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smurphyse · 9 months

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Hope and a Haircut | Spencer Reid

Smurph’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Chapter 18 of Operation: Sand Leopard

Warnings: canon typical stories, Christmas visits, crying, happy hugs, fear, espionage, confessions

Summary: Spencer gets worried the longer he doesn't hear from you, and then he gets unexpected visitors that only make him more anxious.

Spencer was growing more anxious by the day. You still hadn't called, and all the hubbub of the city around Christmas wasn't helping him either. He flinched at backfiring cars, his gaze laser focused on the things around him. His mind was still in Iraq, still with you and Alijah, sitting on mountainsides and looking through binoculars.

He'd spent each day with the team, and Christmas morning finally arrived. JJ went down to Louisiana with Will and the kids, Rossi with his daughter and grandson. Even Luke and Penelope planned a getaway, so Spencer spent the day visiting his mom and then with Emily and Tara at a soup kitchen.

His mother at least recognized him, but she spoke to him like he'd been visiting every day for months. He was both grateful and devastated by it.

He felt good helping out, and they invited him over after, but he declined and instead made his way to his empty apartment. He knew you had a house outside the city, and he looked forward to spending time with you and the girls in the open air of Virginia.

Spencer decided to make the walk from the soup kitchen. The brisk air chilled straight through his coat, which admittedly wasn't warm enough for a white Christmas. Spencer stuffed his hands in his pockets and drove on as you'd say. The frigid air was just another thing to deal with until he got on the flight back to you.

Cars slid through the slush on the streets, spraying his ankles with black and gray slurry. The lamplight gleamed every ten feet, flickering under the weight of the cold. Spencer angled his head down to avoid the freezing breeze, but his ears and eyes were hypersensitive to his surroundings in a way he hadn't felt before.

This place was so different from Balad. It was almost like he'd never lived here before and had only seen it in pictures. Everything was so familiar but foreign at once. He was so out of place.

Turning the corner, Spencer stopped short as he spotted a small group huddled outside his building. The spotlight in front of the badge access door hit the tops of their heads, casting them in shadow. He was about to walk past and take a turn around the block when one of them called out.

"Doc!" Spencer recognized a familiar voice, and she sounded scared.

"Peanut?"

Spencer made his way closer and sure enough, Garrett, Morello, Barretti, and Peanut were waiting for him. They didn't have their families with them, and the stiff way they held themselves sent a shiver of fear down his spine.

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked solemnly.

Garrett stepped forward, "Have you heard from the boss?"

Spencer shook his head, "No. She was supposed to call the night we got back."

An exchange of glances only solidified his worry, which up until now he'd chalked it up to you being busy.

"We should talk someplace private," Morello decided, glancing around the tall windows that surrounded them. "We're too exposed."

Spencer agreed and ushered them up into his apartment. Even in their worry they were still curious about his living situation it seemed. Garrett went straight for his bookshelf, clutching his hands behind his back and eyeballing the spines in the lamplight. Morello stood in the doorway, watching them all protectively while Barretti plopped down on the couch like he owned the place.

Peanut waved toward his hardly used kitchen even before he went halfway across the world, "Should I make some coffee?"

Spencer nodded and followed her in. It was pretty small and cramped, and admittedly coffee was one of the only food items he even had in the apartment. Spencer pulled out the container of grounds and handed it to her, and she went about filling up the carafe and filter.

Leaning against the counter, Spencer listened anxiously as it percolated. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, which had become a habit after months in the desert when before he felt best shoving his hands in his pockets. He used to show anxiety as a shield, but now he chose to project strength like this. It was a strange turnaround for him, one JJ pointed out the night before, but it felt natural now.

"Something's happening," Spencer asked, but it came out more like a statement. Peanut just watched the machine drip black gold into the pot, refusing to meet his gaze. She had her tight kinky curls down, when in Iraq they usually were pulled into a tight bun. They puffed out over her shoulders, impeded by the thick bulk of her coat, but her dark curls were beautiful in the dim lighting.

"I'm hearing chatter I don't like," she replied quietly. "Something isn't right, but I can't figure out what."

Fear rotted in his gut like an acidic apple. The lining was slowly tearing away from itself, and his legs wobbled beneath him. Surely, the floor would soon open up to swallow him whole.

Spencer opted to pull out some mugs instead of falling into his terror. He didn't like not knowing what was going on, but he trusted you to lead… the only problem was that you weren't here to do so.

Peanut took two of them in her small hands, and he grabbed the rest by the handles and followed her out into the living room. When he got there, he nearly dropped them at the sight before him.

Barretti was standing on his couch, pulling open the light fixture on the ceiling. Morello was elbow deep in his old school record player, digging down in the horn. Garrett was sifting through the bookshelf, pulling out books and setting them gently on the ground, then searching the empty spaces.

"What the he-," he began, but Peanut waved a coffee up in front of him to stop him. The liquid sloshed over the rim, barely missing his chest before splattering on the hardwood.

The guys didn't even look, and Spencer stood in shock as Peanut held that cup in front of him until they were done. Spencer watched with his jaw dropped as they put everything back in its place, and only then Morello turned on the old record player.

"Let's play some music, yeah?" he said confidently, but his jaw was clenched tight. "I haven't had a chill night in a long time."

The player had a bluetooth option, as it only looked old. Emily got it for him, though he had suspected it was only so she had a chance to play music other than classical when they all came over now and then. A familiar song from his first trip outside the wire came on as Morello took out his phone.

He set it on the desk the turntable was on, and one by one they all set theirs next to his. Without much thought, Spencer handed Garrett a coffee mug and put his phone down too, then gave Morello the other. Peanut gave her second one to Barretti, and they moved silently to the center of the room and sat on the rug.

"If there's a fire in your kitchen. And when your roof just won't stop leaking," it played, not quite loud enough to bother the neighbors, but higher than he would have normally put it with company. "I got your back without you even asking. If I gotta whoop somebody's ass, I'ma do it with passion."

Huddled in the circle, speaking just under the volume of the music, Garrett leaned in close, "Boss hasn't called all week, and she's not answering any form of communication. She's gone radio silent."

"That's why we were looking for bugs," Morello said, nodding. He looked straight at Spencer. "She always calls on liberty and checks in. She wouldn't stop otherwise unless she was dead or incapacitated."

Spencer's heart dropped down in his stomach. If something happened to you, who was protecting Alijah? If something happened to the both of you, how was he expected to go on?

"I got wind from Agent Garber that there's been some chatter about Sayeed, that he's been spotted where we found Alijah six months ago," Peanut continued as Spencer clutched his coffee cup tightly. The heat grounded him, but he was sure to disappear into nothing soon enough.

He rarely saw his CHUmate, but remembering that he worked in the satellite tents it made sense that he'd hear word of one of the biggest heroin distributors in the Middle East.

“An emergency, or when you just can't sleep, and I'll slide through for ya with that urgency,” Teddy Swims came through around them. As sweet as the song was, a solid blanket of dread covered the room.

“Then we get on the next flight and go back early,” Spencer offered, but Garrett shook his head.

“No communication means someone is listening in and watching. If we go back early it might tip them off that something’s going on. Boss is sending a message.”

“Yeah, to be careful,” Barretti grumbled. He frowned down at his big hands. “We just have to follow her lead. She spent years in MARSOC, doing all sorts of clandestine shit. She knows something we don’t.”

