A/N: Apologies for the delay with this update.

Enjoy!

-Millie x

A FAMILIAR PULL

She'd said her name was Jane, yet somehow... it didn't feel right.

She looked like a Jane, sure. But it just didn't seem to fit, stumbling from his lips like an unfamiliar language.

She was quiet, and he liked that. She didn't try to draw attention to herself. But he couldn't help noticing her anyway

He watched her; dragging his eyes away only for them to drift irresistibly back to her. She was fucking magnetic and he couldn't stop it, even if he wanted to.

She stood watching Dustin and Lucas argue about whose turn it was to play Street Fighter, mouth slanted to a slow half-smile which turned to laughter as Max barged past the two boys and popped money into the machine, ignoring their outraged spluttering.

Then suddenly, feeling like a punch to the gut, her eyes flicked to him, doe-bright and wide. Before he was even aware of it, he'd moved, heading straight for her.

She looked up at him, her gaze dark, and steady, and considering. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but found himself - weirdly, stupidly - unable.

Her mouth quirked into another one of those soft smiles that she seemed to hand out like presents. But she didn't speak, didn't relieve the heaviness in the air between them.

But then again, neither did he.

Adam, who'd been standing next to Jane, watched the two of them – eyes darting between them – for a moment, brows raised, before shaking his head and heading over to watch Max kick ass on Street Fighter.

He didn't say anything as he left, and Mike found himself profoundly grateful for it.

Still, neither spoke.

And somewhere under the weight of their mutual silence, he could feel – like a tickle in his chest – a tugging, a pull, faint and insistent. And familiar.

How? he asked himself. And why do I feel like I know her face?

"Have... Have we met before?" he asked, stammering over the words a little.

Her brow furrowed.

"No..." she replied, though there was a filament of uncertainty there. "I mean... I just moved here."

"Huh, that's funny. I thought maybe I knew you from somewhere."

She gave him an odd, piercing look before replying.

"No." And this time her reply came readily, with quiet certainty.

"Oh..." he said, feeling oddly deflated. "Uh, okay."

And then she smiled at him, and something in him gave way, and then for a moment... the merest moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of red, something intangible and flickering like candlelight in the space between them.

And then he blinked, and it was gone.

But still, it was a long time, long after he'd left the arcade and fallen into bed, before the unsettling, tugging sensation left him, and the clamouring of his thoughts finally fell quiet.

The next morning, Jane made her way down to the kitchen, where her Aunt Becky was fixing breakfast for them both.

"Mornin' Janie," she called cheerily from her place by the stove.

"Morning," Jane mumbled, slumping into a seat at the table and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

She'd slept poorly; chasing the red string in endless circles inside her own head and coming up with nothing, and now... her eyes felt sandy with tiredness and her body slow with fatigue and frustration.

"Eggs okay?" asked Becky, pulling out plates as she spoke.

Jane mumbled her assent, and sipped at her juice.

Becky made her way over to the table carrying their plates, and set one down in front of Jane, before sitting down across from her.

"So," she began, as she tucked into her breakfast, "you were kinda late getting in last night. Where'd you go again? The arcade?"

Jane nodded, taking a bite of her eggs.

"You have fun?" Becky pressed on, ignoring Jane's dull eyes and tired features.

"Sure. It was fine," she replied evasively. "Bigger than the one back home. More... stuff."

"Sure," Becky echoed. "More stuff. Who was that girl you went with?" she asked. "You were gone before I could even catch her name."

"Max," Jane qualified, swallowing another bite. "I met her yesterday. At the school office. She's in a couple of my classes. She's nice."

"Right. Max," her aunt nodded. "Okay. That's good."

She shrugged as she grabbed the last few mouthfuls of her breakfast and draining her glass of orange juice, then stood and brought her dish over to the sink.

"You want a ride to school?" Becky asked, as she began to clear her own plate.

Jane nodded, feeling suddenly guilty for being so short with her aunt.

"You go get your bag," she went on. "I'll be in the car."

Jane went to the door, then paused and looked back at Becky standing by the sink and rinsing the dishes.

"Thank you," she said, so softly she wasn't sure that her aunt had heard her, and then turned and continued out into the hallway and up the stairs to her room.

He would have been lying to himself if he said he wasn't looking for her, scanning the busy hallway for the sight of her tangled brown curls, hoisted into a lazy topknot...

And coming up with only Dustin instead.

Wrong curly head.

"Hey Mike. Who you looking for?"

"No one," he muttered, turning back to his locker.

