Chapter Text
July 4th, 1985
Robin knows they’re fucked when the door opens.
They’re on the floor, as close to the scissors as they’re going to get, but that plan is over. It was over from the moment they fell, really, but now she’s sure they’re going to die.
She looks up, craning her neck to see the bald man from before flanked by two other guards.
“Where did you think you were going?” He asks, and then tsks at them.
Robin thinks this must be a tick he has, because he’s done it nearly four times since she first met him.
She’s decided to call him the general, because he seems like he’s in charge. She wishes she knew the word for it in Russian, but she also doesn’t think it matters.
Also, if she keeps calling him “the bald man” in her head she’s going to start laughing again and they’ll probably die a lot quicker. So the general will do, for now.
She doesn’t respond, and neither does Steve. Robin’s glad that they at least got to talk, she’d spent the last hour thinking they’d beaten him into an irreversible coma and counting his breaths against her back until he finally woke up.
And it wasn’t necessarily a goodbye, their conversation on the floor, but it’s starting to feel like one. She should’ve said more, probably. Should’ve held back a little on the high school stories and focused instead on how much fun they’ve had this summer.
The job is awful and annoying and sure, she’d hated working with him at first but now…god, now they’re almost friends. And she’s laughed more at this awful job with the stupid uniforms more than she’s laughed in probably the last five years of her life combined.
She should’ve told Steve that, when she had the chance.
She doesn’t fight as hard this time, the guards pick them up and put them back in the chairs and she lets them. Robin knows she needs to save her strength, knows that “doctor” probably just means more medical methods of torture rather than the plain old beating they seem to have tried on her friend. Not on her, though, she’s just been sitting in a room for hours.
Which probably means she’s next.
Once they’re sitting again, she leans her head back on Steve’s shoulder. It’s half practical, so she can see the general better, and half just to remind herself she’s not alone.
At the very least, they’ll die together.
“Change of plan.” The general says, his accent lilting in a way that Robin would love to imitate in any other situation. Here, it’s just making her stomach churn. “The doctor is late. He has…more important things to attend to. So we will improvise.”
Before either of them can speak, the general barks another order in Russian, and the men are sliding off the binds around their shoulders. Robin can feel Steve tensing against her back, and she knows this is the moment as soon as the guards start pulling her up.
Now she’s really got to fight.
Her entire world goes red, nearly blinding her with rage and fear as she screams and struggles against the hands pulling her across the room.
“Let me go! Don’t fucking touch me!” She’s practically growling. She didn’t know her voice could sound like this until a few hours ago.
“Wait, stop!!” Steve is yelling too, and she catches a glance of the other guard rearing back to hit him before they throw her to the ground.
Her head thuds against the floor and for a second everything is blurry and slow.
She feels hands pulling her wrists and when she can finally focus again she’s being dragged across the floor. Steve is on the floor too, the chair has tipped again and he’s lying just a few feet away. There’s fresh blood dripping from his nose but he just shakes his head and keeps yelling.
“Fucking assholes!” He shouts, “Take me, she doesn’t know anything!”
“Always talking, this one.” The general nods, and the other guard kicks Steve in the stomach so hard he gags. “But never anything important to say.”
Robin feels something freezing over in her chest, preparing her for what’s about to happen. The guard undoes her bound hands for a moment, but she knows if she fights it’s just going to bring more pain. He wraps her hands around a metal beam and pulls the binds even tighter. Now she’s on her knees, and she knows what’s coming. Her whole body is waiting to flinch, waiting to be hit.
“Don’t…please don’t.” Steve rasps from the ground, eyes still squeezed shut. “Don’t hurt her, please."
The general looks between them, and then crouches down next to Steve. He reaches out, brushing the hair from his cheek in a movement that’s almost kind, almost human. Steve winces, trying to escape the touch though there’s nowhere to go. His eyes crack open, meeting Robin’s for a second before they go back to the general.
“I swear.” He says, “I swear. If you hurt her, I won’t say a fucking word. You’ll have to kill us both. I’m…I’m begging you, man. Take me instead.”
The general scoffs, and then straightens. Robin is still waiting for the nod, for the question and the pain that follows. But when the nod comes, it’s pointed away from her. There’s another order she doesn’t understand, and then the man is grabbing at her hands again, dragging her away from the beam. And the other guard is reaching down, pulling Steve over to where she just was.
“No, no, wait.” Robin tries to argue, but her heart isn’t in it. She knows they’re not going to switch them again.
The choice has been made, and now they’re going to have to live with it. For as long as they do live, which she suspects won’t be long. The man sits her in the chair again, tightens the binds around her middle until she’s sure the bottom half of her arms are going to go numb. She looks up, meets Steve’s eye just as the guard finishes tying him to the beam.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” She hisses, angry and incredulous and…thankful. There are waves of it washing over her, grief and horror and terrible, terrible guilt for how grateful she is that it’s not her. And it makes absolutely no sense. Why he’d beg them to torture him again instead of her.
Nothing makes sense about this boy, she’s been learning that all summer.
“It’s okay.” He says, and gives her what he probably thinks is a reassuring smile, but it's completely out of place against the bruises and blood. “It’ll be okay.”
“Enough!” The general says, and they both look up at him. He nods to the guard again, and the man picks up a metal rod from the nearby table. He stands next to Steve with the weapon ready, and Robin expects them to ask him a question, but the general just gives a quick word, and the man presses the end of the rod against Steve’s arm.
The whole room crackles, blue light shines from the end of the rod and Robin a burning smell fills the air. She knows what the object is now, it’s a long taser. A cattle prod, maybe, but clearly made to be used on human subjects instead. And as soon as it lights up, Steve’s whole body tightens. He screams, limbs stretching and grasping as if he can get away. It only lasts a few seconds, and then the man pulls the prod away and he slumps into a tangled kneel, panting quickly.
“Fuck.” He says, barely a whisper, “That stings.”
The general doesn’t respond, just turns away and faces Robin instead.
“This is how it will work.” He says, “You will talk, or we will hurt him. If you do not talk, we will kill him.”
“Hey!” Steve calls, looking up, “That wasn’t—“
The guard beside him doesn’t even use the prod this time, just his palm. He brings it down over Steve’s ear, and he falls silent again as the slap echoes in the sterile room.
Robin wants to fight, wants to kick and scream, and knock this chair over again. She wants to grab the scissors from the counter and put them through this man’s eye. Wants to see the look on his face as he dies.
But she knows it's useless, fighting. Something in her has started to give up.
She nods.
“Good girl.” The general says, and she feels another turn in her stomach. “Now. Since your friend does not want to answer. We will ask you. Who do you work for?”
Robin almost rolls her eyes. Stupid question. She's wearing the goddamn uniform.
“Scoops Ahoy.” She says, deadpan.
The general sighs, clucks his tongue, and then the guard is shocking Steve again. In the same place, Robin can see that there’s already a deep red welt there. He cries out, pulling against the binds involuntarily for a moment before the guard steps back again. His head falls, he pants, and then he’s looking up at her.
“They really…hate it when you say that.” He breathes.
“Sorry.” Robin says. She can hear how detached her voice is, she sounds like she’s on the register at work, not being interrogated under threat of torture by Russian operatives.
Her mind does this sometimes, even in situations that are not life or death. It decides to go numb. Most often it’s at work or at school. She feels like she’s watching this through a television screen. She can vaguely feel the terror, the guilt and the rage, but it’s like having empathy for a fictional character. This is decidedly better than giving up, because she can use it. It's easier to keep her cool when her entire mind has checked out.
She looks at the general, narrowing her eyes.
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
He leans in, a small grin tugging at the corners of his thin lips.
“Is that so?”
Robin nods, glancing over to make sure they’re not reaching to hurt Steve again before she continues.
“It is.” She says, her voice sounds more confident than she feels, “We work at the mall, that’s why we have these dumb uniforms on. Don’t know if you’ve noticed. Assuming you’ve never left this shithole, but most people in the good ole U.S. of A. don’t dress like cartoon sailors.”
Steve laughs at that, cut short when the guard beside him hits him in the gut again.
“Hey!” Robin yells, and then looks back at the general, “I’m talking! That's the deal. I talk, you don't hurt him."
The general regards her for a moment, then nods at the guard again until the man steps back. Steve is curled in on himself, wheezing, but she’s bought him a moment to recover.
“Go on.” The general says, still inches from her face.
Robin clears her throat; there’s a nasty lump rising in it that won’t go away.
