze.

"Trying to hide from me, huh? Good luck with that, Sweetheart. Now you've got a taste, you won't be able to keep your hands offa me."

"Cocky bastard." She grumbled, eyes landing on the thick buckle of Steve's black belt.

Hello.

Her hands dropped to it before she could help herself, fiddling with it and shooting Steve a faux-innocent look.

"I don't know what you mean, Stevie."

Steve bit his lip, the fire in his stomach reigniting at the sinful display unfolding on top of him. She was torturing him, playing innocent, all the while giving him the beginnings of yet another boner as her hands played with the leather suffocating him.

"W-wait." He stuttered. Veronica stopped immediately, throwing her hands to the side and blinking with wide, worried eyes.

"Shit, sorry. Got carried away." She grimaced, unable to meet his gaze.

"No, no, it's not that." Steve assured, clutching her hands with his and bringing them to his lips to kiss each finger adoringly. The action brought a soft smile back to her face, and Steve melted. "I just don't want the first time we, you know, to be in my car."

"Oh! Oh, yeah that's, that's fair."

Steve blinked. "You wanna head back to my place? Got a free house."

"When do you not, Steve."

Suddenly, a blinding light broke the two from their bubble. The sound of a car door being slammed closed followed, as well as the murderous crunch of gravel under heavy boots.

Fuck. Had someone seen them?

Ew.

"Hey! What're you doing parked so close to the edge!?" Hoppers familiar voice boomed, sending ice down Veronica's spine. "Got a death wish, kid?"

She and Steve shared a horrified glance, before they scrambled to move as far away from each other as possible.

Only, Veronica's belt loop got caught on the handbrake, just in time for the Chief to saddle up to the diver's side window, and shoot his torchlight into the car.

He froze, slowly blinking down at the incriminating scene inside the car. The teens beamed massive, pearly smiles, trying to dissipate any tension.

It was futile.

"Oh my god." Hopper wheezed, backing away before letting out what sounded like the mix between a panic induced cough and a gag. "Yuck. Eugh, my God."

Steve's hands worked lightning fast to release Veronica, and she landed back in her seat with an oof.

"I'm gonna walk away, and pretend this never happened, alright!?" Hopper hollered from a distance, already having stomped back to his car door.

The teens craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the man, snorting in unison as they watched him stuff not one, but two cigarettes between his lips.

He wasted little time between lighting them and jumping back in his truck, speeding down the dark, Hawkins roads and away from the lovers.

"Did that kill the mood?" Steve asked, eyebrows slanted in upset.

Veronica pretended to ponder her answer, obnoxiously tapping her chin with a finger.

Steve had been right— she'd only gotten a taste, and was very much hungry for more. She grinned wolfishly.

"Nope."

***

"Oh— shit!" Steve had slammed his front door closed, and backed Veronica into it, hands on her shoulders, their lips locked. "Watch my head, asshole! I was hospitalised a few weeks ago, remember?"

"Sorry, sorry." Steve rushed, cheeks flushed, breathing laboured.

He had a wild smirk plastered across his shining lips, turning to flick on some lights so he could get a good look at Veronica.

Like him, she was rosy cheeked. Her faux-angry face was adorable, and it made Steve’s animalistic feelings swirl with something a little more wholesome. She really was an angel.

When she wanted to be, that was.

The drive back to his place had been positively torturous, the girl making sure to tease him with wandering hands and lips at every chance she got.

"I'm just like, obsessed with kissing you, forgot to cushion your head." He slid a hand up to cradle the back of her skull, and she nodded in thanks.

"There we go." She teased, tugging his hips closer by his belt. Steve tried not to groan too loud at the bold action, addicted to this side of her. "Thought you were a pro at this whole seduction thing, Steve. That wasn't very smooth."

"Like I said, I'm just obsessed with these lips, babe." He dove back in for another kiss, and Veronica happily obliged.

They moulded together like two hungry animals, each snag on each other’s teeth harsher than the last. She walked him backwards, lips still sliding together, until he tripped backward up the stairs.

“Jesus, woman,” he grunted, the fists in his jumper attempting to drag him closer. He fought the enticing urge to give in, trying to stumble his way up the floating steps. “Let me—”

His socked foot slipped against that grossly expensive carpet of his, and sent the two of them crashing down onto the stairs.

Veronica’s fall was cushioned by Steve, who started to whine and groan as if he’d just slipped a disk.

“Fuck sake, Steve, you’re meant to be rocking my world, right now.” She admonished, rising to jokingly kick at his prone form.

He groaned again, and for a second she actually worried he’d been injured. Then he stopped his theatrics, and looked up at her with an incredibly proud, shit-eating grin slapped across his face.

This guy.

“Hah. Got you, Mason.” He jabbed, rising, and leaning toward her for another kiss.

Only, she stepped back, and crossed her arms over her chest. Steve looked mortified at the action, an aghast, sharp breath pulled into his lungs.

“I’m so sorry,” he blabbered, reaching out for her again. She slapped his hands away. “Please—”

“No.” Veronica shot, barging past Steve’s forlorn form and up the stairs. “No more kissing or touching until we get to your room.”

Steve blinked, before catching onto her game. He smirked, and smacked her on the ass as he pushed past her. Veronica yelped at the action, a furious blush breaking out across her cheeks.

How had she fallen for such an idiot?

“Race you there, then.”

***

Steve hovered over Veronica, a hand at the side of her head. The other was busy between her legs, scissoring between her slick folds with expert skill.

“Shit,” she moaned, breaking away from their kiss. He was just as lethal with his hands, as he was with his lips and tongue.

The fire blazing in her stomach, thanks to his sinful motions, roared at the thought of his mouth on her, slurping in whatever she had to offer.

Her toes curled, knees bending, legs widening, to beg him to finally stop teasing her.

Steve stared adoringly into her gorgeous, dark eyes, fascinated with the fucked-out look dancing across her face. Her eyebrows twitched, her lips parted pursed, and her lashes became lined with pleasure-fuelled tears.

It was enchanting, plucking pleasure from her, unable to stop himself from becoming addicted to performing the privilege in all forms.

He, somewhat pathetically, couldn’t wait to get his cock inside of her, and feel the tight, warm wrap of her walls around him.

How could he not, when it’d been begging for another release since they’d started the drive back?

A dark spot had formed on his pants, Veronica casting a hand down to thumb at it. Steve shivered at the touch, and keened when she grated her nails lightly from the outline of his base to the tip.

Both of their jeans had long since been discarded, Steve opting to pull off his shirt as well.

Veronica had said she’d rather keep hers on, and had to fight off tears when Steve assured her that it wasn’t a problem, nor a big deal, at all.

He still didn’t know what she was hiding on her stomach, the three disgusting scars. Maybe, she’d never show him.

She hoped that one day, she’d gather the courage to. Steve deserved nothing but honesty, after all.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you can’t—” a moan barrelled through whatever he was going to say, biting his lip as Veronica fingered at the band of his Calvin’s. “I’m trying to be romantic, here.”

“Don’t want that right now, Stevie.” She slurred, grazing her plush lips down the hot skin of his neck. “Want you to fuck me.”

Steve’s eyes slipped closed, and he had to hold himself back from grinding against the mattress.

She was a temptress, or a seductress— whatever it was that Shakespeare called those women ready to disarm a man with their sexiness.

“You, you really want that?”

She hummed in the positive, gasping when Steve finally plunged his fingers inside of her. He groaned at the action, her plush walls impossibly inviting.

His hips undulated at the feeling, and he was powerless to stop them, his cock chasing any attention it could find.

“Oh, Steve!” His fingers fucked into her with abandon, pulling her close to the edge of orgasm embarrassingly quick once again. It was impossibly not to, her pussy already impossibly wet, practically begging to be fucked into.

It was like he knew her inside and out, already well aquatinted with the way she drank up the drag of his fingers against her velvety pussy. She was wet, so god damn wet, he had to fight himself to keep his lips Northward. He had to keep some tricks up his sleeve, after all. They could do that next time.

Holy fuck. There’d be nothing hotter. Her pulling on his hair, scratching his scalp, keeping his face glued to her as he sucked, nipped and tongued at her glorious cunt. She’d taste like heaven, he just knew it.

“That’s it, good girl.” He groaned, sliding a hand from near her head to rest on her hip, grasping the flesh and rolling it too and fro. “Gotta make you cum again before you get my dick, Sweetheart.”

The tantalising mix between sinful depravity and gooey nicknames made Veronica’s head spin, the band in her stomach growing taught beyond comprehension.

She moaned louder and louder, biting into the meat of Steve’s pecs and shoulders.

The animalistic action only spurred his movements further, moans and whines of his own slipping out at the glorious sight unfolding in front of him.

She was about to cum on his fingers. And, fuck, if she didn’t look glorious doing it.

Endless tendrils of black hair splayed out against his blue pillows like a halo, delicious skin shining with a light sheen of sweat.

Steve wished he could take a photo, and savour the moment for eternity.

Then, with full, bodily shivers, Veronica came again.

Her walls spasmed around his fingers as Steve continued to fuck her through her peak, only slowing to a stop when she tapped at his arm.

“Oh, oh my God.” She breathed out, chest heaving up and down.

She’d just had a religious experience slap bang in the middle of the bed she’d only slept, platonically in, next to Steve, a month or so previous.

It was all a bit overwhelming.

But, fuck, did it feel good.

“Hey, Ron, you okay?” Steve asked, worried eyes meeting hers. She nodded silently, but that did little to alleviate the uncertainty swirling inside of him. He kissed at her forehead, lips pouting when she stayed quiet, her eyes having slipped closed. “Is it okay if I run for a second? Just wanna get a towel and clean up, a little.”

Veronica’s eyes flashed open, blinking up at Steve in shock. “But, but you didn’t—”

“Don’t care, Sweetheart.” He interrupted, already knowing where she was heading. Steve couldn’t care less, about any of that.

He just wanted to love and support her. And the best way to do that, right now, was certainly not through more sex.

“Just wanna take care of you.”

At that, Veronica’s heart burst, and she couldn’t stop the watery laughs from bubbling out of her chest. A tear or two slipped down her glowing cheeks, and onto Steve’s shaking hands.

“Hey! Jeez, Ronnie, I- I’m sorry. I-”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Steve.” She reassured, lifting a hand to rake through his luscious hair lovingly. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed, is all. Your crazy fingering power’s thrown me through a loop. All of your sweetness is just like, incredible to me, right now.”

“O-oh.” He stuttered, his cheeks flushing. This had all moved a little fast, he supposed. They’d still only been friends, an hour or two ago.

Maybe a rest and a little reflection was a good idea, for reasons more than just letting Veronica have the space she needed.

“Do, do you wanna come with me to the bathroom?” He asked.

Veronica nodded wordlessly, and Steve pulled her into his arms. They waddled to the en-suite together, basking in each other’s presence.

A month ago, Veronica wanted to dig herself an early grave whenever she thought about her developing feelings for Steve.

Now, thanks to his complete devotion, and inviting patience, he’d made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

He gave her everything she never thought she’d deserve again— love.

That’s all it was. The sex, the appreciation, the joking, it was all a package deal.

And Veronica wouldn’t trade the person giving her that love, for the world.

Steve was hers, and, looking into his eyes through the mirror, cleaning their teeth side by side, Veronica resigned to never letting him go.

She’d do everything in her power to make him feel just as she did, in their relationship.

He deserved no less.

Chapter Text

"I’m home!" Veronica shouted, toeing off her heels before scarpering into the nearest storage closet. "Can't stay long, sorry!"

She pulled a fuzzy towel and robe from a shelf, grinning wildly, blushed cheeks glowing.

The date with Steve had gone perfectly. When did it not? Cinemas, beaches, restaurants, diners, camping trips, nights in— Veronica ate up any and all of her time with him in gleeful revelry, lapping up his adoring attention and care.

He was perfect. Despite his protests, Steve really was the man every girl dreamed about.

Right now, he was sitting in his car, heating turned all the way up, waiting for her to return from her scavenger hunt.

He'd welcome her back with a "Sweetheart," and a kiss on the forehead. It'd be warm, and cosy, just like the rest of their evening was panning out to be.

There would be some snuggling on the couch, laughing at whatever shit movie they picked, a make-out session; maybe even some incredible, life-changing, toe-curling sex.

Who was she kidding? Of course, there'd be sex.

They could barely keep their hands off of each other, their mutual infatuation having even caused issues on multiple occasions.

Veronica tried not to think about those, too often.

What she much preferred to stew over were the delicious memories— stolen kisses in janitor closets, wandering hands under the table, love marks and scratches littering both his and her skin.

It'd only been a few months since they'd gotten together, and yet it had been the sweetest, and the sexiest, period Veronica had ever enjoyed.

Jutting the cupboard closed with her hip, she scrambled up the winding stairs next, reaching her bedroom in record time.

"You never stay, anymore! Always hanging out with that Harrington boy." Her mother admonished, strolling out of the bathroom. Steam billowed out, evidence of her entirely too-long showers.

Her face was covered in a white cream, hair bundled up in pink, velcro rollers. She was the picture of a woman far too worried about her looks, desperate to reverse the toll aging had taken on her skin.

Moving to lean against her daughter's door frame, her eyes narrowed.

She watched Veronica dart around her room and assemble an overnight bag, lamenting the fact that she barely needed to pack anything at all, half of the girl's wardrobe already stashed at her boyfriend's house.

"Seriously, Veronica. I'm talking to you!" Mary spat, her hackles rising. She hated being ignored. The fact that it was her daughter doing so, only added salt to the wound.

Who did the brat think she was, ignoring her like this? Her lips curled sharply downwards.

"You spend an obscene amount of time with that boy, young lady. Spend a night at home, for once. It'd do you some good."

Veronica ignored her, choosing instead to brush through her long locks, pulling faces in her floor-length mirror.

She always had been a disgustingly disobedient daughter.

Placing her hairbrush into her blue handbag, she turned to fix Mary with a glare, lips pursed. "Ever wonder why I don't wanna stay at home so much, Mom?"

The mother blinked, her back straightening, form turning rigid. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Veronica's brows furrowed deeper, pulse quickening. She resisted the urge to gulp. Like Billy, her mother had the ability to reduce all of her resolve to mush.

"This is the first time I've seen you sober in... I don't know, weeks? Months? It's hardly the best environment for me, you know— coming home to find you knocked out on the couch."

The words fired from her mouth before she could stop them, far too determined to push through the debilitatingly cold waters her mother dropped her into, with her mere presence.

Catching the sudden souring of her mother's expression, Veronica's heart dropped. She obviously hadn't learned as much from the Billy situation as she'd thought.

Her smart mouth would be the end of her.

When would she learn to toe the line between bravery and stupidity?

"You have no idea what I've been through, Veronica. What I put up with for you!"

The girl blinked up at her mother, fear quickly turning to anger. All she ever did was make excuses.

"Oh, yeah? Well you've got no idea what I've been through, either! You're too fucked up to ever notice!"

The memory of coming home after the mess that was November of nineteen-eighty-three, and finding that her mom hadn't even registered her absence, nor cared for her injuries, had silently stung for a while.

It'd been drudged back up after Veronica was hospitalised thanks to Billy's attack, Hopper having called her mother numerous times to no avail.

She'd been far too busy knocking back bottle after bottle, pill after pill, to even give a shred of thought to her mysteriously, disappearing daughter.

When Mary had eventually returned to the land of the living, and visited her daughter in the hospital, the alibi of an attempted robbery gone-wrong went down swimmingly.

She couldn’t have cared less. Couldn’t have even tried to seem concerned.

And here it was again, that dull sting, rearing its ugly head.

As much as Veronica wanted to believe that she was over it, that her mother's issues no longer affected her, that she could escape her clutches unscathed, she wasn't a stupid girl. She knew that was a pipe dream.

No one could survive something like this without scars, without a want for basic motherly love and attention.

She was doomed to crave it, and harbour anguish over the lack of it, for eternity.

"So what, I have a hard day at work and a drop of wine to take the edge off, sue me!"

"Try a whole freakin' bottle! Or two! Oh, and don't forget the shit-ton of pills, either!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I don't!?" Veronica guffawed, standing and shoving the remaining items into her bag. "Yeah, Dad gave you some shit, well guess what, he gave me it too!"

"Your father loved us!"

"He cheated on you!" Her mother froze, but Veronica was far too angry to notice, red mist descending over her vision. "When're you gonna move on, Mom? If-if you carry on like this, it's, it's gonna kill you!"

Squeezing her fists together, Mary sneered in disgust. Veronica heaved in deep breaths, watching her mother, pleading with her, begging her to make a change.

The woman stayed still for a moment, grinding her teeth.

Then, in a flash, she shoved herself off of the doorframe, and began stalking towards Veronica.

The girl gasped, eyes wide in terror. Shit. She flung herself backwards, colliding with her dresser. Various beauty products toppled over with a cacophony of clatters, perfume dripping onto the carpet.

The attempted dodge was vain, her mother reaching her, and delivering a sharp smack to her face, in a few long strides. The hiss of cool metal, the engagement ring she refused to take off, burned Veronica's cheek, no doubt forming the beginnings of a welt.

She couldn't believe this was happening, didn't even have the seconds to process it. Her mother hadn't gotten like this in years— Veronica had almost forgotten it happened at all.

How had she let herself grow complacent, against the potential of such treatment?

"You know what? Fine!" Mary threw herself back, before shoving Veronica's bag into her chest. The girl caught it with shaking hands, her form curling protectively around it.

Right now, it seemed as if it were all she had— the opportunity for escape, the promise of it. Steve was only sat outside, none the wiser as to what going on inside the pristine home.

This would all be over, soon enough, and she could run away for another night.

"If you wanna go play big girl and live with your boyfriend, great! But don't expect any support from me when you wind up pregnant and he leaves! I tried to help you, but you didn't want it!"

Oh, God.

She was about to get kicked out.

For good.

That meant no more home to come back to. No more space to hide, to cry, to flip through magazines, to smoke.

No more privacy.

No more opportunity for secrets.

"Mom—"

"No! You've done enough taking. Enough damage." Mary stepped back, chest heaving. She swiped at the underside of her nose, lotion smearing all over her hand and arm. "He hated you, you know. He never wanted kids. You ruined us."

Veronica tried not to let the words sink in, worm their poisonous way into her heart, but it was impossible to win against their attack.

The words hit like bullets, and exploded in horrific, debilitating pain all around Veronica's body.

Had she always been that much of a burden? That much of a worthless life? She'd ruined a perfect thing with her mere existence.

"Now get out." Mary sniffed, pointing to the doorway with a crooked finger. "I said get out, you ungrateful bitch!"

Veronica didn't have to be told twice.

She scrambled out of her bedroom, what was once her safe space, and into the dark hallways. Almost slipping down the stairs, she snagged her heels at the doorway, before wrenching the entrance open and beelining for Steve's car.

Tears were streaming disgustingly down her cheeks, nose dribbling snot. Her cheeks burned with heat, and her stomach ached with the reminder of the bagel she’d been disallowed from snagging from the kitchen.

She didn't care for how she looked, as she wrenched Steve’s car door open, flopping down into her seat as sobs took hold of her.

She was free. She was out. She wasn't under her mother’s thumb, anymore.

So why was she hurting, so much?

"Oh, oh my God, Ron, Babe, come here." Steve's voice floated into her ear from the drivers seat, his warmth melting through her hazy vision as he wrapped his arms around her.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been in this position.

"Can we just—" a sob interrupted Veronica's words, though Steve stayed quiet all the same, listening attentively to whatever it was that she was struggling to say. One of his hands started scratching at the base of her scalp reassuringly. "Can we just, just go home first, please? Then- then we can talk about it."

Steve bit his lip, entire body vibrating with worry. Pulling back slightly, he slid his thumb, ever so gently, over the welt on her cheek. His stomach swelled in discomfort at the feeling of bruised, raised skin, his horror deepening as she flinched away.

Her mother hadn't gotten physical in a while. The last time Steve had seen Veronica in any state similar to this, had been a couple of months before Will went missing.

Something benign must’ve set her off, again, sent the woman spiralling into a terrifying anger.

What, exactly, it could've been, was a mystery. It could've been anything. There was no decipherable rhyme nor reason to her behaviour, after all.

She was just a cranky, poisonous lady.

And Steve wanted nothing to do with her.

Shaking his head, he pressed a light kiss to the corner of Veronica's eyes, picking up the tears that bled from them.

"Of course we can, Sweetheart."

***

“So, you’re living with Steve?”

“WHAT!?”

Since Jane had come back to life, Veronica made a habit of visiting the small cabin she shared with Hopper whenever the opportunity arose.

The girl was deplorably cute, her innocence and unbridled curiosity far too enigmatic to stay away from.

Veronica had even brought Steve along, a couple of times; the memory of he and Jane dancing to Bowie one she often revisited whenever she needed a smile.

Hopper flew up from his place on the couch, stomping over to the tiny kitchen table where Jane sat opposite Veronica.

The former looked up at her father figure with wide, blinking eyes, unable to decipher what all the fuss was about.

The latter, on the other hand, practically shrunk into herself, her skin shrivelling in embarrassment as her soul ejected from her body.

“Young lady…” Hopper seethed, hands on his hips, bulging eyes staring down at Veronica. “I know you and Harrington are… irresponsible, to say the least, but, but this? Oh my God.”

The man stumbled back, visibly loosing his breath. Veronica cared little, sliding her eyes to hit the small, curly haired girl sitting opposite with a wicked look.

“Thanks for ratting me out, Jane!” Before she could answer the prompt asking as to what ‘ratting out’ meant, Veronica watched as Hopper’s knees buckled beneath him, and he flopped to the floor, grasping at the arm of the couch to keep himself upright.

She rolled her eyes at his theatrics. “And cool off, old man, it’s not what you think.”

“I need a minute,” he huffed, “think I’m gonna faint.”

Jane pushed her plate of eggos to the side, fists clenching slightly on the table.

“Should we help him?” She asked, frowning as Hopper seemed to start sobbing into a rug.

“Nah, he’s gotta work through this on his own.” Veronica responded, having turned to face Hopper in her seat, and kicking at his prone form with her heeled foot.

The man froze at the action, suddenly stopping his dry-heaving. He slowly swivelled his head to fix the dark haired girl with a haunted look, his skin concerningly pale.

“Are, are you pregnant?” He asked simply.

“NO!”

“Then why, on God’s Green Earth, would you move in with the kid? He’s a sleaze, Veronica, I can smell it on him, I swear to God— when I get my hands on him—”

As the words rushed out of Hopper’s mouth, he clambered back to his feet, hands flying around in emphasis of his words.

Veronica groaned, tipping her head back in exhaustion.

Why couldn’t he just leave her be? It wasn’t like, he was her Dad, or anything crazy. She owed him nothing.

Other than the fact that he saved her life, of course. And that all he’d ever done was care for her, and provide her with a safe space.

Shit.

“It was my Mom, alright, Hop? Okay? She kicked me out.” The truth tumbled from her lips softly, suddenly far too tired to even attempt to defend herself, anymore.

Hopper blinked at the revelation, freezing mid pace. He dragged a hand down his stubbled chin, staring at Veronica, before dropping his eyes to the floor. A sigh rattled out of him, and he shook his head in disappointment.

Was he still angry with her?

Veronica’s worries drifted away when he extended his hand for her to take.

“Come here, kid, come on.” He said, nodding his head to the bathroom, and pleading with his eyes for her to follow.

Veronica stayed sat, for a moment, staring up at him with distrust. What if he was just going to rip her a new one? Tell her that she deserved to get kicked out, that she was the problem?

Had Hopper ever made her feel that way, though? Unwanted?

Sighing, she rose from her seat, softly waving goodbye to Jane, before clasping Hoppers hand in hers, and following after the hulking man into the bathroom.

He shut the door behind them, and lowered himself to the floor opposite the toilet, which he gestured for her to take a seat on.

Happy to already find the lid lowered, Veronica plonked herself onto it, sitting on her hands.

A tense silence buzzed between the two of them for a moment, the girl’s eyes fixed on the point of her shoes.

“You safe staying with him?” Hopper broached, gruff voice breaking through the silence.

Veronica rolled her eyes and groaned, face scrunching in disbelief. “Hop—”

“I’m serious. This isn’t a joke.” He snapped, shutting her up. She blinked with pursed lips. “This is like, textbook, the perfect time for him to take advantage of you, do you get that?”

Sighing, Veronica resigned herself to the fact that Hopper may be a tiny, teeny bit right.

She was lucky that Steve, the understanding, communicative, lovely man, was her boyfriend, and not some douchebag who’d look for sex, or some other kind of deplorable favour, in exchange for a place to stay.

There was no pressure to sleep in the same bed, to shower together, to even spend their evenings together. Veronica was free, in Steve’s house, to live as she pleased.

And while, in theory, it was the least that he could do, provide an environment for her to exercise bodily autonomy and freedom, some women weren’t so lucky.

“I— yeah, yeah I do.” She lamented, dragging a hand through her hair. “But, you really don’t have to worry about that. Before me and Steve ever got together, he, well, you know all this, Chief, you know he’s not gonna do anything. He’s a good guy. He saved me, the kids—”

Hopper grunted, knowing that the girl was right. Harrington, despite his previous shit-bag status, was turning out to be a very responsible, and trust-worthy, young man. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Still. Can’t help that it makes me a little uneasy.”

Silence settled over the two once again, both unsure of how to proceed.

“Why hadn’t you told me or Joyce, about this?” Hopper began again, picking at a wound Veronica was desperate to bandage, and ultimately forget about. “Either of us would’ve been happy to offer you a roof, kid. Still are.”

The girl sniffed, unable to look Hopper in the eye. “I know. It’s just, you know…” She bit at her lip, turning her face away as tears began to sting at her eyes. “My mom had a bit of a habit of making me feel like a burden, so…”

“You’d never be a burden, you hear me?” The words fired out of Hopper’s mouth at speed, barrelling into Veronica’s chest like a punch. It felt disgustingly reassuring to hear.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Don’t get me wrong, I, I can be a piece of shit, sometimes, say some real fucked up stuff to Jane, you know, when I get angry.” He sucked in a deep breath, wringing his hands in his lap.

“But, I’d never let whatever feelings that behaviour stirred, stick. I bring her eggos, I try let her have as much freedom as she can afford, I try be the best parent I can, for her.”

The words were almost too painful for Veronica to hear, dropping her head to rest in her hands, fingers itching to plug her ears.

“Anyone unwilling to make amends for their kid isn’t worth the time, girl, believe me. So, you ever need anything, just give me a shout okay? I’ll come running, Joyce too.”

Looking up through blurry, wet eyes, Veronica found Hopper’s firm eyes, the dark pools glistening with a promise of reassurance and care.

Jesus.

On the one hand, she’d been dealt an incredibly shitty hand with her legitimate family.

However, on the other, she’d been offered up this cast of remarkable people, each as ready as the last to help her, guide her, and support her.

Veronica was reminded that, once again, she didn’t really deserve any of this.

That’s why it was all so hard to hear.

“Sure. Thank you, Hop.” She smiled sadly, sliding off of the toilet lid to join him on the floor.

Opening his arms, the girl burrowed her face into his chest, accepting the love she didn’t deserve, but loved revelling in all the same.

She’d do the same to Steve, when she got home, hunting him down and snuggling into him like there was no tomorrow.

God, she could get so miserable, sometimes.

“Don’t do that, say thanks, makes me feel like I’ve got a heart.”

She snorted, releasing herself from his hold to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “You can mope all you want, old man, but we both know your heart beats enough for all of Hawkins.”

“Yeah, whatever. You coming to Joyce’s on Friday?”

Veronica blinked, brows furrowing at his sudden change of conversation. Sometimes, she forgot that she wasn’t the only one who struggled with terrible thoughts. Did Hopper not think he had a heart?

She’d get through to him, one day.

“‘Course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Make sure to bring Harrington, then. I wanna have some words. That is, if I don’t catch the two of you canoodling again.”

A vicious blush broke out across Veronica’s cheeks at the gross memory of Hopper stumbling across herself and Steve, all those months ago. She’d never live it down.

“Eugh, my God, stop it!”

Hopper let out a rare, raucous laugh. “You were the one doing it, kid, not me!”

A soft knock suddenly sounded from the door, the two snapping their heads to stare at it in question.

“Can I have Ronnie back?” Jane asked, monotone voice bringing a smile to Veronica’s tear stained face.

Jumping to her feat, she poked and prodded at her complexion in the mirror. Hopper watched on in amusement, shaking his head.

“On my way, pretty girl.” She said, patting Hopper on the shoulder before strutting out of the bathroom, and flopping in front of the TV with Jane.

Chapter Text

July 1985

“Steve," a groan sounded from somewhere above Veronica's head, distant and barely there through her cloud of early-morning brain fog. The cold feet pressing into her calves chilled her body, and made her curl around Steve's furnace-like form tighter. "Get your cold ass feet offa me."

Kicking away his touch, she wheezed as Steve rolled the two of them over, somewhat crushing her with his weight.

"Y'love my cold feet." He groggily responded, pulling a hand free from the cocoon of warmth the blankets provided, to prod at her forehead.

Refusing to properly wake up, he nuzzled into her chest, nose grazing the skin exposed thanks to her camisole top. Veronica smiled, and dragged her nails across his scalp adoringly.

She loved sharing her mornings with him.

When she'd first moved in, she'd spend the odd night in a spare bedroom. It wasn't that Steve had done anything wrong, she'd just wanted her own space, for a while.

An evening to smoke, away from Steve's gorgeous, pleading brown eyes that begged her not too, and read a magazine, or watch a cringey drama (which she’d never admit she enjoyed) was much needed.

Steve needed his own space, too— the home that he'd become so accustomed to living in alone, had suddenly grown another inhabitant.

Those mornings after a night apart meant reuniting in the kitchen, snatching up whatever breakfast he'd chucked together with a kiss.

It was sickeningly domestic, honeyed to the core, an act so simple, yet devastatingly addictive. They quickly became inseparable, milling about the home together, constantly in each others orbits. It wouodve been impossible not, to.

Family was what they both craved, having survived without it for so long. Veronica getting kicked out was the perfect opportunity for the couple to play house, revel in a domesticity they'd never experienced before.

It was even better whenever the kids would come over for a movie night, the couple getting to dote all over them, despite how much of a chore they made it out to be.

"Can't be completely perfect, y'know. God had to give me at least one flaw."

"And that's your cold feet?" Steve nodded, leaning into her touch and unconsciously shuffling his hips against the mattress. "What about your freakishly hairy chest, or, or just the amount of hair you have, everywhere."

With a gasp, he flung himself away, mentally lamenting the loss of her arms around him.  "I thought you loved how hairy I am!" He said, feeling betrayed.

"I- I do! I'm just joking, Harrington, promise." He looked down at her with a petulant pout, eyes squinting in suspicion.

When he found nothing but truthfulness lingering in her features, he flopped back down and snuggled into her arms.

Steve never did have much of a resolve, when it came to Veronica and her whims.

"I love it," she said, "because I can do this." Before Steve could properly process her words, far too preoccupied with falling asleep against the plush of her breasts, horrific pain shot from his armpit.

She'd pulled his hair.

He yelped as she twisted the tufts in her grasp, bending him to her will as she regained the position of being on top.

"Shit!" He shrieked, tickling at her sides. The two broke into peels of laughter, wrapped up in their own little heavenly bubble. "You're using my best features against me— hairiness and kindness."

Veronica frowned. "Who says those are your best features?"

Without causing too much of a stir, she trailed her hands up to Steve's shoulders, anchoring them there.

He smirked. "You got anything else in mind, Sweetheart?"

***

After a devilish romp in the sheets (and the shower) the two scarpered around the home, scrambling up everything they needed for their respective days of work.

Steve's cash consisted of his Scoops Ahoy uniform, which he refused to wear anywhere other than the ice cream shop, his car keys, and a banana.

Veronica, on the other hand, carried with her: three fitness outfits, stashed for the jazzercise classes she'd be running later in the day, a shower kit and a towel, a makeup bag, hair rollers, and a metric ton of deodorants and body sprays.

At least one of them travelled light.

They sped down to Star Court Mall, the newest and  shiniest building in a thirty mile radius, one more excited than the other for the day of work ahead of them.

For one, Veronica loved her job. While it was only a place-holder until she started her police training in September, being a fitness instructor was hardly the worst thing.

She got to socialise with ladies of all ages, from Hawkins and beyond. It was great for learning and sharing beauty tips.

It also kept her in shape, having put her competitive tennis days to bed after she'd won her final tournament back in May.

Steve had managed to sneak all of the kids into the stands to watch, even Jane, who'd been bundled up in a scarf and dark sunglasses. They were great morale boosters, almost bringing her opponent to tears with all of their shouting and jeering.

Veronica kept all of her trophies with Steve's swimming and basketball ones, now— pride of place on the mantelpiece.

Said man was not so excited about the day ahead of him. Or, at least, that's what he let on, anyways.

Supposedly, he hated the colleague he was set to be on shift with. Robin Buckley. In Veronica's humble opinion, that was a load of shit.

Robin was magnetic, all quick wit and sharp words. Never harsh. Just sharp. If you didn't match her level, she'd eat you up.

Steve was often on the receiving end of said eating up, unfortunately.

Veronica had winced, grimaced, and sighed defeatedly enough times watching him walk into Robin's traps, to know exactly what he was heading into.

She pretend to sympathise, to wish him well against the big scary beast called Robin. But, Veronica knew that Steve loved the back and forth they shared between slinging ice cream.

It was something exciting amidst the grossly monotonous humiliation ritual that was working at Scoops.

Nancy had asked her if she was worried that Robin was seemingly so keen on teasing her boyfriend, badgering him, tripping him at every chance.

Apparently, it sounded like flirting.

To the unseasoned eye, Veronica supposed that it could appear that way. Robin was a pretty girl, a little too grungy to be Steve's usual type, but pretty all the same, and Steve was a relatively sought after bachelor, in Hawkins.

Only, Robin, what with her obsession with Fast Times, and the crudely drawn pair of tits on her scuffed converse, was obviously not flirting with Steve.

He was certainly not her type.

Plus, Eddie had let slip one time about a girl from band, who's name may or may not have began with R, having a crush on another girl in band, who's name may or may not have begun with V.

Not Veronica. But a petite, ginger thing called Vicky.

"If I call, will you come save me?" Steve pleaded, big brown eyes staring down at Veronica like a puppy that knew all to well how cute it was.

"Of course, Steve." She assured, leaning up to peck his cheek, and squeeze the side of his neck in support. "Hopefully she'll go easy on you, today. Tell her you've just had a family emergency, or something."

The pretend cloud over Steve's head only seemed to double in size, her words futile. "If I told her my Grandmother died last night, she'd probably just steal the corpse and prop it up in the break room for me to find."

Veronica swallowed down her snort at his dramatics. “Yikes. Hopefully, not. That's where we have all of our mid-day meetings. Would hate to contaminate our sacred space, like that."

Before Steve could respond, a fake gag sounded from behind the counter.

There stood Robin herself, the source of the sound, dressed in all of her glorious sailor attire. Her face was the picture of disgust, scooper clutched tightly in a white-knuckled grip.

Her frowning lips were painted a matte, dusty pink, pairing well with the light dusting of blush on her cheeks. It did little to subdue the smattering of gorgeous freckles on her face, however, which trickled down onto her arms.

"I'm well aware that the break room is where the two of you choose to... fornicate." She began, and Veronica had to swallow down the embarrassment that exploded inside of her. "So, if you could please move back there before you start sucking face in front of all of the customers, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Her short hair tussled with her scolding, blue eyes staring daggers into the two of them.

"Always gotta step on my toes, Buckley." Steve groaned, pressing his lips to his girlfriend’s forehead adoringly. He squeezed her hands in his, shooting her a smile. "I'll catch you later, Ron, 'kay? Have a good day, Babe."

The two gradually tore apart, fingertips grazing until the last second. "Will do.” She said, eyes sliding to meet Robin’s. “And, try not to go too hard on him, Rob. Steve had a relapse and wet the bed again, last night. He might be prone to doing it if he gets scared in the daytime now, too."

Veronica ignored Steve's jaw hitting the floor in her peripheral vision, his face burning, lips spluttering out objections, and focused on smirking at Robin instead.

Acutely aware of how much of an asshole, a bully, really, she used to be, Veronica, ever since Steve had started working at Scoops, had tried to be as lovely to Robin as possible.

While she couldn't recall ever having made fun of Robin specifically, she'd probably said her fair share of homophobic comments.

Plus, she'd just made fun of any and all social outcasts when the opportunity arose.

It was uncomfortable, owning up to what a scumbag she used to be. But, she knew didn't think prejudiced thoughts, anymore.

Never did in the first place, really. She just thought that it was cool to pick on people, exploit their weaknesses— thought it made her strong.

Of course, now she knew that it was in fact the opposite, which made you cool and strong.

A small part of Veronica worried that Steve hadn’t changed all that much, in the openness to different sexualities department. He’d been just as brutal to Jonathan, if not a little more, than she’d been.

