Chapter Text
It’s a cold, cold night when Nancy steps out onto the Wheeler's porch and pulls a pack of cigarettes from her pocket with hands that won’t quite stop shaking. She’d stolen them from Hopper’s jacket without thinking. The wood beneath her boots creaks softly, like it might give her away, like someone might tell her to stop.
She’s not a smoker. She never has been.
She remembers holding her breath as a kid whenever her dad lit one in the living room, dramatically coughing and waving her hand in front of her face just to make a point. Later, it was her mom—always stressed, always pacing, always pretending it was just one. Nancy had hated the smell, hated how it clung to clothes and hair and rooms long after the smoke was gone. She’d sworn she’d never do it. She’d sworn she was better than that.
But she hadn’t factored in the rest of Hawkins. Or monsters. Or grief that settles into her bones and refuses to leave.
She slides one cigarette out of the pack and tells herself her hands are shaking because she’s underdressed—no gloves, no jacket, just a thin sweater that does nothing against the wind. The lie barely works, but she lets herself believe it anyway. She fishes out the lighter she keeps on her now—because in this town, she never knows what she might need to set on fire—and flicks it on before she can second guess herself.
The flame jumps to life.
Joyce had tried to stop her earlier. Gently, but firmly. Told her to come inside, to change, to warm up after their mini adventure in the Upside Down. Nancy had waved her off with a shrug and a tired half-smile, something dismissive and automatic. Joyce had grimaced, clearly unhappy, but then she’d turned her attention to Jonathan and the kids instead—herding them into the kitchen, promising tea, counting heads like she always did.
Will was asleep in the basement now. Out cold. And Nancy still couldn’t wrap her head around what Mike had told them.
Vecna had taken Will. For just a second—but a second was enough to make all of them freeze, enough to make Nancy’s heart stop entirely. Mike had described it with wide eyes and shaking hands. How Will had gone rigid, how the air had seemed to pause, how the demodogs had lifted off the ground like puppets with their strings yanked straight up. And then—snap. Bones breaking midair, bodies crumpling like they’d never stood a chance.
Mike had told it with awe. With pride. With horror so deep it barely fit behind his words.
Robin and Lucas had made it back eventually. Lucas first—quiet, hollow-eyed, grief written all over his face because he hadn’t been able to save the kids. Not this time. Then Robin, blood smeared across her face, leaning heavily on Murray, both of them somehow still upright through sheer stubbornness alone.
Nancy had gone to Robin immediately. She didn’t even remember deciding to—just suddenly she was there, half-carrying her to the couch, hands already checking her over. Head injury. Mostly superficial from a car wreck, but Nancy didn’t take chances. She rotated shifts with Joyce, watching for the signs, making sure Robin didn’t fall asleep in case of a concussion even when she complained loudly and dramatically about it.
Joyce pretended to roll her eyes at Robin’s jokes, but Nancy saw the relief underneath. The way Joyce kept glancing over at her. The way her mouth twitched when Robin talked.
Who knew those two could end up like this.
Nancy takes a long drag from the cigarette. She waits for the burn in her lungs, the coughing fit she’s always imagined—but it doesn’t come. The smoke settles instead, heavy and bitter, and she exhales slowly.
She doesn’t know what to do now.
Dustin had been pacing earlier, talking a mile a minute about the Upside Down being some kind of massive loop, a closed circuit blocked by a wall—whatever that meant. Eleven and Hopper had returned with them, along with Kali, a sister Eleven had apparently had this entire time and never mentioned, which had earned her more than a few looks.
“Is that why you came back all… bitchin’?” Hopper had scowled.
Eleven had nodded, completely serious. “Bitchin’.”
Kali had snorted. “Seriously? That stuck?”
Nancy exhales smoke into the night and considers getting into her car. Driving back to the hospital. Driving back to the gate. Driving anywhere that feels like doing something. Her whole family is gone—parents injured, sister missing—and somehow the world keeps spinning like it doesn’t matter.
Like she’s the only one who feels it.
“Cold out here, isn’t it?”
