Chrissy did not look well. Her eyes were glazed over. She didn't seem to be able to see him. No matter what he did, she was unresponsive. He was losing hope when things changed; with a sputter, she came back to him. This is an AU where Chrissy and Eddie live. It turns out, the secret to successfully killing Vecna the first time around is simply keeping Chrissy and Eddie alive!
Hurling towards the Upside Down in an RV, Eddie Munson contemplates his failures with Chrissy and finds his resolve to not repeat his past mistakes on his mission with Dustin. This fic is just a super short one-shot, something I created as I mourned the loss of Eddie and contemplated how he came to the conclusion that he was willing to sacrifice himself in the Upside Down.
Her singing-it was…gripping, he realized—damn near enchanting, if he were to be honest. It grabbed his attention—demanded it, really—and made it impossible for him to focus on much of anything else. The second she made that stand outside their moonshine shack, she had grabbed his attention and demanded it. Really, he realized, it hadn't left her since then. Happy Bethyl Week :)
Numb, that was all he was-all he could be-there, at the crossroads. He had a choice, he knew that much. He could remain numbed to the pain, return to the safety of lack of caring and remorse. Or...he could pick himself up, brush off his pins and needles, and start looking for her. He knew what she'd want, if she were here, by his side. That alone meant he had no option.
When he saw who had done it-who had shot his rabbit, who had dared to mention her-when his eyes took in the man who had claimed his vest at the crossroads, all they saw was a consumption of red hot anger. This piece-part two in my Bethyl Week series-is an altered excerpt from SSTL, my finished work. But it can be enjoy independently by those who haven't read the original story!
His body reeked of frustration. Was it because of their secret? Did he fear the stand that they might have to make? He gave her that look-that same look in them as she had seen in the kitchen of their funeral home-and she knew there was no secret to begin with. Short one-shot preview for SSTL 2, as prompted by Bethyl Week. Piece can be enjoyed with or without having read SSTL!
He couldn't remember how they had gotten here. He vaguely remembered her poking and prodding his stomach, but her uttered mutterings that they should probably get a move on had barely registered. Suddenly, irrationally, illogically, he didn't want to return to the camp—he wanted to build a home—a life—here.
He dreamt of all the things he could be doing to her; and not he as in Daryl-he, as in the asshole that had taken her. He had just grown used to her being by his side. And, now that she wasn't, his brain was blaming him, torturing him with visions of all the time they had managed to spend together, and of all the time they might never get now, due to his own failures.
The blood of the Walkers may not have been human; but hers was, as it dripped to fall to the tiled floor of the bathroom. The Walker blood taught her to survive, but seeing her own blood, flooding rapidly from her veins through her own selfish actions, taught her something even more important-what it meant to live. Completed, canon Bethyl story, leading up to a season 5 prediction!
She recalled the memory that had awoken her and this internal argument to begin with. She could not find the details, but there was a vague sense of a dream meant to recollect a specific memory. She had dreamt—remembered, really—of a time spent in a series of storage units, and of the thoughts that had plagued her there...