Chapter Text
He was alive. Or at least that was what his body seemed to be telling him. All Will could hear was his own breathing — the air flowing in and out of his lungs, his chest rising and falling. The asphalt was hard beneath his knees; he could feel every tiny fragment of debris working its way through the fabric and into his skin.
He tried to look around, but it was as though his eyes refused to cooperate, losing focus after only a few seconds each time they moved to a different object, reducing the expanse of concrete and blood to a blurred, smoky haze. He could hear screams coming from his right, yet the voices were so distant they might as well not have existed at all. His heart hammered wildly inside his ribcage, beating so fast it felt on the verge of stopping. In truth, his whole body seemed close to giving in. But he was alive.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shape drawing closer, and for a bleak, dreadful instant, the memory of Vecna rose before his eyes. But it couldn’t be him — he had watched him step into the gate and vanish into the Upside Down just moments before…
Mike
“Will!” a voice called out to him, and this time it came from much closer. Will tried to turn, but the moment he moved, he felt his body give way. It was as though, up until that instant, he had been locked in a state of suspension — a house of cards collapsing after a breath taken too deeply. His muscles failed him, and the upper half of his body, the only part still holding itself upright, tipped forward toward the concrete.Before it could touch the ground, fingers closed around the fabric of his shirt, and a hand cushioning the fall.
“Will, sweetheart.” The same voice again.
It took Will several long seconds to bring the face looming over him into focus, but the moment his mother’s gentle features took shape once more, a whisper slipped from his throat.
“Mom.”
Joyce smiled at him, her eyes glossy and red, as though she had just finished crying or were on the verge of doing so.
“Yes. Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.”
“Will.” His name again but this time the voice reached him clear and unfiltered, and Will recognized its owner at once, as intimately familiar as his own. He was alive. He was alive. He had saved him. He had made it. He was safe.
And yet his mind refused to fully take it in. Panic still coiled through his veins, feral and unrelenting, as his body urged him to turn toward the sound. There was no need. Only moments later, the boy’s face drifted into his line of sight, close enough to anchor him.
“Will. Are you okay?”
Mike was kneeling beside him, mirroring his mother’s posture, as if the two of them were holding him in place. He was okay. Mike’s large, dark eyes traced over him slowly — his face, then his body — before circling back again, searching for something he might have missed.
Will’s throat was unbearably dry. When he tried to speak, the words caught, scraping their way up like blades against stone, so he settled for a small nod instead.
“Do you want to get up?” Mike asked softly. “Do you think you can?”
Will swallowed, trying to moisten his throat before he opened his mouth. “I think so. Yeah.”
“Come on,” Mike said gently. “Lean on me.”
He shifted closer, sliding his left arm around Will’s shoulders, and with a steady pressure at his back, he pulled him upright. Joyce stayed at his other side, close and watchful, ready to catch him if he faltered. Will’s legs felt like jelly, his muscles trembling, on the verge of giving out at any second but he was standing, and the world was no longer entirely blurred, so he counted it as progress.
Mike’s arm was firmly wrapped around his torso, his hand pressed to his side as he helped him to his feet, and before Will could pull away — unwilling to hurt him any more than he surely already had — Mike reached out with his other arm as well, circling his waist completely and drawing him close.
Will froze for a second, trying to process exactly what was happening, but Mike’s hold tightened, and that alone was enough to chase away any lingering doubt. He lifted his own arm, wrapping it around Mike’s shoulders in return, burying his face in the mess of his curls.
The air reeked of blood and ash. Around them, he could hear the surviving soldiers shouting, calling out for their comrades — whether to check if they were dead or to summon help, he couldn’t tell. But in that moment, the only thing Will could focus on was Mike.
His warmth was like a breath of air after being held underwater for minutes on end, easing, if only briefly, the cold that had taken hold of his body moments earlier and still sent tremors through every muscle. His grip was firm, and even if he had wanted to pull away — which he didn’t — Will doubted he would have been able to. The embrace was steady, grounding, striking his mind with the same words he had been repeating ever since he’d heard his voice.
He was alive.
“You made it,” Mike whispered. “You really did.” His nose brushed against Will’s neck as his breath slipped downward, making him shiver despite himself.
“Are you okay?” he finally found the strength to ask.
