A Discovery is Made

Hawkins, IN

May 29, 1986

It was late on a hot Thursday afternoon and Eleven was restless. The heatwave had been hanging around for almost a week and she was getting tired of it. All the windows in the house were open, and several fans were doing their best to push the sticky air around. Hopper had warned her that morning that he would be late tonight, but he promised he would bring home her favorite pizza, pepperoni and black olive, so she had that to look forward to.

Lying back on her bed in the direct path of the box fan in her window, her thoughts drifted back to her little room deep within the lab. Despite all the horrors of growing up there, at that moment she found herself missing the fact that it was perfectly climate controlled; never too hot nor too cold, never sticky and humid. No matter the time of year or the weather fronts outside - for as much as she was even aware of there being a world outside - the air in her little room was always pleasantly consistent.

She quickly buried that thought; she would much rather endure periods of hot and miserable than be back in that awful place. Against her better judgement, she allowed her thoughts to drift toward the subject she had been purposefully avoiding for weeks now: Papa. She would have to face it eventually, but so far she had found a handful of flimsy excuses as to why it wasn't the right time to go searching yet. Tonight, though, she seemed to have run out of any further reasons.

It was still a few hours before Daddy would be home. "Plenty of time to take a quick look," she told herself.

So far, she had not told either Hopper or Mike about her visit with Kali or what she intended to go looking for. She didn't want to worry them unnecessarily on the strong chance that she didn't find anything at all. She also didn't want them to try and talk her out of looking. She had known even before Kali's latest revelation that she would have to look someday, for her own peace of mind.

Turning the radio on to static and pulling the blindfold down over her eyes, Eleven settled back and tried to call up a distinct image of Papa. Despite the nearly three years that had passed since she had last seen him in person, his face blazed bright and clear in her mind. It was the face she had seen almost every day as far back as she could remember, until she made her escape. Sometimes it was the only face she would see for weeks at a time.

She reached her mind out into the In-Between and started trying to locate him. At first, she found only blackness stretching away in every direction. Pushing harder, she sent her mind further out into the world, trying to flush him out from wherever he might be hiding. Still, there was no sign of Papa. With a sense of relief, she let go the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. Suddenly, in the distance, a light flickered into view and forms began to take shape.

Her first instinct was to turn and flee; to rip the blindfold from her eyes and yank herself free of this place that had brought so much pain to her life. Instead, knowing that she had to determine for sure that what she was seeing was true, she started to walk toward the light. With each nervous step, the image became clearer until she was standing right beside the man, seated at a table eating dinner.

"Papa," she whispered, unbelieving, into the darkness, barely audible. He could not hear her, of course; she had to deliberately send her words for them to be perceived, but somehow she still feared he would perceive her standing at his side.

She stepped around to face him, to see him more clearly. Looking up from his plate for a moment, she caught his face square on and her blood ran cold. It really was his face staring back at her. That face had haunted her dreams for as long as she could remember. The first face she ever knew. Papa was alive.

She could feel the panic setting in again, her breath coming rapid and shallow. Her hand dove instinctively to her wrist once more and found the band.

"No," she told herself. "No, you can't fall apart now."

Gritting her teeth, Eleven looked back at her Papa, taking in his features, his surroundings. She knew she had a job to do: figure out where exactly he was. With almost painful effort, she began to draw back and take in the scene. Papa was seated at a plain wood kitchen table, much like the table at the Byers'. Before him, a plate of what looked to be chicken and steamed broccoli. Next to the plate was a stack of file folders, like the ones Daddy brought home from the station when he had to catch up on paperwork. The top folder was open and he was slowly flipping through the pages as he absently poked at the food on his plate.

Looking closer at his face, she noticed for the first time the ragged scars across one cheek. His eye was covered with a patch like the man from one of those movies Mike showed her. A pirate, that was it, she thought. That further confirmed what Kali had said about him being rescued from the attack.

"More chicken, Papa?" came a voice from behind her.

Eleven whirled around, suddenly taking in the other diner sitting with Papa. Her blood ran cold as she found herself staring back at her own face. She turned back to Papa again, not comprehending what she was seeing.

"Is this a memory?" she wondered. "That can't be, though. I never ate with Papa. I only ever ate in my room, off the little metal trays."

She turned once more to the girl with her face. She realized this girl was too old to be her, back when she was still in the lab. She looked the same as she does now. Her hair was wrong, too; much longer than Eleven's ever was in the lab, but also shorter than she wore it now.

Standing between them, she spun, first taking in one, then looking back at the other. Each turn brought her heart racing faster as question upon question piled up with no answers in sight. It was Papa, now, with scars she had never seen before. Who is this girl with her face? Finally she stepped closer to the mysterious girl and it was like staring into a mirror. It was her own face down to the tiniest details, but how?

Suddenly, the girl turned her arm to scratch at the inside of her wrist, and there it was. Emblazoned on the skin in blocky numerals, 012. Dizziness overtook her as she ripped the blindfold from her eyes and pulled herself back to reality. Her hand shot once more to her wrist, twisting the band back and forth in her fingers, willing her pulse to slow, but the questions swirling through her mind held her right on the verge of panic. A wave of nausea threatened to return the Eggo she had enjoyed earlier that afternoon.

She needed to talk to someone - immediately - but who? Daddy would say it was just her mind playing tricks, Dr. Brenner is dead. What about the girl wearing her face? She could find Kali, but she would only demand to know where to find Papa.

"Papa is still alive, and he has another me," she thought. "How?"

She knew there was only one person she could talk to in this moment. Fighting back the gray creeping into the edges of her vision, she pulled the blindfold back on and pushed her mind out into the In-Between once more. The moment her eyes snapped open in the darkness she screamed his name.

"MIKE!"