Chapter 12: Hey Tomorrow

Hey tomorrow you've gotta believe that
I'm through wastin' what's left of me
'Cause night is fallin' and the dawn is callin'
I'll have a new day if she'll have me

Hopper takes El on her first camping trip and contemplates all the ways his life has changed.

Hopper knew that El was standing next to him, waiting for him to look up. For all her mystery and power, she'd really never been good at subtlety, and he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at the expectant look that he knew was on her face. But he'd been trying to get her to work on using her words when she needed something instead of just staring at him, so he didn't look at her. He just took another sip of coffee and continued to read the paper, perhaps a little more intently than he normally would have.

"Dad," she finally huffed in annoyance.

He looked up and feigned surprise at her standing there, which he knew she saw right through. "Hey, kid," he said brightly. "Did you need something?"

"They want to go camping," she said.

"Who wants to go camping?"

She rolled her eyes, which he supposed was a fair reaction to such a stupid question. Still, she listed out all their names for him, as if he might have actually forgotten who her friends were. "Mike and Will and Lucas and Dustin and Max."

His knee-jerk reaction was to say no, absolutely not. Spending the night outside where anyone could stumble across them while they were sleeping and defenseless was a risk. But on the other hand, she'd been spending more and more time outside anyway. Not in town, that was still too dangerous, but she walked the woods around the cabin often enough now that it was summer that they were already taking risks. And besides, if she was really going to be staring school in the fall, he'd have to start introducing her in public as his daughter soon enough. The period of hiding was so close to over that denying her this seemed silly, even with all his fears.

He wasn't going to give it to her that easy, though. He nodded at her chair and waited till she was seated at the table to respond. "Okay," he said, "you can go with them. But only if it's either around here or around the Byers' house. And you have to show me exactly where you're setting up so I can find you if I need to, and you are not going to wander away from that spot. And you have to stay together—"

"I know," she interrupted him. "Mike said we can do it at Will's house."

"Okay." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wishing he didn't already feel so nervous about this. He was going to have to get used to letting her do normal kid things. Then he realized she still looked a little troubled and frowned at her. "I said you can go, kid. What's the problem?"

"Mike said it's outside," she said.

"Well, yeah. That's kinda the point, kid." She was looking at him as if there was some significance to this that he was supposed to be understanding, but he had no idea what she was getting at. He hazarded a guess. "Are you worried about someone seeing you? We'll take some precautions. It shouldn't be any more dangerous than being outside during the day." He wasn't sure of that himself, really, but he tried to sound as reassuring as possible.

But she was still frowning. "Outside at night," she elaborated, more quietly.

"Yeah, that's—" And then it dawned on him suddenly what her point was. "You're scared," he realized.

She scowled. "I'm not scared," she said hotly. "I just…"

He raised an eyebrow at her when she trailed off. "Friends don't lie," he reminded her gently.

She huffed at him, but then gave up her pretense of annoyance and sagged a little, slumping back in her seat. "Dark," she muttered.

That made sense. It would have been remarkable if she wasn't afraid of the dark after everything she'd been through. And really, Hopper should have guessed her concern right away, given how often she fell asleep with her lamp on and the way she always, now that he thought of it, pressed a little closer to him when it got dark while they were sitting out on the porch.

"Okay," he said, trying to think of how he could make this work for her. "Well, you can bring a flashlight, right? And I'm sure the others will all have flashlights too, so it'll practically be like you're inside."

She shrugged, and he could hear her scuffing the toe of her shoe repeatedly against the floor. She was looking unhappily down at her lap.

"Hey, look at me. It's gonna be okay, alright? Camping is fun and you're gonna have a great time."

She mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"What?" he asked.

"Not just dark," she repeated more loudly. "Also…sleeping outside. On the ground. It's…" She trailed off as she so often did, trying to decide how to express herself. Eventually she said softly, "Bad."

"Bad?" echoed Hopper. She nodded, looking miserable, and then suddenly he felt like the world's biggest idiot for having forgotten. Fuck. Of course a kid who spent almost a month wandering the woods alone, fighting for survival, wouldn't exactly enjoy going back out to sleep in those same woods for fun. It was bound to dredge up some unpleasant memories the same way dark rooms and enclosed spaces and certain kinds of touch did. "Aw, kid," he sighed. "You know you don't have to go if you don't want to. They'll all understand."

But that didn't seem to alleviate her concerns. "I do want to," she insisted. "But…" He could see the question written clearly in her face: what if I get there and then I can't handle it and I embarrass myself and ruin my friends' night by freaking out?

"What if I stayed over at the Byers' house that night," he suggested, "would that help?"

Despite El's obvious frustration, a mischievous glint came into her eye. "With Joyce?" she said slyly.

"No," he said firmly, though he knew she knew that he was just saving face. "But really, do you think that'd help?"

