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tleeaves · 1 year ago

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Wasting Beats In This Heart Of Mine - how it would have ended

Hello, folks! As some of you already know or have heard me mention previously, my TLH fanfic WBITHOM is coming to an end. I am no longer comfortable with it being in the public eye since it involves a lot of personal stuff for me, and so I have decided to delete the fic entirely on every platform it's been published on (that's Quotev, AO3, and Wattpad) rather than rewrite the entire thing. This will also finally give me the chance to focus on other written works. Maybe I'll return to fandom with a rewrite one day for anyone interested, but for now, the future is dedicated to other things. The fic will be deleted in 48 hours, so readers on Quotev and AO3 have a chance to download the unfinished fic if they so desire before then or just have one last read. I ask that no one rewrites or adds an ending to my fic and publishes it anywhere without my knowledge and permission. Never put an author's work through AI either. I still have several copies of my fanfic and its outline, so I will always have evidence of where the story comes from.

WBITHOM is a monster, with the master document coming to well over 150,000 words and the fic so far being ~146,000 words (the entire outline and all my notes makes up over 4,000 words, yes). I predict that, had I finished the fic, it would come close to 188,000 words (so, there was a decent ways to go still). It's the biggest thing I've attempted, but because of that, it is also the most time-consuming (it's been almost a year and a half of writing, and each chapter either takes two full days to write or weeks) and it takes up the most space in my head, not really leaving room for the other ideas I want to explore.

So, as someone suggested, I thought I'd give readers who were hoping to see the fic to its proper end some closure. That's what this post is for: how it would have ended. Along the way, I'll explain some things too about recurring themes and motifs and all manner of behind the scenes and thoughts behind my ideas.

Character Arc Summaries

As readers know, this story follows the characters of Lila Raftis, James Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs, and Matthew Fairchild. They're all the most significant figures, though we do see other perspectives and side characters too. Essentially, Lila Raftis struggles with loneliness due to a myriad of other issues she has to work through, and James Herondale's arc starts with his depression and turns into a journey to authenticity where he feels like his own person and not just what he has been written or expected to be. Cordelia Carstairs' physical state of being lost extends to how lost she is within, and she ends realising that she has been continuously defining herself through other people. I see her as leaving London and the love triangle with James and (unconfessed) Matthew (and Lila) to deconstruct a lot of the ideals she was trying to live up to and why. As for Matthew Fairchild, I made the deliberate decision for him to turn into a werewolf and have that separation from Shadowhunter society so that he could pursue the arts and build a better life that he would find more satisfaction with, also eventually becoming sober. I took inspiration from his time at the academy, particularly when he turns to Lila in one of the earlier acts and asks if it's so bad to not be a Shadowhunter. At first, he regrets turning, but I planned for him to wind up relieved.

Honestly, while this work is very self-insert (and that's not a bad thing generally, but I've been finding it uncomfortable as time goes on, so that's why I prefer to take it down and keep it to myself), it was also my way of going How It Should Have Ended for the TLH series as a whole. I started it before ChoT, yes, but that book only led to minor changes and alternate paths taken -- I was already using ChoI as a base to steer these characters in the directions I thought they should go.

The Rest Of Act Three

The rest of Act Three of the fanfic is summarised below (...at length. It's a lengthy summary).

We ended the fanfic on the chapter where James and Lila returned to London, 1903 of his dimension. He was gravely wounded in his left arm, which ends up being amputated despite the efforts of Lila and Lucie (and Gus' help too). This is, of course, a reference to the recent fan art of James where a headcanon went around that the reason we couldn't see his other arm was because it just didn't exist. I took it and ran, which was not planned. I knew I wanted James injured so that Lila could return the care he once had shown her when she was wounded badly, but it wasn't going to be as severe as it ended up being. This is how we ended up at the Institute instead of 48 Curzon Street as I had previously planned for the chapter. James was going to be fine, but Cordelia had decided to confront Lila about several things, and they'd end the night having kissed -- which in turn leads Lila to going for a walk to clear her head and her subsequently getting kidnapped by Jonathan Bell (the Other James from another dimension). Anyway, the change did make some of these plot points awkward (😭) hence why I spent ages editing the make out between Lila and Cordelia because I could not decide how it should start and end. It was a nightmare. As Silver pointed out, it didn't make a whole lot of sense in the order of events (Cordelia should have gone to see James first), but I was in a mad rush to finally release the update since I knew people were waiting. The kidnapping also was not quite as dramatic as I envisioned it, but oh well. I'm actually quite happy with the rest of the chapter though.

From there comes the rest of the fic that readers probably will not get to experience, so that's why I'm writing this out, so you at least know the mysteries that I won't get to reveal and how we get to the end.

Jonathan Bell kidnaps Lila and, through the use of shadow, they end up in Paris, France. This is where Matthew also fled after his mother released him from the Silent City cells after he persuaded her into it. Lila ending up there and being away from both James and Cordelia, and spending more one-on-one time with our antagonist and Matthew since the earlier parts of the book was always intended.

Jonathan is revealed to have possession of another silver pen, which is a reference to a previous fanfic I wrote (also deleted) called Chain of Lies, where the pen could literally rewrite reality if you used your own blood for ink. In Jonathan's dimension, Lila ended up staying in his world and marrying him, but she also dies of a mysterious sickness during their honeymoon, so he uses the pen to go back in time and cancel their honeymoon, under the impression she would not get sick. Instead, she was hit by a car several days earlier, and died in the accident. Jonathan goes back again to stop that from happening, but Lila ends up dying again anyway, over and over again in different ways, every time Jonathan reverses time to prevent each event from occurring. Eventually, he goes so far back in their timeline together that he's reliving the December when they met, and that's how he knows how to divert the accidents in WBITHOM that threaten harm to this other dimension's Lila (are you still with me?). But before that, he created a time loop in that December of his dimension just trying to keep Lila alive for two years of his life whereas everyone else remained the same, but stuck in time. It's supposed to be very angsty and tragic, and it's a demonstration of one of James Herondale's core traits eventually twisting horribly wrong: how he would do anything for those he loves, whether that be family, friends, or lovers.

This character flaw/strength is something I reference lightly a few times throughout the fanfic, mostly in the ways he is concerned about the safety of his family and friends which he tries to find out from Lila, who has read Chain of Iron and knows what the future is supposed to be, and then how he reflects on how he does not know what he would do when someone he loves dies. Honestly, the issue is that he cares too much about people, which is both a good thing and a bad thing, depending on how far it goes. Jonathan is the literal embodiment of what would happen if James' care went too far, if it bordered on obsession, if he wanted to keep someone from dying so bad that he would sacrifice everything else, even the universe.