“We can’t just sit here,” Spencer insisted, waving a hand. “Not if she needs our help.”

“Morning after next we’ll go to Anacostia and head back to Iraq, doc,” Garrett told him firmly. “We can’t go before our leave ends unless we receive orders.”

“I’m an agent! I can go back whene-,” he began, but was overruled with a flat palm facing him.

“Boss will tell us what to do when we get there. She’s got more answers than we do right now. You could set something worse in motion by making a move.”

“Aren’t you worried at all? She’s not a military robot. She can’t do it all by herself.”

Garrett sighed and flashed Morello a look, who shrugged. He turned back to Spencer, “Of course I’m worried, doc. I worked with Teddy before he died, and he got real paranoid towards the end. I didn’t know much about what he was working on but when Y/N asked for my team’s help I agreed because even though Teddy started to lose it, I knew he had a good reason.”

He sighed again and scrubbed his face with his hand, dragging it down his chin. “This mission is bigger than just the girl and the heroin. The person we’re looking for has hooks in places we probably don’t know about. We don’t make a move without her say-so.

“You gotta remember, doc,” he finished, giving him a knowing look. “The boss always knows more than we do. You have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

Spencer nodded in defeat. He was right. You always knew more than you let on, and he suddenly got a sneaking suspicion that even before this there were things you hadn’t told him. Was it because you didn’t trust him? Or had you existed like this for so long that you didn’t know any other way to be?

He just hoped Garrett was right.

He hoped you had a plan.

Spencer sat in JJ’s bathroom the day after Christmas. She’d nearly force-fed him leftovers and dessert for dinner, then dragged him in here by the wrist. Spencer put up a good front for Will and Henry and Michael, chatting and pretending to be interested in the things his godsons were talking about, but his mind never left you.

JJ draped the little cape she’d bought just for him years ago when he first asked her to cut his hair over his shoulders. She tightened it and went about wetting his hair and combing through it.

“I can’t believe how long you’ve let this get,” she exclaimed as she raked a brush through it. Thank god she never had daughters, because this was torture. Spencer tried not to wince each time she caught his roots, since she did give him good cuts… besides the time Hotch asked if he joined a boy band. That was the last time he ever gave her free reign over styles.

“Hmm,” he hummed noncommittally. Instead, he fiddled with some army man toy Michael had left on the sink. It pointed a nondescript gun out, legs akimbo in a wide stance as he prepared for danger.

“Michael’s been taking those everywhere with him,” JJ went on as he turned the green piece of plastic in his fingers. “He tells everyone how his uncle Spencer is a hero.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Spencer mumbled, frowning to himself. “It’s like saying what we did at the BAU was heroic… it wasn’t. It was just bloody and sad.”

JJ stilled, her hands freezing mid-air. Her blue eyes blazed as she watched him in the mirror, “Then why the hell are you going back?”

“Because… There’s a future there that isn’t a black hole of loneliness and murder,” he decided, and her jaw clenched tightly.

“You’re going back to Iraq for a girl?” she pressed, getting angrier. “Spencer, I know you’ve always been a romantic but that’s fucking insane.”

“It’s not just that,” he replied calmly.

“Then what?”

Spencer sighed, his eyes meeting hers. He was so tired all of a sudden, weighed down with the enormity of the possibility of loss that could come tomorrow. “I have hope. Honestly, I haven’t had that in such a long time, JJ. I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep searching for that final happiness. Y/N is a lot of things…”

“She’s mean and crazy. She charges headfirst into every door without caring that something on the other side would hurt her. She’s only focused on protecting those behind her. She’s not known for telling you everything, and I’m trying to be okay with that because for once, someone knows a lot more than I do. She leads, she protects, she cares. Most of all, she’s kind. Even when she’s mean, she’s kind. She only pushes as much as you can take.”

“She sounds like Hotch,” JJ muttered, and when Spencer stared at her wide-eyed, she burst into a laughter he couldn’t help but join in on.

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me!” he guffawed with her. They laughed until their bellies hurt and JJ had to sit down on the tub edge to hold herself upright.

After it died down, she looked at him with a spark of joy, “I really hope it all works out. I just worry about you. You’ve changed so much in the twenty years I’ve known you, and you always came out the other side somehow. I just want you to come back, even if you’re different, I just want you to love the life you live.”

Spencer reached out a hand and she took it, squeezing him tightly. “I’m learning a lot about myself. Sometimes… you just gotta suck it up and drive on. The only way through it is to get through it.”

“You seem so different again,” JJ whispered, her eyes filling with tears he wasn’t sure were happy or sad. “But… not like you’re broken. You seem more confident, not like after prison when you were so angry. You seem like you know what you’re capable of.”

She made a face, “Does that make sense?”

Pride filled his heart and he nodded, “I think I finally know why I went through everything that I did. I can’t talk much about it, but I really think that I’m about to get everything I ever wanted.”

JJ smiled. Spencer smiled back.

“Hope looks good on you, Spence.”

You hadn't really slept in days. It was Christmas, five days after Spencer and the unit left for America. The stress of what you were about to do was eating you alive, and each time you managed a nap you woke up in a panic.

You were being listened to. After Mercer's confession that he'd found bugs in your office, you tore the whole thing apart in near silence until you found three more than he had. You went through your CHU, found two more. One under your bed and one in your bookshelf. You searched Spencer's next, but surprisingly found nothing. The rest of the unit's bunks were clear too.

You were starting to feel as paranoid as Teddy sounded before he died. He sent you his coded words but they were filled with veiled messages, as if someone besides you and him were reading. You had nobody to talk to besides Mercer, and even then you kept him at arm's length. You didn't trust him, but still he was the only one who knew of your plan. Even the unit wouldn't know until after, and you still might never tell them what you were going to do.

Spencer and the unit were all the way in America. They wouldn't be coming home for two more days, so you were sending Mercer to meet them. Alijah had thankfully been hidden enough through false paperwork that there were no bugs in her room. It seemed you had become the mole's target.

Without Spencer, you couldn't enact your plan. You had to explain to Alijah many times why, and eventually she agreed and understood. You needed him here to stay behind and keep her safe while you went after Sivan and Sayeed.

You didn't destroy the bugs in your office. You told Mercer to go on doing so, to keep acting like he was struggling with himself. It would make those watching think everything was going according to their plan. So, you kept the bugs, and here you and Mercer sat in your office, going over the FRAGO for the day out loud and writing notes to one another.

You lounged on one of the old metal chairs, your heavy boots set on the table. You tried to sound dreadfully bored and irritated, "There's been a few scuffles in the nearby villages, but we can't go out without the rest of the team since your dumb ass let your guys go home for Christmas."

You quietly slid a paper his way. You didn't put your pen down, and you wrote slowly to drown out the sounds the best you could.

Is everything ready?

Mercer nodded, but he leaned back and let out an angry harrump for the ears listening in. "I thought you'd have your lackies around. I only gave my guys what was coming to them. Your stupid fucking team hasn't done shit all year."

All you needed was for your team to come back, then you were going outside the wire to kill Sayeed al Hafiz. Mercer was going to make sure that happened.

"Fuck you," you spat.

"Fuck yourself," Mercer snapped back in reply. He got angrily to his feet and stomped out of the trailer, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

Let them think you still hated him. You didn't trust him, but you were coming around on him after Hitchens died. That didn't mean you hadn't fought in the last two months. He was still an asshole.

