Ellen Walker pushed quickly through the swinging door leading into the kitchen, desperate to put a wall between her and the man sitting dumbfounded in the corner booth out in the dining room. She had sensed some spark of familiarity when their eyes first met as he took his place at the table, but she had done her best to suppress the feelings welling up in her chest. She had been wrong before, and come close to blowing the cover her father had worked so hard build for both of them. She had been watching him closely as she made her way around the dining room, doing anything to keep herself out there instead of hanging out in the kitchen like she usually did, and she had felt his eyes following her.

As he was finishing his meal, she had started to become desperate, trying to figure out how she would tell if the man sitting just feet away was the boy who she had loved so many years ago. Walking over to the table, she had been prepared to ask him his name outright, and breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled out a credit card. She would be able to read his name for herself from the safety of the counter, and figure out what to do from there. As she turned to go, her heart nearly stopped when she heard him whisper "Eleven?" It was a name not even her father spoke and that meant her past had finally caught up with her; the man at the table was either Mike or someone still loyal Papa. As she read the name, embossed in neat gold lettering across the face of the card, she had to stifle a sob, of joy or relief or lost years, she couldn't quite say. Whatever it was, she knew she had to take a few minutes to collect herself, and she still had a shift to finish out. Wrapping a quick note around the card, she dropped off his receipt and receded to the safety of the kitchen.

"Want to tell me what that was all about," teased Robert as he scrapped down the grill, after giving her the all-clear that her last customer had left.

"Shut up," she laughed. "He just reminded me of someone I grew up with. From back in Arizona," she added quickly, the invented back-story so well rehearsed after a decade that it rolled off the tongue like an absolute truth.

"Whatever. Better get back out there, Gladys and Frank are here, right on schedule," he said, nodding his head toward the elderly couple taking a seat in the booth they had occupied nearly everyday at 12:30 since anyone could remember. "Try not to fall in love with Frank while you're out there," he ribbed.

As she walked nervously back into the dining room, she chanced a glance out the front window into the parking lot, where she saw Mike Wheeler backing his rental car out into the street. Growing up, she had fallen in love with the bedtime stories her father had told her of sweet princesses being rescued by brave knights on horseback and whisked away to their happily ever after. "It may not be a noble steed," she thought, "but perhaps her knight had come for her all the same, in a rented black Ford Taurus."

Driving slowly through town, Mike was lost in a daze, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. After giving his arm a good pinch, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry at where fate had finally delivered him. He had found her. He had actually found her. A million thoughts ran through his mind and he was nearly back to the highway before he realized he was running on autopilot. Turning around, he drove back to find a parking spot at the end of the boardwalk that ran most of the length of town.

The next two hours passed in a slow blur as he contemplated just what he would say to the girl he had loved, still loved. Did she still love him? Would she be happy to seem him after so long, or would she send him away, for fear of somehow attracting the attention of the very people she had been trying to escape? As the clock crept agonizingly around to 2:45, he couldn't wait any longer and left the car behind, walking out onto the boardwalk. It was an overcast afternoon and a fall chill hung in the air. Apart from one couple leaving a small art gallery halfway down the line of shops, he had the place all to himself. Leaning against the old railing, weathered and bleached by years of salt and sun, he stared out at the waves and tried to steady the pounding in his chest. Above the crashing surf and the cry of a circling gull, he almost didn't hear the bicycle rolling slowly toward the place where he stood.

"Mike?" a soft voice asked.

He turned and faced the girl standing beside a pale blue Schwinn, and he cursed himself for having not recognized her on first sight back in the restaurant. Sure, she was older, a little taller, her soft brown hair longer, but in that moment she somehow looked exactly as he remembered her that night as they said their final goodbyes. She looked just as she did the night she stepped into the Byers' living room, punked out and fresh from a demogorgon fight, or that very first time he laid eyes on her that night in the rain. Her deep brown eyes so full of life seemed to reach into his very soul.

"El? Is it really you?"

