Chapter Text
Finney Stephanie Blake was floating. Emotionally.
Physically, he felt numb, only vaguely aware of what was around him.
He was sitting down, he knew that, and he knew that the idea of standing up made him nauseous. But he had to move.
Slowly he made himself take one step in front of the other, until the tangy smell of copper slowly faded away, and a blast of cool air on his face replaced it.
He squinted, eyes unable to focus on anything around him. Blinking red and blue lights overstimulated him, overtaking all of his senses. Still, the chill felt freeing, even if it increased the numbing. He was thankful.
Suddenly, there was a blur, and then he felt a hard pressure against his left side. Someone was touching him. They were grabbing onto him, latched onto him, as if letting go for even a second would mean he would be lost forever.
It wasn’t an overreaction, as he was using all of his remaining energy mentally forcing himself not to spiral into a place he wouldn’t be able to escape from.
His instincts told him that the pressure was safe, but he looked down at his side to check anyway. It was his little sister, Gwen.
He felt his body slump towards her, the familiarity finally allowing his body to close his eyes and rest. He heard a soft whimper, and blinked his eyes open once more, checking on Gwen. The world seemed to fade away as he scanned her body for injuries. There wasn’t any, but she had tears in her eyes. Finney was filled with a sense of grief for her.
The pressure she must have been under.
Somewhere at the edge of his consciousness, he heard a sharp “shit!” followed immediately by something in between a hiccup and a sob.
He looked up to see his father, extremely and sloppily drunk. Neither of them was in the right state of mind to interact, it would be better for both of them if he was as distant as usual. But of course, Terrance never seemed to honor social cues or boundaries.
Analyzing the best course of action, Finney let no emotion pass his face, but doing so seemed to be a mistake as Terrance went from slobbering all over himself to a state of rage.
“What? Too good to acknowledge your own dad?” He spat.
Finney held himself tighter as he started to stalk towards him, reaching a hand out to grab at him. Finney moved his arm to shield Gwen’s face.
The motion was made pointless as a group of men, dressed in police uniforms, seemingly came out of nowhere to tackle his father to the ground.
His face turned fire red, spitting vitriol at him. Finney couldn’t exactly make out what he was saying, but he knew it was venomous.
Suddenly, Terrence’s face turned to stone. Literally.
His mouth cemented into a frown as his forehead seemed to extend to accommodate two pointy horns. His skin turned gray, and his eyes turned dark, as Finney started to recognize the haunting face.
“Naughty boy..” the mask seemed to growl out, now no longer pinned to the ground as the figure slowly stood up, wielding a belt, “If you just could’ve been a good boy, played along with my games. You were always at the wrong place at the right time.” The figure flickered, as the belt seemed to transform into an axe, and his face lost its frown, expressionless mask replacing it, “You would’ve saved lives. Instead, other little boys had to take your place.” He let the silence sit, as he raised his axe above his head, now dripping with blood that wasn’t there before, “They’re dead now, and it’s all your fault.”
He ran forward, aim true, but just as his axe was about to make contact with Finney’s head, the masked figure exploded into a pile of blood. Finney felt the wetness on his face, warm and wrong. He blinked the red away until it no longer tinged his vision. In doing so, the police officers who held the figure down seemed to disappear. It was as if they were never there.
Standing in their place were 4 substantially smaller, but bloodier figures. Staring straight into his soul.
He had a faint sense that he knew these boys, but something was stopping him from being able to recognize them. He knew he owed them the respect of staring back at them and calling out their names. He just couldn't remember them.
The part of him that hoped everything was just a big nightmare, wished they would just disappear. He wanted them to leave.
Leave his mind, leave his memory, leave him alone, and never be seen again.
They were caked in blood.
Bloody, matted hair, missing nails, scabbed knuckles, noses spewing crimson, angry red cuts across their bodies, slit throats, and empty caverns where a heart should be.
It was gory, it was horrible, and it was traumatizing.
One by one, the boys started to point and chant at a growing volume.
“It’s your fault.”
“Finney’s fault”
“Your fault.”
“It’s all your fault.”
“You did this”
He recognized those voices. Just a few short hours ago, he clung to them, hoping they could save him. Every time he spoke to them, they seemed to have a plan and advice, and yet every time it seemed to fall flat.
Moments of hope, destroyed. In every moment of disappointment, he felt like they had failed him. Given him pointless information that would always lead nowhere. They could only do so much. Only cognizant for so long. But every wasted moment felt like a betrayal to Finney.
The reality was, he was the failure.
He clenched his eyes shut, hoping that suddenly everything would disappear.
