AN:

Okay so this chapter is stupidly long but there wasn't really any good place to split it equally. Just be aware of that. Like I said, there's smut in this so again, if you're not into that this is your warning.

Please don't hate me.

The next few days passed by as El slowly regained her strength, the cuts scabbing over, the bruises lightening slightly and becoming less tender. She wasn't shaky anymore and could walk by herself, but he liked following close behind just to make sure.

He ended up calling in sick on Monday, and then Tuesday, convincing everyone he had the worst kind of flu. In reality he spent the time caring for El, feeding her his mom's leftovers and watching movies while they cuddled. Most of the time he held her, but occasionally she would sit up and he would lay his head in her lap as she absentmindedly stroked his shaggy black hair. He fell asleep like that once, only waking up when she shifted because her legs had fallen asleep.

Max helped too. Mike lent El his phone and the two women talked for hours. She hadn't made it to Hawkins yet due to her booked weekend, but El mentioned to him that she thought Dustin was hysterical and was enjoying her time at his house as a temporary roommate. Maybe something good would come from that at least.

The vibrant, happy El that had dazzled Mike from the beginning was slowly coming back, though she still struggled, sometimes staring off into space until he roused her. She'd had a nightmare one night, waking up sobbing and he'd held her until she fell back asleep, whispering reassurances.

Mike noticed El still seemed a little distant, figuring she was still trying to come to terms with what had happened to her and what he had confessed. There were a lot of emotions and he made peace with the fact that it might take her a while to be able to even start to sort through them. She was flourishing under his loving watch, though there was a still a shadow that haunted her eyes. He wasn't sure what it was, but hoped she would open up enough to tell him. Caring for her made him feel invincible, but the darkness she held onto made him nervous. What was it that was still bringing her down? She was safe here, away from her father's clutches, and most of the time she laughed and cuddled like nothing was wrong. But Mike knew better.

On Tuesday he'd started to feel a little stir-crazy after being cooped up in the apartment so long, and left her long enough to drive out and pick up some food. He still felt weird leaving her alone, unsure of how she would handle it, but she was in the kitchen when he got home, getting herself a glass of water. He set the bag on the counter and came up behind her, pulling her to him and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. She'd run out of clothes on Sunday and was currently in one of his oversized shirts and her last pair of clean underwear and he appreciated how she looked wearing his clothes.

"Hey," she'd put her hands over his and leaned back. "What smells so good? It's food, right?"

Her voice had returned after the first few days and while she was still on the quieter side it made him happy to be able to hear her again.

"Well, fry-queen, I figured it was time that you tried Hawkin's finest finger food," he let her go and pulled open the white paper bag with a flourish. "Ta da! Benny's Burgers' fries, in every flavor they sell."

She looked shocked for a second before busting out into laughter, holding her stomach as she shook, having to lean against the counter for support. He pouted, feeling a bit hurt.

"What's so funny? I brought you food. You love food."

"No, you're—" she chortled again, wiping at her eyes, "You're fine, I just… when you sent me that text back in March… I scoffed. I never thought I'd actually be here eating these fries…"

He snickered and reached for her, pulling her close again and playfully tickling her sides as she squirmed away, giggling.

"Only the best fries for the fry-queen," he grinned.

She was blinking up at him, some unreadable emotion in her eyes, her hands resting on his chest. There was something there, something on the tip of her tongue, but she looked down, suddenly shy and stepped back. Mike cleared his throat, feeling strangely disappointed.

"So do I get to try the fries?" she teased and he relaxed.

"Of course, here."

They opened the bag and pulled out several cylindrical cups of fries, setting them on the counter and then digging in. El jumped up, sitting on the counter while Mike leaned next to her, both tearing into the fries like they hadn't eaten days. She stuffed the fries into her mouth, moaning loudly as she tried each flavor, making Mike laugh. It was like when they first met and she embarrassed him in Wendy's. He remembered something, a question he'd meant to ask months ago but always forgot.

"Hey, so… why do people call you Eleven?" he asked, turning to face her.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "I never told you that story?"

"Nope."

