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Chapter One

Gimme Shelter

November 1986

It's extraordinary – that in our darkest moments, things we could never expect come to bring us to the light. That when we think everything is done – over for good, a glimmer of hope throws us back to where we thought we could never be again.

Hawkins, Indiana was not a significant place for many. It was an okay location to bring a family up; houses were affordable, it was great to support the smaller businesses when the malls started to pop up. There were no noteworthy landmarks and sometimes no reason to pass through on a road trip unless you knew someone, and even then most of the people tried to get out while they could if they were born and bred in Hawkins. There was nothing screaming for the kids who turned into adults to do so – no backwards preachers who influenced a town to hate everybody different, a not very obvious class system when it came to wealth, and very little crime – if you discount the teenagers who grew tired of their little town and wanted to shake things up for the sake of rebellion – but they would always exist.

It was a sleepy little town to say the least. But that was just it. It was so unassuming that many barely glimpsed it on the map and wrote it off as just another suburbia haven.

That's why it was easy to plant the Department of Energy in a plot of forest land of Hawkins. That's why it was easy to cover up so much from the majority of the town. But when Will Byers came back alive after burying his lifelike body in a casket at a largely attended funeral – when infrequent church goer Moira Blithe witnessed a truck flip mid air over a bunch of preteens on bikes in front of her house – when a large stain of blood dried onto the pipe of a water fountain that had been missed in the clean up of Hawkins Middle School appeared to the discomfort of an 8th grader who stopped to tie her shoelaces before Social Studies – when Troy Donovan was still healing a broken arm which was supposedly caused by some bald girl with telekinetic powers (no one believed that – despite his mother's utmost faith in her wayward son) –it no longer became easy to hide things of such magnitude within Hawkins, Indiana.

And while many still regarded Hawkins, Indiana as a peaceful, sleepy little nook nestled amongst rich forests, a few were weary after the events of a week in November, 1983. Even the slightest flicker of a light sent this lot on edge, some from pure fear of what could be lurking within their midst, and others desperately hopeful that something closer to their kind, a young girl with a shaved head would finally reappear after a well observed absence.

But after three years, the search grew tired, and depending on who you spoke to, the girl that had been very much present in the real world for a week of their lives was either dead or still missing. They tried to get on with their lives, but each and every one of them had their secrets, their own battles to fight, and their own troubles to mend.

Much like a teenager bored of watching things go by without much progress, the universe grew impatient. Or something had grown impatient with it. Either way, things needed to be shaken up – the end result was up to those who needed a thorough thrust back into the shoes of those who ran without certainty of success, hearts beating so fast they might explode when they stopped, eroding into a cloud of ash – to reopen the wounds they had sealed shut so that they could go on, numb as they would never wish to be, never truly healed. They needed to see their truths out in the open – they needed to be revealed for what they were and not who they pretended to be.

This universe was ready to hand back the reason for their pain, the reason for their numbing motion, the reason for their secrets and the reason for their betrayals. The reason to feel all the human condition had to offer. It was ready to bring resolution even if it meant a whole lot of trouble first.

/

She was worn and weary, but she felt content when she saw him.

Joyce Byers never wanted to work in a store wearing a smock, but it's a hell of a lot less expensive than going back to school to get some qualifications other than her high school diploma and takes less time too when the bills need to be paid and her sons need to be fed, clothed, and educated. Not like their father would care to pay child support any time soon, even when the one in a million chance of their youngest being alive didn't spring Lonnie into becoming a more active caregiver.

But as she sees him, waiting by his Chevy truck plastered in the Hawkins Police Department logo, her annoyance of an ex-husband long gone to his obnoxiously selfish ways has faded to nothing.

So many people either greet him or avoid him at all costs, their town's Chief of Police. He seems happier by the latter more than the former civilians.

She is happy. That he's there – part of the bigger picture that makes her overall pleased – even if he hasn't tried anything yet, although the irony was not lost on Joyce.

Jim Hopper, the Chief of Police in Hawkins, a notorious drunk and quite promiscuous if rumours were to be true, had held down the reins when things got bad, drinking very little these days and having not bothered to sate the need all adults eventually came to with the desired sex. He helped save her son, resuscitated him and brought him back from the nether – or the Upside Down as the kids had coined it from their explanation from Mr. Clarke. She would be forever grateful for that. And he didn't need to hang around. But he wanted to, and she liked that.

Three years had gone by since the day she got her son back. Will had trusted Hopper far more than his own father, and though he'd never admit it, his mother saw it in his eyes. Hopper would pick him up from school or the Wheeler's often. He didn't force Will to like the things he'd liked and understood the boy's new fear of the dark was not trivial, stringing up some of the lights Joyce had purchased in her haste to communicate with her youngest in his room, fixing whatever bulbs were out, making sure they didn't flicker unnecessarily to cause further upset. He never once dismissed her son's new neuroses and his occasional panic attacks. He always found what he believed was a good solution, tailored to her little boy.

