Five Demons

He was leaning back against the door, arms behind him as he still held the handle. His expression told her he hadn't been expecting this—hadn't been expecting her—but his hawk-like eyes sliced into her all the same.

He took in her changed appearance: her dirty blonde hair, given its volume by the number of tangles it held; her thin face, cheeks hollow under protruding cheekbones and jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds. She looked a little like an alien this far underweight, Jane knew. She kind of wished she'd saved her crazy stalking episode for a few weeks down the track. She didn't want Mike to see her like this—not this bad. Neither Dustin nor Steve had directly commented, but she'd seen herself in the mirror; she was a freaky-looking version of the Jane that used to be.

His eyes travelled over the rest of her and then back up to her face.

For another long—seemingly endless—minute, they stared at each other, both paralysed by shock.

Mike recovered first, although his voice wavered. "You're in Hawkins."

Still unable to speak, Jane nodded.

Her lack of explanation annoyed him, and his eyes darkened. "What are you doing here, El? Because if you think this is like 1989 and you don't have to explain yourself to me, I swear to God, I'll call the cops right now."

"Dustin broke me out," she nearly whispered.

"Dustin?" He took a step away from the door, appalled. "You've pulled him into your mess now?"

Jane countered his advance with a retreat, receding further into the room. "I didn't even know he was looking for me until last night," she said carefully.

"Yeah?" There wasn't a trace of believing her in his tone. "He just appeared out of thin air and bundled you away to safety, did he?"

"Yes."

His contempt was so thick that his response was almost a sneer. "Sure, he did."

Jane didn't think she had the capacity to fight with him anymore, but she was telling the truth. "I didn't know!"

At the exclamation, some of Mike's venom subsided. "Yeah, well…" He looked like he really wanted to yell at her some more, but his next words were a tired admission. "That makes two of us."

What had happened in her years away? Jane understood Dustin not telling Mike about this—about her—but from the way he'd been talking last night, it was like the boys didn't even talk to each other anymore. She'd actually started to wonder if Lucas' family was one of the ones that had moved out of town until she saw his mother earlier on the street.

Jane licked her lips and leapt at her chance to explain—what she could, at least. "Steve found some evidence at the station. We think maybe it connects my arrest and some dodgy politics—"

"Your arrest?" Mike echoed, not so much angry now as provoked. "You mean Hop's murder? You mean that time they found you standing over him with a gun in your hand? How about that time you told me you weren't sorry?"

"Mike…" Jane opened her mouth, wishing she could give him a full explanation but knowing it was too soon.

"What, El?" he demanded. "What could you possibly say?"

She wavered. "It's…"

He shook his head, holding his hand up like he was ready to flatten her justification before it was even out of her mouth. "I swear to God, if you say 'it's complicated'—"

"There's a lot you don't know!" she insisted desperately. "Some of it, I'm still figuring out..."

He nodded, talking over her, his voice remote. "Well, you figure it out, El, and fast. Because it won't be long before they track you down and put you back where you belong."

His words felt like a slap and without thinking about it, she erased the distance between them, staring up into his eyes. "Is there no part of you that thinks maybe something's changed, given that I'm here now trying to clear my name?"

At first, he seemed thrown by her question and their sudden proximity, his gaze exploring her closely for the first time in forever; her lips, the two tiny moles on her left cheek, the slope of her neck. When he finally returned to her eyes—he'd used to get lost in her bright, cognac eyes—he seemed to remember how uncaring they'd been the last time he stared into them.

"Something's definitely changed," he agreed, so softly it was almost a whisper.

He didn't elaborate, but Jane knew from his expressionless face what he meant:

I don't love you.

I don't trust you.

You should've stayed locked up.

Murderer.

Cheater.

She felt her heart screwing up inside her chest. She wanted to push that last one to the back of her mind, yet another deep, dark memory she kept locked in her inner vault of shame.

He didn't understand.

That didn't make it better, she knew, but there was more to the story. There was always more.

How had 1989 been the best and worst year of her life? And with her fucked up childhood, that was saying something.

His eyes were a desolate wasteland as she stared up into them. They were still standing so close, his familiar scent filling up her lungs and washing over her like the cool, revitalising spray of the sea, but he had never felt so far away. He'd been angry the last time she'd seen him, for sure, but it had been borne of heartbreak—absolute, total heartbreak.

