Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Prologue: The Wrong Side Up

There was happiness. Mike felt it in that moment. For only a moment. He could see it on the familiar faces around him as they were driven out of the Upside Down. A dimension – a bridge they would never have to cross again.

He leaned his head back against the cold metal of the Bradley’s Big Buy truck, a sigh of relief escaping his lungs and a smile starting to curve his lips. He could feel the gentle weight of El beside him and his dark amber eyes flickered over her face. She was already looking at him. She smiled too. The same smile he had fallen in love with when they were only twelve years old. For a moment he felt like he blinked and he could see her. See them. Standing almost nose to nose in his basement bathroom. El so worried that she wasn’t pretty because she didn’t have that blonde wig, because she wasn’t like all the other girls. She had no idea that was precisely why she was so beautiful. Because she was only ever her.

And as Mike looked at her – the love of his life, he saw the exhaustion in the purple circles under her eyes. The dehydration in her pale skin and the dried blood under her nose. He saw his superhero. His reason for believing. And she had done it. They had done it. And now they were going home.

It happened so quickly. Like time sped up to match the beating of his heart. The screeching of the tires, the swerving of the truck - making them all shout and hold on to one another. Mike could feel El’s hand grip his shoulder. His breath quickened as he looked around at Nancy, Holly, Will. All of their party.

The shutters were thrown open and screams and shouts of “get down! Get down! Hands up!” filled the cold winter air. It was soldiers – too many of them.

Mike raised his hands; rage start to fuel his blood stream. Did they really have no idea what they had just done for them? What it had cost? Images of El’s tears blurred into Mike’s mind as she told him about Kali being shot. About her refusal to come back – that her story was always meant to end in that lab.

There was chaos and confusion as everyone was hauled out of the truck. And as Mike struggled with a soldier, he could see Hopper and Murray in the distance doing the same thing. He groaned as he was pushed against the truck, his palms sweating as they flattened on either side of his head. The pulsing under his skin calmed enough for Mike to come back to reality. El. Where was El?

He turned his head frantically, his eyes wide with fear as he searched for her. Mike’s cheek pressed into the body of the truck as he looked to Dustin beside him.

“El? Do you see El?” he asked, his stomach twisting in knots, his pulse rising once more until it was a pounding in his ears.

Dustin’s face was stony as he looked too, the voices of the military and Dr Kay carrying over to them.

“Sergeant! Where’s the girl?”

“She was right here one second ago.”

Dustin waited until the sergeant moved on his search - a panic in the soldiers and their leader evident. Mike’s eyes connected with his friend, wide with fear.

“She must have escaped,” Dusin said quietly, his face displaying the relief that Mike felt flow down him like water.

He closed his eyes, taking the deep breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. It was over. The military couldn’t hold them here - they would have to release them. El was probably going back to the cabin, and when it was safe he would find her there.

But as the light moved, so did his eyes.

And there she was.

Stood in the doorway to the Upside Down. On the wrong side.

No.

It was all a bad dream. Just a bad dream. Landing in the void, El telling him it would never end – not if she stayed. His begs, his pleads and his cries ripped and tore at his soul. His very being was connected with hers. Some called it destiny, fate, soulmates. All he knew, was the he could not - would not survive without her.

Even after she flung him out of the void, he screamed. He screamed and cried until he was hoarse. He screamed and cried after she was gone. He screamed and cried and fought even when the hands on him were gentle. Even when the voice was Nancy, Dustin, Will and Lucas, crying too but desperately trying to get him out of this hell on earth.

He turned from the hollow place that had been where El had stood only moments ago. His body was shaking, his face streaked with tears as his hands started to curl into fists, his chest heaved with grief and anger as his eyes narrowed on Dr Kay. Her mouth was parted – she had lost her prize.

But El was not Kay’s. She was Mike’s. Mike’s entire universe. And she was gone. Gone because of them.

A guttural scream of agony ripped from Mike’s aching chest as he ran at her. A monster. A monster just as real as the Mind Flayer. A monster who had planned to steal the love of his life. Who would have stolen their children, their grandchildren.

He had no weapon but he had never felt more lethal. The soldiers were only just noticing him as he closed in on her, flinging them both to the floor. Kay’s face contorted in fury as she punched and kicked at him.

“Bitch!” Mike screamed, trying to get in his own punches, his fingers desperately trying to reach her throat. He didn’t care when he heard the soldiers threatening to shoot, or the pleas of his friends and family to stop.

He just wanted the pain to end. He wanted her back.

And if he were to die too - then he wanted his final act to be taking out this monster. To avenge El before he joined her.

“Mike – “

He didn’t know who the voice belonged to as he sobbed, his teeth clenched as he got a grip on Kay’s throat and the soldiers gave him a final warning as they aimed.

He felt gruff hands surrounding him, and he screamed in protest as he was yanked away from Kay who pushed herself back on her elbows, panting as she wiped the blood from her nose. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

“No!” Mike screamed. “Let me kill her! Please! PLEASE!” His voice didn’t even sound like his own. It was weak and utterly broken.

“No.”

It was Hopper. His voice sounded different too. And feeling dazed, Mike turned slowly to see the person holding him. The man who had always seemed so intimidating, so unbeatable was broken too. His eyes were red, his face was wet and his broad chest shook violently.

“El… “Hopper’s voice broke. He shook his head, fresh tears falling onto Mike. He gulped audibly and tried again with a deep shaking breath. “El would not want you to die Mike.”

Mike wept as he stared up at Hopper, feeling like a child all over again. This was just like when he lost El the first time. A wound so deep he never thought he would survive it. And he didn’t, not really. He was a shell of himself until she returned to him.

“I don’t want to be here without her!” he wailed. He didn’t care who heard him. He didn’t see Nancy clutching onto Holly, tears down their faces. He didn’t see Lucas kneeling beside Max or Dustin’s arm around Will as they quietly cried.

“I know kid,” Hopper replied, his voice shaking just as violently as his body. He clutched Mike’s shoulders. “I know.”

Mike didn’t fight anymore.

The strength left him all at once, like a string cut clean through, and his body folded in on itself as a sob tore from somewhere deep in his chest. Hopper caught him before he hit the ground, strong arms locked around him as Mike collapsed fully into him, his forehead pressing into Hopper’s jacket as he cried.

He cried like something inside him had been ripped out by hand.

Hopper held him. He didn’t shush him; he didn’t tell him to be strong. He just held him as his own tears soaked into Mike’s hair, his grip tightening like he was afraid that if he let go, they would both shatter.

Around them, the world kept moving.

“Excuse me! EXCUSE me!” Murray’s voice rang out, sharp and furious as he planted himself squarely in front of the nearest sergeant. “Do you have any idea what would have happened if we hadn’t been here? If we hadn’t stopped it? You should be saying thank you! You should be shaking our hands, not pointing guns at children!”

The soldiers hesitated, uncertainty rippling through them as Murray continued, relentless.

“You have no jurisdiction here. No cause. And no girl. Which I’m sure is the part that’s really upsetting you.”

Dr Kay stood a few feet away, utterly still. Her face was pale and bloody, her lips pressed thin as she stared at the place where El had vanished. The doorway was gone now. Just rubble and twisted metal where the town hall had once stood. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

“You’re done here,” Murray snapped. “All of you.”

Kay’s jaw clenched. She didn’t look at Mike. Didn’t look at Hopper. She turned sharply on her heel, fury radiating from her as she stalked back towards the remaining soldiers.

“Release them,” she said coldly. “We’re finished.”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the ruins like a ghost that had finally lost its power.

Hopper stayed where he was for a moment longer, rocking Mike gently as the boy’s sobs slowly, painfully softened into broken breaths.

“I swear to you,” Hopper murmured, his voice low and shaking, “I’ll get the army the hell out of Hawkins. I won’t let them touch any of you again. I promise.”

Mike didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Steve appeared beside them, his face tight with grief as he crouched down and helped Hopper lift Mike to his feet. Mike barely noticed. His body moved on instinct alone, supported on either side as they guided him away.

But just before they reached the edge of the clearing, Mike stopped.

He turned. He looked back one last time.

At the place where the Upside Down had touched their world. At the place where El had stood. Where she had looked at him with so much love and made the choice he would never forgive the world for asking her to make.

There was nothing there now. Just rubble. Just silence. Just the wrong side up.

And then Hopper gently steered him forward, and Mike let himself be led away, the echo of her absence pressing heavy against his chest as the world carried on without her.

No one knew what to do with him as they gathered outside of the army base.

Mike could hear them talk – their voices hushed and brittle. It was like listening through thick glass. His head pounded and his eyes were swollen. Everything just sounded wrong. Distant and muffled – as if the world had tilted slightly off its axis and never quite righted itself.

Nancy was the first to speak clearly enough for Mike’s brain to register.

“The kids,” she said quietly, her voice tight as she looked between the group, her eyes lingering on Mike for a moment. “We should get them all to the hospital.”

Holly nodded immediately, her face dirty and tear tracked. “I want to see mom and dad.”

Nancy smiled wistfully, her slim shoulders dropping for a moment. “They are going to be so happy to see you Holly.”

Holly sobbed openly now, her small body shaking as Nancy wrapped her arms around her. Mike watched it all like it was happening on a television screen somewhere far away. Familiar faces. Familiar pain. Someone else’s life.

No one looked at him. Not really. Especially not in his empty eyes. They spoke around him, organised who would take all of the children - what vehicles they had access to. They stepped carefully around him as if he were something fragile - something that might break, or cut them open if they got too close.

“I think… maybe Mike should go home,” Joyce said softly. She sounded exhausted. Empty. Like she had nothing left to give. “Back to the Wheeler house. Will and I could – “

Mike felt the words hit him, dull and heavy.

“No.”

The sound of his own voice surprised him. It was flat and hollow. It didn’t sound like him at all.

Joyce blinked. “Mike – “

“I don’t want to go there,” he said again, a little louder now. Firmer. “I don’t want to be there.”

Even if Joyce and Will came with him, his home felt empty. Too full of rooms where El should have been. Places she had never really gotten to belong in yet. With how selflessly she had trained over the past two years, she had barely ever had time to relax. If there was even a moment when she stopped training and wanted to collapse on the sofa and watch a movie, it was in her own home.

“I want to go to the cabin.”

Silence followed Mike’s words. Hopper stood hunched a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He looked like a shell of his former self. He opened his mouth like he was about to argue, but then he closed it again.

His jaw worked for a moment, before he nodded. He looked just as fragile as Mike felt. “Okay,” he said finally, quietly. “Okay, kid.”

No one argued after that. Nancy didn’t plead for him to come to the hospital, Joyce didn’t insist he went to his house. No. They knew why he wanted to go to cabin, and if they dared to even question his hope, they hid it well.

The drive was silent. No radio. No small talk. Just the sound of tires on asphalt and the steady, suffocating quiet that pressed in on Mike’s chest until breathing felt optional.

The trees blurred past the window. Dark and endless. Hopper didn’t say a word. Neither did Mike.

When they pulled up outside the cabin, Hopper cut the engine and stayed where he was. He reached into his pocket with shaking hands, pulled out a cigarette, and finally stepped outside.

Mike watched him through the windshield as Hopper sat heavily on the front steps, shoulders hunched, lighting the cigarette with a trembling thumb. The glow flared briefly in the dark.

Mike felt his breathing grow heavier, his pulse thumping away as he grasped the door handle and stepped out of the vehicle. His dark eyes moved over the cabin. The lights were off, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the hope, the desperate pleading wish that she was in there.

He didn’t dare look at Hopper’s face as he passed him on the steps. He didn’t want to see the expression. The knowledge that this was pointless… that she was gone.

He pushed the cabin door open. The room smelled like her. Not in any specific way - not perfume or soap. Just El. Warm, familiar, like home had been holding its breath and finally let it out when he walked in. His legs carried him forward without permission.

The couch.

He could see them there immediately. El, curled into his side, her feet tucked under her, her head resting on his shoulder. Movie nights where she laughed too loud at the wrong moments. When she cried openly without shame. Where he introduced her to Star Wars and watched her fall in love with it the same way he had.

The way he had looked at her, when her eyes lit up at the Darth Vader reveal. How he could have bottled the shocked gasp and excitement, and cherished it forever. But now it was only in his memory.

His gaze moved to the makeshift bath and a shiver ran down his spine. He swallowed hard as his eyes lingered there, remembering how El had climbed into that tub without hesitation. How she had closed her eyes and found Will. How she had never once complained about her exhaustion. How brave she had been. Always brave. Always giving pieces of herself away.

Had they all asked too much from her? Could she not take any more?

The ache in Mike’s chest sharpened. Everywhere he turned, she was there. Her echo pressed into the walls, into the air, into him.

Mike’s feet carried him to her bedroom and the door creaked as he pushed it open.

The bed.

He could see them there too - tangled together, laughing, kissing, whispering things meant only for each other. The way she used to smile against his mouth. The way he had felt so complete lying beside her, like something inside him had finally slotted into place after being broken for so long.

Mike took one step inside and then another, his heart racing louder and louder.

“El?”

The name fell from his lips like a prayer. Like a habit. Like hope.

She didn’t answer and the silence rushed in to fill the space where her voice should have been.

Mike felt his knees buckle and he collapsed onto the bed with a broken sound tearing from his throat as his hands fumbled for her pillow. He dragged it to his chest, clutching it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

He buried his face into it, breathing her in. There was a faint trace of her shampoo, of the softness she left behind. And finally, Mike fully fell apart. His shoulders shook violently as the sobs came, raw and unrestrained, ripping through him until his chest ached and his throat burned. His fingers clenched into the fabric like he could hold her there if he just tried hard enough.

“I’m here,” he cried hoarsely. “I’m here. I will always be here. I love you El.”

His voice cracked completely.

“I’m still here.”

Outside, Hopper sat on the steps, cigarette forgotten between his fingers as smoke curled into the night. He stared out into the trees, his eyes wet, listening to the sound of a boy breaking apart inside the only place that had ever felt like true home to either of them.

Mike woke with a sharp gasp, his body jerking as if he were falling.

The void was still behind his eyes - black and endless. El’s face burned into his vision as clearly as if she were still there in front of him. Her hands had been warm against his cheeks. Her lips soft and desperate against his own.

Goodbye, Mike.

The sound of it echoed through him, over and over, until his chest seized and his throat closed. He sucked in a breath that felt too big for his lungs and blinked hard, disoriented, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.

“El!” he cried out frantically.

A hand rested gently on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Hopper murmured quietly. “Easy, kid.”

Mike flinched at the touch before reality slowly, painfully settled back into place. The cabin ceiling. The soft morning light slipping in through the curtains. The heavy ache in his chest that hadn’t eased even in sleep.

Sleep. He hadn’t meant to sleep.

His hands tightened instinctively, and that was when he realised, he was still clutching her pillow - crushed against his chest like a lifeline. His face was wet. His eyes burned. And draped over him was a thick blanket that definitely hadn’t been there when he collapsed the night before.

Hopper must have put it on him. The thought alone almost unravelled him again.

“I… I fell asleep,” Mike said hoarsely, his voice rough from crying. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his sleeve, embarrassed by the evidence of how completely he’d broken.

Hopper nodded. He looked worse in the daylight. His eyes were bloodshot. His face drawn and grey with exhaustion. He didn’t look like he’d slept at all.

“You needed it,” Hopper said simply.

Mike swallowed. His chest still hurt. Everything hurt.

Hopper hesitated for a moment, then spoke gently. “We’re gonna go to the hospital.”

Mike’s stomach twisted immediately. “What?”

“Holly and Nancy talked to your mom yesterday,” Hopper continued softly. “She knows what happened. As much as anyone can know right now.”

Mike shook his head, panic flaring. “I don’t - I can’t -”

“She needs to see you,” Hopper said, not unkindly, but firm. “And you need to see her.”

Mike’s shoulders sagged. He stared down at El’s pillow, his fingers still curled into it.

“I don’t want to,” he whispered.

“I know,” Hopper replied. “But you’re not doing this alone.”

Something about that - the quiet certainty of it, made Mike nod, even though every part of him wanted to stay right there, frozen in the place where El still felt close.

The drive to Hawkins General was quiet. Not awkward or tense. Just… quiet.

The kind of silence that came from two people carrying too much to bother filling the space with words. Hopper kept his eyes on the road and Mike stared out the window, watching familiar streets pass by without really seeing them. For once, the town didn’t look like home. It looked like a place that had taken too much from them.

When they reached the hospital, Hopper parked and cut the engine. He didn’t rush Mike. He waited until he took a breath, then another, before they stepped out together.

Karen Wheeler was sitting upright in her hospital bed when they entered the room. She looked smaller than Mike remembered. Pale and bruised. Bandages wrapped around her neck and chest, stark against the white sheets. Tubes and wires trailed from her like reminders of how close she had come to not being here at all.

Her eyes found him instantly.

“Oh,” she breathed. And then she was weeping.

Her arms lifted shakily, opening wide despite the pain, despite everything.

“Mike,” she whispered.

And just like that, he was twelve again.

Mike crossed the room in three unsteady steps and folded into her, dropping to his knees beside the bed as she wrapped her arms around him as best she could. He pressed his face into her shoulder and broke, the cry tearing out of him raw and helpless.

“I’m here,” she murmured fiercely, one hand tangling in his hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.”

He clutched her hospital gown like he was afraid she might disappear too, his body shaking as she held him close, even though he was taller now, broader, heavier - still her little boy.

“I’m so sorry,” Karen whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Nancy told me. I’m so, so sorry.”

Mike lifted his head slightly, his eyes red and swollen. “You… you never really knew her,” he said quietly. “You just knew her as… my girlfriend.”

Karen smiled through her tears, her thumb brushing his cheek gently. “Then tell me,” she said softly. “Tell me everything.”

And he did.

He told her about the night in the woods. About the scared girl with the shaved hair and borrowed clothes who had trusted him without question. About giving her shelter and Eggos and a place to belong.

He told her how he fell in love with her before he even knew what love was supposed to feel like.

How losing her the first time had shattered him - how that was why he’d spiralled, why his grades had dropped, why he’d written on bathroom walls and stopped caring about consequences.

“I didn’t know how to be without her,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know what to do with that kind of hurt.”

Karen closed her eyes, fresh tears falling. “Oh, Mike…”

He told her how El came back. How she saved them again and again. How he thought, finally, finally, they could just be happy.

“And now she’s gone,” he whispered. “And I’m scared it’s forever this time.”

Karen pulled him closer, holding him as tightly as she could.

“I am so proud of you,” she said softly. “For seeing her. For loving her the way you did.”

Mike sobbed again, pressing his forehead into her shoulder as she kissed the top of his head.

“I’m so sorry you’re hurting,” she croaked. “But you were loved. So deeply. And that matters. It always will.”

She held him there, rocking him gently as Hopper stood quietly by the door, giving them the moment they both so desperately needed.

And for the first time since the world went the wrong-side up, Mike felt something warm settle over the raw ache in his chest.

Not peace. Not yet. But love. It was still there. Invisible, but still holding him up, even in the wreckage.

Karen held her boy to her chest, her lips brushed his hair as she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. “Don’t… don’t give up hope Michael.”

Mike shuddered, the ache in his chest building. He felt like he would collapse at any moment. But in someways it did feel as if there was an invisible force physically holding him up. Not allowing him to fall. Not even for a moment.

“I won’t mom,” Mike swallowed, taking a shaking breath. “I won’t give up hope.”

“Not now. Not ever.”

Chapter Text

The Mage and Storyteller

Chapter Two: Bridging the Gap

December 1987

Christmas time came quietly to Hawkins. The snow fell softly on the ground, making the town look like a winter wonderland.

But Mike knew differently.

There was nothing gentle about this silence. Not since the night his world ended. It was like the town itself was afraid to make too much noise. Afraid that if it breathed too loudly, something below might hear and wake up again. Or maybe they were afraid of him? Like they could physically see the dark cloud that had consumed his life and followed him everywhere.

Every time Mike walked past the boarded-up buildings in downtown Hawkins, every time he saw the hairline fractures still running up brick walls like scars that refused to fade, he could feel it. The truth humming just beneath the surface. Like static under his skin. Like the echo of another world pressing close.

The papers still called it the great earthquake. Said the earth had shifted along some forgotten fault line. Old foundations, weak infrastructure. A tragedy. An accident. Something no one could have seen coming.

Christmas lights were strung anyway. They hung across shop windows and lampposts, twinkling bravely against the cold. Red and green bulbs blinked in uneven patterns. Plastic wreaths were taped to doors. Some people had even put up Christmas trees.

Hawkins was grieving. But it was also trying to live.

Mike stood in the aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, staring at nothing in particular. The store smelled like cheap pine air freshener and overheated electronics. Somewhere nearby, a tinny version of Silent Night played over the speakers, warped and crackling like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

He shifted his weight, eyes drifting aimlessly down the aisle - until they caught on the freezer section at the far end of the store.

Bright yellow boxes.

Eggos.

His chest tightened instantly, the breath knocking half out of him before he even realised he’d stopped walking. His gaze snagged on them like a hooked wire - the familiar red lettering, the promise of something warm and easy and hers.

He swallowed hard.

Don’t, he told himself. But it was too late.

The memory overtook his vision, like he was lifting the blanket up on the fort and he could see her. So young, so afraid – and yet feeling safe for the first time in her life. He could see her wide innocent hazel eyes. His blue sweater on her thin body. And her small hands playing with the supercomm.

He had been so stupid. So naïve to the dangers of the world as he had handed her that first Eggo…

Mike turned away sharply, staring at the floor like it might steady him. His vision blurred and he blinked hard, fast, willing the burn behind his eyes to fade. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, jaw clenched, forcing the emotion back down where it couldn’t spill out in the middle of a store aisle.

Not here. Not now.

He dragged in a slow, careful breath and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, fingers curling into fists as the music droned on overhead - gentle and hollow and completely wrong.

A month.

It had been a month since El had gone away.

The word still lodged itself in Mike’s chest like a splinter every time his brain tried to use it. Gone away meant temporary. Gone away meant his heart refused to accept the finality everyone else was already learning to live with.

He shifted his weight, eyes flicking absently over shelves stacked with Christmas decorations and boxed appliances, his breath fogging faintly in the cold air every time the automatic doors slid open.

Lucas was a few feet away, hunched over a rack of catalogues like he was studying for an exam. Mike noticed because Lucas never hunched like that unless he was hiding something.

His fingers tightened in his pockets.

Lucas flipped a page. Paused. Flipped it back. His jaw set, eyes narrowing in concentration. He glanced up once - quick, almost guilty, and then immediately looked back down.

Mike swallowed.

There it was. That familiar, horrible twist in his stomach. The one that had nothing to do with monsters or other dimensions and everything to do with being the person everyone suddenly didn’t know how to exist around anymore.

He took a few slow steps closer.

“What’re you looking at?” Mike asked, keeping his voice neutral. Casual. Like it didn’t matter.

Lucas jumped. Not dramatically - just a sharp, startled flinch, and then he sighed, shoulders dropping as he realised it was only Mike.

“Nothing,” he said too quickly.

Mike raised an eyebrow.

Lucas groaned quietly and ran a hand over his face. “Okay. Fine. It’s… it’s nothing important.”

Mike’s gaze drifted down despite himself.

Jewellery.

Necklaces. Bracelets. Delicate chains laid out on velvet backgrounds, photographed under soft lighting. Gold, silver, tiny gemstones catching the light. The kind of things that came with names like eternal and forever printed in looping cursive beneath them.

Oh.

The ache came fast this time. Sharp and sudden.

“Max,” Mike said softly, not a question.

Lucas’s mouth twitched. “Yeah.” He hesitated, then added, quieter, “I didn’t want you to - I mean -”

“It’s okay,” Mike cut in quickly. Too quickly. His chest felt tight, but he forced his shoulders to stay loose, his expression calm. “It’s… it’s Christmas.”

Lucas studied him carefully, dark eyes searching his face like he was bracing for impact.

“She’s been through a lot,” Lucas said finally. “Two years, man. Two years stuck in his head. And now she’s back and -” He exhaled. “I just want to get her something… something right.”

Mike nodded.

Max had been through something that he could never fully understand. They had never truly known if they would get her back. If she would be able to see, to speak, to move. But she could. And every day she was getting stronger with that stubborn determination she was known for. Her eyes were sad though. Mike knew that look, even if they didn’t talk about it much. Blue eyes that were full of understanding, of pain and grief.

“You should,” Mike said eventually. His voice didn’t shake, somehow. “You should get her something really nice.”

Lucas blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mike said again. “Don’t… don’t not live because of me.”

The words hung between them, heavier than Mike meant them to be.

Lucas’s face tightened. “Mike, that’s not -”

“I mean it,” Mike said, firmer now. He forced himself to meet Lucas’s eyes. “She’s home. With you. That matters. You deserve that.”

Lucas closed the catalogue slowly.

God, the look on his face.

Gratitude tangled with guilt. Happiness edged with grief. Like joy itself felt dangerous now - like something that needed permission.

“Are you okay?” Lucas asked quietly.

Mike didn’t pretend not to understand.

“No,” he said honestly. “It fucking hurts.”

Lucas nodded, lips pressed together. “I’m sorry man.”

Mike shrugged, a small, helpless motion. “You don’t have to be.”

But later - when Lucas wandered off towards the electronics section, catalogue tucked carefully under his arm, Mike stood alone by the advertisement stand and let the hurt settle fully into his bones.

Christmas 1985.

The memory came without warning, sharp and vivid, pulling him backwards in time like a tide he couldn’t fight.

The basement had been cold that night. Not freezing, but cold enough that El had curled into Mike’s side under a thick blanket – her bare feet tucked against his calf for warmth. Snow pressed softly against the window, the woods outside hushed and white.

A string of mismatched Christmas lights hung crookedly along the wall, casting everything in a warm, uneven glow.

Mike had been so happy to have her home with him from California. His heart had been pounding all evening.

He could feel it in his throat, in his hands, in the way his fingers kept flexing nervously against his jeans. He’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his head and somehow still felt completely unprepared.

El had been talking - something about the movie they’d just watched, about how she liked the part where everyone came back together at the end - when he interrupted her.

“El,” he said, voice cracking just slightly.

She’d looked up at him immediately, eyes wide and attentive. Always attentive. Like the world quieted when he spoke.

“Yes?” she asked, smiling softly.

Mike swallowed and reached into his pocket.

The box was small and simple. Navy blue - the edges worn just a little from how many times he’d taken it out and put it back again.

Her breath hitched when she saw it.

“Mike…” she whispered.

“I know it’s not -” He rushed the words, nerves spilling out all at once. “It’s not, like, a ring-ring. Not like marriage or anything yet. I just… I wanted you to have something. Something that means -”

She didn’t let him finish.

El reached out, fingers trembling slightly as she took the box from his hand. She opened it slowly, reverently, like it might disappear if she moved too fast.

Inside was a thin gold band. With a simple red gemstone, but a small engraving on the inside.

Always.

El’s eyes filled instantly.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, Mike.”

“It’s a promise ring,” he said nervously. “I mean… I know it’s not much, but I -” He gestured helplessly, before taking El’s hand in his. It immediately grounded him, calmed him in only the way that she could. “It means that I promise I’m not going anywhere. No matter what. Even if things get bad again. Even if – “

She cut him off with a kiss.

It was soft at first, shaky with emotion, her hands coming up to cradle his face like he was something precious. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against his, her breath warm and uneven.

“I promise too,” she said. “Always.”

He slid the ring onto her finger, hands trembling now too. It fit perfectly. Like it had been waiting for her. She stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at him with that smile -  the one that made his chest feel too full.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you,” he replied without hesitation.

They stayed like that for a long time. Curled together. Warm despite the cold. The future still terrifying, but theirs…

Mike sucked in a sharp breath as the memory released him.

The jewellery rack blurred slightly as his eyes burned. He blinked hard, forcing the present back into focus. The store. The lights. The low murmur of other shoppers moving carefully through the aisles, everyone carrying their own quiet grief.

He wondered where the ring was now. If it still existed. If it lay somewhere unreachable, frozen in a place he could never follow. The thought both destroyed and sustained him.

Mike’s only comfort was that she had her ring on her finger. That no matter what happened, his promise had always stayed and would always stay with her.

He turned away from the stand and headed towards the exit, pretending not to hear Lucas calling his name. The cold December air rushed in as the doors slid open. Outside, snow drifted lazily from the sky, settling over the broken edges of Hawkins.

Mike knew he was followed home by Lucas the whole way. But his friend gave him the space he needed. Space to carry the heavy grief, love and promise that he had no intention of breaking.

Not now. Not ever.

February 1988

The snow in Hawkins had turned grey at the edges, churned into slush by car tyres and boots that kept moving even when people wished they didn’t have to. Winter lingered stubbornly, like it didn’t know how to leave a town that was still learning how to stand again.

Mike found the notice downtown by accident.

He hadn’t meant to stop. He’d been walking without direction, hands buried in his jacket, breath fogging in front of him as he passed storefronts still patched with plywood and cracks that no one had quite fixed yet. Someone had pinned a new flyer to the community board outside the library - neat, official, printed on crisp white paper.

IN REMEMBRANCE
A Memorial for the Victims of the Hawkins Earthquake

Mike slowed, and then stopped. His eyes skimmed the text quickly at first, detached, until they weren’t.

A date. A time. A location near the town square. And beneath it - smaller print.

A list of names will be displayed in honour of those lost.

Mike’s pulse began to thud, heavy and uneven. He leaned closer, scanning the preliminary list tacked beneath the notice. Some names he recognised. Some he didn’t. Families. Elderly residents. People who had lived too close to the fractures when the ground tore open.

And then -

Jane Hopper.

The world tilted. Mike stared at the name, black ink bleeding slightly into the paper like it was sinking into the page. Jane Hopper. Neat. Final. Official.

Dead.

Something hot and violent flared in his chest, burning through the numbness he’d learned to live inside. His hands curled into fists so tightly his nails bit into his palms.

No.

They didn’t get to do that. They didn’t get to decide that she was gone. To carve her name into stone and call it closure. To bury her with lies and call it peace.

Mike tore the flyer down so hard the paper ripped, the sound sharp and ugly in the cold air. A woman passing nearby glanced at him, startled, but he didn’t care. He crumpled the paper in his fist and turned, already moving.

The police station loomed ahead, squat and familiar and wrong all at once. Hopper was back as Chief now. That much everyone knew - or knew enough of. His return had been quiet, almost deliberate. No press conference. No explanations. Just Jim Hopper walking back into Hawkins like a man who had unfinished business and no patience for questions.

Chief Powell had transferred out months earlier, citing stress, exhaustion, an inability to continue in a town that refused to make sense anymore. No one blamed him. Hopper had taken the job again like it wasn’t a choice.

Mike shoved through the station doors hard enough to make them slam against the wall. The smell hit him first - coffee, paper, disinfectant. Familiar sounds followed: phones ringing, low conversation, the squeak of a chair. Behind the desk, Officer Callahan was halfway through a doughnut, powdered sugar dusting his uniform like snow.

He looked up, eyes widening as Mike stormed past.

“Hey - hey!” Callahan said, scrambling to his feet, mouth still full. “Kid, you can’t just -”

Mike didn’t slow down because there was nothing more important than this. Nothing more important than knowing why Hopper had done this. To her – to Mike.

“Kid!” Callahan tried again, wiping his hands hastily on a napkin as he stepped into Mike’s path. “Chief’s in a meeting – “

“Fuck his meeting,” Mike muttered bitterly, ducking around Callhan and shoving the office door open.

He stopped abruptly.

Hopper wasn’t alone.

For a split second, Mike’s brain refused to catch up to what his eyes were seeing. Jim Hopper sat behind the desk, shoulders broad but slumped, hands braced against the wood like he needed the support. Across from him sat a man Mike hadn’t seen in over two years.

Dr Sam Owens.

Mike’s breath hitched audibly.

Owens looked… thinner. Older. His hair had gone thinner at the temples, the lines around his eyes deeper, etched in a way that suggested long stretches without sleep. There was something guarded about him now - a tightness in his posture, like his body had learned to expect walls closing in.

But he was alive.

“Dr Owens?” Mike said, disbelief bleeding into his voice before he could stop it.

Owens looked up, surprise flickering across his face before softening into something weary and sad. “Mike,” he said gently. “It’s… good to see you.”

Mike swallowed hard, eyes darting between the two men. “We thought - you were - the military took you. Back in ’86.”

“They did,” Owens replied quietly.

Hopper shifted in his chair, jaw tight. He looked… worn. Not just tired - hollowed out. December had not been kind to him. Joyce had pushed him back into this office, back into a role that required structure and purpose, because without it he’d been doing exactly what Mike had been doing.

Existing. Barely.

“They couldn’t hold him forever,” Hopper said gruffly. “Especially after -”

“Has there been any contact?” The words tore out of Mike before he could stop them. He couldn’t bare for Hopper to finish his sentence.

The room went still. Owens and Hopper exchanged a look - not confusion, not surprise. Something worse. Pity. Sadness. The kind of look people gave him now - when they thought he wasn’t paying attention.

Mike’s chest tightened. “Well has there?” he pressed on, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating. Everyone in the room knew how important the impact of the doctor’s next words would be. Mike felt like he was standing on the edge of the world.

Owens inhaled slowly, visibly bracing himself. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry, Mike. There’s been no contact.”

The words landed heavy and final. Mike nodded once, sharp and jerky, like his body was absorbing the blow even if his mind refused to. His gaze dropped to the floor, the crumpled flyer still clenched in his fist.

Hopper cleared his throat, struggling. “What - what did you come in for?”

Mike opened his mouth and closed it again. The memorial burned behind his eyes. Her name carved into something permanent. The rage that had propelled him here faltered suddenly, sinking under the weight of the room, the grief hanging thick between the three of them.

“I -” He swallowed. “Nothing.”

Hopper frowned. “Mike.”

Mike shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. “It doesn’t matter.”

He tried again, a different angle, quieter this time. “Could she have contacted someone else? You got her papers. A birth certificate. A passport. If she made it somewhere, if someone helped her - "

“Enough.” Hopper’s voice cut through him, sharp and brittle.

Mike looked up, startled. Hopper was on his feet now, hands planted on the desk, his breathing uneven. The blue hair tie bracelet now on his wrist and not El’s. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, his face drawn tight with pain he’d been holding back for months.

“I can’t do this,” Hopper said, voice low. “I can’t keep doing this, Mike.”

Silence swallowed the room. Owens shifted uncomfortably, clearly wishing he were anywhere else.

