Chapter Text
Beth Dawson woke to the sound of a clock ticking.
At first, that was all there was - darkness from her closed eyes, and the steady, patient ticking of that clock…tick, tick, tick. As awareness slowly came back to her, she noted dully that her body felt incredibly heavy, as though she had slept for far longer than intended.
And she ached.
She almost didn’t want to open her eyes, because the bed she rested in was so soft. Then it clicked - this wasn’t her bed.
Beth opened her eyes slowly, immediately noting how unfamiliar the ceiling was above her; it was high, faintly cracked, and the white plaster was patterned with delicate lines like veins beneath pale skin. Sunlight filtered through the large window to her left, casting light shadows onto the carpeted floor. The room smelled faintly of dust and something else - old wood, perhaps, and something deeper like memories that had soaked too deeply into the walls to ever truly leave.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, her heart starting to race. She tried to call out, but her voice was raw - why, she didn’t know - and she had to swallow several times. She saw the glass of water on a small table beside her, and she sipped at it.
“Hello?” She called out hesitantly.
No answer.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she wriggled her toes, wondering where her shoes had gone. Her cardigan had been folded nearly on the chair beside the dessert, her bag resting beneath it as though someone had taken care not to crease it. That detail, oddly enough, soothed her. Whoever had brought her here hadn’t been careless.
Suddenly, memories resurfaced and she staggered under the weight of them, clutching at the doorframe.
The end of the school day, Holly Wheeler struggling with her spelling worksheet. The sound of the final bell, she was walking towards her car…
And then -
Nothing.
A blank space, smooth and terrifying.
Her breathing quickened as she stumbled out into the corridor. “Okay.” She murmured to herself, pressing a hand to her head, “Okay Beth, think.”
She slowly made her way down the corridor, to where she wasn’t sure yet. It was drenched in sunlight which illuminated the fading wallpaper and framed photographs whose subjects she couldn’t quite make out. A lap glowed on a side table, want and steady. The clock ticked louder now, and she winced as the floor creaked loudly underfoot.
“Beth?”
The voice was calm, male, even familiar in a way she couldn’t explain.
“Yes,” She called hesitantly, “I’m here.”
A mean appeared moments later, his footsteps light as he made his way up the stairs. She stood rooted to the spot, fear, suspicion, and apprehension whizzing through her. He was exceedingly tall, with light blonde hair that was nearly combed back from his face, dressed simply in a dark jumper and trousers. His eyes were strikingly blue as they met hers, and his expression visibly softened the moment he saw standing there, awake and unharmed.
“You’re okay,” He said, exhaling as though he’d been holding his breath, “good.”
Beth frowned faintly, not moving from her spot. She remained tense, ready to run at the slightest provocation. “I…I think so.” She glanced around, her eyes darting back to his uneasily. “Where am I?”
“My house,” He replied gently, “you fainted earlier. I didn’t wan to wake you before you were ready.”
Her hazel eyes searched his face instinctively, looking for any hint of deception, or to see if he posed a threat to her, but all she round were steady eyes, that looked at her in concern, almost kind.
“I fainted?” She repeated.
“Yes. You were exhausted and in shock.”
She took a moment to digest the information.
“From what?”
He gestured down the stairs, his expression soft. “Why don’t you come sit? I’ll explain everything.” Something about his tone made her nod minutely, deciding that for now he wasn’t going to harm her. He was un-rushed and painfully polite, leading the way down the stairs and into the sitting room.
It was brightly lit due to more large windows that lined the wall, with an old fireplace dominating one wall, unlit but clean. It looked like it had been cared for even though it hadn’t been used in years. The furniture didn’t quite match, but it had been thoughtfully arranged and it looked inviting.
He waited for her to sit before taking the armchair opposite her.
“My name is Henry,” He said gently, “Henry Creel.”
“Beth Dawson.” She replied automatically, looking around. “Although you already knew that, didn’t you?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Yes.”
She wasn’t sure whether she felt unsettled by that or not. She chose to file it away for later review, still trying to understand what was happening.
“There was an incident near your school,” Henry continued, “something dangerous. I happened to be nearby and got you out before you could be hurt.”
Beth immediately sat up straighter, her stomach dropping. “The children - ”
“They’re safe, all of them.”
