Chapter Text
What are you supposed to do when your world is flipped upside-down, then turned right back on its head, leaving nothing the same?
Robin considered the question as she bustled around the school gym, distributing blankets and food to the residents of Hawkins who’d lost everything—their homes, some of them their families.
A man shouted from across the room. “Clothes!”
She hurried over to help, lifting the heavy cardboard box onto one of the many folding tables that had been brought in. She opened the box, getting a whiff of must and mothballs. Not ideal, but then again, nothing about this situation was ideal. At least everyone would have something semi-clean to wear.
She started sorting. Women’s clothes, men’s, kid’s. It was mindless work, leaving her thoughts to wander.
What had she gotten herself into?
Obviously, she could blame Steve pretty easily, him and his gaggle of adopted children that she’d been drawn into caring for almost deeply as she cared for Steve himself. Entirely Platonically (with a capital P), as she made sure to specify as often as possible, but so deeply nonetheless.
Steve, who was now lying in a hospital bed alongside Max and Eddie, neither of whom had woken yet. Steve had been up and about, last she’d checked, but she’d forcibly threatened him into staying where he was, dammit, does he want to open up those cuts again and have to stay there even longer, people needed him out of there, idiot.
She hadn’t said it, but it was she that needed him. The kids had their parents and each other, but she was Robin Buckley. She didn’t have the same net to fall back on, the same safe spot to land.
Not quite the town pariah (not yet, at least, the verdict was still out), but not a social butterfly. Not the kind of person anyone would notice, she’d moved through life as if invisible. Invisible to her parents, even; they’d thrown enough money at her to let her do her own thing.
She’d moved from sport to sport, hobby to hobby, language to language, trying her best to find something that would tether her down, give her something that she could say, “This is mine. This is me.”
She’d found that in Steve.
It was funny, their relationship. Robin had noticed the kids watching them with interest, as if they were just waiting for one of them to slip up and reveal that they’d been hiding the fact that they were dating, haha, we had you fooled! She hoped they didn’t have too much money wagered, but she knew those kids.
She worried about disappointing them.
It was strange. She hadn’t worried about disappointing anybody in years. She was Robin, and people could deal with that. If they didn’t like her, that was their own problem. She was better off without them anyway.
But these kids had somehow wormed their way into her affections, and she’d given them her heart in return. Was that dangerous? Maybe a little. She didn’t have many defenses around them, and it was both a blessing and a curse.
But the kids came as part of a package deal with Steve, and she wasn’t going to give them up for anything. It did mean, though, that she worried about them more than she’d worried about anyone else. And wasn’t that just ridiculous? She was barely an adult herself, yet she’d basically tasked herself with co-parenting half a classroom’s worth of children.
What had her life become?
“Robin?”
She started, looking around. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t realized she’d slowed to a snail’s pace as she sorted the pile of clothes.
“Vickie! Sorry, I’m almost done here, then I’ll get it out to the families. I know there was that new one an hour ago that hasn’t had a chance to get anything—is there anything else you need me to do? Food? Water? I—” she stopped abruptly. Good god, she really did have a talent for putting her foot in her mouth, didn’t she? One pretty girl and she lost all capabilities of functioning, really, Robin, there were bigger issues to deal with—
Vickie held up a hand. “Whoa, slow down there. I just wanted to check on you. Have you eaten anything? I don’t think I’ve seen you stop moving since I got here.”
Robin had to think. She’d eaten, hadn’t she? There’d been the peanut butter sandwiches that she’d made and distributed, and cans of tuna—though, thinking back, she hadn’t had any of those. Well. She could finish here, first.
“Let me finish what I’m doing here, then I’ll sit down. I promise.”
“Alright, as long as you really do promise to take a break. You won’t be any help if you collapse from hunger, you know. The doctors are overworked as it is.” Vickie smiled at Robin, then turned and walked away, over to the next volunteer, probably to give them the same message.
Well. That seemed—weird. Was it weird? Had Robin said something wrong? Was Vickie being short with her because of, well, her, or was she just tired, and overworked, just like everyone else?
No, Robin was being stupid. Probably. Most likely she was just tired and stressed, and she was still happy to see Robin, and—
And Robin had more important things to do than overthink yet another tiny interaction. She scooped up a pile of kid’s clothes, adjusting them so they didn’t fall, and headed over to the newest family to seek refuge in the gym. She pulled out a shirt and pants to hand to their kid, a small red-headed boy who couldn’t have been more than six years old. She turned to ask the mother if they needed anything else, but then—
“No!”