“Absolutely. You stopped him, Will. You… you really stopped him.”
“But how is that possible?” Joyce’s voice hit him like a cannon in his head, and only then did Will remember that his mother was there. Slowly, he loosened his hold on his neck, feeling Mike do the same. Will didn’t hesitate to turn toward her, but it was Mike who answered first.
“He is a sorcerer. A real life honest to God sorcerer.” His face shone with unrestrained excitement. Eyes wide and sparkling, eyebrows lifted, mouth curved into a broad smile that seemed to light up his whole face.
Joyce shook her head, her eyes flitting frantically between them, wide and uncomprehending.
“What… what does that mean?”
“That I can use Vecna’s powers. Or… well, at least part of them,” Will said, but the words barely left his lips before the memory of what he had seen slammed into him like a missile.
“The kids… he took the kids.”
A sudden explosion made them all leap, hearts lurching, and Will’s grip on Mike’s arm tightened instinctively as his gaze swung toward the source of the noise. The hood of a car was engulfed in flames, its twisted, smoldering pieces scattered across the asphalt — a shattered echo of the other vehicles strewn around them. For a fleeting instant, the chaos crystallized, and it was as if all three of them finally remembered where they were, and how fragile their hold on the moment had become.
“We need to move. Back to the radio, we’ll talk to the others there.” Mike said.
“Lucas is in the tunnels,” Will said, stopping his mother, who was already moving. “We have to find him.”
—-
“Stay still.”
Lucas was half-slumped on one of the radio station’s sofas, his shirt ruined, soaked through with blood and discarded on the floor. The metallic tang clung to the air. Will sat beside him, the supplies for a proper bandage laid out on the small table in front of them.
Finding him in those tunnels had been terrifyingly simple. He had been left on the path they had traced from the military base to the children’s rendezvous point — no trace of what had happened minutes before remained, save for the blood and the rips in his clothing.
Though Vecna’s chance of striking again that night was low, the group had moved with brutal efficiency. They had hauled Lucas up the ladder, raced through the shadows, and finally reached the base where Robin and Murray waited. No words were exchanged; none were needed. Each of them knew, in that silent, exhausted understanding, that the plan had failed spectacularly. The taste of failure was sharp, mingling with the coppery scent of blood and the ache of adrenaline still coursing through their veins.
“That bastard… he’s going to leave me a scar.”
“It’s superficial.” Will said, his voice steady. He pressed the cloth firmly against the wound, his movements deliberate. Every motion was precise, controlled, he knew exactly what needed to be done.
Lucas flinched, a hiss escaping through gritted teeth as the disinfectant stung. But Will did not falter; he simply adjusted the pressure, leaning in slightly to keep the cloth steady. The sharp scent of blood and antiseptic filled the small space, yet Will’s hands moved with quiet confidence.
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“You’re so dramatic.” the boy replied, reaching lazily toward the bandages.
Will moved carefully, preparing the dressing that would cover the open wound, mindful not to soil it with the blood and grime still caked on his own hands and clothes. He definitely needed a shower.
Across the room, Robin and Murray were arguing over the last pack of what looked like frozen peas — the only thing that vaguely resembled ice in a place clearly never meant to accommodate the injured.
Mike had disappeared since they’d returned, but Will hadn’t had time to think about it, too absorbed in their bleeding friend and in the need to keep his hands steady.
Lucas kept murmuring words, half-formed and wandering, as Will finished the dressing, but the sounds slipped past him like smoke, unheeded, dissolving into the stale air of the room. When he was finally done, he discarded the bandages into the nearest trash bin and sank onto the sofa beside Lucas, letting his head fall against the backrest, utterly spent.
Every inch of him ached; muscles screamed in protest, and a relentless pulse throbbed behind his eyes, a hammering reminder of the trance that had consumed him after the attack. Sleep beckoned, an impossible luxury, but there was no time. Not now. Not when Vecna had taken all the children, his plan creeping ever closer to fruition. Not with Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin, Hopper, and El still trapped in the Upside Down.
Will closed his eyes for just a moment, willing his body to forget its exhaustion, willing himself to steel against the fear gnawing at the edges of his mind. The room around him blurred, the smell of blood and antiseptic mingling into a haze, and yet the urgency, the need to act, pressed on him heavier than any pain.
