"It's just a cold," he had said at the beginning of the week as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. El knew something was wrong by the scratchiness in his voice that made him sound like someone else entirely. It was unsettling, because every time he spoke, she thought a stranger had come into the old cabin hidden in the woods.

"You're cold?" she asked, not quite understanding the phrase Hopper used. Her head was tilted and her lips parted slightly as the question lingered in the air. She had part of a waffle on her fork and she sat at the card table in the kitchen opposite Hopper, who elected to just have some orange juice.

"No." He shook his head. "I have a cold. I'm sick."

Oh, sick. El knew sick. "Like I was?" she asked.

"Yes." The girl looked concerned. "Well, no. Not as bad. A cold is like sick but not as bad. Get it? Word of the day. There. Done. Now eat up." He hoped that would be the end of her questioning and was thankful when it was. He didn't want the girl to worry about him, and he also didn't want to talk more than he had to. It was early, but his throat had already gone from being just slightly uncomfortable to hurting everytime he talked. If God gave a damn about him, there wouldn't be many calls at the office.

El finished, he cleaned up, and then he was gone for another day at the police station.

That had been at the beginning of the week. Although Hopper promised he was going to be just fine, it turned out he just slowly got worse as the days passed by. El tried to ask about it, but she ran out of ways to say, "Are you still sick?" and Hopper ran out of ways to tell her that he "isn't freaking sick" and eventually they both just dropped it.

But, that Friday, Jim couldn't get himself out of bed and he had El stretch the phone cord all the way to his room so he could call out sick. It wasn't something he wanted to do. He preferred to save his sick days for when El needed him, but he knew he wouldn't last a minute at the office.

"Hawkins Police Department, Flo speaking."

"Sick," Hopper choked out as though every letter was agony to say.

There was a long pause before he heard a sharp gasp of breath on the crackling line and Flo chuckled. "Caught a bug did ya, Chief?" she asked. "Alright, see you next week then. Let me know if you're still out Monday." Hopper grunted in response and hung up the phone. He forgot El was standing there to take it and dropped it on the ground, and the looping white cord dragged it part of the way back to its dock in the kitchen. El watched it go but didn't go after it. She looked back at the man.

"Sick?" she asked. Hopper grunted out what sounded like a yes and rolled over on his side, facing away from the girl. El was suddenly uncomfortable and overwhelmed with worry. She wondered if this was how Hopper felt when he'd found her out in the forest, freezing and sick. It took weeks for her to get better, but he was there every step of the way. She wondered if it would take weeks for him to get better too.

El realized she didn't know where the medicine was. It was foul tasting, but Hopper said that was what cleared her nose and helped her sleep. She also didn't know how to read, so she wouldn't be able to read him the next chapter of Anne of Green Gables. Hopper never said if that actually made her better, but she felt like it did.

And El was scared because if it took weeks to get better, she didn't know how she was going to be able to take care of him out here on her own. They only had so much food. In fact, Hopper was planning on making a grocery run that weekend. To El, being sick meant weeks of recovery because that was all she had ever known.

Hopper's loud snoring filled the cabin and El excused herself from the room. She gazed out into the cabin like it was the first time she had ever been there. The girl was lost and had no idea where to start.

Her eyes glanced around the home until they landed where the white phone was hanging by its cord in the space between the counter and the floor. The phone. That was what Hopper used to call Flo and tell her that he was sick, so maybe El could use the phone to call for help too. She considered for a moment who she would ask for help, but the question only lingered briefly. El knew exactly who she would call: Joyce, of course.

She walked over to the kitchen and picked up the plastic phone. It felt lighter than she expected and she let her fingers run over the curly thick white cord that connects it to the dock on the wall. She turned the phone over and her eyes widened at all the buttons on the number pad. This was going to be harder than she thought.

For the moment, she decided to hang the phone up and began to search the kitchen for anything that might give her a clue as to what Joyce's number was. She knew that Hopper had talked to Will's mom before on the phone, so he must have her number somewhere. And, though El had never used a telephone before, she picked up pretty quickly that she just had to press the numbers on the pad in the order they were written. That was how Hopper did it when he ordered takeout for dinner, anyway.

She looked back at the phone. Even if she found the number, she had never talked on the phone before. Well, she had talked into a walkie-talkie, but that felt different for some reason.