Everything was going according to plan… so far. You had to remind yourself that this could all fall apart. You could die on the twenty eighth of December of this year. Sivan might not make it if you didn't succeed.

But you had a backup plan.

You always did.

Spencer was the first to arrive at Anacostia on December 27th. He’d said his goodbyes to the team and their families the day after Christmas, teary eyed and filled with dread. They clung to him like he wouldn’t come back alive, and even if he didn’t Spencer knew he had to get back to Iraq.

You needed him.

You were all alone out there protecting Alijah. Sayeed was hiding in the desert, waiting to strike. You had no one to back you up and he knew he needed to be by your side. Even if it all ended in flames, Spencer would be with you and the girls and the unit until the very end. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

Spencer had no idea what he was walking into once he stepped foot back on base. His mind conjured images of firefights and explosions, a dramatic entrance to the scariest day of his life. The ground would thunder and the sky would alight with red washes of fear and smoke. But he would find you. He always would.

He walked through the dark hangar at 0500, much like he had four months earlier, clutching his pack and fighting the urge to sit down and melt into the concrete. Shadows lurked as he approached. Spencer took a deep breath, adjusted the pack on his shoulder and made his way toward the plane.

It was such a strange familiarity. The Antonov An-178 transport plane loomed ominously above him, blanketing him in darkness as its shadow cast over him from the lamplight. He left America for the first time in August. Now it was almost January, and the cool shadow under the plane was ice cold.

He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Captain Mercer leaning against the frame of the walkway into the belly of the plane. His arms crossed over his big barrel chest, a confident smirk washing over his weathered face as he saw Spencer with his mouth agape.

“No cryin’ on my plane, boy,” he drawled like he had what felt like years ago.

“What are you doing here?” Spencer seethed as a sudden rage overtook him. He didn’t exactly trust Mercer, but if he was in America who was with you and Alijah?

Spencer was about to stomp his way up the ramp but Mercer sauntered down. He seemed far too jolly until he reached the bottom, where he pulled Spencer by the arm a bit away from the plane.

“I know you don’t like me, and you’ve got every reason not to,” Mercer whispered as he and Spencer huddled close. “But I’m in this until the end. I know you know about Ted.”

Spencer managed a silent slight nod, so he continued. “He was a good guy, and I’ve never really managed to be anywhere as good a man as he was. I’m trying. The boss sent me here to make sure you all made it on the plane.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Spencer asked softly. Mercer’s eyes told him what he meant before he even opened his mouth. The fact that he called you ‘boss’ when a few months ago he used another choice word somehow made him more worried than ever.

“Accidents happen,” he grumbled ominously. “Brakes go out, carbon monoxide detectors stop working… sometimes transport planes blow up midair due to mechanical failure.”

He knew something then that you never told him. Teddy’s death wasn’t an accident, or at least you didn’t believe it was. The plane crash was an assassination, and you weren’t going to let it happen to the unit if you had any power to stop it. You didn’t trust Mercer enough to stay behind with Alijah, but your faith was enough to send him to keep them safe over the ocean.

It made his heart weary. Were you just growing paranoid as Teddy had? Were you justified in your worries? What the hell was about to happen?

What the hell were you planning?

Notes: Y'all ain't ready for the end of Part 1 of this story... Shit is about to go DOWN

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smurphyse · 11 months

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Bad Moon Rising

Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist

Warnings: first time makeouts,

Summary: You and Eddie fast forward to a month and a half together. Things are changing fast for the both of you, and unexpected emotions come to a head.

The next three weeks fly by, and suddenly Eddie’s been in the Upside Down with Zero for a month and a half. It's early May, and if he'd been in the real world he'd be graduating in just a few days. '86 would have been his year, and now to his uncle and his friends, it's the year he died.

She's slept next to him every night since he asked her to. They hadn’t talked about it, she just slid in the next night and every one since. Her warmth presses against his bare skin throughout the night, soft moonlight pouring in through the windows. They talk about random things, dancing around the real questions he has and pretending the real world doesn't exist. Eddie falls asleep to the scent of spices and soil, lulling him into slumber as their conversations die out.

He always gets up first, untangling his limbs from Zero's and slinking from the bed before she notices his boner pushed against her ass. Eddie likes to take a few moments to see her like that in the mornings. For once, she's relaxed, no tightness in her jaw or music playing to block out whatever mental monsters she's got in her mind.

Zero isn't exactly shy, nor does she care much about her appearance. She never looks in the mirror, even though the only one is in the bathroom. She also doesn't have a single razor, so Eddie's facial hair has grown like crazy. He usually keeps it shaved because it itches, but Zero made him a salve to soothe his irritated skin under his quickly bushing beard.

There's something about seeing her in that vulnerable state, asleep with the outline of his body next to hers on the sheets. It's like seeing a sleeping lion and knowing if she wakes with him this close, he could be in danger. But when she's asleep, he gets to see the peace and beauty she exudes so naturally.

Eddie always reaches out to brush his fingertips along whatever is closest. Sometimes it's her ankle, others her cheek. He'll gently brush back her hair and thank someone that she found him that day. He's more grateful to her than she'll ever know, and it pains him that one day it'll come to an end. Eddie has such deep feelings for her, ones he's sure she doesn't reciprocate. He showers and dresses, and by the time he's done she's already up.

They spend their days mostly in the garden. Zero makes breakfast in the mornings, helping Eddie stretch out his sore body before making the trek down to the pond. Her calloused hands hold his as she bends him into all sorts of positions he's reluctant to admit help his pain. After an hour or two swimming around naked in the water, he's usually exhausted, then spends the middle of the day sleeping by himself in the room.

Sometimes she disappears. For a few hours every couple of days, Zero is nowhere to be found. She comes back with heavy eyes and sagging shoulders, curling up next to him on the couch and listening to music louder than usual. He asks her sometimes where she goes, and he gets the same reply.

Up a tree.

Eddie’s taken it as an opportunity when she does. He’d perused her bookshelf countless times, finding a few old notebooks that were mostly empty. She’d drawn in a few of them, written out a few complicated but hastily made plans for the cabin and her additions to it. Eddie spends every moment without Zero writing in the old leather-bound book, cataloging the things he sees around him to tell the gang when he gets back.

He writes about her abilities, the things she told him about the lab. Eddie made sure to write down the visions she’d shown him, how Brenner was the father of the children, including Eleven. He wrote about Clem and Screech, and how Clem is the only one who likes him. Screech only speaks to Eddie when spoken to, but he’s always watching. He wrote out every power he’d seen so far- telekinesis, element manipulation, impossible strength, healing abilities… and the list grew every day. When he’s done, he’s taken to hiding it in what Zero refers to as “The Eddie Box,” filled with most of the trinkets from his pockets and rings and such from before he was attacked.

Eddie’s not sure why he hides it. Something deep inside him tells him that Zero wouldn’t like it. So, he squirrels it away even though it pours guilt into his belly each time he does.

It's getting easier to walk and move around without the cane, but as time goes on, Eddie's much more aware of the work he needs to do. There are times Zero gets distracted, pulled into her thoughts or focused too deeply on her plants, and his pain swells. It’s breathtaking, all-consuming when it happens. Each time it does, he realizes just how much of her mind she’s using to spare him of as much of it as possible.

Like now, they're lounging on the side of the pond, naked bodies in the water and leaning on the edge. Zero's eyes trail the vines around them as Eddie catches his breath from an ass kicking PT session. Zero is relentless, never giving in to his complaining and pushing him harder each day. Her eyes glaze over as she loses herself in thought, and burning blossoms deep in his belly.

