Chapter Text
The first thing Robin noticed was the pain, pain so deep and all consuming it would be impossible to declare the root. And she was just so, so tired and
It didn’t work
She wasn’t trying to kill herself. Not really, she just wanted the pain to end and she didn't care what matters had to take place for that to happen.
But it didn't work, because the pain was still there and the world felt so fuzzy.
—
The second time she woke up she was more aware. Not fully, the fuzzy haze still gripping reality but she could hear things. A slowed beep echoed throughout the room along with Steve’s voice.
She couldn’t tell what he was saying. Exhaustion settled deep in her bones, and she was just so tired.
–
This time her break into consciousness was less peaceful. A searing pain ripped through her stomach but her eyes were yet to open. All she knew was darkness and pain - Looking back she could make some sort of life reflective joke about this. But in that moment she was terrified -
She could hear the insistent beeping get louder and louder, almost screeching along with the pain. And she heard a thump as a figure next to her stood up.
“Robin? Robin, are you awake?” Steve yelled out. She could tell it was Steve almost instantly. That level of familiarity being able to cut through even this deep of agony.
She realised then that she was thrashing about, arms and legs reaching out in the bed in one desperate attempt to ground themselves. But if she was moving then she could open her eyes, Realistically. She didn't know why this task felt so monumental but her dry eyelids pried open and she was met with the blinding view of hospital lights, and the blurry figure of a frantic Steve Harrington.
“Robin. Rob, you’re okay. Oh my god you’re okay” She couldn't quite tell if he was speaking to her or himself, but it comforted her nonetheless.
“I’m going to get a doctor, okay, Just breathe for me.” Once again he rambled and that last line brought her to another realization. She wasn't quite breathing right.
I mean, she was alive. So she had to be breathing to some extent but every effort to take more than a desperate fleeting gasp fell on dry lips.
All of a sudden the room got busy and the pain in her abdomen dug deeper.
So when the black spots danced in her vision and the darkness threatened to take her back. She let it. It’s less painful this way.
–
Nancy was there, the next time. She could hear her before she opened her eyes. Her soft voice speaking empty words of comfort into the night. Is it night? Robin doesn't know. She doesn't know how long it's been, she just knows that any time passed is time she was never meant to see.
But Nancy was there, so she had to open her eyes. Accept in some vague sense that she was in fact still alive. That it didn't work. That she has to face it.
When she looked over Nancy was reading, not a magazine or trending novel but the local newspaper. She does this - as robin can recall - ‘Because a good reporter keeps up with the times’.
“Nancy?” She muttered out, coming to the realisation she hasn't talked in a while. A long while.
And Nancy, jumped? At least a little bit. I mean, you don't expect your unconscious girlfriend to call out your name while you’re in the middle of reading local eulogies, but she learnt a long time ago that her life never tends to be up to expectation.
“Robin? Hey sweetie, it’s okay.”
“Steve?” She questioned in return, not out of a specific want but more of a wonder upon accounting the differences in her brief breaks of consciousness.
Nancy sort of chuckled at that. “I made him go home and sleep. I mean- I don’t think he is sleeping but he had been sat here all day, and he looked exhausted.”
“Good” Robin mumbled back, her grip on consciousness notably weakening.
“Hey. Hey Robin, stay awake.” She snapped out, hitting the call button “How are you feeling? Any pain?”
And if it was if that question had snapped the broken girl back into reality. A familiar searing pain returning, alongside an overall ache. Why can't she just go back to sleep? Why couldn't it have worked?
“Robin. Baby, You’re going to be okay. The doctors are gonna run some tests so they can help you.” The now standing girl comforted.
–
The next few hours passed in a blur for Robin. Being poked and prodded, moved and questioned. So many questions. Ones Robin didn't have the answer to. Or couldn't seem to form the words to fulfill.
Her body was too busy trying not to spiral out over the constant needles and men in masks that seemed just too similar to the ones seen on that cold basement floor.
–
Robin was bought back into awareness by a familiar hand clutching her own. Nails digging into her palm ever so slightly in a guiltridden effort to ground her. It worked, she supposes. But her body still didn’t feel quite real, a stagnant throb replacing all other sensations. And causing any reasonable flow of consciousness to corrupt.
A doctor was speaking, she knew that. Not daring to look them in the eyes, just desperately trying to make out his words.
“We’re going to come back tomorrow, and ask the same questions. It’s understandable to not want to talk right now so we are going to have a psychologist round with you tomorrow instead of today. Just rest up Robin. Your body has been through a lot.” The older man announced more to Nancy and Joyce - who had arrived after dropping the twins at school - than the broken girl laying in the bed.
