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Steve had his little ducklings following behind him as he ran. It had been an abysmal plan coming down here, and Steve couldn’t even remember why he had agreed after fighting Billy off. The group could hear the pounding footsteps of the demo-dogs chasing them in the distance, most likely only gaining more ground as the seconds passed. Steve’s bat was firmly in his grip—knuckles whitening at the hold—and his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He was fit, and could only imagine how much strain would be on the preteens behind him, still he urged them to run faster and looked over his shoulder every so often to ensure they were still there.
“Come on kids, almost there!” He yelled loud enough to be heard over their panting breaths as he led them right at a fork in the tunnel. He had the foresight to memorize their path as best he could and it was certainly paying off.
Luckily, it was not much longer before the group made it back to the rope that would lead them to safety. Now, of course, it was just left up to Steve to haul the little nuggets up one by one. He set his bat down close within reach and against the wall.
“Alright, who's first?” It was a rhetorical question as he simply grabbed the first person he saw, this happened to be Max. She made quick work getting out, only needing Steve for leverage. Next was Lucas, similar to Max but he stumbled his way up due to a slight tremble in his hands, Steve made no comment on it and only held his legs. Mike was, so far, the one that struggled the most, he was very awkward with his gangling limbs and due to the now louder pounding of footsteps, he was scared out of his mind and it was easy to tell. It was a great relief to have even just those three out, but despite how fast they had been going, it was not fast enough.
Steve turned to grab Dustin who had been staring down the passage with a frozen expression, but he was quick to abandon tugging him to the rope when he heard the roar of demo-dogs just around the corner. With quick thinking, he grabbed the bat he’d left leaning against the grotesque walls and got into a firm position with his weapon raised. It was only seconds later that the two came face to face with the beasts, looking to be climbing over each other due to the sheer number of them crowding the cave. Steve stood in front of Dustin, despite knowing the futility of such an action.
“Henderson! Climb the rope!” He yelled, and he could hear the other kids yelling the same thing despite not being able to see much from their position.
“I can’t leave you Steve!” Henderson was, admittedly, Steve’s favorite out of the little gang, but right now he really wished Dustin hadn’t cared about him so much. He cursed, muffled from Dustin's ears by the deafening sound of demo-dogs running at them.
The first one lunged and though Steve batted it away he knew the effort would be useless. In his mind, the kids couldn’t see, and Henderson was his favorite kid afterall, so—forgoing all his previous hesitation—he thrust his right arm out, bat loose in the other. With a sharp tug at his mind, Steve unleashed his rarely used powers on the demo-dogs, creating a wall out of the things to block the entire cave opening. Though the other kids couldn’t see, Henderson had front row seats, and he was making his surprise very clear. He’d gone paler than before, eyes wide, and his mouth was hanging open. It was no doubt a life changing revelation, but they didn’t have time for him to stand around.
“Henderson, I can’t hold them forever. You've gotta climb, right now.” Steve said aggressively but strained, only loud enough to reach Dustin’s ears. It was enough to pull him out of his shocked stupor.
“What about you!?”
“I’ll follow, but I can only do that if you get out quickly enough.” Steve grunted, feeling his nose start to bleed heavily as he grit his teeth. He’s at least not lying about this, he’ll make it out solely because he’s not ready to die.
Dustin listens this time, making his way up the rope faster than he ever has in gym class, though extremely haphazardly. With his arm still held up stiffly, Steve begins edging back as his vision begins to blur from exertion. Once close enough, he swiftly drops the wall of snarling demo-dogs and lunges for the rope. Even with the bat in hand he's significantly more agile than the kids and is out in no time.
However, lying on the grass surrounded by worried children proved that his speed still wasn’t fast enough. Steve’s entire leg is slashed open. One of the demo-dogs had snagged him at the last second, turning his left leg into a mangled mess. Worse yet, those nearest to his head are noticing his freshly bleeding nose and were smart enough to realize it's not just his previous broken nose from Billy.
Steve lets out a shout of pain as he feels Max wrapping her sweater around his shin, hopefully she knows what she's doing.
“Steve, what the hell was that?!” Dustin asks, way too close to his face and way too loudly.
