The Search
Given the fact that Steve's body was still functioning, he was pretty sure he was still alive. But that didn't make the fact that he was looking down on himself any less unsettling.
As far as 'out-of-body experiences' went, this was top tier.
He could still feel everything. He could feel Eddie's hand on his hip. He could feel the aches and pains. He could feel the bandages, the blankets, the pillows. He could feel it all. But he couldn't get back in, and he couldn't wake up.
He'd tried everything he could think of. Everything he'd seen in movies, read in books. Everything.
Steve came to the conclusion that he'd need to wait for El. Surely she could reconnect him, right?
Right.
So Steve busied himself with snooping around the house. He'd only been to the Sinclairs' house a couple of times. And he had never been upstairs.
For a while, he hung around downstairs. Claudia was shakily drinking a cup of tea.
Mrs Wheeler had gone back home to get the kids. Dr Sinclair was animatedly writing out what had happened at the Wheeler house. Steve had no idea why, but he suspected it had something to do with a report?
Mrs Sinclair was alternating between stress cleaning and reading over her husband's shoulder.
Colours danced around the room, auras swirling and dancing against each other.
Steve was far from used to it all. He was sure that if he'd been watching with his physical form, he'd have some major eye strain from trying to separate the different auras.
That's why he went back upstairs. The emotions down there were palpable.
But, upstairs? It was just Robin and Eddie. And he knew them well enough that their auras made sense. Sure, he was seeing them for the first time. But they were what he expected.
Steve passed the master bedroom, and continued down the hallway.
When he reached the next open door on the left, he stepped inside.
It was so obviously Erica's room. It was girly; it screamed '11 year old girl'.
But there were small touches of the girl he knew, too. Textbooks laying open on her desk - all above her actual grade. D&D mini figurines were displayed on her bookcase. Half of them were hand painted, the other half were a plain gray color.
Notebook after notebook lined her top shelf. He had no doubt they were filled with math notes, or just generally academic things. Things that would probably go way over his head.
Steve smiled to himself. It was a comfortable change from the shit he'd been witnessing over and over. He let the room be, moving further down the hallway to what he assumed was Lucas's.
It was cosy. Burnt orange walls and dark blue curtains. His floor was littered with various clothing items. A basketball sat in the corner, next to his desk.
It was Steve's old ball. The one he had given to Lucas, right after he'd graduated. He didn't play anymore, so he'd had no use for it. He was pretty sure that was one of the only reasons Dr Sinclair actually liked him.
Steve shuffled around the room, soundlessly. His eyes flicked over the kid's D&D books, his figurines, his homework sitting abandoned on his desk. He was glad that it looked like a normal teenage boy's bedroom. That Lucas had some sort of normal going on. It was encouraging.
Steve's gaze fell on a framed photo sitting on Lucas's bedside table. He walked closer, and recognised the image.
It was a photo they had taken on Lucas's birthday, a couple of years ago.
Erica was on her brother's left, a fond frown set on her face. Dustin was on his right, grinning ear to ear. Mike was behind Dustin, an arm draped over Lucas's shoulders. Will stood behind Erica, half turned away from the camera, and laughing at something El had said. El was stood close to Will's side, smiling softly. Max was crouched in front of Erica and Lucas. Her smile was small, and more mocking than happy. But it was all Max.
Finally, Hopper and Joyce were stood behind the group, having chauffeured the lakeside picnic. Steve knew Jonathan was behind the camera, because he had watched the whole posing process from his car.
He'd been too nervous to actually get out and join them, but the scene had had a warm feeling growing in his chest, anyway.
Hopper looked about as annoyed as he always did when Mike was around.
And Joyce—
Oh, fuck. Joyce.
Steve didn't know if El had told Joyce any of what had gone down over the past couple of days. If she wasn't with the others, driving over from Nevada, then she was probably worried sick.
Shit, he needed to talk to El.
Steve spun on his heel, storming out into the hallway. The house melted around him, making way for that familiar darkness.
"Eleven?!" He shouted. His voice echoed back to him. For a long moment, he wasn't even sure if she could hear him.
But then a hand landed on his arm, and he jumped.
"Steve."
She looked worried, but not panicked. Her aura was a calm white. "Are you alright? What happened earlier? What is wrong? I heard you call for me."