Hopper dragged a hand over his face. “I lost her too,” he said hoarsely. “And I - I have to believe she’s gone. I have to, or I won’t survive it.”

Mike flinched. The words felt like a door slamming shut. They had had similar conversations, similar arguments over the past three months. Hopper wanted solid proof which Mike could not give him. The only thing he could go on was a feeling. An unresolved ache in his chest that said no. That this wasn’t over.

He felt anger at the two men who had clearly given up.

“Then what are you here for?” Mike asked bitterly, turning to Owens. “If not El.”

Owens met his gaze steadily. “Justice,” he said simply.

Mike’s brow furrowed.

“We’re building a case,” Owens continued. “Against Dr Kay. The women she took. The pregnancies she oversaw. We’ve been gathering testimony, medical records, anything we can get our hands on.”

Mike’s thoughts spiralled instantly. Dr Kay’s cold eyes. Her hands. The way she’d looked at El like she was property. A resource. Something to be used.

A monster. No better than Brenner. The image of El trapped, reduced to a body instead of a person, sent something dark and violent curling in Mike’s chest.

“They would have taken everything from her,” he said, voice shaking with fury.

Hopper didn’t argue.

Owens nodded solemnly. “That’s why we’re stopping her.”

Mike paced once, sharp and restless. The anger churned and twisted, searching for somewhere to go. And then -

An idea. It came quietly. Dangerous. Desperate.

“There might be someone else,” Mike said suddenly. “Someone she’d reach out to.”

Both men looked at him. Hopper’s expression didn’t change - just deepened into exhaustion as he exhaled slowly, like he already knew where this was going.

“Hop,” Mike said, voice tight. “I need you to take me to Bloomington.”

Hopper closed his eyes. Just for a second. And in that moment, Mike saw it all over his face - the grief, the resignation, the fear that this hope would be the thing that finally broke them both.

But Mike didn’t look away. Because hope, no matter how fragile, was the only thing keeping him standing.

And he wasn’t done fighting yet.

The drive to Bloomington Indiana felt longer than it should have.

The world outside the car moved in muted shades of grey and white - bare trees clawing at the sky, snow clinging stubbornly to the edges of fields, the road stretching on like it didn’t know where it was going either. The heater hummed quietly, the only sound filling the space between them.

Mike’s knee bounced uncontrollably.

He tried to still it. Pressed his foot flat to the floor. Counted his breaths. But his body wouldn’t listen. The energy inside him had nowhere to go - hope and fear tangling together so tightly they were indistinguishable.

Hopper kept his eyes on the road. His hands were steady on the wheel, but his jaw was locked tight, a deep frown carved into his face like it had been there for months. He hadn’t turned on the radio. He hadn’t said a word.

The silence pressed in. And Mike averted his eyes, unable to look at the blue bracelet on Hopper’s wrist. He had never been able to ask how the Chief got it. Why El had given it back. It was an answer he didn’t feel ready for.

Finally, Hopper spoke. “What are you gonna do,” he asked quietly, “if this is a dead end?”

Mike didn’t answer. Because the truth was - he hadn’t let himself go there. Not even once. Hope was the only thing keeping him upright. The only thing making the days survivable. If he looked too closely at the alternative, he was certain something inside him would give way completely.

So he stared out of the window, jaw clenched, knee still bouncing, and said nothing at all.

Bloomington crept up on them slowly. The streets were quieter than Hawkins, older somehow. The houses sat close together, worn but lived-in, front gardens buried under snow that had lost its sparkle weeks ago.

Hopper turned down a road that seemed uncared for as the Chevrolet Blazer bounced over the uneven gravel. But he seemed to know it well enough to avoid the worst of the pot holes.

The house came in to view and Mike found himself sitting up. It was a modest home – pale siding, narrow porch, a single wreath still hanging on the door though Christmas had long passed.

Mike’s chest tightened. This was it. El’s family home. Her grandparents’ house – now Terry and Becky’s.

He stared at it, heart thudding painfully as his creative mind filled in pictures that had never existed - El running up these steps as a child – giggling, a floral dress twirling around her knees. Terry opening the door and pulling her into her arms, a life where none of this had been taken from them.

A life where Jane came home.

Would he have still met her in that world? Mike liked to think they would have. That somehow, someway, their paths still would’ve crossed. That no matter how the world tried to tear them apart, they had always been meant to find each other.

Hopper cut the engine, but neither of them moved. Mike had been so consumed with his search that for a second, he had forgotten how pivotal this moment was. He was meeting El’s family. Did they already know who he was? Was he foolish to believe that they would?

Mike shook his thoughts away and forced himself to open the car door. Hopper followed suit with a heavy sigh.

They didn’t need to knock, because as they approached the front door it creaked open of its own accord. Hopper and Mike looked at each other, a burning question behind their desperate eyes. Mike had come here to find out if El had made contact. He had never thought that perhaps she was here.

His pace sped up, his breath came out uneven. He could feel it in Hopper too. The unspoken hope circulating around them.

Mike knew that Hopper and Joyce had come to see the Ives in November. To tell them what had happened. It wasn’t something that either of them spoke of, because it was too painful. Too painful to imagine Becky’s reaction. Too painful to imagine the complex emotions that Terry must have experienced but could not express.

Hopper knocked on the open door. “Becky? It’s Jim Hopper.”

There was the sound of a chair scraping suddenly, like someone had been startled. Becky appeared in the hallway, a cigarette burning between her fingers. Her eyes widened as she stared at the police chief, before settling on Mike with a surprised gasp.

“Is this – ?”

“Mike,” Hopper finished, his voice gruff. He cleared his throat before continuing. “He… he had some questions.”

Becky looked between them both and nodded numbly. Gesturing towards the kitchen. Mike hastened to follow her, while Hopper closed the front door behind him.

The house smelled faintly of stale smoke and old furniture. Lived-in. Heavy. Mike’s footsteps felt too loud against the floor as he moved into the kitchen.

Becky moved around the space mechanically, pouring coffee into mismatched mugs, lighting another cigarette even though the first hadn’t burned out yet. She didn’t ask them to sit.

Finally, she turned.

“Why are you here?” she asked bluntly, eyes on Mike now. “Because there’s nothing I will know that you don’t already. I know all about you, from Hopper and Joyce. I… I know what you meant to Jane.”

Mike took a breath. “I was hoping… I mean, I wanted to ask if El -” He hesitated, then corrected himself. “Jane. If she’s been in contact.”

Becky’s brows knit together. She glanced sharply at Hopper, something like disbelief crossing her face. Her look said is this boy okay?

Hopper sighed. “I’m sorry, Becky. I tried to tell him -”

“Can I see her?” Mike cut in, frustration bleeding through. “Please. Terry. I just want to see her…”

Becky studied him for a long moment. Then she turned away again, exhaling smoke towards the ceiling.

“She’s in the front room,” she said quietly. “Same as always.”

Mike’s heart pounded as he followed the noise of the television set. It sounded like a re-run of a gameshow was playing. He turned the corner, and then he saw her.

Terry was sat in a chair facing the tv, hands clutching the wooden arms. She stared ahead, unblinking, eyes fixed on the screen, her pale lips muttering words Mike couldn’t distinguish.

He hadn’t known what he’d expected - but not this.

Her face. The shape of it. The softness of her jaw. The familiar curve of her cheekbones. Even the set of her mouth.

El.

It was there. Undeniable.

Mike’s throat closed as emotion surged violently through him. This was her mother. Her real mother. The woman who had fought a secret government organisation with nothing but love and desperation. Who had taken a gun into Hawkins Lab to get her daughter back - and had been strapped down and broken for it.

Both of them robbed and abused.

Mike approached slowly, like he was afraid she might vanish if he moved too fast.

“Terry,” he said softly. “Hi.”

She didn’t respond. Not even when Mike sunk to his knees in front of her. His dark amber eyes trying to take in everything about her. Everything that reminded him of El.

“Um… my name’s Mike,” he continued, voice trembling now. “I’m… I’m Jane’s boyfriend.”

His chest tightened painfully. “She means everything to me.”

Terry’s eyes haltered ever so slightly, and her gaze slowly moved onto Mike. He felt himself gasp in anticipation, but she said nothing.

“Everyone says she’s gone,” Mike whispered. “But I can’t… I can’t accept that.”

He waited.

But nothing.

They stared at each other and Mike felt an unconscious connection ground them both. Mike was just like Terry. When El had been stolen as a baby, Terry had fought family, friends and the system, insisting, believing that her daughter did not die. That her daughter was taken and she was going to get her back by any means.

Mike felt a tear run down his face and he placed his hand over Terry’s. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice choked. “Thank you for never giving up on her.”

She stared at him, and he willed her to say something. But nothing. His shoulders sagged as defeat crept in, heavy and exhausting. He stood, wiping his tears. And turned away slowly, the weight of it all pressing down on him like gravity.

And then-

“Sunflower,” Terry said faintly. “Rainbow. Three to the right. Four to the left. Four fifty.”

Mike froze. His breath caught painfully in his chest.

“Waterfall.”

The word slipped out softly, almost reverently.

Mike turned back so fast his vision swam. Terry stared ahead still, her expression unchanged - but the word echoed through him like a bell struck deep underwater.

Waterfall.

His heart began to race and he found himself in front of Terry again, tears spilling down his cheek bones. “What…” he gasped. “What did you say? Did… did you say waterfall? Please. Please can you say it again?!”

He didn’t realise he was clutching Terry’s hand tightly as she stared at him blankly.

“What’s going on in here?” Becky said hurriedly, concern etched on her face as she looked between her sister and the boy so desperate for answers.

Before Mike could say anything, Hopper’s voice came from the doorway, thick with apology. “Becky - I’m sorry. I think it’s time we go.”

“No,” Mike said suddenly, his eyes wide and wet as he looked between Becky and Hopper. “Terry said waterfall. She said it.”

Becky shook her head in confusion and moved further into the room, a protective look on her face. “No. Terry only says the same things. Again and again.”

“But – “

“Mike.” Hopper only said his name but it was enough. The Chief’s eyes were almost dangerous as he stared him down.

Mike let go of Terry’s hand, not realising how hard he had been gripping it. He mumbled his apologies to Becky and hurriedly left the room. A gasping shudder leaving his chest as he furiously wiped at his face and headed straight for the Chevrolet.

The drive back was nothing like the drive there.

Mike’s thoughts raced, tumbling over each other as he spoke rapidly, hands gesturing wildly. “She said waterfall. She said it. That’s new! That means something!”

Hopper shook his head, jaw tight. “Mike – “

“And Becky told you that money was missing?” Mike pressed. “That’s not random. That was her. It has to be!”

“There’s been a lot of theft in that area,” Hopper replied evenly.

Mike felt fury building up inside of him. It rose fast and violent, layer upon layer, until it crowded out everything else and he couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Why don’t you want to believe she’s alive?!”

Hopper slammed the brakes. The car skidded slightly before coming to a stop on the shoulder of the road. Hopper leaned forward, hands gripping the wheel as his breath came in harsh, uneven pulls.

“Because I can’t!” He exploded, turning on Mike with red-rimmed eyes. “I can’t live like that!”

Mike flinched.

“She planned it,” Hopper confessed, voice breaking. “She and Kali. They talked about it. About never being free. About ending it before someone else could take everything from her. Why do you think she gave me back the hair tie?”

Mike’s heart shattered. Broke into thousands of pieces that he knew he would never be able to repair. No. No this couldn’t be true.

“I tried to stop her,” Hopper whispered. “I thought I had. I thought I got through to her.”

His voice cracked completely. “I can’t understand what changed her mind. And I can’t live with the guilt anymore. That if I had done something – stopped her. She’d still be here Mike. The hope… it kills me. And… and seeing that hope in your eyes, but knowing what I know. Knowing that she planned this. It destroys me.”

Mike shoved the door open and stumbled out into the cold. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He paced furiously as sobs tore from his chest, shouting and crying into the empty winter air, his breath fogging violently in front of him.

He didn’t hear Hopper getting out of the car. He didn’t hear him crying or pleading with him to get back in the vehicle.

Then arms wrapped around him - strong, shaking, desperate - pulling him into a tight, crushing hug. They stood there on the side of the road, two broken men clinging to each other as the world carried on without her.

“Why was I not enough?” Mike cried. “Why wasn’t I enough for her to stay?”

“She promised,” Mike sobbed into Hopper’s jacket. “She promised me that I would never lose her.”

Hopper closed his eyes, holding him tighter.

“I know,” he whispered.

And for the first time, Mike felt the truth brush against him - not fully accepted, not yet, but present. A grief deep enough to drown in.

And still… somewhere beneath it all, the sound of falling water echoed in his mind.

March 1988

The school parking lot buzzed with a noise that felt almost obscene in its normality.

Car doors slammed. Laughter cut through the cold air. Someone’s radio played something upbeat and stupid. The world, apparently, had decided it was time to keep going.

Mike stood near the bike racks with Will and Dustin, hands shoved into his black jean pockets, his breath fogging faintly in front of him as he watched students stream towards the building. He felt like he was standing slightly out of phase with everything around him - like the volume had been turned up too loud, colours too bright.

“She should be here any minute,” Dustin said, rocking on his heels.

Mike nodded, even though he didn’t need to be told who she was.

A car pulled into the lot a moment later - familiar, careful in the way it parked. Lucas climbed out first, already scanning the crowd like he was on high alert. He moved to the passenger side and opened the door. Max stepped out beside him.

Mike felt something loosen in his chest.

Max moved slowly, still getting used to her body again, but there was nothing fragile about her posture. Lucas stayed close without hovering, his hand brushing her elbow like he was ready if she needed him - but not assuming she would.

People stared. Mike noticed it immediately - the way conversations stalled, the way heads turned. Whispers followed her across the concrete.

That’s her. Max Mayfield. The girl who was in a coma. Two years!

Max clocked it too. She lifted her chin and shot a glare at a couple of kids standing by the doors. “What the hell are you looking at?” she snapped.

One of them flushed and looked away. She flipped off another without breaking stride.

Mike almost smiled.

Lucas glanced at her, mouth twitching. “Easy, tiger.”

“They started it,” Max muttered, but she leaned into his side anyway.

Dustin let out a low whistle. “Man. Still terrifying.”

“Damn right,” Max said, flashing him a grin as they reached the group.

Mike noticed the necklace almost immediately. A thin silver chain rested against the collar of her jumper, catching the pale sunlight. Simple. Elegant. Familiar now in a way that told him everything he needed to know. Lucas had gotten it for her and Mike couldn’t think of a time when she hadn’t worn it.

They fell into step together, the five of them walking towards the school doors like they’d done a hundred times before - except this time, there was an absence walking with them. A space no one mentioned.

Max groaned as they climbed the steps. “Do you know how much work I’ve missed? I’m never graduating. Ever. I’m gonna be eighty, still stuck in Hawkins High, begging Mrs Edwards to let me pass algebra.”

“You’ll graduate,” Lucas said immediately. “You’ve got these nerds.”

Dustin puffed up. “I prefer academic powerhouse.”

“Yeah, an academic powerhouse that had his ex-girlfriend change his grade…” Will said softly, smirking when Dustin gasped.

“Hey! It was Latin, okay?”

Will chuckled. Mike heard the words, but they slid past him, his thoughts drifting somewhere else entirely.

Would El have come here?

The idea caught him off guard. El walking through these doors. Sitting in classrooms. Complaining about homework. Finding an extra-curricular activity that she loved.

He’d never really pictured it before. The future always felt abstract with her - something they talked around rather than planned. But now the thought hurt in a new way.

Would she have liked it? Would she have hated it? Would she have graduated on time with the party? Mike didn’t think he wanted to graduate anymore. Didn’t think he wanted to move forward in a world that had decided to leave her behind.

Lunch came and went in fragments.

Will sat beside him, quiet but attentive, watching the way Mike pushed food around his tray without eating much of it.

“Hey,” Will said kindly. “We could… start a new campaign. When you’re ready.”

Mike glanced at him.

“You’re the storyteller,” Will continued. “It takes time. Focus. Maybe… it’s a good distraction.”

Mike nodded slowly. “Yeah. Maybe.”

He appreciated that Will didn’t push. Didn’t fill the silence. Just let the idea exist. By the end of the day, Mike felt hollowed out. Classes blurred together, he didn’t answer when called on. He stared through the chalkboard, through the windows, through time itself. The bell rang, and he startled like he’d been yanked back into his body.

He headed for his bike automatically - until a voice cut across the field.

“Hey, Wheeler!”

Max sat on the bleachers near the track, legs stretched out in front of her. Lucas ran laps nearby, focused but glancing over every so often to check on her.

Mike wandered over, hands in his pockets. He carefully sat down next to Max and nodded towards the track. “Wow. Who’s the stalker now?”

Max snorted. “Shut up.”

They shared a small, sad smile. For a moment, they just watched Lucas run. It was quite calming, just watching the rhythm of his jogging. The continuity and the pace as his body moved. Lucas was built to be an athlete. He trained hard and reaped the benefits.

Mike’s thoughts moved back to El. He could see her training in the junk yard, far away from the military’s eyes. He had been able to watch her a couple of times – his mouth had always gaped open in awe as she had flown. Literally.

He had always known she could fly.

“Everything reminds me of her,” Mike said quietly.

Max didn’t pretend not to understand. “Same.”

Her blue eyes stayed on Lucas, but she swallowed slowly. “We didn’t have enough time.”

Mike’s throat tightened. His blinked quickly, keeping his focus on the track.

“It’s so unfair,” Max continued, voice rough. “She deserved a happy ending more than anyone.”

Mike nodded, staring at the painted lines ahead of them. He tried to ignore the lump in his throat, the heaviness in his chest. “She really did.”

They sat in silence for a while before Max spoke again. “You know… when I thought I was gonna -” She stopped herself, exhaling. “I wrote letters. To all of you. It helped. Kinda...”

Mike frowned slightly. “Yeah… I know about the letters. Lucas didn’t ever let us read them. Because he was sure you were coming back.”

Max smiled sadly, “well I’m glad none of you read them.”

Mike shrugged playfully, “would it have been that bad for us to read and know you didn’t hate us?”

Max rolled her eyes in amusement and looked at Mike for a moment. “You know I never hated you. Just… thought you were all stupid boys.”

When Mike did nothing but grin slightly, Max looked back at Lucas. “Maybe try writing. Something. Anything. You are supposed to be like the dungeon master or whatever it’s called. You’ve got to be creative right?”

Mike blinked. “Did you just compliment me?”

“Screw you, Wheeler.”

He huffed a laugh - quiet, surprised, real. For the first time that day, Mike felt himself come back into the world just a little. Not healed or truly okay. But present. And for now, that was enough.

November 6^th 1988

Mike shouldn’t have been there.

It was late. Cold. The kind of night where the air felt too sharp in his lungs, where every sound carried too far. The building site that had once been Hawkins Town Hall was fenced off now, floodlights long since switched off, the ground uneven and scarred where something monstrous had torn its way through reality.

But Mike went anyway.

He slipped through a gap in the fencing he knew by heart and stood still for a moment, letting the weight of the place settle over him. This was where she had stood. Where she had looked at him. Where she had chosen to go somewhere he couldn’t follow.

The wrong side.

He didn’t know why he’d brought the Eggos. The box felt absurd in his hands - bright yellow, ridiculous against the darkness, but he hadn’t been able to leave them behind. Maybe because they were hers. Maybe because it felt wrong to come empty-handed.

He sat down on a slab of concrete, the cold seeping through his jeans, and set the box beside him. His breath fogged in front of his face as he stared at the space where the gateway had once been blaringly open.

A year.

A year since Vecna and the Mind Flayer fell. A year since Holly and the other kids were pulled back into the light.

And a year since El.

Gone. Or lost. Or whatever word the world insisted on using now.

Mike bowed his head, fingers tightening around the edge of the box. “I’m here,” he whispered into the dark. “I always will be.”

Footsteps crunched softly behind him. He looked up, startled - and then his chest loosened all at once.

Will stood a few feet away, hands shoved into his sleeves. Dustin hovered beside him, clutching a half-crushed Eggo box of his own. Max and Lucas followed close behind, Max leaning into Lucas’s side, his arm instinctively around her waist.

They didn’t say we knew you’d be here. They didn’t have to.

Dustin dropped down beside Mike with a sigh. “Man, it is freezing. You have terrible timing, Wheeler.”

Mike huffed a weak laugh. They sat together in a loose circle, backs against concrete and rubble, the town quiet around them. Someone opened the box. Someone else broke an Eggo in half.

Max held hers up. “To El.”

They all lifted theirs.

“To El,” they echoed.

Mike bit into his. He immediately made a face.

“Oh my god,” he croaked. “These are awful.”

Dustin gagged dramatically. “How did she eat these?”

Lucas shook his head. “No taste buds. Has to be.”

Max snorted - and then laughed. A real laugh. It cracked something open in Mike’s chest, sharp and sudden, and before he knew it, he was laughing too, tears spilling freely down his face.

They told stories.

About the van she’d lifted like it was nothing. About the way she’d stared down bullies twice her size and made Troy pee himself.

Max told them about spying through the void - how El had giggled uncontrollably when she caught the boys being gross and stupid.

“She couldn’t stop laughing,” Max said softly. “Just… watching you idiots exist.”

Mike wiped at his eyes and smiled. “She was so excited to decorate her room,” he said quietly. “She asked Hopper if she could have the picture of me in my Ghostbuster costume.”

Dustin choked. “No.”

“Oh yeah,” Mike said. “Hopper nearly lost his mind.”

They laughed again. Cried again. Let the memories exist without trying to protect themselves from the pain. Eventually, the cold crept in deep enough that they fell quiet. And Mike allowed Lucas and Max to drive him home.

Mike didn’t remember laying down in his bed. He just knew that at some point, exhaustion claimed him - the kind that came not from lack of sleep, but from carrying too much for too long.

He dreamed.

At first, it was the usual nightmares - the gateway, the screaming metal, her face as she threw him out of her mind.

But between those moments, something shifted.

He wasn’t himself anymore.

He was seeing through someone else’s eyes.

Seagulls wheeled overhead, crying sharply against a grey sky. Water lapped softly against a dock. Red brick buildings lined the edge of the water, old and weathered. Christmas lights were strung along metal railings, glowing faintly in the mist.

Grey water. Cold air. Music. A place that felt far away.

Mike stirred in his sleep, heart pounding.

But by morning - when the sun crept up over Hawkins and the world demanded his attention again, the images were gone.

All that remained was the ache in his chest.

And somewhere, deep beneath it all, the distant echo of water moving steadily forward.

Chapter Text

The Mage and Storyteller

Chapter Three: The Crossing

Her heart beat was slowing down.

She could hear it in her ears - that usual strong and defiant beat was starting to lull. Beads of sweat had long since gathered at her forehead, and the hands that clutched at the gunshot wound in her stomach were weakening.

But her mind was still strong. Her eyelids twitched, her breath laboured as she focused.

Focused on helping her sister live.

“There’s already been so much pain. From the moment you were born your mother was taken from you, your childhood was taken from you. You’ve been attacked, manipulated, abused by terrible people. Life has been so unfair to you, so cruel.”

 A tear ran down Kali’s dirt coated face, clearing a path through the dust.

“But you never let it break you and I need you to fight, kid. I just need you to fight one last time. Fight for the happy days on the other side of this, fight for a world beyond Hawkins.”

 The words had been for her sister, but Kali felt them resonate deeply with her. She would stay with her sister to the very end, fight for her. And then… she would be released from this fight. Perhaps reunited with her true family one day, on the other side of all of this. She would never forget reading how her parents had died. Been killed by Brenner, she was sure.

But she didn’t allow the blurry images of her own mother’s touch or father’s laugh enter her mind, she was with Jane. Following her path for however long she needed to.

Kali - now.

It was their signal - one they had privately talked about as Kali had lay bleeding on the lab floor. Her weakened hand on her stomach twitched, and she took a shaky breath as she put all her strength into the illusion.

“Run Jane,” Kali said through lips that were turning blue. “Run… sister.”

Kali felt Jane check out as she projected the image of her just inside of the Upside Down. She knew where she had gone, understood why. Love was something so rare in the world they had been forced into. Jane was lucky to have it, and Kali hoped it would always find her.

Kali cried out as the explosion above suddenly made her ears ring. Her fingers tightened on her stomach as she refocused on her sister’s image. The building trembled violently, the walls moving, the structure shaking as the exotic matter was hit by Mike’s bomb. The bright blue streak of light shot outwards towards the wormhole walls.

Kali knew that she would be able to survive until the very end of its destruction because the lab was the epicentre. It gave her as long as possible to protect her sister. But even so, she knew it was only minutes.

She could hear Jane’s thoughts getting quieter and quieter – which meant she was even further away now. Kali’s dry lips twitched into a small smile. She was getting away. Away from monsters like Dr Kay, away from the real lab, away from Hawkins. She was going to be free.

Kali’s breath laboured and she dropped her hands from her stomach. She kept up her sister’s illusion, but could feel it starting to slip. The edges of Jane’s fingers were starting to blur and so was Kali’s vision.

She hoped she had given her enough time as she felt her own run out.

“I… love you… sister…” Kali whispered, her breath stuttering, her eyes blinking slowly.

Everything happened at once. Her last breath came out, the illusion of Jane disappeared, the destruction ascended. But behind her eyes, she felt warmth, light, and a feeling of safety and love that she had not felt since she was a little girl. Her lips went to mouth “m” as she drifted away.

Her heartbeat was strong and loud and seemed to scream run.

Run. Run. Run.

El didn’t think - she moved. Her feet carried her away from the truck. From the soldiers.

The illusion had begun. She could feel it in the wrongness of the air, in the way the world hadn’t turned, hadn’t looked. Not one person saw her leave through the Radio Shack doors.

Not even Mike.

Her body surged forward on pure adrenaline, muscles burning, lungs pulling in sharp, panicked breaths that felt too big for her chest. This was instinct. This was survival. This was the part of her that had been trained to escape cages before she ever knew what freedom meant.

This was the moment. The moment where she would either be a rat in a cage for the rest of her life - or free.

Truly free.

El hit the ladder hard, hands wrapping around the cold metal as she began to climb down into the darkness beneath Hawkins. And that was when her mind caught up.

Her breath stuttered.

Her heart slammed violently against her ribs, no longer urging her forward - but screaming in grief, in terror, in knowing. She could feel it all at once, like a dam shattering inside her chest.

The chaos above. The shouting and screaming. The way Mike would be turning - right now - realising she was gone.

She knew.

She felt him.

El’s hands began to tremble on the ladder. Sweat slicked her palms, her fingers slipping as the weight of it crashed over her. Kali. Her sister. Still holding the illusion. Still burning herself out to protect her.

Still dying.

“No,” El whispered, the word breaking apart as it left her lips.

Her grip failed.

For one terrifying second, she fell - the darkness rushing up to meet her - before instinct snapped into place and her power flared. The air bent. Her body jerked, suspended, and then she dropped the rest of the way gently, her sneakers hitting the tunnel floor. She collapsed forward, hands braced on her knees, gasping.

The tunnels.

She was far enough now. Far enough from the sonic blasts. Far enough to feel herself again.

Far enough to reach him.

The void opened around her without effort this time - black and endless and familiar - and suddenly Mike was there, solid and real and terrified.

“El -” His voice broke immediately. “You… you have to get out of there! You have to get out!”

Her chest tightened so hard it hurt to breathe.

“None of this will ever end,” El said, her voice trembling as tears spilled freely now, “not if I’m still here.”

“No, no, no,” Mike shook his head violently, stepping closer, hands reaching for her like he could physically hold her there. “We’ll figure something out. We always do. We’ll fight back –”

She sobbed then, the sound tearing out of her as she pressed her hands to Mike’s sides, her fingers digging into the material of his camo gilet.

“I need you,” she said through the tears, “I need you to talk to the others.”

His face crumpled.

“No.”

“I need you to thank them for me,” El continued desperately. “For being so kind to me. For teaching me what it means to be a friend –”

“No!” Mike shouted. “Please - please don’t do this. Please don’t do this!”

“Mike,” she whispered, stepping closer, her hands shaking as she clutched on to him tighter. “I need you to help them understand my choice.”

“But I don’t,” he sobbed. “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But you will. One day… you will.”

He shook his head again and again, tears streaming freely now.

“You understand me,” El said, her voice breaking completely. “Better than anyone. You always have. From the day we met… you’ve seen me.”

She pulled him into her arms and they clung to each other, bodies shaking as they cried. She memorised the feel of him - the warmth, the solidity, the way his hands curled around her like he could anchor her there.

“Please don’t leave me El,” Mike whispered against her shoulder. “Please don’t do this.”

El pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands cradling his face like he was something sacred. Because he was. He was everything to her. El gasped as she pressed her forehead to Mike’s.

“I will always be with you,” she said. “I love you.”

She could see him forming the words, but she kissed him anyway. Desperately. Aching and full of everything she couldn’t say, everything he couldn’t say in that moment. She hoped he knew this kiss wasn’t just that, it was a promise. This would not be their last.

And then, before she could lose her courage –

“Goodbye, Mike.”

The void shattered. Mike was flung from her mind and El screamed and cried as the connection snapped, as she tried to close the door.

Her body folded in on itself in the tunnel as the weight of it all finally crushed her. She gasped for air, sobbing openly now, her hands clawing at her chest as she shook violently.

But she moved.

She had to.

Because if she stopped - if she turned back - then this would all be for nothing. Her heartbreak. Mike’s. Hop’s. Kali’s.

Kali would die in vain.

El forced herself forward, teeth gritted, tears streaming as she stumbled through the tunnel, one foot in front of the other.

And then -

She felt it.

A sudden stillness. A quiet where there had been resistance. A breath that was not hers… leaving.

El froze.

Her hand pressed to the wall as a sound tore from her throat, raw and animal. She doubled over, crying out her sister’s name as the echo of Kali’s last breath brushed against her like a ghost.

“I know,” El whispered hoarsely, tears blinding her. “I know.”

She stayed there for a moment - just a moment - shaking, gasping, letting herself feel it. Letting herself grieve. Letting herself love.

Then she wiped her face with trembling hands. She curled her fingers into fists. And into the dark, she whispered, fierce and broken and true -

“I will live.”

And then she moved forward, carrying her sister, Mike, Hop, her friends with her. Not in body, but in everything that mattered.

El slowed only once she was far enough from the echo of the tunnels - far enough that the ground beneath her feet felt like the real world again.

El looked down at herself and frowned. The wetsuit clung cold and damp against her skin, heavy with sweat. Her black pants had dark patches of blood from the battle – from Kali. Her once white sneakers were scuffed and filthy, the laces dark with grime. She looked like someone who had crawled out of the wreckage of something terrible.

Because she had.

Her chest tightened painfully as her mind leapt instinctively towards the cabin. She could get clean, get dressed. She could take her documents with her.

Hop.

The thought alone almost buckled her knees.

She could picture it so clearly - the door creaking open, Hopper turning, his face crumbling as he realised, she was standing there, alive. The relief. The sobbing. The way he would crush her into his chest and never let go.

Mike.

The ache sharpened, unbearable. She couldn’t even allow herself to picture his face.

If she took anything - clothes, food, photos, a jacket – Mike would know. If she left even the smallest trace of herself behind, the lie would unravel. People would look closer. Ask questions. Search.  

And people had already died for her. Too many.

She couldn’t do this to them. She couldn’t let Hopper believe he had failed her only to drag him back into danger. She couldn’t let her friends live in fear of where she might be, who might be looking for her.

She could not let Mike try to save her again.

The thought of him running towards danger - of choosing her over his own life - made her chest seize with terror.

The less he knows, the safer he is.

It hurt. God, it hurt. She hated this part. Hated herself for letting them grieve, for letting them believe she was gone. For letting Mike carry that ache inside him.

But for now… she had to disappear.

There was someone, though.

Someone she needed to see. Maybe for the last time. Someone who couldn’t tell anyone - who wouldn’t understand enough to betray her, even if she was forced. Someone she loved in a quiet, aching way.

But first, she had to get out of Hawkins. A town wrapped in fences and soldiers and lies.

El let out a weak, humourless breath. “Too bad,” she murmured under her breath. “I have superpowers.”

Her legs burned as she walked, then staggered, then forced herself to keep going. Every muscle screamed at her to stop, to rest, to collapse. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Not until she was free.

The secret entrance inside the WSQK radio station loomed ahead, familiar and devastating all at once. She slipped inside quietly and paused just inside the doorway.

The wall hit her like a punch to the chest.

Maps. Drawings. Notes scribbled in frantic handwriting. Plans layered over plans - all of them built around saving her.

Saving everyone.

Her throat closed as a tear slid down her cheek, cutting clean through the dirt on her face. She hadn’t gone into this expecting to survive.

She had been ready to end it. Ready to stay behind. Ready to stop the cycle the only way she’d ever been taught - by sacrificing herself.

But Hopper’s voice echoed in her mind now, steady and stubborn and full of belief. And what he truly had meant.

You deserve a life.

Breaking the cycle of abuse. A future. Maybe… even a daughter one day.

El pressed her hand to her chest, breath trembling. The fight against the Mind flayer, Henry and the soldiers might be over. But the fight for the life she deserved?

That was only just beginning.

El turned away before the wall could break her and hurried into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She leaned over the sink and splashed cold water onto her face, gasping as it shocked her senses back into place.

Later, she promised herself. There would be time later to cry. To grieve. To let her heart break quietly in the dark.

But not now…

She looked up at her reflection. Her face was pale. Her eyes red-rimmed and fierce. Her jaw set with the same determination that had carried her through labs and monsters and cages.

Mike believed in her.

The thought steadied her like nothing else could.

She could do anything. She could fly. She could survive. She could be free.

And one day, she dared to believe - she could be happy.

El slipped back outside and into the forest, the trees swallowing her whole as she ran. Branches clawed at her clothes, leaves crunching beneath her feet as the fence loomed ahead - tall and cruel and absolute.

She stopped. Lifted her hand and tore it open.

Metal screamed as it split, bending to her will as though it had never been a barrier at all.

El – Jane Hopper - didn’t look back as she crossed the line.

El stayed close to the tree line as she followed the road, keeping Hawkins behind her like a shadow that could still reach out and drag her back.

She didn’t step fully into the open. Not yet. Every set of headlights that swept across the asphalt made her muscles tense. Every engine in the distance felt like a threat. A soldier. A patrol. Someone who would recognise her face from a file she didn’t even know existed. Or worse -

Dr Kay.

