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Steve’s head swims.
From the corner of his eye, he can see the smoldering remains of Starcourt. First responders hurry in and out, but they’re blurry and only half-focused. He can’t keep his eyes on the bright lights, somehow still flickering despite the destruction. Nausea spikes in his stomach and he can’t tell if it’s from the concussion or the implication that another monster is going to come crashing through the ceiling, just like it did in the Byers’ house all those years ago.
Where’s the nail bat when you need it, right?
“You okay over there?” Robin heaves herself onto the back of the ambulance where Steve sits, her movements still uncoordinated. He scans her body for any harm, more out of habit than anything else. There’s a shadow of a bruise on her jaw, but she seems unharmed. “The paramedics said I was fine,” she tells him, as if she can read his mind. “How about you?”
He shrugs. “Y’know, the usual. Concussion. Some bruising. I’ll be fine.” He tries to send her a reassuring smile, but it pulls at the cut on his lip, coming out as more of a grimace.
Robin doesn’t smile back. Maybe she's too tired for jokes right now. “I keep forgetting you guys have done this before.”
“Well, the Russians are new,” Steve responds, and this makes her laugh. Steve would laugh too, if his ribs didn’t burn with every breath. It’s like he’s on the drug still. Like he’s still floating.
Their conversation is cut short when Robin swings her legs off the ambulance, her feet landing on the ground shakily. “My parents are here,” she says, with an odd mix of relief and worry. “What do I tell them?”
“Not about the Russians,” he advises, his voice coming out more slurred than he’d like. “Or the big monster. That would be a bad idea.”
“What do you usually tell yours?”
He shrugs, the movement pulling on his ribs. “Nothing. They don’t ask.”
Robin frowns, but it melts away as soon as her mother embraces her. Steve watches the reunion from the ambulance. He knows he should look away, but he can’t. They’re too far away now for any words to be audible, but he can see the tear streaks on Robin’s mother’s face as she grips at her daughter. The same tear streaks that every other parent in the parking lot of Starcourt Mall has.
Finally, he tears his eyes away. Steve winces at the bright and flashing lights of the ambulances and police vehicles, none of which are helping his growing headache. Robin possibly waves him goodbye, but he doesn’t see it.
With Robin gone, he focuses on the kids. Dustin and Erica are far away from the damage, but everyone else had been right in the thick of it. Mrs. Wheeler embraces a shocked Mike, and like the scene with Robin’s parents, Steve can hardly look away. Max and her mother grasp at each other like the other will float away if they let go. Nancy and Jonathan are wrapped in each other’s arms in a different ambulance, still being checked by the paramedics. Joyce Byers sobs into Will’s shoulder. Steve realizes with a sickening jolt that Hopper is nowhere to be seen.
Eleven stands alone, her horror growing with each passing second, but all Steve can do is watch.
He almost wants someone to ask if he’s okay. To walk over and ask how his face is feeling. How he’s feeling.
It doesn’t matter. Everyone is wrapped up in their own lives, their own family members. It’s been a long night, and people want to make sure their kids and siblings and friends are okay. Steve doesn’t mind. On top of that, everyone’s exhausted, Steve included. He feels like he could make it home, settle onto the couch, and sleep for the next three days.
“Steve? Are you okay?”
He glances up to see Nancy looking at him. Mercifully, she keeps her voice soft. He hadn’t realized how loud everyone was before Nancy started speaking to him. “What?” he asks dumbly in response, his head still reeling.
“We wanted to make sure you were okay before we left,” Nancy says. Her fingers are intertwined with Jonathan’s. The two of them had been attached at the hip since the fight with the Mind Flayer.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He makes a show of standing up from the back of the ambulance, but apparently his knees don't get the message, because they buckle beneath him. Nancy and Jonathan each reach out an arm to steady him, all while keeping a hold on each other. That must be some sort of superpower.
“Just tired,” he dismisses, willing Nancy and Jonathan to walk away. He can pass out when he’s home.
“My mom can drive you home,” Jonathan offers, speaking in that same soft voice that Nancy used. “Since you don’t have your keys.”
Shit. His keys. How is he supposed to drive home without his keys?
Where is his car, anyway?
He doesn’t want to say yes, but it’s not like he can say no, either. “Okay,” he agrees, because he’s too tired now to put up a fight. It’s just a few more minutes, and then he can close the door in his big, empty house and forget that any of this ever happened.
Well, he can try, at least. Forgetting hadn’t worked so well for him in the past. There’s a reason he kept his nail bat in his car for a year.
Joyce makes it over to him, still clutching Will. She’s clearly been crying, and Steve feels another pang in his chest. Hopper. How can he ask her to drive him home when Hopper has just died? “Steve,” she greets with apparent relief, and he wonders vaguely what she has to be relieved about. “Come on, let’s get you home. Are your parents coming?”
“No, uh,” his throat dries up. “They’re out of town.”
Joyce pauses and Steve stumbles awkwardly at the sudden change of pace. “They won’t be at home?”
This feels like a trick question. “I think they’ll be home in a few days,” he assures her, but this only seems to make her feel worse. Apparently being concussed totally ruins his ability to communicate. Who knew?
“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you there alone,” Joyce murmurs. “You should stay with us for a few days until they get back.”
“Mrs. Byers, really, it’s fine–”
“She’s right,” Jonathan interjects, and Nancy nods. Who is he to argue with that?
He lets himself get hauled to the Byers’ car, his eyes scanning the crowd for any last signs of the other kids. The crowd has dispersed by now; the Sinclairs are climbing into their car with Lucas and Erica, and Nancy gives Jonathan a quick but desperate goodbye as she joins her family.
On the ride to the Byers’ house, he drifts. He can hear the voices of Joyce and Jonathan, but nothing really registers. By the time he makes it inside, he collapses onto the couch, too exhausted to walk any further.
“Are you sure you don’t want one of the beds?” he can hear Joyce ask.
“I’m fine,” he thinks he says, before sleep swallows him whole.
Steve wakes to a few painkillers, a tall glass of water, and six kids talking in hushed whispers around him. “He took out a Russian guard,” Dustin says, his voice becoming clearer with each passing second. “It was awesome!”
“No way,” Lucas argues back, and Steve tries not to feel too offended. “He actually won a fight?”
“I can hear you, you know,” he grumbles, opening his eyes but making no attempt to sit up from the couch. He can make out the blurry outlines of the kids smiling at him, and the tightness in his chest melts a little. “You guys okay?” he asks, because he barely got a chance to check properly last night.
“We’re fine,” Dustin says with a smile. “Go back to sleep. We won’t let anything happen to you.”