So, Jonathan finally confesses to the time-loop and explains that as a drastic measure, he tried finding Lila in another dimension to see if he could save her there, but this tearing of the time-loop to escape it worsened a tear that Cordelia had already created in her fight with Belial and the Mandikhor to such a point that it started growing and expanding and destroying the fabric of time and space between dimensions and the universe as a whole. You know, wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey... stuff (Doctor Who reference for those who get it). The thing he did not realise though is that in this timeline, Lila is not meant to die, so long as she goes back home instead of staying in 1903 (he still doesn't know this, it's just a fact I would have explained to the readers when we meet Circe, the employer of Poppy Morad (P.M.) and Saint Nicholas). This is supposed to leave Lila conflicted, because as much as she wants to hate his guts for being the reason for her family disappearing and the worlds ending, even this Other James is a reflection of her own nature, which is another thing that's been lingering beneath the surface for the duration as the fic: while James has a doppelganger that demonstrates who he might become if he cannot accept loss, he and Lila have similarities boiling beneath the surface that go unnoticed until an outburst we saw Lila have where she basically accuses James of being just like her (not complimentary at the time).

Lila as a character is someone who cares deeply, but is willing to sacrifice herself and others to protect what or who she cares deeply about (yet we also see her choose self-preservation over self-sacrifice a few times before she truly starts acting in service of others). Her circle of people she cares about is more limited than James', but the shared sentiments still stand. Plus, the way Jonathan has acted this entire time has always bordered on unnerving or odd -- I did that on purpose. He's been driven to obsession, where he's basically an extreme of what James and Lila believe in. And he is both James and not James in this way, if that makes sense. We see in one of Lila's nightmares earlier in the book Jonathan saying it does not matter which version of him he is or which version of her she is -- they belong together. Fully delusional at this point, but it's meant to be scary. I'm kind of obsessed that Jonathan is also a mirror for Lila to see how she might look to her James: someone who knows you way too well, but you've also never met nor know much about at all (she might know James but she does not know this one), who's inexplicably fixated on you (granted, James did not even begin to guess Lila's feelings, and hers were rather superficial in a way until they spent more time together).

Anyway, basically, the start of this rewrite of Chain of Lies pretty much began with these dynamics between the two Jameses and Lila. It was a whole thing with diagrams and late night ranting to my poor sister and everything.

So, of course, Lila is conflicted and she also does not know how she's supposed to get Jonathan to reverse the problem he has created -- whether he's also supposed to go back to his dimension and whether that will be enough to repair the tear. Most of this happens in the Notre Dame cathedral because I said so (I like cathedrals as settings, sue me if you dare).

Meanwhile, Matthew has been in Paris and totally avoiding Charles, so he also hears nothing of Will and Tessa being notified about James' injury in London and leaving by portal. But he does hear some French Shadowhunter gossip about the Consul's werewolf son's disappearance when he discovers Lila being taken to the cathedral by a masked man. Then ensues a solo rescue operation. Honestly, I always have a lot of fun writing Matthew, it's hard not to include him more. Anyway, the rescue is successful, and he takes Lila back to his hotel room to lay low for the night before he gets her back to London with the others (since he recognises that they must have no idea where she is, what happened, and she's an integral part of solving this whole mess, as people are still disappearing in this world).

I had a really nice scene planned that I'd been waiting the entire book to write, but basically Lila and Matthew spend a sober night together (as opposed to their time in the Silent City together) where they talk about all their woes, including their love lives, and eventually they get on to the topic of how they could have smoothed over both their dilemmas if they just had each other as lovers, if only their similarities were not such that would probably be self-destructive at this point in their lives. Because we've seen often in the book other characters compare these two, but it's these two themselves who recognise that, yes, they are alike in some ways, but not the ways it counts in order to have a healthy romantic relationship. They settle on being good friends. Matthew also takes her measurements so they can pick up some quick changes of clothes since Lila's still wearing her grimy outfit she wore during the explosion. And she also brings up that she knows he's an artist, but asks that she have the chance to sketch him, and he offers to do so in return, so they spend the rest of the night drawing, which I just find so sweet. There's not much significance in that at face value, it's just cute, but I also see Matthew embracing an old hobby as one of the first steps he takes in moving on from all his pain and finding better outlets for it.

Also, the platonic nature between Lila and Matthew, the complicated romance with James and Cordelia, and then all the familial themes and side-plots going on are all part of an idea I had going into this that I wanted to demonstrate many facets of love and the importance of each in their individual right. If anything, given the extreme slowburn I've come at James/Lila/Cordelia with particularly, I want to end this book purposefully with none of them winding up together because so many other things mattered more than their romance, and even the kind of loves they have for each other are a reason they don't end up staying because they would all rather see each other safe and not see each other at all than know they might cause other problems by being in the wrong dimensions.

Anyway, because I do multiple perspectives for everything, while Matthew and Lila and Jonathan have their bit going on in Paris, back in London we see James coming to terms with his disability and in all his rumination over what's happened and Lila being missing but him being unable to go out and find her, James finally (FINALLY!) realises his romantic feelings for Lila. This also leads to a scene between him and Cordelia where they both discuss Lila and their feelings for her. Cordelia also confesses how she has felt for James for a long time, but she also explains that she wants nothing to come of it anymore because she does not see herself settling down with him like she previously thought. James is a bit stung by this (I mean, my guy had no idea about Cordelia's true feelings until now and then she also springs a rejection on him at the same time when he's just begun to realise some of his own feelings around her) but is ultimately relieved since he feels he needs more time to figure out who he is and the life he wants without the bracelet numbing him.

We also would have seen Poppy Morad and Saint Nicholas again and their increasing distress and alarm with how difficult Jonathan Bell has been to track and control since he's hared of to Paris with Lila.

When Jonathan finds out Lila's gone, he feels betrayed and frustrated by his failure. Because while he feels he has saved her, she's refusing to be his as she once was in his dimension (also why he was confused and then against her leaving and going home earlier in the story). The world is breaking down around him (we start to see parts of Paris going up in flames, not unlike London 2021 of Lila's dimension) and he's about to go track Lila down again (but now he's going a bit more heavily into Villain Mode).

We also see Poppy Morad closing in on Jonathan as he returns to London when she's defecting orders from Circe, her higher up, to take him down instead of corralling Lila's effects on the timeline.

Lila and Matthew return to London on Christmas Eve just hours before the end of the world properly starts in 1903. This is also when she and James interact for the first time since he passed out on the bridge several days ago. I was a bit undecided on how I wanted this scene to look, other than I needed them to finally confess their feelings for each other in the rain like a cliche after they have an argument where Lila says that James has everything she wants (and this is where we realise the root of her problem in this whole book is not simply loneliness, but a dissatisfaction with herself and her life, which has lent itself to the more superficial issues she's been having) but that ultimately she also just wanted him though she knows she cannot be with him without risking everything. So, when James confesses his side, they decide to spend what little time they have left with each other as best as they can. (And this where I as an author push them together like Barbie dolls and go "now kiss").

Have I mentioned this story has too many layers and plot points and it's been driving me mad this entire time I've been writing it? Anyway.

