Jim looked like a walking corpse by the time Joyce arrived the next morning. Even if his mind had slowed down enough to be able to get any sleep, El wouldn't have let him. She woke every hour like clockwork, and almost always needed something when she did, whether it was a drink of water, another blanket, the toilet, or even just for the man to be there next to her. More than once her fever broke and she'd wake up so hot and drenched in sweat, only for her temperature to skyrocket soon after and cause her to feel freezing again. Hopper would put her in the tub while he changed the sheets, only to come back and find her shivering and crying for him, her voice so raspy and raw that hardly any sound came out when she tried to speak, which she rarely did. And, true to his word, Jim didn't press her any further on what had happened earlier that night, but even so, there was a tangible stiffness in the air surrounding them, and he knew for sure now that there was something the child was not telling him.
Eleven was awake when Joyce arrived, sitting partially upright on the couch and slowly licking a popsicle that was beginning to melt onto her hand, though she didn't seem to notice. Her big brown eyes were glassy with fever; the woman could feel it radiating off of her through the blanket she was wrapped in when she sat down next to her. Her rash was still present and inflamed, but thankfully not as itchy as the day before. She was even dressed, wearing thermal long underwear and one of Hopper's flannels that was misbuttoned.
"How long has she been up?" Joyce asked Hopper as he properly buttoned his uniform by the door.
"Since five or so," he replied. It was after eight by then. "I'll come back at lunch to check on her, but call me if you need anything or if...you know, anything happens."
"Of course." the woman said.
The man put his hat on and kissed El's hair over the back of the couch, then felt her forehead with his cheek. "Mm, you're getting warm again, Kid." Hopper headed for the bathroom, returning with a cup of sticky red liquid that the child made a face at. "C'mon, El, you know you'll feel better."
"Gross." she said in her scratchy little voice. Joyce winced for her; no wonder she was talking even less than usual.
"I know, just do it quick and get it over with, okay?"
The girl's shoulders slumped in resignation as she opened her mouth and Hopper spooned it in, coughing a little when she swallowed and staining her lips bright red. Jim kissed her forehead one last time as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and started working on the popsicle again.
"See you later, Kiddo. Try to get some rest while I'm gone, okay? Joyce will be here with you the whole time." The man told her. Eleven nodded, eyes on the TV she wasn't even really watching.
He addressed Joyce. "That stuff should kick in in about twenty minutes, and it'll make her pretty drowsy, so.."
"I'll help her to bed. Get down to the station before Flo starts calling you." she shooed him off.
Jim smiled weakly as he opened the door. "Thanks, Joyce. Lock these behind me."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Chief."
El managed half of her popsicle before the rest of it melted down her wrist, and Joyce brought her a wet cloth and walked her to the bedroom when she started yawning and rubbing her eyes. The woman sat in the chair at her bedside while El settled under the covers and stared up at her drowsily. A palm on her forehead told Joyce her fever had come down somewhat, and made a mental note to ask Hopper where the thermometer was when he came back at lunch.
"Do you want me to read to you, sweetheart?" Joyce said, noting the book on the nightstand.
El hesitated; she wanted to, but Hopper always read a chapter to her at night, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings by continuing the story they'd just started without him. "Different one." she decided, pointing to her dresser, where a pile of books were stacked on the top.
"Do you care which one?" The woman asked.
The girl shook her head, snuggling further into her blankets. Joyce opened the first book she saw, but didn't get through more than three pages before El was asleep, tiny, whistling wheezes slipping out between every few breaths. The woman fluffed her pillows and propped her slightly upright, leaving the door partially cracked and retreating to the couch with a book of her own.
The moment she woke an hour or so later, El knew something was wrong. She was shivering, not from fever, but instead from a cold wetness that stuck to her legs and back. Tears sprang into her eyes as she peeled her blankets off and forced herself to sit up, feeling lightheaded and nauseous when she did. She was about to cry out for Hopper to come and help her when she heard a familiar feminine throat clear from behind the mostly closed bedroom door and remembered that Joyce was there with her instead.