Robin’s voice comes from behind her. Nancy startles hard enough that her hand twitches toward the pistol at her hip before she catches herself. She turns just in time to see Robin closing the door carefully behind her, easing it shut like she doesn’t want to wake the house.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Nancy asks, already tired just looking at her.
Robin shrugs. “Joyce was being mean to me again,” she puts on a mock-serious voice. “‘Robin, thank you for giving my boy an apparent inspirational speech that unlocked his powers,’ and, ‘Robin, don’t fall asleep, it’s bad for you, honey.’”
Nancy lets out a laugh before she can stop it. It surprises them both. “She likes you now?”
Robin snorts. “I think so. She said I remind her of a younger version of herself.”
Nancy squints at her—at the dimples, the short hair, the jacket absolutely covered in pins. “Yeah,” she says after a second. “I kinda see it.”
Robin smiles, but it fades when her eyes drop to Nancy’s hand. Her nose wrinkles. “Didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t,” Nancy says flatly. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“It’s bad for you,” Robin says, gentle but firm.
“So is my parents being in the hospital and my little sister missing,” Nancy snaps, sharper than she means to. “But thanks, Robin.”
She finishes the cigarette in one last drag and crushes it into the porch wood, flicking it away without ceremony. Hawkins has seen worse pollution than this, anyway.
Robin flinches.
Guilt twists in Nancy’s chest, hot and immediate. Robin’s been her anchor this past year. With the Byers living in her house, with Jonathan sleeping down the hall every night like a stranger she’s afraid to admit she doesn’t recognize anymore. Robin had been the constant. She showed up every other day. Sometimes more. Sometimes just to sit with her. Sometimes to drag her out of the chaos when there weren’t any crawls or emergencies demanding their attention.
Robin had been her rock. And Nancy always wondered what she gave her in return.
“Sorry,” Nancy says quickly, before she can lose the nerve.
“No—no, I’m sorry,” Robin says at the same time, stepping closer. She leans against the porch railing beside Nancy. “We’ll find her. I promise. El’s inside getting ready to do her… mind-search thing.”
Tears burn immediately. Nancy blinks hard, swiping them away before they can fall. “She won’t find anything,” she says. “Same with Max.”
Robin stills.
Eighteen months. That’s how long Max has been gone—lying in a hospital bed, silent and unmoving. Nancy and Robin had visited her more than anyone except Lucas and Eleven. Robin would talk nonstop, rambling about her day, her thoughts, her plans, like words alone might tether Max to the world. Nancy would sit quietly and hold Max's hand, grounding herself in the feel of her pulse, convincing herself it meant something.
They’d both failed her that night by not killing Vecna sooner. They’d both known it.
Nancy reaches for another cigarette without really realizing she’s doing it. Max’s face flashes behind her eyes—another name added to a list that’s getting too long, too heavy. Her hands shake worse this time. The lighter slips from her fingers and clatters to the porch.
“Hey,” Robin says immediately.
She grabs Nancy’s arm, firm but careful, forcing her to look up. Robin’s hand slides down, covering Nancy’s cold fingers with her own. Nancy notices the difference in size. The warmth. For once, the cold can’t reach her here.
Robin gently pries the cigarette pack from her hand and tucks it into her jacket pocket. “That won’t help,” she says quietly.
“I need to do something,” Nancy pleads. Her voice cracks. “I can’t just—stand here.”
She’s never felt this helpless before. Not with Barb. Not with Fred. Not even then.
This is worse.
“We need to take it one step at a time,” Robin says softly.
Her thumb brushes over Nancy’s knuckles, slow and deliberate, like she’s afraid that if she stops touching her, Nancy might splinter apart. Maybe she's right. The touch seeps in through Nancy’s skin, settles somewhere just below the panic, and for a second it almost works.
“El will look into the hive mind,” Robin continues, voice steady in that way she’s perfected—like she’s bracing the world with it. “Your parents are stable. They’re going to recover at the hospital. And everything else is gonna be okay.”
Nancy wants to believe her. God, she wants to believe her so badly it hurts. But belief has never been something that sticks to her for long.