They quickly determine with The Gang™️ that "Belial" and "Lilith" are not who they seem to be anymore, because while Alastair just got arrested for the murder of Lilian Highsmith (oh yeah, that happens while Lila and Matthew are in Paris, because I wanted a reversal where it's Thomas who stands up for Alastair when he's accused of murder, just for funsies) everything else that has happened seems to be related to whoever this P.M. (remember when Cordelia was also accused of murder because Filomena thought she saw Cordelia when she was attacked?) and Matthew body double is (spoiler: Poppy Morad and Saint Nicholas are codenames for other versions of Cordelia Carstairs and Matthew Fairchild in another timeline, I'll explain more about this later, but what you can probably surmise already is that this alternate Cordelia has taken the place of Belial within this dimension and is the one murdering all the victims (including her father. That was a difficult point, because we see in a PM and Saint Nick scene that he's concerned about whether she can go through with it) and Matthew has taken Lilith's place in some minor ways (like hiding and then handing back Cortana at the right moments)).

Anyway, because Lila's kind of behind on some events, she goes to confess to Cordelia (but explain how she also feels about James), when Cordelia says there's a lot more she wants out of life before she pursues romance again. That she's been so consumed by it, by finding love, by getting married, she's lost who she is beneath it all. (Have you noticed the theme for every character in this fic is basically authenticity and finding oneself despite whatever circumstances they find themselves in?)

Then, we also would have seen Lila dedicate herself to taking down Jonathan herself since he's the main problem that's tearing things apart and perhaps if he's killed then he can no longer influence time and reality.

Vaguely, I had planned that James and Lila would have what my outline says is "an emotional night together" because it could mean literally anything and I wasn't totally sure where I wanted it to go. So. Interpret that one how you will with whatever you prefer, honestly. Anyway, while that's happening, we see Matthew go home to his mother who is, understandably, worried sick and mad because he never wrote to her like he was supposed to and Charles return without him. We see Matthew collapse into her arms and just sob. That was the plan. It's important to me that he's actually vulnerable with her for once and that he, a young man too big to be in his mother's arms, lets himself be held anyway. There was also supposed to be a wholesome Thomastair moment that I hadn't really planned, though I knew Alastair would go home with Cordelia afterwards and she would start her journey to forgiving him. We also would have seen her kneel in front of Sona to confess A Whole Lot Of Things about what's been happening in her life, from as early as the marriage blanc and the Blackthorn Manor incident. Basically, everything is supposed to be hopeful even if it hurts just a bit and feels a little bittersweet. Because then in the chapter this all would have taken place in, we'd end with Saint Nicholas and Poppy Morad collecting the pithos from Christopher who picked it up in the background of everything (basically, all the Belial storyline has still been operating as it should, except it's being orchestrated by PM instead of Belial), when Jonathan sneaks up on them and fatally wounds (he had the intent to kill) Saint Nicholas, who he is shocked to find out in that moment is an alternate Matthew.

AND THEN, next chapter we would have had at the tolling of midnight, signaling Christmas day, PM the alternate Cordelia (whose character is the way it is because she's been hardened by some long and traumatic years -- she and alternate Matthew have a tragic backstory that I've been keeping in my back pocket that wasn't really necessary to be explained in the story, but if you want to know more, just ask) drags a dying alternate Matthew back to their tent where Circe, their mysterious employer, is torn away from her work elsewhere to start enacting emergency world-fixing in this timeline. This is also when we find out Circe's identity: she is Cassandra Clare, once again (if you read Chain of Lies) who's codename was derived from the common shortened CC she's referred to in fandom, who has universal powers and basically controls (to an extent) a good portion of the universe. Like a god. But also not. It's a whole mysterious thing that I never intended to explain because I think some things are better unexplained.

THEN, Jonathan shows up to 48 Curzon Street, covered in blood and calling for Lila. A fight between him and James (and sort of Lila who's attacking Jonathan though he refuses to attack her) ensues before he ends it all by taking out a silver pen (The Silver Pen) where we see 'Nikoletta' engraved on it, and writes a time-loop which snaps the final threads keeping all the timelines and dimensions in order.

Act Four Explained Slightly More Briefly

This is the final act of the book and also the shortest. It was planned to only be about six chapters long. Now, I was most excited about this part of the book because I had ✨visions✨. No, literally, the entire inspiration of this entire fanfic came from a dream I had about James Herondale as Spider-Man, me impersonating Cordelia Carstairs and not knowing how to do Shadowhunter things, Santa Claus as Father Time, and the end of the universe, and this is where we would have finally get to see it all come together.

We kick it off with an entire chapter dedicated to a lot of scenes similar to what I've written earlier in the book with Lila and James' nightmares, where nothing makes complete sense and yet the reader is meant to feel on the cusp of understanding something alongside the characters before the dreams usually end. Only they don't here. The dreams are reality, but reality is broken, and there is no waking up because there is also no sleeping and there is no normal but faint memories of what came before. So not only is the environment ever-shifting (think of it almost like a kaleidoscope and you have maybe a quarter of my vision here), but the people also keep "glitching" between different versions of themselves at different points in time and in different realities even (sometimes the doubles join and then they split apart, it's a weird nightmareish sort of thing in my mind), and so they also have different memories and levels of knowledge about things that have happened and what's going on. We see it mostly through Lila and James' perspectives. There's supposed to be a lot of angst and a feel like everything is a fever dream.

In the next chapter, things only start to get slightly ordered when Jonathan Bell finds Lila and says he'll rewrite the universe she wants so that it's perfect for her, and can have it be anything she wants, so long as they are together (major creep vibes though, honestly, as sweet as this might sound to some). This is also me addressing a problem from my original fanfic before this one, Chain of Lies, where I basically gave that silver pen waaay too much power, and now I'm demonstrating what it can do and so, like the one ring to rule them all, it must be destroyed (once Lila or someone else gets a hold of it to rewrite and fix the fabric of everything). Alastair saves Lila from Jonathan this time (he's still a bit prickly, but we see he still cares about Lila anyway), and demands she go find Cordelia to end Jonathan (Cordelia has Cortana which can cut through anything, which is important). Then we also would have seen that James is stranded somewhere with a fluctuating Matthew (the vision is that he keeps changing states from a werewolf to a living corpse to himself at various ages) and they are attempting to find PM, the alternate Cordelia, who knows Circe who should be able to fix everything as PM explains (she got separated from Circe and Saint Nicholas when the world went crazy). She leads them partway before she's taken by the collapsing world (she disappears basically, because that can still happen to people). When Lila finds her Cordelia, she's in the Paladin state (imagine glowing eyes and a vague aura of scariness with a glowing sword and you've got it) and it takes a bit to get through to her so they can make a plan to take down Jonathan.

Chapter after that, we have Cordelia distracting Jonathan so Lila can steal the pen, but she realises she does not know how to write an ending that does not kill all the Jameses since, as Jonathan once put it in her nightmares, "it does not matter which version of him I am... we are the same". This hesitance gets Cordelia fatally wounded, though she's not quite dead yet, but it's the final push Lila needs to kill Jonathan with Cortana (as also seen in a dream she had ages ago without realising it), and Circe finally manages to pull enough worldly strings in this chaos to pause time long enough for James and Lila to reunite to do the re-writing with her.