"Sure," Dustin said, his tone sceptical, but he didn't say more.

"Where's Lucas?" he asked, as he shoved his Calculus books into his bag.

"He's out front with Max and Debra Carlisle," Dustin shrugged. "I dunno. He said he needed to talk to them. Where's Adam?"

"Dunno," Mike shrugged, then grinned. "I bet he's late this morning. He has Spanish with Mrs Samson. He hates her."

"Enough to risk detention? Again?"

"Maybe," Mike shrugged again.

"You check out the movies for tomorrow?" Dustin asked.

"Crap, I forgot."

"You didn't!"

"It's fine. We'll decide what we want to watch when we get down there."

"Son of a bitch," Dustin swore. "I can't believe you forgot!"

"Oh and you didn't forget to talk to Max yesterday?" Mike shot back, raising a sceptical brow. "Don't worry about it though, I asked her after school."

"Fine, you win," Dustin grinned with typical good humour. "C'mon, we'd better get to class."

They grabbed their bags and made their way towards Mr Howard's classroom for their Calculus class, shuffling through the crowded hallway. Mike listened absently as Dustin rambled on about something he'd seen on TV last night after the arcade.

Then suddenly, he felt an eerie kind of stillness in the air, a strange quietude... and then, a russet gleam, shimmering in the corner of his eye, and then-

Awareness.

There she was. Standing by her open locker, and those dark, expressive eyes trained on his. He stopped, unable to take his eyes from her, and the moment stretched on: quiet and infinite.

And then he saw it again: a fine strand, glowing with reddish light, twining and lifting on invisible currents in the air between them. He followed the line of it, and was oddly unsurprised when he saw that it led to her.

She was still watching him, a curious smile teasing the corners of her mouth, and Mike felt his own mouth lifting into an answering grin.

And again he felt it: the tugging, pulling sensation. And it grew and grew, until he felt as though every cell in his body was desperately urging him to move, to take that first step towards her.

Between them the thread began to grow and twist with a dazzling ferocity.

Mike's eyes widened, and he cast a glance at her, wondering...

She, too, stood wide-eyed and pale, her gaze fixed on the flaring strand which connected them.

Somehow, she could see it too...

It felt like a million moments had passed, but finally he took a step towards her and he felt the draw intensify. Another one, and the thread grew brighter still, and her eyes flew to his.

Two more steps, slow and certain, and he'd reached her. She watched him with a bright, expectant gaze, and he was blind to everything but her.

And then, just as he'd opened his mouth to say something, anything-

"You two! Why aren't you in class?"

The cry came loud and, like the breaking of glass, the moment cracked and then shattered between them, and Mike suddenly realised that they were alone in the corridor.

He stole a final glance at her and something that sounded oddly like both a gasp and a sob fell from her lips, and then she turned to face the approaching teacher, a frown settling like storm-clouds on her brow.

Mike turned as Mr Bishop reached them, and had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the sight of him.

"Wheeler!" the teacher barked. He hated Mike. "What are you doing out of class? And you," he rounded on the girl, "who are you? Why aren't you in class?"

"I'm Jane Ives," she replied, her soft voice at odds with her heavy frown. "I'm new."

"She wasn't sure where her Geography class is." Mike jumped in. "I was just gonna show her where to go."

"Is that so?" Bishop eyed Mike distrustfully, before turning his attention back to Jane. "Well, Jane, I'll bring you to your first class. Wheeler, run along. I'll allow it this once."

Mike shrugged, as Mr Bishop began walking down the corridor, pausing to wait for Jane, who shut her locker and lingered a moment more.

"See you later?" she asked, fingers toying with her bag and avoiding his eye, a faint flush in her cheeks.

"Yeah, sure," he smiled. "See you later, Jane."

Then he turned and headed in the direction of his Calc class, wondering how he was going to explain his absence to Dustin and tried not to think about what had just happened. He looked back once, watching her narrow form disappear around a corner, as – unbeknownst to him – a red band, woven of the finest shining strands, had just appeared on his wrist.

She sat on her bed, wrapped in a throw knit from soft wool, a book tossed to the side, watching the ominous drift of blue-black clouds across the inkiness of the night sky.

Looking at the sky was nothing like looking into the darkness of her own consciousness. The sky was tremulous, and ever-changing, and day could be counted on to follow even the blackest of nights.

And sometimes... sometimes, she needed to be reminded of that.

But for now, she was toying with the idea of slipping into the ether of her own head and searching.

But for who?