Oh no. Joyce could not know about this. What would she think of her? El was overcome with horror; what if she told Will, and then Will told everybody else? Just the thought of all of her friends knowing about what she'd done made her throat close up. She had to make sure they never found out.
Joyce glanced up from her book when she heard movement from El's bedroom. She waited another minute, but then heard it again, the sound of rustling blankets. Worried she was scratching herself raw again, the woman approached the door and peered through the crack to check on her, only to find the child upright and awake. Joyce pushed the door open slowly, though it still startled Eleven, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Sweetheart? What happened?" The woman asked, taking in the scene. El was stark naked and barely even able to stand, stripping the sheets from the mattress and shoving them underneath. She hurriedly tried to conceal the dark stain on her bed with pillows, but as soon as Joyce spotted her clothes in a wet pile on the floor, the girl knew there was no use in trying to cover it up. Instead she burst into tears, feeling so embarrassed and so sick and so, so tired of hiding things from the people she cared about.
"Oh honey, come here." Joyce said, her heart breaking for the child as she stepped forward to take the shaking little girl in her arms. Her bare skin was clammy; the woman pulled a blanket off of the shelf next to them and wrapped her in it, still holding her tight. El sobbed into her shoulder, her resolve fully crumbling. "Shh, it's okay. You're just sick, baby. It happens to everybody, it's alright."
Joyce held the girl until her cries died down to sniffles, then slowly walked her into the bathroom and started the water in the tub. El crawled in and curled into a ball while the woman cleaned up in the bedroom, returning with a towel and pajamas from her dresser. She sat down on the floor next to the girl and helped her rinse her sweaty hair, running a gentle hand up and down her back.
"She's Eight." El said into her knees out of nowhere, her voice raw.
"Who's eight?" Joyce asked after a moment, a rock dropping in her stomach even though she knew exactly who the girl was talking about.
Eight. Jesus. And she'd thought El was young.
The child shakily pointed to the tattoo on her left wrist. "My sister. Kali."
Relief flooded the woman, though only momentarily; the number eight, not eight years old. Still though, it was another numbered child, another daughter stolen from her family and raised like an animal. How many more were there?
"Did you meet her?" Joyce asked, hoping El wouldn't suddenly close off again.
She nodded. "In Chicago."
Joyce's eyes widened. How had the child gotten to Illinois? Surely not another man in a big truck. "You went all the way to Chicago to see your sister?"
Eleven nodded again. "On a bus."
"Was this before or after you went to see your Mama?"
"After." she said, the same expresson as last night overtaking her features; guilt. "I didn't...say goodbye."
"What about your aunt, does she know where you went?" Joyce asked, trying to recall the woman's name. Becky.
El shook her head, looking even guiltier. "I was bad."
Joyce touched her bare shoulder that peeked out from under the water, which felt like something that had just come out of the oven despite the lukewarm temperature of the bath. "Sweetheart, leaving to find your family isn't a bad thing. I'm sure Becky would understand."
The girl shook her head again. "I took her money."
"Oh, I see." Joyce nodded in understanding, then changed the subject, unsure of how to handle the current one. "What is your sister like? Kali?"
El didn't answer for a while, and the woman was unsure if it was because she was thinking, because she didn't want to answer, or because she was in too much pain to speak. She finally resumed a few minutes later. "She's angry."
Joyce raised her eyebrows. "Angry at you?"
The child shook her head. "The Bad Men."
"Well, that's understandable." she replied with half of a chuckle.
"She kills them."
Another rock fell into Joyce's stomach. "Oh."
El waited a minute to speak again. "She wanted me to stay."
"Why didn't you?" the woman asked gently.
Images swirled through the child's mind, visions of Hopper, and Mike and her friends, of the happiness they gave her, the feeling of being whole. Yes, she definitely understood what Kali meant now. "I wanted to come home."
"And I'm so glad you did. Not just because you saved us that night, but because I'm glad that you're here right now." Joyce said, kissing El's wet curls, noting the goosebumps rising through the rash on her arms. "Come on, let's get you out of there." The woman held a towel out for her, and El wobbled out and curled into it, shivering.
