"Joyce?" Hopper said when he opened the door to the same woman who'd left less than half an hour before.

"I need you to listen to me and not freak out." she said, stepping past him and into the cabin. Eleven was exactly where she'd left her, still asleep on the couch.

"What's going on?" the man asked, clearly concerned. "Is it...did something happen with…"

"No, nothing like that." Joyce temporarily placated. She sat back down at his kitchen table and signaled for him to do the same, lighting a cigarette.

"Then what is it?" he asked as she passed it to him.

The woman allowed him to take a pull before spilling the beans. "I just found out that Dustin had the measles when he was sick a few weeks ago."

Watching the realization hit Jim was almost painful. "What?"

"Yeah, so hopefully whatever El has, she didn't catch it from him."

"Son of a bitch!" Hopper slammed his hand on the table and stood up, causing Joyce to jump in her seat. El, however, didn't move a muscle. The man paced in the kitchen, still holding her cigarette hostage. "That little shithead! I'll kick his ass."

"Hop," the woman started with a sigh, knowing he would react this way.

"This is serious! Kids die from the measles!"

"Jonathan and Will have both had it, and Will was only three years ol…"

"With an immune system as weak as El's? What the hell am I gonna do?"

Joyce stood and crossed the room, clutching the man's hand and squeezing it tight. "Hey. Calm down. We don't even know what this is yet, she could just have a cold."

The man ran a heavy hand down his face and groaned loudly, returning the cigarette and exchanging it for a beer from the fridge before plopping heavily back into his chair at the table. "Goddammit."

"Even if she does have the measles, most kids get it." Joyce said, following his lead.

"El's not most kids."

That was the understatement of the year. "I know, but she's gonna be alright, Hop. And you're not alone either. On the bright side, if she does have them, the kids can visit her. They've all had it before and won't get sick again."

That didn't make Hopper feel any better, but he didn't say so. "I thought there was a shot to prevent this shit now?"

"You think El ever got a vaccine in the Lab?"

Of course not. Why would they take that precaution? She was exposed to so few people.

"It's not fair." Hopper said, like a child. El didn't deserve to get sick, especially not like this.

"Again, you might be getting ahead of yourself. She might just have a little bug." Joyce attempted to comfort him, though she knew he'd worry anyway.

"You said Will and Jonathan had it?" he asked. The woman nodded. "What was it like? What do I look for?"

Joyce sighed, trying to remember. It had been a long time ago, but she'd never forget the raised red rash covering Jonathan's whole body, the white spots inside Will's swollen mouth.

"They had really high fevers, probably the worst I've ever seen. I'm pretty sure Jonathan got an ear infection, and I remember Will didn't eat for a few days because his throat was so sore. They both got the rash, but it took a day or so to show up."

"Hopper put his head in his hands. "Jesus Christ."

"Again, she might be fine." Joyce tried uselessly, though her heart wasn't in it. El didn't get out often and Dustin was the only one she'd come in contact with that had recently been ill; the likelihood that she caught the wildly contagious virus was pretty high. But telling Hopper this wouldn't help him, it would only make him worry more. "Just keep an eye on her fever and watch for a rash. If she doesn't get one by Sunday, I'd say she's in the clear."

It was a Thursday afternoon. Jim didn't think he could wait that long to find out what was wrong with his daughter, but supposed he didn't have another choice. "There goes my plans for making a grand appearance at the science fair."

Joyce laughed out loud. "Because you were so committed to begin with."

Hopper took the next day off to stay home with El, who maintained a fever and developed a dry, barking cough. She slept in his bed and he pulled the couch up next to her, startling awake every time the girl made any sound. Joyce brought cough medicine from Melvald's after her shift, checking the girl for any rash spots. She didn't find anything incriminating, and noted Hopper's slight lift in mood.