“Why is your nose bleeding?” Mike joins in on the berating. At least, he thinks, Max and Lucas are occupied with other matters that aren’t questioning him. Ignoring this, Steve feels delirious with pain. His leg is roaring and throbbing below the knee and his head feels as if he’d cracked it in two, not to mention the blood still flowing out of his nostrils and coating his lips. Somehow, he still manages to keep his wits about him for a bit longer.
“Not important, we’ve gotta go.” Steve forces himself up quickly, stifled with numerous complaints and nausea swirling in his stomach. With the state he’s in, he knows he’s seriously overdone it, telekinesis was never his strong suit. “Help me to the car.” He’s only half sure he can drive out of the pumpkin patch.
“No way! If you drive you're gonna get us killed, might as well have just left us to the demo-dogs!” Dustin holds him down by his shoulders as he shouts, which only works because of how weak Steve is. Laying down again with Henderson hovering above him, Steve can barely make out his fearful expression—he doesn’t know if it would have been more comforting to see it—most likely his eyes are clouding over with tears and agony.
“I can drive. I’ve done it before.” Max buts in, surprisingly calm as she reaches for the keys at Steve’s belt. Said owner of the keys goes ignored as he attempts to voice his refusal at yet another heinous plan. Instead, the group begins dragging him to the car, only scarcely successful because there’s three of them pulling at his arms and sharing the weight. Despite being the injured one, he’s unceremoniously shoved into the back seat of his own car, and is then horrified to hear that Max can’t even reach the pedals.
“We’ll just put this here.” Lucas places a literal rock in front of the pedals.
“You’re kidding. OH MY GOD.” Steve’s heart in his throat as she speeds back to the road after trampling one too many pumpkins in the process.
“Which way to the hospital?” She asks.
“NO, no hospital, bad idea.” Steve doesn’t go to the hospital for anything, and he’s never needed to. He’s sure the lab would somehow find out about him if they saw the number etched into his skin below his wrist watch.
“Steve, you’re going to die!” Henderson wails, shaking his shoulder as if that’s going to change his mind.
“You know what I am!” He finally admits out of desperation. “If they see my wrist…” He chokes, unable to voice the rest of his sentence. It works either way, and the car falls into tense silence. It’s only for a second though, before they make a new plan to head for Hopper’s cabin. It was, after all, the only place they knew an adult that would keep the whole thing a secret.
The kids only roughly knew the way there—having overheard it from Hopper when he’d explained it to the Byers—but Steve was able to fill in the blanks even while bleeding out. No one asks how he knows, but they’ve got a good guess.
The rest of the journey is far from enjoyable for Steve; his ears had begun ringing faintly some time ago and every bump in the road jolted his leg enough to rip a pained sound from his throat. It scared the kids, he knows more so by sensing it, but he doesn’t have the energy to hold anything back let alone comfort them. The only thing the pain is good for is keeping his mind off the fact that they know—his long kept secret was revealed.
The car soon comes to a hard stop, and it’s only Dustin’s and Mike’s hands that stop him from flying into the front window. They’d arrived. He can hear yelling from Max as she bangs on the front door of the cabin, and suddenly there's multiple hands grabbing him before Joyce’s blurry face comes into view.
“Harrington? Kids, what the hell happened! Jonathan, help me put him on the bed!” It’s chaotic, but there’s only one pair of hands holding him now and it’s significantly more comfortable than the little ones. The room is overbearingly warm when he’s placed on the bed. “Look at me, I need you to stay awake ok?” Mrs. Byers is talking to him but he’s distracted by Dustin holding back tears over her shoulder.
“I’m fine, I’m not going to die.” As he says this, he finds his voice odd, more slurred now.
“Ok, honey, I need you to keep talking while I stop the bleeding.” Joyce’s face escapes his eyesight as she explains, most of it he barely registered. Dustin, seemingly unable to hold himself back, stepped up to Steve’s bedside and crouched next to him.
“Hey Stevie, talk to me. Why don’t you tell me about your powers, huh?” Dustin says exaggeratedly sweet, while patting his sweaty cheek. Despite this, Steve is finding it harder to focus, especially with so many unclear faces floating around him. Distantly, he hears Joyce telling most of them to clear the room and he’s thankful for the relative quiet that envelopes the room. With this, he turns back to Dustin and attempts to answer his question, despite the pain, if only to comfort the kid.
“Pretty much just like El, but, you know, I’m Seven.” Steve yelps as a foreign stinging sensation envelopes his leg. Henderson is distracting enough that he doesn't look down despite the unnerving sensation.
