Chapter Text
Blood stained the linoleum floor, soaking into your socks and causing you to nearly slip as you ran as far as you could from the screams.
You didn’t know what was happening, only that something was happening in the Rainbow Room, and it was coming for you.
For the first time in years, you stopped reaching, and the world fell silent and small. Even as you ran, breath heaving and heart pounding in terror, you felt more at peace than you had in ages. You turned the corner and shoved open the door, smile widening at the stairs. You ran down them, feet still leaving bloody footprints on the ground. At the end of the stairs was another door, and you pushed it open, revealing a nearly empty room, and a door at the exit. The men, holding large metal contraptions and looking as nervous as you felt, turned to see you, and their eyes widened.
“You need to go back upstairs.” The taller man barked, hand tightening on the weapon. A gun, Papa had told you.
“No.” Was all you said, reaching out and forcing him to stop before he could hurt you. He turned, hitting the other man with the gun in the face, who crumpled to the ground. The man looked at you in terror as his throat began to constrict, keeping the air from entering his lungs. He joined his friend on the ground, body convulsing on the floor. You watched him, waiting for him to stop moving, just like Papa had taught you. When he was still enough for your liking, you left, stepping over the bodies with care as you walked through the lobby.
It was bright outside, overpowering your senses a little bit. You winced at the light, running for the trees on the fringes of the property. It was darker there, allowing you to see a little better, and to appreciate the cold. The air wasn’t like this, not inside. You took one look at the building behind you, and your resolve hardened. You were going to get out, no matter the cost.
As you ran, you became less and less aware of the sounds coming from your home, and the feeling of the sticks under your feet. The gates were closed, a large bar blocking your way out. You nearly rolled your eyes at the simplicity of the ‘safety’ measures they had in place as you stopped the guard’s heart, slipping under the bar.
You were free.
Papa had no power here, he couldn’t touch you. That thought propelled your feet as you ran farther and farther away from the gates and into the woods.
~
The wind cut through the thin fabric of your dress as you wandered around the woods, looking for any sign of life, squinting in the dark.
Slowly, cautiously, you reached out, only finding one mind nearby. It was loud and disoriented, like something had gone horribly, terribly, wrong. You followed the feeling, leading you to a small cabin. You checked once more, making sure that you had never felt the mind before. It was new, new and confused.
Unsure of what to do, you sat on the steps of the house, trying to figure out where to go next. You could feel the mind getting closer, but suddenly, you were too tired to care. The footsteps got louder, until the door opened and you heard a start of surprise.
You turned, looking at the man with an attempted air of indifference, masking the pit that had formed in your stomach. He looked nothing like Papa. Papa had been clean, always wearing white and his face had none of the prickles this man had. Somewhat foolishly, you trusted him instantly.
His mind was jumbled, as if a thought was struggling to make it out properly. He stared blankly at your bare head and gown, taking in the blood on your feet. “Where’d you come from?”
You didn’t answer.
His jaw tightened. “Come in, it’s damn cold out here.”
You shuffled in, the warmth of the room hitting you like a wave.
He pointed to the couch. “Sit there. I’ll get a blanket.”
You obeyed. What else would you have done?
The blanket was unreasonably soft. You couldn’t fight the smile as you burrowed under it, the tremor in your legs finally stopping.
“M’ name’s Jim.” The man said gruffly, sitting down opposite you with a thump. His eyes had no malice, but instead bore an air of pain that never seemed to leave. “Where’re your parents?”
You didn’t answer, trying to stifle the thoughts in the forefront of your mind. Memories of Papa flickered across your mind, and you shuddered. “Gone.”
“So she speaks.” There was no malice in his tone, only a bit of a slur. “What’s your name?”
You sighed, pulling your left arm out of the blanket. You showed him your wrist, the numbers that had been etched into your skin for as long as you could remember.
“Five.” He said flatly.
You nodded.
“Your name is Five. And what, do you do magic tricks?”
You concentrated, prying into his mind. “Yes.”
His eyes widened. “Did you just—”
“Yes.”
He sat for a moment, and then got up, pouring the contents of his bottle into the sink. “I think I’m done with that.” He turned back at you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Hungry?”