"Oh, well, it's kind of depressing but…" she leaned back, resting her head against the cabinets, looking off distantly. "When I was little, I lived in this kind of… group home. For orphans no one wanted to foster. It was… bad there. I hated it," she bit her lip, "but when I turned five I got a present, this little Timex watch. It was pink and blue with butterflies on the strap. And when I went to school, someone mentioned 11:11, and how you were supposed to make a wish. So after that, any time it was 11:11 I would stop whatever I was doing and wish and wish and wish with all my heart for the entire minute. Even if I was at school or in bed or wherever. And people noticed how I would freeze up and close my eyes and started teasing me about it…" she paused, looking thoughtful, "I don't remember exactly who started calling me Eleven, but I think was eight or nine. It was right before Papa adopted me, but I would still wish after that, all the way through high school."

She had that shadow on her face again and Mike looked at her, curious.

"For what?"

"Hm?" She stuffed some more fries in her mouth, trying not to be noticeably grim.

"What did you wish for?"

She looked more sober, setting the plate down next to her.

"Oh, well… when I was little I wished to be adopted. I wanted a family and someone who loved me. And after it happened I started wishing to be good at something, to make my—to make him proud, you know? That was my longest wish, until a few years ago. After that one came true…" she trailed off like she didn't want to finish the sentence.

"And then what?"

"Then… I stopped wishing. Because my wishes were… twisted. They came true but not… not the way I wanted." She stared down at her hands, thumb rubbing the rope burns on her wrists, emphasizing her words. "But I kept the name, so I could be different from… Jane."

Her eyes were distant again and he quickly moved in front of her, knowing she would lose herself to the pain and the memories if he didn't do something. So he pulled her towards him, to the edge of the counter, and kissed her, pouring in every ounce of love he felt in his heart. Her whole body sighed and then her hands were cupping his face, her legs moving to wrap around his waist. He pulled back, cautious.

"El, you're still healing we shouldn't—"

She interrupted him with another kiss, this one more passionate, almost desperate and he felt his resolve melting. But he tried to pull back once again, afraid he might hurt her if they were intimate, unsure if she was ready. Her bruises were still purple and blue and tender, but she didn't notice, pulling him closer.

"El…" he protested weakly, closing his eyes as she ran her hand along the waistband of his jeans.

"Mike," she answered, knowing she was winning.

She reached for his hands, placing them on the tops of her thighs and moving them up, under the over-sized shirt she was wearing, until they were on her hips. Their eyes met and there was that unreadable emotion in her eyes again, coupled with something he could only describe as need.

"Mike I…" she swallowed, voice thick. "I need you to touch me."

"But—"

"I need you to love me. Please."

Her voice broke and then he was pulling her to him, her words shattering his hesitation. She needed him, needed him to love her, to remind her that not everything intimate had to be cold or emotionless or full of pain. It was all she'd known for so long, and now she was asking him to show her, again, what sex could be.

He was extra gentle, trying to avoid the bruises, his kisses on her neck so soft they felt like whispers, but she sighed and leaned into them. Her hands were reaching for his shirt and he pulled it over his head, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. She was next, pulling the baggy shirt up and over her head.

He figured out pretty quickly that she hadn't been wearing a bra underneath, and he gathered her into his arms, pressing their chests together and shuddering at the feeling of her smooth skin against his. She reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair and and pulling his face to hers, their lips meeting in a fiery explosion that filled the air around them with heat, their hands scorching trails up and down each other's bodies.

"El," he groaned, pressing his hips against hers.

She could feel how hard he was, his jeans straining to hold him in. The countertop was digging into the back of her thighs and she squirmed, pushing against his chest until he stepped back and she could hop down. Her hand grabbed his and she pulled him out of the kitchen, towards his bedroom. He followed, his hands on her waist, and then they were on the small bed, frantically shedding the last of their clothes.

Mike looked down at her, completely bare beneath him, trying not to see the marks that marred her body from knee to neck and see the person underneath. But they were a part of who she was too and he realized he needed to love them too, to show her there was nothing she could do that would change his mind.

