Joyce peeked in on Jonathan, who had his nose in a book with his walkman on full blast, and knew he would come to her if he needed anything more that night. She padded into the dining room and added another log to the fire. Eleven was still cuddled in Hopper's chest and nursing probably her fourth cup of tea, finally beginning to feel satiated. There was a small ring around her lips from where the liquid had washed her face, and Joyce seized the opportunity to clean her up just a little bit, heading into the kitchen and returning with a warm, damp cloth.
"Can I wash your face, honey?" Joyce asked as she crouched beside the girl. Eleven nodded, closing her eyes to the woman's gentle touch, remembering Mike, the last person who'd wiped her face clean like this.
"Will's gonna sleep in my room if you want to put her in his bed tonight." Joyce said to Hopper as she turned the rag over, used the clean side to wipe the child's neck and collarbone.
"I think I should keep her near the fire. What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?" the man asked.
"I'm off tomorrow, and Will asked to stay home. He doesn't think he can keep the secret from the boys."
"That's fair." Jim said, looking down at the newly cleaned girl in his lap. "Hey, look at that, there's a face under all that dirt."
"What's her temp?" Joyce asked, still eager to do the job right.
"I just took it, still under 95. Safest bet is to just get her clean in the morning since you're going to be here anyway."
Joyce debated on questioning him now on how long he was going to allow Eleven to stay there, but didn't want to speak about that kind of thing in front of the child, didn't want her to worry at all about where she would have to go next, wanted her to feel the most security as possible at the moment.
The multiple cups of tea had finally caught up to the little girl, and combined with the fact that she was starting to regain pinprickly sensations in her previously numb fingers and toes, Eleven began to shift uncomfortably against the man. Hopper assumed she wanted a change in position and moved the child so that she was lying on her back against him, but it didn't really help.
"You okay, Kid? You're really squirmin'." Jim asked the child, looking down at her. Eleven's eyebrows were knitted together and she bit at her bottom lip, unsure of how to tell him what was wrong.
"Let's take her to the bathroom, Hop." Joyce stepped in and said, nodding in the direction of the empty cups next to the fireplace.
The man cursed himself silently for not understanding sooner and gathered the girl against him, his knees popping as he pushed himself to stand and follow Joyce down the hall. Eleven began to shiver again when Hopper lifted her onto the bathroom counter and held her upright as he removed her blankets and debated on what to do next. Luckily, Joyce already had a plan.
"Second drawer down in Will's dresser are his pajamas if you want to get some for her." she said.
Jim smiled in thanks at the out she'd given him and passed the girl off to the woman, leaving to retrieve the clothes.
"I've got you sweetheart, come here," Joyce said, helping the shaking girl carefully off of the counter.
Eleven was trembling and lightheaded and barely capable of holding herself upright, but she did manage to use the toilet independently and was more than grateful for the opportunity to feel like an actual human being again for the first time in weeks. Hopper's arm snuck around the corner and dropped off a pair of Will's pajamas, then stood in wait just outside the door. When she was finished, Joyce helped the girl dress in her son's clothes, noting that while the two kids' had appeared to be pretty close to the same size, Will's pants were too big for Eleven around the waist, but at the same time too short for her in the legs. Joyce tried to help the girl stand, but the moment she attempted to put pressure on her feet she cried out in pain and collapsed against the woman. Hopper overheard and immediately stepped in to scoop her into his arms and carried her back to the fireplace, Joyce close behind him with the bundle of blankets.
"Should I make her some food?" Joyce asked when the two were situated again. She felt like there was more she needed to do for the child but was unsure of where to start.
Jim looked down at the little girl in his lap who was silently enduring violent shaking spasms every few moments. "Do you want something to eat, Kid?"
Eleven waited for her body to still again before purposefully shaking her head against the man's chest. She was so cold and so exhausted, she'd barely had enough energy to even drink anything. She knew she was hungry and that she hadn't eaten in too long, but she could no longer feel the hollowness in her stomach, and it had stopped bothering her. She didn't want to eat; she just wanted to go to sleep.
"Let's try for breakfast tomorrow." Hopper told Joyce, putting a protective hand on the child's head and pressing his lips to her the blankets covering her hairline.
"Okay." Joyce conceded, seeing Eleven's eyes grow heavier by the second. "Can you think of anything else she needs, anything I can do before I go to bed?"
