It was dark by the time they returned to the Byers. Nancy, Jonathan and his mother all came running out of the house the moment Christine pulled in the driveway. She politely ignored Mike's sigh of relief when he saw his sister. He didn't like to show it, but she knew he'd been really worried about Nancy. Especially when Christine had refused to give him more than the basic details of her involvement.

They all climbed out of the car, and Mike allowed himself to be pulled into a hug by a frantic Nancy.

"Oh my God, Mike." She squeezed him hard, then pulled him back at arms' length. "I was so worried about you!"

"Yeah," Mike said uncertainly. "Uh…me too?"

The chief pulled up behind them, killing his own engine and climbing out of the car. Slowly, everyone's attention shifted from Mike to Eleven. She was holding Christine's hand, and shrunk a little closer to her side as everyone stared at her. Christine squeezed her gently and gave Mike a pointed look. She'd let him do the honors.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Everyone, this is Eleven. El for short. El, this is Chief Hopper, and this is my sister Nancy, and this is Jonathan and Mrs. Byers. They're Will's family."

Everyone on the porch smiled uncertainly, and Nancy lifted her hand in an awkward wave. Eleven lifted her hand as well, just as unsure.

"Joyce," Hopper prompted after they'd stood there for a few seconds. He spun a finger in the air. "Can we…?"

"Oh, yes." Mrs. Byers opened the front door again, waving everyone inside. "Come in, come in."

It was certainly a ragtag bunch that piled into the house. Christine kept a firm hold of Eleven's hand, though she felt it relax slightly as they crossed the threshold. Eleven, like the rest of the kids, was staring up in awe at the Christmas lights.

"I love the Christmas decorations, Mrs. Byers," Dustin said brightly, grinning up at the ceiling.

"Hm? Oh…well, actually they're for…"

"Talking to Will," Lucas finished with a nod. "We know. Chrissy was explaining in the car."

"I just think they look neat," said Dustin. "You should leave them like this."

Mrs. Byers gave him a warm but bewildered smile. "Oh…well, thank you, Dustin."

They spent the next few minutes trying to clear enough space to sit in the living room. Broken tables needed to be moved, extra chairs brought in, nails and wood and hammers cleared out of the way. They were finally able to gather around the Byers' coffee table, most of the kids sitting on the floor. A bowl of stale pretzels sat in the middle. Mrs. Byers had insisted on trying to get them to eat.

"So," started Jonathan, as they all exchanged quiet looks. "Who goes first?"

"I guess we should go first," said Mike, who was sitting on Eleven's other side. "So we can explain everything that's been happening for you."

"So you can explain?" Hopper repeated skeptically.

"Yeah. It all started last Monday, when we found out Will was missing. Dustin, Lucas and I broke curfew so we could go out looking for Will. That's when we found Eleven and…"

"And you brought her back to our house," said Nancy. "Yeah, Mike. We know."

Mike's face felt, and Lucas stepped in.

"What about El's powers? Do you know how she contacts Will? Or how she threw me across…?"

"Accidentally threw you across the junkyard with her mind," said Jonathan. "Yeah, Christine told us."

"Do you know about the flea and the tightrope?" asked Dustin.

"Yes," Mrs. Byers said with a nod. "And the…the, uh Upside Down? Yeah, Christine explained all of that to us."

"She tried to, anyway," Hopper grumbled.

Mike glared at Christine. "Did you seriously tell them everything?"

"Sorry," she said in amusement. "You guys were out running from bad guys and flipping vans. I had to make myself useful somehow."

"Fine." He deflated, and folded his arms on the table. "I guess someone else can go first then."

And so it started from the top. Mrs. Byers explained how she'd been using the lights to talk to her son, the mysterious phone calls she'd gotten, and the two times she'd seen the Demogorgon. Nancy talked about seeing it in Steve's backyard, and how she and Jonathan had tried to hunt it after the funeral. Chief Hopper explained how he'd managed to push both Nancy and Christine into talking, and how Hawkins Lab already knew he was on their tails. He did not mention Terry Ives, or her daughter, or the lawsuit. Christine was thankful he didn't. It would have been a lot to process in one conversation.

"So just to recap," said Hopper, with his permanent air of annoyance. "We think that Will and Barbara Holland are trapped in some kind of alternate dimension."

