Chapter 66

I AM SO SORRY MY SWEET SWEET BAGUETTES. i know it has been so long and i promise i didnt forget about you, school was just busy. HOWEVER, now i just have finals and I’m done which means way more time to write 😁 here is the very first chapter of season five! and just as a reminder the plot may be pretty different than canon, im just not sure what i wanna do yet lmao. anycooter, enjoy!!!!!!!

Eleven rolls to the ground hard enough that a little dust kicks up around her. Her chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven bursts. Sweat clings to her skin, dampening the collar of her shirt, loose strands of hair sticking to her temples.

Hopper presses the button on the stopwatch with a firm click. He glances at the screen and then back at her.

“12 minutes 33 seconds,” he says, holding it up.

Maggie lets out a low whistle, leaning her weight onto one leg as she folds her arms.

“Not too bad, peanut,” she says, a crooked smirk tugging at her lips, “Almost as good as me.”

Joyce’s face softens immediately, pride written all over it, “That’s a new record.”

El pushes herself up without a word, her movements stiff. Dirt clings to her palms as she wipes them on her pants, already moving. The others follow instinctively, not crowding her, but not letting her drift too far either.

“So?” Joyce asks gently, her voice careful, “How are we feeling?”

“Okay,” El answers flatly.

Joyce exhales a small, disbelieving laugh, “Okay? Come on, that was 12:33.”

El’s jaw tightens, “It’s four seconds too slow.”

She doesn’t look at any of them, her eyes locked ahead, “I lost one second on the climb. Two seconds at the log.”

She gestures vaguely, “I can make my bus jump sooner. That’ll save me two seconds. That gets me under 12:30.”

“Listen,” Maggie cuts in, pushing off from where she’s standing and stepping into El’s path just enough to make her slow down, “you got on my ass for training too long the other day. Now I get to be on your ass about taking breaks when you need them.”

El tries to step around her. Maggie shifts with her.

“You need to take it easy on yourself,” Joyce adds, softer.

El grabs the drink sitting on the edge of the car and slams it down harder than necessary, the bottle crinkling under her grip, “You think Henry’s going easy?”

Hopper steps in before the silence can settle, rubbing the back of his neck, physically working the tension out of the air.

“You know what I think?” he says, forcing a casual tone, “I think we still have some more of that waffle mix. And I think we should celebrate this record time with a stack of those,” He shrugs, “And then maybe we could watch a Miami Vice marathon.”

El’s expression doesn’t even flicker, “I can beat the time. Reset it.”

She turns before anyone can argue, already heading back toward the start point, her steps quick and determined.

Hopper lets out a long breath through his nose, watching her go, “If you’re tired, you’re going to injure yourself.”

“Reset it!” she calls back, not even glancing over her shoulder.

Hopper squeezes his eyes shut for a second, as if he’s counting to ten and already losing.

Maggie watches El disappear behind the rusted heap of metal, her jaw shifting slightly.

“She gets it from me,” she mutters.

Maggie pushes off and follows.

“Hey,” she calls, catching up to El just as she reaches the starting mark, “If you pass out, I’m dragging you back myself. And I’m not gentle.”

El doesn’t look at her, “I won’t pass out.”

“Cool,” Maggie says, “Then I won’t have to prove my point.”

She moves ahead, grabbing the stopwatch from Hopper on her way past him without asking. He doesn’t fight her on it.

Maggie spins it once in her hand, then looks at El. Her shoulders are set too tight and her hands keep flexing in and out. She’s already somewhere else in her head.

“Hey,” Maggie says, quieter.

El hesitates.

Maggie tilts her head, forcing eye contact.

“You shave four seconds off this time, great. You don’t, also great. You’re still the strongest person out here. Probably in the entire state, which is annoying for me, but I’m learning to cope.”

El’s expression wavers for a second and then it locks back into place, “I need to be faster.”

Maggie glances over her for a long second and exhales through her nose.

“Yeah,” she says, “I know.”

She clicks the stopwatch, resetting it. The numbers blink back to zero.

“On your mark.”

El steps into position, muscles coiling, breath steadying, everything about her sharpening. Maggie watches her, thumb hovering over the button.

“For what it’s worth,” she adds, almost under her breath, “he’s not you.”

El doesn’t respond. Maybe she didn’t hear it, maybe she did.

