Chapter Text
May 12th, 1987. A sharp curse sounded through the thick air as a flash light desperately flickered through the disgusting, heady, humid air of the ditch. The temperature was unkind in the spring, and tonight the low hum of a nearby frog would startle the unfortunate trainee out of his dazed confusion. Standing up, he would groan in discomfort as his foot sank into wet, rich marsh, the swamp swallowing his boot once his foot lifted.
"Fuck. Fuckin' stupid, cheap laces."
He cursed to himself, flashing his light around at his surroundings. A few ferns sprouted up around a sad cluster of drowned trees, and there was a nauseating smell arising from the swamp. His investigative partner followed close behind, silent and stoic.
"Focus. Our chances of findin' the kid are already low. We don't need to get distracted.
His soaked through sock was the least of his worries as he traversed the mud, his nostrils becoming familiar with the sulfur. The snap of a twig could be heard behind him, and he turned to see the tail of the scurrying creature; a beaver, probably. He adjusted his hat and pushed forward, hoping to finish the patrol and go home to his lousy apartment. The least anticipated part of his night would come soon after, in a tucked crevice of a rotted tree stump. Steve felt a bile rise in his throat as the beam of light landed on it, and his flashlight fell from his hand and into the greedy mud as the smell of death overcame him.
October 15th, 1986. A cheap CD player blared from Jonathan Byers' bedroom as his younger brother bopped his head in a rhythm to match the music currently playing on the box. Jonathan watched from the doorway, a smile on his face as he threw a CD toward the younger Byers boy.
"Try this one. I know you said you don't like them, but just give it a try."
"Ew, no. I told you, I don't like the screaming stuff."
"Fine. Guess that just means I'll have to tell Mike you're not into rock."
"No! No. I am, I swear."
Will sighed, opening the case and inserting the disc. He gave it a fair chance, and Jonathan observed the still-displeased expression on his face. Jonathan snickered inwardly and turned, heading into the kitchen to find his mother sorting a variety of envelopes. A wave of anxiety passed over him at the obvious bank notes, and he chewed the inside of his cheek.
"Water bill went up again..?"
His voice was soft as he watched his mother move erratically about the kitchen, her small form always so burdened with stress. Her reply was short as she sighed and ran a few fingers through her hair, before mumbling to herself about a load of laundry that she would leave the kitchen to tend to. Jonathan watched her go, taking the time to examine the bills on the mahogany dining room table. They started back at him, his brown eyes willing the address to read the neighbors name; just to let a bit off of his own shoulders.
On this pleasant Sunday, Jonathan had a variety of errands to run. One of which would be grocery shopping, followed by mowing the currently dying lawn. He had a night shift scheduled, but he hoped to see his girlfriend before then.
Getting into his car, he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, sparing a gaze towards his house before he drove to the grocery store.
A lone officer sat in his car sidled up by the parking lot of Gabbie's, his cruiser sitting idle as he paid next to no attention to his surroundings. This was his second patrol in a row since starting his program, and the boring tasks were taking a toll on his patience. The radio blared to life with static, and he fumbled to grab it.
"Checking attendance, checking attendance, Steven Harrington, are you active?"
"Uh - yes sir." He said shakily, sitting up straighter in the leather seat as the radio quieted down. This gig was a big deal, to him and most of the people in Hawkins. Part of him wasn't sure why he had decided to go down the police route, but his father had encouraged him greatly. Plus, it just meant he got to have more popularity in his hometown, and maybe grab more respect from the buddies he had gone to high school with. And speaking of high school, Steve was pleasantly alerted to a few pedestrians crossing the street, which would then draw his attention to the piece of junk pulling into the grocery store parking lot. Jonathan Byers, the Hawkins Perv. He had still been lurking in town since high school, and his box of junk car could be recognized from a mile away. Steve raised a brow and watched the lanky guy go inside.
