Hopper had gone to sleep on Sunday night half-hoping he would sleep Monday away and wake up on a regular Tuesday morning. Monday, as Eleven kept reminding him with lots of urgent stares and pacing that certainly felt pointed, meant Mike Wheeler.
The weekend had been unbearable for both Eleven and Hopper, in near opposite effects. Each time Hopper returned with preparations, either the bag of clothes from Goodwill, or the worn hunter's hat he fished out of the closet, or a pair of sneakers 2 sizes too big from a yard sale, El flapped her hands and bounced on her heels, by far the most excited Hopper had seen her since he'd first found her dizzily stumbling through the woods.
Late Sunday night, El had left the shower (Hopper had had to wrangle her into like a frightened toddler- an apt description for El's approach to most new activities) dressed in clean clothes for the first time. Hopper had been leaving a message on Flo's office answering machine that he was feeling too ill to come into work the following morning. El squealed with delight, almost ruining the message, and shot across the room like a bottle rocket into Hopper's arms. For a moment, with her soft shaven head buried against his belly, Hopper could almost convince himself he was doing the right thing.
But then came Monday morning. Hopper woke up face down in his pillow and laid there for nearly a half hour, trying not to breathe too loudly, until finally his bloodstream demanded coffee too terribly to ignore for a second longer.
Every inch of the flooring creaked, so Hopper tried to step lightly on the pads of his feet. He had almost made it to the kitchenette, had just stepped out of the hall, and there was El, sitting with one elbow leaned against the window. She was so still, Hopper thought she might be asleep until she opened her mouth to speak.
"Morning," she told him, a statement. Time to go.
"Yeah, yeah," Hopper waved her off and stepped past her into the kitchen. "Coffee first. That's what the morning is for."
El got up and followed him, watching Hopper fumble for the can of coffee grounds. She was leaning over the island countertop, and the morning light combined with her clean face and fresh clothes, Hopper caught the watchful gaze not of a caged animal, but an attentive young woman.
"Then we go," she told him, once he had flipped the coffee maker on, "To Mike."
"Sure, but first you have to shower."
Eleven eyed him funnily, as if she were looking for a sign that he was joking. "Shower already. Yesterday."
Hopper avoided eye contact. God, she was boring holes with the heat of her gaze. "You might as well again, and put on a clean change of clothes."
El tugged at the new maroon sweater she'd only put on the night previous. "Today we go to Mike. You said."
For some reason, this only worked to infuriate Hopper. He whirled around from the coffee maker to face Eleven, who jumped back at the sudden movement.
"Fuck, Eleven, why does everything have to be so difficult?" Hopper demanded. "All I asked was for you to take a shower. Can't you just do what I say?"
Eleven's face darkened like a captive wolf. She knew the true meaning behind Hopper's words, even though she barely understood the language. Maybe because she barely understood the language.
"Friday you say Monday. Saturday you say Monday. Sunday you say Monday. Now it's Monday. Now we go."
"Not if I say we don't," Hopper said without thinking about his words. He splashed day old coffee grinds into the press. "I took you into my home. When I did that, I became your caretaker. You know what 'caretaker' means?"
El shook her head, eyes narrowed in barely contained rage. If Hopper hadn't already been so strung out, he would have been afraid of the scowl she was sending him. As it was, he plowed ahead in the conversation.
"Maybe that can be a daily vocabulary lesson we can do." Hopper forced the coffee machine plug into the all, narrowly avoiding electrocution. "Friday's word was danger. You are putting Mike Wheeler in danger by trying to communicate with him. Saturday's word was government. The government is the group of powerful people the bad men worked for, the group that is still out there and would gladly take you back if they found out you're still alive, say, by venturing into a busy, public place like a hospital.
"Sunday's word was afraid- I am afraid of the D.O.E. capturing you, hauling me in right behind you, and probably bringing in Mike Wheeler too, for communistic actions or whatever else they can bury him under. I am afraid of being arrested by the secret government. I am afraid of those people getting you back so they can pick up their experiments right where they left off. I am afraid of ruining Wheeler's life, and I'm afraid of ruining your life, and I'm afraid of losing you!"
The words tumbled out of Hopper's mouth before he could even process them himself, and once he realized what he had said he groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead. El tilted her head.
"What's D.O.E.?" she asked. Hopper slumped into a chair.
"Department of Energy." The day had only just begun and already Hopper's voice felt rubbed raw. "They're part of the government. They authorize… They hire the bad men."
Eleven nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer. Hopper couldn't help but feel that she didn't understand the situation at all.
"Eleven," he said. "You have to stop… Stop trying to reach Mike. You have to trust me when I tell you you're hurting him. If we go out there today, I can't guarantee it's going to be safe. I don't want you to get hurt."
Eleven clenched and unclenched her fists. Her lips moved soundlessly as she flipped through her rather thin lexicon to convey her point.
"I have to," she started, "Ask."
"Ask what?"
"I have to ask Mike."
"What are you going to ask him?"
El looked down at the floor and rubbed her palms on her jeans. She was nervous, Hopper realized.
"About the… The Snow Ball."
Hopper frowned. "Are you and Mike Wheeler planning a snowball fight?"
Eleven shook her head. "No. Like…" She scratched just above her ear, fumbling for the right words. "Like cheese?"
"Cheese?"
"But he's not my brother," she added, more insistently.
