Archive of Our Own ^beta

The second Mike grabs onto the sheet of paper that has the coordinates for where El is, he’s immediately wishing he was already there. Doesn’t matter where she is, wherever El is, that’s where Mike always wants to be. Especially now, when she’s in danger, when she’s being held by the government, having God-knows-what happening to her as she tries to get her powers back.

Because you pushed her to this, because you couldn’t tell her you love her.

The voice in the back of Mike’s head is cruel, taunting, but it’s not wrong and the guilt of it eats away at him. This is all his fault, him and his stupid inability to get out of his own fucking way.

If only he’d told her he loves her, if only he’d been able to get the words past the stupid lump in his throat, if only he could stop being so damn scared of losing everything right when things seemed like they were going fine and trust that they’d stay that way….

But he’d lost her anyway, so fat lot of good that did. She’d left, left with nothing but a note signed “From, El,” a dig he so rightfully deserved for his cowardice. And now she’s in danger, his worst nightmare coming to life right in front of him.

It makes Mike want to be sick.

But he can still fix this, he can still salvage something from the wreckage of his own failure. Mike can save her (or, at least, help her save herself because honestly) and then he can fix this. He can come crawling to her on his knees and beg for her forgiveness, he can tell her he loves her because he does so much that there’s no room for anything else, because even though it scares him to say it, the idea of losing her is even scarier and he wishes he’d come to this realization a few days ago instead of the worst possible moment when there’s nothing he can do but wait.

If it were possible, Mike would teleport to whatever location these coordinates are pointing to, but that’s not possible – not even El had that kind of power. So Mike’s stuck going it the slow way: in a ratty pizza van that smells like weed, sweat, and stale tomato sauce.

When they get out to the van, Argyle is too stoned to drive. So instead of waiting for him to sober up, they shove him into the passenger seat, push Eden out the back of the van, and Jonathan climbs into the driver’s seat while Mike and Will figure out on the map just where these coordinates are leading them to.

It’s pointing them to a spot in the desert outside a town in Nevada not far from the Utah border – Ruth, Nevada – which isn’t too far so it could be worse. But any distance is too much distance and Mike feels each and every mile like a weight bearing down on his thin shoulders.

Jonathan looks over his shoulder at Mike and Will, long enough to make eye contact before focusing his attention back on the road. Everyone ignores the sounds of Argyle snoring in the front seat. “Hey, you two, try and get some sleep, yeah? Probably going to need it. No telling what we’ll find when we get there.”

Will nods and figures out a way to curl up on the floor in the back of the van. Mike knows he should do the same – he even tries to find a comfortable position leaning up against the wall – but sleep eludes him. He closes his eyes and all he sees is El’s crying face – her beautiful, heart-stopping face, tear-filled eyes looking at him with naked pain, tears he put there by not being a better boyfriend… by not loving her the way she wants, the way she deserves.

So Mike doesn’t sleep, even though he’s barely slept at all the past few days. His stomach is churning, twisting into knots, drawing tighter and tighter beneath his skin, and there is no easing the turmoil inside of him.

No, Mike will only be able to rest easy when he knows El is safe, when he’s able to hold her in his arms and tell her just how much he loves her (if she lets him, that is – he wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t – but at least she’d be safe and that’s worth everything).  

So he just sits there, a bundle of nervous, anxious energy molded into the shape of an awkward, 15 year old teenage boy who somehow always manages to lose the things he cares about the most. Maybe one day he’ll learn, but there’s part of Mike that thinks he’s always going to be rushing headlong from failure to failure.

Time ticks by with agonizing slowness, each minute dragging on like eons. Will and Argyle sleep, Jonathan drives, and Mike just listens to the sound of the road rolling underneath the tires, miles ticking away beneath the rubber, each rotation bringing him that much closer to her.

What feels like an eternity later, but is probably only about 4-5 hours or so, Jonathan turns off the highway. Which means they’re close – really close. Mike’s heart leaps into his throat as he leans over to shake Will awake.

