This is a rewrite of an old fic with 70% new content. Read the Author Note at the end to find the details.

Redemption Chapter 1: Reunion

'Mornings are for coffee and contemplation, and I'm not getting either' Hopper thought and emptied the mug in one sip. Then he picked up the thermosteel flask and tilted the nozzle to pour himself another refill of stale coffee. But the container ran dry after filling only half of the mug. Hopper sighed, got up and started walking to the kitchen to make some more coffee. He was about to enter the kitchen when he noticed the door to the left of the passageway. It had remained closed since last night, and Hopper was anxious to know what was happening inside. So, he raised his hand to put a knock on the door when a voice distracted him, "Jim?"

Joyce was standing near the doorway and was staring at Hopper as if she had caught him sneaking in the school play yeard.
"I need to see my daughter," Hopper sounded frustrated enough to break the door down.
But Joyce was made from a different stock of steel than Hopper. She responded calmly, "They need more time, Jim."
"They have been in there for a long time, I'm worried."
"Worried? About what?" There was a slight tinge of mockery in her voice.
Hopper breathed hard and sputtered, "Let me get this straight. Eleven, a girl, MY GIRL, is currently in a room with a teenage boy, Mike Wheeler FOR FOUR HOURS, and no one knows exactly what they are doing."
"Jim, they waited..."
Hopper interjected, "EXACTLY. Two young teenagers who have waited a year to meet each other are locked in a room for a long time, and that doesn't concern you?"
"Yes, it does. It concerns me that they haven't had enough time to reconcile after the shit that happened last night," Joyce said in an all-knowing and calm tone.
Joyce continued, "Did you see what I saw last night, Jim?"
She raised her voice, "Did you fucking see Mike Wheeler and his faith which brought Eleven back from death?"
"Did you feel what it did to them? To that boy? What price he had to pay to bring her back? Did you see the expression on his face when he woke up?" Joyce's voice could have melted steel.
Hopper sighed as he understood what Joyce was referring to. He had seen that expression not only last night but before as well. But the only problem was that it was the first time he had seen it so severely in a fourteen-year-old boy.

Joyce came close and clutched Hopper's hand tightly. Then she whispered, "What happened last night, Jim? I have seen Will after we rescued him from that godforsaken place. But what I saw on Mike's face last night was something else."
Hopper turned his eyes away from Joyce's face because he didn't want to answer the question that was coming in his way. But Joyce had no plans for giving up. She spoke with a fervent tone, "Have you seen something like this before?"
"Yes, I have," Hopper didn't want to remember those days.
"When?"
"During the war."

"Come with me," Joyce ushered Hopper into the kitchen and put a kettle on the burner. It took her about five minutes to prepare two fresh cups of coffee. She handed Hopper a cup and sat down on a chair as he took the other chair. A few minutes passed in silence broken by nothing other than careful sips from hot cups of bitter liquid. Then Hopper started speaking in a trance.

The Vietnam war was the deadliest conflict in the history of the United States of America since the second world war. Over fifty thousand brave soldiers lost their lives in the war, but it caused six times more damage in the form of the wounded and the broken.
Jim was a rookie back then, and he still didn't understand the full implications of War. To him, it was all about going in guns blazing and killing as many commie bastards as possible and then getting the fuck out of there before it all went to shit. After all these years he had forgotten most of the time he spent there, it was mostly the same shit. But he clearly remembered that one day as if it was yesterday.

Jim was no longer sitting inside the Byer's residence. He was making his way through the hot and humid jungle somewhere in Vietnam. Though the weather was comparatively pleasant and Intel had cleared their path, but he was wary because the enemy was good at laying traps. They would pop up from random holes, ambush the oncoming foe and go back underground before the Americans could react. The commies had literally hollowed out entire battlefields with tunnels and used them to attack and then retreat before the enemy could return fire. Moreover, American soldiers could not fit in those tunnels because of their large frames, so they were outmaneuvered repeatedly. Thus, a certain sense of precaution was always required to operate in the battlefronts of Vietnam.