No? Did this kid realize they weren’t exactly a department store? Some kids could be so spoiled, how did their parents raise them like this?
His mother frowned. “Jeremy, we don’t have time for this right now. Say thank you to the nice girl, right now.”
Robin looked at the kid a little closer. He held the pair of jeans pinched between two fingers, looking up between his mother and Robin with pleading eyes. And—oh.
Robin had had the same look in her eyes when her mother had forced her into a velvet dress one Christmas for family photos. It had rubbed at her skin, making her feel like a million ants were crawling up her spine. The feeling on her arms had been almost painful, making her cry. Her parents had scolded her, but she’d hardly been able to listen. Her mother had stopped trying to make her wear things after that. She’d been too much trouble, too much to deal with. So she’d just stopped.
Robin had felt like such a burden, then. She hadn’t meant to cause trouble, but she hadn’t been able to think around the feeling.
Robin was not going to leave the kid with the same feeling, not when she still had an armful of clothes, at least some of which had to be suitable for the kid.
“It’s alright,” she said, kneeling in front of the kid. She looked for something soft that would be better than the jeans. She found a pair of pajama pants—maybe not the most fashion-conscious, but the kid looked significantly less distressed when she held them out. “I’ll trade with you?”
The kid nodded, holding out the pair of jeans like it was burning him. She understood. She took them and handed him the soft pajamas in return. They had red dinosaurs on them, so she asked him, “Do you like dinosaurs?”
“Yeah!” Well. That was…more enthusiastic than she expected. It was time to make a quick exit, then, before she got sucked into a conversation that was to be much longer than she could stand right then.
“That’s awesome!” She pointed across the room at another kid, about the same age, who was wearing a shirt with a dinosaur shape on it. “How about you go talk to her about them? It looks like she’s a dinosaur fan as well!”
The kid scampered off, and his mother mouthed a “Thank you” at Robin as she attempted to retreat gracefully. It didn’t work very well, as she stumbled over her own feet and barely caught herself before she faceplanted. Oops.
And of course, there was Vickie, clearly trying—and failing—to hide a grin. Somehow, that was the last straw. Robin felt her face grow warm, and without much thought at all, spun on her heel and strode out of the gym, heading for—anywhere without the lights, and sounds, and constant press of people.
Damn. She’d been doing so well, too.
She’d always had those moments growing up when she felt the need to escape wherever she was and go hide in a small, dark place where no one could find her. Her parents had called her silly, when she was little, always trying to find the smallest crevice she could wedge her body into. It turned into sighs, “Come socialize with the family now, Robin,” and “We don’t have time for this right now,” as if she had had a choice. As if everything in her hadn’t been screaming to get out, to find a place where she could breathe.
Now, she felt that same way. She needed to get out of that gym, where everyone needed something and she couldn’t help all of them, where the air was thick with fear and pain and grief.
Chest tightening, Robin made her way down the hall, trying every door as she walked past. The first two were locked, but the third swung open, revealing a classroom that was dusty, papers scattered over the floor—but blissfully empty. She didn’t even close the door all the way, just pushed it half-shut behind her as she leaned against the wall, breathing deeply.
This whole thing was just fucked. First it was Russians, then demons from the underworld, and a girl with superpowers. Then they’d had a respite, and she’d thought—she’d thought she’d found her new family. Now half of them were in the hospital, and the other half were scattered, their lives upheaved, changed forever. But at least they had their families, and Robin—Robin was here, alone in this classroom, because her parents had been lucky enough to fuck off to New York City, or wherever else they’d needed to go on their business trips and clearly hadn’t been watching the news, hadn’t contacted her.
Robin scrubbed her hands over her face, chills shooting down her spine at their startling coolness. It shouldn’t have been this cold, but the school seemed to hold a pervasive chill.
The emptiness of it, outside of the gym, was disquieting. A place like this was supposed to be full of kids, still a little high on the energy of spring break, shouting from the ones playing basketball at lunch, girls giggling as they reapplied their makeup in the washrooms. It wasn’t supposed to be housing half the town that no longer had a safe place to live, children crying, bare mattresses covering the ground. Walls that would usually be used for brightly coloured artwork were instead covered by missing posters, family members begging for their loved ones to be found.
It was almost eerie, being alone in the classroom. The light coming in from the windows seemed like it was condensed, not managing to brighten the whole classroom, relegated to the squares made by the window panes. Dust motes floating through the air caught the light and reminded her painfully of the spores in the Upside Down, forcing her to take a deep breath once again and remind herself that it was over, they were all out, and Vecna was dead. They were safe.
