Henry Walker, Hank to his friends, was a proud man. Not in ego or in arrogance, but in achievement. He had undertaken the daunting task of keeping safe his little girl, his most precious love in the world, from sinister forces who sought her for their own. When the time for action had come, he had gladly set aside all he had in the world to protect her, giving up his very identity in the end. For fourteen years, twelve of those on the run, he had schemed and sacrificed to give her the most stable life he could; and it had worked. When they arrived in Clear Brook ten years ago, the locals had been wary of the pair who kept mostly to themselves. They were soon won over by the story he told, of an abusive ex-wife and mother back in Arizona with rich, well connected relatives who swore they would take the back girl from him at any cost. In typical small-town fashion, they quickly took them in and swore an unspoken vow to watch over two; it was clear to anyone who cared to look the love the father held for his daughter.
All that remained of their old life, their true past, stayed locked safely away in a small box in the top of his closet; the few ties to the home they abandoned when danger came. A drivers license in the name of Jim Hopper, along with the badge he proudly wore as Chief of Police. His Colt Python, cleaned and ready should the day come when he needed to arm himself once more. The faded kindergarten photo of little Sara Hopper, the daughter he had been unable to save, who's death still haunted him in the quiet hours of the night. From a girl simply called Eleven, a birth certificate in the name of Jane Hopper that was supposed to be her ticket into a normal life. Lastly, tucked into the folded certificate sat a simple photograph of the girl at a school dance, arm in arm with the boy she loved, on a night they had thought marked the start of their forever.
Hank kept these things as a reminder of the promise he made to his daughter, Ellen, long ago. They would return to Hawkins one day, to the life they had left, when things were finally safe. He hadn't promised soon, a word he had discovered held hope of a quick resolution, but had only promised her someday. He meant it too; deep in his heart he intended to return her to the life she deserved, but only when he was certain the danger was gone. Until that day came, he slept with one eye open and checked over his shoulder as he made his way through town each day.
That is why, as his daughter led him by the hand that night with the promise of a surprise, his face went deathly pale at the sight of their old life standing in his living room.
"Wheeler?" he asked again, his face turning quickly to El and back to Mike. "How did you find us?"
Already his mind was kicking into action, reviewing the escape plans they had devised as soon as they settled into Clear Brook. They each had a duffel-bag packed and ready with the essentials and an empty third to quickly pack the souvenirs of this life they couldn't bring themselves to leave behind. They had been through it before, back when they had been forced to flee South Carolina, and to this day he wasn't positive if they had been found or not. Still, he would rather run a thousand times, than for her to be caught just once.
It wasn't the fact that Mike had found them that had him worried. He knew Mike was the one person in the world he could trust completely to keep her secret safe. No, what had him worried was the idea that, if the boy had found them, who else might be close behind on their trail. With the question hanging in the air, El realized in all their excitement of seeing one another, she hadn't asked either and he hadn't volunteered.
Stunned by the old man's panicked reaction, Mike stood in silence until the question was repeated. "How did you find us?" he asked again, taking a step closer.
"I didn't," he answered, recovering his nerve. "I didn't know you were here."
Glancing out the front window, Hank took Mike and Ellen by the arm and herded everyone into the kitchen, out of sight to anyone who might drive down their street.
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he turned back to Mike, the initial panic beginning to fade.
"Okay, help me understand. You didn't find us? So how is it you've come to be standing in my kitchen?"
Taking a deep breath, Mike started in. "I'm in town on a sales call. I'm supposed to be meeting with the couple running the Inn at the far end of town. When I got into town today, I was too early to check-in to my room, so I stopped for lunch at a restaurant overlooking the docks. And, when the waitress came over to take my order..." he trailed off, leaving the explanation unfinished.
Hank turned to his daughter then, expecting her to complete the thought.
"We recognized each-other," she finished. "Or at least we were pretty sure. Neither of us said anything out loud, nothing to give anything away," she added quickly, knowing his next fear all too well. Mike had been quiet and discrete when he called her Eleven, so there was no point in mentioning it.
"Alright," he finally said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Sorry to jump all over you like that, Mike. It's just, well, I think you can understand what a shock this is, seeing you all of a sudden like this."
"Believe me, the surprise was mutual," Mike laughed, glancing at El in time to see a shy blush tint her cheeks.
"Since we're not having to take to the road, how about some dinner? I'm starved and it smells delicious," he added, throwing El a smile he hoped made up for his initial panic.
As the trio settled at the small kitchen table, Mike couldn't help but feel somehow at home. He had joined them for dinner out at the cabin a few times, during those months of blissful ignorance before their entire world fell apart. Sitting with them now, things felt right again, like a huge missing piece of his life had been returned, which he supposed, it had.
"So you're the Walkers now?" Mike asked, desperately wanting to know all that had happened since they fled Hawkins, but knowing he couldn't push too hard for an explanation.
El looked at her dad with a sense of dread, knowing the terrible joke that was coming.
"Well, we couldn't call ourselves the Runners, so we had to be the Walkers instead," he said with a grin.
El buried her face in her hands. She had made the mistake of giggling at the joke the first time he told it, as they made their way across the country, trying to figure out where they would try to settle next. Since then, he had told it more times than she cared to count.
"I'm going by Henry now; Hank to my friends," he continued. Sensing the next question already forming in Mike's head, he added, "You can call me Hank as long as you don't make me regret it. And you're already acquainted with my daughter, Ellen. I suppose, if you need a nickname for her, she likes to go by El," he teased, eliciting another, deeper blush to her cheeks.
Getting more sentimental, as he watched his little girl staring hard at the boy she had been forced to leave behind, Hank went on. "It was the one thing from Hawkins she refused to give up, under any circumstance," he said, catching Mike's eye with a look of sincerity. "She's been Ellen, Elaine, and Leslie, a few others, but always something that made sense going by El. She said she could walk away from anything else, leave anything behind she had to, except the very first thing you gave her; a name."
"Dad," she said quickly, through red-tinged cheeks. As her eyes sheepishly found their way back to Mike's, she felt nothing but love radiating back.
Having done his fatherly duty of embarrassing his little girl just a bit, he moved the conversation on to Mike, inquiring what it was he did these days, and just what this sales call was he was in town for. Mike spent the rest of the meal answering his questions, assuring him there was nothing that would tie his current visit to their former life in Hawkins. El watched him, still hardly believing Mike was really here at long last, only partially catching his explanations but already more familiar with some aspects of his life than either of the men knew.
Finally, as dinner drew to a close and they carried their dishes up to the sink, El announced, "Mike and I need to take a walk down to the beach." Her tone was serious, as was the stare she leveled at her father. Though he wanted to object, knowing that with Mike around, they had to be careful of just what people saw, he recognized the look of determination in her eyes. She didn't give him the look often, saving it for only the most important circumstances, but when she did, dishes and windows tended to wind up shattered if he pushed back with too much force.
"Alright," he agreed. "It's plenty dark, I think that's fine. It's getting cold out there, he can take one of my coats from the closet."
"And Mike is staying here tonight," she added, holding her gaze firmly on her dad. She could see the request filled him with apprehension, but after a moment of hesitation, he slowly nodded his head in agreement.
"He can have the couch," Hank offered, sending her back a look they had come to call halfway-happy. "You guys go on, I'll take care of dishes."
She smiled back a gratefully whispered "Thank you," as she took Mike's hand and led him to the hall-closet to get a coat and then headed out the front door.
"Sorry about that," she said, pulling him closer as they walked back down the quiet street toward town. "I just needed to talk to you without him around."