Chapter Text
October 29, 1984
It was a betrayal of the highest caliber. Steve Harrington was simply returning home after a long day at high school and an even longer afternoon at swim practice. He was tired and only looking for a little reprieve in his peaceful home. He could barely get the key in the door. It hadn't even opened completely when he was assaulted.
Truly, there was nothing more heart-wrenching than expecting to come home to a loving sister and being pelted with no fewer than five deadly accurate water balloons. They broke open against his head, a stinging wash of water that was instantly frigid as he stood still halfway in the chilly autumn night. Steve swore and dropped his bag. He wiped at his face, flicking water everywhere. Most of the balloons had been targeted at his hair, which was now stuck to his forehead in a sorry state.
Steve blinked and focused his attention squarely on the two girls sitting at the Harrington’s dining room table. He crossed his arms and tried to make his voice stern. “El.”
Eleven waved from the table with one hand while the other wiped blood off her upper lip. “Hi, Steve.”
“Why?” he pleaded with her as he kicked the door shut. He turned around and made sure it was locked. It was useless to ask where she had gotten the water balloons from. They were remnants from a water fight the kids had orchestrated over the summer. Why Eleven had pulled them out of retirement to torture him was beyond him.
His loving girlfriend hid a smile behind her hand. Not that it mattered, because Steve could see the amusement running along her jaw. “Sorry, Steve,” Nancy pseudo-apologized. “I said Eleven could have a reward for every worksheet she finished today.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know she planned on water balloons.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve pulled a hand towel off the counter. “Should I expect a sneak attack from the rest of the gremlins or…?”
Eleven shook her head. “No. Arcade.” That made sense. The kids had been over almost constantly over the past year. At first, it was just to spend time with Eleven, then the Harrington house had become a kind of neutral base free of parents. Then Nancy Wheeler realized just how far Eleven was behind in academics. Suddenly there were weekly tutoring sessions, headed by Nancy, but the boys were surprisingly willing to help catch El up. Steve pitched in when he could, but he wasn’t a brainiac like the rest of them. He was barely passing his classes.
The boys' time had been split evenly between school, their nerdy dragon game, and the Harrington house. But since the Palace Arcade had opened for business a few months ago, the boys had been spending less time with Eleven. He knew El had complicated feelings about the recent development. It was pretty lonely for her to only have a handful of people she could interact with regularly. But she wasn’t ready for school yet, and there was still the whole ‘fugitive from a secret government organization’ aspect. So El spent most of her time at the house.
“That’s fine,” Steve gave El a reassuring look. “You’ll see them on Halloween anyway.” Eleven grinned at that prospect. The boys had planned on going as Ghostbusters. The traditional sheet ghost costume was a great cover for Eleven.
“Are you excited?” Nancy asked with her general affability. Eleven nodded, enthusiasm bouncing off her shoulders and chest. Nancy huffed. “I’m a little sad we can’t go with you.” Jonathan had been volunteered by his mother to chaperone the kids. Steve would’ve let Eleven go anyway, but it helped to know that someone was going to watch over them. Meanwhile, Steve and Nancy were going to debut their couples costume at Tina’s Halloween Bash. Steve had outgrown trick or treating a long time ago.
“Why?” Eleven asked. “You can come too.”
Nancy laughed. “We’ll be at this Halloween party.”
Apparently the second you got handed the surname ‘Harrington,’ you were also gifted a near-primal instinct to host parties. Steve shouldn’t have been surprised when Eleven’s eyes lit up, a shimmering hint of excitement fluttering like wings at her shoulders. “Party?” She phrased it like a question, but it wasn’t really a question, judging by the way she looked at Steve expectantly.
Steve groaned in a big show. “I don’t know,” he complained. Nancy giggled, amusement trailing along her jawline. “Halloween is only a few days away, and I’m sure the boys want to go trick or treating all night.”
El stood up. “I want to have a party,” the corner of her mouth upturned as she paused. “Please, Steve?” And that was all it took. Steve sighed and gave Nancy a defeated look. Triumph shot like lightning off of Eleven’s smile.
