Chapter Text
Eddie wakes up somewhere dark and cramped. This is surprising for a couple of reasons, but the main one is that he woke up at all, seeing as how Eddie is pretty sure he remembers dying. Eddie jolts, and pats at his stomach and chest in panic, expecting to find gaping wounds. All his fingers find, though, is the worn material of his shirt and, underneath, puckered scar tissue. That’s… weird. Come to think of it, the musty blackness of wherever he is doesn’t quite match up to the blood-stained sky and rotten stench of the Upside Down, either.
None of those facts matter much right now, though, since Eddie’s entire body feels like he’s had a redo of his eighth-grade growth spurt all in one night, except now his head is pounding too, and his stomach churns angrily, and shit he’s gonna hurl–
Eddie thrashes in nausea-induced panic until all at once there’s a tipping, swooping sensation, followed by a crash and sudden pain. Then Eddie hurls his guts up.
——————
The room Eddie is in is some sort of walk-in cooler. Probably. Okay, so he doesn’t really know what’s going on, but he’s just working with what he has. What he has currently amounts to:
- It’s dark in here, but with his lighter Eddie can just make out that the room is small-ish and metal and sterile-looking, with a bunch of built-in cabinets along the walls.
- It’s pretty cold in here. Like, see-your-breath cold.
- There are, uh…yeah. Those are caskets. There are three caskets sitting on tables lined up in the middle of the room, and…
- There’s a fourth casket lying cracked open on the ground, a puddle of puke crusting over on the floor just to its left.
Yeah, so all signs point to him being in some sort of morgue, surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies in boxes, where he, Eddie, had until recently also been a dead-ish body in a box. Great.
“Shit.”
Eddie has got to get out of here, if only so he can get a smoke. He tries the door to the cooler and it’s unlocked from the inside, thank god. Probably they don’t expect anybody to try and break out of the corpse refrigerator. Eddie opens the door a crack and peers out into an unlit, beige-carpeted hallway, with a door at one end letting out a sliver of light and another propped open further down, a glimpse of downtown Hawkins visible beyond. The coast seems to be clear. He creeps out from the cooler on shaky legs, crouching down the hall and past the lit doorway, catching the clattering of a typewriter and the faint strains of– Is that ABBA? Christ, and Eddie had thought his night couldn’t get any worse. Eddie slips through the last door and out into the night air.
Eddie shivers. Hawkins looks strange and unfamiliar in the dim light, and it’s weird there aren’t any people around downtown, even at this hour. A streetlight flickers on and the yellow light illuminates a sign. 2nd Street. How the fuck did he get all the way here from his trailer? Oh, shit, Wayne. He’ll be worried out of his mind by now. Eddie’s been gone with no word for days. Eddie realizes with a chill that he has no clue how long he was out. He sways with indecision. Eddie can’t just stand around in the middle of downtown as a wanted man, but is it safe for him to go home? Is it safe for Wayne?
A door clatters open a few buildings down and a man spills out onto the street, muttering angrily. Eddie’s decision is made for him. He hurries to the nearest alley and begins trudging south, body still aching and nausea still roiling faintly in his gut. Time to go home.
——————
Eddie drags himself through three mile’s worth of Hawkins’ deserted back streets and scrubby woods before he finally reaches home. It’s a miracle he reaches it at all without being spotted or breaking his neck tripping over the infinite (and infinitely spiteful) tree roots between the funeral home and his trailer. Eddie shouldn’t have been able to even see them with the night-time dimness and the added shade of the trees, but there must have been a moon out.
By the time Eddie gets to his front stoop he’s grimy and aching and, fuck, still nauseous and ready to fall onto the ancient couch and watch General Hospital reruns with Wayne until they fall asleep. He pauses to take a breath and put on his best weary-yet-steadfast look (instead of the exhausted-and-terrified look he currently sports) when a movement catches his eye.
A yellow police tape flutters where it still hangs from one side of the door frame. Once Eddie’s seen the tape, he spots more things overlooked in his hurry. A busted window, carefully tarped over. The mailbox, knocked off its post. A blood-red Murderer! sprayed across the front of the trailer. Eddie’s stomach clenches. Another movement flashes out of the corner of his eye, and Wayne moves into view through the front window.
Eddie stands frozen as Wayne walks around the tiny living room with a trash bag, stooping to pick up broken knick-knacks knocked to the floor in the heat of the Vecna debacle, sweeping up broken glass and dead leaves. He looks tired. Wayne dips out of sight for a minute, then reappears, brushing off a squashed and muddy-looking hat, hanging it carefully back on the wall. Eddie backs down the steps, not looking away even when he stumbles on the last one.
Wayne moves out of view, and Eddie turns toward the road and starts walking.