“Wazzgoin’ on?” Will asks as he blearily sits up.

“Almost there,” Mike says, terse and clipped, anticipation beating its steady, shaky thrum in his veins.

“Still don’t know where we are, man,” comes Argyle’s murmured response, to which Jonathan just reaches over and smacks him on the arm.

Mike’s not paying too much attention to the shenanigans in the front seat, though – he’s too busy leaning against the back of the driver’s seat, eyes firmly set forward on the horizon ahead, and tries to make himself ready for anything.

Turns out, though, there’s nothing to get ready for. It’s all but over by the time they arrive, pure chaos just exploding out on the landscape in front of them… literally exploding. There are disconcerting specks on the ground head that look suspiciously like bodies, set amongst a backdrop of sparks and flames as the smoking remains several helicopters and trucks litter the desert floor.

And there, among all the chaos and the wreckage, a single, standing figure wearing white pants and a flannel shirt.

El.

Jonathan slams on the brakes, but Mike doesn’t even wait for the van to come to a complete stop before he’s launching himself from the back, ignoring the way Will and Jonathan yell after him, cautioning him to watch it.

But there is no watching it. Caution doesn’t exist in Mike’s vocabulary right now. The only thing – the absolute only thing – that matters to him right now is getting to El. So he runs. He runs as fast as his legs can carry him, calling out to her in a voice that is beyond frantic.

Mike doesn’t notice it at first – he’s too busy drowning in the relief that El’s ok, that she’s alive. But as he gets closer, as she hears him and turns around and looks at him with wide, shocked eyes, he sees it.

Oh god, her hair . What did those fuckers do to her hair?

The sight of El’s shorn hair makes him stumble, shock jolting through him like a seismic wave, but he doesn’t stop running. Nothing could make him stop. There’ll be time to address this later, he knows – but for the moment all he wants to do is make sure she’s ok.

“El! El, are you ok?” he calls out to her as he gets close enough to gauge her response. He figures she’s probably not doing fine emotionally (he’s not, that’s for sure), but he’ll be able to tell with how she response.

There is no response, though – at least, not a verbal one. Mike isn’t even finished calling out to her before she starts running towards him, her face crumpling in a heart-breaking expression. She doesn’t say anything, but she lets out a sob as she launches herself at him. 

Mike manages to plant his feet and open his arms just in time to catch her. The force of her hug, her arms wrapping tight around his torso, drives the air from his lungs. Mike doesn’t complain, though – he just hugs her back just as tight and lets the bone-numbing relief wash through him. Tears prickle behind his eyes and Mike closes his eyes tight to keep them from falling. He can melt down later – right now is all about her.

“Mike,” El manages to say through a sob, her voice trembling and watery as she speaks his name into his chest. The sound of it twists hard at his heart, bruising the tender organ.

Mike rests his cheek on top of her head and shakes his head. “Shh, hey, no, it’s ok. I got you, I got you.”

If anything, El just presses herself tighter against him. Which is ok by Mike. If he had his way, he’d never be any further away from her than he is right now.

Footsteps run up from behind him, but Mike knows it’s Will and Jonathan, so he doesn’t bother turning around as he hears both of them call out. “El! Oh god, El. Are you ok? What happened?” Will and Jonathon’s voices merge and Mike can’t tell who’s speaking, not with how focused he is on El.

But with their presence comes the end of Mike’s hold on her. El draws in a shaky breath, quickly getting herself under control with a mental fortitude that Mike could only dream of possessing, and extracts herself from his embrace so she can look at her step-brothers.

It’s only now that Mike is so close to her that he can see just how exhausted El is. He tries not to focus on her hair as he drinks in the sight of her, letting his gaze dance over her features. There are deep, dark circles under her eyes, contrasting heavily against the pale, waxiness of her skin, unusual given her normal, golden hue. But his eye is drawn to the blood streaming from one nostril and a complex dance of relief and dread works its way through him.