Nancy began packing up her bag. “I guess I’ll be on my way then,” she said. “Sounds like you two have a party to prepare for.” She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder with gusto. “You’re still picking me up early tomorrow, right?”
“Yep,” Steve agreed. There were always so many plans with Nancy. Picking her up, studying together, dinner with the Hollands, parties, and dates. It wasn’t bad, far from it, but Steve sometimes wondered what would happen without Nancy. He would drown in all his free time.
“Good,” Nancy stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss into his cheek. Steve tilted her head, kissing her properly. Nancy smiled into the kiss, a fragmented line of surprise lingering in the air. “Don’t forget to bring that essay for me to edit tomorrow,” she said, all work, no-nonsense.
Steve held open the door for her and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Nancy shook her head, exasperation and fondness battling for the rank of primary emotion. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington,” she said by way of a farewell. Steve chuckled. He ignored the doubt that trickled down her cheek, the quivering sadness that struggled down her neck. Nancy was entitled to her feelings. She had been distant ever since August when the Harringtons had left town for a few weeks for their annual Vegas trip. Nothing good ever lasted forever.
Nancy waved to Eleven. “Have a good night, El. I’ll let Mike know about your party.”
Eleven waved back. “Goodnight, Nancy.”
Steve set his hands on his hips and swung to face El. “Alright, the first thing about a Halloween party: decorations.” Eleven jumped up, eager to get started. Steve Harrington hadn’t thrown a Halloween party since middle school. He hadn’t had to with Tina taking charge of the largest Halloween bash every year. All the kids in Hawkins knew that Loch Nora was the best place to trick or treat. No one was hiking out into the woods for candy. So the Harringtons’ Halloween decorations had been shoved in the back of the attic.
It took some shuffling to find the boxes. There weren't as many decorations for Halloween as for the other holidays. Steve wasn’t quite sure how good they would look considering they were from like, 1979 or something. He hoisted the first one and passed it to Eleven. “Don’t drop it, it could be fragile,” he warned. She smiled confidently and lowered it down with her powers. There wasn’t a crash. Her control was getting better. Steve grinned and reached for the next box.
Something scuttled across the top, small and black with too many fucking legs.
“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Steve shouted (he definitely shouted, not shrieked, no matter what Eleven would later relay to her friends). He lept back, putting a healthy distance between himself and the spider.
Eleven inched closer into the attic, and her brief dusting of sympathetic fear turned into a loop of confusion. “Spider?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Steve pressed a hand over his rapidly beating heart. “Fucking scary.”
Eleven gave him a withering glance. “Steve,” she said calmly. “It is small.” Steve sputtered. El rolled her eyes and reached over. In one swift motion, she smacked the insect, killing it instantly. Disgust trailed over her stomach as she wiped her hand on another box. “There. It is dead.” She smirked and grabbed the box before heading back down the ladder. Steve made sure the last box was spider free before he grabbed it.
El had opened the first box and was pulling out purple and orange decorations with delight. Steve dropped the last box and watched her lay out streamers and fake ghosts and creepy signs. “Think it will be enough?” He asked. It would be tight, but he could always run and get more decorations if she needed them. Movies, snacks, whatever she was going to need. There was no way in hell Steve Harrington was going to let a party flop. Even if it was only a handful of middle schoolers getting sugar rushes together.
Eleven grinned up at him. “This is enough,” she confirmed. A flutter of love ran over her hands, trailed up her arms, and settled over her heart before it faded. “Thank you, Steve.”
Steve ruffled El's curls, recently growing back in. She giggled. "Anytime, El. Now," he surveyed the boxes. "Think you can manage setting these up tomorrow yourself?" She nodded. "Good, I'm heading to bed.
September 1984
The nicest thing Jim Hopper could say about Jack Harrington was that he was a man who respected mornings. But Harrington’s respect started and stopped there. He didn’t respect traffic laws, evidenced by the pile of paid-off speeding tickets. He didn’t think much of Hawkins or its small-town residents, as he was away more than he was home. If he cared about his wife or his kid, he had a funny way of showing it. He wasn’t patriotic or noble or much of anything.
