Steve leaned against the window, watching as the forest gave way to occasional homes and shops, as Hargrove turned off of Old Mill and onto Main. Shockingly, Hargrove wasn't driving like a bat out of hell, but Steve wasn't any more at ease. Everything was right, almost. Hawkins looked virtually the same as Steve remembered from his youth, except for a few things here and there. Mr Baker's car lot had grown, instead of closing down like it had when Steve was 16. He didn't see the dealership his dad owned in town at all, when it had sat on the corner of Washington. TVs in shop windows also seemed a bit sleaker, newer. He'd seen a few cars parked along the road and in driveways that had names he didn't recognize, like a Ford Explorer?
And, no military presence, no scars across the ground patched with flimsy metal sheeting.
Steve shook his head, wishing something would click and it'd all make sense. He cursed himself for wanting Dustin to be here, to tell Steve he was being stupid, that obviously some science nonsense that Steve had never heard of had happened. He knew Dustin would know, he always knew, as infuriating as that tended to be. More than any of that, he just hoped he was all alright.
"Hey, princess. Where was this so called explosion you were talking about?" Hargrove asked from the front seat, after cracking and chatter on his walkie died down. Steve could see the police department down the road, coming into view, looking much the same as it had.
"... At the lab." Steve answered him somewhat honestly, tentatively. That could get him a significantly extended prison stay, if they thought he'd been breaking and entering. But, he had hope that Hargrove would know something. He'd been possessed, even if Hargrove didn't remember him, certainly he'd remember that.
"What lab?" Hargrove asked, cocking an eyebrow and briefly meeting Steve's eyes in the rearview mirror. "You and your buddies have a drug lab somewhere, huh? That'd explain some things."
"Hawkins Laboratory? Big square building outside of town on Poplar Street? North of the Quarry?" Steve said slowly, an uneasy feeling curling through his stomach. He shouldn't have had to say all of that; everyone knew the lab. They didn't know what was happening there, but everyone knew it existed. Steve had grown up with myths and urban legends about it since he was little. He remembered laughing at one of Tommy's stories when they were both kids, about a mad scientist in there that would remove people's butts and sew them onto his victims.
"There's no laboratories in Hawkins," Hargrove stated simply. "I'd love to know what you're on, because it sounds incredible."
No lab? No lab meant no... everything.
They rounded the corner, and Hargrove slowed down to pull into a spot right beside a familiar truck. Hopper? Steve wondered, but everything was so damn strange, he couldn't say. It gave him a tentative amount of hope, however, even if he'd never been close to the man.
"Okay - here's how things are going to go, sleeping beauty. You're going to give my favorite lady up there at the front desk your info as best as you're able, and then you get to sleep this shit off. You act up? You're going to trip a few times on the way to meet your buddy." Hargrove said, looking back over his shoulder at Steve, expression terse. "Then I'll drug test you and have you locked up."
"Lovely, you're just as charming as ever..." Steve grimaced, avoiding his stare. Of course he'd fall back on threats and intimidation. "You can test me now, I'm not on anything. Maybe I have a concussion, or you're the one just giving me a headache."
Hargrove didn't say anything for a minute, before he snorted and opened the car door. Then, he opened Steve's, and yanked on the handcuffs he'd slapped on Steve's wrists. Steve had only stumbled through the PDs doorway, frowning at the No Smoking sign, before he realized what else Hargrove had said. Favorite lady? Hadn't he thought he'd slept with Steve? Maybe it was a joke, Florence was a spitfire, but Steve didn't think she was likely Billy's type.
But, it wasn't Florence at the secretary's desk. The woman was turned around, but from hair alone, she looked younger.
"You are more gorgeous everyday," Hargrove said, plopping both hands down onto the desk, flashing a familiar flirtatious grin. "How long has it been? Two hours? Too long."
The secretary turned, looking up at Hargrove with a wry smile, clearly annoyed by his antics. "Hop already told me you needed to leave early, you don't have to butter me up. Yes, William, I can finish your paperwork. You're babysitting Ryan again, aren't you?"
Steve felt so incredibly nauseous.
"Yeah, Max and the dipshit wanted a date night." Hargrove rolled his eyes, dropping some of the pretenses, though it did strangely seem as though he liked her. "As though I have no social life of my own."
She laughed, looking like she was fighting the urge to tease him. Steve didn't think her smile would have brought back so many memories, and none of them were good. Where was Nancy? Nancy needed to be here, Nancy needed to see her-
"Do you?" She asked, and Hargrove leaned down a bit to be smile back at her.
"I save all my time for you, Babs."
Steve wanted to hit him, almost more than he ever had. Billy wasn't allowed to talk to her, not like this.
"...Barb?" Steve asked quietly, and she looked at him, adjusting her glasses.
"Hello there, can I help you?" It was her. It was undeniably Barbara Holland. She was older, her hair was a bit different, but Steve recognized her. He'd grown up with her, even if they were never close. They'd gone to the same daycare, preschool, elementary school, middle school, high school. It wasn't until she was gone, that Steve noticed a static missing spot in the town.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked, unable to help himself, regardless of it being a ridiculous thing to do. She looked a bit puzzled at the question, and Steve felt Hargrove lightly kick his shin for it.
"What did I say?" Hargrove said under his breath, looking up at Steve with sharp eyes.
"I'm fine?" Barb answered Steve, then looked at Hargrove and reiterated her response. "I'm fine. Uh, so, for your intake form I'll need your full name, residence- William, what is the nature of the arrest?"
Hargrove gave a small sniff, standing up straight. "He's not being arrested - I'm detaining him under suspicion of illegal activity, until which time my suspicions are alleviated." Hargrove said, like he'd practiced it, which he likely had, especially given how Barb pursed her lips, shaking her head.
"You can't book every person that annoys you, William." Barb complained, doing that, 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed in you' tone that she'd mastered at about age 6. Hargrove looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.
"He came up to my car talking about having been with Henderson, and an explosion at a building that doesn't exist - and was insisting I was dead. I have honest actual suspicions, Babs." His voice was oddly calm, and to be entirely fair to the jackass, Steve didn't fully blame him for thinking he was on drugs.
Before anyone else could say anything, Steve decided to get it over with. "Hey, I just want to see Dustin. I don't care if I have to spend the night here. I'm, uh. Steve Harrington. Steven...Marion Harrington." Steve grimaced as he said his full name, which he was prepared to take with him to his grave. But no, his dad just had to be a John Wayne fan. "I'm from Hawkins- uh, are you still in touch with Nancy Wheeler?"
Barb blinked a few times, fixing him with a puzzled look. "Not so much, not anymore? How did you-"
"I went to school with you, but no one seems to remember me." Steve answered wryly, but moreso he was wondering what had happened between Nancy and Barb?
"Good enough, come on back. Let's drop you off with your buddy, so I can go home." Hargrove grabbed Steve by the shoulder and started to aim him down the hallway. Barb made a noise of complaint, but he waved her off. "You've seen enough of him for the intake form!"
"I don't even know how old he is, William!' Barb called out.
"I'm 21, born January 4th 1966!" Steve called back to her over his shoulder, even as Hargrove pulled him along. He could see her long enough to watch her brows furrow, before they turned a corner.
"Pretty boy can't do math, no surprises there." Hargrove commented, but Steve didn't hear him anymore.
He could see him. Laying down on a bench in the cell, arms crossed behind his head, one leg resting on top of his knee. He looked like he had not a care in the world.
"Dustin," Steve breathed out.
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