El swallowed hard and kept moving, shoulders hunched against the cold. The air bit at her skin where the wetsuit clung damp and heavy. Her legs ached. Her feet hurt. But she didn’t stop.

Not until she saw it.

A gas station, glowing faintly ahead like a small island of light in the dark. Relief loosened something in her chest. Not much, just enough to breathe.

From a distance, she narrowed her focus. Her mind reached out, thin and careful, like a hand slipping through a crack. The cameras above the pumps hummed softly with electricity, their little red lights steady.

El turned them away.

Not breaking them. Not drawing attention. Just… looking elsewhere.

She moved quickly across the edge of the lot and slipped inside. Warmth hit her first - the stale, overheated warmth of a place that never really slept. The smell of coffee that had been sitting too long on a burner. Cigarette smoke trapped in the walls. The soft murmur of a radio behind the counter.

El kept her head down and went straight for the bathroom.

She locked the door behind her and sagged against it for a moment, breathing hard. Her hands shook as she pulled her clothes into place and relieved herself, the most human need in the world feeling almost unreal after everything.

El washed her hands, watching the water run. She cupped her hands, scooped it up, and drank greedily, water spilling down her chin. It was cold, clean and real.

She splashed more onto her face and stared at her reflection for one brief second. A girl with dirt on her cheeks. Bruises. Eyes too old. A girl who looked like she’d been through hell.

El turned away before she could break.

She unlocked the door and slipped back out into the main station, keeping her movements small, controlled. She could keep walking. She would keep walking. She didn’t want a ride. A ride meant trusting someone. Trust meant risk.

But as she reached the door -

“Sweetheart?”

El froze.

An elderly woman stood near the entrance, holding a set of keys in her hand. Large spectacles magnified her eyes, making them look even more concerned as they swept over El’s clothes, the marks, the way her body held itself like it was expecting to be grabbed.

“Are you okay?” the woman asked gently.

El’s mouth opened automatically. “Yes.”

The lie sat ready on her tongue. She didn’t want attention. She didn’t want anyone to remember her face.

But the woman’s expression didn’t change. It didn’t soften into dismissal. It stayed exactly where it was - worried. Present.

El forced herself to think. Nancy would know what to say. Max would know what to say. Someone normal. Someone who could improvise without shaking.

“My… my car broke down,” El heard herself say, and she almost sounded like she believed it. “I’m just trying to get home. To Bloomington.”

The woman’s brows knit. “Bloomington?” she repeated, like she was calculating distance and time. “Honey, it’s the middle of the night.”

El’s throat tightened. “I know.”

The woman hesitated only a moment longer before she sighed, the kind of sigh that meant she had already decided.

“Well,” she said, voice brisk now as if practicality could keep the fear away, “you can’t be walking out here. Not dressed like that. Not at this hour. Come on.”

El stiffened. “I… I can keep walking.”

The woman pointed her keys at her like a wand. “You can keep walking tomorrow,” she said. “Get in the car.”

El’s heart pounded hard enough to make her dizzy. She could refuse. She could disappear into the trees again and keep going on foot. But her legs were trembling. Her stomach was hollow. And the woman’s face was… kind.

El nodded once and she followed her outside.

The woman’s car smelled like peppermint and old fabric. A crocheted blanket was folded in the backseat. A little plastic Virgin Mary was glued to the dashboard. The woman opened the passenger door for her and El slid in, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

As they pulled onto the road, the woman glanced sideways at her.

“I’m Marjorie,” she offered. “What’s your name, honey?”

El stared out at the darkness beyond the headlights. “Angela,” she said quietly.

It felt strange in her mouth. But she couldn’t risk using the name of someone she loved.

Marjorie didn’t push. She just hummed softly, like she was filing the name away.

They drove.

The woman chatted - not aggressively, not in a way that demanded answers. Just small talk, like she was filling the space so El didn’t have to. Comments about the weather. About gas prices. About how her sister lived down near Bloomington and still hadn’t learned how to make proper cornbread.

El answered with little sounds when she needed to. She kept her gaze fixed on the window, watching the world slide past in shadows and fields.

It seemed impossible that hours earlier, she was in the Upside Down. In the Abyss, destroying the Mind Flayer and Henry with the help of her friends.

Every so often, Marjorie would glance at her again. At her clothes. At the dirt under her nails. At the bruises she couldn’t hide.

El could feel the questions sitting behind the woman’s eyes. But Marjorie didn’t ask them, and El didn’t offer.

For one brief, dangerous moment, El imagined what it would feel like to tell her. To tell someone. To let the truth fall out of her like a weight she’d been carrying her whole life.

She imagined this woman’s hands – kind and steady, pulling her into a hug. Calling someone who would protect her. Getting her warm food. A bed.

Safety.

El swallowed hard and held the truth inside. Not worth the risk. Not after everything.

When the roads began to look familiar, El’s heart started to thud differently - less fear now, more aching anticipation. Bloomington. The edges of it. The quiet streets.

“Whereabouts?” Marjorie asked as they slowed near a row of modest houses. “You said Bloomington, but that’s a whole place.”

El forced her voice steady. “Larrabee Road.”

Marjorie nodded immediately. “Oh, I know it.”

El exhaled shakily. Relief - sharp and guilty, washed over her. “Um… just… just drop me at the start,” she said. “I’ll be okay from there.”

Marjorie frowned. “It’s dark.”

“I know,” El whispered.

They turned down the road and the houses grew quieter, the streetlights few and far between. When Marjorie finally pulled over, El’s heart was hammering.

“Here?” Marjorie asked.

El nodded. “Yes.”

The car came to a stop. El turned to her then, properly. Looked at her. Really looked.

“Thank you,” El said, voice rough. “Thank you so much.”

Marjorie’s expression softened - not pity, not suspicion. Just warmth. “Get home safe, Angela,” she said gently. “Okay?”

El nodded again, throat tight. “Okay.”

She stepped out and watched the car drive away, the red tail lights disappearing into the dark. Only when it was truly gone did El move. She walked down Larrabee Road slowly, the numbers on the houses rising in her mind like a heartbeat.

Her stomach twisted. Her chest ached so sharply she nearly stopped.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

She stepped up to the front door and lifted her hand. The lock clicked softly and the door creaked open like it had been waiting for her. El quietly slipped inside. It was not her intention to wake Becky. The less people that knew she was alive, the better for now.

The house smelled the same. Stale smoke and old wood. That faint underlying warmth of a home that still held living people inside it. Memories pressed into the walls, full of the lives that had been here and the life that should have been different.

Her heart pulled hard in the direction that called to her.

Mama.

El moved down the corridor quietly, barefoot silent in her sneakers. She caught sight of the kitchen clock as she passed.

3:53am.

El stopped. For one second, the world held its breath. A sad, almost disbelieving smile tugged at her lips. A painful little irony that made her eyes sting.

Mike.

353 days.

She swallowed hard and kept going, following the pull like a magnet. The lounge was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a television left on low. The sound was muted, the picture flickering like it was dreaming too.

And there she was.

Terry Ives sat slumped in her chair, asleep. A white long nightdress pooled around her knees. Her hair brushed out carefully, soft and clean, making her look… almost peaceful.

Almost like the lab hadn’t stolen everything.

El’s breath hitched. She stood in the doorway for a moment, tears already gathering hot behind her eyes. It didn’t matter how old she was now. It didn’t matter how much blood she’d spilled or monsters she’d killed.

Her mother was right there.

And something inside her - something small and desperate, wanted to crawl into her lap like a child.

El stepped closer. She studied her mother’s face like it was sacred. The curve of her cheek. The softness of her lips. The faint lines at the corners of her eyes. She was so pretty. So heartbreakingly pretty.

“Mama,” she whispered soundlessly, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. She reached out carefully, placing her hand over her mother’s.

Then she closed her eyes and pulled them both into the void.

Blackness fell like a curtain and they were there – together. In the quiet place El had learned to trust. The place where truth lived.

Terry was asleep here too, her body relaxed, her face peaceful. El knelt in front of her, holding her hand like she was afraid it would disappear.

“Hi, Mama,” she whispered, her voice breaking immediately. “It’s me. Jane…”

She squeezed Terry’s hand gently. “I had to come and see you.”

Her breath trembled. Tears fell freely now, warm against her cheeks.

“I… I have to go away, Mama,” El murmured. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be back.”

The words hurt in a way she couldn’t explain - like ripping a piece of herself loose.

“But I want you to know… I’m going to fight for my happiness,” she said fiercely, even through tears. “For a life free of all this pain. Just like you fought for me.”

She swallowed, shaking.

“I know now why you wanted me to find Kali,” El whispered, voice softer now. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew she would be part of my escape from Hawkins.”

Her thumb brushed over Terry’s knuckles like a comfort she’d never had.

“I’m going to go far away, Mama,” she continued, eyes squeezing shut as fresh tears came. “I’m… I’m going to try and find somewhere beautiful.”

Her voice cracked completely.

“With… with at least two waterfalls.”

The word felt like a promise and a prayer at the same time.

El leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently to her mother’s hand, holding on as if she could pour all her love into her skin.

“I love you, Mama,” she whispered.

The void stayed quiet. Terry didn’t speak. But El felt something anyway - not words, not answers. A calm. A warmth. A presence.

For a moment, it felt like being held.

El took one final trembling breath and slowly pulled away. The void faded. Reality returned with a soft, cruel snap. El kissed Terry’s forehead gently, her lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Thank you,” she murmured, barely audible.

She backed away slowly. Intending to get some water and leave.

But then -

A soft creaking sound made her freeze, and her head snapped up, fear filling her eyes. The tall dresser in the corner of the room had shifted. One of its doors was open a fraction, like it had been nudged.

El’s breath caught. She glanced back at her mother. Terry’s nose had a small smear of blood beneath it, fresh against her skin. It made El’s eyes widen slightly.

This wasn’t the first time her mother had communicated with her.

She moved hesitantly to the dresser, every instinct on high alert. She reached out, fingers trembling, and pulled the door open. El almost failed to hide her gasp.

Clothes.

Not the muted, practical clothes Terry wore now. These were… hers. From before.

Beautiful dresses. Clean blouses and pants. Jeans with embroidered flowers. Soft fabrics folded carefully, preserved like pieces of a life that had been stolen but not forgotten.

El’s throat tightened so hard it hurt. For one second - just one, a broken laugh threatened to bubble out of her, sharp with grief and affection.

Mama clearly thought she looked terrible too.

El blinked hard, tears blurring her vision as she gently ran her fingers over the fabric, treating each garment like it was fragile. Then something shifted above her. A backpack on the top shelf slowly moved forward, inching towards the edge like an offering.

El stared up at it, stunned. She glanced over her shoulder at Terry again, as if to confirm she hadn’t imagined it. Her mother sat still, asleep, her nose bleeding faintly, like her body paid the price for every act of love she forced through the damage.

El lifted her hand. The backpack floated down into her arms and she hugged it to her chest for one second, swallowing a sob.

“Thank you,” she whispered again, unable to stop herself.

El opened the bag carefully and began to choose clothes. The embroidered jeans. A couple of soft cotton blouses. And then her fingers brushed a dress that made her breath hitch. It was a knee length light blue dress that had a beautiful floral pattern.

El imagined a summer breeze. Peace, happiness. A life where no one was hunting her. She folded it gently into the backpack, hands reverent.

“One day,” she whispered to herself, voice trembling. “One day I will wear you.”

For now, she chose something simpler - a black turtleneck, plain jeans. She kept her filthy sneakers, and then stared at the wetsuit and black pants, jaw tightening. She couldn’t leave them here. Couldn’t leave anything that might connect this house to Hawkins in any way.

El stuffed them into the backpack too, quickly. Her hand hovered over the dresser door, intending to close it. But then another drawer slid open slightly. It was a smaller one, almost hidden at the bottom.

El blinked and crouched down, pulling it out further. There was only one thing inside of the drawer – a photo album.

Her fingers shook as she opened it and a single photograph slipped free, fluttering down like it had been waiting.

It landed upright on the floor and El stared at it.

A woman – young and radiant.

Mama. El knew it instantly. But the man…

El’s breath stopped. He had her hazel eyes. She could see other parts of herself in him and a new ache opened in her chest.

They looked so young, happy and carefree. He looked at Terry like he was proud to be hers. She looked so alive.

El picked up the photo slowly, fingers trembling, and turned it over.

Me and Andrew 1969.

El turned it back. Her parents. Her throat closed completely. She clutched the photo to her chest and let out a shaky, gasping breath as tears slid down her face.

They had been real. They had been loved. They had existed beyond pain.

And so could she.

El slid the photo into her backpack with care, like placing a relic somewhere safe. She closed the dresser gently, as if not to disturb the ghosts inside it.

Then she returned to Terry. She gently wiped away the blood under her nose and kissed her forehead again, softer this time.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I love you.”

El stepped back into the hallway, heart pounding. She moved into the kitchen quietly, glancing at the clock again out of instinct. It ticked steadily, uncaring.

She didn’t want to touch anything. Didn’t want to leave a trace. But she was so thirsty. So empty. She drank quickly from the faucet again, then forced herself to do the thing that made her stomach twist with guilt.

Becky’s purse sat on the counter. El’s fingers hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Then she took a small amount of cash - enough for food, enough for a bus ticket out of state, and tucked it deep into her pocket. Not more than she needed. Never more than she needed. Because stealing wasn’t who she wanted to be.

Surviving was.

El slipped back through the house, silent as a shadow, and eased the front door shut behind her. The night air hit her like a slap.

She didn’t look back at the house. If she did, she might never leave.

So, she tightened the straps of the backpack on her shoulders, swallowed the ache in her throat, and disappeared into the dark again.

Morning found El before she felt ready for it.

The sky lightened to a gentle blue and yellow, almost unnoticeable. El waited at the nearest bus stop she had found – her arms folded around herself; shoulders hunched against the cold and the ache that had settled deep into her bones.

She hadn’t slept. Her eyes burned, heavy and sore, but she hadn’t allowed herself to close them for more than a few seconds at a time.

Thinking, dreaming felt too dangerous.

If she thought too hard about the last twenty-four hours… about the explosion, the tunnel, the way Mike’s voice cracked as he begged her not to leave –

Well, she knew exactly what would happen. She would break. She would turn around - she would go straight back to him. To Hop. To Max, Will, Dustin and Lucas. To her family.

And she can’t.

The sudden rumbling of the bus arriving with a sigh of brakes and a hiss of air, sent a wave of relief through El. She climbed aboard without asking where it was going - just paid for the ticket.

El sat near the front, wanting to have a clear view ahead. It was so early that there was only one other person on the bus. An old man sat in the front row on the opposite aisle. He was reading a newspaper, very much in his own world.

The engine hummed beneath El’s feet, steady and dull. It was almost soothing, like white noise. Like something that could carry her without asking questions. She felt her eyelids droop, but she forced them open again.

She couldn’t sleep here. It made her feel too vulnerable. She didn’t know who would get on next, or who might recognise her. She couldn’t let her guard down. While her body begged for rest, her mind refused to give it.

El turned her tired head to her window instead. The window was cool against her skin as her eyes flickered over the view. Fields rolled past. Roads she didn’t recognise. Places that didn’t know her name.

Her thoughts drifted to California. To Geography lesson. Maps pinned to classroom walls – the way she’d traced coastlines with her finger, fascinated by how big the world was. It felt like another lifetime now. There had been things she’d liked there – the house Joyce lived in, the way she’d tried to make it feel like home. Jonathan’s quiet kindness.

But so much of that life had been pretend. She hadn’t made friends – even Will had been acting strange with her. She hadn’t belonged. Not there.

El rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, exhaustion pressing down harder now that the adrenaline had begun to fade. Her chest tightened with frustration, fear creeping in at the edges.

How am I going to get out of America?

The question looped endlessly. She had no paperwork. No real identity. No trial – which kept her safe, but also left her stranded.

Her jaw tightened as she looked ahead and noticed the man in the front seat. He was absorbed in his newspaper, turning the page slowly. A splash of colour caught El’s eye.

Visit New York City, the advert read in bold letters, the Statue of Liberty rising proudly from the page. Something in El stilled.

New York City.

The named settled in her chest with surprising weight. It felt… right. Not safe. Not easy, but right. A midpoint. A place big enough to disappear into. A place close to the ocean.

El felt purpose spark faintly inside of her. It was fragile… but real. She exhaled, the first steady breath she had taken in what felt like days.

Time seemed to blur and move quickly. El zoned out, thinking of the scenarios in front of her when the bus jolted to a stop.

“End of the line!” the driver barked. “Indianapolis.”

El startled, blinking in confusion. She didn’t know when the man from the front of the bus had left. Or if other people had come on or off the bus. In fact, she was the only person on the bus, except for the driver who was looking at her expectantly.

“Oh - I’m sorry,” she said quickly, scrambling to her feet as he stared at her impatiently. “I didn’t know.”

“Now you do,” he muttered, going to light a cigarette.

El hurried off the bus, clutching her backpack to her chest. She stepped into a place that felt loud and unfamiliar. The station smelt like oil, dust and stale food. People moved around her with purpose, brushing past like she was just another inconvenience.

She felt small. Hungry.

El ducked into the nearest store she could find, the smell of food hitting her like a punch. Her stomach twisted painfully as she waited in line, eyes fixed on the floor, every nerve on edge. She paid quickly and left without looking back, food clutched tight in her hands.

She ate sitting on a dusty concrete step, barely tasting – just shovelling the food in because her body demanded it. Only once she had finished did she realise how exhausted she truly was.

El’s limbs felt like lead as she wandered, keeping to quieter streets, avoiding eye contact and not daring to ask anyone for help. Eventually, the buildings thinned out and she spotted a motel – anonymous and unforgettable.

She stopped and watched.

The receptionist behind the desk was laughing into the phone, twirling the cord around her fingers – distracted. Eventually she put the phone down, smirking to herself as she reached for purse. El watched her rifle through, finding a lipstick and a compact mirror. El felt confused, watching the receptionist apply her make up until the man appeared.

Even from across the parking lot, El could see the way the woman beamed and visibly sat up as the man leaned against the door. They seemed to exchange words before the receptionist stood and met the man. They held hands, the woman giggled as she led the man out of the building, disappearing around the corner.

El’s heart gave a strange, painful twist. Seeing this couple together hurt more than expected. The casual intimacy, the easy closeness. A sharp reminder of what she had just left behind.

But it also gave her an opportunity that she couldn’t ignore.

El moved quickly. Her training becoming useful once more as she shifted the cameras with a flick of her head. She entered the reception area and outstretched her arm, her hand opened as a key lifted from the board behind the desk, and landed perfectly in her palm.

Number 41. She memorised it instantly as she moved into the corridor and up the stairs. El felt her heart in her throat, the thrill of what she had just done making her smile ever so slightly.

She found the room easily. It smelt faintly of bleach and old carpet. El looked around the space, the small en-suite, the double bed. It was basic, but it was heaven.

She hurried to lock the door, and pull the chain across the latch. The sound was satisfying and for the first time that day, she felt safe.

So safe, that she felt her knees buckle and her chest become heavy. She collapsed on to the bed and sobs ripped out of her without warning. It wasn’t quiet. It was everything she had been holding back – Hopper’s voice talking about breaking cycles, of her happy future. Flying literally into the Mind Flayer. Henry’s dead eyes. Kali’s last breath. Mike clutching her, desperate to keep her.

Running, running, running. The kindness of strangers. Her mother’s love. The clothes. The photo pressed to her chest. El cried until her throat burned. Until her head ached. Until the world blurred completely and there was nothing left but grief and exhaustion.

Eventually, her body gave up.

She slept while the light shifted outside the curtains. Slept while shadows stretched and faded. Slept while the world kept moving without her.

For the first time since she had run, she let herself rest. And for this moment in time, that was enough.

By the time she found the diner, El had lost track of how many days it had been.

Morning blurred into afternoon, afternoon into night, the rhythm of buses and stolen rooms and walking until her legs burned becoming the only routine she had left. She knew she was closer to New York now.

But when she had seen the sign saying Pennsylvania, she knew that closer didn’t mean close. It didn’t mean possible. It just meant not dead or captured yet.

The diner was warm and loud in that particular way American diners always were. Coffee, grease and the clatter of plates. Voices overlapping without anyone really listening. El slid into a cracked vinyl booth near the window and stared down at the menu without seeing it.

She ordered waffles because they were cheap and filling and because the word itself felt safe. Like home.

They arrived stacked high, steam curling faintly into the air. El ate slowly at first, then faster, hunger overtaking caution. By the time she realised she was full, the plate was demolished - crumbs and syrup smeared where food had been.

She leaned back, suddenly very tired.

Money was a problem now. A real one. And she was running out quickly.

Moving cameras and slipping into empty motel rooms had worked - so far, but she could feel the edges closing in. Every time she used her powers, it drained her just a little more. Every night spent half-asleep with one eye open left her more frayed than the last.

She didn’t know how she was going to get out of America. She didn’t even know if she would make it to New York.

For a brief, treacherous second, her thoughts drifted towards Mike – towards what he might be doing right now. Where he might be. Whether he was sleeping. Whether he was hurting.

The pain hit instantly, sharp and breath-stealing, like pressing on an open wound. She shut it down just as fast.

No.

She couldn’t think about him. She couldn’t afford to. Thinking about Mike meant going back. Going back meant danger. For him. For everyone.

The hole in her chest ached anyway, deep and constant, like something essential had been torn out and left empty.

El dropped her gaze to the table.

Kali.

The name surfaced gently, almost shyly, and with it came a rush of grief so sudden she had to steady her breathing. Kali would have known what to do. Kali had survived out here. Kali had lived - angry, clever, defiant, using the world instead of letting it crush her.

Using her powers…

El’s fingers curled slowly against the edge of the table.

Illusions.

The thought flickered, weak at first, like a match struck in the dark. Kali’s power had always been different. Not brute force or destruction like El’s could be. But subtle and clever. Making people see what wasn’t there – or not see what was.

El shook her head faintly. No, that wasn’t possible. That was Kali’s thing. Kali had been different.

But…

A couple of years ago, El hadn’t been able to fly. She hadn’t been able to pull people into the void, hadn’t been able to read thoughts or see memories with such clarity. Those abilities had come with time. With pain and practice.

She had grown. She had changed.

El’s breath hitched. Henry’s blood had made them both this way. Her pulse quickened as the idea took shape, terrifying and exhilarating all at once. What if Kali’s power wasn’t something separate at all? What if it was just… another door? One El had never tried to open?

Her gaze dropped to the ruined plate of waffles, syrup drying into sticky amber streaks.

How would she even start?

She stared at the table, at her hands, at the world in front of her, willing an answer to appear. She was so deep in thought that she almost didn’t notice the waitress until she stopped beside the booth.

“Here’s your bill, honey,” the woman said brightly, setting it down before turning to head towards another table.

El’s heart stuttered. Panic flared - hot and immediate. She didn’t have enough cash left for mistakes. Not anymore.

“I’ve already paid for these waffles,” El thought suddenly, the words forming with desperate clarity.

Not said. Thought.

She felt it then - something new, something fragile, like pressure behind her eyes, like a vibration just beneath her skin. The air in front of her seemed to ripple, faint and strange, almost like sound waves moving through water.

El’s breath caught. She clenched her fists under the table, jaw tightening as she tried again, pushing harder, focusing on the waitress’s back.

I have already paid for these waffles.

The ripples strengthened, spreading outward, carrying the thought with them. El felt a sharp pull in her chest, a strain she recognised from using her powers in unfamiliar ways.

The waitress paused. She blinked, turning slowly back towards El, her expression shifting - confusion melting into easy reassurance.

“Oh!” she said with a laugh. “So sorry, honey. You already paid. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

El stared at her. The waitress smiled, already moving away again, the moment dismissed as nothing.

El’s breath left her in a rush. A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it - soft, disbelieving, almost giddy. She pressed her hand to her mouth, eyes shining as she stared down at the table.

She’d done it. Not perfectly, not effortlessly. But she had done it.

This wasn’t just survival anymore. This changed everything.

El left a generous tip on the table - more than she should have, more than she could afford, and slid out of the booth, her pulse still racing. She pushed through the diner doors into the cold air outside, smiling despite herself.

For the first time in days, the hopelessness loosened its grip. She didn’t have all the answers. But she had something new now. And for the first time since she’d run, El felt the world shift - just a little - in her favour.

By the time El reached New York City, it was unmistakably Christmas.

It wasn’t subtle the way it had been everywhere else - a few lights here, a wreath there. New York announced it loudly. Garlands wrapped around lamp posts, store windows glittered. Strings of white lights climbed buildings that seemed to stretch endlessly upward, disappearing into the low winter sky.

El stopped on the sidewalk and stared. She had seen this city in movies and classrooms. In photographs pinned to walls. But nothing had prepared her for the sheer scale of it. The noise. The movement. The way people poured through the streets like rivers, all of them rushing somewhere.

The buildings rose around her like a concrete forest, towering and indifferent. For the first time since she had run, El felt something close to awe.

It would be easy to disappear here. Easier than anywhere else she had passed through. New York didn’t look twice at people who didn’t fit. It swallowed them whole and kept moving.

And yet…

Would she ever truly feel safe on American soil?

The question lingered as she followed the pull in her chest toward the docks. The air changed as she got closer. Salt and diesel. Cold wind off the water. The smell of the ocean hit her hard enough that she had to stop, her breath catching in her throat.

Ships.

Real ones. Enormous. Lit up against the grey sky like floating cities.

Her heart began to race. She stood at the edge of the pier and stared, fear and possibility crashing together inside her. She could get on one of them. Somehow. She could feel it - that this was the way forward. That this was the crossing she had been running towards without even realising it.

But how?

She had learned to bend perception, to nudge minds gently, to overlay small truths with others. But becoming invisible? Becoming someone else entirely? Kali had made it look effortless, but El knew better now.

That kind of power took time. Years.

And she didn’t have years.

Someone shoved past her roughly. “Watch it,” a man snapped, not even slowing down.

El scowled at his back, irritation flaring briefly through her fear. Why was everyone in such a hurry? Why did no one ever look at each other?

She shook herself and kept walking, the docks giving way to streets again until she spotted a small pizza place not far from the Manhattan Cruise Terminal.

It was exactly what she needed right now. Warmth. Food. And a moment to think.

El went inside and slid into a booth by the window, hands tucked beneath her arms to keep them from shaking. The waitress came over with a pen tucked behind her ear and raised an eyebrow.

“What’ll it be?”

El hesitated only a second. “Pineapple pizza.”

The waitress winced. “You sure?”

El smiled faintly. “Yes.”

The waitress laughed and walked away, shaking her head. El’s smile faded as she stared down at the table.

Mike would hate me ordering pineapple pizza.

The thought landed softly and then hurt like hell. She could picture his face so clearly -the way he’d wrinkle his nose, refuse outright, then give in only after relentless pressure. Argyle’s laughter. Mike admitting, grudgingly, that it “wasn’t that bad.”

Her chest tightened painfully.

Not now, she reminded herself. Not yet.

There were five ships docked at the terminal. Five chances. Five enormous, terrifying possibilities. She had to get on one of them.

She ate mechanically, barely tasting the pizza, sipping her Coke without noticing the cold bite of it. Her attention drifted, unfocused, until voices behind her cut through the haze.

Two men had taken the booth to her left.

They were loud and careless. The kind of men who took up space without apology.

“…can’t believe she thinks she’s getting away,” one of them scoffed.

The other laughed. “Jenny always was stupid.”

El stilled, every sense sharpening.

“She’s booked on the QE2,” the first man continued, smug. “Heading back home like she’s free or something. Mommy and daddy bought her the ticket of course. Like that bitch could afford anything without me.”

“Yeah?” the second man snorted. “And what you gunna do about it?”

“I’m following her,” he said easily. “Got my ticket. Two hours from now, she’ll be real surprised.”

They laughed - low, ugly, satisfied.

“Stupid bitch doesn’t know what’s gunna hit her. Maybe her black eye will match her cocktail dress.”

The words made something in El go cold and furious all at once. She stood abruptly and headed for the bathroom, but only slowed enough on her way back to take them in properly. One of them wolf-whistled.

“You here alone?” he leered.

El didn’t even look at him. “Mouth breathers,” she muttered as she passed.

She stopped at the counter long enough to focus, sending a gentle nudge into the waitress’s mind.

I’ve already paid.

The waitress smiled and waved her off without a second thought. But the men weren’t finished.

“Hey,” one of them called after her. “What’s with the filthy princess? You too high and mighty to speak to us peasants huh?”

El turned.

“Go to hell,” she said flatly.

She pushed out into the cold air, her heart pounding - not with fear, but with rage. Somewhere out there was a woman doing exactly what El had done. Running. Escaping. And this man thought he could just… follow her. Take her freedom away because he felt entitled to it.

No.

As she’d hoped, they followed her.

She backed into a narrow alley, her face vulnerable and frightened. She kept her posture small and unthreatening. Their footsteps echoed closer. El barely looked at them.

But she did see the look on their faces. One of victory. One of sick triumph. And El had seen enough. She thought of what she had been through. What Max had. Mama. Joyce. And this woman called Jenny who she had never even met.

They didn’t see her smirk until it was too late.

El moved. Bones snapped with sickening ease. One arm, then the other. A nose for good measure. Their screams were cut short as she flung them both into the brick wall, unconscious before they hit the ground.

“You won’t follow her,” El said quietly, standing over them, pulling them both into the void where her words echoed in their heads. “You won’t hurt anyone. Ever.”

Her eyes burned as her physical body leaned in closer.

“Or I will find you. And next time, it won’t just be your bones.”

El opened her eyes and wiped at her nose. She smiled in satisfaction and took the man’s bag, disappearing back onto the street.

Her hands were shaking by the time she reached the benches near the cruise terminal. She sat down hard and rifled through the bag, heart racing. Cash. A lot of it. She took it all.

Then… the ticket and a passport.

El’s breath caught as she stared down at them.

Could I do this?

She looked up slowly. The ship loomed over the water, impossibly large, lights glowing warmly against the grey. The name painted on its side made her stomach flip.

Queen Elizabeth 2.

The biggest one. The most intimidating. Fear surged hard and fast, almost enough to send her running.

But she didn’t.

She stood and moved towards the terminal, forcing her legs to keep working. People queued in excited clusters, bundled in jackets, suitcases at their feet. Laughter, awe and anticipation written all over their faces.

She checked the ticket - Three Deck. Room 303. Her palms slicked with sweat as she joined the correct line.

This was it. There was no turning back after this. No quiet return. No slipping back into familiar arms. She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Her breathing went shallow and fast.

She thought of Hopper then. The way he would ground her. Tell her to breathe. Tell her to stand tall. To look like she belonged.

She lifted her chin and mirrored the excitement around her.

Angela, she told herself. Angela Owens.

A name not traceable, but not entirely unknown. If the right people came looking.

The line moved. A uniformed member of staff smiled at her as she stepped forward, his accent unmistakably British, polished and friendly.

“Passport and ticket, please.”

Time slowed. El took a steadying breath and handed them over. She focused…

The world dulled at the edges, sound fading until all she could hear was her own breathing. She pressed the thought forward, firm and calm.

You’re looking at Angela Owens. This is her passport. This is her ticket. She belongs on this ship. Room 303. Three Deck.

The man glanced down, flipped the passport open, then looked back up with the same professional smile.

“Welcome aboard the Queen Elizabeth 2,” he said, gesturing her forward. “Please go right ahead.”

It took everything in El not to sob right there. She stepped onto the gangway, legs trembling, heart hammering as she was handed a keycard, a welcome drink, smiles offered freely by cheerful staff. The kindness felt surreal. Overwhelming.

She moved away from the crowds, from the people rushing to the top deck to wave goodbye.

She found quiet. On Three Deck, tucked away from the noise, El finally let herself sink down against the railing.

And she cried.

She cried from relief. From exhaustion. From the sheer weight of surviving something she hadn’t believed she would. She cried for Hopper. For Joyce. For Max, Will, Dustin and Lucas.

But most of all, she cried for Mike.

Because as the ship began to pull away, the water churning beneath it, and the Statue of Liberty came into view - standing tall, arm raised in silent salute, El knew the truth of it.

Her heart was still in Hawkins.

With him.

She pressed her hand to her chest, tears blurring her vision as the city receded into the distance. Her journey to freedom, to happiness, was only just beginning.

And she was finally brave enough to take it.

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Chapter Four: Ocean’s Apart

The corridor outside El’s cabin smelled faintly of polish and salt air. She stood there for a moment, longer than necessary. Her fingers curled about the stiff card in her hand, staring at the number fixed to the door as if it might change when she blinked.

303 - Third Deck. Her room. Her room.

The thought felt unreal – too big and too small at the same time. El lifted the card to the slot the same way she had witnessed other passengers do as she had walked to her room. Her hazel eyes had tried to take in as much as possible, wanting to pretend that she had done this a thousand times before.

El inhaled a sharp breath as she slid the card into the slot, her movements careful and rehearsed. A soft click followed and she felt her shoulders slump in relief as she exhaled. The door opened easily, quietly, as though the ship knew she didn’t need attention drawn to herself.

El stepped inside the room and shut the door firmly behind her. She leaned against the glossed wood and took in her surroundings.

The cabin was modest, just as she had been told it would be. Narrow, but not claustrophobic. Clean and warm. A single bed pressed neatly against the wall, white sheets folded so tightly they looked untouched by human hands. A small television sat bolted into a wooden unit opposite the bed, dark and silent. There was a narrow desk, a chair tucked beneath it, and beyond that -

El’s breath caught.

A balcony.

It was small, barely more than enough room to stand, but the glass door revealed the ocean stretching endlessly beyond the ship, steel-grey and alive. The sight of it made her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t prepared for. Not fear exactly. Not wonder alone. Something deeper. Something that felt like standing on the edge of a decision she had already made.

She dropped her backpack to the floor. The sound of it hitting the carpet was dull and final.

El stood there for a second longer, listening to the quiet hum of the ship beneath her feet. The Queen Elizabeth 2 moved with a steady confidence - no hesitation, no second guessing. It knew where it was going.

She wasn’t sure she did.

The bathroom door was just to the right. El sighed in relief and pushed it open. It was small but immaculate. White tiles. A narrow mirror above the sink. Folded towels stacked neatly, untouched. Little bottles of toiletries lined up in a way that felt almost ceremonial - shampoo, conditioner, soap, all bearing the Cunard crest.