Jim was on a retrieval mission today. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to retrieve, it could have been a random farmer holding the location of a chemical weapon storage, or it could have been a high ranking general of the enemy army who was eager to defect. But Jim didn't question his orders.
A few hours later the team reached the destination near the base of a small hill overlooking a dense jungle. The target was a little cottage hidden in the forests, carefully camouflaged by vines and shrubs that in some places looked a bit too inconspicuous.
They set up their strategy and attacked the location at four AM in the morning, a time when humans were the least alert. The battle dragged on because the enemy soldiers were hell-bent on protecting the cottage, or whatever it contained. But the struggle ultimately went in favor of the American army and their superior firepower. At the dawn of morning, they managed to break through the enemy's defense and crushed the opposition that was guarding the cottage. Jim rushed inside and came face to face with the most pathetic situation he had ever faced in life. It was a hostage rescue, but the hostage wasn't a man, it was a beast.

The deafening sound of rotors filled the air as two shapes slowly descended on the grassy plain a few clicks from the attack site. The mission was a success, and now the team needed to evacuate before the enemy could come back to retrieve their prisoner. Jim gently lifted the shriveled figure on the stretcher and wrapped a blanket over the shell of a man. The man was captured a long time ago and months of torture and fatigue had taken away his humanity. He could no longer speak, but he was not silent either. Jim swallowed as he regarded the man's eyes. They were hollow and had shrunk into a bottomless pit, but they cried out in inexplicable agony. The man couldn't comprehend his surrounding anymore because the same nightmares kept repeating over and over again in his head, and they clouded his eyes.
That fateful day, Jim felt scared for the first time after taking up the gun, and the memory never left him.

"I still can't forget those eyes, Joyce," Hopper swallowed as he opened his eyes and looked at Joyce who appeared equally worried.
A few moments later, Hopper spoke quietly, "They gave it a name; PTSD; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and that's the thing you saw in Will last year. It's the inability to forget the traumas that keep haunting the patients in their dreams."
"Jim, we need to tell his parents."
"Let's wait and try to understand what happened. Don't worry, there are treatments for these conditions now and..." Hopper sighed, "...he has Eleven by his side."

What Hopper chose to omit from his narrative was that he had seen those eyes even after the war and they always left a permanent scar on the patient.

In New York, he had seen the horror in the eyes of a man who was strapped to a chair by a serial killer who proceeded to murder his wife in front of him. The man had to change his name and hide in the shadows to escape his past.

In Hawkins, he had witnessed the darkness in the eyes of a man who looked at him through the mirror, a month after Sarah's death. This man had to trudge through hell to forget his past, but they kept haunting him even now.

In Hawkins, he had felt the pain and suffering in the eyes of a woman who refused to identify the body of his son, who had drowned in the Quarry. She still carried the wound inside her heart.

And then he saw the decadence again last night in Mike Wheeler's eyes, the boy who did the impossible and brought Eleven back from certain death. But how will he cope up with whatever that could bring even grown men to their knees?

Hopper could vaguely remember the events from last night. He recalled the nightmares that he knew would chase him until the end of his life. About twelve hrs ago, Eleven somehow managed to close the interdimensional gate by using her lifeforce to fuel her psychic abilities. But then she ran out of fuel and left Hopper without a daughter, the second time in the same lifetime. Hopper was mentally devastated but still had enough presence of mind to perform one last act of valor. He brought the cold and lifeless body of his daughter to Mike Wheeler, not because he was a sadistic bastard, but deep inside he knew that if anyone could save Eleven, it would be the boy whom she wanted to meet at her final moment.

The next hour was a blur inside Hopper's head. He remembered gently laying Eleven on the couch and then Mike taking her hand. Then perhaps an hour later the lights in the room flared like the sun and blinded him for a few minutes. Then he came back to his senses and saw Mike tightly hugging Eleven on the couch, and she was holding him in return. Hopper had no clue how that boy managed to defy the laws of nature, but he was not interested in looking at a gift horse in the mouth. There were far more pressing things that occupied his mind, like what price Mike had to pay to return Eleven into the mortal world.