Nothing in her life has ever unfolded the way it was supposed to—not cleanly, not kindly. Every time she thinks she’s reached solid ground, it cracks open beneath her feet. Barb. The paper. The monsters. Her family. Over and over again, hope has turned out to be just another thing waiting to be taken from her.
If it weren’t for the lack of nosebleeds, she might’ve sworn this was Vecna’s doing. Or maybe it was worse than that. Maybe this was just the universe.
Or maybe…maybe she was the problem.
“I can practically hear you overthinking,” Robin says, clicking her tongue lightly. “It’s loud. Like… me loud.” She tilts her head, searching Nancy’s face. “Nancy.”
“Robin,” Nancy replies automatically, like a reflex. A warning. A plea.
Robin sighs and rolls her eyes, then steps forward and pulls her into a hug before Nancy can argue. It’s warm—solid in a way that leaves no room for escape. Robin’s arms wrap around her like she’s decided this is happening whether Nancy likes it or not.
“Come on,” Robin murmurs into her hair. “Let’s go inside and see what’s happening. I’ll let you freak out all you want after, I promise.” She pulls back just enough to look at her. “But for now, stay with us. With me.”
Nancy blinks, disoriented, and it hits her all at once.
Robin knew.
She knew before Nancy even stepped outside. Knew before the cigarette, before the cold, before the shaking hands. She’d seen it in her posture, the way she’d lingered too close to the door, the way her eyes kept drifting toward the driveway. Robin had known Nancy was waiting for the first excuse to run—to the hospital, to the gate, to anywhere that felt like movement instead of this unbearable stillness.
Robin had followed her out here not to stop her.
But to catch her.
Now she’s just standing there, waiting. Patient. Soft smile in place like she’s not afraid Nancy will bolt anyway. Like she trusts her to stay.
Nancy hates how easily that breaks her.
She looks at Robin—at the concern in her eyes, the quiet certainty, the way she’s chosen to be here without question. Nancy doesn’t know how anyone has ever managed to say no to her. She doesn’t think she ever could.
“…Okay,” she says finally, voice small as something folding in on itself. The tension drains out of her all at once, leaving her hollow and tired and strangely relieved.
Robin nods, like she knew this would be the answer all along.
“Okay,” she echoes.
-
Kali takes her time looking around the Wheeler house.
Her gaze drifts from the framed family photos on the walls to the cluttered coffee table, the jackets by the door, the faint cracks in the tables that look like they’ve been there for years. It’s a normal house, warm in that quiet, suburban way that almost feels unreal after everything she’s seen.
“You all live here?” she asks finally.
“Just us,” Mike says quickly, pointing between himself and Nancy like he needs to clarify it before anyone else does. “The rest are… temporary.”
“Temporary,” Jonathan echoes, snorting softly. “Yeah. Me and my brother.” He gestures vaguely toward the basement. “The other powerful one knocked out down there.”
Kali hums under her breath, thoughtful.
They’d told her everything after Eleven finished recounting what happened two years ago—about Hawkins, about the gates, about the way the town kept bleeding into itself. Kali had listened quietly the whole time. When it was her turn, she told them what happened after Eleven disappeared: how the military tracked her down, how they’d taken her, how they’d tried to use her. Experiments. Tests. Long hours in white rooms, pushing her to see how far her powers could stretch.
“How do they work?” Hopper asked eventually.
Kali had closed her eyes. It only took a few seconds.
Hopper suddenly slammed back against the door like he’d been shoved, eyes squeezing shut as his breath hitched. Kali opened her eyes immediately at the sound of his sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry,” she said, genuinely.
“What—what happened?” Joyce rushed to his side, hands already on his shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Hopper opened his eyes slowly, blinking like he’d just woken up from something unpleasant. He looked around, confused. Embarrassed. “...Huh.”
Kali smiled, just a little—something mischievous curling at the edges. Eleven beamed beside her, practically glowing with pride.
“So,” Steve says now, clapping his hands together like he’s trying to hype the room back up. “That means we’ve got three powerful people on our side.” He grins. “Yesterday it was just Eleven.”