For a moment, El simply stared at them. It was all so foreign to her, like she was living someone else’s life. But she knew all she could do, was steady herself, lock the door and embrace the situation. If she didn’t, she would drown. In more ways than one.

Her hands moved without much thought after that. She stripped off the clothes she had been wearing on and off since Hawkins. Since running. It felt so odd to be so stationary now, to be so slow and leisurely.

Her clothes hit the tiled floor. Her black pants, followed by her black sweater. Each piece landed with a quiet finality, pooling at her feet like shed skin.

She stepped into the shower and turned the water on. It took a second to warm, then heat poured over her in a steady stream. El sucked in a sharp breath as it hit her shoulders, the sensation almost painful after days of cold air and constant tension. She braced her hands against the tiled wall and let it run.

She scrubbed - harder than necessary. Her fingers dug into her skin as if she could rub the weeks off her body. Hawkins, the tunnels, the motels, the fear, the weight of what she had left behind. She washed until her arms ached, until her skin tingled, until the water running down the drain carried away more than just dirt.

When she opened one of the small bottles and worked the shampoo into her hair, the scent filled the tiny room - clean, floral and unfamiliar. She massaged it into her scalp slowly, deliberately, her breathing beginning to steady.

Her hair fell to her shoulders now. It was soft and slightly wavy when it dried.

It looked nothing like the girl she had been when first ran barefoot through the woods in the yellow Benny’s Burgers t-shirt. She watched the strands darken with water, watched them cling to her skin. She felt older. She was older. Not just a girl or a number. She was a woman now. A survivor. A fighter.

When she finally stepped out of the shower, steam clung to the mirror, blurring her reflection. El wrapped a towel around herself and stood there, heart thudding, as if afraid of what she might see when the glass cleared. She wiped it clean with her hand.

The young woman looking back at her was pale, with shadows lingering under her eyes and cheekbones too sharp for her face. But she was alive – standing on the other side now of something terrible.

El dressed slowly. The floral embroidered jeans slid up over her hips, soft and worn in a way that felt immediately comforting. The cotton white blouse followed. Her mother’s clothes. The fabric was thin, gentle, smelling faintly of old soap and something warmer beneath it. El pressed her fingers briefly into the material at her chest, grounding herself, before buttoning it up.

Her sneakers were still filthy. She winced slightly as she picked them up, carrying them to the sink. With a damp towel, she worked at the dirt stubbornly clinging to the white fabric, scrubbing until her hands hurt. They weren’t clean when she was done - not really, but they were better. Manageable.

El returned to the cabin and sat on the edge of the bed, towel draped loosely around her shoulders, hair still damp against her neck.

For a moment, she did nothing at all.

Then she opened her bag. The cash spilled out onto the bed in uneven stacks - more money than she had ever seen in her life. Reams of it. El stared down at it, her chest tight, her fingers hovering just above the paper.

She didn’t feel guilty, not even a little. He had been a monster. And somewhere on this ship was a woman who would never have to look over her shoulder again because of him. That mattered more than anything else.

El tucked most of the money back into her bag carefully, deliberately, then slipped some into her pocket.

Next came the ship’s map. Her eyes widened as she unfolded it, scanning the printed layout. The Queen Elizabeth 2 was enormous - far larger than she had understood from the outside. There was a shopping arcade called The Royal Arcade, pools - multiple pools, dining rooms, dance halls, a cinema, a casino, gyms.

A floating world.

It made her feel suddenly, acutely dirty. Unworthy. How could she enjoy any of this when Hawkins still existed? When Mike was still there - hurting, searching, believing?

El closed her eyes and pushed her hair back from her face, fingers trembling slightly. She didn’t belong here. Not yet. She had to survive first. She had to get off this ship and then… then she could decide who she was allowed to be.

El. Jane. Or Angela.

Angela Owens.

The name settled over her like a jacket she hadn’t grown into yet. She had chosen it for a reason. Angela may have bullied her and made parts of her life a misery. But she did what she wanted. Angela knew who she was. Angela didn’t ask permission.

That was who El needed to be right now. She stood, folded the map, and left her cabin.

The corridor was alive now. Couples passed her, laughing softly, arms linked. Children ran past shrieking with excitement, arms weighed down with inflatable swimming rings despite the fact that it was December. El stepped to the side to let them pass, her presence barely noticed.

Christmas was everywhere. Deep green garlands lined the walls, woven with holly and polished baubles that caught the light. Tinsel glimmered in elegant arcs overhead. Everything was warm and festive and impossibly beautiful.

The Royal Arcade stopped her short. It was brighter than the corridors, filled with soft music and polished floors that reflected the lights above. Shop windows glittered with displays - clothes, jewellery, perfumes. Well-dressed women moved between them with easy confidence, their voices low and assured.

El’s hand brushed the money in her pocket and she stepped inside. The retail workers looked at her with polite curiosity. Intrigue flickered behind their eyes. She knew what they were thinking, she didn’t look like she belonged here.

But she was here. And so, she lifted her chin and moved through the racks, selecting sweaters, trousers - simple things, warm things. When she brought them to the counter, the woman raised an eyebrow at the amount of cash El handed over but said nothing.

Angela Owens, El reminded herself. Angela’s father probably paid for everything.

She didn’t wait for questions, but they never came. Money clearly talked more than human beings.

Underwear was worse. El flushed, avoiding eye contact, grabbing what looked appropriate, paying and fleeing the section as quickly as she could.

By the time she was done - snacks, toiletries, everything she thought she might need, her arms ached from carrying the bags.

She practically ran back to her cabin, darting around families enjoying their winter vacation. The door shut behind her with a soft, merciful click. El collapsed onto the bed, laughing weakly under her breath, not from happiness, just from sheer relief that the mission was done.

She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, the sea salt cleansing her adrenaline. She rolled her shoulders as she slowly opened her eyes, blinking softly as she took in the room and what she should do next.

Her hand found the TV remote and she turned on the small box. Static crackled, then an unfamiliar program filled the room with noise. It didn’t really matter what was on, she just had to fill the silence. Silence was heavy, it gave her time to think. And that wasn’t something she thought she could deal with right now.

So instead, El rifled through one of her bags and grab a large packet of chips, eating them ravenously. She barely tasted them as she opened a can of soda, drinking and eating until her stomach finally stopped twisting with hunger.

Only then did the silence creep back in. El lay back against the white crisp pillows and turned her head towards the balcony. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass -beautiful and terrifying. It made her feel impossibly small.

Alone.

For one dangerous moment, she considered searching for Mike, and the ache in her chest flared instantly at the thought. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in sharply, then shakily.

She couldn’t.

If she saw him - even just his face… she would go back.

There would be no hesitation. No strength left to argue with herself. She would turn around and undo everything she had sacrificed, every mile she had put between herself and Hawkins, because the pull of him was stronger than fear, stronger than reason.

Loving Mike had never been something she could moderate or survive halfway. She was all in and always had been. It lived in her chest like a weight she couldn’t put down. She was heavy with longing, with need and with the certainty that Mike was her home.

He would have made this easier. He always did. With him beside her, the ocean wouldn’t feel so vast, the future so uncertain. She wouldn’t be running towards something unknown - she would simply be moving forward. Because Mike wasn’t just part of her life. He was her anchor. Her proof that living was worth the risk.

And that was exactly why she couldn’t go back.

Hopper’s face rose in her mind - lined with grief, already breaking under the weight of believing he had failed her. Max, just beginning to heal from her nightmare. Will. Dustin. Lucas. Karen, barely alive, clinging to the knowledge that her son was still here. Still safe.

El couldn’t take him from them.

She couldn’t ask Mike to follow her into a life she didn’t yet understand, onto a path that might never be safe. Loving him meant wanting him whole, alive, protected. Even if it meant living without him for now.

And so, she was going to stay on whatever course she had started on. And it hurt. God, it hurt more than anything.

El turned onto her side and curled in on herself. The white sheets were cool against her too warm skin. She cried quietly at first, then harder, the sound muffled by the pillow. The ship hummed around her, steady and indifferent, carrying her further away with every passing second.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed her. The world went dark, and the Queen Elizabeth 2 sailed on.

El woke slowly, confused by the light. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. The bed was too soft. The air too still. There was no ache from a thin mattress and metal bed frame beneath her spine, no sharp jolt of panic demanding that she move, run or hide.

Then she remembered. The ship, the ocean.

She pushed herself upright, heart thudding, and glanced towards the small television, now showing what looked like a news program. Her gaze drifted slowly to the glass doors at the far end of the cabin.

Morning had come. The winter sun sat low on the horizon, spilling colour across the Atlantic in bands of pale gold and blush pink. The water looked endless from here, a vast, shifting expanse with no land in sight. El slid off the bed and padded closer, stopping just short of opening the door.

She didn’t step outside. She simply stood there, arms folded loosely around herself, staring.

The ocean was beautiful. There was no denying that. But it was also terrifying in a quiet, insidious way. Too big. Too final. Seeing no land at all made her stomach tighten, the realisation settling in that there was nowhere to turn back to even if she wanted to.

A low rumble from her stomach cut through the thought, abrupt and insistent. El blinked, startled, then let out a soft huff of breath. Of course. Her body, at least, was still practical.

She moved quickly then - brushing her teeth, pulling on one of her new sweaters and trousers, lacing up her clean sneakers. She paused at the mirror, steadying herself, meeting her own reflection with a look that felt half like a challenge.

You can do this.

She unfolded the ship’s map again, scanning the dining options before settling on the family-friendly buffet. It felt safer somehow. Louder. Easier to disappear into.

Noise was cover.

El checked her purse - cash, ticket, everything in place. Then she took one last breath and left the safety of the cabin.

The corridors were busier this morning. Couples walked arm in arm, children darted ahead of parents weighed down with towels and bags, their laughter echoing off the polished walls. El hugged closer to the side, letting people pass, letting herself be small.

She got lost almost immediately.

The irritation flared quick and sharp - at herself, mostly. She stopped, pulled the map out again, muttering under her breath before forcing herself to look up at the signs overhead.

Eventually, she fell in behind a family with three rowdy children, all elbows and noise. Their mother sighed dramatically, herding them forward.

“You’re on a cruise ship,” she reminded them. “People are trying to enjoy themselves.”

She glanced back at El and smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

El startled slightly. “It’s okay,” she said, the words awkward but genuine.

“Next time,” the woman muttered dryly, “they can stay at home.”

El smiled as they moved on, her thoughts snagging on the woman’s accent. She’d heard it before - on television, in films, but never this close. English, she thought. British.

Her embarrassment flared suddenly at how little she truly knew of the world. How small her education had been, narrowed by labs and survival. She frowned, remembering the signage painted bold and majestic on the side of the ship.

Queen Elizabeth 2.

El worked her brain hard as she thought back to school in California. She was sure that Queen Elizabeth was the Monarch of England. Well, all of the countries of the United Kingdom. The other countries seemed to get forgotten somehow.

Her fingers slipped into her pocket and she glanced at her ticket again as she walked.

Southampton.

Her lips mouthed the word silently. That was where they were going. She felt a flutter of nerves not knowing anything about the place, the country, what waited there - but also a flicker of relief.

At least they spoke the same language.

Though a couple passed her moments later, speaking with a British accent so different it made her blink in mild panic.

Okay. Maybe not exactly the same language.

The buffet entrance opened into a wide, bustling space filled with voices, clattering plates and the smell of food. At the front stood the head waiter in pristine uniform, posture rigid, expression carefully neutral.

His side glance at a toddler dropping breakfast from a highchair suggested he thought himself vastly overqualified for this particular station though.

But when El approached alone, his smile sharpened - polite, relieved.

“Good morning,” he said. “Name and room number, please.”

“Angela Owens,” El replied. “Room 303.”

She focused immediately, gently, pressing the thought forward.

This is correct. She belongs here.

The illusion settled easily. The man glanced down, nodded once as if confirming something on an invisible list, and gestured for a waiter to approach.

“This way.”

El followed, heart easing slightly as she was led to a smaller section near the windows.

She wasn’t the only one alone.

A man sat at a nearby table rubbing his temple while speaking into a phone she had never seen before - thick, grey, cordless, like a brick. He grumbled about satellite signal strength and being mis-sold, his tone sharp with frustration.

An elderly woman sat by herself, sipping tea, gazing out at the ocean with an expression that was more thoughtful than lonely.

And then there was the young woman. Blonde and nervous. No older than twenty-one, El guessed. She clutched a glass of orange juice like a lifeline and picked at a croissant she clearly hadn’t touched.

El lingered on her for a moment longer than intended before the waiter explained the buffet and pointed her to a table. She thanked him and sat - then immediately stood again, flustered, and made her way to the food.

She immediately went for her safe foods. Waffles, bacon and eggs. But then she hesitated at the baked beans, watching as many of the British guests helped themselves generously. El hesitated and then added a spoonful to her plate.

Back at the table, she ate quickly, hunger overtaking self-consciousness. The food was good. Comforting. Even the baked beans - especially the baked beans! They went surprisingly well with the bacon and eggs.

El finished her plate of food quickly and went back for a croissant, butter, jam, and coffee. The aroma of the coffee beans made her think of Hop. And while it caused the ache in her chest to stir, it also felt like a piece of home.

When El returned to her table, the blonde woman looked up. Their eyes met briefly before they both looked away, the moment heavy with shared uncertainty.

The noise of the buffet washed around her. Cutlery clinking, children laughing too loudly, chairs scraping back. But she felt strangely separate from it, like she was watching the world through glass. She ate slowly, methodically, eyes lowered, aware of every movement of her hands.

Every so often, though, her gaze drifted. Not deliberately. It just felt pulled in one direction, to the young woman sat opposite her, still nursing the same glass of orange juice she’d had when El first arrived.

The woman hadn’t eaten much of her croissant. She tore off small pieces, rolling them between her fingers before setting them down again, as if food wasn’t really the point of being here.

El noticed the way her shoulders stayed tense, even when she smiled politely at passing waiters. The way her foot bounced faintly beneath the table. The way her eyes kept flicking towards the windows, then away again.

She looked like she was bracing for an attack.

El recognised that look.

She wondered why the woman was alone. If she had come on the ship with someone, but perhaps they had argued. Or maybe she had chosen solitude, or if it had been chosen for her. El didn’t allow herself to imagine too much. Imagining led to attachment, and attachment was dangerous.

Still… she kept looking.

El finished her plate, then sat there with her hands folded in her lap, heart beginning to thud in a way she didn’t like. The thought arrived quietly, uninvited. It sounded very much like Max.

You could sit with her.

El immediately shook her head, a sharp, internal no.

Don’t be stupid.

She told herself all the reasons it was a bad idea. She didn’t know this woman. She didn’t know how long she would be safe on this ship. She didn’t know how long she would be safe. Drawing attention to herself - talking, being remembered was risky.

And yet.

The woman lifted her cup again and didn’t drink from it. Just held it. Like she needed something solid in her hands.

El’s chest tightened.

She thought again of Max. Of how Max would already be halfway across the room, chair dragging loudly behind her, making space where there hadn’t been any before. Max never waited for permission to connect.

El did.

She stayed where she was, arguing silently with herself, until the discomfort tipped into something else - something sharper, heavier. Loneliness pressing up against her ribs.

She didn’t stand immediately.

She gathered her plate first. Her coffee. She held them both like anchors, like excuses, and only then did she rise from her chair. Her legs felt unsteady as she crossed the short distance between the tables.

She stopped. Stood there for a second too long, and then cleared her throat.  The woman looked up, startled as El spoke.

“Are you… alone too?”

The words came out quieter than El had intended. It was not a question she would ever normally ask. It was too revealing. It made her vulnerable, and yet she couldn’t help herself.

The woman blinked, clearly surprised by the interruption. Something in her expression softened slowly - just a fraction.

“Yeah,” she said. “I am.”

El swallowed. She could hear her pulse roaring in her ears.  

“Can I…” She hesitated, the sentence almost dying there. “…can I sit with you?”

There was another pause. Longer this time. El braced herself for polite refusal, for awkward smiles and embarrassment burning her face. But the woman smiled - small, tentative, like she hadn’t expected the offer either.

“’Course you can, chick.”

The word was strange and unfamiliar, but El could feel the warmth in the woman’s voice. She felt something ease in her chest as she sat down opposite her, careful, like she was entering a space that mattered.

Up close, the woman looked younger than El had first thought. Long blonde hair, straight and glossy. A small nose piercing that Hopper would have hated on principle alone. Brilliant blue eyes that carried something fragile beneath their sharpness.

“Where are you from?” El asked before she could stop herself.

The woman laughed softly. “Can you not tell?”

El shook her head, heat creeping into her cheeks.

“Liverpool.”

El nodded, hoping that was enough.

It wasn’t.

The woman tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “You don’t know anything about Liverpool, do you?”

El opened her mouth, then closed it again. She shook her head, embarrassed but honest.

The woman stared at her for a beat, and then laughed outright. “Well, this is a first. Thought you’d at least heard of The Beatles!”

“The insect?” El said automatically.

The woman almost choked on her orange juice. El startled, and then laughed too. A real laugh. Quiet but unrestrained, the sound surprising even herself.

“I’m Jenny,” the woman said once she’d recovered, still smiling.

The name landed hard in El’s chest.

Jenny.

For a split second, the sounds of the buffet faded, replaced by memory. Two men in a booth. Loud cruel laughter and evil intent.

She’s booked on the QE2.
Stupid bitch doesn’t know what’s coming.

El’s fingers tightened instinctively around her coffee cup.

This was her. The woman who had been running. The woman whose name had been spoken like ownership. The woman whose future El had intervened in without ever seeing her face.

El looked at Jenny again - really looked this time. The nervous way she held herself. The tension she hadn’t let go of yet. The fear sitting just beneath the surface, even now.

Understanding settled over her, slow and heavy and strange.

You’re safe, El thought. You’re here because I stopped him.

Something in her chest loosened, not triumph or pride. Just a quiet, grounding sense of rightness. Of cause and effect. Of having done one small, good thing in a world that had taken so much.

“I’m…” El hesitated, then breathed out. “Angela. At least for now…”

Jenny’s smile softened immediately, as if she understood that too. Not the details, not the danger, but the need to hold onto a name loosely. To not let it define you yet.

“Fair enough,” Jenny said gently, her bright blue eyes taking El in curiously. There was silence for a moment, it was comfortable and new. Both women sipped at their drinks, the noise around them filled with laughter and the buzz of excitement for what entertainment the cruise had planned that day.

And then Jenny smirked, “you might need to change your name. Angela sounds like a receptionist shagging the boss.”

It was so unexpected that El startled and then within seconds, she burst out laughing again, clapping a hand over her mouth to try and contain the sound.

Jenny laughed with her, the sound easy and unforced.

“I can’t change it now!” El giggled, wiping at her eyes, and shaking her head with a smile. It had been a long time since she had laughed like this. She didn’t even want to think of how long it truly had been.

Around them, the room carried on, the businessman huffed and turned away, irritated by their quiet amusement. The elderly woman smiled softly as an older man joined her at the table.

But El barely noticed.

They didn’t talk about much after that.

Just the size of the ship. How strange it felt. How neither of them quite knew where they belonged yet. Jenny admitted, quietly, that she was scared of what waited for her when they reached Southampton, but staying in New York hadn’t been an option.

El listened, and something inside her loosened. Not all at once, not completely. Just enough to breathe.

She wasn’t alone.

They left the dining room together, not quite side by side, but close enough that El could feel the warmth of Jenny’s presence beside her.

The corridor felt quieter now that breakfast was ending, the worst of the chaos ebbing away. Children were being shepherded back to cabins, parents sighing in relief. El clutched her purse strap loosely, aware again of her body - of walking next to someone instead of alone.

Jenny glanced at her. “You seen much of the ship yet?”

El shook her head. “No. I’ve mostly just… stayed in my room.”

Jenny nodded like she understood exactly why. There was no judgement in it. Just recognition.

“Fair,” she said. Then she smiled, small but inviting. “Come on then.”

She steered El gently down the corridor, their footsteps soft against the carpet. El followed without thinking too hard about it, trusting the motion more than the destination.

They stepped out onto the open deck and the world seemed to open with it. Cold air rushed in, sharp and clean, stealing El’s breath for a moment. She walked instinctively towards the railing, hands curling around the metal as she looked out.

The Atlantic stretched endlessly in every direction.

It was freezing and impossibly vast - steel-blue water rolling beneath a pale winter sky, the horizon blurring where sea met cloud. The ship cut through it steadily, confidently, leaving white waves curling behind them like a scar on the otherwise pristine surface.

El had never seen anything like it.

She once again felt very small and insignificant. And very, very far from everything she had ever known.

“It’s mad, isn’t it?” Jenny said quietly beside her. “All this water. Makes you realise how tiny you are.”

El nodded, unable to find words yet.

Jenny leaned her elbows on the railing. “It’ll be so weird, having Christmas on this ship.”

El blinked. “Christmas,” she echoed faintly.

Jenny turned, surprised. “Yeah. In a couple of days.”

El stared back out at the water, her fingers tightening on the cold metal. “I don’t even know what day it is.”

Jenny frowned gently. “It’s the twenty-third.”

The words dropped into El’s stomach like a stone.

December 23^rd. She had left Hawkins on November 6^th.

Her breath caught. She did the maths without meaning to, the numbers lining themselves up cruelly in her head. So many days. Too many. Each one stretching between her and Mike like another mile of ocean.

Her chest ached. She didn’t realise she was crying until the wind caught the wetness on her cheeks, the cold biting sharply. She lifted a hand, wiping at her face, embarrassed.

Jenny noticed anyway.

“Who did you leave behind?” she asked softly.

El swallowed. Her throat felt tight, raw.

“Everyone,” she said. Then, after a beat, she added quietly, “the one.”

Jenny didn’t push. She waited but El said no more.

“Why?” she asked eventually, gently. Not accusing, just trying to understand.

El shook her head, eyes still fixed on the water. “I didn’t have a choice. Not really. I had to go away.”

Jenny nodded, gaze drifting back out to the horizon. “Yeah,” she said. “I know that feeling.”

She hugged her arms around herself against the cold. “I didn’t have a choice either. He would’ve…” She trailed off, shuddering slightly. Then she straightened. “Well. Fuck him. I’m going home.”

El tried to hold onto that word – home, but it slipped through her fingers. Because her home wasn’t ahead of her. It was behind her.

Jenny exhaled slowly. “Although,” she added, “I’m scared of facing me mum and dad.”

El turned to look at her properly. “Why?”

Jenny closed her eyes briefly, as if bracing herself. “They never liked Rick. Thought he was a knob with too much money and not enough sense.” She gave a humourless laugh. “But I liked him. Thought I loved him. He took me to New York and it felt like a fairytale.”

She opened her eyes again, gaze distant. “Turns out it was a living nightmare. Every single day.”

El listened, silent, heart heavy.

“Mum and Dad used all their savings to get me on this ship,” Jenny continued. “To get me out. And now I’m terrified what they’re gonna say when I get back. I fucked up. Properly.”

El swallowed. “But they love you,” she said quietly. “Your parents?”

Jenny smiled sadly. “They must do. Otherwise they wouldn’t have done it.”

“Then,” El said, voice steadier than she felt, “they’ll just be happy you’re safe.”

Jenny looked at her then. Really looked.

“Did your mum and dad help you get away too?”

El hesitated. The answer sat tangled inside her. “In a way,” she said at last. “My mama did.”

“And your dad?”

The word hurt.

“He…” El’s voice faltered. She pressed her lips together, eyes burning. “He doesn’t know. What I had to do.”

Jenny’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across her face, but she didn’t question it.

“And the one you left,” Jenny said carefully. “Your fella. Does he know?”

El shook her head. The tears came again, carried away almost immediately by the wind.

Jenny blew out a long breath. “Fucking hell, Angela,” she said quietly. “You’re in a pickle.”

El huffed a weak, sad laugh. “Yeah.”

They stood there together for a while longer, two small figures against an endless sea - scared, uncertain, and somehow still standing.

And for the first time since El had run, it didn’t feel quite so impossible to imagine the days ahead. Not because they were safe, but because she wasn’t facing them alone.

El hadn’t realised how tense she’d been until she was walking beside someone without thinking about it.

They left the open deck together, the cold still clinging to El’s cheeks, her fingers numb even as they warmed inside the pockets of her new jacket.

The corridor didn’t feel so oppressive now. It didn’t feel like the walls were closing in. The steady hum of the ship vibrating faintly beneath the carpet was more comforting than ever.

Jenny walked slightly ahead of her, not pulling, not urging. Just… there. A presence El found herself unconsciously matching pace with.

She hadn’t questioned why El had stayed in her room. And El hadn’t known how to explain that the room had felt like a cocoon – a place where nothing unexpected could reach her. Where she could exist without being seen.

Jenny slowed, turning a corner. “No rush,” she added. “We’ll just… wander.”

They did exactly that.

The ship revealed itself gradually, like it preferred to be discovered rather than toured. Wide staircases opened into lounges heavy with deep armchairs and quiet conversations. Windows framed the ocean again and again, each angle offering a different version of the same vastness. El found herself stopping often - just to look, just to breathe it in.

“This one’s me favourite,” Jenny said eventually, stopping outside a set of double doors. “Library.”

El hesitated for half a second before stepping inside.

The smell hit her first - paper, leather, something old and comforting. The room was warm, the lighting soft, shelves lining every wall from floor to ceiling. Books filled them completely. Thousands of them. Their spines worn, cracked, gilded, plain. Stories stacked upon stories, pressing quietly into the space.

El stopped dead.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Jenny smiled, watching her reaction. “Yeah.”

El moved forward slowly, like she was afraid the room might vanish if she startled it. Her fingers hovered before she let herself touch a shelf, the tips brushing along the spines.

So many.

She had seen books before, of course - at school, in libraries she hadn’t been allowed to use freely, in Hopper’s cabin where reading had been encouraged but limited. But this… this was abundance. Choice. Stories waiting patiently, not locked away, not rationed.

“They’re just… here,” El murmured.

Jenny leaned against a nearby table. “Mad, isn’t it? You can take any of ‘em. Read as much as you like.”

El turned to her. “Really?”

“Really.”

Something warm and almost dizzying spread through El’s chest. She moved down the shelves, reading titles slowly, sounding them out in her head. Some words caught in her throat, but she pushed through them, stubborn as always.

Her fingers paused on a familiar name.

Little Women.

She didn’t know why she chose it. Maybe because it sounded gentle. Maybe because it promised something domestic and human - sisters, warmth, ordinary love.

She pulled it free and held it against her chest without meaning to.

Jenny noticed. “Good choice.”

El nodded, suddenly shy. “I… like reading. I think.”

Jenny’s smile softened. “Yeah. I thought you might.”

They stayed there longer than El realised. She sank into a chair eventually, book open in her lap, reading slowly, carefully. Jenny read too - something thick and dog-eared, and the silence between them felt companionable rather than awkward.

That night, back in her cabin, El lay curled beneath the covers with the bedside lamp on low.

The ship hummed around her, steady and constant, but she barely noticed.

She read.

Some words she stumbled over, her brow furrowing as she pieced meaning together the way she always had – patient and determined. She didn’t understand everything. But she understood enough. The story carried her along, away from the ocean, away from memory.

She didn’t think about Hawkins. She didn’t think about Mike. Just for a moment, she was no longer in her reality.

When sleep finally claimed her, the book rested against her chest like something precious. An escape.

The days that followed blurred gently together.

Breakfasts shared when schedules aligned. Quiet walks along the decks. Long stretches of silence that didn’t need filling. El found herself relaxing into Jenny’s presence in ways she hadn’t expected - not because she trusted easily, but because Jenny didn’t demand anything from her.

Jenny pointed things out as they passed - a lounge she liked, a corner with the best view of the water, but never dragged El into activity she wasn’t ready for. She seemed to sense El’s limits instinctively.

El noticed things in return.

The way Jenny always chose seats with a clear view of exits. How she laughed louder when she felt safe. How attention from men left her quiet for hours.

They didn’t talk much about what they’d left behind. They didn’t have to.

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, the ship buzzed with a different energy. Decorations seemed brighter, garlands heavier with baubles and tinsel. Children darted around clutching paper crowns and excitement.

Jenny found El in the corridor outside the library, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, eyes alight.

“Right,” she declared. “We’re doin’ somethin’ tonight.”

El’s stomach tightened immediately.

“There’s swimming,” Jenny continued. “Bingo. Casino. Festive stuff. Loads goin’ on.”

El shook her head before she could stop herself. “No.”

Jenny paused, studying her. “You don’t fancy any of it?”

El looked down at her hands. At the ring still snug on her finger.

“I want you to go,” she said quietly. “I just… can’t.”

Jenny didn’t push, she waited.

“I can’t have fun,” El whispered, voice breaking despite her effort to keep it steady. “Not when they might be suffering. My dad. Mi – my boyfriend. It doesn’t feel right.”

The tears came without permission.

Jenny stepped closer, voice low. “Do you think they’d want you miserable?”

El shook her head, helpless.

“Then just for tonight,” Jenny said gently, “pretend to be someone else. It’s Christmas Eve. You deserve a bit of light.”

That word lodged itself deep inside El.

Deserve.

She nodded, barely perceptible. “Okay,” she said.

And for the first time since she’d run, she allowed herself to choose something that wasn’t survival.

El agreed, and then immediately regretted it.

Not because she didn’t want to be with Jenny. Not because she didn’t want to feel something other than grief for a night. But because the moment she said yes, her mind did what it always did when something felt unfamiliar. It rushed ahead, looking for danger.

Crowds. Lights. People watching. Someone recognising her face - even though no one on this ship would know what to recognise.

She followed Jenny anyway.

They walked towards the Royal Arcade together, the ship growing busier the closer they got. People moved with purpose now - couples dressed a little nicer than usual, children tugging at parents’ hands, excited voices bouncing off polished walls. Christmas Eve had turned the ship into something brighter and louder.

El kept her gaze lowered as they stepped inside. It still made her feel like she didn’t belong.

The stores were decorated to within an inch of their lives - green garlands looped around doorways, gold ribbon, fake snow sprayed across glass displays. Mannequins stood frozen mid-glamour in shimmering dresses and velvet jackets, jewellery catching the warm lights as people passed.

Everything looked expensive. Untouchable.

Jenny elbowed her gently. “We’re not buyin’ anything,” she said quickly, as if reading El’s thoughts. “Just lookin’. Tryin’ things on. For fun.”

El glanced at her. “Just for fun?”

“Yeah,” Jenny said firmly. “I’m skint, babe. We’re playin’ dress-up, not robbin’ a bank.”

That made El’s mouth twitch despite herself.

They stepped into a clothing shop that smelled of perfume and new fabric. A woman behind the counter looked up, politely bored, her gaze flicking briefly over El’s sneakers before drifting away again.

The familiar discomfort flared in El’s chest, but Jenny didn’t seem to notice.

She went straight to the racks, fingers sliding over fabrics with an ease El envied. “Right,” she said. “We want somethin’ that makes us feel fit without lookin’ like we’re tryin’ too hard.”

El frowned faintly. “What does that mean?”

Jenny grinned. “Means you’re trustin’ me.”

El wasn’t sure she did… not entirely, but she nodded anyway.

They browsed slowly. Jenny lifted dresses, held them up against El’s shoulders, stepped back to judge. El stood stiffly at first, hands clasped in front of her, until Jenny sighed and caught her wrists gently.

“Relax,” she muttered. “No one’s gonna bite.”

El swallowed. “I don’t like people looking at me.”

Jenny’s expression softened immediately. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Me neither.”

That was all. No fixing, no advice. Just understanding.

They found a dress Jenny liked first - bold in colour, unapologetic. Jenny held it up and smirked, but El caught the flicker behind her eyes, that split second of doubt, the old instinct that she didn’t deserve to look good.

“You should,” El said softly.

Jenny blinked. “What?”

“You should wear it,” El said again, firmer now. “It looks like… like you’re still here.”

Jenny stared at the dress for a moment, then let out a short laugh. “You’re a strange one, you.”

El’s cheeks warmed. “Maybe.”

Jenny hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m not buyin’ it. But I’ll try it on.”

That felt like a halfway happy El could live with.

Then it was her turn.

She drifted instinctively towards the safer dresses - sleeves, higher necklines, darker colours. Things designed not to be noticed.

Jenny clocked it immediately.

“Oi,” she said, catching El’s wrist gently. “No. Not invisible. Not tonight.”

El hesitated. “I don’t want everyone staring.”

Jenny’s voice softened. “It’s not about them. It’s about you.”

The words landed harder than El expected.

About you.

As if she mattered. As if she was allowed to take up space.

Jenny pulled a dress from the rack - navy blue, modest, threaded with fine glitter that caught the light like stars. Not loud. Not revealing. Just… beautiful.

El stared at it.

“No,” she whispered automatically.

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

El’s pulse kicked up. “I don’t -”

“Chick,” Jenny interrupted, gentle but unyielding. “You’re allowed to look nice. That’s not a crime.”

El’s fingers brushed the fabric. Cool. Soft. It reminded her, strangely, of the sky over Hawkins - the rare nights when everything had felt quiet and untouched.

She swallowed. “Okay.”

In the changing room, El stared at herself for a long time before putting the dress on. The mirror was too bright, too honest. She looked young. No matter what she wore, that couldn’t be hidden.

When she stepped into the dress, it settled over her with unexpected ease.

Not a costume. A choice.

She stepped out.

Jenny’s face softened instantly. “Oh, babe…”

El’s stomach flipped. “Is it bad?”

“It’s gorgeous,” Jenny said quietly. “It’s… you. If you weren’t carryin’ the whole world on your back.”

El looked away, throat tight. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Jenny reached out and touched the bold fabric of the dress she had tried on - just briefly, like she couldn’t quite help herself. Her fingers skimmed the glittering thread, then dropped back to her side as if she’d been burned.

“It’s fit,” she said lightly. Too lightly. “But it’s not happenin’.”

El watched her closely now. The way Jenny’s gaze lingered a second too long on the dress. The way her shoulders squared, like she was bracing herself against disappointment she refused to name.

“You like it,” El said quietly.

Jenny scoffed. “Course I like it. Doesn’t mean I get to have it.”

El hesitated, heart thudding. This wasn’t impulse. It wasn’t generosity for the sake of feeling good. It was instinct, the same one that had made her step in before, that had made her stop a bad thing from continuing just because it could.

“I could buy it,” El said carefully. “For you.”

Jenny’s head snapped round. “No.” The word was sharp. Immediate.