She reached up, cupping his face in her hand and he turned his head, kissing her palm. Then he kissed her wrist, taking her arm in his hand and oh so gently pressing kisses to each and every cut and bruise that peppered her skin, making sure both arms were covered.. He moved, lower, to the ones on her chest and breasts, then down to her thighs, kissing the bite marks so tenderly she shivered. It was like he was trying to heal each one with his love, trying to take the pain of what she'd gone through and pull it into himself.

He moved up her leg, to her inner thigh, before pressing a kiss to her heated core, making her gasp. She had been looking down at him but as he pressed his mouth to her again she fell back, unused to the sensation, letting out another gasp of surprise. He took it as a positive sign and began to lap at her with his tongue, listening to the sounds she made and continuing what made her whimper in approval. Her hand went down as he continued to eat her out, gripping at his hair and pulling him closer.

"Miiiiiiike," she whined impatiently.

He pulled back and licked his lips, catching his breath, and then crawled back over her, going for her neck, where the bruising was the worst, where someone had nearly choked the life out of her. His lips were so light they almost tickled and he made sure to kiss every mark there too. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought him to her mouth, lifting her hips up to meet his.

The ground against each other and Mike groaned, tucking his face into her neck. He didn't understand what he'd done to deserve this kind of absolution, this utter joy and calm that filled him as she pressed her body to his, but he didn't question it, smoothing his hand through her hair and then cupping her cheek in his, thumb stroking the edge of her lip.

"You're perfect," he kissed her lips, "absolutely breathtaking."

"Mike," she whimpered, her hips meeting his again.

He knew what she was asking for and though he was hesitant, he couldn't refuse her, couldn't say no to that sweet voice whispering his name. He reached down to line himself up and pushed just the tip into her as she eagerly bucked her hips. There was that quiet desperation in her eyes again but he didn't give in, knowing she deserved for it to be slow, for it be more than just sex.

He wanted to make love to her.

His hands reached for hers, intertwining their fingers together as he pushed forward, joining them together completely. They moaned in symphony as he slowly pushed all the way in, being oh so careful with her battered and bruised body.

"Mike," she breathed, gazing up into his eyes.

He stared back, squeezing his hands in hers as a reassurance that he was there, that he heard her and that he felt her.

"El," he moved his hips once, closing his eyes as he lost himself to her, then moving again, each stroke careful, tender, loving.

She squeezed his hips with her legs, encouraging him, and he sped up just the barest amount, not wanting to rush things, wanting to feel everything, wanting her to feel everything. He was giving her everything again, offering his soul as he moved within her, pressing kisses to her neck and cheeks and forehead. She began to move her hips with his, meeting him stroke for stroke and he groaned at the feeling. She was perfect, exquisite, beautiful, sheer perfection in a person and he marveled at his ability to be allowed so close.

"El," he whispered and she opened her eyes, panting but meeting his stare.

Her eyes were soft, the shadow gone, filled with the emotion that was spilling out of him now. He couldn't hold it in anymore, what he'd already told her, what he was feeling so intensely now.

"I love you, El," he gasped, "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

He repeated it like a mantra as he moved his hips faster, the sensation becoming overwhelming as intense pleasure radiated through their bodies from where they were joined. It was the same as the times before but different—some feeling, some unknown presence surrounding them as they moved together, her hands squeezing his fingers as she panted and keened, his name the only word on her tongue.

"I love you, El," he told her again and she leaned up to press a kiss to his lips before falling back, staring up at him.

Her mouth opened as their eyes met and the fire they'd been building together reached a flashpoint, their bodies joined in ultimate ecstasy as she tightened around him, something bubbling up her throat, a cry, a sentence that she'd been holding in for so long, unsure of what it really meant. Her vision flashed white and the words came as she did, a gasp that choked her throat.

"Mike. Mike, I love you," she cried, clutching him to her tightly as she shuddered beneath him.

Fireworks exploded around them and his heart swelled as he spilled into her, gasping and burying his face into her hair, breathing her in. The reality of what she'd said settled in and he felt an intense joy radiate from the very core of his being.

He pulled back, releasing her hands to cup one of her cheeks, and looked at her.

"I love you too, El," his eyes were suddenly full of tears and he flopped off of her and onto his side, pulling her to his chest and covering her face with kisses. "I love you so much."