After today, she honestly couldn't say.

Almost absently, she reached for the scarf which was draped on the edge of her bed and brought it to her eyes, before tying it tight at the back of her head. The pull of the cloth blunted the sound, and shuttered her sight, and then she was slipping...

down...

...down...

...down...

And then she was there in the ceaseless night of the void, deep inside herself, so familiar... and so empty.

She spun in a slow circle, looking for a flash of sound, or colour. But there was nothing. So she decided to search for him. Again.

Raising her arm across her body, in a gesture she'd made a thousand times before, she drew her hand down to the gleaming red band which rested against the pulse of her wrist, and looped her fingers around it and waited.

Seconds passed, and she counted them like raindrops on a window.

And then, unfurling from the darkness with serpentine fluidity, a red fibril came chasing towards her, a current of warm, red-amber light that greeted her almost joyously.

It leapt to her fingertips, where they were still brushing the band on her wrist, and she caught it easily in her palm. And then she began to walk, following the trail left by the strand of glowing red-gold.

The quiet resonance of her footsteps was familiar to her, and for a while it was the only sound, save for the beat of her heart. It took a long time to find anything, or so it felt, but when she did she knew it in the way the hair on the back of her neck stood up with a thrill of awareness.

She could feel it acutely in the air, vivid and tense, and much more present than it had ever been before.

And then-

A sigh, from somewhere behind her, and she whipped around, expecting to see her Mike, and froze as realisation hit her: it wasn't her Mike at all.

It was him. The other Mike.

He was sprawled out on a bed, eyes closed against the world, his fingers threaded into his thick, dark hair, and he let out another deep sigh, leaden with frustration.

She was afraid to move. Even though she knew he couldn't see her – couldn't possibly know – she stood rigid. She didn't dare approach him in the way she had with her Mike.

After several long moments, marked by the deep, even sound of his breathing, and punctuated by a number of heavy sighs, he finally moved. Bringing his hands down from his hair, she watched as his fingers found something on his wrist...

Something painfully familiar.

A thin band, woven from scarlet threads, identical to the one linked around her own wrist.

She could feel the panic leaking into her veins, the low fluttering of her heart, and she watched as he ran his fingertips along the delicate braid of lustrous threads and felt her link to the ether grow tenuous and shaky...

And then, with a gasp, she was back. Back in her small, untidy bedroom. Back in the real world.

She flung the scarf aside, and gulped down a great breath of air, and then another one, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She flopped back on the bed, reaching up absently to wipe the trickle of blood from her nose, and crawled under her blankets.

She wanted to think about what she had seen tonight in the void, but it was hard. Tremors shook her body, her heart was still racing, and she felt as though she was on the precipice of something both terrifying and amazing, and something she could never fully comprehend.

She'd never fully understood her connection to 'her' Mike. She'd just accepted it for what it was.

But now, it seemed she had a connection to the 'other' Mike too.

And she wondered what it all meant, and if she'd ever know.

He saw her at noon, weaving through the crowds in the cafeteria, and hurried to catch up with her. He'd been looking for her all morning.

"Hey, Jane!" he called out. "Jane!"

She turned then, a flush creeping up her thin cheeks and eyes carefully lowered, but didn't speak.

"Hey," he began, feeling slightly awkward now that he'd found her.

"Hi Mike," she replied, her voice quiet, and still not meeting his eye.

"You okay?" he asked, slightly concerned.

"What? Oh, no, I'm fine – just a bit tired," she said with a shrug. "Didn't sleep very well last night is all."

And then, finally (finally?), she looked up at him.

And it was true. She did look tired.

"Oh... um... I see. Well I suppose... um..." he tried, fumbling his words. "You see, we – I mean, the guys –we're going to the movies later with Max and some of the others... and well, I was wondering if you wanted to come? But, I mean, if you're tired..." he trailed off, feeling the warmth of embarrassment in his cheeks.

What was it about this girl?

But then she smiled, a real smile, and it caught him off-guard.

"Yeah, I'll be there," she murmured. "Max asked me already. She didn't say what time though...?"

"Oh right..." he replied, still feeling embarrassed. "Um, we're meeting at six. Outside the diner."

"Okay..." she nodded. "Great. I'm... I'm really"- she caught herself with a little cough, then blushed -"I'm looking forward to it. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah," he said, faintly. "See you later."

The sun had just begun to set and twilight was settling like a dusky cloak onto the sky when Jane shut the door behind her and ran out to where Max was waiting in her car.