High school had been a wild ride for Steve, especially since his entire roster still currently lived in this small ass town. But what grinded his gears the most was Jonathan Byers; Jonathan Byers, who had stolen his girlfriend. Nancy had always been an alternative to the usual girl, but Steve had never worried that Jonathan Byers would catch her eye. Who even cared, anyway? Steve could find whatever pretty girl he wanted. He was a whole cop now, and women loved a capable man. Steve reclined his seat, dispelling the unsavory thoughts to monitor the street instead.
Reaching up to grab a box of cereal, Jonathan took the time to look at the coupon deals and add it to the cart. The brand name was Will's favorite, but hopefully he wouldn't mind the discount brand. Jonathan stalked down the aisles with brisk, always eager to get in and out of the grocery store. it wasn't that he didn't mind running errands for the house, but being in public spaces like this always had him high-strung.
It was because of the constant gazes that he would never let his guard down, accompanied with the knowledge that he was constantly being assessed and examined by the public like he was some animal in a zoo. Nancy often assured him, insisting most people just had staring problems; but Jonathan knew better than that. He came from a long line of dead-beats and neglected wives, and it showed in his clothing, and the dark bags under his eyes.
A quiet sigh left his lips as he rang his items up at check-out, looking out the window to avoid the inevitable, awkward eye contact with the cashier. he spotted a cruiser in the opposite parking lot, and a familiar head of ostentatious brunette hair leaning against the side having a smoke. Steve Harrington, his high school bully, though Jonathan preferred to describe him as more of a terrorist. Not to mention he was Nancy's ex boyfriend, which made things even more tense between them. the things Jonathan would do to get out of this town and away from-
"Would you like to buy a recyclable bag with these, sir?" The cashiers voice was quaint, not any happier to be here than Byers was.
"Uh, no thank you." He muttered, taking the plastic bags and fumbling for his wallet. He paced as the cashier handed him his change, and he headed outside to his with his head bowed to avoid attention. His eyes pricked at the dry cold, and he shivered lightly as he loaded the groceries into the trunk.
The Byers House was dark and eerie once he arrived home, the clock reading at 7 PM. Jonathan stepped inside, his gangly figure disappearing into the dark home. Joyce would be on her shift by now, and Jonathan knew she would appreciate if the dishes were done in the morning. He got started and diligently worked at the stains searing porcelain. Wringing his wet hands into a towel, he walked down the claustrophobic hallway to check on his little brother. Will was passed out on the bean bag in front of his twin bed, the lamp still yellowing in the corner. Jonathan smiled and stepped inside, flicking off the video games and scooping his brother up. Will stirred, blinking and speaking groggily.
"Hey, you said we would listen to the other CDs." He said, his words a jumble of incoherence. Jonathan sighed and set him down in his bed, running a hand through his hair.
"We can do it tomorrow, buddy. I gotta go to work." He said quietly, bringing the blankets up to Will's collar.
"I got you puffs. You can have 'em in the morning." Jonathan smiled as his brother's eyes lit up, and he placed a peck on his cheek.
"Get some sleep, okay? Mom should be home soon, and I'll see in the morning." He pat Will's leg as he stood up, flicking the light off and closing his door securely. Jonathan stood in the hallway for a calm moment, drinking in the silence and stagnance of the house. Nights like these meant the most to him, and the quiet had always meant safety to Jonathan.
The apartment building was dead silent at 5 AM, and the only sound heard came from the second floor as Steve Harrington used his blender without consideration of his poor neighbors' sleep schedule. Today he was having a banana smoothie, with a touch of cinnamon. He cursed as he banged his head against the cabinet, glaring at the hastily painted knobs. Shitty apartment. If there was one downside to being Hawkins' new officer, it was the early mornings and the constant reminder of how cramped and cheap his living space was. Steve swallowed down the banana as well as the concept of moving back into his father's large house, refusing to let go of his pride.
His car roared to life as he stepped outside with his bag, getting in with a heavy sigh and blasting the heat. The drive to the station was only about 5 minutes long, but it always felt longer in the cold leather seat. Jim greeted him once he stepped inside, chowing on a strawberry donut like a damn cartoon. Steve walked further into the precinct and to his cubicle, sitting down and rummaging through the file cabinet for his most recent, most boring case. If there was one thing Steve couldn't stand, it was being mediocre. He hated sitting in a square while big guys like Hopper went out and arrested potheads everyday, but to the whole force he was just a rookie.