There were tears in her eyes too, tears of relief and she reached up to cover her face with her hands, hardly able to handle the emotions racing inside of her.

He watched as she accepted it, the thing that had been growing between them for months, since the first time she'd invited him in. The first time she'd welcomed a stranger into her bed and they'd made love instead of someone using her body for their gain. She hadn't known it at the time, that the kind man at the nightclub who made her burn would change her life in such a simple way, but looking up at him now, she knew what she'd been feeling. What she had been running from, believing it to be impossible… incomprehensible even.

But here they were, chest to chest, breathing together, wiping the tears from each other's faces, his skin warm against her. She felt his heartbeat under her hand, felt that he was real and visceral and loving her right in that moment.

It was too good to be true and she basked in the glow of his affection, unable to understand how it was possible, how he could possibly love her. But he kept whispering it to her, his legs tangled with hers, his heart holding hers like he held her now, careful of the bruises.

"Thank you, El."

She looked up at him, brow furrowed.

"For what?"

"For letting me love you."

The exhaustion set in and she felt his warm breath on her forehead, slowing until he was asleep, arms still holding her tightly. She looked up, trying to count the freckles that smattered his cheeks like a starry night sky. He was perfection, truly, sharing with her his faultlessness and goodness and never asking for more than she could give.

Fear coiled in her belly, crawling up her throat.

What was she doing? She couldn't do this to him, make him give up his good life for her. He loved her but… what if she couldn't be enough? He deserved the world and everything good in it. How could she tarnish his life by being selfish when he could have so much more than her.

It had been tearing her apart since the night they first. He was so kind, such a gentleman. One of the rare "good ones" you heard stories about but so rarely met. He made her heart beat faster made the butterflies tickle her stomach, made her want him. Part of her deep down, knew she needed him. Why else would she have kept inviting him back? Letting him creep into her life step by step, slowly warming up her ice as the months went by.

He was… pure. Not just the virgin thing—though she felt that added something to it—but he had a good heart, the type of guy to rescue the box of kittens and walk the old lady across the street, but not to play some part or gain something… but because he wanted to. And he shared his goodness with her, his arms as open as his heart, bringing her cupcakes and funny fridge magnets and little things that made her laugh.

And she was poisoning him.

Everytime he touched her, came to visit her, slept with her… she felt like he took in part of her darkness. And it was her fault because she let him back in. She was the one who said "yes" when he asked to see her, the one who encouraged him, the one who reached for his zipper with hungry hands.

Why hadn't she kept him out? Why hadn't she told him no after the first time? Why hadn't she let it just be a one night stand?

Because you love him, something deep inside whispered.

And when she loved something… she ran.

When she was a child the home she lived in had taken a rare trip to the city zoo, an expansive thing with several buildings and displays of animals. She'd wandered off against orders, ending up in the aviary. It was like a giant cage, filled with a myriad of birds that flew around her head and squawked in the trees.

She'd walked along the path, startling as she came across two women on a bench and hiding back behind a bush, curling into a ball and staring up at the large metal net that kept the birds in, afraid she'd get caught away from her group.

One of the women was crying, the other trying to give advice. Tiny El had watched a small white bird land in front of her as if it was watching her. With shaky hands she'd pulled out a half-eaten granola bar and threw some crumbs onto the ground, watching as the white bird had hopped closer, still wary, and then pecked at her humble offerings. She'd smiled with delight—she'd made a friend—and then watched as it flew towards the sky.

But the net was in the way and it mercilessly beat itself against it, trying to escape.

Behind her one of the women said had something, something completely irrelevant to little El's life and yet oddly fitting.

"If you really love him, you have to let him go. If you don't let go you'll only hurt both of you worse. If he's the one… he'll come back. But now you've got to let go."

She'd watched the bird trying to escape, and promised that if she ever loved something that beautiful, she would always let it go. So all her life she let them go, the people she started to care about, not wanting to tie them down to her and make them suffer. It was easier to be lonely than guilty.

Her one exception had been Max, who didn't let her let go. She'd hung on tighter than anyone before and El was still grateful for it, knowing she might not have made it as far as she did without her. And she hadn't even let herself be honest with Max. Not completely.