Joyce felt pure warmth in her heart because of it; the acceptance that her son was sensitive and more inclined to a path covered in charcoal and emotion, just as Jonathan was a deep thinker to a fault, influenced heavily by his music and saw photography as his future. Jim accepted them for what they were, took pride in what they did, and didn't try to mould them in what he had idealised them to be as men. And he wasn't even theirs to claim. Not like that. Not even for her.

He held up a greasy brown paper bag and she knew he'd picked up burgers for the two of them, Will eating at the Wheeler's tonight – a ploy Joyce knew Karen Wheeler was behind because she thought it would push Hopper and she to have some more private time. The burgers were from Benny's old place. His friends decided to keep the place in his memory, as a shared business and had a team of part time cooks working, as well as waiters and waitresses who were likely students from Hawkins High School. It opened up opportunities they never thought possible, but as long as Benny's soul stayed at the centre, they knew it would always be a place with heart. It was one of the few good things that kept Hawkins business alive.

As she walks out to him, the breeze from the cold day made her skin icy and it hits her how heavy her eyes feel. She doesn't seem to be the only one to notice.

"Looks like you had a fun day," he comments with a small, understanding smile. She gives him one back, hardly saying a word when she gets in the car.

"Thanks for picking me up – the Pinto is taking longer than I expected."

"This time of year, everybody's vehicles are acting up. Then again with the condition yours was in, you might have to consider trading it in for something more durable."

"My car has always been sturdy no matter how cheap," says Joyce, only slightly defensive. Truth was it had been an absolute bargain, but that was due to a recall of the car and model she had specifically. But for the last seven years it hadn't given her any trouble until now, which had been disappointing. And she didn't have the money to really consider upgrading her little hunk of junk.

Jim went quiet for a moment as she opened the door for herself and sat in the passenger seat. When he was seated and buckled up, revving the car to life, he had a cautious but considerate gaze about him, a face she could never read as negative or positive when it had flashed about over the few years she'd grown closer to him.

"You could always access that hush money."

Joyce's face fell and she immediately shook her head, vehemently.

Brenner and his agency men had given Joyce a lot of money to use to help compensate their family for what happened. It was the only guarantee to keep them quiet after everything and Will's declining condition afterward – recovery to this degree was never cheap and they had to compensate on that matter. She knew her son would never be as healthy as he once was, what with being in a toxic environment for almost an entire week, but without the money she feared he would've been far worse off. After Will's health was no longer an issue, she refused to touch it. Not when she thought of the little girl whom they were trying to strike a deal over when she tried to get her son from the gate.

It was seeing Terry Ives, knowing Eleven's story, meeting her personally and watching her bravely seek out her own child through a power not born to mankind all the while suffering for it – it pushed Joyce to the edge. Will was just as thin and maybe a hint more sick looking when he came back, but they almost looked the same in treatment. Joyce was a mother and had a penchant for human decency, who could see that Eleven was not considered a child or even a person worthy of rights, a concept that would've been left out of her learning all those years in the lab. She felt that the money was blood money when Eleven didn't get to come home with the boys. She never knew the full story, but they must have tracked her down somehow. It was enough to make her feel sick to even option the money into her financial plans after all that little girl went through.

"You know I can't Hop…I'd feel better just sending the money to charity – one that doesn't use exploitation as a method or "tout patriotism to their morally corrupt causes"."

Jim heavily sighed. He wished he hadn't gone on a drunken rant about the Department of Energy folk. He'd almost thrown himself under the bus for what happened.

"I couldn't sleep last night because of her."

Jim knew whom she was talking about. The "her" in question used to be his daughter Sarah – but it had moved on to the dilemma of the girl who had E.T. like abilities, and a similar understanding of the world being limited, and an enthralling but overall detestable upbringing. "Eleven" as called by Will's friends – El for short, had been a fascinating trail to follow leading up to the climax that found Will Byers in the Upside Down. But Hopper had to reason that she had been too far-gone, that she was too dangerous to be around Wheeler, Sinclair and Henderson to begin with. He wouldn't have been entirely comfortable with Will, his body and immune system taking its toll to restore him to full health – to be around what was an unstable experiment who knew nothing of the real world and it's consequences. She could've accidentally snapped him like a twig.

"Will's in practical mourning because the twelfth's coming up soon," Joyce mentions aloud, her stream of thoughts over the past week that plagued her mind most coming out unhindered. "He didn't even know her – but when the boys kept looking for her, he obviously learned about her, and I can't help but think he would've understood her best."