“No,” she repeated, more firmly. “Absolutely not. I’m not lettin’ you do that.”

El held her ground. “Why?”

“Because I’m not takin’ money off another woman who’s just tryin’ to survive,” Jenny shot back. “I’m not that person.”

El swallowed. “It’s not my money.”

Jenny stilled.

“Wha’?”

“I took it,” El said quietly. “From a bad man.”

The words settled between them. Jenny searched El’s face - really looked this time. At the steadiness in her eyes. The lack of bravado. The weight of something old and heavy sitting just beneath the surface.

Understanding dawned slowly. Her jaw tightened and she exhaled through her nose. “…Right,” she said at last. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

She went quiet again, gaze drifting back to the dress. Not with longing now - with something more resolved. Measured.

“But I’m still not lettin’ you buy me somethin’,” she added, voice gentler but unyielding. “That’s not what this is.”

El nodded, going back into the changing room and got dressed. She smiled to herself - rebellion starting to bubble up inside of her.

“Angela?” Jenny asked perplexed when El strode past her, a dress under each arm. Her only destination was the cash register.

“I make my own rules,” El said simply.

Jenny looked at her for a long moment. Then a slow smile spread across her face. One of pride. She giggled and followed her to the counter.

El opened her purse and felt the thick weight of bills inside. Rick’s money. Money that had been used to frighten. To trap. To own.

Now it paid for something soft. Something chosen freely.

The woman behind the cash register lifted her eyebrows slightly but said nothing, counting the bills and wrapping the dresses with care.

They bought shoes next - nothing too painful, nothing too attention-grabbing. Jenny insisted El get something that didn’t look like it had survived a war. Oh, if only she knew…

“You deserve shoes that haven’t seen trauma,” Jenny said, dead serious.

El snorted unexpectedly.

They bought a little lipstick - Jenny’s idea, and El watched the woman at the counter wrap it like it was precious. Like it wasn’t just a small red stick in a tube, but something that could transform a person in the right hands.

By the time they returned to the corridors, El’s arms were full of bags and her heart was oddly… light.

Not happy, but less crushed.

Jenny led her to Fourth Deck where her own cabin was. El stepped in behind her and looked around at the small but cosy space. It was decorated with a few personal touches – a scarf thrown across the chair, a photograph tucked near the mirror. A kettle. Two mugs. Something that made it feel lived-in.

Jenny dumped her bags on the bed. “Right,” she said briskly. “Strip. Not like that!” She pointed at El’s startled expression and rolled her eyes in amusement. “Get changed chick.”

El obeyed, moving into the bathroom with the dress clutched tightly in her hands. Her fingers trembled slightly as she undressed. She wasn’t sure why. She’d worn worse things. She’d worn lab gowns and blood and fear.

But this felt different, because this was chosen. Because this was for her. It might have been the kind of dress she would have chosen for prom. Where Mike would have matched her colouring and bought her a corsage.

When she stepped out wearing the navy dress, her hair brushed and loose, Jenny let out a low whistle.

El’s stomach tightened again. “Stop.”

Jenny grinned. “I’m not stoppin’. You look stunning.”

El looked at herself in the mirror. The glitter caught the light in subtle flashes. Her collarbone. Her throat. The curve of her shoulders. She looked… soft. Human. Like a girl who had never felt true pain.

It made her throat hurt.

Jenny pulled her onto the chair in front of the mirror. “Right. Makeup.”

El froze. “I don’t -”

“You’re doin’ it,” Jenny said simply. “Just a bit. Not loads.”

El’s eyes flicked to her reflection again. To the dress. To her hair, brown and wavy, her own. No wigs. No costumes. No pretending to be someone else entirely.

Still… the sight of Jenny holding a makeup brush near her face lit up a memory she hadn’t invited.

Mike’s young hands, clumsy but careful, trying to copy what he’d seen Nancy do. His face so serious, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated like it mattered more than anything.

Pretty, he’d said, as if it was a fact. As if the world hadn’t spent her whole life trying to convince her she was only useful when she was powerful.

El’s breath caught.

Jenny paused immediately, noticing the shift. “Hey.”

El blinked hard. “Sorry.”

Jenny softened. “It’s alright. You’ve gone away somewhere.”

El couldn’t answer. The memory hurt too much.

Jenny didn’t ask. She just continued, gentler now - brushing colour onto El’s cheeks, smoothing a little shimmer onto her eyelids. When she applied lipstick, she did it slowly, carefully, as if El might break if she moved too fast.

El stared at herself when it was done. Her eyes looked brighter. Her lips fuller. The girl in the mirror looked like she belonged at a Christmas party.

Like she could laugh. Like she could dance.

El’s chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t only grief. It was something else. Possibility.

Jenny leaned on the back of the chair, smiling. “There she is.”

El swallowed. “Who?”

Jenny shrugged. “You.”

El stared at the reflection. Not Angela, not even Jane.

Just… her.

Her brown waves. Her own face. Her promise ring still on her hand, catching the light when she moved.

She lifted her fingers, staring at the ring.

Mike’s ring.

The ache came instantly - sharp and familiar. Her heart twisted so violently she almost gasped.

Jenny’s smile faded. “Hey. You okay?”

El’s lips parted, but no words came. She closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to breathe.

Just for tonight. Just one night of pretending the world wasn’t broken. Just one night of letting herself be a girl in a dress, with a friend, on Christmas Eve.

She opened her eyes again and nodded, small but determined. “Yes,” she whispered. “Okay.”

Jenny’s grin returned, bright and proud. “That’s my girl.”

El didn’t correct her. She just stood, smoothed her dress, and chose herself.

Just for tonight.

They stepped back into the corridor together, transformed.

El was acutely aware of every movement of her body - the soft swish of the dress against her legs, the unfamiliar click of shoes that hadn’t been worn down by running or fear. The air felt different against her skin, cooler, lighter. She kept half-expecting someone to stop her, to question her, to ask what she thought she was doing dressed like this.

No one did.

People glanced at her as she passed - not staring, not lingering, just… noticing. Jenny walked beside her with an easy confidence, shoulders back, chin lifted, like she belonged wherever she decided to be.

El tried to mirror her, even if it felt like learning a new language.

“You alright?” Jenny asked quietly as they walked.

El nodded. “Yeah. I think so.” Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

They followed signs towards one of the more formal dining rooms, the lighting growing softer, warmer the closer they got. A man in a crisp uniform greeted them at the entrance, posture immaculate, smile practiced.

“Good evening, ladies.”

Jenny immediately straightened, lifting her chin. “Good evenin’,” she replied, attempting something that might have been intended as elegance.

El tried to copy her.

“Good… evening” she echoed, the words coming out uncertain, clipped, wrong.

Jenny shot her a look and bit her lip. The man didn’t seem to notice, or pretended not to, ushering them inside.

The room was quiet in a way that made El’s shoulders tense. Conversations were hushed, laughter polite. Cutlery chimed softly against porcelain. Everything smelled rich - butter, wine, something unfamiliar and heavy.

They were seated at a small table near the wall. A white cloth. Real candles. El folded her hands in her lap, suddenly unsure what to do with them.

Jenny leaned forward, whispering, “Right. We’re posh now.”

El nodded solemnly. “Posh.”

They both lasted approximately thirty seconds before dissolving into giggles.

Menus were presented. El stared at hers, brow furrowing. The words were long. Complicated. She recognised none of the dishes. Jenny leaned over, squinting.

“What’s… that?” Jenny whispered, tapping the page.

El shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

Jenny inhaled deeply, clearly preparing herself, then looked up at the waiter. “Excuse me,” she said, her accent suddenly attempting something smoother. “What do you recommend?”

The waiter smiled politely. “The duck is very popular this evening.”

Jenny nodded like she understood. “Lovely. Duck.”

El ordered the same, afraid to stand out. When the wine arrived, they eyed it suspiciously.

Jenny lifted her glass. “To Christmas Eve.”

El copied her. “To… Christmas Eve.”

They clinked glasses and took cautious sips. Their faces twisted in unison.

“Oh no,” Jenny hissed.

El swallowed bravely, trying not to gag. “It tastes… bitter.”

Jenny nodded. “Like sadness.”

They laughed quietly, shoulders shaking, earning a subtle disapproving glance from a nearby table. The food didn’t help. It was rich to the point of overwhelming - sauces thick and unfamiliar, flavours too intense. El ate slowly, trying to be polite, but her stomach twisted.

Jenny leaned back, sighing dramatically. “I’d kill for a pizza.”

El’s eyes widened. “Me too.”

They made it through the meal out of sheer stubbornness, but the moment they were out of the dining room, Jenny grabbed El’s hand.

“Nope,” she declared. “We’re goin’ back to the family dining. I want carbs.”

El laughed, really laughed. The sound echoing down the corridor as they hurried away, shoes clicking too loudly, dresses swishing as they ran.

They arrived breathless, hair slightly dishevelled, still dressed to the nines. No one cared of course.

The family dining room was chaos in the best possible way - children darting between tables, laughter ringing out, plates piled high with comfort food. Someone in a Santa suit moved from table to table, booming “Ho ho ho!” and making children shriek with delight.

El stopped just inside the doorway. For a moment, her chest ached with something sharp and unexpected. Santa bent down to a child’s level, listening intently as if the words mattered. Parents smiled, tired but fond. The room was full of warmth, noise, life.

This was what it was supposed to be like. A normal childhood.

She wondered briefly, quietly, what it would have been like with her mama, with Andrew there too. She tried to imagine Christmas mornings that weren’t interrupted by labs or silence or fear. She pictured the man from the photograph - smiling, protective, in love.

Jenny nudged her gently. “Come on.”

They ate pizza and pasta, piling their plates high without guilt. El felt warmth spread through her chest with every bite - simple food, familiar flavours. Jenny grinned as Santa passed their table, giving them an exaggerated wink.

“You been good this year?” he boomed.

Jenny snorted. “Define good.”

Santa laughed and moved on. El smiled softly, watching him go.

Later, much later, they found the disco.

The music thumped through El’s chest the moment they stepped inside. Lights flashed, coloured and warm, reflecting off glitter and sequins. The smell of cheap cocktails and perfume hung thick in the air.

Jenny headed straight for the bar. “You’re tryin’ one,” she announced.

El eyed the menu suspiciously. “What’s in it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Mainly ice I’d suspect.”

The cocktail was sweet, fizzy, nothing like the wine. El took a sip and her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said softly. “This is… nice.”

Jenny grinned triumphantly. “Told ya.”

They found a space near the dance floor. El watched people move for a long moment, bodies swaying, laughing, unafraid of being seen. The music shifted, a familiar rhythm starting up.

‘Friday night and the lights are low. Looking out for a place to go …’

Jenny gasped. “No way.” She grabbed El’s hands. “Come on!”

El hesitated. “I don’t -”

Too late.

Jenny pulled her into the crowd, laughing, moving without care. El’s movements were stiff at first, uncertain. She felt ridiculous. Too aware of her limbs, of the dress, of eyes she imagined were on her.

Then Jenny spun her suddenly, laughing, shouting over the music, “You’re doin’ great!”

‘You are the dancing queen! Young and sweet, only seventeen!’

Something clicked. El laughed - loud and unrestrained, and let herself move. She swayed, then spun, then danced properly, hair flying, dress catching the light. The music vibrated through her bones, warmth flooding her chest.

It reminded her of Starcourt Mall. Of Max, dragging her through stores. Of laughter. Of joy without consequence. Of strawberry ice cream, comics and spin the bottle.

“How old are you actually?” Jenny shouted over the music.

“Sixteen!” El shouted back.

Jenny stilled. For a heartbeat, El worried she’d ruined everything. Then Jenny smiled, not teasing, not shocked, just soft.

“Bloody hell,” she murmured. “You’ve been through far too much.”

She took El’s face briefly in her hands, squeezing her cheeks affectionately. “Well then. Consider me your new big sister. Always wanted a little sis. Got stuck with a brother of course.”

El’s heart tightened. Kali flickered through her mind. Fierce, distant, lost.

“I’d like that,” El said quietly. “I’d like to be your little sister.”

Jenny grinned. “Sorted.”

They danced until El’s legs ached and her cheeks hurt from smiling. Until the cocktails blurred the edges of the world just enough to make it feel kind.

On the way back, Jenny suddenly stopped. “Wait here.”

El watched, confused, as Jenny ducked into a shop in the Royal Arcade. She emerged moments later with a small bag and a secretive smile.

“For you,” Jenny said, pressing it into El’s hands.

Inside was a notebook and pen - simple but beautiful.

“So you can write to him,” Jenny said gently. “Your fella. So he knows. Knows every step you have had to take. One day… he’ll read ‘em.”

El stared down at it, throat closing. It meant more than she could ever explain. It represented hope. Hope that one day there would be no distance between her and Mike. That he would lay with her and read everything she had done to fight for their future.

“I didn’t get you anything,” El whispered, slowly looking up. Guilt starting to ripple in her stomach.

But Jenny just shrugged, her lips curved into a smile. “You gave me a friend. That’s enough.”

El hugged her without thinking, and Jenny hugged her back. They stayed like that for a while. Two lonely girls who had found a purpose in this darkness. A beacon on the ocean that was leading them both where they needed to go.

El woke up to the sound of bells.

Not church bells - softer than that. Cheerful and distant. The kind that belonged to a place trying very hard to feel festive. For a moment, she lay still beneath the covers, disoriented, the events of the night before drifting back to her in fragments - coloured lights, laughter, music vibrating through her bones.

Jenny. The dress. The way it had felt to dance without thinking.

She pressed her palm lightly against her chest, grounding herself, then turned her head towards the small window beside the bed.

Christmas Day.

The light outside was pale and wintry, the ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass, steel-blue and calm. The ship moved steadily forward, unconcerned with the significance of the date. El felt a small, surprising flicker of gratitude for that, for the way the world carried on even when she didn’t know how to.

She sat up slowly and reached for the notebook Jenny had given her the night before.

It rested on the bedside table like something sacred.

Not yet, she thought. Later.

El opted for a quiet breakfast this morning in her cabin. Something already agreed with Jenny the night before - who had been adamant that she wouldn’t be awake before noon.

El realised how much she needed the slow morning as she showered, soap brushing over her skin unrushed and careful. She sighed, feeling a bit more human. El dressed quietly, choosing comfort over spectacle today, though she still felt different somehow - lighter, maybe, or simply less closed in on herself.

When she eventually stepped out into the corridor, the ship buzzed with a particular kind of energy. Children raced past clutching new toys. Adults smiled more easily. Paper crowns were already perched on heads.

Jenny found her outside the family dining room, hair pulled back loosely, eyes bright despite their late night.

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

El hesitated, then smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

They queued together, the smell of food thick and comforting in the air. El watched as plates were piled high, unfamiliar dishes sharing space with things she recognised. When she sat down, her plate felt absurdly full.

“This,” Jenny said, gesturing grandly, “is a proper British Christmas dinner.”

El studied it carefully. Turkey - that was safe. Roast potatoes glistening with oil and salt. Thick gravy pooled everywhere. Something wrapped in bacon that smelled incredible.

“And this,” Jenny added, pointing, “is a pig in blanket.”

El’s eyes widened. “Why does it need a blanket?”

Jenny snorted. “Just eat it.”

El did. Her eyes closed involuntarily. “Oh,” she breathed. “This is… good.”

Jenny grinned triumphantly. “Told ya.”

El tried everything with determination - even the sprouts. She chewed bravely, face pinching immediately. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No.”

Jenny laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork. “Yeah, no one actually likes them.”

The Yorkshire pudding, though - that was a revelation. El stared at it in wonder before tearing off a piece and dipping it in gravy.

“I love this,” she declared.

Jenny raised her glass. “Welcome to the UK.”

They pulled crackers with exaggerated ceremony. The sharp pop made El flinch before she laughed, startled, paper crown tumbling into her lap. She studied it for a moment - the ridiculousness of it, the bright colour.

But she kept it.

Folding it carefully, she slipped it into her bag beside the photograph of her parents. It felt important somehow - a marker of a day that was strange and painful and unexpectedly warm all at once.

Later, they wandered the decks again, wrapped in jackets. Fairy lights were strung overhead and reflected off the polished railings. The ship felt softer today. Kinder. As if everyone had collectively decided to be gentler with one another.

El found herself thinking of childhood.

Not her own - not really. But the idea of it. Of Christmas mornings without fear. Of laughter that wasn’t followed by consequences. She thought again of Andrew, of the man in the photograph, and wondered what he’d been like on Christmas mornings. Whether he’d made jokes. Whether he’d danced her mama around the living room.

Whether he would have loved her.

The thought ached, but it didn’t crush her.

That evening, as the sky darkened and fairy lights flickered on fully, El drifted away from the noise. She found a quiet corner of the deck, wrapped herself in a blanket she’d borrowed, and finally opened the notebook.

The pen felt heavier than she expected.

She stared at the blank page for a long time before she began to write.

Dear Mike,

The words came slowly at first, then faster. She wrote about her mama and how she helped her. About the void. About Kali - her power, her strength, her anger. She wrote about motels, about boarding the ship, about the ocean, about how terrifying and beautiful it was.

She wrote about Jenny.

About laughter. About dancing. About Christmas dinner and paper crowns and pigs in blankets.

And finally, she wrote about how much she missed him. How the distance felt impossible some days. How she carried him with her anyway.

When she finished, her hand ached and her cheeks were wet, but her chest felt strangely full. She closed the notebook carefully.

Seven days.

It had been seven days since she’d boarded the ship. Seven days of movement, of fear, of unexpected kindness.

When the ship finally docked in Southampton the next morning, El felt the familiar surge of panic rise in her chest.

This was it. The end of something. The beginning of something else she didn’t understand.

She stood on the deck clutching her bag, watching people disembark with purpose. With plans. With places to go.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted softly.

Jenny turned to her immediately. “Then don’t do it alone.”

El blinked.

“Come with me,” Jenny said simply. “Liverpool. At least for now. I don’t want you on your own Angela.”

El looked around the ship one last time. The place that had carried her. Held her. Changed her.

She slowly turned back to Jenny and took a breath. The girl who she had taken to immediately, the girl who was a survivor too. The girl who had crossed the ocean with her, both of them learning and growing together.

Friends. Sisters.

“It’s El,” she said. “My name is El.”

Jenny’s grin was instant and sure. “Yeah. That sounds right.”

And for the first time since she’d run, El believed it.

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Chapter 5: Moving Forward

The train had been moving for a while before El realised she’d stopped bracing for impact.

At first, every jolt of metal on rail had made her shoulders tighten, her breath hitch - the instinctive readiness for something to go wrong. For the ground to give way. For doors to burst open. For shouting, for hands, for running.

But gradually, the rhythm changed.

The wheels settled into a steady clatter, not chaotic, not threatening - just constant. Predictable. The carriage swayed gently from side to side, a long, almost soothing motion, like being rocked without being touched. El leaned her head against the window, the glass cold against her cheek, and let herself stay still.

Outside, England unfolded.

It was green in a way she had never seen before.

Not the sharp, sun-bleached green of California hills or the tired farmland back home in Indiana - this was deeper, fuller, almost damp with life. The fields rolled past the window in wide, patient stretches, layered in different shades. Dark emerald, mossy olive, pale winter grass dulled by frost. Hedgerows carved the land into soft shapes, stitched together with narrow lanes and stone walls that looked old enough to remember things.

She watched sheep dot the hillsides like scattered chalk marks. Cows stood motionless in fields that blurred past too quickly to count them. Occasionally, a church spire rose suddenly into view - grey stone, sharp against the low winter sky, before slipping away again as the train pressed on.

Villages flickered into existence and vanished just as quickly.

Rows of houses huddled close together, roofs sloping inward as though they leaned on one another for warmth. Chimneys breathed pale smoke into the air. Washing lines stretched across back gardens, even in the cold - towels, shirts, socks flapping stubbornly in the wind.

El’s reflection hovered faintly in the glass, layered over the passing countryside. She touched the window with her fingertips, grounding herself in the reality of it all. The vibration, the cold, the motion.

She was moving forward. Not moving on… but forward.

Beside her, Jenny shifted again.

El didn’t look straight away. She’d learned to notice people without staring, a skill honed by years of reading danger in the smallest movements. Jenny’s knee bounced, stopping only to start again moments later. Mike did the same thing whenever he was nervous.

Jenny’s fingers worried at the strap of her bag, twisting the fabric until it creased beneath her grip. Every so often, she dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly, like she was reminding herself how.

El turned her head slightly, watching her friend through her lashes. Jenny hadn’t stopped moving since they’d boarded the train.

The memory of Southampton station pressed to the front of El’s mind, vivid and sharp.

Jenny standing at the payphone, her back half-turned, one shoulder hunched as though she were trying to fold herself smaller. Coins clinked softly as she fed them into the slot. El hadn’t heard the words - only fragments of tone. Care. Hesitation. A forced brightness that didn’t quite land.

She remembered the way Jenny had nodded into the receiver. How her jaw tightened. How she’d pressed her lips together hard when the call ended, staring at the phone for a second too long before hanging it up.

Concern, El was learning, had a shape. It lived in the space between what people said and what they didn’t.

“Are you okay?” El asked quietly.

Jenny startled, like she’d been pulled back from somewhere far away. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled quickly, then scrubbed a hand over her face. “Just… tired.”

El didn’t believe her, but she nodded anyway.

The train passed through a city then - buildings crowding closer to the tracks, brick and concrete flashing past in quick succession. Graffiti bloomed across walls and bridges, names and colours layered on top of one another, bright against the grey. El leaned closer to the glass, eyes following the shapes until they disappeared.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” she murmured, more to herself than to Jenny.

“Yeah,” Jenny said. “Gets greener the further north you go I swear. Weird, isn’t it?”

El hummed softly, watching the city thin again into open land. She hesitated, then spoke carefully. “If… if it’s a problem,” she said, choosing each word as though it might crack if handled wrong, “I can go somewhere else – “

Jenny turned to her sharply. “Wha’?”

“I mean,” El continued, voice steady even as her chest tightened, “if your family doesn’t want me there. Or if it’s… uncomfortable. I can manage. I always do.”

It wasn’t a boast. Just a fact.

Jenny stared at her for a long moment, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. “El. No. Christ, no.” She shook her head, hair falling into her face. “You’re stayin’. You hear me? You’re stayin’.”

El studied her. “Then why are you scared?”

Jenny leaned back in her seat, staring up at the carriage ceiling. “Because I’ve messed it all up,” she said flatly.

El frowned. “You didn’t.”

“Try telling me street that,” Jenny snorted. “They all knew I’d gone off to America with my big rich boyfriend. Like I’d made it. Like I was… somethin’.” She swallowed. “Now I’m coming home with nothin’. No bloke. No plan. Just… back.”

El absorbed this quietly.

“My mum’ll be relieved,” Jenny continued. “But the neighbours? They’ll have opinions. They always do. Everyone knows everyone. They’ll be wondering what I did wrong.”

El tilted her head slightly. “Parents don’t think like that.”

Jenny glanced at her. “You think?”

El didn’t answer straight away. She watched the countryside rush past, the steady certainty of the train’s movement anchoring her. “They worry,” she said eventually. “And they love. Sometimes they… panic. It comes out loud.”

Jenny snorted. “That’s one way of puttin’ it.”

“They can be mouth breathers,” El added solemnly.

Jenny blinked. “They can be wha’?”

El glanced at her, almost shy. “Mouth breathers.”

There was a beat - then Jenny burst out laughing, sharp and bright, the sound turning heads in the carriage. “Oh my god. If me mum hears you say that, she’ll have you scrubbing floors till you’re forty.”

El’s lips twitched, just slightly before she added softly, “they just want you to be okay. Happy.”

Jenny’s laughter faded into something gentler. She looked back out of the window, blinking hard. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess they do.”

The train surged forward again, carrying them north. El rested her head back against the glass, watching England roll on, field after field, village after village, each mile pulling her further from everything she had survived. From everything she had sacrificed.

From Mike.

The train began to slow long before it stopped.

El felt it first in her body - the subtle change in rhythm, the pull of momentum easing, the carriage swaying less as the wheels shrieked faintly against the rails. Jenny straightened beside her, dragging in a breath like she’d been holding it for miles.

“This is us,” she said quietly.

El lifted her head from the window. The world outside had changed.

Gone were the open fields and hedgerows. The view was crowded now, brick pressed close to the tracks, walls streaked dark with age and rain, windows flashing past in uneven rows. Warehouses loomed heavy and vast, their stonework blackened by decades of industry, iron beams crisscrossing the sky like ribs. A bridge rushed overhead, the underside layered thick with graffiti - not just names, but colour and form and statements, sprayed boldly where they would be seen.

The train slid into the station with a long metallic sigh.

Liverpool.

The doors hissed open and sound poured in.

Voices. Laughter. Shouting. The echo of footsteps on concrete. Music leaking from somewhere - tinny and distant but unmistakably alive. El hesitated for half a second before standing, her body instinctively asking for permission that never came.

Jenny grabbed her bag. “Come on chick.”

The platform was wide and busy, people flowing around them with practised ease. El stepped down and immediately felt it. The city was pressing close, not threatening but present. The air smelled different here. Oil and damp stone. Cigarette smoke. Something fried, something sweet. Cold metal and old brick.

She turned slowly, taking it all in.

The station itself felt enormous. High ceilings arched overhead, ironwork stretching like bones across the space. Old signs hung above platforms, their lettering faded but proud. Everything felt heavy with history, like the walls had absorbed decades of movement and never quite let it go.

People hurried past in all directions.

A man laughed loudly into a payphone. Two women argued affectionately, arms linked as they walked. A group of teenagers leaned against a pillar, music blaring from a battered cassette player, their accents thick, musical and impossible for El to fully untangle.

She caught words she didn’t recognise. Phrases that bent and curled in unfamiliar ways.

Jenny’s voice cut through it. “You alright?”

El nodded slowly, though her mouth was still slightly open. “It’s… loud.”

Jenny smiled. “Yeah. It’s like that.”

They moved through the station and out into the open. El stopped dead.

The city rose up in front of her.

Not just buildings, but layers. Grand stone structures with carved details and towering columns stood shoulder-to-shoulder with concrete blocks and narrow shopfronts. Ornate architecture sat beside crumbling brickwork, beautiful and battered in equal measure.

Buses roared past, double decker’s, coughing exhaust fumes as they pulled to the curb. Shop signs competed for attention - bold fonts, bright colours, hand-painted lettering. Music spilled from open doorways. Somewhere, a radio blared a song she didn’t know but felt instantly.

People moved like they belonged to the street itself - fast, unselfconscious, unafraid of contact. Shoulders brushed. Voices overlapped. No one apologised. No one needed to.

El turned slowly in place, eyes wide, taking in every direction at once.

“I’ve never -” she started, then stopped, because there weren’t words big enough.

Jenny watched her with a small smile. “Yeah. That’s usually the reaction.”

El swallowed. “It feels… old.”

“Is,” Jenny said reasonably. “And stubborn.”

They walked. Every step revealed something new. A mural painted across the side of a building - not neat, not polished, but expressive, faces and symbols layered over one another. Posters plastered to walls - bands, gigs, political slogans, calls to protest or gather or remember. A man played guitar near a bus stop, case open at his feet, his voice rough and earnest as it cut through the noise.

El felt it vibrate in her chest. There was music everywhere. Not curated or staged. Just… present.

She realised suddenly that no one was staring at her.

There were people with accents she didn’t recognise. People with skin darker than hers, lighter than hers. People wearing clothes she’d never seen, hair styled in ways that would’ve drawn whispers back home. Here, it was just life.

Different didn’t stand out.

Different blended.

Her shoulders loosened without her meaning them to.

Jenny glanced at her watch. “We can get the bus, takes fifteen minutes.”

El looked down the street stretching ahead of them, at the way the city seemed to pull outward and inward all at once. “Can we walk?”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “It’s about half an hour.”

“I want to see everything,” El said simply.

Jenny studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

They set off. As they moved north, the city shifted again. The grandeur thinned into tighter streets, buildings pressing closer together, the pavement narrowing. Terraced houses began to appear - rows upon rows of red brick, uniform but not identical, each front door its own colour, each window dressed differently.

El slowed her steps. The houses were small. Narrow. Close enough that neighbours could lean out of windows and talk without raising their voices. It was nothing like the wide streets of Hawkins or the spread-out sprawl of California.

Children played football as Jenny called it, in the road, shouting gleefully as the ball bounced off a curb. A woman leaned out of her doorway, calling something sharp and affectionate in a thick accent. Two others sat on their front steps, steaming mugs of tea balanced in their hands, cigarettes glowing faintly as they laughed at something only they understood.

Laundry fluttered from lines strung across tiny back yards. Curtains twitched. Radios played inside houses, different songs bleeding together through thin walls.

El felt like she’d stepped into a different world.

Jenny’s pace slowed. Her shoulders crept upward, tension settling visibly into her frame.

Before El could say anything, a voice called out, “Jenny Kelly?!”

A woman crossed the street towards them, arms wide. “I thought you were making it big in America!”

Jenny laughed, a little breathless. “It didn’t work out quite like that…”

She was hugged. Then another woman waved from further down the road. “About time you came home!”

Curious eyes slid toward El - assessing, open, interested.

“And who’s this then?” someone asked.

Jenny hesitated just a fraction of a second. “A friend.”

The word landed warm and solid.

El smiled shyly, nodding as people greeted her without suspicion, without questions that dug too deep. Someone said, “Alright, love,” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jenny exhaled slowly as they continued walking.

“You see?” she muttered. “Told you.”

El looked back down the street they’d just passed - at the people, the houses, the movement, and felt something unfamiliar settle gently in her chest.

Not fear. Not vigilance. But the beginning of something she had not experienced in a long time. It felt like she was finally exhaling a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding.

The further they walked, the more the city seemed to fold in on itself.

Streets narrowed. Pavements tightened. Houses leaned closer together, their red-brick fronts softened by age and soot, mortar darkened by decades of rain. El noticed how little space there was between front doors - how every home touched the next, as though the street itself were one long, shared body.

Nothing here stood alone.

She slowed without realising it, eyes tracking everything at once. The doors - chipped paint in blues and greens and reds. The steps worn smooth by countless feet. The low walls topped with rusted iron railings or flowerpots stubbornly clinging to life despite the cold. Even the air felt different - thicker somehow, carrying voices and cooking smells and the faint metallic tang of damp brick.

“This is Kensington,” Jenny said, her voice casual but tight beneath it. “Not the posh one.”

El smiled faintly. “I didn’t think it was.”

Jenny huffed a laugh. “Good.”

They passed a corner shop with a flickering sign in the window. Inside, shelves were packed tight with tins, bread and candy El didn’t recognise. A man stood behind the counter chatting animatedly with a customer, both of them laughing mid-sentence like time didn’t matter.

The street beyond was louder.

Children ran in packs, football boots scuffing the pavement, jackets discarded in heaps near doorways. Someone shouted a warning as a car crawled through the road, forcing the game to scatter briefly before reforming the second the danger passed.

“Bloody ‘ell!” a boy yelled, laughing. “He nearly killed me!”

The accent was thick, musical, impossible for her to mimic but easy to love.

El paused as a football rolled to her feet. She stared at it for a second, startled - then gently nudged it back with the toe of her shoe. The boys cheered exaggeratedly, one giving her an overenthusiastic thumb-up.

“Nice one, la!” he called.

El blinked, heart thudding oddly at the praise. She hadn’t done anything special. But here, it seemed to count.

Women leaned out of open front doors, voices carrying easily across the street.

“Don’t kick that ball near me windows, I swear -”

“Get in the house, it’s freezin’!”

El took it all in. The houses were small. Much smaller than she’d imagined homes could be. Narrow hallways, close stairs, rooms stacked atop one another like carefully arranged boxes. It was the closeness that struck her most - how sound must travel through these walls, how laughter and arguments and music couldn’t be contained.

Privacy, here, was different. It wasn’t about distance – it couldn’t be. It was about trust.

Jenny’s pace slowed. El noticed the shift immediately - the way her shoulders crept upward, the way her fingers curled nervously into the strap of her bag. Gwenfron Road came into view ahead of them, stretching straight and familiar like a held breath.

“Are you okay?” El asked quietly.

Jenny nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just… nearly there.”

They hadn’t even reached the street yet when someone spotted her.

“Jenny?!” a woman called, emerging from a doorway halfway down the block. “Is that you?”

Jenny froze, then laughed, the sound edged with nerves. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the woman said, striding towards them. “Where the hell have you been, girl? Your mum’s been beside herself.”

Jenny shrugged helplessly. “Long story.”

The woman’s gaze slid to El, curious but warm. “And who’s this then?”

“This is El,” Jenny said. “Me friend. She’s… staying with us for a bit.”

“Well,” the woman said immediately, smiling at El, “you’re very welcome, love.”

Yet again there was no hesitation or suspicion. Just casual and complete acceptance.

They walked on, greeted again and again. A wave. A shout. A brief hug. Questions fired rapid-fast at Jenny, each one punctuated with relief that she was here. El watched it happen with a strange ache in her chest.

In Hawkins, people noticed absences. Here, they noticed returns.

Gwenfron Road announced itself not with a sign, but with familiarity. Jenny slowed to a near stop, staring ahead at the stretch of terraced houses that looked no different from the ones they’d just passed - and yet clearly, meant everything to her.

“That’s us,” she said quietly.

El followed her gaze.

Number 160.

It didn’t stand out. Red brick like all the others. A small step leading up to a solid front door, paint slightly chipped near the handle. A narrow window with lace curtains drawn halfway, warm light glowing behind them. The house felt like it was expecting them.

Jenny stopped at the bottom of the step, breath shallow. El could feel the tension radiating from her now - not fear exactly, but something tangled and heavy.

“They’re gonna ask questions,” Jenny muttered. “They always do.”

El stepped closer. “You don’t have to answer them all.”

Jenny snorted. “You’ve never met me mum.”

The door swung open before Jenny’s knuckles could even lift.

It happened fast - a sharp creak of hinges, a rush of warm air spilling out into the cold, and then a woman filling the doorway like she’d been waiting there all along.

“Jennifer Mary Kelly!”

Jenny barely had time to gasp before she was grabbed - arms wrapping around her with bruising force, pulling her hard into a chest that smelled faintly of cigarettes, laundry powder, and something fried. Sue squeezed her daughter like she might disappear again if she loosened her grip.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through?” Sue scolded, her voice sharp and thick all at once. “Do you know how many sleepless nights I’ve had? How many times I’ve stared at the bloody phone –”

Her voice broke. Just for a second.