"Dude, about time," Max complained as Jane slid into the car.

"Sorry," she replied, hurriedly, "I couldn't find my wallet."

"What is it with you and that purse?" Max asked, as she turned on the engine. "That's like the third time you've lost it today."

"I know. Weird, right?" she said, as she double-checked her bag for the stupid purse. "So who else is going?"

"Um, well, the guys from the arcade, and a couple of girls from my Trig class," the other girl mused, distractedly as she steered the car down the winding stretch of road. "I dunno, maybe you've met them? Deb Carlisle and April Wu?"

"I dunno... maybe?" Jane frowned, trying to think, but she wasn't great with names, even at the best of times. And she'd met more people in the past week than she had in her entire lifetime.

"Don't worry about it. They're fine. Deb's kinda loud and April is a total nerd, but they're harmless," Max shrugged, unconcernedly. "They'll be at the diner with the others, so you'll see for yourself."

Jane nodded and continued to fidget with her bag.

"You want some music?" Max asked, reaching over to fiddle with the radio.

"Sure," she shrugged, as the strains of an unfamiliar song filtered through the air.

They were mostly silent for the remainder of the short drive, Max concentrating on driving the car and Jane lost in her thoughts, vivid and chaotic.

Dustin and Lucas were standing outside the diner when they pulled into the parking lot, but before Jane and Max could even get out of the car, they'd been joined by Adam and two girls.

Shouldering her bag, and resolutely ignoring the twinge of nervousness in her stomach, Jane got out of the car and followed Max over to the group of people loitering in front of the diner.

"Max!" Dustin yelled unnecessarily as they approached, earning him a smack on the shoulder from Lucas.

"Dude. Volume," he scowled.

Dustin turned to look at him blankly, as Max and Jane reached them.

"Hey guys," said Max, an amused grin chasing the corners of her mouth. "Oh yeah, Deb, April, this is Jane," she went on, looping her hand round Jane's arm and dragging her forward to introduce her.

"And Jane, this is Deb," she continued, nodding to the girl with a mane of fluffy blonde hair and freckled cheeks, who smiled politely at Jane. "And that is April," she finished, as the tiny bespectacled girl with long black hair gave a small wave.

"Hi..." Jane said, her voice low. "So... um"-

"Sorry I'm late!"

A voice a came carrying across the parking lot, and they turned to see Mike striding towards them looking stressed, and Jane felt a frisson run through her, and a prickle of sensitivity on her skin.

"Sorry! My mom would not let me out of the house," Mike complained as he reached them. "Seriously, she never gave Nancy this level of shit, and she was way worse than me."

"Yeah, Mike, how is Nancy?" Dustin asked with a smirk.

"Do. Not. Dustin," Mike groaned. "My sister, man, come on."

"Ugh," Max rolled her eyes. "I am not listening to this again. Let's get some food or we'll miss the movie."

She strode into the diner without a backward glance, ever-confident that the rest of them would follow.

Which, Jane noted with a wry grin, they duly did.

They crowded noisily into a booth, clambering over each other's legs and somehow Jane ended up squashed in between Mike and Adam. She couldn't disguise the blush which crept slowly up her cheeks along with the realisation that her legs were dangling over one of Mike's, and that his hand was pressed into the seat next to hers.

As they ordered some food and milkshakes, she tried not to think about how closely they were pressed together, or the fact that she could smell him – a sort of clean, woodsy scent – and that it was delicious. She tried not to think about that, or the fact that she could sense his eyes on her, and feel the pull of the peculiar thread as everyone ate their fries and burgers and talked loudly over each other.

And she tried not to think about him, tried not to look.

It didn't work

It happened in a series of small, stolen looks - quick and involuntary – and she could tell that he knew every time she did, just as she had.

They wove a strange ballet of missed glances and fleeting moments, and before either of them realised it, the rest of the group had begun to leave the booth to make their way over to the movie theatre.

Jane pulled away from him, and slid out of the booth, trying unsuccessfully to hide how flustered she felt, and afraid to look back at him. She stood up and walked over to Max, finding that she needed to put some space between herself and Mike, needed to think.

Max didn't say anything, but then... she didn't have to; brows raised, her eyes took in Jane's flushed cheeks and then flicked to where Mike was standing next to Adam, and when they returned to meet Jane's gaze, there was a knowing glint there.

Jane didn't know how to explain herself.

Max merely rolled her eyes and grabbed Jane by the elbow, pulling her out the door of the diner and into the chilly night air.