Steve ran a hand through his slicked hair and got to work while Hopper told off some other higher ups for slacking. After an entire three hours of work, he took his break and poured himself a cup of coffee, adding two sugars and creams. Steve couldn't help that he had a bit of a sweet tooth, and he was glad the older guys didn't tease him much for it. Sipping out of the mug, he looked out the large windows into the sparse woods behind the station. Hawkins wasn't the smallest town around, but it sure was secluded. He yawned and finished off his coffee before heading back to the main hall, bumping first into Jackson.
"Jesus - sorry, man." Steve murmured, making sure not to drop the ceramic in his hand. The older man shrugged it off, meeting Steve's eyes.
"You hear about those wilderness awareness meetings they keep holding at the church? I meant to ask the other day, guess I forgot." Jackson's voice was plain as ever, but the contents were enough to cock Steve's head. He snorted, raising a brow.
"Wilderness meetings? Seriously? When I was a kid we walked through the damn woods every day." Steve chuckled, earning a snicker from Jackson.
"Yeah, yeah. But seriously though, apparently the winter is more.. harsh this year, or somethin'? Some little girl went missin' just last week; think her name was Judy, or something like that. Just tell kiddos to look out, won't you? Especially around the ditch."
Jackson walked off, and Steve was left with a bit of curiosity. He himself had noticed the early arrival of snow this year, yet he had assumed it had something to do with the equator, or some stupid science. But then Jackson mentioned the ditch, and Steve was irked. The ditch was the infamous overgrown marsh in the center of Hawkin's forest, and it was known for its utter nuisance to the town. It drew in animals, humidity, and a disgusting smell in the summer. But Steve had no idea what the ditch had to do with any of the kiddos in town. If Judy had gone missing, the force would find her. They hadn't had any new cold cases in decades, and Steve was determined to keep that record.
Glasses clinked as Robin Buckley held her hand up for another drink, and Steve sighed beside her.
"And you know, she started asking to go on, like, real dates. I don't wanna go out to dinner with Christine - how do I know if I even like her?"
"Well, if you guys are hooking up, then it's kind of expected for you to like each other, Harrington."
"That's different, Robin. You're gay, or whatever."
"Correction; lesbian."
"Whatever, same thing."
Steve hung his head in his hands before taking another swig of his beer, looking across the room.
"After Nancy, I don't even wanna risk a relationship anymore. It's like she actually, permanently traumatized me, man." Steve whined, leaning back in the stool. Robin looked at him hopelessly, biting her tongue.
"I could always ask some of the girls on campus if they're single and ready to mingle, ooh, and if they like cute cop guys." She wiggled her brows, a small smile on her face as Steve rolled his eyes but considered.
"I guess you could go for it." He said after thinking awhile. Robin shrugged, a small hum leaving her lips as she leaned back in her own stool.
"You still heading home soon? I can give you a ride." Steve suggested, following Robin's eyes as she nodded.
"Oh and also, did you hear about that missing girl? Judy, or whatever her name is?" Robin asked, and Steve visibly tensed and exhaled.
"Yeah, actually. My buddy Jackson was telling me about it, but apparently it happened a week or two ago, and they're still looking." He answered, trying to keep his tone short and avoid the stressful topic. Steve would hate to be seen as anything less than knowledgeable and capable as a cop, and admitting that the force had no idea where the recent missing girl was didn't exactly portray that. Robin just hummed and seemed to think to herself.
"Well, I hope you guys find her."
"Yeah, me too."