All that to say, Hopper was surprised to hear that Jack Harrington had requested to meet with him. And, despite his mornings being clear for weeks at a time, Jack had waved every appointment until Flo had found an afternoon block. So, on a gray September, at half past two, Hopper walked into his office to find Jack Harrington sitting in a chair.
Jim assumed that the Harrington kid had let something slip about the Upside Down or the monster or the lab. He was immediately on the defense, ready to deny and deflect.
But then Jack had gone and flipped the script. His request had surprised Hopper so much that his answer was short.
“No.”
Hopper actually hated to turn him down. But what he was asking wasn’t possible. When Joyce had told him that the girl, Eleven, had gotten herself out of the Upside Down, no one had been more relieved than him. Eleven had been staying with Steve Harrington back in ‘83. It made sense that she would keep staying there. Hopper wasn't in a place to question it. Jack knew all about her, which was a dangerous thing. And now, of all the surprises, he wanted to make her his legal daughter.
Jack Harrington wasn’t a man who was used to being told no. He smirked at Jim, which was infuriating. “Surely there’s something you can do, Jim. I mean, it’s not fair to the girl. She needs to be in school. She needs a life.”
Hopper scowled. Who was this yuppy asshole to preach at him? Jack Harrington hadn’t gone into a hell dimension to save a kid. He hadn’t fought off government goons to get to the bottom of a conspiracy. He had been handed a superpowered girl and now thought he had the right to push Hopper around.
So Jim set him straight. “She had a life. Then the government faked her death, lobotomized her mother, and kept her locked up for her entire life.” Jack was thrown off by Hopper’s bluntness. Most people were. “You can’t adopt a girl who’s not supposed to exist.”
Jack sighed. “So there’s really no strings you can pull? No loopholes? Nothing like that?”
“Nope.” Hopper enjoyed telling Jack Harrington no. He wished it was about literally anything else.
“Guess I’ll get out of your hair then,” Jack chuckled, and Hopper felt the urge to trip him as he got up. But he was an adult, the goddamn chief of police, so he had to be responsible.
“How’s she doing anyway?”
Jack turned around with a smug expression on his face. “She’s good,” he bragged. “Cute kid.”
Hopper watched his face. If there was any indication that Jack Harrington thought differently, that he resented the girl, it didn’t show. Everything seemed to indicate that he was actually okay with keeping Eleven around. “That’s good to hear,” Hopper ventured. “And her… quirks?”
Jack laughed, a haughty sound crafted for country clubs. “Don’t you worry about that, Jim. She’s fine, ‘quirks’ and all.” He sounded patronizing, but Hopper figured that was his default tone.
When Harrington had left, Hopper stayed in his office and smoked a few to clear the air of his expensive cologne. He wished he could have done something to help, not for Jack Harrington’s sake, but for the girl. Hopper owed Eleven something, but he wasn’t sure what. He might’ve been avoiding the whole situation for almost a year now. He wished he could simply sign a paper and give her a family and freedom.
Well, there was one thing he could do. But it would require a trip out to his cabin, where he had stashed all the files the precinct had collected last year about the lab. Hopper couldn’t exactly help Eleven find a new family, but he could shed some light on the one she lost.
October 30, 1983
Nancy stared at Steve’s college essay with a neutral expression, but her judgment said more than her face. “It’s crap, I know,” Steve hedged. He hadn’t put a lot of effort into it. He might be able to talk a dog out of his bone, but writing was never his strong suit. Still, he would walk through hell for Nancy. Amusing her by writing a college admissions essay was the least he could do.
“It’s not crap,” Nancy insisted, despite her feelings saying otherwise.
Steve frowned. “It’s not good.” She didn’t have to tiptoe around what they both knew.
“It will be,” Nancy insisted, attention focusing as she drew up a plan in that sharp mind of hers. “Just... It needs some reorganizing.”
Steve groaned. “It needs a miracle, Nance. Let’s not kid ourselves.”
Nancy gave him a pitying look. He flicked the actual emotion away before it could form. He wasn’t being self-deprecating. He thought Nancy would appreciate a little honesty for once. “Steve, I know this is important–”
“Is it?”