When all the cuddling and promises had been made, Mike got up from the couch and slumped down on the ground. Then his eyes met Hopper's, and it shocked the veteran to the core when his memory about Vietnam was rekindled once again. What did Mike see while he was passed out, holding Eleven's cold dead hands in his own palms? What did she show him?
Hopper had some idea about Eleven's past, and he was amazed that it didn't affect her as much as it should have. Somehow, she had found a way to live with her horrors. But Mike was a typical boy, a child who had experienced a happy life in the quiet town of Hawkins. Yes, it was true that he had suffered some psychological trauma in the past related to Eleven. He had found her, saved her from her fate and then lost her, only to find her again and almost ending up losing her forever. But then, it was nothing compared to what Eleven had been through in her life. Did she tell him everything last night somehow in their dreams?

Hopper knew that Eleven would never be able to forgive herself if she realized what she might have done to Mike last night, and that worried him a lot. But Joyce squeezed his arm and gave a confident smile, "I know what you are thinking Jim, don't worry. Mike Wheeler is a boy who believes in the impossible, Eleven is a girl who makes the impossible possible. Together they can figure things out, they will be alright. Just give them some time."
Before Hopper could voice his objection, Joyce gave a short laugh, "And no, their relationship is far beyond anything you or I can ever imagine, especially since last night. So, don't worry about them, they can remain locked in there forever and still won't do something stupid."
Joyce spoke confidently, "Let's go, we need to go to the town."
Then she literally dragged Hopper out of the house with her and locked the door behind them. Then they drove away towards the town to get supplies and news about last night.

Behind the closed door in the Byers' residence, Mike Wheeler laid in the small bed with his eyes opened wide. He didn't want to close them. In fact, he couldn't shut them even if he tried to because he was looking at his soulmate, and it wasn't a dream.

Eleven looked beautiful, in fact, she looked like a drop of glistening water on the surface of a lotus leaf, pure and gentle at its soul. Mike could've sworn that she looked prettier than Clara, the girl who had won the Hawkins Middle School's beauty pageant three times in a row. He still couldn't believe that she was here in this room with him and they weren't dead. He shuddered at the thought of death. She went too far last time, and he nearly lost her, but then the impossible happened, and he brought her back to life by giving her a purpose to live. Mike's own voice echoed in his consciousness, "I've seen many impossibilities turning into possibilities in those ten days, I choose to believe..." and he did, and he was sure that those who were in the room last night also believed now.

Did Eleven believe? He trudged through his, no, her memories and a storm started raging inside his heart. Last night in a place beyond the reaches of time, Mike had lived through countless moments of Eleven's life. He had been there with Eleven as he touched and lived through each of her memories, all at once. He remembered the fireflies that guided him as he unraveled the mystery that was Eleven, one pinprick of light at a time. People thought Eleven was a brave girl, but they had no idea what she truly was. She had seen horrors, she had felt pain, she had lost everything over and over in the past, and she was still functioning. No, she was not only brave, but she was also the most courageous being in this entire universe. 'Does such a brave girl need someone like me in her life?' Mike wondered.

Suddenly Eleven opened her eyes, and Mike was yanked back into reality. His throat felt dry, and for a second he forgot the world as he was dragged back into a nightmare. He remembered her pale body, pasty skin and the hollows that hid her eyes, 'she was dead.'
Mike swallowed bile in his mouth as he realized that the nightmare was actually reality. Of course, she didn't look anything like that now. The dark and swollen veins on her face had recessed into their place and were now hidden by her skin which glowed in a healthy aura. Nancy and Joyce had cleaned her up nicely. They shampooed her hair and got rid of the strange gunk that made her look like a punk, they also took some soap to her eyes and removed that black ink that exaggerated the hollows that hid her beautiful eyes. She had changed a lot in the past year. He could finally see and appreciate the sharp features, the big eyes and the puffed lips that… 'Her lips...' Mike wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted to kiss her, right here, right now. But he didn't dare, not after what she's been through. 'The last thing she probably needs is a...' Mike couldn't finish the train of thought before Eleven yanked him close and kissed him on the lips.

It was a small peck, maybe a fraction of a second more than the one in the gym, perhaps it had a fraction of more pressure and a fraction of more depth than the former, but it carried a whole lot more emotion. He was dumbfounded, but he didn't flinch at all, just like she didn't back in the gym.