From there, we have two alternate paths. I called these basically "the happy ending that could have been" and "the bittersweet ending that was", which I was inspired to write by The Umbrella Academy (if you know, you know, I won't spoil it for anyone else who doesn't).

In the happy ending that could have been, we see the characters a couple years down the line. We also find out that Lila would not have died like she did in the other universe. She and James are together and they end up planning to propose to each other on the same day, which is the day after Lila successfully ascends. Then we see Cordelia and Matthew travelling together across the world as friends. After that, we would have seen Thomas and Alastair having dinner at the Lightwoods'. Finally, the Raftis family believe Lila is missing, presumed dead, but after a couple years they are finally moving on.

The bittersweet ending that was though is where Lila goes home. The friends she's made in London 1903 see her off before James takes her back to her dimension where they'd have one final goodbye on Blackfriars Bridge. That night, Cordelia gets on a train to set off and travel on her own. We also see Matthew, who has already picked up Oscar a couple days earlier, going to Gus' flat to complain that Oscar misses Gus and would not stop whining until they came by. We see Matthew finally tentatively suggest a first date, and Gus would accept. We close this part of the ending much like we started the book, with James walking alone in the night, just as he was when he left the Devil Tavern and his story took a different direction to canon when he found himself outside Cornwall Gardens where he met with Alastair. This time, James is alone, and he's feeling a little hopeful about the future ahead.

We get one final chapter before the epilogue where it's mostly Lila's perspective as she finally gets to experience Christmas with her family in 2021 and I planned for the beginning of some family healing and bonding to occur. Then we would have seen future James once more, who it turns out is now tasked by Circe (CC) with maintaining the space between dimensions, but this means he can't be in any one for very long since it's a lot of work that takes up time.

And now we get to the epilogue. Every time I imagine this, I get a little emotional. The epilogue would have began several years in the future with Lila dropping a bi-annual letter into the Thames, which I liken to the River Styx, in that it's where all lost things end up. We see, rather comedically, that she has moved out with the money she gained from some things she "stole" from Curzon Street, as well as her mysterious finding of the adamas, which scientists in her world are still amazed by. We are surprised to see though that when she goes home, she's living with the version of Matthew who nearly died in his previous role as Saint Nicholas, because CC gave him a chance to live out a new life elsewhere, in a dimension where there was not another version of himself. He and Lila seem to be doing well.

We cut to James of around December 1905 who has gone to visit his family at the Institute, where Lucie and Jesse are pouring over Cordelia's latest letter from abroad. James says he was just at Matthew's flat, and Gus was telling him about theories of time travel that the mundanes at the university Gus attends were discussing. We also find out that James himself has written a book, a science fiction piece with a ridiculously long title, about different worlds and the doubles of people that exist. After the dinner, he goes to Blackfriars Bridge and produces several of Lila's letters out of a pocket before stowing them away and shadow travelling to her dimension to leave a letter for her.

The fanfic would have ended on James' letter, which mentions briefly that he is having nightmares again of Belial's return since they have heard nothing have what happened with CC. Aside from that, the letter is rather sweet. But we see that Lila never gets a chance to read it, because CC collects it first and burns it with a lighter while humming "it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas".

Concluding Words

And that, ladies, gents, and fair folk, was how Wasting Beats In This Heart Of Mine would have ended. It has potential for a sequel. One I never want to write except in my head because, man, I am so exhausted by this fanfic alone after I already did it as a rewrite of Chain of Lies. If anything, this is the sequel to Chain of Lies and the next potential story would be the third book. It's been a long few years, I'll tell you that.

Some final things:

If you're wondering about that green coat I was always mentioning: it was supposed to be my tell, along with the gold-ringed eyes, for Saint Nicholas being an alternate Matthew, who is also the leader of the SoHo wolf pack in his origin universe. For Poppy Morad as the alternate Cordelia, who worked as Matthew's partner in time shenanigans, it was the fact that people forgot her face once they saw it because of a facial rune she applies (one that does not exist but she has courtesy of working for The CC). That's why people often knew they saw Cordelia, but could not remember the details of that meeting, if they managed to remember her at all.

The reason Lila has essentially what I call "a death aura" is because of her alternate selves, many of whom die, and it's something that leaks between worlds as the walls steadily break down.

At some point in Le Grand Reveal Of The Time-loop, Lila realises that the detailing on Jonathan's mask matches the floral detail on the back of The Joker card she's been carrying around with her sister's initials this whole time, which hints at just how significant some of the objects in this story are and the meanings they can give (The Fool and The Master being other common names for the card, related to its unpredictability and capability of being anything).

Jonathan wears, obviously, his crimson cape, but his clothes are a deep navy blue and this is part of my reference to Spider-Man and the original dream that inspired all of this.

Future James does indeed have diamond stud earrings. I said so.

At the end of the book, CC would have reinstated Lilith and Belial (whom she removed for previously causing problems in other dimensions where they became too aware of alternate timelines) with altered memories, so the stories can generally continue where they left off (some a couple years later, which has some interesting effects if I wrote the next book, in theory).

And I think that's all I have. But if anyone has any questions at all, feel free to reply to the post to ask, message me, or put it straight into the ask box, I'm more than happy to answer since I'm already depriving you of a properly written-out neat ending to everything. Reminder that I am deleting the fanfic WBITHOM in roughly 48 hours from the time of this post, so after that it will not be available on any public platforms for reading. I am not taking down any of my other fanfics (except for the few that I already have some weeks ago).

Thank you to the readers who have supported me on this longass journey. You were often the reason I kept going when I wanted to give up on writing fanfic, especially writing this one, which has been a very trying process (I mean, it took me half a day just to explain the last approximate third of the damn book, for crying out loud). I appreciate the kudos, the comments, and all the enthusiasm. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Take care now, and I'll see you in the updates of other works in the future.

-- streettealee

P.S. special thank you to @thevagabondexpress who endured many hours of me blabbering way too much about this fic and these characters, who I pestered to give me feedback as I fretted over whether I was doing everything right (spoiler: there's no right way, just better ways), and who cared about this when I struggled to. You suggested I might find a way to give readers some closure. And so I also give thanks to @faithfromanewperspective, who went nuts for an Australian OC (understandably, as I would too) and blazed through my entire fic and encouraged me inadvertently to start updating again after a long dry spell. You still absolutely get to see my drafts and outline next time we catch up in person, but I hope for now that this is a good description of the rest of what the book would have been and it gives you some closure, as well as for the other readers. Thank you also to @quantummeep for reading and commenting! I can never get out of my head how even early on in your reading you recognised all the plot threads that I had been weaving together, and it meant so much to me that you appreciated the level of detail I tried to work with.

