CXXXVIII

As expected, the other Henry is furious. "My plan was to absorb your Eleven," he declares, confirming his suspicions, "but I'll have to settle for you."

Suddenly, both the creatures and the giant Mind Flayer lunge at him.

But the ground beneath his feet melts, liquefies, and as they are about to catch him, he finds himself transported to another dimension instead.

One that belongs neither to him nor to the other Henry.

This surprises him, at least partially; he was not sure it would work. Apparently, his gamble has paid off: this parallel dimension is more flexible than expected and doesn't seem to limit him.

Could he have returned to Eleven? Yes, of course. But he knows that, with Brenner dead—and thus, with no one to expose Eleven to Project Nina or its equivalent in their universe—the other Henry won't risk his resources to absorb a powerless Eleven.

He wouldn't, after all.

Consequently, his best strategy is to hide and wait for the right moment.

Resolute, he then observes his surroundings.

Everything around him is desolation: abandoned buildings, withered flowers and trees, and scrap metal scattered everywhere.

This is hardly encouraging, of course, but…

How bad can it be compared to what I left behind?

Though bleak, the landscape feels like a blank canvas: a place to regroup and plan his next steps. The dry air brushes painfully against his skin, but it does not stop him. Exhausted, wounded, and—now he notices—hungry, Henry sets out to explore, once again, a world that is not his own.


Two hours after Henry's disappearance

When Eleven opens her eyes, the ceiling above her is not the same as that of the Creel mansion.

Suddenly, everything comes rushing back to her. She bolts upright, but delicate hands grip her shoulders and force her to stay down.

"Jane." Joyce's voice reaches her in a whisper. "Don't rush; you need to rest."

She turns her head, squinting to focus on Joyce. "Joyce, where is Henry?"

The woman opens her mouth but closes it again. "He… didn't come with us."

Her heart skips a beat. If she had held on to any hope that this might be a dream…

Joyce pulls her into her arms.

"I must… I must go find him," Eleven murmurs, wiping her tears with one hand.

"You're hurt," Joyce replies gently, trying to hold her back. "Henry… He… He hurt you… And now you say you're going to him…?"

He did it to protect me, she doesn't say, because Joyce wouldn't understand.

"Joyce, please, let me go."

Everything will be fine. She'll find Henry, wherever he is, and together they'll face the other Henry and whatever he's planning. Yes, everything will be fine.

"No," the woman replies.

She tries to push her away, but the pain is relentless: her back muscles burn in protest.

"Ugh…"

"Told you," Joyce scolds her with the tone only a mother can evoke. "You need to rest."

Yes, if she were a normal person, certainly. But she can heal herself, can't she? She learned it from Henry, albeit on a much more superficial level.

She closes her eyes.

She focuses.

And…

Nothing.

Her eyes snap open.

"What…?"

"Are you okay?" Joyce asks, confused by her actions.

"My… powers." She opens her empty hands and stares at them. Before the woman can say anything else, Eleven spots, on the other side of the room, an old radio sitting on a coffee table. She frowns.

The device is silent and still. Oblivious to her frustration

"Does that radio… work?"

Misunderstanding her question, Joyce gets up without a word and switches on the device.

A catchy song plays.

… Wednesday girl waits with the wine

Tears well up in her eyes.

She knows just what to say

"I… can't…"

While no one listens

Joyce may not understand her. But she surely understands pain. For that reason, she lets her succumb to sobs there, cradled in her arms, soothing words on her lips.

You can almost hear time slipping away

This time, Eleven doesn't try to push her away.

Yes, she allows herself to cry here and now; a moment of weakness, a reprieve from what lies ahead.

Because later, one way or another…

We close our eyes, we never lose a game

She closes her eyes and clenches her jaw.

One way or another, I will find you, Henry, she tells herself.

Imagination never lets us take the blame…