——————
Eddie’s not sure how long he’s been walking by the time he reaches Steve Harrington’s front door, but it’s long enough that the spring night has chilled significantly and the clear skies have turned to a storm, complete with thunder, lightning, and pouring rain. Eddie shivers and hammers on the door before he can be discouraged by pesky thoughts like What if Harrington’s parents come to the door instead? or It’s got to be at least one a.m. by now, he’s probably asleep. Eddie is about to knock again when the door swings open and he’s greeted by a rumpled, tired-looking Steve Harrington.
“Robin, you have a key, just– Eddie?” Steve’s mouth hangs open.
“Yeah, no, not Robin. Sorry,” Eddie says. Steve says nothing, just keeps staring. Eddie shifts and darts his eyes to the porch light, to his water-logged converses, to anywhere other than Steve Harrington in his sweat pants and bare feet and wide eyes. Why had he thought this was a good idea? “You know, Harrington, if you keep staring like that a guy might start to feel unwelcome.”
Steve finally comes to life. “You– How’re you– You’re dead!” Steve sputters, but he opens the door wider and moves aside, and that’s enough welcome for Eddie. He brushes past Steve, wincing at the squeak of his wet sneakers on the hardwood.
“Yeah, believe me, dude, that’s what I thought too,” Eddie says and breaths a shaky laugh. Steve keeps his eyes on Eddie like he’ll disappear if he blinks.
“Eddie, seriously, how are you here? You were definitely, definitely dead like, a week ago. I saw,” Steve falters, “I saw your body, man.” Steve is talking about his death with such certainty that Eddie feels a little out of his body, the ground tilting beneath him like a ship on choppy water. Eddie barks a laugh because it’s that or hurl up what little is left in his stomach.
“Wish I could tell you, dude, really wish I could, but you know as much as me. Or, hey! Maybe more.” Steve’s brow scrunches in confusion. “Last I remember I’m getting ripped to shit by weird tentacle-bats and forcing Henderson to carry on the Hellfire legacy, and then all of a sudden I wake up in a fucking coffin, and everything hurts but not as much as it should considering I bled out recently and I’m really starting to freak out, man–” Steve reaches out and puts a warm hand on the juncture of Eddie’s shoulder, thumb on his pulse, half like he’s trying to be comforting and half like he has to check for himself that Eddie is really there. Eddie tries for about half a second to keep it together, but the shit day he’s had and the comforting touch of another human are too much. Eddie can feel his face crumple, and he just starts full-on sobbing. Steve’s face softens and he steps forward to wrap around Eddie fully, tucking his face into Steve’s neck with one hand.
Huh.
Eddie never thought he’d end up bawling in Steve Harrington’s arms and dripping all over his fancy foyer at one a.m.
Funny how things work out.
——————
Once Eddie’s sobs have petered out to occasional sniffles, Steve seems to think it’s time to take action. He pats Eddie once on the back and shifts away to look him in the eyes.
“Okay, Munson, take off your shoes and let’s get a move on.”
“Wh– My shoes?”
“Yeah, man. You just wear your shoes around the house?”
“I mean… yeah.” Steve looks offended.
“Okay, well, suit yourself, but come on. You can’t stay in those wet clothes, you’ll catch a cold.” Eddie stares at Steve because truly, what the fuck, but Steve is already jogging up the stairs. Eddie blinks and goes to follow him, but…
Eddie toes off his shoes and places them on the mat before following. The guy still has Eddie’s snot on his shirt, this seems like the least he can do.
——————
Eddie walks into Steve’s room and sees him bent over a dresser, digging through clothes and muttering. Steve utters a soft aha! and tosses a bundle at his chest.
“Okay, man, I’ll let you get changed. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” Steve points a thumb over his shoulder and promptly disappears down the stairs. Eddie stares after him for a moment (he seems to be doing a lot of that), then shakes his head and begins peeling off his wet clothes. Ugh, why did he have to die in skinny jeans? This is the worst. Once he’s down to just boxers Eddie hesitates and looks at the clothes Steve tossed over. Sweatpants, socks, a worn basketball shirt, and the classic teenage-boy blue-plaid boxers. Choices, choices. Stay in his wet underwear and be uncomfortable for hours or wear Harrington’s and think about it every single day for the next ten years? Eddie shifts from foot to foot for a minute then sighs and picks up the boxers. He’s not really cold but he’d give anything not to feel soggy anymore. Eddie can freak out about this later.
——————
Eddie follows a faint beeping sound to the kitchen and pauses in the doorway, feeling strangely shy. Steve carefully takes two mugs out of the microwave and dunks a tea bag in each.
“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, fiddling with a damp strand of hair.