“Like I was saying, we work at the mall. We’re not spies, we’re not...government employees. We’re just stupid kids. So asking who we work for isn’t going to cut it. You need to know how two stupid kids who scoop ice cream for a living found your top secret base.”
The general straightens, holding his hands in a vice behind his back.
“How did you find us?” He asks, and Robin nearly smiles.
“I’m so glad you asked.” She says, eyes darting to check on Steve again. He’s breathing more evenly now, head still down. “We heard a code.”
“A code?” The general asks, eyebrow raised.
Robin sighs, putting on the accent, “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. Sound familiar?”
“How did you—“ The general starts, but she’s still talking.
“We have a good radio.” She shrugs, “And you guys broadcast that stupid spy shit all over Hawkins. Someone was bound to pick it up.”
The general’s eyes get wider, and she knows she’s maybe said too much.
“Who helped you intersect the code?” The general asks.
She hesitates. She knows she shouldn’t, but there’s a brief moment where she can’t think of a lie. The general looks back, and Robin sees the guard with the prod straighten.
“We—it was just us. We were messing around with the radio and—“
The general nods, and the guard steps forward.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Steve pleads, trying to scoot away, “She’s telling the truth—“
He cuts off with another scream as the man presses the prod against his thigh, the air crackles again, and this time his body doesn’t just tense. It convulses, shaking and kicking and the guard has to push harder just to keep the tip of the rod against his skin. The screaming stops after a moment, and then it sounds like he’s choking. There’s a low, guttural noise coming from his body that almost doesn’t sound human, and Robin feels bile rising in her throat.
“Stop! STOP!” Robin can feel her voice cracking, and she wants to look away but she can’t. “Please, stop! I swear to god, it was just us!”
“No more lies!” The general hisses, and he breaks another rule by slapping her across the face. Her ear starts ringing immediately and she can feel that her lip has split because she tastes blood. When the ringing starts to fade, she can’t hear the electricity of the prod anymore.
Robin cracks open an eye, finds Steve slumped over again, shivering and gasping for air. After a long moment, he looks up at her.
It’s short and silent, but there’s a panicked reassurance in the shared glance. Another reminder that they’re both here, both not alone. And buried in it, a promise. One they’d made without even deciding. Neither of them will give up the kids. They’ll die here, together, if it means Dustin and Erica actually got away. And hopefully, if they did, they’ll get help. But Robin can’t think that far ahead right now.
She runs her tongue along her lip, the cut isn’t big but it’s still dripping blood down her chin. Then she looks up at the general.
“I’m not lying.” She says, meeting his eye. “I swear. We heard the code by accident. We didn’t know what it was, so we translated it. We found the elevator, and we thought we’d discover a fucking secret casino or something down here. But we found you assholes instead.”
“Then where,” The general asks, stepping closer to her again, “are your two little friends? Hm? We know you were not alone. What are their names?”
“They’re just some random kids.” Robin says, and the general looks back at the guard, so she starts talking faster, nodding towards Steve, “He babysits them, and they tagged along because they won’t leave us alone. We don’t know where they went. I swear, they just took off.”
The general scoffs, straightens. He looks down at her, tsk-ing again.
“Nothing but lies.” He says, “We will let your friend pay for them, yes?”
“No, no please, leave him alone!” Robin can already see the guard moving, but she’s trying to catch the general’s eye again. “Listen, please! I swear. You don’t have to do this!“
"Don’t, please don't—" Steve moans, but the crackling sound cuts him off.
Robin hears him scream, hears shuffling and smells burning plastic. She looks, and the guard has jabbed the prod directly into Steve’s ribs.
Then he just holds it there. Holds it until his quick cry devolves into a series of low, stuttering groans. Until he starts shaking. Until he’s practically vibrating. There’s a little smoke rising from where the prod is burning into the cheap uniform, and Steve is choking again. Awful and desperate and quieter than the first time, like his body knows it’s useless. Robin can’t look away, she can’t stop watching.
She sees it the moment it happens. Because one second, his whole body is tight and pained and his bound hands are curling and grasping wildly and there’s that terrible clawing noise coming from his throat.
And the next, Steve just…stops.
His muscles are jerking, still reacting to the current passing through them, but there’s no life behind it. No pain. The tension goes out of him like a puppet whose strings have been suddenly cut. His head falls forward again, damp hair covering his face and legs still twitching beneath him.
“Stop!” The general orders, and the soldier with the prod does. He pulls back immediately, but there’s no heaving breath this time. No pleading or crying, no jokes or comments. There’s just quiet.
Robin thinks she should be screaming.
And maybe she is, but the only thing she can hear is her heart in her ears. Pounding and throbbing and there’s this wet feeling in her chest. Like she’s bleeding, like something is spilling out of her. But there’s no blood, there’s just the silence and the footsteps on the cold floor.
The general strides forward and reaches out, grabs Steve’s hair again and pulls his head up so forcefully that his whole body follows. His face is slack and pale. Not just pale, really. White, even under the bruises. Robin feels a sickening flip in her stomach when she sees that his eyes are open, just a sliver of hazeled brown against the white and red. But there’s nothing in them, not a flicker of movement or recognition. Empty, lifeless and not at all like him.
She should scream then, but she doesn’t.
Not until the man holds his fingers to her friend’s throat and then lets go of his hair with a quick, disgusted flick. Not until Steve slumps down again, every part of him limp and still. Not until the general sighs, pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and cleans his hands.
Not until he rears back and slaps the guard, calling him something that sounds like an insult before he says,
“You killed him.”
Then she finally finds her voice. Or rather, it finds her. Because she’s never heard the noise she makes before. It’s a wailing scream, wordless for a moment before she finally gains some control over it.
“NO! No no no!” That’s the only word she can find, all she can think. She’s still saying it even as the general saunters back over to her, blocks her view of the prone form behind him.
“So sorry.” He says, a smile curling at his lips, “We did not think this would happen so quickly. We are not used to the Americans sending children, but we all have to…work with what we have. Now, tell us who sent you, or—“
“HELP HIM!” Robin shouts, ignoring him. Her throat feels raw from screaming, but it’s the only hope she has. “Please, please help him! You said you have a doctor—“
“We do not need the doctor.” The general says, stepping back and waving a hand behind him, “Your friend is dead—“
“NO!” She’s wailing again, pulling at the restraints like it’ll do anything. Her wrists are raw, her shoulders sore. And her chest feels empty now, everything has spilled out of it.
“No, please! Please—just help him! You fucking bastards! You can’t—don’t just, Jesus Christ!”
Shes not making much sense, she knows, but nothing is. Everything is backwards, turned on its head and they won’t listen. They won’t help. Her friend is hurt, he’s hurt badly and they won’t help him. She feels small again, like a kid begging for a snack after school and her mother’s just shaking her head. There’s grown ups here, they’re awful and so, so mean but they should be helping. Steve is hurt and they should be—
“He’s not, he’s not.” She breathes, and she rips her eyes away from the limp thing that is not her friend. Finds the general’s face again, loses whatever dignity she had left as her voice goes tiny and high. “Please. You have to help him, please.”
The general sighs, clucking his tongue. And Robin has a small flash of ripping it out. Bare-handed, just grabbing and pulling as hard as she can until he chokes on his own blood.
"Maybe you are needing some more time alone.” He says, "We will see if watching your friend rot jogs your memory."
He turns, nodding at the guard and barking an order she doesn't understand. They leave without looking back at her, leave her alone with ash in her mouth and a wet, electric buzz in her throat.
No, not alone, she thinks.
But she can't look. Not at the body that is definitely not Steve. And she thinks they’re lying, even though she knows they really have no reason to. They’d lie to scare her, sure, but not with something so easily disprovable.
Easy to check if she just bites down and looks. And she’s readying herself to. Robin is staring at her scraped knees and trying to tell herself that when she looks, it’ll be different. He’ll be looking back, like he did the other times. Eyes with life in them, eyes that see her. And they’ll figure out another plan and she’ll get out of these binds and she’ll help him. She has to do it herself because they won’t.
She won’t have to scream again because it’ll be okay. It’s a lie, they’ve accused her of lying all this time and yet? They’re the fucking liars. He’s going to be okay because she’s going to help and because what they said is impossible.
They’re supposed to go see a movie next week, Friday after work. She doesn’t really know how they’ll go back to work after this but she really wanted to see that movie. And she thinks Steve will like it because it’s all dumb action and she won’t have to explain the plot to him beat by beat.