Jim doesn't see the need to placate her. It's not what she's after right now. She just wants to let go of her concerns as she occasionally did. Jim didn't mind being the person she needed for this particular catharsis.

Joyce looks troubled and she rubs at her eyes, certain she's smudged the last remains of the drugstore makeup she bought to make herself more appealing to Hopper, not that she believed it pushed him to do something more forward, but it seems she is more concerned about it these days. But her thoughts are led back to the more consequential efforts of a little girl's life.

"She's dead, isn't she Hop?"

Jim swallowed uncomfortably.

He pictured himself walking toward the box late last night after work, a small cargo of Eggos, actual food, water and toiletries. He'd also added a Dr. Seuss book as well as a Roald Dahl (as he was unsure of her capability), with a sense of levity for those who simply told him that helping her to survive was key once upon a time. A good children's book was probably not considered within scraping the bare minimum for survival.

Shoulders sagging, Jim opens his mouth and eventually closes it again.

He never answers her, which makes her think that he indeed does believe such a notion. She feels the swirling of discomfort in her stomach, guilt and despair mixing together to make her somewhat ill. In all these years, they rarely spoke of Eleven, of her possible whereabouts and her wellbeing. It was often a topic between them shortly after the events from three years ago, but when they saw the boys tirelessly looking, they figured they had their amount of Eleven to surmise without airing it out for the sake of rehashing reddened theories and adding hopes to the young boys dismal search.

And Will's hope had further extended Jim Hopper's guilt over his agreement with Brenner's men. The boy had been eager to see how the Hawkins Police Chief had gone about finding Eleven in the beginning before Joyce would push the subject back onto school and his friends. From his understanding, Will's friends were just beginning to cope with the idea that she might never come back. That his friend Michael Wheeler was starting to process the thought that she was dead and gone, a lot quieter since his pursuit had been arrested for the sake of his sanity. That Dustin Henderson's jokes became more forced, and his good times attitude was beginning to wear thin on his own faith that things would get better, that Lucas Sinclair was more determined than the whole lot of them put together when the doubts started to make more sense than the hope they relished in. But, whether it was from a sense of duty, paying his way forward by trying to give it back, or outright guilt of having felt like a burden from the beginning, Will wouldn't give up on finding Eleven.

"You know…I'd like to think if I could do anything differently – it would be taking them away from that school and throwing away those Supercoms, you know, before we went to get Will."

The aching sigh from Jim reached peak as they came to a red light on an intersection in town.

"They would've chased her to the state line Joyce. Snapped her back into that lab and returned to testing."

No matter where they had gone, Hawkins National would have always found her that night.

"Maybe…" Joyce spoke croakily, but just as another thought occurred, she sat back up. "Or maybe she would've survived. Got out while she could."

"It's not really worth pondering over – especially if we believe the inevitable."

His heart sunk deeply when he said those words. The truth would probably never see the light of day. But lying while those close to him still spoke with a smidgen of hope made his throat constrict and added another wrinkle to what was a quickly ageing face.

"Can't help it sometimes Hop. It's sadistic, but I do it because otherwise I…"

And she had become surprisingly quiet in her machinations, but when her heart pained with the harsh spotlight that shone upon her potential selfishness over only her son's wellbeing.

Hopper understood her train of thought all without her saying so. She would have done anything to get her son back – even if the vultures picked at Eleven. Joyce never did give her up, something he couldn't quite understand considering what had been on the table at the very tense time.

But she has to hope that the girl lives, because otherwise the guilt could make her perish thanks to what could be considered a self-absorbed need for her son to live.

"You didn't give her up Joyce - there's no reason for you to feel the way you do."

"She helped us find him, and in return she was sent straight to hell."

"We don't know that for certain."

Joyce turned to him with her eyes narrowed. "Death, the Upside Down, or back to the Lab. Either way Jim, she did what we couldn't - what they wouldn't do for us, and she never saw her happy ending."

"Not every kid gets a happy ending to their childhood," an assiduously poignant Jim spoke quietly. He didn't really want to hear what else there was to say on the subject. The four boys had been beating a dead horse for three years; he didn't want Joyce to pick up where they'd recently left off.

Briefly her eyes shut in regret. "I'm sorry Jim."

And her hand lands on his at the stick as he has gone down a gear. He's unable to move, his affection for her wanting to flip his hand so she can clasp hers within his fit. Without the secrets, he would've done this a long, long time ago. But they're still there, the late night visits and drop off to the box, the occasional consultation to get him to keep going without fail, it freezes him from enjoying the possibilities that lie between them.

She clutches the top of his hand for a moment or two before retracting it, his hand relaxing on the stick once more. Joyce recoils at the loneliness she's beginning to feel in this friendship.

