Chapter 22

Red and blue lights whirl in the darkness. Ambulances idle outside Hawkins Middle, sirens off but engines running. Police stalk the perimeter. Medics check pulses, wrap wounds, and pass out scratchy blankets.

Maggie steps out of the back of Hopper’s truck, blinking against the flashing lights. She’s still in half a hazmat suit, the torso peeled down and tied around her waist, revealing a stained fitted t-shirt beneath. Her skin is pale, almost translucent under the harsh streetlamps, and her body aches from the inside out.

Hopper squeezes her shoulder gently, “Go check on them. We’ll meet you at the hospital after we get Will settled.”

She nods, though her legs already feel like they’re held together with string.

She spots them across the parking lot, huddled near the front steps of the school, just out of the way of the first responders. Lucas, Dustin, and Mike. A few parents mill nearby, but the boys sit apart, like gravity pulls them only toward each other. Toward what they’ve lost.

Mike looks the worst.

His shoulders are curled in and eyes red-rimmed. A blanket is draped around him like a cape. His fists are clenched in the fabric of his jeans.

Maggie’s heart sinks. She walks toward them. Her boots crunch softly against the asphalt.

Dustin looks up first, “Maggie!”

He scrambles up to meet her and throws his arms around her waist, almost knocking her over. She winces, but hugs him back tightly.

“You’re okay,” he breathes, “You’re really okay.”

“Barely,” she jokes, voice hoarse.

Lucas rises next, giving her a once-over, “You look like hell.”

“Thanks. It’s what I get for bringing someone back to life.'”

He offers a small smile and then gestures with a tilt of his head to Mike.

“He hasn’t said much.”

Maggie’s eyes fall on him. Mike hasn’t looked up. His hair’s a mess. His knuckles are scraped.

“El is gone. She disappeared after killing the Demogorgon.”

Maggie kneels in front of him.

“Hey,” she says gently, “I’m here.”

No response.

She can feel it. That burning grief radiating off of him in waves. It spikes in her gut like static. It reminds her too much of herself. The weight of loss.

So she does it without asking. She reaches forward and places her hand on his shoulder. Mike flinches, but before he can speak, she pulls.

It’s not a clean process. It never is. Pain isn’t tidy.

It’s jagged and loud and messy. The second she touches him, it hits her like a wave of fire and ice. She doesn’t take all of it, just a little. A small knot of his pain. Enough to let him breathe.

But it’s too much. Mike shoves her hand away like it burned him.

“What the hell are you doing?!“

She stumbles back, eyes wide.

“I was just—” she starts, dizzy, “I was trying to help.”

“Don’t.” His voice cracks, “Don’t you dare touch this.”

“Maggie wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Lucas says quietly, “She just—”

“She always does this!” Mike explodes, “She takes everyone else’s pain like it’s hers to carry. Like she’s some hero or something—”

Dustin frowns, “Mike, c’mon—”

“She didn’t ask,” Mike snaps, his voice cutting, “You don’t get to do that, Maggie. You don’t get to just take it. This is mine.“

She swallows hard.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

But he’s already standing now, eyes blazing, “You’re not part of this. You were never supposed to be here. You just… showed up. Like a stray.”

Dustin goes still.

Lucas mutters, “Mike, that’s messed up—”

But it’s already hit her.

Stray.

The word cuts straight through her, deeper than she thought it could. Deeper than it should. It echoes like a slap across time.

“You’re not family.”

“You’re just a stray Joyce took in because she felt bad.”

“You don’t belong.“

Lonnie’s voice. Same venom. Same echo. She nods numbly.

“Okay,” she says softly

“Maggie—” Lucas tries to say, reaching for her.

But she’s already backing up, shaking her head, “No. It’s fine. He’s right.”

And with that, she turns and walks into the dark without looking back.

The second the words leave his mouth something inside Mike Wheeler shatters.

He doesn’t feel better. He doesn’t feel anything but the hollow echo of silence that swallows the parking lot in her absence.

Maggie is already halfway across the lot, retreating fast into the dark. The tail of her hazmat suit drags behind her and for one horrifying moment, he swears he sees her shoulders trembling.

Then she’s gone. Mike doesn’t move. He just stands there with his fists clenched and his mouth still half-open, like the apology got stuck behind his teeth and died before it could make it out.

“Dude…” Dustin breathes, staring at him in disbelief.

Lucas doesn’t even speak at first. He just shoots Mike a look so sharp it could cut asphalt.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lucas finally says.