“Thank you.” Lucas’s voice made Will open his eyes and he turned toward him, meeting his gaze.
“You saved my life tonight,” Lucas said quietly, as if afraid to speak too loudly, as if the Demogorgons might return at any moment.
Robin and Murray, now seated in the armchairs beside them, were watching him just the same. Their eyes were heavy with exhaustion. Yet, within that weariness, a quiet relief shimmered, soft and fragile.
“You saved everyone,” the girl said.
“A performance worthy of the end of the world,” the man added, his voice slightly muffled by the bag pressed against his nose.
Will offered a faint smile to the three of them, though it never reached his eyes. His body was still trembling slightly, the tension of the night refusing to release him, every muscle sore, every nerve raw from the fear and exertion. He didn’t fully understand what had happened, didn’t know how he had managed to wield that power. He had seen the Demogorgon erupt from the wound, lunge toward Mike, and in his mind’s eye, his best friend lay there, torn apart by the monsters that had stalked his nightmares for years. The memory alone made his chest tighten, his breath shallow.
Anger had flared at Vecna’s words, sharp and burning, and beneath it all, a deep, trembling terror at the thought of losing Mike. Something had snapped inside him, a force he hadn’t even known existed, and he had acted without conscious thought.
He didn’t know if he could do it again, didn’t know if that power would even respond the same way. But he prayed, silently and desperately, that he could find a way. Because for the first time, a fragile, flickering hope had taken root — maybe, just maybe, they had a real chance against that bastard.
—-
Will left the room shortly after, heading toward the bathroom near the kitchen, pausing for a moment at the closet they had turned into an ‘emergency change’ station some time ago while setting up the place as their base of operations. He silently thanked Robin and Nancy for taking care of it. His clothes were now stuck to his skin with sweat and blood, not to mention the water that had long since dried, leaving him smelling faintly of mildew.
He grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, the sizes closest to his own, and without hesitation opened the bathroom door. He should have noticed the light spilling from underneath.
Mike spun around to face him. His hair was still dripping from the shower he had just taken, slowly soaking the clean T-shirt he was wearing. There was no trace of what had happened that night visible on him, nothing out of place, except for two small cuts on his left eyebrow, which he was evidently tending to. A small first-aid kit lay open in front of him, resting on the sink, and Mike held a bandage in his hand.
“Sorry, I thought no one was here,” he said quickly, moving to close the door.
Mike huffed. “Come on in, I’m almost done anyway.”
Will hesitated, his hand still gripping the door. His eyes moved of their own accord, following a droplet of water that slid from a lock of hair onto his neck, down his collarbone, and further still, disappearing beneath the edge of his T-shirt. Mentally slapping himself, he forced his gaze back to Mike’s face, hoping he didn’t look as red as he felt, but Mike was already focused on the mirror again, carefully opening the bandage.
“I- I need to take a shower.”
“I promise I won’t look.”
Every instinct inside him screamed to leave, close the door, and wait for Mike to finish. It was just a few minutes, right? Yet, apparently, his legs had other plans, because the next moment, Will was in the small room, the door shut behind him.
Steam still lingered in the air, though not enough to bother him. Mike’s dirty clothes were crumpled in a corner, clearly destined for the laundry, and soon enough, they would be joined by his own.
Will set his clean clothes on the toilet lid, the only available surface, and cast a glance toward Mike. As he had said, Mike wasn’t looking at him, focused instead on the small cut on his face. After a moment of hesitation, Will began to pull off his T-shirt.
He didn’t dare steal another look at him, silently questioning what the hell he was doing, yet continuing anyway. It wasn’t the first time, after all, that they had shared a bathroom. They had grown up together, spending so much time at each other’s houses that they knew every inch of the spaces by heart.
And probably, if he were in the same situation with Lucas or Dustin, there wouldn’t be this same embarrassment. But this was Mike. The same boy he had fantasized about far too many times, in the dark of his room, imagining scenarios similar to what was happening now, only to feel guilty shortly afterward. Because it was his best friend he was thinking about. And his sister’s boyfriend.
And now here he was, half-naked, in a bathroom far too small to allow for any real privacy.
“Thanks for tonight.” Will turned just enough to look at him, meeting Mike’s gaze through the mirror. “I already said it, but… you saved my life. You saved all of us.”
