Ally Harrington, the adoptive little sister of the famous Steve Harrington, wasn't anything like her brother.
Other than the small tattoo on her wrist that she'd somehow managed to hide since the day she was adopted, unlike Steve, Ally was not at al...
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"Like this?" Becky asked, holding up two halves of a cut-up cloth.
The girls exchanged a look, silently deeming the cloths worthy enough to serve as makeshift blindfolds.
"Yes," El replied.
Grabbing the cloths, the girls whisked Becky over to the living room, where a tv channel with nothing but static was already set up for them, courtesy of Terry.
"It's okay if I sit here, right?" Becky asked nervously while Ally tied El's blindfold for her.
"Yes," El answered plainly.
"And- and I won't mess it up or anything?" She stammered, anxiety and anticipation building within the older woman.
"No,"
"Okay," she said, "If you... talk to Terry, will you tell her that I love her very much. And that I'm sorry that I didn't believe—"
"Stop talking," Ally ordered, still a little on edge from earlier.
"Okay, sorry," Becky replied instantly.
Ally sighed guiltily. She understood how Becky was feeling, she really did. If there was one thing Ally understood better than anything it was the love two sisters shared and it even allowed Ally to hold a little more respect for Becky and she didn't mean to snap at the older woman, but they had a job to do right now, and Becky's rambling wasn't helping anything.
Becky smiled gratefully, Ally's kindness once again reminding her much of her own late sister, Donna.
"Thank you,"
With a nod, Ally put on her blindfold and took hold of El's hand; all the while, her free hand clasped the charm that dangled around her neck, keeping her grounded.
The sound of static grew louder and louder, swirling around the girls' brains until their temples started to tingle and the little light they could see through the blindfolds faded into an endless black void.
"Breathe," they instantly heard Terry's voice as they found themselves in the void, "Sunflower. Rainbow,"
Hands still linked, the girls slowly approached the only other thing they could see in amongst the infinite expanse of darkness: a wooden rocking chair where Terry Ives sat staring blankly into the distance, still muttering to herself.
"Three to the right. Four to the left. Four-fifty,"
"Mama," El called as Terry's voice echoed through the void, "Mama, it's us... Jane and Wanda,"