She sagged back into the chair, relief washing through her so intensely her eyes stung.
“Thank goodness.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment before she hesitantly reached her hand out. Henry raised a delicate eyebrow in response.
“It sounds like I owe you my life. Thank you for helping me.” She said sincerely, feeling a little silly for offering the man a hand shake in the face of what he’d done for her. Still, she mustered up a small, tight smile as he slowly shook her hand with one, firm shake. His fingers were ice cold and she tried not to recoil.
“There are…things happening in Hawkins.” He said carefully, after what seemed like a moment of deliberation. “You’ve heard the rumours?”
Beth laughed humourlessly, “Everyone’s heard the rumours.”
“They’re real.” Henry said simply. The way he said it, without drama, without relish, made her almost believe him instantly.
“I see.” She replied carefully, a hint of scepticism colouring her words.
“They’ve been getting closer to the children, to the ones who matter.” He paused. “I couldn’t let them take you.”
“Take me?” Beth echoed incredulously, her stomach dropping so violently she thought she might be sick.
“The children trust you, they listen to you. That makes you valuable.”
She swallowed. “So you brought me here?”
“Yes.”
“To hide me?”
“To protect you,” Henry corrected gently, “and to prepare.”
“For what?”
He folded his hands together, considering his words. “For the time when we bring them here, where they can be safe…where the monsters can’t reach them.”
Beth remained silent, her end trying to slot the pieces together and failing.
“They’ll need stability, familiarity. Someone who won’t scare them.” Henry continued quietly.
Hazel eyes met blue. “…they’ll be so scared, if what you are saying is true.”
She still wasn’t sure if she believed him, but he didn’t appear to be crazy.
Then again, the really crazy ones never do. She thought dryly, fingers tightening around the chair arms.
“It is true.” He said solemnly, “But they won’t be scared if you’re here.”
Beth didn’t know what was going on, who this man was, or in fact anything that was happening. All she knew was that she was confused, she ached, she felt hungry, and he was offering her answers - even if those answers didn’t make any sense.
“I’m not sure I’m not dreaming.” She murmured quietly. Henry’s expression softened even further.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and you’re probably still in shock. Do you want some food?”
She blinked, and then nodded carefully. How long had she been out for? As if reading her thoughts, Henry stood and spoke.
“You’ve been asleep for a few hours.”
“Oh.”
Beth followed him into the kitchen, marvelling at how big the house was. He ladled out some soup from a low simmering pot and handed it to her, sliding a spoon towards her as well.
“Thank you.” She whispered, finding that she was near ravenous. “You’re not eating?” She asked, tucking into the what felt like her first hot meal in days. He shook his head, watching her with kind eyes.
Once she’d finished, he took the bowl from her and placed it into the sink.
“You’ve should rest, tomorrow, I’ll show you more of the house. You’ll need to feel comfortable here.” He said. Beth’s head was a mess, what was he talking about? Surely she wouldn’t be staying in this strange man’s house? She needed to get back to Hawkins - her job, the kids, her parents…
She nodded slowly. “Alright.”
Beth supposed she could be in a coma, dreaming up strange realities to help herself cope. She’s knowing the morning, she decided. Despite having no memory of what had happened, her body seemed to remember from the slowly increasing pain.
Henry’s shoulders eased, just slightly, as though he hadn’t expected her to agree so easily. He led the way ack up the stairs, and she quietly followed behind, her mind reeling.
Tomorrow, she thought numbly, tomorrow this will all make sense and I’ll wake up.
“Henry?” She paused in the doorway as the man turned around.
“Yes?”
She hesitated. Despite not having a clue what was going on, Henry Creel had clearly saved her life.
“…thank you.”
Surprise flickered across his face, followed by something heavier that melted into a soft expression.
“You’re welcome, Beth.”
Beth woke the second morning to sunlight once again.
It filtered through the thin curtains in soft bands of gold, painting the room in warm colours as she yawned. For one blissful moment, she forgot everything. The unfamiliar ceiling blurred into something she recognised, and her body relaxed into the mattress as though it had done so many times before.
Then the memories returned.
The house. Henry. The talk of monsters.