Mike smiled, "I've missed you, El."
"I've missed you too, Mike," Eleven beamed a relieved smile.
Then they embraced each other tightly, and none of them wanted to let go. Mike ran his hand through Eleven's hair which was fluffy and 'Poofy,' just the way he imagined it would be. She didn't look like a boy anymore, and Mike suddenly became aware of the situation.

He had just kissed Eleven, and now she was lying in his arms, on her own bed, inside Hopper's cabin.
Hopper was very protective of his daughter, and he was a kind but a crazy bastard.

Mike had never felt that he was in so much danger as he was feeling right now. Mr. Clarke once took them on a field trip to a museum where they had a display showcasing extinct species. Mr. Clarke explained that these creatures couldn't adapt themselves to the environment so in Mother Nature's judgment they were deemed unworthy and went extinct. Humans ruled this planet because they had managed to pass every test Mother Nature could throw at them. Mike swallowed and thought, 'does Mother Nature's test include Jim Hopper?'
Mike Wheeler had kissed and then was hugging Jim Hopper's daughter inside his own house while that maniac was probably roaming outside. Mike could clearly foresee the glass panel that the curator had used to describe dinosaurs in the museum, but it was for himself.

Name: Mike Wheeler
Family: Disowned
Duration of existence: 14 years
Found in: Jim Hopper's house
Cause of death: Violent strangulation, blunt trauma to the head, torn limbs.
Current status: Extinct

There was a knock on the door. Mike swallowed and glanced at the doorway just as the latch was turned by someone from outside. 'Damn Jedi mind-reading powers,' he cursed inside his head and quickly let go of Eleven to prop himself on the bed.
"Mike…" there was a strange sadness in Eleven's voice. She looked hurt because she didn't know why Mike suddenly let go of her. Her eyes asked too many questions, and Mike didn't have the answers. So, he sighed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. 'I don't care,' he was the one who had found her, he was the one who took care of her, and he was the one who brought her back from death. He figured that Hopper would not mind. Still, he carefully assessed all the exit options from that room.

The door opened, and Hopper walked in along with Joyce. They looked concerned, but Mike felt that it wasn't about them and breathed a sigh of relief. Joyce came close and wrapped her arms around them, "Sweethearts," she addressed them in a motherly voice.
Mike suddenly started missing his mother as he felt a longing to see her, 'it has been so long.'
Hopper coughed and sat down beside them on a chair. Then he gently kissed Eleven on the forehead and ran his hand through her hair like he used to. Eleven cried and hugged all of them, the two most important men and one of the most important women in her life. She was home, she was happy, and she swore that she would never leave them again. Hopper looked at Mike and nodded, he knew what it had taken for Mike to bring her back and he respected his resolve. Mike was still keeping an eye on the open door, but thankfully Hopper didn't decide to discuss what the two of them were doing behind the closed door. But with wariness, Mike realized that Hopper probably knew but for some reason chose not to tear him from limb to limb, for now.

A few miles from the Byers' residence, a white parcel van smoothly cruised through the quiet suburbs of the town of Hawkins. It came to a stop near a cul de sac, and the window on the passenger side rolled down. Then a moment later, a man peered through the open window and casually observed the surrounding neighborhood.
"This the place?"
The man pulled back his head and replied to the driver, "Seems so. Do we know the name of the target?"

A few minutes later, the men climbed out of the car in a practiced motion and made their way to the entrance of the house. They wore coveralls that matched the outfits of medical workers, but they moved in a way that resembled men who were used to living on the edge. The tall man placed a hand near his hip and felt the oblong shape that vaguely resembled a pipe. Then he pressed the bell and asked his shorter companion, "Instructions?"
The man replied in a calm and composed manner, "Liquidate at all costs" as the door opened and a woman stepped out.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?"
"Mrs. Wheeler?"
"Yes?"
The tall man inserted his hand in the pocket.

To be continued...

A/N:

Some of you had read this fic when I first uploaded this shoddy piece of work. To bring it in line with the quality of my other works, I am doing a complete rewrite with 70% new material and concepts. A few questions escaped us last time, who forged the birth certificate? Who convinced Owen to come to Hopper's rescue? What happened to Bob's memories and most importantly, how did Jopper reignite? This new fic will answer all these questions and then some.