The child, however, felt terrible. She couldn't ever get comfortable, no matter the position, the bed, the blankets, anything. Her nose was totally blocked but somehow ran constantly, causing her upper lip to become chafed and inflamed. She didn't sleep for more than an hour at a time before she had to move, but doing so caused her to break out in a cold sweat, teeth chattering. Her body hurt everywhere, and sometimes she struggled for breath between coughing spasms. During such fits, El often broke or threw things around the cabin without meaning to. After being hit by more than one flying object, Hopper began to instinctively duck and cover his head every time she made a sound. This, of course, made El feel terrible. She tried her best to suppress her coughing, but this ultimately made things worse, even causing her to choke and gasp for air during one such spasm, scaring the absolute shit out of both herself and Hopper.

Eleven wanted him by her side at every waking moment, but no matter what the man did, nothing was enough to make her happy. She whined that she was hungry but refused to eat, complained about the fever but resisted every attempt at medicating her. El tried to keep in contact with The Party, but they were busy with their project and it hurt her throat to talk very much. She heard briefly from Mike on Saturday morning-as always-but didn't hear from him again until after the science fair, when he called to tell her that their rocket hadn't even launched. The girl had been rooting hard for her friends, having nothing else to be excited about, and was as devastated about the loss as they'd been. Mike still wasn't allowed to come over and see her, leaving the two of them even grumpier. That evening, El slammed her bedroom door shut and yelled at both Hopper and Joyce to go away when they tried to come in.

The man actually mistook this as a good thing, assuming her attitude was a sign of returning health. He was proven wrong, however, when sometime in the middle of the night, a loud thud from El's room woke him. He'd slept on the couch so he could hear her better, and sprang into action as soon as he woke. Thankfully, the child's door didn't have a lock on it, and as long as she wasn't holding it shut, always swung open easily. She'd fallen asleep with the lamp on, and in the dim light, Jim could see El on the floor next to her bed, trying to push herself into a crawling position. The bed was a mess, her pillows tossed astray and her blankets strewn on the ground. The sheets were wrinkled and soaked in sweat, and the small bedroom reeked of urine.

Hopper crouched on the floor next to the child, helping her sit. "El?" he said, cradling her face in one hand while using the other to check her for injuries. The girl wasn't hurt, but her face was sweltering, cheeks swollen with worse heat than just a fever, and the skin underneath his fingertips was raised and bumpy. She whined in his arms, her whole body trembling with spasms. "Hey, I'm here. I'm right here."

"Hoppa," El said with a voice so scratchy and weak that it didn't even sound like her. The child's eyes were bloodshot and watery, and tiny white spots adorned the corners of her lips. She looked a thousand times worse than she had when she'd gone to bed. "I need...the toilet."

Judging by how wet the throw rug underneath them was, she probably didn't need it anymore. It broke Jim's heart that she'd tried though, had been able to get up out of bed but was too weak to stand. "You didn't quite make it, kiddo. C'mere."

Hopper swung the child into his arms, her hot little cheek pressed tightly into the hollow of his neck. Halfway to the bathroom she started coughing, and threw up all over the back of Jim's shirt as he stepped through the threshold. That's why she asked for the toilet, he thought as the girl retched again and something somewhere shattered.

The bright overhead light made El wince in pain and cover her eyes when the man sat her on the edge of the bathtub, but Hopper needed it to see the extent of the rash. Her little face was covered in vomit, and when he removed his soiled shirt and used the front of it to wipe her lips and chin clean, angry red spots stared back at him. When she coughed, the lights above them flickered.

"Oh, El." He said, having to hold her upright. He was scared to death and knew she was too. "I'm so sorry."

Hopper started a cool bath and helped the girl out of her pajamas, noting that the trail of bumps were spreading down her neck and inching towards her shoulders. The child held her ground and absolutely refused to get into the tub, however, claiming adamantly that she was too cold. The man was forced to compromise on letting her rinse off with a wet washcloth instead when El was reduced to tears over the matter; he wasn't going to force her when she was in such a state. Jim turned the TV on and helped the girl curl up on the couch while he cleaned up her bedroom and showered himself. By the time the sun came up that Sunday morning, El's back and chest were completely covered in a spreading, red rash, and her fever was only climbing.

