Chapter Text
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Chapter 1
The Basement Where It All Began
The basement of the Wheeler house had hardly changed at all.
Maybe it was the smell of old paper. Maybe the couch creaking in the exact same spot. Maybe the table — that table — with its marks from dice, pens, and impatient childish palms. Mike stood in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, and for a moment he wasn't twenty-seven years old. He was twelve.
In the library, the Dungeons & Dragons books stood in a row. No one had touched them since. Monster Manual. Player’s Handbook. Dungeon Master’s Guide. Beside them, the notebooks. His old papers. The maps. The names.
Will the Wise.
MadMax.
Dustin the Dwarf.
Sir Lucas.
Mike reached out and pulled out a book. He opened it carefully, as if afraid that if he did it too quickly, something would wake up. The pages rustled slightly. He remembered himself hunched over that same book, describing dark dungeons and monsters with passion, while Dustin constantly corrected him, Lucas questioned every decision, and Will… Will just listened, with that look that always saw a little deeper than everyone else.
He remembered laughter.
He remembered arguments.
He remembered Dustin’s voice: “You can’t do that, Mike, that’s not how the rules work!”
He remembered Lucas leaning back in his chair, folding his arms.
He remembered Will drawing the worlds he described.
And then, he remembered how everything stopped being a game.
The Upside Down.
The losses.
The silences.
He put the book back in its place. He approached the table and touched his fingers to the surface. There they had rolled their last dice. There they had left their books, all of them—even Max—as a promise that something was over. Or that something had closed so it wouldn’t swallow them up.
His mother’s voice interrupted his thoughts, just like it had then.
The basement door opened abruptly.
“Mike! Dinner’s ready!”
Mike lifted his head, and without even thinking, he answered in the same tone, the same intensity, as if not a day had passed.
“Now, Mom!”
Karen stood for a moment on the top step. She looked at him. Her smile was calmer now, more tired, but there was still something familiar about it.
“Don’t make me come down there.”
“I’m coming,” he said, and went up the steps.
The kitchen table was simply set. Nothing special. Ted was already sitting at his place, leafing through a newspaper. Holly was across from Mike, her cell phone in her hand, but she put it aside when she saw him.
“You’re staring again,” she said to him.
“I always stare when I’m home,” he replied.
Karen sat down and began to serve.
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of forks. It was strange—all these years later, and yet this table made him feel like a child again.
The phone rang.
Mike looked at the screen. The name that appeared made him freeze for a split second.
Nancy.
She rose slightly from her chair.
“It’s Nancy,” she said.
Karen smiled immediately.
“Put her on speaker.”
Mike pressed the button.
“Hey,” Nancy’s voice came. It was warm. A little tired. But happy.
“Hey,” he answered.
“I just wanted to tell you in person. Well— as personal as a phone call gets,” she said, and laughed a little.
“I’m pregnant.”
Karen put down her fork.
“Oh my God,” she said.
“Nancy.”
Ted looked up.
“Pregnant?”
“Five months,” Nancy continued.
“We’re coming back to Hawkins soon anyway, so… I thought you should know.”
Mike smiled, but something inside him tightened.
“I’m really happy for you,” he said. And he meant it.
They talked a little more. About New York. About the trip. About home. When the call ended, the table was silent for a few seconds.
Holly looked at him.
“You okay?”
Mike hesitated.
“Yeah. Just… thinking.”
Holly played with her fork.
“I’m scared,” she finally said.
Mike turned to her.
“Of what?”
“Of growing up,” she replied.
“Of leaving. Of staying. Of everything.”
He looked at her for a moment. Then he smiled faintly.
“That never really goes away,” he told her.
“You just learn how to live with it.”
Holly nodded.
“That’s not comforting at all.”
Mike chuckled softly.
And somewhere, deep inside the house, in the basement they had left behind, the books sat still. Waiting.
—————
The kitchen was quiet in that very specific way only late afternoons could be.
Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting warm, golden lines across the wooden table. Max sat there alone, one knee pulled up under her, her elbows resting on the surface in front of her. Between her hands lay a photograph—slightly bent at the corners, colors faded just enough to remind her how old it was.
Six kids.
Herself. Lucas. Mike. Dustin. Will.
And El.
They were standing outside Starcourt Mall, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, sweaty and smiling like they had just survived something big—because they had. Max remembered how loud everything had been that day. The music, the laughter, the fear humming just beneath it all. She remembered thinking, We’re okay. We made it.
She traced her thumb over El’s face in the picture.
If she were alive, she’d be twenty-nine now.
Max swallowed.
Footsteps padded softly behind her.
“Mom?”
Max didn’t turn immediately. She smiled before she heard him fully enter the room.
Lucas appeared in the doorway, their daughter balanced on his hip. Christina’s curls bounced with every small movement, her tiny hands gripping the collar of his T-shirt like she owned him—which, in many ways, she did.