But, she knew that was a silly thread to follow.

Steve had done nothing but evolve over the past eighteen or so months, and grow out of the same oppressive and bullish skin that she had.

Still, it wasn’t her place to give up Robin’s sexuality either way. If the wrong person got ahold of that information, well, it wasn’t worth thinking about.

Regardless, she hoped the occasional fun she'd throw at Steve in front of Robin, came across as the sort of peace offering that it was intended to be, and not that she was just a shitty, weird girlfriend, who liked to joke that her boyfriend peed the bed.

The snort that Robin let out, and the explosion of light in her eyes, reassured Veronica somewhat.

Maybe they could even be friends.

She would like that.

"Oh, I'm so gonna use that." Robin swiped a tear from the corner of her eye, cackling when Steve stomped away into the break room to change into his garish uniform. "Thanks for the material, Mason."

"Any time, Buckley."

***

"Gosh, how do you keep your hair so perfect through the workout, Ronnie? Mine keeps getting all frizzy the sweatier I get."

Veronica shot Mrs Henderson a smile, fanning herself from her spot sprawled out on a mat. As kind as the woman was being, she probably looked like a melted monstrosity. "You've gotta use that Aqua Net, Claudia. Fights off all that pesky frizz."

She tried not to groan too loudly as she clambered back to her feet, waving goodbye to some ladies as they left.

While her hair may have looked immaculate, the rest of her body was fighting for its life. Fashionable and cute as they were, leotards on top of thick, heat conducting leggings, and leg warmers, made for very toasty workout wear.

"Alright, suppose I'll see your mom when I buy it from Pretty Lady, won't I? How's she doing?"

Pretty Lady was the tiny beauty store Veronica’s mother worked at on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays.

It was one of the few independent stores that was still dragging itself along since Star Court was built, and stole away all of Hawkin's independent stores' business.

Veronica tried not to grimace too outwardly at the mention of her mother, snapping her neck down to stare at her shoes.

"Yeah, uh, probably will. She's good thanks, Mrs Henderson." Claudia's brows slanted in worry, but Veronica only plastered on a wider smile, cheeks aching. "I've gotta shut down, now, but, I'll see you when Dustin gets back? His welcome party?"

"O-oh yes, of course! Dusty will be so happy to see you, honey."

After showering for the fourth time that day, and dolling herself back up, Veronica slipped back into her casual clothes.

They were just a long, denim skirt and a white, oversized sweater— something relatively comfy to flop around in until Steve finished his shift.

She rocked up to Scoops and ordered a strawberry sundae off of Robin, who smiled at her as if she knew she’d pick that.

“It’s on the house,” she said, sliding it to Veronica, and quickly busying herself with the next customer before the woman had a chance to object.

Perhaps, a peace offering of her own?

Veronica smiled, piling some of the sweet treat onto her comically tiny spoon, before wafting into the break room.

Steve, who’d been lounging with his legs kicked up on a table, jumped to attention. He sprang up and pulled Veronica into his arms, making her squawk and shove her sundae into the air protectively.

“Watch my food, dumbass!! I need sugar!”

Steve choked out an embarrassed cough, cheeks flaming red once again, before lowering her to the ground carefully. She shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his lips as soon as her feet touched the floor.

“Sorry, just missed you, is all.” He mumbled around the spoon, pawing at her sides.

“Awh, missed you too, Steve.” Plopping the sundae down, she melted into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and basking in his warmth.

His hairy legs bristled against the slither of her exposed shin, but she didn’t care. The sailor uniform was as goofy as it was endearing.

“Hey, dinguses! Your children are here!” Robin warned them through the wall, tone teasing.

The couple groaned, lamenting their interruption. Steve slipped away with exaggeratedly depressed stomps, and reached for the sliding windows that separated them from the main shop.

There was even a sassy pout and flick of his wrists. He’d been spending too much time with Dustin.

Veronica narrowed her eyes at the party as she saddled up to the window, arms crossed, shaking her head in faux disappointment at Max and Lucas, who stood hand in hand.

She couldn’t quite bring herself to pretend to be angry at Will, though, the boy looking all too much like a quiet little mouse, hidden behind his taller friends.

Mike’s petulant hitting of the bell was just grating, easing a joint “seriously?” From the couple.

Huffing out a breath, Veronica swung open the door leading to the break room and ushered to kids inside, herding them toward Steve, who was stationed at the door at the back of the shop.

Beyond it lied a series of tunnels that, if navigated correctly, would lead them to the cinema, earning them free viewings.

“C’mon, c’mon.” She hurried the kids, scoffing at the fact that none of them, bar sweet Will, spared a second to say thank you.

Damn kids and their massive egos.

Steve cleared his throat, glaring at the slowly disappearing group. “I swear, if anybody hears about this—”

“We’re dead!” The kids all shouted in unison, more than familiar with the routine by now.

Veronica rolled her eyes, patting at Steve’s shoulder reassuringly.

He didn’t seem to share in her buoyancy, huffing and stalking back into the break room.

“Don’t get too shitty with them, we were way worse at their age.” She reassured, sliding the sundae towards him in support as he flopped back into his seat.

Steve let out a noncommittal noise, before shoving a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “I know, it’s just, what if someone finds them and they get banned, or something? They’d be so bummed.”

Smiling, Veronica shook her head, enamoured with the fact that he was so protective over the kids, always worrying over them like a doting father. Or, an over-protective one. Probably a little bit of both.

Shrugging, she accepted the offering of ice cream Steve had extended. “Then we’ll just keeping sneaking them through.”

“God,” Steve groaned, “you’re so smart. It’s so sexy.”

“That’s what does it for you? My big brain?”

“Amongst other things.”

A wail sounded from the front of the shop, sounding distinctly Robin-like.

“If I have to hear one more, or see one more, disgusting, gross, show of affection from either of you, I’m revoking your right to privacy and—” the sliding windows were wretched open, Robin’s angry face peering in at the two of them. “You’ll have to deal with this, how’s that? Does being watched do it for you, too, amongst other things?”

Safe to say Robin didn’t take her foot off their necks for the rest of the night.

And, Veronica couldn’t wait to start the game all over again, tomorrow.

Chapter Text

"So, how's it going at the Post?"

Veronica dropped a chocolate into her mouth, courtesy of Joyce having left a tray of them on the glass coffee table.

Since receiving yet another payout from the government for all of their trouble, hush money more than anything, the Byers' family home had undergone a nice revamp.

The carpet was now more plush than compacted, the kitchen was made up with a swanky new oven, and the sorry excuse for couches (which used to be about as comfortable as bricks when you were having anything other, than the worst day of your life) had been replaced with soft, corduroy sofas.

Veronica was snuggled into the corner of one, squinting at Nancy and Jonathan in suspicion, the couple stiffly sat opposite in a comfy throne of their own.

They shared a tense look, silently communicating.

Nancy was nervously nibbling at her bottom lip, spindly fingers pulling at her white tights. Jonathan turned a shade paler than usual, and swallowed thickly.

"Earth to love birds..." Veronica urged, eyebrows raising in question.

She'd only turned up for a catchup with Joyce, the woman insistent on weekly check-ins since she'd been kicked-out, and yet here she's was, trying to communicate with two brick walls.

Steve wasn't even there for moral support, too busy working yet another twelve hour, closing shift. That, surely, had to violate some sort of labour law.

At least Dustin was keeping him company, finally back from summer camp.

Apparently, the kid interrupted a 'secret Russian communication' and he, Steve and Robin, were working to decipher it between scooping.

Veronica had tried to sound amused when Steve had informed her down the phone, earlier. She'd been wrapped up in bed, groaning and grunting in affirmation down the line.

The occasional morning off truly was a miracle, and she tried not to be too annoyed when it was interrupted.

Now that she was more sentient, having taught an afternoon class then hastily biked here, she tried not to think too deeply about what she'd heard.

Whatever issues she’d just unknowingly stumbled upon seemed like the perfect distraction.

"Sorry," Nancy spluttered, freshly permed hair jostling. "It's just, you know... going."

Veronica frowned. "It's going?"

"It's a job." Jonathan afforded, and Veronica smiled and nodded sarcastically, before shoving another chocolate in her mouth. It probably wasn't the best, nor healthiest, dinner choice, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Then what's wrong with it? Both of you look like you're 'boutta puke."

Nancy sighed, looking away. Was it really that bad? Surely, not. Journalism was practically a dream for her, Veronica would hate for it to be going badly.

Plus, Jonathan got to promote himself as a photographer, his snaps accompanying stories.

"After what we did with Murray, we thought, well, I- I thought I'd be chasing real stories, significant events." Veronica's heartbeat started pulsing in her ears, the hand reaching for yet another treat freezing dead. "But, the bosses at the Post, the men, they don't let me get a word in."

When Nancy and Jonathan ditched school together back in November, they'd met up with the private investigator Barbra's parents and Jacob's dad had employed.

Murray Bauman, as it turned out, had ended up being just as insane as the mugshot on his promo card had suggested.

All crazy hair and tinfoil hats, he'd been more than ready to follow along with the two teenagers and take down Hawkins lab, the very place he'd been theorising about.

While they couldn't expose the real truth, that was a bit too much for the world to handle, they'd blown open the Lab's involvement in Jacob and Barbra's deaths, and forced it to close.

The story went that they'd been exposed to some chemical run-off from the damned place, and that had been that— national scrutiny, payouts and journalists knocking at doors.

Veronica had received a few visits of her own, being the girlfriend of one of the victims.

It was all very re-traumatising, or whatever it was called. Especially given that she was still recovering from Billy's attack. One particularly scrutinising investigator had even followed her into the hospital.

Thankfully, her injuries probably helped scare most of them off.

Regardless, the questions had been nothing compared to the joint funeral. It'd been torture.

Veronica couldn't bear to look at Jacob's parents, the two having reunited for their son's funeral. Barbra's were practically inconsolable. And, giving a speech had been nothing short of gut wrenching, the words barely clambering out of her throat.

While her grief and guilt had significantly ebbed, she could stand to look at herself in the mirror just fine, most days, it liked to re-established itself full force, every once in a while.

Like when her fingers skimmed over her stomach in the shower, or when Steve's eyebrows dropped ever so slightly when she asked him to give her privacy to change, despite having dated for months.

Veronica didn't like to dwell on any of it, anymore, though. Was it a form of emotional repression? Probably. Would it inevitably come back to bite her in the ass? Definitely.

But, it was better than rotting away, drowned in guilt and despair, for the rest of her days.

She seriously needed some therapy.

One more crippling nightmare, and she'd book an apportionment. She'd drag Steve along, too. He suffered with them just as bad as she did, these days.

"O-oh, what?" She rattled out, pulling herself from her thoughts. Sitting up straighter, she shot Nancy a sympathetic look. "They won't let you say anything?"

"No!" Nancy exclaimed, small face turning red with anger. "They just send me to buy their sandwiches. I'm a glorified secretary."

"Shit, I'm sorry." The more the girls spoke, the more Jonathan seemed to sink further into his corner of the couch; less out of comfort, and more so in embarrassment or a want to escape from the situation. His lips curled downwards. "Have you considered going freelance? Or, or just doing it on your own?"

"Hell of a way to loose a stable income." He grumbled out, arms crossed, eyes fixed on something to his right.

Nancy scoffed at her boyfriend's comment, crossing her arms and looking away in similar fashion.

Jesus, they were both a little too stubborn for each other, every once in a while.

It could be sweet, sometimes, like when they'd bought Christmas gifts for each other despite having agreed not to, or, when they followed each other to the Hawkins Post.

But, right now, it was proving to be slightly detrimental. Neither were happy in their jobs, but Jonathan wanted to stay, while Nancy wanted to leave. Did they not know they could do things on their own?

Perhaps, after everything, they'd developed somewhat of a co-dependant relationship.

Veronica hoped not. That could turn bad. Quick.

"He's not wrong, Nance." She offered, head tilting. Neither party responded, faces scrunched in anger, jaws ticking. Huffing in defeat, Veronica rose to her feet. Thankfully, she wasn't a couple's therapist, and this was a little beyond her pay-grade as a friend. "I-I'm just gonna go say hi to Joyce."

***

“How did you even score her? You have, like, negative game, man.”

Steve groaned to the ceiling tiles, ripping his stupid, ugly, embarrassing, fucking ugly, sailor hat from his head and hurtling it at the floor.

If he had to hear Robin shit on him one more time, today, Steve was simply going to explode. He’d get everywhere, blood on the floors, ceilings and walls, maybe some chunks of guts splattering in the ice cream, too. He’d be a pain to clean up, and scare off every customer in their right mind, but at least he’d be free from this never ending torment.

“I don’t know, Robin, maybe it’s my evidently fantastic talking skills.” Sulking, he collapsed onto the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest, staring resolutely at the checkered tile as Robin dropped her score board with a sigh and hopped behind the till.

“I’m only joking Harrington, don’t get all mopey.” She kicked at his pristine white trainers, and he shuffled them out of her reach with a scowl. “Maybe, you’re just going about this the wrong way. Imagine if you went to Panda Express and the girl behind the counter asked if you wanted to marry her.”

“That’s not what I’m asking—”

“Sure sounds like it, Romeo. I know it’s not, but that’s because I’ve got insider information. Your wording’s just a little… off.”

Huffing, Steve wrapped his arms around his legs, chin dropping to rest on his knees.

Maybe Robin had a point.

It was all well intentioned, he’d just wanted to know what people’s dream proposals were, he didn’t know they thought he was hitting on them.

None of the girls were even pretty. Not like Ronnie. Her long, dark hair, that he loved to bury his nose in, her eyes he loved to get lost in, the sharp, red nails he loved scraping over his skin, the soft smiles she sent the kids, that glimmer of danger sparkling at the tips of her fingers, the axe she kept hidden at his place. Their place.

None of them even grazed her beauty, and yet they thought he was shooting a shot at them.

He wanted to propose. Not, like, now. Maybe in a year, or two. Once he had something stable going and they’d moved out of this fucked up town. Once things were good, and no monsters, scientists, or, now, Russian’s were nipping at their heels.

Because Ronnie was the one. Steve was gonna be with her forever, so long as she allowed him, of course. It’d hurt, if she swapped him out for someone better. But she deserved whoever made her happy, and, if Steve couldn’t be that person, then he’d pack his shit and go.

That’s why he wanted to cement this. Not to keep her hostage, but give her the life she deserved, the life she wanted. She wanted all of the White Pickett Fence bullshit as much as he did, and a ring was the first step in achieving it all.

And Ron was a trend follower. She loved her magazines and her TV dramas, as much as she liked to pretend she didn’t. She’d want a chic proposal, something to brag about and tell the ladies in her class. Something swoon worthy.

So, asking other women seemed like the surefire way to go. But after the final rebuttal, a snarky, thin-lipped lashing of “stay away from me, Harrington, or I’ll tell me boyfriend what you just asked me,” maybe he’d be better off with just consulting the magazines.

***

"Alright, ladies, one more!" Veronica, admittedly, was struggling. Sweat dripped off of her skin and onto the blue mat below, the cacophony of groans from the class stabbing into her ear drums.

Why did she sign herself up for such torture?

The four classes she'd already ran this week were bad enough, and now, the fifth was at risk of putting her in the ground. Her muscles burned, and her head pulsed with the rush of blood.

"Are you sure you wanna do another class, today?" Steve asked, lips pouting in worry. "Three days in a row is kind of crazy."

"'Course, I'm built of strong stuff."

Right now, it felt like she was built out of spaghetti.

"You said 'one more' last time!" Someone screeched.

"I failed math!" She gritted out from between clenched teeth, her triceps and core screaming in pain. "And... lower."

Huffs of relief echoed around the studio as the class was finally brought to a close, several ladies flopping onto their mats in exhaustion. Veronica turned rigid at the dramatic sight, eyes bulging.

When Star Court hired her, she didn't question why they'd employ someone so under-qualified. She was fresh out of high school and needed money, damn it.

Now that she had potential medical emergencies on her hands, she wasn't quite so grateful for the opportunity.

While she willed herself to her feet, airing out a well done to the few cognitive attendees in the class, the next instructor swaggered through the doors.

He pulled some women to their feet, kickstarting a rush of coquettish giggles.

Wade was objectively attractive, sure, but he was a bit too Terminator for Veronica.

"You alright?" He discreetly asked as he saddled up to her side, a fresh wave of women wafting into the studio for the next session.

"I feel..." she bent at the waist to pick her duffle bag from the floor, skin tingling with the need for a shower. "Fantastic."

"Oh, good, 'cause I was worried. You look like shit."

Jaw dropping, she tried not to look too aghast, a strangled noise clawing out of her throat.

Wade, nonplused, began his class, pulling out a stereo and hyping up the women as if he hadn't just knocked Veronica’s confidence onto it’s ass.

Fucking asshole.

What was his deal?

Whatever it was, begrudgingly, she'd much rather put up with his shitty comments than what could've been.

A few weeks ago, she'd spied Billy getting interviewed in the break room. Deciding that she was not abut to be his coworker, she marched in, made her presence known, and noisily threw together a coffee.

It came as no surprise when Max mentioned that Billy declined a job offer.

Veronica had felt marginally bad, for a while, supposing that he could probably do with some cash.

But, that was before she'd found out that he'd scored a job as a lifeguard, serving as eye-candy for all the lonely moms. Hers included.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Huffing, she swivelled on her feet to head out the back door, the shower she longed from waiting behind it, only for her eyes to catch a particularly unmistakable uniform.

Double taking, she found Steve and Dustin hiding halfway behind a massive potted plant, the former shoving his younger friend further behind it when his petrified eyes caught Veronica's.

What the fuck? Were they perving on the class? Was Steve perving on other women?

What the fuck was going on, right now?

Sending him a look that read we'll talk about this later she turned and stalked towards the back door, desperate to scrub away at her skin.

Fucking men.

***

Steve usually loved Veronica's scary side.

Hell, to him, it wasn't even scary. It was hot. Deplorably so.

Whether she was beating the shit out of monsters, or laying the law down to some poor unsuspecting citizen who'd caught her on an off day, he was all for it.

Especially in the bedroom, when she'd smirk down at, or crowd over him all powerful-like. He was just a man, after all.

When he and Dustin had tailed that guy, all six-foot-five, of him, Steve hadn't expected to fall victim to Veronica's magnetism. He had no idea their target was a damn jazzercise teacher, leading Steve into her clutches.

The guy looked more like the Terminator, damn it.

So when Mr not Russian Spy wandered up next to Veronica, who was standing there, chest heaving, skin glistening, cheeks flushed, Steve had no choice but to stand and stare.

He may have even drooled, a little.

And then she'd caught him, red handed, and for some reason decided to glare holes into his head for it.

Did she not want to be admired, in that moment? He supposed she did have a bit of a complex about being looked at for too long, sometimes, but what did she expect?

He thought she was the single most gorgeous woman on the planet— what was he supposed to do, stare at someone else?

As he and Dustin wandered back to Scoops, tails between their legs, Steve's heart began to pound in his chest.

Were they about to have a fight?

Before he could further worry himself sick, Robin barged between him and Dustin, racing into the crowded centre of the mall.

The boys shared a perplexed look, watching with narrowed eyes as the girl twirled and twirled, eyes skirting around frantically, muttering to herself.

Had she been smoking, again?

Rolling his eyes, Steve moved forward, a slightly nervous Dustin following closely behind.

“Robin.” The older boy called, jolting back when she turned to fix him with a wild smirk. “What the hell are you doing?”

Robin jumped down from her vantage point on top of a bench, laughing. “I cracked it.” She declared proudly.

“Cracked what?”

She blinked, her eyes shining. “I cracked the code.”

***

Veronica didn’t like being scary.

Not all of the time, anyways. Sometimes, like when she was beating the shit out of monsters, it was fun.

But, right now, marching down to Scoops, a pit forming in her stomach, she hated it.

Why did her confusion, and sadness, over the fact that she’d caught Steve ogling other women, have to manifest as anger?

Would it not guilt him more for her to break down crying in front of him? Make him taste the tears that burned at her lashes?

Maybe, but it was a farcical thought.

Her fists shook in rage, sharp nails picking at her cuticles, and her gums ached from where she’d been gnawing at them.

She was going to tear him a new one.

She didn’t care if she had to do it in front of Dustin, or in front of Robin, there was no way in Hell she was going to be humiliated like this— not to her face, no less.

Talk about adding insult to injury.

Before she registered it, she’d made her way into Scoops, pink kitten heels clicking against the linoleum flooring.

She flung open the gate to the small space behind the counter, scowling when she found no one behind it.

Was she wrong to dismiss Nancy’s worries so quickly?

Steve obviously hadn’t abandoned his womanising ways. Maybe, it was him who had a crush on Robin, instead.

“—These Russians have guns.”

Barging into the break room, whatever words that were about to fall from her tongue, vanished.

Russians? Guns?

Three heads snapped to look up at her, one belonging to a wide eyed Robin, the other a beaming Dustin, and finally, Steve’s, his jaw bobbing open shut, fearful eyes blinking up at her.

Sucking in a deep breath, she once again sent him that we’ll talk about this later look, before looking to Dustin.

Whatever the fuck was happening right now, she needed to get to the bottom of it.

As much as she wanted to ignore all of this Russian rubbish, and tear the shit out of Steve, she couldn’t ignore what she was hearing, anymore.

Had they gone and gotten themselves in something dangerous, again? Veronica’s pulse quickened beneath her skin at the thought.

Maybe they were nice Russians, with… bubble guns, or something.

Dropping a hand onto Dustin’s shoulder, she sent him a tight lipped smile. “Nice to see you, Dustin. How was camp? You wanna tell me what you guys are talking about?”

Before he could answer, Steve shot up from his seat, the banana he’d been clutching, tossed to the side. “I- I uh, I told you about it yesterday, remember? The Russians? Then the, the music from the ride that was in the secret code?”

Veronica squinted at him, deciding whether or not to give him the time of day.

He wasn’t lying, at least. He had called her, and when he’d gotten home that night, he’d told her about the music from one of the kiddie rides being in the ‘communication’.

“I asked Dustin, Steve.” Flicking her eyes back to the boy, she squeezed his shoulder. She ignored the way Steve’s shoulders slumped in the corner of her vision. “Talk.”

Dustin gulped, eyes fixed on his trainers. “So uh, so what Steve’s saying, yeah, I interrupted a secret Russian communication that Robin’s just deciphered. It confirmed that they’re here in Hawkins. Following one of the clues in the code, I spied on the Russians and, and they had really big guns.”

Veronica blinked, hand dropping back to her side.

There were actual Russians in Hawkins? And they were sending secret messages? And they had guns? Real ones?

Huffing, she plonked herself down into a seat, Steve following her lead. His dark, kicked-puppy eyes bored into the side of her skull, but she didn’t care for their burning gaze.

Her heart was still beating a million beats a minute, skin sizzling in anger.

She didn’t know what to focus on, right now, her thoughts flying around inside her skull in a flurry.

“So this Russian shit, it’s real?” She eventually croaked-out, despite her chest feeling like it was being pulled in two different directions.

Focusing on the looming communist threat was probably more important, more… life or death.

“Yes,” Robin gravely responded, sliding over a tape recorder. “Take a listen and I’ll translate. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Nodding in thanks to Robin, Veronica crept a hand forward to grasp at the object. It felt heavy in her grasp, weighted with the promise of danger it bore.

Before she could send herself into hysteria, she pressed play.

“The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the West. A trip to China sounds nice, if you tread lightly.”

The creases on her forehead deepened, perplexed at the riddles she was hearing. “Okay, so, nice of you to translate all that for me, but what does it mean?”

Robin huffed out an amused breath, before schooling her expression when Veronica’s face remained firmly stony.

She cleared her throat before explaining. “O-oh, so, the delivery company for Star Court is called Lynx, like, like the cat, and at nine-forty-five, blue and yellow are the colours of the clock hands on the big clock out there, at nine forty five, or when blue and yellow meet in the West, the Chinese food place and shoe shop get fake deliveries— one of which Dustin just spied on, and saw Russians with guns guarding it.”

Pausing, Veronica flicked her eyes to Dustin and Steve as a sort of fact-check. Both boys nodded.

“Well, what’re they getting delivered?” She questioned, swallowing down the bile that was rising to her throat.

Holy fuck. There was no way this way happening. Not again. This was just another flavour of all the shit they’d dealt with from the Lab, to do with the Upside Down.

For the third fucking time, they were in way above their heads. And, to make matters worse, they had another rookie on the case.

To be fair to her, though, Robin seemed to be staying amazingly calm, despite the potentially internationally perilous circumstances.

Then, Veronica remembered, she was supposed to be angry at everyone right now.

“We don’t know.” Dustin offered.

Shit. She couldn’t be mad at him, could she?

He’d just gotten back from his summer camp, which she knew nothing about because she hadn’t had the chance to ask him, and yet here he was, knee deep in another life threatening situation.

Why did life have to be such a bitch?

“There’s gotta be a way in, right?” Robin asked herself more than the room, eyes fixed on the table.

This was all so fucked up. Were they actually considering trying to get into the freaky, fucking life-threatening, secret Russian room?

Damn it. Veronica was going to have to babysit, again. And it’s not even like she stood a chance. Axe or none, she wasn’t winning against an AK.

“Well, you know…” Steve started, pulling the sailor hat from his head, and nonchalantly chucking it onto the table.

Oh my God. He was seriously about to try on the Cool Guy act.

His eyes slid to Veronica’s, leaning to look at her from under his long lashes. “I could just take him out.” She snorted, unable to contain herself. Steve remained undeterred, shrugging in the face of her disbelief. “That Russian guard’s got nothing on me.” He persisted, totally-not-purposefully hiking his sleeves up to totally-not-purposely show-off his biceps.

Veronica couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. It was like King Steve had come back from the dead. Begrudgingly, a genuine smile began to spread over her lips.

He was so stupid.

Realising no one believed him, Steve dropped the act, flopping back into his chair with a groan. Robin was staring at him like he’d grown three heads, while Dustin watched on, amused.

He didn’t like watching Steve and Veronica be tense, with each other. A return to their regularly scheduled antics was relieving.

“What?” Steve huffed, running a hand through his hair. “I knock him out, and I take his key card. It’s easy.”

“Did you not hear the part about the massive guns?”Dustin asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Dustin, I did. And that’s why I would be sneaking.” To accompany his pitch and garner support, Steve mimed a person slowly walking with his fingers.

Veronica, pursing her lips, wasn’t exactly convinced.

“Well, please, tell me this, and be honest, have you ever actually… won a fight?”

Steve rolled his eyes at the boys question. “Okay, that was one time.”

“Twice, actually. Jonathan, year prior?”

At Dustin’s brutal reminder, and the subsequent dropping of Steve’s face, Veronica cackled.

All these years later, she still couldn’t get over the fact that Jonathan of all people had beaten the shit out of Steve. His face had been black and blue for weeks, afterwards.

Not appreciating the humiliation, Steve fell back into his act. “Listen. That doesn’t count.”

“Why not!? Because it looks like he beat the shit out of you.”

Snorting in amusement, Veronica’s eyes found Robins, the two of them sharing a disappointed shake of their heads as the boys continued to bicker.

As much as Veronica’s stomach was still a little tight, growing marginally more uncomfortable the more she stewed with her tempestuous thoughts, she could compartmentalise well enough.

For now, she’d shove down the worry that was gnawing at her over Steve’s wandering eyes, and keep on pushing forward.

Regrettably, she realised that she’d grown rather good at shoving her emotions down, over the years.

She wondered when all of it was going to come to a head, the melting pot of emotions overflowing and bubbling over.

Hopefully, not while she was inevitably saving someone’s ass from an evil Russian.

Chapter Text

After Robin had some kind of eureka moment, jumping up from her seat and skedaddling away with no more than a few indecipherable words, Steve, Dustin and Veronica were left alone.

The three shared perplexed looks as the girl took off, snatching up her bike helmet and muttering something or other about jif peanut butter, or whatever.

That's what being back in a jif meant, right?

"Good luck?" Veronica mooted, eyebrows askew. Robin just stuck an arm out behind her and waved, shooting out of the ice cream parlour.

A brief silence descended over the trio, slightly thick and suffocating.

Suddenly, the ceiling lights were a little too bright, especially bouncing off of the white walls like they were, and it was a little too cold. Veronica curled into herself in her seat.

"She's... unique." Dustin commented, his hands settling on his hips. A suspicious light glinted in his eyes before he parted his lips to speak. "Y'know, I was only saying to Steve earlier how lucky he is to have another girl vying for his attention, but I honestly prefer you, Ronnie."

Veronica blinked. Then blinked again.

Reminding herself that she knew Dustin could occasionally lack a filter, she just sucked in a deep breath before nodding. Her thoughts were already spiralling, her head spinning, whatever shit Dustin was spouting, she couldn't let herself get sucked into it.

Still, that didn't stop the swirling in her stomach, the flexing of her jaw. She was practically sick with anxiety, the scent of nauseatingly sweet artificial flavourings, which seemed to linger over the shop like a veil, making her innards churn further.

How did he know exactly what to say, to make her feel extra shitty?

Steve turned dreadfully pale in the corner of her vision, practically crumbling in on himself as his head dropped to bang on the tabletop.

Dustin may or may not have said some particularly gross comments about how cool it was that Steve had two girls in love with him at the same time, while they were hunting for Russians, earlier.

He'd dismissed the kids words, telling him that Robin was only a friend, if that, because, really, she could not make her disgust for him any clearer. She'd shrieked like a damn bird when they'd first been introduced on their induction shifts, for God's sake.

And, of course, he affirmed to Dustin that he'd only ever have eyes for Veronica. She was his universe, right now, and always would be.

The future mother of his army of children, his life partner, protector and protectee.

"Dude, don't say that to her face." He groaned, picking up his banana peel and chucking it at Dustin. The boy squealed, hands flying up to shield himself. 

Steve got that Dustin could be a little immature (sometimes, Steve could be, too) or say things without thinking them through. But, telling Veronica that she supposedly had competition was just straight up mean.

Steve huffed, and turned his body fully to fix her with pleading eyes. Those usually did the trick.

But her deep-set frown, and the barely-there glint of a canine tooth, suggested that he had a decent load of damage to repair.

As if he didn't, already.

Today was just not his day.

"I, of course, could not give less of a damn if Robin was, what did you say?" Before he could help it, Steve was sidetracked, swivelling to stare at the curly haired boy in utter confusion. "Vying for my attention? What the hell does vying even mean, man?"

Dustin simply smiled, eyes bulging wide when something akin to a disapproving grunt sounded from Veronica's direction.

Steve's stomach plummeted at the noise, turning pale when his gaze flicked back to her fierce face.

Shit.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Dustin is a stupid, immature boy, and I am a man, who appreciates and, and loves the woman he's blessed with being tied to." He paused, hands messing with his discarded hat, sighing when he looked up to find her face a wall of stone. She really was an immovable object, and right now Steve was such a feeble force, he might as well not bother at all. But, he'd always bother for Veronica. "Why would I ever give Robin a second thought when I have you, Ron?"

Her painted lips rooted further towards the floor, wholly unconvinced.

Shooting Dustin a look that said thanks for dropping me in all this shit, asshole, Steve paused as he caught the boy's glistening eyes.

Wait.

They were shining, sparkling in the light with... mischief.

Oh my God.

The little shit had brought up Robin on purpose. Got Steve and Veronica talking things out on purpose.

Holy shit, he was perfect. The kid was some sort of emotional wizard, or something. They’d taught him so well. Gone were the days of emotionally repressed teens, gone was the possibility of Steve having taught Dustin nothing. He’d actually don’t right, by someone, for once.

Steve felt a tug of pride in his chest, a smile tickling at the corner of his lips. Elation over actually having been a good role model for Dustin, however, only dampened slightly over the perilous route the kid took.

Regardless, Steve'd sling some free ice cream Dustin’s way, after all of this, as a show of thanks. Solidarity. They were in this together.

"Is that why you were ogling other women, earlier, Steven?" Veronica gritted out, all of Steve's hope slamming back down to Earth with a depressing splat. "Jazzercise uniforms your weakness?"

"I was looking at you!" Steve practically screeched, eyebrows at his hairline as he gawked in disbelief, hands splayed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You, you thought I was looking at those other girls? Ron, I'd— I'd never!"

She frowned. She wasn't about to be invalidated. "The two of you were hidden behind a freakin' plant pot, then practically shit yourselves when I caught you! Don't lie!"

Dustin's eyes pinged between the two as if he were avidly watching a tennis match, feeling a little as if he was watching Veronica batter an opponent, just as she always did.

An accusatory finger was stabbing in Steve's direction as she spoke, her mouth practically foaming T thr corners. She really could be scary, when she wanted to. Pink sweater, pink heels, and unassuming appearance doing little to lighten the impact of her blows.

She was practically seething, the tempest of emotions raging inside of her, bubbling to the surface and setting her skin alight. Dustin gulped.

"I'm not lying! I just thought, I dunno, you didn't want me staring at you, thought it grossed you out, or something!"

"I was grossed out by the fact that you were perving!"

"I wasn't perving!" Steve hollered, huffing when dark, angry eyes continued to bore into his own. He dropped his hat to the table once again, shoulders sagging. He was fucked. And it looked like he only had one route left to take. A single path to salvation, forgiveness. Shit. Dustin was going to rib him for this for weeks, and Steve's cheeks flushed a florescent red at the thought. "Well, I, I kinda was, on you, but, but that was only after we were tailing the Russian guy."

Oh.

Veronica blinked. Her lips pursed, and her cheeks flushed.

Then, she cleared her throat.

Right now, she had to have selective hearing. Blushing cheeks or no. Stomach fluttering with butterflies or no. "What Russian guy?" She demanded.

"Well, he's not actually Russian, but me and Dustin got suspicious. The guy looked shady." Answered Steve, an image of the Terminator guy flashing through his mind. "The instructor that came in after you."

A click sounded as Veronica's jaw dropped, eyebrows shooting up. A flash of blonde hair, sunglasses, and a black outfit appeared, the dots connecting. What the fuck? "Wade? You were following Wade?"

"That was Wade?!" Steve boomed, scrunching his eyes closed and waving his hand in the air as if wafting away unwanted thoughts. "You've never mentioned how hot he is!"

Wade had popped up in many of their conversations, before, Veronica often snidely commenting about how the guy always had a stick up his ass.

Steve would hum along to her tales with a furrowed brow, hating that his girl had to put up with such an asshole at work.

How come she'd never mentioned he was a real-life Ken doll?

Steve's stomach churned, sick with the thought of his competition. He'd never match up to a guy like that, right? He wasn’t six-foot-something, like Wade, he wasn’t blonde, muscly, or even that physically fit at all, now that he really thought about it. The last time he’d ran, racing after Max and Lucas after the little shitheads stolen his car keys, again, he’d almost winded himself.

"'Cause he's not hot!"

Steve scoffed at Veronica’s words, taking his turn to dismiss his other half's frantic shouts of protest. "He made the whole class swoon when he took his jacket off!"

"Did you see me swooning!? And you're changing the point. You were creeping! And now Dustin's telling me that you're sniffing around Robin too, and, yeah, I'm a little freaked out!"

Veronica tried not to show it, she really did, but the anxious energy leaked out of her body all the same. It poured out of her hands, sharp nails raking trails of red at her cuticles, and shot upwards to her lips, which were gnawed half to oblivion.

It was a terrible attempt at self-soothing, serving only to deepen the pool of nervous energy in her gut.

She didn't like fighting with people she loved.

And, shit, Steve could see it. It was plastered all over her gorgeous face, vibrating through her shaking hands. And he felt like a fucking asshole, doing this to her.

He was supposed to be her safe space, the person she moaned to about other shitty people, like Wade— not be the shitty person.

He sighed, placing his forearms onto the table and leaning forward.

He needed to fix this.

"We've already established that I wasn't creeping, okay, Sweetheart? I really wasn't, I, I just, I saw you, and you looked so perfect, I couldn't help but stare. So, when you started burning holes into my skull, yeah, I shit my pants a little bit." Veronica's eyes narrowed, a somewhat pathetic attempt at a continued display of anger, given the slight quiver in her bottom lip. "And, Ron, I literally have like, zero attraction to Robin whatsoever. She's fun, sure, but she's not... you know, you. She's got nothing on you."

Sighing, Veronica's eyes slid away frown Steve's soft, brown ones, and to the floor.

She really hated this. The whole fighting thing. And she hated the fact that she was giving in, even more.

She wanted to continue fighting, despite the horrible ache it stirred in her bones. She wanted to set the tone, lay down the law that she wouldn't put up with this kind of embarrassment; she wanted to rip Steve a wound for the grief of it all, one so big and tender he'd never be stupid enough to give her reason to shout at him again.

She didn't want to end up like her mom, after all—the wife of a man with wandering eyes.

But, Steve didn't have wandering eyes. And despite what she'd thought she'd seen, Veronica knew that as fact.

He loved with all he had, showed it in his actions and in his words.

God, she'd fucked up.

