Chapter Text
It was six o’clock in the fucking morning and the Quarry was already packed with tired, cranky people. The line was almost to the door and they were extra snappy today, only making Jane’s mood worse. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t making lattes and giving back change as fast as she could, but the business suits still glared at her as she foamed their milk and poured their espresso shots, as though she was intentionally trying to be slow.
She was running on three hours of sleep. It wasn’t really her fault, not entirely. When Hopper had given her the tip that a couple of kingpins were meeting at Castle Art Gallery, she hadn’t expected to do more than observe and see who was there. She hadn’t expected Martin “Doc” Brenner—the biggest mob boss currently still breathing in Chicago—to show up. She hadn’t expected every damn door and window in the place to be boarded up. And she hadn’t expected the place to be run by Will frickin’ Byers.
“Ouch!” she hissed, pulling back her burned finger from the hot metal milk pitcher.
The woman who’s caramel breve she was currently making shot her a look, pursing her lips as if the barista’s burnt skin mattered less than her need for caffeine. Jane almost glared back but instead just sighed and finished making the drink before shoving her burnt digit under the cold tap and then shaking it off. It didn’t hurt as bad as the throbbing bruise on her hip, or the slice across her left shoulder blade that pulsed and pulled each time she made a drink.
All she’d wanted to do last night was eavesdrop, learn what Brenner’s plans were, find out if he was connected to the new drug that had been creeping into the streets. She’d needed the damn lughead capos to take a piss for five seconds so she could slip into the gallery, a silent, superpowered ghost, and find a dark, quiet corner to listen in.
It wasn’t her fault that when that break had happened, she’d run headfirst into Will Byers, and she’d been so utterly shocked by the sight of him—her mind flashing back to being twelve and sitting in a homemade fort in the woods during that summer—that she’d lost her concentration, her usually careful restraint slipping. There was no way he’d recognized her. It had been almost fourteen years since they’d been two quiet, lost kids. And of course she was wearing her mask and suit, the 011 emblazoned across her chest in black and white, so if he saw anyone, it was just… Eleven.
But she’d been stupid. Worse than stupid. She’d been familiar.
She’d said his name. And that had fucked up everything.
One of the goons had come around the corner, behind her, and seen them, heard her say his name. And her whole plan had gone to shit.
She sighed, stifling a groan as she made change for twenty, her mind stuck in the endless circle, unable to think about anything that wasn’t her colossal fuck up. Hopper was going to kill her. It was a double hit since not only was he her informant, but the only father figure she’d ever really had. Disappointing him sucked . And last night she’d not only exposed her involvement in trying to get upside down off the streets, but she’d accidentally roped in an innocent civilian.
If he was innocent.
Jane had analyzed every explanation as to why Will had allowed goddamn mobsters into his art gallery, but she had yet to actually look up any evidence. When she’d made it home last night she’d barely been able to do more than hop in the shower to wash the blood off her knuckles and clean her wounds and then fall into bed. The second her shift was over she was heading home to snoop around and find out why Will had done what he’d done. Hopper probably would too pissed to help her, unless…
Once I point out he’s Joyce’s kid, he’ll crack, she figured. He’s still got that soft spot.
It was part of what made the whole thing so weird. Out of the literal millions of people living in Chicago, she somehow managed to find the two she knew of from Hawkins, Indiana. She’d only spent one summer there, mostly hidden in the cabin, out of sight as she learned to control her newfound abilities. Other than Will and Hopper and maybe Mr. Melvald, she didn’t know anyone else. And yet by some weird twist of fate, Will had ended up in Chicago too.
The thoughts and worries and exhaustion swirled around in her mind during her entire shift, bouncing back and forth until her brain felt raw. The morning turned into afternoon. She felt drained, grateful for her break where she ingested her own cup of black dark roast, the caffeine helping to keep her pounding exhaustion headache at bay. It was the one thing she hated about her double life, being tired all the time. Fighting crime at night and putting on a show of normality during the day.
That and the utter loneliness.
Vigilante business meant not having any friends or close relationships. No potential weaknesses. No targets. She couldn’t even get a cat.
