Chapter Text
Three months.
That’s how long it had been. Three months since Lucas had felt Max’s life go out of her while she trembled and choked in his arms. Three months since he heard her bones snap. Three months since she died. Three months since she came back to life.
It felt both shorter and longer than that. The time had passed in the blink of an eye, sure. But Lucas spent most of his waking hours here, in this dingy little hospital room. Next to her.
It was better than being out there. In this bizarre, Upside Down version of Hawkins they now lived in. The only reason Lucas' parents even allowed him to leave the house was because they knew he'd just come here. School wasn't happening right now. Not with everything going on. Many of Hawkins' residents had evacuated the town. Those who had remained were destitute. Trapped in the gym at Hawkins High. That was the other reason why they weren't in school. It was being used as a shelter. It was where Robin and Steve spent most of their time now. Since the vast majority of Family Video’s customers had evacuated the town, the business had closed its doors for the time being. Robin had felt particularly strongly about wanting to help at the de facto shelter in Hawkins High, and so Steve accompanied her.
Hopper had since returned to his shack, and was currently attempting to make it livable again. El was still living with Joyce, Will, and Jonathan, who had taken up residence in their old home. It had since been renovated and then abandoned as Hawkins residents had flooded out of the town. College was, understandably, on hold for both Jonathan and Nancy. At the least, they seemed to be around each other frequently, as when they came to visit Max it was usually together. Mike and Dustin’s families had remained in their homes. His family had too. Lucas knew they would have to have a sit-down with their parents at some point and explain all of this. He had hoped that Joyce and Hopper would shoulder most of that since they were the adults involved. In any case, Lucas felt they would be taken more seriously now that the Upside Down was unfolding before their very eyes.
Lucas knew that Max might not know he was there, much less know that Hawkins and the Upside Down had officially converged. Not that she needed to worry about any of it right now, with the state she was in. All Lucas hoped for was that Max could sense his presence. Somehow.
He read to her often. They’d gotten through The Talisman and were about to finish Salem’s Lot. Both Stephen King, obviously. He knew she would love that. If she knew it was happening.
And of course, the little doodle she’d drawn him was still on the wall above her bed. Her acceptance of their movie date. The shy little smile she’d given him as she had shown him her work. And the understanding that had passed between them: there was hope yet for them as a couple. How optimistic they’d been that they would make it out of their encounter with Vecna in one piece. They’d survived, at least. But at what cost?
She probably didn’t know how many people had come to see her, either. Her mother, of course. Jonathan and Nancy were here just about every week; sometimes separately, sometimes together, sometimes with Robin. Steve and Dustin, too. Mike and Will, even more. And El…El visited at least three times a week, visibly hoping she’d be able to find Max’s consciousness somewhere in her mind.
He knew how Eleven felt. That look of despair when he told her she hadn’t awoken yet. And that the doctors didn’t know when that would be. If that would be.
It wasn’t like El hadn’t tried. In the first month, she all but burst into the room nearly every night, eager to travel into Max’s mind. To see if she could be found in there. He’d watched her face go from hopeful to haggard as she’d open her tear-filled eyes and shake her head. And often, Lucas wept with her. In the second month, El became increasingly desperate, even suggesting that they try alternative methods – piggybacking, implanting memories, even suggesting transferring some of her powers to Max. If that were even possible. But none of these were possible without Max being in there. And right now, she wasn’t.
By the third month, El had stopped trying. She would still show up to hold Max’s limp hand and talk to her. But her eyes were blank. Lucas understood. It was too painful to keep up hope that she would soon wake up.
But she must wake up, Lucas thought. She has to. They had just started to reconnect. It wasn’t that he had ever stopped loving her. They’d just lost their way for a while. It’s not your fault, she’d told him. I disappeared. Lucas had shaken his head. No. You didn’t. I just didn’t look hard enough. He couldn’t put into words how much he regretted that now. He should have always been looking for her. And now Max might never find her way back.