So he can’t be gone, because they’re going to see that movie. They have plans, and he’s not ditching her like this.
And she’s going to look, to check on him. She really is, she's just going to look up and—
***
Robin is twelve when she realizes something is really wrong with her.
It’s in church, of course.
When has she not felt uncomfortable in church?
And yet they go, every Sunday and every Wednesday. And she goes to the children’s service and then to youth group and everywhere she goes she’s wrong.
Wrong about how it all works, wrong about God and Jesus and always, always asking the wrong questions.
If there were a tribe of people who’ve never heard of Jesus, but they were like really nice, would they still get into Heaven?
Why would God sacrifice his son when he could’ve just made everybody not sin in the first place?
If a baby dies before it gets baptized—
That’s the one that gets her sent to the pastor’s office for the first time. Because Robin didn’t know, but his wife just had a miscarriage, and she was the children’s service teacher that day.
She couldn’t really get in trouble at church, not in any way that mattered. They couldn’t suspend her or stop her parents from bringing her or even spank her like some kids got spanked at school. But they could make her feel different, make her feel like she was walking on eggshells at every single service and potluck and youth group sleepover.
And the one person that doesn’t make her feel that way is Tammy.
After the fifth time she gets sent to the pastor’s office, her parents decide she needs to join the choir.
She’s always been decent at music. Her grandmother taught her piano and she wants to join the band when she gets to high school, but she can’t really sing. She can carry a tune, tell when things are flat or sharp, but her voice is too soft, too hoarse.
Tammy has a really nice voice. It’s high and warbling and it cuts through everyone else’s and Robin just really likes it. And they sit beside each other at church choir because they’re the only kids there. The rest of the choir is over seventy and none of them can read music.
Somehow, Tammy and Robin become the section leaders. Tammy for the sopranos, Robin for the altos. They spend hours every week at each other’s houses, talking about the old ladies in choir and how mean they are and how stupid it is that they’ve been in choir since World War I probably and still don’t know what an eighth note is.
And one time Tammy asks Robin to braid her hair, and then they do it every time. Robin sits on the bed, legs crossed, and she separates Tammy’s hair into as many sections as she can. She learned to braid from doing knots in girl scouts, and the skill is surprisingly transferable to hair.
“Can you do the looping ones this time?” Tammy asks.
“The what?” Robin says, confused.
Tammy turns around with a sigh, gets to her feet. She grabs a piece of Robin’s hair and wraps it gently around itself. It falls apart immediately, because she doesn’t know how to braid, but Robin knows what she means now.
“Sure.” She says, smiling. “It’s called a twist.”
“Yes!” Tammy says, dropping her hair. And because it’s so short, and so close to her chin, Tammy’s hand brushes her cheek for just a second.
Soft, and utterly undoing.
Robin blushes, but Tammy’s already turned back around. She finishes the twists and Tammy stays the night because they both have church in the morning.
When they’re sleeping, Tammy throws an arm over her. She probably doesn’t mean to, probably just reached out in a dream or out of reflex. But she’s undone again.
She’s warm all over and the girl is so close to her and it feels so nice. So she scoots in, and they wake up intertwined and laughing at how they both must’ve decided to cuddle in their sleep. Must’ve missed their stuffed animals or something.
Must’ve been an accident.
On the way to church that morning Tammy is buzzing. She has a solo today, and her grandmother is coming to town that afternoon. Robin is a little disappointed because that means Tammy can’t come over again, but she’s excited to see her sing.
They have to get there early for choir practice and her parents leave them to it, retiring to the fellowship hall where there’s already fresh coffee brewed and probably donuts.
“Do you wanna come to lunch with my family today?” Tammy asks as they walk down the hallway.
Robin looks over at her, surprised, “I thought your grandmother was visiting.”
“She is.” Tammy says, shrugging, “But I want her to meet you. I’ve told her a lot about you.”
Robin’s blushing again. She looks away as they round the corner.
“Um, sure.” She says, “I’ll have to ask my parents, but—“
“Great!” Tammy grabs her hand, just for a moment. A little celebration because it’s a big day for her.
Robin is warm all over again, warm all the way through choir practice. Warm when they sing the opening hymn and she hears Tammy’s voice on the descant. Warm when she goes to sit with her parents and Tammy’s family is just two rows in front of them. Warm when Tammy turns back with a smile and points Robin out to her grandmother, who gives her a little wave.
Warm until the pastor starts talking about Leviticus. When he actually says the words, it hits her like a slap.
Man shall not lie with man, nor woman with woman.
Robin’s not dumb, she pays attention.
She knows that being gay is wrong. Knows that when her cousin Chad moved to New York and kept living with his college roommate even years after they graduated, people talked. Knows that he doesn’t come to family weddings anymore and the last time she saw him was at their grandfather’s funeral.
His roommate was there too, and no one talked to Chad except Robin. Mostly because she also wants to get away from Hawkins, and she wanted to know how he did it.
She rides the bus. You don’t ride the bus to public school here without hearing the words faggot and dyke. She knows what they mean.
But until today, she’s never realized they mean her.
She’s not warm anymore. She’s shivering, she’s vibrating with fear because she’s wrong. Not just wrong in a “let’s talk to the pastor and see if we can’t get these questions straightened out, huh?” kind of way.
She’s wrong inside.
And she’s going to drag Tammy down with her.
So Robin doesn’t go to lunch. She doesn’t explain to Tammy and she knows that’s going to hurt her but she needs to be alone. She goes home and lays on her bed and stares at the ceiling.
She asks God to fix her.
He doesn’t, and eventually that’s more of His problem than her’s.
She still goes to church, at least until high school. Then she lies, tells her parents she has practice late on Saturday nights. She quits the church choir, only talks to Tammy when she absolutely needs to and even less after they’re not in choir together anymore.
But she still watches, still lingers on Tammy’s hair. Imagines her fingers in it, braiding and wrapping and—well, she can’t go any further than that, not when she’s in chemistry class.
And not when this stupid jock asshole won’t shut the fuck up.
Robin has decided that Steve Harrington is public enemy number one. He’s her arch-nemesis. He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t really know anything about anything, but Robin does.
She watches him too now. Because Tammy’s always watching him. In class, in the hallway, at the basketball games. She’s watching and biting her lip and twirling her hair around her finger. She’s blushing whenever he looks her way even when Robin and everyone else in the goddamn school knows he looks at every girl that way.
Every girl except Robin, which is fine by her.
If he looked directly at her she might just lunge.
If he looked at her the way he looks at Tammy she might try to kill him on principle.
And when Tammy graduates, so does Steve.
That’s a comfort, in a way. Because Robin doesn’t have to watch either of them anymore. She goes to church on the weekend of graduation. Tammy sings a solo and Robin almost cries even though she hates the song. Hates most hymns now, has for a while. Maybe hates God too, but she hasn’t thought about that enough to really decide.
Robin gets a summer job, because she doesn’t want to be home. She also needs money, because her senior year is coming up and she wants to get out of here. She’s not sure if anywhere else is better but she knows it won’t be Hawkins. And her cousin got out, he seems happy. He’s still in New York and maybe she can go too.
The first place that offers her a gig is the ice cream place at the mall. She applied other places but Scoops is the quickest, and the hours are better than the movie theater and she doesn’t want to ride the bus after late showings.
So she takes the job, resigns herself to the idea of wearing the ugliest outfit she’s ever seen just for one summer. Just until she has money saved for college applications and then she can find something else.
She can deal with this. Until the manager says they need a second person on the mid-morning shift because traffic is picking up now that everyone’s out of school.
Until the second person is Steve fucking Harrington.
And at first, it is literally hell.
Not figurative, like she thinks Christian hell probably is. Not a metaphor or a an analogy or a way for people to cope with the fact that horrible assholes sometimes die without any earthly consequences.
Actual hell.
Because he is so. Goddamn. Annoying.
He talks constantly about literally anything that crosses his mind. Mostly about his father, and how much of an asshole he is. Apparently he's been forced to get this job as punishment. For what? Robin doesn't know. Well, she suspects it has something to do with him not going to college, but he insists that he's taking a gap year on purpose even though she knows that's probably bullshit.
When he’s not talking, he’s asking her questions. Friendly questions, about her days off and what schools she wants to apply to and what kind of movies she likes. The questions being so normal only pisses her off more, because she hates this guy. Not only does she hate him, she hates his friends.