Eddie winces, holding back a pained grunt. He reaches over and covers her hand in his. The pain fades, replaced only by the soreness in his muscles from exercise.

"You okay?" she asks softly, turning her hand over to give him a squeeze.

The first day he met her, Eddie thought it strange how comfortable she was touching him. Knowing she’d spent two weeks nursing him unconscious and back to health helped that make sense, but as the weeks passed Eddie found himself growing comfortable with it. It was second nature by now, reaching out and touching her, holding her hand, swimming naked with her in the middle of nowhere.

“Yeah,” he says back with a smile. She doesn’t pull away, just keeps her hand in his. “Lost you for a minute there.”

A sheepish blush plumes cross her cheek and neck, glistening under the dampness on her skin as the sun beats down on their backs. Eddie doesn’t tell her when it hurts. When he has, he finds himself waking during his naps or during the night to Zero checking him anxiously for further damage.

Her hands on his body were a normal occurrence, and more than once Eddie had woken to her draped across him in the pale moonlight, her nose pressed under his chin and her hand on his chest. In those moments Eddie stays awake, listening to the few hours of silence and darkness as she finally rests. His wounds hurt more when Zero sleeps, but to have her sleeping on him makes it worth it. He could use the physical comfort, as she’d call it.

At first, it was a simple attraction. Her brazen nakedness and chronic pantslessness stuck in his virgin mind like a sore thumb. Zero was beautiful, tanned and strong. She was funny, too, and it was impossible not to be drawn in like a moth to flame around someone like her. Each day he realized how much of a shame it was for a person with so much to offer to be cooped up in this prison, and each night he resigned himself to enjoying her presence while he had it in his life. She doesn't like to talk about leaving.

The more he got to know her, experience her quirks and loud singing, the more Eddie revels in her existence. The Haven is bright, warm and safe, but Zero is brighter. Her smile dazzles him, especially when she laughs at his bad jokes and antics. She even seems to like his guessing of her real name, but she won’t admit it.

For a long time, Eddie had fantasized about having someone to keep him warm at night. Eddie “The Freak” Munson was often lonely, and yeah he had friends to keep him company, but what he’d longed for was a connection. Spending these long days with Zero laughing and eating good food and existing was more than he’d ever wanted. It would come to an end soon, and a part of him prepared for it, but the other dreaded the thought of going home without her.

He's falling for her, and one day he'll have to live through the pain of being without her, knowing she was stuck here.

Huey Lewis & The News plays through the radio. She brings it down every day, forcing Eddie to listen to shitty music as he does his least favorite thing in the world. Zero makes a small growl as Do you believe in love? croons through the speaker.

If you believe it, it crackles through her squint, take my hand and I’ll take your heart.

Zero lets her hand slide out from under his, brushing back her hair with an irritated sigh. Eddie reaches over and bumps her arm with his knuckle, “If you don’t like the song, just change it.”

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head, “I can’t sometimes. I start thinking about things and my mind just pulls a song to listen to.”

“So you’re thinking about love?” he smirks. Eddie bumps her again, delighting in the flush of heat on her neck. She looks away from him, smiling in spite of herself.

“I don’t, I don’t really…” she sputters. Zero closes her eyes and sighs, “I don’t even know what I’m thinking half the time. If something moves it’s usually because my brain decides it needs to.”

“It’s pretty cool that you can do it at all.”

Zero shrugs, “I think it’d be better if I couldn’t.”

She seems small then, staring down at her hands. She bites the inside of her cheek as she thinks, sucking in a deep breath before letting it go. Zero turns to watch him nervously, “If I couldn’t do these things I wouldn’t be here, running from the military and my father, y’know? I’d probably be getting my Doctorate, like he wanted me to.”

Eddie thinks about that, trying to imagine pantsless Zero at college. Jealousy strikes him knowing how much all the preppy frat guys would love a chance to see those glorious legs for themselves. If she didn't have her powers, she'd probably be married to one of those idiots like he assumes the high class daughter of Dr. Brenner would.

He clears his throat and shrugs, “What would you study?”

“Botany,” she says. She doesn’t hesitate. “Maybe I’d buy a plant nursery and dig in the dirt all day. That would be fun.”

"Would you let a guy like me in your shop?" he asks playfully, but it's something that nags at him.

"Of course." Zero furrows her brows at him, "Why wouldn't I?"

Eddie shrugs, doing his best to seem nonchalant. "You know, uh, they call me "The Freak" where I come from. They think I'm dangerous."

Zero laughs loudly, throwing her head back. She goes on until she sees that he isn't, her face falling. "Haven't they met you? You have puppy dog eyes and barely weighed a buck fifty when I found you, even with your organs inside your belly."

He fiddles with his hands, glaring down at them. The small pink scars stand out on his skin. He wonders idly when they'll start to fade. "I listen to metal and live in a trailer park. My parents were addicts and my dad was a criminal. Your dad would never let a girl like you be around me."

"If you think my father and I would somehow be closer without my powers, you're crazy," Zero decides, leaning against him. Her skin is damp, sliding along his as she sets her head on his shoulder. "I would have gone through a rebellious phase and found you in an instant."

Eddie chuckles, but it dies in his throat, "And eventually you would have moved on to one of those college guys. Got your two point two kids and a white picket fence."

"I'll tell you this; the white picket fence is overrated. I'm glad that's never gonna happen for me now."

He chances a glance at her, and she's smiling softly at him, brighter when he catches her eye. "You are?"

"Oh yeah. I might be stuck here, but at least I'm not stuck with someone I don't like."

"Did you just admit you like me?" Eddie asks excitedly. Zero groans and drops her head into her hands as he laughs. "Oh, Edith, I knew you had a thing for good old Eddie Munson!"

"You're… tolerable," she admits reluctantly, but her smile doesn't fade. "I'm getting used to you around here."

"Soon enough you won't be able to live without me, Zee."

"Yeah, when that day comes, I'll end it all so I don't have to."

I follow slowly behind Eddie as we come back into the cabin. He still needs to take his time after PT, but he grows stronger every day. His gait is more confident and less wobbly, he rarely twitches from surprise pain, and he can finally get himself into the pond without his cane.

It's been slow going, and he's complained the whole time, but it brings me a rare pride to see him doing so well. Some days are hard days, some are good. It just varies.

He’s having a hard time today. Every once in a while, Eddie’s slower, he winces more, or I catch him clenching his jaw tightly as he struggles to breathe through the pain. I manage as much of it as I can, but since he doesn’t like me poking around his mind it’s hard to gauge how bad it is besides his body language.

I caught him rolling his shoulders during his physical therapy, and letting out pained breaths in between strokes so I cut it short for the day. I don’t want to push him too hard, as it will only prolong his stay here.

I like having him here, I’ve found, and that’s the problem. Eddie is too enjoyable. With those big brown eyes and easy-going grin, something keeps fluttering deep in my belly. At first, I thought I would be sick, but then I realized it was butterflies… just like in the books I’ve read.

It never occurred to me that people really fell in love. I always thought that was made up, something people wrote about because they were unhappy in their lives and couldn’t live by themselves. The idea of butterflies was laughable until recently. What idiot let their body be affected by something so silly as emotion? But every day spent with Eddie I'm starting to believe genuine romantic love is possible…and I hate it.

