Story [Stranger Things] angsty one shot (Nancy W, bit Mike W.)

A/N: This drabble was inspired by Norman Rockwell's painting of the same name. I have written other drabbles with his paintings as inspiration, but this is the first for 'Stranger Things'.

Also, to you Lurkers out there: I would love to have you step into the light, however briefly, to share your thoughts in a review. If you like what I'm doing, it would be a good bit of encouragement. Enjoy!

Girl at the Mirror

The basement belonged to the Party. Or, so her nerd brother obnoxiously claimed. Too bad he wasn't here, now, to repel her invasion of his sanctum. Nancy Wheeler wandered, listlessly, around the room taking in the relics of her brother's passions and the core of his social life: D&D manuals and statuettes, the Millennium Falcon, Ghostbusters gizmos, and assorted action figures. There was also popcorn remains and plastic cups that had yet to make it to the garbage. It was all so childish, so silly and immature, so...evident of a boy who had friends, people he cared and about people who cared about him. It was hard to judge when such a statement was rooted in jealousy. She laughed sadly, recognizing that she knew herself well enough not to live in denial. Her brother had friends. He had friends whom had lived through it, when hers had not. Barb's absence was a gaping hole. Steve Harrington or not. Jonathan Byers or not. Now, she was feeling incredibly sorry for herself. El was gone, too. No amount of denial from Mike would change that. He was suffering whether he thought she was alive or dead. The bottom line was that she wasn't here. And, neither was Barb.

As she looked around the room, she caught her reflection in a large, framed mirror that her mother had removed from her room years ago. It leaned stoically against the wall gathering dust. She imagined what the mirror thought of being downgraded from her mother to the posing of a group of preteen boys. She looked at herself from across the room and was surprised at how old and tired she appeared. There was no real reason for her to be shocked. She had been through Hell with Jonathan and Steve and Joyce. No duration of piping hot shower was going to expunge that kind of weariness. She moved from the couch, taking a nearby stool, and setting it in front of the large mirror. She sat down and leaned forward wanting a closer look at herself. Or, did she? What she saw frightened her and caused shame to rise like a clinched fist around her heart. Her gut suddenly twisted and a wet blanket seemed to rest on heavy on her shoulders. She could not take her eyes from the mirror. She met the desperation and sickness in her own eyes and would not look away. Was this grief? Of course, she missed her friend, her constant companion in the battlefield of high school. But this was more than grief. This was heavier, more insidious, more debilitating. This was shame. This was guilt.

"This...was your...fault," she sobbed, reaching out to point at the girl in the mirror. "You were selfish. You wouldn't listen to her pleas. His attentions were more important; more important than your best friend's life."

"It wasn't like that!" Mirror Nancy replied, defensively.

"It was exactly like that. You promised Barb. You told her you would leave if things got weird or awkward for her. You made her believe you had her back. But what did you do, hmmm? You didn't have her back. You turned you back! You turned your back on her. You told her to 'just go home!'"

"And why didn't she?!" Mirror Nancy cries. "Why didn't she do what I told her to do?"

"Come on, Nancy, you know why. You know why your guts are twisted like a pretzel and you are having trouble breathing. You know why Barb won't leave your mind! You know why she died! She died because she would not leave you in that house with that boy over night. Even after you shooed her away, she was loyal. She stayed close. She knew you would wake up, whether you were ashamed of what you had done or not. She was ready to be there for you, to take you home, to talk you through it. It didn't matter that you had disappointed her, that you had not only broken your promise to leave, but you gave in to Steve Harrington, that you let him have you. She stayed. What do you think was going though her mind while she waited for you? What do you think inspired her to go back outside? What do you think was waiting for her out there? You know what it was. You've seen it. All those teeth. She died in terror and excruciating pain because you wanted sex."

"No, no, no, no," Mirror Nancy moaned. "It wasn't-"

"Shut up, Nancy! It was exactly like that. But you know what? She wouldn't let it end there. Would she? She wouldn't let you go back to business and usual. She wouldn't let you live in denial. I can give you a pat on the back for going with Jonathan. For crawling into that damn tree when any sane person would have run the other way. Brave, girl. After that, you were galvanized. Vengeance was yours, right? If I'm going to get my friend killed, I sure as heck am going to kill the thing that killed her. At least that way, I can assuage my OVERWHELMING SHAME at throwing her to the wolves. I have to admit you tried your hardest. You set the trap. You even set the thing on fire. You had both your boys at your side. And, poof! The monster up and vanished into flesh singed air. You lived. So did Steve and Jonathan. But someone else had to fight the final battle. That stings too, doesn't it? A 12 year old stranger. Quite a thing, huh? All that weird lab stuff. Mike and the Party hiding a girl in this house under your nose. I know none of that was your fault. Who knew the girl had superpowers? Who knew she would make the sacrifice you should have made to kill the monster? Who knew that your brother, the one you find so cumbersome, would be the one who kept her safe long enough to save all of your lives?"

"I know," Mirror Nancy replied. "I know. I know."

"What do you know, Nancy? I hope you know you killed Barb. Directly or indirectly, you did it!"

Mirror Nancy removed her hand from her face and sat up. She wiped the tears from her eyes. She let out a heavy, shuddering sigh. She raised hr eyes to her other as her face hardened. "Are you done?

Nancy was oddly silent.