He'd asked her as a child, "What is wrong with you?"

He'd asked her again on that night she couldn't bear thinking about.

Frozen in this moment now together, Jane could tell he was remembering it, too.

What is wrong with you?!" He was enraged. He threw the closest thing in his reach—a stack of textbooks—across the room, shaking he was so angry. But he was also crying. "How could you?"

She stood in the corner, feeling smaller than she'd ever felt but wanting to be even smaller. She knew the likelihood of childhood sweethearts working out was slim. That was an understatement. But Mike was Mike. They were El and Mike. It was different.

They'd been each other's first everything. They'd planned to be each other's last. She couldn't describe to him how much she still wanted that—it was indescribable. It was everything.

But now she had something he didn't; she'd taken something from him that she could never give back. She was his one and only.

Now, he was just…one.

She let him rage and scream and cry, not knowing what to say. There was nothing to say. It hadn't been a mistake or a misunderstanding. It had just happened. It just was. How could she even begin to explain? She just stood there, silent, head slightly bowed. Only once did he touch her.

He shook her, sobbing. "Look at me! Why aren't you looking at me?! El?!"

The sobs took hold of him and his whole body quaked as he fell to his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nestling his head against her stomach. He was done yelling. He was at a loss. He cried into her woolly sweater.

"How could you do this to me?"

How could she?

Jane had wondered that so many times after she was first shipped off. Maybe she'd made a mistake at the Park? Maybe she and Mike could have figured it out together? But, in the end, that was too much maybe.

She didn't deserve to miss him. She did this to him. Eventually, she forced herself to stop, because missing him just fed into her self-doubt, and she realised quickly enough that nothing could be done for her—the bars were a necessity and she was never leaving Central State. But there was no reason on Earth strong enough to justify dragging him down with her.

She hadn't been lying to Welling; she really had stopped missing Mike. She'd reached a point of giving up on a lot of things; herself, mostly. She was a lost cause and she was doing everyone she loved a favour by letting them forget about her and move on with their lives. She could just be a shell now. No reason to ruin the memory of a girl who'd once loved so strongly and been loved. Now, she could just fade away.

It was crazy how that had only been yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago. It was amazing how much a little hope could change.

Maybe she'd spent so long believing it was better to give up and feel nothing because she'd seen other patients languish in misery and despair, the hopelessness driving them even more insane than they already were.

Not her, though. Not now. She wasn't insane. Despite everything, she knew she wasn't. That, she was determined to believe. And, more than ever, that, she was desperate to prove. And her main reason for it was glowering at her right now like he had no idea who she was and didn't want to know.

Maybe he didn't.

But he would. Everyone would.

Because she had to know. For herself. For Joyce. For Hopper.

She took a nervous step toward him, which wasn't really possible considering how close they already stood. Mike's face clouded with distrust and he moved backwards instinctively, missing the door and hitting the wall beside it.

Jane took his hand as she stood almost flush against him and met his eyes, trying to ignore the glacial stare reflected back at her and the pain it caused her. She deserved it.

"I'm going to fix this, Mike."

His face contorted in sudden outrage, and she knew along the lines of what he was going to say.

Sometimes something so broken can never be fixed.

She pressed a finger to his mouth, determined to get this out. "Shhh. Please."

His eyebrows pulled together, looking halfway between furious and like he was terrified she was going to hurt him. Not physically, of course, but if history had taught him anything, it was not to place trust in her intentions.

Even though it broke her heart to see, Jane understood what he must be feeling. She'd never acted like a regular human on her best days, but toward the end especially, he hadn't been able to get a handle on her. Her temper alone had fluctuated like the brainwave activity of a grand mal epileptic. Did she love him? Did she not? Would she talk to him? Would she not? Was she lying to him? Again?

Hadn't she already hurt him enough?

How could she just turn up out of the blue like this and say something that was almost guaranteed to end in a blaze of fire on both their hearts?

He only wanted to protect his.