Shit." She grumbled, eyebrows drooping, unable to lock onto Steve's blazing gaze. "'M sorry."

A hand breached her vision, sliding across the table, palm turned to the sky. It was Steve's, of course. Big, strong, a little knobbly and callused. A peace offering.

"You don't need to be sorry." He murmured, practically melting into his seat as Veronica's hand settled over his own, her thumb running over his vulnerable palm.

"No," she dismissed, finally flicking her gaze up to meet his. "I, I totally freaked out, got all insecure and spiralled."

Steve snorted, shaking his head, and flipping their hands so that his engulfed hers, their fingers interlocking. They fit together like puzzle pieces. "In your defence it totally did look like I was being a freak. And for that I'm, I’m sorry." Veronica's lips spread into what was, at least, the scaffolding of a smile, and Steve's heart soared. "This whole thing just proves I need to show you how much I... really love you, Ron."

Veronica let out a snort of her own, eyebrows rising in mock surprise. "Oh, yeah?"

"Oh my God, stop!" Dustin screeched, waving his hands in the air and pushing away from the wall. He ripped their hands apart, fake gagging. Veronica hated to admit that she'd forgotten the kid was even there. "I'm glad you guys talked all of that out but, please, not while I'm here. I'm just an innocent child."

"Shut up, dude," Steve frowned, tugging Veronica's hand back into his and giving it an obnoxious smooch. Her stomach flipped at the action. "You were telling me about making out with your girlfriend, earlier." His eyes slid to Veronica's, something grim settling over his features. "All, about making out."

She frowned at Steve's shiver, looking to Dustin in confusion. He'd gotten a girlfriend? And why did Steve sound, and look, traumatised? "Dustin? What's he talking about?"

"I met a girl." The boy replied simply, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"At your camp?"

Dustin nodded. "She's called Suzie. And she's hotter than Phoebe Kates."

A cackle ripped out of Veronica's chest before she could stop it, only for her lips to smack shut when Dustin levelled her with possibly the scariest look she'd ever seen the kid make.

"Do you think I'm lying?" He bit, hands once again on his hips. His resemblance to Steve was becoming uncanny. "Are you calling my girlfriend ugly? Are you-"

"No!" Veronica protested, utterly lost. "What the hell, man? I'm, I'm sorry, I just—"

"You don't think I can score someone hot, is that it?"

Veronica looked to Steve for support, only to find wide eyes and shrugging shoulders.

Shit.

"No, Dusty, of course not. You could score any girl you set your heart on." Other than Max, of course, but Veronica tried not to bring that up, too often. "I'm sure Suzie is gorgeous. Do you have any photos of her? I wanna see."

Dustin pursed his lips and patted a finger against his chin, making an obvious show over whether or not he was ready to forgive Veronica for her misstep, yet.

"I don't have any photos, I'm afraid. But, even if I did, the cameras we have right now wouldn't be able to accurately capture her beauty." He answered after a small while, dropping into a seat at the crowded table. "I do have Cerebro, though, which I made to contact her with. I couldn't really get it to work that well, though."

Veronica's brow pinched at the middle. "I thought Cerebro was some X-men shit."

Dustin's eyebrows shot up, a smile overtaking his features. Thank God, he wasn't miserable, anymore. A small weight lifted off of her shoulders. "Wow, did not expect you to know that," he said, a sanctimonious grin on his face. Little shit. "But no, in digestible terms, it's just supposed to be a super powerful phone. It's what I caught the secret Russian communication on."

Right.

The Russians.

In Hawkins.

Veronica frowned, her heart-beat suddenly pulsing in her ears, skin prickling with the rampant flow of blood through her veins.

Regardless, she felt cold. Freezing, in fact.

It was fear.

Sharp, poignant fear that stabbed around her body in icy shards, and clamped her throat in a tight, blistering bind.

"Do," she started, sighing. "Do you guys think this has anything to do with, you know..."

It went unsaid, it was just it. That recurring blight on their small town, that gaping wound which seemed to rip further and further open every year, swallowing more and more victims, ruining more and more lives, condemning her to more and more nightmares, making that hole in her chest deepen—

The Upside Down, and everything horrible that went with it.

"I didn't wanna say it but, you know, wasn't El meant to be a weapon against the Commies?" Steve mooted, his brown eyes pools of something utterly sad.

Veronica could relate.

If this was it, if the Russians were here, an ember away from blowing everything open, again, then this was nothing but sad.

It was just an endless loop, everyone thinking they were free, only to be dragged back into a mess they'd left behind after the time before.

And it meant endless pain.

Veronica tried not to let it show, to put on a brave face and swallow down the fear she felt, but it was too much.

It was too much the first time, way too much the second, and now, horrifyingly enough, a third was knocking at her door.

Would this be the one to finally push her over the edge?

To get her?

What about Steve, or Dustin?

Or Max, Lucas, Will, El, or Mike? Hopper? Joyce?

Would it get Nancy and Jonathan?

"It's possible." Dustin gravely muttered, eyes glued to the table. "But that just gives us more reason to track this, get to the bottom of it and fight it."

"Right," Veronica grumbled, "because we're the ones always cleaning up these fucking stupid government messes."

"It's, it's okay, Ron." Steve affirmed, smiling tightly between her and Dustin, brave, as always, in the face of danger. "Nothing we haven't dealt with, before. Can't be scarier than the freakin’ demogorgan. Russians are just people."

Oh, but people were far worse than monsters.

People were the ones to rip open the rift between the Upside Down and their own world, to subject El to torture, to cover up Jacob's and Barb's deaths with so little care.

And these people had guns.

They couldn't bat away the trajectory of a bullet like they could the body of a monster, or survive a blow to the head from one.

They couldn't bring their knives— Steve's bat and her axe— to a gun fight.

Steve was wrong. This was far worse than anything they'd ever dealt with before.

"Yeah, you're right." Veronica muttered all the same, rubbing at her forehead.

There was little point in protesting this, in trying to back out.

The point of no return passed two years ago, and Veronica didn't get the privilege of choosing whether to cross it or not.

Plus, ignoring this would just end in some shit show further down the line, with Russians knocking on her door, or some other absurd shit.

Steve's door too, giving her living situation.

Well, no.

It'd be her mother's. The government didn't know she was living at Steve's.

All the more reason to go along with this, then. She didn't fancy endangering her mom, like that, despite everything.

"I'm gonna try call Hopper," Veronica aired, "least let him know what we think's going on, then when Robin gets back, we can make a plan?"

Robin.

She was involved in this big ugly mess now, too. And she didn't even know it.

Veronica's stomach swirled with guilt as she stood, her hand receiving a reassuring squeeze from Steve as she wobbled over the phone on the wall.

Should they tell her? At least let her know what she was getting herself into, with all of this?

Surely, that'd be fair.

That way, if something happened, at least Veronica could tell herself that Robin knew what she was getting herself into.

That way, when Veronica was inevitably saddled with another crippling dose of guilt, she could tell herself that it wasn't her fault, that Robin had chosen to take the risk.

Was that selfish?

Or was it fair?

Veronica didn't know.

She wished she wasn't having to contemplate this, at all.

But the universe was rarely kind enough to listen to her whims.

Sighing, she input Hoppers number, leaning against the wall as static buzzed in her ear. She could feel Steve's eyes boring into the back of her, two blazing rays of worry searing into her skin, but she didn't look back.

She needed this moment, these second of solitude, to cement to herself that they were back in another mess, and that they'd just involved someone innocent.

Robin was headstrong; Robin was brave. Veronica knew that nothing they'd say would deter her from this, would make her run.

And it all hurt so much.

They'd probably make it out, they always did.

But it still fucking sucked.

Regardless, they'd push through. They always did. Veronica could push down any worry, any anything, in the face of a threat.

She'd done it before.

And, fuck, she was going to have to do it again.

Chapter Text

"It is fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the County Recorder's Office." Robin announced, pulling a comically large paper from her backpack. Veronica watched with wide eyes as the sprawl of the paper only grew as Robin unfolded it, revealing a map of sorts. It was a maze of blue lines, some thick, some thin. Blueprints.

"It is?" Steve asked, pretty pink lips pursed. Veronica kicked his shin under the table, sending him a sharp look when he howled in pain.

How did he always manage to say the wrong things? How, with that stupid mouth of his, was she somehow still in love with him?

Who was she kidding; she knew how. Those damn eyes of his were one reason, staring at her pleadingly from across the table. All big, brown and invitingly soft.

Damn it.

"Star Court Mall. The complete blueprints." Robin continued, unfazed, jazz hands punctuating her fantastic find. She mirrored the wink Veronica sent her way with a wolfish smirk.

So far, Robin had already done the majority of leg work, on this... case. Sadly, she was shaping up to be a great addition to the team.

A small part of Veronica hoped she'd be so useless they'd have to kick her out, or something, save her from all this crap and send her back to her normal life, free from evil Russians or monsters.

It wasn't looking like her wish'd come true any time soon.

"Not bad." Dustin supported.

Nodding in thanks, Robin tapped a small blue box marked SA. "So, this is us, Scoops. And this is where we want to get." She dragged a short, painted nail along the map to a seemingly unreachable room. There were no tunnels connecting the two, not that Veronica could see, anyways.

She shot Steve a perplexed look. How useful could the map really be if it didn't help them?

"I mean, I don't really see a way in." Steve aired. Robin, to the blinking confusion of the room, only smirked wider.

"There's not, if, you're talking exclusively about..."
She ripped away the blueprints, revealing another set underneath. These ones featured skinny tunnels and tubes, crossing over and intersecting. "Doors."

Dustin's face lit up in understanding. "Air ducts."

Ah. So they were going to crawl to the secret room? Shimmy along down the tiny tunnels until they stumbled across their destination? Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Still, flicking her eyes up to the tiny air vent stationed on the back wall, Veronica's expression pinched. There's no way in hell she was fitting in there.

"Exactly." Robin said triumphantly, and Veronica squeezed her bicep in support. Robin's eyes sparkled at the action.

As much as her plan seemed a little... tricky, at least she'd came up with something. Anything was better than the sorry excuse for brain-storming Steve, Dustin and Veronica had gotten up to while she was away. Turns out, seeing who can chug the most strawberry sauce doesn't make you think any faster.

"Y'know, this secret room needs air just like any old room. And these air ducts lead all the way..." Robin dragged a pen tip from the secret room to Scoops, circling it. "Here."

***

Steve was balancing precariously on a ladder, unscrewing the vent cover with dexterous hands and furrowed brows. Small veins flexed, sinewy muscles of his forearms rolling beneath the skin. Veronica couldn't help but watch, her cheeks flushing.

Who knew doing manual labour could be so hot?

Then her eyes dropped to his stomach, where his stupid sailor shirt had lifted, revealing soft skin and a hairy trail. It wandered from just below his belly button before disappearing into his pants.

She knew what that trail led to, she practically worshipped it, but that didn't stop her from wanting to follow it once again, find out where it lead as if it were the first time. Because, with Steve, every time was just as good as the first, as electric—

"Flashlight." He demanded from Dustin, firm voice cutting through Veronica's thoughts. The small boy handed it up wordlessly, thankfully ignorant to her near meltdown on the other side of the room. Robin was far more observant, however, fake gagging as she looked between the couple.

Veronica tried not to die, her cheeks flaring an embarrassing red.

Steve took the flashlight with a quick "Thank you," stuffing the screwdriver between his teeth, before flicking the light around the vent. He hummed in thought. "Yeah, I don't know, man. I don't know if you can fit in here. It's, like, uh, super tight."

Somewhere between stealing the ladder from the next shop over and setting it up, they'd agreed that Dustin would be the one to venture down the vents. Veronica wasn't exactly a fan of the idea, sending her favourite child down a cramped tunnel and into the evil, gun-wielding Russian's nest, but, they didn't have any other options.

Steve's shoulders were far too deliciously broad to even begin to shimmy into the vent, and Robin and Veronica were both cursed with hips.

"I'll fit. Trust me." Dustin disregarded, smiling proudly. "No collar bones, remember?"

Robin let out a choked sound. "Uh, excuse me?"

"Oh he's uh, yeah he's got some disease." Steve said as he stepped down from the ladder, settling his hands on his hips. Veronica could've sworn they lived there. "Chry-, uh, chrydo, um—"

"Cleidocranial Dysplasia." She supplied. Robin nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, that. He's missing bones and stuff. Kid can bend like Gumbo."

"You mean, Gumby?" Robin asked, and Veronica snorted. Steve flicked his eyes to her, his face plastered with a look that read get a load of her, as if it were Robin that was wrong.

Veronica responded with a half-hearted look of oh, I know, regardless. Robin could burst his bubble all by herself, and she would happily watch.

"I'm pretty sure it's Gumbo."

"Gumby."

"Uh, no, 'cause, 'cause, y'know... Ron, back me up here—"

"Steve, just shut up and push me!" Dustin screeched, his voice a little distorted from his place stuffed halfway into the vent. His ass and legs were hanging out, feet kicking wildly as if to emphasise his point.

"Okay! Chill, man, Jesus." He rolled his eyes dramatically at the girls, huffing and turning to stomp back up the ladder. "I'll push ya."

Steve took a hold of Dustin's ankles, trying and failing miserably to push him further into the tight space.

"Not my feet, dumbass. Push my ass!"

Paling, Steve hiked Dustin's knees onto his shoulder, trying a higher angle. "What?"

"Touch my butt, I don't care! Come on, harder! Push harder!"

"I'm pushing, damn it!"

Veronica failed to keep in the cackle that ripped out of her at the sight, a deeply disturbed Steve, hands splayed on Dustin's ass, grimacing as he tried to think about anything other than what he was doing.

The swinging of the door leading out to the ice cream counter pulled her from the moment, however, blinking when she noticed Robin was no longer at her side.

Squinting, she turned to look out of the hole in the wall to find the girl talking and gesturing wildly to none other than Erica Sinclair. The little girl looked wholly unconvinced as to whatever it was she was being word vomited on about, lips curled downwards and fingers tapping expectantly on the counter.

That didn't stop Robin from taking her hand and dragging her into the staff room, smiling wildly when Veronica frowned and pointed at her new friend.

"What's this?" She asked.

Robin bit down on her lip before answering, stopping herself from grinning any freakishly wider. "Our way in."

***

Erica was balancing on the ladder, flicking the torch around the vent with a pinched expression, examining it.

"Yeah, I don't know." She offered petulantly, dropping down and examine her nails, making Veronica huff and roll her eyes.

This felt like a waste of time. And she hated it.

She hated that they were dragging yet another innocent person, let alone a kid, into this mess, and she hated that Robin was treating this like it was fun.

Like it was fine that they were asking Erica to do this, burrow into the vents for them, as if a demogorgan couldn't be waiting for her on the other side.

But she didn't know that. Neither did Erica. It was so fucked. Only Steve, Veronica and Dustin did. Yet they were going along with the absurd plan, anyways, writing this off as an easy fix to their problem.

It made her sick. It stirred horror and dread deep in her stomach, forcing bile to her throat, and ice into her veins.

She really fucking hated this. But it was their only option, their only way into this deadly den of vipers. So she'd go along with it, leaning against Steve as he sat on the counter, a warm hand resting at the small of her back.

He kissed her forehead supportively, squeezing her waist.

So long as he was there with her, along for this fucked up ride, she'd be fine. Everything would be.

"You don't know if you can fit?" Dustin asked, eyebrows high.

Erica scoffed. "Oh, I can fit. I just don't know if I want to."

"Are you claustrophobic?" Pried Robin, still buzzing with the untameable energy, too excited for her own good.

If only she knew.

"I don't have phobias."

"Okay, well, what's the problem?" Steve grumbled, as half done with this as Veronica was. She'd seen how he'd gotten last year, when the kids were faced with danger.

She saw how he got every day, watching over them, protecting them, guiding them.

As much as he was putting on a brave face, neutral and cocky in that way that was so Steve, but just a little too much, of everything, this was eating him up as much as it was her.

His bottom lip was bitten red, his hair tussled and messy from where he'd dragged a worried hand through it one too many times. He wasn't admitting it, was downright refusing too, with his eyes fixed firmly ahead, glued to the end goal of ultimate safety, but he hated this, too.

"The problem is," Erica started, pausing to rattle out a sigh that felt far too weighted given her age and tiny size, " I still haven't heard what's in this for Erica."

***

Steve dropped into the booth that everyone was cramped into, sliding a massive ice cream sundae across to Erica. Looking less than happy, he sighed, squeezing at Veronica's thigh under the table.

He'd been sent away at the flick of the small girls wrist, totally at her whim if they wanted her to help them out with their... dilemma.

Erica barely spared a glance at the offering before shoving it back across, an eyebrow ticked up. "More fudge please." Steve stared unblinkingly at her, for a moment, then sent Veronica perplexed look. She squeezed his hand with her own, and nodded her head to the ice cream counter with a sympathetic expression. "Go on." Erica encouraged, face all too smug. "Listen to your girlfriend."

Steve huffed, getting up and stomping away, the inadequate sundae in hand.

Veronica didn't really know what to expect, with Erica. She knew the girl had a track record of being less than co-operative. Hell, she'd been there when she'd refused to put Dustin through the Lucas, last year, during the whole code red situation.

But, talks of capitalism, patriotism, haggling for compensation in the form of frozen treats, and the Great American War Against Communism were certainly not on her list.

She’d tried not the burst out laughing, the more the kid talked and Robin seemed to buffer.

Once Erica's point of fair pay had been heard loud and clear, and her role as cog in the wheel of democracy had been understood, she 'suited up', whatever that meant, while Dustin, Veronica, Steve and Robin raced off to their vantage point.

It turned out to be the roof of another shop, which offered very little coverage against the burly Russian guards with massive guns.

Thankfully, peering over the ledge tentatively, Veronica couldnt spy any of those. Maybe they were out on lunch break, or something. Sure. Totally. That wasn't suspicious, not at all. Her heart one hundred percent wasn't beating out of her chest, as she worried herself over their absence.

Monsters were one thing, but facing men with guns was a whole other.

"Erica, do you copy?" Robin checked in, radio in hand.

"Mhm. I copy. You nerds in position, or not?"

As much as Erica was a mystery, Veronica liked her. She'd personally make sure the girl got her lifetime supply of ice cream, after this.

So long as Steve could sling it, she'd make him. Nothing could come close to repaying Erica for the danger they were coaxing her into; playing into her game was the least they could do.

"Yeah, we're in position." Robin answered, failing to conceal a laugh that escaped her. "It's all quiet here so you've got the green light"

"Green light, roger that. Commence operation, child endangerment."

A tense silence settled over the rooftop, the pair of binoculars Dustin and Steve had been fighting over, tumbling out of their hold and plummeting to the ground in their shock.

Veronica levelled them with an unimpressed look, eyebrows rooting further down when the lost object made a cringe-worthy clatter as it hit a bin lid.

"Can we maybe not call it that?" Robin croaked down the line, tearing her eyes away from the boys after giving them a murderous glare of her own.

Erica didn’t grace them with a response, however, going silent for a few, nail-biting minutes until she finally announced she’d made it to the secret room.

"Do you see anything?" Veronica asked, having been handed the radio. Or, she’d snatched it from Robin’s grasp. Everything was becoming blurry. She tried not to let anxiety leak through her tone, stop it from betraying just how awful she felt, subjecting Erica to this.

But it was futile, and her cuticles started stinging. She’d started scratching at them, again, nails grating over thin, sensitive skin. It pulled her back down to Earth, oddly, dragging her from the clutches of mind-numbing horror and breathlessness, into something a little more subdued.

As Erica aimlessly quipped about booby traps and the supposed lack of any imminent danger, Steve shuffled over, wrapping a strong, supportive arm around Veronica’s stomach.

She leaned into his chest, forgetting the world and burrowing into his warmth.

This was what this was all for, she reminded herself. Peace.

Fighting for a peaceful life, with Steve, and the peace of everyone around them. It was burdensome, fighting for the light at the end of the tunnel, over and over, her shoulders aching and knees crippling under the weight of it all, but it was a fight she’d never abandon.

So long as the fight was there, she’d step foot into the cursed ring of fire. She’d done it to avenge Jacob, and now she’d do it for everyone just as good as him.

Then Erica’s robotic voice flashed out of the radio, and the guilt returned tenfold, coiling tightly around her lungs, abated only by soft lips pressed to her forehead.

The shutters hiding the secret room began to slide up, revealing the small girl on the other side, hands on her hips.

Veronica sniffed, and pulled herself upright. She couldn’t afford to get all sniffly, right now. She’d have time for that later. When, again, she was wrapped up in Steve’s arms, they’d slaughtered the monster, and the kids were safe.

Rinse and repeat.

"Free ice cream. For. Life!" Erica demanded, and Veronica wasted no time in assuring her she’d get her prize, after shimmying down a drainage pipe, dropping into Steve’s arms, and greeting the girl.

She smirked triumphantly, looking adorably strong in her bike pink bike helmet, matching gloves and elbow and knee pads, before turning and leading the group inside.

The shutter closed behind them, and Veronica tried not to let dread stir in her stomach at the sight, because the door defiantly, always closed after people went inside, in horror movies.

The room was stuffed full of cardboard boxes, some small, while others were much larger. Situated in the middle sat a pile of medium sized boxes, taped shut and stamped with hazard symbols.

Ah.

Steve’s eyes slid to hers, and she wasted no time in pulling a small pocket knife from her bag and handing it to him. He took it with a tense nod, huffing out a heavy breath, before slicing open a box.

Handing it back, she nodded, dropping it back into her bag.

"Why do you have a knife in your handbag?" Robin asked from somewhere behind her, suspicion lacing her tone.

Veronica gulped. "Not important."

A silence descended as Steve pried apart the cardboard flaps, before Dustin giggled.

"You should see what she keeps in her closet—"

"Shut up Dustin."

Inside the box was some sort of metal container, with a lid that looked all too inviting not to grab the handle of, and lift. Steve did so, Veronica's hands flying to grapple at his waist, peaking at whatever was hidden inside from behind his shoulder.

Steam billowed out as four cylinders revealed themselves, the group of five glowering down at the peculiar sight.

What the fuck?

"That's definitely not Chinese food." Steve murmured. "Uh, maybe you guys should like, step back."

Veronica stayed rooted firmly at his side, shooting Steve a look that said we’ve fought monsters together, pretty boy, when he tried to usher her backwards. He sighed and turned his efforts to Dustin, who also hadn’t budged.

"Just—" Steve pushed, only for Dustin to cross his arms and shove his nose high into the air.

"No."

"Step back, okay?"

"No."

"Seriously, man—"

"No!" He screeched, settling his hands onto Steve’s shoulders and staring deep into his eyes. Veronica didn’t know whether to continue watching or look away and give the two some privacy “If you die, I die."

"Jeez.” She grunted, feeling only a little bad for interrupting their moment. She didn’t like hearing that kind of morbid talk, from the kid. “That’s cute, Dusty. But has anyone died before? Stop being so dramatic."

"Pleanty of people have died, Ronnie. You of all people should know that." He quickly responded, causing the woman to choke around a shocked cough.

"Okay, rude." She grumbled, images of Jacob flashing through her mind. She cleared her throat and tried not to blush at the reprimanding shove Steve sent into Dustin’s shoulder. “But, I meant, like, like our team, you know?"

Cutting the derailing conversation off, Steve turned, lifting a cylinder from the box. Dustin stuck his tongue out at her in victory.

Inside of it was swirling, florescent, green… goo? It looked almost alive, moving from one end of the glass, to the other, then back again.

"What the hell?" He breathed out, holding the dangerous container a little too close to his gorgeous face for Veronica’s liking.

She frowned, a spark of familiarity kindling somewhere in her brain. "What's, what's that comic with the turtles?"

"Uh, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?" Dustin supplied, throwing a frown at Robin, who only shrugged.

"Yeah, looks like the shit from that."

The boy sucked in a deep, rattling breath, his eyes blown wide. "Holy shit,” he rasped, “the Russians have mutagen."

“What’re,” Steve started nervously, “what’re the Russians gonna do with mut-mutogon?”

Robin groaned, snatching the container from Steve’s hold. "Mutagen's not real, dinguses. Plus—"

A shake beneath their feet cut Robins words off, the entire room vibrating. Boxes fell from their places on shelves, one barely missing Erica, and Veronica wobbled on her feet, latching onto Steve to stop herself from falling.

He wrapped his arms around her, turning them into a wall, so that they at least had something to lean against. But that, too, seemed to shudder and move.

They shared a debilitatingly horrified look, Steve’s eyes laced with a fear and shock that Veronica never wanted to see.

"Was that just me or did the room move?" Dustin aired after a silent moment, the shaking seemingly having ebbed.

A collective sigh of relief shuddered around the small room, everyone waiting a tense moment, as if the shaking were prone to recur any second, before moving awkwardly back to the spot where they’d been gathered.

Veronica tried not to tink too hard about it. She really did. But the door had shut behind them. And there was fucking green goo in a jar. And the entire room just shook. But she wasn’t going to let herself think about it. She couldn’t.

She just cleared her throat, and moved to stand with the others, Steve’s had grasped firmly in her own. Because they had shit to do.

Until, the shaking resumed seconds later, and she had to think about it. She couldn’t not. Chaos spawned around her, more boxes falling, hands grasping onto bodies and coddling them, someone screaming, a holler of fear.

Sweat beaded on her brow, the air suddenly scalding. Or was it just the intense beat of her heart, drumming blood around her body and making her skin prickle with adrenaline?

"Booby traps." Erica wailed, and the older girl’s heart seared in guilt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It was all going wrong. The goddamn floor was about to fall out from under them, and they were trapped inside. She knew they were trapped, because Dustin was spamming the ‘door open’ button, and, of course, nothing was fucking happening.

Only more shaking, and more of the world spinning.

Then, the slow, meagre drop began. It was grating, and almost tentative, but Veronica knew what a fucking drop felt like. What an elevator felt like. Sure, it was a slow one, almost as if it wasn’t quite sure it where it wanted to go, but it was still edging down, centimetre by painful centimetre.

“Let me fucking try.” She growled, shoving past Dustin and slapping the button herself, a wave of determination barrelling through her. She was not about to fucking die here. Not in an elevator, of all places. Not one carrying secret Russian shit that she had no idea how to comprehend. And fuck, if this wasn’t going to end badly.

She didn’t like thinking morbidly, didn’t like anyone thinking that way, but this was looking bad. They were fucking trapped. But Nothing happened, when she stabbed at the button.

Just more shaking, and more of that damned dropping.

“I already pressed that button like a million times-”

“I don’t care!”

“I’ve got it!” Steve shouted, trying his own luck at spamming the button. When nothing stopped, the lights starting to flicker, he started to slap at whatever flashing thing his fingers could reach, hands flying over the board.

Then Robin’s hands entered the fray, and Veronica slid to the floor, her knees wobbling.

Holy fuck.

She was going to die here.

She didn’t know what the survival rate of elevator accidents were, but she doubted they were very high. Were they lower than fighting monsters, though? Maybe, and she was one mean mother fucker. She could tank this, whatever this exactly was, because she’d faced a lot worse, and came out the other end smiling. Covered in blood, down a boyfriend, or an acquaintance, but smiling, and alive. She’d survive—

Her thoughts came to sticky end as she began to feel like she was floating, her stomach flipping and rolling inside her body, body rising off of the floor, for a second.

The drop had abandoned all nervousness, all gentility, and flew off the breaks.

If she hadn’t grabbed onto Steve’s legs, and he hadn’t grabbed onto a shelf unit, she didn’t doubt she’d have soared into the fucking ceiling and gone splat.

Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, almost drowning out the screams and shouts of horrors and fear around her. They tore out from between her own lips, which she’d unknowingly bitten into a bloody mess amongst the stress of it all.

And still the elevator tore down. Thundering down deeper into the abyss, leading to god knows where. Down, down, down. Blood rushing in her ears, wind whipping through her hair, fear crushing her chest.

Veronica only hoped the survival rate, for this kind of thing, was higher than she thought.

Chapter Text

Robin wouldn't call herself nosey. If she was asked, she'd say she was curious. Just intrinsically. Her mom would agree.

When she was little, she used to question everything the teacher said, and, as she got older, she began to question everything society said, too.

Things like Tina Jones being the hottest girl in school, when, actually, anyone with eyes and a heart could figure out that it was Tammy Thompson. She was cool, like, actually cool, and had a personality outside of sticking her tongue down unsuspecting boy's throats.

If you could call singing a personality, that was.

Another thing was that Veronica Mason Killed her boyfriend. Robin didn't know Jacob, and she never used to know Veronica, but, again, anyone with two eyes and a fully functioning brain could figure that she wasn't exactly the boyfriend murdering type.

She'd loved him, as much as emotions like compassion never used to be possible, for her. And, her aversion to anything gross in science class, like reanimated frogs or pig hearts, was a pretty big giveaway that she wasn't a fan of gore.

Because, as much as it'd been revealed that Jacob Kelly died due to chemical exposure, just like Barb, the rumour went that he'd been stabbed, violently.

Plus, Robin had been at the joint funeral, having been friends with Barb, and all. She'd seen just how downright haunted Veronica looked by the whole thing. And then she'd given her speech. There hadn't been a dry eye in the house, despite the girl's own stoicism.

But, Robin was beginning to question that, too. Not the boyfriend killing part, she wasn't giving into that rumour; the gore part, the, if I break a nail I'll die, part.

Because, the Veronica that Robin had started to know was very different than what she let on. Than what everyone liked to mindlessly believe.

The suspicion began all the way back in December, when she rocked back up to school, after being off for like a month, with a black eye to rival Harrington's, and a couple of new scars to add to the collection she'd began the year before.

And that only started up after she'd disappeared for like a week, right around Jacob's death.

One under her eye, another on her forearm, a couple in her hairline and even, if you were looking down at her in the bleachers, a couple on her scalp.

That didn't exactly align with her pristine, never done a days work in my life, sort of appearance.

But, maybe Robin was being reductive. Maybe, the girl just had a wood working job, or something, and got hit with debris all the time. But that didn't exactly fit the bill either. So the suspicion only grew.

She only hung out with Harrington, Nancy and Jonathan (the latter two one hundred percent having their own, weird, and definitely suspicious thing going on); apart from when she'd buy weed off Eddie, of course.

And even that  was weird. She wasn't mean to him, anymore. It looked like they actually had fun, when they spoke in the hallways, all animated movements and stupid smiles. One time, robin could've sworn they were even exchanging comics. Nerd comics. It was almost disconcerting.

Perhaps Veronica had grown a heart after becoming a social outcast, herself. That was one way to learn not to be a douche.

But then Harrington would walk up, tail between his legs, looking weirdly shaken about something, and the couple would sneak off for the day.

Sometimes, it was the other way around, Veronica randomly scarpering out of class like her ass had been lit on fire, and Harrington tearing after her like he was about to loose her.

They seemed frazzled, frayed around the edges. Sometimes, even, scared. It was like they'd been through something, seen some serious shit. So, the suspicion only grew.

It doubled when Harrington started working at Scoops, the close proximity practically forcing Robin to notice things that, apparently, no one else wanted to look for.

Things like, the fact that neither ever spoke much about their parents, or phoned them. Rather, it was Chief Hopper, or Joyce Byers. And, that Veronica and Steve actually lived together, and had seemingly adopted an army of children.

The only one Robin thought had any chance of being biological was Dustin. That was only because they never shut up about how much they missed him, and couldn't wait for him to come back from summer camp. It would've been cute, had she not realised that the kid was just their friend. It was insanity.

Two of, who used to be, the most popular kids in school, who used to flip lunch trays and corner kids for spare change, were best friends with a nerdy thirteen year old.

It was all so weird. How on earth had they gotten friendly with him? Let alone the ensemble of other children they snuck in and out of the cinema.

Begrudgingly, it humanised them. Gave them texture. They loved and befriended people just like Robin did. Maybe, they weren't so bad after all. Maybe, they'd changed, grown out of their inferiority-riddled skins and stepped into their big boots.

Would they accept her? Robin didn't like to think about it, the thought that their tones could change when she told them what her deal was, why she giggled over every mention of Fast Times like a little girl.

But she had to think about it.

Could people really change? Or were looks just deceiving?

She hoped not. As much as they obviously had something freaky going on, and were plagued by some fucked up things, they were nice people. They were fun. Even if they did drive her crazy with their downright disgusting PDA. She didn't want to loose them, really.

Then the whole Russian thing sprang up, and that's when the world really began to crash down. Literally.

The elevator ride would've been fun, had Robin been prepared for it. She loved roller coasters. But this was a whole different beast. Violent, skin-flayingly fast, and seasoned with just enough horror movie elements to be seriously scary, she hated every second of the drop.

They had infiltrated an armed, secret Russian room, to be fair. What had she expected on the other side? Kittens?

Veronica certainly hadn't. She'd been armed with a freakin' knife, tucked safely away in her designer blue handbag.

Kitten heels, makeup and hair to rival Farrah Fawcett's, and yet she was swinging 'round a mini machete. It didn't add up. The puzzle pieces just didn't fit.

And now, staring up at an unusually dishevelled version of the mysterious girl, Robin was finally going to ask. She had too. This feeling, this vibe, this theory, had been gnawing away at her for years. Who was she to deny it it's peace, when this could be one of her final chances to ever get answers?

Well. Hopefully not.

Veronica had said that no one had ever died before, whatever before meant, so maybe they'd all be fine, and magically teleport back to the surface just in time for dinner. But then Dustin said that people had died. And that Veronica of people should know that. Was he talking about Jacob? Who else could he be talking about? Of course-

"Hey, you okay?" a voice echoed from somewhere above Robin. "You look a little pale. Here-" Veronica tugged Robin up with little struggle and fore-warning, steadying her back against a shelf unit. "You hurt?" Robin blinked, coming back to her senses. Veronica was levelling her with something close to concern, a hint of agitation biting at her pursed lips. "Hey! Are you okay?"

"Yeah! yeah, I'm fine." It was a little bit of a lie, okay, maybe a lot-a bit of a lie, that was the scariest thing Robin had ever experienced. But, if it'd stop Veronica from staring into her soul like that, like she was about to start foaming at the mouth like some rabid dog, then she'd lie for America.

"Awesome." Dropping Robin, the girl raced over to Steve, hauling a cardboard box off of him, faint cries of "Ron, I fell on my groin," echoing throughout the room. Robin tried to cover Erica's ears as she moved to check on the small girl, but tiny hands just slapped her away.

Jesus.

"Good job we've got enough kids to keep our hands busy for the time being, then. You good?" With far more care then she'd afforded Robin, Veronica pulled Steve to his feet, face creasing in worry when he whined and groaned like a little bitch at the movement.

"What a baby." Erica spat, dusting herself off and sniffing triumphantly, seemingly having just survived her first near-death experience. Well, maybe not. Given how easily she was talking this, maybe death elevators were just a regular week-day activity, for the kid. "He just wants his girlfriend to kiss him better. Look!"

As if to prove her point, Veronica smacked a smooch onto Steve's cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain, before sending him a bright smile and tugging him along to check on Dustin.

Erica scoffed at the action, crossing her arms when the couple hovered over Dustin's legs like worried parents, shrinking back in shock when he burst free from a fallen box with a roar.

Robin's eyes only narrowed in suspicion at the sight. As odd as it was, they really were like a family. A bit of a fucked up one, with some sort of weird group history, or shared knowledge that bonded them together, but a caring and protective family all the same.

Again, it didn't fit.

Just what was up with these guys? Was it really something to do with Jacob? Or, was it something that, impossibly, spread deeper, its roots taking hold across different generations of Hawkins residents?

They were practically dangling from Robin's tongue, the words, the questions, the demands for answers.

Did they know what this was about, this Russian mess? Or were they in the dark just as much as she and Erica were? The cynical, and slightly betrayed part of Robin, didn't think so.

She couldn't put her finger on it, there'd be no evidence to present in court, she just had a hunch- in her eyes, there was no way those three didn't have some sort of idea of what was happening, here. They had too. And Robin hated not knowing what it was.

It was the same feeling she got back in eighth grade when when none of the other kids wanted to talk to her, when they'd giggle about things she couldn't hear, point and laugh. When-

She blinked and swallowed down the memories before they could take hold, clearing her throat and smiling when the trio whipped their heads around to stare at her.

That was more like it. Having even a semblance of control over a situation was safe.

"Is everyone okay?" She asked, eyes flicking from one person to another. Veronica looked a whole lot less rabid, now, nodding in affirmation, seemingly having came down from whatever ledge she was close to falling off of after checking on Steve and Dustin.

But, the same couldn't be said for her boyfriend, who, to the horror of the room, let out a loud groan and flung himself to the control panel.

"Yeah, I'm just great now that I know Russian's can't design elevators!" He hollered, shoving Dustin out of the way to mindlessly mash at more buttons.

"I think we've clearly established that those don't work." Robin deadpanned, unsuited to deal with an overly emotional Steve. He got like that sometimes. He almost screamed the roof down when a random kid ran behind the counter and pantsed him, one time.