"I feel a hunger, it's a hunger,
That tries to keep a man awake at night,
Are you the answer I shouldn't wonder,
When I feel you whet my appetite."

"With all the power you're releasing,
It isn't safe to walk the city streets alone,
Anticipation's running through me,
Let's find the key and turn this engine on."

"I can feel you breathe,
I can feel your heart beat faster."

"Take me home tonight
I don't want to let you go till you see the light
Take me –"

"Dustin turn that shit off, I can't think."

They were inside the Wheeler basement when this uncharacteristic display occurred. Mike Wheeler hadn't been one to get agitated easily, not if you compared him to his three friends that is.

Maybe it was the fact that they were studying for the only class they all shared together that was also an honours class, Chemistry – a big test was coming up in a week and they knew the closer to the weekend would be well shot of their concentration. The 12th of November never gave them any true peace, Mike particularly suffering on the day (and considerably those leading up to it) as the others tiptoed around the constant reminder, their own mourning dealt with less hotly than the burning pit of anguish that hollowed lanky teen was well known for this time of year.

Dustin swapped a look with Lucas who sat next to Mike on the couch with his much cleaner textbook open to the page he was revising silently. Lucas pointedly shook his head, assuaging the urge for his curly headed friend to puncture the wound that was clearly opening up by itself over time. He wouldn't have been insensitive; Lucas knew it was Dustin's charm that sometimes got them through these quiet and unproductively reflective sessions in Mike's basement. But they really didn't have the time to get into it all, especially when they set aside practically three days to do absolutely nothing because of how time-consuming mourning had become to them over the years.

Eventually that year's overplayed hit on the radio that past summer was turned off rather bluntly as Dustin was closest. The two hadn't failed to notice that Will had barely looked up from his doodling his textbook, completely lost in his own world.

They got him back from the Upside Down – but he was never truly the same. He had always been shy and a little quiet, but that was in front of other people. With them, he was all smiles and encouragement – with a sprinkling of preteen energy. Dustin had always insisted that a group of friends needed a Will, someone who everyone got along with and was above and beyond the kindest person they'd ever know – their Will.

Sure, Mike could be that way – but he got caught up in other things, like sulking and taking the lead, occasionally being stubborn in the paths he forged. It was a different way of kindness, it was a protective kindness that came in bouts from Mike, especially when it came to moments of distress that involved those dearest to him. Dustin's MO was more about keeping the group in check, and was probably the most likely to get real with his friends on everything, particularly the things that made them tense. Lucas – well, he wasn't easily trusting, but it was a trait that was necessary to a group of picked on kids who had a penchant for all things nerdy. But when he knew the truth, when he understood a person inside and out – all flaws and strengths combined, he was welcoming of them – if their heart was in the right place that is.

And while they remained relatively the same after the ordeal of November 83', Will had grown a little quieter around them, the way he would when he was in front of others who made him feel less. It had put them on edge, but they knew it had something to do with his time in the Upside Down. They hoped his eternal kindness would return one day – they couldn't really blame him for being self-absorbed but it was starting to get to them, where his thoughts might be taking him.

Without getting too caught up now, Dustin and Lucas simultaneously sighed and shrugged, getting back to their Chemistry revision and hoping above all hopes that they would get through the next few years without too much mental trauma.

It would seem that asking less of the universe had pushed it more.

"Boys, dinner's ready!"

Mike slammed his pencil down from his mouth where he had been hacking at the wood with his teeth. Lucas grimaced at the sight and tried to remain collected when Mike finally registered other people were in the room were with him again. Sheepish, with a tinge of pink smattering his elegant cheekbones, he muttered out an apology.

"Too full from that 2B, Mike?"

Mike half-glared at Dustin who barely smirked in return, Lucas chuckling and Will, well, finally remembering he wasn't somewhere else entirely, waking up to his surroundings.

"Smells like chicken tonight," Will briefly spoke.

Mike took a sniff of the air and was pleasantly smacked with the aroma of his mother's cooking wafting down into the basement. He half expected her to be fanning the smell through the gap in the closed door to get them to come quicker.

"Probably because it is, all breaded up and soaked in the best kind of fat."

"Fat that you still don't have," Lucas jested, pinching his skinny arm.

Mike hardly refrained from rolling his eyes as his friends all picked themselves up from their spots. He lingered a moment, the leader of the group who checked on all his friends, only to glance at the blanket fort in the corner as he had done for years, only to feel the disappointment spike internally.

She would never be there.

Some cruel trick his mind would play on him had convinced him to always check that one place before leaving the basement when ticking off his three closest friends.