The only people I’ve ever loved are gone now. My mother passed before I really knew what having her felt like. Eleven, Eight, and the other children were lost to me long ago, and now all I have is Henry, and even he was unreachable.

I haven’t checked in on Eleven since that day I woke up her friend. I don’t want to know any more about her, especially not after what she did. Henry showed me what he did to our siblings to save her. Still she sent him here, destroyed what was left of him and ruined my safe place. I still love her, even if I can’t be with her anymore. I want her to be safe, but I want nothing to do with her.

My Henry is gone, and realistically I know that. The boy who saved my life in the lab was corrupted and broken so long ago it’s difficult to remember he existed. He saved Eight and I from succumbing to the same fate as him, and forever I’ll be grateful I never had that damned chip in my neck, as it destroyed the boy I knew.

Now he’s the monster who ripped Eddie Munson to shreds, and will do it again just to win whatever battle he’s raging against Eleven and Papa. Soon enough he'll take him from me, and every day the thought sours in my gut, rotting like fruit in sunlight.

I shake that thought away as I follow Eddie into the bedroom. By now, we have a routine- I linger in the doorway as Eddie sheds his shirt and plops onto the mattress, waiting in case he needs something. Sometimes he does, others he doesn’t.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders. Eddie tosses it angrily on the pillow and lands on the bed, rubbing between his shoulder blades with one hand. The cane settles between his thighs as he holds himself tightly.

Making my way over, I get on the bed behind him and put my hands on his shoulders.

“Zee, seriously, I’m fine,” he grunts, swatting halfheartedly at me. I like when he calls me Zee. I’ve never had a nickname before, and it fits me better than all the names he guesses are mine. I'll never tell him, though.

“Shut up and relax,” I tell him, and I can hear the click of his jaw snapping shut.

Sliding my palms over his shoulders, I smile at the sight of his freckle-dusted skin. It's tinged red from the sun, slight indications of muscle forming from our exercises. It's a good thing to see, especially after he lost so much weight lying unconscious in this bed.

I like touching him, it makes me feel at ease. Eddie is soft and sweet, way too funny for his own good. At first, he was just a body to me. When I found him he wasn't much more than that, just another puzzle to put together.

Over the last few months I've begun to find comfort in him. His soft rumbly chuckles in bed pull me into sleep unlike anything I've had in years. Instead of sleeping for minutes at a time, I usually make it a few hours before waking, then ultimately falling back to sleep with his warmth at my side. I can hear his heartbeat speed up from my touch.

His body is a comfort. Afternoons spent on the couch, shoulders pressed together as I read and he fidgets around with the little puzzle toys I've made over the years. Sometimes he takes the book and reads to me, and I get a few hours of peace from his questions just basking in the glow of physical comfort.

It gets to be too much sometimes, the way it makes me feel. It's like I'm swelling from the inside and sure to burst, and I have to get away from him for a few hours. I don't know much about what Eddie does when I'm not around, but I found his notebook a few weeks ago. After thirty minutes of blinding rage and punching a tree, I let it fade with the knowledge that Eddie would never get around to showing it to his friends.

And then I burst into tears and kept punching the tree until it snapped in half.

The sigh of relief echoes through the room as I dig my thumbs into his tight muscles. His head drops down as he begins to relax, soft moans escaping his lips with each rub.

"You're having a bad day," I say, and he gives a feeble shrug.

"I'm just…tired, I think." Eddie sniffles a bit, like he doesn't want me to notice, but I do. He wears his emotions like a neon light on his skin. "I'm tired of feeling this weak all the time."

"You're getting stronger," I remind him, like I have to every day. "It takes time."

"It's taking too long, Zee," he sighs painfully. His voice wracks with grief, "I was never the strongest guy in the room, but at least I could walk by myself."

He tosses the cane angrily onto the bed, like he can't wait to be rid of it. I know what he's going through, I went through it myself. It's hard to see progress when it inches by like a snail.

"I don't even think I could lift my guitar now."

My brows perk up at that, "You play guitar? Why didn't you tell me?"

Eddie turns enough to squint at me, "I had one in my hand when you found me."

"So that's what that was," I nod, making a face. "It was just a pile of red wood by the time I found you. Those ratbats destroyed just about everything on you."

"Oh." Eddie looks down at his scarred hands, squeezing them together. He does that a lot. "I don't even know if I can play anymore."

I don't like when he gets like this. It makes my chest tighten. I'll do anything to make it go away, so I slide to the edge of the bed and dig around underneath, my cheek pressed against his knee.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, but it's got that playful Eddie ring to it.

Cool sealed wood slides underneath my palm, and with a small tug I manage to pull it out. Producing an acoustic guitar, I hand it to him with a grin as I sit up. Eddie's eyes light up like headlights through a night-covered road.

"I always thought I'd learn how to play," I say as I hand it to him. He takes it like it's made of precious glass, mouth agape while he stares down at it. "With all the time I have you'd think I would have, but fixing the car and keeping up with everything else kinda took over."

Eddie turns it slowly in his hands. It's nothing special, just some old thing I picked up a few years ago at a pawn shop. I smile sheepishly at him, "It probably needs tuned."

His eyes glisten with tears as he faces me once more. I frown as the twist comes back to my chest, but as I open my mouth to speak he goes first.

"You have no idea how much I've been thinking about playing. Like, every day since I got here. No offense, sweetheart, but I'm tired of listening to your shitty music."

"Then play it." It's a dare, and that twinkle in his eye lets me know he's game.

"What should I play?"

I lean against him, mindful of the space for the guitar in his lap, tapping my jaw. I smirk at him as I make my decision, "Know any Kenny Loggins?"

"Jesus fuck," he scoffs. Eddie shakes his head and props the guitar up in his hands. It weighs less than an electric one, and his fingers lay over the strings with expert ease. "My mom loved that guy."

Eddie fiddles with the strings, tuning here and there. He asks me to tighten one, plucking away until he's satisfied. He clears his throat and sits up straighter, leaning into me as my chin rests on his shoulder.

A soft tune I recognize in an instant sends my heart aflutter. It's one of my favorites, one I like to listen to when I dare let myself imagine a life outside of the Haven. Eddie's voice is deep, somehow still soft and sweet, as he sings softly.

"People smile and tell me I'm the lucky one." Confidence creeps its way through his aching bones. Color fills his cheeks, warmth pouring through those deep eyes that just a few moments ago were filled with grief. "And we've just begun…"

The butterfly in my chest takes off toward the dimming sun filtering through the doorway as Eddie sings. I'm entranced, caught completely in his orbit as I smile like a fiend.

His eyes flick to me as he sings here and there, a quirk of a matching grin playing at his lips as the words flow from his mouth like they were meant to.

"And even though we ain't got money," he croons louder. My heart nearly bursts in my chest. My fingers tighten around his leg, the other still on his far shoulder. "I'm so in love with ya honey, and everything will bring a chain of love, oh, oh, oh.

"In the morning when I rise, you bring a tear of joy to my eyes and tell me everything is gonna be alright."

He strums along, turning enough to press his cheek against my forehead. Eddie's warmth bleeds into my skin, a lulling soothe of comfort that pulls me into him with no fight from me. I want to be here, like this, listening to him forever.

"Now I'm through with the game. This boy'll never be the same."

"Don't leave me out here on my own, Zee," he says playfully. The music swells along with the rise and fall of my heartbeat, but shyness rears its ugly head.