“The deadline for early application is tomorrow, right? If we work on this tonight before our dinner, we can make it passable…”
“What’s the point? It’s not like I’m actually going to get in.” Steve shrugged. His grades sucked and he couldn’t write a paper to save his life.
“You don’t know that,” Nancy admonished. It was cute that some part of her still believed in him.
“I’m just being honest. And, like, would it be so bad? Taking a gap year or whatever. I could help El get through her first year at school. And you,” Steve took in a breath and looked at Nancy. She looked like a deer in the headlights for a second, nervousness glimmering over her fingers. Then she schooled her face into something coy. “I could be around for your senior year. Just to look after you a little bit.”
“Steve…” Sadness snaked down over her sweater. It forced its way out despite Nancy’s best attempts to hide it.
Steve made a joke in a vain attempt to distract her. “Make sure you don’t forget about this pretty face.” He watched as she chuckled and looked away, the sadness slipping away but some unstable kind of doubt taking its place. “Nance, I’m serious. I’d rather look after my two girls than get stuck in some crummy school miles away.” She smiled at that, fondness twinkling over her heart, right next to that line of blue guilt that had never faded. Steve kissed her for both of those, soft to match the fondness, deep for the guilt.
It wasn’t the first time he had told her he loved her, and it wasn’t the first time she had returned the phrase. It wasn’t even the first time the doubt had flickered when she said them. Steve tried to focus on the words themselves, not the discordant emotions that surrounded Nancy. But then the sound of an engine and rock music interrupted their moment. Nancy’s confusion was quick to become curiosity, and she got out of the car to find the source of the noise.
Steve caught a glimpse of an out-of-state license plate on the bumper of an unfamiliar hotrod. Fresh blood wasn’t unheard of in Hawkins, but this was something else. Steve watched as a wave of surprise and interest popped across the distance of the parking lot. He didn’t get a great look at the guy who stepped out of the car, or the kid that skateboarded out of the passenger seat.
It would only be a matter of time though. Steve might not be playing king anymore, not with his lack of parties and steady relationship, but his name still held weight. He had his pulse on everyone’s secrets, every ripple in the social sphere of the high school. Steve would have to do some legwork with the new kid, but soon he would be just another player in the game.
And Steve Harrington played to win.
Jonathan Byers was not particularly brave. He kept to himself and avoided people’s attention. Attention was trouble. He didn't like most people, and most people didn’t like him. So long as they left him alone, he could get up each day and suffer through high school. If he actually said any of his opinions to his high school peers, it would end with someone else’s fist on his face.
So no, Jonathan wasn’t brave enough to share his opinion of Steve Harrington out loud.
But to himself, Jonathan had decided that Steve Harrington was weird.
A year ago, Jonathan’s opinion was completely different. Harrington was an asshole, a rich preppy jock. The guy had appeared from nowhere, helped rescue Will, fought a monster, and somehow acquired a superpowered sister. All that seemed strange, yes, but then life kinda went back to normal. Somewhere along the way, Jonathan and Steve had gotten friendly. Jonathan was content to go their separate ways. He hoped they would acknowledge each other's existence when they passed in the hallway and never talk to each other again. He was shocked when Harrington continued acting like they were friends.
Every few weeks, Steve Harrington had a new crowd of endearing fans to entertain. A new social circle, a new clique, a new group of friends. And the first few times, Jonathan was certain that he had been replaced. He had even sighed in relief. He never knew where he stood with Steve, and while he didn’t want to be on the King’s bad side, he certainly didn’t want to be close to him.
But then Steve would ditch whoever he was hanging out with, stepping out of their lives with ease. And then he would be right back sitting at the same lunch table with Jonathan Byers, pulling Nancy Wheeler with him.
So, despite Jonathan’s best efforts to remain an antisocial loner, Steve Harrington had become his friend.
This meant that over the course of a year, Jonathan had plenty of time to observe the King of Hawkins High.
And his professional opinion was that the guy was weird.
It was in the way he didn’t quite stare at people’s eyes when they were talking. He would glance all around them, like he was looking for something. The first few times it happened, Jonathan just thought Steve was staring at Nancy’s boobs as she was talking. But his gaze didn’t linger on her chest. It jumped around, her neck, her ear, her hands. That was weird.