“She was trying to help,” Dustin mutters, “She always tries to help.”

Mike swallows, throat dry.

“She shouldn’t have touched me,” he says weakly, “She just—she took it, like it was hers. Like—like El wasn’t mine to grieve.”

“Wow,” Lucas snaps, stepping closer, “You really think you’re the only one who lost her?”

“I—no, I just—”

“She was Maggie’s friend too, Mike,” Dustin says, arms crossed, “You know that.”

“She nearly died getting Will back,” Lucas adds, “She took something out of him that none of us could’ve. And instead of saying thank you, you threw her grief back in her face.”

Mike lowers his head.

It all hits at once. The look on Maggie’s face when he said the word “stray.” The way she didn’t even fight back.

“She’s not a stray,” Mike mumbles, like saying it out loud can erase it, “I didn’t mean it like that…”

But he did in the moment. In the haze of grief and anger, he meant every word. And now it’s too late.

“Do you even know where she went?” Lucas asks him, still fuming.

Mike doesn’t answer because the truth is, he doesn’t know. And suddenly, that terrifies him more than anything.

Maggie walks fast, hands shoved in her pockets, shoes scraping across gravel and concrete and eventually onto the cracked sidewalk leading into the woods. She doesn’t know where she’s going. She just knows it has to be away.

Away from the flashing lights and from Mike’s voice and from the words that keep echoing in her skull like a song she can’t shut off.

Branches snap beneath her feet. A squirrel darts away in alarm. Somewhere far off, a car honks once and fades into the distance.

She doesn’t feel the cold anymore. She doesn’t really feel anything, except the raw ache blooming in her chest where Mike’s grief had settled. She never meant to take that much. She thought she was helping. That’s what she does.

She takes pain. She makes things easier. That’s what she’s for. She was trying to do something right.

Instead, she’s back in the cemetery after ‘Will’s’ funeral, with Lonnie screaming in her face. Her knees finally give out when she reaches a particularly large tree.

She sits on the cold earth, arms wrapped tight around her legs, eyes locked on the black nothingness of the forest. Wind brushes her hair into her face, but she doesn’t move to fix it. Her chest feels like it’s caving in.

She wants to scream. She wants to throw something. Burn something. Be something.

Instead, all she does is exist. Small and cold and quiet. And the worst part?

For the first time in weeks, since the Demogorgon, since El, since she almost died to save Will, Maggie wonders if Mike was right. Maybe she really doesn’t belong here.

The night doesn’t end.

It stretches on in a blur of wind and silence and ache. Maggie doesn’t remember laying down, just curling against the cold earth beside the tree with her arms tucked around her knees. Just for a minute, she told herself. She closes her eyes.

She wakes with a start in the morning. The light is blinding. Her neck is stiff. Her hands are numb. A patch of frost clings to her hair, and there’s dirt under her nails. Her legs are sore from being folded under her, and one side of her hoodie is damp from the early morning dew.

At first she panics. Where am I? But then it comes back in a rush: the parking lot, Mike’s voice, the woods, the walking, the crushing sense that she could disappear and no one would care.

Except now, she’s not so sure. Her first thought isn’t I’m alone. It’s I need to see them.

The hospital waiting room is buzzing. In a corner near the nurse’s desk, a group has taken over three chairs and a couch.

Dustin, arms crossed and legs bouncing anxiously. Lucas, half-asleep with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Joyce, awake but hollow-eyed, holding a paper cup of coffee she hasn’t touched. Jonathan, beside himself with emotion and exhaustion. Hopper, pacing. Nancy, newly arrived, perched stiffly on the arm of a chair. Steve looking like he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. And Mike, curled in on himself, still wearing the same hoodie from last night, staring at the floor.

The elevator dings and Maggie steps out.

Hair tangled. Face pale. One cheek bruised purple-blue where she must have rolled against a rock in her sleep. Her eyes are rimmed red, and the hem of her hoodie is torn. She looks like something the forest spat out.

The second Dustin sees her, he bolts.

“MAGGIE!”

He barrels into her like a wrecking ball and nearly takes them both down. She grunts as he hugs her tightly.

“I’m okay,” she manages to say, even though her voice is rough, “I’m here.”

“Where were you?!” Dustin pulls back, scanning her like she might still vanish, “We thought—Hopper thought—Mike thought—” He stops himself and looks over his shoulder at the others.

Hopper stares at her, jaw tense, like he’s caught between yelling and hugging her himself.