Thank you all and to the other readers who also supported me 💛

#wasting beats in this heart of mine #wbithom #the last hours fanfic #tlh fanfic

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waywardrose · 1 year ago

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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 24

stranger things

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for @punk-in-docs

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Idk if the Cali group arrives in Hawkins on Saturday or Sunday. I'm going with Saturday. If that's wrong, well, this fic isn't canon compliant anyway. Also, Unnamed Freak (aka Dave) has a canon name now with Flight of Icarus: Dougie. I've corrected this entire fic on all platforms. If I've missed a "Dave" somewhere, please tell me. 🖤

The phone rang, jolting you from your research. On reflex, you stretched across the spread of opened spell books for the phone on the nightstand. Then you remembered you weren’t at home. You sat on the bed in one of Steve’s guestrooms.

When he didn’t ask you to answer the phone, you straightened and found where you’d left off. The ringing ceased, then Steve’s voice drifted through the open door. At one time, it would’ve been an annoyance. Now, it reminded you that you weren’t alone. You had people who knew you for who you were and weren’t wary of your abilities.

Last night, Robin had stayed through dinner and Back to the Future. Working at Family Video had its perks, because there was a waitlist to rent it. Robin and Steve had talked through the entire movie, asking about you and sharing about themselves, but you hadn’t minded. You learned that ‘Scoops’ was Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream parlor. It must be a Midwestern chain, because you’d never heard of it.

Robin bragged Steve had slung so much ice cream, they had to put in special orders. Steve shrugged, all bravado, yet his flushed cheeks belied his cool demeanor.

“You should’ve seen some of the girls who came in,” Robin had said, face reverent. “They must’ve come from Fort Wayne or Indy—”

Eyes wide, Steve had interrupted. “Yeah, they weren’t local, that’s for sure.”

You’d glanced at him, then at Robin. He’d tried to divert the conversation. Maybe to protect her? That had made no sense until you remembered you were in the Midwest, where homosexuality — or even bisexual tendencies — was anathema.

To Robin, you asked with a sly look: “That hot, huh?”

“God, I could barely keep eye con—” She curled her lips between her teeth, but rallied. “I mean, they were, like, super intimidating.”

You grinned with a minute shake of your head.

“No, I get it. Girls are hot.”

“Yeah…” she breathed, eyes going glassy. “Girls are hot.”

The conversation had paused as George confronted Biff on screen. When George and Lorraine walked away together, you’d reached for your drink and glimpsed Steve holding Robin’s hand. He noticed you noticing and opened his mouth to speak. You stopped him with an understanding look.

“So, is there a girl at school you like?” you’d asked before taking a sip.

Robin glanced at Steve, who’d offered an encouraging shrug. She’d smiled, giddy and love-struck, and gushed about Vickie. According to Robin, she looked like Molly Ringwald, but even cuter. Vickie was talented and funny and smart. Steve insisted Vickie was into her despite what they’d seen at The War Zone. Robin waved it away, saying Vickie had a boyfriend. It was a lost cause. She’d pine from afar.

You’d said, “Well, not necessarily. She could be bi.”

“I don’t know? It doesn’t seem likely.” She’d gnawed on her bottom lip. “I would normally say that’s ridiculous, because this is Hawkins, but—” She gestured at herself.

You’d narrowed your eyes playfully.

“You could still win fair maiden’s heart.”

Steve laughed. “You sound like Munson.”

“What can I say? He’s rubbed off on me.”

Robin had snorted. “Yeah, I bet that’s not the only thing he’s done.” You’d giggled even as your face heated. You grinned now thinking about it.

Knuckles rapped on the doorjamb. Steve stood in the doorway, the sleeves of his teal henley pushed up his forearms. His perfectly tousled hair framed his face, his jeans showed off the goods, and his Nikes were clean.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, lookin’ good.”

He put a hand on the back of his head and looked down as if bashful. Like he didn’t know how handsome he was.

You asked, “Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, that was Nance on the phone. She wants to donate some stuff at the school, and I offered her a lift. I think I’m going to volunteer while I’m there, too. You know, whatever they need.”

“That’s…” You first thought ‘surprising,’ but that was insulting. “That’s really generous of you.” You glanced at your suitcase overflowing with clean laundry. “Actually, I bet I have a few things someone else could use.”

“Oh, wow, sure.” He nodded. “You wanna come with?” He waggled a hand. “I mean, I know you’re not ready, but I was going to call Robin and Dustin. See if they wanna join.”

“I want to, but I can’t. I need to heal Lucas and Max.” You gestured to all the opened books. “That’s what I’m researching.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

He pointed at his left eye.

“Wouldn’t everything be a little easier if you had both?”

“Probably, but Max is worse than I am, so…” You looked at the books. “I can manage.”

He surprised you a second time when he said, “It’s hard to take that ‘put your own oxygen mask on first’ advice, but you should consider it.”

You met his earnest eyes.

“I will.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. You should be the guinea pig before you sprung a healing spell on Lucas or Max. While you were certain a healing spell would never harm, that didn’t mean it would be effective.

Marking your place in the book you’d been reading, you eased off the bed. You knelt in front of your suitcase to pick out a few pairs of socks, a free promo t-shirt you wore when cleaning, and a pair of tartan trousers you hadn’t worn since moving.

There was more at home you’d be happy to donate. You realized you could drop in after healing Max to pick up more — as long as your parents hadn’t returned.

When Steve stopped at your door, you handed over the clothes and told him of your plan. He brightened with a nod. You jokingly assured him not all your clothes were black and scary.

He lifted the stack of clothes.

“Just most of them.”

You laughed as he smiled at you.

He stepped back and said he was leaving, adding he’d leave the spare key on the foyer console. You thanked him and wished him luck before he skipped down the stairs.

As the front door snicked closed, you plucked the book from the bed and found a white tea-candle in your magic supplies. After placing both on the en-suite bathroom counter, you flipped on the light. With a deep inhale, you found your center. Time to be a guinea pig. You opened the book and lit the candle.

Holding your fingertips above the flame, you said, “Magic mend as candle burns; Affliction end and health returns.”

You brought your warmed fingers to the dark, tender bruise on your jaw and repeated the chant. Your skin heated almost to the point of pain. You closed your eyes to concentrate on the feeling. Tendrils of cooling energy twisted through your flesh. You shivered and breathed through it.

Once the tendrils dissipated, you opened your eyes and withdrew your fingers. The bruise was gone. You wiggled your jaw, then put pressure where the bruise had been to find it recovered. Like Jason had never punched you.

That was one injury — and the lesser of the two.

You slipped the pressure patch from your eye and examined your reflection. The cursed eye was like any other injury, you rationalized. Surgeons removed damaged bits of the eye all the time. You were no surgeon, of course. You weren’t removing damage; you were healing it. That was different.

You couldn’t psych yourself out, though. It was like making the Creel house go unnoticed on Thursday. Size didn’t matter. Hence, the extent of the injury didn’t matter. It was all the same and all connected. There was plenty of energy in the candle, in the spell, in the universe, and in you to heal this.

You took a few deep breaths before holding your fingertips above the flame and reciting the chant. You closed your eyes as warm energy gathered. You brought your fingers to your left eye, swallowed the mounting tension in your throat, and repeated the chant.

