"Just two more miles," he thought to himself as he turned a corner and continued out into the quiet suburb on the outskirts of Indianapolis.
Mike Wheeler drove through town, running on emotional fumes and barely holding it together. He hadn't slept more than a few minutes at a stretch in the last three days and his nerves were shot. He had been following up on his strongest lead to date and despite everything, he had allowed himself to get too hopeful once again. Like all the other times, he had met with a dead-end and left himself drained and hollow, unsure how to go on.
Eventually, he reached an unassuming two-story home on a quiet cul-de-sac; his emotional salvation. With every failure, he somehow found his way here on instinct and arrived broken and empty and in desperate need of a friend to put him back together. Stumbling his way to the front door, he rang the bell and then gave the door several loud knocks for good measure. While he waited, he reached down with numb, trembling fingers and undid the laces on his muddy boots, kicking them blindly off to the side. He was about to knock again, when the door swung open and she was there.
"Hey Jen," he choked out.
"Jesus, Mike. You look like hell," she said, eyes full of concern, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. "I wasn't sure you were even coming by. Come on in," she said, standing to one side and allowing him into the entryway. He waited as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Turning face him once more, she noticed the strap still running across his chest. "Uh, Mike, you've still got on the, uh…" as she pointed toward the machete sheathed across his back.
"Oh, right. Sorry. Not sure how I even drove here with that thing on." he replied, undoing the strap and pulling the scabbard from his back, passing it over to her.
Reaching out a hand, she took it from him with an exasperated sigh. "Come on, he's in the study." Jennifer Hayes-Byers led the way down the hall of the home she and Will had purchased several years before when Will's psychiatry practice had taken off. He followed blindly, running on autopilot as she ushered him into the study and guided him toward one of the overstuffed leather chairs. She knew the chair would need a thorough scrub to get rid of the sweat and grime clinging to Mike after his trying weekend, but she recognized the importance of what he was undertaking and that made the inconvenience more than worth it.
"I'll leave you boys to it," she said, eyeing Will, settled in the matching chair, as she backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Mike looked up and met the concerned eyes of his best friend before dropping his gaze to the table between them and contemplating the bottle of MacNaughton's waiting there.
"Oh, go on," Will offered, "we both know that's the reason you're here."
Throwing his a friend a grateful glance, Mike reached for the bottle and twisted off the lid. As he poured a generous glass of the soothing amber spirit, Will added, "Might as well pour me one too." Mike gave a half-hearted laugh at his friend. Will detested whisky and only ever drank it with Mike after yet another devastating disappointment. He was more of a Merlot man, he liked to say.
Mike drained a large swallow and settled back in his chair, savoring the burn that slowly sank down his throat.
"So, you want to tell me about it?" Will asked, gingerly taking a sip from his own glass.
"What's there to tell? I hit another dead end. End of story," he tossed out, staring intently at the contents of his glass and deciding to send another swig down to join its companion.
"Oh cut the shit, Mike," Will spat out, startling his friend. "You're my best friend; I know this wasn't just a normal lead you were following. You look like death and you're almost a full day overdue. Much longer and I was going to have to come in after you, and you know how little I want to do that. On top of that, you still have blood-spatter on your shirt and I'm guessing it's all over that blade you left with Jen."
Mike looked shamefully up at Will as his friend asked again, softness returning to his voice, "So tell me about it. What happened?"
"I really thought I was on the right track this time. Everything seemed to match what I have been looking for. Roads, houses, cars. The vines, just like you said. As I made my way into town, I saw smoke curling up from a small fire, and let myself get hopeful; turned out to be the dying embers of a lightning strike. I scouted for more than a day but there wasn't a single sign a human had ever set foot anywhere around there. I don't know, something just snapped inside me on the trip back."
He paused, looking at Will once more and then casting his eyes down in shame. "After I got back, I just felt so angry and hollow. I went back to the other place." he admitted, long suppressed tears finally beginning to fall. "I'm sorry. I know I said I wouldn't go back there but I just couldn't help it." he sobbed. "I found a group of them, the little ones, grazing on a field of wildflowers, and I just started slashing. I know they're not really demogorgons, but they look so much like them, I just didn't care. I probably killed twenty of them before I just collapsed beside their mangled corpses. The stupid things don't even know enough to be afraid of me, the others just kept on eating, wandering around the bodies of the fallen. I'm not even sure how long I laid there before I finally got back up and made my way here."