Even from the living room, Will could make out the sound of someone attempting to contact him on the Supercomm in his bedroom. He was surprised; he hadn't expected to hear from the guys after what had happened at the science fair the day before, especially not so early in the morning. The boy left his cartoons and spot on the couch behind, searching momentarily for the walkie he knew was around here somewhere. There, on the floor by his bed. Will picked it up and extended the antenna.

"Hello? This is Will, over."

"Will? It's the Chief." A man's voice quickly answered.

The boy stiffened. "Chief? Is everything okay?"

"I need to talk to your mom."

Will glanced out his bedroom door and into the hallway, where the sound of the shower running was coming from the bathroom. Jonathan slept into the afternoons on most weekends, so it was likely his mother. "I think she's in the shower."

Jim swore quietly. "Can...can you have her call me when she gets out?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks, Buddy."

"You're welc.." But the line cut out before Will could finish. He tried to suppress the chill that ran up his spine, but even as he returned to the couch and his usual weekend cartoons, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Not long after, Joyce wandered past the living room and into the kitchen, drying her hair with a towel as she started a pot of coffee. "Good morning, sweetheart." she said to Will, hearing the TV on and knowing he'd be awake.

The woman was surprised when she turned around and was actually greeted by her son face to face, his arm extended and his Supercomm in his grasp. "Hopper called. He wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, shit." the woman said, instinctively knowing. She let the towel fall around her shoulders as she took the walkie from her son. "Hop? Are you there?"

"Joyce?" the man answered immediately.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"I need you here, she got worse in the night and...do you work today?"

"I'm closing, so not until noon. I'm leaving now."

Joyce arrived at the cabin less than half an hour later. The first thing she noted upon arrival was that the usual warmth from the wood stove was absent; the fire was out. It was dark, the TV in the living room serving as the only source of light, but the volume was low and a newscast was playing, a program she knew Eleven had absolutely no interest in.

"Thanks for coming over." Hopper said when he locked the door behind her and led the woman to the couch, where the sick child was on her side and curled in an impossibly tight ball, shivering even in her sleep. The quilt covering her was clenched in tight fists and wrapped as close to her as possible, spotted with blood and pulled up to the tip of her barely visible nose. On the coffee table beside the girl sat a large plastic mixing bowl and a glass of water with a straw that looked like it hadn't been touched. "She was awake most of the night, I finally got her down about an hour ago."

When she lowered the blanket, Joyce bit her lip at the sight of El's rash reddened cheeks. A damp cloth was draped over the back of the girl's neck, but it was warm to the touch, having absorbed her body heat. The woman moved to the sink and wet it wordlessly, returning to the couch and delicately dabbing the child's face. El jerked away at first, moaning and coughing, but soon settled down after a gentle reassurance by Hop and allowed Joyce to continue.

"She won't take medicine or a bath, so this is all I've been able to do." Jim explained, sitting at El's feet. His hand was a comforting weight on her back, rubbing circles that kept her calm while Joyce attempted to cool her down.

"How high is her fever?"

"I don't know, I don't have a thermometer."

Shit. They needed to keep a close eye on El's temperature, she'd have to run back to the house for theirs. "What about her rash?"

"Probably at her bellybutton by now." Hopper replied, lifting the blanket and exposing El's bare back, covered completely in connecting red bumps. She'd ripped off the oversized T-shirt he'd put her in after the attempted bath, refusing to wear anything but underwear. "She won't let me dress her."

"She's probably itchy." Joyce said. Thermometer and Calamine lotion.

"Well?" Hopper asked. "You think she has it?"

Joyce raised her eyebrows, almost surprised he was even asking. "The measles? Yeah, absolutely."

