Work Text:
Nancy couldn't look at herself in the mirror.
She tried to focus on the white porcelain of WSQK's sink instead, her hands still caked in dust and blood as they gripped the edge of the tile with a force that could've shattered it in half.
She swallowed, her throat fighting against the dry, dirty feeling that remained in the back of her throat. She lifted one hand slowly to look at the gunk caked under her nails from clawing her way through the rift. The raw skin of her fingertips, sore when she pressed them together tightly, little pieces of rock and dirt embedded between the ridges of her fingerprint.
From the other room, she could hear soft music. She could almost hear her brother and sister talking quietly, curled up together on the pull-out couch in the basement.
They had nowhere to go. Their house was still ripped to pieces, their mother and father had been torn from them, lying in a hospital miles away. The military's wall was still just as sturdy and inescapable as it had been the day before, the sleepy town only just realizing something had changed.
They were alone. Except they weren't, because Robin hadn't even hesitated to sling her arm around Holly's shoulder and solemnly proclaim that no Wheeler would go without a roof that night, as long as they didn't wreck Rockin' Robin's cred by telling everyone she was some good Samaritan.
"A Wheeler sleepover." She had said, her smile turning to Nancy, "Right off of my Christmas wish list."
And if the Wheelers had no roof to go home to, that meant no one else did either. Will, Lucas, Dustin, and Max had all refused to leave Mike's side, Steve had refused to leave Dustin and Robin's, and Robin herself had shrugged her shoulders and asked if anyone had any sleeping bags. Hopper had— Well… He was the only one not present that night.
The rest of them had all piled in the quiet basement of WSQK like one big, fucked up family. Couches and pillows and blankets were shared, snacks dragged out of desk drawers, showers taken in the basement bathroom— because, apparently, Jimmy Fast Hands had lived in that tiny station as well— washrags crafted out of shreds of WSQK merchandise. Vinyls were continuously spun by the capable hands of one radio DJ, voices crooning and calling from big, dusty speakers, and the hard concrete floor was barely an annoyance… At least, compared to facing down an interdimensional monster.
Compared to losing one of their own. To almost losing everyone.
Nancy shut her eyes, her breath rattling out of her lungs as she tried to control herself. The basin was slick under her fingers, her nails picked to the quick, and when she glanced down again, there were streaks of black and red blood painting the white porcelain. She didn't know whether it was hers. Whether it was hers, or a soldier's, or her mother's, or Barb's.
Blood she had taken, blood she had been given, blood she would never be able to wash off her hands.
She couldn't decide what would be worse. Looking at her blood-soaked hands or looking into her own eyes. She wished she didn't have to do either.
Nancy's decision was made with purpose, her back straightening as she convinced herself that, though almost everyone was asleep or falling asleep by that point, if she took much longer than she really needed, then someone would become worried. Someone would come asking what was going on.
She didn't need to worry them anymore. She didn't need to worry Mike or Holly.
Nancy lifted her eyes and tried to hide her whimper, her elbows nearly giving out from underneath her.
The girl staring back at her was caked in dirt and dust and blood, tear tracks already cutting paths through the grime. Her skin was pale, underneath all that shadow, her eyes sunken in and almost empty. She could see the spot on her cheek where Jonathan had tried to wipe some of the dots of the Mind Flayer's black blood away with his shirt, could see the rough path it had left when she pulled away.
Her hair was a tangled mess, matted with sweat and blood and dirt, pieces of it burned from the ash and embers that had rained down upon her as she pressed against the hard rocks of the cliffs. The curls at the back were still crunchy from the dried goop, exotic matter, whatever, and her scalp stung when she reached back to try and comb her fingers through it. Dark strings fell in her face, draping across her thin and pale shoulders like black vines against marble.