Hates the assholes from the basketball team, hates Tommy Hagan and Billy Hargrove and she’s heard them say awful things. Tommy used to ride the bus and he’s not just mean, he’s bigoted and spiteful and Billy’s even worse.
But she never sees them at Scoops. And when she really starts to think about it, she hadn’t really seen them around Steve for a while. Not since last fall when he just disappeared for two weeks.
Not since Nancy Wheeler dumped him for Jonathan Byers and not since he rode the bench at basketball games for the last half of his senior year. She hates that she knows that, hates that she’s been watching him for longer than she wants to admit.
She also hates that he seems to have no idea who she is. The manager introduced him wrong, said his full name and they’ve only made it ten minutes into the first shift before he turns to her and says,
“It’s just Steve, by the way. Nobody calls me Steven except my dad, and that’s only when he’s pissed.”
“Cool.” She says, fiddling with the register.
“It’s not much of a nickname.” He says, and when she looks up he’s got a dumb, nervous grin on his face, “Just one letter. Off the end. But I figured I’d tell you since we’ll be working together a lot.”
She closes the drawer, leaning her chin on her hand and eyeing the gaggle of teenage girls who’ve already spotted him from the fountain.
“Guess we will.” She says.
He knows they went to school together, knows she’s only one grade below him. But he acts like she is a complete stranger, like they’ve never crossed paths.
Really, they haven’t. Robin’s just mad that she’s spent all this time watching him and he didn’t even know her name. Didn’t even know that she played for the basketball pep band until she mentioned it in passing. He has no reason to know her, she realizes, but it’s still infuriating.
She never sees his basketball friends, or hardly anyone from school. But she does see the kids. Sometimes in groups and sometimes individually, but they always come to Scoops. Always hog the booth or stand at the counter or beg Steve to let them sneak in to the movie theater. And every time, he caves.
He acts annoyed, but she can tell he doesn’t mind. She can also tell that these kids love him. Call him their babysitter, hang around until the shop’s nearly closed and just talk to him. Mostly Max and Lucas, she doesn’t see Nancy and Jonathan’s brothers as often, but when they do come it’s the same.
Robin doesn’t really like kids. She has nothing against them, but she already gets annoyed with the maturity level of people her own age so anyone younger is probably just going to piss her off.
She rolls her eyes when there’s a screaming toddler in the store, refuses to clean up after kids who drop their cones on the floor immediately after grabbing them, stares their parents down until they do it or just leave.
But Steve is weirdly good with them. Not just the ones that he’s seemingly adopted, but all of them. He gets on their level, gives them extra free samples, offers to swap flavors when a kid decides they don’t like what they picked. He takes rumpled cash from the littler ones like it’s a serious business transaction, thanks them with a handshake and makes them laugh.
He’s also very bad at the simplest things. Math, especially. He shut down the register once and somehow did it backwards, fucked up the till so badly that Robin gave him the silent treatment for a week. Steve wasn’t silent, of course, but she gave him nothing back. Just nods and head shakes and rolled eyes. It didn’t seem to affect him much.
He left a delivery in the hallway once, a delivery of ice cream. It melted, and they were out of three popular flavors for a week. He trips over the freezer cord so many times that she comes in early one day just to rearrange the entire setup, reroutes the wires so they cannot possibly be touched by his bumbling feet.
And yet, working with him is not hell.
Not for too long, anyway.
It starts to be kind of nice.
Steve is funny, and a little mean, and they bounce off each other well. They hate a lot of the same things. Annoying customers and the dumb outfits and surprisingly, those basketball assholes she thought were his friends.
Tommy Hagan and his girlfriend walk by once and Steve practically sprints into the back room, leaving Robin alone with a line and pissed.
“Dude.” She says once the customers are gone and he tiptoes out into the store again. “What the hell? You left me alone out here.”
“Sorry.” Steve says. He’s standing by the window, peering out into the mall and scanning up and down the atrium. “I’ll take the next rush, you can take a break then, if you want.”
He finally comes back, leaning on the wall behind the counter with his arms crossed and a strange expression on his face.
“You’re being weird.” Robin says, sighing and leaning against the counter.
“No I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.” She says, “What’s the big deal? I thought you guys were friends—“
“We’re not.” Steve says, and something hardens in his tone. “Not for a while.”
“Okay.” Robin says, stretching the word out. “Well, either way. Tell me next time, dingus. Don’t just run. I’ll cover for you, or whatever.”
He looks at her then, brow furrowing a little like he doesn’t believe her. Then he nods.
“Sure. I will. Thanks.”
He doesn’t have to tell her next time, though, because she notices.
It’s a Friday and they’re pretty busy and she’s scooping even though she hates letting Steve run register and she looks up and he has gone blank.
He’s staring out at the food court like he’s trapped in a war flashback and not paying attention to the customer in front of him at all. So she steps in, takes the woman’s money, follows where he’s looking until she sees it too.
Billy Hargrove, sitting at one of the tables all the way across the mall with a girl. Not looking their direction, not looking like he’s going to come over at all, but she knows that’s why.
“Take a break.” She says, nudging his elbow. “I got it.”
He doesn’t say anything, just nods and goes to the back. Robin finishes the rush alone. It sucks, but she’s dealt with worse. She waits until she’s sure Billy’s gone before she goes to the back and finds Steve sitting at the table.
His arms are crossed and he’s leaned forward on them, staring at the scoreboard she just made to keep track of all the times he strikes out with cute girls. The score is 0-3 You Suck right now.
“He’s gone.” She says, and he jumps like she’s just slapped him. “You can stop hiding.”
“I’m not hiding.” He mutters, getting up from the table. He doesn’t meet her eyes until they’re both behind the counter again and he’s checked for himself.
Then Steve crosses his arms again, squinting at her like she’s the one who’s being weird.
“Thanks.” He says, his expression a complete mismatch with the word. “I’ll get—“
“The next rush, I know.” Robin sighs, leaning on the counter. He looks away then, but she’s still watching him, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
“Do you want to talk about—“
“Nope.” Steve says, leaning down to grab a rag. He goes out into the shop, cleaning the empty tables silently for a while. When he comes back she decides to change the subject.
“Hey,” She says, “There’s, um. There’s a movie I wanted to see, at the theater tonight.”
“Okay.” He replies, starting on the counters even though they’re already clean. “What is it?”
“I don’t really know.” She says, shrugging, “I just saw the poster, but it looks fun. Like Indiana Jones but with a bunch of kids. There’s a showing at five.”
“That’s cool.” He says absently, still focused on the counters.
She sighs again, “I’m asking if you want to go, dingus.”
Steve looks up at her then, pausing with the rag still in his hand.
“Oh.” He says, suddenly looking apologetic.
Her cheeks flush, and she knows she’s messed up. Why would she even want to go to a movie with him, anyway? Why would he want to go with her? They’re not friends, they’re just coworkers and just because she feels like he could really use some friends that aren’t children doesn’t mean—
“Sure.” He gives her a small grin, “It’s a date.”
“Nevermind.” She says quickly, “That’s not—I didn’t mean—”
“I’m fucking with you, Buckley.” Steve says, tossing the rag over his shoulder, "Trust me, if I wanted to date you, you'd know. And I definitely don’t.”
His face drops after he says it, and she can see an apology forming before she bursts out laughing.
She gives him one point on the You Rule side for that.
They see the movie, and then they kind of make a habit of it. Not too often, because a lot of the time they’re too tired, but every now and then they’ll go to the theater after work and just hang out.
Robin makes him see Alien when it does a re-run and it clearly scares him even though he won’t admit it. He’s flinching and bracing himself at every turn and when the Xenomorph finally kills someone Steve jumps so hard that the popcorn in his lap goes flying. She laughs, and so does he, and she thinks maybe they’re kind of friends.
Maybe she kind of likes Steve Harrington, and maybe that’s not so bad.
***
There’s an alarm going off.
Low and keening and her ears are already ringing so it feels like needles directly into her brain but if there's an alarm it means someone is coming.
It means the kids got out, called for help.
It means they can get out of here, and if help gets here fast enough? If they have doctors or soldiers just someone who knows CPR, they can help him. It hasn’t been that long, she thinks. Not long enough to be permanent. And even if it is, beaten and a little brain damaged is better than—
That's enough to make her check. She looks up, and it's not the worst thing in the world.
It's just Steve, bruised and pale and too still and not looking back at her. Which is maybe better, because she doesn’t want to see his eyes like that again.
