A Long Time Coming

Hawkins, IN

June 19, 1986

As her stay in the hospital neared the end of its first week, Hopper and Mike had begun to accept the fact there was no obvious end in sight to the coma that gripped Eleven's mind. While Mike was coming to grips with the fact that she would not come out of her current state as fast as he had originally hoped, there was still no doubt in his mind she would find her way back to them. She had done it before, though in a more physical manner, but she had come back to him nonetheless. She had promised he would never lose her again, and she always kept her promises. Hopper was not nearly as confident as the boy who had been his constant companion for the past week. He hadn't said so out loud, but Mike could see the pain he fought so hard to hide from his face; Hopper was preparing himself to lose another daughter.

The week was beginning to take a physical toll on both of them. They ate little, subsisting mostly on stale coffee. They slept even less, never lasting more than a couple hours at a stretch. Even then, it was hardly restful, sitting slumped in the room's visitor chairs, always keeping one of Eleven's hands held protectively in their own. Finally, at Hopper's insistence, they agreed to start taking turns sleeping at home for the night. Only after getting Hopper to promise he would call, whatever the time of night, if there was any change, Mike agreed to be the first to go home.

Nancy readily agreed to come and pick Mike up late in the afternoon, so he would have time to clean up before dinner. As he climbed into the front seat beside her, she was shocked at how one week had utterly transformed her little brother. While he had always been lean, he looked skinnier than ever now, having lost close to ten pounds sitting around living on little more than coffee. The dark circles around his eyes betrayed just how exhausted he was. Perhaps most startling was the stubbly beginnings of a beard darkening his jaw. She knew from sharing a bathroom that Mike had been shaving for almost a year, but she had assumed it was still a patchy, youthful peach fuzz. Looking at him now, she realized it wouldn't be much longer before he could grow a beard to rival the Chief's. She had to remind herself her little brother wasn't so little anymore, especially after all he had been through this week.

As they drove through town, they chatted about minor, insignificant things, neither wanting to address the situation that had dominated their every thought for the last week. Halfway home, she realized he was asleep, head resting against the cool window beside him. After parking in the driveway, she gave his shoulder a gentle shake.

His head snapped to attention. "El!?" he asked, in a panic.

"Shh, it's alright. We're home." she soothed, holding a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Realizing where they were, he brought a hand up to rub the exhaustion from his eyes. "Sorry. Thanks for picking me up," he said. Neither of them said a word about the tears that came away on his hand, brushed away and hidden by the quick wipe.

He walked inside and up the stairs to his room and gathered a change of clothes. He walked across to the hall and began running hot water for a shower. As he waited for the water for make its way up the pipes from the water heater in the basement, he leaned against the counter. Every muscle hurt from a week of misuse. His mind was a gray fuzz of confusion and he felt as though he had aged thirty years in the last seven days. Studying his reflection in the mirror, he was relieved to find he looked just as bad as he felt. His eyes fell on the stubble covering his chin and was surprised at the progress made by a week of neglect. He turned his face first to one side, then the other, taking in the extent of the growth, before turning and stepping into the shower.

As he stood under the soothing cascades of, he contemplated whether he should keep the stubble or shave it off. He had to admit he felt just a little more grown up with the look, but as time went on, it could also turn into a painful reminder of how long Eleven had been lying in that hospital bed. Finally, he resolved to shave it off as soon as he stepped out of the shower. He wanted to look exactly as she remembered him, smooth chin and all. He knew if she woke up, she was going to be confused enough without him looking different too.

A sob suddenly caught in his throat. If? Had he just said if? He had been fighting the thought back for an entire week. He knew logically it was a dangerous possibility, but until now he had kept himself convinced that she would wake up at some point. Sure, he had shed plenty of worried tears during the week, but they had been different worries. Worry that she might be in pain. Worry that wherever she was, that she was scared. Worry that when she woke, that there may be some unknown damage; that she might be injured or changed somehow by the experience. While he and Hopper hadn't discussed it, the presence of the blindfold around her neck when they found her was a clear sign that whatever happened was related to her powers. He had spent many hours worrying over what that could mean. In all that time, though, he had never let himself contemplate the idea that she might not wake at all.

Not aware of how or when it happened, Mike found himself kneeling on the floor of the shower, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the hot drops pouring down from above. His breath came in short sobbing gasps as he thought of life without her. Losing her the first time had nearly killed him. The only thing that kept him holding on that year was the distinct possibility she was still alive and safe somewhere and that she would find her way back to him. This was different. If she left him like this, there would be no hope; no chance of her coming back.

Eventually, his tears began to subside and his breathing slowed once more. He lifted his head and let the rapidly cooling water stream down over his face. He had a new resolve in his heart. She promised he wouldn't lose her again, and she kept her promises. He had promised her he would keep her safe and he intended to keep it. No power on Earth or anywhere else was going to pull them apart again.