Nancy remembered hair salon appointments with her mother, thin plastic gloves over painted nails and gaudy gold rings as her hair was permed, as her mother's was bleached. She remembered stacks of fashion and gossip magazines, men with straight white teeth and broad shoulders grinning up at her from the pages, the gasps and respectful giggles of hairstylists as they collected secret after secret, filing them away in their overflowing bank that could never even scratch the surface of what Hawkins was really hiding.
She remembered ginger hair falling between her fingers as she placed colorful hair clips into soft waves. Silk pajamas and The Breakfast Club and bowls of buttery popcorn. Barb's freshly painted nails scratching at her scalp as she parted her hair into three neat sections, deft hands fashioning a braid in minutes that felt like hours. Pools and ice cream and wet curls, sunburned scalps and grass-stained knees.
She remembered the smell of her mother's blood on the floor of their kitchen, pennies and lemon Pine Sol. She remembered the horror she felt when she ran her fingers through her hair after the paramedics arrived, her curls drinking her mother's blood, wet against her cheek. She remembered looking down and watching as blonde hair turned into shades of pink and red, as her mother's eyes fluttered, her throat gurgling. Drowning in her own blood.
She remembered Barb's swollen face, a slug crawling from between her lips, her ginger hair nearly black with sludge and gunk, slicked to her head. She remembered the smell, piercing all the way to the back of her sinuses when she gasped in shock, immediately lightheaded at the sickly smell of years-old rot.
Nancy shook her head and reached blindly for the WSQK shirt she'd been given to clean up with, the skin of her hands rough against the soft red fabric. She turned on the shower, her eyes trained on one corner of the mirror as she waited for it to heat up as much as it could, her bare, bony, and bruised shoulder jagged against the soft white light of the bathroom.
She got in the shower and cleaned her body quickly, tried to ignore the way her hair seemed to deflect the water as soon as it touched it, how the smell of it carried on the steam was nearly enough to make her gag, leaving a lump of blackened fabric in the bottom of a nearby trashcan when she finally fled the shower, afraid of using all the hot water when she knew some of her friends still hadn't taken their turn. She changed into the clothes that Robin had tossed her before she headed into the bathroom. Black shorts and a white T-shirt, probably both Robin's, hanging loose on her chest and hips. The material was soft, and she could faintly smell detergent and vanilla beneath the stench of the Upside Down. The smell that she was pretty sure would always cling to her, now. That she was pretty sure had been enveloped into her very cells, her very soul. A trauma she could never shake, no matter how hard she tried.
Nancy reached up, feeling the tiny cuts and blooms of bruising that had covered her face. The break in the skin of her lips from where she had bitten too hard, her sight filled with nothing but that creature's grotesque face.
Is this how Barb felt? How mom felt? Nancy had thought, after her hands had scrabbled for a flare gun that wasn't there, the monster's face diving towards her just moments before it had been encased in ash and flickering flame.
She could lay her head in the sink, turn on the tap, hope and pray the water pressure would be enough to get everything out of her clinging curls. She could get back in the shower and wait until the water was cold, hope that it would've started to run clear by that point, hope that her friends wouldn't care that she used all the hot water. She could do it.
She didn't want to. She didn't want to wash her hair and pretend everything was normal. She didn't want to do what she had done for five fucking years. Stumble back home, plaster on a smile, and pretend she could ever clean herself of the things she had seen. Doll up her hair, smear on an extra layer of foundation to cover the bruises, and pretend she didn't know what her best friend's rotting corpse smelled like. Pretend she hadn't seen the way her mother's skin peeled back from her throat. Pretend she hadn't torn an alien out of her baby sister's mouth.
A red plastic brush lay just a couple of feet away, next to a plastic cup with Mickey Mouse's face printed on the side of it, dried toothpaste caked over the rim. Inside the cup were two toothbrushes, white and green, a tube of toothpaste, a straight razor, and a pair of scissors, the silver blades marred with flaking rust. Nancy knew Steve and Robin sometimes pulled overnights at the station when they were too tired or too unwilling to go home. She wondered if Robin trimmed her bangs with those scissors or if they had lain there for so long that they wouldn't even open. That they would crumble in Nancy's hands.