If her identity was compromised, anyone she knew, even Hopper, could be in danger. It wasn’t worth the risk, and there was enough for her to do anyways, she didn’t have time to invest in any sort of relationship outside of her secret life. It didn’t keep her from crying over her cheesy soap operas and romcoms and novels. Which she taped daily during her shifts so she never got behind, watching them as she iced her ribs or picked glass out of her knees.
It was the little things, that kept her going. But despite knowing better, her heart was still too soft, and sometimes her big superhero act was returning a stolen dog and watching a child smile. Leaving pervs and criminals outside of the precinct was never as satisfying as the warm hugs from strangers, and maybe more than anything that was kept her going. It was a damn shame. Being the mysterious, hardened, criminal-catching superhero was hard enough without being all soft. But she was and she knew if anything would end up getting her killed, it would be that.
Last night had almost proved that.
“Um, excuse me?”
She’d been staring into space but the voice shook her from her dazed thoughts and she glanced up at the man standing in front of her, not really looking. “Yes?”
“Sorry, I just ordered a cappuccino and you’ve kind of just been…” He almost sounded embarrassed for her and Jane felt a flare of irritation. “...standing there.”
“Right, sorry. Let me get that made for you,” she said robotically, not even bothering to look at his face. Her shift ended in an hour but she was already mentally done. Her bed was screaming her name from her apartment a few blocks away. She could hear it. “Was that a large or a regular?”
“Large,” he answered, then cleared his throat. “You’ve had a long day?”
“Long night. And that makes the day long,” she shrugged. She wasn’t really in the mood to talk and she hoped that would shut him up.
“Gotcha. You a student?”
“No,” she answered flatly, finishing his drink and reaching for a lid.
“So then—”
“Here you go, have a nice day,” she interrupted, wanting the interrogation to end.
She held out the cup, finally bothering to look up at the guy who wouldn’t just let her work in peace. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t what she saw. He was tall, at least six foot if not taller, and pale with a dark mop of hair and freckles and warm, hot chocolate eyes. His fingers brushed hers as he took the cup and she just blinked, surprised at how cute he was. He wasn’t dressed in a business suit, but had on a pair of jeans and button-up underneath a baggy sweater. A green and brown satchel dotted with pins crossed his broad chest and as their eyes met he smiled, more warmly than she probably deserved.
Shit, she breathed, he’s actually hot, what the hell?
“Thanks,” he said simply.
And then he turned, heading to one of the corner tables and then pulling out a ridiculous amount of books and notebooks and settling in. He glanced over and she quickly looked away, feeling stupid. He was just a cute guy. A beautiful man. They existed. No reason to get all flustered. She quickly went back to work, grabbing a tea bag and a scoop for the next customer, shrugging the encounter off.
The last hour of her shift inched by and despite how stupid she thought it was, she couldn’t help but glance over at the mystery guy in the corner. More than once. Many times, actually. Her observational skills took in every detail, memorizing the way he jiggled his leg as he frowned down at his books, as if trying to understand something. If spying on people wasn’t part of her training she might have felt weird, but she was mostly just curious.
However, the second it was three-thirty, she clocked out and didn’t give it another thought. It was time to do some research, aka bothering Hopper until he went to the precinct and dug up the files she would need. He was good at that. Digging.
And then maybe some sleep? Probably not.
She wanted to know everything about the gallery, when it was built, when Will had bought it, if it had any historical significance to Brenner or if it had just been a place to do a deal that had that weird ambiance he seemed to like. But she also needed to know the local gossip and for that there was only one place.
Curiosity Door Comics was probably Jane’s favorite place in the city. It was the best place to pick up the newest issue of Catwoman or Sandman or that new Daredevil series that Dustin had told her was good. Hopper was her official informant, an in with the cops that kept her up to date on what was happening on the scummy underbelly of the city. Dustin Henderson, however, knew all of the unofficial happenings. As a business owner and tech geek, he kept up to date on message boards, staying a step ahead of inspections and learning about other businesses closing and popping up. He didn’t know it, but their gossiping sessions had helped her catch a whole ring of sex traffickers that had been setting up temporary brothels under the guise of massage parlors. She didn’t know who he was or where he was from, and she didn’t want to know. But he was friendly and funny and was always up to debate Superman vs Batman and if Wolverine was really the best X-Men or not.