"The Upside Down," Mike confirmed.

"Right. And they were dragged there by this creature…"

"The Demogorgon," said Dustin.

"Uh huh. And it lives in this…again. Alternate dimension."

"Pretty much," said Lucas.

"But it has to come to Hawkins to hunt," added Nancy. "That…other place…"

"The Upside Down," Christine repeated.

"Fine. The Upside Down. It's empty. I don't know what else lives there that it can hunt. I think…I think that's why it took Barb and Will."

Mrs. Byers shuddered, and Jonathan took her hand. "But the Upside Down is a completely different dimension, right? So it's big and…there's plenty of places for them to hide."

"That's what I told him to do," Mrs. Byers agreed, nodding weakly. "When I saw him in the wall, I told him—I told him to run, and go hide."

"Okay," said Hopper. "And the only way to get into…the Upside Down, is through this gate?"

"Yes," said Mike. "Mr. Clarke said it's probably a rip in time and space."

"Which we tracked to Hawkins Lab," said Lucas.

"With our compasses," added Dustin.

Mrs. Byers raised her hand. "I'm…still a little confused about that? How exactly did you track it?"

"Okay, so the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field," Dustin gushed, "and that can change the direction of a compass's needle. It's really cool. Christine can show you how…"

"Yeah, maybe another time," Hopper cut him off. "The gate in the lab. Is it underground?"

"Yes," said Eleven quietly, speaking up for the first time.

Hopper stared at her thoughtfully. "Near a large water tank?"

Eleven nodded again. "Yes."

"H-How did you know all that?" Dustin asked.

"He's been there," Christine explained. "But it's gonna be tough to get in again. And it's not the only way."

"It's—It's not?" asked Mrs. Byers, and everyone turned to Christine in confusion.

"It can't be. Will went missing somewhere between here and Mirkwood, and Barb went missing in Steve's backyard. Nancy saw the Upside Down and she was out in the woods, too. That's miles from the lab. Which means the Demogorgon is really the flea. It can jump between dimensions on its own. Wherever the Demogorgon appears, there's a portal there too."

"Great, let me rephrase," Hopper said shortly. "The only sane way into the Upside Down is through the gate at Hawkins Laboratory."

"I'm just saying…"

"Either way," Jonathan interrupted. "If we find a way into the Upside Down, we still need to find Will. We don't know where he's hiding."

Mrs. Byers leaned forward again, looking pleadingly at Eleven. "Is there any way that you could—that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in…in this…?"

"The Upside Down."

"…down, yeah."

Slowly, Eleven nodded.

"And our friend Barbara," Nancy added. "Can you find her, too?"

Eleven shared a nervous look with Christine, but nodded again. "Try."

"That's all you can do," Christine said encouragingly. "Come on."

She helped Eleven to her feet, and everyone else followed suit, following into the kitchen.

"How does this work, exactly?" Hopper asked, his arms folded across his chest. "What does she need?"

"Will's radio," said Christine, and Jonathan was dashing down the hall the next second. "And it helps if she has a picture."

"Okay, hold on," Mrs. Byers said quickly, and darted after her son.

Nancy vanished for a moment too, coming back with a beaten up photo from her bag. Hesitantly, she handed it to Christine.

She'd known in theory what it was going to be. But it didn't make it any easier to look at. It was one of the photos Jonathan had taken behind Steve's house. There was the shadowy figure of the Demogorgon, lurking next to the pool. And sitting on the diving board was Barbara. She'd taken off her shoes and rolled up her pants so her feet could dangle in the water. She stared into its depths, looking downcast and dejected. Christine could still make out the blood-soaked towel around her hand.

Her heart clenched, struggling with too many emotions. She was worried. Worried that this wasn't going to work, that they'd get to Barb too late. And she hated herself. If she and Nancy hadn't been fighting, if she hadn't gone to that stupid party, maybe Barb wouldn't have gotten hurt. The longer she stared at the picture, the longer the list got. If Nancy hadn't gone upstairs. If Christine hadn't been drunk. If Jonathan had tried to help instead of taking these stupid fucking pictures…

"Uh…here you go."

Jonathan was back, offering her Will's supercomm. His eyes lingered on the photo in her hands. He seemed to be having trouble meeting her eyes.