She hesitated, and he thought he knew why. It would be hard for her to feel like a normal teenager if she couldn't go camping with her friends without her dad nearby. And while none of her friends would ever dream of giving her shit for it, he knew she'd feel ashamed all the same. "I don't know," she said eventually.

He was about to suggest that they pretend he'd insisted on it for safety reasons instead of for El's comfort, in order to help preserve her dignity, when he had another idea. "How about we go practice camping?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Practice camping?"

"Yeah, just the two of us. We could camp outside the cabin for a night so you can see how you feel about it before you go with your friends. And then if you decide you don't like it, we'll already be here at home and we can go right inside."

"Practice camping," she said again, thoughtfully. Then she smiled almost imperceptibly. "Yes."

—

"Alright, kid," said Hopper, heaving the tent bag over his shoulder. "You ready?"

El nodded, tightly clutching her pillow and a couple of blankets. She looked grimly determined, as if she was steeling herself to head into battle instead of going out into the woods behind her house for a one-night camping trip with her dad.

They were both wearing backpacks stuffed full of every camping supply Hopper had been able to think of—bug spray, flashlights, extra jackets, a lighter, a knife, water bottles. And without El's knowledge, he'd also tucked away his gun, for safety, and s'mores ingredients, for a surprise. Though he supposed she would probably be even happier with a box of plain old Eggos.

She was quiet as they walked a short way through the woods, just far enough that the cabin was out of sight but close enough that they could get back quickly if necessary. He stopped when they reached a break in the trees just big enough for a tent and a campfire. "Yeah, this'll work," he said, and dropped the tent and backpack.

El set her pillow and blankets on top of the tent so they wouldn't get dirty and then turned in slow circles to take in all of the little clearing. It would be easy to mistake her expression for the wide-eyed wonder she still displayed every time they went on walks together, but Hopper knew her well enough by now to know that wasn't it: she was intently focused on memorizing every detail of her surroundings so that she would be able to spot anything out of place later on. It was a survival tactic she must have picked up during her time hiding in the woods two winters ago, and it made his heart hurt to see that she was snapping back into those old habits now.

"Hey," he said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her spinning. "Remember what we talked about? You're safe, you don't have to worry. Just focus on enjoying your first camping trip, yeah?" She nodded and he conjured up a smile for her. "Good. Now why don't you help me figure out how to get the tent up?"

It was an ancient, mildewy old thing that had belonged to his grandfather, and the only good thing Hopper could say for it was that none of the holes were too big. Still, he couldn't help but grin as El pulled it from the bag and wrinkled her nose at the smell. "Gross," she announced, which was a word Hopper had taught her the first time she'd scowled at her peas and then regretted ever since.

"That's camping, kid," he said cheerfully. "Here, hand me those poles."

It took them almost fifteen minutes to set it up correctly, mostly because El insisted on doing a lot of it herself. He didn't mention that he could have gotten it done in a fraction of the time; he enjoyed watching her work, with her sharp focus and slow, careful fingers. When it was done she stepped back with a look of pride on her face, and he reached over to ruffle her hair.

"Good work," he said. "Now let's get that fire set up."

They had about an hour of light left, he figured, so after the foundations for a fire were built he suggested they walk around for a little bit. El had brought her book, an illustrated guide to Indiana plants, and every couple of minutes she stopped to look something up that she wasn't familiar with. A lot of them Hopper knew already, but just like with the tent, he didn't say anything. She so rarely got to teach anything to other people, since usually she was the one learning, and she seemed to take great joy in it. He leaned against a tree, watching her flip through the pages of her book, trying to find a picture that matched the big yellow flower she was crouched next to. She smiled when she found it and traced a finger along the words. "Evening primrose," she said, and then read the description aloud in her slow, deliberate way. "These large, yellow flowers are open in the evening and closed during the day because they are pollinated primarily by moths, which fly at night." She looked up at him. "This is my favorite."

"Yeah?" She'd said that about most of the flowers they'd stopped at.

It was almost dark by the time they returned to their campsite, and Hopper hadn't missed the way she was looking over her shoulder more frequently and had begun to stick a little closer to him as they walked. He pulled his lighter and a strip of cloth out of his pocket and used it to light the fire, smiling when El's eyes widened at the sudden warmth and light.

He sat down on a log next to the fire and pulled his backpack toward himself. "Alright," he said. "Time for the best part of camping." Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that this wasn't a very manly favorite part of camping. It also occurred to him that he didn't care. He pulled the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate out of the backpack, hoping they weren't too badly melted. "You ever had a s'more?"

She shook her head and leaned forward to get a better look. "S'more?" she repeated.

"Yeah, s'more. First thing, go find me a long, pointy stick."

"Why?" she asked blankly.

"You'll see."

They really did need the stick, of course, but he also wanted to encourage her to step away from him a little bit, to leave his side even though it was now dark. He handed her a flashlight and smiled encouragingly, and after a moment's hesitation she left him to search, staying well within his sight but straying enough that it made him feel a little more optimistic about her ability to handle the whole night.