Lucas checked his watch. 8:30 pm. He had to get home in an hour or so. It had been a long day. They’d hooked her to another bag of fluid, and they’d changed the bag for her feeding tube. Another clear tube ran under her nose, connected to an oxygen tank. Helping her breathe. Her flesh tone neck brace had more color in it than Max’s actual skin, which was still sickly pale. She was gaunt. Sunken. And Lucas was sure she was thinner underneath the thick white casts on her arms and legs. Max looked so small, so sick, just lying there motionless on the bed. A shell of herself.
Lucas could feel his eyes filling with tears. It was familiar. He often cried when he was alone with her. It was so cruel to think that a few months ago he had only wanted to fill his gaze with her. And she might have let him. And now filling his eyes with this pale, broken version of her was more uniquely painful each day.
Would it have been better for her to stay dead? Lucas felt terrible for letting the thought enter his mind. No, of course not. He would always remember the horrible, gutting feeling of the life draining from her, the quieting of her struggle for breath. He would never forget it, no matter how desperately he wanted to. But this life? Was this better?
A flutter.
Lucas’ heart stopped dead, his eyes glued to Max’s face. It could have been a trick of the light, his rational mind warned him. He’d been fooled before. So eager for her to wake that his mind kept trying to make it real.
Another one. A flutter.
Now he was sure he was imagining things. The first flutter of her eyelashes was something he’d conjured up out of hope, and this tricked his mind into seeing it again. Even knowing this, Lucas was at her bedside at once, hanging on to any sign of movement. Please, Max. Please. Please.
There was no mistaking it this time. Very slowly, Max’s eyelids began to open. He watched her pale lips part ever so slightly, and a shaky breath left her mouth.
Lucas grabbed at her limp fingers.
“Max?”
He watched in desperation as, finally, Max’s eyes opened.
Amid his joy, Lucas also felt an immediate sinking feeling. Her eyes were no longer the vibrant blue that he knew and loved. Immediately Lucas was transported back to that night as he saw those same milky white eyes, wide and terrified as she lay broken in his arms, gasping for breath, trembling with pain.
Lucas was brought back to present day by Max, whose breath began to quicken as she too seemed to realize she couldn’t see. The heart monitor near the bed began to beep in more rapid succession.
“Max? Max, can you hear me?”
She whimpered, the most pitiful sound he’d ever heard. Lucas watched her fingers clench and unclench desperately in her casts, her breath coming in short little gasps, the heart monitor alerting them that her heart rate was increasing to near-dangerous levels.
Lucas lowered his voice. “Max, it’s okay. Calm down.”
He could see that she was attempting to thrash about, but her casts were preventing this. Her cloudy eyes swiveled to and fro in her head, wide, frightened.
Lucas leaned down toward her.
“Max. Shh. Shh. It’s Lucas. I’m here.”
He gently took her fingers and entwined them in his own.
Max’s eyes grew even wider, and he saw tears start to glitter at their corners. She weakly squeezed his hand.
“Good,” he said, tears starting to swim in his own eyes. “Good, Max. That’s good. Just breathe.”
Max’s lips parted once more, and then closed.
“It’s okay. Don’t try to talk.”
Slowly, gently, Lucas placed his hands on her pale cheeks. She flinched, and he immediately felt remorseful. She had no warning for him doing that as she could not have seen it. He swore not to forget this next time.
“You’re in a hospital,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “You got hurt, Max. Bad.”
Max’s face crumpled, letting out a strangled noise that he thought might be a sob. Her sightless eyes were staring desperately in his direction, wet and brimming with tears.
“I’m right here, Max,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”
Max’s tears slid right into his palms. Her fragile body trembled with the sorrow and the fright and the utter grief of it. He could only imagine how scary it was to only see darkness after taking so much residence there. I’ll run toward the light, she’d told him all those months ago. And now…how could she run toward the light if she couldn’t see it?
“Ah – ah – ” Max was trying to talk again. Lucas knew she desperately wanted to. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to make the words come out. He felt panicked. Why couldn’t she talk?
“Sir?”
Lucas whirled around to see a nurse standing in the doorway, looking bewildered.
“She’s awake,” he said, and then, insanely, he laughed. “She’s awake!”