Summary: using herself as bait in order to protect Max, Chrissy is dropped at the Creel's residence with Dustin and Eddie as her guardians. Unfortunately, someone tips off Jason after spotting Dustin outside the murder house.
A/N: props to my best friend for giving me ideas to write a believable fight scene between Eddie and Jason, because this one was complicated af. Also say thanks to Grace Van Dien for putting out there which songs would have saved Chrissy from Vecna, we love you queen. Enjoy babes <3
Rogue-durin-16 masterlist
I gulped, my legs wobbling once my white Reebok sneakers landed on the sidewalk by the Creel's house. This was crazy. Was I really doing it?
With each step I took towards the entrance, I became more and more dazed; the Brigitte Bardot's cassette that Steve Harrington had struggled so much to find faintly played through Eddie's headphones, though it was currently being muffled by the stammering of my heart.
What was I thinking? I wasn't brave —not braver than Max Mayfield, at least. But Max was a kid.
I felt a finger gently tap on my shoulder, snapping me out of my negative train of thought that threatened to go downhill.
I spun my head to my right, switching the attention from the ominous stained glass to a concerned Eddie, pointing at his ear as to tell me to remove the portable music player.
With a sigh, I did what Eddie requested and took off the headphones, letting them hang from my neck.
"You okay?" Eddie questioned in a whisper.
He wasn't a fan of the plan. Specially, not of the part in which I ventured into the lion's den to act as bait. He didn't particularly like the idea of Dustin being there either, but groups of three were made, and at the end of the day, the Creel's house was the safest.
If you didn't have me on account, of course.
"As okay as I can be right now." I limited myself to reply, tugging on the sleeves of my newly acquired leather bomber in order to stop my fingers from fidgeting.
"Hey," the tall boy reached for my hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "We're not letting him get to you again, right Henderson?"
We both turned to the freshman, who enthusiastically nodded. "The moment it gets remotely bad," he raised his right hand, showing me the big radio cassette player we had grabbed from Eddie's trailer. "We're calling in Brigitte... Bardot, or whatever her name is."
Dustin's words made the corner of my lip twist up in an endeared smile, which Eddie turned into a relieved breathy laugh the moment he spoke again.
"You can bet they'll hear her all the way from Indianapolis." He joked, bumping my shoulder with his. "We're not taking any chances here."
"Promise?" It was almost inaudible, but Eddie caught it.
"Promise." He assured me, intertwining his fingers with mine, automatically diminishing my anxiety.
Something about Eddie's presence made me feel unbelievably safe —which was actually hilarious if we considered that, just a week earlier, the idea of meeting him alone in the woods made me uneasy at the very least.
My two assigned protectors awaited in silence for me to be ready and give them the cue to enter the abandoned house.
"Screw it," I let go of Eddie's hand and, after doing a couple of little jumps on the spot, I put back on the headphones and grabbed the door knob. "Let's do this."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
EDDIE'S P. O. V.
I was trying not to pace, to sit still by Chrissy's side as she stayed crosslegged in that dusty attic, holding her hand like she had asked me to. My knuckles had turned white and my palms sweaty from complying.
Her eyes were rolled back while her petite frame slightly convulsed on the spot, making her ponytail and bangs wave as if there was a breeze of fresh air coming from somewhere. The little notepad rested open over the wooden box before us, her last scribble on display for me.
'Thank you ♡'
Thank you. I still couldn't understand why she had trusted me to keep her body safe in the abandoned house while her mind battled with Vecna, trying to slip away from his grasp.
And even though I didn't understand, I would carry out every wish and need she had, because, fuck, she deserved every good thing in our fucked up world.
Every. Good. Thing.
There was a rage, a frustration, tightening like barbed wire around heart after listening in silence to all the bad thoughts she spilled to trick Vecna into taking her; all those horrible things about herself that she, to some extent, believed to be true.
