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"Owner of a Lonely Heart"

Prove yourself

You are the move you make

- Yes

Mike and Eleven drew apart. Tearfully, Mike told her, "I never gave up on you. I called you every night. Every night for—"

"Three hundred and fifty-three days," she finished. "I heard."

"Why didn't you tell me you were there? That you were okay?"

"Because I wouldn't let her," Hopper said.

Mike turned to look at him, but Hopper only had eyes for his girl. Who he loved. How much he hadn't known until now that she was suddenly here in front of him. He moved toward her. "The hell is this? Where you been?"

"Where've you been?" she shot back.

He put his arm around her, pulling her close, pressing his face against her hair, which was slicked back with some kind of gel. It looked … nice. Better.

Behind him, Mike realized what was going on. "You've been hiding her. You've been hiding her this whole time!" He slammed himself against Hopper's shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Hopper grabbed the kid's shirt. "Let's talk. Alone." He didn't want this conversation to go on in front of Eleven. Or Joyce. He felt bad about what Eleven's loss had done to the kid, but he didn't like the uneasy guilt, and was irritated because he'd known he was screwing up and he'd done it anyway.

He pushed Will's door open, ushering Mike in ahead of him, not gently. "I was protecting her," he hissed.

"Protecting her. Protecting her!" Mike repeated.

"Listen to me. Listen to me." Hopper closed the door. "The more people who know about her, the more danger she's in. And the more danger you and your family are in."

"Oh, what, so I should be thanking you, then?"

"I'm not asking you to thank me. I'm asking you to try to understand."

"I don't!" Mike shouted at him. "I don't understand!"

"That's fine, that's fine! Just do not blame her. All right? She's upset enough as it is."

"I don't blame her, I blame you!" Mike's words were slurring together now, his self-control cracking. "I blame you!"

"That's okay, kid. That's okay."

He started to turn away, but Mike jabbed a skinny finger at him. "NO! Nothing about this is okay! Nothing about this is okay!" He threw himself at Hopper, punching him in the gut. It was a weak punch, compared to what Hopper was used to, but it was unexpected and winded him a little. Mike followed the first punch up with a flurry of them, half-shouting, half-crying. "Piece of shit! Liar! Liar!"

Hopper held him off as gently as he could, not wanting to hurt the kid, not wanting the kid to hurt himself, seeing now for the first time exactly what it had cost Mike to be missing her all this time. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

At last Mike broke down completely, his head against Hopper's chest as he wept out the fear and anger and confusion and grief of the past year, and Hopper held him and wished that he could have found it in himself to make it easier on the kid, even a little bit.

"You're okay, kid. You're okay," he said into Mike's hair. "Sorry, kid."

When Hopper and Mike had disappeared to have their heart-to-heart, Eleven and the other boys greeted one another with a group hug.

Joyce watched them, so glad to see this strange girl who had saved Will's life, so glad that she was okay. So that was what had been wrong with Hopper all year, why he had been so secretive. She should have guessed, she thought. But they had all been so sure Eleven was in the Upside Down, or just—gone.

Something odd happened between Eleven and the new girl, Max, and then Eleven was stalking past Max's outstretched hand and straight into Joyce's arms. She held the girl close. "Hey. Hey, sweetheart. Hey." With her hands on either side of Eleven's face, she looked into her eyes. The past year had been good for her; Hopper had taken good care of her. Joyce had wondered what kind of father he had been—she was glad he'd had this second chance, and done well.

"Can I see him?" Eleven asked.

They went together into the room where Will lay, so pale and still. "He's—he's not doing well," Joyce said.

Eleven rested her hands on the edge of the bed. "I know. I saw."

"What else did you see?"

Silently, Eleven led her to the kitchen, where the message Will had been able to tap out for them lay, staring up at them.

CLOSE GATE.

Joyce realized what it must mean to Eleven, this message. "You opened this gate before. Right?"

"Yes."

Hesitantly, knowing she was asking a lot, fairly sure she was asking too much, Joyce said, "Do you think if we got you back there that you could close it?"

There was a pause. Joyce had forgotten the impact Eleven's silence, her long thoughts, could have. At last she said, "Yes."

Joyce wondered if she meant "yes, I can", or if she meant "yes, I have to". No one else could, that much was certain. But could they send Eleven to do what an entire lab full of people couldn't? Even if she had opened the gate to begin with, it had been smaller then. As much as Joyce wanted her son safe, she wasn't sure she could bear to lose Eleven again, either.

She put her hand on the girl's sleeve. "Eleven." She didn't know what she wanted to say.

But Eleven understood. "Yes," she said again, with more certainty this time. "Yes, I can."

And Joyce accepted that, because she had to. Because none of them had any other choice.