She glanced around the room, letting out a disbelieving laugh. She was still there, she hadn’t woken up in a hospital bed. On the chair her bag was situated beneath was an outfit, folded neatly, waiting for her. It was a soft jumper and a pair of dark trousers. Practical, comfortable, and in her size. She decided not to question how he knew, and instead rifled through the drawers, finding socks and underwear to her immense relief. Satisfied that they were clean, she dressed quickly and stepped into the hallway, drawn by the low murmur of movement downstairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, the smell of toast greeted her.
“Oh.” Henry glanced up from the kitchen table, his blond hair catching the light. The sun rendered the locks pale gold, and his blue eyes were filled with warmth. “You’re up.”
Beth paused in the doorway, feeling awkward. She glanced at the clock. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”
“You needed it.” He replied. “I hope you don’t mind - I took the liberty of guessing what you’d prefer.”
Toast, butter, jam. She watched as he stood up and filled the mug with hot water. He let the teabag steep for a moment before fishing it out. He added one teaspoon of sugar, a splash of milk, and stirred it twice.
Her mouth dried.
“That’s…exactly right.” She muttered, eyes wide.
Henry smiled, pleased. “Sit.” He said gently.
She ate mechanically, unable to understand how he could guess the way she took her tea so accurately, or how he knew her preferred breakfast was toast. Her eyes remained pinned on him as he sat across from her, giving her space without withdrawing entirely. He was reading an old looking book, occasionally glancing up to ensure she was still comfortable.
All of a sudden, as if clarity and reason had returned to her, she put her mug down with more force than necessary.
“I need to call the school! They’ll be worried.” She said suddenly, wiping her hands on a napkin.
“I’ve already taken care of it.” Henry said calmly.
Beth blinked, nonplussed. “You have?”
“Yes. I explained that you would be away for a short while, on personal leave.”
Beth’s stomach sunk. Had she been kidnapped? Something must have shown on her face because he sighed, closing his book gently.
“You don’t believe me.” He stated rather than asked.
“I - ”
“It’s okay. I know it’s a lot to take in. It certainly sounds unbelievable - even I had difficulty with it at first. How about some proof?” His eyes slid away from her and landed on the jaw of raspberry jam, before it very slowly started to levitate.
Beth’s mouth fell open as her eyes widened comically large. She hesitatingly reached out, moving her hand all around the jar.
“Checking for wires?” Henry asked teasingly. He rotated his finger and the jar lazily spun.
“I - I - ” Beth couldn’t form words. For all intents and purposes, this was real. It was all she needed as undeniable proof that whatever monsters Henry was speaking of, it wasn’t a lie. She looked at him again, really looked, and saw a man who appeared kind, compassionate, and intelligent. But behind that she could see how he was tense, as if weighed down by an invisible burden. He looked like a man with a purpose, not someone lost in the hallucinations of madness.
“Okay,” She let lout a long breath of air, running her fingers through her long, chestnut coloured hair. “Okay, I believe you. This is crazy!” She suddenly stood up and began to pace the length of the kitchen, Henry’s eyes never once leaving her. “Surely I should speak to the school myself - ”
“I know,” He interrupted her gently, and the calmness of his voice soothed any potential hysteria at the situation, “but panic would draw attention. And attention draws monsters. I hope that’s alright, if you prefer, we can revisit it.”
Beth paused in her pacing and leaned against the counter, taking a few deep breaths. Her eyes found Henry’s again and she let her head fall into her hands, before looking up at him again.
“You clearly know more about what’s going on than me,” She said, “I…I trust your judgement on this. You’ve given me no reason to think you’re lying.”
Henry smiled, pleased at her decision, before giving her a tour of the house. She was silent as he showed her room she could use freely - the library, the sitting room, the kitchen, her bedroom, the garden out the back that was enclosed by iron gates that curled like ribs towards the sky. He avoided only one door at the far end of the west wing, brushing past it with practiced ease.
“Some parts aren’t safe yet.” He said simply. Beth accepted it without question, assuming he meant the age of the house made it unsafe to be in. She still couldn’t pull her mind away from the levitating jar of jam in the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what to think; was she the crazy one? Was she actually locked away in an insane asylum, hallucinating the days away? Did the coma theory still hold weight? But as she let her hands glide down the banister as they went back downstairs, she couldn’t deny how real it all felt. She could still feel the slight ache in her ribs from whatever incident had occurred at the school too.
She didn’t ask about what had happened. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.