"Yeah," Christine said tersely. "Thanks."

She took the radio and focused on Eleven instead. She got the girl comfortable and set up at the kitchen table. Her supplies were laid out in front of her—radio, Barb's picture, and an old school picture of Will Mrs. Byers had unearthed from her room. Everyone was starting to gather round, but Eleven still looked nervous.

"Hey." Christine squatted next to her, a hand on her knee. "You just have to try, okay? I know it's a lot of people, but no one's gonna be mad. They're just worried, and they'd really like your help."

Eleven nodded uncertainly. When she closed her eyes, she left one of her hands on top of Christine's.

Mike flicked the radio to life, and they all waited quietly. Static filled the room. It was steady at first. Then it began to shake. Eleven scanned through channels in her mind, and garbled fragments escaped out through the walkie. Clips of songs, subdued voices, unearthly noises that none of them could place. But nothing that sounded like Will or Barb.

Christine didn't want to look at the clock. Her legs were starting to ache from squatting, but she feared if she moved it would break El's concentration. It felt longer than last time. Longer than the stereo at her house, longer than the Heathkit at the middle school. She couldn't hear anything that she recognized.

The dining room light flickered and went out. A moment later it sputtered back to life, and Eleven opened her eyes. It took her a few seconds to speak. Christine didn't like the hollow look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"W-What?" Mrs. Byers was shaking, her hand still clinging to Jonathan's over her shoulder. "What's wrong? What—What happened?"

"I can't find them…"

It was not a good reaction. Mrs. Byers raised a worried hand over her mouth, and Jonathan left the room altogether. Nancy looked on the verge of tears. Chief Hopper might have had a better poker face, but Christine knew he was already starting to prepare for the worst.

"It's okay, El," Christine assured her, wrapping an arm around her should. "It's okay. You tried. Mike? Can you help me get her to the bathroom?"

Mike jumped out of his seat and hurried around to Eleven's other side. Together, they eased her out of the chair and ushered her down the hallway. There wasn't anything in the bathroom that would help, but it was better than sitting in front of all those confused and disappointed eyes.

Christine turned to the sink while Mike helped Eleven sit on the toilet. He knelt down in front of her and held one of her hands. Christine quickly busied herself with a washcloth.

"Are you okay?" Mike asked El softly.

"Yes. I…I'm sorry."

"No," he said quickly. "No, you—you don't have to be sorry. You did a lot today. You're probably just tired. We can try later."

"…disappoint?"

"No! I mean…we're just worried about Will. But you didn't disappoint anyone. I bet when you show them later, everyone's gonna lose their minds. They're gonna think you're so cool. Promise."

"Promise?" Eleven repeated meekly.

"Yeah. I know they will, because you're…you're awesome…"

Christine turned off the sink, giving Mike a knowing look. He was too panicked to look annoyed, and quickly let go of Eleven's hand.

"I'm uh…I'm gonna go tell everyone you're okay."

He hurriedly escaped into the hallway. Christine didn't bother to hide her grin as she took his spot at Eleven's knees. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, handing over the washcloth.

"See?" she said softly. "I told you. You're his favorite."

That got a tiny smile out of her. Eleven took the washcloth, running it repeatedly over her face. She did it more than once. More than she needed to in order to freshen up, or to wipe the remaining dirt off her face. It wasn't until Christine heard her sniffle that she realized Eleven was doing everything she could to hide the fact that she was crying.

Christine got up, closing the door and hurrying back to Eleven.

"Hey, it's okay," she coaxed, rubbing her knee again. "It's okay. You can cry if you need to. No one's mad, Eleven. It's okay."

Eleven lowered the washcloth, revealing her red, tear-stained face. It broke Christine's heart, and she quickly pulled Eleven into another hug. El's hands gripped tightly at the back of the stiff button down, and she sobbed into Christine's shoulder. Christine wished there was something more helpful she could say than "it's okay" and "no one's mad." But that's all she could think of as she stroked the girl's shaking back. After enough time, the sobs started to space out, and her body grew still once more.

Christine reached up to the sink without moving from the floor. She wet the washcloth again, and gently wiped the tears from Eleven's face.

"Okay. There you go. You feel better?"

"Weak."