Maybe Dustin had been right those two summers gone. Mike was prolonging it – only to suffer when dates like the 12th of November came crawling back into their nightmares. The inevitable truth smacked him in the face when Lucas and Dustin intervened his efforts with the search when they saw what it was doing to both Mike and Will.

Will had never given up deep down, but Mike knew he couldn't kid himself anymore. They couldn't hear her on the supercoms when they started, a huge lead when Will mentioned that he didn't have it on his person when Chief Hopper and Mrs. Byers brought him back, so she could have potentially found it and tried using it to communicate with them. Will's guilt was too strong to even consider giving up on her. But for Mike, it was a matter of a depression that had begun to sink in the summer after the November week spent with their new friend while trying to find Will.

The blanket fort remained for reasons Dustin and Lucas never quite believed, but decided not to argue it after the first time. It was Mike's tribute to her, hidden in plain sight for those who never knew of her existence, but a shadow still remained for the three boys who got to know her, bathed in the warm yellow of a flashlight shone through a bed sheet sheltering her through the connection of two old dining chairs.

"Mike?"

Mike inhaled quickly and turned to see Will waiting on the last step, the freckled young man coming out of a small trance that he found himself sinking into.

"Yeah, sorry, just…found myself falling again."

"The twelfth?"

Mike didn't need to respond for him to confirm his thoughts.

After a short stretch, Mike slumps his way toward the staircase, making his way up after Will.

"Hey man, are we out of milk again?"

"You left it on the bench Gordon, I had to throw it out."

The black, curly haired drama student brushed it off. "I'll pick some up after my shift, Pepperoni without olives?"

"Yeah that would be great man!"

The door shuts to the small two-bedroom apartment, harder to come by in New York City without starving oneself and paying student fees. Jonathan blesses whatever God came by and gave his life some slack by plotting that NYU Board of Trustees member in his high school when his Junior and Senior shots were on display, and that they'd turned out better than he had ever believed in personal opinion. Without that full paid scholarship, NYU would have been a pipe dream.

Although it was strange to admit that his brother's disappearance and eventual return had inspired his work that had him receive any sort of attention from someone with pull in the arts community and at NYU within the Arts Department, Jonathan had left behind the guilt of his surprising success back when he first received the scholarship. Will knew what was behind some of Jonathan's darker shots, and while Jonathan figured he would never want any sort of reminder, his younger brother took an optimistic look at this way of expressing himself.

"Some good can come of suffering."

That week in November in '83 had certainly shaped their lives very differently, even after Will returned. His brother was still in many ways suffering from his ordeal, but Jonathan knew that he was being looked out for, and when his mother was too busy, his friends certainly promised to do so when Jonathan left for college.

And Jonathan had his own demons to fend off whenever things took a creepy turn in his surroundings. A flickering light in his apartment, the immediacy that occurred when Gordon cut himself cooking and drew blood, the chill that ran through his bones when his mind felt just a touch too out of control late at night.

Nancy was his go to person to call. And she had had fewer incidents over these last few years, but she never teased him for his fears. They'd both seen what could exist in the world. They had both fought it, only to be pushed back – never entirely rewarded for their efforts.

Well, Will came back. But fighting a Demogorgon didn't do that. That girl, his mother and the Chief of Police did that.

It didn't bring Barb back. She was long gone from the mortal world through Eleven's findings.

Jonathan knew Nancy held onto that guilt. That it ate her up until one night she burst. He half expected she would use Steve as an outlet – in a manner that he wished not to think about, but she found that continuing things with him only made the wound remain wide open. He could understand why. It was his pool, his house where Barb was taken. Nancy was a mature young woman with a more, bluntly logical outlook after the events took place. Romanticising a future with Steve escaped her thoughts not long after Barb died, and she couldn't go back to Steve's house ever again if all she did was remember the worst of it.

Instead, Nancy had come to his house, surprising not only him, but his very concerned mother, who wisely said nothing more on the subject because she knew in some ways that Jonathan wasn't comfortable with thinking too deeply about it himself, let alone discussing it with his mother.

They never kissed, they never initiated any sort of courtship – as lame as that sounded. They were an odd twosome, but it was hardly out of order after that week in November.

She was broken, entirely. Nancy was trying to stay strong because she realised her brother was going through something similar. Barb was capable, and Eleven was scarily powerful, but the younger girl's newfound freedom seemed all that heartbreaking while Barb's injustice was incredibly bittersweet. The mourning for Barb hadn't been secret after she'd been declared dead once and for all. Nancy was able to cry at the memorial. Nancy was able to remember her publicly. Mike wasn't really given that opportunity once the boys had given up on trying to find their companion. His mourning had to be hidden for the sake of getting on, and because overall, Eleven had been a magnificent secret of a covert government operation. They were risking their lives and their sanity to mourn the super powered girl with the buzz-cut.