He tried to focus on the pressure on his side, using it to ground him. But instead of comforting, the hold grew sharp. It felt like a knife was being slowly pushed in between his ribs.
His eyes flew open, and he looked down at his sister. Her eyes were glowing red, as they slowly started sinking into her head, disappearing and replaced with a steadily growing stream of blood.
Finney felt nauseous as he tried to rip away from the hold, but the arm held him hostage, skin, and muscle slowly peeling away until all that was left was bone.
“Finney.” Came the raspy voice of his beloved sister, “It’s all your fault.”
Finney flinched and hunched into himself, banging on his temples to try and gain some control.
“Finn, save me...” came an all-too-familiar voice with a soft Spanish accent.
Finn’s head spun as he shot to his feet. He stuck his arm out to reach towards the voice, as his vision started to blur further. The nausea became too much, as Finn fell to his knees, and blacked out.
Finn jumped awake, breathing heavily, feeling as if he was just swirly-ed in a bucket of lava. He looked around the room, eyes squinting from the harsh light, achingly blank white walls staring back at him. His breath quickened until he took notice that the harsh light wasn’t coming through a barred window, but instead the irritating buzzing of an overhead light. He was in the hospital. Memories from the night before started to come back to calm him.
He killed The Grabber.
The Grabber can’t hurt him or anyone else anymore.
He escaped.
He was found and taken to the hospital. They cleaned up his injuries, asked a couple of questions by the police, and was promptly sent to bed.
He was okay. He was safe.
Finn only got his breathing level when he heard a knock at his door. He reluctantly finished pulling himself together and called out, “Come in.”
A nurse in light blue scrubs poked her head in with a smile, “Good Morning Finney, I’m Susannah, the nurse on duty and I just wanted to check in. How are you feeling?”
Finn shrugged, “Just keeping on keeping on.”
Susannah sighed and fully entered the room, closing the door behind her, “Well I suppose that's the most I could ask for, considering the circumstances. You seem to be holding up better than your friend in any case.”
“...Friend?”
His mind started racing, filled with possibilities, equal parts dread and hesitant hope. She couldn’t possibly be talking about Gwen, last Finney saw her, she was latched onto him, and even through the haze, he gave her a scan for any damage. She came up clean, plus they didn’t let her come with him to the hospital. They wouldn’t be crazy enough to refer to his kidnapper as his friend, would they? Plus, he was dead. Finn made sure of it.
So who would that leave? Finn didn’t dare to breathe it out loud, or even elaborate on the thought, in fear that it would destroy him, but what if?
What if he wasn’t the only one to make it out?
Could it be?
Robin?
“Yes, another boy came in around that same time you did, poor thing looked half dead, but he had such a fight in him, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Finn allowed his hope to get a little stronger.
Robin was always a fighter.
He swallowed, then hesitantly asked, “Do, Do you know his name?”
She jumped, “Oh, I don't think I should be telling you his name, patient confidentiality, and all that…”
“Please-” His voice cracked.
Looking down at him, the nurse pursed her lips, took a moment to think, then conceded, “Vance Hopper.”
“Oh.” Finney looked down, wanting to hide his shiny eyes and his blatant disappointment, “Was there…anyone else?”
Susannah gave a commiserating smile and softly said “No. I’m sorry.”
Finney nodded and sat in fragility, not wanting to process quite yet.
He knew it was stupid and dangerous to let himself hope.
He should have known better.
With a newly upbeat tone, the nurse broke the silence, “Can I check on your injuries? We don't want them getting infected.”
Finney gave a curt nod and sat forward at the edge of the hospital bed. She stepped forward, her hands moving towards the patch on his right cheek. She slowly peeled away at the tape, inspecting the gash that was put there the day he went missing.
She pulled away with a relieved smile, “Well it seems like it’s healing quite nicely, it may scar but it definitely isn’t infected.”
She replaced the bandages with speed that spoke of years of experience, and her tone was peppy but calm. It helped Finney.
The difference between the incredibly sterile building compared to the dingy basement couldn’t have been more stark, but the isolation? The loneliness? That felt the same.
It put Finn on edge, even if he knew, logically, he was safe. But Susannah’s warmness and sureness in the face of his injuries made everything feel less daunting. It was nice.
“Now, let’s take a look at the others, hm?”
Shifting his gaze to look at the ceiling, Finney recoiled as he attempted to remove his shirt.
Even though his injuries had been cleaned and wrapped up for hours, the phantom sensation of his skin sticking to his shirt persisted, the dried blood and scabs acting as glue, bonding the two together.
