Those Things About Sara

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November 10th, 1983

Hawkins, Indiana


Chris is huddled in the Byers' kitchen chair. Her father's jacket is hanging around her shoulders snuggly. She stares at Jonathan and Joyce, who are holding each other as police officers search the house for the thing that Joyce claims came through the walls and chased after her.

Last time Chris was in the house there were no Christmas lights hanging around the house, no letters painted on the wall in the living room, and no new information on the disappearance of Will Byers. Now, everything has been flipped upside down, and suddenly Chris feels as if there's still more news to come. Especially if the thing that has been going after people, and causing them to disappear, is still hanging around the Byers' house.

The words that El said outside, before they found Will, burn at the back of Chris's mind. There is no way to tell if the strange new girl is right; that Will is still here, at the house, hiding. Chris doesn't want to believe the evidence; she wants to believe little Eleven. Will is just hiding. She promised she'd come back for him.

Chris whimpers, blinking back more tears. She hugs herself, tucking her knees under her chin. Jonathan glances back at her, dark shadows covering his face.

"Our working theory right now is that Will crashed his bike, he made his way over the quarry and, uh accidentally fell in. The earth must have given way," Hopper explains to Joyce. She shakes her head. "Joyce? Joyce? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"No." Her breathing is unsteady. "Whoever you found is not my boy. It's not Will."

"Joyce," he tries, lowering his head.

"I talked to him a half hour ago. He was—he was here. He was—he was talking with these." Joyce moves to the kitchen, picking up a tangled mass of white Christmas tree lights. Chris turns her attention to Joyce, taking in the information as much as she can. There are so many things she needs to write down in her journal.

"Talking?" Chris repeats, sitting up straight.

Hopper shoots her a look. Joyce nods. "Uh-huh. One blink for yes, two for no. And—and, uh and then I made this," Joyce moves to the wall covered in lights and letters. "So he could talk to me. 'Cause he was hiding from that—that thing."

"Hiding," Chris echoes, her eyes traveling to the wall.

Hopper watches Joyce skeptically. "The thing that came out of the wall? The thing that chased you?"

"Yeah. Yeah," she says, hoping that Hopper will believe him.

"Mom, come on, please." Jonathan walks over to Joyce. Joyce shakes her head, noticing the sound of pity and disbelief. Joyce grabs Jonathan's arms. "You've gotta stop this," he begs.

"No, maybe he's—it's after him! He's in danger. We have to find him! We—"

"What exactly was this thing? It was some kind of animal, you said?" wonders Hopper, his voice calm and low.

Joyce shakes her head, waving her arms wildly. "Uh, no, it was—it was almost human, but it wasn't. It—it had these long arms and it didn't have a face."

Chris stands up swiftly, chills decorating her skin. Her mouth is open wide, ready to say something, to tell everyone the things she knows. The way that Jonathan and Hopper are looking at Joyce now, however, just proves how crazy it all is. They won't believe her.

"It didn't have a face? Joyce—"

"It didn't have a face," Chris says.

Hopper turns to her, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. Jonathan, fed up with his mother's insane stories, leaves the living room. His bedroom door slams shut. Hopper sits Joyce down on the couch. "Joyce, listen to me. Listen to me. After Sara...I saw her, too and I heard her. I didn't know what was real and then I figured out that it was in my mind. And I had to pack all that away. Otherwise, I was gonna fall down a hole that I couldn't get out of."

Chris's expression grows somber. She sits back down on her seat in the kitchen.

Joyce shakes her head stubbornly. "No, you're—you're talking about grief. This is different."

"I'm just saying that you—"

"No, I know what you're saying, Hop," she warns. "I swear to you I know what I saw. And I'm not crazy."

"I'm not saying that you're crazy."

"No, you are. And I understand, but God, I—I need you to believe me. Please. Please."

"Listen, I think you should go to the morgue tomorrow and see him for yourself. It'll give you the answers that you need, but tonight..."

"Oh, God," Joyce mumbles.

"I want you to try to get some sleep, if you can."

Hopper moves to the front door, leaving a teary-eyed Joyce behind him. "Chrissie."

Chris gets up, following her father slowly. She turns to look back at Joyce. "Joyce." Joyce stares up at Chris. "I believe you." The woman sniffles, hanging her head. Hopper grabs Chris's shoulder, steering her outside. "Dad...you never told me that."

"Told you what?" Hopper moves to his side of the car.

"All those things about Sara."

"It's not your responsibility to look after me, Chris. It's mine." Hopper opens his door and sits inside. Chris gets in after him. "You don't understand—"

"Dad," she cuts in, her voice sharp. "Of course, I understand. She was my baby sister. You don't forget something like that. It was hard for me, too." Chris sighs heavily, looking away. "It's been five years and it still feels like I should wake up back in New York and see her. Not her in a hospital room, with you and Mom fighting in the corridor, but her. With her pretty blue eyes and her smile that's just like yours." Chris feels cool tears spill down her face again. "And...and you know she was the same age as—"

"I know," he mutters.

Chris sniffles. "Well, you found him, Dad."





So. Much. Sadness. I really hope I can continue to write a storyline that shows more of Hopper and Chris with these moments. They're tearful, but you don't see many of them in the show with Hopper. It's different. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

• Kate

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