"A glass of water?"
"You've got it." she said, returning with one momentarily. "Come get me if you need me, Hop. Don't hesitate."
"Thanks, Joyce." the man replied.
The woman pressed a kiss to Eleven's forehead, causing her closed eyes to open once again. She smiled tiredly, trying hard to stay awake for another moment. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"
The girl nodded and closed her eyes again, Jim's loud heartbeat and steady breathing lulling her into the deepest, most satisfying sleep she'd ever had.
Hopper fell in and out of sleep throughout the night, trying both to figure out what in the hell he was going to do, and get some kind of rest. There was no way she could stay here for an extended period of time, there were too many reasons to count why. He couldn't take her to his trailer and frankly he didn't want to, it was no place for a kid. The man grappled with indecision for hours, finally falling asleep in the middle of the night but waking suddenly and with a gasp at dawn after a vivid dream that gave him an answer to his problem.
The man eased himself out from underneath Eleven, who moaned and curled into a ball in his absence but didn't wake up. She'd slept like a rock the entire night, had barely moved against his chest; he had to keep checking to make sure she was actually breathing. Hopper felt her forehead with his hand, his cheek, and was pleased to find that, if anything, she was actually warm. Jim moved as quietly as he could into the kitchen and searched for a pen and paper, leaving a note on the kitchen table.
Hopper crept quietly to Joyce's bedside, trying to find a way to wake her and not scare her. She opened her eyes before he could, having sensed a presence in the bedroom. The woman had been a light sleeper since Jonathan was born, but it was even worse now.
"Everything okay?" she whispered, her voice thick from sleep.
"Everything is fine. There's some things I have to do, I'm leaving now. She's still asleep by the fire and probably will be for a while. Call me if you need me but on my radio only, alright?" Jim explained quietly.
Joyce nodded tiredly in understanding. "Be safe, Hop." she said, closing her eyes again.
"You too."
But the woman was out of bed and making coffee twenty minutes later, unable to stand the idea of Eleven waking up all alone. She read the note Hopper had left while sipping from her mug, a smile tugging at her lips from the content.
I have a plan. She can stay here for the weekend. Be back later with clothes.
Joyce felt relief flow through her, both at Hopper's confirmation and that she'd have the girl for the next couple of days. She strode to the fireplace and tossed the note inside-it was technically evidence, after all-glancing down at the sleeping child curled up on her couch cushions, and was relieved to see that Eleven's cheeks had grown rosy pink as opposed to the porcelain skin she'd had the night before. The woman pulled over a dining room chair and sat between the fire and the girl, warming her own back and legs as the sun rose and shone through the kitchen window, the only one not covered by curtains.
Staring down at the sleeping little girl, Joyce thought suddenly of Terry Ives and her sister; two more people who more than deserved to know that she was alive and well. But if telling the boys was as dangerous as Hopper made it out to be, then contacting Eleven's mother and aunt was probably not the best call either, at least immediately. And besides, however sad, it wasn't like Terry could take care of her daughter now anyway. Did Eleven even know of her mother's existence? She'd seen that sadistic doctor as a father figure, a thought that consumed Joyce with bile-filled fury, but was she even aware that she had a mother who never stopped believing that her child was really still out there?
The woman's thoughts were interrupted by a long moan and a dry cough from the girl on the floor. Joyce set her half finished coffee on the fireplace and knelt next to Eleven, who's eyes were just beginning to flutter open.
Joyce ran her fingers through the child's short hair, which was dry and straw-like to the touch. "Good morning, sweetheart."
Eleven pulled an arm that felt like it was made of metal out from under the covers and rubbed hard at her eyes. It took her a few moments to remember where she was and how she'd gotten there, and even then the memories came back in fragments. She recalled feeling nothing, then frigid cold, followed by tingling warmth and seeing the faces of those she knew, including the one in front of her now, Will's mama. Seeing Joyce brought on a sensation in her chest that was unfamiliar but welcomed, one that made Eleven feel nothing but calm and content.
"How do you feel, honey?" Joyce asked, touching the child's forehead and cheeks with both the palm and back of her hand.
Eleven didn't feel anything but a deep heaviness that seemed as if it were in her very bones. She knew she'd been asleep, but hadn't felt like it for very long, and wanted nothing more than to return to it. She managed to shrug her shoulders in response.