Jenny sagged into her, all fight draining out of her body as she clutched her mum back just as tightly. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, muffled into Sue’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to –”

Sue cut her off with another squeeze. “Don’t. Don’t you dare apologise. You’re home. That’s all I care about.”

El stood frozen on the pavement, heart hammering, watching the moment unfold. She recognised it immediately - not the words, but the emotion. Fear releasing itself through anger. Relief coming out sideways. Love - loud and unfiltered, and impossible to hide.

Sue pulled back just enough to grab Jenny’s face in both hands, inspecting her with fierce scrutiny. “You’re too thin,” she declared. “You look exhausted. And if that man’s laid one finger on you -”

“Mum,” Jenny groaned weakly. “Please.”

Sue’s gaze snapped up. That was when she noticed El properly.

Her eyes softened instantly - not cautiously, not curiously, but with something like instinctive recognition. She took in El’s slight frame, her careful posture, the way she hovered half a step behind Jenny like she wasn’t quite sure she was allowed to be there.

“Well,” Sue said, stepping aside without a second thought, “don’t just stand out there freezing. Get in, love.”

El blinked. “I –”

“You’ll catch your death,” Sue continued briskly, already ushering them both over the threshold. “And we don’t need that, do we?”

The warmth hit El immediately. It wasn’t heat. It was someone’s home. Jenny’s home. The house hummed with it. The air smelled of old carpets and cooking and people who lived close together. A television murmured somewhere. Floorboards creaked as the house shifted under its own weight.

Sue shut the door behind them with finality and then she turned back to El.

Up close, El could see it - the resemblance to Jenny. The same blonde hair, though Sue’s was pulled back tightly. The same mouth. The same sharp nose. Only the eyes were different. Where Jenny’s were bright blue and open, Sue’s were green and watchful, the kind that missed nothing.

“You must be El,” Sue said.

El nodded, heart in her throat. “Yes ma’am.”

“Oh no,” Sue replied immediately. “We don’t do ‘ma’am’ in this house.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m Sue. And you’re safe here.”

The words landed heavy and solid. El didn’t trust herself to speak.

Sue glanced back at Jenny, then back to El, her expression sharpening with something fierce and protective. “Jenny told me a bit,” she said carefully. “Enough to know you’ve had a rough time.”

Jenny tensed.

Sue reached out and rested a hand lightly on El’s arm - not grabbing, not demanding. Just there. “Whatever you need, however long you need,” she said firmly, “this is your home too. You hear me?”

El swallowed hard. Her eyes burned. “Thank you.”

Sue nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”

Footsteps thudded on the stairs then - fast and uneven.

“Jen?” a voice called. “Is that you?”

A boy appeared at the top of the staircase, then bounded down two steps at a time. He was tall for his age, all limbs and angles, brown hair falling into his eyes, his mum’s green gaze sharp with concern as it locked onto his sister.

“Bloody ‘ell,” he breathed. “You’re actually here.”

Jenny laughed a shaky sound and pulled him into a hug. “Danny you’ve grown.”

He squirmed immediately. “Don’t,” he muttered, but his arms tightened around her for a split second longer than necessary before he let go. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I am now.”

Danny’s eyes flicked to El.

Sue caught it instantly. “Oi,” she snapped, pointing at him. “Behave. This is El. And if you so much as look at her funny –”

“Mum!” Danny protested, mortified. “What do you think I am?”

El caught his eye and smiled - small, careful. Something in his expression shifted then, the tension easing just slightly. He looked… gentle. A little guarded. It tugged at something familiar in her chest. He remembered her of Will.

“It’s nice to meet you,” El said.

Danny nodded, awkward but sincere. “Yeah. You too.”

Sue clapped her hands suddenly. “Right. Shoes off. Both of you. And then you’re sittin’ down because you look like you’re about to blow away in a strong breeze.”

Jenny groaned. “Mum –”

“No arguments,” Sue said cheerfully. “You’re home.”

El stepped further inside. For the first time since she’d crossed the ocean, El felt it fully - the sensation of being let in. Not questioned or tested, but claimed.

The kitchen was already warm when they walked in. The kind of heat that clung to your clothes and skin, heavy with cooking smells and lived-in air.

It was small. Narrow counters. A table that took up more space than it should have. Mismatched chairs pulled in at odd angles like they’d all arrived at different times and never bothered to leave. The walls were crowded with things - notes pinned crookedly, a calendar filled with Sue’s looping handwriting, a faded photo of Jenny and Danny years younger, grinning with missing teeth.

Sue moved through it like she owned every inch.

“Sit,” she ordered, already pulling open cupboards. “Both of you. Don’t argue Jenny.”

Jenny dropped into a chair obediently. El hesitated, then sat too, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes tracking Sue’s movements as she reached for pans, flicked switches, pulled out ingredients with practised ease.

Sue tutted loudly. “You’re both skin and bone. Honestly, what do they feed you over there? Air?”

Jenny sighed. “Mum –”

“Don’t ‘mum’ me,” Sue shot back. “You disappear for months and come back lookin’ like a stray, I’m allowed an opinion.”

She dragged the deep fat fryer out from under the counter with a grunt and slammed it down like it was a statement. Oil sloshed faintly as she filled it.

El watched, fascinated. The fryer hissed as it heated, the sound sharp and alive. Sue peeled potatoes with swift, aggressive motions, chips hitting the counter in uneven piles. Sausages followed, then eggs cracked expertly into a bowl.

“All men are the same,” Sue announced suddenly, jabbing a potato for emphasis. “Promise you the world, then vanish or turn rotten. Especially the American ones. Thinkin’ they can just come over here, sweep my daughter off her feet, and then treat her like dirt.”

El kept her face carefully neutral, but Jenny winced. “Mum not all American men are – ”

“If I ever get me hands on that poor excuse for a man,” Sue continued, “I’ll break his legs. I swear to God. Break them.”

Jenny groaned and dropped her head onto the table. “Mum, please.”

Sue turned, eyes blazing. “Wha’? Am I wrong?”

Jenny didn’t answer. El bit the inside of her cheek, suppressing a smile. If you only knew, she thought faintly.

The oil began to bubble loudly as Sue dropped the chips in, the sizzle filling the room. The smell hit El immediately - hot, salty, comforting in a way that made her stomach tighten painfully with the hunger she hadn’t allowed herself to feel.

Sue turned on the kettle next. “Tea,” she said firmly. “Proper tea.”

She lined up mugs on the counter - thick, sturdy things with chipped rims and faded slogans. Tea bags went in first, then boiling water poured without ceremony.

El watched carefully as Sue let them ‘brew’, strong enough that the liquid darkened almost instantly.

Jenny leaned towards El and murmured, “Brace yourself.”

Sue grabbed the milk and poured without measuring, then slid a mug across to El. “Sugar?”

El hesitated. “Yes, please.”

Jenny immediately dumped a spoonful in - then another. “Trust me,” she muttered. “Mum’s tea strength could knock your eyebrows off.”

El wrapped both hands around the mug, the heat seeping into her fingers. She took a cautious sip - then blinked in surprise.

“I like it,” she said softly.

Sue looked pleased. “Good girl.”

The food came together quickly after that. Chips lifted out golden and steaming. Sausages browned and split in the pan. Eggs fried until the edges crisped. A can of beans opened with a sharp snap and poured unceremoniously into a saucepan.

Plates were loaded generously and shoved towards them.

“Eat your tea,” Sue ordered. “No excuses.”

El stared at the plate in front of her. The portion was enormous, and the generosity hit her hard.

“You don’t have to feed -” she started.

Sue cut her off instantly, her voice softer now but no less firm. “You don’t argue in this house, love. You eat.”

El swallowed and picked up her fork. The first bite made her chest ache. Her body responded before her mind could catch up, hunger roaring to life now that it had permission. She ate carefully at first, then a little faster, the warmth spreading through her in waves.

“This is really good,” she said quietly.

Sue sniffed. “Course it is.”           

Halfway through, El paused, brow furrowing. “Can I ask something?”

Jenny glanced up. “Uh-oh.”

El gestured vaguely at the mug. “You said ‘tea’… but this food is also tea?” She hesitated and pointed at the plate. “But is it not dinner?”

Sue stared at her for a second - then barked out a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Jenny giggled. “I forgot about that.”

Sue wiped her hands on a tea towel, grinning. “Right. Okay. So.” She pointed at the plate. “This is tea.”

Then she pointed at the mug. “And this is tea.”

El blinked. “But… how do you know which one you mean?”

“You just do,” Sue said cheerfully.

El considered this very seriously. “That makes no sense.”

Jenny laughed so hard she nearly choked.

Sue shook her head affectionately. “You’ll learn love.”

When the plates were nearly cleared and El was feeling fuller than she had in months, Sue waved a hand dismissively. “Right. Sleeping arrangements.”

Jenny stiffened.

“You’ll share for now,” Sue said briskly. “No point overthinking it. We’ll sort something proper later. I’ll chuck Danny on the sofa if I have to.”

“I heard that!” Danny shouted from the lounge.

“Start pulling your weight around here and I might reconsider!” Sue shouted back.

El’s chest felt… strange. She knew she should feel overwhelmed. Surrounded. Overstimulated. But instead, she felt grounded.

Fed. Heard. Safe. And for now - that was everything.

The house shifted as evening crept in.

It wasn’t sudden - not like a switch being flipped - but gradual, the way warmth settles into walls after a long day. The light outside the kitchen window dimmed from grey to blue, then to something deeper, streetlamps flickering on one by one and casting soft amber pools across the pavement.

Sue was mid-rant when the front door opened.

The sound was subtle - keys, the door closing carefully, the unmistakable weight of someone coming home tired rather than bursting in. El noticed it instantly. Her body still reacted before her mind could catch up.

A tall man appeared in the doorway. He filled the space without trying to. Broad-shouldered, slightly stooped with fatigue, brown hair threaded through with grey at the temples. His jacket hung open, a retail uniform beneath it creased from a long shift. El’s eyes flicked automatically to the badge clipped to his chest.

David Kelly
Kwik Save
Manager

He took in the scene at a glance - the plates still on the table, Sue gesturing animatedly with a tea towel, Jenny sitting sideways in her chair, laughing weakly at something her mum had just said.

And then his gaze landed on El.

He didn’t stiffen, didn’t frown, didn’t even ask who she was.

“Y’alright, love?” he said gently, like she’d always been there.

The words settled over El’s shoulders like a blanket.

Jenny was on her feet before El could react, crossing the kitchen in two strides and throwing her arms around him. Dave held her immediately, clutching her close with a strength that surprised El - one hand coming up to cradle the back of Jenny’s head, the other firm at her shoulder.

“Good to see you home, kid,” he murmured.

Jenny pulled back just enough to look up at him, smiling through the tiredness. “Guessing mum told you I was on me way?”

Dave chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss Sue’s head as he passed her. “’Course she did. Ran straight to the shop after you called.”

Sue sniffed, pretending to be offended. “What was I supposed to do? Keep it to meself?”

Dave smiled at that - small, fond, deeply familiar. El watched the exchange quietly, something loosening in her chest. There was no interrogation. No demand for explanations. Just relief. The unspoken understanding of people who loved each other enough not to need constant proof.

Dave turned back to El. “I’m Dave,” he said. “You must be El.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Ah,” he said gently, waving a hand. “None of that. Just Dave.”

“I like to call him pain in the arse,” Sue said fondly pushing a fresh mug of tea in his hands without asking.

David pulled out a chair and sat, rolling his shoulders like he’d been carrying more than groceries all day. He took a sip of the strong tea, sighed contentedly, then looked at El again - really looked this time. Not in a way that made her shrink, but in a way that felt… careful. Considered.

“You’re welcome here,” he said simply.

El felt her throat tighten. “Thank you.”

The conversation drifted then - nothing heavy, nothing sharp. Sue complained about the fryer oil needing changing. Jenny mentioned how strange it felt to be back. Dave nodded along, listening more than he spoke.

El noticed how the house responded to him. The way Sue’s voice softened just a notch. The way Jenny leaned closer, unconsciously orienting herself towards him. The way the space felt steadier, anchored.

Dinner plates were cleared. Sue shooed everyone away from the sink, insisting she’d do it herself while complaining loudly about how no one appreciated her.

Danny hovered briefly, then disappeared upstairs with a muttered excuse about homework.

The television came on in the front room - low volume, a quiz show El didn’t understand but found oddly comforting. Sue sank onto the sofa with a sigh, stretching her legs out and kicking off her shoes.

“Right,” she said. “No more heavy talk tonight. We’ll save that for tomorrow.”

El realised then that she hadn’t been asked a single invasive question.

Not where she was from. Not what had happened to her. Not why she needed to stay.

Only whether she’d eaten enough. Only whether she was warm. Only whether she felt okay.

Jenny caught her looking and smiled softly. “Told you,” she murmured. “They’re a lot. But they’re good.”

El nodded. “They are.”

Later, as the house began to quiet, Sue gestured towards the stairs. “You girls go on up. You’ll be shattered.”

Jenny hesitated. “You sure?”

Sue waved her off. “I’ll be up in a bit. Your dad’s hogging the telly anyway.”

Dave snorted. “Am not.”

They climbed the stairs together, the house creaking beneath their feet. El paused briefly at the top, listening - to the murmur of voices below, the hum of the television, the faint sounds of a family settling into the night.

It felt… real.

When Jenny opened her bedroom door, El caught a glimpse inside - posters of Madonna and Cyndi Lauper lining the walls, a narrow bed pushed against one side, glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling, photos, a stereo. Colours, confidence and rebellion.

Something familiar stirred.

Jenny dropped her bag with a thud and exhaled deeply. “I forgot how loud they are.”

El smiled. “I like it.”

Jenny glanced at her. “Yeah?”

“It feels… alive.”

Jenny nodded, understanding. She sighed looking at the floor, “are you sure you’re happy to take the sleeping bag? Because honestly, I – ”

“Yes,” El said firmly, a smile curving her lips. “I’m fine.”

The room grew quieter in layers.

At first, there were still voices downstairs - Sue’s laugh sharp and sudden, Dave’s lower and gentler beneath it. The television murmured on, punctuated by bursts of applause El didn’t quite understand. Pipes knocked softly somewhere in the walls, the house adjusting to the night.

Jenny lay on her bed beside her, shoes kicked off, one arm flung over her eyes. “God,” she muttered. “I’m knackered.”

El smiled faintly but didn’t reply. She didn’t trust her voice yet.

She lay flat on the sleeping bag, hands folded loosely over her stomach, staring up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars shone softly now, tiny points of green-blue light scattered unevenly above her. Some were clustered close together. Others stood alone. They reminded her of constellations she half-remembered - shapes she’d once tried to name before the world became something else entirely.

Madonna watched from one wall, bold and unapologetic. Cyndi Lauper from another, bright hair and defiant grin. Women who looked like they took up space without asking permission. El felt something loosen inside her chest.

The bed creaked as Jenny shifted. “You sure you’re alright on the floor?” she asked again, voice already heavy with sleep.

“Yes,” El said softly. “It’s good.”

Jenny yawned. “Alright then. Night.”

“Goodnight,” El replied.

The lamp clicked off. Darkness settled - not sudden, not frightening. Just the natural dimming of a room that had been lived in all day and was finally allowed to rest. The stars above her glowed a little brighter now, faint but steady.

El listened. Not for danger - that instinct was still there, hovering at the edges of her mind, but for reassurance. For proof that the world outside her skin was continuing normally.

The television went off downstairs. Footsteps moved across the front room. Sue’s voice floated up the stairs briefly, scolding Dave about something mundane. A door opened. Closed. The kettle whistled once more, briefly, before falling silent.

Life, continuing.

El exhaled slowly.

Her body felt heavy. Full. Warm in a way that had nothing to do with blankets or heat. Her stomach was still pleasantly tight from dinner, the food sitting real and solid inside her, proof that she’d eaten without punishment, without guilt, without fear.

She thought of the train - the rolling fields, the hedgerows, the villages sliding past like memories she’d never lived. Of Liverpool rising around her, loud and layered and unafraid of itself. Of Gwenfron Road and the women on their doorsteps and the children shouting in the street.

Of Sue’s hands, firm and decisive. Of Dave’s quiet voice. Of Danny’s awkward concern.

They hadn’t asked her to explain herself. They hadn’t tried to own her story. They had simply… made room.

El swallowed, throat tight. She thought, fleetingly, of the places she had slept before. The woods. Hard floors. Narrow beds. Rooms that never quite felt like they belonged to her. Spaces she’d occupied temporarily, always ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

This felt different.

Not permanent - not yet. She knew better than to trust that too quickly. But something about the house itself seemed to insist on her presence, the walls already folding her into their rhythm.

She turned her head slightly, looking at Jenny’s silhouette in the dark. Her breathing had evened out now, slow and steady. El felt something unfamiliar bloom quietly inside her. Gratitude - sharp enough to hurt.

She pressed her palm flat against the floor, grounding herself in the solidness of it. Wood beneath carpet. A house that creaked and breathed and held people close together.

Safe, her mind whispered.

She closed her eyes. Sleep came slowly, gently - not dragged down by exhaustion or forced into her by necessity. It arrived like an offering, like permission.

And when she dreamed, it wasn’t of running. It was of walking. Of streets pressed close with life. Of voices calling names with affection instead of threat. Of light glowing behind curtains.

Of belonging.

For the first time in a very long while, El slept without bracing for morning.

31^st December 1987

It had only been three days.

Three days of warmth and noise and routine - of Sue’s voice calling through the house, of Dave’s quiet presence settling everything without effort, of Danny hovering in doorways and then, slowly, beginning to talk. Three days of food appearing without El asking for it. Of being told where the clean towels were. Of being looked at like she belonged in the room.

Sue made her smile in ways that startled her.

Not because Sue was gentle - she wasn’t - but because she was certain. Her love was loud and practical and unquestioning. It existed in meals and sharp words and hands on shoulders. El had never known a mother figure like that. Joyce had loved fiercely too, but Joyce’s love had always been split - stretched thin by fear, by grief, by the constant pull of what might go wrong next.

El missed her.

The ache came at odd moments - when Sue hummed while cooking, when she fussed over Jenny’s coat, when she told El to “sit down, love” without even thinking about it.

Dave was easier.

Dave didn’t ask questions. He didn’t watch El too closely. He just… accepted her. Offered her tea. Nodded when she spoke. Smiled when she smiled. His presence felt like a hand at the small of her back - steady, grounding, there without pressure.

Danny, too, had begun to unfold.

He talked to El more now, especially when Sue wasn’t hovering. About his exams. About wanting to go to college. About how he didn’t want to end up stuck. El noticed the way he flinched when Sue sighed and said, “You’ll get a girlfriend one day, love.” Not embarrassed - something sharper. Something guarded.

One afternoon, two of his friends came round. Loud, all elbows and jokes. El watched Danny from the corner of the room and saw it - the way his smile lingered a fraction too long when one of them laughed. The way his eyes followed him when he turned away. How he tucked that part of himself back inside the moment Sue walked in with snacks.

El didn’t say anything. She understood secrets like that.

Jenny, meanwhile, was breathing again.

The street had stopped whispering. The questions had dulled. She told El, with a relieved laugh, that she was yesterday’s news now. The world had moved on - as it always did. She seemed lighter. Ready to step forward instead of flinching every time the door opened.

El wasn’t.

Because the year was ending. Because time was moving whether she was ready or not.

Because she was about to step into 1988 without Mike.

The thought made her stomach churn, sharp and sickening. A year untouched by him. By Hopper. By her friends. By the version of herself that only existed when she was with them - when she was with him.

Sue knew she had “a fella back home.” She didn’t pry, on Jenny’s insistence, but she watched El carefully that afternoon, the way she went quiet, the way her fingers twisted together.

“Come with us tonight,” Sue said finally. “Just down the road. Local pub. New Year’s. You’ll hate it if you sit here alone.”

El wanted to say no, but she went anyway.

The pub was chaos.

Warmth hit her first - thick and suffocating, bodies packed together, coats slung over chairs, laughter ricocheting off low ceilings. Music blasted from speakers, bass thrumming through the floor and straight into her bones. Glasses clinked. Someone shouted. Someone sang along badly as El stood just inside the door, heart skittering.

Rick Astley’s voice filled the room.

We’re no strangers to love…

People cheered and danced with reckless abandonment. Or perhaps it was the alcohol - but they grinned at one another like the world had never been cruel. They sang like it was an anthem of hope.

But El heard something else entirely as she slowly took a seat next to Jenny.

Never gonna run around and desert you.
Never gonna make you cry.
Never gonna say goodbye.

Her throat closed.

She thought of Mike’s face – earnest, open and brave. Of the way he looked at her like she was something precious and powerful all at once. Of promises whispered in moments stolen between disasters.

She pressed her hands together, nails biting into her palms. Her promise ring felt as if it was pulsing – screaming at her to do something.

Danny was at the bar, jaw clenched as ‘It’s A Sin’ by the Pet Shop Boys came on. He downed his drink - one his dad had very deliberately not seen him receive, shoulders tight, eyes dark. El caught the way his mouth hardened on the lyrics, like they were hitting somewhere too close.

Sue and Dave danced like no one was watching. Sue laughed too loud, head tipped back, one hand gripping Dave’s shoulder while the other waved vaguely in time with the music. Dave moved with her easily, one arm firm around her waist, steady and unhurried, like he knew exactly how to hold her even after all these years. They weren’t graceful. They weren’t trying to be. They were just… together.

El watched them.

At first, she really watched - the way Sue leaned into Dave without thinking, the way Dave smiled down at her like the rest of the room had ceased to exist. It was simple. Beautiful.

Then something shifted.

The music dulled, like it had been wrapped in cotton. The laughter blurred. El’s gaze stayed fixed on them, but her focus softened, edges bleeding into one another as the room seemed to tilt, gently, imperceptibly.

She wasn’t there anymore.

She was back in the school gym.

Fairy lights. Streamers. The smell of polish and cheap cologne. Her heart hammering so hard she thought it might give her away. Mike’s hands warm and tentative on her waist - careful, like he was holding something fragile.

She could feel him.

The way his fingers flexed slightly, like he was grounding himself. The way his breath stuttered when she moved closer. How she’d been unable to stop smiling, joy bubbling out of her so uncontrollably it had almost frightened her.

So much had been taken from her.

But that - that had been hers.

She remembered how they’d swayed together, awkward and perfect, her head tipping forward until their foreheads rested together. How the world had shrunk to just the two of them. Breathing each other in. His nose brushing hers. The heat of him. The certainty.

This, her heart had said. This is home.

Her chest tightened.

She could almost hear him - feel the ghost of his voice in her ear, the soft laugh he’d tried to hide, the way he’d whispered her name like it was something sacred.

El blinked.

The pub rushed back into focus all at once - too loud, too bright, too close. Sue and Dave were still dancing, still smiling, but the sight of them now felt like a blade twisting gently under her ribs.

Because Mike wasn’t here.

Because he never would be again - not like that. Not without pain. Not without distance and loss and years stolen.

And then the song changed.

The opening notes of Don’t Leave Me This Way slid through the room.

El’s breath hitched.

Don’t leave me this way. I can’t survive. I can’t stay alive without your love…

Her vision swam. The lyrics wrapped around her chest, tight and unforgiving, every word striking somewhere already raw. She couldn’t stay in her body anymore. Couldn’t stay in the noise. Couldn’t watch people hold each other while her own arms felt empty.

“I-I’m going back,” she said suddenly.

And then she was moving - away from the music, away from the lights, away from the version of herself that had once danced in Mike’s arms and believed the world might let her keep him.

She didn’t hear Jenny shout after her. Didn’t hear the words you don’t have the key over the music and the cheering.

She was crying before she reached the door.

The cold hit her like a slap, but it didn’t stop the tears. They poured down her face unchecked, breath hitching, chest aching as she stumbled down the quieter street towards the house. Fireworks boomed somewhere in the distance, bright bursts lighting the sky as if the world was celebrating something she couldn’t reach.

People always said it - I can’t live without you - like it was just a turn of phrase. Dramatic and romantic. Something you said when you meant this hurts or I love you.

They didn’t really mean it.

But El did.

She couldn’t settle without him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t draw a full breath without the agony tightening in her chest, sharp and unrelenting. Every part of her felt wrong without Mike - like something essential had been torn away and left her body struggling to function around the absence.

She couldn’t live without him. Not truly. She could only survive.

She sobbed openly now. Her whole body shook with it.

“El!”

Jenny’s voice cracked behind her.

Footsteps followed her – fast and uneven. A curse muttered as Jenny nearly went over on the pavement, heels abandoned halfway down the road.

“El, wait!”

El stopped and turned slowly, her shoulders shaking with grief and agony. Jenny froze when she saw her, her bright blue eyes widening in realisation as she stared at El’s tears.

Not just tears - devastation. Raw and uncontained, carving El hollow from the inside out. Jenny crossed the distance in two strides and grabbed her arms.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh, El…”

“I need him,” El choked out around a sob. “I need M-Mike.”             

The words tore out of her, sharp and bleeding. “It’s more than need,” El gasped. “It feels like… like my heart’s been ripped out and left there. With him. And I can’t - I can’t breathe without him, Jenny. I’m not… I’m not all of me without him.”

Jenny’s eyes filled instantly.  

“I can feel him hurting,” El went on, voice breaking completely, her breathing uneven and exhausted. “I know I can. Going into a new year without him is wrong. It’s like I’m leaving him behind. I left him there.” Her hands clawed at her jacket, anger rising in her blood.

She hated herself.  

“I promised him,” El gasped, her eyes so full of tears she could barely see. “I promised I would always fight for us. I lied to him! And now – ”

Jenny grabbed her face, fierce even through her tears. The urgency startled El into silence.

“No,” Jenny said, intensity in her wet eyes. “No. You listen to me!”

Her voice shook, but it was strong.

“You have not lied,” Jenny said, words burning. “You have not broken that promise. You are fightin’. This - this - is you fightin’ for your future with him.”

El sobbed, collapsing forward into Jenny’s arms. Her legs felt like they couldn’t keep her standing any longer.

“They took so much from us,” Jenny said through her own tears. “So much. Our bodies. Our choices. Our safety. But they don’t get our futures. They don’t get to define who we are. Fuck them El!”

Fireworks cracked overhead.

Jenny sniffled as she held El back carefully, her hands firm at her arms like she was afraid El might collapse if she let go. Her eyes searched El’s face - really searched - taking in the devastation there, the raw, open wound of it.

Sadness sat heavy in Jenny’s own gaze. Heartbreak too. But beneath it, something else began to surface.

Determination.

Jenny drew in a shaky breath and nodded faintly to herself, as if she had made a decision in that moment - something quiet but irreversible. Not just words, but a promise. One she intended to keep.

“You will get the life you deserve, El,” she said fiercely, voice trembling but unyielding. “You and Mike.”

El’s breath hitched.

“They don’t get to see our happy endings,” Jenny went on, tears spilling freely now. “All those monsters. All that pain. They don’t get that satisfaction.”

She swallowed hard, forehead resting briefly against El’s as she spoke the truth like a vow.

“But we do,” she whispered. “We get to see them. And Mike does. Because he’ll be there, El. I know it.”

Her grip tightened - grounding, anchoring.

“I know it.”

El shook in her arms, gasping with pain but also relief. Relief that she had Jenny. That she had someone in the darkness that reached out a hand. That knew exactly where she was, because she had been there too.

“You’re a fucking fighter,” Jenny whispered. “And you are going to build the most beautiful life with Mike. I know you are.”

The countdown echoed somewhere nearby.

Ten.
Nine.
Eight.

“And I bet you have a load of bloody gorgeous babies and you ask me to babysit.”

They clutched each other tighter, El laughing now through her tears and pain.

Three.
Two.
One.

The world erupted. Cheers, fireworks and shouts of Happy New Year tearing through the night.

1988 arrived in colour and noise and light.

And in the middle of a quiet Liverpool street, two girls broke and held each other and cried - not weak, not defeated, but bruised and standing. Vulnerable, powerful and unbroken.

May 1988

The sunlight came in soft and warm through the thin curtains, catching dust motes in the air and turning them briefly golden.

El sat on her bed, legs folded beneath her, a notebook resting against her thighs. Her hair brushed her bare arms every time she shifted, the tickle grounding her in the quiet of the room.

The space felt different now - hers. Two single beds instead of one, a narrow gap between them just wide enough for a small bedside table stacked with borrowed library books and a chipped mug that still smelled faintly of tea.

Sue and Dave had switched rooms without ceremony.

Sue had announced it one evening like it was nothing. “Makes more sense, doesn’t it? You girls need the space.” Dave had nodded in agreement, already carrying boxes before anyone could protest. They had less room now, but Sue didn’t care. She never did, not when it came to the people she loved.

El pressed her pen to the page.

Dear Mike,

Today is May 6th, 1988, or 6th May 1988 as they write it here in England. Today is a big day. Not just for me, but for Jenny too.

She has her interview for her nurse training. We are all so proud of her. She doesn’t think she is smart enough, but I know she is. Her mom (mum) Sue keeps giving her pep talks, but I don’t really know if they are helping or making it worse. I don’t think her saying Jenny might find a handsome doctor to marry helped.

El smiled faintly at that, even as her chest tightened.

Danny is doing his exams so he’s been quite stressed. I think, like Will, Danny likes boys. He has never said it. But I think I can see it. I just wish people didn’t care about who loved who.

She paused there, pen hovering. Thought of Danny’s careful actions. The way he folded himself smaller when the world pressed too close.

Liverpool is starting to look really pretty. There are lots of flowers and colours. The Mersey even looks nice now. I like the city. People are friendly and there is music everywhere. I think Jonathan would love it.

Her handwriting wavered slightly on his name.

Today is my first day working in the library. I can’t believe I didn’t even need to use illusion. They just said I got the job. I am nervous. I hope I do a good job and can give some money to Sue and Dave. They said I don’t need to, but they have been so kind.

They told me to keep my money for my future. Our future.

Her throat tightened.

I miss you, Mike. Sometimes I can’t get through the day. But I just try and think why I am doing this.

I hope one day you will find me. I haven’t found the waterfalls yet. But I will.

I love you.

El x

She closed the notebook carefully, like the words might bruise if she didn’t.

For a moment, she just sat there, breathing, letting the quiet settle around her. From downstairs came the muted sounds of the house waking - Sue’s voice already in motion, the clink of a mug on the counter, Dave’s footsteps moving steadily from room to room

“El?” Jenny called from the doorway.

She stood there in her bra and tights, hair half-pinned, nerves written plainly across her face. She was holding a white blouse and a skirt folded neatly over one arm.

“I thought,” Jenny said, hesitating, “you could borrow these? For the library. They look… librarian-y.”

El stood and took them. The fabric was soft, worn in, faintly scented with Jenny’s soap.

“I don’t really wear skirts,” El admitted.

Jenny shrugged. “Neither do I, usually. But you’ll look good in it.”

El smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

As she pulled her jumper off, Jenny’s gaze dropped - then froze.

“El,” she said quietly. “What’s… that?”

El followed her eyes. The tattoo was visible now, dark against her skin.

011

In a way she was surprised Jenny had not yet seen it. But she supposed she had always had long sleeves, especially in the winter month. As they approached summer, things were going to change.

Her chest tightened. “I can’t really talk about it.”

Jenny went pale. For a moment, El thought she might push. Ask. Demand. Instead, Jenny swallowed and nodded once, firmly.

“Okay,” she said. “You don’t have to.”

El had heard Sue whisper once, late at night, her voice hushed but worried. “Do you think… she was trafficked?” Jenny had answered just as quietly. “I don’t know. And I’m not going to ask.”

The kindness of that choice still startled El. She wondered sometimes if she would ever be able to tell Jenny the truth. Not today. Maybe not ever. But the thought no longer felt impossible.

They got ready together, nerves tangling in the air. Jenny fussed with El’s collar. El smoothed Jenny’s hair. Two girls standing on the edge of something new.

“El?” Jenny’s voice stopped her just as she reached for her bag.

El turned.

Jenny crossed the room without a word and took El’s wrist gently in her hands. Her thumb brushed the edge of the tattoo - not flinching, not recoiling, just acknowledging it was there.

Then she reached into her bedside drawer.

“This,” she said softly.

She slipped a watch over El’s wrist, the strap worn smooth with age, the face simple and round. She fastened it carefully, deliberately, the metal cool against El’s skin as it settled into place, covering the ink completely.

Neither of them spoke. Jenny met El’s eyes - a question and an answer all at once.

El swallowed hard. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Jenny gave a small shrug, like it was nothing. Like it was everything. “You’re part of us now,” she said quietly. “We look out for each other.”

The bus ride into the city centre was bright and noisy, windows open to the warm air. Liverpool moved past them in colour and motion - flowers spilling from window boxes, music drifting from somewhere unseen, laughter echoing down side streets.

When they climbed off near the centre, they stopped. Jenny hugged El tight. “You’re going to be amazing.”

“So are you,” El said. They pulled apart, smiling shakily.

“Good luck,” Jenny said.

“Good luck,” El echoed.

Jenny turned one way, towards her future in nursing. El turned the other, towards the Liverpool Central Library - its grand shape rising up before her, solid and real and utterly unlike anything she had ever known. She took a breath and stepped forward.

The building swallowed her whole.

Not in a frightening way, but in a way that made her instinctively slow her steps, her gaze lifting as she crossed the threshold. She had been here before, for the interview, but that had been nerves and answers and trying not to say the wrong thing.

Today, she saw it.

Stone and columns and high, vaulted spaces that seemed to hold centuries in their walls. Light filtered in through tall windows, dust drifting lazily in the air. The smell was unmistakable - paper and polish and something older beneath it, something that felt like memory itself.

El moved carefully, almost reverently. This place had weight. History.

She ran her fingers lightly along the edge of a banister as she climbed the stairs, grounding herself in the cool solidity of it. People had stood here long before her. Had learned things here. Had escaped into stories when the world outside was too heavy.

For the first time, it occurred to her that this – this, might be what sanctuary felt like.

Her assignment for the day was simple. Reshelving in the children’s section.

El smiled to herself as she knelt to slide a picture book back into place, its spine worn soft from use. Around her, the space hummed gently with quiet life - mothers murmuring to their children, small hands tugging at sleeves, the soft thump of books being opened and closed.

She paused, watching.