She tried not the laugh at the memory, concealing an escaped noise with a cough. Now was not the time.

"Calm down, Harrington." Veronica tried, attempting to drag him away from the closed doors, only for him to wiggle out of her hold in the most delicate way possible. His facial expression, and the downward curl of his lips, was anything but, however.

"Calm down!? How exactly am I supposed to calm down, Ron!? These," he gestured wildly to the collection of buttons, eyes wide, a little manic, "are BUTTONS. They have to do something- "

"Yeah, if we had a keycard!" Robin interrupted, feeling all the eyes in the room flick to her. She knew what was going on, here, if only everything to do with the control panel.

Turns out, there were some plusses to listening in science class, and, observing something other than your girlfriend in any given room you walk into.

"A what?" Steve spluttered.

Rolling her eyes, Robin moved forward, blocking Steve's path to the buttons. As much as there was confusion written all over her own face, Veronica shot Robin something close to a look of thanks over Steve's shaking shoulder. "It's an electronic lock. Same as the loading dock door. If we don't have a keycard, it won't operate. Meaning- "

"We're stuck in here." Dustin finished, flopping to sit on top of some fallen boxes.

A grim silence settled over the room at the revelation, the pit that had been growing in her stomach, unnoticed by Robin, now heavy and wide, weighing her down and making her head swim.

Was that really it? They were stuck? Well, she knew they were, but, seriously, was this how it was going to end? Stuck in a fucking Russian elevator? Surely not. She was worth more than that, right?

"Just so you nerds are aware," Erica started, breaking the silence. "I'm supposed to be spending the night at Tina's, and Tina always covers for me. But if I'm not home for Uncle Jack's birthday party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she's gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throats."

Well shit. That wasn't a nice thing to imagine. Robin gulped.

"I don't care about Tina! Or Uncle jack's party!" Steve screeched, slamming his hands down onto a box for emphasis. Robin, jumping up at the sudden burst of sound, spied Veronica rolling her eyes at the outburst. "Your mom's not gonna find us if we're dead in a Russian elevator!"

"Steve, stop shouting at the small child." Veronica chastised. "And stop talking like that, we're gonna be fine. We'll be out before we know it."

To the horror of every poor, assaulted ear in the room, her kind words weren't enough to bring Steve down from his bout of screaming. "Since when are you the hopeful one!? You're always the cynical one!"

There it was again. A reference to that mysterious, elusive before. Robin's ears perked up.

"Maybe I'm trying to be more positive! You know, turn a new leaf or whatever!" Robins eyes pinged between the two as they bickered, or screamed, at each other, not knowing whether to intervene or let them kill each other. "Maybe, if I don't act hopeful, I'd be freaking out just as much as you are, bitch!"

Steve gasped as if he'd been smacked. "You did not- "

"Hey, guys!" Dustin interrupted, much to Robin's lament. She was quite enjoying watching them do something other than suck each others faces, for once. The boy was pointing a finger to the ceiling, her eyes finding a hatch when she followed its direction. "What if we climbed out?"

***

God, Veronica needed a fucking cigarette.

But, because of the stupid ban she was under, she didn't carry any in her handbag, anymore. Not a single stick.

None of her handbags had any. Not her everyday one, her going out one, or her emergency one.

Fuck Steve and his consideration for her health.

Not really. She couldn't love him any more, for it; it made her feel cared for. But that didn't mean she couldn't pine after a puff, every now and again.

Once they were back with civilisation, she'd sneak off to her room and have one. Just one. That was all she needed. And that was all she'd allow herself.

How many times had she said that, now? How many cycles of once this is over had she put herself through?

"You look like you're itching for a smoke." Steve grunted, stepping onto the roof of the elevator. He flopped down next to Veronica, the two leant against a wall, knees to their chests.

After a cursory exploration of the space, it'd soon become clear that there was no climbing out. The place they'd fallen from couldn't even be seen, an endless stretch of ominous dark their only, and completely inaccessible escape route.

"Trying to say I look like an addict? Gee, thanks, Stevie." She huffed, pulling at a thread on her sweater.

"You look gorgeous, Sweetheart, even if we are like, a million metres underground and the lighting down here isn't 'optimal'."

She huffed out a laugh at Steve's jab, turning to look at him, fix his eyes with her own.

They'd done some photoshoots, before. Nothing too erotic, not yet, just casual snaps by his pool, or trying on new clothes they'd gone all the way to New York to buy.

It'd been fun, a cute little creative outlet for them, despite Veronica's running of the entire thing like the military.

Lighting, angles, specific film, she had it all covered- well, after she'd gotten some pointers from Jonathan, that was. And good job she did, too, because the pictures had turned out perfect.

Steve in all his sun-kissed, summer glory, skin a soft caramel, hair slightly blonde at the tips. The warmth of his cheeks, rosy and plush, his lips stretched into a boyish smile or a joking smoulder. She'd been half tempted to submit them to a magazine, or something, kickstart the modelling career he could so easily fall into, if he wanted.

Let alone the photos he'd taken of her. She'd never felt so pretty in her life.

While she couldn't wear bikinis, anymore, hiding the horrors on her stomach, she was still able to pick out a gorgeous costume, dark navy with a plunging neckline. But the outfit wasn't what really mattered, nor was it particularly her appearance itself.

Sure, her hair had been styled tirelessly, thick, voluminous and bouncy, and her skin glowed, practically sparkled, her lips plush and painted, but it was the lens that made her swoon at herself.

It was the fact that she was seeing herself as Steve saw her- laid back, bare as much as she'd allow him, and radiant, resplendent.

If she tugged at the garish collar of Steve's sailor uniform, she'd find a golden pendant hanging from his neck, the small, rectangular locket hiding a photo of her from that day. She resisted the urge to lean over and kiss it.

"I just know what makes me look good." She half joked, pulling herself from wistful memories.

"You always look good."

She snorted. He was too kind. She probably looked like a steaming pile of shit, right now- makeup half wiped off, hair a mess, form jittery. "This your way of apologising for freaking out, earlier?"

"Maybe." He murmured, wringing a wrist with the opposite hand and looking away almost sheepishly. Veronica laughed at the slight, his pouting lips rooting further towards the floor.

"You don't have to, you know." She reassured, tugging on his shoulders so that he could face her again. "I'm sorry if I wasn't like, the most accommodating, or whatever. I guess we were both stressed. Everyone probably is, right now."

Steve sighed, itching at his scalp. "Yeah, but I was acting like a whiny bitch. I hate when I get like that. I wanna be tough for everyone, you know? Especially you." Veronica couldn't help it, her brows furrowing before she could stop them. Did he not think she could take care of herself? "And yeah, I know you can hold your own. Shit, you're way better at this than I am, but, I don't know, I can't help but wanna protect you, Ron."

She smiled. He was perfect. She slid her hands up to rest at the back of his head, lightly pulling it forward so that she could press her lips to the smooth skin above his dark eyebrows. "Me too, Steve."

Huffing out a laugh, he pulled her in for a proper kiss, their lips sliding together softly.

"Oh my God, can you two keep your hands off of each other for two seconds, please? There are children down here." Dustin called out, hopping onto the roof of the elevator, large radio in hand. "Now scram, I've got important calls to make."

Steve snorted, pulling away from Veronica to face the disgruntled looking kid. She felt cold without his big, warm hands on her. "You were trying all night, man, no one can hear you from down here."

"The mall just opened. Someone could be in range." Dustin sniped back, extending the antenna. He barely spared the couple a glance before raising the radio to his lips. "This is a code red, I repeat, a code red. Does anyone copy? We are innocent children and we are trapped under Star Court Mall. The Red Army has infiltrated Hawkins, and if we are found, they will torture and kill us."

"Woah, again, less of the death and torture talk, Dusty." Veronica pleaded, kicking at his shins from her place on the floor to try and get his attention, only for him to mindlessly kick back, rattling pleas down his radio. She frowned at his persistence. Why did he always have to act like such a little shit?

"I mean, what d'you think's gonna happen, man? Petey the mall cop is gonna rappel down here and save the day?" Steve continued, only for Dustin to huff, drop the radio to his side and fix Veronica with an impressed look.

"You know, for all your talking about being positive, Ronnie, you sure have buddied up with the biggest cranky pants down here." He grunted, throwing a thumb in Steve's direction.

The girl pursed her lips before carefully responding. "Steve can be a 'cranky pants' all he wants, Dustin.  We were trying to come up with ways to get out with Robin while you kids were sleeping, but, you know, evidently we're still down here, so..."

"So that's it?" Dustin bit, chucking up his hands in disbelief. "We can resign ourselves to an eternity stuck in this elevator, but not the potential of getting murdered by Russians?"

"Enough of the death talk, man, no ones gonna die." Steve intervened, standing to lightly shove at Dustin's shoulder, the boy just dropping his head to glare at his shoes. "Ron's right, we'll figure something out, we always do."

Dustin snapped his head back up, indignation settling across his features. Veronica sighed at the thought of the screeching that was bound to follow.

"But I can't use my radio to help, right? Because it's useless? Everything down here is useless unless we start taking action!"

"Alright, alright, use your radio." She settled, clambering back to her feet to pat Dustin's shoulder reassuringly. She didn't actually want to fight over this, they had more important things to worry about. "Whatever makes you feel better, man."

"Same could be said for you," he glowered, shrugging her hand off, "and your determination to stick your head in the sand as to how life threatening this is."

Stick her head in the sand? Seriously?

She was running herself god damn fucking ragged over this— the stress, the horror, the fact that the kids could die, that they'd roped in Robin and Erica, that there was no way out, and no points of contact with the outside world— and yet he had the audacity to make out she was being a coward by putting on a brave face?

She was not a fucking coward.

"Hey! That's enough!" Hollered Steve, gently settling his hands around Veronica's waist and stretching some distance between her and Dustin.

The heat that had risen in her blood began to drop, and she huffed out a dejected breath. Dustin just ran his mouth, sometimes, got too cocky. She knew this. She just really hated when that flaw was directed at her, being as quick to anger as she was.

The last thing she ever wanted to do was monster the kid, he didn't deserve that, he never would.

Like she'd told Steve earlier, everyone was just stressed, right now, of course emotions were going to run high, things might slip out that people didn't intend to.

"We all wanted to get to the bottom of this shitty Russian mess, and now we're here, so we've just gotta deal with it, alright?" Steve concluded, staring daggers at Dustin.

"Whatever." He huffed, swatting at Veronica's hand that’d rose to tentatively ruffle at the curly hair hidden under his hat. He watched as Steve rolled his eyes with a grin, happy with his peace-making skills, before wandering to the corner of the elevator shaft and standing still, facing the wall. "What're you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm taking a leak. Look away." The man grunted, tugging off his belt, onto to feel eyes still burning into his back. He span to find Veronica and Dustin staring at him with shit eating grins. "Look away! I'm freakin' bursting."

The two giggled as Steve peed, laughing louder when Robin's disgruntled voice floated up, demanding that he: "redirect your stream, please."

Albeit gross, it was a nice reprieve from the seriousness and grim reality of the situation they’d literally been dropped into. Veronica would grasp whatever light moments she could.

And then Robin stuck her head out of the roof hatch, all kinds of horror painted across her features.

Shit.

"We've got company!" She hissed, scrambling onto the roof, Erica close behind.

Veronica grasped at the two girl’s arms and ushered them behind her before freezing, the sound of doors sliding open making her blood run cold. Just how close to being caught, had they gotten? What even let them know people were coming?

She pushed a shaky breath out of her nose, slowly lowering herself to crouch on the roof, looking down between the gaps in the metal to spy two men removing boxes. They were speaking Russian.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. They really were in the den of vipers, national enemies floating about below them, seemingly ignorant to the fact that they were being watched.

At least they’d gotten lucky in that regard. She thought they’d at least have security cameras rigged in there, or something.

Unless they were acting. They could be. Lulling them all into a false sense of security, only to start spraying bullets the second they guessed the coast was clear and dropped back down.

Veronica really hoped not.

But she didn’t have much time to consider it, given she was being dragged back into the elevator seconds later by a frantic Dustin.

What the fuck? What had she missed? Had she just blanked, or something?

Dropping onto the floor with all the grace of an elephant on rollerblades, she looked up with wide eyes to find everyone shimmying under the wedged open elevator door, a glass of the green, mutagen-looking stuff keeping it open. Barely.

“Ron! Move!” Steve boomed, tugging on her legs to get her to drop to the floor and wiggle through the gap.

With a gulp, she complied, catching Steve’s eyes as she shimmed under the door on the opposite side of the glass vial, both of them scrambling to escape faster when the glass started audibly cracking.

With an oof, they landed on top of each other, a mess of twisted limbs narrowly avoiding the exploding container’s blast zone.

And thank fuck they’d made it in time, because the green goo was melting through the floor, disgusting smelling smoke starting to swirl from the bubbling mixture of metal and liquid.

What the shit?

“You still wanna drink that?" Robin asked Erica somewhere behind Veronica, but she was still too dazed to even begin forming a response. Because, holy fuck, she’d just disassociated.

She’d just lost time.

That’d never happened before. No matter how fucked up things got, no matter how thin her sanity was spread, she always remained in the moment. Her mind had never gotten so weak, to have to remove her, before, take her somewhere else- even if that place was her own spiralling thoughts.

She didn’t like what that made her think, about herself. It made her think that she couldn’t do this, anymore. She couldn’t handle the stress. Physically. Her brain was rejecting it.

She’d gotten weak.

Steve ran his hands down her arms, checking for specks of the burning goo, and, despite her dismal thoughts, she smiled. He was too kind, to her. She’d almost just gotten herself killed, stuck in her own spiralling thoughts, brain absolutely bent, and yet here he was, still handling her with care, reverently, as if she was the single greatest thing that’d ever happened to him.

He pressed his lips to her creased forehead. “You okay? You, you looked a little dazed back there, Ron.”

She hummed. A half truth would have to suffice, for now. They’d handle whatever had just happened when they got out, when they could sort those therapy appointments they’d probably been in desperate need of for years, at this point. “I, I just got a little freaked out, sorry.”

Before Steve could choke out a response, looking far too concerned for Veronica’s liking, Dustin let out an aghast noise and pointed ahead of them.

"Holy mother of God." He breathed out, calling everyone to look in the direction he’d highlighted.

Somehow, it made their situation even worse.

In front of them stretched an endless tunnel, illuminated by dim, white lights. It’d be a bitch to walk down, narrow and low. Steve would probably have to duck, if he walked anywhere other than directly down the middle.

The sickness she’d barely even noticed, until now, swirled in Veronica’s stomach, her fists clenching in Steve’s shirt.

Another problem.

Another seemingly impossible challenge.

She only hoped there would be some light, at the end of this tunnel, and not the end of a gun.

Fat chance. Who was she kidding, they were dead meat.

Steve stood with a grunt, pulling Veronica up with him. She sniffed, following mindlessly. “Hope you can keep up with us.” He casually aired, waking ahead, as if Veronica couldn’t feel his heartbeat thundering under his skin. He tapped Dustin on the shoulder as he passed. “I’m looking at you, roast beef.”

Veronica snorted, casting Dustin a look of faux pity, powering ahead with Steve. Robin and Erica soon followed, leaving the dejected boy by himself.

“Why me?” He squeaked.

Chapter Text

"I mean, you have to admit this is a feat of engineering. It's impressive." Dustin gushed, expression bright with a relieving happiness. Of course he'd nerd out over something as horrifying as this, he was the same with the demo-dogs last year.

They'd already been walking down the tunnel for what felt like years, Veronica surprised they all hadn't started going stir crazy, yet. Or, worse, fighting, going for each others necks or clambering over each other as they climbed the walls.

"What're you talking about? It's a total fire hazard, man. There's no stairs, there's no exit, there's just an elevator that drops you half way to hell." Steve rebuffed. Well. Maybe people were starting to get a little snipy. But she could hardly blame them.

It was hot, almost sweltering, as deep underground as they were. The Russians probably staved off of adding any decent air-con, fancying a change from the usual freezing temperatures they had to endure.

Because Russia was really snowy, right?

Either way, it made their journey all the more hard, everyone's skin starting to slick with an uncomfortable sheen of sweat.

Erica scoffed. "They're Commies. You don't pay people, they cut corners."

How the hell did this girl know so much? Someone as young as her shouldn't even know words like communism and capitalism, let alone what they meant and inferred. Veronica certainly didn't, not until a few meagre months ago, anyway. She wouldn't be surprised if Erica was secretly a nerd, comics and all.

"To be fair to our Russian comrades, I don't think this tunnel was designed for walking." Robin offered, a thoughtful finger on her chin. She'd been taking the dramatic turn of events fairly well, given how people usually reacted to life threatening situations. Let alone Russian invasions. There'd been no screaming, no crying, and no hysterical shouting. If Robin wasn't usually so laid back, Veronica would think it suspicious. "Think about it, it's the perfect system for transporting cargo."

"It all comes into the mall like any old delivery." Dustin added.

"And then they load it up onto those trucks and nobody's the wiser." Concluded Veronica. Robin was right- it was an effective system. But why was it needed? And, under Hawkins no less? Was it really all to do with the Upside Down?

"You think they built this whole mall just so they could transport that green poison?" Steve asked, his arm starting to become grossly warm in Veronica's hold.

He ran hot enough as it was, this extra heat must've been torture for him. It certainly felt like it was, the woman dropping her hold on him to lightly grasp his hand instead. She loved him and his warmth, really, but touching each other while super sweaty was just gross. Steve lamented the fractional loss of touch all the same.

"I very seriously doubt it's something as boring as poison." Dustin said. "It's gotta be much more valuable, like promethium or something."

"Promethi-what?" Veronica spluttered. "English, please."

Robin rattled out a sigh, lightly whacking Dustin on the back of the head. He screeched in protest. "It's what Victor Stone's dad used to make Cyborg's bionic and cybernetic components."

Right. Nerd shit, again.

"You're all so nerdy, it makes me physically ill." Erica grumbled, plastering on a disgusted face. It was almost convincing.

"No, no, no, no. No, don't lump us in with them. I'm not a nerd, alright?" Steve said emphatically, waging a pointed finger between he and Veronica. She snorted at his theatrics.

Reformed bully or not, he still refused to come within ten, no fifteen feet of being called anything remotely close to nerdy. Some things just never changed.

Much to Steve's dismay, however, he really was a nerd- just about more conventional things, like his car, hair styling and fashion. It was cute, if nothing else.

"Why so sensitive, Harrington? Afraid of losing cool points to a ten-year-old child?" Robin jabbed, her and Veronica breaking into cackles at his expense.

"No," he grumbled, bottom lip pouting. "I'm just saying I don't know jack shit about Prometheus."

"Promethium." Dustin corrected quickly. "Prometheus is a Greek mythological figure, but whatever. All I'm saying is, it's probably being used to make something."

That didn't sound good. What on Earth could green, acidic goo be used to make other than something horrifically evil?

"Or, power something?" Suggested Robin, all too light-heartedly given the grim potentials of the situation. Veronica gulped.

"Like a nuclear weapon?" She offered tentatively, fear tingling down her spine. That seemed like the worst case scenario; hopefully she was just being overly worrisome. Only, no one rushed to disagree. Her mouth felt like it was filling with cotton.

"Walking towards a nuclear weapon, great." Steve huffed, a tense silence settling over the group.

Awesome. They were all back to being mopey, again. Which, honestly, was fair enough. Veronica had resigned herself to this being a tougher and more fucked up rodeo than usual right around mile five, every bone in her body thrumming in alarm at the glaring mystery of the entire situation.

This wasn't the Upside Down or demogorgans, this was enemies of the state with killer weapons, and, potentially, not just the handheld kind.

"But if they're building something, why here?" Robin asked, airing the question everyone must've been thinking. Well, those that weren't in the know, anyways. "I mean, Hawkins, seriously? Of all places? At the very best, we're a toilet stop on your way to Disneyland." She continued rattling on and walking ahead with Erica while Steve, Dustin and Veronica lagged behind, the three wordlessly forming a huddle.

"The Russians have gotta know." She whispered, looking both boys in the eye. There was no other feasible reason as to why they chose Hawkins.

Sure, it was inconspicuous enough, but it's name had been in enough national newspapers at this point to warrant some constant eyes on it. Unless there was something valuable here, something that wasn't readily available anywhere else, Hawkins would've been a totally dismissible option.

What was it, exactly, that they were after?

Was it Eleven? Was it the gate?

No. That was impossible. Jane was safely living with Hopper, and the gate was closed, never to be opened again.

"You think? Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Dustin hissed, earning glares from the adults on either side of him. Why'd he have to be so shitty all the time? "What? She's stating the obvious." He shot at Steve.

The man sent an admonishing glare Dustin's way before sighing, his entire form deflating, as if weighed down by something heavy on his shoulders. "But why? Do, do you really think it's 'cause of the Upside Down?" He asked.

Robin cleared her throat before anyone could respond, the trio whipping around to stare at the girl with plastered on, dazzling smiles. "I'm sorry," she said sarcastically, hands on her hips. "Is there something you three would like to share with the class?"

Gargles of static cut through any possible answers, everyone's necks snapping to the walkie poking out of Erica's bag. The words grating from it sounded like Russian, nothing too dissimilar to what Veronica had heard of secret message. Is that what it was?

She and Steve shared a worried glance before clambering forward, joining the huddle forming around Erica. The small girl pulled the walkie from her pink sparkly backpack with a grunt, extending the antenna for a better signal and clearer words.

"It's the code," Robin realised, confirming Veronica's suspicions. Her chest swelled with anxiety, teeth biting into her lip.

"Wherever that broadcast is coming from-" Dustin began.

"It's close." Said Robin, an accomplished smirk across her lips. Shit. That meant they were close to people, someone had to be sending out the message, after all. That meant they were closer to danger, to guns and soldiers. "And if there's one thing we know about that signal..."

"It can reach the surface." Dustin supplied, already starting to head further down the tunnel, invigorated by the new discovery.

Veronica hesitated to move, her feet stuttering in their place. She wanted to move forward, she wanted to take charge and lead like she usually did- protect.

But, she was frozen, wobbling on spaghetti legs and stuttering on unspoken words. She was scared, debilitatingly so.

A warm arm made its way around her shoulders, Steve curling her protectively into his side as he began walking the two of them forward.

At least she had him to support her, to pick her off of uncertain feet and nurture her back to full, impenetrable height.

She knew she was strong, that she, they, could handle anything. This situation was just new, a different kind of nightmare that came with different obstacles and emotions. It was no wonder that she was reacting this way, really.

Veronica smiled up at Steve in thanks and squeezed at his hand hanging off of her shoulder, the tightness in her limbs loosening somewhat. Together, they'd make it. Neither would survive on their own; they were two pillars holding up the same building.

He leant down and pressed his lips to her forehead.

***

"Okay, all clear." Steve whispered, chucking a look back to the group crouched behind him. He curled a hand forward in a beckoning gesture. "Come on, let's go."

They'd been huddled behind a metal storage unit, a duo of twin guards having wandered into the hallway and startled them into hiding.

The further they strayed from the elevator, the more and more off-shooting tunnels stemmed out, offering the perfect places to conceal themselves from unwelcome surprises.

Popping up often and with bigger and bigger guns, the appearance of the guards made it feel like they were getting close to something. What, exactly, Veronica had no idea, the mystery of it all making her skin tingle with unease.

So Steve was taking the lead. Being stifled by his sailor costume did little to stop him from looking like the commanding leader he could become in these situations, corralling everyone together to stay safe and make it out alive, all broad shoulders, baritone orders and firm expressions.

Shuffling out from behind the storage unit, Dustin's small hand scrunched into the back of Veronica's sweater as they shuffled forward. She shot him a reassuring look, only for his hand to fly away and eyes to roll in petulance.

Damn kids and wanting to look strong.

"Okay, that was too close." Robin breathed out, a reluctant fear lacing her tone.

"Just a bit." Veronica grunted, swinging a handbag strap off of her shoulder to open up the main compartment. She pulled out her knife and flicked it open.

If they were going to keep having close calls, like that, she needed to be prepared for anything.

She'd never killed a person before... well, not really, not physically, with her hands wrapped around a knife or a neck; and the thought of it was disturbing as all hell. The mere mental image sent shivers wracking down her spine, shooting stabs of terror all the way down to her feet.

Her hands pale and shaky, tightly wrapped around a spasming throat, sharp nails digging into soft, fallible skin, bloody half-moon marks. A knife, slightly serrated, hers, plunging into a stomach and ripping as it went.

She wasn't even nineteen, lived in a small, 'quiet' town, and was going to start training to become a police officer in a few months, murder shouldn't be anywhere near her mind, let alone bending it like it was, pulling her limb from limb with anxiety.

But, if a confrontation did present itself, she needed to be ready to swing, or go out trying. Steve was never the best with his hands (while fighting, that was) and she doubted Robin knew any martial arts.

Well. The girl knew Russian and pig Latin, maybe, she knew a couple of killer moves, too. At this point, it wouldn't surprise Veronica. Nothing could, anymore.

She needed a cigarette again.

Huffing out a breath, she shouldered the hanging strap back onto her shoulder, the knife in her hand a new and reassuring weight. She squeezed the cool handle tighter in a white-knuckled grip.

"Relax, we'll be fine." She grumbled, more to herself than anyone else, following after Steve's dragging feet, eyes glued to his trainers. Awh. They were the ones she got him for his birthday. A blue, suede adidas pair. "Nobody saw..."

As the reassuring words slipped from her worry-bitten lips, her eyes landed on flashing lights and flurries of movement past Steve's head of gravity-defying hair.

Oh, shit.

Her heart dropped to her ass, and all the remaining air slithered out of her lungs. The knife almost dropped from her wavering fingers.

Devastating, scared brown eyes flickered to lock with her own as Steve stumbled back, body knocking into Veronica's as she caught him haphazardly.

Towering in front of them was a blown open room, far taller and wider than any they'd seen down here yet, with multiple encircling, railed platforms. Soldiers in green felt uniforms darted around the space, guns held proudly in their arms.

Men dressed in peculiar orange suits, some in blue or purple, and scientists scurried about the place, weaving between buggies carrying indiscriminate boxes.

What. The. Fuck.

This must be the hub, Veronica internally mused, yelping as her body was yanked behind a discarded buggy. Steve clamped a hand over her mouth to quiet the sound, apologetic eyes pouring into her own. He slowly released her, chucking a glance behind them to do a head count. Thankfully, the others had made it to cover before anyone could spot them, either.

"I saw it!" Erica whisper shouted, pointing to somewhere on the left. "First floor, north-west."

"Saw what?" Steve grunted, eyes flicking to lock back onto the hub and examine it. His fists curled subconsciously into Veronica's sweater.

"The comms room!" The small girl shot back, face scrunched up into a fierce glare.

"You saw the comms room?"

"Correct!"

"Are you sure?" Veronica intervened. "How do you even know what one looks like?"

Erica scoffed, rolling her eyes. "'Cause I'm not dumb. The door was open for a second and I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there."

Jesus. Okay.

"That could be a hundred different things." Dustin dismissed.

Veronica frowned, that familiar tug of something like hope pulling in her chest. "You got any better ideas, Dusty? I'll take those odds." She said, poking at his side. "I'm meant to have you home by eight."

"His bedtime's eight?" Erica asked, a disbelieving smile melting away her firm expression.

Dustin let out a choked sound. "Not my bedtime-"

"Alright." Steve interrupted, buzzing with nervous energy. He turned away from the bickering group and back to the leering hub. He wanted to get out of here, fast. "We're gonna move fast, we're gonna stay low. Okay?" He stressed, flying hands punctuating his words, garnering nods of affirmation before scrambling forward.

They shot from behind one box to another, gradually approaching the supposed comms room. Veronica's skin was prickling with hope, the thought of sending a message up, even just communicating with someone on the surface fuelling her push forward.

She couldn't die down here, at the end of some random Russian's gun. She refused too. She clutched the knife tighter in her hand.

"Let's go!" Steve encouraged, everyone racing behind him as they scurried into the room, barely catching the handle before it could lock after a careless scientist.

As the last person inside, Veronica gently eased the door closed, turning to find her companions a frozen, tense wall in front of her. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, she peered over their shoulders. Her eyes landed on a soldier sat stiffly in a chair, promptly dropping a phone to reach for the pistol at his hip.

Shit.

She moved forward before she could think to stop herself, an arm moving to brandish the knife from behind her back and raise it at him. Steve caught it with a hot grip before she could threaten the soldier, who suddenly stood, his face the picture of confusion.

Robin flew forward instead, her hand stretched out in alarm, firing off frantic Russian in an effort to calm the soldier. His frown only deepened, as did Veronica's horror with every searing, passing second. This was bad, impossibly so.

They were so fucked.

"She's got this," Steve tried to reassure, whispering into Veronica's ear, his hands moving to grip her hips. She only offered a grunt in response, the usual cynicism that liked to shackle itself to her feet dragging her back into it's clutches, gripping her throat tightly and stifling any words from tumbling out.

Robin continued to rattle out what few phrases she knew until the soldier grimaced and pulled his gun free, aiming it right between her eyes.

Veronica choked around a horrified gasp, eyes trained on the shake in his hands, his twitching trigger finger.

This was it. her worst nightmare. Someone was going to die, again. On her watch.

If only she'd had the balls to let Robin in on what they'd face down here, what side of their duplicitous world she'd have to stare down and pray to God didn't kill her. Praying was futile, though, as was hope, a meagre pipe dream under the dark shadow that dominated Hawkins.

What would she tell Hopper, if she ever got out? She probably would, she always did; the universe obviously liked to keep her around to torment with crippling tonnes of guilt, saddling her quaking shoulders with more and more at every resurgence of terror.

It was too much to bear, spiralling thoughts bouncing off of the confines of her throbbing skull, her limbs tingling with the burning want to move. Yet, they were unable, wrapped within iron bandages, her feet rooted to the floor.

Fuck, she was so scared. She didn't want to have to watch someone die, again.

Then Steve charged forward with a roar, taking the soldier down with a tackle.

The two men dropped to the floor, the soldier's gun clattering out of his grip in the fall. Veronica surged forward and snatched it up from the linoleum, suddenly liberated from the chilling terror that froze her every cell fear.

Rallying a shaking Robin behind her, as with Dustin and Erica, she watched on as Steve wrestled with the much burlier soldier. Fists flew, shouts and grunts sounded, rubber squeaked against the polished floor.

Fuck. Dustin had been right, earlier. Regrettably, Steve really had never won a fight before, and it wasn't looking all that much like he was about to win this one, either.

The soldier lamped him with a mean right-hook, making him stumble backwards into a control panel. Moving forward to hit him again, the soldier turned his back on the group.

Veronica swallowed and began to tip-toe to him, raising her knife to sink into his heaving back.

She was going to hate herself for this, later. She knew she would.

Sure, this guy was wobbling forward, intent on doing something unforgivable to Steve, her Steve, but, she was still about to stab someone, a human, jam her knife into their flesh and muscle and bone. Bile rose in her throat.

Only, before she could do it, a hand surged forward, a phone in it's clutches, and hit the soldier over the head with it, sending him tumbling to the floor.

He landed at veronica's feet with a sickening thump, revealing a slightly pale looking Steve standing over him. He dropped the phone and heaved in deep, grounding breaths, Veronica surging forward to pull his head up and examine his face for injuries.

Compared to how he looked after Billy, last year, the quickly developing shiner by his eye was nothing. She ran a worried thumb over it all the same, giving his face a reassuring pat as a shaky smile spread over his lips.

Veronica couldn't stop a similar one breaking through the cracks of her own fraught expression, relief flooding over her in a warm wave. That could've gone so, so much worse.

"Dude!" Dustin shouted, hands in the air triumphantly. "You did it! You won a fight!"

Steve sent the boy a wink, ruffling his hair after Dustin clambered forward and snatched a key card off of the soldier's limp body.

Thankfully, there was no blood anywhere, so Steve couldn't have done too much damage, right? Veronica swallowed down that branch of thought before it could stretch her mind thin as paper.

"Guys!" Robin shouted from somewhere in the distance. Shit. When had she ran off? "You need to come see this." She scarpered down a set of steps Veronica hadn't even noticed, yet, her face grim and eyes wild. "Come on!" She urged, beckoning a hand frantically forward.

Sharing a perplexed look with Steve, Veronica slowly began to follow Robin up the steps, an aching pit beginning to swell in her stomach. The higher she climbed, the bigger that pit inexplicably grew, stretching to consume the entirety of her body, a disturbing sense of wrong seeping into her bones.

The ascent was through a dimly lit tunnel, tight and smothering, the apex emitting a blood red glow that bathed everyone in a thick, chilling helping of the colour as they neared the top. Goosepimples began to litter Veronica's exposed forearms, the temperature seemingly dropping despite the luminescence of the hot colour.

The juxtaposition only added to that stomach clenching sense of wrong poking and prodding at her, stabbing into her with tiny pinpricks down her spine, haunting.

Her feet stuttered to a stop at the top step, eyes blinking at the incomprehensible sight breaching the wall of glass ahead of her.

It didn't look real, as it pulsed and undulated, stretched and compressed, as if it were breathing, heaving in massive breaths only to release them moments later.

The red tear in the wall carved a boiling path down a vast face of dirt and rocks, the red light beaming out of it coating every surface in sight, that spine chilling cold settling over Veronica's skin tenfold.

It was a gate.

It had to be.

And it was open. The Upside Down, previously closed, was open, roaring and hungry, an ominous rumble shaking the metal under her feet.

Familiar, writhing vines slithered out only to flinch back in when they hit earthly air, and those ash-like flakes billowed out of it with every release of breath.

Some of it crisped and evaporated as it got caught in or around the beam of thick, blinding light shooting into it from a gigantic spinning machine, seemingly what was ripping the angry fissure open further and further.

Shit.

Steve's eyes wandered to Veronica's, sadness and anger and fear all rolled into those rich brown irises of his, piercing into her own like hot knives.

"Guess we know for sure why they're here, now." She offered, a grim attempt at relieving the tension.

Steve only sighed, a sad smile stretching across his lips. He pulled her hand into his and squeezed.

***

"I don't understand, you've seen this before?" Robin said, following behind Steve, Veronica and Dustin as they scrambled back down the stairs. Erica seemed thoroughly undisturbed by the whole thing, picking at a scab on her elbow.

"Not exactly." Veronica supplied shakily, the momentary, emotion freezing shock of seeing the gate having warn off. Now, all that was left behind was debilitating horror and a want for the ground to swallow her whole. 

Because, not only where they stuck underground with gun-wielding Russians, but they were stuck underground with gun-wielding Russians and a gate to the Upside Down. 

What were the soldiers going to do when they found them? Because it was only a matter of time, really, before someone sniffed them out and fucked them ass over face into early graves.

Were they going to throw them into the different dimension as an experiment? See if they could survive in there, or something? 

Veronica decided it wasn't worth thinking about and tuned back into the conversation raging around her.

"All you need to know is that it's bad." Dustin grunted, hands sitting knitted on top of his cap.

"It's really bad." Added Steve.

Veronica nodded, looking to fix Robin's shaky blue eyes with her own. "Like, end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it, sort of bad. Shit, this is insane."

"And you know about this, how?" Robin rebuffed, steeling herself. She was angry, blisteringly so, the uncomfortable feeling rolling off of her in waves and barrelling into Veronica.

That's right, they'd lied to her.

Well, not really, but a lie by omission was still a lie, right? Would she really have opted out, had she known the truth?

Maybe.

Fuck, they should've just told her, avoided this entire shit storm all together and just waited for Hopper to call back so they could face this all together. 

"Um, Steve? Where's your Russian friend?" Erica aired in tandem with the sudden blaring of a skull-rattling alarm. 

Fuck. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, everything was starting to fall apart, as if this situation couldn't get any worse. Because, right where the Russian soldier had lied, knocked out cold, was now a barren stretch of floor. That could only mean one thing. They were in trouble. Big fucking trouble.

"Move! Go, go, go!" Steve screamed, tugging on Veronica's arm to wrench her back up the stairs with him as he took the steps two, three at a time.

Dustin, Erica and Robin followed close behind, no one having to be told twice to run like their lives depended on it. They'd been found out, someone, no, multiple people were onto them, people with fucking guns-

Fuck, they were so dead.

They found themselves back in the observation room, cutting a line through that one and straight into another packed with multiple scientists, all of whom wasted little time in brandishing their guns and pointing them at the group. 

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!" Dustin screeched before leading the charge out, racing down a set of stairs that lead them right onto the deck with the machine prying open the gate, the temperature dropping significantly.

It did little to abate the tingly of blood in Veronica's pulsing limbs, however, the subsequent sweat inducing-heat, her heart working overtime to pump oxygen around her body.

She tried not to focus on the soldiers nipping at their heels, breathing in and out through her nose, the odd ping of bullets as one aimed and missed, hitting something metallic instead of fleshy.

"This way!" Steve suddenly leads, pushing a startled guard out of way and into a side room.