I was ready to tell her the truth once she woke up; how she was beautiful —inside and out—; how she was the farthest thing from a horrible daughter for not listening to her mother; how she was capable and brave, so brave, and a good person.
I was ready to tell her that she didn't have to fulfill anyone's expectations but hers, that she didn't have to change her body to fit into anything, that Jason was the problem for not listening to her and not the other way around.
But to tell her all those things, first she had to fucking wake up, and she had to fucking wake up soon or else...
"C'mon..." I muttered through gritted teeth in the lowest tone possible, unable to refrain myself from emitting any kind of sound.
Stay with her.
Stay with her.
"Fuck." I halfheartedly let go of Chrissy's hand to peek through the boarded up broken window. "C'mon, Dustin." I pulled the flashlight from my back pocket and pointed it to the playground's direction.
On-off. On-off. On-off.
Nothing.
I looked over my shoulder to check Chrissy's state; it hadn't changed, but something inside of me was telling me we needed to rush.
"C'mon, Henderson." I turned back to the window, sharpening my eyes in order to try and see in the dark.
On-off. On-off. On-off.
"What the fuck." I took a step back from the window. Dustin wasn't there, he wasn't in the playground. God, we didn't need more problems.
Staring at Chrissy's vulnerable, entranced state, I debated between trying the communication through light again or going out to check why wasn't Dustin responding.
It was just as I turned to turn on the flashlight again that the front door, three stories down, was slammed open, loud enough for me to hear the hit.
"EDDIE!!!"
My heart missed a beat at the freshman's distressed scream, following by fast, loud steps up the stairs that quickly came to a halt.
Forgetting about my task of remaining silent, my immediate response was to yell back, "DUSTIN?!"
Nothing.
Something was wrong. Something was so wrong.
"Motherfucking..." I muttered, as scared and stressed as I would ever be, running to grab the Brigitte Bardot cassette from my walkman. "Son of a bitch. Fucking... Christ." With shaky hands, I sprinted back to the window, under which the radio cassette player had been set, and threw it in before attempting to make my way downstairs.
I could barely get past Chrissy before my pace died down.
"Holy shit..."
Just when I thought I couldn't be more distraught, I was met with Jason fucking Carver climbing the attic stairs, left arm holding Dustin against his chest while his right hand held a gun up to the kid's head.
Great, just fucking great.
"Fuck me." I instinctively raised my hands in surrender, eyes ping-ponging between Dustin and Jason, whose deranged glare wasted no time in scan the place and therefore finding Chrissy in a matter of seconds.
"You fucking freak!" Jason shouted, taking slow steps forward and therefore making me step back at the same speed. "I knew you had her." I saw his bloodshot eyes stare at what I figured was Chrissy's back, but didn't dare to look at her.
"Dustin, you okay, man?" I chose to ask, as laid-back and possible, my attention focused on the scared freshman forced to walk in front of the jock.
Dustin's quick nod made Jason's focus snap back to us, pressing the barrel against the kid's temple, which made my whole body stop functioning and Dustin's lids be screwed shut.
"He won't be okay if you don't back off."
"Listen—"
"Back off!"
I had no option but comply, trying not to stumble while I mantained the six feet distance between us, only stopping after Jason reached Chrissy.
"Chris?" He crouched, manhandling Dustin with an iron grip to check the cheerleader's state. "What did you do to her?!" He yelled, standing up and turning his head to me so fast that it might as well have given him whiplash.
"Listen, let the kid go, alright?" I nearly begged, seeing Dustin's eyes welling up with tears he refused to spill.
"I'll let him go when you let her go!" The loading of the gun dramatically echoing in the eerily silent attic nearly put me under cardiac arrest.
When my body unknowingly tried to move forward to reach the curly haired boy, Jason yanked him back, a string of curses falling from my lips as he did so.
"Eddie—"
"Henderson, shut up." I ordered with widened eyes. Thank God the blond boy wasn't trigger-happy. "Jason, you don't understand—'
"I do." He growled. "The only reason why I didn't shoot you on sight is because I understand, you satanic freak."