At times like these, it was hard to remember she was the same kid who had wandered Chicago alone and pretty much single-handedly saved the world.

She returned a minute later with a stick. "Perfect," said Hopper, and gestured for her to sit down on the log next to him. Then he held the stick steady between his knees and slid a marshmallow onto the tip, and handed it to her. "Now hold it out in front of you so you can stick the marshmallow over the fire."

"What?" she said, sounding startled.

"Here—" He put his hands over hers and helped her position the marshmallow perfectly over the flames. "There you go. Now it'll cook."

"How long?" she asked.

"However long you want. Depends how cooked you like it. But for your first one, let's just get it to a nice golden-brown color." When the marshmallow was toasted, she watched, wide-eyed, as he slid it off the stick and handed her a completed s'more. "Go on, try it."

She took a tentative bite and then here eyes widened even further before she wolfed the rest of it down. "That was good," she said, sounding surprised.

He laughed. "Right? Now let's try another one."

After tasting a few different s'mores, El decided that she preferred her marshmallow roasted rather daintily, golden on the outside and barely even gooey on the inside. She made a face after biting into one that was completely blackened. "Gross," she proclaimed.

"Nah, kid, this is the best way to eat them," said Hopper, finishing the burnt s'more that she pushed back towards him. "Nice and crisp."

"Gross," she repeated, but she was grinning at him.

By the time they'd made their way through all of the chocolate he'd brought she was rubbing her eyes and trying to yawn as subtly as possible. "Okay," he said, sliding the leftover graham crackers and chocolate into his bag, "now this is the best part of camping."

"You said s'mores is the best part."

He had said that, hadn't he? "Well, this is the best part too."

"There can't be two best parts," she told him, turning her neck as she said it to watch him as he stood to grab one of their blankets.

"Says who?" He spread the blanket out on the ground and sat down on it, patting the space beside him. She immediately went to sit next to him, curling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. He pointed up at the sky. "See that?" he said.

"The trees?" she asked.

"No, the sky." It was true they couldn't see much of it through the trees, but there were a few clear patches among all the dark branches. "All the stars."

El was quiet, gazing up at them. "Pretty," she whispered after awhile.

"Yeah. Real pretty. Sometime I'll take you out where we can see more, constellations and stuff."

She turned her face toward his. "Constellations?"

"Yeah. It's like…pictures in the sky, made of stars. Like…like the stars are part of the outline, and if you put them together in your imagination, it makes a picture."

That wasn't a very good explanation, he knew, but El just nodded as if she understood. Then she asked, "Did Sara like…constellations?"

He felt his heart clench the way it always did when he was reminded of Sara unexpectedly. "Yeah, kid." He cleared his throat. "She really liked 'em."

"Then I like them too," said El decisively.

Hopper felt breathless for a moment, as if El had brought a bit of Sara back to life by saying that. But as touched as he was, he also didn't want her to be trying to bring her back. "You know you don't have to," he said.

"What?"

"Like constellations. Or anything that Sara liked. You don't have to be anything like her. You know that, right?"

She looked a little confused. "I know," she said, but sounded a bit uncertain.

"I like you the way you are. Not just because you remind me of her. I, uh." He hesitated. This wasn't something he'd ever said to her before, but it was true. He wasn't sure when it had become true—he'd missed the exact moment—but somewhere along the way it had become as true as anything he'd ever known. "I love you."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. She opened her mouth as if to say something back and then closed it again, looking overwhelmed. And then, instead of answering, she moved a little closer to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her tightly.

After a long time sitting in silence, she pulled away a little to look up at him. "Dad?" she said softly.

He looked down at her. "Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything."

He thought his chest might burst with fondness. This kid. This goddamn brilliant beautiful kid. "You're welcome, kid. You're so, so welcome."

But really, he thought as she settled against him again, he should have been the one thanking her. He'd been a bitter alcoholic before she came along, drinking his way steadily toward what he assumed would be an early death. He'd snapped at the people he didn't like and barely tolerated those he did and driven everyone away with his self-destructive behavior. And then this little girl had stepped into his life and filled it with soap operas and Eggos and reading aloud before bed, and she'd brought five other kids along with her, and a handful of teenagers and his old high school sweetheart, and things were different now. He had this whole messy little monster-fighting family, people he cared about, people he loved, though he'd never admit that to any of them but her. And there she was, at the center of all of it, screaming at him and throwing telekinetic tantrums and sometimes not speaking to him for days on end, but also singing along to their favorite album and giggling when he danced and looking at him with wide-eyed wonder that never failed to take his breath away. There she was. And there she'd be tomorrow and the next day and for the rest of their lives, because she was his kid, and he loved her more than anything in the world.

El had fallen asleep against him, her head resting on his chest. He brushed a kiss against her hair and pulled her a little closer, and turned his face up toward the stars.