“I never would have guessed you of all people would have been a lab rat.” Dustin says with a wobble to his words and Steve feels a dampness on his cheeks not his own.
“Well, that is the point, isn’t it.” He’s confused for a second staring at Dustin. “Are you crying?”
“What? No, Steve, I’m sweating like crazy. It’s hot in here.” He replies aghast though too quickly, and Steve would have preferred the tears over the kids sweat raining down on his face. “How did you escape?” Dustin speaks again. The question, in its innocence, freezes Steve; it is a memory he rather wished he could have forgotten. Still, his mind is fragmented and so his mouth begins moving anyway.
“Escape?” He paused, gasping at whatever prodding Joyce is doing now. “I made Papa do whatever I asked him too.” Steve's eyelids slip further down, feeling incredibly heavy, and unwittingly he finds the buried memory resurfacing in his fragile state.
—
It was possibly the best and worst day of Steve’s life. Papa had picked him up from his room—earlier than usual—for a new lesson. Seven was anxious about the ‘next step’ Papa was explaining to him, and it was far too slow of a walk down the long hallway.
“You must push yourself to be your best, Seven. This will be a new lesson.” The older man squeezed his hand, smiling benignly though false. He was led into a room and left alone with a blindfolded individual in the seat across from him. Papa was quick to retreat behind the glass wall between the observation room and the testing room.
Meanwhile, the stranger was slumped in their chair, clearly awake by the uneven breathing and fear wafting off of them, but otherwise they weren’t of much concern. It was hard for Seven to discern their gender due to the clash between long hair and light facial stubble. It was something he’d definitely never seen on any of the people here.
“Seven,” he looked behind him to Papa, “make him happy.” He did it easily at the command, and within only a few seconds a smile was set on their cheeks. Seven looked back at Papa, nose not yet bleeding. “Keep making them happier, do not stop.”
That confused Seven, but he did it regardless, not understanding the point. Were they testing his limits?
Slowly, within the figure's emotional section of their brain, he piled on more joy to the existing feeling. He could see the little glowing lights of real emotion within the person's head, just behind his eyelids, and in order to use his power Seven had to stretch a rough blanket over the floating lights. Often, the strain of holding the blanket would cause blinding headaches but at this level, the smile only became wider.
Papa had told him not to stop, so he focused only on the emotions; however, it was a struggle stretching the meagre joy already in their head, and so Seven adjusted to this by reaching outward and tugging emotions from elsewhere. This was when his nose began to bleed, as reaching into multiple people was always a struggle, but he managed to borrow what he needed.
Seven had gotten used to lessons like this by now—Papa had basically taught out some of his basic morals—and so he had no qualms with altering a person to this degree. He made people feel specific things and didn’t get punished, that was all it had become for Seven.
Faintly, he acknowledged the person before him, stiffening with the wide grin somehow still growing. That was normal though, any emotions he implanted would usually bleed into a physical reaction. Although, what came next was in no way normal. Seven had essentially created a mountain of happiness and joy and positivity, so much so that it became overwhelming for the host. Solely unnatural to feel that much, the body could not respond properly. Seven watched wide-eyed as his connection was abruptly cut and the person’s face split open, spraying a few drops of blood onto his own face. The smile had pulled so much at the corner of their mouth that the cheeks had ripped trying to continue the action. Horrifying enough, the person could only let out helpless giggles in place of screams. Screams would be feeling fear, and the only thing they had the capacity to feel now was happy.
Seven screamed and vomited, almost at the same time. He jumped back, chair clattering to the floor, as he pressed himself against the glass wall. The still laughing body had fallen out of the chair too, and he could now only see a large pool of blood and part of the spasming body, luckily not their face. Seven’s head was spinning and his front was damp with blood, both his own and the strangers. He pulled his arms close and hugged himself, seeking comfort, it was quickly replaced with a larger pair of arms which shielded his eyes from the men dragging the body away. The gurgling laughs had already become a parasite in Seven's head.
“Good job Seven. You did very well.” Papa said far too calmly for the situation. And wasn’t that sickening, Seven had thought, that had been the goal the entire time and he had been too naive to see it. “Let’s get you back to your room.” Papa, whispered into his ear as he cradled him, Seven didn’t want to go back—didn’t want to be alone and locked away. But by the time he’d thought to protest Papa had already tucked him back into bed and shut the door. If he’d done such a good job, why did it feel like he was being punished? And why did he feel like he should be punished more?