El has her powers back… which means she’s going to put herself in danger once more trying to save the world.

“Oh El, what did they do to you?” The question is asked by Jonathan and Mike glances over at him and Will. They’re both staring at El, wide-eyed and gobsmacked. And Mike can tell they’re both unable to keep from looking at her shaved head.

Mike looks back to El and knows she’s noticed by the way she seems to shrink into herself, face shutting down like a wall coming down between her and them. Mike wants to drop-kick both Jonathan and Will into the sun.

El shakes her head, dismissing the question. “We have to go. Back to Hawkins. Everyone’s in danger.” The tone of her voice brooks no argument – no, it’s firm and unyielding, even if it’s a little distant, like she’s trying to distance herself from her emotions.

No one dares try to argue with her and, without saying anything else, El pushes past them to make her way to the van.

And Mike notices, as she does, that she doesn’t even so much as look at him. He follows (because of course he does) and his heart sinks even as he’s itching to talk to her, to ask her what’s going on, to try and figure out what’s going through her head.

But now’s not the right moment, not in front of the others, not when there’s so much urgency in her steps, so much determination in the set of her shoulders.

No, now’s not the right moment. But there will be one, Mike knows this for a fact – there has to be even if he has to will it into existence.

And when it happens, he’ll be ready.

Nothing feels real. Too much has happened over the past few days and El can’t keep up with how she’s supposed to feel about all of it. She sees how Mike looks at her before she heads to the van – concern, confusion, relief – but she doesn’t have it in her to figure out what any of it means, so she just ignores it. She’s still trying to sort out her own feelings, never mind anyone else’s right now.

The world feels like it’s moving through a thick fog and El doesn’t even know if she can remember how she makes it to the van, she’s in such a daze. Everyone else piles into the van, but no one tries talking to her. Which is fine because she doesn’t know what she’d even say right now.

At some point, she falls asleep, exhaustion pulling her down into blissful unconsciousness. She falls into a deep sleep, too tired to even dream. She doesn’t know how long she sleeps, but long enough so that it’s dark when someone – Jonathan, it turns out – shakes her awake.

She sits up, bleary eyed and groggy, and looks up at Jonathan. “What is it?” she asks, her words slurred with sleep.

The look on Jonathan’s face is soft and concerned. El hates it. “We’re stopping for gas and to get something to eat. You hungry?”

El shrugs and Jonathan must take it as a good sign because he moves out of the back of the van to give her room to do the same. Mike and Will are already standing outside while Argyle fills the van with gas and El spares a glance for the two boys.

They both look nervous – Will chewing on his lip while looking anywhere but at her, while Mike stands with his arms crossed tight over his chest – and El knows it’s because of her.

Will tags along at Jonathan’s side, but Mike waits for El before he starts walking to the diner on the other side of the gas station’s parking lot. 

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Mike decides to fill it (a fact which makes El smile a little despite everything because of course). “So, um, did you sleep ok?” The question is spoken with a hesitation that tears at El’s heart. He’s hesitant because of her, because of how weird things were between them before the police came. And now things are even weirder because of how much has happened over the past few days.

El crosses her arms over her chest, partially for warmth – she’s not sure where they are, but wherever it is, it’s a chilly evening which makes sense given that it’s March – but also because she just wants to sink away into invisibility and this is the closest she can get to that. “Yeah, I slept ok. I was tired.” She pauses, chewing on her lower lip, before she spares a glance over at Mike. “They didn’t let me sleep much.”

The expression on Mike’s face just falls, filling with an unbearable sadness that resonates deep within El. “El, I–” He can’t finish whatever he intended on saying, however, as his voice chokes up, cutting off the words before he can get them out.

El knows he’s sad for her and, even though there’s a lot of things that are still unsaid between them, at least this hasn’t changed. “It’s ok,” she says, trying to shrug it off. “I got my powers back, so it worked.”