"You're actually a little warm, let's get these blankets off of you." Joyce said.
She pulled the comforter down and tried her best to keep her expression totally neutral because it was very clear that Eleven had wet herself, and likely pretty recently. The girl stared up at the woman in horror, her breath stuck in her throat. Joyce could see it, too, and knew that the child was waiting for her reaction, anticipating the reprimand. Instead, the woman deflected and pretended not to even notice.
"Look at how much your hair has grown!" Joyce changed the subject, running her fingers through Eleven's still very short hair again. "What do you say we go to the bathroom towash and brush it? I bet it's even longer than it looks."
Eleven stared at the woman in disbelief before she nodded, letting out a breath of relief. She wasn't mad! She didn't even say anything!
"Okay, do you think you can walk if I help you?"
The girl nodded again, though when she tried to sit up, her head spun and her vision went blurry for a second. The process was slow, but Joyce eventually helped Eleven stand, and they took slow, wobbly steps down the hall and into the bathroom. The girl immediately stripped the now uncomfortable pajama pants off, and Joyce helped the child sit on the closed toilet lid before starting the water in the bathtub.
"This is what a bath is supposed to be like." Joyce told the girl with a smile, adding liquid soap and getting a washcloth and an empty cup out from under the sink.
Eleven watched with curiosity as bubbles sprung from under the faucet, causing the roar of the bathwater to become less deafening by the second. She started to remove her shirt but was unable to lift her arms over her head, so Joyce helped her undress the rest of the way and held both of her hands tightly as she shakily stepped into the bathtub, wincing at the heat on her sensitive feet. She quickly sat down to alleviate some of the pressure, but gasped in pain when the warm water stung the chafed skin on her backside that had been left exposed to the elements for weeks.
"I'm sorry, honey, I know it hurts." Joyce said empathetically as Eleven's face contorted in pain and she squeezed the woman's hands tightly. "Try to take a deep breath, it'll feel better soon."
The child gasped out a breath, but Joyce was right, after a moment the pain did begin to subside. Eleven let go of the woman's hands and tentatively reached into the bathtub, touching the foam that had covered her toes and was inching up her legs. She scooped a small amount in her hand and examined it closely, touched it to her arm, her cheek, her lips, puckered at the taste.
"They're called bubbles," Joyce said with a smile, showing the bottle of bubble bath to Eleven. "They're made from soap, that's why it doesn't taste good."
She merely glanced at the container before going back to the foam, completely entranced with it. Eleven smeared the stuff on her chest, stuck it to the shower walls, let it go in mid air and watched it slowly fall. When Joyce showed her that the bubbles went flying if she clapped her hands together, the woman was rewarded with the first smile she'd ever seen from the girl, and it was a real one too, her mouth opened slightly in surprise and all of her teeth visible.
"Ready to wash your hair?" Joyce asked when the tub was filled and she turned the water off. Eleven touched her hair with her foamy fingers and nodded. "Okay, can you lay all the way flat on your back?"
Eleven did as she was asked, though she did so stiffly and hesitantly, feeling horribly reminded of the last time she layed in water like this. Her round, dark eyes held fear and so much more, and Joyce bit the inside of her cheek trying to think of how to comfort her.
"We'll be really quick, okay? And I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, I promise." she said, her hand resting on the girl's cheek.
After a moment Eleven nodded, and closed her eyes in anticipation for the inevitable moisture, but was surprised instead when the water Joyce poured over her head never touched her face. She cautiously opened her eyes and stared up at the smiling woman as she washed her hair, the repetitive rushing sounds slowly calming her heavily beating heart.
Joyce kept her promise and they were done quickly, and she helped the girl to sit up, handing her the washcloth soaked in soap. "You wash your body with this and I'll go get some clothes and a towel, is that okay?"
Eleven nodded, having already grown tired of using her arms by the time Joyce returned with another pair of Will's pajamas. She'd also snagged some underwear for the girl, one of the new pairs she'd intended on saving for Will's stocking for Christmas; the odd tradition had begun the year Jonathan started wearing underwear and was one she'd just continued, though she knew her boys thought it was kind of weird.