I press my face into his neck and shake my head, but Eddie just chuckles. "Let me hear you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. That's really all it takes. I'm pathetic.

Without moving too much, and not letting him see the pained heat in my cheeks, I wait for him to hit the chorus once more and manage to whisper-sing along with him.

"And even though we ain't got money," we whittle out in unison, Eddie chuckling from deep in his chest. "I'm so in love with ya honey…"

I make it through the chorus just to lose all confidence. Eddie carries me through the next verses while I listen with dumbstruck awe. He has such presence, a beautiful voice that makes me want to live in this moment forever. It's such a safe place to be.

Eddie catches my eye, his own glinting with a confident swagger I've only seen a few times. His fingers slow as we watch one another in the afternoon light, faces just a few inches away. The world slows along with him, suspended in this gooey warm future memory. I lick my lips as the tension between us suddenly thickens like molasses, syrupy sweet.

"Love her and she'll bring you luck…" He murmurs the words, watching me through hooded lids. Eddie's cheeks are dusted with pink and red, the exhaustion from the day suddenly gone and replaced with an emotion I can't quite understand.

I don't know who closes the gap. I couldn't tell you thirty years from now who moved first, or how it got here. All I know is one moment I'm watching the man I saved from death come alive again, and the next my lips are on his.

He's warm, pillow soft and sweeter than honey. It's gentle, exploratory, a sigh of relief escaping my chest without any real thought. I didn't realize tension existed in my shoulders until now, until it sizzled its way out of my weary bones and evaporated in what used to be my lonely room in the middle of nowhere.

The guitar slides to the rug with a soft thump, forgotten as Eddie's hands rest against my cheeks. The scent of sweat and grass eases around me like a cocoon. My arms encircle his neck, my chest pressed against his as I melt into this person I never expected to have in my life.

His thumbs smooth over my cheekbones, fingers slipping into my messy hair. He's perfect, gentler than any other person I've ever kissed. Eddie's hands don't wander, don't push, just caress and keep me from floating away. When his tongue presses against my bottom lip, something ignites in my belly.

It's been so long since I've looked for comfort from anyone else. I've never had anyone talk to me the way Eddie does, who listens the way he listens. He cares about me, and with a pained shock I realize I care more about him than I thought. His tongue slides against mine, soft groans echoing back and forth between us in this safe place.

"It's more than a feeling," the radio blurts out, startling us both. "When I hear that old song they used to play."

My eyes go wide, the weight of kissing Eddie Munson slamming into my chest like a freight train. Eddie doesn't look half as scared as I feel, instead huffing a laugh and smiling softly at me. Heat floods my face, and all I can do is stammer and pull away.

“Wow…” he murmurs, blinking like it's the first time he’s seen sunlight in months.

"I'm, I’m sorry. I can't believe I did that," I begin, but Eddie's hands on my cheeks keep me still. He faces me toward him and smiles a bit wider.

"Don't walk away, Marianne," he half jokes, half pleads. He's referencing the song still playing through the cabin, coming from the depths of my brain that attune everything to a song lyric.

"I'm supposed to be helping you, Eddie," I tell him earnestly, guilt drowning my soul as I lie to the one human I care this deeply about. "I'm supposed to be getting you home."

"How does kissing me stop you from doing that?" Eddie whispers, and before I can stop him he leans in and kisses me again.

The soft moan that dances along his tongue makes my eyes flutter shut. I shouldn't be doing this, not with him. My betrayal will be that much worse, and I'll never recover from what I'm going to do. Henry will take him…or for that matter I'll give Eddie to him in exchange for my own pathetic life.

I'll have to live the rest of my life knowing what I did to someone I'm falling in love with.

I pull away, but Eddie doesn't let me get far. His hands are calloused but soft, holding me close as he presses his forehead against mine. He licks his lips, but I just can't bring myself to open my eyes and see the way he looks at me. I know how he feels because I feel it too.

"Come home with me, Zee," he says softly, wracked with an emotion that guts me like a knife. "Please. Don’t make me go back without you."

"I can't…" I whisper. The pain clenches my heart in a fist, ripping it out of my chest. If only I could give it to him and be done with it. "I'm not a real person, Eddie. Not really. I’m just an experiment gone wrong."

One of his hands leaves my cheek, a whimper escapes me at the loss. It lands on my thigh, giving a soft squeeze as his other hand rubs light circles into my skin. Before I know it, Eddie pulls me to his chest.

I don't struggle, letting him maneuver me until I'm laying on his chest while he lounges back on the pillows. My thigh rests over his belly, such an automatic response to my body touching his. His fingers tangle into my hair, and when his lips press to the top of my head I almost burst into tears.

"You are real, a real woman who deserves a real life," Eddie murmurs against my hair. He hugs me tightly. I want to die right there. "I wish you could see what I do. I wish you knew how loved you are, and would be in the real world with me and your sister."

Each word out of his mouth stabs me in the stomach. All the energy I have floods out of me like blood. The mattress drinks it in, leaving nothing behind but a stain to remember the day my heart broke.

The song changes as we lay there, my eyes still clamped shut and sealed with fear and guilt. Eddie knows the tune, singing softly along with it as I cling to him for dear life. It morphs from Boston to Creedence, unnatural and displaying a piece of myself that he doesn't realize the importance of. It’s the only way I can tell him the truth, subconsciously.

"I hear hurricanes a-blowin’. I know the end is comin’ soon." Eddie croons along. "I fear rivers overflowin’. I hear the voice of rage and ruin."

His heartbeat thumps under my ear, so much stronger than it was six short weeks ago. I don’t know what to do, where to go next. If I give Eddie to Henry, I’ll lose him forever. He’ll hurt him again.

“Don’t go around tonight,” Eddie sings, oblivious to the way my mind races.

I can hear the pots and pans shaking on the shelves in the kitchen with my anxiety. I can feel Henry pushing through, trying to get my attention. He wants to talk, but I’ll have to wait for Eddie to go to sleep. His clock chimes in my head.

Bwong… Bwong… Bwong…

If I don’t give Eddie to Henry, he’ll just take him. He’ll truly make me a prisoner, and he’ll take away my choice. Henry gave me the choice to live alone here in the Haven, safe and unscathed so long as I didn’t stop him from taking over the Darkness. He’ll use me and my powers to do so much worse than he can do on his own. After all, it's what he did when he killed my siblings.

“Well, it’s bound to take your life…”

I don’t know what to do. Let Henry win? Let Eddie go home safely only to die when Henry takes me again? Or…

Do I kill the creator?

“There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

Kill the creator, kill the Upside Down.

Am I capable of such a thing?

Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist

Notes: *Sigh* I think about these two way too often. Who do you think the creator is??? o.O

@tlclick73 @theloser007 @sadbitchfangirl @chaoticcancer @harrys-tittie @assassinsasha23 @spacedoutdaydreamer @legendarytrashcopeclipse @notahappystan @kbakery

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smurphyse · 1 year

Text

Fuck You, Munson | Eddie Munson

Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, depictions of gore, monster fights, descriptions of blood, overuse of 80s song lyrics

Summary: You grow anxious that Eddie won't wake up. When he finally does, he's in for the shock of his life when he meets the crazy girl who saved him

Two weeks have passed since I found Edward Munson in the Darkness being preyed upon by creatures of nightmares.