A little boy sat cross-legged on the carpet, dark hair falling into his eyes as he frowned in concentration at the page in front of him. His mother hovered nearby, pretending not to watch too closely.

Something twisted gently in El’s chest. She allowed herself the smallest, most dangerous thought. A child with dark hair and amber eyes. Mike’s smile.

The image bloomed and faded just as quickly, fragile as glass. Not now. Maybe never, but not impossible.

She swallowed and stood, returning to her task. The hours passed more quickly than she expected. The work was repetitive but soothing - order restored one book at a time. Her body settled into the rhythm of it, her mind quieting in a way it rarely did.

The main librarian kept a careful eye on her. She was much older, hair pinned neatly back, glasses perched low on her nose. Not unkind, but precise. Her authority was quiet and unquestionable, the kind that came from years of knowing exactly how things were meant to be done.

El took care not to give her reason to correct her.

The front door was already open when she eventually returned to the house.

“El?”

Jenny’s voice came from the hallway - tight, strained.

El’s heart lurched. She dropped her bag and moved quickly, fear rushing in cold and sharp, every muscle tensing as she followed the sound. Jenny stood in the middle of the living room, shoulders hunched, eyes red, tears tracking freely down her cheeks.

“Oh God,” El breathed. “Jenny - what happened?”

Jenny looked up and then she smiled. It broke across her face suddenly, bright and disbelieving and utterly uncontainable.

“I got in,” she said, voice wobbling. “El… I got in.”

For a heartbeat, El didn’t move. Then the meaning hit her all at once.

“Oh,” she whispered, and her own eyes burned instantly. She crossed the room in two strides and pulled Jenny into her arms, holding her tight as Jenny sobbed into her shoulder.

“I knew it,” El said fiercely, voice thick with tears. “I knew you would. You’re amazing.”

Jenny laughed wetly, clinging to her. “Can you believe it? We’re actually doing this.”

She pulled back just enough to look at El, eyes shining.

“We’re really doing it, El.”

El smiled through her tears. Because it was true.

And as she held her friend there, in that small, loud, warm house that had taken her in, El realised something quietly extraordinary.

For the first time since leaving Hawkins, a whole day had passed where she hadn’t felt like she was only surviving.

She had lived. Just a little. And for now, that was enough.

November 6^th 1988

She had known all day.

She’d tried not to think about it - burying the date beneath routine, beneath the steady rhythm of work and footsteps and borrowed normality, but it had been there all the same, humming beneath everything.

A year.

A whole year since she had left Hawkins. Left Hopper, left her friends.

Left Mike.

A whole year since the people she loved had been torn away from her life so violently it had felt like losing parts of her own body.

By the time her shift ended, her chest ached with it.

El pulled her coat on quickly, scarf wrapped tight around her neck, the evening air already sharp against her skin. She walked without thinking, feet carrying her where they always seemed to lately - towards the docks, towards the water.

She bought fish and chips from a small shop near the edge, the paper warm in her hands, grease seeping through as she crossed to an empty bench overlooking the Mersey. The sky hung low and grey above her, heavy with mist.

She ate quietly. Didn’t rush. Didn’t savour it either.

She stared out at the water as she chewed, gaze unfocused, mind drifting somewhere just beyond herself. Seagulls wheeled overhead, crying sharply as they dipped and rose against the sky. The sound cut through the air, lonely and insistent.

The water moved steadily below her, lapping softly against the dock.

Red brick buildings lined the edge of the river - old, weathered, holding stories in their walls. Christmas lights were strung along the metal railings, glowing faintly through the mist, their colours blurred and gentle.

Grey water. Cold air. Music drifting faintly from somewhere nearby - The Beatles, carried on the wind.

A place far from home. From him.

El finished eating and folded the paper carefully, dropping it into the bin before returning to the bench. She sat back down, hands tucked into her coat pockets, shoulders hunched slightly against the chill.

Her breath fogged in front of her and she let her mind go quiet. Not empty – just distant.

This was the place she went when the feelings were too big to hold all at once. When remembering became unbearable. When she needed to step sideways out of herself for a moment and simply be.

The water kept moving.

Forward. Always forward.

And then - something shifted. It was subtle. Almost imperceptible.

A loosening.

El drew a slow breath and felt it settle fully into her chest - the truth she had been circling for months without letting herself name it.

She was safe.

Not hiding, not running, not bracing for a fight.

Safe.

The house on Gwenfron Road. Sue’s voice. Dave’s quiet steadiness. Jenny’s fierce loyalty. The rhythm of days that no longer felt like borrowed time. No bad men. No Dr Kay. No Papa. No Henry. No Mind Flayer.

She was still hurting, but she was safe. And in that safety, something inside her finally relaxed.

A barricade she hadn’t known she was holding in place lowered, just a fraction. Not deliberately. Not consciously. Simply because she no longer needed it.

Her mind opened the way a clenched fist opens when the danger has passed.

She didn’t reach for Mike. She didn’t call his name. She didn’t even realise what she was doing.

She just… existed.

And in that moment - unguarded, grounded and present, the connection slipped through. Soft as water.

Unnoticed.

Somewhere far away, El felt a faint stirring - like a ripple moving outward from her chest, like the echo of something familiar brushing against her thoughts.

She frowned slightly, pressing her gloved hands together.

Then the feeling passed. The water kept moving, and she breathed out slowly, watching the river carry everything forward into the dark.

She didn’t know that he was dreaming. Didn’t know that for a brief moment, her world had become his.

All she knew was that, for the first time in a year, the ache in her chest felt… survivable.

And somewhere deep within her - beneath grief and distance and time, something steady continued on.

Just like the water, she was moving forward.

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Chapter 6: Fix You

February 1989

Mike

The Wheeler basement was the way it had always been. Cluttered shelves, dusty, familiar, comforting, and lit by a single yellow bulb that had witnessed far too much. It was a place that had given refuge, a place that had seen creativity and even battle plans.

But today the D&D table was buried under textbooks instead of maps. Mike thought that was the cruellest part of all of this. The only form of escapism had been stamped out. A light extinguished in the dark.

Max sat hunched at the centre of it all, elbows planted, head in her hands like the weight of senior year might actually crush her skull if she let go. Lucas flanked her on one side, steady and annoyingly optimistic. Dustin occupied the other, already tilted halfway into his chair like he planned to live there until graduation or death - whichever came first. Will sat opposite them, spine straight, pencil aligned with military precision, eyes flicking between Max and the open book in front of him.

Mike was on the couch.

He wasn’t sulking or brooding. He wasn’t intentionally being separated from his friends. But he was somewhere else. Thousands of miles from Hawkins.

He flipped absently through his history textbook, pages whispering beneath his fingers as he searched for anything remotely useful for Max’s extra credit essay. Dates blurred and names meant nothing. His brain catalogued information without absorbing it, like it had learned to do lately.

“I’m not graduating,” Max announced flatly.

Lucas immediately turned to her. “Yes, you are.”

She lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “No. I’m not. I don’t have the credits! I missed, like, two years of school Lucas. You don’t just get a diploma for surviving against a psycho son of a bitch.”

Dustin snorted. “You should.”

Max waved him off. “I’m serious. No amount of extra credit, no matter how many essays the best dorks in Hawkins help me write, is gonna fix this.”

“That’s not true,” Lucas said, undeterred. “You’ve been doing it so far.”

Max dropped her hands and leaned back in her chair with a groan. “That’s only because I literally can’t do anything else but study.” She counted it off on her fingers. “No skateboarding. No movies. No… hanging out.”

She paused, glanced sideways at Lucas, and winked. Lucas smirked without even trying to hide it.

Dustin physically recoiled. “Ugh. Please stop.”

Will winced in solidarity.

Mike didn’t look up. He turned another page. The chapter heading swam. Reconstruction Era America. Funny how history was always about rebuilding after everything had already been destroyed.

“I just think expectations are gonna be pretty low this year,” Dustin said, adjusting his cap as he leaned back. “Principal Higgins probably just wants to see the back of us. One less headache.”

Max huffed. “Believe me, I want to see the back of this place too.”

Will tilted his head. “Then why aren’t you going to college?”

She shrugged like it was nothing. “Oh, I’ve still got plans to get out of here.”

Lucas didn’t miss a beat. “She’s coming with me.”

Dustin laughed. “You gonna hide her in your dorm room?”

“Sometimes,” Max deadpanned.

Then she sighed, the humour draining out of her all at once. “My mom doesn’t seem to care if I’m here or not. My dad didn’t even come when I was in a coma.” She swallowed, then said quietly, “So… I’m going with Lucas. Wherever he wants to go.”

The room shifted. There was no jokes or commentary. Just understanding settling in like dust after something heavy hit the ground.

Mike finally looked up. Max’s eyes flicked to him immediately, sharp and knowing. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable now. She was a girl - she noticed things. She knew what it meant to talk about couples staying together in front of him.

Mike wondered - briefly, painfully, what that conversation would have been like if El were still here. Would she have followed him? Back when college had felt like a real thing. A future. A hope instead of an obligation. Would they have talked about road trips, which college to choose and sneaking into each other’s dorm rooms?

Now, despite his mom’s insistence that he go to a good college, Mike didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Didn’t know where he wanted to be. Getting out of Hawkins felt less like freedom and more like closing a door he wasn’t ready to shut.

A door he never wanted to shut.

“Anyway,” Max said briskly, clapping her hands once. “Let’s change the subject. I won’t be going anywhere if you nerds don’t help me.”

Dustin grinned. “A please wouldn’t go amiss, you know.”

Max fluttered her lashes exaggeratedly. “Oh please, wise Bard,” she begged. “Please help me with this essay.”

Dustin squinted at her. “It’s a start.”

He pulled the paper towards him, already scanning what she’d written.

Mike turned another page, the sound soft and distant. Outside the basement, time was moving on. Inside it, they were still trying to figure out how.Top of Form

He stayed on the couch, with no intention of leaving. He ruffled his hair with one hand, tugged the hood of his sweatshirt tighter around his shoulders with the other, like fabric alone might help him focus. His textbook lay open on his lap, spine cracked, pages dog-eared with effort. He scanned lines, underlined dates, flipped back and forth in search of something – anything - that might help Max’s essay.

The words refused to stick. Voices moved around him. Dustin’s low muttering. Lucas’s quiet encouragement. Max’s pencil tapping too hard against the table. Will’s steady breathing as he read, lips moving faintly as though sounding the sentences out in his head.

Mike heard it all, but he wasn’t with them. He was somewhere far away. Somewhere heavy.

He rubbed his face, palms dragging down over his eyes and yawned. His jaw ached with it, like exhaustion had settled deep into his bones and decided to live there.

“Mike?” Will called gently from the table. “You okay?”

“Just tired,” Mike mumbled.

Will hesitated, pencil pausing mid-word. Then he nodded, accepting it the way he always did - carefully, respectfully, before turning back to his textbook.

Mike knew better.

He knew Will’s eyes lifted every few seconds, checking on him. He felt Dustin’s glances too, sharp and curious. Lucas’s quieter ones, weighted with concern. Even Max watched him now and then, her gaze flicking to him before darting away again like she didn’t want to stare too long.

It pressed in on him. All that care, all that watching. It was suffocating.

“I’ll get more snacks,” Mike said suddenly, already standing.

He didn’t wait for a response. He took the stairs two at a time, practically sprinting out of the basement like the walls were closing in behind him. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow, like he was leaving something unfinished every time he walked away.

The kitchen was quiet. Too quiet. Mike stood there for a second, hands braced against the cold counter, trying not to think about what he was leaving behind. About living when he was incomplete. When there was a constant, dragging weight in his stomach and a hollow ache in his chest that never really went away.

He didn’t think he’d ever be the same again.

He reached into the cupboard and grabbed a bag of chips, the crinkle of plastic absurdly loud in the silence.

“Michael do you really need those? Dinner will be in about two hours.”

Mike jumped like he’d been caught stealing something. He turned to see his mom standing in the doorway.

Karen Wheeler looked strong. There were scars on her now. Pale, jagged reminders of the Demogorgon attack she’d survived. She wore them openly - no makeup to hide them, no closed necklines pulled up out of shame. They didn’t diminish her. If anything, they sharpened her. Proof that she’d fought back. Proof that she was still standing.

Her medal of honour.

“We just needed to refuel,” Mike said quickly, holding up the chips like evidence. “Studying’s taking it out of everyone.”

“I thought as much,” Karen said softly. She watched him for a moment longer than necessary. Really watched him. The slump of his shoulders. The way he avoided her eyes. The exhaustion he wore like a second skin.

She knew now.

After Nancy and Holly, Mike had told her everything when she’d been in the hospital. About El. About her powers. About how he’d lost her.

But she could never truly know El. Not in the way that mattered.

She couldn’t understand what it felt like to wake up every day and relive the same nightmare. To have love lodged so deeply in your chest that its absence felt like something vital had been torn away. El wasn’t just someone Mike loved - she was everything he wanted. Everything he’d chosen. Everything he would have traded the world to get back.

Karen cleared her throat. “Have you had any more thought about college?”

Mike stiffened instantly. “No,” he said flatly.

They’d had this conversation too many times already. Each one left him raw, defensive, tired. He could feel his back going up before he even meant it to.

“Mike,” Karen tried tenderly, “applications will be closing soon, and I just think -”

“Just leave it, Mom,” Mike snapped.

He grabbed the chips and turned away before he said something worse. Karen didn’t follow him. Didn’t push. She’d learned when to stop.

Mike took the basement stairs slower this time, anger draining into something heavier as he went. He knew his friends had heard it. Every word. The tension hung in the air when he reached the bottom.

The boys didn’t say anything, but Max looked up at him, concern flickering across her face. “You okay?”

Mike exhaled, shoulders sagging as he tossed the chips onto the table. “Bathroom,” he muttered. He slipped into the small basement bathroom and shut the door behind him. The light buzzed overhead, making his tired eyes sore.

This bathroom.

The memory hit him without warning - El stood in front of him. Her young face so vulnerable and covered in dirt. Her beautiful hazel eyes wide. Her voice small when she asked if she was still pretty with her shaved head, with the wig gone.

Yeah, he’d said instantly. Pretty. Real pretty.

Mike’s throat tightened. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto his face, gripping the edge of the sink as droplets slid down his wrists. He slowly lifted his head and stared at his reflection.

Almost eighteen.

He had sharper cheekbones now. His face was longer and leaner. His dark amber eyes had seen too much. Pale skin stretched over a body that had continued to grow whether he wanted it to or not.

Mike had changed in the fourteen months since El had gone away. Physically, at least. But his mind hadn’t. He was still there. Still frozen in that moment of loss. Trapped in the space where everything had stopped making sense.

Another argument with his mom flashed through his mind - about his birthday this time. Eighteen in two months. She wanted him to have a party. Something to celebrate she had said kindly, her eyes quietly begging him to come back to the light.

But he didn’t want to celebrate. He couldn’t.

Not when El should have been there. Not when she should have been standing beside him, not when they should have been sharing the same secret glances and smiles that Lucas and Max did.

They’d lost so much time. So many firsts. So many moments they’d never get back.

Like the books he sometimes dreamed about - stories that blurred and shifted when he tried to read them. Mike didn’t know how his own ended anymore. The plot that had once felt so clear now stretched out in front of him unresolved.

Unfinished.

He turned off the faucet, wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, and took a steadying breath. Whatever came next, he had no idea how to face it. And that scared him more than anything.

El

The library was quiet in the way El had learned to love.

Not silent - never silent, but hushed. Respectful. The kind of quiet that felt earned rather than enforced. February light filtered in through tall windows, pale and watery, dust motes drifting lazily in the air like they had nowhere else to be. The Liverpool Central Library rose around her in warm stone and shadow, columns and arches that felt older than memory itself.

El stood behind the counter, rubbing her cold hands together as she waited for the next customer. She wore a soft pink sweater today, sleeves pulled down over her wrists, the colour gentle against her skin. Her hair was long again now - brunette, thick, falling past her shoulders in loose waves. It framed her face differently than it used to. Softer. Older. She was more beautiful than she’d ever been, though she didn’t know it.

She still hadn’t worn her mama’s floral dress.

It hung safely at home, wrapped carefully, waiting. El thought she would know when the right time came. She trusted that instinct. Today wasn’t it. But one day.

Her gaze drifted down to her precious notebook resting open on the counter. The book contained letters for Mike only. Words that didn’t have anywhere else to go yet. But words El hoped would one day be mouthed by his lips as he lay next to her – learning everything she had done to rebuild herself. El had filled more pages than she realised.

She smoothed her fingers over the paper and began to write.

Dear Mike,

Today is the 26th of February 1989.

I am still working in the Liverpool Central Library and I really like my job. The building is so beautiful. It’s unlike anything I ever saw in Hawkins.

The word Hawkins made her pause. Fourteen months. The number settled in her chest like a quiet ache. She resisted the urge to shudder and kept going.

My supervisor Lynne is nice to me, but she hates when people return books late or break them. It makes me mad too. I really like reading, and I think books should be treated with respect. They hold people’s thoughts. Their feelings.

She smiled faintly as she wrote.

Jenny is still in her first year of nurse training. She only has a couple of months left before she becomes a second year. She is really good at what she does, but she says she has a matron who is a bitch. I can’t believe I just wrote that.

Her lips twitched.

Dave and Sue are the same. They tell me I should get out of the house more, but all I really want to do is read. Sue says I’ll be a walking, talking theosaurous thesaurus in no time.

She paused, thinking.

Danny is seventeen now. He’s starting to think about university. He wants to do something with technology. He says it’s the next big thing.

Her pen hovered before she added -

I got my hair cut. It was so long, Mike. I never thought it would get that long. I wish you could have been there. I didn’t want to do it without you, but Jenny held my hand and said I was very brave. It’s growing again though. It’s past my shoulders now.

Her chest tightened.

I miss you so much. Sometimes I think I might be strong enough to visit you in the void. But part of me is scared of what I might find.

She swallowed.

I love you and I hope I see you soon.

I’m still looking for the waterfalls.

El x

She closed the notebook gently, as if the words might bruise if she didn’t.

“Excuse me?”

El startled, grabbing the notebook protectively and sliding it quickly beneath the counter.

She looked up.

He was there again. The man who came in most days. Early twenties, maybe. Blonde hair that never quite stayed neat, a jacket he never seemed to take off even indoors. He held a book against his chest like it mattered.

“Yes?” El said, stepping fully behind the desk.

He hesitated - she noticed that now. Like he’d practised what to say and lost it at the last second.

“I, um… I was wonderin’ if the sequel had come back in yet.” He slid the book towards her.

She recognised it immediately. “Not yet,” she said gently. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” He smiled anyway. A hopeful smile. “Right. Yeah. No rush. I just - thought I’d check.”

“That’s okay.”

He didn’t move. El waited, hands folded neatly, assuming he’d comment on the weather or thank her and leave.

“You… you’ve been busy today,” he said instead.

She glanced around, confused. “Have I?”

He laughed softly. “Every time I come in, you’re always doing something. You’re… good at it.”

Heat crept up her neck. She wasn’t used to compliments outside of the Kelly household. “Thank you.”

She was about to ask if there was anything else when she caught a flash of white at the edge of her vision.

Jenny.

She stood out like a flare in the muted quiet - crisp white uniform, navy cape folded over her arm, hair pinned back with surgical precision.

“Oi,” she stage-whispered. “You on break yet or what?”

The man jumped. Jack, El realised suddenly. That was his name.

He looked between them, ears pink. “Yeah. I was just-uh-I was leavin’.”

He backed away like he’d forgotten how doors worked. “See you.”

El watched him go, puzzled. “You scared him.”

Jenny snorted. “Good.” She lifted a paper bag triumphantly. “Mum’s sandwiches. Come on. Before Matron clocks me fraternising with civilians.”

They slipped outside together, cold air biting after the warmth. They sat by the Mersey, the water grey and restless beneath a sky that couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.

Jenny launched straight in. “Year one is a piss-take. Absolute hell. I’d just finished all the beds – perfect - and Matron sees one bleeding crease and rips every sheet off! Told me to start again!”

“That’s not fair,” El said.

“She’s a bitch.”

El smiled faintly.

“But,” Jenny added, softening, “there’s Joe.”

El smiled now, warmth filling her chest when she saw the sparkle in Jenny’s eyes. “Joe the porter.”

Jenny stared out at the water for a moment, dreamy. “He’s just… kind. Properly kind. Opens doors. Remembers how I take my tea. Makes me laugh when I want to cry.”

She sighed. “Makes you realise how bad the others were, you know? When someone’s actually good.”

El nodded. She understood that feeling too well.

They ate in companionable silence for a moment before Jenny tilted her head. “So… library lad.”

El frowned. “Who?”

Jenny laughed. “Don’t play thick! Blonde hair. Nervous. Looks like he’s about to combust every time you smile at him.”

“Oh.” El blinked. “Jack? He comes in most days.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Because he fancies you.”

El choked slightly on her sandwich. “What? No. He - he wants to be my friend.”

Jenny smirked. “Oh, I think he wants a lot more than that.”

Heat rushed to El’s cheeks. “He does not.”

“Want me to tell him you’ve got a fella?”

El shook her head quickly. “No. No, you don’t have to do that. Because it’s not like that. It never will be.”

Jenny watched her carefully then, something gentler settling into her expression. They sat quietly for a moment. Watching the water, the way it gently lapped at the docks.

“…Did you and Mike ever,” Jenny asked gently, “you know.”

El frowned, her eyes flicking over her friend with curiosity. It wasn’t like Jenny too look embarrassed. “Did we ever… what?”

Jenny hesitated. “Did you two… get intimate. You know. Have sex?”

“Oh.” Realisation bloomed slowly in El and she felt heat rise to her cold cheeks. She had known briefly about sex from sexual education in her short time at school in California. But she didn’t know about the feelings involved until she had come across a book in the library.

It was a book by an author called Jackie Collins. El had found it so strange the number of young women – and sometimes older woman, who would blush as they quickly handed the novel over to El to stamp.

Curiosity had caught up with El when the book was handed back in and she found herself quietly flicking through the pages before putting it back home on the shelf. Her skin had prickled at what she read, her cheeks blushing furiously as she made sure no one was watching her.

It was the first time she had truly understood what it could really feel like. Not just reproduction like high school had droned on about, while students giggled and made jokes.

It could be about passion. It could be about love. 

“We kissed.” El said eventually, smiling sadly as she turned to look at Jenny. “A lot. We love each other. But… we never got to -”

Jenny’s shoulders dropped on a sigh. “So many moments taken from you both,” she said softly. “It’s not fair.”

Then slowly, she rallied herself, nudging El lightly with her shoulder. “But it’ll happen. You and Mike.”

El looked up, her eyes filled with hope. Needing the validation that her friend was trying to give her.

“Promise,” Jenny added with a grin. “Though you might want to start reading some more dirty books to prepare.”

El laughed, flustered. “Jenny!”

“I’m serious!” Jenny said, unable to contain her giggling. “Just don’t believe everything you read about the male anatomy...”

El shook her head, laughing, cheeks warm. But something steady and hopeful settled in her chest. Across the water, the city carried on.

March 1989

Mike

March in Hawkins came in grey mornings and cold afternoons that lingered too long, in the kind of weather that pressed down instead of lifting away. Winter hadn’t quite released its grip yet, and spring felt like a promise that kept getting postponed.

Max was driving.

That alone felt strange.

The car was too small for all of them, knees knocking, feet tangled, jackets bunched awkwardly in laps. Dustin complained loudly about being squashed. Lucas told him to suck it up. Max ignored them both, one hand steady on the wheel, the other drumming lightly against the door in time with the radio. Madonna’s new song ‘Like a Prayer’ was a firm favourite for the red head.

Mike sat in the back. He had almost said no to coming to movie. Almost stayed home, claimed a headache, or homework, or nothing at all. But Max had looked at him in that way she had now - sharp, unyielding, like she’d decided something for him, and he’d gone along with it.

If that stare of hers scared Mike, he hated to know what it did to Lucas. He supposed Lucas would take it though. He was just grateful she was here. That she was awake, breathing, seeing, practically back to normal. At least physically.

Max had of course picked up her boyfriend first, then Dustin and then Mike.

“Where’s Will?” he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice neutral. His absence started to unsettle something inside of Mike. It crept up from the hole in his heart, dark and slithering.

Max glanced at him in the rearview mirror. Just for a second. And in that second, he saw the worry in her blue eyes. “We’re picking him up now.”

Mike didn’t ask from where.

He knew.

His stomach twisted immediately, and his jaw set so tight he was surprised he didn’t break it.

The cabin appeared slowly through the trees, wood darkened by winter, roof dusted with the last stubborn traces of snow. It sat just as it always had - solid, tucked away, deliberately separate from everything else.

Mike stayed very still.

The car crunched to a stop on the gravel drive. Dustin and Lucas climbed out immediately, stretching, complaining, already talking over each other. Max killed the engine and followed them.

Mike didn’t move.

Through the window, he saw it.

The extension.

Clean lines of new wood added to the side of the cabin, still lighter than the rest of the structure. Hopper’s work. Careful, thoughtful, completed with intention.

Will’s new bedroom.

Mike knew instantly why it was there. Hopper hadn’t wanted to use El’s room.

The knowledge settled in Mike’s chest like something warm and cruel all at once. Comforting, because it meant she was still there in some way - respected, protected. Devastating, because it made the absence louder.

He couldn’t go inside. He stayed in the car, staring at the trees, at the porch, at the door that had once opened to a girl who had changed his entire world.

Will came out a moment later, bundled up in a jacket that still looked a size too big on him. He smiled when he saw them - a real smile, careful but genuine. He waved.

Mike raised a hand back. That was all he could manage.

They drove to the movie theatre after that. Dustin rambled on about how he hoped Fletch Lives was as good as the first one. Max warned that it better be worth her not studying for a couple of hours. Lucas promised it would be, before whispering in her ear and making her smirk.

The signage outside of the movie theatre shone in bright letters, like it thought this was something to be excited about. Mike barely remembered walking in, buying his ticket or being handed popcorn by Will. He hardly remembered sitting, until he blinked and he was there, adjusting his long legs and sat between Will and Dustin.

The movie played in front of him.

People laughed. Dustin laughed the loudest, snorting so hard at one point that Lucas elbowed him. Max grinned, shaking her head. Will laughed too - soft, but real.

Mike watched the screen without seeing it. The jokes slid past him. The noise washed over him. He laughed once, reflexively, because everyone else did. The sound felt wrong in his throat.

He didn’t even know that his friends had noticed. That Will watched him with a frown, that Max leaned over and whispered with concern.

He felt hollow. A hollowness that matched the dark circles under his eyes. The weakness in his body from little activity and little food.

He didn’t know who he was anymore.

He wasn’t a dungeon master. He wasn’t a knight. He couldn’t control anything.

Afterwards, they spilled back out into the cold night, breath puffing white in the air. Dustin launched into a detailed critique of the movie. Lucas argued with him. Max rolled her eyes.

Will slowed his steps until he was walking beside Mike. They didn’t speak at first. The parking lot lights hummed overhead. Gravel crunching under their feet was the only sound for a moment.

“Hey,” Will said eventually.

Mike glanced at him. “Hey.”

Will hesitated. “Can we… talk for a minute?”

Mike nodded. What else could he do? He couldn’t exactly run away. His weak legs would only take him a block before he would undoubtably collapse.

They stopped near the edge of the lot, just far enough away that the others’ voices blurred into background noise.

Will shoved his hands into his pockets. Rocked slightly on his heels. Mike recognised the movement - the same one Will had always done when he was nervous.

“I’m worried about you,” Will said quietly.

Mike’s shoulders tensed. He was sick of the concern. He was sick of people asking him if he was okay. “You don’t have to be,” he said slightly irritated.

“I do,” Will said sternly. There was no accusation in his voice. Just truth. “You don’t… you don’t have any joy anymore. You never smile – ever.”

The words landed heavy.

Mike looked away, eyes drifting towards the dark tree line. “I’m fine.”

Will swallowed, frustration starting to creep into his usually calm face. “Friends don’t lie.”

Silence stretched between them. Mike didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly begin to explain how he was feeling? What this had done to him? How could he explain without sounding like an asshole that nothing here in Hawkins could make him happy. That he would never be happy again.

“I see it,” Will continued softly. “The way you disappear. The way you don’t laugh. The way you look like you’re… somewhere else all the time.”

Mike’s jaw tightened. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and flexed his jaw, staring at the dark gravel. He couldn’t even look at his best friend. He couldn’t let him see that everything he said was true.

“I’m scared,” Will said. His voice cracked on the word. “I’m scared of what you might do to yourself.”

That did it. Mike’s breath hitched sharply, like the air had been punched out of him. His eyes widened and he stared at Will like he was seeing him for the first time.

“What?” he whispered.

Will’s eyes shone in the low light. “I couldn’t not say it. I needed you to know.”

Mike turned fully towards him then. Panic flared, hot and sudden. “Will - I’m not -”

“Promise me,” Will said, cutting him off. Tears were in his eyes, but he held firm. Stood as tall as he could. “Please.”

The word sat between them. Heavy and fragile. Mike stared at his best friend - at the boy who had survived the Upside Down, who had known terror and possession and still stood here, asking this of him.

He saw it then. The cost of his silence. The damage his grief was doing - not just to himself, but to his friends. To his family. And because of that, the answer came to him easily.

“I won’t,” Mike said hoarsely, his hands shaking. “I promise. Will…  I won’t kill myself.”

The words felt unreal leaving his mouth. Too big. Too final.

Will exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. He nodded, blinking fast. “Okay.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the night cold and vast around them.

Mike felt… shaken. Not fixed or better. But cracked open. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been scaring them. How his emptiness echoed outwards, touching everyone he loved.

It scared him too - that they could see it so clearly when he could barely name it himself.

They rejoined the others after that. No one asked questions. Max glanced at him once, sharp and knowing as ever. Dustin cracked another joke. Lucas talked about getting food. Will was quiet, but seemed like a weight had dropped off his shoulders.

Life around him moved on.

Mike climbed back into the car and stared out the window as they drove, the road stretching endlessly ahead.

He didn’t feel hopeful. But for the first time in a long while, he felt… tethered. And that mattered more than he realised.

El

El sat cross-legged on the bed, hands folded in her lap, watching Jenny pace the length of the room for what felt like the hundredth time.

Dresses lay draped over the chair, the bed, the back of the door. Soft fabrics. Dark ones. Bright ones. Jenny kept lifting them up against herself, holding them there, then shaking her head and tossing them aside like they were all wrong somehow.

“I feel stupid,” Jenny muttered, tugging at the hem of a navy dress before dropping it. “It’s just a date.”

El tilted her head. “It’s not just a date.”

Jenny glanced at her, huffing out a breath. “No. It’s… Joe.” She hesitated. “And it might be… more.”

El understood. She didn’t need to say anything, it was written all over her friend’s face. In the way her hands shook, in the way she kept taking deep breaths.

Jenny picked up another dress, this one lighter, prettier. She didn’t even try it on. Just stared at it. “I don’t want to look like I’m… you know. Like I’m asking for somethin’.”

El’s chest tightened. She shifted closer on the bed. “You’re not asking for anything,” she said gently. “You’re allowed to look beautiful.”

Jenny’s eyes flicked up, unsure. “I know that. I just -” She swallowed. “After Rick, I learned that sometimes dressin’ up felt like giving the wrong message.”

El stood then, closing the small distance between them. “That was never your fault,” she said, firmer now. “What he did was wrong Jenny. Not what you wore. Not how you looked. He was the problem.”

Jenny’s shoulders sagged, like she’d been holding them tight for years.

“You should wear what you want,” El continued softly. “Not what makes other people comfortable.”

Jenny studied her for a long moment, then nodded once, decisive. She disappeared into the bathroom and came back a few minutes later.

Denim jeans. A cropped top that showed just a sliver of skin. A denim jacket thrown casually over her shoulders.

She looked… like herself. El smiled in approval.

The door creaked open and Sue poked her head in, arms full of fresh towels. She took one look at Jenny and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t let your dad see that sliver of skin.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you wear less in the garden.”

Sue gasped dramatically, pushing open the door and dropping the towels on Jenny’s bed. “Excuse me, love, but I didn’t want tan lines, alright? Just keepin’ the neighbours on their toes.”

El grinned. She had seen this keeping the neighbours on their toes before. It was June last year and it was not something El hoped to repeat this year.

Sue smiled, shaking her head, then reached out and gently squeezed Jenny’s cheek. “You’re beautiful, my girl,” she said warmly. “Get it off me, of course.”

Jenny laughed too, cheeks pink. “Thought I looked like dad?”

“Non-sense!” Sue shouted, tapping El’s cheek affectionately before heading out. “Won Miss Mersey two years in a row you know!”

The girls dissolved into giggles the minute Sue left. Causing her to yell from the stairs, “what are you two laughin’ at?!”

“Nothing!” Jenny shouted back, unable to contain her grin.

A little while later, El leaned against the doorframe as Jenny stepped outside. Joe’s car pulled up, and he climbed out, suddenly shy, suddenly very aware of himself. He froze when he saw Jenny.

El watched his face soften, his eyes widen. He handed over the flowers, awkward and earnest, and kissed Jenny’s cheek. Jenny blushed - a deep, genuine blush El had never seen on her before.

It looked good on her.

El smiled until they drove away. It was so heartwarming to see Jenny happy. To see her truly trusting a good man.

El sighed and slowly closed the door behind her.

Danny’s head popped out from the lounge. “Family Fortunes? Mum won’t change the channel.”

El smiled back. “Maybe tomorrow. I’m gonna have an early night.”

“Night then,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

Upstairs, El changed into her pyjamas and slipped into bed. Sue had already put a hot water bottle under the covers. Warmth spread instantly, making her feel safe and cocooned.

She reached into the drawer.

The book.

She hesitated, then pulled it out, glancing at the door before quietly sliding the lock across with her mind. Her heart beat faster as she read, page after page. Heat flushed her cheeks. Her breath came quicker.

And without meaning to, it was Mike she imagined.

His hands. His mouth. The way he looked at her - like she was everything.

She read past the sun setting. Past Danny going to bed. Past Sue and Dave turning off the lights. Past their bedroom door closing quietly.

Her imagination ran wild, imagining the same moments of the book as her and Mike. What it could be like if they lived a normal life. Her heart ached by the time she admitted defeat and closed the book.

El quietly placed it back in the drawer and pulled the duvet up to her chin.