Veronica whipped around to help slam the door closed, face crumpling in fear at the pounding fists banging on it.

It wasn't the best, they were cornered, but it'd have to do for now. So what if they were probably going to get turned into swizz cheese in a few minutes, at least they had this moment, a momentary reprieve. She'd fight tooth and nail for whatever she could get.

She and Steve propped their backs against the door to keep it closed, feet jammed against the floor.

Just as it felt like it was about the give, fling open under the pressure, Robin rushed forward to help out, the three of them pushing back against it to keep the soldiers out.

Above the raucous shouts on the other side of the door, Veronica caught Dustin's voice reaching out.

"Come on!" He shouted, holding open a hatch with Erica at his side. His pleading eyes flicked between Veronica and Steve, a silent question tugging at their hearts.

But, fuck, if they let go of the door, if they raced forward to join Dustin and Erica, the soldiers would break in and snag, kill or steal at least one of them before they could all make it out.

It wasn't worth it.

They couldn't risk the kids, like that, not more than they already had.

No, Dustin and Erica would escape, and Steve, Robin and Veronica could deal with whatever bullshit they were given. Even if it was death. It was only fair, they were the adults in the situation.

"Go!" She screamed with the others, all having wordlessly came to the same conclusion. She snapped her neck to the side. She didn't want Dustin to see her cry, the familiar sting of tears biting at her eyes.

Fuck, she was about to die.

"I won't forget you!" The boy hollered before ushering Erica down the hatch, following quickly behind and closing it back up.

Smart kid.

With that, Veronica's eyes slid closed, and she stepped away from the door.

Chapter Text

Veronica blinked. Then blinked again. When she blinked for a third time, her vision still didn't clear. In fact, it made no different whatsoever whether her eyes were opened or closed, a freakish sheet of black the only thing she could see.

Her heartbeat started thundering in her ears, and her mouth dried, throat choking on sand.

There was a bag over her head, hot and stifling with recirculated air, the fibres knitted so tightly that no light could shine through. If there was any light at all, where she was being kept, that was.

She hoped there was at least some; she didn't really like the dark all that much anymore. Her mom used to tell her there was nothing scary lurking in her closet, under her bed, the dingy corner or her room. Veronica now knew that to be wrong.

Is that what was happening? Had the Russians managed to get a hold of a demogorgan? Was she about to be dinner?

What a full circle moment that would be. A little cruel, perhaps, to have her live on all those years after the fact, only to lump her right back at the start of it all. But, it was certainly apt. She couldn't deny it.

Muffled, incomprehensible talking suddenly began worming its way into her ears. Russian. It made its way closer, then closer again, until the two voices were speaking to one another right above her tightly coiled form, laughing.

The bag was wrenched off of her head, her eyes squinting at the sudden burst of light. She grunted and looked to the floor, her feet bound at the ankles by thick rope. Her eyes darted up to find her hands in the same predicament, the confines having rubbed her skin raw and red. She must've been struggling against them in her sleep

She gulped.

"Look," one man said, his accent thick. His green soldier attire was far more impressive than that of the soldier Steve took out, decorated in a plethora more medals and pins. He also wore an intimidating hat, its visor casting a cruel shadow over his eyes. Veronica somehow got the impression that his words weren't for her, and darted her eyes down to the floor she was slumped on. "Does she look like spy to you, Viktor?"

The other man shook his head. He must've been a subordinate, his uniform far less ornate, carrying a gun like some comic book lackey. Guess he wasn't permitted to speak.

"She is. Snuck down here after all, did you not, little rat?" The superior officer purred, leaning down to examine Veronica's face. She refused to look up, gritting her teeth as his hot breath fanned against her skin.

Was that smart? No, definitely not. It'd probably provoke him. But, she hadn't come all this way for nothing. She wasn’t about to start letting herself be humiliated now.

"Playing that game won't get you very far, rat, I have little patience." He continued, lifting an old, weathered hand to pinch at her cheeks. Still, Veronica refused to look up at him, her eyes trained on the wall to the side of him. He laughed, releasing her face harshly. "You see this, Viktor? She wants to play game. What do we do with people who want to play game?"

With little warning, Viktor turned the rifle in his arms, Veronica clocking the movement a second too late, and jabbed the butt of the weapon into her face. A sickening crack and a howl of pain followed, the maniacal laughter of the superior officer punching into her ringing ears.

Fuck, that must've broke her nose. Blood ran from it like a faucet, dripping onto her pristine pants and bound hands as she lifted them to cup the throbbing area.

This was bad, really, really, really, bad. They weren't playing around. Of course they weren't. She knew they wouldn't, she wasn't naive, but God what a horrible surprise it was to wake up like this. How on Earth was she meant to get out?

What about the others?

God, the others.

Hopefully, given their escape, Dustin and Erica were safe. Steve and Robin on the other hand, well, they could be anywhere. They'd been taken away like Veronica, bundled up into the arms of burly soldiers with guns pressed to their temples-

And then that was it, a blank slate until now.

They could be anywhere, with anything being done to them.

She hoped Steve wouldn't end up with another broken nose, the injury always ran the risk of changing its gorgeous, sharp shape. She'd love on it regardless, though, it was attached to Steve, after all.

"Painful, no, little rat?" Barked the superior officer, grabbing a fistful of Veronica's hair and dragging her head up. His beady eyes bore into hers, the pain in her nose clouding that want to rebel.

She didn't want to get hurt, anymore. Every year her body went through a fresh round of Hell, and every year it felt worse than the last.

Shit, the doctors told her to be careful with head injuries, after Billy. What if she got fucked up again, and she lost her memory or something?

The angry officer's questioning stopped her mind from spiralling, redirecting her focus onto survival.

"Who do you work for?" He asked, spittle flying into her face.

"A- a jazzercise studio." She spluttered out, some of the blood from her nose having slipped down the back of her throat, staining her teeth and tongue.

"Ah, you hit too hard, Viktor. She's just girl." The superior officer lamented, tutting. "Dangerous girl, though, no? I ask again, who do you work for?"

Veronica gulped down a metallic swathe of blood, unable to stop the wobble of pain induced tears in her voice as she responded. She always had such a low pain tolerance. "Star Court Jazzercise, please, I'm telling the—"

"I'm telling the truth." The officer repeated in a high pitched tone, hand rising to bat away imaginary locks of hair before leering back over her, slamming a hand onto the wall Veronica rested against with a bang. "You lie!" He shouted.

"No! I'm, I'm being honest, so honest." She tried to reassure, cowering further away to no avail, cornered like an animal about to be shot. "Please, you gotta believe me!"

"Do you believe, Viktor?" Viktor shook his head, his lips a thin, grave line. The superior officer's face lit up with a predatory grin. "That's what I thought." Crouching, he lifted a hand to stroke over Veronica's hair. It was disgusting and invasive, a shiver crawling down her spine. She was totally defenceless, in here. Fuck, they could do anything to her. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Do you work for Hawkins' Laboratory?"

Her raging thoughts came to a slamming halt, her eyes, which had been screwed shut, flew open. "W-what?" She almost laughed. "No I, I hate those guys."

The superior officer sent Viktor a triumphant smile, and Veronica's heart jammed itself in her throat.

"And why is that, little rat?"

Shit.

Chapter Text

The chairs slammed to the ground, taking Steve and a Robin with them. His face, already beaten halfway to hell, because apparently he could never escape these things unscathed, exploded in pain.

Shit.

He knew this wouldn't work.

As much as Steve liked to think of himself as a relatively positive person in these life or death situations, he usually resigned himself to his fate pretty quickly.

Sure, he fought back, but he never really thought about winning. It was more of a fuck around and find out, sort of thing.

That was, until someone else got involved. Then a switch flipped, and Steve was all about survival. They had to kill the monster, they had to follow the kids into the tunnel, they had to get to the table, cut themselves out of their binds and escape.

But, it didn't work. And now Robin was crying.

"It's okay, it's okay. Don't cry, Robin." Steve tried to reassure, voice sounding grating to his ears given all the pleading he'd done earlier. He'd never felt more pathetic, more at the mercy of someone else, in that moment, that damned Russian guy asking who they worked for over and over again.

Scoops Ahoy wasn't an acceptable answer, apparently. Steve's face paid the price.

The sniffles and snorts at his back soon turned to sounding something suspiciously like, "laughing, Robin? Seriously? Jesus, what's wrong with you?"

God, this girl was such a freak. Who laughed in a situation like this?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she obnoxiously cackled. "It's just, I can't believe I'm gonna die in a secret Russian base with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington. It's just too trippy man!"

"We're not gonna die." Steve dismissed, the words flying past his swollen lips before he could second guess himself. Robin continued to giggle away regardless. "We're gonna get out of here, okay? Just- you just gotta let me think for a second."

That was the problem, though. Steve was thinking too hard. Every possibility, each bloodier than the last, was bouncing around his skull, the shell of bone throbbing with every hit.

The most prevalent, the most angry thoughts, the ones that demanded to be listened too, acknowledged and lamented over, however, were about Veronica. Of course they were.

He hadn't kept her safe. He'd lost her. And it was crippling. It made him want to stay here, tied to a chair on the floor and give up, accept whatever fucked up fate he was about to be subjected to and just let the ground swallow him up. Because, damnit, if he couldn't keep her safe, then what was the point?

She was everything- somehow both the sun on a warm, sunny day, and the moon on a frigid winter night; fresh blades of grass in his garden, unique shells on an ancient, sandy beach. The sun and the stars, if he was feeling particularly mushy. Oh so good and yet tantalisingly messy, bloody. She'd just been carrying around a knife, for fuck sake, what other girl was packing heat like that?

Well, maybe Nancy, but shooting a gun wasn't hot, not like stabbing or swinging an axe, physically, bodily inflicting red hot pain, was.

God, did that make him a freak?

"Do you, um, remember Mrs Click's sophomore history class?" Robin suddenly asked, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

He blinked. "What?"

"Mrs Clickity-Clackity." She added, a smile evident in her voice. Steve sighed and smushed the unbruised side of his face into the floor. "That's what us band dweebs called her. It was first period, Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you were always late. And you always had the same breakfast: bacon, egg and cheese on a sesame bagel. I sat behind you two days a week for a year. Mister Funny. Mister Cool. The King of Hawkins High himself." Robin paused, her confident voice floundering. "Do you even remember me from that class?"

Steve couldn't answer, his mouth suddenly impossibly dry, filled with cotton. His tense features and body mellowed, a certain sadness overtaking him.

Robin must've felt the change, letting out a sorry snort. "Of course you don't. You were a real asshole, you know that? You and Ronnie both."

"Yeah. I know." Steve offered simply.

He knew he'd been a piece of shit. There were no excuses. There were no apologies big enough, either. There never would be.

He didn't know what it was, exactly, that he'd done to Robin to earn her hatred. Maybe it was just stuff she heard through the grape vine— shoving a kid here, tripping someone there. Maybe he'd actually hurt her directly, called her a nerd, dork, or, regrettably, something even worse.

Maybe she'd never tell him. But, he knew he was different now, and, apparently she did, too. Her words echoed in his head.

"You were a real asshole." Emphasis on the were.

"But it didn't even matter." Robin continued. "It didn't matter that you guys were assholes. I was still obsessed with you. Even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just wanna be popular... accepted. Normal."

Steve swallowed, digesting her words and letting them linger before he answered. "If it makes you feel any better, having those things isn't all that great." He said, much to Robin's chagrin. He could practically feel her eye roll, despite being back-to-back. "Seriously. It just baffles me, everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, it's all just... bullshit."

He'd never forget that night at Tina's, that stupid Halloween party he thought could fix everything. Of course it didn't, it only made it worse. Sweeping things under the rug always did; it allowed them to fester, grow tender, until they popped. Then there was no avoiding his issues, the alarm bells ringing in his head.

"It's bullshit," Nancy had said. "We're bullshit."

He thought being loved was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that made him whole. That was all he'd ever been told, all he'd ever been shown.

To him, kids who came from normal families were happy. Nancy came from a normal family, Steve pretended that he did, so they could make it work. They could forget Barb, forget Jacob, the monster and the Lab, they could be happy, together.

But it was bullshit. All of it.

Deep down, he'd known all along how Nancy felt about Jonathan. He must've done. Otherwise he'd be a blind bastard.

They practically gave each other heart eyes at every turn, cheeks heatings at the slightest points of contact. But Steve didn't want to believe it, didn't allow himself too. He wanted to stay in that happy dream, that lie that was so painful but sugary sweet.

Steve's heart started hammering in his chest.

Were he and Ronnie bullshit, too?

They held each other after nightmares, dried each other's tears and kissed worry-wrinkled foreheads, but, they never said his name. Jacob's. They were sweeping him under the rug.

How long was it until that blew up in their faces, the beautiful paradise they built crumbling with the aftershocks?

Steve wanted to say never, that he'd never let it get to that point, that he'd bundle up whatever was so hard for Veronica to tackle in regards to the guy, and try his hardest to fix it.

But it wasn't that easy.

And he'd let it get bad, already. He had a suspicion, one that he rarely entertained, that it had something to do with her stomach, something to do with why she always shied away from his touch lingering there, from changing in front of him, from revealing that vulnerable plain of skin.

Was that where all the pain coiled? Spools upon spools of tightly wound string, burning anguish compressed, shoved, cramped into one area, disallowed from seeping out and contaminating the rest of her.

Her stomach could ache all it wanted, so long as her limbs weren’t affected, couldn’t betray her like petty emotions did.

Her hand ran to it at almost every mention of him, every nightmare resulting with a night of her belly pressed to the mattress. Out of sight out of mind.

Shit.

Maybe it wasn't their relationship that was bullshit. Maybe it was just Steve. He was the common thread, here, the one that liked to pretend everything was hunky dory when really it was anything but.

He'd been a bad partner. And he'd failed Veronica.

He needed to get out and put things right, finally sit her down and truly peel back her layers, as painful as it would be.

So what if he didn't like what he found, so what if she'd done something bad, like she seemed to think she had.

"You don't even know what happened, Steve. What I did."

He didn't care. He loved her. All of her. Steve had seen her bathed in blood already, what harm would a little more on her hands do to his sanctified image, of her?

"But I guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right?" Steve finally aired, the words creaking out of his tight throat.

He'd be better from now on. He'd learn from his mistakes— properly. No more avoiding his problems.

"I hope so." Robin said. "I feel like my whole life has been... one big error."

Steve chuckled, the stretch of his lips murdering the pained nerves on his face. "Yep."

"At least it can't get anymore messed up than this."

It certainly could. A demogorgan could burst out of the wall and devour them, or something, but Steve wasn't about to tell Robin that. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"You know, wish I'd know you in Click's class." He said instead.

"Yeah?" Robin laughed, disbelieving.

"Really, I do." Steve affirmed. "Maybe you coulda helped me pass the class. Maybe, instead of being here, I'd be on my way to college right now."

That'd be good, something progressive. He could make something of himself, that way. Get himself a degree and a higher paying job, shove it to his dad and finally move out of this fucked up town.

Ronnie would come with him. They'd hole up in a city somewhere, have quiet lives.

"And I would have no idea that there were evil Russians beneath our feet, happily slinging ice cream with some other schmuck." Sung Robin. She seemed in higher spirits now. That made Steve feel better.

"Gotta say, though, I liked being your schmuck. It was fun while it lasted."

"It was."

Chapter Text

Suddenly, the door to their interrogation chamber slammed open, vibrations bouncing through the floors and rippling into Steve's bones.

Twisting his neck awkwardly to try and steal a peak at their new company, he caught a glimpse of the Russian guy who'd been interrogating them, and a bespeckled man in a lab coat. He was new, a scientist by the looks of it. That couldn't be good.

"Where are you two going?" Asked the interrogator sarcastically, waltzing over to Steve and Robin. He hovered over the two of them like a cloud, casting an ominous shadow and cooing at them with a sick smile. Bastard, Steve thought, gritting his teeth, he was enjoying this.

Steve's stomach twisted in unwanted fear, that familiar, tingling feeling that he was about to get the shit beaten out of him sizzling through his veins once again. Why was it always him?

First, it was Jonathan pummelling him back in '83, then Billy in '84. And now, barely eight months later, Steve was back under another man’s boot, his umpteenth black eye spasming in pain.

From his place on the floor, he spied a pair of heeled feet being dragged in, the body they were attached to limp, at the mercy of the two goons carrying her in.

Shit. It was Ronnie. He'd recognise those slingbacks anywhere. They were her favourite Chanel pair.

She'd gotten them Christmas of 1980, a gift mailed from her father after he fucked off to another country, or something. What a loving guy. Not.

"What the hell did you do to her!?" Steve shouted out before he could stop himself, the sight of blood on her sweater turning his veins to ice. "Ronnie!"

As the soldiers lifted her, plonking her into a chair of her own, her head tipped back, a veil of thick, black hair sliding away from her face to reveal a swollen nose and bruised eyes. Blood leaked from her nostrils and lips, red rivers carving a deadly path.

Steve felt his heart drop at the sight, her unusually pale and sweaty skin gleaming in the bright overhead lights. He felt like he was about to vomit, his stomach turning to an aching, churning chasm.

She'd gotten hurt again, and it was all his fault.

"Shit!" Robin cried, rioting against her binds to try and get even an inch closer to Veronica. "Veronica! Ronnie! Can you hear us?"

Haunting silence and stillness was all that responded, her jaw bobbing open and shut, words refusing to slip out.

The two soldiers dragged her chair to the centre of the room where Steve and Robin laid, the latter two hauled back up so that all three of them could be bound together.

"Ronnie, babe, you gotta wake up-" Steve tried to reassure, eyebrows slanted in absolute worry, only for the interrogator to smack him across the face. Steve hollered out at the harsh impact, straining against his bindings. He stoically sniffed and turned back to the interrogator, eyes blazing. "Don't, don't you dare lay another finger on her."

The man laughed, his haggard face breaking out into lines upon lines of thin, dry creases. This close up, bent at the waist to practically breath down Steve's neck, he looked greasy, slimy. "Protective of this one, no?" He lifted an arm to raise Veronica's chin, squishing her cheeks between his thick, stubby fingers. "Girlfriend?"

Steve glowered, jerking forward to fire off a response, only for a wavering voice to stop him dead.

"S-Steve?" Veronica muttered, her face scrunching in distress as she came to, unconsciously shaking her head free from the interrogator's hold.

The interrogator stepped back with a huff, turning his attention back to Steve and pulling his head up by a handful of messed hair. Steve didn't care for the attack, the victimisation, his eyes far too busy trying to catch a glimpse of Veronica mumbling incoherently somewhere in his periphery. She'd called out for him, who was he to deprive her of an answer?

"Tell the truth this time, yes?" The man spat, all yellow teeth and whiskey breath. "It will make your visit with Dr. Zharkov less painful. For your girlfriend too."

The man dressed in a white lab coat approached, emerging from a dark corner, a silver looking gun with a blue tube on the top in his hand. A massive needle protruded from the end of the peculiar instrument, glinting with promises of violence.

Steve's eyes grew to the size of saucers, his laser focused attention on Veronica tearing away to stare at the weapon nearing him. "WHAT!?" He screamed. "Okay! Wait, wait, wait. Wait! What is that thing!?" Rearing his head back as the silent man neared, the jumble of chairs started to shuffle backwards.

No fucking way was he about to let some freaky substance get pumped into his veins, not after he saw what that green goo did, earlier. It'd melted through metal, for fuck sake.

"It will help you talk." The interrogator simply responded, a proud smile stretching across his cracked lips.

Another solider moved forward to grip Steve by his hair again, tugging his head to the side to expose his neck to the scientist. Shouting, screaming and pleading did nothing, neither did kicking; Dr Zharkov shoved the needle into Steve's neck regardless.

Burning hot pain shot through his body at the stabbing intrusion, his skin igniting in fiery pinpricks.

Before he could fight it, his vision began to fog, and his rioting limbs grew lethargic, heavy.

Just what had they pumped him with? Hopefully, it wasn't ketamine. Steve heard that stuff was bad.

Before he could think any more on it, his eyes slipped closed, vision turning black.

***

Veronica blinked her eyes open to find a blurry man hovering over her, something spiky in his gloved hand.

Yikes. That didn't look nice. Not at all.

Pain erupted in her neck before she could move another muscle, form another thought. Her consciousness slipped away from her once again, Robin's shrieks of pain soundtracking the third fade to black of the day.

***

God. It felt like her skull was about to split open. Her ears were ringing. She could still barely see a thing, her eyes were so damn tired.

Sniffing, Veronica blinked away the darkness clouding her sight, slapping her dry mouth open and closed.

"Steve? R-Robin?" She eventually croaked out, turning her head to try and catch a glimpse of them. They had to be near. Despite the pungent stench of metallic blood, Steve's cologne was wafting somewhere in the air, as was Robin's cinnamon body spray.

"Yes, oh my God." Steve breathed out, and Veronica's heart soared, tears of relief springing in her eyes. He was close, tantalisingly so, his voice, thick with pain and torpidity, oozing out somewhere near her ear. "Yeah, Sweetheart, it's us."

Thank fucking God.

"How're you feeling? D'you remember what happened?" Robin hastily rattled out, voice frantic with worry.

Veronica responded with a groan before swallowing thickly. "M'fine, I guess. Shit, did, did they stab us with something?" She asked. "My neck hurts like hell."

"Yeah, yeah, but don't worry, wasn't a big needle." Steve assured, bowing his leg out to knock his knee with her own.

"Still a fuckin' needle." She bemoaned, heart blooming at the minute touch. Suddenly, she felt hot all over, and her already muddled brain began to condensate with obscurity further. "Shit, what was in that thing? I feel all..." A calmness descended over her like a fluttering blanket, the sad, drab colours of the room exploding with brightness. "Feel all tingly... good."

"Y-you feel tingly?" Robin asked nervously. "Me and Steve don't feel a thing, we, we feel fine."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve affirmed, though his voice was weighted with a slurring it hadn't been before. "I, actually, I feel kinda, kinda good too, y'know, Ron. Maybe Rob got a bad batch."

The couple broke into peels of laughter, Veronica's cheeks screaming in protest at the action. Her smiling eyes hurt, her chest hurt, shit, her entire body hurt, but she couldn't stop laughing, for some reason. The sound just burst out of her, until that full-body pain seemed to melt away, a comforting warmth left stirring in its wake, softly simmering.

"You guys wanna know a secret?" Robin giggled suddenly. "I feel kinda good, too!"

"Morons, they messed up the drug." Steve slurred, lolling his head back to knock into the two girl's. Veronica nuzzled into the contact contentedly.

"They messed it up!" She hollered, face painted with a crooked grin. God, who knew Russian drugs could be so good? Whatever they'd stabbed into her was way better than the cheap shit she got off Eddie. She felt like she was about to float right out of the chair. "Morons!"

Robin snorted. "Morons! Hey, morons! G-give us some more!" 

"Woah!" Steve whooped, laughing.

"There's definitely something wrong with us."

"Something's wrong." Veronica agreed, moving to wriggle against her binds and try face Robin, only for a loud buzzing sound to blare from a speaker, startling her into stillness.

Then the interrogator and his lackeys stormed back into the room, hands folded behind their backs.

The sick man smiled at the messy sight in front of him, pulling a pair of pliers from his pocket and holding them up. "Let's try this again, hm?"

Chapter Text

On the whole, Dustin would say that he could trust Steve and Ronnie significantly further than he could throw them.

They'd saved his ass more times than he could count, always engaged with his nerdiness despite the fact that it seemed to physically pain them, and, well, he regarded them as real friends.

Sure, it was a little odd that they were so friendly, given the age gap and all, but they'd been through things together. Things that, to your average person, were all make-believe, a particularly fanciful comic run.

It negated all of the potential weirdness, it bypassed those judgemental looks they always got whenever they hung out together.

They'd grown past their twin malignity, that even as a middle-schooler Dustin had caught wind of.

He'd first heard about King Steve and his favourite lackey Veronica through Mike, who used to moan and moan about the endless phone calls Nancy would have with the guy.

"I swear he already has a girlfriend. I keep trying to tell Nancy but she won't listen. Girls are so stupid." He'd said.

Then, Dustin had come face to face with them himself one fateful grocery shop, the two of them towering over him, silently demanding the final bag of Swedish fish. Dustin had stupidly stuck his tongue out, practically asking for a lashing, and for a frightful second he thought Steve was going to give one to him, until Veronica flicked him on the forehead and snatched the bag away.

Safe to say they were a bit different now. They were equals, with Dustin, legitimate friends. They cared about him.

Well, that's what he used to think, anyways.

Standing behind the door, cattle prod-looking thing in hand, he listened as Steve gave him up to the Russians, Ronnie backing him up. Dustin could've sworn his insides withered away a little bit, at that.

He knew they were stupid, that they shared about two to four functioning brain cells between them at any given time, but how could they have reconciled with themselves that ratting Dustin out was their best bet? Were they just that shit-scared?

Babies.

The weight on Dustin's chest lifted a little when he heard Robin try and salvage the situation, wrangle the Russians back under their control instead of the other way around, but it didn't seem to work. Screams and shouts started ringing out.

Then, the alarm started blaring again. Erica looked up at Dustin with a smirk. Their plan was working. At least one thing was going right, today.

They listened attentively, ears pressed to metal, as the door on the other side of the room opened, multiple sets of footsteps stomping out. Shit. That was a good few less hostiles to deal with.

This was probably their best bet. Now or never.

Sending a strong nod down to Erica, Dustin let out a roar as he burst into the interrogation room, bright strands of electricity dancing around the end his weapon. He made a beeline to the first man he caught sight of, some guy in a lab coat and dark, leather apron.

He thrusted the prod into the guy's stomach, making him scream out at the contact, body shaking with the surge of frazzling electricity, before he tumbled to the ground.

Dustin started at the unconscious body for an impossibly long moment, the stench of burnt flesh and melting plastic slithering into his nose. Shit. He'd never done something like that, before. He'd never even thought of it, imagined it, dreamt of it. He didn't want to.

He blinked and turned to face Steve.

"Hey, Henderson!" Steve exclaimed with far too much joy, his wide smile and shining eyes freakishly contrasting the litany of bruises once again pummelled into his face. "That's crazy, we were just talking about you."

"Yeah, no shit." Dustin shot back, working with Erica to untie the reems of rope wrapping the three older teens together.

Veronica beamed up at him next, acting just as weird as Steve, oddly happy despite her own injuries. "All good things, don't worry, Dusty."

The boy just rolled his eyes, before steeling his gaze and flicking it between the trio. "Hope you're ready to run."

***

Flashing lights. Then a buggy. Dustin's driving it? Everything's blurry, or smudged, a hand swiped across a canvas that hasn't quite dried yet.

The Indy five hundred. That's where they are. Or is it the three hundred?

"H-How about, Indy a million?" Veronica proposes. Steve and Robin explode in laughter.

A crash. Fuck, her head hurt.

Back in the elevator. Swimming lights. Steve is squishing her cheeks, booping her nose. She does it back. Robin whines that she's being left out. When's it her turn.

Dustin's back, asking them how they got to work, face red with anger and a little bit of something else. Poor Dusty.

"Uh oh, Russians took the keys." Steve moans. "Ron's strong. You'll carry me home, right, baby?"

"Always, Stevie."

That earns her a foot in the face, the lift jolting. They must be going back up.

Then fresh air floods her lungs. She's sucking in deep, gulping breaths of the stuff. It tastes good. Better than blood.

Dustin sits them down in a dark room, next, a huge, binding screen in front of them. The guy on it kinda looks like Steve. She leans forward to smooch at it.

She's being dragged away before she can, a flurry of limbs sweeping her up like a hurricane until she's dumped at a water fountain. Suddenly, she's never been so thirsty in her life. She's lapping up the water like a crazed woman. It tastes better than the blood, than the air.

Robin shoves her out of the way before she can get her fill. "Stop hogging it. S'my turn."

Veronica flops into Steve's spaghetti arms, and she's told to look up.

"S'pretty. Sparkly. Jus' like you." He says. The ceiling lights are pretty, swirling, for some reason, like a melting pot of stars and the night sky.

Oh, no.

Her stomach's twisting.

Something rises in her throat.

She's about to be sick.

***

"Shit," Veronica heaved into the toilet bowl, grimacing at the smatterings of undigested food chunks plastered across the lid and backsplash. Her first shot had been a little off target, then. "Oh, fuck." Before she could calm it, her stomach swelled again, lips parting to empty the organ's contents into the bowl for the umpteenth time. "Ugh, fuckin' hate this."

"You good in there, Ron?" Came Steve's watery voice, as if carried through a thick haze of fog. Accept, they were only in a bathroom. She must've still been high.

"Just peachy." She replied regardless, before devolving into yet another round of retching.

She heard some distant groans to the side of her before the last bout of vomiting subsided. Ending the pitiful episode with the flushing of her freshly well-acquainted toilet bowl, she slumped into the wall.

How disgusting. There was blood and vomit all over her sweater. She was never wasting money on Ralph Lauren again.

"The ceiling's stopped spinning for me. Is it still spinning for you guys?" Robin asked, voice oddly calm.

"Holy shit." Steve murmered. "No."

"Me neither." Veronica said, looking up to find the ceiling perfectly still. That made a nice change from the stomach churning sights out by the water fountain. She repressed a gag at the mental image.

"You think we puked it all up?" Steve continued, flushing his own toilet. He must've felt like he was all out of sick. That was a good sign, at least.

"Maybe. Ask me something." Ordered Robin, before trying to comically imitate their Russian friend. "Interrogate me."

Heaving out a raucous laugh, Veronica manoeuvred herself onto her back, sliding her body across the floor and into Steve's cubicle. She'd need to see his face when they got the answer to her impending question. "When's the last time you peed your pants, Buckley?"

Steve snorted, and Veronica folded back up to find his bruised and battered face hovering over her own, a strong hand already outstretched to caress her skin.

Shit. No matter how many times she saw him, like this, bruised black and blue, smeared with blood, it never stopped stinging, a knife plunging into her heart over and over again.

Her lips rooted to the ground and tears burned at her eyes, a hand rising to pat at his unharmed cheek. Steve smiled sadly into the touch, his eyes slipping closed.

"Today." Robin broke the moment with her answer, the couple's eyes flying open in alarm.

"Oh..." Veronica grimaced.

Steve choked on a laugh. "What?"

"When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw." Robin elaborated. "It was scary as hell. You guys are lucky I didn't shit myself."

"Oh, my God." Steve chuckled, bringing Veronica's hand away from his face to kiss at her fingers with care. She couldn't stop the warning of her cheeks, or the flip of her lips into a contented smile. God, she was so lucky to have him.

"It was just a little bit, though."

"Yeah, yeah," Veronica scoffed, wiggling to settle herself into Steve's side. He welcomed her with open arms, something sad overtaking his features. Her brows furrowed at the sight. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Rob."

Robin just let out a dismissing whine, snarling at the air. "Alright, my turn. You're up, Mason."

"M'kay. Hit me."

Silence fluttered over the bathroom for a moment, the world gone static. "Have you... ever been in love?"

"'Course. With Steve, duh." Veronica answered, looking up at the man himself. He offered her a look a little less despondent than what he'd been wearing before. But, it still wasn't its usual kilowatt strength. What was he thinking about? She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "Dunno really how or when, but, yeah. I'm in kinda deep."

"Oh my God." Robin groaned. "He's such an asshole."

"Eh, he's not the worst."

"Why Steve? There's like, a million less annoying guys, out there"

Steve blew a raspberry. "Hah hah, Robin."

"I guess 'cause he's always looking out for me, even if, you know, it doesn't always work out." Steve practically deflated into himself, form sagging like a rapidly wilting flower. "Which is fine because we find our way back to each other, anyways. He's like my Suzie."

"Wait, who's Suzie?" Asked Robin.

Veronica giggled. "Some girl from camp, or whatever. Dustin's girlfriend." Her kid was growing up way too fast, getting a girlfriend already.

"I wouldn't bet on that, we don't even know if she's real." Steve added cynically, dragging a tired hand down the leathered, beaten skin of his face.

He really was being a mope, right now. Given what they'd just been through, Veronica supposed she could let him off the hook, allow him to stew in it for a few moments.

"She's real." She shot back regardless, testing the waters for a bit of joking. Trying to lighten the mood couldnt hurt.

Steve raised an intrigued eyebrow. "You think?"

"I know." Veronica said, sticking her tongue out at him, glad to see he hadn't gone catatonic. "Anyways, this Steve guy, he's kind. Patient. I think I give him a lot to worry about."

Steve huffed at that, rolling his eyes and tightening the grip of his arm around her shoulders. "Nothing he doesn't mind worrying about, I'm sure."

"Still," Veronica dismissed quickly, wondering if she'd ever not feel like a burden. "He's super handsome, way outta my league. Funny. Good with kids."

That earned her a light kiss on the forehead, and Veronica revelled in the warm feeling despite the shallow pit forming in her stomach. She'd never really be worthy of his love, would she?

Robin stayed quiet, however, silence bouncing off of the tiled walls in a purely uncharacteristic move. Veronica and Steve shared a concerned glance.

"Robin? You just OD in there?" He asked, shuffling forward to get closer to the suddenly quiet girl.

"No." Came Robin's shaky reply after a few brief, heavy moments. Fuck. "I am... still alive."

Sharing another uncertain look, the couple wordlessly slid into Robin's cubicle, finding her curled into a ball, her head in white knuckled hands. That didn't look promising. Just because she hadn't overdosed yet, didn't mean she couldn't.

Veronica frowned, raising a hand to rest on Robin's shoulder in what she hoped was a supportive gesture. "Was I being too mushy? It freak you out?"

Robin snorted, lifting her head from its dismal hanging place between her shoulders. "No, no." She said stiffly, refusing to make any eye contact. "But, you two are like, the grossest couple I've ever met."

"Just you wait until you meet your guy, Buckley, you'll be the same." Steve offered kindly enough, and Veronica felt her skin shrivel up like a raisin. So, Steve really didn't know about Robin's sexuality.

Looking up, Robin caught Veronica's eye, the two of them sharing a tentative, disbelieving look. How could he be so dense?

Did that mean that Robin knew, that Veronica knew, though? And she wasn't like, totally freaking out about it? A warmth settled in Veronica's stomach at the thought; that meant Robin trusted her. She liked her. She didn't think she was a piece of shit, anymore. They were friends.

"Do you remember what I said about Click's class?" Robin asked Steve. "Sorry, Ronnie, but I was like, kinda totally obsessed and jealous about Steve."

Veronica frowned. Oh, okay. She honestly had no idea where this was going, then. "Uh, right." She said dumbly.

"It wasn't because I had a crush on you, Steve," Robin continued, the couple's shoulders sagging in similar relief. Thank fuck. "It's because, she wouldn't stop staring at you."

Ah. There it was.

"Mrs Click?" Steve asked confusedly. Veronica had to wrangle back a snort.

"Tammy Thompson." Robin clarified, a mystified smile overtaking her face. "I wanted her to look at me. But, she couldn't pull her eyes away from you and your... stupid hair. And I didn't understand because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag! And, and you didn't even like her. I mean, I'd go home and just scream into my pillow."

Steve blinked, face scrunching in puzzlement. "But, Tammy Thompson's a girl."

"Steve." Robin pleaded, eyes watering. She couldn't make herself say it. She didn't know how or why, but Veronica had managed to crack the case easily enough, why couldn't Steve?

"Yeah?" He responded, that need to understand why Robin had suddenly gotten emotional, poring out of him. Then his eyebrows slanted as a wave of understanding washed over him. "Oh."

Robin smiled sadly. "Yeah, oh."

"Holy shit." Steve murmured to himself, eyes staring at something far away.

Veronica's heart started beating out of her chest. Had she gotten this wrong? Was Steve… had he not changed? Was this too much?

Her eyes flicked to Robin's sad, blue ones, moving to grip her hands supportively. Steve just needed a second, that was all, just a moment.

"Steve?" Robin prompted regardless. Fuck. Veronica could see it plastered all over the other girl's face: she didn't want this to ruin things. She really didn't. But, damn it, this shouldn’t ruin anything. If Steve was going to be like this, then, fuck-

"Sorry, just, uh, just thinking." Steve said slowly. "I mean, yeah. Tammy Thompson, she's cute and all, but, you know, she's a total dud."

Veronica released a breath she didn't realise she was holding. Thank fuck.

"She is not." Robin shot back.

"Yes, she is." Steve affirmed. "She wants to be like, uh, like a singer. She wants to move to Nashville and shit."

"She has dreams."

"She can't even hold a tune, Rob." Veronica added, body finally having come down from the near-scare. Tammy Thompson would have better luck shattering a mirror than charming anyone with her singing, how on Earth had she drawn in Robin? "She's practically tone-deaf, have you heard her?"

To further push their point, Steve started a crude rendition of Total Eclipse of The Heart.

"She does not sound like that!" Robin protested, a care-free smile finally back over her face.

"Don't know what you mean," Veronica teased. "That's a great impression of her!"

"He sounds like a muppet!"