Nancy's immense remorse had been collecting, because she felt it wasn't fair on Mike for her to express it, that she had to be resilient for his sake. And her resolve came crumbling in Jonathan's embrace that night. That petite teenage girl had given up for a night.

And so Jonathan, having outgrown his masculinity complex from his father, and also shedding the shame that came with being a photographer sleuth and Nancy knowing the truth, was able to be completely open with her.

Selfishly, he was glad she had been by his side during that week, fighting off a monster that dragged his brother to another dimension. Jonathan was glad he wouldn't know what it felt like to be entirely alone – being both protector and a coward without someone to empathise would have surer been hellish to face when coming up to bat when the walls started expanding and the Christmas lights hung from the ceiling began to flicker.

Nancy had been valiant that last night in his house – because she was angry, angry at how little was being done for Barb, how everyone was treating her for being with Steve, Steve's next inflammatory actions, everything was building up for her and size meant nothing when she was head to toe pure fury. It fed her need to beat something otherworldly.

Jonathan was so very afraid, but he knew he needed to stamp it out, because Will was barely alive – and his mother needed a chance to grab him without being hounded by the creature – and regardless of his heart pounding at the thought, he was stepping up to be a distraction without hesitation.

But her breaking that night reminded him how much support was necessary. And her choosing him over her younger brother meant she was still willing to hide this side of her emotions from the equally broken twelve year old. He had understood this, Jonathan had to be Will's literal lean on straight out of the Upside Down and recovering at home. He needed to be that bit stronger, because he wanted Will to feel safe always.

He wanted him to be naïve for just a little while longer before he had to face the world the way all kids eventually have to.

Not being in Hawkins made it that much harder now, but they both knew he needed this, and college in New York City was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Will had to be thanked for so much, and Jonathan only hoped to be as available as he could be to his little brother, if only for some comfort, some compensation for that week in November.

He picked up the phone that sat on the kitchen bench and started dialling through to his old home number. Jonathan wasn't sure if anyone would be home, his family had never followed a conventional routine at night. His brother could be at the Wheelers; the family became even more protective over Will and Karen Wheeler insisted that when his mother worked he come over as often as possible, Mike benefitting from not stewing to deeply over his own issues with Will around. His mother was most likely at work. Maybe so she could have the day off for Friday to be with Will at his most vulnerable, she would extra hours in the week instead. Jonathan could never be certain.

"Hello."

"Mom, it's me, Jonathan."

"Oh hey Sweetie! How's everything going up there?"

"It's great Mom, really. Still a little chaotic and it's starting to feel a little bit like home now – but it will never be Hawkins."

"We do miss you Jon, and you've inspired Will to get a little more serious now that he wants to go in the same direction."

"He made a decision about New York then? Because if he gets into a college here I could stay a little longer, get some work, room with him."

"I imagine college is a time when people want to be away from their family honey, spread their wings and all that, just like you're doing." She isn't berating him, his mother sounds almost amused at his concern and readiness.

"Yeah but, it's an option, you know."

His mother sighs on the other end of the line. "You remembered, didn't you?"

His chuckle sounds through to his mother, and it's probably the most sure thing he's felt in this conversation. That week in November three years prior would haunt a select few of Hawkins for as long as memory would allow it.

"How could I forget?"

"You want to talk to him? He got back from the Wheelers ten minutes ago."

Jonathan didn't often hit the mark right, but that was some pretty decent timing. "If you wouldn't mind Mom?"

"Course not. He's not too bad now. Just try and keep his spirits up, okay?"

"I know Mom."

A muffled yell has him retracting the receiver away from his ear slightly until he hears a light pounding on the other end and a voice that sounds familiar.

"Jonathan?"

"Jesus, that's not Will."

"Shut up – my voice hasn't dropped that much."

"I don't know man, am I on the phone to a high school senior or my pipsqueak brother?"

"Jonathan," his voice is a pleading groan now, far different to the excitement that couldn't be hidden when he first started speaking.

"Alright, alright. I hear you're taking your sketching seriously?"

"Mom's filled you in on everything, what's the point in us having this conversation?"

There's a slight pause from Jonathan as he says with more sincerity than he began, "New York would be good for you Will. People don't condescend artists here. They encourage them…sometimes to a fault."

"Kind of why I'm aiming for New York, Jonathon. Don't imagine many people are going to see much value on any of my sketches in Indiana unless they're Mom or Hopper."

"Yeah, so I didn't bring it up but –"

"Nothing new has happened Jonathan, they're still tiptoeing around each other, it's worse than you and Nancy, I swear."