“There you are,” Lucas said gently. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
Christina leaned forward, squinting at the photograph.
“Who dat?” she asked, her voice bright and curious.
Max turned the photo so she could see it better.
“That’s Mommy and Daddy,” Max said softly. “And our friends.”
Lucas walked closer, lowering Christina so she stood between them, her little hands now resting on the edge of the table.
“That was a long time ago,” Lucas added. “Before you.”
Christina looked up at him, wide blue eyes serious.
“I was baby?”
“You weren’t even born yet,” he smiled.
Max finally looked at Lucas. Really looked at him.
His hair was shorter than it used to be, the way he kept it now for work. The faint lines near his eyes hadn’t been there when they were teenagers. There was something steadier about him now. Something grounded.
She loved him more for it.
“Bad day?” Lucas asked quietly.
Max hesitated, then shrugged.
“Just… thinking.”
Lucas nodded like he understood exactly what that meant.
He sat down beside her, pulling Christina into his lap. The little girl immediately began playing with his badge, which he’d forgotten to take off after work.
“Daddy shiny,” she announced.
Lucas laughed.
“Careful with that, kid.”
Max smiled at the sound. It still surprised her sometimes—how normal their life looked from the outside.
“You worry too much,” Lucas said gently, glancing at her.
“I don’t worry too much,” Max replied. “I worry the right amount.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve been staring at that picture for ten minutes.”
She exhaled.
“I keep thinking about what we went through. About everything we survived. And then I look at her and—” She gestured subtly toward Christina. “What if I pass all that fear on to her?”
Lucas didn’t answer right away.
Christina suddenly squirmed, clearly done with sitting still. Lucas set her down, and she immediately ran off toward the living room, humming to herself.
Lucas turned back to Max.
“You’re not broken,” he said firmly. “And neither is she.”
Max looked down at the table.
“You didn’t see what I saw. Not all of it.”
“I saw enough,” Lucas replied quietly. “And I see you now. You’re here. You’re present. You love her.”
“That doesn’t stop the nightmares,” Max whispered.
Lucas reached for her hand, squeezing it.
“No. But it means you don’t face them alone.”
—
Night came slowly.
By the time the house was dark, Christina was asleep in her room, curled around a stuffed dinosaur Lucas had bought her during a night shift he’d come home too late from.
Lucas lay on his back, one arm draped over Max.
Her breathing was uneven.
Then it changed.
Max gasped suddenly, her body tensing. Her fingers dug into the sheets, her breath coming sharp and panicked.
“No—no, stop—”
Lucas turned instantly.
“Max,” he said softly. “Hey. Hey, you’re okay.”
Her eyes flew open, unfocused. She sucked in air like she’d been underwater too long.
“It’s back,” she whispered. “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream.”
Lucas sat up, pulling her against his chest.
“You’re here,” he said firmly. “You’re in our bed. You’re safe.”
She clutched his shirt, shaking.
“What if it never really left? What if it comes back and I can’t protect her?”
Lucas pressed his forehead against hers.
“You already are protecting her,” he said. “Every single day.”
Max pulled back slightly, tears streaking her face.
“I’m scared, Lucas. I’m scared I’ll mess her up. That she’ll feel everything I feel. That she’ll see things.”
Lucas froze for half a second.
“See things?” he repeated carefully.
Max wiped her face, frustrated.
“Sometimes she stares at nothing. Sometimes she reacts like there’s something there.”
Lucas took a slow breath.
“She’s three.”
“So was Will,” Max said quietly.
That landed heavy between them.
Before Lucas could respond, there was a soft knock on the bedroom door.
“Mommy?”
Lucas stood.
“I’ve got her.”
Christina padded into the room, wide awake and far too energetic for the hour. She climbed onto the bed without hesitation, settling between them.
“No sleep,” she announced proudly.
Lucas sighed softly.
“Guess not.”
Max pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.
“Daddy,” Christina said suddenly, “tell story.”
Lucas glanced at Max. She nodded.
He lay back down, Christina curling against his side.
“Okay,” he said. “A long time ago, Mommy and Daddy had friends.”
Max smiled faintly.
“They were brave,” Lucas continued. “Even when they were scared.”
“Where now?” Christina asked.
Lucas hesitated.
“Some are far away,” Max said gently. “Some we don’t see anymore.”
“And El?” Christina asked.
Max’s breath caught.
Lucas answered quietly.
“El was special. She saved us.”
Max closed her eyes.
“If she were here,” Lucas added softly, “she’d love you.”
Christina smiled sleepily.
“Night,” she murmured.
As her breathing slowed, Max stared at the ceiling.
“What if it comes back?” she whispered.
Lucas kissed her temple.
“Then we face it,” he said. “Together.”
And somewhere deep inside Max, something old and familiar stirred.
Not fear.
Memory.