"That's okay. Crying makes me feel weak too. It's exhausting. But you've used a lot of energy today. Running around, trying to find Will, flipping cars. And I know you broke a kid's arm earlier. I'm sure he deserved it, but you'll definitely have to tell me more about that later."

"No." Eleven shook her head, still frowning. "Crying. Weak."

Christine paused. She shouldn't have been surprised. Not after knowing where Eleven came from, the way she was raised as a science experiment and given a number for a name. But it still filled her with righteous anger.

She put the washcloth aside, taking both of Eleven's hands in her own.

"Hey, absolutely not. Eleven, you are stronger than every single person in this house. Probably stronger than all of us combined. You can do things that no one else can. You've survived things most people can't imagine. Crying is just one more thing you can do, okay? It does not make you weak. Everyone cries. God, do you know how many times I've cried this week? And I cry about stupid things, like boys and fights with my friends."

"Friends are not stupid," said Eleven softly.

Christine sighed, and smiled. "You see, that's what I'm talking about. You say the smartest things, and you're twelve years old. When am I gonna be as smart as you?"

Eleven smiled, and looked down at her lap.

"Come on," Christine said bracingly. She stood up, and held out her hand. "Maybe you'll feel better if you eat. We can ask Mrs. Byers if she has any waffles, huh? Or you can take a nap, or take a shower. Both, probably. Even just some fluids should…El?"

She turned back in concern. Eleven had taken her hand, but she hadn't gotten up from the toilet. She was staring across the bathroom, down at the tap for the bathtub.

"Bath…"

"You wanna take a bath?" Christine asked, her brow furrowed.

"No. The bathtub. I can find them."

"Okay, I don't know what you mean."

But Eleven was already standing up. She took the lead instead, dragging Christine into the kitchen by their linked hands. They were just in time to catch the last few seconds of a hushed conversation.

"We just have to wait and try again," Mike was explaining.

Nancy scoffed. "Well, how long?"

"I don't know."

"The bath."

Everyone turned to look at Christine and Eleven, surprised by their appearance. Their eyes didn't seem to bother Eleven anymore.

"I can find them," she repeated steadily. "In the bath."

"What does she mean?" Hopper asked Christine. "In the bath?"

"I don't know," Christine said, shaking her head. "Maybe she needs water? I haven't seen her try it before."

"Water." Dustin was shaking a finger, turning to Hopper. "Didn't you ask if the gate was next to a tank of water?"

"The isolation tank," Hopper said darkly.

"Oh my God." Mrs. Byers gasped, and raised a hand over her mouth again. "That—That was for her?"

"Did they put you in there?" Hopper asked Eleven. "That tank?"

Eleven nodded.

"I was in the bath. When I opened the gate."

"Wait." Nancy raised a hand, looking wildly around the room. "She's the one who opened the gate?"

"Accident," Eleven said weakly.

Christine protectively stepped in front of her.

Hopper must've sensed the tension brewing. He stepped forward, holding up his hands like Christine might attack him for getting too close. He ducked down, and trying to get a better look at Eleven's face.

"What were you trying to do?" he asked, lowering his voice. "When the accident happened? Why did they put you in the bath?"

"Papa said, 'Make contact.'"

The look of horrified realization on Hopper's face was enough to make Christine's blood run cold.

"What does that mean?" Jonathan demanded as Hopper sank down into one of the chairs. "What did they mean, 'Make contact'?"

"I don't know," the chief sighed. "I don't know, the Upside Down? They probably started by looking for the Russians."

"The Russians?" Nancy repeated skeptically.

"Yeah. It's a military base. They develop weapons, spy tech, anything that can help us stay one step ahead of foreign invasion. And they've got a kid who can move things with her mind and track people through different dimensions? Yeah, I think they were trying to spy on the Russians."

"That woman," said Mrs. Byers, tapping Hopper on the arm. "She said they put her sister in isolation tanks to expand her mind. Do you don't think that's…?"

"That's exactly what I think," Hopper confirmed with a nod.

"You think what?" Lucas asked.

"What's an isolation tank?" asked Nancy.

It was Dustin who answered.

"It's like a big pool, with lots of salt water. The salt counteracts the weight of your body so you can float around and stuff."

"Yes," said Mrs. Byers, pointing at him. "That's exactly what she said. You—You lose all sense of feeling, so you feel alone in your mind. So you can focus."

