Chapter 1 – 'Out of the Rabbit Hole'

Whisky truly was a magical thing, a good one shone like gold and burnt the back of your throat like fire. For a moment it would make you forget everything except the taste of peat and smoke at the back of your throat. It numbed everything else around you, and muffled the sounds of your own internal goddamn monologue. Teamed up with a beer and a smoke and you had yourself a party.

Jim Hopper was propping up the bar, twisting the glass of whisky around on the suspiciously sticky surfaces of his local. He had spent the last twenty minutes waxing lyrical about the wonderful properties of alcohol, although he'd lost the concept of space and time somewhere around the 7th drink. Before that it had been dark rotting material and twisting vines, claustrophobia and spores.

It had been two days since the night Eleven had sent the Thesselhydra back to whatever hell it had come from. The kid had been pretty much comatose since then, wrapped up in her blankets she'd barely acknowledged his presence and stirred only to drink and use the bathroom. Hopper wasn't offended, he'd seen it in Vietnam, extreme exhaustion shut out all other functions other than those required for existence. The Wheeler kid had told him that using her powers tired Eleven out, and she had sure put on the telekinetic firework display.

As a result he had allowed himself a two day beer fest to process what he had seen. He vowed to himself that he would be sober when she woke up, then he could make amends for being a total asshole. When he said to himself that he would 'process' his freshest nightmares, he really meant entire alcohol annihilation. He had almost lost everything that was slowly becoming precious to him. He had seen a grown man torn to pieces by demidogs (Dustin wouldn't stop correcting him about the term and it had eventually caught.) He asked himself whether he was cursed and how much could one average joe go through in a lifetime, without wondering whether someone out there had it in for him. After Vietnam and the death of his little girl, he had thought that life had no more suffering to offer. That was until Will Byers went missing and some fresh hell was unleashed, dredging up those memories he had fought so hard to supress. The loss of his friend Benny and other residents of the Hawkins community, coupled with the responsibility of policing the town had left him thanking whatever powers that be for his medication.

Despite all this fear and uncertainty, they had come out of the other side. Eleven was back with him where she belonged and the other kids were safe. Life would slowly return to some form of normality, and normality had previously meant drinking. Hopper supposed that this last booze cruise was his way of saying goodbye to his past, although he had long given up being philosophical in the mid-morning sunlight of the bar. At the moment he was considering whether he could make alcohol out of pretzels.

'Hey Hop, I would ask if you want another drink but it's 11am and you're starting to put the alcoholics off their stride.'

'Sorry Dale, but can't you see I'm celebrating?' Hopper grabbed his glass and thrust it in the air like a trophy.

'I sure do, and it must have been a heck of a victory for ya judging by the way you're knocking back that Rye. I take it's your day off?'

Hopper winked and tried to tap his nose conspiratorially but happened to miss and his elbow slipped off the bar. An arc of whisky shot into the air and landed on his jeans; 'Aww hell', he mumbled.

'I guess that's the sign that my luck is 'bout to change and I should head home' Hopper sighed and slammed some bills onto the bar. Dale watched as this hulk of a man, the Chief of Hawkins Police scrunch up his face as he tried to put on his hat and stumble towards the exit. 'See ya later Dale', Hopper slurred as he wandered out, pointing at the other down n' outs and saying; 'Don't DUI kids.'

It was November, and the blast of air in his face sobered him enough to realise that navigating a giant human keg through the woods would be less than graceful. Grumbling to himself he turned up the collar of his coat and pulled his hat down to shield his eyes from the wind and disappeared into a break in the foliage behind the bar. The cabin was warm when he finally stumbled through the door; 'Don't know why I call it the local, an hour walk sure as hell ain't nearby.' Hopper could already feel the beginning of his hangover seeping into the edge of his consciousness, and it was making him grouchy as hell.

'You're drunk' a small but intense voice said from the couch.

A low curse escaped his lips, she had woken up and here he was a sweaty drunken mess. He schooled his mood, and desperately tried to notch up his sobriety.

'El, you're up, I'm sorry you shouldn't have to see this. I had about ten drinks too many by my reckoning.'

He walked over to the couch and sunk into it like a deflated kid who realised the game was up, he had managed to get one sleeve of his coat off and it was dangling uselessly at his side.

'How you feeling kiddo?'

She looked at him with a guarded expression. She had never seen a drunk man in person before, sure Hop had had beers before at the cabin but he always stuck to two and it was usually after a long day. Her whole experience of the matter stemmed from her TV education, soaps had portrayed drunks as being very similar to uncoordinated children. Hopper didn't look that bad, his brow was furrowed like he was angry but his eyes were soft.

'Better'

Hopper ruffled her hair, and after running a hand over his eyes he glanced at the percolator in the corner of the kitchenette. Caffiene would be his only saviour now.

'Ok, we need to talk Miss but first I need a coffee.'

Eleven stood and shook her head; 'No you need sleep.'

He grumbled as she tugged his coat sleeve; 'But you just woke up. I'm sorry you were on your own.'

Eleven still had not adjusted to the idea of someone feeling remorse for leaving her alone or afraid. She wasn't used to someone communicating with her, rather than at her and issuing instruction. It made her smile at him.

'Hey', he said as he smiled back at her.

'Go to sleep.' She said with as much authority as a child with extraordinary powers can say anything. He followed her command and shuffled off into his room, collapsing on his sheets and breathing deeply. His last thoughts as a drunk were how the sheets smelt of a different detergent than normal.

When he awoke later that afternoon, the light shining through the curtains felt like the equivalent of a thousand needles in his head, moaning he grabbed his pillow and shoved it over his face, contemplating suffocation. Somehow the smell of coffee permeated through the downy mask, and like a man who awakens to find he happily hasn't died, his senses returned slowly. Next he registered bacon, and possibly waffles. With the practiced movements of a man who regularly awakens to alcohol regret he slid from the bed and slowly made his way to the living room. Eleven had done a stand up job, there was coffee the way he liked it, a cigarette next to a steaming plate of food, and his messages. She was clearly making an effort to make up for their argument.

'Thanks Kid, you know you didn't have to do this. We forgave each other already.'

Eleven shrugged and starting eating. It was a comfortable silence but there was too much to say, too much praise and too many important questions about her new fashion choices.

'I am sorry about last night though, I thought you would be out for longer. It won't happen again. This is me now, sober Hop, K?'

Eleven nodded and gave a small smile.

'Ok, so spill it Miss. What have you been doing while I was trying to save the world?'

For the next couple of hours they talked, Hop took the day off work and they spent it together. Discussing what would happen next, and how he wanted her to stay. He only told her once that she was most the remarkable and brave person he had met, bar the one other woman he knew who was just as stubborn as Eleven. He could have told her how proud of her he was, but an ego coupled with super powers was a bit beyond his capabilities.