Your fingers went numb. Heat radiated from your eye like needles of fire. Lightning burned under your skin. The floor left your feet. Or your feet left the floor. You couldn’t find the counter. You couldn’t move or think or orient yourself.

You clawed at the dark like a panicked animal. Red flashed across your vision. Rotting vines slithered across every surface, growing thicker. Their musty, sour smell invaded your nose. Your heartbeat thundered through the room. Red flashed again. A figure made of sharp edges and pain moved behind the vines. You stepped back. They stepped back. You reached forward. They reached forward. You screamed at them. Their mouth opened as though mocking you.

You charged forward to thrust your hand between the vines. Your palm hit cold glass. You met the figure’s eyes. They were your own.

You stumbled away. Your back slammed into something hard. Each blink of your eyes tore you through different realities. The gray Upside Down, your sunny reality, glowing lava fields, a silent city made of slate, a world full of unvoiced secrets, neon lights and the scent of stale beer. Time curved in on itself. No future, no past. On and on it flowed until you yelled for it to stop, stop, stop.

The soft bathmat cushioned your calves. You held onto the counter edge with your forehead pressed against the wood cabinet. The side of your nose filled the left border of your vision.

The spell hadn’t worked.

“Shit.”

You hauled yourself to your knees and braced your elbows on the counter. Thin tracks of blood ran down your reflection’s left cheek.

“Shit.”

You stood and bent over the sink to examine closer in the mirror. The cursed eye didn’t look any worse. Its milky pupil and iris were the same as before. Rheumy blood flaked under your touch.

If the spell hadn’t worked for you, you doubted it would work for Max. She’d taken part of the curse, the same as you. Your eye wasn’t only injured. It stood to reason her arm wasn’t only broken. Then you remembered both her eyes looked like your left.

This was more complex than any healing spell could manage—

Which you said to Lucas after mending his swollen cheek and eye.

From behind him, Erica asked, “Can’t you kill this son of a bitch already?”

You glanced over her shoulder at Susan, who slept on the alcove couch.

“I don’t know if a spell would reach him.”

Lucas turned to Erica.

“And if she kills him, she could kill Max.”

You frowned.

“Why do you think that?”

“El said she couldn’t find Max,” he said, tapping his temple.

He’d explained when you’d first arrived the other members of the party were back in town. On Thursday, El had fought Vecna by connecting to Max’s mind, while Vecna was also connected to Max. El then said Vecna had roared in pain and disintegrated into smoke in his own mindscape. Nancy had connected that to her shooting him and Robin Molotov-ing him.

El had seen Max unconscious in Lucas’s arms afterwards. She felt Max’s steady heartbeat then. Max’s heart continued to beat, which the EKG confirmed. However, El entered Max’s mind this morning to find a void.

“You think she’s with Vecna?” you asked.

Erica said, “Or she’s brain-dead.”

Lucas’s face became a mask of absolute anguish.

“Harsh,” you said to her.

Erica shrugged in lieu of saying it was a possibility. It might be, but you didn’t want to give up hope just yet. Lucas returned to the bedside chair to page through The Talisman. There had to be something you could do or something you could offer.

Erica cursed under her breath and went to Susan. After Erica repeated Susan’s name and shook her shoulder numerous times, she woke with a grumble. Erica announced it was two o’clock. Susan blinked in sullen confusion. Erica said Susan had work at four.

Susan’s voice was hoarse when she said, “O-of course. Thank you.”

Erica backed away as Susan coughed with a wince and sat up. She sounded like shit. Her pallid face looked more tired than yesterday.

You asked, “Would you like some water?”

Her drowsy eyes settled on you.

“Oh, you’re back.” She couldn’t seem to muster a smile, but she looked pleased. “It’s good to see you.”

Without waiting for an answer, you went to the squat pitcher and disposable cups on the overbed table and poured her some cool water. Her hands trembled as she took the cup from you, but she managed drinking half the water in one go. That appeared to revive her, and you offered her more.

She nodded with a soft, “Yes, please.”

As you filled her cup, you thought of a quick blessing. She needed strength to see this situation through. For all you knew, she might be the key to bringing Max back, because despite what Erica said, you didn’t think Max was brain-dead.

By the time Susan finished the water, her green eyes had brightened. She stood, fluffed her hair, and straightened her rumpled clothes. She announced she was going back to the motel to shower and change before work, and if anything happened, to give her a call.

You, Lucas, and Erica promised. Susan nodded to herself and hooked her purse over her shoulder. She went to Max, righted one of her braids, and murmured something to her. She hesitated a second, taking a quick look around, before leaving the room.

You placed the pitcher on the overbed table and threw Susan’s cup in the bathroom wastebasket. The tense silence made you aware of every noise you made, from the swish of the wastebasket liner to the crinkle of your clothes and faint footsteps. Rhythmic squeaking of wheels came from the corridor.

Watching the EKG display, you thought of something you could do:

“I can look for Max, too. I don’t have El’s powers, of course, but Max and I, we’re connected.” You shook your head. “I… I might have a better chance of finding her or finding a clue to get her back.”

Lucas asked, “Are you sure?”

“What if Vecna’s got her, and he takes you?” Erica leaned her elbows on the overbed table. “Then we’re down a magic-user — and we need as many as we can get.”

“He can’t get me here. He tried before and he failed.”

“But you died.”

“And yet, here I am, talking to you.”

“Died.”

You threw out your hands. There was no arguing that fact. Yes, you had died. Yes, Vecna’s curse had killed you. Nevertheless, you were alive. Also, Vecna was wounded.

Lucas asked, “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know? Connect with her somehow?”

You thought of psychometry. Through touch you’d seen Eddie’s past. Perhaps through touch you could see Max’s. If you could see when the curse hit her from her point of view, maybe that would show you how to get her back.

“Maybe I can’t communicate with her,” you said. “But I might be able to see how Vecna took her.”

“Then you could reverse his steps.”

“Something like that, sure.”

Lucas sighed in thought, tapping his fingers on the book. He came to a conclusion before looking at you.

“It’s worth a shot.”

Erica huffed in disapproval and retreated to the couch.

You propped a hip on the bed, facing Max. Her delicate fingers curled over the cast. You tucked your hand around them and closed your eye.

Unlike with Eddie, you didn’t have to tell Max to relax and trust you. You loosened your shoulders, breathing deep. You focused on her hand, the stillness of her fingers and the fine skin of her knuckles.

The room went cold. Ambient noise disappeared. The mattress sagged under your weight.

Max’s grip tightened.

You opened your eyes. The pressure patch was gone — as was Max’s cast. She stared at you through milky eyes in a younger face. Her now-smaller hand held fast to yours.

The world went wound-red and drained of life. Only you and she remained in the room. No leaves grew on the trees outside. A motionless, stormy sky hovered close. You were in a frozen, bloody version of your world, like a paused horror movie.

“I can’t sleep,” said Max.

“You’re sleeping in our world.”

“What? How?”

“This isn’t your world.”

“Am I dreaming?”

You hadn’t considered that. She could be dream-walking. If she were, why would she choose this? Why would she be younger?

You said, “I don’t know, but you need to leave this place.”