Sometimes Steve looked zoned out like he was miles away. Jonathan wanted to chalk it up to him being a braindead jock. But he could correct himself into the conversation in a matter of seconds, proving that he had been paying attention.
And then there was the way he would just shift. The Steve at school was totally different than the Steve he was at home. Jonathan had been invited to the Harrington house a few times now, always with Will, always to see El. The Steve Harrington at school, King Steve, was always a gamble. You never knew where you stood with him. But in his house, when he was just Steve? There was none of the intimidation, none of the way he would tilt his head and look at you like he knew all your secrets. On two separate occasions, Steve had answered the door, flour or sugar dusting his expensive preppy polos. He baked cookies with his kid sister.
That was weird. Steve Harrington was known for booze and making out with other guys' girlfriends and demolishing people’s reputations with a few sharp words. And he made cookies with his kid sister.
Will said that Steve was actually a bit of a stick in the mud. He wouldn’t let the kids swim in their street clothes and made sure they wore sunscreen. He actually got the boys home by curfew. Jonathan was familiar with his brother's friends. Getting them home on time was an uphill battle. The Steve Will talked about made them take their shoes off at the door. He brought extra blankets for their movie nights. He was a little bossy. But Will said he always left them alone to have their fun, he didn’t pry in on their movies or conversations or anything. In the end, Will would shrug and say, “Steve’s cool.”
Jonathan tried to picture the Keg King Steve Harrington up against the Steve Harrington that Will knew. It was impossible.
But Jonathan Byers wasn’t brave enough to call Steve Harrington, in any of his forms, out on any of this.
So he called him weird in his mind and kept to himself.
Or, at least he tried. But somehow Steve had stubbornly refused to let him.
Jonathan flinched away as Nancy Wheeler shoved an invite for some dumb party into his hands. “You’re coming to this,” she declared. Jonathan wrinkled his nose at the fluorescent paper.
“‘Come and get sheet faced?’” Jonathan shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to be around a bunch of drunk teens that he barely tolerated. “No, I’m not.”
Nancy opened her mouth to make a retort, something witty to be sure. But then Steve Harrington snuck up behind her, grabbed her by the waist, and spun her into a kiss. Jonathan looked away. He didn’t want to watch their public displays of affection. It only made it harder to hang out with the both of them. They were sickeningly sweet with their flirting, the way Nancy played with Steve’s sunglasses, the way Steve could make her blush.
Then Harrington’s attention was on Jonathan. He swooped his arm behind Nancy and gave him a nod. His eyes drooped, and Jonathan thought he might be able to slink away scot-free. But Steve spied the orange paper Nancy had forced onto Jonathan. He grinned. “Byers! ‘You gonna come out of your hermit cave and party with the cool kids?”
Jonathan didn’t laugh. He tried to remind Steve exactly what he would be doing tomorrow night. “I’m taking the kids trick or treating, remember?” Jonathan was more than happy to chaperone some kids. It put his mom at ease and let Will have a normal night. Plus it meant that Jonathan could have a night away from his mom’s new boyfriend. Everybody won.
But Steve Harrington couldn’t let it go. He tilted his head and his gaze darted around Jonathan. “You’ll be done before eight, then you can drop the kids off at my place.” Jonathan felt the briefest moment of irritation, but it faded as Steve kept talking. “El wants to throw a little party, nothing big, but she’s putting up decorations and everything. That gives you plenty of time to meet us at Tina's.” No way he was pulling the ‘Eleven’ card.
“I don’t think–”
“Don’t think. Live a little, Byers.”
Then Nancy spoke up from under Steve’s arm. “Jonathan, just come. I mean, who knows, you might even, like, meet someone.” She smiled at him. Jonathan didn’t want to ‘meet someone.’ But he wasn’t about to tell Nancy that. He glanced at Steve, a bit nervously. Steve had a pinch between his eyebrows. He didn’t look confused. He looked resigned.
Steve Harrington might be weird, but he was still king. If he got it in his head that Jonathan might make a move on his girl it wouldn't matter if they were friends. So Jonathan made his best effort to placate the two of them, if only to get them off his back. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay?”