Well, as safe as they could be, considering that Max and Eddie still hadn’t woken up, and Steve, her Steve, was still recovering from nearly dying. Hell, they’d all almost died, in one way or another.
Robin sighed. She’d had hope, for a little bit, but life was still going to absolute shit, wasn’t it?
She settled in. She’d told herself it would be short, but it seemed that this break was going to need to be a lot longer.
“Robin? Are you there?”
Robin lifted her head, wincing as a cramp shot through her leg. She’d been sitting in a deeply uncomfortable position there against the wall, lost in her own thoughts and needing a moment away from the constant needs of the refugees in the gym. And now someone had come to disturb her peace—rightfully, she was surely needed, but couldn’t she have been missed for just a few more minutes?
“In here.” She would let them know she was fine, but another ten seconds—
The door creaked as it was pushed open, and a dark-haired head popped in.
“Nancy?” Robin had forgotten she was there as well. Why was she there? Didn’t she have Mike and a little brother? Sister? Either way, she had her perfect family that she should have been with—not in the Hawkins high school gym with the other lost souls looking for something to do.
Though, on second thought, Nancy probably felt about as lost as she did. Having their group split up might have left them all a little lost, a little untethered.
“I noticed you were gone. You alright?”
“...I’m fine. Why are you here?”
Nancy shrugged. “The kids are all over at mine, my mom’s basically surgically attached herself to Holly”—ah, yes, so it was a little sister—“and my dad is…well, I’m not too sure what he’s doing. But he’s fine and occupied. So I’m…here. Are you sure you’re okay?”
It really wasn’t fair of her to keep asking. Robin could deflect once, but it was hard to keep that up with more pressure. She shook her head instead and turned to stare straight ahead.
She didn’t know why she was surprised when Nancy slid down the wall to sit next to her, but she was. It’s not like they weren’t friends, not at this point. She was practically the third parent in her and Steve’s little arrangement, and they’d been literally to hell and back together. Yet there was still something incongruous about Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler sitting in an empty room together, with no kids or Steve as a buffer. Robin somehow felt more exposed, as if Nancy could see into her mind just by being next to her.
Nancy was the first one to break the silence. “It’s so strange, isn’t it?”
“Hm?”
Nancy gestured at the green board at the front of the classroom, still covered in messy handwriting.
“Look at the chalkboard. They were doing algebra, and then the world opened up and swallowed half of their lives. Who’s going to come in here, in weeks or months, and remember what their lives were like. How much has changed. How will any of them ever go back to normal? How will—” her voice broke. “How will we go back to normal?”
Damn. It was going to be one of those conversations, she supposed. These conversations were harder. She didn’t have a script she could fall back on, a way to change the subject back to the weather or a shared teacher.
Well, they’d almost died. Nancy would have to cut her a little slack.
She pressed the back of her head against the wall, grounded a little from the pressure, and let out a long breath. “I mean, they’ll probably be happy they didn’t have to do more math?”
Nancy let out a startled laugh. “You’re not wrong, if my brother is anything to go by.” She ghosted her hand over the floor, holding it up to her face to inspect it, looking at the dust that covered just about everything now. “Do you still think about how it was there?”
“...In the Upside Down?”
Nancy cut a glance over at her. “Yeah.”
How was Robin supposed to explain how it invaded her every moment? How she had woken up several mornings with blankets askew from her thrashing as she choked, feeling vines closing in over her throat and holding her down? How, if she blinked for a little too long, she’d open her eyes to a bluish hue and stormy skies until she shook her head and reoriented herself?
And she’d only been in that place for what, a few hours? She’d even managed to escape with a few cuts and bruises. There was no reason she should be this affected, considering that little Will had spent a week alone there.
She couldn’t tell Nancy how it seemed to be a part of her now. Nancy was so strong, she’d be so unbearably kind about it, but Robin knew that some small part of her would be judging her for not being stronger, for not pushing through it like the rest of them were.
So, instead, she just said, “I try not to.” Not a lie. Just not something she was particularly successful at.
She didn’t expect Nancy to nod as though impressed. “Well, in that case, you seem to be doing better than the rest of us.”
What? There was no way that perfect Nancy, with her straight A’s and her perfect little family and that arresting confidence behind the sawed-off shotgun would somehow be doing worse than Robin.
She didn’t mean to, but she laughed, just a little. It wasn’t mean-spirited, just a little incredulous, but Nancy spun on her, anyway.
“What? Do you not think I can be scared, that I can be lost too?” Yes, Robin thought, a little. Nancy was untouchable, beautiful, fierce. She had the answers when the kids would bicker amongst themselves, always had a plan, had faced Vecna, and returned to tell the tale. But Nancy continued, “You think I don’t feel at least partly responsible for this?”