Jane's eyes saddened, her voice gentle as she told him, "I know I can't change the past and I know it seems right now like I could never do anything to make it better. I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness, Mike, but if there's even a shred of faith in me left inside you, you won't tell anyone that I'm here." Her gaze drifted to her finger, still pressed against his lips. His slightly parted, perfect lips. She felt her melancholy deepen. "When this is over, I don't expect anything from you. Really, I don't. How could I? But…"

His entire body went rigid as she leaned up, moving her hand around to the back of his neck and pulling him down to her, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. Even when it was over, she delayed pulling away, instead treasuring every tiny detail about being so close to him again. His hair brushed the side of her face, the delicate skin of their temples touching; their breaths mingled. Their mouths were so close, just a tiny head-turn away. She could almost taste him again…

He pulled away, looking betrayed. How dare she? How dare she try to make him feel again when he'd spent four years hating himself for doing just that? Wanting to believe in her. Four years, wanting more than anything for everything that had happened—everything she'd done—to somehow be a massive misunderstanding. He'd never stopped. He couldn't. But the difference between 1989 and now?

The wanting didn't accomplish the believing.

"What are you doing?" he murmured throatily, the wariness and doubt and confusion all etched into his face. He withdrew his hand from hers, holding both of his up by his shoulders, as if in surrender.

Don't shoot, the gesture said. Don't hurt me.

But it also said, Get off.

I can't be touched by you right now.

Another moment of staring at him sadly, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and cup his cheek, Jane eased away, far enough that he didn't have to press against the wall anymore trying to get away from her.

He straightened, fixing his tie and his sweater, obviously trying to shake it off.

He'd learned to dress well in her absence; navy tie, pastel blue dress shirt, navy sweater with white buttons, grey trousers, and all brought together with coordinated tan leather shoes, belt, and watchband.

"I won't tell the police you're here," he said slowly.

Jane braced herself, knowing there was a 'but' coming.

"But the time of our lives where you knew me—that's over. Do you understand?"

"Better than you could possibly know," she whispered.

His guard faltered as he absorbed her words, but he seemed determined not to dwell on them. "Good."

"Can I just say one more thing?" she requested, surprised at how unabashedly pleading she sounded.

He noticed it too, but simply nodded. Once. Sternly. As if to punctuate that it really could only be one.

Jane took a deep breath. "I think they were trying to isolate me. I don't know why yet, or whom exactly, but I think they needed to isolate me to get whatever it was they wanted from me."

It was a new thought—one she hadn't even mentioned to Dustin or Steve yet—but it had been eating at her as a possibility since her shower earlier. Why else would they go to all the trouble of removing her from society? Why couldn't she have just stayed in Hawkins, continuing therapy with Ford? What was so important that Hopper had to die?

Jane still didn't know exactly what they'd done to her. She wasn't even sure if she was thinking about this the right way. She couldn't actually remember being instructed to do anything. But at the same time, what she did remember seemed wrong.

Remembering her first real conversation about the blizzard had given her the idea. She'd never questioned Ford's intentions before the transcripts; not his methods, not anything. He'd been a father figure. She'd trusted him. Hell, she'd trusted him enough that his putting his hand on hers when it was on her thigh hadn't shaken her. She hadn't even blinked. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she hadn't even noticed. So what if there were other things she hadn't noticed?

It seemed a stretch that she wouldn't remember being told to lead a murderer to her father but what if it wasn't? Something like hypnosis seemed so much more feasible to her than that she'd temporarily snapped, led a man with no face to her father, watched him gun him down, then, overwhelmed by guilt and grief, taken responsibility for the murder. Well, she didn't doubt the guilt and grief part, but now that she really thought about it, head clearer than it had been in years, she'd never questioned why she was feeling guilty. She'd led the man to her father, knowing he was holding a gun; why wouldn't she feel guilty? It was her fault. But why did she do that? Why? It wasn't something she'd ever so much as considered before, which subsequently led Jane to ask:

Why. THE FUCK. Was that?!

Hopefully tonight would shine some light on that, if she and Steve found anything, but as things were now, Jane had to go off what, without evidence, was little more than a hunch, no matter which way she sliced it.

For a second, Mike looked like he might rebuke her for trying to pass blame, but then he considered what she said… And still found it equally infuriating.

"Why would they want you alone so badly they'd make you kill your father?" he demanded, and when he said it out loud, Jane realised it did sound pretty crazy.

Okay, really crazy. But not, unfortunately, as crazy as did his next question.

