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"Bridge Over Troubled Water"

I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes

And pain is all around

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down

- Simon and Garfunkel

Hopper and Jonathan did the heavy lifting, moving bags of de-icing salt from storage onto a cart, while the others got the kiddie pool set up. Hopper tried not to think of what a long day it had already been and how much longer it was going to be, and how much he'd like a cigarette and a beer and a hot shower.

"Wait," Jonathan said, catching one of the bags. "It's not going to snow next week, is it?"

"Worst case, no school."

"Even if you find Will in there, what are we gonna do about that thing?"

Hopper had kind of hoped the question would be another softball. At least he had an answer to this one, if not the answer. "We're not gonna do anything. I don't want you anywhere near this, all right? Your mom's been through enough already." It was bad enough Joyce had almost certainly already lost one son. She wasn't losing both of them, not if Jim Hopper had anything to say about it.

"He's my brother!"

"Listen to me." Hopper grasped the kid's shoulder, holding on. "I'm gonna find him. All right? You gotta trust me on this. I am going to find him." He let go, hoping he had been convincing. It was hard to do when you were pretty damned sure you were lying. But if someone was going to find Joyce's son dead, or not find him at all, it was going to be him so he could be the one to deliver the news, so he could be there to catch her.

Angry at having to lie, at the whole situation, he threw the next bag pretty hard, so that Jonathan staggered as he caught it.

"I can help," the kid muttered.

"Yeah, I know you can. But if you come help and something happens to you, who's going to be with your mom? Who's going to help her through it? I can do what I can, but she needs you. She depends on you, she loves you, she trusts you. The two of you, you're a unit, taking care of Will, and I see the way you take care of her, too. I am not going to be part of putting you in danger when losing you means Joyce loses herself, too." He caught himself, breathing hard after the speech, looking uncomfortably away from Jonathan's entirely too perceptive eyes. He hadn't meant to say anywhere near that much, to reveal how much Joyce and what she stood for, the past history they shared, meant to him.

After a few more bags, Jonathan said quietly, "Hopper."

"Yeah."

"I … heard. About you. What happened to you. I'm … sorry."

Hopper vividly remembered his own teenage years, and he wasn't certain he'd have been capable of the genuine empathy he heard in Jonathan's voice. "Thanks, kid," he said gruffly. "So you believe me, then? When I tell you I'm going to find him."

"I believe you will … if it's possible." Jonathan was staring down at the bags of salt, and Hopper felt for him, for the way he had been dragged around. He had believed in the fake body, after all, and now he had some kind of hope, but the most fragile kind, impossible to trust.

Hopper didn't add any more false hope of his own. The kid had the facts down cold—Hopper would come through, if it was possible.

Joyce took Eleven into one the science classroom to let her rest while the others were filling the pool. The little girl was so silent, so watchful, but Joyce could see her thinking, learning, filling in the gaps of a life lived in a science lab. It hurt her to think of Terry Ives living a whole life without ever having seen this beautiful child; it hurt her to think that Eleven had a mother out there who loved her so much and probably knew nothing about her.

She put a hand on Eleven's shoulder and removed it immediately when the girl flinched. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Let's see, we have the water to float in, and we can keep it quiet, what else do we need?" She knew, but she waited for the answer.

"Dark."

"Right, you need darkness. What do we have here?" Joyce looked around and in a cupboard she found a pair of safety goggles and some black electrical tape. She sat down facing Eleven, covering the goggles thoroughly with the tape. "This will keep it dark for you. Just like in your bathtub." She put the goggles down, unnerved by the stillness, by the quiet willingness to put herself in a situation that must be at the very least uncomfortable, if not actually dangerous, for someone she had never met. "You're a very brave girl," she told Eleven, wanting her to know that what she was doing was exceptional. Extraordinary. "You know that, don't you?"

Eleven looked away, uncomfortable with the praise.

"Everything you're doing, for my boy, for Will … for my family. Thank you."

There were tears slowly gathering in the big brown eyes that looked back at her so seriously, and Joyce reached for Eleven's hands, holding them in hers.

"Listen," Joyce said, "I am going to be there with you the whole time. And if it ever gets too scary, in that … place, you just let me know. Okay?"

"Yes."

Joyce wished it didn't have to be this way, that this child didn't have to put herself in harm's way, but there was no getting around it. "Ready?"

Eleven drew herself up, gathering some inner strength. "Ready."

"Okay." Keeping Eleven's hand in hers, Joyce got to her feet. The girl clung to her hand until they reached the door of the classroom, when she let go and walked on ahead. Watching her, Joyce couldn't help remembering Will and Jonathan as very small boys, the way they would hold her hand until just before their friends could see them and then break away, marching forward by themselves. She hoped she had the chance to watch Eleven continue to grow as she had them—the way she had started off, she was going to be quite the young lady some day.

At last the pool was ready. Eleven took off her socks and the watch she wore, which looked like Mike's, and took the goggles from Joyce, stepping into the pool. She sank down, the smocked dress ballooning up around her.

Almost immediately the lights flickered. The rest of them clung to the edges of the pool, watching as Eleven floated, there in front of them in body but in mind somewhere else, somewhere far away.

"Barb," she whispered. "Barbara?"

Next to Joyce, Nancy tensed, rising up on her knees. In the pool, Eleven shuddered, the lights dimming around them.

"What's going on?" Nancy asked.

"I don't know," Mike answered, his eyes fixed on Eleven's frightened face.

"Is Barb okay? Is she okay?"

"Gone," Eleven said tremulously. "Gone. Gone."

Nancy gasped, understanding what the word truly meant, her hand covering her mouth.

Eleven kept repeating "Gone" in more and more strident tones. Whatever had happened to Barb, Eleven was terrified. Joyce took her outstretched arm, pulling the little body close to her. On Eleven's other side, Hopper reached for her and held her hand. "It's okay," Joyce whispered. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. I'm right here. I'm right here, honey. It's okay. I got you. Don't be afraid. I'm right here with you. It's okay, you're safe." She kept talking repeating the comforting phrases, the ones she used on the boys in the middle of a nightmare or a crisis, until Eleven's breathing calmed.

"Castle Byers," she whispered. "Castle Byers."

Joyce looked anxiously at Jonathan. Will had to be there. Didn't he? He had to. He couldn't be gone.

Then, "Will?"

Gasping, Joyce's grip tightened on Eleven's hand. "You tell him, tell him I'm coming. Mom is coming."

Through the walkie-talkie, Will's voice came, clear but shaky. "Hurry," he said. "Hurry."

Joyce wanted to weep. Her baby was alive, but he needed her, now. She clenched her teeth against the tears. Someone else's baby needed her right this minute, and she was going to hold Eleven as long as it took. "Okay, listen, you tell him to stay where he is. We're coming. We're coming, okay? We're coming, honey!"

Eleven in the pool wasn't speaking, but through the walkie-talkie they could hear her crying in terror, and she sat up abruptly, yanking the goggles off her head. Joyce gathered her up, holding her close. "It's okay. I've got you. Oh, it's okay, I've got you, I've got you." Eleven clung to her, crying, and Joyce held her tight.