A jolt runs through Mike, like he’s been shocked with an electrical current, and he opens his mouth to say something, but stops when they reach the door to the diner, which Jonathan is holding open for them. Whatever Mike wanted to say sits heavy in the air between them, noticeable only to the two of them (though Will’s giving them a strange look as Jonathan talks to a server to get them a table). It makes El’s heart race a little, a mix of anticipation and fear. Part of her hates that Mike can always make her feel so heightened, but she guesses it’s what happens when you love someone as much as she loves him.

The diner’s about half full, but El feels the eyes of everyone on her as she follows the others to where they’re being sat. The looks on the faces around her are a horrible mixture of disgust and pity, some people openly staring at her with rude judgment in their eyes, and it makes her want to shrink away. She feels her shoulders slump instinctually – the weight of so many eyes on her has never been good, a lesson she’s especially learned over the past six months – and she jumps when she feels Mike’s elbow gently prodding her in the upper arm.

She looks up at him to see him giving her a small smile, though the look in his eyes is hard, annoyed. “Just ignore them,” he says, loud enough for only her to hear. “They’re just idiots who don’t have a fucking clue.”

The words don’t do much to help – everything feels too raw for that – but they do help, even if only a little, and El finds herself smiling back, just a brief upturn of the corners of her lips. But, given the way Mike reacts, it’s like she gave him a full-on smile, he looks so proud, all gleaming eyes and small, toothy grin. Her traitorous heart goes pitter-patter in her chest at the sight and it sets off a flurry of butterflies in her stomach, something she only ever feels because of Mike.

Argyle comes sauntering over a few minutes after they slide into a large booth and, for a little bit, everything feels… well, not normal, but just about as close as El figures it can be in this moment. When the waitress comes by, she orders waffles (hoping to get to actually eat them this time) and then settles into wait for the food to get there.

But it doesn’t take long for the outside world to begin to intrude. People are still staring and, worse, as they sit, El can hear the whispers. Nobody at the table says anything, but El can feel their concerned stares, the heavy pauses in the conversation. She knows they pity her, they don’t even have to say anything, and the knowledge of it grates. She didn’t give up everything to get her powers back, only to get looked at with pity.  

El gets halfway through her waffle before she can’t take it anymore, putting her fork down hard on the plate. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” she mutters, not even bothering to look at anyone at the table before she gets up and makes a beeline straight for the women’s room. She just needs to get away for a few minutes, somewhere she can be alone so she can breathe, maybe even splash some water on her face – she swears she can still feel the smoke from the explosions earlier and it’s sticky on her skin.

But the bathroom provides no respite.

At first, the quiet interior of bathroom is a relief. It’s cool and quiet and the fluorescent lights are a warm shade of yellow, so different from the lights of the lab. El leans back against the door and lets her eyes close as she draws in a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs.

But then she opens her eyes… and comes face-to-face with her reflection.

Suddenly, it’s like she can’t breathe.

This is the first time she’s seeing her reflection since Owens led her away – seeing her reflection for real, and not in the memories dredged up by the Nina Project. The sight of her shaved head drives the air from her lungs, like she’s been physically punched in the chest. Trembling, El approaches the mirror, her steps unsteady, hands shaking.

“No, no” The words come out as whispers as she brings her hands up to her head, feeling the bristles of her hair beneath her palms. “No,” she moans, throat growing thick with tears that immediately begin to burn in her eyes.

Her hair, god her hair. She remembers how proud she was of it, of how long and thick it was, of how she could style it in ways that made her feel beautiful… of how much Mike loved to run his fingers through it, how he would playfully tuck loose strands behind her ear while she squirmed against the tickling caress of his fingertips against her cheek, how he would tell her how pretty her hair looked that day whenever he would come and visit her at the cabin, that no matter how it actually looked, he always called her “pretty”.