"And even if I could understand that, do you honestly expect me to believe that someone else told you to screw Scott Keegan at the Tigers' rally? Why the fuck would they care if you screwed Scott Keegan?!"

A legitimate question. And, in all fairness to his blazing fury, Jane did not know the answer. But it had worked. She'd slept with the former Tiger in the teacher's lounge when he turned up to show his support for his younger brother's team, effectively shattering Mike's trust when he came looking for her. And even though there was a brief window between that night and their conversation at the Park wherein Mike had tried to see past it, it wasn't something that could be undone.

But it was the same thing again. Why had she done that? She loved Mike and she barely knew Scott Keegan. He was a decent enough guy once you got past the jock exterior, but as if she would've thrown away all the years of devotion and laughter and incredible sex she had with Mike for a quick, sweaty fumble on the coffee counter with a 'decent enough guy.'

As if.

"Clearly they saw you as as much of an obstruction for them as Dad," she finally answered in a low voice. "They needed you out of the way."

"Oh! Is that what they needed?" The fake sudden comprehension was a bit much. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was the lucky one in all this!"

Jane refrained from rolling her eyes—it would be a bit insensitive, to be fair—and went to interrupt him, but Mike wasn't finished.

"Good thing you're explaining this to me now," he cracked on. "All this time, I thought the girl I loved inhumanly ripped my heart to pieces, but now I get it. Hop gets shot between the eyes and all I had to do was watch you rutting back against the sugar packets!"

Jane swallowed a lump in her throat as he sucked in air hard. She dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling his burn against her face.

She cleared her throat. "I'm not saying any of that," she finally said. "You have no idea how sorry I am for that night. I've never wanted anyone else, Mike. Thinking about him just makes me feel sick—"

He cut her off. "About four years too late, El."

She sighed. "I know."

She scrubbed a hand through her hair. It hurt. Damn, it was knotted. Her eyes stung, suddenly gleaming with tears. Mike didn't seem to realise their actual root cause but, with the number of times she'd cried over him, Jane didn't think it was exactly a lie to keep him in the dark.

"Listen to me," she implored solemnly. "I know we're not us anymore. I know I don't know you. I don't know what your life is like now or if you have someone new, but I'm here now because four years ago, a girl who looked like me loved you and she did a hell of a job convincing you she didn't." She shrugged. "All I want to do is find the people responsible."

"You really think they did this to you," he realised out loud, and Jane wondered if he was wondering if she was honestly insane.

She nodded earnestly. "And I think I'm starting to understand why."

"They wanted something from you?" he murmured, echoing her words from before. His eyes met hers. "Did they get it yet?"

Jane shook her head, offering a vague, ignorant kind of shrug. "I don't know." She bit her lip. "But I'm here now."

"You are here now," he agreed, his voice sounding far away.

Jane sunk back against the low bookcase beside her, feeling exhausted. She'd fantasised about her reunion with Mike so many times. Except in her fantasies, somehow everything had turned out all right, Hopper wasn't really dead, and she and Mike had shamelessly loud and passionate sex against every wall and on every flat surface in his house. Of course, the longer she was in that nuthouse, plied out of her mind with meds and not nearly enough food to even think about physical exertion, the fantasies had become few and far between. In those early days, though... Jane almost sighed aloud contentedly. Absolute filth.

Completely unaware as to where her thoughts had wandered, Mike hung his head, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets and scuffing the floor with his shoe. He looked up again, mouth pinched downward ruefully.

"I've never fought with anyone the way I fight with you," he murmured.

He wasn't yelling at her now. He wasn't treating her like a stranger or telling her to get out of his sight or being cold. Jane didn't know what he was being. She wondered if he did.

All she knew as they both stood there silently in that office, gazes wandering from each other and into dust-covered memories of pain and doubt, was that the oceans were still there between them. She wondered if they'd ever part.

AN:

Okay, guys, it's the reunion you've all been waiting for. Please review and let me know where you think/hope Mike and El will go from here. There's still a lot that needs explaining and even more that needs proving, but I really hope this angsty hello holds up against your expectations. To those of you who have already shared your thoughts with me (shout out to you, ThisisMel - love you, girl!), thank you so much for making me glad I uploaded in the first place. I hope the reunion didn't let you down. See you guys with another update hopefully tomorrow, if everyone likes this one. You've got to let me know. -Inara x