“What does it look like? Making tea,” Steve says and glances over his shoulder with a look like duh. “How do you take yours? Want any sugar, or milk, or…?”
“Uh, just… just plain is good.” Seriously, what the fuck. Eddie is starting to feel majorly mothered. Steve shrugs and proceeds to stir a truly disgusting amount of sugar into one of the mugs, then hands Eddie the other. Eddie’s not much of a tea drinker but the warmth of the mug feels nice against his palms. Steve sips at his concoction with evident satisfaction, but his expression quickly sobers and he looks at Eddie.
“So… it sounds like you don’t know how you’re not dead, either.” Steve immediately winces and Eddie huffs a laugh. “Not– Not that I’m not happy you’re alive! Just, uh…” Eddie decides to put him out of his misery.
“Yeah, dude, I’m pretty glad I’m not dead, too.”
Steve smiles sheepishly and says, “What I mean is… maybe you can tell me what you remember and then I can, you know, fill in some of the gaps.” Eddie nods and stares down at his tea, winding and unwinding the string around his finger.
“Yeah,” Eddie says, then falls silent again. After a full minute, Steve prods Eddie with a socked foot.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. So,” Eddie clears his throat, “I remember leaving Henderson behind. I remember the demo-bats ripping me to shreds. And I remember laying there and bleeding just, entirely too much and looking up at Henderson, realizing we’d won but that I was gonna die there.” Steve makes a soft noise in his throat but says nothing. Eddie tips his head back and stares hard at the ceiling. “And then I don’t remember anything until, what?” Eddie counts on his fingers. “Five hours ago? I woke up in a fuckin’ casket, man. If anybody thinks the ultimate way to confront death is to actually do the damn thing they should try taking a nap in the morgue.” He barks a laugh but somehow Steve doesn’t look amused. Eddie feels himself starting to freak out again and cranks his theatrics up a notch. “So, then I busted out, which, let me tell you, was a pretty harrowing endeavor. Surprisingly high security on a bunch of corpses. Then, of course, there were all sorts of bloodthirsty townsfolk in the streets so I had to sneak along the roofs–”
“Like a ninja?” Steve cuts in.
“Yeah, man, exactly like a ninja. So, I got out of town and headed through the woods, which were just full of–”
“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my?”
“Obviously. Quit interrupting. Anyway, I finally get home–” Eddie falters, “I get home and walk right up to the front door and… I couldn’t do it, man. I saw Wayne cleaning up the mess we left trying to, you know, save the world or whatever, and obviously people had been fucking with the house, graffiti and shit–” His voice is getting wobbly again and his jaw has started aching. “Just… I dunno, man. All that is because of me. Like, even if I didn’t k– kill Chrissie, people are doing all this shit because of me. Christ, they’re doing it when I’m supposed to be dead, what the fuck are they gonna do when they figure out I’m alive?”
Steve shakes his head. “Eddie, there’s nothing they can do anymore, not without Hopper locking their asses up. The government cleared you. Apparently, the whole cult-ritual-sacrifice angle was a little too out-there for a convincing cover story.”
Eddie barks a laugh.
“Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve. While your faith in Hawkins’ law and order is real cute, it doesn’t fucking matter whether it’s illegal, of all things, to beat my ass. Not if they do it in the first place, and fuck the consequences. I mean, I could deal with all that, if I had to. But it wouldn’t just be me, no fuckin’ way. They’d go after anybody who ever so much as said a nice word about me, and Wayne–” His throat catches and Eddie feels sick. “Shit, shit, shit. I can’t go home, man.” He stares at Steve with wild eyes. “I’ll– I’ll live in the woods until I can steal a car and get out of town. Or, no, that’s too long, I’ll just hitch-hike–”
Steve holds his hands up. “Okay, no, no, no, slow down, man. No way are you hitch-hiking out of town. Nuh-uh. Don’t you know that’s like, the number one easiest way to get murdered?”
“I’ve already died once, man, how bad could the second time be?” Eddie says with a wry twist of his mouth.
“How bad– Pretty fucking bad, dude! Okay, listen, just– stay here for tonight. I can tell you everything you missed, we can come up with a game plan, braid each other’s hair, you know. All the good stuff.”
Eddie scoffs and almost refuses on reflex, but pauses at the look on Steve’s face. He seems earnest, almost… nervous? Huh. Well, it would be somewhere to stay that’s not the woods or some serial killer’s trunk…
“Okay, Harrington, you’ve got a deal. But you can’t tell anyone I’m here.”
Steve wooshes out a breath. “Yeah, dude, whatever you want.” His easy acceptance is highly suspicious.
“I’m serious, Harrington. No telling anybody I’m alive, no bringing up a mysterious late-night visitor in casual conversation with your buddies, no nothing.”