Her consciousness faded out after he left, she knew Nancy was still talking but caring to listen was just, so much effort. So the darkness took her once more.
–
“It’s not fair! They're not telling me anything- They're not doing anything! She’s not okay and there just- Just leaving her to “Rest”! It’s bullshit! And Steve is fuck knows where and they wont tell me anything because he’s her emergency contact and i’m- i’m not anything. Not on paper. Not in this stupid town. It’s not fair!” Nancy’s voice could be heard even through the shroud of throbbing within Robin’s head.
“Wheeler. Calm down. Yelling can’t help anyone. I’ll call Steve again and Joyce is talking to the Doctor’s about a plan going forward. Just stop yelling.” Hopper said, noting the mask of pain across Robin’s face - Her eyes still clenched shut as if she was avoiding the outside world.
And although Nancy’s yelling did stop, Her head seemed to get worse and worse, Pain reaching a crucendo as her body fell numb.
“What’s happening?” Nancy yelled as the machines attached to Robin began to screech out in a terrifying harmony.
“I think she’s seizing! I’ll get a doctor!” Hopper yells out, running into the hallway desperate to find something to do, someway to help.
“Robin, Robin you’re okay. You’re okay.” She repeated, voice panicked as the room filled with more bodies and more voices then she could comprahend.
—
“Hey Rob, How’re you feeling?” Steve’s voice broke through her fuzzied haze.
“Hmm” She groaned out, peeling her eyes open to see Nancy curled up on the couch behind.
“Yeah, Yeah. Pain meds kicked in?” Steve questioned, unknowing as to whether the muffled groan was that of contentment or pain
Robin gave a half nod, Shoving her face back into the bed as the crushing, melancholy feeling fled back.
“Hey, stay awake a second. The doctors have some questions.”
“Uhuh” She shook her head. Eye’s already floating closed.
–
“Miss Buckley, Can you open your eyes for me?” An unfamiliar voice called out as her arm was shook, just too tightly.
But it would be easier to do what they say, so she opened her eyes. A young doctor fading into view.
“Robin, You had another seizure in your sleep. Can you tell me your full name?”
The man questioned, a certain casualness in his voice as he described such a terrifying event. Terrifying for Steve and Nancy atleast, Steve recognising the signs all too fast and Nancy wishing her nap could have been broken in any other way.
“R..obin Mar-ie Buck-ley”
She slurred out, piquing concern from both the doctors and her friends.
“Can you tell me your birthday?” he asked slowly, preparing to run further tests.
“M..arch” she paused, “Ten-th ni-t-n si-ty- e-t” it was as if her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, struggling to say words that once came so easy. This wasn’t her. Robin Buckley rambled word after word faster than her mind could comprehend. This was not her.
“Okay, Thank you.” The man spoke again, writing in her chart then turning to Steve and Nancy.
“Slurring and confusion can be typical in hypoxic brain injuries, and often repair with time. However, I’m going to order a few more tests just in case.” He said so casually, as if those words were known to everyone. Brain injury. That was serious. Honestly, Robin didn't know what the word Hypoxic means but if it had ‘brain injury’ after it, it has to be something serious and nobody is talking to her.
They’re talking about her, over her, yes. But nobody - no doctors. Are talking to her.
It’s dehumanizing.
And she’s so tired.
–
She remembers this round of testing even less, being moved from cold bed to cold bed never being able to establish even a twinge of familiarity throughout the process - They must not have let the others stay with her - She ponders in a haze, being moved once again from one bed to another and questioned about pain levels or something else irrelevant.
But she’s back in her room now. Joyce, Hopper, Steve and Nancy all sat around her bed, passing gentle small talk in order to keep themselves from crushing under the sheer weight of the room.
An older woman walks in, unfamiliar and wearing a lab coat - A doctor, robin assumes, a strange feeling of warmth coming from the presence of such bouts of feminism even in a small town like Hawkins - but the feeling of warmth quickly subsides as her anxious visitor's gaze locks on to her.
“Robin,” Joyce says from the chair to her left, squeezing her hand to get her attention.
“Y’h”
“This here is Dr Ramirez, The Psychologist. She wants to ask you some questions about how you're feeling.” Joyce speaks again in that oh so motherly tone, motioning to the now smiling doctor.
“Hi Robin,” She says with a grin. “I would like to talk to you alone if that's okay, I find patients tend to favor dishonesty when in the presence of loved ones.” The doctor spoke plainly but softly, trying to favor the truth herself in what is already a delicate interaction.
And Robin appreciates that, she really does. But the thought of being alone, having to talk about how she feels. Terrifies her.