“You mean I need to wake up?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I can’t. I can’t switch back. I don’t know how.” She frowned. “Where’s El?”

“I don’t know.”

Instinct kept you from telling her El had been at the hospital to visit her earlier in the day. This younger Max could be an illusion. You could be talking to Vecna. Or Vecna could be listening.

“How did you get here?” you asked.

“I was fighting Vecna, and he threw me. Everything went dark.”

“And then?”

“And then I woke up in the goddamn Upside Down.”

You examined the room, noticing how much differed from what you’d seen through the tumbler.

“You sure this is the Upside Down?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s red, and where are the vines? The lightning? The demo-creatures?”

From nowhere, an invisible force pushed you backwards. Your foot skidded across the floor. You held onto Max’s hand. She bent forward to stay with you, then struggled to her knees. Your hip dropped off the crumbling mattress. You gripped the edge of the tattered sheets until they tore.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

“Don’t go!”

“I’m trying!”

But there was nothing to fight against.

You met her panicked gaze.

“We’ll find you! Wherever you are, we’ll find you!”

Your heel hit the floor. You lost your hold on Max’s hand. She screamed your name, crawling to the end of the bed. You pitched backwards, your heel the focal point. For a second, it felt like flying.

You landed hard on your side. Your ears rang. Like Dorothy landing in Oz, the world bloomed in technicolor. The pressure patch was back. Hands rolled you onto your back. Above you, Lucas and Erica blurred and sharpened. Their mouths moved, but their voices couldn’t overpower the ringing. You touched Lucas’s shoulder to confirm you’d returned.

The room dimmed. Shadows deepened. The three of you paused.

Red light flared through the window. Thunder vibrated the glass, restoring your hearing. You froze. You’d brought the Upside Down — or wherever you’d been — with you. Any second, those rotting vines would slither over the walls, the floor, Max’s bed.

Lucas helped you sit. Erica peered at the window on the other side of the bed. The clouds darkened further. When the vines didn’t appear, you used the bedframe to hoist yourself to your feet. Erica went to the window first, Lucas right behind her. You followed them, keeping to the shadows. You dared not look at any reflective surface, lest that sharp-edged figure look back.

Red lightning cut through the iron gray tower of smoke now spewing from the mega-gate’s nexus. Deafening thunder shook your bones. Warmth quaked in your gut a second later, silver and true. It filled the emptiness that had settled days ago.

Pitch black surrounded him. He lay on ice — or something like it. It curved around the back of his bare arms, cooled his body numb. So numb he couldn’t move. And he needed to move. There was work to do, someone to find, wrongs to right. Too much had gone wrong in the world. Too many injustices to name. He could make it right. He could help, gather, hunt.

Blood hung in the air. Screeches echoed through his mind, a hungry call for vengeance. Vines pulsed with wrath. The Source promised a righteous purpose larger than himself. The Source was a kindred soul: misunderstood, rejected, and enraged by the world’s hypocrisy. They were misfits together.

And there was no need to be frightened of anything anymore.

He searched the dark, his fingers not offering the answers he needed. He moved his legs and found the curve of the surface he lay on. Raising a foot, his toe bumped into something hard and smooth inches above. He let his heel fall as he walked his hands across the surface. He pulled it down his body. Whatever he was on moved instead.

He walked his hands above his head to find more of the same smooth surface. To his left were round protrusions, like bolts. Yes, he thought, bolts. Bolts meant hinges. Hinges were weak points.

More bolts were on the right. That was the hinge. The left was the handle. Handles were weak points, too.

He placed his palm on the handle bolts.

The Source said he could free himself. Something as mundane as this wouldn’t injure him.

He slammed the heel of his palm below the bolts. The handle rattled. He struck a second time. The handle whined. He struck again. The handle clanged in the background. He waited for someone to come investigate — police, a guard, even an assistant. He pushed the hatch open and waited a few minutes more. It was nominally brighter beyond, yet there was enough light to see he lay on a metal drawer.

He pulled himself through the portal. The drawer rumbled. Still, no one came. All around the portal were similar metal doors with chrome latch handles. He recognized it for the morgue it was.

He’d been dead. He was dead.

The Source contradicted the thought, saying everyone had mistaken him for dead. They’d not looked close enough. They’d abandoned him. They’d thrown him away. Only Source accepted him and had seen him for the valuable individual he’d always been.

He sat and scooted up the drawer to maneuver his legs out. The skin on his torso pulled. He looked down and gagged. Lines of black stitches or patches of missing flesh disfigured his chest and stomach. He touched the flap of skin on a patch on his right side. It should’ve hurt—

Nothing hurt.

He should’ve been cold. He’d been in a refrigerated box for who knows how long, but he wasn’t.

The Source assured him he was beyond pain.

His right calf and left thigh had been gnawed on, too. Someone had attempted to repair the damage with more black stitches. Those injuries didn’t pull like his torso.

That hardly mattered, though. He needed to leave— wherever the fuck he was. He needed clothes for that, because he was very, very naked. Making anything right usually required covering your ass.

He slipped off the drawer, landing on feet that didn’t feel like his own. His legs wobbled. Every wound protested as he straightened. The skin stretched little by little until he could stand.

A shelving unit stacked with linens stood by the main door. He found a scrub top and held it up. His bare hands felt as naked as the rest of him. That wasn’t how it should be. He only took off— No, he hadn’t taken off anything. He was supposed to see someone. They were waiting— No, no one was waiting for him. Everyone thought he was useless — and dead.

He was forgetting someone— No, they’d forgotten him. He touched his upper chest. Something should be there. They’d stolen something from him.

Yes, someone had taken something from them. He needed to find this person— No, wait for this person. They had an essential component in Source’s plan, and he had to capture it.

“Something’s changed,” you said.

“Uh, yeah,” said Lucas, pointing towards the window. “The Upside Down is invading Hawkins.”

You shook your head.

“No, I feel the pull of something.”

You didn’t want to say you felt the silver flame of Eddie’s energy for the first time in days. That sounded hokey even to yourself. If the emptiness — which had to have been Eddie — was filled, it meant Eddie was alive. You couldn’t desert him. You had to find him.

Erica said, “You can’t go now.”

Lucas nodded.

“The party doesn’t separate.”

“Even if it’s for a member of the party?”

“Who is it?”

“I think it’s Eddie.”

“What about Max?” he asked. “Did you find her?”

With a nod, you explained the paused, red world where Max couldn’t sleep. Max thought she was dreaming, but you weren’t sure it was her dream. You theorized it was an illusion to keep her stuck. There had to be something to get her unstuck. She wanted to switch back, but she didn’t know how.

“She exists in two worlds,” you said. “Her body in ours, her mind in another.”

“Or in Vecna’s mind.”

“We have to unite her,” said Erica.

“She asked where El was, but I didn’t tell her. Because I don’t know, and because I didn’t want Vecna finding out.” The pull of Eddie being alive nagged at your consciousness, and you shook your head. “Look, I can’t stay. I gotta find Eddie.” You grabbed your purse from where you’d left it by the door. “Guard Max. Hide her, if you have to.”