“We have more of a chance,” Robin adds, slipping her arm through his casually.
Nancy squints at them. She’s completely over Steve—has been for a long time—so she doesn’t understand why something sour twists in her stomach at the sight. She ignores it.
“Yeah, a chance to get them all equally killed,” Dustin pushes his hat back. “Vecna’s not stupid. He knows Will’s powerful now.”
Steve turns on him, lightly glaring. “So?”
“So,” Dustin says, rolling his eyes like he’s absolutely the smartest person in the room—which, annoyingly, Nancy suspects might be true. “Doesn’t that mean he could take over Will too?”
The room goes dead quiet.
Even Eleven pauses, blindfold halfway in her hands as she sits cross-legged on the floor. She tilts her head, brow furrowing.
Joyce is the first to break the silence. Her voice trembles. “He can’t do that,” she says weakly. “Can he?”
Lucas starts pacing. “I mean… Will’s connected to the hive mind, right? But it’s not like he’s in it anymore.”
“He controlled Vecna,” Dustin says. “It’s not a stretch to think Vecna could control him too.”
“He already did,” Jonathan adds quietly, darkly.
The words sit heavy in the air.
“So what?” Nancy says suddenly.
Everyone turns to her.
She hadn’t realized how quiet she’d been until now—how she’d been chewing at her lip, tasting blood, letting the fear circle without giving it a voice. “What are we supposed to do?” she presses. “Sit around and be scared of him?”
She straightens, forcing herself steady. “We’ve known Will for years. If something’s wrong, if he's not himself, we’ll notice. We have to use his powers if we want any chance of stopping Vecna.”
“I’ll know,” Mike says immediately, nodding hard. Too hard. “Trust me. I’ll know.”
Nancy watches him for a second, unsure what that means, but she doesn’t argue. Joyce looks like she wants to. Her mouth opens then closes again, but the radio static is already humming to life, and Eleven is watching them all now—focused, waiting, clearly needing silence.
Joyce swallows whatever she was going to say.
Eleven exhales softly. “Thank you.”
And then she pulls the blindfold down over her eyes.
The house goes quiet in a way that feels wrong.
Not peaceful, never that, but strained, like everyone is holding their breath at once. Eleven sits cross-legged on the living room floor, blindfold pulled tight, hands resting on her knees. The radio hums low beside her, static crackling softly, filling the spaces no one dares to speak into.
Nancy sits on the edge of the armchair, spine straight, fingers knotted together so tightly her knuckles ache. She doesn’t let herself relax even a fraction. Like if she does, something bad will slip through.
Robin sits beside her on the floor, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. Close enough that Nancy knows she’s there without looking.
Minutes pass. Then more.
No one moves much. Joyce hovers in the kitchen doorway, wiping the same already-clean counter over and over. Lucas stands near the stairs, arms crossed. Mike paces until Dustin finally tells him to knock it off. Steve leans against the wall, pretending not to be nervous and failing miserably. Kali stares intently at her sister, as if studying her.
The radio crackles louder for a second.
Nancy’s heart jumps straight into her throat.
Nothing happens. Ten minutes. Twenty.
Eleven’s brow furrows beneath the blindfold. Her breathing changes—sharper now, more deliberate. The room feels heavier. Nancy leans forward without realizing it.
“Holly,” Eleven whispers, barely audible. Nancy tenses. Nothing.
There's another cold night inside a middle school, where Eleven had been in a tub and muttered Barb's name and gone right after. Nancy isn't prepared for those words again.
Half an hour passes.
Hopper finally exhales, loud and frustrated, like he can’t take the waiting anymore. “She’s been in there a while.”
“She’ll say something if she needs to stop,” Mike snaps automatically, but even he sounds unsure. Their voices are low enough not to disturb her.
Another stretch of silence. Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, so—just saying—we’re all just… sitting here.”
Dustin perks up like he’s been waiting for permission. “Actually, while we’re sitting here, we could not be sitting here.”
Everyone looks at him.