Nancy swallowed, her hands shaking as she reached towards the cup.
She was her mother's daughter. She was a leader, a strong and resilient woman who had been through so much in such a short amount of time. Who always got back up and brushed herself off, who patted her hair back into place and faked a smile and acted like she didn't wake up screaming almost every night. Who wore her strength like a cape, like a disguise, like a shield.
The scissors were heavy in her hand, the blades sticking together from disuse, but when she raised them to one of her curls and clipped without a second thought, they cut through as clean as she could hope.
Nancy's breath came out of her in a rush, looking down at the single dark curl in her hand. More dirt collected against her palm, shaken from her hair, the grime spreading from wherever the curl touched. The separation sparked just a tiny bit of relief in the pit of her stomach, curling around her aching heart.
She dropped it in the sink and, without a thought, reached up and grabbed another curl. The scissors dutifully snapped closed, another strand of hair now falling to the cold blue tile floor, and Nancy was finally able to take a shaky breath.
Nancy looked at herself again, her face clean but her hair a matted mess around her blue eyes.
She reached up.
Snip.
Another curl fell, clinging to the edge of the sink basin. Her hand still shook when she reached up again.
Snip.
Nancy sucked in a breath, nose crinkling at the smell of burning hair that still clung to her.
Snip.
This chunk was larger, clumped and tangled like a bundle of twine that had been mishandled, turned into a vague lump. The scissors struggled, this time, but they finally closed.
Snip.
Nancy looked into the mirror, her eyes unfamiliar in a way they hadn't been in years. Wild red lines radiating from dark blue irises, purple bruises and burst blood vessels from screaming. But behind it all, they were still her mother's eyes. Anger filled her. Her hands slowly stilled, steady, as she reached up again, and again, and again.
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
Hair covered the floor around her feet, landing in solid clumps and clinging, itching strands.
Nancy took bigger sections, her eyes blurring as she didn't even attempt to make anything neat and tidy. Nothing was neat and tidy anymore. Nothing had been. Not for years. Not since her days were filled with flashcards and nail polish and boys with disarming smiles.
Nancy's muscles ached where she held her arms up over her head, her exhaustion weighing her down as she slouched onto the sink, trembling even as she tried to take deep breaths, lead filling her veins.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes.
The girl who looked back at her was not Nancy Wheeler. She was something else entirely. Something feral, wild eyes flitting around every corner of the room like a cornered animal. Her hair was a mess, hanging in uneven chunks around her face and chin, loose strands clinging to her shoulders. A girl who had been through hell and back.
And, just like that, all of the anger washed out of her like water down a drain, leaving her with nothing but exhaustion as she slumped back against the sink, reaching her hand up to feel the tattered remnants of her hair. Without knowing exactly why, her eyes filled with tears.
She clutched the side of the sink, breathing through the strange aching that built in her chest. An unfamiliar pressure filled her limbs, her muscles tight, like she had finally stepped off the precipice she had been clinging to her entire life, and now she hung suspended, milliseconds before everything came crashing down.
Guilt filled her as she looked down, her pale skin littered with little pieces of hair, the sink and the floor covered in long chunks of matted curls. She vaguely wondered if there was a broom nearby. But the thought of quietly cleaning up her mess was almost too much to bear. The thought of reaching up and turning her hair into something more presentable still weighed heavily against her bones. All of a sudden, her exhaustion didn't seem purely physical anymore. The idea of lifting her arms, craning her neck to see the rough edges she had left in the back, and trying to fix herself into something presentable was like a steel weight in her mind. After years of trying to push through, her exhaustion finally caught up to her.
She was tired of picking up the pieces.
She was tired of being strong.
Nancy jolted when she heard quiet footsteps stumble towards the door. The person hesitated before they knocked, the careful sound filling the small room.