“Get set…”

The junkyard feels too quiet all of a sudden. Even the wind seems to hold its breath. Maggie presses the button.

“Go.”

And El launches forward.

Over the past year and a half, since Max’s coma, the two girls had been grinding themselves down like that might somehow fix what happened.

El didn’t take Max’s condition well. That’s the polite version. She stopped laughing as much, sitting still. Every second she wasn’t moving felt wasted, so she filled it with training. Running drills, repeating routines, pushing her limits until her body gave out, then getting back up like that was the point.

It was easier than thinking about the hospital room. Easier than remembering Max’s heart stopping.

Maggie wasn’t any better, just messier in a different way.

Where El’s grief burned, Maggie’s was corrosive, eating at her from the inside out. In her mind, this wasn’t just something that happened. It was something she let happen.

If she had pushed harder, if she had just stepped in and taken Max’s place like she knew she should have, then maybe things would be different. Maybe Max would be here, rolling her eyes, making sarcastic comments, acting like she didn’t care when she obviously did. Maybe Eddie would be alive.

And Maggie was still here. That thought didn’t leave; it just changed volume depending on the time of day.

During training, it got more manageable, something she could outrun if she focused on the next thing instead of the last one.

At night, though? Different story.

When everything slowed down and there was nothing left to distract her, the guilt crept in. And usually, Maggie was good at hiding it. She could joke, deflect, throw out some comment, and keep everyone just far enough away, but exhaustion has a way of stripping people down to whatever they’re trying not to be.

And Nancy noticed. She always noticed.

It wasn’t anything crazy. Maggie didn’t break down or say anything out loud. It was smaller than that, the way her shoulders would drop when she thought no one was looking.

Nancy would catch it from across the room, eyes narrowing just slightly, filing it away. Maggie hated that. Also, maybe needed it more than she’d ever admit.

Still, for all the damage they were doing to themselves mentally and physically? They were noticeably getting stronger. Maggie, especially.

At first, transferring pain had been messy and inconsistent. It required focus, proximity, and most of the time, direct contact. It drained her fast and left her shaky afterward. Now it was instinct.

She didn’t need to touch someone anymore, didn’t even need to think about it too hard. The moment she sensed pain, she could grab onto it and pull it toward her like it was tied to her by something invisible. Redirect it, absorb it, twist it into something usable, you name it.

El had helped with that. She pushed Maggie, refusing to let her plateau, refusing to let her treat her ability like something fragile.

“Don’t just take it,” El had told her once, standing across from her in the yard, eyes sharp, unyielding, “Use it.”

At first, Maggie hadn’t understood what that meant. Now she did. Pain wasn’t just something to carry anymore. It was fuel. It was something she could take in, compress, and release. Not just as a passive thing, but as a force, energy if you will, something that could knock a person back, crack the air, leave a mark.

It scared her a little how natural it was starting to feel. How good it felt, sometimes. Which, if you’re keeping track, is exactly the kind of realization that never ends well for anyone involved.

But she didn’t stop, neither of them did. Stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering, and neither of them were ready for that.

El finishes her last run hard and fast, as she lands near the overturned tire Maggie’s been using as a seat. For a second, she just sits there, shoulders rising and falling.

Maggie watches her, quiet for once, elbows resting on her knees. There’s approval in her expression, even if she’d rather eat gravel than say it out loud.

Before either of them can speak, Hopper and Joyce exchange a look. Hopper reaches for the radio sitting on the rusted car hood, already moving.

“Crawl tonight, let’s go,” he says, voice clipped, urgency snapping into place.

El doesn’t hesitate. She grabs Maggie’s hand without thinking, fingers locking tight, and they take off after him at a dead sprint.

The junkyard blurs around them as they weave through metal and debris, ducking past broken frames until they reach the bus. It groans under their weight as they climb inside, every step echoing.

Hopper’s already at the back, shoving the seat aside to reveal the opening. He drops the ladder down into the darkness and starts descending.

Joyce follows, then Maggie, then El last, pulling the hatch shut above them. The light disappears, replaced by the narrow beams of their flashlights cutting through the tunnel.

“The last run,” El starts immediately, her voice echoing slightly off the walls, “What was my time?”

Hopper doesn’t even slow down.

“I’m not sure,” he says, breath heavy as they move, “I didn’t see. I was distracted by Diana Ross.”

El’s jaw tightens, “I saved four seconds.”

“Highly doubt that.”