"Dude, I'm catholic." I replied with unnerving levity.
"Eddie! remember your first campaign with us?" Dustin's words were a quick, nervous gibberish. "The Gnolls that attacked the party." Luckily, Jason had decided to try to decipher whatever the kid was saying instead of shutting him up for good. "Gareth's idea. Brains over brawn."
Oh boy, this was gonna suck for me.
"What's he talking about?!" Jason urged me to explain, the loose strand of hair hanging over his forehead trembling. "What does that mean?!"
I shrugged, giving my head a slow shake. "I have no idea, man."
"Cut the bullshit. Here's what's gonna happen." He drew a loud breath, jaw clenching as he tried to put himself together. "You're gonna wake her up." Without blinking, he tilted his head to Dustin. "Or I'm gonna kill him."
God, my heart was jackhammering to the point it made me dizzy. Why did it have to be me handling this situation? Killing off a couple of nightmarish bats would have been much easier than dealing with a delusional, unhinged jock with a gun who also happened to hate my guts.
This was on me for volunteering to be Chrissy's protector. What was I thinking? I wasn't brave.
Fuck it. Bravery or not, I wasn't going to let Jason hurt Dustin or get to Chrissy.
Brains over brawn, Eddie. Time to roll the dice and hope for it to score a high number.
"I'm sure Chrissy would looove to know you murdered a fourteen year old in her name." I commented, risking adding a sarcastic undertone to my words.
"Wake her up, you fucking psycho!"
"Psycho?" I scoffed, looking down at the basketball player. "That's rich from the guy pointing a gun at a kid." I tried to bring in a watered down version of my usual histrionic demeanor, hoping to bewilder Jason enough for him to forget about Dustin. "Maybe I should wake her up. Let her see you like this. She would hate you." I dragged the last two words in a slow tone, trying not to startle the blond senior while simultaneously riling him up.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" He seethed, though there was a tinge of fear showing in his irises. "You don't know Chris!"
"And you do?" I huffed, eyes squinted at him. "You don't even know what she was going through." My reproach was genuine, flashes of Chrissy's tortured, miserable state coming to my mind accompanied by the echoing of her dark confession to Vecna.
"If she was going through anything, she'd tell me!" His grip on Dustin loosened, and so did the need to press the pistol against his head, since he was now motioning at the girl with it. "She trusts me more than anything!"
"That so?" I dared to take a step forward. "Then why was she in my trailer and not in your house?" The guy was now vibrating with rage, and God would I be enjoying it if it was not for the imminent danger threatening all of our lives. "You know what I think?" I taunted in a low voice. "I think you've never listened to her."
"Shut up, Munson."
"You never even cared about what she had to say, did you? And why would you, Jason?" My voice, which was previously a mocking whisper, began to gradually raise. "She was there to sit still and look pretty, wasn't she?"
"SHUT UP!" He finally tossed Dustin to the ground, nearly making him bump into Chrissy, and menacingly cocked the gun at me.
"She's a trophy for you, right? Something to show around." I egged on, trying to convince myself that he would not shoot, when we all knew quite well what he was capable of. "The Head Cheerleader and the Basketball Captain. What a fucking cliche."
"I love her more than anything."
"Really? Because it looks like you just wanted an excuse to come after me with a loaded gun, pretty boy."
"I'm going to kill you, Munson." He declared, knuckles white from the tight grip on the butt of the gun. Fuck, if the bullet didn't stop my heart, the fear would.
"All talk no action. I guess that's why Chris swapped you for the freak, huh."
I knew the nickname would strike that final nerve, so I braced myself and tried not to falter when I heard the bullet being shot.
Though it never came; Dustin had pushed the gun away, forcing Jason to shoot the roof and earning the kid a well packed punch.
Letting out a warcry to hype myself up, I leaped forward, tackling the shorter senior and sending us both to fall on the creaky planks on the attic's floor.