“My buddies? Who do you think I am? I’m not in high school anymore, I’m totally mature. I have friends, not buddies.”
“I dunno if I’d go so far as to say mature, but either way that wasn’t an answer, Harrington.”
“Okay, man, I promise I’ll act like you’re still totally dead and mourn you quietly. It’ll be tragic.”
Eddie puts a finger to his chin and pretends to think. “Huh… Yeah, I’m satisfied.”
“Great, ‘cause I’m out of tea.” Steve shakes his mug in Eddie’s direction. “You want any more?” Eddie’s mug is still completely full. No fucking way is he drinking that.
“Uh… no thanks, dude.”
“Doesn’t take his shoes off inside, doesn’t want more tea, what’s next?” Steve grumbles and refills his mug. He turns, nudges Eddie with a hip, and says, “Come on, let’s go sit on the couch and watch shitty re-runs while I fill you in.”
Eddie huffs a laugh. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”
——————
Eddie huddles on the couch while Steve fiddles with the TV, and thinks he’d feel awkward in the soft silence if he wasn’t so drained. As it stands, though, Eddie is just impressed he’s still upright. At least the horrible, bone-deep ache has finally relaxed its hold on him. Everywhere, that is, but his jaw, which has started putting in some serious effort to piss him off. Eddie puts the mug up to his cheek to let the lingering warmth soothe the ache.
“There we go!” Steve proclaims. Smug satisfaction really is a good look on him.
“Is this Knight Rider? What are you, twelve?” Eddie cannot emphasize just how bizarre this day has been.
Steve has the decency to look embarrassed, but replies, “What, a guy can’t enjoy the company of David Hasselhoff and his snarky car buddy in his downtime?”
“Not if the guy is no longer a pre-teen, no.”
Steve holds up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay! We’re not here to talk about this completely normal and mature show, man.”
“I dunno if I can process uhh… anything that comes out of your mouth while Knight Rider is on, Harrington.” Eddie is kidding but also he’s not. And okay, maybe Eddie knows he’s distracting them on purpose. But really, Knight Rider?
“Yeah, okay, yuck it up, Munson.” Steve pauses, then takes in a breath. Eddie isn’t ready for this. “Once we torched Vecna we got the hell out of dodge. Everybody was pretty messed up and that asshole managed to open the last portal before we got to him, so–”
“Hold on, he opened the last portal? Max, is she…?”
“She’s okay. Now, anyway.” They both fall silent for a minute. “We didn’t know what was going on in our world but could guess it wasn’t anything good,” Steve says. “Turns out for all our effort we’ve still got some big, scary portals running through town, but they’re all quiet for now.” He pauses. “We went back to get you, you know. Brought you back to your uncle.”
Eddie fixes his eyes on the screen and keeps his face carefully blank.
“I tried to go alone but Dustin insisted. You know how he is. Everybody took it hard, but Dustin… he’s been real quiet ever since, which you’d think would be a welcome change but instead, it’s just freaky.” Steve clears his throat. “Anyway, we’ve been trying to clean up the town from the earthquake and keep an eye on the portals, mostly, for the past week. Half the people got freaked enough to leave town and the other half are holed up inside, so it’s full-on ghost town out there. Max is recovering fast. Everybody’s okay, including you, apparently. And that’s about all there is to tell.” Steve falls silent, fiddling with his mug and darting glances at Eddie.
Eddie knows he should respond, but he can’t scrounge up enough composure to speak without crying again, let alone put on his personality. Instead, he focuses on actually watching Knight Rider (god dammit) instead of just staring blankly at the screen. Steve is thinking very loudly next to him, and Eddie braces for questions about how Eddie is alive, or why Eddie came to Steve of all people, or Eddie’s feelings. Eventually, though, Steve just sighs and shifts so their knees rest against each other. Eddie can’t help the warm feeling that sparks up in his chest, a balm for the cold and confusion filling the rest of his body. After a few minutes, Steve stops fidgeting and starts laughing at some of KITT’s jokes, and Eddie finds himself enjoying the show despite himself.
It helps that ol’ Davey Hasselhoff doesn’t hurt to look at.
——————
About three episodes in Eddie is finally relaxed enough to curl up on the couch instead of sitting stiffly like a mannequin and Steve has long since dozed off. Eddie thought he was tired too, but now he’s feeling wide awake. There’s no more patter of rain on the roof, and Eddie thinks about slipping off into the woods and away from here. Maybe to Indianapolis, maybe further.
Steve shifts and murmurs something in his sleep, and Eddie turns to examine his face. He looks so much younger in sleep, more like the 19-year-old he actually is. Eddie sighs. He pulls a blanket from the back of the couch, settles it over Steve, and prepares for a long night.