"Hey, we don't tiptoe. We're friends. That's it."

"Sure. They had dinner together tonight, although it was Benny's, nothing too suggestive – yes we're talking about you – you talk about me and I'm fine with it!"

Jonathan realised that the murmuring had to be his mom protesting their chosen topic, not realising that her eldest was taking the longest route to get to the point of his call. His little brother sounded teasing at most. Mean spiritedness didn't resonate in Will Byers.

"Apparently Hopper's off limits – unless he's part of a recount of my day – so all I can say is he picked me up from Mike's, and I'm sure it didn't earn him any brownie points."

Jonathan snorts unexpectedly at this and his Mom objects a little louder, but Jonathan recognises her tone; playful, not disciplinary.

Once she leaves the room, the older brother senses it, because Will wasn't ever stupid despite what his softness suggested to some.

"I guess you want to offer me a reprieve from the anniversary of the week from hell?"

It's Jonathan's turn to give a drawn out sigh. "How are you doing Will?"

Just like clockworks, his brother's voice becomes the epitome of shrivelled.

"It's not…bad…during the day. I think that's when Mom feels shit. You know, because of what she went through. Same for you…and Mike's moody as hell during the day too…and as long as I don't accidentally cut myself on anything in the art room – I'm sweet."

"And at night?" Jonathan asks hesitantly.

"The same as every other night. Lights on, but even then I can't really sleep. Dustin suggested sleeping pills – but I don't like that idea…I'd have no control."

"Neither do I, even if it meant you got a full night sleep."

Will is holding something back – maybe he's not ready to delve too deeply into the world he hides from at night, but Jonathn doesn't care, as long as he knows he's always on the line, listening. They all saw the hell that was wrought from the Upside Down. No matter how much time passes, they would always be on edge.

"Maybe you can get a nap in at school, during Gym just to make the day even better. Nurse Gregson always liked me, I can put in a good word for you."

Will laughs lightly on the other end, "The new convenience store started selling these weird caffeinated pick me up type meds. Lucas gave me one and it seemed to get me through the day but I think I'm getting heart palpitations from the stuff."

"You were never good with coffee, what makes you think some fad pill would make it any better?"

"I know, I know, but it was a worth a shot. I might try that nap tomorrow and see how bad Friday is."

Friday would be the worst day of them all. And it wasn't just the anxiety of the memory, it was a genuinely valid fear of whether these otherworldly things would return to wreak havoc on any one who had the worst luck to expel blood that day. As long as his brother wasn't alone on the Friday, Jonathan would feel a lot less concerned.

"You got the mix tape I sent a couple of weeks ago, right?"

"Yeah I kind of use it to drown out Lucas and Dustin arguing now that the Cimarron became a thing as of last Halloween."

"Isn't it Lucas' car?"

"I get front seat privileges some days, and Mike doesn't know what he's doing with music unless he's setting a mood for D&D. More upbeat than usual though, any reason?"

"No reason, just thought that collection was right together."

"The guys liked it either way. Dustin thought you were in love when you were making it – which is a little far fetched, but I wanted to check."

The tape was made with Nancy in mind as well, and Jonathan sent a copy to her, even if she was half an hour away at Columbia and he could have delivered it himself. Occasionally Jonathan just liked sending her these as way of a two-item care package, a mix tape and letter with hard-boiled sucking candy in it.

"Dustin has no idea what he's talking about."

The small stockpile of lights gathered around Will's room that shone through his room during the night didn't cause him to wake very suddenly. He'd actually managed to settle into a somewhat restful sleep when his dream was taking a very steep turn to nightmare memory lane. And it triggered something he utterly despised to rise up inside his internal organs.

There wasn't any time to reach the bathroom, and he knew if he was too loud his mom would come in and he wasn't sure if his secret was best revealed three years later in the middle of the night. Luckily a bucket resided under his bed for sick days, a common occurrence during the year after he returned from the Upside Down, and he wrapped a blanket, his now dead grandmother stitched for him when he was a young child, around his head and the bucket. Muffling the sound as best as he could, he hacked up the biggest slug he'd seen yet.

Whatever was growing in his system, and being vomited up at a rate of once every few months was a result of his very short trip to the Upside Down. According to the once awful conversation he had with his mom about how she'd managed to pluck him straight from the Upside Down herself, a living hose creature of some sort had been stuck down his throat and it would have effectively and slowly killed him had it not be pulled carefully from him and had he not been attended by medical professionals immediately after coming to the normal world again.

He'd been operated on, but Will supposed that not everything could be screened, especially things that couldn't be understood without extensive research and testing.

A lot of what held Will back from being upfront about this secret condition was that he heard of Eleven's life, essentially as government property – and his mother's distrust of the Department of Energy felt like gut intuition more than paranoia. He may never see his family again if he asked the same people who placed his very lifelike fake body in the Quarry to help him.