When she returned, the woman helped her out of the bathtub and stood her on the bathmat, wrapped her in a towel, and walked her backwards to sit again on the closed toilet seat. Joyce dried her hair with a separate towel and brushed it out, showing Eleven how it looked in the mirror and eliciting a small smile from her. She examined the child's hands and feet, which were still inflamed and looked incredibly painful, but didn't need any first aid, though she did trim her nails. Additionally, the woman applied lotion to Eleven's dry, cracked skin, encouraging the girl to do it herself on the worst spots. When they were finished, Joyce pulled Will's pajama shirt over her head and held out the underwear for her to step into. The girl studied the unfamiliar article of clothing carefully once they were on, curious about the strange flap in the front.
"I know it's weird, it's because they're for boys. Don't worry, Hop is getting some just for you." Joyce told the girl, trying to hide her amusement at the child's reaction.
"Hop?" Eleven asked, and Joyce realized it was the first time she'd spoken. She'd remembered her voice as clear, feminine, and quiet, but now the girl sounded like a heavy smoker, and she coughed to clear her throat after she spoke.
"Hopper, the police chief. Hop for short, like how the boys call you El." the woman explained.
El. It had been so long since she'd heard someone say that. She immediately thought of Mike in the basement. His name was short for something, too. But now she thought of Hopper, the police chief, who'd stayed with her until she'd fallen asleep. She wondered where he was now, glancing at the closed bathroom door, thinking maybe he was right behind it like he had been the night before.
"He'll be back, don't worry. He's getting you some clothes of your own." Joyce said, helping the girl step into the pajama bottoms.
Clothes. Would they be ones like Mike and his friends wore, or like the dress that had belonged to Nancy? She'd liked the dress; Mike told her she was pretty when she wore it, and wearing it had made her feel so real, like she was an actual person and not just something people could use to cause hurt. But that dress hadn't helped her much out in the woods; it held hardly any heat and her legs were left totally bare and so cold. What would Hopper bring her?
"Okay, what do you say to a cup of hot chocolate?" Joyce asked, tossing the towels into the hamper.
The child shrugged, unsure of what the woman was talking about.
"It's a drink. Come on, I think you'll like it." Joyce said, helping Eleven to her feet, which were now warm and clean and covered in Will's socks.
They slowly walked into the kitchen together, the woman depositing the child into one of the kitchen chairs and pouring milk into a pot. As she did so, Jonathan came out of his bedroom and went into the bathroom to start the shower. It was short lived, and Joyce cursed herself; their house ran out of hot water so quickly, and Jonathan had to get ready for school. But the young man didn't mention it, and joined the two of them in the kitchen soon after, noting the absense of his brother, who should've been up by then.
"Where's Will?" he asked his mother, sitting at the table beside Eleven.
"Still asleep, he asked to stay home last night so he wouldn't have to keep the secret from the boys." the woman answered.
"Should I still make breakfast?"
Joyce's cheeks flushed red. Her son, always so responsible. But he was just a kid too, and he didn't always need to be that way. She, the mother, should be fretting over cooking breakfast for her children, not him. "Don't worry about it, honey, I've got it this morning. What are you hungry for?"
Jonathan was caught off guard; it was rare that his mom made breakfast. Then again, it was also rare that they had this girl joining them for the meal. "Um, I was just gonna have toast. I thought maybe I'd get to school early and get some stuff done since I don't have to drive Will."
"That's fine, hun," Joyce said, pulling out the bread and looking at Eleven expectantly. "Do you want some toast, baby?"
The girl nodded vigorously, realizing suddenly how good food sounded. The night before she couldn't have cared less about eating, but now, after some sleep and a bath, she was voracious.
Joyce knew Jonathan wanted peanut butter on his, and was about to ask Eleven what she wanted but decided to just give her the same thing, thinking it would be a good source of protein for the child. She was serving the two of them when Will walked in and joined the trio at the table.
"Morning, honey. How'd you sleep?" Joyce asked as she set the plates down and felt her youngest son's forehead.
"Good." he replied, still rubbing his eyes.
"Are you hungry for breakfast?"
The boy looked around, surprised to see Jonathan eating and not cooking. "You're making breakfast?"
"Yeah, anything you want." Joyce said, feeling another pang in her chest.
"Umm...sausage and eggs?" Will proposed. That was what his brother usually made.
"Sure. El, honey, do you want to share some with me?" she asked the girl, knowing she'd be unable to eat her own serving on a surely shrunken stomach.