He pulled her into a hug. She slowly wrapped her arms around him, and suddenly he wasn't in the void anymore.
He was sitting in the back of an unknown van. Said van was more colourful than any van he'd ever been in. Eleven was sitting across from him, holding his hand as to keep their connection.
Steve looked around, and almost startled again. Mike was sitting in the back seat, Will next to him. Both were half turned in their spots, watching El.
It was obvious they couldn't see him, but it was a relief to see them alive and well, all the same.
Up in the front seat, he could see a glimpse of Jonathan's mousey brown hair in the driver's seat. And next to him; a person he didn't recognise.
"They cannot see you. They can only see me, and to them I have a blindfold on."
Steve nodded. "I know. I'm starting to get the hang of this."
He turned back to look at her as he spoke.
She was giving him a sad smile.
"You are stronger, now. I can feel you. You called, and I heard."
Steve took a deep breath. And then another.
"Do you remember when you were little, and Eight would play with you in the rainbow room?"
She looked taken aback. He knew it wouldn't be long before she realised. There was no other way he could know about the lab.
"Yes. I do."
Steve nodded. "And for a while, you had another friend? A brother? Who tried to protect you from the older kids—"
"Steve."
He stopped. There were tears in her eyes. She went deathly pale, bordering on green.
"Seven." She had figured it out.
"El, what do you mean?"
"Pull over!"
The van came to a screeching halt, sending everyone lurching toward the front of the vehicle. Everyone except Steve.
The moment the van was pulled off the road, El tore off her blindfold, and threw herself out the back doors. Steve watched her stumble a few steps away from the van, bend at the waist, and throw up into the dirt.
There was a mad scramble for the boys to climb out after her. Will reached her first, and began fussing in a way that reminded him of Joyce.
She looked back at the van, but Steve could tell she wasn't seeing him anymore. He could feel her in the void. Ever present, but not seeing. Eleven stood straight, only to curl around Will with sobs tearing from her chest.
Emotions swirled violently through the air. He couldn't do anything, because she couldn't hear him. Not that his powers worked on her, anyway.
He couldn't stop her when she sobbed it out to them. Part of him yearned to tell her to stop. While the other was almost relieved it was out in the open.
"St-eve..." she choked, hands holding fistfuls of Will's shirt. "He is n-number Seven... I did-n't know. I swe-ear."
Steve watched the turmoil rise in the air. Five different auras radiating the same colours.
"What? Wait. El. What are you talkingabout?"
Mike was trying to sound assertive. He was trying to sound normal. But Steve could hear the alarm in his tone.
Steve clambered out of the van. It was odd. Nothing shifted under his weight. He was a ghost.
El took a shaky breath, swallowing her sobs.
"I remember now. There was a– one of my brothers. In the lab. He was only with us for a short time. The others thought he was dangerous. He protected me when he could. It was Steve. StevewasSeven."
Darkness melted back in around him. He hadn't been able to ask her to contact Joyce. He hadn't had time.
Maybe Steve had to do it himself. Maybe he had to try and figure it out for himself.
Steve sat down in the void. Water rippled around him. He could feel it, but it wasn't wet. He sat with his legs criss-crossed, his hands on his knees, and he closed his eyes.
He hadn't seen El do this in a long time, so he could only hope that it worked for him.
He knew his powers were different.
But, he thought – if he could isolate Joyce's aura, he might be able to use it.
Steve cleared his mind, as best as he could. He thought about Joyce. The way she felt to him. Her mannerisms. The way she interacted with her loved ones.
The way she loved.
Her colours.
And then, he could see it. A swirling miasma of pale blue and yellow. It was her.
He had no doubt.
He stood, latching onto her. And he followed it. He moved towards her. The closer he got, the more he could see. He could see the exhaustion, the fear, the love, the relief.
He could feel it.
Steve was stood in what looked like a church. As he turned, he could see pallets upon pallets of peanut butter. Crates of clothing, and weapons. It looked like a storage facility.
Joyce was standing next to a table, hand on a phone. She looked angry, but still herself.
And then, in the shock of a lifetime, Steve realised Hopper was standing behind her.
Alive.
His head shaved like El's, bruised to shit, but alive.
Steve darted forward, hoping to God that his idea would work.