"Yes." Eleven nodded. "Float. Then I can focus."

"Okay," said Mike hastily. "So where can we get an isolation tank?"

"Right," Hopper shot sarcastically. "Let's just bring her down to the station. I keep one of those in lock up."

"Well why don't we just make one?" asked Dustin. Everyone turned to stare at him, and he shrugged. "Why not? It's just water and salt, right? Keep it dark, keep it quiet, and Eleven does the rest herself."

"It can't be that easy," Christine said doubtfully. "I mean, that much salt alone…"

"How much would we need?" asked Lucas.

"I don't know. It would be…a lot."

"I have an idea," Dustin said excitedly, and he turned to Mrs. Byers. "Do you have a phonebook?"

"Um…yeah, sure, just…"

"Dustin, who are you trying to call?" Christine demanded.

"Mr. Clarke," he said, as though this was obvious. "Duh."

"It's ten o'clock on Saturday night, Dustin. You are not calling Mr. Clarke."

"Oh, cause you have a better idea?" he challenged. "How exactly do you plan on figuring out how much salt we need for a homemade isolation tank?"

"I don't know. Trial and error? The library?"

"Great idea," he said mockingly. "The library is way over there. And the phone is right here. Which one of us do you think could get an answer first?"

Christine glared at him. She frowned at Mrs. Byers. "Can he please have a phonebook?"

Several minutes and a handful of wrong numbers later, Dustin was standing with his ear to the phone. His face finally lit up with recognition.

"Mr. Clarke? It's Dustin… Yeah, Yeah. I just, I…I have a science question…"

There was a collective sigh around the room.

"Why did we let him do this?" Lucas whispered to Mike. "Why is he the one doing this?"

"Cause it was his idea. Now sh."

"Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks?" Dustin asked into the phone. "Specifically how to build one? …Fun…Hey, you always say we should never stop being curious! To always open any curiosity door we find! Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?"

Christine pressed her face into her hands. She thought it was her groan that drew Dustin's gaze to her, but it was actually something much worse.

"No, we—we have supervision! Christine's babysitting! Here, I'll let you talk to her!"

Dustin thrust the phone at her, and Christine took a step back.

"No!" she hissed. "I don't—Dustin, just talk to him!"

"He wants to talk to you!" he hissed back. "Just talk to him! We need those instructions!"

Mike shoved Christine forward, and she grabbed the phone with a painful smile.

"Uh, hey, Mr. Clarke! Hey, I—I am so sorry. I told him not to call you, but…"

"Is everything alright, Christine?" Mr. Clarke asked.

"Yeah! It's totally fine. You know the boys, though. They get an idea in their heads and there's—there's just no stopping them. But uh, we were thinking—um—we were thinking that if the test went really well, we could use it for the…uh, science fair."

"The science fair?" It had caught his attention at least, and he sounded slightly less suspicious. "With what kind of hypothesis?"

"Oh. Um…we're going to test…the…effects of different foods on sensory concentration. Like, uh…you know how if you eat a lot of protein, or a lot of sugar before bed, it can affect your sleep cycle? I wanted to look at that. Obviously I'll have to control different variables, like age and exhaustion and hydration, but the boys agreed to be my first test subjects. Mostly so they can try and float."

"Christine, that is an incredibly interesting idea," Mr. Clarke complimented her. "You never fail to surprise me. You should be really proud of yourself."

"Yeah," she sighed in relief, shooting Dustin a thumbs up. "Yeah, right, I…thank you."

"How did you even come up with this?"

"Um…I was reading at the library. Found some old articles on CIA testing. You always said projects score better when there's validated research to go with them."

"I know. I wish they'd give you kids more points for creativity, but with a concept like that—I mean, you might even be able to go to state if…"

"The thing is we were hoping to get started tonight," Christine interrupted as Lucas waved her on. "I hate to bother you, but I can't find any ratio information anywhere. Dustin thought you might be able to help."

"Oh…well…I suppose for the science fair. Do you have a pencil?"

"Yes! Yes, I have a pencil!"

Mike scrambled up from his seat, thrusting a notepad at her and beaming. Christine began scribbling down numbers and ratios, Dustin peering over her shoulder. She pinned the phone to her ear and gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder. It had been a dumbass idea, but it was just dumb enough to work.