The child nodded, a small smile forming at the sound of her name said like that again.
Jonathan finished his toast and washed his plate in the sink, grabbing his bookbag off of the back of the chair he'd been sitting in. "I don't work today, so I'll be home after school." he said, mostly to his mother.
"Alright, have a good day, sweetie."
"You guys, too. Bye."
"Bye, Jonathan." Will said as his brother shut the door. A few moments later he spoke again. "Mom? Can I watch TV?"
"Yes." she said, glancing at the girl. "You wanna watch TV with Will while I make breakfast?"
Eleven nodded, having already finished the toast and eager for more. She was also curious about the TV; she'd watched it for a few sporadic moments at Mike's house, but nothing substantial.
"Alright, let's go to the couch. Will, honey, would you grab a blanket from the closet please?" Joyce asked, remembering suddenly that she hadn't yet washed the girl's bedding from the night before. Another thing to do while the kids watched TV.
Will brought a blanket and flicked on the television while Joyce helped El get settled on the couch. The child's eyes widened at the bright animated cartoon that appeared on the screen and she was immediately entranced. The woman smiled and ruffled both of the kids' hair and heading off to start a load of laundry and cook breakfast.
The girl was so enamered with the TV that she didn't even notice the woman return with trays and a plate full of food until she sat down next to her and asked if she wanted a bite. Eleven picked up a link of sausage with her fingers and eyed it curiously, sniffing it before taking a careful bite. Deciding she liked it, she took another, then reached for the eggs, completely disregarding the fork until Joyce passed it to her with a smile.
Eleven ate more of the meal than the woman had expected her to, and was unsurprised when she appeared very tired again after finishing. When everyone was done, Joyce took the plates into the kitchen and cleaned up. She made her own bed and Jonathan's, and was gathering clothes for herself for the day and considering taking a shower while the kids were still occupied when she heard Will asking Eleven if she was alright. There was a strange grunting sound, followed by her son's distressed shriek.
"Mom! El's throwing up!" the boy called from the living room.
Joyce had come running the moment she heard the concern in Will's voice. Eleven was still vomiting when she knelt beside her and rubbed her back comfortingly, feeling horrifically guilty that she'd overfed her to the point of being sick to her stomach. She should've known better. The girl's heaving finally ceased, and she took ragged, whiny breaths as she looked up into Joyce's eyes, tears of fear and force rolling down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have given you so much, that was my fault." she said, running a hand through the child's growing hair, which was now tinged with sweat and warm from the heat radiating off of her head. Joyce felt it, too. "Oh, honey, I think you have a fever. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
Joyce helped El to the bathroom again, held her upright on shaking legs as she removed the soiled pajamas and rinsed off quickly in the shower, leaving the girl wet and shivering and clearly miserable, much like the night before. The woman wrapped her in a towel and led her into her own bedroom, noting how exhausted she was again.
"I'm going to get some more pajamas for you, okay? You stay here." Joyce said, leaving the towel wrapped girl wide eyed and trembling on the bed.
Will had retreated to his bedroom the moment his mother took over and stayed there, unable to stand the sight of vomit. He looked up from a drawing when he heard a knock on the door.
"Come in."
Joyce entered, smiling sheepishly at her son. "Sorry about that, hun. I know you don't like puke."
"Is she okay?" he asked, even though his own stomach was still churning.
"She's alright, I shoudn't have given her so much. She just needs to rest. As soon as I clean up out there you can watch TV again."
"Okay."
"Maybe we can watch a movie or something, how does that sound?"
"Sounds good." Will said, smiling at his mom who he knew needed it.
"Okay, I'll come let you know when I'm ready." she told the boy, retrieving the last pair of his pajamas from his dresser and closing his door again.
Joyce entered her bedroom to find Eleven curled into a ball on her bed, her eyes red rimmed and tear stained.
"Do you feel like you might be sick again, honey?" Joyce asked, sitting next to her on the bed.
The girl shook her head, leaning it on the woman's shoulder. "Tired."
"Okay, let's get you dressed again and then you can take a nap."
Joyce helped her again into her son's clothes, hoping that Hopper was coming back with more than one set for her; she had a lot of laundry to do today. El was still shivering when the woman helped her crawl under the covers and sat beside her, combing her fingers through her hair as her eyes grew heavier and heavier until she fell asleep.