The doorbell jangled as she walked into the shop, the scent of ink and paper filling her nose and making her relax. Mews was snoozing on her cat tree next to the new releases shelf and Jane walked over and gave her a head scratch, eyes scanning the brightly colored comic book covers.
“New Sandman is top left,” a familiar lisping voice said behind her. She would have startled if she hadn’t heard the creak of the floor as he came out from the back thirty-two seconds ago. Instead she reached for the new issue, plucking it noiselessly from the shelf and smiling at the cover.
“Is it good?” She turned to him.
“Crazy good. Gaiman is a genius. You’re going to love it,” Dustin grinned, his usual thin-lipped smile. “But I won’t spoil it. Anything else you wanted, or just the usual?”
Jane moseyed over to the counter, leaning against it and setting the comic down, shrugging casually. He was easy enough to get talking, and once he started, he wouldn’t stop. It was all about suggestion, seeing what he would say if she mentioned one thing, acting just interested enough to keep him going on something before subtly switching the subject, tweaking the conversation just so. It was manipulation, she realized, and you weren’t supposed to manipulate your friends.
It was a good thing they weren’t actually friends.
“Is there anything other than the usual that I should want?”
“Well, I got something called Preacher I just unboxed,” he drawled, tapping his fingers on the glass countertop. The case beneath them was filled with rares and first editions, some from Dustin’s own collection, the prices too ridiculously high to actually buy. “But I have a feeling you’re wanting the news.”
“What’s new?” It was her usual opener.
“Hmmm… Hansen’s Deli closed. There was a rumor they had rats but no proof, kind of a shame. They had the best pastrami,” he sighed sadly before moving onto the next thing. “But a new pizza place is coming, so I guess I can’t complain too much. Since the last one that was close actually did get shut down by health inspectors. Which explains how me and my roommates got food poisoning so many times.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah… I probably should have figured that out sooner.”
“What about that art gallery? Off of seventh?” She let her fingers trace the scratches on the glass beneath her elbows, casual. “A friend mentioned they were thinking of going, is it worth it?”
Dustin’s entire demeanor brightened at that, grin widening. “Oh, you mean Castle Gallery? You should definitely go. My buddy owns it, actually. It’s an extension of the one in NYC that his brother runs but—” He lowered his voice. “It’s not doing as well and Will’s been kind of stressed about money. It’s all he talks about at home.”
Jane suddenly felt her stomach clench, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up . “At… home?”
“Yeah, yeah we’re roommates. Him and our other two friends, we all share this house that was Lucas’s great-aunt’s or something. Splitting the rent means it’s like, three hundred a month and it’s got four rooms and two baths so we actually don’t have to fight over space,” he nodded happily. “It’s handy since we’re all still working on our own things anyways. Big ol’ bachelor pad with my best buddies since elementary school! Doesn’t get much better than that.”
Every vein in Jane’s body felt like ice. Dustin was Will’s friend. And Will lived with him and his other two best friends. She’d never met them, never had faces to put to the names, but she knew who they were.
“I… I could bring my friends sometime,” Will offered, voice interrupting the stillness as they both sat in the little wooden structure. He’d been busy drawing, sitting on the mattress with his legs crossed, colored pencils creating masterpiece, but now looked at her, unsure. “They’re really nice. I bet they’d like you.”
Jane stared him, blinking. She’d been reading a magazine he’d brought her, something with pretty people on the cover called “Teen Beat”. Some of them she’d seen on TV before and she’d hungrily read the first two issues already, halfway through her third. But at his suggestion she lowered it.
“I can’t, Will. I shouldn’t even be here with you right now. I could get in trouble,” she said carefully.
He didn’t know the full truth. That her mother had brought her to her hometown, lost and unsure, after her daughter had started getting nosebleeds and, more worryingly, telekinesis. Her powers had manifested after the mother and daughter had been held at gunpoint. Jane had been scared, scared of the man, of what he might to do her, of what he might do to her mother. And then she’d been angry, as her mom handed over her purse and what meager money was inside of it. The man had been unhappy, shoving the gun in her face and Jane had screamed, thrown her hand out, felt an unknown pressure build in her temples and—
The next thing she knew she woke up, cradled in her mother’s arms, the body of the thug crumpled in the alley, neck twisted.