Using the initial shock and the fact the the gun had slipped from Jason's grasp as my only advantages, I propped myself upright on my knees and threw a blow down full force, making it crash into the blond's cheekbone with a strength I didn't know I had, leaving a cut on it from my chunky ring and the jock momentarily stunned.
I clutched my fist with a hiss, feeling my own stinging pain from the hit on my knuckles.
"EDDIE!!"
My head instinctively snapped at Dustin, and I was first met with the cause of the terrified scream; Chrissy beginning to raise from the floor.
"THE CASSETTE!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.. "DUSTIN, THE C—"
Pow!
Jason's knuckles hastily colliding with my jaw marked the end of what I knew to be my strike of luck.
My reflexes were clearly not as good as an athlete's, so in my dazed state, I could do close nothing to dodge a second blow, way more calculated than the previous one.
After trying to shake Jason off me and attempting to unsuccessfully land a couple of hits of my own, I opted to shield myself.
I barely registered the melodic, ironically lighthearted voice of Brigitte Bardot being blasted through my radio cassette player; thankfully, it took Jason so aback that he halted his vicious attack on me.
"STOP THIS!" His hysterical threat came out muffled by the blood thumping in my ears. Through swollen, blurry eyes, I saw how Jason scurried away in Dustin's direction.
No way.
Drawing strength from the adrenaline, I managed to kick the jock in the guts before he could get up. I pushed myself off the wooden floor, making it squeak under my weight before charging at Jason once more with a loud cry.
I knew it was a losing game, and Jason confirmed it the moment he not only deviated my fist to crash on the planks, but also switched our positions; with a crazed glare, he held me in place by taking a fistful of my blood stained shirt to push me against one of the posts supporting the damned attic's structure.
I didn't hear the thump behind Jason.
CHRISSY'S P. O. V.
"Stop running, Chrissy." The devil-like voice was calm; he was taking his time to chase me through the beautiful playground he had recently turned into a goreish nightmare. "It's time."
I stopped running by the swings; my chest heaved and tears blurred my eyes once more. He was right, it was time.
That was my last genuinely happy memory. There was no point in trying to get away anymore, and that broke me.
"Chrissy." I let out a shriek at the closeness of his voice. Frozen in place by the horror I felt, I could only widen my eyes, my legs dangerously shaking while he circled me until we stood face to face. "Stay very still." He ordered, raising his clawed hand until it hovered over my head. "It'll be alright."
It'll be alright.
The words Eddie had scribbled on his notepad moments ago while we waited alone for Phase Two came to my mind, accompanied by his soft half smile as a saving grace.
I didn't know if that would count as a happy memory, but I had to try. Pushing out of my thoughts the fact that Vecna was inches away from me, I shut my eyes and visualized that instant as vividly as I could, tears spilling from my closed lids.
Moi je joue à joue contre joue
Je veux jouer à joue contre vous
Mais vous, le voulez-vous?
"You think a song will save you, Chrissy?" He mocked me, tilting his head to the side. "Nothing will s..."
I had no time to think before the ground split beneath me while everything dissolved into dusty smoke, including Vecna.
I caught a mere glimpse of it before falling into a seemingly never ending darkness that made my stomach sink and knocked the air straight out of my lungs.
And then... Thud!
My feet hit the ground without a warning, cheerleader instincts kicking in and making me react on time so I wouldn't break my ankles.
It took a while for my senses to register anything aside from my hyperventilation, the undusted old wood beneath me and the deafening singing of Brigitte Bardot.
"Chrissy!" Two trembling hands grabbed my forearms and forced me to meet a curl framed face.
"Dustin?" The kid was on the verge of tears, visibly torn between leaving my side or making sure I was alright.
And then every violent sound silenced by the cassette started to come to me; the tussling, the grunts, the hits, Jason's raging screams.
The gun lying at arm's reach on my left.
EDDIE'S P. O. V.
