Wednesday, November 9, 1983. 11:42 p.m.

The first thing Mulder sees when he arrives at the reservoir is the shadow of four figures on bikes, caught in the headlights.

Well. Three figures on bikes. One standing.

He can hear them yelling from here.

A memory, suddenly. Riding his bike around Martha's Vineyard in the summer, Samantha running behind, his mother's calls to "slow down and play with your sister".

He doesn't want to think about Samantha right now. About missing girls and missing boys and the body they're pulling out of the reservoir.

He can see it from here. Can see the shadow of the sheriff, the kids on bikes, everyone lit by the red flashing lights of the fire truck.

He hopes it isn't the girl. Barbara. If it's Barbara, Skinner will call and make them pack up, declare it a drowning and call it a night.

And Mulder knows there's something more going on here. Between what he overhead today at the library and the way the sheriff's acting.

And now these kids on bikes—not inherently suspicious, Mulder knows. But he also knows kids pay more attention to anything else around, especially if their friend is missing.

Their friend.

He hears swearing coming from one of the kids and watches as one of them tears off down the road on his bike, leaving the other two straddling bikes and one standing behind.

Shit. The body they pulled from the river isn't Barbara.

It's the kid. Will Byers.

Without thinking, Mulder tears off after the kid. Maybe he knows something—and if he's that close to Will, maybe he knows more than anyone thinks he will.

The lights are flashing when Scully and Nancy pull up, giving an eerie red glow to the surrounding trees, lighting them up like they're on fire.

And then the brakes squeal and Nancy screams as a figure is lit by their headlights.

"Mike?!" Nancy yells, and she's out of the car before Scully has even had time to process what's happening.
"Don't touch the kid!"

"Mulder?!" Scully yells, and then the four of them are standing, illuminated by two pairs of headlights.

"Scully?!"

"Nancy?" the boy says, and Scully gets a good look at him. He's about 12, maybe, with sharp cheekbones and dark eyes she knows will break some girl's heart someday.

Mulder looks between the two. "Wait. You know this kid?"

"He's my brother," Nancy says, and then turns to Mike. "What're you doing out here?"

Something in his face changes. Drops. Breaks, Scully thinks.

"They just found Will," he says, and then his voice cracks and his sister is gathering him into her arms as he cries.

They take the Wheeler children back to the motel, at Mike's staunch refusal to go home. Scully drives Mike and Mulder drives Nancy. She stares out the window the entire time. Mike fidgets with the radio. Scully can't bring herself to tell him to stop. The kid's just lost his best friend.

Mulder looks over at Nancy on the drive back.

"So how old are you?" he asks.

"Seventeen," she replies coolly.

Seventeen. An age his sister never got to see.

"Why?" she asks. She bites her cuticles.

Samantha did the same thing. Mulder has vivid memories of their mother painting Samantha's nails on Saturdays with bad-tasting polish so she wouldn't try to do the same thing.

"It's my job to know," he says.

"FBI?"

"Yes."

She folds her arms over her chest. "You're going to find Barb, right?"

Truth be told, finding the missing girl has been far from his mind. There are bigger things at stake in Hawkins. Nancy must sense that because she narrows her eyes. "You are going to find Barb?"

"Of course," he says. Then he looks over at her. "Hey. What do you know about the kid they found? Will Byers? His family?"

At the mention of the boy's family the tips of Nancy's ears turn red.

"They're just… I dunno. Dad split town awhile ago, I think? Will's nice, but you should ask Mike about him—they're friends. I can tell you Will's at our house every weekend playing Dungeons & Dragons and eating pepperoni pizza, but that's about it."

"And what about Barb?" he asks.

"Barb's my best friend," she says, and looks down at her hands. "And she's been missing for two days and it feels like no one cares. I mean, yeah. I love Will, and it sucks that he's missing, but I just… I want them both to be okay, you know?"

Mulder nods. "Yeah. I know."

Thursday, November 10. 12:27 a.m.

It begins raining by the time they pull up to the motel. Scully and Mulder and Nancy run to the safety of the awning, but Mike takes his time.

"Think his bike will be okay in the trunk?" Scully asks, and Mulder nods.

"Mike, come on!" Nancy yells, and he finally trudges up to the motel. Mulder opens the door to his room and ushers the four of them in.

"Call your parents," Scully says, sliding the motel phone towards Nancy. "Tell them you're with us, okay? We'll pay for a room if we have to."

"Not like they're going to care," Mike mutters, and Nancy shoots him a look.

Mike sits on the bed, glum look on his face. Then, without warning, he stands up and kicks a dresser.

"Mike!"

"It's fine," Mulder says, and sits back down on the bed. "So Nancy was telling me they found your friend?"

"It's not him," Mike says, with such conviction Mulder's eyes widen.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because it's not."

"Mike," Nancy says gently.

"No—you're not listening!" Mike says, and begins pacing around the room—much like Mulder, Scully thinks, when he's insistent on something. "That's not Will! El said she'd find him and she doesn't lie! Friends don't lie!"

"Wait—" Scully says, at the same time Nancy says "Who's El?"

Mike's face pales, and he sits on the bed, his fists clenched. Minutes pass. Then, Mulder goes and sits next to him. Scully stands by the door, arms folded. Nancy leans on the desk.

"Who's El?" Mulder asks gently.

"She's just—she's a friend, okay?"

"Mike you don't have any friends who are girls," Nancy says, and Mike sticks his tongue out at her.

"Seriously, who's El?" Mulder asks, nudging Mike with his shoulder.

"You can tell us," Scully says gently. Mike looks up at her, appraising, eyes narrowed.

"We're the good guys," Mulder says, making eye contact with Scully. She rolls her eyes.

The good guys. Yeah. More like the weird guys getting the cases no one wants. And they still haven't made any headway finding Barbara.

"El's this girl," he says. "We… we found her."

"You found her?" Nancy says, but Mulder holds up his hand.

"In the woods. My friends and I. We were… we were looking for Will. And we found her instead. In the woods. She doesn't speak much but she said her name is Eleven. And she… she slept in our basement. She said she knows how to find Will. She's got like, powers or something."

"Powers?" Mulder asks.

Scully hears the excitement in his voice.

"Mulder…"

"Hang on, Scully," Mulder says. She narrows her eyes at him.

"You don't believe this," she says, at the same time Nancy says, "Wait, she's been sleeping in our basement?!"

"Only for a couple nights!"

"Why didn't you tell mom?!"

"Hang on, hang on!" Mulder says, standing up and holding out his hands. He looks down at Mike.

"Where is El?"

"Mulder…"

"I… I don't know. She's with my friends. I kind of left them—shit," he swears. "I just left them back… back there."

"Well then, let's go get them," Mulder says, standing up, keys already in his hands.

"Now?" Nancy says.

"We have to keep El safe!" Mike insists.

"Mulder, wait," Scully says, and positions herself in front of the door. "It's late. It's midnight. It's been a long day for all of us and we can—we can talk to everyone in the morning, okay?"

"But—" Mulder and Mike say at the same time.

But one look from Nancy and Scully shuts them both up.

"We'll have better luck in the morning," Scully says. "Come on. Let's get a room for the kids and then we'll regroup then, okay?"

Mulder nods.

He hates when she's right.