Joyce rubbed heat into her back and arms as she helped her dress and led her to the couch, wrapping Eleven in a blanket and sitting down next to her. The child's eyes welled with tears that she didn't quite understand and leaned over to bury her face in the woman's soft chest, inhaling the sweet scent that she'd come to associate with just her. Joyce always knew what to do and say, always made her feel like the most wanted and cherished person in the whole world. She suddenly felt so much better now, lighter. Her ribcage constricted again moments later, however, when she remembered the look on Hopper's face the night before when she'd first mentioned her sister.
Joyce felt the girl stiffen in her arms, and pulled back in concern. "What's wrong, baby?"
El wouldn't look at her. "Don't...tell Hop."
The woman's heart went out to the child, and for a moment she saw the girl in her own son, always so eager to please his own father and constantly worried about disappointing him. She understood why El was scared to tell the man what she'd just told her; she couldn't imagine Jim reacting as calmly and rationally as she just had.
"No, honey, I won't tell him." Joyce assured the girl.
"Promise?"
"Yes, I promise." she said, before adding, "But I think you should."
Eleven looked at the woman as if she'd just asked her to walk through fire. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes again. "No!"
Joyce knew the answer to her next question, but wanted to hear the child's genuine response. "How come, sweetheart?"
"He will be mad."
She couldn't deny that. "Yes, but he loves you. I don't think he would be as angry if you went to him and told him yourself."
The girl's tears came faster, and she shook her head frantically now. "I...I can't."
Joyce held her cheek with one hand, wiping her tears away. "Hey, it's okay, you don't have to do anything right now. It's your choice, you can think about it for as long as you need to."
El sniffled, wringing her hands together. "Don't tell Will."
The woman looked down at her, puzzled. "About your sister?"
"Not that." she said, not meeting Joyce's eyes.
The woman understood immediately. "Oh honey, I would never tell anyone else about that, that's private. Do you know what that means?"
The child nodded. "Private is here." she said, pointing to her groin.
Joyce suppressed a smile. "Yes, it is, but private can also mean other things too." El looked a little confused, so she elaborated. "Here, I'll tell you a private story about me. When I was your age, I was riding the bus home from school, and I sat next to a boy that I had a really big crush on,"
"Crush?" Eleven interrupted, opening and closing her hands in demonstration.
"Having a crush on someone means you like them more than a friend." the woman said, nudging the girl playfully. "Like you and Mike."
El finally smiled, even blushed a little. Joyce continued. "Anyway, I had felt sick at school all day, and it was only getting worse on the bus. I thought I could make it until I got home, but instead I threw up all over the boy's shoes, and in front of all the other kids on the bus." The child's mouth hung open as if this was the most shocking revelation she'd ever heard. "I think that was one of the most embarrassing things that has ever happened to me. I don't think I've even told Will and Jonathan that story."
"Em..embarrassing?"
"When you do something or something happens to you that you don't want other people to see or know about." Joyce explained. "I've been embarrassed other times too; once when Jonathan was a little boy, he pulled my skirt down in the middle of the grocery store and everyone saw my underwear!"
That time El actually laughed, though doing so made her start to cough. Joyce patted her back and helped her take a drink, continuing when the fit subsided. "Anyway, because those stories I told you are embarrassing, I'd like it if you kept them private. That means not telling anybody else." The girl nodded in very serious understanding. "And that means I won't tell anyone what happened earlier, about Kali or your accident. I promise."
The child looked at her hands. "You can tell Hop." she said. "About...the accident."
Joyce nodded in understanding and kissed her forehead, El leaning her warm little head on her shoulder, her fluttering eyelashes still damp with tears against the woman's neck. It didn't take long for the girl to fall asleep, the knot in her stomach finally loosening because she finally felt that there was someone who truly understood her.
When Hopper returned a few hours later, El was still asleep on the couch. She'd been out for over two hours, a fact that both shocked and relieved the man when Joyce told him over a shared cigarette at the small kitchen table.
"Damn, how'd you manage that?" he asked, clearly impressed.