"Good," Mirror Nancy said. "You went on and on and you got me pretty good. I do feel guilty. I am sad. I could have made different choices and Barb might be alive. But, let you tell you something very important. I did not kill Barb! And. I won't let you tell me I did. I won't let my life, as out there as it is, be subject to that nonsense. I will do everything I can to comfort my brother and I will reach out to Barb's parents. As far as Steve and Jonathan, who knows. But, I'll figure it out. The monster is gone. You don't know how thankful I am for that fact. I'm alive. My brother and his friends are alive. It's a good day. I know I won't get rid of you forever, but for now, and as long as I can manage, you are not driving this bus."

Nancy Wheeler rose from the stool and left the mirror alone. She walked up the stairs and up the next flight as well. She knocked on her brother's door. She heard him say 'Go away', but she ignored him and opened it. He was lying on his bed, his head buried in his Star Wars pillow.

"I said go away!" Mike barked at her. He rapidly wiped tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

She walked into the room, smiling sadly, but sympathetically. She sat in his desk chair across form his bunk bed. "I don't want to fight, Mike. I just want to talk about it. Can we talk about it?"

His red-rimmed stare was, at first, distrustful. But, it didn't last long. They both sat in silence for a while.

"It's like part of me is missing," Nancy risked. "I miss her so much."

Mike nodded solemnly. "I know exactly how you feel."

Fin.

 

@brodiew -- you just rock at the whole introspective oomphy character-driven stuff Marvelous roiling emotions. Nancy has some understandable complex ones but she comes through them and reaches out for mutual comfort

 

This was lovely.

There were a few relationships I wish we could have seen more of (in both seasons) and one of those is Nancy and Mike. So thanks for helping to fill in that gap

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha : Thanks, Nyota. That piece kind of took on a life of its own. I like Nancy fine but haven't inspired to write her much. It was strange how the condemnation just poured out, even adding a bit of sneer to the words.
@Tarsier: Thank you and it's good to see you, Tarsier. I agree that a little more Nancy-Mike interaction would have been good on the show. I'm glad you liked this. I hope to see you back.
@Mira_Jade: Thank you, Mira. You boil it down so well, so succinctly. I'm glad it had the impact I hoped. There are two other self condemnation fics I've written over the year that are of this time. Dark and ugly if you will. maybe more sad in that the condemnation is not necessarily valid, even if bad choices were made. Thank you, again.

A Falcon of a Different Sort

Lucas Sinclair silently cursed his father, whom he loved very much. The man had decided to teach him a lesson in humility and responsibility by providing him with a 1978 Ford Fairmount as his first car. It was 1987. When he arrived at Dustin’s place on Saturday morning, the first words out of his friend’s mouth were:

“What a piece of junk!”

“She'll make point five past light speed,” Lucas retorted. “She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, jerkweed.”

Dustin grinned at that open, the short, but heavy passenger door, emitting his trademark Chewbacca growl. “At least you have a car. Looks like my bike will be my transport for the foreseeable future.”

Lucas shrugged and started the car. “You talk to Mike yet?”

“Yeah, he said to pick them up at his house. What about Max?”

“We heading to her place now,” Lucas replied, giving Dustin a knowing glare.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dustin lamented. “Back seat when we get there. Wookies get no respect.”

Lucas huffed out a short laugh. “Wookies get plenty of respect. Whiny kids from backwater planets sit in the back. Plus, it’s Max, dude!”

“I’m not whiny,” Dustin defended. “I’m you’re co-pilot. Or, I used to be. Now, we have a princess.”

“There is no ‘now’, Dustin,” Lucas answered. “Max is not new. Max is who she is.”

“The Princess,” Dustin reiterated. “You better be careful, Bro. You know what they are said about Han in Return of the Jedi?”

“Han was just fine,” Lucas growled, gripping the wheel tighter. “Nothing wrong with being in love. He was still a man.”

Dustin smirked. “Speaking of being a man, did you check her wallet?”

“No, why would I check her wallet?” Lucas said, frustration mounting.

“For you man card, Dude,” Dustin said, laughing at his own joke. “She’s holding it, right? Like Leia has Han’s.”

“Shut the hell up,” Lucas barked. “I’m this close to dropping your ass on the side of the road. Letting Harrington or your mom come get you.”

“Sorry, Lucas,” Dustin relented. “Just poking fun. Sucks being sidelined though.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucas responded, hitting his friend on the shoulder. “Sorry I yelled. I’m still pissed about this tank my dad gave me. I was hoping for something newer and more stylish.”

“Like I said, at least you have a car. In fact, you’re the only Party member that does. That’s something.”

“I guess it is,” Lucas agreed, nodding his head and giving the dashboard an affectionate rub. He looked at Dustin. “Thanks, Man. Gotta be grateful for what you have, right? Cars and friends.”

Dustin returned a small smile. “Yep. Gotta be grateful.”

Lucas bared his pearly whites. “Wookies still sit in back when we pick up the princess.”

 

Nice bantering tone.
That is such a "guy" reaction -- this car isn't up to the minute. Dustin is right; be grateful to have a car. Loved the teasing and honest affection. Comparing H/L to Max and Lucas -- too sweet.

 

Thanks, Nyota! It was a fun bit of banter. However, I posted but I posted to the wrong thread. I'll leave it here though.