He shut off the water and stepped out as Nancy tapped on the door to let him know dinner would be in twenty minutes. After making quick work of the stubble on his chin and scrubbing the coffee residue off his teeth, he dressed and went back into his room to repack the bag Nancy had brought him days before. He tossed the old cloths, stinking of the hospital, into the laundry and gathered two clean outfits. While he was due to be back at home the day after tomorrow, he wanted to have a spare just in case he stayed an extra night. While he was certain Hopper neither cared or even noticed whether he was showering at the hospital, Mike was determined that when Eleven woke up, she was going to be greeted by the clean, smiling face of the boy she loved and not the disheveled stinking mess he had been an hour earlier.

Everything repacked, he set the backpack next to his bedroom door and headed down the dinner. Nancy had already agreed to take him back over to the hospital as soon as breakfast was done in the morning, and he intended to be ready. Sitting down at the table, he noted everyone else had already dished up and started on the meatloaf and potatoes. It wasn't his favorite dinner, but in light of his newfound resolve, he realized for the first time in days he was actually hungry and dished up a thick slice of the steaming loaf and a generous scoop of potatoes. He didn't know how long this euphoria would last, but he intended to appreciate the emotional respite.

Karen Wheeler looked across the table with concern at her son. She had been dismayed at his appearance when he returned home earlier. He had been so lost in a daze as he stumbled through the front door he hadn't even noticed her greet him from the living room. A shower and fresh clothes seemed to have revived him, but he still had a look as though he could crumble again at any moment. She prayed things remained stable through dinner and then she could talk with him to find out how he was really doing. Just then, the phone rang in the kitchen and Mike practically leapt out of his chair, his fork clattering down onto the plate as he dropped it.

Karen shot him a nervous look and stood, saying "I'll get it. You keep eating."

She walked into the other room and answered. Mike sat on the edge of his seat, scarcely breathing as he listened to figure out who was calling, terrified it would be Hopper with bad news. He let out a strangled sigh of relief when he heard his mom say "Oh hi, Pam." It was just one of her friends, calling to gossip once again.

Mike had only just picked up his fork again to continue on his dinner, barely touched so far, when his dad looked up from his own plate, noticing his son at the table for the first time.

"Mike, nice of you to finally join us. Feels like you haven't been home for dinner in days. Been spending all summer inside with your friends playing that dragon game again?"

Mike just stared at his dad in disbelief. He turned and looked questioning at Nancy who just rolled her eyes at their father's self-absorbed cluelessness. She had explained to their parents what was happening that very first night after she and Jonathan had visited. Mike looked back at Ted once more, 15 years of indifference boiling to the surface, fueled by the raging fire the last week had left him in.

"You feel like you haven't seen me in days? But your not sure? Try a week. I haven't been here in a week. And you haven't even noticed I was gone?"

Ted looked back up from his plate in shock; Mike was never one to raise his voice and talk back like that. There had been that brief period a year ago when he started to get rebellious, but that phase had passed quickly.

"And do you want to know where I've been? I know Nancy already told you once but clearly you didn't care enough to listen. No, I wasn't hanging out with my friends 'playing that dragon game.' I've spent the last week sleeping at the hospital because my girlfriend is in a coma. I'd think that would be something interesting enough to catch your attention for 30 seconds, but apparently not."

Failing to recognize the ticking time bomb sitting across the dinner table, Ted asked, "Since when do you have a girlfriend? I didn't think you even knew how to talk to a girl. Why haven't we ever met her?"

Nancy got up from the table then and, taking her sister's hand, guided Holly into the kitchen. She knew the situation was about to turn ugly and as much as she wanted to step in and diffuse it, she knew it had been a long time coming and was something Mike needed. She had watched him fall apart for a year when Eleven went away the first time and knew this week had been a repeat of that hell. For their uncomprehending father not to notice what was happening was amazing.

Mike was in a simmering rage. "Are you blind? My girlfriend Jane. Jane Hopper. The girl who has spent almost every weekend here for the last year."

"Hopper? The Chief's daughter? You're telling me your dating that drunk's kid? No wonder she's in the hospital, kid's probably on drugs. Like father, like daughter," he chuckled to himself.

Mike stormed to his feet at the insinuation, sending his chair flying behind him. Slamming his hands on the table, he leaned across, getting right in his father's face.

"You think you're some kind of father of the year? You weren't even sure if you've seen me in the last week. You've had no clue that I've had a girlfriend for the last year. You know what will blow your mind even more? The chief adopted her to get her away from a bad situation. Want to know where she came from? Remember that Russian girl you were so certain I couldn't possibly have been involved with three years ago?"

He paused, letting Ted recall the surprise visit from people he thought were FBI agents. Continuing in a mocking imitation of his father, "Because how could nerdy Mike Wheeler possibly be associating with a girl. Well guess what, that's her. Yeah, that's right. The girl who's sketch you still have hung above the phone, right next to the number for those FBI agents, has been parading in and out of this house for the last year and you've had no fucking clue."

