Chapter Text
The fluorescent lights of Hawkins Memorial blurred into streaks as Joyce ran, her breath catching in ragged gasps. The gurney carrying Will, her Will, rattled ahead, pushed by a whirlwind of white coats and concerned faces. His chocolate brown hair, usually meticulously braided down his chest, was a tangled mess plastered to his forehead. His skin, normally a smooth, pale canvas dotted with warm brown patches and a constellation of light freckles, was ashen, punctuated by the angry red weals blooming on the edges of his Demogorgon scars.
He looked so small, so fragile. At 14, Will was still a boy, a slender, almost childlike figure. His chest, the soft curve he was still so self-conscious about despite Joyce's constant affirmations, rose and fell shallowly under the thin hospital blanket. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound louder than the frantic directives shouted by the lead doctor.
"BP is dropping! Get me another IV line! Oxygen saturation is critical!"
Joyce felt a hand grip hers, and she turned to see Hopper’s familiar, weathered face. His brow was furrowed with worry, his blue eyes mirroring her terror. He squeezed her hand, a silent promise of support. "They're doing everything they can, Joyce. He's a fighter, remember?"
But Joyce couldn't remember. All she could remember was finding him collapsed in the living room, El hovering nearby, her face stained with tears and buzzing with unspoken fear. He'd been working on a new drawing, a vibrant landscape filled with fantastical creatures, a world only he could see. Now, that world was shrouded in darkness, and she was powerless to pull him back.
They reached the ICU, the double doors swinging open to reveal a sterile, chaotic scene. Nurses barked orders, machines whirred and beeped, and the air thrummed with a palpable sense of urgency. Will was swiftly transferred to a bed surrounded by monitors and tubes.
Joyce watched, paralyzed, as the doctors worked on him. They were a blur of motion, their faces grim and focused. She knew they were trying their best, but doubt gnawed at her. Hawkins Memorial wasn't exactly known for its cutting-edge medical technology. This was Hawkins, after all, a town that seemed to attract the extraordinary and the terrifying in equal measure.
Hopper pulled her into a chair, forcing her to sit. “You need to breathe, Joyce. You can’t help him if you’re falling apart.”
She took a shaky breath, trying to focus on Hopper’s words. He was right. She had to be strong for Will. She had to be his anchor, his lifeline.
Hours crawled by. The only update they received was that Will was stable but unresponsive. They didn't know what had caused the sudden collapse. Was it a delayed reaction to the trauma he'd endured in the Upside Down? A side effect of his sensitive system reacting poorly to medication? Or something else entirely, something connected to the strange abilities he sometimes exhibited?
Joyce sat beside Will, her hand resting gently on his arm, tracing the faded scars that told a story she wished he didn't have to live. She ran a hand through his long hair, whispering soothing words, even though she didn't know if he could hear her.
“You’re so strong, Will. You’ve been through so much, and you always find a way to keep going. Remember when you were little, and you lost your hearing aid in the woods? You didn’t give up. You kept searching until you found it. You’re resourceful, Will, so incredibly resourceful.”
She paused, her voice cracking with emotion. “And you’re kind, Will. You’re the kindest person I know. You see the good in everyone, even when they don’t see it in themselves. Don’t give up now, sweetheart. We need you. I need you.”
She glanced at El, who was sitting silently in the corner, her eyes fixed on Will, brimming with unshed tears. Since Hopper had officially adopted El, she and Will had become close, a bond forged in shared trauma and a unique understanding of the world.
Just then, Will’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked, his hazel eyes unfocused and glazed with pain. He tried to speak, but only a weak groan escaped his lips.
“Will? Will, can you hear me?” Joyce leaned closer, her voice filled with hope and desperation.
He blinked again, his gaze slowly focusing on her. "Mom?" he whispered, his voice raspy.
"Yes, sweetheart, it's me. I'm here." She squeezed his hand, tears streaming down her face.
He looked around the room, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What...what happened?"
Before Joyce could answer, he clutched his chest, his face contorting in pain. He gasped for air, his body convulsing. The monitors around him erupted in a cacophony of alarms.
The doctors rushed back, their faces grim. "Get me the defibrillator! His heart is going into fibrillation!"
Joyce watched in horror as they shocked Will's chest, his body arching off the bed with each jolt. But it was no use. His heart remained erratic, unresponsive.
"We're losing him!" one of the doctors shouted.
Joyce screamed, grabbing Will's hand and refusing to let go. "No! You can't! Will, please! Don't leave me!"