She can't hear any breathing, not over the alarm. She can't even hear her own breathing right now. But she can see that his chest isn't moving, no part of him is moving.
She decides to try anyway. The Russians are fucking liars, and help is coming.
“Steve!”
Robin pulls at the restraints again, yelling over the alarm. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react at all. He’s still slumped forward, tied to the metal beam with his legs tangled beneath him. But she keeps shouting his name over and over. Keeps yelling until it feels less like a name and more like a desperate prayer. Keeps saying it until her voice is nearly gone altogether.
”Steve! STEVE! Steve! Steve, please—“
The chair tips, and she tumbles to the ground. Worse than the first time, and she knows the entire left side of her body is going to be black and blue. Robin looks up, pushing as hard as she can until she’s managed to scoot just a few inches closer. She can see Steve’s face again now, see the blood still dripping from his nose and the hair stuck to his forehead. And even though it’s all horrible and his eyes are closed, and she knows he can’t hear her, she still tries.
”Steve!” She’s talking as loud as she can, her voice croaks and strains. “Listen to me. We are getting out of here. Both of us. So if you see a light, or a tunnel, or a goddamn train to the great beyond, turn around! Come back!”
There’s nothing, no response. The alarm is still blaring, the lights flashing around them. Robin feels something driving and dreadful building in her, half grief and half blind rage.
“Son of a bitch!” She snaps, and she can’t tell if the anger is for him or for herself. “Come back!”
The door behind her bursts open.
Robin flinches away from it as a blur of color comes running into her field of view. The figure stops short just in front of her, the makeshift weapon in his hands clatters to the floor.
Robin should feel relieved, should feel like she’s rescued, but now she’s really crying. Her chest is heaving and caving and her eyes are stinging.
Because she knows he’s seeing what she couldn’t accept, knows that there’s nothing they can do to fix this.
There are no doctors coming, no soldiers. It's just these two kids, brave beyond words for coming back for them, and too fucking late.
“I’m sorry.” She sobs, but Dustin doesn’t look back at her. His eyes are locked on Steve; he’s frozen in place. “I’m sorry, I tried to stop them. I tried—“
”Steve?”
She wants to reach out, to pull him away because he shouldn’t see this. None of them should but especially not him. Steve wouldn’t want him to see.
”Dustin, don’t look, okay?” Robin’s voice is wavering, close to breaking again. “It’s—it’s going to be okay, just look at me—“
Another cracking sob cuts her off, but it’s not her own.
“No…no. He can’t…” The boy says, and he starts to stumble forward.
He’s crying too now. Long, wrenching sounds that remind her how young he is. Resourceful and annoying and kind of a mad genius but god, he’s thirteen. And his best friend, only a few years older, is lying there—
Robin lurches forward as the binds around her slip loose. She hadn’t even realized she was pulling against them still. She looks back, seeing Erica with the pair of scissors they’d tried to get to earlier. Her eyes are wide and for the first time since Robin met her, she’s got nothing to say.
The girl cuts the binds on her wrists and Robin is immediately on her feet. She turns, takes the scissors, and then crosses the short distance with shaking legs. She beats Dustin because he’s stopped short again, hand on his mouth like he’s trying not to throw up.
She crouches, reaches around and cuts the tight strap they’ve wrapped around the beam. That’s the only thing holding Steve up and he falls into her, head against her shoulder for a second before she puts an arm under him to guide him down.
“I’m sorry.” She says again, quieter this time as she lays his head on the ground gently. “I’m so sorry.”
She unwraps the binds that have been cutting into his wrists, leaving them as red and welted as her own. They’d have twin scars, but his won’t heal. Won’t get the chance to scar because he’s—
Dead.
Everything he is, gone in a moment. Funny, annoying, pretentious, gentle and surprisingly kind. Nice to kids, easy to talk to, unflinchingly stubborn. Loyal and brave, and fucking stupid, willing to be tortured for a coworker who’s only just decided they can be friends.
His hands are cold. Robin sits one down, holds the other, clutching it over his chest. It’s making her nauseas, but someone should do it. And just for a second, she checks. She’s never felt for anyone’s pulse before, but she pinches firmly at his wrist because there’s one tiny part of her that tells her to.That still can’t believe it.
She doesn’t feel anything.
There’s hair over his eyes, stuck to his forehead. She brushes it back, careful around the black eye. It looks ridiculous, sticking out at fifty different angles and too flat. If it looked like this at work, she’d know she needed to brace herself because he’d soon be taking a fifteen minute break to fix his hair.
Too long, he kept telling her all this summer that his dad wanted him to trim it. It was longer than it ever had been because Steve was protesting, mad at his dad for forcing him to get the job because he couldn’t get into college. He’d finally told her that, one night after a movie showing. Told her about the rejection letters and how, since graduation, he’d hardly had a conversation with his father that wasn’t a fight.
She can’t keep thinking about that, not now. Can’t imagine what story she’ll have to come up with if they get out of here. How is she going to possibly explain this? She’s never even met Steve’s parents, and now she’ll, what? Have to tell them he died in an ice cream delivery gone wrong?
Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. I’m Robin. I watched your son die. I bullied him all summer and then he got himself killed for me. Would you like an extra scoop on the house?
She doesn’t think this will ever leave her mind. For as long as she’s alive she’ll close her eyes and be in this room, watching him struggle and die and being powerless to stop them.
She can hear crying behind her but she can’t look back. She knows they need to go, knows they only have a little time. But she can’t leave him. He begged them to hurt him instead, and she just…let them. It’s her fault, and if they ever get out of here she’s turning herself in. She did this. Her friend is dead on the ground of a Russian base they wouldn’t have even found if it wasn’t for her.
Yesterday they were laughing. Giddy at figuring out the secret code and buzzing to keep the investigation going.
Some great detective work, Buckley. You did it in reverse. Led the victim directly to the murder.
What the fuck is she supposed to do?
She wants to just drag him out of here. Imagines that if she can get them both back to the mall he’ll get up. Go back to their awful job with the stupid uniforms and Jesus, he’s got to be so mad that he died in that outfit.
Another strangled sob wrenches from her, her head is pounding and she feels suddenly dizzy. She’s not breathing right, not getting enough air. Robin sways, reaching her hands out for anything solid and clutching at Steve’s chest because it’s the closest thing. Her hands are gripping the stupid, scratchy uniform tight and she wants to let go but she can’t because her head is spinning.
She’s scared she’s going to pass out. She can’t, because then she’ll be no use to anyone, no help to the kids behind her who just risked their lives to come and save them and arrived only minutes too late. She takes a heaving breath, trying to steady herself before she leans back and then—
She feels it. Movement, under her hands. Slow and small but it’s there. A breath.
“Steve?” Robin blinks, swallows hard against the dizziness and the burning in her throat. She leans over and moves her hands from his chest to his shoulders. She shakes him, not hard, but firm.
She has almost convinced herself she imagined the breath when he lets out a quiet moan. The alarm is still blaring but the small noise cuts through like a knife.
He’s alive, he’s alive.
“Steve, please.” She says, shaking again. Harder this time. “Please come back.”
She doesn’t even notice Dustin until he’s right across from her on his knees. He doesn’t say anything, just grabs Steve’s hand and squeezes. And finally, at that touch, he moves. His head rolls just a little, and his brow forms a tiny wrinkle. He moans again, louder this time and with a tone to it that Robin could swear sounds annoyed.
“Jesus Christ.” Dustin breathes, relief soaking his wavering voice. He reaches up to slap Steve’s cheek. “You stupid goddamn—wake up!”
The slaps are gentle, but it does the trick. His dark eyes blink open, dazed and unfocused for a moment before he looks between the two of them leaning over him.
“What’d I miss?” He whispers, and Robin has to fight the urge to slap him harder.
She sits back as Dustin springs forward, wrapping Steve in a hug so constricting she can hear all the air rush out of his body.
“Too tight.” He wheezes, tapping on the boy’s elbow to no avail. “Henderson, too tight.”
”Sorry.” Dustin sobs. He doesn’t let go, but she sees his grip loosen. “God, we thought you were—“
”Dead.” Robin finishes, “We thought they killed you, dingus.”
”Think they did, for a second.” He says, squeezing his blackened eye shut. Then he looks up at her, a small and impossible grin on his battered face. “But I heard you yelling...again. Had to come back, it sounded like you really needed me.”
”Fuck off.” She says, but she can feel a smile of her own forming in the corners of her mouth.