Neither of them looked convinced, but Jonathan wasn't about to stick around for round two of the integration.
When Nancy had approached Steve about dinner with the Hollands, he had been enthusiastic and optimistic about it. In the best-case scenario, they could offer some solace to the grieving couple. Even better, it would be cathartic for Nancy. Steve was trying everything he could to help her heal.
But when did anything ever turn out to be the best scenario?
Steve was suffocating. The Hollands were still mourning, long and flat and dragging down their bodies. But Mrs. Holland was still in some amount of denial. It gripped her hair and shielded her eyes. She had a forced smile while she apologized for buying dinner, instead of making a home-cooked meal for two random kids. Steve tried to reassure her that it was okay, but he was off his game. He was trying to ignore the anger buzzing faintly around Mr. Holland’s jowls. And then there was Nancy, who he was always so keenly aware of. Her guilt had gone into overdrive, a neon blue warning sign.
The combination of all of their emotions running over their bodies was giving Steve a headache. He focused instead on the fried chicken and let Nancy take the lead. “So,” curiosity tugged at her sweater. “I noticed a “For Sale” sign out in your yard. Is that the neighbors or…?”
Mrs. Holland nodded. “We decided to sell, yes. It’s just getting too hard. Without Barb…” she trailed off, sorrow plucking at the collar of her shirt. “But we do have news. Have you heard of a man named Murray Bauman?” Steve shook his head and looked at Nancy. She also hadn’t heard of him. Mrs. Holland elaborated as she passed him a business card. “He was an investigative journalist for the Chicago Sun-Times. He’s freelance now, and he agreed to take the case.” Something desperate clawed at the woman’s face despite her pleasant tone.
“That’s… that’s great,” Steve mustered. It wasn’t. The official story was that Barbara had been found dead in the woods. No foul play was suspected, which led to the assumption that she had done it to herself. That Barb had wanted to die. There wasn’t a case to be had. “No, that’s really great, right?” Steve looked to Nancy for help.
Her curiosity sharpened. “What does that mean?”
The anger was back on Mr. Holland’s face and in his voice. “It means he’s gonna do what that lazy son of a bitch Jim Hop–” his wife cut him off. He took a shaky breath, and Steve helped nudge that anger down a touch. Just enough to finish the conversation. “Sorry. What the Hawkins police haven’t been doing.”
“We knew our Barb,” Mrs. Holland said. “She wouldn’t leave us like that. Someone did something to her, I just know it. And this man can find out what happened. What really happened.” Her conviction was strong, but it chilled Steve to the bone. What really happened was that Barb had been slaughtered by a Demogorgon from the Upside Down. But her parents could never know that.
Nancy’s guilt flashed, begging for anyone to look at it and acknowledge it. She shifted in her chair. “So… that’s why you’re selling the house?”
“Don’t worry about us, sweetie. It will be good for us.” Steve hoped Nancy would understand. They were trying to move on. Maybe it would help Nancy do the same.
But Nancy excused herself from the table, guilt and sorrow and curiosity all jabbing at her. Steve made some lame joke, but at the same time, he dismissed the Hollands’ twin moments of annoyance. He wished he could do something about the rest of their emotions, but it seemed like they were on the mend. As misguided as hiring a private investigator was, it gave them something to do other than grieve. And getting out of Hawkins would be good too. They wouldn’t ever be the same, but they might be able to move on with their lives.
Steve hoped that Nancy would too.
August 1984
Eleven did not like airplanes.
Even flying first class, there must have been something about the whole experience that set her off. Maybe it was all the people, maybe it was the enclosed space, maybe it was all the rules and order. But El was jumpy and too nervous.
Steve spent the entire flight calming her nerves. He deplaned with the start of a headache blooming. But El being nervous on an airplane was a bad deal. The last thing they wanted was for her to get spooked by turbulence and accidentally take control of the plane. No one wanted to die in a plane crash set off by a thirteen-year-old who didn’t understand how air travel worked.
Eleven did, however, love Las Vegas.