But now it’s gone, like she never had it to begin with, like she’s back to square one, lost and scared and broken. It’s official, she’s never going to be normal – how did she ever think she could be? She’s a freak, there’s no changing that. God, if El thought the bullying at school was bad before, she can’t even imagine how bad it’s going to be now.

And even though she knows it was just hair and she can grow it out again, that’s not the point. It’s so much more than that. It represents what she’s lost, what she’s never had, that, deep down, she will always be this: a lab experiment, a thing that just so happens to have one very powerful, useful skill.

Maybe it’s time you just accept this, her mind whispers at her, cruel and taunting, and the thought has a sob bubbling out of her throat.

God, it hurts – it hurts more than she has words for. It hurts like it’s never going to stop hurting, like she will always feel this pain, festering in her soul. You have a wound, Eleven – a terrible wound.

It hurts to the point that she can’t breathe, the bathroom too suffocating, tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks until she’s blind to everything except her suffering.

She has to get out of there, she has to.

So she does, rushing out the door like she can run from the pain, like it won’t follow her wherever she goes, haunting her like a ghost she will never be able to banish.

She runs… and is helpless as her pain follows.

Alarm bells immediately begin ringing in the back of Mike’s head as he watches El get up from the table and all but run to the bathroom. There are times where Mike swears he knows El better than he knows himself and this is one of the times where he actually hopes he’s wrong, but deep down he knows that he isn’t.

And what he does know is this: when things get hard, when there’s too much going on, El’s first instinct is to shut down, to wall everything off and make herself numb to the world. But that can only last so long before the numbness wears off and the dam breaks, floodwaters dragging her under as everything washes over her. He hopes this isn’t what’s happening to El right now, but he can’t help but fear that it is.

So when, a few minutes later, he spies her running out of the bathroom and out of the diner like something’s chasing her, the alarm bells turn into sirens and Mike knows his fear isn’t just a fear – it’s reality.  

Mike’s not the only one who notices El’s mad dash from the diner – Will and Jonathan have noticed too, but Mike holds up a hand to keep them seated, even as he’s standing up in a rush to go after her. “Shit, let me talk to her,” is all he manages to get out before he’s hurrying after her, not even checking to make sure they’re not trying to follow. No, all he’s focused on right now is El – she’s all that matters.

Mike bursts out the diner’s front door, ready to frantically search for El if needed. But he spots her within seconds, sitting hunched over on a bench that stretches out in front of the diner. Her head’s in her hands, elbows propped on her knees, and Mike would have to be blind not to see how heavy her breathing is, deaf not to hear the desperate heave of her cries.

“El.” The sound of her name startles her and she looks up at Mike. The sight of her tear-streaked face has his breath catching in his throat. “El, I–”

But she doesn’t let him finish. “Go away, Mike,” she says, trying to make her voice sound strong, but it wavers beneath the paper-thin façade. “I’m fine.”

Mike doesn’t go away, though. Instead, he starts slowly walking towards her. “Ok, but you don’t look fine. I don’t think crying outside on a bench is ‘fine’.”

El looks away, letting her gaze fall to the ground by her feet. “Well, I am. I got my powers back, I’m a superhero again. So you can go back inside and stop worrying about me.”

Mike’s heart twists painfully in his chest as she throws his words back at him. I deserved that, he thinks as he soldiers on. “There’s nothing you could do to get me to stop worrying,” he says. “And I’m not going to go back inside. If you want me to go away, you’re going to have to throw me across the parking lot, because there’s nothing else that will stop me from wanting to make sure you’re ok.” 

For a moment, El doesn’t say anything to try and stop him, but she doesn’t look back at him either as he sits next to her on the bench, one leg pulled up so he can face her directly while he plants his other foot on the ground.

After a second, though, she speaks, hollow and lifeless. “I’ll be able to fight, if that’s what you’re worried about. My powers are working fine and-”

Frustration crescendos inside of him, bubbling over like rage, and Mike realizes that he’s angry – not at her (never at her), but at this whole fucking situation, that things have gotten so fucked up that El thinks Mike only cares about her powers when he’s, in fact, head-over-heels in love with her.