The words should have eased something inside him, should have brought relief, but they didn’t. Relief clashed with guilt, gratitude tangled with fear. He had saved his friends, yes, but what of the others? The children taken, the bodies left behind, the chaos he had only partially halted — did his triumph count for anything in the shadow of all that loss?
A hollow ache settled in his chest, a relentless echo of what could have been done differently. If only he had understood sooner. If only he had recognized the depth of this power before the monsters had a chance to strike. He could almost see it: the moments slipping past, opportunities lost, a timeline where things might have been different, where he might have prevented even part of the devastation. And yet… nothing could be undone. Nothing, except the fragile hope that, somehow, he could still make a difference.
“But the children… they’re still in there. Holly… she’s there, and I… I can’t…” Will couldn’t find the words to contain the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t hide it, not from Mike, not when he was looking at him with something that felt almost like reverence.
Mike turned to look at him, truly this time, closing the distance between them in a single step and placing a hand on his bare shoulder. Skin that had been frozen until that moment seemed to catch fire beneath his touch.
“Will, you did something extraordinary tonight,” Mike said. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened before, it was out of your control… out of all of our control. But we’ll get them back. We’ll bring the children home. We’ll bring Holly home. We’ll put an end to all of this.”
And there he was. The heart. The paladin. Mike Wheeler. Every word he spoke carried the same fighting spirit Will had admired since childhood. That hope, that strength, that had cradled him through the darkest moments of his life — long before the Mind Flayer and the Upside Down had arrived — and had been his own lifeline through that nightmare that had lasted far too long.
Will lifted his gaze, meeting Mike’s, his heart flickering. He was close, close enough to smell the cheap shampoo sitting on the shower shelf. He could see the damp hair dimly lit by the small room’s light, eyes steady on his, and for a moment he feared Mike might read everything he was feeling. Could he feel the fire burning under his palm? Could he feel his own heartbeat? How, the longer he stayed there, the more uneven his breathing became? Could he see the physical pain in holding his body completely still, terrified of what it might do?
Will opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Yet there was no need, because Mike let him go just moments later.
“I’ll let you get cleaned up.” And with that, he left the bathroom.
Will only started to breathe again once the door clicked shut, leaning briefly against the wall. God, he was so stupid.
Shaking his head, trying to set aside everything that had stirred inside him in those few minutes, he finished undressing and stepped into the shower. The warm water was a blessing for his sore muscles, and Will didn’t lower his gaze to watch it wash over him. He didn’t want to see the blood staining the stream.
The water pounded against his shoulders, loosening the tension knotted deep in his muscles, tracing every ache and bruise like a gentle reminder that he was still alive. Steam curled around him, softening the harsh edges of the room, and for a moment, the world outside — the chaos, the monsters, the terror — felt impossibly far away. He closed his eyes, listening only to the hiss of water, the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. Each drop seemed to strip away not just the dirt, but the panic, the guilt, the fear that had lodged itself so firmly in his chest. Yet even in this fleeting solace, his mind refused to fully quiet. The faces of the children, Holly, his friends, everything they had lost, everything they still had to fight for, hovered at the edge of his thoughts like shadows.
—-
The warmth of the shower was still clinging to his skin when he returned to the main room. Everyone was seated in their usual spots, the arrangement not much different from the way he had left it. This time, it was Robin holding the bag, pressed against her head. He guessed it wouldn’t last much longer.
His mother stood in front of them, and from their expressions as he stepped in, he must have just interrupted a conversation. Too absorbed in his own thoughts to pay attention to what was happening around him, Will was now fully aware, his gaze drifting curiously from one face to another before finally settling on his mother.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing-” his mother tried to say, but the moment she opened her mouth, Erica spoke up.
“We were talking about your new powers and how we might use them against Vecna.”
Will cast a glance at his mother, halfway between reproach and reassurance. They had already talked about how much he hated being treated like a child, especially at a moment like this, but he didn’t have the energy to have that conversation now. Besides, with everything that had happened at the military base, tensions were still running high so he couldn’t really blame her.
Will took the empty spot next to Lucas and, with a sigh, turned toward her.
“Alright. What did you come up with?”
“Nothing,” Erica spoke up again. “Your mother came up with a plan, but it leaves so many questions it’s basically useless.”