Steve had been worried she wouldn’t like it. He certainly had no love for the place. It was like, his job. Jack had the science of getting the biggest payout using your child’s psychic powers down to a T. Which meant Steve would spend half of their vacation working. Jack would lead them through gambling halls. Steve would pass his fake id to bouncers. After that, it was a night of waiting for pools of money to be big enough to want, waiting for Jack’s signals, watching poker players but not their cards, sending Jack the signal when the time was right, using his mind to control dice until they landed on the perfect number.
It was, honestly, exhausting. Steve always slept deeply in Vegas. Jack and Diane tended to forgo sleep in favor of all-night club hopping.
But Diane had come through for Eleven. For the first few days, while Steve and Jack worked their way down the casinos, Diane had come up with enough child-appropriate activities to keep El entertained. She had found all the best Vegas concerts, a zoo Steve hadn’t known existed, and had spun El through eight different salons and spas.
Steve had to kick a path through all the shopping bags in their shared hotel room to get to his bed. Which was impressive, because it really was a suite. El and Diane had really done their best to blow as much money as possible. He had snagged a plate of food from room service after finishing up with Jack. Eleven began to excitedly tell him about her day while he shoveled overpriced hotel food into his mouth.
Steve tried to pay attention, he really did, but she trailed off after the fifth time he yawned. She frowned, concern tapping at her chest. “You are tired,” she stated.
“I’m fine,” Steve said automatically.
El gave him a withering stare. “Steve,” she said slowly with as much love as she had in her heart. “Do not lie.” That was a new rule. It had taken several conversations for El to be convinced not to tell the others about his powers. El had maintained that friends didn’t lie to each other, but Steve knew that wasn’t always the case. The more people that knew, the more dangerous it was. They had compromised. Lying through omission, secrets to protect each other, and the most important new rule: They don’t lie to each other.
It was a new experience for Steve. He was a professional liar. Jack and Diane didn’t care enough to bother to pry when he brushed them off. No one had ever cared to try to pry the truth from him. So it was a bit of a struggle to actually open his mouth and admit, “I guess I’m a little tired.”
El picked something off his plate and popped it in her mouth. “I can help,” she offered. “I have been practicing.”
Steve shook his head. “You don’t have to,” not to mention, El’s strengths lay elsewhere. They had made a few attempts to get her accuracy down, but she was better off learning how to pick up a car than get a perfect roll of the dice. “Besides, you’re at that age where it’s hard to get you into a gambling hall. I’ve got the fake id, okay?” El didn’t like not being able to help, but she nodded. Steve considered how to make it up to her. “Hey,” he nudged her with his foot. “The last day of the trip, Diane and Jack are gonna spend the whole day doing, I don’t know, adult stuff. Going to expensive clubs and stuff. We can spend the whole day together. I know this place has got a killer water park. Sound fun?”
El smiled, her worry slipping off her chest and vanishing. She stole another piece of his dinner. “Okay.”
The Harringtons left Las Vegas with one of their bigger scores. Steve didn’t know the exact total, but judging by Jack’s near-delirious enthusiasm spinning off his shoulders, it was a lot. Diane ordered a whole bottle of champagne, the real stuff, from France. Steve made sure El knew not to drink the alcohol, then he promptly fell asleep for the entire duration of the flight.
1974
It had been months since anyone had seen Seven.
It wouldn’t be the first time. He had been spending more and more time with private sessions. Solitary. Sometimes he had been allowed in small group, with one or two others, but never in the Rainbow Room. Never with Two or the others.
When Kali (not Eight, she had a name, she had been a person before a number) had asked about him, after months, the answer was surprising. “Seven is no longer with us.”
It either meant one of two things. Either they had finally decided that Seven was more trouble than he was worth, a lit fuse with no master. He was a liability (a big word Kali had heard from one of the men in white coats. He had said it about her, but that was the only similarity she shared with Seven). Seven could be dead, Kali knew.
But there was a part of her that hoped that they meant that Seven had done the impossible: he had gotten out. She loathed to admit that if anyone could, it would be Seven, if he ever realized that trying to appease their wardens would get him nowhere.
And if Seven had done it, so could Kali.