“The wall,” Dustin continues, animated now. “In the Upside Down. The one blocking off the big loop thing. If it’s a closed system, there’s gotta be weak points. Cracks. Thin spots. We should check it out.”
Jonathan straightens. “He’s not wrong.”
Joyce looks torn, eyes flicking between Eleven and the front door. “I don’t like leaving.”
“I’ll go,” Hopper says immediately. “Steve, Jonathan—you’re with me.”
Nancy’s head snaps up. “Wait—”
“No, Wheeler, take a breath.” Hopper meets her gaze. “We’ll be careful. You find your sister.”
That word means nothing anymore. Kali sports a concerned look at Eleven before lifting herself up. “I'll go too. I haven't seen the outside of the Upside Down. Only the military base. And they need someone with powers.”
Robin glances up at her. “We’ll stay,” she says quietly. “Okay?”
Nancy swallows. She nods, even though everything in her screams to go too. To do something. But she stays seated as Hopper grabs his jacket, as Steve mutters something about grabbing weapons, as Jonathan gives Nancy a sympathetic glance before heading out.
The door closes behind them with a final, hollow click. The waiting stretches on.
An hour crawls by.
Nancy watches Eleven’s hands tremble slightly. She watches sweat beads at her temple and watches the radio needle twitch and snap back again and again. Every second feels like a countdown to something awful—or nothing at all.
Robin hasn’t moved. At some point, she leans fully against Nancy’s leg, head tipped back against the chair. Nancy doesn't push her away.
Finally, Eleven gasps. Everyone startles.
She yanks the blindfold off, breath ragged, eyes unfocused for a second before they land on Nancy.
Hope flares so hard it hurts.
“I—” Eleven starts, then stops. She swallows. “I didn’t find her.”
The words drop like stones.
Nancy feels something inside her crack.
“She’s… she’s hidden,” Eleven continues quickly. “Or too far. I can try again later. When I’m rested. There is something there. Not like with…” Eleven swallows. “Max.”
Nancy nods automatically. Like she’s agreeing to something reasonable. “Okay,” she says, though her voice sounds distant. “Okay.”
She stands before anyone can say anything else. Before Joyce can reach for her. Before Robin can ask if she’s alright. “I just…I need a minute.”
She goes upstairs.
Her room feels too small the second she closes the door. It's too quiet. Too empty. Some of Holly’s things are still here—Barbie posters crooked on the wall, stuffed animals arranged wrong, a half-finished craft project on her desk.
Nancy makes it three steps before it hits her.
Her breath stutters. Her chest tightens painfully, like something is squeezing her from the inside out. She presses a hand over her mouth, sinking down onto the edge of the bed as everything she’s been holding back finally crashes in.
She doesn’t sob, not yet. It’s worse than that. She's silently shaking. There are tears spilling without sound, like her body doesn’t even have the energy to cry properly. She bends forward, forehead pressing into her hands.
She failed. Again.
The door opens softly.
“Nance?” Robin’s voice is gentle, cautious, like she’s afraid of startling a wounded animal.
Nancy doesn’t look up. She doesn’t answer. She can't.
Robin doesn’t ask again. She just crosses the room and sits beside her on the bed, then pulls Nancy into her arms without hesitation.
Nancy breaks.
A sound tears out of her chest—raw, ugly, uncontained. She clutches at Robin’s jacket, fingers digging in like she’s afraid she’ll disappear if she lets go.
“I can’t—” she chokes. “I can’t lose her. I can’t do this again.”
“I know,” Robin murmurs, holding her tighter. “I know.”
Nancy presses her face into Robin’s shoulder, sobs shaking her whole body now. Robin rocks them gently, one hand firm between Nancy’s shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of her head.
“I’m here,” Robin whispers. “I’ve got you. You’re not doing this alone. Not tonight. Not ever.”
Nancy doesn’t respond. She just cries, breath hitching, grief spilling out of her in waves.
Robin stays.
-
Nancy wakes wrapped in warmth.