Dustin finally starts to let go, leaning back and pulling as he does to help Steve sit up. Robin catches herself then, trying to memorize what his dumb face looks like with color and breath in it. Trying to erase the yawning, dreadful hole that opened up inside her just moments ago.
He’s alive and she somehow yelled him back to life. She’ll unpack that later.
”Can you walk?” She asks, and Steve just shrugs.
“We’ll see.”
She rolls her eyes, helping him to his feet slowly. He’s barely up before Dustin’s hugging him again, arms in a vice around his middle. Steve winces, but then returns the hug this time.
“I’m okay, dude, I promise.” He says, using that same voice she’s heard at work a dozen times when a kid is screaming their head off over dropping a cone. Soft, even and gentle. “You die, I die, remember? I wasn’t gonna leave you behind.”
”You better not, asshole.” Dustin says, and he steps back with just the tiniest push. Steve wobbles for a moment, but then returns the favor by slapping Dustin’s hat to the side.
“We’re all glad you’re not dead, Steve.” Erica says, and Robin looks over to find her with a hand on her hip near the door. “But we do not have time for this shit.”
”She’s right.” Dustin says, reaching to wipe his eyes and fix his hat in one motion, “We’ve got to go.”
“Come on.” Robin says, taking Steve’s arm over her shoulder and pulling him toward the door before he has a chance to protest that he can walk on his own.
Dustin swerves around them, sliding through the door and closing it once all of them are through. And then they’re in the hallway, looking at an inexplicable delivery cart that these children must have somehow commandeered.
“How in the hell—“ Steve starts, but Erica cuts him off.
“Get in the back!” She snaps, and Dustin is already opening the cage. Robin sighs, she does not want to be trapped in there with a middle schooler driving but she can’t see another option. Clearly they’ve made it this far, and she’s not about to offer to drive it.
“Your chariot, madam.” Dustin bows, holding a hand out at the open cage.
Robin starts to step toward it but stops when Steve does. He’s glancing between the boy and Erica, who’s taken up the passenger seat.
”You are not driving.” Steve says, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, I am.” Dustin argues, and shakes the keys. “I drove it all the way here. It’s not like you can drive, you look like you’re about to keel over again.”
Steve looks insulted, “Okay, rude. You’re welcome, by the way, for being tortured so you could escape. Which you absolutely wasted by coming back here.”
”To save you guys!” Dustin argues.
”Great job, man.” Steve says sarcastically, “You really brought the calvary. Just—let Robin drive—“
Robin almost laughs, “I cannot drive this thing, I’ve never even driven a car.”
Steve glances at her, incredulous, “Why haven’t you—“
”Shut up!” Erica yells, and they all look at her. She points at Dustin, “He’s driving, and we are getting the hell out of here! If we stand here for one more minute arguing about stupid bullshit, I’m taking this thing myself and leaving you all here!”
”Whatever.” Steve says, and Robin feels him sag a bit. She pulls him up gently, nods at Dustin, and comes around to the back and helps Steve climb inside.
She’s barely in herself before the cart lurches forward. She stumbles, falling against the back of the cage where Steve is already sat, gripping tightly at the bars.
”Hold on!” Dustin calls, and she feels the cart speed up.
She sits, taking one look at the seemingly unending hallway before glancing back at Steve. His eyes are squeezed shut now, he’s taken one hand off the bars and is gripping at his chest.
“Hey.” Robin says, crawling closer. “You okay?”
”Probably not.” Steve breathes, eyes still closed. “Chest feels…weird.”
Robin reaches out, presses a light two fingers against his neck. He flinches, looking up at her with an expression so afraid that she almost pulls back, but then it fades as he meets her eyes. She doesn’t know exactly what she’s supposed to feel, but she knows something is wrong.
“Your heart’s beating really fast.” She says, trying to hide the frown that’s creeping onto her face.
”Yeah.” Steve says, letting out a short breath that’s almost a laugh, “No shit. We’ve been in nonstop danger for two days.”
She wants to believe it’s just anxiety, but something is telling her to keep paying attention. Robin doesn’t want to scare him any more though, so she pulls her hand back. Puts her hands on his shoulders again and sits on her knees in front of him.
“This is going to sound weird.” She says, and his brow wrinkles. “Try to breathe with me.”
Steve laughs again, really this time. But she keeps staring at him until he nods.
“Okay.” He says, “Sure.”
“In for four, through your nose.” She says, demonstrating, “Hold for four. Then out for four, through your mouth.”
He nods again, expression caught halfway between amusement and fear. But there’s enough fear there for her to know she needs to give him something else to focus on. So she starts counting.
For a while the only sounds are her voice, the air rushing past them, and the whirring of the cart’s engines. And despite the hesitation, it really does seem to be helping. She can feel the tension in Steve’s shoulders easing a little. She stops after a few moments, scanning him again.
“Better?” She asks.
He shrugs. “Kind of, yeah. Where did you—“
”I’ve had anxiety since I was like, born.” She says with a shrug of her own. “And some shrinks have good tricks. They’re mostly assholes, though, in my experience.”
”Mine too.” Steve says, and she almost wants to ask for details on that particular bit of information.
But then they’re crashing.
“Dustin, watch out!” Erica yells, but it’s too late. Robin looks up just in time to see the cart collide with a group of metal barrels. She has only half a second to duck down and wrap an arm around Steve to keep them both from flying against the bars.
It’s still rough, the whole cart jostles and shakes and Robin’s shoulder bangs against the bars. The same shoulder she’s fallen on two times now, and she’s just grateful it hasn’t dislocated or shattered but it still fucking hurts.
“Jesus.” She gasps, falling fully back against the bars with a groan.
”Sorry!” Dustin says again, “Good news, we made it!”
Robin looks up and sees he’s right. They’re back at the elevator. Something is starting to lift in her chest, she’s really starting to believe they’ll get out. She sits up just as Dustin comes around to the back and opens the cage again.
”Let’s go!” He says, waving at them.
“Come on!!” Erica snaps, both arms flailing towards the elevator.
Robin starts to crawl forward, ignores the aching in her shoulder as she climbs out of the back of the cart. As soon as she’s on her feet, she’s pulling Steve out, taking his arm again and he’s not arguing. They stumble to the elevator and Dustin uses a key card he’s somehow stolen to open it.
Then they’re back inside, and Robin is feeling weirdly safe. They spent a lot of time in here, and none of those memories involve torture or blood or cattle prods or dead friends, so she’ll take it.
Erica closes the doors behind them and Dustin is already pressing the buttons. Robin’s just standing there, feeling like she should be doing more. She’s the oldest one here who’s not injured, she should definitely be in charge. But she’s more than willing to let Dustin lead them out of here if it means her brain gets just a moment’s break.
“Robin?” Steve is sagging against her again, and she looks over to find him staring at her, doe eyes wide and insistent. “Think…I need to sit down.”
”Right.” She says, and scrambles forward just as the elevator takes off. It’s bad timing, because she’s just started to sit him down when they both go tumbling into the far wall. She gets off easy, but Steve’s head dings against the cold metal.
“Ow.” He moans, and slumps back with his knees pulled up and eyes closed.
“Sorry, sorry.” Robin says again. She braces herself against the box beside her for a moment.
”S’okay.” Steve says, and his voice is heavy and tired. He blinks up at her, another dumb grin on his face, “Been through a lot worse today.”
Now that the elevator is moving again, Dustin comes to crouch beside them. He slaps a hand on Steve’s knee.
“We’re almost out of here.” He says, giving the older boy a very serious look, “And as soon as we get up there, you’re going to the hospital.”
Steve starts to shake his head, “No, we need to tell Hopper—“
”We will.” Dustin says, “After we get you checked out, make sure you’re not gonna die on us again. Now, give me your keys—“
”Uh, slight problem.” Steve says, brows knitting together in a frown, “Russians took the keys.”
He turns out his empty pockets, tilting his head at Dustin.
“Not that I’d ever let you drive my car, Henderson. But it’s off the board.”
”Son of a bitch!” Dustin snaps, getting up. He starts pacing, and Robin sits back against the wall next to Steve. Shoulder to shoulder, just so she can feel him breathing.
“We can take the bus?” She offers, and they all look at her, “Assuming it’s not too late. There’s supposed to be a premiere tonight at the movie theater, so they should have a bus running after that.”
”That could work.” Dustin says, still pacing, “We take the bus, get off at Mike’s house. We can call Hopper, and if Nancy’s there she can drive to the hospital.”
”Great.” Steve mutters.