Will watched his friend down the final swig from his glass and pour himself another. "Look Mike, I'm not going to tell you what you did was healthy, or even ethical, but we're also dealing with uncharted territory. I can tell you, I understand."
Mike looked up hopefully as Will continued. "As your doctor, and as your friend, though, I have to be frank with you. You have to stop doing this to yourself."
Anger flashed across Mike's face as he moved to respond, but Will silenced him with a gently raised hand. "That's not what I meant. I'm not asking you to stop your quest to bring her home; far from it. She saved my life that day and I want you to find her just as much as you do. No, what I'm saying is, you're undertaking a search against astronomical odds. I firmly believe you will find her, I wouldn't let you continue if I didn't think there was a chance. But with the odds stacked so much against you, you can't fall apart like this every time a lead doesn't pan out. Is that what she would want?" he asked, nodding his head toward his desk.
Sitting on the top shelf, next to a photo a Will and Jennifer on their wedding day, was the sketch of El. Mike thought back to that fall, after Will was home from the hospital, when he had asked his friend to sketch her portrait. Will had poured over the drawing for days, starting with his own fevered recollection, from when she found him in the In-Between. Then he refined it with input from Mike, Dustin and Lucas until they all agreed he had captured her face exactly. He had given Mike the original but insisted on keeping a copy for himself as well.
Mike stared hard at the framed portrait, the face he had committed so firmly into his mind he saw her every time he shut his eyes.
"I know I never met her, not really," Will continued. "But you've told me every shred of information you knew about her and what she was like. I can safely say she wouldn't want you tearing yourself apart like this. If she's out there, in the place you think she is, your memory is likely the only comfort she has to keep her going. When you bring her home, she deserves the boy she remembers, not some vacant husk like this. And you're making progress Mike, you really are. Yeah, you slipped up today and went on your therapeutic murder-spree, but it's been a long time since you've done that. And you've confined your drinking to our visits over here, you're not losing days at a time drunk at home anymore."
"I just…" Mike began, before stopping to collect this thoughts once more. The exhaustion and whisky were rapidly dragging him under. "I just keep thinking, what if there was something more I could have done that night; some way I could have stopped her from having to kill it herself? And I keep worrying, what if I'm already too late? I mean, a week in that place almost killed you, and I've left her rotting there for almost twenty years."
Mike looked back at his friend, ashamed as he saw the panic of recollection cross Will's face as he downed the last of his drink.
"I'm sorry. I know I've made you relive that week way more times than you deserve. But you know what I mean."
Calm as ever, Will asked, "Do you honestly believe she blames you at all for what happened that night? Do you think she would want you blaming yourself?"
Mike shook his head, knowing his friend was right. It wasn't the first time they had this conversation and likely wouldn't be the last.
"As for my time in the Upside-Down, sure, that week almost killed me. But I was on the run the whole time, never sleeping, nothing to eat, no water. Then the demogorgon got me and jammed that tentacle egg thing down my throat. So, yeah, a week almost killed me. Eleven? If she killed that thing on the way through, then she would have had time to actually get her bearings, find food and water and shelter."
"And don't forget all those super-powers you spent years telling me about," he added with a grin.
At that, Mike smiled. It was just what he needed to hear, and Will knew it. They lapsed into silence as Mike slowly drained the rest of his glass. Minutes later, sleep finally won out as Mike laid his head back and closed his eyes. Will grabbed an old wool blanket from the closet and laid it over his friend, carefully slipping the glass out of Mike's hand. Walking out of the office, he closed the door gently behind him and walked down the hall to the living room, where he found Jennifer curled on the couch with a book. As he sat down next to her, she closed the book and shifted to cuddle up to Will.
"So, how bad is it? He going to be alright?" she asked, concerned for their friend.
"Oh, he'll wake up sometime tomorrow with a killer headache. But like always, he'll pop a couple Advil, drink a pot of coffee, and get right back to work tracking down his next lead."
"Do you really think he'll find her?"
"I think so," he said, then added, "I hope so. I have a lot to thank her for."