After stripping him from a distance with my powers, I learned that he is in fact a boy. One with more tattoos than I’d think one would have at a young age. They look handmade, etched stick-and-poke ones likely done in dim light with as much precision as he could muster.

I cleaned him, and day by day his wounds are healing. His body reacts normally, healing at a rate I know is good with my assistance. He’s even going to the bathroom regularly… something I never wanted to have to worry about or clean up. At least Screech and Clem shit outside.

But he still hasn’t woken.

His pupillary reactions are normal, his eyes flicking back and forth beneath his lids as he dreams. I can tell when he has nightmares from the whimpers and whines that come from the bedroom. I usually stop what I’m doing and go inside to check on him, and a soft hand on his arm or brushing fingertips along his forehead seem to make them ease.

It took a few days to put all of his broken bones back in place, and I gagged with every snap and squelch of them pulling back into his skin. I couldn’t even take his rings off until I fixed his busted hands.

Who the hell wears this many rings? I’d thought angrily as the knuckles went back into the sockets with soft pops. I made sure to clean the blood from them before stashing them away in a box on a bookshelf for safekeeping.

Deciding it was too difficult to wash his unruly hair via a bucket and cocking his head over the side of the bed, I tied it up in a bun. I thought about shearing it all off, but the memory of Papa doing that to me as a child made me settle for an updo. We could be bun-buddies, and even if he never woke up I’d delight in it a bit.

He slept now on my bed, covered halfway with some quilts I found at a flea market, breathing softly. The rattling in his lungs died down after a day or two of clearing the blood coming in, and now he snored quietly when he wasn’t having nightmares.

I did my best when it came to healing the large gashes on his abdomen, but there was only so much I could do. I’m not exactly a surgeon even with my military training, which was meant to keep fellow soldiers alive so they could make it back to base. Unfortunately I’d left Edward Munson with thick scars stretching up his belly, chest, and neck… but at least he was alive for now.

He’d become a part of my household. The first few days I tiptoed around to let him rest, worried he might startle again and hurt himself. Now, I putter around like I did before he came, listening to the radio or talking to myself or Clem and Screech. I ignored him for the most part until I had to bathe him with a sponge before bed each night.

A few times a day I change his bandages and clean his wounds, check him over for any new signs of bodily stress. He’s healing well… getting better every day, but it keeps bothering me that he won’t open his eyes on his own.

I want to see them again, want to talk to him to figure out how he got here. I haven’t ventured out into the Dark since I brought him here, scared he’ll die in my bed by himself, so I haven’t been able to find the gate he came through. I need to close it like I have the others that pop up every few months.

I rarely venture outside of the Haven for this exact reason… I want nothing to do with the Darkness or Henry or any of the shit outside of my property. Not anymore.

Tonight I glare at him as I sit on the edge of the bed, lip curled into a frown. As I have for the last two weeks, I take my flashlight and flick it on. I gently lay my hand on his cheek and pull on his eyelid just to see them open. Glassy brown stares back at me, but there’s no consciousness to be found.

I flick the light back and forth in irritation. “Wake up so I can send you back where you came from!”

To my surprised horror, his eyeball moves, his pupil dilating for just a moment. A sharp grunt bursts from his chest, and I yelp and release him. Protectively, I pull my arms to my chest as his head lolls back to one side.

I watch him curiously for a few moments, expecting him to finally rouse. His breathing goes back to normal and he relaxes into the mattress. Creeping closer, I reach out with a cautious hand and poke his cheek.

Nothing.

As extensive as my military training is from my time with Papa and the lab, I know nothing about comas. What the hell am I supposed to do if he doesn’t wake up? Just sit here every day and take care of him until he finally dies? Ugh, then I’ll have to bury him.

Stomping my foot like a child, which I immediately regret when Papa’s face pops up in my mind to give me a disapproving look, I grumble and head for the kitchen. I’ll cook myself some dinner instead of worrying about him. At least I know one of us will be alive for leftovers tomorrow. If he dies, I won’t have to keep mushing up food and feeding him through a tube. It’s gross anyway, and I’d rather bury him than keep doing that.

“Fine,” I mutter, turning on my heel and walking out the door. “Fuck you, Munson.”

Eddie’s head pounds like the bass at a Corroded Coffin show, only he’s not enjoying himself nearly as much as he does in a shitty bar outside of Hawkins as he shreds on stage. Struggling to open his eyes, his futile attempts to put a steadying hand beneath himself fail. His limbs refuse to cooperate, as does the rest of him. The slits of sunlight that come through each time he tries to peel his eyelids apart make them shut immediately, and soon enough he gives up.

The memory of the demabats swarming him as he played on his guitar keeps jolting him awake, but he can’t tell how much time passes between nightmares. He hears someone talking now and then, sometimes yelling, but mostly he hears music… shitty music. Everything from Bowie to Redbone to Cher plays in his head, and he quickly decides through his mind fog that they’re the cause of his migraine.

He manages to open his eyes after what feels like years of trying, blinking heavily through dim lighting. His head rocks to the side as another terrible song blasts through the speakers he can’t focus enough to find and turn off.

"Baby, baby, I don't know what I'm doing," the Kinks play, making Eddie wince. This shit’s so old… he bet Steve picked it, the dork. "Everything I do, it turns to ruin."

His eyes finally slide into clarity, surrounded by a dark shadow. He finds himself in a small cabin room. An array of houseplants litter the place, vines hang from the walls and trail up through the ceiling cracks, poking into the wooden beams and disappearing. A few sit on tables and shelves, one hangs above him above the window where he lay, succulents line up on the windowsill.

Eddie sits up slowly, gasping painfully as a shock rips up his belly and seems to burst through his chest. He rips the thin quilt from his lap only to discover himself buck naked… and his abdomen covered in long tendriling scars.

Tears spring from his eyes as he runs a shaky finger down one of them, wincing at the pain that emanates from the redlined puckered skin. He counts five in his limited eyeline, all thick branched and scabbed over.

How did I survive? he wonders in shock. The last memory that surfaces is Henderson clutching his leather and denim as Eddie bled out in the Upside Down, sobbing as he proudly proclaimed he was no longer a coward.

Eddie was sure he was going to die and he wasn’t scared.

Henderson. Harrington. Nancy and Robin, Lucas and Max.

They need to know he’s awake, that he’s okay. Soft singing floats in from another room, and Eddie figures it’s Nancy from the terrible taste. He looks around for his clothes, but the only thing he can see is the blanket he threw to the ground.

Eddie reaches for it, the bed creaking with his shifting weight. His stomach burns with a renewed round of pain as he grunts in annoyance. Finally he sits back and lets out an irritated sigh.

“Wheeler…” he tries, but his voice cracks dryly in his throat. Licking his lips he tries again, but even less comes out, “Harrin… oh fuck it.”

Swinging his feet onto the hardwood floor, face scrunching and heating up with the effort as he struggles to grab the blanket. He stretches until he can pull it close, kicking it up and pulling it back over his lap. The last thing he needs is Nancy or Robin seeing his dong when he’s vulnerable like this.

Wrapping the blanket around his waist, he tries to stand. The world shifts beneath him, his vision dragging and threatening to black out. His fingernails dig into the nightstand as he waits for the spots to blink away, eyeing the bookshelf lining the wall to gauge his path toward the music.

“Come on, baby, I don’t mind. Two lonely people, the helpless kind.” Eddie hears someone singing along, the floor creaks with her movements. “Come on, baby, love me ‘til the sun shines.”