"You think I don't know why you chose Chrissy?!" He yelled, fisting my shirt; had I not being so battered, I would have worried about him tearing the cheap fabric. "You think I don't see how you look at her?! YOU FUCKING FREAK?!" His voice cracked while he shoved my head against the post, triggering a worn out wince from me. Shit, I was so gonna have a serious concussion after this. "YOU'VE" Punch. "ALWAYS." Punch. "WANTED HER!"
Bang!
I didn't even flinch at the shot, but Jason did. His hands instinctively went up to somehow cover his head, but someone else was faster on the attack, shattering a vase against my attacker's temple and successfully freeing me from his iron grip.
Dustin's shoe flashed in front my eyes to kick Jason's semiconscious body off of me before hooking his arms around mines, dragging me away from the jock.
It was only after my perspective of the room had changed that I saw Chrissy struggling to stand up, the gun held firmly by both of her hands.
Like a rabid animal, Jason was soon clambering scarily fast towards me and Dustin, making us both scream as if that would somehow stop him.
"Get off them." Chrissy's stern, tired voice was barely audible over the song, but it was enough to make Jason change his mind about resuming the fight.
"Chris— Chris, it's me, babe." It was scary, how gentle he turned once he realized Chrissy was out of the trance. He wasn't in much of a hurry to rescue her from us now that she was aiming the pistol at him.
"What did you do?" She questioned in a grieving mumble, glassy blue eyes stealing a worried glance at my form.
"Baby, put down the gun." He ordered, getting up from the floor in an attempt to make his way to Chrissy. "I don't know what this freak did to you but we'll make it right."
"Don't get any closer." She warned the basketball team captain, taking a step back in order to rest against one of the wooden posts.
"Babe, I know you're scared—"
Determination and anger twisted Chrissy's face before she tilted the barrel down ever so slightly, shooting right in front of Jason's feet.
"I SAID DON'T GET ANY CLOSER!" Dustin's hold of me loosened, most likely due to feeling more protected now that Jason seemed to be listening to Chrissy. "Dustin? Can you get Eddie to the stairs?"
"I— I can try." The kid was able to sit me up but, despite putting in his best effort, I couldn't even stand up before we stumbled back to the floor. "Fuck."
Chrissy seemed to ponder her options, brows furrowed in concentration.
"Turn around and walk to that corner." She ordered Jason, momentarily cocking the gun at the farthest place from the attic's entrance.
The boy's bewildered eyes landed on us, then the corner, then Chrissy again, switching back and forth between the end of the gun and her cold gaze. "Chris, c'mon." He chuckled, trying not to let the nerves slip. "You're not gonna shoot me."
"I don't want to shoot you." She corrected him, jaw clenched and eyes squinted as if she was battling with her soft self and her own fears to make the following statement. "But I will if you touch Eddie again. So," Jason gulped, now more convinced by his girlfriend's words. "You're going to turn around, and walk to that corner."
Unable to react different due to the shock of the situation, Jason did nothing but obey, walking past us livid with widened eyes and hands up.
"Stay there." Chrissy's stern voice faltered while she put the gun down and rushed to us, her strong demeanor crumbling into pieces once she kneeled in front of me. "God..."
"Bad, huh?" I questioned, trying to lighting the mood but obtaining the opposite.
"It's going to be okay, Eddie." she didn't sound very convincing, but what was remaining intact of my body melted when she took off her scrunchie and carefully put my hair back in a bun. "It's... God, okay. That's a lot of blood."
"Great." I hissed, clenching my fists when Chrissy used her fingertips to move my bangs out of the way.
"Dustin, you have water?" By the way Chrissy's were automatically casted down, I figured the freshman, who kept me sat upright, had responded negatively. "We're... We're gonna get you to a hospital, okay? C'mon."
She moved to my side, draping my left arm over her shoulders and linking her fingers with mines before prompting Dustin to do the same.