His physical and mental pain seemed to compound one another, his body felt paralyzed as his eyes started to water. He tried to power through.
The nurse, seeing his struggle, took a step closer, helping him take off his shirt, and proceeded to undo the bandages to see the extent of the damage. Despite her earlier single-mindedness, Finney felt the nurse freeze after each wound was unwrapped, then start again.
Once all of the bandages were removed, he looked down, then quickly away from the nurse’s face to a spot on the wall across from him.
The nurse was looking down at Finn’s history, embedded into his skin. Crescents from broken glass scabbed over rocket trails and a constellation of burn marks. Finney liked calling it his own little galaxy.
He only needed 2 neat scalpel-shaped scars on his chest to complete his universe.
The nurse didn’t seem to like his scars as much.
She bit back a gasp, eyes glistening, “How did the grabber leave so much pain in so little time?”
Finney, still fragile couldn’t stop himself from biting out, “It wasn’t the grabber.”
The nurse’s head flicks up, now attempting to make eye contact, eyes only getting wetter, “What?”
Finney was frozen solid, staring straight ahead, unflinching. He kept his silence.
“Can you say that again?”
Finney said nothing.
“Were you hurt before the grabber? But it doesn’t show in your medical records…”
Finney’s body tensed even more.
“… did someone hurt you? Do they still-?”
Finney started shaking
“Finney, who? Please, I can help”
Finney felt as tears started to fall.
“Finney, who was it? Was it…was it kids at school?”
Finney shook his head.
“Was it-” she faltered as if she was scared of the answer, “was it your dad?”
Finney started nodding.
He couldn’t will himself to stop nodding, so instead he took a breath, let out a sob, then started hyperventilating. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of the breaths he took.
His body tensed, and the now familiar feeling of numbness filled him again. His fingers lost feeling, as his mind started to get foggy.
For the second time in 24 hours, he blacked out.
It turns out Susannah really could help him, as the next day, CPS was standing at the foot of his hospital bed, holding a clipboard and explaining the situation.
He was going to be sent away to some relative he didn’t know he had. Apparently, his dad had a brother who changed his last name, intending to entirely sever themself from the Blake family name.
Finn almost laughed. He didn’t blame him, thinking about what a nightmare household that must’ve been to grow up in, but he also wasn’t hopeful that his uncle would be much better.
Still, as long as he and Gwen were safe, he would be content. In the moment, all he felt was relief.
That was until he found out that through some type of leap of logic and common sense, he was going alone. Terrance apparently wasn’t an active threat to Gwen. Only to Finney.
Let it be known that Finn heavily distrusts law enforcement.
Thankfully, Finney wasn’t going to be sent away until he had an entirely clean bill of health, and the legal side of things had been completely cleared.
That meant that Finney still had time to spend with his sister and live up to this new badass persona.
He couldn’t lie, he thought it was kinda cool, getting to completely flip everybody’s perspective of who he was and prove all of the bullies wrong. For once, he wasn’t the victim. It felt kinda powerful.
He became someone, even if it came at a great cost of innocent lives and his own mental health.
He tended to ignore the latter, it made the entire situation easier to digest. There was no way he was going to be the same person after everything anyway.
But now, with his newfound reputation, Finn could make sure no one messed with Gwen after he left.
Gwen could more than take care of herself, but leaving behind some form of protection made Finney feel better about leaving her, even though he was still extremely pissed.
Unfortunately, delaying his departure also meant that he had to spend a substantial amount of time with Vance “Pinball” Hopper, whether in physical therapy, police questioning, or simply because the staff thought that they would be perfect socializing partners for one another.
Finn disagreed.
Vance was a ticking time bomb ready to go. There was only so long someone could expect someone like Vance to last being cooped up for so long.
Even Finney had trouble sitting still, and he stayed in the hospital for only a fraction of the time.
Having been missing for a couple of months versus Finney’s 3 days, Vance was subject to intensive care, he even needed crutches.
Only a week before did he stop throwing them across the room in frustration, and actually started to learn how to use them.
He broke 5 pairs before that point.
Finney was scared they’d run out.
Finney was more scared of what Vance would do if they did.
Vance and Finney were never close, having barely spoken a word to each other in the past.
It would be more accurate to describe the two as less than strangers than anything else.
They were just two teenagers who happened to go to the same school, and occasionally crossed paths.
Vance didn’t care enough to acknowledge anyone, and Finney tried his best to go unnoticed. They hadn’t even made eye contact before.
Their shared experience didn’t change that.
They sat in silence whenever they could, as every word that they shared felt like a prick of barbed wire. They were too sore for anything else.