For a few disoriented seconds, she doesn’t remember where she is—only the steady rise and fall beneath her cheek, the faint smell of detergent and something distinctly Robin. She remembers a voice, soft and patient, telling her it was okay to rest. Remembered hands guiding her gently toward the bed.
She must’ve fallen asleep somewhere along the way because she startles away to the door slamming open.
“Nancy—”
Joyce freezes mid-step.
Nancy blinks the sleep and the pounding headache away just in time to see Joyce standing there, wide-eyed, taking in the sight of her half-curled into Robin’s arms. Robin stiffens instantly, like she’s been caught doing something illegal, and jerks back far too quickly.
“El found something,” Joyce blurts out—and then, realizing what she walked in on, squints suspiciously. “Um…”
Nancy pushes herself upright, heart already racing. “What do you mean she found something?”
Joyce shakes herself back into focus. “Holly.”
That’s all it takes. Nancy is on her feet before the word fully registers, the remnants of sleep evaporating in an instant. “Where?”
“She’s downstairs. El is—”
They don’t wait for anything else.
They’re halfway down the stairs when Nancy sees Eleven. She’s in the same position as the night before, cross-legged on the floor, blindfold tight over her eyes. But this time, blood is streaking from her nose, dark against her skin, and her breathing is uneven—too fast, too shallow.
“Is she okay?” Nancy demands, dropping to her knees beside her. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Joyce says, voice fraying. “I went to check on Will and came back to find her like this. She keeps saying Holly’s name.”
“Holly,” Eleven murmurs again, barely audible.
“Shit,” Robin mutters. “Radio the boys.”
Joyce nods and rushes for the kitchen, hands shaking as she fumbles with the walkie-talkie. “Are they close enough for this to reach? Where’s the van?”
“Should be,” Lucas says quietly, eyes fixed on Eleven. “We told them to stay near the Wheeler house. If the wall’s a circle, it should be close anyway.”
Joyce exhales sharply and backs away from the room, murmuring apologies under her breath as she tries to give Eleven quiet while calling Hopper.
Nancy stays kneeling. She considers wiping the blood away—her fingers twitch toward Eleven’s face—but she hesitates, terrified of pulling her out of whatever fragile state she’s in.
God. El gives everything. Too much. More than any of them deserve.
“Holly,” Eleven whispers again. Nancy’s chest tightens painfully.
Robin glances around the room, trying to assess the chaos. “Where’s Mike?”
“Basement,” Lucas answers. “With Will. He’s been… obsessively checking on him.”
Robin hums. “Wonder why.”
Neither Nancy nor Lucas catch the edge of teasing in her voice.
Robin turns to Lucas, softening. “How’re you holding up, kid?”
Lucas shrugs, shoulders heavy. “I’m okay. Just—” He exhales. “We should’ve saved those kids.”
Something in Robin’s expression shifts. She leaves Nancy’s side and steps closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. We will. Vecna doesn’t get to win. He never does.”
Lucas rubs his face with both hands, nodding weakly. Robin pats his back, grounding.
“Max.”
The word slices through the room.
All three of them jerk upright.
Nancy’s breath catches. “What?”
“Max,” Eleven says again, sharper now. “Max.”
“What about Max?” Nancy asks urgently.
Lucas is already moving, kneeling in front of Eleven. “El?”
“Max and Holly,” Eleven gasps. “Run.”
A scream rips through the house. It comes from the basement.
Eleven tears the blindfold off her face, wiping at her nose, eyes wild and unfocused. Nancy barely registers Mike yelling something incoherent before Joyce is already sprinting past them, moving faster than Nancy’s ever seen her.
Lucas spins between them. “El—what about Max?”
But Eleven is already running downstairs after Joyce. Nancy and Lucas exchange one panicked look before following.
The basement is chaos.
Will is tearing his jacket off, skin flushed and burning, sweat beading along his hairline and neck. He flinches violently as Mike tries to pull him closer, trying to ground him, trying to keep him still.
“Will,” Mike says desperately. “Will, what’s wrong?”
Joyce pushes past him gently, hands framing Will’s face. “Honey. Talk to me. What’s happening?”