Erica and Lucas shared a look.

“We can do that,” he said.

You gave them a nod before leaving the room. Eddie’s energy drew you outside. Though you didn’t understand, you took the service stairs down. Hospital personnel pushed open doors and passed you on the stairs without questioning you.

While the first-floor corridors bustled with people and staff, a hushed tension overlaid every conversation. You swerved around anxious groups of two or three and the occasional thousand-yard-stare loner.

Outside, the scent of smoke and hot ozone had your eyes near burning and your nose on the verge of running. Ash fell like snow from the low ceiling of the clouds. It disappeared when it touched your skin.

You brought your shirt collar over your nose, then crossed the parking lot to your car. You stowed your purse in the trunk and pocketed the keys. There, you hesitated. If Eddie wasn’t in the hospital, he could be anywhere. Perhaps Wayne had identified him and took him to another hospital. However, there wasn’t another hospital in Hawkins. Maybe he was at a doctor’s office. His wounds might’ve looked worse than they were. That didn’t explain his absence from Indra’s net or his reappearance, though.

You turned to the path that led through the trees at the back of the parking lot. Except for funeral homes, only the hospital and coroner’s office could store dead bodies. If Eddie was in a funeral home, word about it would’ve been everywhere by now.

His energy wasn’t far, yet it was muddled, like poor reception on a TV. You tried getting more of a read on him. Pain lit your nerves, making you back off. You pressed your shirt over the bridge of your nose and breathed deep.

Fine, you thought. The coroner’s office it is.

You had to get yourself worked up. An injured girl near tears could get sympathetic assistance and soothing information. You made your breath shallow and rapid as you marched across the parking lot. You brought to mind every stressor: your father rejecting your every idea, being a stranger in this town, Vecna disfiguring your face after stealing your magic, making mistake after mistake and not finding the strength to get over it or fix it, finding Eddie and losing him all in one night.

Tears rimmed your eyes as you walked under the coroner’s office awning. You righted your shirt and pushed at the door. It clanked in its frame.

“What the hell?”

You caught your breath. Maybe you had to pull it. You tried that, earning another clank.

It was locked. Still.

That was complete bullshit.

Your tears evaporated as you grit your teeth. You would not be kept from him any longer. It didn’t matter if he was alive, dead, or undead. You would see Eddie.

You placed a palm over the deadbolt.

“You are undone,” you whispered to it.

Its screws unwound and fell to the floor. The outside cover tumbled off. The interior mechanism flicked open and teetered in the hole. You encouraged it to drop with a jab.

You swiped the cover from the sidewalk before entering the building. Inside, you gathered the deadbolt pieces and dumped them in a potted plant in the dim waiting room. You went to the empty check-in counter to find the area beyond it vacated and dark, save for the blinking lights of the desk phone.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind the reinforced door to your left. With nowhere to run, you put on an innocent expression and curled your shoulders inward. A guard in fatigues tore back the door while another rushed into the waiting room, guns in hand.

“Hands up!” said the closest guard as the door closed behind them.

You raised your hands as your gaze bounced from one to the other. They both had black armbands with MP decorating the side. Military police. Your hunch yesterday about the Humvees had been correct.

“How did you get in here?”

“The front door?” You glanced at it. “The lock’s gone.”

“State your business.”

“I can’t find my-my parents.” You didn’t have to force any nervousness with two guns pointed at you. “They’re not at the hospital. And… and-and the ER told me to check he-here.”

The MPs scowled.

A frenzy of banging and clanging came from behind the door. The MPs turned from you with guns at the ready. You took a step back, heart in your throat.

What were they keeping back there?

The door flew off its hinges, springing off the linoleum by its corner. It ricocheted and crashed into an MP, who toppled to the floor. The door landed to cover his top half. His gun skidded into the waiting room.

“Back away!” yelled the remaining MP. “Hands up!”

You turned your attention away from the gun, thinking he yelled at you. Rather, his attention was on the person in the doorway.

You almost didn’t believe your eyes. You’d expected a demogorgon or some other sort of hellish creature. It was neither. It was Eddie. Unmistakable, even backlit by the severe hallway light. His usually wild hair hung limp around his face. Green scrubs had replaced his clothes.

Eddie hissed at the MP and stomped onto the collapsed door. The MP underneath bleated in protest.

If he kept on like this, he was going to be shot.

“Eddie?”

He turned his focus on you, his blank expression so unlike himself.

The MP shouted, “I said, hands up!”

Eddie’s eyes had you taking another step back. They were like your left: cursed. His skin was waxen like the dead. A tag hung from his big toe. You didn’t know who this was, but he wasn’t your Eddie. He felt like him, looked like him, had his silver flame, but he wasn’t Eddie.

The door was less than a yard away. You could make it out before anyone would reach you. Once outside, you could dash to your car — or lead Eddie away from the hospital.

You pivoted on one foot. A cold body plowed into yours. Hands grabbed your upper arms. The check-in counter dug into your back. Eddie reared up over you.

He’d moved too fast to be natural. In comparison, the MP turned in slow motion.

Eddie pulled the pressure patch down your face.

With a pleased look, he said, “Ah, I see you’re half ours already.”

His breath smelled of old blood.

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Have you join us?”

He leaned in to drag his nose over your cheek, inhaling as he went. You closed your eyes and pinched your mouth shut. His dry, cracked lips skipped up your cheek.

“Pretty, pretty witch.”

“Show me your hands,” ordered the MP.

“Should I let him shoot me?” Eddie asked you.

“Don’t shoot,” you called over his shoulder. “He’s… He’s not hurting me.”

Eddie hummed in your ear. “Take me to Max.”

You couldn’t let him get his hands on her. He’d take her to Vecna. If Vecna had you, Max, and Eddie — all cursed in one manner or another — it would be a recipe for destruction. He’d drain you like a vampire, sacrifice Eddie, and use Max as a pawn. Or maybe something even worse. You couldn’t let any of that happen.

You arched away to look into Eddie’s cursed eyes, so much like your own. You’d tear Vecna limb from limb for this. Apart from El, only you had power enough to destroy him. And you could with the Eradix spell you’d found on Thursday.

“Step away from the girl!”

Eddie snarled and turned his head like a predator. He released your arms before you could protest. You reached for his shirt to keep him with you. Your fingers grasped air.

A triple pop of gunfire had you hunching and covering your head. The waiting room window shattered. A gust of smoke and ash poured into the building. Boots shuffled across the floor. The MP grunted as something clattered.

You wanted to look, make sure Eddie hadn’t been shot, but you needed to get out of there. A wet gurgle and grind turned your stomach. You scurried to the main door, pulling it open. Wind dragged the door from your hand. It thudded against the wall.

With a flinch, you peeked over your shoulder. Eddie stared back. Blood dripped down his chin. The MP hung slack from his hands.

Everything narrowed.

Then everything sharpened as you steadied the main door and sprinted to the street.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #em tagd #waywardrose writes

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