“Erica,” Robin chided her, though in her tone Will could tell she agreed.
“It’s true,” the girl replied, shrugging her shoulders.
“What’s the plan?” Will asked, turning once again toward his mother, who seemed to hesitate before answering.
“Enter Vecna’s mind and kill him.”
Will waited for his mother to continue, but she only stared at him, silent, unwavering. The weight of her gaze pressed into him, and he could feel his own hesitation twisting in his chest. It was then he realized exactly where Erica had gotten that from.
“Oh… uh… yeah. Yeah, I guess I… could… try.” His words stumbled out in fits, each pause stretching longer than the last.
“And how do we do it? Your connection only activates when you’re near the hive mind.” Lucas said.
“That’s one of the unknowns,” Joyce replied softly.
“We have to find a way,” Mike interjected, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Worry etched every line of his face. “The others are still down there. Especially now that Vecna has the kids, we have to get them out.”
Will felt a tight knot coil in his stomach as Mike’s words sank in. His chest pressed against itself, lungs drawing shallow breaths, and for a moment he wanted to look away, to pretend it wasn’t real. But it was. The others were still trapped down there, and the weight of knowing he might be the key to saving them pressed like a stone against his ribs.
Every heartbeat was a reminder of the Demogorgons, of Vecna, of the children he couldn’t reach yet. His mind raced with possibilities and impossibilities, his fingers clenching and unclenching as if the motion alone could anchor him. He had faced monsters before, fought battles in the dark, but this… this was different. The line between success and catastrophe stretched thinner than ever.
“We don’t have the tracker anymore,” Lucas said.
“We could build another one,” Joyce offered.
“Dustin built it, and it took him days,” Mike replied, shaking his head, dismissing the idea at once. “It would take us weeks just to figure out where to start.”
Silence fell over the room, heavy and strained. Will could see it written on every face — the resignation, the fear of what was happening and of what was still to come. They didn’t yet know exactly what Vecna intended to do; all they knew was that he was planning the end of the world, and that alone was more than enough. They had to find a way to warn them.
Will lifted his gaze to Mike, seated directly across from him, and felt an unpleasant ache bloom in his chest as he watched him worry his hands—a habit he’d had since childhood, whenever he was nervous. A wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over Will at the thought of what had happened in the bathroom. While his sister was down there fighting for her life, he was up here unraveling over his boyfriend’s hand on his shoulder, plagued by thoughts he should have learned to suppress, to bury, for everyone’s sake. It was pathetic.
And selfish.
“Days we don’t have,” Lucas sighed.
“What if we put Will in the van and used him as a human antenna?” Robin suggested.
Will turned toward her, incredulous, shaking his head slightly. “What?”
“It’s just an idea.”
“Maybe we should take a break,” Murray interrupted. “Eat something, get ourselves back together. In the meantime, everyone thinks of a way to tackle both problems.”
And so they did. Lucas went straight to the kitchen, muttering something about nearly passing out from hunger and blood loss, while Erica left the room, disappearing somewhere. With the couch free, Will took the chance to stretch out, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The shower had helped —easing the ache, leaving only an echo of exhaustion — but his mind stubbornly refused to cooperate.
Getting close to the hive mind. Communicating with the others. Both seemed impossible right now. His connection to Vecna and the Upside Down had never been something he sought; it simply happened, in random moments. He had never controlled it because, in truth, it didn’t originate from him. It was a consequence, a link formed years ago that he couldn’t undo no matter how much he wanted to. A bond that had shaped his existence in all the worst ways.
And yet, despite everything, the idea of wielding that same connection against the very force that had caused him so much pain ignited something inside him. A spark of exhilaration, sharp and thrilling, raced through his veins. For the first time in a long while, he imagined turning the bond that had haunted him, that had twisted his life and terrorized his friends, into a weapon. The thought was intoxicating, almost dangerous, and it made his chest tighten with a mix of dread and anticipation.
“I’ve got it!” The same words, spoken in two different voices. Will sprang to his feet, his eyes snapping to the Sinclair siblings, who were running toward them from opposite directions.
“Okay, I’ll go first. We don’t have Dustin but we can find his mentor.” she said, showing them a fragment of an old newspaper, the photo of Dustin and their former science teacher clearly visible.
“ Mr. Clarke?” Mike asked, visibly confused.