The man buried his face in his hands. Deep down he'd known, but hearing it confirmed still sucked. He was quiet for a minute before interrupting the growing silence, the only sound between them being El's wheezing breaths.

"Where do I go from here?" Jim asked, face still hidden by his hands.

"We keep her comfortable and make sure her fever doesn't get too high." Joyce said. "I'll go back to my house and get our thermometer, and…"

"No, no, you don't have to do that, Joyce."

"Hop, we need to track her temperature somehow."

"Yeah, so I'll go to the store and get one. Will you stay here with her?"

The woman glanced down at the sleeping girl, remembering her absolute panic a few days prior when she was separated from Hopper. "If you're okay with that. I know how she can get."

Jim ran a hand through El's hair, stringy with sweat. "I'll be fast."

"Lotion would be good too, something for her skin." Joyce suggested. "And Seven Up, the boys were sick to their stomach the first few days of the rash."

"Yeah, we went through that last night." Hopper said, eyeing the bowl on the coffee table and gagging internally in remembrance. "What did you feed them? El hasn't eaten since yesterday, hardly even drinks any water."

"Popsicles." Joyce replied, recalling how many they'd gone through in the three week period her boys had been sick. "And smoothies. Anything cold that didn't hurt their throats."

The man nodded and stood up, reaching for his coat and keys. "Anything else you can think of?"

Joyce thought, trying her best to remember everything she'd done to help her boys. "I put oatmeal in Will's bath and it helped his rash a lot. And I used that minty stuff on Jonathan's chest and feet for his cough."

Jim pocketed his wallet and leaned over the back of the couch to kiss El's warm forehead goodbye. "Alright, I'll be as quick as I can. Popsicles, lotion, soda, oatmeal, and Vicks?"

"I'll radio if I think of anything else."

"Thanks again, Joyce." Hopper said, unlocking the door.

"You're welcome, see you soon."

The man was almost out the door when he hesitated, briefly turning around. "By the way, she sends stuff flying when she coughs, so, uh...heads up. Literally."

Joyce laughed, though she knew it was incredulous. "Thanks."

While he was gone, the woman continued blotting El's cheeks and forehead, feeling the heat of both her fever and rash under the washcloth. The child was filthy; her usually fluffy curls were limp and greasy, and even though Hopper tried his best to hold back her all of hair when she was sick to her stomach, he wasn't always successful. Her nose was caked with blood and snot, and she had tiny white spots in the corners of her lips and eyes. She needed a bath desperately, but Jim had already tried unsuccessfully, and Joyce definitely didn't want to attempt the same feat by herself. The woman debated on changing the girl's sweat soaked bedding as well, but decided against that too, worried El would wake up and panic without Hopper there. Instead, she cleaned up whatever clutter she could find, trying to busy herself as much as possible.

Jim was fast at the store, and was surprised at the amount of housework Joyce had done while he was gone. She'd started a load of laundry, washed the dishes he'd left in the sink the night before, and set out fresh blankets for El, who, thankfully, was still asleep. He unloaded the supplies on the kitchen counter, stuffing the popsicles into the freezer and pouring a glass of Sprite.

"You didn't have to clean up, you know." Hopper told the woman.

"What else was I going to do while you were gone? Watch her sleep?" which, technically, she'd also done.

"We have a TV."

"Yeah, with a whopping five channels. No wonder she gets so bored." Joyce quipped.

The man scoffed out a laugh, pulling the instant cereal from the grocery bag. "So oatmeal in a bath actually helps?"

"Don't ask me why, but it works. And speaking of a bath, I think El has puke in her hair."

"Yeah, well." Hopper said, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving a light laugh.

"Do you want me to help you clean her up?" Joyce asked. Something about seeing El so sick and lacking in good hygiene was unacceptable to her. Maybe it was a mom thing.

"After she wakes up, she needs to rest." the man placated.

