Nancy came home later than usual. The house was half-lit, the faint hum of the refrigerator filling the silence. Her dark brown curls clung to her neck, her blouse and denim jacket still smelling faintly of gun oil. She was five foot five, small but sharp, eyes scanning every shadow like a soldier on edge. Hawkins never rested anymore.

She was still in her work clothes: a pale blouse buttoned high at the collar beneath a gray vest, a faded denim jacket thrown over it. Her skirt—soft cotton patterned with pastel streaks of pink and turquoise—brushed her knees, cinched at the waist with a pale belt. The outfit had once looked sweet, harmless; now it only made her feel like she didn’t belong to either world—the ordinary one or the one with monsters. Her shoes tapped lightly on the floor as she moved through the quiet house, gun oil still faint on her hands.

When she realized no one was home, her stomach twisted. Steve and Robin were supposed to stay behind to check on Eddie. The others had gone to the Creel House ruins. You had said you’d stay home, said you’d help organize the notes and blueprints scattered across the Wheeler basement—the same basement where Mike and his friends once played D&D, before monsters and mind flayers became real.

That’s where she found you.

At first, Nancy thought the flicker of movement was just the fluorescent light struggling to stay alive. But then she saw it—the way your body was hanging in the air, weightless, your hair lifting slightly from your shoulders, eyes rolled completely white. You looked—God, you looked gone. A woman suspended between life and death, breathless, unreachable. And for one horrifying second, she couldn’t move.

The sight of you—someone she had learned to rely on, to laugh with in brief, unguarded moments, to trust in ways she didn’t even trust herself—paralyzed her. Her heart surged violently in her chest, and she stumbled down the stairs so fast her knees hit the railing. “No, no, no…” Her voice came out as a whisper and a prayer all at once.

You were floating just above the concrete floor, your limbs rigid, your face twisted in a soundless cry. Vecna’s curse had its claws in you, and Nancy’s mind was already splitting into fragments—music. She needed music. The world blurred as she fumbled for the duffel bag they always kept by the wall—flashlights, rope, walkie-talkies, and the little red Walkman Robin had insisted on packing. Her hands shook so hard she nearly dropped it.

She found your cassette tape, the one you’d claimed as your favorite, the one she’d teased you about once but secretly memorized every lyric of. She jammed it into the player, almost breaking the buttons, the music roaring to life, tinny and distorted. “Come on,” she muttered, breath sharp and fast. She slipped the headphones over your ears, pushing your hair away with trembling fingers. Her blue eyes darted across your face, searching for any sign that you were still there.

Her voice cracked when she said your name. “You have to come back. Please.”

The song burst to life—grainy, distorted, but familiar. Her trembling hands hovered near your shoulders, helpless. She whispered your name, over and over, as if the sound could pull you back from whatever place Vecna had dragged you to. Her eyes stung, and she blinked hard, forcing herself not to cry.

Don’t lose her too. You can’t lose another girl because you were too slow, too scared, too confused about what she meant to you.

Your body dropped with a gasp that seemed to tear through you. It happened too fast to think. You fell like gravity had just remembered you existed, and Nancy lunged forward, catching you against her chest. The impact knocked her down hard, the concrete floor scraping her knees, but she barely felt it. She wrapped her arms around you, clutching you close, the sound of the music still faintly buzzing between you.

“I got you,” she breathed, over and over, the words breaking apart in the middle. “I got you, I got you.”