He placed his hand on the phone, next to Joyce's, and willed it to ring. She startled, jumping backwards and pulling her hand away as if it had burned her.
But just as quickly as she retreated, she had the phone in her hand again, and was putting it to her ear.
"...Hello?"
"Joyce. It's Steve."
"Steve?"
He silently pumped his fist in the air, relief flooding through him.
It had worked.
Hopper and Joyce exchanged a look, and Murray Bauman slowly approached them.
Joyce pulled the receiver away from her ear, putting the phone on speaker.
"Where are you, Steve?"
"I'm at Dr and Mrs Sinclair's house, right now. The kids are on their way over from Mrs Wheeler's. Jonathan, El and the boys are about halfway back to Hawkins by road. Joyce, it's really good to hear your voice."
All three had deep frowns set on their faces. They looked confused and concerned. Steve could feel it in the air.
"Where are you?" Steve asked.
"Russia. Hopper was in prison. We just broke him out?"
"Prison? Russian prison? No wonder we thought you were dead."
Hopper pulled a face, mouthing a 'what the fuck' at Joyce. They had no idea he could see them, and he wanted to tell them he could. But he knew – hoped – it would go a lot better in person. He knew that now, anyway. El's breakdown hadn't been ideal.
"Yeah, kid. I'm alive. Good to hear from you. But how do you even have this number? It's meant to be a secure line..."
Well, shit.
How was he going to lie his way around this?
He sucked in a deep breath.
"I- um... I just have it, okay? I'll explain when you get back. Speaking of, when are you coming back? Because we need you here."
"Shit, kid. We were going to do some damage from our end. We've got some demo-pieces-of-shit over here—"
"Are you sure they're still alive?"
Hopper froze. Joyce turned to look at him, alarmed. Murray was just muttering to himself, clearly confused.
"Because the gates are closed. I killed Vecna... Everything died. Here, at least."
Steve watched them process it all in silence. Auras swirled around the room in vicious patterns.
Eventually, Joyce frowned down at the phone.
"Who's this... 'Vecna'?"
"Number One. Henry Creel. He was behind all of this. He's been trying to kill Eleven since the moment she sent him into the Upside-Down. He just wanted to watch the world burn... But I reversed our roles."
"Steve," Hopper was stern, his arms crossed over his chest. "What did you do? Are you okay?"
Steve stifled a sigh. He could see where this was going. "I... um... so, he could make you see things. Visions, sort of... He showed me his plan to kill Max and Eddie- Eddie Munson. And he was going to split Hawkins open and let his monsters roam free and kill everyone."
Steve raised a hand to his throat, fingers brushing over the bruised, stitched up skin. He didn't have any bandages in this form. His injuries on full display. "So I went into the Upside-Down by myself, and I... I decapitated him, and set the body on fire."
Joyce looked terrified. Hopper was swearing to himself, hand over his mouth. Murray had started pacing wildly.
A fourth person entered the room, and Steve didn't recognise him. Not even his aura. But he was equally as cut up as Hopper, and he had an odd air of calm surrounding him.
Everybody turned to look at him.
"What's happening?" He asked with a heavy Russian accent.
"Steve... one of my kids... He ended it. It's over."
"We can go home."
Steve was sat on the Sinclairs' front porch steps. Eddie was beside him, cigarette clutched like a lifeline between trembling fingers. He looked exhausted.
Eddie sniffed, rubbing his hands over his face harshly. Two cars turned onto the street, and he stood. With his cigarette pinched between his lips, Eddie watched the two cars pull into the driveway. Apprehension licked at the edges of his aura.
Steve was on edge. He faintly recognised the boys that got out of the cars, but he'd only seen them in passing. He stayed seated on the steps, while Eddie stepped down onto the driveway. The auras around him were full of relief, and fear, and irritation.
He wasn't afraid of them.
They wouldn't hurt his Eddie.
One of the boys had a guitar case with him, which he gently placed on the ground next to where Eddie was standing, so he could pull him into a hug.
Which lead to the other five boys joining in a clumsy, yet passionate group hug.
"What the fuck happened, Eddie?"
Eddie untangled himself from his friends' limbs, moving his cigarette from his mouth to sit between his fingers. He placed both hands on the boy's cheeks. "A lot, Gareth. A lot fuckin' happened."