"Hop," Joyce said, trying not to sound exasperated. "She's shivering in her own sweat soaked blankets. She'll sleep a lot better if she's clean and dry."

Jim's nose pinch turned into a full blown anxious face massage. "I know, alright, I know. You didn't see her earlier, she was in tears over getting into the bathtub."

"Hey, you called me over here, right?" she said, the man's expression told her she'd made a compelling argument. "You don't have to do this all alone anymore, Hop. Let me help you."

Hopper finally conceded, nodding almost in defeat. "Okay, okay. But I have no idea how she's going to react, last night was a shit show."

"Hopefully with the two of us it won't be so bad." Joyce said, eyeing the brand new glass thermometer on the counter in front of them. "Should we take her temperature now?"

"Yeah." he sighed, removing it from the packaging. "And take it again after her bath, too."

The woman shook out the thermometer as Hopper grabbed the liquid ibuprofen from the kitchen and sat beside the child on the couch, gently shaking her shoulders.

"Kiddo? Hey, can you wake up for me?" he said, positioning the girl to sit upright. She whined as her eyelids fluttered open and closed, struggling to become conscious.

"El? Come on Kid. Wake up." She finally opened her eyes when the man sat her against him, and she trembled with cold at the movement.

"Hey, sweetheart." Joyce said when the child looked first at Hopper, then at her, with pink, bloodshot eyes. "We're gonna help you feel better, okay?"

The girl only whimpered. Nothing was going to make her feel better except being asleep. Why had they woken her?

"We need to take your temperature, Kid." Hopper said as the woman passed him the thermometer and he showed it to a still sleep dazed El, who barely glanced at the unfamiliar item. "This will tell us how high your fever is. You have to put it in your mouth and stay very still, okay? Can you do that for me?"

The child shook her head, pushing away Jim's hand. She didn't want anything in her mouth.

"El, you just have to hold it under your tongue. It doesn't hurt." the man tried again.

The little girl eyed the object suspiciously, glancing back up at Hopper for further reassurance.

"Really, I promise, it's easy."

"Here sweetheart, watch me." Joyce said, taking the thermometer from him again and putting it in her own mouth. After about thirty seconds she removed it, squinting her eyes in the near dark to make out the reading. "Yep, my temperature is normal, 98.6. Let's see what Hop's is."

The man performed the same ritual on himself and was met with similar results, which was convincing enough for Eleven to try as well. Her temperature, however, was over 103, and at the sight of the number, Hopper's stomach churned with further anxiety. Fevers for Sara had been an absolute emergency, and even though he knew, he knew that it wasn't the same case for El, Jim still couldn't help but worry excessively anyway. More than anything in the world, Hopper hated seeing his children sick; it shook the man to his absolute core.

"Hop," he heard Joyce say from far away, suddenly snapping himself back to reality. She'd called his name twice already.

"What? Sorry." the man said, shaking his head slightly.

"I said what does it say?" Joyce said, her hand outstretched. She took the thermometer from him, her shoulders visibly dropping at the reading. "Shit. Alright, you have the medicine?"

Jim nodded, plucking the bottle and spoon off the coffee table. At the sight, El physically reared away from him, clamping her jaw shut and shaking her head furiously. The man dropped his head in defeat, glancing at Joyce for direction.

"Sweetie, do you want to take a bath first, or take medicine first?"The child glanced back and forth between both adults, looking at them as though they were attempting to torture her.

"El, this is gonna make you feel better, I promise." Hopper tried, pouring a spoonful of medicine. The girl shook her head again, hiding under the covers.

"Okay, then, let's give her a bath first." Joyce said. "I'll get the oatmeal."

Jim sighed, abandoning the medicine and scooping the blanket covered child into his arms. The woman was right; she was soaked in sweat. El whined and coughed as he carried her into the bathroom, and began to squirm when he turned on the bath water. Joyce sprinkled dry cereal into the tub while Hopper set the girl on the closed toilet lid. Her rash ridden shoulder poked out from under the blankets, and she shivered at the cold air that felt like it was scraping her sensitive skin.