Joyce started to speak, then stopped, unsure of what exactly she wanted to tell him. She'd promised El she wouldn't disclose anything about her sister, but she did feel inclined to tell Jim that she had told her what happened, and how much better the child clearly felt after finally telling someone.
"What is it? Did something happen?" Hopper said when she took too long to respond.
"She, um, she told me about her sister." Joyce started, still unsure of how she was going to continue.
The man's eyes turned into saucers. "You're kidding. What did she say?"
"She made me promise not to tell you."
The man's eyes turned into slivers. "Why not?"
"Because she thinks you'll be mad at her." the woman answered honestly.
"Well, will I?"
"You should try not to be, if you ever want her to really open up to you."
Jim went quiet, stubbing out the spent cigarette and lighting a new one. Joyce felt for him, knew it must be shitty to hear that your own kid is afraid to talk to you and would rather tell her secrets to someone elses' parent, but if she was being honest, Hopper was doing this to himself. If Eleven was afraid to tell him something, that was on him. Joyce knew she'd screwed up as a parent more times than she could count-including neglecting to discover that her own son was missing until the morning after he'd dissapeared into an alternate dimension-but if she could pride herself on one thing, it was that her kids were never afraid to tell her anything. That's why she'd known immediately that Will was lying to her about being possessed by the Mind Flayer on the school field; he'd never, ever lied to her before. It was also how she knew how bad what had happened really was.
"You're really not gonna tell me?" Hopper finally asked after what seemed like an eternal silence.
"A promise is a promise. And anyway, it's El's story to tell, not mine." Although three word prompted answers to her questions didn't really count as a story. Maybe by the time the girl worked up the courage to tell him, speaking would be less painful.
"Is she safe? Do I need to be concerned?"
Joyce supposed that was a fair question. "I think she's okay. Something would've happened by now if she were in danger."
Hopper just sighed, holding the cigarette hostage. "How the hell do I get her to tell me?"
"Don't bug her about it. At all." she told him. "She'll come to you when she's ready. And you can make her feel ready by not getting angry at her."
He almost laughed. "That's easier said than done."
"Hey, you asked me." Joyce said, putting her hands up. "Look, Hop, try to see this from her perspective. You're the only person she lives with and sometimes the only person she ever sees, and you do everything for her. Imagine what that would be like, to have the one person in the center of your whole world furious with you."
The man was quiet, ashamed. Everything she'd said was true, and he couldn't blame El for being afraid to tell him something that might make him angry, especially after the last time he was angry with her, when he threatened to send her back to the Lab. He'd apologized profusely, told her he didn't mean it and would never do it, but Hopper knew the after effects of a threat like that would linger for a long time. "Okay." He nodded, finally passing her the cigarette. "Okay."
They sat in silence for a while before Jim checked his watch. "I should get back to the station, but I'll move El to her bedroom before I go."
"Let me make the bed first, she had an accident earlier."
"Oh, shit. How'd she react?" the man asked worriedly. El was always more than mortified when it happened with him, he didn't want to imagine how embarrassed she'd be in front of Joyce.
"She tried to hide the wet sheets from me."
Hopper sighed, running a heavy hand down his face. "Poor kid."
"I think she's alright now." Joyce said, remembering their talk. "I haven't checked her temperature in a while, though. I don't know where the thermometer is."
"It's in the bathroom with the medicine, I'll get it out for you." Jim said as he stood, his back and knees popping. "Did she eat anything?"
"No, she had a little bit of water, though." the woman replied, moving into the bedroom as the man headed for the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, Eleven was still asleep, but now in her own clean bed, a glass of water and a bottle of medicine waiting for her on the nightstand when she woke up.
"Try and get her to eat something if you can, even a popsicle. I'll be back before six." Hopper said as he prepared to leave again, kissing El goodbye one last time. As he brushed her hair off of her face the child's eyes fluttered open and quickly landed on him. "Hey, Kiddo. I'm about to head back to work, but you just keep sleeping and I'll be home before you know it, okay?"
Eleven smiled softly and closed her eyes against the warm pressure of Jim's hand. "Okay."