Chapter Text
Ah, a visitor. Come in, the fire is warm and bright.
You do not know me; few do. I am simply the guide to this reality, which differs from your own.
Sit in that chair, and stay for a while. Allow me to enthrall you with the tale of what happened, for it is a curious thing.
Ready? Here we go…
All stories have beginnings. No matter how old, how ancient. All stories have some truth in them. It may be filled with it, or merely a bare pinprick of fact.
Eleven’s story, the one she read out to her class, was all true. No matter how outlandish or foreign it seemed to the children sitting in their chairs, listening carefully, it told real events that happened.
Some parts are expanded based on my knowledge; there is no way she could have known what her brother was thinking. It caused the story to be considerably lighter.
Back to the point I was making. All stories have the truth. This will be completely factual.
Everything started with the sun rising on November 1st, 1981.
Joyce Byers had just woken up and called her sons up to get ready for school. Jonathan and Will often slept in, so when the latter didn’t run into the kitchen, it didn’t seem strange.
But what was strange, was when Joyce walked to his room and found the bed empty.
“Jonathan?” She yelled into the kitchen. “Did Will come home last night?” Her younger son and his group of friends had been playing Dungeons and Dragons late into the evening, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected.
But she’d always been a worrier.
Jonathan, who was rubbing his eyes blearily and grumbling about something, looked up. He informed her that there had been a late shift he’d taken.
She sighed in frustration. “I told you not to do that!”
“Mom, you know we need the money.”
Karen Wheeler, when called, provided another clue. “No, they left. Their bikes were gone.”
Joyce’s forehead creased with worry. It wasn’t like Will to act out, or play hooky. He’d always been good.
She decided that he might be outside, hiding away in Castle Byers. There had been several times it had happened.
(Pointedly ignored the glaring fact that he had told her where he would be going before it happened.)
On the leaf-filled path that the family had taken many times to get to Will’s wood fort, Joyce saw a tiny scrap of paper on the ground, the white highlighted against the brown. She picked it up and studied it.
She felt the anxiety gnaw at her mind. It was one of her son's drawings, made years ago. Jonathan, herself, and Will were all lined up holding hands, with the sun in the corner and smiles on their faces. A cliche drawing, for sure, but Will had drawn it with a careful hand.
If he did still keep it in his pocket, (and he did) Will would never drop something like that so carelessly.
Then there was something actually wrong.
Joyce felt her breathing grow rougher. She marched back inside, sent Jonathan off to school, and dialed up Police Chief Jim Hopper.
Jim was currently eating a donut and chugging coffee when the call came in. The secretary, Flo, informed him in a strict tone that Joyce Byers had rung about ten times, each one in a frantic tone. All were about her son, who was supposedly missing.
“Fine, fine. Tell her to come up here.”
He’d barely had to wait five minutes until she burst into his office.
“Will is gone, Hop! I can’t find him anywhere!”
He sighed deeply. Reached for another mug of coffee. “Joyce. Calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down?! My son is missing!”
“Yes, I’ve gathered that.”
She gestured wildly, her tone becoming higher with every sentence. “And you’re not worried at all?”
“Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the kid was just skipping school. “
“But what about the one?”
He grunted. “One what?”
“You said ninety-nine. There’s one more, what happens then?”
Jim massaged his forehead. It was too early for this shit.
“Fine. I’ll make a search party, we’ll look through the woods.
Unsatisfied with his reaction, Joyce left. She had to get to work.
Henry was waiting for her when she stormed through the door of Melvald’s General Store. He raised his eyebrows at her bad mood.
“Something wrong?”
She sighed and dumped her things down behind the counter. “My son is missing, and the police won’t do anything until a search party this evening.”
This seemed to catch his interest, and those intense blue eyes stared at her. “He’s missing.”
“Yeah, I woke up this morning and he wasn’t in his bed or in the fort outside. I checked around our house and found a drawing. Something he wouldn’t have dropped.”
“And this was last night. You saw him the day before.”
Joyce realized she was starting to sound completely hysterical. So she inhaled and took a deep breath. “He left for a session with his friends, and that was the last time I saw him.”
Henry was quiet for a few minutes as they checked out a customer. Joyce gave the best polite smile she had in her as the man left.
Viewpoints matter. What Joyce doesn’t realize right now is that Henry is remembering last night. When both he and Eleven woke up because they felt a bad presence. Something dark, not unlike the Mind Flayer.
If you’ve read the first installment, (I hope you have, otherwise nothing here is making any sense) El and Henry only withdrew the monster from the latter’s body. It was not destroyed as far as either of them could see.
And right now, he is thinking of all this. And hypothesizing.
Is it possible that the creature is back?
Joyce thought Henry was thinking about how strange it was that a child would disappear in a small town such as Hawkins.
That night, she walked the road from Mike’s house to hers. The worrying was constant, it was an ache that refused to go away. Joyce was terrified. It had been a whole day since Will had disappeared. He might be in danger, or kidnapped. She might never see him again!
“What are you doing out so late?”
She whirled around, eyes wide with surprise.
But it was only Henry, gazing at her with interest. “It’s not safe.”
“What do you mean, it’s not safe? Didn’t you hear me telling you about my son?”
“You don’t understand.” He beckoned her back the way she’d come, back towards their house.
“No. Explain to me, what don’t I understand?” She was determined, angry, and hadn’t slept in almost three days. Joyce would have none of it.
He sighed, looking slightly frustrated. “Joyce. I need you to listen to me, right now. Go back to your house.”
She shook her head, stubborn to the last.
It was barely there, just a tiny flick of his fingers behind his back. But right after, a rat ran out into the road. It squeaked and scampered towards her. Joyce quickly hopped out of the way and turned to stare accusingly at Henry. “What did you do with your hand?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, Henry. Or whoever you are.”
And with that, his whole demeanor changed. Small things, placement of his feet and hands. But the light in his eyes glittered in a way, unlike anything she’d seen from anyone before.
And in that moment, Joyce had no doubt that the man in front of her could kill.
A normal person would have sensed danger, and moved away. But she had lost her son. Reason had been thrown out the window.
“No. I don’t trust you. Were you the one who took Will?!”
“I’m not a kidnapper.”
And with that, he strode forward and grabbed her wrist.
Joyce screamed, but the sound was…muffled somehow, as if through water. “Let go of me!”
He kept walking and dragged her along with him.
When they reached the familiar lights of her house, Henry let go of her wrist and started walking away. It was the direction of an older section of town.
So he really does live in Creel House.
Jonathan rushed her inside as soon as Joyce entered the door, fussing over how she shouldn’t have been out so late.
She didn’t say very much, still caught on what had happened. But one thing was for certain.
Henry wasn’t who he said he was.
Henry cursed what he had done. It was one of the most foolish things to do in that sort of situation.
He was sure now that Joyce suspected some fragment of their secret. It was impossible not to, after being mysteriously quieted and a rat running across the path.
Stupid.
It would put El in danger, and that was one thing that could not happen.
No matter what.