Joyce covers her mouth, “Oh my God.”

Lucas stands up, “Jesus, Maggie.”

Mike doesn’t move. He just stares. She glances toward him once, but can’t hold the look. Her eyes fall to the floor.

Nancy is already standing, “Come sit down. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Hopper says, “You look like you slept in a goddamn ditch.”

“Close,” she mumbles.

“Maggie,” Joyce says gently, stepping forward now and pulling the girl into a hug, “You can’t just disappear like that. After what we all went through—after Will—”

“I wasn’t trying to make it worse,” she says quickly, “I just… I didn’t know where to go.”

She shifts awkwardly under the weight of everyone’s eyes. Her stomach churns.

“I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

“You scared the hell out of us,” Hopper says, softer now, “Don’t do that again.”

She nods, “Okay.”

Finally Mike stands. Maggie doesn’t look at him. She can’t. He walks slowly toward her, like the space between them is made of glass.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, “You slept in the woods?”

“Didn’t mean to,” she mutters.

More silence.

“I shouldn’t’ve said that.”

Maggie’s throat tightens, “Which part?”

Mike’s face crumples just a little, “Any of it.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“I was mad,” he adds, “But that wasn’t fair. You do belong. With us.”

Her breath hitches. She stares at the floor, eyes burning.

“I’m still mad that she’s gone,” he whispers, “But I’m not mad at you.“

Maggie’s voice is a whisper, “I didn’t take all of it.”

“I know.”

He looks like he might cry again. Awkward and stiff at first, Mike wraps his arms around her and just holds on, pressing his face against her shoulder. Her hands hover in the air for a second, surprised, before gently settling on his back.

She closes her eyes. This time, she lets someone hold her.

Maggie opens her mouth to say something, maybe something teasing or something about how gross he smells from stress and panic, but then a shadow moves beside them..

Nancy stands a few paces away, arms crossed tightly. Her eyes flick from Mike to Maggie and then narrow slightly.

“You and I need to talk. Alone,” she says, voice clipped and deceptively calm.

Mike starts to protest, “Nancy, come on, she just got here—”

But Nancy just gives him a sharp look, one that only big sisters can give, and Mike shuts his mouth. With a reluctant glance at Maggie, he steps back.

Nancy turns on her heel, already heading for a nearby waiting room, away from the crowd. Maggie follows, dragging her feet a little, her limbs still aching with phantom pain, Will’s lingering agony woven into her bones. When they stop, Nancy whirls around, her eyes blazing, fierce in a way Maggie hadn’t expected.

“Are you out of your mind?”

Maggie is caught off guard, “Uh. Debatable?”

“You almost died, Maggie,” Nancy hisses, stepping closer, “And then you just—you disappear into the woods like some kind of cryptid?! We thought something happened to you!”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep—”

“You didn’t mean to—? Maggie, we found your jacket. Crumpled in the dirt by the fence. Do you know what it looked like? Like you just vanished.”

Maggie swallows hard, “I wasn’t trying to scare anyone. I just needed… I needed a second.”

“A second?” Nancy’s voice catches, breaking for a moment, “Do you know what Mike looked like last night? When they brought Will in but you weren’t with them? And no one knew where you were? He looked like he was going to throw up. Lucas and Dustin were this close to organizing a search party. Joyce was sobbing, thinking something got you too.”

Maggie looks down at her hands, “I didn’t realize it would be that big of a deal…”

Nancy scoffs, “You didn’t think people would care?”

Maggie doesn’t answer and that’s an answer in itself. Nancy’s shoulders sag, the fight bleeding out of her all at once.

She presses her hands to her eyes, then lowers them again, “God, Maggie. You matter. Okay? You matter. To a lot of people. I get that you were trying to help, and whatever you did, whatever Joyce and Hopper didn’t tell us, it worked, somehow. You saved Will. But we didn’t know where you were. We thought maybe you… maybe you didn’t make it.”

The words hang heavy in the air between them.

Maggie’s throat is tight. She whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Nancy nods slowly, brushing her fingers through her windblown hair, “You can’t do that again. You don’t get to just disappear like that. Not anymore.”

Maggie offers a small, crooked smile, “So I’m on a leash now?”

Nancy deadpans, “A really short one.”

Maggie lets out a breath of laughter that’s half a sob. Nancy pulls her into a hug without warning, arms tight, chin hooked over Maggie’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Nancy murmurs, “Next time, just… tell someone. Please.”

Maggie nods into her shoulder, “Okay.”