Hopper nodded and tapped at his chin. "Not sure I'm picking up what you're putting down, soldier." Usually, he tried to speak as simply as possible, but he could scarcely understand every third word coming out of El's mouth.
"Mike," El said, and she didn't try to explain further. She looked at Hopper, head tilted to the side so her ear was nearly resting on her shoulder. For a- what, 13?- year old, she looked. Unbelievably tired. More tired than Hopper had felt in a long time.
In a flash, Hopper was thrown into a memory of holding Sara tight in his arms, so vivid his fists clenched around nothing. He remembered leaving the gym that night before everything went to shit, remember looking back and seeing Eleven sopping wet, in that pink dress before it got coated in dirt and blood and whatever other alternate-dimensional goo was crusted to the clothes on the floor of Hopper's bedroom that very minute. Mostly, he remembered the way her head was resting on Mike's shoulder, her whole body limp and leaned against him. Without Mike there to hold her up, she would have been sprawled out across the floor of the gym.
"We have to. Go to him," El said, slowly, cautiously. Her lips were held tight and her arms were shaking by her sides. All at once, Hopper understood. She needed Mike. Maybe not needed in the fact that she needed to endanger everyone in Hawkins by seeing him daily. But she at least deserved to know that he was safe, and to help keep him safe, instead of damaging him even more with her head in the sand.
"Fine," Hopper seceded, and just like that El's head straightened up and her lips turned upwards into the beginnings of a smile. "But breakfast first. I'm serious about that."
El nodded and took a seat at the kitchen counter, knees bouncing against one another. "Then we go."
"Yes," Hopper said, reaching blindly for a pan. El always marveled at the way he mixed scrambled eggs. "Then we'll go to Mike."
The pace of El's bouncing knees accelerated. Hopper pulled the egg carton out of the fridge. As it was, he couldn't help but feel like he was preparing the last meal for him and Eleven, together on death row.
The car ride over to the hospital was silent, mostly because Hopper hadn't introduced Eleven to music yet and he wasn't sure how she'd react to a car radio. El sat in the front, fingers gripping at the seat belt like if she loosened for even a second she would go flying through the windshield. Hopper couldn't go over 30 without El letting out a terrified squeal and kicking her legs against the dashboard as if to brace herself.
They got to the hospital at 11, but Hopper circled around twice looking for the safest place to park. He eventually settled on a roadside spot across the street from the back entrance to the hospital. Illegal, yes, but kept mostly out of view by a branch weighed down with snow. Besides, who would tow the car that read SHERRIFF on the side?
"Okay," Hopper said, pulling the keys from the ignition and tucking them into his back pocket. Eleven sagged around the seatbelt at the sound of the engine settling, looking very much like she had narrowly survived a drag race. "Hat on."
El pulled the hunter's hat out from the glove compartment and smashed it onto her head, more or less covering the buzz. El looked at Hop, hat staying just out of her eye line, and Hopper gave her a thumbs up. She squinted at the gesture, then repeated with her own hand.
"Good," said Hopper. "You know the plan. We get in, we see Mike, we get out. You are not to talk to him. Just see that he's alive and that you need to give him some space, okay? If you approach him, you'll only be putting him in danger, okay? Remember danger?"
El nodded, but she had a faraway look in her eyes, and Hopper knew he couldn't even begin to imagine what she was planning. What she had probably been planning, gazing out at the lake late at night when she thought Hopper was asleep. Probably, she had a completed itinerary of exactly how she was going to ruin the entire mission and get them all arrested. He would have to keep a close eye on her once they got inside.
"Don't be stupid," Hopper told her, as an abridged version of the rules he had drilled into her all weekend long. "We're not stupid. You ready?"
El nodded, and Hopper reached over to open the car door for her. By the time he had left his own seat and made his way to the other side of the car, El had already figured out the seat belt and was standing outside the door. She was a smart girl, Hopper realized with a pang. No amount of torture or experimentation or lack of a natural, social childhood could change that.
Hopper began to guide El across the deserted backcountry street, firm hand resting on her shoulder. Instead of gazing around at the street and the hospital in amazement, like Hopper had expected El to do, she was looking up at him, and Hopper had to wonder if she could read minds (among other abilities), because she repeated "We're not stupid," and slipped her small, soft hand into Hopper's as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
A/N: Obviously, absolutely MASSIVE thanks to everyone who reviews! Makes the whole thing worthwhile. :) Huge thanks specifcally to phieillydinyia, Starla Marie Locke, AliKattt, Two Guest reviewers, and Emma! Thanks for the motivation, and sorry specifically to you all (and also everyone else) for the big waits between chapters.
Obviously, this ain't about me but! The wait was not out of pure laziness. Since last updating, I've been in the process of applying for a full scholarship to do a semester in Amsterdam (I've never left America before), I started what will hopefully be my third published novel, I've been working 2 jobs that I love, and I've been seeing a gender therapist about identity and how society changes the way we view ourselves. So it's been busy! I love my dog, I love my friends, and I love writing this story. But I don't love reading for clarity. So if something in here doesn't make sense or there's a typo or you think I left out a word or maybe an entire paragraph, send me a review or a PM to let me know, and I'll fix asap.
Thanks for reading this far into the author's note. Hope you liked this chapter (and that you reviewed!) and I'll hopefully be back with the next installment in a few weeks. Until then, I'm on tumblr as big-dumbass. See you soon!