Steve's feet ached once he got through the door, and he threw his keys by the coffee table as he walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He picked up his patrol radio upon it's buzz, confusion riddling his gaze at the time. He rarely got announcements at this time of night, and it had to be serio-
"We've got an abduction alert for Grace Vinland, 12 years old. I'm calling anyone patrolling I-23 to drive through town. No car or perpetrator spotted, but the parents insist she was abducted. More updates as we progress, boys." It was Hopper's voice on the other end, and he sounded tense. Steve swallowed and set the now unimportant bottle of alchohol down, a wave of sickening doom and implication settling in his stomach. He grabbed his keys and left before he could process another thought, heading out into town to search for the missing girl. His mind raced with endless possibilities of what could have happened - could be happening as he sped down the road.
The radio was quiet as he zoomed down the pavement, all previous arrogance and ambition gone from his body as he tried to calm himself. A bright shape flashed in front of him, and he swerved immediately upon the impact of mammal on metal. The brakes squealed and he felt his suspension recoil as the buck bounced off the right headlight, killing the bright beam in a crunch of glass. His car alarm went off at the damage to the windshield, and before he could process the order of events, his delayed airbag blew out of the driver's wheel and into his face, knocking him clean out.
He heard the crash before he saw it, and it didn't take long for Jonathan to step a few yards outside the door to spot the Mercedes with the blinking headlight maybe a quarter mile down the road. He squinted to get a better glimpse before grabbing his coat and closing his front door behind him.
"Jesus Christ.." He muttered under his breath as he walked closer to the wreck, spotting the limping buck first before it ran into the woods and out of the blinking headlight. Jonathan analyzed the mess of shattered glass and a scrunched grill, stepping around it's flanking and gasping once he noticed the officer passed out in the driver's seat, practically crushed by the damn airbag. Byers yanked open the door, pulling him out and trying desperately to pretend he didn't immediately recognize the stupid hair or expensive smell of cologne and beer that was Steve Harrington. Jonathan grunted with effort but got him out of the restraining position and pressed his chest lightly to wake him. it didn't take much to wake the cop up, and once he was up, Harrington immediately sat up and gasped for air as he processed his surroundings and the Byers boy in front of him.
"I - the station. The highway - deer -"
"Stop it, stop. Just Stop. Calm down and breathe, I called an ambulance." Jonathan said, guarded as a stray cat as he watched Steve recall the events before his run-in with the buck. Jonathan could see the plain shock in his eyes, and he took his hand to help him up. Despite their history, he knew it wouldn't be right to leave him here, susceptible to a panic attack or worse.
"You can hang at mine until they get here and tow the wreck. I don't know what kind of antics you were up to before you fucked up your car, but you might wanna set them to the side." Jonathan said quietly in monotone. Steve was silent, walking mindlessly with heavy breaths. Even Jonathan knew it wasn't everyday that you saw Steve Harrington speechless, if that was even an appropriate word to use for his silence. He cleared his throat and shut up, walking Steve inside and helping him to the couch before grabbing him some ice for the various cuts and bruises on his face.
Jonathan made some toast for Harrington, handing it to him awkwardly before he heard soft footsteps in the hallway.
"Jonathan? What's going on, I thought we were gonna hang out." Will stood stiffly there, looking at Steve cautiously yet curiously.
"Jeez, what happened to him..?" Will asked a bit too loudly, and Jonathan sighed.
"He's okay, he just had an accident a little ways down the road. You should go get ready for bed, okay? Mom should be home in an hour or two." Jonathan's voice was kurt as he juggled assurance for his brother and reluctant care for Harrington. Will nodded and went off to grab some pajamas, leaving Jonathan to tend to the still dazed cop. They sat apart on the scruffy couch, and Jonathan jumped as the radio attached to Steve's belt made a series of static words.
"No sight of Grace, boys. We keep looking until morning, and make sure to notify any parents that you can. I printed out some flyers to put up around town, but keep patrolling and checking the woods. Harrington, if you slept through this shit show, you're a lucky bastard."
Jonathan raised a brow at the message, a lick of worry climbing up his spine. Grace was Michelle Vinland's kid, a friend of Joyce's. He shook off the wave of anxiety as Steve spoke up for the first time in what felt like hours.
"I'm gonna find her."