And from what he'd seen in the distance that the guys had been adamant to keep those few times they'd been by, even with Mike's determination, the building Eleven had once grown up in, that they learned to remain apprehensive with, had been abandoned. Afterwards Will would discover this to be wholly true when Mike would admit that he dragged Lucas to break in one Summer night to investigate just how abandoned it actually was – only to discover that the old entry to the Upside Down, the way in which Will exited in the arms of Chief Hopper, was impossibly sealed up.

It was both good and unfair. There was no longer a possibility for any other kids to go missing through that terrifying avenue, even if it cost the girl who helped his Mom find him in the Upside Down. The government was no longer culpable and wouldn't pull the same abhorrent scheme with another family. However if Eleven had lived, and had somehow been transported to another dimension, likely the Upside Down, then she could have found a way back without generating too much of her power to get there and would have lived a normal life if they could get away with it. Or so he theorised.

So he kept his condition secret, because it hadn't felt like it was killing him yet.

While that logic wasn't infallible, his fear had made him think quite irrationally.

A cold gust of air washed over him, but it wasn't remotely refreshing. And a smell that caused him to gag naturally from memory had him very aware of his surroundings after being stuck in a loop of exposition style thoughts.

Dilapidated and damp was the atmosphere that took over his room in the Upside Down, but it was better than being outside in the Upside Down. Moist air was filling his lungs and he knew he just had to remain quiet and still until he returned to his body in the normal world. He was only a reflection of himself in the Upside Down, a section – never totally complete, and it was this thinking that got him through returning to the Upside Down during a coughing episode. It never lasted long, even if the periods were extended to a couple of minutes now rather than the few seconds when he was twelve.

Will would have remained in routine had he been alone.

Alas, to his utter dismay, he wasn't.

A shuffling behind him, as he sat heaved over a broken bucket covered in mould caused him to flinch away in fright, only to feel something lying in his bed. In the Upside Down.

He jumped away, scrambling away on his backside hitting the wall shortly after. It would all be over soon, he had to remain collected so he could get back without possibly dying.

The body in his Upside Down bed was awake and he could sense it because the urge to run was very distinctive in his stomach, a tight mess in that very moment. But it was significantly smaller than most of the bloodthirsty creatures of the Upside Down. And he didn't really picture the creatures that existed in a cold science fiction hell to curl up under a blanket for any considerable warmth and to rest in such a way.

Another movement caused Will to react. He was on his feet and ready to grab any implement that might keep this creature away just for a while, just until he could get back.

"Don't!"

It was a harsh, desperate whisper into the night. It was filtered, through some sort of device. What crossed his mind, with a bitter taste of hindsight, was that he should have clipped some sort of mini flashlight to his person so that he could at least see what he'd need to fight.

But Will stopped fretting as much as he was when he realised that this wasn't a creature.

A light eventually shone through some material on the bed and he was on display for what he knew now was a person.

"Who are you?"

The question was slightly stunted while also being assertive.

"Who are you?" he responded in shock.

"You…answer."

Will swallowed uncomfortably, shaking and trying to slow his breathing.

"My name is W-Will, Will Byers –"

"Will."

The voice sounded less threatening and a lot more clear too. The body it belonged to started moving from the bed. Will forced himself further into the wall despite meeting resistance from the foundation. He knew deep down that he wasn't a fighter and it was possible he was meeting death while being totally anxiety ridden.

And then the light tipped, to reveal a flashlight, wrapped in a thin shirt and faced the person Will was yet to see until they were entirely visible albeit with some eerie shadowing around the curves of their face, the light stopping where a button nose curved outward of the face. More was beginning to reveal itself as the flashlight moved itself facing up on the floor between them, the power muted somewhat by the dirty white t-shirt's covering.

Long, tangled and rundown brown hair cascaded around a young face, with which brown eyes bore into his blue. It was a girl, around his height, maybe an inch shorter or taller, he couldn't be sure. But she looked somewhat overwhelmed.

The penny dropped when the static air and musty atmosphere no longer seemed to put Will on edge – and when the girl's breathing picked up in some strange sort of recognition, the reluctant visitor was certain.

"Eleven?"

"Yes."

"Holy shit."

The wheezing took over soon enough as he felt himself start to cough again, doubling over from the constriction he was undergoing. The flashlight was knocked over now that Eleven with her amazing abilities was no longer concentrating when processing this moment.

Will was startled as she bent down to help him. Her cool touch ignited something that he hadn't ever felt until it was no longer present.

Author's Note:

I started this over on AO3 but I figured it wouldn't hurt to upload it here too.