Despite being in the same grade, Robin has never spoken to Nancy or Jonathan. So the idea of riding to the hospital with Steve’s ex, whom she hardly knows, is…mortifying, but she’s not leaving him alone.
“I’ll go with you.” She says, knocking into his shoulder. “You’re not getting rid of me.”
Steve smiles at her, something strange in his expression for a moment before he looks back at Dustin.
“Okay.” He says, “It’s a plan.”
”And!” Dustin says, holding up a finger. “It’s right next to Erica’s house.”
”No?” Erica says, leaning on a box. Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, “Really? Thanks for reminding me, Pinkie Pie, I almost forgot where my own goddamn house is.”
Steve snorts, “The fuck is Pinkie Pie?”
Just then, the elevator screeches to a halt. They all brace again, and Robin half expects it to just drop like it did the first time. But instead, the door opens.
“Thank god.” She breathes, and for a moment that’s all she can do. The night air floods into the elevator and it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever tasted. She gets up, taking a step before she remembers she has to help Steve, and then turns back to grab his arm again.
”I’m okay.” He says once he’s on his feet. And she doesn’t quite believe him but she’s willing to let him try, so she stands back as he takes a few stumbling steps towards the door and then seems to find his stride.
Robin follows as he turns, walking backwards with his arms thrown out.
“We don’t have all night, guys.” He says, and then tumbles over a box. Nearly falling completely to the ground before he rights himself and turns away from them.
Robin shares a short look with Dustin, half relief and half lingering worry. But then they’re all out of the elevator. She looks up, taking in the night sky and breathing deep. For the last day, she’s been convinced she’d never see the sky again. And even though the lights of the mall are blocking out some of the stars, she’s never been so grateful to be outdoors.
Then they hear the voices. Loud, and not English, and too close.
Robin’s eye’s dart to the sound, and she sees two men with guns slung across their chests running towards them.
“Go, go!” Dustin is yelling, and she looks to see that he’s already opened the back door. He’s waving frantically at them and Erica is sprinting towards him. Robin doesn’t wait either, she goes. She doesn’t even check to see if Steve’s made it until they’re all inside and Dustin has locked the door.
Steve is braced against the wall, panting. They all are, but his breaths are more labored than she’d like. She looks at him, and he seems to catch the question in her face before she even asks it, giving her a half-hearted thumbs up.
“Where do we go?” She asks, looking between her three companions.
“The theater,” Dustin says, still breathing heavily. “Come on, hopefully the movie’s still on.”
He starts down the hallway, and they all follow him. Robin waits until Steve is just in front of her to go, keeping an eye on him as they jog down the back corridors of the mall.
They can hear the movie as they get closer, and she takes a breath. It’s not as late as she’d thought, the movies here only run until 10:30 and this one doesn’t sound like it’s at the credits.
Dustin leads again, opening the back door like his movie pirating friends have done a hundred times this summer. They all crowd behind him, four heads scanning the hallway before he waves a hand and they enter the mall properly.
Robin doesn’t pause to check the poster, she just jogs past it, following Dustin’s hat like it’s a lighthouse and she’s lost at sea. The theater is dark and loud and they all burst in too quickly, stumble over each other and in front of the first row.
“Get out of the way!” A man hisses, and Robin almost snaps back before she realizes he’s right. They are in the way.
She backs up, pulling on Steve’s shirt until he does the same. But Dustin doesn’t. He throws up a middle finger at the man and waves them forward, pointing to two seats right beside the guy he’s just flicked off.
Steve sighs and takes the seat by the man, giving him an apologetic smirk that’s met with a scoff. Robin sits beside him, grateful to be in a chair she’s not tied to.
Dustin leans down in front of them, looking between their faces like he’s their counselor and they’ve tried to sneak out of camp.
“Stay here.” He says, eyebrow raised, “When the movie’s over, we’ll get the bus—“
”These seats suck.” Steve says, leaning around him, “We can’t even see the movie—“
”Then don’t watch it!” Dustin hisses.
“I kinda want to watch it.” Robin says.
“Then watch it!”
“SHH!” The man beside Steve turns to them, and Robin can see that his face is red even in the dark.
She stifles a laugh, ridiculous after all the horror they’ve been through in the last day.
Dustin sighs, pointing at the seat Erica’s already taken on the other side of theater, also on the front row.
”We will be there. You stay here. I don’t care what you do, just don’t go anywhere.”
”Whatever dude.” Steve says, straining around him again to look at the screen, “Geez, you sound just like my dad.”
The boy doesn’t respond to that, just huffs and trudges past the front row to his seat, giving the man beside them another middle finger as he does.
Robin’s trying not to laugh again, but as soon as Steve looks at her it bursts out, bright and too loud. The man shushes again, but now they’re both laughing, shoulders heaving with the effort of keeping it in.
It’s insane, and completely inappropriate, but it’s the first time she’s felt normal in a while. The first time she’s felt something other than abject despair.
She calms after a few minutes, keeping her eyes on the screen so she doesn’t meet Steve’s gaze again. She knows he’s got that stupid grin on his face and it’ll just get her started all over again.
Instead she just leans a little, touching her shoulder to his. Half because she still can’t go too long without checking that he’s still breathing, and half because it’s just nice. Because he’s warm and funny and kind and because they’re friends. Like, really friends.
She hasn’t had that in a while, hasn’t let herself close enough to anyone. Not since she realized how wrong she was. Not since she started worrying about everyone finding out.
Steve leans in too, and for a while they just watch this dumb movie. She recognizes the main actor but the plot is lost on her at first. She thinks they missed some important setup but luckily it is one of those movies that just keeps reiterating the main conflict in excruciating detail. Which, usually, would annoy her but right now she doesn’t mind.
Robin isn’t a movie snob or anything, but she mostly hates summer blockbusters. She likes horror movies and sad artistic films with heavy dialogue and her mother raised her on a steady diet of church-approved classics.
Maybe it’s just because her mind has been racing and frightened and grieving for the last day or so, but she thinks this movie is kind of good. It's charming and fast-paced, and so ridiculous that it's actually starting to distract her from the slow escape they're supposed to be making.
She’s really starting to get into it when Steve suddenly gets up.
Robin falls a little; she’d been leaning heavily on his shoulder and the disruption throws her off. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t explain. He just gets up and leaves like it’s part of the plan. She wants to follow him immediately but she stops for a moment, looks over.
Dustin and Erica are talking in hushed voices that she can almost hear. Not their conversation, just the hissing of it. She’s not going to be able to get their attention, so she looks back at the exit for a moment before deciding to go.
The sounds of the movie fade as she makes her way through the side corridor and back out into the mall. Steve isn’t in the little foyer between the theater and the atrium so she pushes open the door and looks around. It’s too open here, too exposed, but she still doesn’t see him.
“Steve?” She calls, quiet. He doesn’t answer, but as she steps out of the door she spots him. He’s leaned against the wall by the water fountain, a hand splayed out across his forehead and fingers pressing on his temples.
Robin lets the door close and pads over, putting a light hand on his arm.
“Hey,” She says, “You okay?”
He flinches, but then looks down at her, dropping his hand.
“Sorry.” He says, “Needed some air.”
”That’s okay.” Robin says, squeezing his arm. “The movie kinda sucks, anyway.”
Steve almost laughs, a little huff through his nose. “Yeah, I think we missed some important stuff at the beginning. All I know is Alex P. Keaton was definitely trying to fuck his mom.”
”He was not!” Robin laughs, leaning back against the wall beside him. “Well, maybe. She was probably trying to fuck him, I guess. And the timeline makes no sense.”
”Right?” Steve replies, “Like, why is it called Back to the Future when he’s in the past?”
Robin nearly rolls her eyes, “It’s his future, dingus. Which is our present, so he’s trying to get back from the past to…now, which is the future from where he is—“
”You’ve lost me.” Steve says, shaking his head and lifting a hand to his left temple again. He squeezes his swollen eye shut for a moment.
“Headache?” She asks, and he nods. “How bad?”
Steve tilts his head, “Uh, pretty bad. Maybe entering migraine territory, which is great because I haven’t had those since I got my ass kicked by Hargrove last year—“
”You—what?” Robin asks, and Steve looks at her again, confused before he seems to realize she has no idea what he’s talking about.
“Yeah.” He says, “Um, he kind of tried to kill one of the kids, and then when I stopped him he settled for trying to kill me instead, so.”