Maggie lets out a quiet, long-suffering sigh, “She saved four seconds.”

El doesn’t miss a beat, “One second on the climb. One with the log. Two on the bus.”

Hopper keeps walking, beam steady, “Great. You did that today. You can do it again tomorrow.”

They reach the ladder at the end of the tunnel, the one leading up to the cabin, and Hopper puts a foot on the first rung. El stops him abruptly.

“The crawl is tonight, Hop!” she snaps, voice cutting through the tunnel, “If I’m under 12:30, I can come with you. That is what you promised.”

Hopper exhales through his nose, gripping the ladder a little tighter than necessary.

“Yeah, I promised that. I promised it,” He glances back just enough to meet her eyes, “But I didn’t see it. So blame Diana.”

He climbs.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Maggie calls up after him, cupping her hands around her mouth, voice bouncing off the walls.

El doesn’t say anything else. She just moves. She practically launches herself up the ladder after him, shoes hitting each rung like she’s trying to break them.

Maggie lingers for half a second, looking up at the space they just disappeared through.

“Oh, here we go,” she mutters, already climbing after them.

By the time she pulls herself up, the argument is in full swing.

El’s voice is tight in that way that means it’s about to snap. Hopper’s trying to keep his steady, but it’s fraying at the edges.

“You don’t get to change it now!”

“I’m not changing anything, I’m making a call!”

“You said—”

“I said what I thought was right at the time!”

“I’m sick of this,” Maggie mutters, brushing dirt off her hands as she steps fully into the cabin.

Joyce sighs beside her, already moving toward Hopper like she’s done this a hundred times before, “You and me both, sweetie.”

El turns sharply, frustration boiling over, and storms past them, heading for the back room. The door slams hard enough to rattle the walls.

Silence lingers for about half a second.

Maggie glances at Joyce, jerking her head slightly toward Hopper, “I’ve got her. You’ve got him.”

Joyce nods, already squaring her shoulders.

Maggie takes off after El. The hallway feels too small for the amount of anger packed into it. She reaches the door just as El shoves it open again, pacing like a caged animal, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

“Hey,” Maggie says, leaning against the doorway instead of walking all the way in, “You gonna break something, or are we just aggressively redecorating?”

El doesn’t respond. She just keeps pacing.

Maggie watches her for a second, then pushes off the doorframe and steps inside anyway. Boundaries are more of a suggestion at this point.

“You did shave time,” she says, more serious now, “I saw it.”

El finally stops. Her back is to Maggie, shoulders tight.

“He doesn’t believe me.”

Maggie huffs out a quiet breath.

“He believes you,” she says, “He just doesn’t like what it means.”

El turns, eyes sharp, “I can help.”

“I know.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“No kidding,” Maggie mutters, “You’ve been acting like a drill sergeant for a year.”

El ignores that, “He doesn’t get to decide what I can do.”

Maggie studies her, something softer creeping into her expression despite herself.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, “He kind of does.”

El’s face hardens again, anger snapping back into place, “Why are you on his side?”

“I’m not,” Maggie shoots back immediately, “I’m on the side where you don’t run yourself into the ground trying to prove something you’ve already proven.”

El shakes her head, “It’s not enough.”

Maggie lets out a slow breath, dragging a hand through her hair as she looks at her sister.

“It’s never going to feel like enough,” she says, voice lower now, “That’s the trick.”

El doesn’t respond. Maggie steps a little closer, not too much, just enough.

“You think if you get faster, stronger, better…” she continues, choosing her words carefully for once, “it fixes what happened.”

El’s jaw tightens.

Maggie nods slightly, “Yeah. I thought that too.”

The anger flickers, just for a second, the weight of Maggie’s words slipping through.

“But it doesn’t work like that,” Maggie says, “You don’t get to outrun it.”

Silence stretches between them.

Outside, faintly, you can hear Hopper and Joyce still talking.

El looks away first. Maggie watches her, then exhales, nudging her shoulder lightly.

“Come on,” she mutters, “Let’s at least pretend we’re not about to go crawling through a nightmare on an empty stomach.”

El doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t pull away either.

For a moment, neither of them moves. The air hangs there, heavy with everything they’re still trying to outrun.

Then the floor creaks out in the main room. A drawer shuts and keys jingle. Reality calls them back whether they like it or not.

Maggie pushes off first, heading for the door. El follows a moment later.