"Nance?" Robin asked, her voice muffled by the wood, "Are you… Are you okay?"
Nancy felt all the air whoosh out of her lungs, relief washing over her before she had even realized she was afraid of who was behind the door. She didn't think she would have been able to handle it if it were Mike or Holly.
Nancy slowly placed the scissors on the side of the sink, brushing off some of the hair that remained on her shoulders and hands, and slowly made her way to the door.
Nancy pressed her fingertips against the wood of the door, hesitating. She was a mess, embarrassment falling over her. Her actions were written all over her body, over the sink and the floor of the bathroom, and the idea of someone else bearing witness to this… weakness?
"Nancy?" Robin said again, hesitant. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, like she knew Nancy was right on the other side of the door now. Nancy placed her hand on the doorknob and almost fooled herself that she could feel Robin's gentle touch on the other side.
Nancy might've been a little dazed with exhaustion, desperate for a connection she had only just begun to understand, but the truth was easy to find.
She couldn’t do this alone. Not anymore.
And if there was anyone in that building that Nancy could trust her weaknesses to, it was Robin.
Nancy turned the doorknob, hiding her body behind the door as she opened it just enough to let Robin in. Robin padded into the room slowly, and Nancy watched as her eyes flicked over the hair-ridden surface of the sink, down towards the floor, then finally turned towards where Nancy closed the door behind her, just a step or two away in that tiny bathroom.
Robin blinked once, her mouth opening slightly with her surprise, but she gave no other indication of a reaction as her eyes softened with concern.
Nancy swallowed her embarrassment, pushing off the door, "I need help. Can… Can you…?" She said, hating how thick her voice sounded.
Robin took in a breath, her eyes flickering over Nancy's head, down towards the rest of her body, and back up. Everything about her was soft, from the tired droop of her eyes to the baggy hoodie that hung off her shoulders, her hair alight in the dull glow of the single bulb above the sink. She was so close, the bathroom so cramped and small, that Nancy could almost feel the heat radiating off of her. She felt her own shoulders rise nearly to her ears, her face flushing as tears rushed into her eyes at the feeling of all of her sharp edges being on such vivid display, ratty strands of hair hanging in her face, in front of someone that she…
"Anything. Always." Robin said, shaking her head with a little wide-eyed huff, like she couldn't believe Nancy even thought she had to ask, "You… Uh— Is it—?" She gestured to her head, then closed her eyes, nose scrunching, "I mean, like… Not trying to assume that this isn't, like, a new look you're trying, or whatever, but— I just can't imagine this ever being intentional. Unless it was! I don't mean— I mean, you could probably pull it off—"
"Robin," Nancy said, her voice a little tighter than she intended. Robin's mouth clicked shut against her rising ramble, blushing, "Yes. Please. I just… I can't see the back, and…" She didn't say the rest, didn't say that she just couldn't. Not anymore. She shook her head, huffing, "Just… Will you fix it?"
Robin licked her lips, nodding vacantly before she blinked, "I can… I can try… Are you sure you don't want to get… Um… I don't know… Joyce?"
Nancy shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself tightly, mortification already dripping down her spine at the idea of anyone but Robin seeing her like that, "No. No one else."
"Right…" Robin's voice pitched, hesitating, "Probably a good call— I think you could pull off a lot of things, but a bowl cut is toeing the line, even for you—"
She was probably being genuine, but Nancy could tell when another ramble was rising from the depths, so she interjected with a soft: "Robin."
"Right!" Robin cleared her throat, jolting herself back to reality, "I'll go get a chair—" And, with that, she slipped back out of the bathroom like the devil was on her heels.
She was back in no time, carefully placing a wooden kitchen chair on the hard tile, the back knocking quietly against the front of the sink. Her rings clinked against the porcelain softly as she scooped the hair up from the basin of the sink, discarding it into the trash can, and turned the faucet on, letting the water flow over her fingers until it started steaming. She grabbed the Mickey Mouse cup, dumping hers and Steve's toothbrushes onto the back of the sink carelessly, and gave it a good courtesy rinse under the hot water. As if some dust and toothpaste would be the worst thing Nancy had gotten in her hair.
