MARLEY // Max Mayfield

Death

For a brief moment, Marley thought she had died and gone to hell, for in her mind, in her hopes, Dr Owens was dead. Rotting somewhere in the ninth circle. But no, he was here, he was real, and he was smiling down at Marley as if they were old friends. He reached out, and Marley snapped, curling her hand around his throat and squeezing tightly. It was her right hand, the one she could hardly use, that suddenly jumped to life just to punish this fucking asshole. The men behind Owens raised their weapons, but he frantically waved them off, face purpling.

"Give me a reason," Marley shook. She had heard what he had done; she knew he had tried to save Eleven at some point, but she couldn't look past it, couldn't ignore that he hadn't been there for her when he had promised. Couldn't stop thinking that maybe if he had picked up that payphone call and listened to what the hell was happening in Hawkins, Max wouldn't be lying in a coma.

The tightness of Marley's grip, however, didn't quite allow him the room to speak. Part of Marley didn't want him to. Part of Marley wanted him dead. The men behind him exchanged unsure looks, hands twitching to raise their guns as Dr Owens began to tap on her hand, and Marley, still shaken, confused, and partly angry, hesitated for a moment longer before releasing her hold. Dr Owens stumbled back, catching himself on the arm of a chair. He chuckled, nodding as he clutched his aching throat. 

"I deserve that, I do," he panted, glancing at Marley, who stared at him with utter contempt. "You tried to contact me."

"You lied to me. I ruined relationships, friendships -- I put my life on hold for you and your fucking experiments," Marley hissed viciously, shaking off the lingering fear that had almost paralysed her moments before. She had no time to dwell on it, not whilst standing in front of this complete and utter bastard. "And you couldn't take my call? Look where that ended up. With the earth split in four and the merging of two worlds imminent if Henry gets those kids."

"...he got them," Owens said, jaw clenching, and Marley froze, lips parting, her heart in her throat. "He took them."

"Fuck," Marley breathed and slumped back. She pressed her palms into her eyes. The image of those kids, the weight of them in her arms, if she had stayed with Lucas, could she have saved them? Those two at the very least? She wanted to see Max, "I want to see Max..."

"All hope isn't lost."

"Let me go. Let me leave," Marley looked up, body swivelling, looking for the exit. It was behind the two armed guards; they were standing in a tent of some sort, an opening flapping in the night breeze. "I need to go to the hospital."

"Miss Harington. Wait." The guards raised their weapons and aimed for her head. "Marley, I am here to help you. Against all odds, and I know it's hard to believe because I have let you down time and time again, but I know about Henry," he blurted, his hand out in supplication. He waited, pausing with a bated breath as Marley stopped and turned to him. "I know about everything."

"How?"

"I worked alongside Brenner, studying Eleven," Dr Owens said and coughed to clear his throat; his neck had bloomed into a steady red, undoubtedly the beginnings of a bruise. "When the NINA project failed, Lt Colonel Sullivan left me for what he hoped was dead, but I survived."

Marley withheld her bite, an almost instinctual need to retort, "shame." But she left the word unsaid.

"I accessed every journal, every entry of Dr Brenner's project files, in hopes of deleting them and stopping this from happening ever again. Instead, I learnt about Henry, before he was One, a boy from a deeply religious family, kicked out of his previous school for violent behaviour." Dr Owens looked at Marley and tilted his head to the side. "His mother sent him away to cure his affliction, but it only made it stronger and him better at hiding it."