He took a few deep breaths, letting the shock settle in on Ted's face before diving in once more. "Ready for another shock? Despite how much you may think you know exactly what happens around here, she really did live in the basement, right under your nose for a week and you never had a damn clue. A Russian spy hiding out in Ted Wheeler's basement."

Ted was about to offer a reply but Mike just kept on going. "Oh, and I haven't even gotten to the best part yet. She's not Russian, and those agents that came by, they're not really FBI. She's from right here in Indiana, born and raised. She was kidnapped as a newborn by the psychotic son of a bitch running the Hawkins lab. That's where she was raised, like some kind of caged lab rat, trained up to be a weapon. All sanctioned the country you're so proud to declare yourself a patriot for."

Drawn by the sounds of Mike's raised voice, and noticing that Nancy and Holly had retreated to the kitchen, Karen had rushed back into the dining room but stood on the sidelines, letting her boy speak his mind. She knew it was something that had been building for a while. It astonished her sometimes how clueless Ted could be when it came to his own children and the things that went on under his roof. She had been almost certain that the supposed Russian spy and Jane Hopper were one in the same, the first time Mike had brought her over for one of the Sunday board game sessions with all his friends. Of course, she knew that if she was right, no good could come from pointing it out so she had held her tongue. She had never liked the fact that Ted so readily let those agents into their home to rummage through their belongings and eavesdrop on their private calls. In silent protest of the phone taps, she had taken it on herself to tie up the line every possible minute with the most mind-numbing conversations possible. She had made friends with every gossip in town she could, as her own silent revenge against whatever poor government agent had to sit and document all that was said across the line.

Mike stood there, face red, sweat beading across his forehead. He stared hard into his father's eyes, refusing to break contact, daring him to say one single word. "The people in that lab took a little girl, cut her off from virtually all human contact. Poked and prodded and starved and beat and tortured her. Against all odds, and at the risk of her own life, she managed to escape. After they almost caught her at the school, she had to go into hiding. She couldn't stay here anymore, you saw to that. So she had to live out in the woods like some kind of animal. In the winter. Living on squirrels and whatever else she could catch. All to keep safe from the people trying to drag her back to the lab and throw her in a cage. Now, it turns out, some of those people are still out there, still hunting for her."

Mike could feel his anger giving way to something else and knew he was on the verge of breaking down again, but he had to finish what he intended to say; the chance might not present itself again. "And for your information, she not on any drugs and neither is Chief Hopper. Her toxicology screens all came back clean. So has every brain scan the doctors can come up with. Their all stumped as to what's going on. The girl I love is lying in a hospital bed, with machines doing most of her breathing for her, and no one has a damn clue why and my own father is going to sit there and try and throw out his two cents about someone he doesn't even know?"

Storming out of the room, he ran back up to his bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time. For a brief instant, he moved to slam the door behind him. Instead, he grabbed his bag and started back down the stairs, going for the front door. He couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in this house tonight. He halted as he passed the dining room and leveled one more cold, threatening glare at his father.

"You are not going to breath a word of what I just said to anyone. Not one single word. If someone finds where she is, or who she is…" he trailed off, leaving his father's imagination to fill in the rest of the threat.

He turned and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him and knocking several pictures on the hallway table to the ground.

"Once again, top notch parenting, Ted," Karen said disgustedly. She turned and walked back into the kitchen, leaving Ted to ponder his meatloaf in silence.

After marching across town for more than an hour, Mike arrived back at the hospital and made his way back up to Eleven's room. Hopper looked up in confusion as he walked in.

"I thought you were sleeping at home. I told you I'd call if there was any change." As Mike stepped out of the hallway and into the dim light of the room, he could clearly see Mike had been crying and was barely holding it together. "What happened?" he asked, in much gentler tone. Hopper stood and walked over to Mike, catching him in one arm and pulling him close as the boy dissolved into sobs once more.

Mike explained the dinner blowup and confessed that he spilled everything to his father in a fit of rage. Initially, Hopper was mad that Mike spilled the secret, knowing that the more people who knew the truth, the more dangerous it was. He held it back because he could see how hurt Mike was. "I'm sorry kid."

Recovering a bit, Mike resumed his place at Eleven's side, taking her hand in his, soaking in the comforting warmth of her fingers intertwined with his own. Looking up at Hopper once more, Mike quietly apologized, "I'm sorry I told him. And I'm sorry he said those things about you."

Giving into the exhaustion of the day, Mike put a second hand gently on Eleven's and laid his head down on his arm. "You're a better father than my dad could ever hope to be."

Hopper just stared, his heart melting just a little as he realized the double meaning behind what Mike had said. As he gave in to his own exhaustion and closed his eyes, he decided it was probably fine that Ted knew. Nancy already knew, Karen wouldn't want to put her son in danger and Ted was…..well Ted was just Ted. Who would he tell?