With extra support, a little pride and a lot of pain, I was able to start walking.
"Waitwaitwait," I stopped them at the stairs, earning a worried look from both. "Can't go to a hospital, they'll call the police."
"Eddie, I don't know if you noticed but" Dustin motioned dramatically at my upper body with his free hand. "This is bad. Dying beats jail."
"Do I... look like I'm dying?" Chrissy's overenthusiastic 'no!' overlapped with Dustin's deadpanning 'yeah'. "I mean, it does hurt like a bitch."
"Listen, we'll get you to a hospital." Chrissy began, taking a step forward for us to follow her lead. "I'll— I'll stay with you, okay?"
I vehemently denied, feeling instant regret when that simple movement made me prone to lose balance and fall down the old stairs. "What about Vecna?"
"I think the plan worked." Chrissy shrugged, locking her eyes with mine. Now up close, I could appreciate how bloodshot they were. "The song... It wouldn't have worked."
My breath hitched, my left hand tightening around hers as if that would stop her from disappearing again.
It wouldn't have worked.
"It's okay, Eddie. He's gone." I hope. She didn't say it, but both Dustin and I could hear that thought. "Wait here, guys." She asked in a soft whisper once we reached the bottom of the stairs. So different from the harsh tone she had used with Jason minutes ago.
Speaking of which— Chrissy run upstairs, her ruined, soiled skirt shimming gracefully as she did so.
She was down in no time, wiggling Jason's car keys in one hand while the other held the gun limply against her thigh.
"I got ourselves a ride." She stated, sporting a smile way too warm bright for the situation. God, I loved her smile. "I gotta warn you, I'm not the best driver." She commented, throwing my arm over her shoulders once more.
"Well, look at it this way, we're driving to a hospital anyway." Dustin pointed out, making Chrissy laugh, her eyes squinting as she shook her head and casted it down.
Following her movements, my eyes inevitably fell on the stuffed pocket of the jacket Nancy bought her at War Zone, which until that moment had been empty. The two notepads we had used to communicate before baiting Vecna peeked from it.
When she looked back up at me and noticed what had caught my attention, she gifted me a small, timid smile.
"Happy memories." She simply said, only loud enough for me to hear. "I need those."
Happy memories.
My heart made a flip, and I felt like a middle school kid all over again.
I want a Chrissy lives au (or just a the upside down doesn't come back au? Idk) where Eddie & Chrissy and Billy & Steve end up in this situation where they're like all trying to coparent their kids together.
And it's kind of like they're a divorced couple (both with new spouse's) but no one's really sure who is the divorcees and who is a step parent.
The scarf is rough against Eddie's throat, tension slack enough he can only just feel it in its noose around his adam's apple and the hinges of his jaw without restricting his breathing. His grip on Chrissy's sleeves, on the other hand, is tight enough to make his fingers ache, but he can't for the life of him let go. It feels like the only thing tethering him to the earth, the bench he's sitting on and the ground under his feet insubstantial compared to the scratchy material of Chrissy's rain jacket, where he'd thrown his arms up and back in instinctual struggle that flipped to instinctual surrender when he saw her face like a bird on the wing.
He's caught, by the rough yarn across his throat and Chrissy's gaze. The top of his head brushes her sternum. She's bent over him in a gentle arc, one of her big, sparkling smiles fading into an expression a little like wonder, a little like fear. He can't tell what his face is doing at all, but if it's anything like he feels he probably looks like she took Cupid's arrow and drove it straight through his ribcage and into his heart with the steady hand of a hunter putting lamed prey to rest. He should probably let go, reassure her, but she's staring into his eyes, watching him, and her fingers flex. It shifts the scarf over his throat and he swallows hard.
She doesn't look like an angel, like this, or like a marble sculpture. She looks like a girl with his throat between her teeth and no knowledge of how much pressure she can apply before he's bleeding out. It's rough and imperfect and dangerous, and he wants to learn, wants her to bite down just to see what happens.