"C'mon, we better go, or we'll miss the movie," she muttered, then added with a laugh, "You still got your wallet?"

"Yeah," Jane replied with a chuckle, "it's still here."

Mike managed, with a bit of careful manoeuvring - and no small amount of jeering from the guys, to end up next to Jane when they took their seats. He'd like to say he didn't know what he was doing, but he did. He'd done the same thing back at the diner.

He couldn't seem to help it.

He could see Max eyeballing him from the other side of Jane, but then Lucas snagged the seat next to her and she turned to talk to him. Or possibly argue. She did love to argue with Lucas.

Poor fool.

Shaking his head, he turned his gaze to the girl sitting next to him. Her long curly hair fell over her shoulders like a curtain, and she was rummaging around in her bag, and muttering to herself.

After a moment or two, she emerged from her bag with something clutched tightly in her palm, then looked up and caught his eye. With an embarrassed smile, she opened her hand to reveal a small red wallet. One that looked familiar somehow.

As if he'd seen it somewhere before. And maybe he had.

It was just a wallet.

"I'm sorry. I keep losing it."

Jane's soft voice broke into his thoughts like a pebble on water.

"I was just making sure it was still there..." she trailed off, dropped her gaze to her hands, which were twisting together into awkward knots in her lap.

Mike laughed lightly, "It's fine."

He paused.

"So, um, how are you settling into Hawkins?" he asked, and instantly hated himself for the banality of the question.

"It's fine," she shrugged. "A bit bigger than the last place I lived."

"Why did your family move here?"

She looked at him carefully for a moment, her eyes dark and serious, before looking away again, and he was left with the curious feeling that she'd dismissed him.

Then she sighed.

"We needed a change of scenery."

"We?" he asked.

"Me and my aunt."

He decided not to ask what had happened to her parents.

The lights in the theatre began to dim and then fell to black completely, and Mike could hear Dustin offering some popcorn to April as everyone began to quiet down. He watched from the corner of his eye as Jane settled back into the seat, chewing absently on a Twizzler she'd stolen from Max and staring expectantly at the screen.

It flared to life a moment later and the first trailers began to run. Mike sat back in his seat and began to watch.

It was easy to relax, to become lulled by the flickering lights and warm air of the cinema. It was easy to let his hand drift – mere curiosity, he told himself, knowing it was a lie – to the armrest, mere centimetres from where Jane's arm sat.

At first he thought she hadn't noticed, but then-

A glance, stolen and swift, but he saw it.

And then an almost imperceptible movement, a slight shift, and their arms were resting against each other.

He could feel the warmth of her skin, could hear the quiet, shaky exhalation of her breath in the air. It was as though they were in place that was all their own.

Then, in a slow moment of realisation, he felt the soft brush of her fingers as they teased and then tangled into his, and he turned to look at her, to meet her dark, intense eyes.

And then, in a rush-

Mike? Mike? Where are you? Mike?

His eyes widened as he heard the voice and he felt his stomach lurch strangely – was it her? Was that Jane's voice?

He watched as Jane's eyes flickered with shock, and a heavy frown settled on her brow, and he knew she could hear it too, whatever it was.

El? El? Eleven!

He froze as he heard his own voice, sounding much younger, echoing in his ears. Who was Eleven? What the hell was going on?

I'm here Mike, I'm here!

Eleven! El, come back! We promised... we promised...

I'm here, Mike. Promise.

Promise.

And then suddenly, it stopped as Jane wrenched her hand from his, pulling it into her lap as though she'd injured it. Did she know what was happening? Was it her?

He looked around swiftly, and was surprised when he saw that no one had noticed, that they were all still engrossed by the movie. Except for Lucas and Max, who were busy sucking face on the other side of Jane.

Still shaken and heart pounding, he turned his attention back to the girl sitting next to him. She was looking down at her hand, fiddling with something on her wrist and completely ignoring the movie. Then he saw it, an eerie iridescent gleam...

A slender band, encircling her wrist, spun with silky crimson threads.

And wondered what the hell was going on, and who exactly was Jane Ives?

A/N: Sooo... I'm curious, what do you think? I know this is all a bit confusing at the moment but please stick with me. I promise it becomes clearer and it will all make sense. If you are curious about the origins of the myth I based this fic on, please let me know in the reviews and I will post a short explainer.

Thank you to all you lovely people who stopped by to read. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.

Before I go I must say a huge thank you to sallyjavery who did an amazing job betaing this chapter. She made it sparkle.

Let me know what you think :)

-Millie xx