Robin can feel her brows knitting together, the puzzle pieces falling into place. The kids treating Steve like he’s this action hero, calling him their babysitter even though she’s quite sure he wouldn’t have needed babysitting money before this summer. The way he bolted to the back of the store when he saw Billy earlier this summer. His mysterious disappearance after Halloween and riding the bench for the rest of the basketball season.
“Jesus.” She says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—“
”Nobody really does.” Steve says, shrugging, “I couldn’t press charges, because there was like, way too much top secret shit happening at that house anyway. Too much for even Hopper to cover up if people started poking around. So he just, got off. My mom made me go to therapy for it, I think she thought I had a death wish for staying on the team with him.”
Robin wants to say that his mother is probably right. Wants to point out that he did in fact beg Russian officers to torture him instead of her only a few hours ago and nearly died because of it. But that doesn’t seem like a productive thing to say right now, so she doesn’t.
”What a fucking asshole.” She says instead, and Steve laughs.
“Yeah.” He says, “But, uh. He didn’t mess with me again. I think Max put the fear of god in him, and Hopper might’ve threatened him too. I don’t remember much from that week, just the hospital and my parents being really mad at me for getting in another fight.”
He looks down, and Robin doesn’t know what to say. He suddenly looks different, younger and sadder than she’s ever seen him.
It’s familiar, this sadness. The ache of people seeing you not for who you are, but who they think you should be. She’s been looked at that way. She’s looked at him that way.
She nudges his shoulder, changing the subject.
“Come on, Dustin’s going to be pissed if he sees we left.”
He nods, and she can almost see the door closing behind his eyes. See that sad boy be shut behind it and replaced with the upbeat, snarky coworker she’s been unsuccessfully trying to hate all summer.
Robin turns, heading back to the door and expecting him to be right behind her until she’s nearly made it back inside. Then she realizes he hasn’t followed, he’s just stepped away from the wall and toward the center of the mall’s atrium.
”Steve.” She says, holding the door, “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer her, just looks up at the ceiling lights and puts a hand on his chest. She steps closer, letting the door fall closed behind her as that anxious, buzzing feeling comes back. Telling her something is wrong.
Steve takes another few steps away from her, still looking up, and she’s about to ask him the same question again when he finally speaks.
“Robin,” He says, voice quiet, “The…this ceiling’s pretty cool. Can’t believe I never noticed—“
He cuts off, and she pauses for a moment, waiting for him to finish.
But he doesn’t. He just makes a sound like a loud hiccup, and then drops.
Folds, really. His legs bend at the knee and the rest of him collapses on top, which is lucky because it gives her just enough time to dive under him before his head hits the ground.
“Shit!” She gasps, her hands are grasping wildly and then he’s lying on top of her, head and shoulders splayed out over her lap. “Steve, what’s wrong?”
His eyes are closed and he’s breathing very quickly, his hand clutching at his ribs again.
“Chest...hurts." He says, barely words. She puts a shaking hand to his throat and nearly curses. His heart is beating maybe four times as fast as it’s supposed to, thrumming against her fingers like a bird’s. "Got really...dizzy."
”It’s—it’s okay.” She says, moving her hands to his face. “I’m here, okay. Just stay with me, we’ll get you help, it’ll be okay.”
His eyes peek open, finding hers with an expression so fearful that she almost sobs.
“Don’t want…to die.” He whispers.
“You’re not dying, Steve.” She says, brushing a thumb on his cheek. “You’re not—you’ve just got to hang on. I can—I can go get help—“
”Don’t…leave.” He says, gasping, “Please.”
And she doesn’t want to, but she knows she has to do something.
“I won’t.” She says, grabbing his hand, “I won’t. It’ll be okay, just—let me think.”
Robin looks around, spots a pay phone just a few yards away. But she doesn’t have any money, so that doesn’t help. There’s got to be something, her brain is moving a hundred miles per hour, trying to remember her emergency training at Scoops, where the fire alarms or the phones are and how to get to one without leaving him alone.
But then she sees them, two men, walking at the top of the escalator across the atrium. She’s about to call to them, beg for help when she realizes she’s seen them before.
They were the guards who chased them outside the elevator.
As soon as she realizes this, they start walking her way. They haven’t seen her, thank god, because she’s on the floor and they’re checking each store as they go, but she knows it’s only a matter of time.
“Fuck!” She hisses, and looks down to meet Steve’s wide eyes again.
”What’s…wrong?” He asks. His chest is heaving, shuddering like it can't take in or hold air. And it’s a ridiculous question, for him to be asking her what’s wrong after he’s just collapsed on the ground.
”Nothing.” She says unconvincingly, and then looks around for a way out. Finally she spots it, the bathroom next to the water fountain. “Come on, we need to move.”
Steve shakes his head, “Can’t.”
”You have to try.” Robin says, already looping her arms under his shoulders.
She pulls, and Steve cries out. It would be a scream if he wasn’t already so short of breath. Robin’s head shoots up, checking that the guards have heard it, but they’ve ducked into a clothing store that is alarmingly visible from their current location.
“I’m sorry.” She says, “I’m sorry.”
And she really is, because now she’s decided to drag him.
She gets into a crouch, fully grabbing around Steve’s chest and ignoring his high, agonized moans that she knows she’s causing. He’s heavy, but not too heavy. So she pulls, yanking and struggling until she makes it to the bathroom door and kicks it open with her foot. It’s the women’s, which she hopes might deter them but she’s not sure that it will.
Steve doesn’t try to talk again until they’re in the biggest stall, leaned against the wall in a tangle of limbs and sweat and scratchy blue fabric and the door to the toilet is swinging closed behind them.
“The fuck…are you doing?” He asks. His words are slurred but his expression is alert, and pissed.
Robin doesn’t answer, just sits him against the wall so she can lock the stall door. The bathroom itself doesn’t have a lock, so she’ll have to just pray no one looks under here. She comes back, sits as far away from the door as she can and pulls until he’s lying in her lap again, looking up at her like she’s personally responsible for the mess they’re in.
“Listen.” She says, “There’s evil Russians out there. We can’t call for help right now, so I need you to just stay with me, okay? Just until they leave.”
Steve nods, and his breathing is slowing but now that’s got her more worried because it seems like all of him is shutting down. He’s pale and sweaty and when she checks his pulse again it’s stuttering and uneven.
She can tell he's really trying to stay. Every time his eyes drift closed, they fly open like he's terrified of what's behind them. She is too, because each time they close it's taking longer for him to look at her again.
“Talk to me, Steve.” She says, and there’s that raw feeling in her throat again. “Don’t go anywhere, just talk to me.”
”Don't want to...go.” He says, eyes drifting closed for such a long beat that she shakes his shoulder. “Really…tired.”
”I know.” She says, and she can feel tears on her cheeks. This can’t be happening, not again. Not when they’ve made it out. “Me too. We just pulled a torture-filled all-nighter, remember? And we can sleep, when this is over. But not right now, okay? Right now I need you to stay here, with me.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then looks up at her. His eyes seem clearer, and she tries to smile in what she hopes is a reassuring way.
“Robin?” He says, and he’s got that strange expression from the elevator on his face again, it’s pulling against whatever’s dragging him down and away.
“Yeah?” She says.
“In case…I die.” He says, and she wants to argue, but he’s looking at her so seriously that she just lets him keep talking. “I wanted…to tell you. I really…um, I like you.”
”I like you too, dingus.” She says, obviously. But he shakes his head.
“No,” He says, still serious, “Really like you.”
Oh god, her heart is pounding. Her stomach sinks from where it’s been hovering at her knees directly down to her toes. This is like five worst-case scenarios bundled into one.
“Oh,” She says, and she can see on Steve’s face that her expression has betrayed her own lack of romantic feelings. “No, um. Listen. That’s…thank you. For telling me—“
She cuts off when he makes that awful hiccuping noise again, squeezing his eyes shut. When he looks back up at her, the sad boy from earlier is back.
Sad puppy, more like. His eyes are huge and wet and full of far too much regret for him to possibly have accumulated at eighteen.
“Sorry.” He says, and she thinks she can see just the hint of a grin, “Always say…the wrong thing.”
Then he closes his eyes. The tiny grin fades as his face droops and his breathing gets so quiet she can barely hear it.
“Steve?” She shakes him again, her own hands are shaking too, “Steve, don’t do this. Please.”
There’s no response this time, no movement except the small loll of his head in her lap.
He’s left her here, scared and vulnerable in this mall bathroom.
Alone.