"She sounds like a muppet!" Steve laughed. "She sounds like a muppet giving birth."

He kickstarted another sing-song, this time impersonation Kermit the Frog. Veronica and Robin joined in, their limbs and hearts feeling looser than even when they'd been on the drugs.

Then the door to the bathroom slammed open, an angry Dustin and Erica stamping inside.

"Okay." The boy levelled, starting down at the pile of bodies crammed into a single cubicle. "What the hell?"

Chapter Text

Looking out of the bathroom door, her head poking out from around the corner, Veronica's heart soared at the sight of a mass exodus migrating from the cinema. Finally, something was going their way, today. Or, had it been longer than a day? Shit, she could've been out for any amount of time.

"Blend." Said Dustin, moving out into the crowd stiffly. 

Veronica's hand found Steve's before she moved forward, not feeling quite as close to him as she'd like. If only they didn't have to deal with all of this, they could be wrapped up in bed, sleeping off their blissfully average day and dreaming of sweet nothings. But, here they were, fresh out of a Russian torture chamber and crowd blending to avoid being spotted.

If their life didn't become normal soon, well, she dreaded to think where things could head next.

"Shit, that worked." Erica sighed. Nerves of steal and swearing, what was this kid made of?

"'Course it worked." Dustin bit, ever proud. "Now we just have to get on a bus with the rest of these plebes and home sweet home, here we come. Except not really, because SOME PEOPLE think it's a good idea to tell the enemy their ally's full government name!"

"S'not our fault, man, we were drugged." Steve frowned, guilt slapped across his features like a brand.

"So?" Dustin spat incredulously. "You resist! Tough it out like a man."

Veronica scoffed. Dustin wouldn't survive one second of Russian torture before he started crying out for his mom. "Oh yeah, it's easy for you to say- "

"Guys." Robin interrupted, grabbing onto as many arms as possible and stopping their march forward. "Look!"

At the doors out of Star Courts stood men in dark uniforms, asking people for their IDs as they left. Oh, shit.

"Abort." Dustin grumbled as a guard turned to look at them, his eyes widening in recognition. "Abort!"

Veronica didn't need telling twice. She scarpered back the way they came, only to find more guards, these ones carrying guns. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Erica swerved to the left and lead the group towards the escalators, but they were switched off for the night, sectioned off with gates. It was almost laughable. It was just one thing after another.

Robin barged to the front of the group and simply slid down the gap in between the two escalators, yelping as she flew down the smooth metal.

Well. That was one way to do it.

***

Sure, they'd gotten away for a moment, managed to evade the guards for a good few minutes, running rings around them. But, now, they were cornered like rats.

Hidden behind a pizza counter, the group huddled together, drowning out the spine-chilling sounds of the guards edging ever closer with the combined huffs of their heavy breathing.

They were going to die here. There was no getting out of this one. Everyone who could save them was already here, and even then none of them stood a chance against a machine gun to the chest or head.

Fuck. Veronica's eyes flicked up to find Steve's, his sad gaze already trained on her own. It couldn't end like this. She wouldn’t allow it. There was still so much they had to do, together, she hadn't even told, shown, him her secret, yet.

He deserved that, at least, a little transparency after tugging wool over his eyes for almost a year, now. And all the rest, getting him wound up in this massive mess all those years ago, not having had the balls to just get him gone and keep him gone.

After everything, she was still a shitty, selfish person, wasn't she?

Suddenly, a car alarm ripped through the gutting silence, echoing out from the red display car in the middle of the mall. Then, a mighty crash and shouts sounded.

Painful silence, bar the thundering of Veronica's heartbeat in her ears, stretched out for a few more stifling moments after that. Then Steve started shuffling, and the group shared a nod before peaking over the counter to look at whatever the hell had happened.

They couldn’t afford to waste time, right now. Hopefully, the coast would be magically clear and they could just book it right out of there.

Beyond the counter lay a discarded car, somehow on its side, and a group of Russian guards smacked down into unconsciousness amidst its path of destruction.

It was if someone had lifted the vehicle, and thrown the damn thing like a stone.

Veronica only knew one person who could do something like that.

Compelled by a pull in her chest, something gravitational she couldn't quite place, she looked up, her eyes landing on Jane, arm outstretched, behind the railing of the next floor.

Oh, thank fucking God.

Veronica almost fell as relief washed through her, her knees quaking under the sudden release of pressure in her body. Steve, as if sensing the shift, wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders, there for her as always.

Veronica sent him an appreciative smile, squeezing at his hand, before turning back to Jane.

Behind the girl stood the rest of the party, Max, Will, Lucas and Mike, and, to Veronica's relief, Nancy and Jonathan.

Finally, some more adults.

Whatever they were about to face next, because there was always more, at least they’d do it with a few more fully-developed brains on their side. It was almost exciting. The fight was back on.

Only, as the groups scarpered forward, racing down steps, tearing out from behind counters and over bodies, Nancy and Jonathan’s faces looked oddly grim.

Sure, they'd obviously gotten themselves wrapped up in their own mess, but, that wasn't it.

It was grief. Maybe not the crippling kind, but it was heavy all the same, greying their faces and darkening their steps.

When Veronica wrapped them both in a hug, the couple reciprocating, it felt sad. Oh, God. Veronica didn't like it. Whatever was weighing on them, she hated it. It felt cold and bad and painful.

What could have happened?

She sent them the silent question with the faltering of her expression, but Jonathan refused to meet her eyes, and Nancy just plastered on a smile, pretending everything was fine.

Veronica thickly swallowed.

Fine. If they wanted to be like that, then they could. She hardly had a leg to stand on when it came to getting angry at others over secret keeping, she was the worst for it.

So she just moved backwards and settled into Steve’s side, eyes flicking between the rugged members of the freshly arrived group.

They had some catching up to do.

Chapter Text

"Erica? What're you doing here?" Lucas asked, attempting to bring his sister into a hug only to be shoved away with a scowl.

Weirdly enough, he was dressed up like the Karate Kid. Veronica fought back a snort at the revelation, her mood softening slightly.

Whatever was so terrible with Nancy and Jonathan, it could wait. It had too. A breath of fresh air was beyond needed, Veronica's body riddled with a bone-deep lethargy. She could happily slip into a well-rehearsed routine, escape reality for a few, fleeting moments, if that was what was being offered up.

"Ask them, it's their fault." Erica pointed to Steve, Robin and Veronica, the latter pulled from her musings and back down to earth. Shit. The kid was right. Was Lucas going to be mad? They kind of had just put his sister's life on the line.

"True, yeah. Totally true." Steve huffed helplessly, seemingly accepting his fate, eyes cast down to the floor. "It's absolutely our fault. "

"Sorry," Veronica mumbled. It probably meant nothing, but at least she'd gotten an apology out. She wasn't about to bury her head in the sand, about this particular fuck-up of hers.

"I don't understand what happened to that car." Robin butted in, brows furrowed in confusion.

"El has superpowers." Dustin supplied simply.

Robin choked. "I'm sorry?"

"Superpowers." Steve repeated, as if what he was talking about wasn't totally mind-bending. "She threw it with her mind. C'mon, catch up."

"That's El?" Erica spluttered, pointing at Jane with wide eyes. Jane looked almost offended at the younger girl's indignation. What, was she underwhelming, or something?

"Who's El?" Robin asked dumbly.

Nancy cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," She started, batting her thick lashes, a dangerous smile stretching across her usually kind features. "Who are you?"

"I'm Robin. I work with Steve." Nancy nodded amicably enough, only to send Veronica a suspicious look.

Ah, shit. That was right; Nancy thought that Robin was flirting with Steve. Veronica just shook her head, waving a hand in front of her neck, attempting to call off her attack dog.

She now knew for sure that Robin would rather drop into a pit of snakes than go anywhere near Steve in that way, but how was she supposed to get Nancy off her scent? The girl was tenacious as hell, she wasn't going to just drop this. She was a journalist for a reason.

Still, Veronica appreciated the support all the same, she was lucky to have a friend as unwaveringly supportive as Nancy, even if she was a little too ready for a fight, sometimes.

"She cracked the top secret code." Dustin said.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, which is how we found out about the Russians in the first place."

"Russians?" Jonathan guffawed, as if it were the funniest joke he'd heard all year. When no one laughed, he frowned. "Wait, what Russians?".

Steve huffed in exasperation. "The Russians!"

"Those were Russians?" Asked Max incredulously, pointing at the unconscious men on the floor.

"Some of them" Erica said, simply shrugging.

Lucas frowned. "What're you talking about?"

"Didn't you hear our code red?" Waving the walkie in his hand for emphasis, Dustin looked at the rest of the party like they were stupid.

"Yeah." Mike answered sarcastically, arms crossed over his chest. "And couldn't understand half of what you were saying."

"Goddamn low battery." Muttered Dustin, eyes dropping to stare at his sneakers.

"How many times do we have to tell you with the low battery?" Veronica chastised, her hands settling on her hips. She and Steve were always onto the kid, about it. You'd think that given his tech-savviness he'd be all over it, but no, he liked being terribly forgetful, apparently.

"Yeah, well everything worked out, didn't it?" Dustin snarked, jutting his chin into the air proudly.

"Worked out?" Steve scoffed. "We almost died, man."

"Yeah, but we didn't, did we?"

It was then that Veronica caught Jane veering off from the group, a glazed look over-coming her features, steps slow. Her skin was shiny with sweat, blood flowing from her nose and onto her shirt. She looked terrible, far worse for wear than she had merely a minute ago.

Veronica frowned, moving to follow after the girl, her throat tightening. She looked sickly, pallid and a little green around the edges, as if she were about to vomit or collapse at any moment. Had throwing the car taken that much out of her?

"Honey? Hey, what's wrong?" Veronica asked, lifting her hands to pull Jane's arms away from where they'd risen to rest over her ears. Shit. She flinched away with a grimace; her skin was boiling to the touch.

Suddenly, Jane's feet fell out from under her, eyes rolling to the back of her head. Veronica caught her with a grunt, lowering the shaking girl to the ground. "Jane! Hey, a little help here!"

Steve appeared at her side, along with the rest of the group in tow, before she could blink, helping to lay Jane flat on her back as she started moaning in pain, teeth bared as she gritted through whatever boiling fury was ripping through her body.

What the fuck? This didn't usually happen when she overexerted herself, did it? She usually just passed out, or something, needed a bit of food- it was never this bad, right?

Veronica settled her hands on her shoulders, resting them there in support while Mike hollered at her. "El, El!? What's wrong?" He asked, swiping stands of sweat-slicked hair from the girl's forehead.

"My leg!" Jane whined, tears slipping down her cheeks. "S'my leg!"

Looking down, Veronica saw the girl's right shin bandaged, blood soaking through it and staining her yellow socks. Her mouth ran dry at the sight. What was under that dressing?

Jonathan sucked in a deep breath before tentatively raising his hands to the bandage, grimacing as he began to unwind it. Jane screamed at the movement, body writhing to escape from the excruciating pain.

"It's okay, hun, you gotta let him have a look." Veronica reassured, stroking Jane's cheek, eyes glued to the slowly emerging wound.

When Jonathan finally finished removing the soaked dressing, he lifted his arms, revealing a pulsing, twisting lump under Jane's skin, a deep gash spurting blood as whatever it was that was inside of her slithered around.

"Oh, oh my god." Veronica couldn't help but let out, looking away, yet another wave of nausea washing over her. The only thing that stopped her from chucking up was her empty stomach, nothing left inside to be expelled.

That hardly quelled the queasy feeling, though, a hand flying to her mouth as her chest spasmed. There was something under her skin. Could it get any grosser?

"K-keep her talking. Keep her awake, okay?" Jonathan rattled out before racing off somewhere, presumably to go and empty his stomach in private.

Veronica swallowed. She wanted to talk, she really did, but she couldn't. That vice was tightly wrapped back around her throat, words unable to squeak out. Mike and Dustin seemed to be taking care of that, though, reassuring Jane through it all as she continued to toss herself to and fro, nails digging into the hands that were trying to keep her still.

"Y'know, it's not actually that bad." Robin attempted to reassure, words flying out of her mouth at an insane speed. "This goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg, and like the whole bone came out of her knee, six inches or something, it was insane- "

"Robin." Steve interjected. "Not what we need right now."

The girl let out a nervous breath, cringing. "I'm sorry."

Jonathan rushed back over, a pair of plastic gloves and a knife in his hands. Oh, fuck. Whatever was inside of Jane's leg, he was about to cut it out. What the fuck was happening?

"Okay, El, this is going to hurt like hell." He said, settling onto his knees and pulling on the plastic gloves. "Need you to stay still for me, okay? Real still." The girl feebly nodded, tears and snot dribbling down her face. Veronica swiped away the fluids with a bitten lip, hating to see her hurt so much. She'd been through enough already, damnit, she didn't deserve this. "Here." Jonathan produced a wooden spoon and handed it to Mike. "You're gonna wanna bite down on this, okay?"

Mike held the handle of the spoon up to Jane's mouth, settling it between her teeth when she opened her lips.

Silence descended. Jane bit down. Johnathan began to cut.

Immediately it was too much pain for Jane to bare, the knife cutting through her impossibly tender skin, tearing her limb from limb. Regardless, Jonathan continued, his face red and stamped with horror, before discarding the knife.

He hovered his hand over the wound for a few tense seconds, before diving his fingers between the incision, attempting to rip out whatever was in Jane's leg.

A guttural scream ripped out of her at that, chesty and thick with tears. "Stop!" She screamed, "Stop!" Jonathan only kept going, routing his hand around under her skin, unable to get a grasp onto the thing. He couldn't get it. Fuck. How were they supposed to save her, like this? They couldn't take her to a hospital, they couldn't save her. "Stop! I can do it!" Jane screamed out, sitting up against all odds. "I, I can do it."

Blinking in shock, Veronica shuffled away, settling into Steve's side once again. She was so fucking tired. And grossed out.

Jane lifted a shaking hand, fingers curled into the air as she angled it down to her wound. Everyone watched on with bated breath as she gritted her teeth, hands shaking, channelling all her energy into trying to rip the thing from her leg.

She screamed out ear-piercingly, glass shattering around them, as a fleshy blob was yanked into the air. She held it there for a second, staring it down, before chucking it to the side.

It hit the floor with a sickening splat before trying to wriggle away. Veronica watched in horror as it made it a short distance, screeching as it went, until it was crushed under a thick, black boot.

Gasping, she dragged her eyes up the person's body, catching eyes with none other than a dishevelled, bloodied Hopper.

He was flanked by Joyce and... Veronica squinted. Was that Murray Bauman?

Chapter Text

November 1984

Billy awoke with the tap of a boot to his chest, thick soled and cold on the bare skin of his chest. Fluttering lashes, smacking lips, flying eyes- where the hell was he? He was lying on his back, looking up at a blurry, beige ceiling.

It was covered in scribbled drawings, each sheet of paper connected with reflective tape. Right. He wasn't at home. He'd been looking for Max.

Max. Where the hell was she?

"You awake, you little shit?" Came a deep voice. It sounded almost bored, certainly tired, and a little worn around the edges. The foot on Billy's chest prodded a little harder.

"M'awake." He drawled in response, attempting to sit up, only for the boot to press him further into the carpet. Billy blinked at the action, suddenly becoming a whole lot more lucid.

Fuck. Where the hell was he? What the fuck was happening?

He dragged his gradually clearing eyes up the leg of his captor, eventually finding Chief Hopper's searingly unhappy face.

Oh, shit. That wasn't good.

Had those two pussies really called the cops on him? Or was it Max and her kid friends?

Yeah, that was right, he was at the Byers' place, having pasted the ever living shit out of Harrington and his pretty lady-friend. Veronica Mason. There was something not quite right, with that girl. Something wild in the eyes. God job Billy beat it out of her regardless. Where was she? Knocked out next to him? Or walking around, that axe of hers in hand, ready to get some revenge?

"You put a girl in the hospital tonight, you know that?" The Chief drawled, and Billy finally zoned back into the room, eyes flying around as the situation came crashing down onto him.

He'd put Veronica in the hospital? Shit, that wasn't good. That was bad, real fucking bad. Neil would find out what he'd done, and do God knows what as punishment- hadn't Billy learned, by now? If you're gonna give anyone bruises, you need to hide them somewhere no one else will see 'em, not pummel them into the side of someone's head. Let alone a girl's. Fuck. He'd never hit a girl before.

He'd done a little more than just hit her, though, hadn't he?

Billy's vision swirled a little at that, his stomach twisting in boiling upset. He'd put her in the damn hospital. Had she gotten brain damage, or something? A stroke, after some bleeding on the brain? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Least you've got the conscience to look bad, about it." The Chief said, slowly releasing his foot From Billy's chest. Billy still didn't feel like he could move, pinned under the man's shadow and dark eyes. "You have any idea how bad this is, kid?"

Billy swallowed. There was no running from this. Behind the Chief was that Byers freak, Jonathan, and the Wheeler girl, who had a shotgun trained on Billy's face and enough hatred on her features to spell disaster for anyone foolish enough to cross her. In Jonathan's skinny arms was a kid, pale, sweaty, and in a hospital gown. Hovering at his side was a woman, frazzled beyond belief, and wielding what used to be Veronica's axe.

He was so fucking screwed.

"Yes, sir." Billy croaked, eyes flicking to watch as a girl with slicked back hair and dark eyeshadow entered the corner of his limited vision. Her face was neutral, despite stuffing her mouth with waffles.

Just what the fuck was happening? Why were there all these random kids? Why did everyone look like they'd just come back from a fucking war? Why were Harrington and Mason here in the first place? Armed to the teeth with a Goddamn axe, syringe, which Max had mercilessly knocked him out with, and a nail bat, which she'd swung at his balls, no less. Bitch.

"Well, it's your lucky day, 'cause I'm fuckin' tired." The Chief evened, sighing into the air. "Go back to the kitchen, El."

"I wanna see." The small girl with the crazy eye-makeup murmured. She pointed at Billy. "TV man."

"What?" Hopper gruffed, thoroughly unimpressed. El frowned. "I don't have time for this, alright? I need to sleep for a year, or something." His eyes dropped to Billy, and the boy felt his blood run cold. "You lay a fuckin' finger on anyone in the this town again, and I'll make time to deal with you, you understand?"

Billy nodded, then found his words when Hopper tilted his head expectantly. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I won't be any more trouble."

"Better not be." The Chief said. "Got enough shit on my plate as is. You, you uh, going home tonight, kid?"

Shit. Was he that easy to read? Or was the Chief just some kind of mind-reader, seeing straight through all of Billy's bullshit and straight into the ruined centre, where a small, beaten boy was curled into a ball, dreading the next hit. Billy could see it in Hopper's eyes, he knew what he was, because Hopper was the same- at least to an extent. Like recognised like.

"I'll drive Max home," Billy started, "then I'll probably drive off somewhere, get out of your hair."

"No." The Wheeler girl, Harrington's last sorry excuse for a girlfriend, said, eyes narrowing, her grip on the shotgun tightening. "Jonathan and I will make sure the kids get home safe. You need to fuck off. You mess with any of us again, and I'll make you pay. Understood?"

Swallowing, thickly, Billy nodded. "Fine. That's fair."

"True-fuckin' right it is." Hopper grunted, moving away on unsteady legs before flopping into a couch. "Now get outta here, before I let her shoot you."

Billy didn't need telling twice. He knew when he wasn't wanted.

***

January 1985

He tried to leave it alone, he really did, but it was all so fuckin' weird, he just couldn't.

That random girl, Wheeler with a shotgun, Zombie Boy in a hospital gown, Mason and her axe, Harrington trying to keep him out, and the Chief letting him off the hook.

Billy thought the whole thing was suspicious as shit.

That's why he was prowling towards Veronica, hands stuffed into his ass pockets, and feeling proud. He was about to get some answers.

She was sat in a plush, red booth, the seat opposite her empty after Harrington had fucked off somewhere, probably to jerk off to a photo of her, far too pussy-footed to ever confess his feelings.

Billy dropped into the empty seat, his eye's catching Veronica's startled ones as she looked up from a menu card.

"Long time no see, Mason." He drawled. "Face is looking better. Less like a horror movie."

"Yeah," the girl huffed, a certain calm descending over her. She looked cool as a cucumber. Billy knew for a fact that she was shitting herself on the inside; he was, too. She raised her immaculately plucked eyebrows, painted, glossy lips pouting. "Wonder whose fault that was."

"Not my proudest moment." Billy admitted, shrugging. "Dear old dad raised me better than that."

Veronica snorted. "Not sure I believe that. Bet he's been beating women since he could walk, just like you." She paused as if to think, tapping her red nails on the sticky table top. "When you fuck girls, do just spank them? Or do you punch, as well? It's gotta be the latter. Do you like it when they cry?"

"Shut the fuck up." Billy growled, fists clenching. Why'd this girl have to have such a smart mouth? He'd literally beaten the shit out of her, how'd she not learned her lesson? "I'm not here to talk about your fantasies."

"Cheap joke, you fucking loser. You've probably just come here to beat up more innocent girls. A cutesy, pink diner is a good hunting ground, I'll give you that much."

"That why you're here with Harrington? 'Cause he's such a little bitch?"

"What makes someone a little bitch?" Veronica asked, arching an eyebrow as she pretended to think. "Is it the guy that defends a group of kids and his girlfriend? Or the guy who beats up the girlfriend, the guy, and tries to beat up the group of kids?"

Billy paused. A wolfish grin spread across his face. "You're going out with Harrington?" He asked. "Let me guess, you asked him out. His balls are way to small."

"No, actually," Veronica said sardonically. "We passionately confessed our hidden romantic feelings for each other and then fucked in his car. Haven't looked back since." She gave him a funny look. "You looking a Steve's balls in the showers?"

Billy decided to pointedly ignore that last question. "And he's what, your second boyfriend?" He scrutinised, leaning forward. "You gonna kill this one, too? What happens when Stevie's eyes wander back to Wheeler- "

"You shut your damn mouth." Veronica hissed, frantically looking around the diner. Oh, shit. Had she really fucking killed him? Something in Billy got a little nervous, at that. The girl sighed. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, so drop it."

"I could." Billy said slowly. "If you told me."

Veronica squinted, perplexed. "Why the fuck would I tell you? If you don't like what you hear you'll just start trying to explode my skull, again."

This bitch. "I know you and Harrington and the rest of your gang were up to some weird shit that night, alright? Stop fucking avoiding it."

Veronica's lips settled into a flat line, something grim overtaking her features. "I know what this is." She said, eyes flicking around the space, looking for her shitty boyfriend, probably. "I know you're alone, and that you want in on something, and that you want us to forgive you, but it's not gonna happen, alright? It's not."

Billy blinked, then frowned. That's not what was happening. He was just fucking curious. Not desperate, or some shit. "You've got that all the way fucking twisted, got it?" He said. "I just wanna know what fucked up secret you fuckin' nerds are hiding, alright?"

"Sure thing, Hargrove." Veronica aired, apparently bored by the conversation's turn. She smiled as a plump woman in a pink maid get-up dropped a chocolate milkshake and tall coke at the table, waving her hand back and forth in dismissal when the new arrival looked at Billy in suspicion. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"That's the thing," Billy grunted, "I can't. What is it, a murder cult? A sex cult? I'd hope not, given all the kids."

"You're a fucking freak, you know that?"

"Forever and always, Mason."

A silence settled over the table at that, Veronica huffing out a breath, her eyes sliding closed. "I can't tell you, alright? " She said, her eyes suddenly boring into Billy's own. "And you've gotta trust me when I say you don't want me to."

"Sound's like bull."

"Well it's not, alright? I'm doing you a favour, for some fucking reason, so take it and fuck off."

Billy leaned across the table again, his elbows sitting in the middle of the table. "Don't think I can, doll- "

"Hargrove." Harrington's grating voice came, and Billy felt disdain flare in his chest. He looked up to find the guy, corny as ever, with his hands planted on his hips, looking down at Billy with a blazing gaze. Ooooooooo someone was angry. "Nice of you to join us."

"Don't know if I'd say nice, your girlfriend has been very unwelcoming. She's got some serious claws, doesn't she?"

Veronica grabbed onto Steve's arm, and dragged him over to her side of the booth, forcing him to sit next to her. He didn't seem fazed, eyes still locked onto Billy like he was some kind of ticking time bomb. Good, Billy thought, Harrington should be scared.

"I'm right here, you fucking dick." She bit, face scrunched in fury as she glared at Billy. " Now fuck off."

"You heard her, Hargrove." Harrington supported simply, pussy-whipped to the fucking eyeballs. God, it was disgusting. Billy had to fight off a grimace. "Leave us alone."

"Fine." Billy said, stealing some napkins as he rose to his feet. He'd have those for his car. "I won't ruin your frilly little date."

That didn't mean he wouldn't try and get his answers, though, that he'd stop his hunt. Now that he'd gotten a whiff, he was locked on like a bloodhound. He'd love to see these pussies try and stop him.

Chapter Text

"The Mind Flayer, it built this monster in Hawkins." Mike said blankly, eyes flicking from person to person, making sure they were paying attention. Veronica and Steve shared a perplexed glance. "To stop El, to kill her, and pave a way into our world."

"And it almost did." Nancy added. "That thing," she pointed to the flattened splatter of flesh that'd been in Jane's leg, "was just one tiny piece of it."

"How big is this thing?" Hopper asked, gruff as ever. He was holding Jane as she drifted in and out of consciousness, a cool, wet cloth pressed to her pink forehead. She'd never looked worse.

"It's big." Jonathan answered. "Thirty feet, at least."

Oh, Shit. Veronica gulped. That didn't sound good. Not at all. How was she supposed to kill something that big?

Lucas nodded. "Yeah. It sorta destroyed your cabin." He said, chucking Hopper a suitably sorry expression. The man only sighed. "Sorry," Lucas whispered.

"Okay, so, just to be clear, this... this big fleshy spider thing that hurt El, it's like some kind of gigantic weapon?" Steve mooted. Nancy nodded, perm tussling with the action. "But instead of like, screws and metal, the Mind Flayer made its weapon... with melted people."

What the actual fuck kind of insanity was this? Veronica could stand monsters, she could stand possession, but melting people together to make one big monster- one that looked like a gigantic spider, no less? If there was a God, he was one fucked up guy.

Then again, maybe this bastard creature came from a Godless place, only the most hellish creatures roaming it's barren, desolate lands. That sounded about right. Was this the apocalypse?

"Yes, exactly." Affirmed Nancy.

"Yeah, okay." Veronica nodded, entirely perplexed by the turn of events. Hadn't they defeated the Mind Flayer last year? And all of those people... melting. She swallowed down a gag. "Glad we're all on the same page."

"Are we sure this thing is still out there?" Joyce asked, a frown on her weathered features. "Still alive?"

"El beat the shit out of it, but, yeah, it's still alive." Max confirmed.

Will blinked, looking particularly nervous. "But, if we close the gate again- "

"We cut the brain from the body." Max afforded.

"And kill it. " Lucas finished. Then he grimaced. "Theoretically."

That sounded just great, didn't it? As if they needed any more uncertainty.

"Yoo-hoo!" Came a manic shout from somewhere in the echoey, empty mall. Veronica swivelled to find a near-naked Murray approaching, clad in only a weirdly yellow vest and uncomfortably short pants. "Yoo-hoo!" He hollered, waving papers in his outstretched, lanky arms.

What did he want?

Apparently, he, Joyce and Hopper had made a Russian friend, a scientist called Alexei, who'd drawn them a map of the Russian's underground base. 

The group huddled around as Murray  tried to explain it, pulling together some awful sounding plan to try and break into the hide-out. This was not going to end well.

"Where's the gate?" Hopper asked. He was wearing an uncharacteristically colourful shirt, some weird, pink and green, Hawaiian inspired mess. Veronica would have to take him shopping, after this. She wouldn't let him be caught dead, in that.

"Right here," Murray said, pointing to it's poorly drawn depiction. "I don't know the scale on this, but I think it's fairly close to the vault room. Maybe fifty feet, or so."

"More like five hundred." Erica sniped, stepping into the fray. God, this balls on this girl. "What, you're just gonna waltz in there like it's commie Disneyland, or something?"

"I'm sorry," Murray said, "who are you?"

"Erica Sinclair. Who are you?"

Murray blinked, thoroughly taken aback. "Murray... Bauman" He muttered.

"Listen Mr Bunman," Erica started. "I'm not tryin' to tell you how to do things, but I've been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect," she turned to face Hopper, pointing an accusatory finger at Murray. "You do what this man tells you, you're all gonna die."

Hopper frowned and Murray scoffed, chucking his hands up in disbelief. "I'm sorry, why is this four-year-old speaking to me?" He asked, gaudy glasses reflecting the mall's glowing lights.

"Um, I'm ten you bald bastard!"

Lucas gasped. "Erica!" He screeched.

"Just the facts!" She defended herself, shrugging.

Dustin sighed, also stepping forward. "She's right," he said, and Veronica had never been prouder. He was such a good kid. "You're all gonna die, but you don't have to." He pointed to Alexie's drawing. "May I?" 

"Please." Murray smiled toothily.

Dustin sat and pulled the diagram closer, pulling a pen from somewhere. "See this room here? This is a storage facility." He circled a blank room. That must've been where the Russians captured them. Fear tingled up Veronica's spine at the reminder of her kidnapping, unconsciously leaning into Steve's side. He wrapped a reassuring arm around her waist, kissing her hairline. "There's a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system. That will lead you to the base of the weapon. It's a bit of a maze down there, but between me and Erica, we can show you the way."

"You can show us the way?" Hopper drawled slowly, unconvinced. Veronica felt a pit of dread forming in her stomach. She was so screwed.

"Don't worry," Dustin smiled, " you can do all the fighting and the hero shit and we'll just be your... navigators."

Hopper pretended to think for a moment, eyes squinting at the ceiling. He dropped his head to look down at Dustin in faux belief. That was just mean. "No." 

***

"I cannot believe you two." Hopper grunted, pulling a gun from one of the unconscious soldiers and trying to reload it. Veronica and Steve shared a horrified glance, palms quickly growing slick with sweat. They were dead meat. "I mean, did you not think to maybe, I don't know, wait for me before you jumped into the secret Russian base? Let alone with the kids and..." He chucked a look back at Robin, who was obnoxiously laughing at Dustin as he rocked on a kiddie ride. "Her."

"We did try and call, okay, Hop?" Veronica said, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. Her head hurt like a bitch; she didn't need this right now. She wanted sleep, Steve, miles closer than where he stood, ramrod straight at her side, and a cosy bed to cuddle in. "A couple times. S'not our fault you didn't pick up."

"Yeah, well, I've been dealing with my own shit, alright?"

"Like what?" Steve asked simply, and Veronica could've collapsed. She'd learned when it was okay to strategically poke this man of a bear. Steve, obviously, had not.

"Like what, Harrington?" Hopper repeated, a vein appearing on his dirtied forehead. While not quite as bad as Veronica and Steve, he also looked like he'd been dragged through hell, his skin covered in small scrapes and gashes, muddied with dirt. "You got somewhere specific you want me to start, kid? Since you've got so many damn questions."

Veronica rolled her eyes. He was so dramatic. "He was just asking- "

"No, no, I'm happy to answer," Hopper sung. "I was meant to go on a date with Joyce, but then she stood me up- "

"Hold on!" Veronica raised a hand, her eyes frantic. Had she heard that right? No way. She couldn't have. "You and Joyce went on a date?!"

"Were meant to, kid," Hopper huffed. "Didn't actually happen."

"Well, why not?" Steve probed, suddenly interested. Anything dating related was his shit. If he could help the Chief out here, then he'd have to like him, wouldn't he? He could be his wingman.

Hopper let out a low grumble, turning away and muttering under his breath as he picked up a mag to reload his weapon with.

Steve shot Veronica a look. Should we ask him more?

The girl sighed, far too tired for any of this. She shrugged. Why the hell not?

"Why not, Chief?" Steve reiterated, flinging himself back when Hopper swivelled around to face him, anger stamped across his red face. Fuck.

"'Cause she was with Scott Clarke, alright? Asking that, slimy, gross, weasel of a man for help instead of me."

Steve nodded along eagerly, sucking in a deep breaths to ground himself. He could do this. He just had to get a handle his nerves, and he'd be all the way into the Chief's good books, a one way ticket to no more glares and possessive stare-downs every time they crossed paths.

He understood, Veronica was like the guy's daughter, or something, of course he was possessive. Steve would be the same, when his future daughters started getting in relationships. Hell, the thought already made him dizzy, something like anger tingling in his fingertips.

"You're with her right now, though, aren't you?" Steve asked, raising his eyebrows despite the pain in caused. Hopper squinted. "Joyce came to you when shit got real because she knew she could trust you, not Mr Clarke. You're the man, Chief, and Mrs Byers knows it."

Hopper scoffed, shaking his head. "That, your plan, kid? To win me over with flattery?"

"Just telling the truth, sir." Steve assured. He could feel Veronica's eyes burning into the side of his head, but he continued regardless. He had to do this. "I'm sure when this is all over, Mrs Byers would happily go out with you."

"Huh," Hooper said. He slid his eye's to Veronica's, and Steve was left in limbo. He didn't like that. Had he fucked up? "He like this with you? Always figuring out what to say so he doesn't get in trouble?"

Veronica shrugged, an adorable blush spreading across her cheeks. "He's a smart guy, Hop, I've been telling you- " 

Steve didn't hear the rest, focusing far too much on his palpitating heart. She just called him smart. No one had ever called Steve smart, before.

She was too good, for him.

"Yeah, yeah," Hopper dismissed, suddenly in a far lighter mood than he had been. He shot Steve a wink. Oh. Was that it? Had he done it? Was he in, finally having earned that stamp of approval? Thank God. "What the hell happened to you two, anyways? Everyone else in your little gang seems fine, while, you know..." Hopper gestured to his face, referencing their copious bruising.

Veronica sighed, hands settling on her hips. "We got captured." She said, and Hopper nodded grimly, his lips thin. The grip tightened around his gun, knuckles turning white. "They tried to torture info outta us, but, we held pretty strong."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "Until they bought out the drugs, anyways."

Hopper blinked. "What drugs?"

"It sounds stupid, but, it must've been like, truth serum, or something."

"You say anything important?" Hopper asked.

Veronica snorted. "Only Dustin's name and address. We were too busy being off our faces to think up anything else."

"That's still pretty important." Hooper deadpanned. "There could be soldiers at his mom's door right now, you realise that?"

Steve made a noise. "They're either all under us, or up here. And El took those guys out, so, I think Mrs Henderson's safe, for now."

"Let's hope so," Hooper said, voice low, back into business mode. "Else you two are explaining to the kid why he's got a dead mom."

Well, that was a bit extreme.

But, it was real. Very real. Just because it sounded bad didn't mean it couldn't happen. Veronica should've been used to that sentiment, by now. And yet, all her heart did was break, shatter into a thousand tiny pieces and scatter at her feet. She was so fucking tired of this. She was done.

All the death, destruction, all guilt; she couldn't do it anymore, all the pain. It was killing her, tearing her limb from limb, shaving at her bones, flaying her delicate skin. What a shitty way to live, stuck in and endless loop of monsters and fear and destruction.

God, she just needed out. She needed to get herself out of this fucked up town and somewhere clean, where ghosts didn't haunt her and monsters didn't roam. Somewhere untainted.

Was that really befitting of her, though? A woman with enough blood on her hands to stain a river red, and guilt heavy enough to labour her every step? She wasn't clean, so why should she try and get out?

She deserved this endless torture. 

And, far too wrapped up in Steve and his pretty hair, pretty face, compliments, trips, love, sex and devotion, she'd forgotten that. She didn't deserve happiness, or freedom, or purity. 

She deserved to be right where she was- tried, beaten half-way to hell, and longing for a kindness that she'd never really get- not truly. 

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asked, hands on her biceps, brown eyes sad. 

Veronica nodded silently, clamping her lips shut, far too worried over what horrors could stumble out of them, and leaned into his chest. Her ear pressed to his heart. It was beating strong, loud and worryingly fast.

She'd lied. But who cared, at this point. Neither of them were okay.

They'd just have to fix it when they had the time. When all of this was over.

Chapter Text

They were heading to Weathertop. Where the hell that was, exactly, Veronica had no clue. But, it was apparently where Dustin had set up his freaky, super powerful phone Cerebro.

At the demand of Hopper, Erica and Dustin would have to contact and direct himself, Joyce and Murray from above ground, and Cerebro was the only thing with a powerful enough signal, or whatever, to reach them down in the secret Russian base.

Veronica was just glad to be getting out of the mall. She'd been cooped up in there for far too long; the air was starting to taste stale, and a little like death. It was stomach churning.

She and Steve practically skipped out of the doors, the former with a dazzling pair of keys in hand. They were for a Cadillac, white and sleek, parked comfortably at the entrance. When Veronica asked Hopper when he'd bought such a fancy car, he responded that he hadn't. Huh.

Last time she checked, vehicular theft was a crime. But whatever. Desperate times, and such.