When they step into the main room, Hopper’s already shrugging on his jacket, jaw set. Joyce is moving fast, grabbing flashlights, and checking batteries.

No one says anything about the argument.. The tension just shifts, folding in on itself.

“Let’s go,” Hopper says, already heading for the door.

The cabin empties fast. Hopper grabs the keys, El grabs… her anger, mostly. Maggie grabs a jacket and the vague sense that this is going to get messy.

The drive is quiet in a tense way where no one wants to start the next argument. Wind brushes around them as they walk up to the radio tower, the tall structure looming against the dark sky like it’s trying to eavesdrop on the whole town.

Their eyes land on a familiar group already waiting.

Mike is, of course, pacing. Lucas is kicking at a rock. Will stands a little apart, hands shoved in his pockets. Robin is talking with her hands, mid-rant. And Steve is leaning against the wall like he’s posing for a magazine. Maggie snorts under her breath. Of course.

The moment they make the clearing, the group perks up.

“You guys took forever,” Mike says immediately.

“We have lives, Wheeler,” Maggie shoots back, “Tragic, I know.”

Lucas grins when he sees them, relief slipping through, “You good?”

El gives a short nod. Not exactly convincing, but it counts.

Steve straightens, eyes flicking between El and Maggie, immediately clocking the tension, “Okay, what’d I miss? Because that looks like either a breakthrough or a breakdown.”

“Why not both?” Robin mutters.

Maggie drifts, spotting Will hanging back, watching everything but not quite in it. There’s something familiar about that kind of distance. So she wanders over.

“Hey,” she says, nudging his shoulder lightly with hers.

Will startles a little, then relaxes when he sees it’s her, “Hey.”

They stand there for a second, side by side, watching the others argue over logistics.

Maggie glances at him, then smirks slightly, “So. How’s the thing going?”

Will quirks a brow, “The… thing?”

Maggie gives him a look.

“The thing,” she repeats, “Tall. Clueless. Talks too much. Thinks he’s the leader.”

It takes about half a second.

“…Mike,” Will says.

“Gold star,” Maggie replies.

Will lets out a quiet laugh, then looks down, scuffing his shoe against the dirt, “It’s… the same.”

Maggie tilts her head, “Meaning?”

“Meaning he doesn’t…” Will trails off, shrugging slightly, “See it.”

Maggie hums.

“Yeah,” she says, “He’s kind of emotionally blind. It’s a whole condition.”

Will smiles faintly, but it fades quick, “I don’t think it matters anyway.”

Maggie looks at him for a second, “It matters to you.”

Will doesn’t answer that, which is basically an answer.

There’s a pause, then Will glances past her, toward where Robin is gesturing wildly at Steve, who looks like he regrets every decision that led him here.

“…Is Robin like us?” Will asks quietly.

Maggie frowns.

“Like—” She stops, realizes, and turns to him fully, “Wait. How the hell would you know that?”

Will hesitates, then shrugs a little, “I saw her at the hospital.”

Maggie narrows her eyes, “Saw her doing what?”

“…Kissing Vickie.”

Maggie opens her mouth and closes it. And then opens it again.

“…You saw that?” she says, voice low, like this is suddenly the most interesting thing that’s happened all day.

Will nods, a little sheepish, “I wasn’t trying to. I just… saw.”

Maggie lets out a quiet breath through her nose, somewhere between impressed and deeply amused, “Huh.”

She glances over at Robin again, who is now mid-argument with Steve about something that definitely does not matter right now.

“Yeah,” Maggie says finally, looking back at Will, “She’s like us.”

Will nods slowly, processing that.

“Does Steve know?” he asks.

Maggie snorts, “Somehow he does. It’s a miracle he even knows the time of day.”

That gets a real laugh out of Will this time.

It lingers for a second and quietly fades.

“…Does it get easier?” he asks.

Maggie exhales, looking out at the group, at the mess of people who somehow became theirs.

“Sometimes,” she says honestly, “With the right person, it does.”

Will considers that. It’s not exactly comforting, but it’s not nothing either.

Maggie nudges him again.

“Hey,” she says, “For what it’s worth?”

Will looks at her.

“He’s an idiot,” she adds, jerking her head toward Mike, “But he’s your idiot.”

Will quietly laughs.

“…Yeah,” he says.

They both turn back toward the group as things start moving again, plans snapping into place, tension rising.