Wait. She stopped and then ran to her room, grabbing the radio that was on her bedside table. Of course! It had only been a few weeks, but the boys and Max got her a walkie-talkie for Christmas. All she had to do was find the right channel and she could get in touch with Will, who could talk to his mom.

She turned the dial and pressed the button. "Hello?" she asked and then released. There was static for a while before the telling sound of breathing on the line.

"Who is this? Over." There was a click and then static again.

El pressed the button and the static stopped. "El." She released the button again."

"El? Hey, it's Will! What are you up to? Over."

"Nothing." She frowned. Talking to Will on the radio was much more difficult for her than face to face. She hadn't realized until that moment how much she relied on their facial expressions and tones to tell her if she was saying the right things. She also had no idea why he kept saying "over." "Is mom there?"

"My mom? Uh, yeah I think so. Why? Over."

"Sick."

"You're sick?" Now, Will sounded worried. He didn't even end his sentence with 'over.'

"No, Hopper."

"Oh. Like how sick? Like bad sick? Over."

"Bad sick." El paused. "I think." She paused again. "Over?"

"Yeah, mom can come over," Will replied, mistaking her last word as a question rather than the formality it was meant to me. "I'll get her. Just hang tight."

And then the line went dead, leaving El to wonder where she should hang tightly. She glanced at the door frame, but didn't think she would be able to hold herself there for very long. But, she didn't have to worry because the line clicked on again. "Hey, El? Mom's coming right away! She'll be there soon. Over."

"Thank you," El replied.

"You're welcome!" There was another click and then static until El turned the radio off entirely. She sat there for a moment, unsure of what to do next before she finally walked out of her room and to Hopper's.

She lingered in the doorway for a minute watching as Hopper took uneven, but deep breaths. He seemed to wheeze when he exhaled and he was shivering though he had plenty of blankets on. For the first time in a long time, El felt completely powerless. She wished she could make this all better, so they could go back to eating huge stacks of waffles together while they watched daytime TV. She even longed for Hopper to scold her for staying outside too long or relying on her powers to help clean the house.

But, there were some things her powers couldn't do. That was something she was going to have to accept, that for all the pain her abilities put her through these past few months, she had grown used to them. She relied on them. They were what made her El. But, there were also limits. There would be times when, for better or worse, she would just be a normal kid.

El sat there for a while, contemplating both her power and her powerlessness until there was a knock at the door. Joyce. She jumped up and ran to the front of the house, flinging the door open to find Joyce's worried face staring down at her. El immediately hugged her, not realizing until that moment how scared she was.

"It's okay, honey. It's okay." Joyce soothed as she smoothed El's curly brown locks, "I've got medicine and soup, so we'll be just fine."

And they were. Joyce stayed all night taking care of both Hopper and El. The police chief had no conscious idea that Joyce was coxing him to take some medicine and helping him drink soup. El, on the other hand, was beyond grateful to have Joyce there to help her. They sat on the couch, a blanket tugged around them as Joyce read the previous chapter of Anne of Green Gables (El worried Jim would be upset if they continued without him).

El fell asleep on the couch and Joyce carried her to bed and tucked her in and then stayed the whole night with the tiny family.

In the morning, Hopper felt much better, though he still wasn't exactly 'well.' But he was well enough for the first words out of his mouth to be, "What the hell are you doing in my house?" Joyce took it all in stride and, though it took some prodding to get him to admit it, he was grateful Joyce came.

They spent the rest of the day on the couch watching television. El was snuggled in between the two of them while the adults kept a respectable distance. As they watched another sitcom about a wacky family, El wondered if she would ever have a family like what they showed on television. A mom, a dad. Maybe a brother and a dog too.

She looked up at Joyce, who would be leaving soon, and to Hopper, who had been her rock for the past year. This, she figured, was close enough. No, it was better than close enough. It was perfect.

Happy New Year! Back from my Christmas-New Years hiatus with a new chapter of my oneshot series. Thanks for all the support! I had a tough time finishing this one (worked on it on and off until my break) and decided screw it, it's getting finished. I promise any and all requests are noted and on a list and they will be the very next stories I work on! Thanks so much! And yes, I switched tenses. Past tense is easier, present is more artful. Let me know what you like better, I'll probably switch between the two! I will never switch tenses in the middle of a story, though, just in different chapters!

And FYI, this oneshot series absolutely supports Jopper and the stories will likely build to that endgame!