Steve let out a near orgasmic moan at the impressive car, salivating at the glowing sight. "O-ho man, now this, this is what I'm talkin' about!" He gushed, emphatic and adorable in his excitement. Maybe nerding-out was the proper term.

Veronica took a mental note to think about car accessories for his birthday, this year. Some new tires, or something. The Beamer could do with a bit of TLC- he'd had it years, at this point.

She still remembered when he first got it, a gift for his fifteenth birthday, an incentive to crack down at school and dedicate his time to something meaningful, that'd help him progress in life, apparently, like learning stick.

Mr Harrington hadn't been a very kind teacher. Sure, he made the time to come home and give a lesson once a week, have some precious father-son bonding time over a manly activity, but he wasn't very forgiving over mistakes.

Veronica always thought that was why Steve was so good at driving- not because he'd had great lessons or an accommodating learning environment, or even because he just had a natural gift, but because anything other than exceptional wasn't good enough.  He had to be great, or else.

Else meant getting grounded, the housekeeper sent in every night to make sure he was complying. It meant no groceries delivered or money left on the side.

That's where Veronica would come in, sneaking in through his bedroom window with a burger from Benny's and a box of fries she couldn't help but nibble on.

It was tough, sad, seeing Steve so small, hungry and alone, but it was simpler times. Veronica wished she could go back.

She'd live through all the trauma again, her parent's divorce, Steve's neglect, that terrible feeling of insignificance that came with being benched by your own family, if it meant avoiding all this monster shit.

But then she and Steve wouldn't be together. And Veronica didn't know if she could live without that, anymore.

Steve was in her bones, now, in her blood and in every cell, a little piece of him glued onto every piece of her, binding them together. That connection radiated a beating love, warm and gooey and tender. It balanced out all the mould on Veronica's soul, the grim, sick parts, the limbs that read betrayal and selfishness, the areas that needed to be chopped off.

Then again, maybe they'd have found each other regardless- she'd never fall in love with Jacob and he'd never fall in love with Nancy, and they'd be all for each other from the beginning.

That was a funny thought. A nice one.

Life worked in mysterious ways.

"'Todfather?'" Robin read out the interesting number plate, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Oh, screw Tod!" Steve hollered, hopping into the drivers seat. "Steve's her daddy now!"

Veronica choked, attempting to hide the sound as she cleared her throat, her face exploding in colour. Something stirred to life in her lower abdomen. Well, that was new. She'd have to unpack that discovery, later.

"Did you just talk about yourself in the third person?" She suavely asked instead, pointedly ignoring Dustin's undulating eyebrows and the teasing look he shot her. Little shit. What did he know about that kind of stuff, anyways? He was way too young for that.

"And did he just call himself daddy?" Erica said.

Steve was far too taken with the car to care, petting the matching white steering wheel. "Alright, where we goin'?" He asked, sliding the key into the ignition. Veronica tried not to look too hard at his hands, from her seat on the bench next to him. "Directions, Henderson, directions."

"Weathertop." The boy responded simply. He could be so stubbornly unhelpful, when he wanted to be.

Steve scoffed. "Yeah, I heard you the first time."

"Just drive!"

"Okay!" Steve shouted, turning the key and bringing the roaring engine to life. "Jesus!"

As always, he placed a hand on Veronica's backrest, anchoring himself there as he peered over his shoulder, reversing. Deciding that she could revel in the small blessing, she closed her eyes and dropped her head against his warm forearm.

She could steal that moment, right? They had a long night ahead of them, after all. She needed some incentive to keep going.

***

"Jesus, how far is this place, man?" The drive was not going well. Given Steve's inability to take directions, and likely concussion, it'd been a bit of a bumpy ride. Let alone the fact they'd been driving for what felt like fucking hours.

"Relax, we're almost there." Dustin dismissed from the backseat, squished between Erica and Robin.

A tense silence descended, at that, everyone either at their wits end or about to fall asleep. Veronica didn't really know which camp she belonged to, at this point. Everything hurt and she felt like she could scream- one more push in the wrong direction, and she'd explode.

"Suzie must be pretty special, huh?" Robin mooted amicably, a wonky smile on her face. "I mean if you built this thing and lugged it all the way out to the middle of nowhere to talk to her?"

Dustin shrugged. "I mean, no one's scientifically perfect, but Suzie's about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be." Awh.

"She sound made-up to me." Erica scoffed, looking to Steve and Veronica in the front. "She sound made-up to you?"

Veronica shook her head emphatically, hardly eager for another Dustin freak-out, right now. "No, no, she's definitely real." She said, shooting the boy a tight-lipped smile through the rear-view mirror. He only rolled his eyes.

"Why're you hesitating, Steve?" He asked instead, clearly eager for a fight.

"I'm- I'm- I'm not!" Steve spluttered, but Veronica could spy the uncertainty rolling about his eyes from a mile away. Did he seriously not think Dustin could get with someone? "I'm not! I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real."

Dustin hummed noncommittally, narrowing his eyes. Huffing, Veronica kicked at Steve's leg, shooting him a what the hell sort of look. He only shrugged, looking back to the road. Weird.

"Left, turn left!" Dustin suddenly screeched, piercing about every ear in a five mile radius.

Steve blinked, jaw bobbing open and closed as he looked around in confusion. "There's not a road here!" He shouted. And he was right. All that was to the left of them was a wooden fence. 

Oh.

This was going to hurt.

"Turn! Left!"

Steve shot veronica an apologetic look before swerving, careering off of the road and roaring towards the fence. Bracing her back against her seat, the girl screwed her eyes shut and waited for impact. This was insane.

It came with a massive bang and the familiar flinging forward of her body, the movement almost jolting her right back to that night. She pried her eyes open to escape from the dreadful feeling, finding them heading straight for a grassy hill. It was huge. There was no way they were getting up that. The car would lose all momentum.

"Henderson, where are we going man!?" Steve screamed.

"Up!" Came the boy's frantic response. Veronica wanted to know why they couldn't just get out and walk.

"We're not gonna make it!" Robin lamented.

"Yes we are!" Steve vehemently disagreed, smacking at the dash. "Come on baby, come on baby!" He encouraged, and Veronica had to swallow back even more confusing feelings, her face flushing once again. Why did he have to speak to his cars in such a sexualized manner? It wasn't good for her health.

Regardless of his reassurance, the car started slowing, before rolling backwards. Steve slammed on the breaks and groaned, giving the car a final smack before resting his forehead on the steering wheel. Veronica patted at his back in consolation.

"Guess the Todfather has its limitations." She said. 

Chapter Text

"Bald Eagle, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?" Dustin rattled down the line, a small walkie in his hand. He groaned at the endless static answer, tilting his head to the sky. "Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?"

They'd been at Weathertop for ages.

After scarpering up the hill and getting over the awe of Dustin's gigantic creation, Veronica's chest swelling in unspoken pride, they settled by Cerebro and started attempting contact with Hopper, Joyce and Murray. They'd had no such luck.

So, here they were, with Dustin on the line, while the rest of them waited around, patience wearing ever thinner.

Steve and Veronica had sat themselves a ways away from the rest of the group, wrapped up in their own little bubble of momentary reprieve before everything got bad, again. Before this mess opened its hungry maw and swallowed them back up, only to drop them back into a fight, demanding more and more from them and their broken bodies.

Veronica didn't know if she had all that much left to give, anymore. This was the third round, after all, the third God forsaken spin of battling interdimensional forces and putting her life on the line; the second round of falling into a false sense of security, the warm arms of normalcy, only to be ripped away and thrown into the cold and disgustingly familiar dance with death.

She was always ready for a fight, that blood-lustful want for revenge never quite quenched, in her heart of hearts, but even that was starting to wane, waver and buckle under a crushing weight starting to press on her chest.

It was desperation, that was fuelling her now, some animalistic dread at the situation towering over her that told her to hit back and run, get out before it killed her, too.

How cowardly.

The view from up here was impressive, at least. Veronica could see Star Court looming over the town, glowing in red, white and blue lights, Hawkins, shorter, flatter, and half as florescent, spread over the dark mess of trees and nature, and the endless night sky, dark, smattered with grey clouds, dotted with flecks of stars.

Still, nestled somewhere far from the horizon, swathed in the thicket of Mid-Western wilderness, it all looked so small.

And Hawkins was small; it made whoever's cruel choice it was to crack open a rift between reality and what should be make-believe here, of all places, all the harder to swallow. Such a tranquil, unsuspecting town didn't deserve to be split in half, like it had been, it deserved to keep on chugging along, a well-oiled machine, being the tired, quiet little slog that it was.

But, it'd been ruined. Part of Veronica was starting to think that she'd been ruined, too.

She buried herself further into Steve's side, warm and inviting, drawing her in deeper with a strong, amusingly hairy arm. Despite everything, he was still here. Still so Steve, in anything and everything he did.

Well, not despite everything, she still hadn't even shown him everything, yet, those telling scars on her stomach, bleeding betrayal in black blood. That meant he could still leave, turn on her and treat her like the traitorous, piece of shit, selfish bitch that she was. She didn't want that. She'd hate that.

She pulled Steve's arm from around her shoulder and grasped it between her arms, nuzzling into his shoulder.

What would she do without him? Where would she end up?

"Yes, I copy." Came Murray's static-riddled response. Veronica blinked, peeling herself away from Steve's warmth to look back at Dustin. Had she heard that right? Were they finally in contact?

"Call sign?" Dustin quickly asked.

A tired sigh rattled down the line. "Bald Eagle."

Dustin smirked. "Please repeat."

"Bald Eagle. This is Bald Eagle!"

Huffing out a quite laugh, Steve got back to his feet, pulling Veronica up with him- as if she was the one with the caved in skull.

"Don't give me that look, Sweetheart." Steve said, brushing Veronica's frazzled bangs from her forehead. He leaned forward and pressed his beaten and bloodied lips to the exposed skin, sickeningly supportive as always. "You took some serious hits, too."

Veronica snorted, shaking her head. She liked this, pretending everything was fine. Her gut stirred and her chest tightened, but she could ignore it for the return of that boyish glint to Steve's deep eyes, that smile, albeit a sad one, on his lips. He could pretend, too. "I'm worried about you, your poor brain's gotta be mush, by this point." 

"That your way of calling me dumb?"

She shook her head softly, looking to the side as a teasing smile cracked across her lips. "I wouldn't say dumb..."

"Hey!" Steve guffawed, pinching at her side. Veronica shrieked, a laugh tearing out of her. "Just 'cause you qualified for college and I didn't." He sighed, wrapping his arms around her, dropping his chin to the top of her head. "Smart girl. What did I do to deserve you, hm?"

"Oh, I don't know," Veronica sung. "You've only saved my life more times than I can count, are always there for me, for the kids. You're cute, hot, kind, sexy, my best friend- "

Steve huffed, tightening his grip. "Yeah, yeah," he said. A silence stretched after that, and Veronica didn't know whether or not to break it. Steve quickly fixed that problem for her. "We, we gotta talk, Ron."

Veronica's heart had never dropped so fast. That weird feeling in her stomach spread like ice over a rapidly freezing lake, gripping her limbs, rooting her to the floor, turning her solid and cold. She gulped. "We gotta talk? What does talking mean, Steve?"

He sighed, something like pain breaking out across his features as he pulled away to stare down at her. Why was he doing this? Why now? They were supposed to be pretending. "I, I cant ignore it anymore, okay? I can't pretend."

Oh, what the fuck was happening? Her eyes grew to the size of saucers, that ice in her veins melting into burning molten. "Can't pretend? Pretend what? You're not making any fucking sense- "

"I can't pretend that everything's okay! That, that we're okay." He interrupted, face turning determined.

This couldn't be happening. She must've been hearing wrong. 

Steve didn't do this. Never. Not with Nancy, when she was worried half to death over Barb and almost killing herself over the girl's death, not when Veronica woke up screaming from another nightmare.

Steve always cuddled, always kissed and wiped away tears. But then he'd shove it down, forget about it once the tears subsided and the sniffles stopped. He never asked, he didn't want to know, and neither did Veronica. They were pretending, indulging in one of the few good things in their miserable lives, and that was okay. It was the right choice- because the other path meant no more Steve and Ronnie, it meant Steve leaving her behind and looking for someone good, someone better, for him.

Shit, why was he ruining it?

Didn't he want this, anymore? Did he know?

Veronica frowned. She wasn't about to let this go easily, let him go. She needed him, like she needed fucking water. "What's so wrong with us, then?" She asked gruffly. "'Cause from where I'm standing, we're pretty good. We are fucking good. We're there for each other, we make each other happy- "

"That's it!" Steve exclaimed, eyes pleading. "Please- don't- I'm not saying anything bad-"

"You said we're not okay. That you're pretending." She offered grimly, voice low, lips pursing around the painful words. "That sounds pretty damn bad."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Steve rattled out, hands flying. "You're right, we, we do make each other happy, so, so happy. The best part of my Goddamn day is waking up next to you, Ron." He suddenly paused, eyes fluttering closed, sighing.

"But what." Veronica gritted out.

"But you're not happy." Steve almost whimpered, and Veronica felt the world falling away around her. She felt Steve falling away from her, a divide in the Earth separating them, an aching, tender, unbreachable wall growing at their feet. He'd seen through her. Like fucking glass. "Sure, you have your moments, when you forget and everything's good, for once. But then it grabs you, again." He sniffed, steeling himself. "He grabs you."

This had to be a nightmare. It couldn't be real. This was never supposed to happen.

She wasn't about to engage with this, though, even if it were actually real. She couldn't. They just needed to keep pretending, get through this fucking mess, and everything could go back to being fine. She'd go back to waking up in Steve's bed, their bed, cocooned in his warmth, his smell, his protection, before rising and going through her boring day, and returning back to him, her safe space. 

She sighed, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself. "I don't know what you're taking about."

"Ron," Steve plead, darting a hand forward to grasp at her. She flung herself back, eyes dark. He looked like someone had kicked him in the gut. He frowned. "Ron, please-"

"Hey lovebirds!" Robin hollered, breaking the couple from their soul-crushing talk. "We're in!"

"Yeah?" Veronica asked, voice wavering. She swallowed, and refused to spare Steve a glance before wandering over to Robin.

Regardless of the fact that Veronica absolutely could not talk about what Steve was dredging up, she didn't have the time too. They were still in the fight, slap-bang between monsters and Russians, God damnit. How dare he try and compromise her now, shift her attention, take her eye off the ball, when the whole world was at stake?

She saddled up next to Dustin and shot him a beaming smile. She needed to pretend, some more, until she was back at Steve's, and could lock herself in a spare bedroom and cry. Because, apparently, not even he was safe, anymore. He wouldn't let her cry without questioning her, this time. "Well done, Dusty!"

"Don't call me that!" He screeched, batting off the supportive hand that tried to pat at his shoulder.

"Just take the compliment, man." Steve said, ruffling Dustin's hair under his hat.

Veronica could feel his eyes burning into the side of her throbbing skull, but she ignored them. If she returned his gaze, she'd break. His stare would cut straight through her, flay her every truth from lie, and lift her shirt and reveal her dreaded secret with the bat of eyelashes.  

"Scoops Troop this is-" Murray's voice suddenly shot through the night, everyone turning their ears to Cerebro. Veronica was about to get whiplash. A groan sounded down the line. "Bald Eagle. I've reached another junction."

"This is what?" Dustin asked Erica, flipping through some pages in his lap.

"The fourth junction." Erica responded quickly.

"Alright, so if memory serves, this is right after the My Little Pony thesis."

The what?

Erica nodded. "We went West, so he has to go right." 

"Fly right, Bald Eagle, fly right!" Dustin shouted into his walkie, giving a begrudging Erica a high-five.

"Roger that, flying right."

Steve started wandering away, stopping around where they'd been sat. Veronica's eyes couldn't help but follow his form, eyes trailing up from his exposed legs, to his slim waist, to his broad shoulders.  

God, he was gorgeous. And meddlesome. Annoyingly so. And good. Why couldn't he just let her rot, in it all? Was it that hard for him to just leave her?

How long had this been eating at him, causing him stress?

Shit, she really was selfish .

"Hey, guys!" He suddenly shouted out, voice laced with something sounding suspiciously like fear. 

Veronica frowned and hopped to her feet, racing to his side. Once there, overlooking the town once again, she could see Star Court's familiar glowing lights. only this time, they were flashing, blinking in and out. Just like when the demogorgan was near.

Fuck.

"Griswold Family, this is Scoops Troop! Do you copy? Over!" Dustin started screaming into the radio, desperately trying to contact the others back at the mall. Everyone was still there- Jonathan, Nancy, Jane, Max, Lucas, Mike, Will, Hopper, Joyce and Murray, and they were all in danger. Here, stuck on Weathertop, they were powerless to help. And Veronica fucking hated it. "Griswold family, I repeat, this is Scoops- "

Unmistakable gargles and clicks crackled down line, what could only have been the Mind Flayer screeching through the static and piercing everyone's ears.

Veronica looked to Steve, their eyes locking.  

They needed to get there. Fast.

Chapter Text

There was no way this was a good idea. Shit, it was a fucking terrible one.

But the Cadillac and the Camero had pretty long noses, right? Surely, when they hit each other, well, rammed into each other at what couldn't be any slower than sixty miles per hour, they'd just spin right off of each other. They had to. Else, Steve, Veronica, and Billy were about to become roadkill- flatter than pancakes and beyond recognition, kind of roadkill.

Because there he was, Billy Hargrove, bronze, sweat-slicked skin riddled with black veins, perm loose and wet, blue eyes shinning, a smirk on his face, behind the wheel of his beaten-up car, about to plough right into Nancy and the kids.

The girl had balls, Veronica had to give her friend that, but in the fight between a pistol and roaring muscle car, the odds were seismically unbalanced. So why was she just standing there, letting off round after round? It was suicide.

It didn't matter all that much, though, because before Billy could get close enough, Steve somehow accelerated the Todfather impossibly faster, Veronica screwing her eyes shut, fingers digging into leather, sending the screaming vehicle straight into Billy's own.

Thank God for seatbelts. Without them, Veronica and Steve would've soared right through the windscreen, ending up sprawled out on the tarmac, leaking blood and gore, just like Billy had.

Fuck.

She didn't hear him land with a splat, or a crunch, she just watched as his beaten windscreen lost its battle against his catapulted body, scraping across grit and stones as it hit hard ground. And then he was still. Statue so. An arm bent here, a bleeding shin there, black blood pooling beneath him. 

Holy fuck. They'd killed him. They must've done. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

That wasn't supposed to happen. 

She and Steve were just supposed to race in, pick up Nancy, Jonathan and the kids, and get the hell out. But now they had a dead body on their hands. A dead Billy Hargrove, of all people.

What the hell was he even doing here? She hadn't told him a lick about the Upside Down for a reason, to keep him away. He was trouble, and had a shit enough life as it was, he didn't need to involve himself in monster fighting on top of that- yet there he was, getting colder, inching further into the grave, the longer she stared at his stagnant body.

The body she'd had a hand in ripping life away from. For the second Goddamn time.

The flickering fire light from his burning engine danced on his shining skin, an illusion of life. But she knew what a dead man looked like, whether he only had one foot in the grave or both, and she was staring right at one.

"Fuck, Ron." Steve moaned, coughing at the smoke rising from the Cadillac's engine. "You okay?"

At first she just nodded, unable to rip her eyes away from Billy, then she sucked in a breath through her tight lungs and smiled.

If she dwelled on it, if she kept on looking, she knew Billy's body would morph into a smaller one, thinner and less muscled, hair shortening to something smarter. It'd turn into Jay.

"Yeah," she croaked, sharp rocks tearing apart her throat. "You?"

Steve hummed, frantic eyes looking everywhere but Billy, before landing on Veronica. His face was drowned in the red light pouring from the mall. "Yeah, Yeah." He said uneasily, voice shaky. "Let's go check- "

Before he could finish, a terrible roar sounded. It rumbled through the floor and up into the car seats, standing Veronica's hair on end and shooting dread down her spine. That wasn't a demogorgan. That came from something bigger. Way fucking bigger.

Feeling like a bucket of ice had just been dumped over her head, she turned to face the mall. What felt like mini-earthquakes started pulsing through the ground, reverberating through her bones. What the fuck was she about to see?

The Mind Flayer looked like what you'd expect from a monster made of melted bodies. It was gory, with barely any glimpses of flesh peaking through a layer of viscera, blood and plasma. Brown liquid dripping from it in bubbling clumps landed on the concrete below with sickening splats, a particularly large blob of it narrowly missing Nancy's now revving car. 

It was perched on the roof, as if looking down at it's prey before striking, all eight of its legs wound at the ready. 

Veronica couldn't tear her eyes away. It was huge, impossibly so, and stank of something like burning plastic and meat. The odd human leg or arm jutted out if it's lithe form, obviously not fully incorporated, twitching and seizing. Those were people, lives stolen.

"Get in!" Jonathan screamed, Nancy's car slamming to a halt at Steve and Veronica's side. She hadn't even noticed the car move. She was too entranced, eyes locked on the creature, blood roaring in her ears, as it simply stood, watching.

Until it didn't.

It moved before she could blink, scarpering down the building on its bounty of legs and racing over to the car.

"Get the fuck in!" Jonathan screamed again, Lucas, Will and Nancy slamming on the windows, shouting, urging the couple to move.

But Veronica couldn't. She was frozen.

How the fuck were they supposed to kill this thing? They had no chance. It was too big, too domineering. They were going to lose-

Steve grabbed her arm before she could stall any longer, dragging her along as he raced to the rear of the car, the kids already having tossed open the boot for them to crawl through. 

Only, Veronica's eyes caught some movement by Star Court's entrance. Her eyes narrowed. She pried her arm free from Steve's grasp with a shout.

It was Max, Jane, and Mike. 

Oh, God, they were about to leave them behind. They were going to leave the kids behind, defenceless and alone, with that thing, with Billy.

Veronica frowned, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She could feel Steve tugging on her, trying to tackle her into the car, hounding pleas into her ears. But she didn't hear them. She wriggled out of his hold, already slacked thanks to his injuries, and stepped forward.

She couldn't leave them behind.

It'd kill her.

She started running.

Flying past the wrecked cars, past Billy's suddenly outstretched arm, and straight under the stomping legs of the Mind Flayer, she slammed into the kids. She gathered them into her arms with a relieved whimper, chucking a look behind her. 

Nancy had already slammed on the gas, her Ford careering off, out of the car park, the creature hot on her tail. Steve was nowhere to be seen, and everyone else had been in the car. It was just her and the three kids.

And Billy.

He groaned, coughed, and sniffed, hacking up some bile as he writhed helplessly on the floor.

"Oh my God," Veronica moaned, eyes locked onto him. "Shit, you guys stay here, alright? I gotta-"

"No!" Mike and Max screamed, their hold on Jane wavering as she jolted in their arms.

"That's not Billy." Mike said. "It's him. It."

Veronica's heart stuttered. She bit back a gag. "What?"

"The Mind Flayer, the hive mind, it's in Billy!" The boy shouted, eyes wide in horror. She'd never seen the kid so petrified. "So unless we move, he's gonna fuckin' kill us!"

Jesus Christ. And here she was, hoping and praying that her day couldn't get any worse. But there was always one more fuck you from the world, just waiting for her to find and break apart, over. 

"Would've appreciated the heads up!" She screeched, herding the kids behind her as Billy began to clamber back to his feet, grunting, tears streaming endlessly from his eyes. "Run, then!" Max and Mike blinked, eyes darting to Jane. Veronica groaned, and pulled the girl into her arms, strength waning under the added weight. "I've got her, go!"

The kids didn't need telling twice, darting back through the side gate they'd emerged from. Veronica chucked one final look behind her, finding Billy hobbling towards them, before she joined them in running.

Jane was heavy in her arms, whining under the jolts and jerking movements, but Veronica didn't care. All she scared about was that the kids were safe, that she'd protected them. 

Her track record against Billy was hardly stellar, but one pair of adult arms against the man was better than none. So she'd do her job, give everything that she had for them. Even if it was the last thing she did.

She didn't like that thought.

Her longer legs quickly caught up with the kids. "Run!" She shouted as she weaved past them, darting through backrooms and corridors. The lights were flickering off of the white, sanitised walls, and the air was hot, suffocating. She heaved in deep, guttural breaths, blinking through a wave of nausea, groaning as her stomach rolled.

She had to protect them.

Steeling herself, she barged through a closed door, legs spinning to keep on moving, only to realise she'd led them to a dead end. 

No. She couldn't have. Her heartbeat stuttered. She span on her feet, eyes darting from wall to wall. There was nowhere else to go. The only way was back.

Max and Mike joined her a second later, chests rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide, pupils blown. A beat passed.

"You led us to a dead end!" Mike screamed. "You stupid-"

"I didn't mean too!" Veronica near sobbed, kneeling to lower Jane safely to the floor. There was only one way out of this. She had to face Billy. She swallowed and looked to Max. "Keep an eye on her okay? I'm gonna try talk to him."

"That's suicide!" Max plead, tears teetering on her pale lashes. "I-I've already tried! Ronnie-"

"Max," the older girl breathed, raising a hand. She was going to die, here. Or, not. Probably not. The universe liked keeping her around for all of this torture, it's personal punching bag. "There's no other option here, alright? Either I try and beat some sense into him or we all get pasted."

"You're not gonna beat him!" Mike hollered, Jane clutched tightly to his chest. "You couldn't last year, and you won't now-"

Veronica stood and slammed to door closed to the room before Mike could continue. She didn't need to hear that, right now. She needed a clear head, not misery-riddled thoughts. Otherwise, she really wouldn't stand a chance.

Billy rounded the corner at the end of the narrow hallway. He still looked dead, days of lack of blood his extremities purpling them, his veins blackened thanks to the Mind Flayer. It wasn't even Billy she was facing, right now, just some invader in his body. An alien, something otherworldly and sick.

She didn't know whether that was reassuring, or not. 

"Billy," she started regardless, pleading with that tiny flicker of life dancing behind his black eyes. "You still in there?"

The body blinked back at her, eyes narrowing, head tilting. It was sizing her up. Then it's legs started powering forward, big, white-knuckled fists clenching. Oh, oh no, no, no, no.

"Shit," Veronica breathed. "Billy, Billy please." Nothing. The body just continued stomping forward, faster and faster, closer and closer, a wave of freezing air barrelling towards her, weakening her knees. He wasn't stopping. Her hands flew forward, bracing in front of her body, a feeble attempt at keeping him away.  "Billy, your sister's in there, please don't-"

A fist slammed into the side of her face, knocking the wind from Veronica's chest and sending her straight to the floor. Her skull exploded in a blinding pain, wobbling on her neck aimlessly as it bounced harshly off of the linoleum floor.

Billy was strong, but he wasn't this strong, inhuman, the strength of ten men packed into one shaking fist. Billy was gone. All that was left was the Mind Flayer-

Before Veronica could finish her thought, a boot shot into her stomach, then her face, and her world faded to black. 

Chapter Text

Summer 1985

Karen Wheeler had been watching him. Billy didn't particularly mind, she was an attractive woman, if not a little old for his tastes, but he'd had worse chasing after him, before.

She'd lounge by the pool all day, coquettishly batting her lashes, sunning her miraculously slender legs, working on that fashionable tan. It was awesome. It was just what Billy needed. A way back in.

He'd steered clear of Harrington, his murderous girlfriend and their freak gang for the most part, hardly eager to earn another threat against his ability to reproduce, but that did little to quell his hunger, his eagerness for answers.

Maybe it was like what Mason had said; Billy just wanted to be involved in something, in the know, part of their fucked up little family.

Could you blame him? Between his shitty home life, and arguably worse social life, he was practically dying from boredom, begging for something to give, a dam to break and for this weird, shit-hole town's secrets to spill right out, washing over him and giving him something finally fucking interesting.

And here Karen was, a match, ready to be lit and casted into a pile of dry sticks and leaves, ready to blow this case right open.

***

Karen, in a move surprising to no one, had been all over him. Billy, almost, felt a little into it. Then he reminded himself what he was gunning it down the dark, forest-lined roads for- answers. Not for fun. It just so happened that he could have fun whilst getting his answers. It was an uncommon and frankly blessed turn of events. He didn't get many of those.

The radio was on, the window was down, hot, summer breeze tousling his curls, and he didn't care, he was free. Or, close as he could get, in Hawkins. No one was around to bother him, no one was there to ruin his high. It was a sacred moment. He took another, long drag of his cigarette and smiled.

And then he hit it. What exactly it was, exactly, Billy couldn't tell, but it cracked his baby's windscreen and sent him spiralling off of the road, narrowly avoiding a line of thick trees as his hands span on the wheel. Then he slammed into the side of some abandoned building, anyways, and that just about ruined his mood.

Stupid piece of shit car. He didn't know how, but it should've tanked whatever they'd hit, not span out of control like some hunk of junk. He didn't drive shit cars, why did this one have to sabotage him now, of all nights?

Staggering out of the Camero, he grunted, supporting himself on the open door as his vision swam. Shit, he'd hit his head, rivers of blood dribbling down the side of his face. How was he supposed to get info out of Karen like this? He probably looked insane.

He rounded the front of the car, standing at the end of it's long nose and looking at the shattered, gooey mess that used to be a windshield. What the fuck?

Billy dipped two fingers into the sticky mess, muttering to himself in confusion. What the hell had he hit?  A fucking fish? A slime monster?

Before he could think another absurd thought, he was dragged to the floor.

His head hit the gravel with a dull thud as he hollered in shock and pain, something wrapping tightly and his ankle. It dragged him into the abandoned building kicking and screaming, nails scraping against concrete, flesh torn by rocks.

***

Veronica was having the best sleep of her life. That's what it felt like, anyways, wrapped up in her thick, winter duvet set, oblivious to the outside world with her headphones firmly on. She'd needed it, after her tough day of sticking gum on Carol's jumper and drawing dicks on her English work. The life of a thirteen year old was hard.

Bonnie Tyler had lulled her to sleep, the thoughts of her very own hero fuelling her sweet dreams. 

He was broad shouldered, and had flowing brown hair. He looked like something out of those nerd comic books, with a baseball bat raised triumphantly above his head, a slain monster at his feet. Smirking, he turned to face her, a pair of sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

Veronica would bet her left foot that they were beautiful- warm, chocolate pools of kindness and heroism, shinning with the reflected flames of destruction burning around them. He was perfect. Even if he was wearing yellow cleaning gloves, for some reason.

His Nikes, once white, now scuffed, covered in grime and blood, ambled to her side. He dropped to a knee, extending a hand out for her to grasp.

Veronica stared at it slack-jawed, blinking up at him as a blush spread on her small cheeks. 

"Take it." He said, nodding to his outstretched hand, a comforting smile growing on his face. This close up, he looked kind of familiar. "I've got you, Ron."

Ron. Only one person called her that, really. 

Steve.

Oh, her hero was Steve. That was weird.

Steve was fun, and her best friend, probably, but he was stinky, and farted when she wasn't looking. He wasn't a hero. And he wasn't this old, either, this tall, suave and deep-voiced. This wasn't her Steve. This was someone else's. 

Suddenly, he flung his arm back, suspending his hand high in the air. His thick brows furrowed and his pretty lips downturned. "Wake up!" He shouted, shocking Veronica to her core. She gasped and flung herself back, but Steve only crowded over her, slamming a hand onto her chest and pinning her to the floor. She cried out, scratching against his face and shoving at his chest. But he was too heavy, too strong, too scary-

"Wake up!" He shouted again, voice barely making it through the loud ringing in her ears. Grunting, he brought a palm down onto her cheek with a painful slap, thunder clapping somewhere in the distance.

***

And then she was awake. 

Sucking in a tight breath, she spluttered on the blood pouring down the back of her throat and out of her nose, burning pain flaring all over her face and behind her eyes. Her vision swam, a dizzying picture of blinding white light and petrified faces. 

A spindly body ducked out of the way, all thin limbs, narrowly avoiding a shower of the red liquid with a shriek. Veronica didn't care, couldn't care, far too caught up in choking her way back to a clean airway. But she couldn't, there was just too much blood and everything hurt so fucking bad, she felt like she was choking, she couldn't get in any air, her nose was blocked, she was going to be sick, she couldn't breathe-

A small hand started smacking her on the back, a female voice supporting her.

"You're okay, you're okay." The voice said, smacking Veronica's back over and over, harder and harder, until finally the blockage gave, thick, clotted blood smattering onto the linoleum. Heaving in blissful, guttural breaths, the fresh, cold air sank into Veronica's blood filled stomach, churning the aching pit.

Oh, that didn't feel good.

Grumbling under her breath, she wobbled back onto unsteady feet, shaking fingers scraping at the wall for support, hobbling a few steps away to vomit in as much privacy as she could scarper up. 

The red mixture burned as it billowed out of her screaming throat and past numb lips, flopping onto the floor and marring the sanitised surface. 

With that, she let out a moan, swiping at her grossly split lips, the skin of them torn and shredded from the boot that'd shot into them. 

That was right. Billy. He'd gotten her. 

Her stomach sank. What about he kids. The kids she was meant to protect. Jane, Max and Mike. Did he get them?

With all the grace of an elephant, Veronica span, uncooperative eyes blinking in an attempt to decipher the blobs of colour carefully approaching her. 

"Ronnie, it's- it's Max and Mike." The female voice said, and with a particularly fierce blink, Veronica could see that it was.

Max looked petrified, her gorgeous blue eyes shinning in an indescribable anguish, thin lips quivering. Mike, on the other hand, looked expertly blank, something empty having overtaken him since her last wave of consciousness.

Veronica hummed, leaning to rest her weight against the wall. She'd taken too many beatings. She had to, have. Her ears were ringing, her lips could barely purse to form any words and her fingers and toes tingled. 

She tried scratching at the skin around her nails, reigniting that grounding flare of pain, but she could barely feel a thing. There was just lots of heat, lots of blood, then, reaching every point of impact that it could, keeping her body moving even if it didn't want to.

Did that mean she had a strong heart? She liked to think so.

Her body, on the other hand, was weak. It was giving out on her, barely holding purchase against the wall, ready to collapse. Her mind was a weak thing, too.

She wallowed thickly. "Jane." She grunted. "Where-" a shot of pain stabbed through her skull, the knife sinking into flesh and bone somewhere by her left ear. She bit through it, baring her teeth, sucking in hopefully healing air. "Jane?"

Mike's fists clenched. "Billy took her." He revealed, and Veronica almost crashed back to the floor. No, no, no, no, no. He couldn't have. It was Veronica's job to keep her safe; she couldn't handle a failure that monumental. Jane could be dead, she could've been taken to scientists, the Mind Flayer- "So either knock back out so we can drag you with us or start moving, because we need to find her."

Veronica blinked, gulping. That was okay. She could handle that tone. She'd failed, after all, and right now she was just dead weight, stopping the kids from finding their friend, dragging down the operation. 

She shook her head, painful as it was, and flicked her hand to the end of the hall. "Go find 'er." She grumbled, sighing as she slid down the wall. She was in no shape to move anywhere, quickly. "Quick. She's... she's counting on you."

She'd been counting on Veronica.

Max rolled her eyes and stomped forward, grasping onto one of Veronica's wrists and yanking it along as she trudged back down the hall, Mike scarpering to follow suit. Veronica couldn't help but yelp at the action, her head lolling as the sudden movement rocked it. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong.

"No friend left behind." Max aired, staring straight ahead, eyes burning with determination.

They were going to find Jane. Together.

***

They reached the centre of the mall faster than Veronica thought they would. Or, that was just her waning consciousness play tricks on her, a flickering flame that was determined to keep on fluttering in and out, bating her with sight and vision and feel only to strip it all to black, again.

Suddenly, Max dropped her hand like a hot iron, a scream ripping out of her tiny body. "Billy!" She cried, trainers squeaking against the floor as she tried to run forward.

Veronica grappled onto her, however, all instinct, dragging her to the floor and bringing the girl into her chest. She didn't know what was happening, over the wall they were hidden behind, but it didn't sound good, not at all.

It sounded like a battle. A scream here, a holler there, the odd explosion of... were those fireworks? 

Peeking over the brick, Veronica saw it. The Mind Flayer. 

A final firework landed on it, pink and green, charring it's disgusting body as it screamed. But it did little to stop it's charge forward, rampant and angry, towards Billy.

Despite the rumbling ground and nearing set of snapping teeth, the boy was standing over Jane, face fierce, eyes flaming. He was protecting her. He'd broken through.

God, how much of what he'd done, what that thing had done, was he awake, trapped inside, to watch helplessly unfold? Fists slamming against an unbreakable wall of glass, his body a puppet, a weapon of war, an instrument of destruction, while all he could do was observe.

That was a fate worse than death. 

"Let me go!" Max screamed, thrashing wildly in Veronica's hold. "Let me go! I, I need to get to him!"

"No!" Veronica roared, watching as a tentacle darted forward from the Mind Flayer, claws at the limbs end, only to be caught by Billy. His feet slid back, and his lips snarled, but he pushed back, forcing it to shrink away.