That was likely the only thing they ever agreed on. Well, that and that The Grabber was a fucking dick. God were they glad he was dead.
You would think the shared trauma would bring them together, at least some form of civility, but instead, all that existed between them was a building resentment. Resentment at the other for surviving.
Out of the 6 boys who were kidnapped, it was the two of them who survived. Not the innocent child, not the paperboy, not the golden boy, and not the protector. But the town anomaly, and the juvie dropout.
The town wouldn’t have mourned the loss.
They probably wouldn’t have mourned each other either.
There was an unspoken understanding that they hated the other for surviving. Both of them had lost someone important to them to the same monster. The same hands.
“The Galesburg Grabber”
What a dumb fucking name.
Vance would have done anything for his little brother, that was evident by the fact that he tore the town apart in a rage, searching for Griffin relentlessly before he got kidnapped by the same man he wasted hours trying, and failing to track down.
He got found instead.
Finney did not lose his sibling, but it felt like that would’ve been a lesser pain. Not to say that he didn’t love Gwen, but he and his sister would have a sense of closure that they wouldn’t have with anyone else.
They understood each other, they would always understand each other, and that would carry on in death. Perhaps due to their connection as siblings, the unspoken power they both held, or simply because of the intensive discipline they both had to endure.
The loss he currently felt was a black hole.
He lost one of the only people who understood him;
His best friend,
His protector,
His everything.
Finney thinks it was mutual, or hopes would be more accurate. There was no way Robin didn’t know about Finn’s feelings.
Not if Robin was as smart as Finn always knew he was.
He would catch himself holding Robin’s hand a little too long, a little too tight after patching him up. He would stare, and salivate at Robin’s violent, but protective nature. He would zone out and daydream about black bandanas and hushed Spanish.
He was obvious.
But the thing was, Robin let him. Robin would protect him from the bullies who called him names, he would let him patch him up, let him follow him around like a lost duckling, and even have him over for dinner.
Robin would call out Finn’s name.
He invited Finn into his life.
Robin didn’t care that Finn liked him, because he may have liked him back.
But now he would never know. The infinities that were between them were forever lost in time, now just “if only’s”.
If only I said something.
If only I were there.
If only he wasn’t taken.
If only I were taken first.
If only Robin survived instead of Vance.
It didn’t make sense. Vance was taken before Robin, even before Bruce. How was Vance the one that made it out? Robin was only missing for a couple of days, and he didn’t make it. How did Vance go missing for months and survive?
It wasn’t right. And it certainly wasn’t fair.
It was cruel. The situation, and the thought, but one that passed through Finney’s mind enough that he no longer felt guilt.
Vance definitely thought the same thing about him.
They both understood that.
All too soon, it came time for Finney to leave; the hospital, and North Denver as a whole. He had already been given more than enough time to say goodbye to everyone he cared about.
There weren’t many, but he found that the time was well-spent. He was happy with the note he was leaving on.
He attended the funerals of the other kids who were kidnapped, paid his respects to the Arellano family, annoyed Gwen until she was sick of him, and finally spoke up against his dad. He did everything he wanted to and spoke with everyone that actually mattered to him.
As he opened the door to the car taking him away from everything he knew, he reminisced.
He thought of Gwen knocking on his door after a particularly bad dream.
Of Mrs. Arellano’s homemade meal after a tutoring session.
About the bandana tucked securely in the bottom of his bag, safe.
He thought of Griffin, and Billy, and Bruce.
He spat at the thought of Albert, pitied his father, and winced at the thought of Max.
And he thought of Robin. Oh, the thought of Robin hadn’t once left him. It was torturous.
Vance didn’t once cross his mind.
That is until he made eye contact with Vance “Pinball” Hopper through the hospital window.
It looked like he finally perfected the art of stumbling around on crutches, as he shifted his weight with confidence.
Finney still didn’t like Vance, he didn’t think that he would ever like him.
In fact, never seeing him again ranked on the positive side of leaving North Denver.
Vance raised his fists, and slowly cranked one hand as the other raised his middle finger.
Loathe as he was to say it, at that moment, Finn snorted.
Vance seemed to catch it, as he stuck his tongue out of his mouth, and wiggled his eyebrows, almost teasingly.
One last interaction, one last moment of acknowledgment.
They may have barely spoken a word to one another and tolerated each other on the best of days, but they were bonded as survivors.
They understood each other.
That wouldn’t change.
Finney gave one last glance at Vance, nodded his head, and closed the door to the car. If he ever saw Vance, or this shitty town ever again, it would be too soon.