When Robin was satisfied with her new workstation, she took a step back and gestured for Nancy to sit.
"Buckley's Budget Salon, open for business." Robin said, smiling, and Nancy peeled herself off of the far wall, slowly walking forward.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror again, watched as her sharp jaw clenched and her nose flared at the sight of herself, but Robin caught it as well this time.
Her hand was warm where it lay against Nancy's shoulder, squeezing softly. She didn't say anything, didn't bring it to life with her words, and for that Nancy was thankful. But even just that simple gesture, the soft upturn to her lips, was enough to weaken the panic and guilt that still leeched through her muscles.
Nancy sat down and let Robin's hands guide her to lay back, the curve of her neck hitting the cold edge of the sink, the remainder of her hair falling into the basin and soaking up the hot water that collected under the faucet. Immediately, her nose filled with that burnt scent again, carried on the steam that rose from the sink, and she grimaced.
Robin stood right above Nancy, backlit by the bright light above them, and her eyes glanced over Nancy's face for a moment before she turned back to the sink, placing the cup under the faucet and pouring the water over Nancy's scalp.
Parts of her scalp stung, sensitive from… Well, there was a whole selection of things that could've caused the irritation and burns that littered her skin. But it wasn't bad, especially not after she got used to the feeling of the warm water running over it. When Robin softly pressed the side of her knuckles into Nancy's chin, encouraging her to tilt her head back further so that she could pour water closer to the edge of her hairline, she could feel herself relax slowly against the soft touch, closing her eyes.
Robin rinsed her hair for a few more minutes, patiently letting the curls soak up as much water as she could get them to, and then Nancy felt as she pulled back and grabbed something else from the shower.
"I hope you don't have any issues with dollar store shampoo," Robin said, shaking the bottle and squirting it into her hand, "Because this is all I've got."
Nancy chuckled, shaking her head as she felt Robin lean back over her. And then she felt her fingers slip into the thick of her hair, scrunching coconut-scented shampoo into her curls, dull nails scratching lightly at the sensitive skin of her scalp. And she did it with so much gentleness, so much care, that Nancy felt tears almost immediately well in her eyes, embarrassment turning her cheeks bright red as her next breath stuttering out of her throat.
"You okay?" Robin asked quietly, still running her fingers through Nancy's hair, and Nancy couldn't bring herself to open her eyes.
"Yeah—" She wiped at her eyes with her hands, "Sorry, I don't— I don't know why—"
"Yeah, no, I get it." Robin assured her, hands slipping to scratch the base of Nancy's skull, "Don't worry about it…"
Nancy's eyes scrunched together, trying to force down the tight feeling that built in her throat. But at the same time, she felt herself melt into Robin's soft touch, the feeling of her hip pressed into Nancy's shoulder, the kind way that she ran her fingers through every inch of Nancy's ruined hair.
Nancy couldn't remember the last time that she had been treated so gently. The warmth that had filled her, the sense of safety, was foreign enough to send another rush of tears down her cheeks.
Robin picked up the cup again, slowly pouring clean water over Nancy's hair, scrunching her fingers into the longer curls and scratching her scalp softly again, applying soft pressure to either side of her head anytime she needed her to turn, and she continued until long after all the soap must've been washed down the drain. Maybe just because she knew how much Nancy had needed it.
When she was done, she helped Nancy lean back up, ruffling her hair with a towel before letting it slip down to her shoulders. When Nancy opened her eyes again, Robin was staring at her, lips pursed as she ran her fingers through her hair some more.
"Sure you don't want a bowl cut?" Robin asked, scrunching her nose, and Nancy let out a surprised laugh, feeling warm at the soft smile that Robin gave her in return.