Before Veronica could watch any more, an elbow flashed into her vision, catapulting straight into her nose. The hit sent her flying back, her hold on Max loosening in shock.

No. She couldn't let Max watch. She couldn't let her see Billy die. That'd only make the guilt worse, that proximity to the death all the more closer, the plunge of a knife into her chest a fraction deeper; far more lethal. 

But Veronica's body couldn't move, and her vision was swimming again, the shattered, glass ceiling exposing the night sky. 

A shooting star darted across the dark canvas. Veronica's eyes fluttered closed before she could make a wish.

Chapter Text

Veronica was in hospital again.

Even before she opened her eyes, she knew. It was the smell, sanitary and sterile, purely chemical. It was the rough paper gown they'd put her in, the brush of a donated, knitted blanket under her heavy arms, scratching against her skin and ringing alarm bells in her foggy mind.

Or was that the beeping of the heartbeat monitor, monotonous, boring, yet sharp, sinking into her ear drums like a hot knife through butter. She was vulnerable, fallible, like this.

Anything could happen here. Anything could get her.

Only, when she pried her crusted eyelids open, all her dry eyes spied was Steve- folded halfway onto her cot, head resting on folded, blood-covered arms. His hair was messed beyond anything she'd ever seen before, his hairspray having lost all hold, the unruly, thick swathes sticking up in every which direction.

It'd be cute, had the circumstances been different, were she in for a case of the flu, or something. But that wasn't it.

The last God knows how many hours crashed into Veronica like a freight train, sucking all air from her chest and and turning her limbs to jelly.

She'd been through a lot. First the Russian bunker, then the torture, needles, guns mortifyingly close to her head, Weathertop, and finally, Billy- or what was left of him.

The weight of it all pressed heavy on her chest, her throat constricting, nose too blocked and broken to take in any air. Her lungs burned, her eyes stung, and her fingers tingled, body buzzing with the torrents of molten blood thrashing through her veins, each web ignited in a boiling pain.

That stifling, riddling agony shot up her neck and into her skull, turning into a sickening throb around the left side of her head. It writhed angrily under the mottled skin of her face, rendering it near impossible to move. Closing her eyes back up felt like waging a war, quirking a lip felt like fighting off a demogorgan.

It felt like she was dying.

How many times had she almost died, recently? How many times had she almost died all together?

Far, far, too many.

It was sickening. What bad luck curse had stuck itself to her, that she'd be the one to get caught up with the Russians, that her friends would be the ones to discover them, that she'd be the one to get struck down by Billy? It was like some twisted joke.

The universe really did hate her, putting her through cycle after cycle of torment and horror, ringing her body dry until every last drop of determination and blood dripped pathetically out, a deep pool of everything she could've been sitting beneath her, wide and hungry for more, gnashing teeth and an open maw.

She didn't know much more she had to give, how much more could be strained from her until she gave out. But it wasn't a lot. It was barely anything. She was only just brushing fingers with consciousness, a fluttering veil between her and some unknown end, one that looked more and more inviting with every tragedy.

One more tip of the scale, catapulting her in the wrong direction, falling into that mysterious pit, and she'd be done. Shattered beyond repair, a broken porcelain doll, fragmented so small, unfixable.

Still, Steve was stirring, the rock she could always lean on awakening from the deep, exhaustion-driven slumber he'd been pulled into, and she'd be okay. Because she had him. And she always would. So long as he put whatever was biting at him aside. So long as he kept pretending.

As soon as his sad eyes flicked up, finding Veronica's own, he shot up from the bed, sending his chair to the floor and a pang of electrifying torture back through her skull.

When he reached for a pull cord on the wall, and skirted to the door, wrenching it open, lips flying to rattle out pleas for help, she could barely hear a thing, his words and the buzz of the hospital around her a dull memory, muzzled, under water, somewhere distant.

It was probably just the headache.

That's what she hoped it was, anyways, as Steve hurtled back to her bed, hands frantic, eyes wide and face the picture of panic.

"Ron, Veronica," he wobbled out, shaking hands reaching for her own. Her fingers lifted to intertwine with his, and he kneeled at the side of her bed, turning the barely-there touch into something solid, enveloping her smaller hands with his larger grip. "Can, can you hear me? Does anything hurt? A-are you-"

"M'okay, 'tevie." She murmured, swollen lips unable to form the words quite right. It made her feel pathetic; she couldn't even articulate herself, properly. Even so, gently, she lifted a hand from his own, wiggling a feeble finger in the direction of her dulled ear. "S'not so good, though."

Steve blinked, the bruising and swelling from his black eye taking up almost half his gorgeous face, now.

She'd failed him, too. She never should've let him dig deeper, into this stupid mess. She should have brought him back to his senses- back to safety.

"Your-" he grimaced, eyes flicking to the affected area. "Your ear, Sweetheart? Your ear hurts?"

Veronica tried to nod, but the miniscule tilt of her head sent her vision spiralling, Steve's horrified face, and then the blank ceiling tiles, spinning like an out of control plane. The turn made her stomach swirl, rioting with nausea.

And then she knocked back out.

***

The second time her bleary eyes blinked open, that day, it was a little less dramatic- on her end, at least. Her head could move, swivel on her neck from left to right with relatively little bother, and her body didn't feel like a minefield, anymore.

Maybe it wasn't the same day. Maybe it'd been a day, days, weeks, months-

There was only one way to find out.

Gritting her teeth through the haze of discomfort, limbs tied down with sticky lethargy, she lifted an arm and tugged on the hanging red cord.

Billowing out a heavy breath, she waited. Her hands sat on her lap, one folded over the other, and she shuffled up the bed, her back now resting again the wall, a mountain of pillows propping her up.

At least this way she could get a proper look at the door and out of the window, watching as candy stripers and visitors alike passed by. It was oddly peaceful. Quiet.

The door to her room clicked open softly, revealing a tall, dark haired woman. She looked kind enough, for a doctor, and wore a good pair of heels- sleek and white. A brave choice, given the environment. Veronica could respect that.

"You're awake." She said, pulling a wheelie chair to the side of Veronica's bed. Hadn't Steve been sat there? Had he left? "How're you feeling?"

Veronica blinked slowly, her broken nails inching to scratch at her cuticles. She still couldn't hear quite right, everything sounded a little muffled.

But that was okay. It was probably just temporary damage, or something.

It'd be gone within a week.

"Veronica?" The doctor probed, placing her clipboard down to lean forward, concern glinting in her eye. "Everything alright?"

The woman in question nodded quickly, gesturing once again to her failing ear. "Yeah, sorry, s'just..." She paused, eyes squinting, thinking harder to find the right words. "M'ear's gone weird. Can't, can't really hear right."

The doctor's eyebrows raised slightly, before nodding, a controlled smile spreading across her lips. "Thank you for letting me know. We'll get that sorted soon, I'm sure." The clipboard made it's way back into her hands. "I'm Doctor Winchester, I'm here to go over some things with you, run a couple of tests we couldn't undergo without you with us."

Veronica tilted her head in confusion.

Doctor Winchester smiled again. "We ran a CT scan while you were asleep." She elaborated. "Do you know why you're here."

Oh. Oh no. Veronica wasn't a doctor, but CT scans were the ones for your brain, right? That couldn't be good. "I, uh..."

Shit. Could she trust this woman? Was she with the Russians? With the Lab?

Suddenly, a postit note stuck itself to her window. It read Mall Fire.

Huh.

Lucas, darting a thin arm across the glass, quickly peeled the note away, chucking Veronica a quick wave before darting back out of sight.

"Fire at the Mall." She offered Doctor Winchester, who nodded kindly.

"That's right. Do you remember anything else?"

Veronica stalled. Cooking up a lie with a drug and injury addled brain was no easy feat. "Falling... falling debris. Got me in the face. Then I ate shit on conc- concrete."

Doctor Winchester let out a soft breath. "Is that all?" She asked, eyebrows slanted in a professional slither of concern. "Did someone not... hit you, by any chance?"

"No," Veronica dismissed, waving a hand back and forth. It was hooked up to an IV. She swallowed. "No hitting. Was there with m'friends." Her friends. And Steve, who was nowhere to be found, and Hopper and Joyce and Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin, Jane-

"Everything's okay, Miss Mason." Doctor Winchester supported, though it landed a ways away from it's mark. Nothing was okay. It was the complete opposite. Her brain was fucked, she was all alone, and some doctor was trying to worm government truths out of her. Doctor Winchester continued regardless. "Mr Harrington will be here soon, and we can discuss everything then, alright? But right now, I need you to take some deep breaths for me, can you do that?"

It didn't feel like Veronica could, what with that tightness returning to her chest, and the pathetic burn of tears behind her eyes, but she tried regardless, pursing her sore lips and sucking in deep, cold breaths.

"That's good." Doctor Winchester offered. "You need all the rest you can get, okay? You've had a tough time."

Veronica huffed out something like a laugh, though it wobbled into a sob at the end. "Can say that again."

The door opened once again, bringing with it a gust of strong cologne and none other than the Mr Harrington, YSL suit and all. Not Steve, in all of his bedraggled glory, but Danny Harrington, his father.

Veronica frowned. What on Earth was he doing here? Shouldn't her mom have been called in, instead? Or the Chief? Why was Steve's dad, of all people, the one who was here to go over medical jargon with her?

Something was wrong.

It had to be.

"Hello, Veronica." Danny started, offering her a toothy grin, a little more weathered around the edges than the last time she'd seen it- Christmas. "I won't ask how you're doing. This," he pointed a finger to his face, "tells me everything I need to know."

She wasn't about to dignify that with a response.

"Shall we get started?" Doctor Winchester aired, that professionalism of her's coming in to save the day.

"Go right ahead." Said Danny, leaning against the back wall, hands planted firmly in the pockets of his business pants. Flash bastard. He was too old to be acting like that.

Veronica sighed and nodded wordlessly.

"I urge you to stay calm, Veronica, when I go over everything. It may sound overwhelming, and it is, but I can assure you, nothing's happened that we can't help remedy."

Well, that was reassuring.

Doctor Winchester took in a deep breath before starting. "Your friends dragged you out of the mall unconscious." She began matter-of-factly. "Like you referenced with the falling debris, you'd obviously experienced some impact trauma, some brain trauma. Your ears were leaking spinal fluid. Once we had you stabilised here, we conducted a CT scan. That's when we found the temporal bone fracture on the left side of your skull."

Pulling a diagram from her clipboard, Doctor Winchester pointed to a highlighted rectangle of bone near the skull's temple and ears. "This is the temporal bone." She said. "And here," she flipped her pen and scratched a jagged line into the middle of the highlighted plate, "is your fracture."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. That wasn't good. Not at all. That was terrible. Serious. Veronica had already suffered one traumatic head injury, and yet here was another one, slapping her in the face with immense potential ramifications and torrents of wild pain.

A metal vice slammed closed around her throat. Breathing felt impossible.

"A fracture in this position has a heightened risk of hearing damage, which we investigated with an otoscope." Doctor Winchester placed her clipboard down, her hands folding on her lap. "Your left eardrum is deeply perforated, but the trauma travelled deeper. What with the temporal fracture, and the subsequent intense brain trauma you've suffered, we believe the hearing in your left ear is severely damaged."

That explains the shitty hearing, then.

Veronica didn't know what to say, a hollow sense of loss taking root in her stomach. For once, she was legitimately lost for words. What a cruel way to shut her up.

"With a strict healing plan for your eardrum, and lots and lots of rest, we can hope to see some recovery of the TBI, which should send your hearing in the right direction." Doctor Winchester attempted to comfort, before tilting her head quizically. "I understand this is a lot to take in, Miss Mason, and there are still some more details we need to discuss, but I'm afraid there are a few tests-"

"No," Danny interrupted, kicking himself off of the wall and opening the door in one swift movement. "No tests, no, no more medical shit, she needs a minute, damn it."

"Mr Harrington," Doctor Winchester Urged, standing to raise a placating hand. "I understand-"

"I said no more tests!" Hollered Danny, sending a sharp ringing through Veronica's ear. She grimaced, top teeth tearing into her beaten bottom lip. "Look at her," he gruffed, pointing a thick, ringed finger in Veronica's direction. "She look like she can take any more shit? Get out and bring in my son, thought someone was supposed to be on that, already."

Sighing, Doctor Winchester turned to shoot Veronica a sympathetic look. "I'll be back with Steve, and then come back to tie up the loose ends later, alright, Veronica?"

The girl nodded eagerly, closing her eyes and tossing her head to the ceiling. She heard the door close with a click.

God, what the fuck was happening? She was what, borderline fucking deaf, now? Her brain had gotten rattled a few times too many and just decided to give up? Was her body that useless? Was she that useless?

Danny dropped into Doctor Winchester's seat with a huff, his head dropping to rest in his hands. "Sorry about that, kid. She was talking too much."

Veronica sniffed, looking the other way.

"Yeah, you're right, I'm not sorry." The man grumbled, pulling a lighter from his pocket and thumbing at it. "But I got her out, didn't I?"

"S'pose." Veronica grunted, shrugging. "Kinda, kinda woulda liked to hear what she was sayin', though. I, I need to know-"

"Kid," Danny interrupted, sitting up a little straighter. "I don't know if you've seen yourself since you got outta that fire, but you, shit, you don't even look like death warmed up, you just look like death." The man always did have a way with words. Veronica tried not to take them too personally unless they were directed at Steve. "Your face looks like a fuckin' rump of steak, except it's fresh off the bone, still Goddamn mooing, and someone's taken a hammer to it. You guess how bad that looks?"

Raising a hand to her face, Veronica lightly traced her fingertips over the bruised surface, unable to find a smooth stretch. She really must've looked bad.

"Exactly." Danny scoffed. "Now I don't know what you and that idiot son of mine were doing in that mall- "

"He's not an idiot." Veronica bit before she could help it. Shit. That wasn't a good idea. "I, I just mean-"

"I can guess what you mean." Danny practically growled. "Since I got the call to get my ass down here, I've learned pretty quickly what's been going on between you and my son." He spat, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back. Something like fear shot down Veronica's spine. She felt small. "All those years, just friends... I call bullshit. Always did. But Cathy told me to let it fly. Now I'm finding out you've been leaching off of us for the past year-"

"M', M'not leaching." Veronica rebuffed, her head starting to throb, skin starting to burn. "Steve let me stay, I, I had no where else to go."

Danny turned pale as a sheet. "Oh, Jesus Christ, don't tell me you're pregnant-"

"I'm not pregnant!"

"You sure, kid?" He snapped. "'Cause from where I'm standing, it's pretty damn crystal. Your mommy's gone off the deep end, daddy, 'course, is nowhere to be fuckin' found, and you're holed up playing house with my shit-for-brains son! Who, apparently, is even more stupid than I thought, 'cause some girl's sunk her claws into him-"

Danny kept going, reeling off insult after insult, but Veronica didn't hear. She couldn't. She far too was stuck, knee deep, on one line, looping cruelly, over and over, in her mind.

Your mommy's gone off the deep end.

What did that mean?

Did Veronica want to know what it meant?

Could she even handle it?

"What," she croaked, swallowing back tears. She couldn't cry in front of Mr Harrington, he'd rip her to shreds. But, she had to find out what happened, if anything had happened at all. Someone could've just found her pills, or the mile high pile of wine bottles, or something. Yeah. That's probably what he meant. "What d'you mean my mom, my mom's gone off the deep end?"

The redness in Danny's face slunk away, somewhat, and he itched at his pristinely shaved chin. "You, uh, you don't know?"

Oh, God. She couldn't do this.

Something had happened to her mom.

And she hadn't been there to help.

She hadn't even been there to see it.

Veronica hated her mom, hated her a thousand times over, damnit, but she was still just that- her mom. The woman who was once all smiles and bouncy voices, her daughter the apple of her eye, a shining star of warmth and security, hugs and kisses, goodnight stories.

Her father and his manipulation had ruined that, pried their bond apart and burned it to ash with his abuse. And now, Veronica could never try and fix that, because something bad had happened.

Because she'd happened. Was Veronica just that much of a cancer, that she managed to drag her mom down with her, too?

As if he'd sensed her increase in anxiety from down the hall, Steve burst through the door, still in his sailor uniform, still covered in blood, and still beaten half way to hell. But he was perfect. And he was home.

"Ron!" He practically cried, ignoring his father and beelining straight to her side, grasping at her shaking shoulders. Veronica could've sworn she'd never felt warmer, more secure, in her life. "Oh, Sweetheart, I'm so glad-"

"Get offa her, Steven." Danny grunted, waving a large hand between the two. Steve turned rigid as a rock. "Give the girl some space. She's not on death's door, alright, some ceiling fell on her, or whatever, grow up."

Steve, arms still planted on Veronica's shoulders, rooted, anchored, somewhere deep under her skin, stood to his full height, staring down at his father. Veronica had never seen his eyes burning with so much hatred, before.

"The hell did you just say?" He demanded.

Oh. Oh no.

Danny scoffed. "Who do you think you're talking too? What'd I just say? I said get offa the girl, she's not going anywhere."

"She almost did!" Steve bellowed, voice cracking around the edges, and Veronica had never felt more guilty. She was doing this, making Steve this unhappy, deepening the wedge between him and his dad. Everything that was going wrong, had gone wrong, it was all coming back to her. She was the problem. "I almost lost her, I, I- don't you get it, are you blind!?"

Danny snorted, eyes rolling. "Blind? No, I'm seeing pretty damn clearly, son. Clearer than ever-"

"No you're not!" Screamed Steve. When Veronica flinched beside him, the loud noise stabbing at her ears, he faltered, folding into himself for a second until he steeled himself and flung back around to face his father. "You can't see shit! You think she got this way from some debris falling on her!? She looks like hell!"

"Steven." Danny grumbled, sighing into his cupped hands. "Anything falling from a height, let alone something like stone, can do some serious damage to the human face."

"Then what about me!? You think a fuckin' rock, or, or a beam just happened to punch me smack in the eye!?" Steve questioned, jabbing a finger at his black eye. He barked out a disbelieving laugh, something in him snapping. "You think the mall caught on fire, killing God knows how many people, after it closed!?"

"What happened, then?" Danny probed, eyes squinting in suspicion. "What did you do, Steven?"

Veronica grappled at her boyfriend's shaking hand, squeezing it tightly. "He didn't do anything!" She sniped, fighting against the pressure in her skull. "He helped save-"

Danny broke into peels of laughter, clutching at his chest as the wheezy billows escaped from him. God, he was a piece of shit.  "Save!?" He guffawed, turning to fix Veronica with his blistering gaze. She refused to buckle under it's weight. "Save who? You? Your Mom? The Chief? People died in that fire, you insolent, immature shits, and here you are, yapping about some Goddamn conspiracy! I don't wanna hear it!"

Danny sighed as if the spiel had been a chore, something burdensome, like he'd been talking to stupid children.

But Veronica didn't care, anymore. She was barely even in the room, her mind somewhere else, stuck back in Star Court.

Her mom? The Chief?

Was Danny really saying they'd died in the mall fire?

No.

That was impossible.

Her mom had been nowhere near that fight, she couldn't have. She would've been at home, legs kicked up, watching some drama and sipping down a bottle of wine, or two. That's what she always did, of an evening. A creature of particularly self-destructive patterns. Dressed in a frilly nightgown, a concoction of anti-aging creams plastered over her skin.

Unless...

The Mind Flayer had been made out of melted people. And Nancy and Jonathan had looked awfully guilty about something, back at Star Court.

Oh, God, no, had the Mind Flayer killed her mom? Had it turned her into one of it's servants, before melting her down and making her body part of it's own?

That couldn't have been it. Mr Harrington was probably just being an asshole, making shit up to get under her skin, fuck her over like the sick bastard that he was.

And then there was Hopper. He was tough as nails. He'd survived wars, for God's sake, the Russians couldn't have taken him down. He wouldn't allow it.

His want to get home to Jane, finish the episode of Miami Vice waiting for them, would've been to great, that massive heart of his, which he always denied having, beating strong in his chest, pulsating with love and the urge to protect and provide, be the father that poor little girl never had.

That Veronica had never had.

But Steve had turned to stone beside her, form rigid, skin pale and peaky.

After what felt like an age of staring up at him, begging him for an answer she didn't have the strength to ask for, mouth hanging open in a silent plea, Steve's eyes dropped to Veronica's own, revealing a sheen of unshed tears. And then his face broke, crumpled into something watery and cracked and oh so sad.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Her mom was fucking dead. And so was Hopper. They'd fucking died. They were gone. And it wasn't a lie; it wasn't a joke. It was pure fact, cold and detattched, stripping Veronica's life of colour and love and everything good, and leaving her more alone than ever.

She had no one left. No adult to cry to when times got hard, no should to cry on, to beg for advice, to try and fix things with, to try and remedy decade long issues with.

There were no more second chances left, now.

She was done.

Danny didn't seem to get the memo, too busy steam rolling into his next tirade. "Y'know what, son? She's right, your little girlfriend. You could of been in there, saving people, being of some use, for once, but instead, you come out with a black eye, blubbering like a baby." He paused, sucking on his teeth. "You're no son of mine."

Too tired to wipe the endless tears streaming from her eyes, Veronica grunted and leant over, pulling on the red cord.

She needed to get him out. He was talking too damn much. Everything was too loud. Too Hurtful.

Because, God, everything hurt so damn much. That throb in her skull, the swell in her ear and, most of all, now, the stake, driven deep and twisted, into her bleeding heart.

She could've done something, anything, to save her mom from this. She could've told her the truth, for one, or begged her to move somewhere safer, where monsters didn't roam, tear you to shreds or melt you down.

That could've been their moment, where all the walls fell down, crumbling from concrete back to feeble sand, and they solved everything.

But it was too late for any of that, now, and Hopper was dead.

Her one good father figure.

The man who was always there for her, who'd cook her up the most disjointed plate of food just to make sure she ate, who warned her against boys and taught her to be strong.

All of that was gone. They were gone.

Veronica couldn't handle it.

When Doctor Winchester came rushing in, flanked by some nurses, they urged Mr Harrington out, along with a despondent Steve, telling them that Veronica needed some rest.

Once they left, she was all alone, and it was oddly quiet, again. Only, this time, there was no peace, no calmness on the air.

Just bitter sadness.

***

One week later

Veronica was getting discharged, today.

Every day since the Mind Flayer had been defeated, Steve had gone in to visit her, a bouquet of fresh flowers in hand, a janky attempt at a smile on his lips. She didn't seem all that interested in any of it, though.

She'd just sit there, twiddling her thumbs, going along with his small-talk, smiling softy at his attempts to break through her hard shell. It was like a punch to the gut every time, barrelling into Steve and knocking him to his feet over and over.

She wasn't trying, anymore. The most determined girl Steve had ever known, would ever know, had given up.

Doctor Winchester said it was just the grief. Grief for her mom, for Hopper, and for her damaged hearing.

"It's a learning curve. She'd said. "I'm afraid Veronica won't be the same for a long time, Mr Harrington. Is it alright if we go back to discussing her treatment plan?"

Steve Didn't know how much he believed that.

Of course she was feeling that grief, it practically killed her just to hear the news, and Steve couldn't blamer her, for that, but, she wasn't sad, when Steve visited. She was just blank.

And that was horrifying.

Veronica had been teetering on that knife edge for a while, now, expertly walking the tightrope between pretending and just saying fuck it all, giving into everything bad that swirled beneath the surface of her soft skin.

Only, two of the major pillars in her life had fallen, now, and everything was crashing down on her, everything she'd shoved down bubbling to the surface and spilling over.

Steve was powerless to do anything but watch.

Hopping out of his car, gnawing on the inside of his cheek, he was horrified to find Veronica already strolling out of the hospital, dressed in an outfit far too drab for her normal tastes, hair limp and lifeless. The pouring rain only added to the grey clouds that seemed to hover over head perpetually, now.

Her face was still bruised beyond anything he'd ever seen, before, and she seemed thinner than usual. Oh, his poor girl.

"Ron!" He hollered, waving to catch her attention as he jogged over, a hand casted over his eyes, careful to alert her visually, more-so, than audibly. Anything too loud and close-up seemed to hurt her. He caught her under the entrance's large awning. "Ron, Sweetheart, I said I was gonna pick you up, sort your-"

"I've got my meds," she interrupted, shaking the brown paper bag in her clutches. It rattled with the familiar clatter of pills against plastic. Steve hated that sound. It reminded him of his mom. "And I'm gonna get myself home, alright? Need some space."

Steve frowned. "But, Honey, I've got the car, might as well drive us both back, I'm right here-"

"Not home, Steve." Veronica huffed like he was boring her, gaze falling to something behind him. "My mom's. I've got shit to sort, you know. A funeral to plan."

Swallowing, Steve tried not to show the dread settling over him on his face, plastering on a tentative smile, instead. He'd had to be there for her. "Okay." He said softly. "Well, I can help, alright? We'll do it together."

Veronica shook her head, moving to barge past him, storming through the parking lot. She shivered at the onslaught of rain pelting her. "Don't want your help." She said, driving a steak through Steve's heart. "Leave me alone."

"You-" Steve caught himself, huffing. He had to keep trying. Exploding would just hurt her more, even if she wouldn't show it, and leaving her alone would just prove whatever point she'd built up in her head, even if it'd save them both this fight. "Ron, please, Sweetheart, even if you don't want, don't want me there, your head... it's not safe for you to be alone right now-"

"What, 'cause I'm so broken?" She spat, spinning to face him, eyes on fire. "'Cause my stupid fuckin' ear gave out on me, and my brain's a little fucked up?" She scoffed. "I'm not a child, Steve. I chose this."

"No, you didn't." Steve disagreed, reaching out for her hand. She flung back like he was about to burn her. Oh, okay. He swallowed thickly. "You, we all put our lives on the line, sure, but that doesn't mean you can't take some time, can't let yourself feel this."

Veronica's eyebrows shot to her hairline, her lips staying in that scarily flat line. "Is that what you think this is?" She asked, taking a step closer, crowding in on Steve's space. He felt like he'd taken a step back in time to '83, and was watching her bully her way into some extra lunch money. Except, this time, Steve was her victim. "For the first time in about three years," she breathed, tears heavy in her voice, "I am finally letting myself feel everything, Steve. And it's a lot. God forbid I want some fucking space."

He bit at his lip, thinking over his next words carefully. If he went around this the wrong way, well... she'd break. He needed to handle her with care. "How long have we known each other, Ron?"

She grumbled out an uninterested noise. "Steve-"

"Hey, just, humour me here, alright?"

Veronica huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "I don't know, like, seven years, or something."

"Right," Steve said. His hands balled into nervous fists at his sides. "So, don't you think I can tell by now when you're lying?"

Blinking, Veronica froze, her entire body turning still, as if someone had frozen her solid. "You think I'm lying about this!?" She hollered, thinly veiling a grimace as her head no doubt thrummed in pain. "In case you've forgotten, Steve, my mom just fuckin' died-"

"I- Ron," Stammered Steve, trying to scramble back any semblance of control over the conversation. "That's not what I meant-"

"Then what did you mean!?"

"You don't want space because you're hurting, Ron, you want space because you think it's what you deserve." He said, the words flying out before he could stop them. If the widening of Veronica's eyes told him anything, it was that he'd just made a massive mistake. But she needed to know how he felt; she needed to know that he could see her. "You don't think you deserve having me, or anyone else who's been asking to visit you all week, because you think, I don't know, because you don't think you're good enough, or something!"

"Oh really?" Veronica scoffed. Her lips were turning a little blue. Steve fought the urge to wrap her in his jacket. "And how long have you been cooking up this theory."

Steve swallowed, chucking up an exhausted hand, the other resting on a hip. "Not- not that long," he admitted painfully. He really had been a shit boyfriend. God. Could he get anything right? First a shit son, and then a shit partner and friend. Why was he even bothering? "Otherwise I would've tried to talk to you-"

"You would've tried to talk to me? Really? Is that what you're gonna push?" Veronica asked plainly, unimpressed.

Steve's jaw bobbed open and shit a few times before one word feebly tumbled out: "W-what?"

"Steve, you're just as bad as me!" Veronica laughed, her hands thrown up in exasperation. "So long as you get your end of the deal, so long as you get to pretend to be all happy, you don't mind pretending that everything's sunshine and rainbows." By the end of her spiel a finger was being jabbed in Steve's face, and he was powerless to smack it away. "Am I wrong?"

He blinked, lips pursing. "I tried talking to you on Weathertop-"

"On Weathertop, right, after over half a year of dating." She shook her head in disbelief, taking yet another soul-crushing step back. "You want an award, or something?"

"Ron," Steve wobbled. He didn't feel like he was talking to his girlfriend, right now, to his best friend. He felt like he was taking to his Goddamn dad. "Ron, you're being really mean, right now-"

"Awh, am I hurting Stevie's feelings?" She teased, pulling the ends of her lips to the ground. "Good!" She roared. Steve couldnt help but notice the tears teetering on her lashes. "None of us are perfect, Steve, so don't you dare start telling me how to grieve."

He shook his head sadly, unable to stop the tears burning in his own eyes. "This isn't grieving, Sweetheart, this is torture. You're torturing yourself." He levelled stiffly, sighing when Veronica simply scowled and spun to face the opposite direction, stomping away once again. "You won't even deny it! Now, please, can we just-"

She groaned loudly, tipping her head back to face the sky. "What, you wanna get in your car, drive to my mom's and start packing up her shit? You're gonna be there for me?"

"Yes!" Steve breathed out, something like hope blooming in his chest. "A thousand times yes!"

Veronica only scoffed, plonking herself down on a bench. She stared straight ahead. "I meant what I said, Steve. I don't want you there." She paused, gulping before she next spoke. "I don't want you."

Oh.

Steve blinked back tears as a hand settled back on his hips, the other rising to cover his mouth. His eyes screwed shut, he felt his lungs burning, his body was on fire.

She didn't want him, anymore. His best friend, the one constant good in his life, didn't want him. She hated him.

Part of Steve knew it was just the guilt, the grief, everything she'd gone through, everything that'd been thrown at her, making her act this way. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

That didn't stop his skin from feeling like it'd been torn apart from the inside out, like his organs were on fire.

He let out a large breath, calming his rapidly beating heart. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Can I at least drive you?" He asked quietly.

Pathetic.

Veronica blinked confusedly. "What?" She asked.

Steve smiled sadly. Doctor Winchester said there could be some confusion. "I asked if I could at least drive you."

"Oh," Veronica breathed. "No. I booked a taxi."

Sniffing, Steve wandered over to her side and sat down next to her, a healthy half-metre of space between them. "I'll wait with you, just until it gets here."

Chapter Text

It's midnight. Or, near enough. Moonlight streams through their bedroom, casting Steve's sleep-contented face in a soft, glowing light, boldening his strongest features and highlighting the barely-there ones.

The ruler-straight length of his nose, the acne scars on his forehead, the smattering of small moles on his right cheek.

Like this, he looks angelic, like something that should've be painted on an ancient cave's wall, worshiped across civilisations.

He looks perfect. Then again, when doesn't he?

The answer is never, and Veronica's reminded of it every time she looks at him.

Turning to lie on her side, she lifts an arm to sweep a hand through his hair, delighting in it's smoothness, silk-like and shinning.

Humming quietly, Steve begins to wake, dark eyebrows twitching downwards, pillowy and pink lips pursing.

"Sweetheart?" He grumbles in that delicious, sleep-weighted voice of his. Veronica can't help but sigh at the sound, her heart growing five sizes, something hot stirring in her abdomen. She burrows her way into his heavenly chest. "You okay?"

"'Course, Stevie," she mumbles in response, playing with the ends of his hair, long, red nails scratching at the skin of his neck in feather-light touches. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." She presses a kiss to his collarbone. "Go back to sleep."

Steve makes a deep, rumbling sound of disagreement, shimmying down the mattress so they're lying nose to nose, breathing in each other's air.

"Don't think I can." He says, flirtation lacing his tone. He lifts a hand to cup her face, thumb moving to tug at her bottom lip. A soft moan escapes Veronica at the action, her thighs rubbing together unconsciously. Steve smirks. "Not when my girl needs something. What kind of boyfriend would that make me?"

"One who values his sleep," She breathes out, skin growing hot.

God was looking down on her with kind eyes, tonight, blessing her with this indescribable moment, a moment she'd refuse to lose for anything, for the world. Because Steve was her world. And she could be awfully selfish, sometimes.

"I care about you more, Ron." Says Steve, a hand starting to paw at her hip, squeezing the doughy fat gathered there. His hips flex forward, pressing his erection straight against her needy core. The two of them groan at the action, hands flying to grasp and knead at whatever skin they can get their hands on. "Always."

Veronica surges forward, slamming their lips together. It's a hot, sloppy, downright dirty kiss, with the tugging of hair and nipping of lips, animalistic and deplorably hungry.

"Show me," she huffs, pulling away, a strand of saliva keeping them connected. A pathetic whine escapes her when the tip of Steve's cock grazes over her clothed clit. "Show me how much you love me, Stevie."

His grin grows predatory, and he stamps a kiss to her brow. It feels like she's just signed her own death warrant. What a way to go out. "With pleasure."

At that, Steve flips them, his strong body crowding over hers, trapping him beneath her. There's nowhere else Veronica would rather be- where she'd ever want to be. Right here, with Steve pressing wet kisses to her hot skin, tugging on the plunge of her silk slip to expose her breasts, she's in heaven on Earth, she's on cloud nine.

Steve delves down to kitten-lick and suck on a nipple, already perked thanks to the rush of cold air, tweaking and flicking the other, while his hips press into her own, igniting her entire body in that delicious, addicting heat he manages to stir in her with expert ease.

He's only mouthing at her, teasing her with the press of his cock against her already slick heat, but she already feels like she's on the edge, a boiling band of pleasure blooming in her lower stomach, begging to be satiated with any available touch.

Steve obliges, dragging his swollen, glistening lips from one breast to the other, suckling at every stretch of desperate skin as he moves, a trail of purplish-red blotches flushing in his wake.

"Love you," he huffs, pulling off her nipple with a pop. "Love you so damn much, gorgeous girl."

Veronica lets out a pathetic sound as he moves down her body, cheek flush against her stomach through her top, his dark eyes boring into her own, lust-blown and hungry. And Steve is insatiable, the roll of his hips against the mattress visible through the undulation of the sheets.

It deepens her want even more, to know that he's just as desperate for any relief as her, chasing whatever friction he can get against his undoubtedly leaking cock.

Fuck, she needs him.

He's tugging at her panties with his teeth, pulling them to the side and keeping the fabric taught there with dexterous fingers, but this isn't what Veronica wants. She wants it all.

She wants Steve, hot and heavy and broad and strong over her, plunging into her heat and hitting that aching spot deep inside of her, big hands dragging her hips closer, the slap of sweat-slicked skin.

"Steve!" She pants, walls clenching around his dangerous tongue as he licked up into her, shooting sparks of electricity to her toes.

Her back arches high off of the mattress, a hand flying to tug at his hair, to drag him closer into her, his nose notching against her pulsing clit. It's like a drug, the way he's pulling pleasure from her, sucking and slurping on her gushing pussy.

Dragging him away, finding the lower half of his face covered in her slick, cheeks flushed red and lips smiling, almost feels like a crime. But she does it anyways, just so that she can drag him up the bed and whisper:

"Fuck me, please," against his whining lips.

It works like a charm.

Before she can blink, Steve's flipping her onto her stomach and dragging her hips up to meet his own. Her panties are ripped off, and the hard line of his cock is sliding through her folds, slicking it up for a smooth glide.

"You want me to fuck you, Sweetheart?" Steve breathes casually, as if his hands aren't tearing into the meat of her hips, no doubt leaving bruises, as if he's not just as desperate as she is.

"Yes!" Veronica almost screams, rutting back into him. Steve stutters backwards just before he can slip inside, the teasing hint of her walls squeezing his tip.

He hisses at the almost excruciating touch, pulling himself back from bursting then and there with grounding breaths. God, she's killing him.

"You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you right?" He huffs, a hand snaking to her front to pinch at her clit. Revenge is sweet when it's against her.

Veronica's response is immediate and emphatic, walls clenching around nothing- her hips buck back, her mouth opens around an embarrassingly loud moan, and she nods like her life depends on it.

"Whatever you want, Sweetheart."

Steve slams inside with a high-pitched moan of his own, needy and wanton. The glide is heavenly, her pussy well and truly soaking him from base to tip, already dripping down his heavy balls, ready and full to empty inside of her.

Veronica shivers at the delightful stretch, almost collapsing from the sudden burst of toe-curling pleasure, until Steve grunts and hikes her ass up higher, kneeling as he sets a relentless pace.

A creamy ring forms around his base the further and further he pumps inside, thrust after thrust hitting that pillowy spot by her cervix. It's everything.

It's bliss and torture at the same time, heaven and devious hell.

It catapults her mind into this glorious temple of Steve, Steve, Steve, chanting his name like a mantra through her bitten, swollen lips.