But to do this to Mike… she couldn't. He wouldn't keep his distance at all if she let him anywhere near and it wasn't fair to let her darkness consume them both.

There wasn't anywhere else to go but back to Papa, but she knew she couldn't stay, couldn't keep letting him give her everything while the black hole in her heart sucked him dry. He deserved better, someone who could love him back equally, who was sweet and innocent and kind and everything she wasn't. He needed someone who wasn't her.

Every piece of her was breaking, her heart shattering into a thousand pieces, but she scooted back, out of his arms, trying to get out of the bed.

"Whazz..." he snorted awake, just barely, and squeezed her. "El?"

"I've… I need to pee, Mike," she whispered, hating the lie, hating that she was lying to him.

"Mmmmmnno… cozy," he protested as he snuggled into her and she almost laughed through the tears that were filling her eyes.

"I'm too old to wet the bed."

He humphed but released her and she slid out of his arms, standing up and looking down at him as he drifted back to sleep.

I love him. I have to let him go. He'll find someone who deserves him. Someone whole. And he'll be happy. Please, she begged every force in the universe as he stared down at his star-speckled face, relaxed in his sleep. Please let him be happy.

She leaned down, pressed a whisper-soft kiss to his temple, a single tear dripping from her eye and landing in the palm of his upturned hand as she pulled away. A piece of her broken heart that she would always leave with him.

"I love you, Mike," she murmured. "I love you."

And then she retreated, packing her scattered belongings and putting her clothes back on and trying to ignore the splintering feeling. His phone was charging in the kitchen but before she picked it up she grabbed a napkin, still stained with fry grease, and a pen off the counter, trying to write him a goodbye that would tell him just how grateful she was. Then she grabbed his phone, dialed the familiar number and listened to it ring. The line picked up but there was no answer and with a heavy sigh she greeted the man she knew was on the other side.

"Hello, Papa."

"Jane," he replied coldly.

"I-I… I'm coming back."

"Did that boy," there no hiding the disgust in his voice, "finally tire of you too?"

"No I—it's my choice. I'm… leaving him," she fought to keep the tears from her tone. "C-Can you send a car? The address is—"

"I know where you are, Jane. I've known about Mike Wheeler since he left that hickey on your neck six months ago."

She felt her blood run cold.

"Wh-What?"

"You think I don't keep tabs on your affairs? This one lasted longer than I anticipated but I'm glad you've seen the light."

"You… know where he lives?"

"Really, Jane," he sniffed, sounding annoyed, "I know everything. I would have come and picked you up days ago but I'm afraid the chief of police there is rather… hardheaded. I was working a few of his deputies but even they were reluctant… small town bumpkin loyalties, I suppose."

The implication that he was going to have Mike arrested through bribery just to get her back cemented her decision. She had to protect him. She couldn't let Papa hurt him too. He didn't need to pay for her sins, she wouldn't let him this time.

"I can have a car there in fifteen minutes, Jane. I assume you're ready now?"

He sounded smug, knowing what her answer would be and she felt an intense, hot feeling flush her face and fill her body. Something she hadn't felt before… not directed at Papa at least.

She hated him.

She'd always hated the men he sent to her, for being okay with what they did to her, for not helping her, for helping him instead. But never him. Sure, she'd been mad, she knew he was absolute asshole and a terrible person… but she could never bring herself to hate him. She had needed him to love her, to be proud and tell her she was good.

But she didn't need him anymore.

Clenching her teeth, she took a deep breath, trying to remember what he'd said about Mike, about what he would do to him. No matter what happened to her after this, she would keep him safe, like he'd kept her safe. Because she loved him.

She bolstered herself and spoke, jaw clenched tightly.

"Yes, Papa."

AN:

I'M SORRY.

I'll try and get this next chapter done as soon as possible. I really hope you all were able to understand her and not just think she's messing with Mike. Some people don't understand what unconditional love is, I think El is one of them. The story is almost over, I hope you've all enjoyed it (as well as possible) so far.

Also thank to all of those who leave such sweet reviews. I truly, truly appreciate your support and comments, they motivate me SO much to keep going.

So yeah, feel free to be pissed off at me. I deserve it this time.

~Wyn