They spent the afternoon in quiet companionship, with Henry sitting on the sofa as she prodded at the fire to keep it lit, her attention wholly focused on him as he explained the world beyond Hawkins - the monsters, how they moved, how they hunted, how careful one had to be.
She interrupted with countless questions: Where did they come from? Why did they want the children? Why did they want her?
Henry had explained with endless patience, and she absorbed it all like a sponge, until the clock chimed to signal it was midnight.
“I didn’t mean to keep you up.” She murmured.
“It’s fine. It’s good that you’re now informed.” Henry said gently. She bade him goodnight and hurried up the stairs, the familiar bubble of incredulous hysteria threatening to overcome her.
It’s fine, Henry said I’m safe here. He said the house is protected. He’ll bring the children here, and we’ll be fine. She repeated this in her head like a mantra as she slipped into bed, suddenly terrified of every creak in the house, or the sound of the wind howling outside. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting a few hot tears fall down her face.
Why did this have to happen to her?
Beth woke up to a grey sky on the third day, and she lamented the loss of the sun. Everything felt a lot more creepy and scary without the blue sky to soften the day. She let herself have a hot bath, trying to relax as much as possible before she found a new outfit laid out for her on the chair. She dressed quickly and hurried down the stairs, stopping short as she was greeted by the familiar image of Henry in the kitchen.
Toast, butter, and jam were already laid out, including a hot cup of tea.
“Morning.” He greeted.
“Morning.” Beth replied cautiously.
The rest of the day was spent in a strange sort of domestic bliss; Henry gently followed her around the doors as she drifted from room to room, and she was glad of the company with how on edge she still felt. She tidied up in the kitchen and then explored the library, with Henry choosing to sit at his desk and work - on what, she didn’t know - answering the occasional questions she threw his way.
That evening, they found themselves sat in front of the fire, just like the night before. The anxiety that had been a near constant companion since she first woke up on day one had finally receded, until it was nothing more than a dull buzz at the back of her brain.
She asked more questions about the monsters - what did they look like? How many were there? - until she had lapsed into a pensive silence, a frown distorting her features.
“You’re not afraid?” Henry had questioned after a beat of silence.
Beth looked up from the notebook she had been sketching in. “I am. But you’re here.” She said it simply, as if that explained everything. Henry inclined his head, hiding the satisfaction he felt behind the motion.
“That’s precisely why I brought you here.”
Days passed in this fashion until Beth was certain she had been there for a week. It had it actually already been weeks? Time behaved strangely here - it stretched and folded in on itself, and blurred around the edges until she could barely remember when one day started and another one ended.
In the end she had given up trying to keep track of the days. Any urgency or stress she felt slowly dissolved under Henry’s steady guidance. He never rushed her, nor did he pressure her.
Instead, he reframed.
The world outside was dangerous, but the house was protected. Safe. He was protecting her, and Beth believed him.
She trusted the way he checked the doors each night, and trusted the way he listened when she spoke about the children in her class, babbling about how Derek was simply misunderstood, and about Holly’s stubbornness and the way she refused to ask for help even when she needed it. He had listened with soft smiles and kind remarks, allowing her to speak until the evening grew dark.
She trusted him implicitly.
Beth didn’t realise how thoroughly he had woven himself into her sense of stability until the first time he had to leave the house. It happened in what she was sure was the second week of her stay.
He had only left for around an hour, but in that time the silence pressed in and she found herself painfully aware of every noise in the house.
The monsters can’t get me here. She repeated. Still, she ended up perched on the edge of the couch, her posture tense as she listened for Henry’s return. She heard the door click open and her head whipped around, almost feeling dizzy from the spike of relief she felt and seeing him again.
She remained seated, but smiled and gratefully accepted his quiet reassurance.
“Everything is under control.” He told her. And she believed that too.
They had sat on the sofa together as rain gently tapped against the windows, their shoulders not quite touching. Beth and inched closer and closer all night without realising she was doing so, and he allowed her to.
“Henry,” she said after a while, “do you ever wish things had been different?”
He paused.
“Everyday.” He replied. It wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth. Beth nodded, content with that answer, and returned her gaze to the fire, her notebook loosely clutched in her hand.
Henry watched her quietly from his position.
She was exactly where he needed her.