Seven sobbed, curled completely in on himself. He had gotten too used to his powers and what he was doing to people, he’d become numbed to his actions. He was too comfortable with everything he was doing and his stomach was knotting just thinking about it. The young boy cried for what felt like hours, he had no clock and couldn’t really tell, but he eventually forced the tears to stop. It didn’t make him feel any better though, especially when he attempted to rest. All he could see behind his eyelids was that grisly grin, forcing itself larger even still.
It was hours of torture before Papa showed his face again. They were stark opposites in terms of emotions at that moment: Papa was ecstatic with the discovery of weaponizing Seven, while Seven felt ripped from his previous blindness. With Seven’s unique power, Papa was already planning more lessons to determine what effect different emotions would have on subjects and whether or not the end result would be the same. He was a sick man. Seven could see it now, and knew there would be no going back from this. If he stayed things would only get worse, more gruesome. So, when Papa reached forward to grab his hand he flinched back. Papa froze, eyes widening minutely.
“Seven, you will not have another lesson today. You still need to rest and regain your energy.” He had crouched at Seven’s feet as he spoke. “Next time I will be in the room with you.” The promise of ‘next time’ solidified Seven’s plan and left no room for doubt. As he had that very same day, Seven pulled on the power within him to grab ahold of Papa’s emotions. Before he could react to the invasion, Seven injected him with happiness and calm effectively making him a pliant tool. No so much to be extreme—he knew now how dangerous that was—but enough to force him into a state of drunkenness. It was harder than usual, if only because of his erratic emotional state, and so his nose began to bleed already.
Either way, Papa was glad to do as Seven asked, and he guided Seven out of the building as discreetly and quickly as possible. When the woods were within his sight, he ran, and only pulled his influence away from Papa when he had already passed the tree line. The guards would be called soon to give chase, but he had time to at least get as far as he could before finding cover.
His first time outside and Seven didn’t even get to enjoy it. His heart was an uneven staccato of beating, his head felt like it would burst at any moment, and he still had a line of fresh blood below his nose. The air was coarse, so different from the sterile oxygen he was so used to, and there were so many different things to smell, all overwhelming. There was also a stinging beneath his bare feet, no doubt from the loose foliage and sharp twigs he was running over, but Seven could barely acknowledge it due to the overbearing panic engulfing his body and squeezing his lungs. Everything was so loud outside, even though it was only him alone with the trees, and he swore his own breathing was being broadcast next to his ear. The birds were screeching out here too, leering down at him from the branches swaying in the wind, and that was far louder than he ever could have imagined it. He’d never seen a real tree, nor had he seen a live bird that wasn’t doomed to death.
All of this was unimportant though, and something for Seven to reminisce on later. At the moment, the sun was setting—partly good to give him cover—but would also only serve to get him lost; although he was already lost as it was. Soon Seven found himself standing on something different to the prickly grass and uneven soil, this was hard like in the rougher parts of the lab. A road. One with a car that came to a screeching halt just before hitting him. It was sudden enough that Seven still toppled over, shaking in the face of something completely foreign. A couple stepped out of the contraption, staring down at him over the hood with unmasked fear.
That was the moment Seven became Steve Harrington.
—
“No, no, no, Steve, don’t go to sleep. You’ve gotta finish the story.” Steve was jolted out of his thoughts, as Dustin shook him, bringing him back to the present. “How did you get out?”
Steve was sluggish as he forced the words out.
“I made Papa feel all happy and he just walked me out.” At that, two hands gripped the sides of Steve's face tightly.
“You can do that?” Henderson asked, once more his mouth dropped open at the revelation. Steve only answered with an awkward nod, still struggling to keep his fluttering eyes open. He’d already given up on getting them to focus. “But you're a Harrington, how did that happen?”
“They were the first people I saw outside the lab. So I–” He cut himself off, lips firmly pressed together and once more choking on his words. This secret felt far worse than the previous one, it was one of the many things he was ashamed of. “I didn’t mean to do it, Henderson.” He whispered guiltily. The pain and blood loss were making him say things he never would have otherwise.
“Steve, it’s ok. What didn’t you mean to do?” Dustin pressed.
“I forced them to love me.”