Saliva floods his mouth as he smells food… it’s like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, and the gurgling of his stomach burns as badly as the scarring on his chest.

It takes him through the end of the song to tug himself up enough to stand. Sweat beads across his forehead as he struggles to keep the stupid blanket around his waist. Eddie usually wears a hair tie around his wrist but it was gone or he’d have used it.

“Clem! Screech!” a voice calls as he makes his way slowly toward the door. Inching along, Eddie peeks as much as he can, watching the shifting shadows through the light pouring in. “Dinner!”

He hears a barking noise, then the scarfing of food. Where the hell did they take him? None of them have pets beside Dustin.

As she comes back in, a screen door creaks shut. The music turns up a little as another old song plays, “Well, she was an American Girl. Raised on promises.”

Her voice is sweet, but Eddie doesn’t recognize it as he struggles his way toward the door. "After all it was a great big world. With lots of places to run to. Yeah, and if she had to die tryin', she had one little promise she was gonna keep."

Leaning heavily on the frame, Eddie finally catches a glimpse of the singing girl with the weird taste in music. She sways in time in front of a kitchen sink, surrounded by an army of dishes as she washes them in sudsy water. Her dark eyes watch the window, the vined plants above on a shelf drape between two nails to form a curtain. The cabin is small, one big room besides the bedroom he’d been sleeping in. Teensy string lights hang around the walls with the plants, and Eddie hears a storm brewing in the distance over the music.

But she is what makes his heart stop in his chest.

She’s not Robin or Nancy or Max, and Eddie doesn’t recognize her from school. She dances in place in nothing but a ratty old flannel, her chocolate curls flung up in a messy ponytail as she smiles out the window. Eddie makes a face as he realizes his own aren’t tickling his shoulders, and finally feels that it’s held up in a tight bun.

He tugs and releases his curls as he eyes her tanned legs, the soles of her feet dusted with a bit of dirt from not wearing shoes. A bruise blossoms on the back of her thigh and a scratch is healing to a pale jagged pink as she washes a coffee mug. He cranes his head to trail his gaze down the soft curve of her jaw, the supple swell of her cheekbone and full lips of her profile as she focuses on something outside. She’s beautiful, and Eddie swallows thickly as he struggles to speak.

“Hey…” he starts, but again it comes out weak and cracked. Eddie clears his throat and pushes off the door, stumbling on shaky legs as he pads into the kitchen.

Eddie reaches out to touch her shoulder, and suddenly her head turns to face him, dark eyes bright and fierce. Her hand shoots out and he’s flung back. His eyes clamp shut as he braces for the impact of hitting a wall, but a lightning fast screeching erupts behind him.

Instead of hardwood his ass hits something soft, and when he cautiously opens his eyes he finds himself plopped on an old flowery printed armchair. Eddie pants as he looks around in shock, but the girl lets out a happy yelp.

“Oh my god!” she yells excitedly, jumping in her spot. “You’re awake!”

She dries her hands off with a towel she snatches from the counter before tossing it aside. Hurrying over, she drops to her knees in front of him. Her hands go straight for his damaged stomach, warm fingertips grazing across his skin. Eddie winces and flinches away.

She pulls back with wide eyes, holding her hands protectively to her chest. She gives him a sheepish smile, “I really thought you were going to die, Edward.”

“Uhm, it’s Eddie…” is all he manages to croak out, and she nods to herself and taps her temple.

“Eddie, okay,” she grins, then sticks out her hand for him to shake. “Zero.”

Eddie makes a face, and she lets out an awkward sigh. She glances around for a moment before slapping her hands down on the tops of her exposed thighs, “You probably want some clothes, huh?”

Eddie looks down only to realize he was sitting on display for this strange woman to see. He tugs on the blanket to cover himself but she waves a hand nonchalantly, “I’ve seen it already. Don’t worry.” Eddie watches in horrified shock as she gets to her feet and walks back in the bedroom, speaking as though she knew him and this wasn’t some fucked up nightmare. He has no idea who she is and she’s seen him naked? “I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to wake up and I really thought you were gonna die in my bed…”

A drawer opens and closes, then she makes her way back in and hands him a pair of sweats and a flannel. Eddie takes the pile with a shaky hand as he continues her rambling.

“It was easier to keep you naked, and it was less laundry for me to do…” she trails off as he stares wide-eyed at her. She cocks her head, “Are you okay?”

Eddie licks his dry lips and shakes his head slowly, “Who are you?”

“I told you, I’m Zero,” she frowns, putting her hands on her hips.

“Okay… Zero,” he says slowly, leaning as far away from her as he could into the back of the chair. “Where are my friends?”

Zero frowns and looks again toward the window, “ You were the only one I found.”

Panic surges through him at the thought. Dustin, Max, and Lucas are just kids and the rest of them all have families who will look for him. He puts a shaky hand under himself to get up, but she flicks her wrist and he’s pushed back into the chair once more.

“I didn’t find any bodies, so I’m sure they’re fine.” She frowns again as he tries to get up again, but he can’t seem to move, “You shouldn't even be out of bed, okay? When I found you you looked like minced meat. I’m surprised I put you back together again, Humpty Dumpty.”

“You found me?” he asks incredulously. “What the hell were you doing in the Upside Down?”

Now it was her turn to make a face, “What the hell is the Upside Down?”

“Where you found me,” Eddie hisses. He points out the window toward the night even though they were far away from it all. Rage began to course through him at her indifference. “Purple clouds and lightning? Flying monsters and vines everywhere?”

Her dark eyes widen as her gaze follows his finger, her jaw dropping slightly. Zero nods slowly before turning back to him.

“I think you should get some sleep.”

Eddie watches angrily as she unfurls the sweatpants and grips the waistband. She watches him expectantly but he doesn’t budge.

“What were you doing there?”

She sighs and shakes them again, but when he sets his jaw and glares she tosses them on his lap. “I could tell something was going on out there so I went to investigate and found you, okay?”

“You found me?” Eddie asks as fresh hurt blossoms through his chest. "They left me there?"

Zero shrugged, "They probably thought you were dead. I did."

“Where am I?”

“In a cabin.”

“Where am I?” he asks again.

Zero groans dramatically and stalks off toward the front door. Her hand waves toward him and the armchair starts to shake. Eddie lets out an embarrassing yelp as it lurches forward by itself across the hardwood, following Zero out onto the porch.

The midnight blue sky hangs above them as the armchair scooches outside. Eddie grips the armrests tightly until it stops moving and has to peel his fingernails from the fabric. Stars pierce the sky, glittering like thin sparkling tulle in the warm night. A soft breeze glides through, but it doesn’t cut with its chill. Instead, it calms, and his hair dances over his shoulders in time.

Zero points out toward the distance where the blue meets angry pulsing purple and red. The storms Eddie heard over the radio rumble ten times louder now that he sees it, and his damaged heart drops low into his stomach.

“We’re in the Haven,” she says solemnly. Her eyes glisten with wetness as she watches the storm forming. She points again, “That’s the Darkness, or as you call it…”

“The Upside Down,” Eddie finishes for her in revulsed horror. “We’re still in the Upside Down.”

Zero nods, “You never left.”

Smurph's Masterlist | Zero to Hero Masterlist

Notes: Lmao you guys don't know what I went through making this gif small enough for Tumblr... anywho how do you think Eddie's going to deal with being in the Upside Down?? How do you think he and Zero will get along now that Eddie's awake?

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