You nodded, pulling out of his mind. You felt the blood start to trickle out your nose, and you wiped away on the blanket. You looked up, and Jim was squinting at the white box with an unreadable look.
“All I have are chips and beer.” He said eventually. “I assume you don’t want the beer.” He grabbed a bag of something out of a drawer, and handed it to you. “I moved in yesterday, the cupboard is pretty bare.”
You smiled slightly, opening the bag. You pulled out a triangle, covered with some sort of orange dust.
“It’s a chip. Go on, eat it.”
You bit into it tentatively. It was amazing. You grabbed a handful, stuffing them into your mouth. They crumpled everywhere, and you froze with horror at the mess.
Jim grinned. “It’s fine. Make a mess, I don’t care.”
Cautiously, you kept eating, eyes on him as he walked through the room. He held out a piece of some sort of cloth. “Napkin?”
You took it, placing it delicately beside you, and continued to eat the chips.
“Who should I call?” He asked, eyes never leaving your face.
Your heart stuttered. “No.”
“No, what? There’s no one to call? Or you don’t want me to call?”
“Don’t want.” You placed the bag down, hands trembling. “They will hurt you.”
“Who’s they?”
You pointed to your wrist, at the numbers 005. “Them. They will kill you. Don’t call.”
“Alright then.” He stood up, and you flinched. His face softened a little. “It’s ok. Come with me.” He led you to a room, one without a door. “It’s the only one with a bed. I’ll look at another tomorrow. Now, you go to sleep there. I’ll be in the living room, and I’m not coming in.” He squinted at your feet, still in the blood-crusted socks from the lab. “I have some socks in a box,” he pointed. “If you need ‘em. Or a shirt.”
Slowly, you nodded your head. He pulled the curtain closed, and you could hear his brain spinning, and three distinct words.
“What. The. Fuck.”
You continued to listen as he slowly reasoned himself towards normalcy. You lay on the bed, trying not to let the softness of the blanket distract you. As the man’s mind slowed and sleep overtook him, you made a plan. If you were going to convince him to stay, you were going to need to not scare him anymore than you already had.
Slowly, you drifted off, burrowing in the pillows (he had two!) and letting your nerves calm a little, mind still alert for the slightest sign of Papa or the guards.
~
You woke up to a strange light in your face, peering through the glass that Jim had in his wall. You squinted past the light, looking at the trees that spanned farther than you could see. You hadn’t known that that many trees existed in one place, the books you had read never mentioned it.
Slowly, you pushed back the curtain, eyes trained on the man asleep on the couch. He was really asleep, you decided, pulling out of his mind. Maybe he’ll forget last night. We can start again.
As if he could hear you, he stirred, sitting up with a good deal of effort. His eyes, bleary and a little squinty, met yours, and he froze.
“’Guess you weren’t a dream, then.”
You shook your head, and he sighed.
“Dammit.”
Against your will, you shrunk a little at the words. I need to go, it’s not safe. I’m not wanted.
“’Ts not you.” He said quietly, looking at your face. “It’s just complicated.”
Still, you backed up until you were nearly behind the curtain. I need to make him forget. He can’t know.
“Hey.” His voice was quiet, with a note you hadn’t heard before. It was as if he didn’t like what he had said. Odd. “I’m not going to hurt you, ok? I’ll just call someone and we’ll try and get you home.”
“No.” You said, surprised at the firmness in your tone.
“No?”
“No.” You pointed at the marking on your wrist again. “They will kill you. They have weapons.”
“I know how to defend myself.” He grumbled. “I’m not incompetent.”
“Not those weapons.” Not against me.
“Fine then. I won’t call anyone.” He stood up, rubbing his head. “Coffee?”
You stared at him.
“Right. How old are you, kid?”
“I do not know.”
He squinted, studying your face. “I’d say twelve or thirteen.”
“Thirteen what?”
“Thirteen years. That’s how old you are, if I had to guess.”
You nodded slowly.
He smiled at you, the expression a little unnerving. “Alright. I’m going to take a pill and make some coffee. We have more chips for breakfast; I wasn’t planning on hosting.”
“Thank you.” You said quietly. “I can leave, it is not cold anymore.”
“That’s not what’s going to happen.” He sighed. “I need to go get actual food, and then we’ll talk.”