“He’s the biggest nerd in Hawkins. He taught Dustin everything he knows. If anyone can build a new tracker, it’s him.”
“It could work.” Mike commented.
Lucas stepped forward. “Yeah but that’ll take time. My plan is faster, bolder, better.” His eyes gleamed with certainty, glancing briefly at his sister, before focusing again on the group. “As I was heating up my popcorn, I thought about Billy in the sauna. We heated him up, to activate these particles, right? They were dormant, just like the particles inside the Demos Will killed. To bring them back, we have to heat them up. There are 50,000 watts flowing through that tower. We pump the dead Demos with electricity, shock those particles back to life and voilà, we’ve got ourselves an instant hive mind.”
“You want to Dr. Frankenstein's a dead Demo? That’s your big idea?” Erica asked, her eyes betraying every ounce of judgment, without the slightest attempt at concealment.
“Your plan is slow as shit.”
“Your plan is stupid as shit.”
“Hey! Children, stop it!” Murrey spoke, his voice loud enough to make the two of them halt their argument “Let’s be clear. They each have flaws. Many, many, many flaws.”
“So we try both.” Joyce turned to the group. “ We throw two darts and pray for a bullseye.”
—--
Once Murray and Erica had departed, the group threw themselves into their work. The plan was mad — far madder than anything they had conceived to rescue the children — but for some inexplicable reason, Will felt certain it would succeed.
They gathered every scrap and tool they would need to craft their own personal undead. By some stroke of fortune, sourcing the materials proved surprisingly simple, and with an entire electric antenna at their disposal, what could possibly go wrong?
“Did you know that Frankenstein was the name of the scientist?”
Will looked up from his task to find Robin a few meters away, carefully coiling the electric cable around a clamp, the very thing that would be driven into the Demogorgon’s flesh. “What?”
“Many people get it wrong,” Robin said, rolling the cable with careful hands. “They think that’s the monster’s name, but it’s actually the doctor.”
Will nodded, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah… I know. It’s one of Mike’s favorite books. He made me read it a while ago.”
“ It’s really good.” she said and after a brief moment of silence “So… how are you feeling? It was a big night.”
“I haven’t exactly had time to process it,” Will said, shrugging. “I’m glad I can be useful, I guess.”
“Two superheroes in the family,” Robin chuckled. “That house is going to be chaos.”
“I’m pretty sure that once Vecna is gone, I’ll lose these powers,” Will said, and he could hear the hope woven into every word. “They were never really mine.”
The thought of remaining tethered to all of it — even through something as intangible as power — felt exhausting. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
“And you wouldn’t want them?” she said. “Just imagine being able to move things with your mind whenever you feel like it. When you don’t want to get up from the couch, you could just reach out and boom - the remote’s in your hand. Or a drink. Or a slice of pizza. A dream.”
Will didn’t answer right away, but a faint smile lingered on his lips. He understood what she meant — he really did. There was something undeniably tempting about it, the ease, the power, the small, almost ridiculous conveniences that came with it. But none of that was what he wanted. His connection to the Upside Down had never been something he asked for. It had been forced on him, woven into his body and his mind without permission, shaping his life around fear and survival instead of growth. Power, to him, didn’t feel like freedom, it felt like another chain.
“I think that’s exactly the point,” he said softly, the words steady even as something fragile pressed against his chest. “I want to have to get up from the couch when I need something. After all of this…” His voice wavered just a little. “I want a normal life. I want to choose who I am, what I do. I want to be normal.”
Just a kid.
Not a weapon.
Not a bridge between worlds.
Robin fell silent for a moment, and Will briefly worried he had said too much. Before he could apologize, she spoke again. “I think I get it,” she said quietly. “You’ve been dealing with this stuff since you were a kid. I’ve only been at it for a few years, and I already feel completely unhinged.” She paused, choosing her words. “Wanting a clean break from this world—it makes sense, after everything it’s put you through. But…” Robin hesitated, then shook her head. “Something good can come out of even the worst experiences.” She stopped herself with a small, self-conscious laugh. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“No- no. Uh. I guess you’re right,” Will replied. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to see it that way.”
“I’m sure you will.” And with one last twist of the wire, Robin grinned, bright and energized. “All set! Let’s bring this monster back to life.”