Now that was just ridiculous. “You didn’t do anything to start it, though? You—we—helped to kill him. We ended it.”
“And we could have been faster. We could have been smarter, figured out the pattern earlier. Maybe we could have prevented the gates from opening and kept half the town from losing their families. If I’d been—better—maybe Max and Steve and Eddie wouldn’t be fighting for their lives in a hospital right now.”
Robin blanched. Was that how she should be feeling right now? Sure, she was still frightened—but she hadn’t been feeling guilty for what they’d done. Yes, it hadn’t gone perfectly, but no one had expected that they’d all go to hell and back and return unbruised.
“Nancy. It wasn’t your fault. Do you realize how ridiculous this whole situation is? A bunch of government rats made this—I mean, this all started with that experiment that El was part of, right? We were kids then. None of us had anything to do with this.” She stopped, trying to find some way to reassure her, some way to try to make it right. “Why did they need a bunch of kids to go in and stop some superpowered, interdimensional monster? Think about it, Nancy, it doesn’t make sense. Our plan worked as well as we could have made it work. It’s not fair to any of us to say that we did something wrong. We didn’t.”
She’d never really thought it out like that, but something made her continue. “And now, we’re all doing our best to move on. It’ll never leave us. But maybe we can start to move on. You can go to college, be successful—maybe we’ll look back at this in twenty years and wonder how we got through it. But we did.”
Nancy brought her knees up, hugging her shins, curling into herself. “I guess you’re right.”
“It doesn’t mean you can’t feel awful right now, though.”
“Is that why you're in here alone?” Nancy looked pointedly around the classroom, decidedly devoid of the people that Robin had come specifically to help.”
“Maybe a bit. It was…busy out there. I just needed a minute to cool down.”
“I can’t fault you for that. It’s a bit overwhelming, yeah?”
Robin nodded. She was ready for Nancy to get up and leave, go to do the work that Robin couldn’t, but for some unfathomable reason, she stayed. They sat together quietly, as if they were the kind of friends who had known each other so long that they were as comfortable with silence as with conversation.
Nancy spoke again, after a while.
“You hated me.”
Now that was a dramatic subject change. But—
“What?”
“You’d give me looks. You didn’t want me around.”
“Nancy, that was a long time ago.”
“It was about three days ago.”
Had it really only been three days? It didn’t feel like that to Robin. She felt like she’d lived at least three lifetimes in the past three days. She was certain that she’d experienced every emotion that a human could possibly feel, and a few more for good measure. She’d certainly done things that no one had ever done before. That sort of thing really did seem to cause time to contort in strange ways.
“Three days is a long time when you’ve fought and killed an evil superpower from another dimension, your best friend’s been stuck in a hospital, and your entire town has basically been destroyed.”
“You make a good point.”
“And…I never hated you. We were just different people.”
“Different enough that you didn’t want me around you?”
“I’ve never had a lot of friends. I…don’t trust people easily. For a lot of reasons.” Nancy gave her a curious look, but Robin was too tired to go into any of those reasons right now, so she just continued. “I was supposed to trust you. I didn’t know you. That didn’t go well together in my brain, so I think…I kept you at a distance.”
“That makes sense, now that you explain it like that.”
“That’s strange, considering how most of the things I do don’t make sense.”
Nancy laughed at that. The sound gave Robin a jolt of pride, that she had done that, made the untouchable Nancy Wheeler laugh.
They sat in silence for a bit longer. It was seriously cold in that empty room, so Robin started kneading her hands, trying to warm up—but then—but then—
Nancy grabbed her right hand in her left, threading their fingers together. Something tugged in Robin’s gut at the contact, and unthinkingly, she pulled their linked hands just a little closer.
She scolded herself. Nancy was straight, she could not even think about falling for her. Nancy was straight, and in a relationship, and was her best friend’s ex. Nothing about this was possible.
Nancy didn’t know that Robin liked girls. There was no way she’d touch her like this, if she knew.
Robin had heard the way girls like Nancy talked, the disgust they’d expressed at the mere thought of being desired by another girl. It had made her feel dirty, feel wrong. Even after she’d learned how to ignore them, that she wasn’t wrong for that, she still remembered the way she’d felt then.
Those memories didn’t stop her pulse from speeding up just a little, though. She hoped Nancy couldn’t feel it, the flutter of her traitorous heart. She curled her fingers, holding Nancy just a little tighter.
It was cold in that room, after all.