"No thanks… Just something presentable. I don't want to look like I have mange." Nancy cringed as she felt an extra long piece of hair, tucked behind her ear, and Robin grimaced like maybe she agreed.
"Yeah, thing is…" Robin hesitated, biting her lip, "It's gonna be short. I mean… Really short. Not like— Not like buzz cut short but— It's gonna be shorter than mine's ever been."
"That's fine." Nancy shook her head, folding in on herself in her exhaustion, squeezing her eyes shut, "I don't care, at this point. I can't believe I did this… I wasn't even thinking—"
Suddenly, she felt Robin's fingers on her chin, guiding her to lift her head up. When she opened her eyes, her heart flipped pathetically. Robin was standing right in front of her, almost between her knees, her blonde waves falling in her face as she examined Nancy. Behind her eyes was something so caring, so safe, that it made Nancy dig her fingers into her thighs just to keep herself from crying again.
Or from reaching out.
"You don't have to explain." Robin shook her head as if she was clearing her thoughts and took a deep breath, busying herself with brushing more bits of hair out of Nancy's face, "I've got you."
Nancy felt herself get choked up again, but this time Robin wiped her tears away before they could fall, "Thank you." She said, her voice cracking with honesty.
The moment lingered into the silence as Robin smiled down at her again, the tips of her fingers just barely brushing against the curve of Nancy's jaw before she reached behind her and picked up the scissors, snapping them together a couple of times with a teasing smirk, "Don't thank me until you've seen the finished product, Wheeler."
Nancy rolled her watery eyes, as grateful for the easy-out as she was disappointed that the moment had ended, "I really don't think you could make it any worse. Cut away, Buckley."
Robin was just as gentle as she parted Nancy's hair, taking much more care than Nancy herself had as she made sure everything was even, even if she didn't have the experience to do anything fancy with it.
Nancy realized that, no matter what, Robin had her full trust. Intentional or not, she had handed her the weight of her weakness and Robin had accepted it without hesitation, without trying to guilt her or demean her in the face of it.
She sank into the comfortable silence that enveloped them, thinking about nothing but the feeling of Robin's fingers in her hair, the sound of rusty scissors snapping closed on curls that had weighed her down for longer than she could remember. Hair that had been permed and burned and blown-out, layered with hairspray and blood. Years of growth and trauma and fear. Curl by curl, she let Robin take it all away, softly this time. Her strength and her weakness, all collecting in soft piles on the bathroom floor.
"You ready?" Robin asked after she had been quiet for a moment, placing the scissors on the sink. When Nancy looked up, she was biting her lip again, cheeks flushed like she was a little bit embarassed, "It's— uh… Not perfect…"
Nancy sat up, taking a deep breath as she turned around and finally looked at herself in the mirror.
Nancy reached up, running her fingers through the fluffy, damp curls that hung just over her eyebrows, and turning her head side to side, examining herself silently.
Finally, her breath whooshed out of her in one long, grateful sigh of pure relief.
Robin watched her from behind her shoulder, her fingers threaded together as she chewed on her cheek nervously, and Nancy couldn't help but to give her a small, reassuring smile through the mirror.
"Thank you…" Nancy said honestly, still holding her gaze, "And, not just… not just for fixing it. For everything."
Robin's face flushed as she ducked her head, her lips twitching up in satisfaction as she held Nancy's gaze. She reached forward and Nancy felt her soft skin brush against her hand, Robin's fingers slowly threading between her own, pulling her to turn around.
"Anytime, Wheeler." She said honestly, palm still pressed tightly against Nancy's, unbudging.
When they left that room, Nancy knew, she would have to face the truth. She would have to secure that cape of strength back over her shoulders, be the guiding force for all her friends and family as they worked through whatever the hell came next.
But, this time, what lay on the other side of the door didn't feel quite as daunting. Because with her hand in Robin's, she knew with quiet certainty that her strength would always have a safe place to rest.