Terry Ives had panicked, unsure of what to do but wanting to protect her daughter. So she’d gone home, to Hawkins, Indiana, heading for the house of the only man left in the world who she could trust.
Hopper had hidden Jane, in an old cabin out in the woods, sitting with his old friend as the young girl tentatively crushed an empty can. He hadn’t looked scared, or disgusted even, but his brow had furrowed in concern and he’d given Terry a worried look.
He’d let them stay, coming up every other day and helping her test her abilities, to see how far she could push them, find out all that she could do.
And with her discovery of what power lived within her, her mother made one too. Of the blackness that had infected her lungs and throat, that had been poisoning her slowly for years, unnoticed.
She’d had two months.
Hopper had kept them as comfortable as possible but Jane would escape, needing to get away from the sound of her mother’s wheezing and the smell of death in the cabin. She’d stayed in the woods, heeding Hopper’s warning to go unnoticed, but had found sanctuary in a small, lopsided fort. When Will discovered her there she had been scared she’d be found out but instead of trying to throw her out or being suspicious, he’d asked if she was okay or lost and then nodded when she only shook her head.
“Just getting away?” he asked.
She nodded.
“That’s okay. I have to get away sometimes too. My name is Will Byers. You can stay if you want, I was just going to draw anyways.”
It had been like that for a few days. She would stay silently with him, watching him draw pictures of knights and wizards, amazed at his talent. He would talk to her, tell her about the D&D campaigns he had with his three friends. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. How they would go to the arcade or the pool or just riding their bikes through town to get comics and ice cream. It had filled the silence, filled her lonely soul. And slowly, over a few weeks, she spoke to him, telling him of the big city she called home and her sick mother and her fears of what would happen next. He’d never pried or made her feel weird for being secretive, instead just listening and patting her hand and offering her a bite of the sandwich he’d brought.
He had been her first real friend, even in the few brief months they’d shared.
How was she supposed to know that this Dustin—the one who joked about which X-Men wore the skimpiest outfit and let her feed Mews cat treats sometimes—was the same Dustin her only childhood friend had told her about? They were nowhere near Hawkins anymore, and yet somehow she couldn’t keep these people out of her orbit.
And Dustin lived with Will, along with the other two, so if Will was getting involved with Brenner and the underworld of the city, they could all be in danger.
But was he purposely getting involved?
It took her a moment to process, all he’d said and her memories and the realization of how much she stood to lose. There was no way she couldn’t see this through now. She needed to know more.
She cleared her throat. “So, um, you said he’s been struggling for money?”
“Yeah…” Dustin let out a sigh. “It’s been hard getting artists to rent wall space. Attendance has been low, or at least people with money who will buy the art and so… bills are piling. Luckily some bigwig rented the place out last night for a private event and he made enough to keep it going for another few months.”
“Lucky,” she choked out.
But why there? If he was low on money, it would make sense as to why he’d taken the engagement. Any money was good money when you were only a few more weeks away from going bankrupt. As alarmed as she was at how close all the favorite people in her life were to danger, she felt relieved knowing he hadn’t done it because he was in bed with the criminals. He was just desperate to keep his business open. And they’d needed a place to make their deals, somewhere that wasn’t suspicious, somewhere with wine and art and a comfortable atmosphere that would please bosses and lackeys alike. A one time deal.
And she’d fucked it up for him.
“Um, well, I hope things get better for him,” she managed, grabbing her wallet from her purse. “I need to head home, can I get this?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He rang her up, the chatter dying as she tried to keep her mind from being overloaded with all the new data that was being processed. It had been messy, her mistake last night, but now it had just become considerably more complicated.
With a final smile she tucked her comic under her arm and left the shop, heading to the bus stop and sitting down to wait. What would her first move be? She wanted to strap on her boots and mask and head over to the gallery first. See if they’d left anything behind. No—wait, she needed to get Will’s address and make sure he was okay. She was the one who had put him in danger, she needed to check on him. And his roommates. And, god, if someone was there, what would she do?
It was too much. Too many voices all at once, and she didn’t know how to make sense or figure out what her plan should be. There was the only thing she could do.
She needed to talk to Hopper.