“The demos,” Will gasps. “The demogorgons.”
“What about them?” Eleven asks, stepping forward.
“The hospital,” Will says, shaking. “I—I felt Vecna. He wants—”
“He wants what?” Robin presses.
“Max,” Will whispers. “He’s after Max.”
Nancy’s blood runs cold.
Lucas makes a broken sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob. Eleven clutches at her chest like she can’t breathe.
Nancy turns to Eleven immediately, hands gripping her shoulders. “What did you see?”
“Max and Holly running,” Eleven says, frantic. “From something. They said something about a door. Everything was green. Like a jungle. They were muddy.”
“What?” Robin says. “How does that—”
“The mindscape,” Will cuts in sharply, wincing as pain lances through him. “Their bodies are in the Upside Down—at the spire. But their minds aren’t.”
“So where are the demogorgons?” Lucas demands. “The hospital or the mindscape?”
“Hospital,” Will says firmly. “The hospital.”
Lucas stumbles back—and then bolts for the stairs.
“Lucas!” Joyce calls after him.
Everything moves at once after that. A plan doesn’t come together cleanly—it snaps into place in jagged pieces, driven by panic and momentum.
Lucas is already shrugging into his jacket, hands shaking as he mutters under his breath. Hospital. We don’t have time. He stops himself and heads for the door instead.
“I’m going with him,” Robin says immediately. There’s no hesitation. “My g...friend works there. She needs my help. She won't believe it from anyone else.” She turns to Nancy, already bracing. “You’re not.”
Nancy blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
Robin steps closer, voice lowering. “You’re exhausted. You barely slept, you haven’t eaten, and you had a breakdown an hour ago. You’re running on fumes, Nancy.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t—”
“It means you’re panicking,” Robin cuts in, gentler now but no less firm. “And panic gets people killed. I can’t drag you out of a hospital hallway if you freeze or spiral.”
The words land hard. Nancy stares at her, chest tight, almost offended. “You think I’d freeze?”
“I think you’d try to do everything at once,” Robin says quietly, apologetic. “And you can’t. Not right now.”
Nancy’s hands curl into fists. “I’ve been doing everything at once for years.”
Robin opens her mouth, then closes it again, frustration flickering across her face. “You need to rest. For once. Let someone else handle it.”
“No,” Nancy says sharply.
Robin sighs. “Nancy—”
“I’m the one with the guns,” Nancy says, stepping forward, voice steady despite the way her heart is racing. “I’m the one who knows how to use them. Not you. Not Lucas. Not your friend at the hospital.”
Lucas pauses near the door, glancing back.
“You want to talk about panic?” Nancy continues, eyes locked on Robin’s. “Fine. I’m scared. But I don’t freeze when I’m scared—I focus. You’ve seen me.”
Robin hesitates. She can see it all over her face that Robin is terrified of Nancy getting hurt.
“And I’m not sitting here waiting while everyone else runs headfirst into danger,” Nancy adds, quieter now but just as firm. “I won’t survive that.”
Robin studies her for a long moment—really studies her. The exhaustion is there, yes. The cracks. But underneath it is something solid and terrifyingly resolute.
“You’re shaking,” Robin says softly.
“So are you,” Nancy replies.
That breaks something. Robin exhales, long and slow, shoulders sagging. “You’re stubborn.”
“I know.”
A beat.
“Fine,” Robin says finally. “But I know you. So don’t run ahead, you don’t play hero, and you stick with us.”
Nancy nods immediately. “Deal.”
Behind them, Joyce tightens her grip on Will’s hands as his breathing grows uneven. Eleven kneels beside him, palm firm against his back.
“We’ll stay,” Joyce says. “El and I. We’ll protect him and he'll try to slow them down as much as he can.”
Eleven nods. “If they try to attack, I can hold them here.”
“I'll try my best,” Will nods, still panting.
Joyce looks up at Nancy as she grabs her jacket. “Be careful.”
Nancy doesn’t respond.
She’s already moving—gun heavy at her side, resolve heavier in her chest—as she follows Robin out the door.