And it’s this frustration that unleashes the torrent of emotions inside of him and he can’t stop it as he explodes. “I don’t care about your powers! Screw your powers!” The outburst shocks the both of them and El sits up, looking at him with mouth slightly agape, while Mike clenches his fists in his lap in an attempt to get himself under some semblance of control.

But though he’s able to tame the harshest edge of his outburst, there’s no stopping the words that flow from him. “It was never about your powers, El, never. It’s always been you, just you. Your powers don’t make you a hero – you do. You’re selfless a-and brave and you care so much about making sure everyone’s safe – your powers just let you actually do something about it.” Mike’s breath hitches in his chest and he has to look away, just for a second.

“Sometimes I hate your powers,” he says, voice trembling, pitch dropping just above a murmur. “Because you keep putting yourself in danger. And I think, sometimes, if you never had them, I wouldn’t worry so much. And I hate that everyone takes them for granted, like that’s all you are when you’re not. You’re so much more and I just–”

“Mike, I–” El starts to get out, but Mike doesn’t let her.

“No, let me finish,” he begs, looking at her with pleading eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, for you to be able to feel normal, to have all the things you’ve never gotten to have. You deserve everything, El – more than anyone else, you deserve everything. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known and you deserve the world. And no matter what, I’ll always be here for you, I’ll always–” He stumbles a bit, tongue tripping over itself – he can feel the words building up in his chest and his heart races. “I’ll always care about you, more than anything, because–”

God, he can’t choke up now – he has to get the words out. There’s no better moment, not after he’s led himself to this so deliberately, so earnestly. El deserves to hear this, deserves for him not to chicken out when he’s brought himself this far.

So Mike takes in a deep breath and says the words he’s only ever said once before, but feels each and every day in every beat of his heart, in every breath he takes. And it helps, so much, that El’s looking at him, eyes wide and hopeful despite the tears shining in them. It makes him want to give her everything.

“I love you,” he chokes out, the words too small for everything he’s feeling. “I’m so in love with you, I feel like I can’t think straight. And I’m sorry, so sorry, that it took me so long to say it, that you waited so long to hear it. I was just….” At this, Mike has to pause for another breath, his own eyes misting over a bit as he’s overcome with emotion. “I was just scared, I guess. Like if I said it, it’d make it real. And if I lost you after all that, I don’t think I’d survive. But it didn’t matter since I lost you anyway, and I–”

Mike’s throat closes up and, for a moment, he can’t speak. El takes the opportunity to reach out, right hand coming out to cover his still-clenched left fist. Her touch sends a calming thrill through him, rippling up his arm and down his spine, heating him up while also cooling him down. “Mike, it’s ok, it’s ok.”

“It’s not ok,” he says, shaking his head. “You deserve to hear it every day, you deserve to know how much I love you. Because I do, so much, more than anything – I always will. And I’ll try to be better about saying it. Because I want to say it.”

“I know, I know,” El says, her own voice thick with emotion. “And I know you love me, even if you can’t always say it. I’ll… I’ll try to be better about remembering that, when you can’t.”

Mike smiles, a gentle upturn of the corners of his lips, and he looks down where El’s hand is still draped over his. He unfurls his fingers, turning his hand so that his palm is pressed up against hers, and his thumb automatically goes to her index finger, where she’s still wearing the ring he gave her. “You’re still wearing it,” he says, looking up at her through his eyelashes.

“I never take it off,” El says, her voice barely above a tender whisper. “I made sure I got it back before I left the lab. It’s a promise.”

“It’s my promise to you,” Mike says, reminding her of the words he’d said to her when he gave it to her. “It’s you and me, no matter what.”

El nods, the movement jerky, but she’s still looking up at him, still wide-eyed and hopeful. “Will you… say it again?”