"Listen, Kid," Hopper started, squatting so he was eye level with El. "I know you're cold and you feel like shit, but the sooner we get this done, the better you're gonna feel, yeah?"

The child just stared back at him with watery pink eyes and red spotted cheeks, shaking as he held her upright. She didn't want to take a bath, but had absolutely no energy to fight the man off. El was so beyond miserable that she was borderline delirious, and felt almost as if she was navigating a dream. She allowed Hopper to help her out of her blanket cocoon and into the bathtub, but she refused to let go of his arm or fully sit down in the lukewarm water, instead crouching as far away from it as she could. The child shook violently and her teeth chattered loudly, and the man didn't know if the trails down both cheeks were tears or simply the product of her inflamed eyes, but it broke his heart nonetheless. He was surprised, however, at how well she handled the process. Trying to give her a bath a few hours beforehand had seemed impossible, and even though El clearly wasn't enjoying herself, he did finally get her to sit down, and for the first time, the child noticed that there was something unusual about the water surrounding her.

"I know it feels weird, but it'll help make the itching stop." Joyce explained, running a wet cloth up and down El's arm.

The girl didn't respond, didn't seem to recognize that Joyce had even spoken, and only curled further into the man's arm that was being held hostage against her neck and cheek. Hopper's free hand was taking turns smoothing over her stringy hair and rubbing circles into her goosebump covered back. The tub was halfway filled when Joyce stepped out to make up the couch with clean blankets, but thought better of it and changed her mind, readying El's bedroom instead. When she returned to the bathroom, it was with a glass of water and a spoonful of ibuprofen. The girl looked half asleep now, her grip on the man beginning to loosen, but her mouth was wide open due to her inability to breathe from her nose. Joyce glanced at Hopper for approval, and when he gave her a tentative nod, she brought the spoon to El's lips. Before the child could spit it out, Jim helped her wash it down with a drink of water. She whined and shook her head, but she did swallow. The two adults locked eyes, both filled with relief.

Washing the child's hair was the only time she actively protested. JIm had to peel his arm from her grasp and use it to push El further into the tub as Joyce poured water over her head, and the girl whimpered and batted the woman's hands away, tried to squirm out of reach but having nowhere to go. She was crying, really crying, by the time Hopper helped her stand, wrapping her in a towel and holding her to his chest. Her hair made a wet circle in the middle of the man's shirt as he rubbed her back above the towel, trying to create enough friction to warm her. It wasn't working. El was practically trying to burrow under his skin in an attempt to keep warm.

"I made her bed, Hop." Joyce told him as she washed the oatmeal from the bathtub.

"Thank you." He replied with a nod before scooping the girl into his arms.

Jim helped her out of the towel, and before he could find clothes for her, El crawled into bed and threw the blankets over her completely; all that was visible was a shivering lump under the comforter. The man sat heavily on the bed next to her and she moved towards him, clinging to his heat. It took a few minutes of being under the covers for El to stop shivering, but by the time she did, she'd fallen asleep, her face comically squished against Hopper's sweatpants. He made sure her face was exposed enough to breathe properly before standing up, noticing Joyce in the doorway for the first time.

"She's asleep." He said as they made their way into the kitchen.

"Good, hopefully her fever will come down, too."

"Thank you again for your help, I don't know what I would've done without it."

"You would've been okay," Joyce replied, touching his shoulder. "You did it by yourself for almost a year."

"Yeah, well, she didn't have the measles last year."

Joyce glanced at her watch, noting the time. "I should get ready for work. We close at eight tonight, I could come by after?"

"Would you?" the man looked relieved beyond measure at the offer.

"Of course."

"You're the best. Really." he said, and Joyce recieved the first genuine smile she'd seen from him in days

She just grinned back and flipped her hair dramatically. "I know."