Dropping the bike to one side, she closed the remaining feet between them, moving faster with each step until she crashed into his waiting arms, burying her face deep in his neck. As they held tight to one another, the tears of relief flowed gently down their cheeks as twelve years of carefully contained anguish was allowed to let go at long last.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she finally said, lifting her head to study his face, still afraid this was all some terrible mistake.

"I told you, it wasn't goodbye forever," he smiled. "And I'm a man of my word."

At that she let out a soft giggle that melted his heart. It had been weeks after she had closed the gate once and for all that he'd first heard that sweet sound escape her lips and he had thought it was the greatest noise he ever heard. Standing on the boardwalk with the salty breeze gently tossing her hair, the laugh was now almost musical to his ears.

Finally breaking the embrace, she looked quickly around them, making sure they were still alone.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand. "We need to get home."

"Home?" he asked, seeing the guarded look fall back over her face as she picked up the bike and started pushing it along the walkway and out toward the street.

"It's only a couple blocks, too many eyes out here," she added, glancing about.

It was then he started to appreciate just a hint of what the last twelve years had been for her. Even now, in what should be one of her happiest moments, she was ever-vigilant for anyone taking too close an interest in the girl from the restaurant and the boy they had never seen before. After a quick two blocks, she led the way up the driveway of a tan, one-story house at the end of a dead-end cul-de-sac. Pulling a key from the pocket of her jeans, she unlocked the garage door and slid it open far enough walk her bike inside, before coming right back out and locking up again. Grabbing hold of his hand, she led the way to a side-door by the kitchen, and let them inside.

Only once the door was safely closed and locked behind them, did she throw her arms around him once more. Free to give vent to all she was feeling, she pressed her lips eagerly to his. After a moment of shocked hesitation, he melted into her embrace. Unsure of how they got there, they soon found themselves on the living room couch, still wrapped in each-other's arms, both feeling 14 again and remembering the last time they had been like this, on one of those rare occasions when Hopper had left them alone at the cabin together. There would be time enough to talk and fill in the gaps of all their time apart, but for now, they reveled on the comfort of the other's embrace and the connection they shared that always seemed to transcend words.

At long last, El glanced up at the clock.

"Shoot, dad will be home soon. I need to throw dinner in the oven."

As she stood up and started toward the kitchen, she looked back at Mike, sitting quite content on the couch. "Don't go anywhere," she teased.

Soon, but not soon enough, she was back, sitting by his side, her hands held gently in his own. "I still can't believe your really here," she said. "I dreamed of this moment so many times, but I was so afraid it would never come true."

"I know what you mean," he confessed. "Some days, the only thing that kept me going was the thought that, wherever you were, you were finally safe."

All too soon, their quiet reunion was broken up by the sound of an old pickup making its way down the block. El stood quickly, the barest look of childish guilt on her face, and straightened out her hair.

"Wait here, he usually comes in through the kitchen. I'll head him off there and break the good news."

She planted one more quick kiss on his lips before turning into the kitchen. Mike stood then, suddenly terrified to face the Chief again after all this time. The last time Hopper had kept El hidden away, Mike had thrown a few feeble punches at the man in anger and frustration. This time, all he felt was gratitude that he had kept his promise to keep her safe. As he stood waiting, Mike heard the kitchen door open, and then close again with a firm thud.

"Hi daddy, how was your afternoon?"

"Hi El, another greasy one. Dinner smells great," said a gruff, but warmly familiar voice.

"I..um.., I have a bit of a surprise," she said, the nerves obvious in her voice. "Out here in the living room," she added, her voice growing closer.

Hopper stepped around the corner into the living room, and Mike could see the color drain from the old man's face as his smile fell.

"Wheeler?"

AN: I just want to take a minute to thank everyone for the great feedback on the story so far. This is the first story I have published as I go, rather than having the full thing written before posting anything. It means a lot to me to know when a chapter connects with people and that gives me the boost to get the next chapter written.