Mike’s smile widens just that much more and he can’t stop himself from inching closer to her, noticing that El is doing the same. He doesn’t need to ask her to clarify – he just knows. “I love you.”

“Again? Please?” El lets out a shuddering breath, lower lip trembling.

They haven’t stopped moving towards each other, like gravity pulling them together, orbits locked together for all eternity. Mike never wants it any other way. He leans in towards her so he can press his forehead against hers, the hand not holding El’s coming up to wrap around her waist. She’s warm beneath his palm and she lets out a soft sigh at his touch. “I love you.” His eyes slip shut and he takes a second to just breathe her in, relishing in her closeness. She’s amazing and perfect and god how did he get so lucky? “I love y–”

Mike doesn’t get to finish this time as El tips her face up towards his, letting out a whimpering sob just before her lips crash into his. Mike’s breath catches in his chest at the feel of her mouth on his and warmth explodes beneath his skin and along every nerve in his body. 

Her kiss is sweet, but there’s a desperation in the press of her lips that’s not usually there and Mike finds himself kissing her back that much harder, trying to convey with the slant of his lips against hers just how much he loves her, trying to say everything he’s feeling without words. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek and Mike lets his other arm slide around her waist to hold her close. He never wants to let her go, he never wants to stop holding her close to him. This is where she belongs, here in his arms, and if she’ll let him, he’ll gladly spend the rest of his life reminding her of that every single day.

They trade a handful of slow, deep kisses and Mike relishes in the soft drag of her mouth against his, thrilling and heart-pounding. His soul sings with each brush of her lips and he wishes it would never, ever stop.

But it does. El breaks away to take another shuddering breath and Mike realizes, through the fog wrapping around his brain that always appears when they kiss, that she’s crying again. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, tilting his head to press his forehead against hers once more. “It’s ok. We’re ok.”

“I know,” El chokes out. “I’m just….” She trails off in a soft, wet sigh and Mike lifts a hand to brush the tears from her cheeks.

“I know, you don’t have to say anything. I know.” Mike pulls back enough so he can look at her, gaze dancing across her features, and he sighs. “I’m sorry, you know, about your hair. I know how much you loved it. I hate that they took it from you.”

At this, El ducks her gaze, shame and embarrassment spreading across her cheeks in a stark pink flush. “I hate it,” she says, voice shaking even harder now. “It’s so… ugly.”

“Hey, no,” Mike rushes to say, tone firm. “It doesn’t matter what your hair looks like, you could never be ugly. Never.”  

El looks back at him, desperation shining in her eyes. “Yeah?” There are tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and she looks like she’s a microsecond away from dissolving into tears once more.

Mike nods and brushes his lips against hers in a whisper soft kiss. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. You could be bald forever, or have three eyes, or whatever – doesn’t matter, it won’t ever change the truth.”

A sob tumbles from her lips and El takes in a deep breath before she speaks one last time. “Still pretty?”

The memory hits him in the chest like a physical blow and Mike gasps at the impact. His throat feels tight, like he’s moments away from crying himself. It’s hard to believe, sometimes, how far they’ve come, how much they’ve been through. But they’re still here, still together, and if he has his way, that’ll never change. “Always pretty,” he whispers. “Always.”

El can’t hold back her tears any longer and a deep, gut-wrenching cry spills out of her. Mike doesn’t hesitate to gather her in his arms, letting her burrow into his chest as she just lets go. She cries, tears pouring from a deep wellspring of grief, so deep Mike thinks she’ll always carry it with her for as long as she lives.

But he’ll be here, forever ready and willing to be her shelter in the storm, to help her carry it when it gets to be too much. It’s what you do when you love someone, after all.

Mike doesn’t know what’s going to happen over the next few days – danger and mayhem and worry, he’s sure, but besides that, there’s too much up in the air, too much that can happen. 

But at least, for the moment, he has this: El, safe in his arms, secure in the knowledge that he loves her. Because he does, with every fiber of his being.

And, no matter what happens, he will always, always love her.