𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏, ronance ¹

𝟎𝟒. 𝗜 𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗜𝗡 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

The air in Hawkins had grown heavier since the revelation of The Sentinel, the clandestine force that had woven itself into the town's very fabric.

Armed with a makeshift plan, they settled around Jonathan's things once more. It was Nancy who spoke first.

"We need more information," she said, "We can't just confront The Sentinel blindly."

Robin sifted through Jonathan's notes, "He was on to something, so if we follow his leads, we might find the key to all this."

A sense of urgency fuelled their determination as they combed through Jonathan's research— the cryptic symbols, the labyrinth of passages, and the connections to influential figures in Hawkins began to surface.

Their findings created a mosaic of secrets that waited to be revealed, but it begged the question: what would it cost those who uncovered them?

"Look at this," Nancy called to Robin, pointing to a name on a loose sheet of paper, "Charles Pendleton. His name is repeated at least three times."

"We could start by investigating his connections," Robin suggested, "His past, his businesses— anything that could tie him to The Sentinel."

Nancy nodded, finally feeling like she was able to breathe again, and the deeper they dug, the clearer the connections became.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Robin asked, pulling her box of cigarettes out of her pocket.

"Plan?" Nancy repeated, momentarily confused, "Take down The Sentinel before anybody else ends up like Jonathan."

Robin winced at this, her voice softening as she spoke, "Look, about Jonathan, I—"

"Don't worry about it," Nancy said quickly, smiling, "I'm fine, really. Let's just focus on finding The Sentinel."

Reluctantly and slightly suspicious of Nancy's sudden 'fine-ness,' Robin nodded, "Alright."

A few hours had passed, and Robin had left for her shift at Scoops Ahoy. Nancy was left alone in Jonathan's apartment.

It felt emptier than ever as Nancy stood alone in the silence of what used to be Jonathan's sanctuary. The air was thick with memories, each holding a piece of a life abruptly cut short.

She tried to suppress the pain— to keep the floodgates closed— but the weight of grief pressed down on her.

Nancy absently traced her fingers along the spines of the books on Jonathan's shelf, each a shared adventure, a whispered secret.

The photographs on the walls captured smiles and stolen moments, frozen in time but unable to shield her from the harsh reality: she was alone again.

The guilt lingered, a heavy cloak around her shoulders; guilt for being unable to save him, for every unspoken word and missed opportunity.

But deeper still was the guilt of feelings she hadn't thought would ever be possible. Feelings she had realised last night were real.

Nancy thought she had brushed them off, burying them beneath layers of denial. Still, in the silence of Jonathan's apartment, they clawed their way to the surface and intensified as she admitted to herself that, amidst the pain, there was a flicker of something new.