You nodded, watching as he stood up and went to the kitchen, futzing with a pot. The liquid in it looked hot, and smelled good. He pulled more chips out of a cupboard, placing a bag on the table next to the couch. “Breakfast is ready.” He sat down again, drinking it out of his cup with a sigh of relief.
Tentatively, you sat down on the opposite end, reaching for the food.
“Go for it, I’ll get donuts or something at the store.” He told you, closing his eyes and resting his head.
The two of you sat in silence as he finished his drink and went towards the room where you had slept. “Listen, I need to get some clothes. If you’re going to stay, I’ll make sure you have a bed and shit, you won’t have to sleep in my room anymore.”
“I will go.” You said quickly. “I do not want to cause you problems.”
“No. For now, I want you to stay. We can figure it out later.”
“I will bring danger. I should go.” You stood up, and so did he.
“No. If someone’s really after you, you’re safer here than anywhere else.” His voice was firm. “I need you to stay. I’ll get us some food, real food, not chips, and then we’ll talk. But I need you to stay put for like an hour, ok?”
“Ok?”
“Jesus.” He rubbed his eyes. “It means alright. It’s a way of checking if you understand. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m going to get dressed and then I’m going to leave. Sit down and eat your food.” His voice was light, even if the words weren’t. You could work with that.
You sat down, eating a little slower than last night. You needed to pace yourself.
He smiled and went into the room, pulling the curtain tight. You sat for an excruciating amount of time as sounds of boxes and drawers echoed through the house. Eventually, he came back out, wearing a shirt that didn’t have stains from his drinks last night. “Right.” He grabbed a small pouch and a set of keys. “Stay here. Please.”
“Ok.” Was all you said, prying into his mind. He was befuddled, but not frightened of you. To your astonishment, he believed you, and wasn’t going to tell anyone where you were. At least, he had no plans. He was telling the truth, and that was the most unnerving thing so far.
He stood there a moment, a smile playing under his mustache. “Don’t answer the door, alright? If people are really looking for you, then it’s best you stay where they won’t find you.”
“Ok.”
“Alrighty then.” He closed the door behind him, and you heard the roar of an engine a second later.
You stayed on the couch for a while, trying to make sense of the conversation. He seemed upset that you were real, but didn’t want you to leave. He wasn’t going to get Papa, but food? It didn’t make sense. He believed you. No one ever believed you. Why would they?
Eventually, you pulled out of your train of thought, and stood up. You need to learn more about this weird man in the woods, who trusted random girls who spoke into his mind.
The organization of the house, to put it mildly, was lacking. You dug through boxes upon boxes of things, looking at shirts and books and old photos. But one made you pause. It was the man, Jim, and a little girl. The two of them were laughing, and the lines on his forehead were gone. On the back of the photo was a name and a date. Sarah, 1976.
You were still looking at the picture when he came in, carrying multiple paper sacks, full of a variety of foods you had never seen before. There was so much color.
“Whatcha got there?” he asked, unloading the bags, shelving each item with a hesitation that betrayed his air of causality.
“Who is she?” you asked, turning the picture so he could see.
His shoulders dropped. “Oh. That—that was Sarah. She was my girl.” He looked at you, the look of pain in his eyes again. “She died, last year. I moved back to Hawkins, couldn't live in a city that reminded me of her.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I answered a question, now it’s your turn.”
You nodded, placing the photo back carefully in the box.
“Where did you come from?”
You froze, hand still in the box. Slowly, you shook your head.
“You have to tell me if I’m going to help you.” He continued to put the various boxes away, not meeting your eyes.
“Can’t.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
You thought for a moment. “Will not. Not safe”
“Fine.” He poured more brown liquid into his cup. This time it wasn’t hot. “Do you want to stay?”
Yes. “I do not know.”
“It’s not much. Just me and this cabin. But I don’t play about safety.” He put his cup down. “If you stay, you’ll be safe, and they, whoever they are, won’t find you. Not on my watch.”
“Can we try it?” you asked quietly, heart skipping a beat.
“Sure. Let’s give it a week, and then we’ll see how we feel.” He said, the corners of his mustache twitching slightly as he took a sip from his cup.