She didn’t know if any of it would ever be real. If she and Mike would truly reunite. But she knew this. She couldn’t imagine those moments with anyone else.

It had always been Mike. And it always would be.

April 7th 1989

El

El was awake before the city was.

Liverpool lay still outside the window, wrapped in that pale, uncertain light that came just before morning decided what it wanted to be. The sky was a washed-out blue-grey, the kind that made time feel suspended. Somewhere far below, a truck passed. A gull cried. Then quiet again.

It was five in the morning.

El lay propped up against a stack of pillows, duvet tucked around her legs, the notebook balanced carefully against her knees. The room smelled faintly of clean sheets and Jenny’s shampoo. Jenny herself was fast asleep beside her, turned away, breathing slow and even, one arm flung across her pillow like she had nothing left to guard against the world.

El envied that, just a little.

She held her pen loosely, staring down at the page. She had already written the date. Already written his name. The words sat there, heavy, waiting.

She swallowed, then began.

Dear Mike,

Today is the 7th of April, 1989.

Your 18th birthday.

Her pen paused.

Happy Birthday.

That felt wrong. Not untrue - but wrong. Incomplete. Like a sentence missing its ending.

It feels strange to write that, because I should be there. I wrote you a letter on your seventeenth birthday too. But I never imagined I would be writing another one like this. I didn’t think we would be apart for this long.

Her chest tightened.

And that fact kills me.

She stared at the words, vision blurring. The silence of the room pressed in on her, thick and intimate. Jenny shifted slightly beside her, murmured something in her sleep, then settled again.

El kept writing.

The truth is… I do feel safe, Mike.

She hesitated, then forced herself to continue.

But I’m scared of that safety leaving. I’m scared that if I call for you, if I send you my whereabouts, if I reach for you the way I want to… I’ll put everyone in danger.

Her hand trembled.

You. Our family. Our friends. Jenny. Sue. Dave. Danny.

It scares me more than anything.

Her breath hitched.

But I miss you.

The words came harder now, faster, like once they were let loose they refused to be held back.

God, Mike, I miss you more every day. It hurts. I don’t even know what you look like now. I don’t know how tall you’ve grown. I don’t know if your hair still falls into your eyes the same way. I don’t know anything.

The pen slipped from her fingers.

Tears splashed onto the page before she could stop them.

“No,” she whispered, frustrated, angry at herself. She scrubbed at her cheeks with the heel of her hand, wiping the tears away as quickly as they came, like erasing evidence of weakness.

As her hand fell back to the bed, her fingers brushed something solid.

The ring.

Her promise ring caught the faint morning light, glinting softly against her skin. El lifted her hand, turning it slowly, thumb tracing the familiar shape. It still fit perfectly. It always had.

Her heart ached so fiercely it felt physical, like something pressing outward from her chest. She curled her fingers around the ring, clutching it tighter.

Her breathing quickened.

And then - without quite knowing why - she lifted her gaze.

Not to the window. Not to Jenny. But straight ahead.

The air in the room felt different suddenly. Thicker. Charged. Like the moment just before a storm breaks.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

She had been careful. So careful. For fourteen months she had told herself it was too dangerous. Too risky. That safety mattered more than longing.

But this morning - his birthday - the distance felt unbearable.

She needed to see him. Not hear about him. Not imagine him.

See him.

El’s hand tightened around the ring one last time, as if drawing strength from it. Her decision settled into place with terrifying clarity.

She closed the notebook gently and set it aside. Then she lay back against the pillows, eyes fixed ahead, heart racing, breath shallow.

Finally…

She was going into the void.

El lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

Her heart was racing now, a wild, unsteady thing, fluttering against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Nerves flooded her body all at once - sharp and electric - creeping into her fingertips, her toes, the hollow at the base of her throat.

For a moment, fear threatened to take hold.

What if it hurts? What if she sees something she can’t unsee? What if he’s changed?

She drew in a slow breath. And then another.

No.

She wasn’t going somewhere dangerous.

She was going to him.

Mike was her safe place. He always had been. In the lab. In the woods. In the middle of chaos and monsters and worlds breaking open. When everything else fell away, it was Mike who grounded her, who saw her, who held her steady.

She let that thought settle deep inside her.

Her breathing slowed, her shoulders relaxed. She focused on him - on the feeling of him, on the way his presence had always felt like home.

And when she opened her eyes -

The world was gone.

The bed. The room. Liverpool. All of it dissolved into nothing.

She was standing in the void.

Black stretched endlessly in every direction, smooth and silent, the ground beneath her feet reflecting her faint outline like dark water. There was no sky. No horizon. Just stillness, vast and absolute.

And ahead of her -

He was there.

Mike lay asleep in his bed, the void recreating the room around him in perfect detail. The familiar walls of the Wheeler house bedroom closed in around him, soft and intimate, unchanged in a way that made her chest ache.

El’s knees gave out instantly.

She collapsed to the floor, hands flying to her mouth as a sob tore out of her - raw and broken and impossible to stop. She pressed her palms hard against her lips, trying to silence the sound, trying not to shatter the moment with the force of her relief.

He was real. He was here. He was alive.

Tears streamed down her face unchecked, splashing onto the dark surface beneath her as she shook, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of seeing him again. Sixteen months of longing, fear, restraint - all of it crashed over her at once.

It took her a long time to steady herself.

When she finally did, she pushed herself up slowly, legs trembling, every movement careful - like he might disappear if she moved too quickly.

She walked towards him one step at a time.

Her lips twitched into a fragile smile as she took in the room. His room. Posters on the wall. Familiar shapes. Familiar shadows. He was still home. Still in Hawkins.

Safe.

El sat carefully on the edge of his bed. She stared at him greedily, like she needed to memorise every detail all over again.

He was so handsome.

His skin was pale in the dim light, dusted with freckles across the bridge of his nose - the same ones she remembered, the ones she used to trace with her thumb. His cheekbones were sharper now, more pronounced, giving his face a maturity that made her breath catch.

His hair was neater. Shorter. He’d had it cut too.

And as her gaze drifted down his body, her smile deepened.

He’d grown.

There was no mistaking it - longer limbs, broader shoulders. Taller. Time had moved forward for him even while her heart had stayed behind.

But then -

Her smile faltered.

Mike shifted in his sleep, his brow knitting together, lips parting as if he were trying to speak but couldn’t. His head turned slightly from side to side, restless. Troubled.

A nightmare.

Her chest tightened painfully.

“El…” he murmured, barely audible.

The sound of her name on his lips broke something inside her. El hesitated, her hand hovering inches above his.

She didn’t know if she could do this. Didn’t know if she was allowed. If touching him like this would hurt him - or her.

Slowly, reverently, she reached for his hand. Her fingers brushed his skin. Warm and real.

She sucked in a sharp breath and closed her eyes -

And the world fractured.

Suddenly she was no longer in the bedroom.

She was standing in the rain.

Red light flared around her. Sirens and shouting. The air thick with smoke and panic. The gate yawned open in front of her, alive and screaming, tearing the world apart.

And there he was.

Mike.

Younger. Broken open with grief.

“El!” he screamed, his voice tearing through her.

She watched herself - watched them - relive the moment she had left him behind. His hands reaching for her. His face collapsing when she closed her eyes. The image Kali had portrayed of her was too real. The sound he made when he realised she wasn’t coming back, ripped through her.

“No,” El sobbed, clutching her chest as the memory swallowed her whole. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The pain was unbearable.

It tore through her like it was happening all over again - the choice, the sacrifice, the love that had demanded everything from both of them. She dropped to her knees in the nightmare, reaching for him, screaming his name -

“Mike!”

The void snapped back into place.

El gasped, collapsing forward as the memory released her, her hands still wrapped around his.

Mike jerked in his sleep, a strangled sound leaving his throat.

“El,” he whispered again.

She stayed there, breathing hard, tears falling freely now - not bothering to hide them.

“I’m here,” she whispered fiercely, her voice trembling. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She held his hand tighter, anchoring him – anchoring them both.

“No,” El said softly, fiercely, the word steady despite the tears still clinging to her lashes. “No.”

He didn’t deserve this.

Not the fear. Not the pain. Not the endless replaying of the worst moment of their lives, over and over, like punishment. Not now. Not ever. And especially not today.

Not on his birthday.

El closed her eyes again, still holding him, and drew the memories forward - not the ones that hurt, but the ones that held. She reached for them carefully, lovingly, like lifting glass ornaments from a box.

The void responded.

The darkness softened.

She felt the nightmare loosening its grip, felt the tension in his hand begin to ease beneath her fingers. Slowly, gently, she replaced it.

Snow fell.

Not the choking ash of the Upside Down - but soft, glittering flakes drifting beneath gymnasium lights. The Snow Ball. Music humming low and sweet. Mike standing there in his suit, nervous and hopeful and hers.

She felt it as clearly as if she were there again - the way his hand had trembled when he reached for hers. The way his eyes had lit up when she smiled at him.

Then -

Their first kiss in the cafeteria.

Awkward and perfect and full of wonder. Her breath hitching when he leaned in. The way the world had seemed to pause, like it was holding its breath along with them.

The memory glowed warm and bright.

She layered more.

Her blonde wig. His laughter when they played in Ted’s lazy boy. The way he had looked at her like she was magic even when she felt anything but.

Her bedroom. Secret kisses stolen between whispered jokes and nervous giggles. The door closed. The curtains drawn. The feeling of being safe and wanted and chosen.

Love. Pure and uncomplicated and real.

El felt it flow through her - through him.

She watched his breathing slow. Watched the tight lines in his face soften. His brow smoothed. His head stilled against the pillow.

The nightmare released him. Right there, before her eyes, she saw it - like a shadow lifting, like a storm cloud breaking apart. His fingers loosened around hers, no longer clenched in fear but resting, relaxed.

A faint smile touched his lips. It was small. Fragile. But unmistakable.

El’s heart broke and healed all at once.

She leaned closer, careful not to wake him, her free hand hovering near his cheek but never quite touching. She didn’t need to. He felt her anyway.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice shaking. “So much.”

His smile deepened, just a fraction, as if he heard her somewhere beyond sleep.

“We will be together,” she promised him, the words a vow carved into her soul. “I promise. This isn’t the end.”

Tears slid silently down her cheeks as she bent her head closer, her forehead nearly brushing his.

“Happy birthday, Mike. I want you to have a really good day.”

She closed her eyes then, still holding his hand, and poured everything she had left into calming him - smoothing the edges of his dreams, wrapping him in warmth and safety and love.

When she finally opened her eyes again, he was smiling fully now.

Peaceful and at rest.

As if something heavy had been lifted from him at last. El stayed like that for a long time, watching him sleep, memorising the curve of his smile, the quiet rise and fall of his chest.

Then, slowly – reluctantly, she loosened her grip.

She knew she couldn’t stay. But she also knew this, he wasn’t alone anymore. And neither was she.

El woke with a sound torn from her chest.

A sob - loud, broken, uncontrollable - ripped through her before she even fully understood where she was. The void vanished. Mike vanished. The warmth, the peace, the certainty of his hand in hers evaporated all at once.

She was back in bed.

Liverpool. Morning light. The quiet room.

And the loss hit her like a physical blow.

She curled forward instinctively, clutching at the duvet as another sob followed, then another, her body shaking with the force of it. Her chest ached, her throat burned, the grief too big to contain now that she was awake - now that she had seen him and had to leave him behind again.

“El?”

Jenny bolted upright beside her, instantly alert, heart racing. “El - what’s wrong?”

El couldn’t answer.

She gasped for breath, hands flying up to her face as she cried, the sound raw and unfiltered, like something primal had been wrenched loose. Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked.

Jenny reached for her, then froze.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

Blood.

A thin line ran from El’s nose, dark against her skin, dripping onto the sheets.

“El - El, you’re bleeding.”

Jenny moved quickly, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table, pressing it gently beneath El’s nose, but El was already folding in on herself, the sobs wracking her whole body now - grief, relief, love, fear - all of it collapsing inward at once.

Jenny didn’t hesitate.

She climbed fully into the bed, pulling El against her, one arm firm around her shoulders, the other cradling the back of her head. El went willingly, collapsing into her, burying her face into Jenny’s shoulder like she had nowhere else left to put the pain.

“I saw him,” El choked, the words barely intelligible through the sobs. “I saw him and I had to leave him again -”

Jenny tightened her hold, rocking her gently. “It’s okay,” she whispered, even though she knew it wasn’t. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

El’s hands clutched at Jenny’s clothes, fingers curling tight as if she might slip away too. Her sobs broke open fully now - loud, heartbreaking, unrestrained - the kind that left no room for dignity or control.

“I love him,” El cried. “I love him so much.”

“I know,” Jenny murmured, pressing her cheek against El’s hair. “I know you do.”

She held her there, steady and unmovable, letting El break herself open against her shoulder, absorbing every shattered piece without trying to fix it, without trying to quiet it.

El cried until her chest ached and her throat was raw. Until her body trembled with exhaustion. Until there was nothing left but the soft, broken sound of her breathing.

Jenny stayed.

She wiped the blood away gently when it slowed, changed the tissues without comment, brushed El’s hair back from her damp forehead, holding her like she was something precious and fragile and real.

“You’re safe,” Jenny whispered over and over. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

El clung to her, eyes squeezed shut, the image of Mike’s peaceful smile still burned behind her lids - a gift and a wound all at once.

Eventually, her sobs quieted. But Jenny didn’t let go. She held El long after the tears stopped, long after the morning fully arrived, carrying the weight of El’s heartbreak without complaint.

Because some grief wasn’t meant to be carried alone.

Mike

Mike woke slowly.

Not with the usual jolt of dread or the heavy, suffocating awareness of being alone - but gradually, as if sleep were reluctant to let him go. His mind lingered in the remnants of a dream, warm and hazy, like sunlight filtered through curtains.

El.

Not the way she sometimes appeared - distant, unreachable, slipping through his fingers - but there.

No. She was laughing. Soft. Real. Snow falling. Music playing. Her hand in his. The way her eyes had looked at him like he was something precious.

He breathed out softly.

For a moment, he stayed still, eyes closed, the memory clinging to him like a second skin. There was a faint curve to his lips - so faint he didn’t notice it at first, as if his mouth had remembered how to smile while he slept.

When he finally opened his eyes, the room came into focus slowly. His room. Morning light slipping in through the blinds. April air cool against his skin.

Something was… different.

Mike frowned slightly and brought a hand to his chest, palm resting flat over his heart. It was still beating steadily - but it didn’t feel like it was trying to claw its way out of him today. The weight he’d grown used to carrying sat lighter somehow, like it had shifted just enough to give him room to breathe.

He didn’t know why. He only knew that when he sat up, it didn’t feel like dragging himself out of a hole.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, rubbing at his eyes, still half-lost in the strange calm humming through him. It followed him as he crossed the room, as he pulled on a clean T-shirt, as he tugged on jeans without overthinking it.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and paused.

He looked… okay.

Not fixed. Not suddenly whole. But not wrecked either. His eyes were clearer. His shoulders less slumped. He ran a hand through his hair, then reached for the comb on his dresser and used it properly for once, smoothing it back into place.

Eighteen.

The thought didn’t sting the way he’d expected.

His gaze drifted to the photo frame on his desk. El smiled back at him from the picture - bright and unguarded, eyes full of wonder. The sight of her usually brought with it a sharp ache, a reminder of everything he’d lost.

Today, it didn’t.

Instead, something warm spread through his chest.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, almost without thinking. His lips curved into a small, genuine smile. He stood there for a moment longer, looking at her, the feeling of lightness still with him, still unexplained - like a gift he didn’t know how he’d been given.

Whatever today held, for the first time in a long while, Mike felt ready to meet it.

Mike barely had time to register the fact that it was his birthday before he was being hugged.

Karen pulled him into her first, firm and familiar, arms tight around his shoulders. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Ted clapped him on the shoulder, “happy birthday son.”

Holly followed immediately after, flinging herself at his middle with all the force her small body could muster. “You’re eighteen!” she declared like it was the most exciting thing in the world.

Mike laughed, a little breathless, hugging her back. “Yeah. I am.”

He was still disentangling himself when there was a knock at the front door. Karen glanced towards the hallway, then back at him, trying - and failing - to contain her smile. “I think that might be for you.”

“For me?” Mike echoed, confused.

He wiped his hands on his jeans and headed down the hallway, the feeling of lightness still humming quietly inside him. He opened the door.

And froze.

Will stood there in full Will the Wise regalia - cloak, staff, hat and all - standing far too upright for someone dressed that dramatically. Beside him, Lucas wore his ranger outfit, bow slung over his shoulder, expression carefully neutral but eyes sparkling. And Dustin -

Dustin was in full bard attire, lute strapped across his chest like this was the most normal thing in the world. He even had on a fake grey beard just for fun.

For a second, Mike just stared.

Then he burst out laughing. Not a quiet chuckle. Not a polite huff of air. A real laugh - loud and startled and full-bodied. The kind that bent him forward slightly as it tore out of him.

The boys blinked.

“Oh,” Dustin said, clearly thrown. “That… that worked faster than expected.”

Will lowered his staff a fraction. “We thought we’d have to… ease you into it.”

Mike wiped at his eyes, still laughing. “Oh my God. You’re idiots.”

“Thank you,” Dustin said solemnly. “That means a lot coming from our Paladin.”

Lucas cleared his throat. “Which brings us to the point.”

Will stepped forward, expression turning serious in that way Mike knew so well. “We’ve created a quest.”

“A birthday quest,” Dustin added quickly.

“One that requires,” Lucas continued, “our brave Paladin.”

“Our true leader,” Will finished.

Mike looked at them - really looked at them - at the effort, the care, the intention stitched into every ridiculous detail. And something in his chest swelled.

He stepped aside, gesturing them in. “Well,” he said, grinning, “you’d better come in then.”

They piled into the house, boots clomping, cloaks brushing walls. Mike closed the door behind them, warmth flooding in with their presence.

“Where’s Max?” he asked as they headed towards the kitchen.

Lucas smirked. “I’ve been explicitly told not to repeat what she said about today’s plans.”

Dustin snorted. “But she’s studying. Like her life depends on it.”

“She’ll come round later,” Will added. “She said she wouldn’t miss it.”

“First,” Dustin announced loudly, “breakfast!”

Mike laughed as Dustin attempted to throw an arm around his shoulders – but missed because of the height difference. He used both hands this time on Mike’s back, steering him into the kitchen where the smell of pancakes filled the air.

Karen stood at the stove, flipping another one with practised ease. She looked over her shoulder, took in the sight of the boys in costume, and didn’t even blink. Ted didn’t even look up from his newspaper.

“Morning,” Karen said brightly. “Pancakes?”

“Yes, please,” Dustin said reverently.

They crowded around the table - elbows bumping, laughter overlapping, and for the first time in a long while, Mike didn’t feel like he was forcing himself to be there.

He was there.

Among friends who refused to let him disappear. Who showed up anyway. Who loved him loudly, stupidly, relentlessly.

Mike looked around the table - at Will’s quiet smile, Lucas’s steady presence, Dustin’s infectious enthusiasm - and felt something settle into place.

This was what it meant to be held.

He was not fixed or cured. But he wasn’t alone either.

And as the morning unfolded in syrup and laughter and plans for a quest that only they could make real, Mike realised something quietly important.

He didn’t have to face the world by himself.

And he never had.

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Chapter 7: Listen to Your Heart

Early May 1989

Mike

The air in Hawkins was warmer now. The whisper of summer starting to creep in while spring still hovered uncertainly. The sky was pale, stretched thin and colourless above downtown, and the town itself still wore its scars openly. Cracks in brickwork. Boarded windows of stores that had never survived Starcourt – let alone the “great earthquake”.

Mike stood on the sidewalk with his bike leaned against his hip, fingers tight around two large envelopes.

They were heavier than paper had any right to be.

The mailbox stood a few feet away - squat, blue, chipped at the corners. A simple thing. Ordinary. The kind of object people passed without thinking. The kind of object that changed lives quietly, without spectacle.

Mike stared at it.

Indiana University. Purdue University. Both addresses stamped neatly. Both envelopes sealed. His handwriting steady, careful, betraying nothing of the chaos underneath.

He stepped forward.

Then stopped.

His jaw tightened, teeth pressing together hard enough that his head ached. He shifted his weight, fingers flexing around the edges of the envelopes like they might try to escape him. Like they already were.

He stepped back again.

This was wrong. Or maybe it wasn’t. Or maybe everything felt wrong because El wasn’t here to stand beside him and tell him what felt right.

He hadn’t imagined this moment like this.

Once - a long time ago, college had been a future they talked about in whispers. Late into the evening before Hopper would get back from the station. El’s head on Mike’s chest, his fingers tracing slow patterns against her arm while he told her about lecture halls and libraries and dorm rooms that smelled like cheap coffee and revolution. He’d imagined her sitting cross-legged on his dorm bed, books piled everywhere, eyes bright with curiosity.

He swallowed hard. That future felt like it belonged to someone else now.

Mike took a breath and stepped forward again.

This time, he didn’t stop. He reached out, pushed the envelopes through the slot one after the other, and listened to the dull, final sound as they dropped inside.

There.

Done.

His chest tightened immediately - sharp and sudden - like something vital had just been cut loose. He stood there for a second too long, staring at the mailbox as if it might give the letters back if he asked nicely enough.

But it didn’t.

Mike turned away.

He climbed onto his bike and pushed off harder than necessary, legs pumping as he rode back through Hawkins. The streets blurred slightly at the edges as the wind rushed past his ears, the familiar houses lining his route feeling strangely distant - like he was moving through a version of town that didn’t quite belong to him anymore.

His thoughts tangled as he rode. What if he’d made the wrong choice? What if leaving Hawkins meant leaving her? What if staying would have meant something else entirely?

The questions pressed in, overlapping, impossible to untangle. Mike rubbed at his forehead in frustration, struggling to keep himself balanced.

He was exhausted. It was the dreams. They hit him without warning nowadays. Not the vague impressions that had slipped through his sleep and faded by morning. No. These were sharper. Clearer.

Red brick buildings, tall and close together, rising up on either side of narrow streets. Not Hawkins brick - older. Darker. Weathered in a way that spoke of time rather than neglect. Iron railings lined the edge of water he couldn’t place, lights strung along them in uneven rows.

Seagulls cried overhead.

The sound startled him - so real it made his grip tighten on the handlebars. He swore he could smell it too. Salt. Cold air. Something metallic and unfamiliar that made his chest ache with recognition he couldn’t explain.

And then there was the books. The feel of them under his fingers, the unique smell of the inky, musky pages. Rows and rows of them.

It felt like being somewhere else.

Mike blinked hard as he pedalled, heart thudding unevenly now. The road wavered beneath him for a second and he slowed instinctively, breath coming out shallow.

He didn’t know what was going on. But the dreams only felt like they were getting clearer now.

Mike didn’t remember turning onto Maple Street.

One second, he was riding, the next he was there - his childhood street stretching out in front of him, familiar and safe and suddenly overwhelming in its normalcy.

And then he saw her.

Max.

She stood halfway up the Sinclair’s’ front path, her fist slamming against the door hard enough that the sound echoed down the street. Her car lay abandoned on the road, only just close enough to the sidewalk to be acceptable.

She hit the door again.

“Lucas!” she shouted, voice sharp with urgency. “Open the door!”

Mike’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. He slowed abruptly, feet hitting the pavement as he skidded to a stop at the curb.

“Max?”

She spun at the sound of his voice, blue eyes snapping to him instantly. Whatever expression she’d been wearing - frustration, panic, determination - it shifted the moment she saw him.

“Oh. Thank God,” she said, relief bleeding through. “Wheeler.”

Mike swallowed, chest still tight, and pushed his bike up onto the grass.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Max dragged a hand through her hair, pacing once before stopping short and staring back at the Sinclair front door like she was willing it to open through sheer force.

“Do you know where Lucas is?” she asked, irritation sharpening her voice.

Mike followed her gaze, then looked back at her. “You realise they’ll be in church, right?” he said gently. “It’s Sunday morning.”

Max tipped her head back with a frustrated groan. “Of course they are.”

She kicked at the edge of the path, agitation radiating off her in restless waves. Mike watched her closely now - the way she kept shifting her weight, the way her jaw tightened and loosened again. This wasn’t nerves exactly. It was something else. Something urgent.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

She hesitated, eyes flicking to him and then away again. “I just… found something out. And I need to tell Lucas.”

Something in Mike’s chest tightened. The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “You’re not pre-”

“No!” Max snapped, spinning on him so fast he barely had time to brace himself.

He stopped short, hands lifting slightly in surrender. Her eyes were wide, bright with frustration - but not fear. She pressed her lips together, dragging in a breath as she visibly reined herself back in.

“No,” she said again, more controlled now. “God, no. I’m not.”

“Okay,” Mike said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

She exhaled, shoulders slumping. “I just - I really want to tell him. And if I don’t tell someone, I might actually combust.”

Max looked at him then. Properly. She exhaled a deep breath and nodded to herself, like she’d made a decision.

“I’ve got enough credits,” she said eventually.

Mike blinked. “What?”

“I checked,” she rushed on, the words finally spilling free. “Like, properly checked. With the counsellor, with the vice principal - everyone. I’m actually going to graduate. With you guys. End of this month…”

For a second, Mike just stared at her. And then something unexpected surged up inside him - sharp and warm and startling in its intensity.

Joy.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, a laugh breaking free before he could stop it. “Max, that’s - that’s amazing!”

He stepped forward without thinking and pulled her into a hug. It lasted exactly half a second before they both froze. Then they broke apart at the same time, laughter tumbling out of them, awkward and unguarded.

“Let’s not do that ever again, Wheeler,” Max said quickly, pointing at him.

Mike laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that was just weird.”

But then he sobered, looking at her properly. “I’m really proud of you.”

Something flickered across Max’s face - surprise, maybe. Or relief. She shrugged, but she couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at her mouth.

“I wanted to tell Lucas first,” she admitted. “I really did. But I’ve been holding this in for days. I’m bursting.”

Mike glanced down the street, then at his watch. “They won’t be long. We can wait.”

Max nodded, gratefully. They dropped down onto the grass near the fence, the sun warm against their backs despite the lingering chill in the air. The street was quiet and normal. That was part of the problem for Mike. It was too normal.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” Max said suddenly. But then she winced, processing what she had said. “Sorry. That was… insensitive.”

Mike shook his head. “It’s okay.”

She stared ahead for a moment, jaw tight. “Hawkins feels smaller every day. Like it’s closing in.”

Mike sighed, nodding his head solemnly. He understood that feeling intimately.

“I miss her,” Max said quietly.

Mike’s stomach dropped, but he managed not to flinch. He stared at the grass, watching the ever so gentle breeze move through the perfect green tufts that Charles Sinclair had so beautifully maintained.

“She was my best friend,” she continued. “And I know she was your girlfriend. Well, you’re everything let’s face it. But…” Her voice faltered, and she had to close her eyes for a moment. “Sometimes I feel stupid for how lonely I am in our party without her. Like… like my grief doesn’t… count or something.”

Mike turned to her fully, surprise flickering in his dark eyes. In the past eighteen months, he and Max had not had a conversation quite like this. He selfishly thought she had moved on. In a way he wouldn’t have blamed her. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it had been like for her – being a hostage for so long in the mind of Henry.

It was only natural that she sought the comfort of Lucas.

That she wanted to be happy.

It was only now that Mike realised, he wasn’t the only one who had been crying behind smiles and laughter.

“Hey,” he said as gently as he could. Max carefully looked back at him. “Our grief - it’s not a competition, okay? It… it never was.”

She nodded, blinking fast, and looked away again. Mike didn’t say anything for a moment. He gave Max the grace to wipe her tears, to pulls her legs up and wrap her arms around them.

Eventually, he found his own confession leaving his lips.

“I sent off two college applications.”

Her head snapped towards him. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Indiana and Purdue.”

Max studied him for a long second. “I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I wasn’t. I’m not…” he admitted. “But there’s nothing for me here.”

Max watched him sadly. She sighed softly and opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of a car pulling into the driveway cut through the moment.

Max was on her feet instantly. “Okay. Showtime.”

Mike hurried to stand as well, and watched as a confused Lucas got out of the car. He was followed by Erica who mumbled that something gross was about to happen, and Charles and Sue Sinclair who greeted Mike and Max.

Mike gestured politely, but Max was too nervous. Her hands shook at her side as she stared at Lucas and he stared back at her in question. His brown eyes wide as he tried to understand the look on her face.

“I’m graduating,” she blurted out. “I’m coming with you.”

Lucas didn’t even pretend to process it. He crossed the space between them and lifted her clean off the ground, spinning her around as she laughed and protested. He kissed her hard, joyful and unselfconscious.

Mike smiled. Erica shouted that she knew something gross would happen and Charles and Sue cheered and gasped at Max’s achievement. They had taken very well to the fiery red head. Admiring her courage and determination.

Mike continued to smile at the scene, especially at Lucas’s teary eyes as he repeatedly insisted, he knew she could do it. Even Max was grinning, wiping at her own eyes, her forehead pressed to Lucas as she exhaled the breath she had clearly been holding since she had found out the news.

But slowly, Mike felt his grin fade. He cleared his throat and excused himself. Picking up his bike, trying to be as casual as possible as he headed towards his own family home.

He wheeled his bike back onto the pavement quietly, nodding once before turning away. The walk to his house was short, but the ache in his chest made it feel endless.

Everyone else was moving on. Getting out of Hawkins.

But it felt like El would never get to leave this hell hole. And in a way, neither would he.

El

Liverpool was warm in a way El was still getting used to.

Not hot - not heavy - but soft. The kind of warmth that lingered on skin without demanding anything in return. The sun sat higher in the sky now, pale gold spilling across the city as morning stretched into something unhurried. Spring tipping fully into summer.

El walked towards work with her hands tucked into the pockets of her cardigan, her steps measured, steady. The streets around her hummed with life. Not loud, just alive.

White marble buildings rose on either side of the road, grand and imposing and beautiful in a way that made her slow her steps every time she passed them. She still couldn’t quite believe she lived here. That this place - with its columns and arches and sweeping stone facades, had become part of her daily routine.

Liverpool in the summer felt open.

People laughed more. They walked slower. Groups of men passed her wearing football kits, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, voices animated as they argued about matches and players and goals that had already been replayed a hundred times in their heads. Someone whistled. Someone else shouted a greeting across the street.

It felt full.

And still… El felt hollow.

She didn’t notice the singing at first. It drifted towards her softly, almost lost beneath the sound of footsteps and passing cars.

“Oh yeah, I tell you somethin’, I think you’ll understand…”

El slowed.

The voice was young. Clear. Slightly shaky in places, but earnest. She followed the sound to a young girl standing near the edge of the pavement, dark hair tied back with a ribbon that had seen better days. The girl couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. A battered guitar hung from her shoulder, far too big for her small frame, her fingers pressing carefully at the strings as she sang.

“And please, say to me, you’ll let me hold your hand…”

El stopped completely.

The Beatles.

She felt the words settle somewhere deep in her chest - not painfully, but tenderly. Like something familiar being brushed gently after a long time untouched.

When the girl finished the verse, she looked up and caught El watching. Her cheeks flushed pink instantly.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m not very good.”

El shook her head, stepping closer. “You are,” she said softly. “You’re very good.”

The girl blinked, startled - then smiled, wide and disbelieving. El reached into her pocket and pulled out a few coins, placing them carefully into the open guitar case at the girl’s feet.

“For your singing,” she added.

The girl’s eyes widened. “Thank you!” she said brightly. “Thank you so much!”

El smiled back, warmth blooming briefly in her chest. “You’re welcome.”

As she walked away, the singing started up again behind her - a little stronger this time. Braver.

El kept walking and Liverpool gleamed around her. Sunlight bounced off pale stone and glass, the city almost luminous under the clear sky. She passed couples walking hand in hand, friends sprawled across benches, people perched on steps laughing like the world had always been this safe.

And she knew - truly knew, that she was happy here.

She was happy with the Kelly family. With Sue’s easy warmth and Dave’s steady presence. With Danny’s gentle teasing and Jenny’s fierce loyalty. She was safe. Loved. Wanted.

She had a home.

And yet…

The ache remained.

A deep, gaping ache lodged behind her ribs, constant and unyielding. Like something vital had been torn away and her body hadn’t figured out how to compensate for the loss yet. Like she was missing a limb she kept reaching for without realising.

She had lost her sense of belonging.

Not here - but there. In the place she could no longer reach.

By the time she reached the Liverpool Central Library, her steps had slowed, the familiar weight settling into her chest like it did every morning.

The library doors opened quietly beneath her hands, cool air washing over her skin. The smell greeted her immediately - old paper, polished wood, dust warmed by sunlight filtering through tall windows. It grounded her in a way few things could.

She liked it here.

Her first task of the day was shelving returns. She moved through the aisles with practiced ease, fingertips brushing spines gently as she returned books to their places. She liked the order of it. The care. The way everything had a home, even if it took a while to find where it belonged.

She thought about Jenny as she worked. About how fiercely her friend loved. How she laughed loudly and defended harder. About Sue, who slipped extra food onto her plate without comment. About Dave, who checked the locks every night even though he knew El didn’t need protecting.

She thought about how grateful she was.

And still…  it wasn’t enough.

The realisation sat heavy and guilt-laced. El exhaled slowly, pausing at the end of an aisle before continuing on. Loving them didn’t erase what she’d lost. It didn’t fill the space that had been carved out of her.

When her shelving was done, she made her way to the counter.

This part of the shift was quieter. Repetitive and comforting.

She smiled at customers. Stamped books. Slid returns into neat stacks. Her movements were smooth now, confident in a way she hadn’t been when she first arrived. She knew what she was doing. She belonged here, at least in this small way.

Her supervisor appeared beside her mid-morning - a stack of magazines balanced against her hip.

“El love,” she said kindly. “Could you sort these into the holder, please?”

“Yes,” El replied easily.

She carried them over to the magazine stand, setting them down carefully. She worked through them one by one, smoothing covers, aligning edges. History. Art. Science. Gardening.

And then -

She froze.

Her breath caught sharply, chest tightening as her fingers stilled against glossy paper.

The magazine was heavier than the others. Thicker. The image on the front page pulled her in instantly.

A waterfall.

No. Not just one. Three.

Not small or hidden or quiet. These ones thundered down black rock, white water crashing violently into mist below. The land around it was stark and wild - green and dark and endless.

It was breathtaking.

El lifted the magazine slowly, reverently, like it might disappear if she moved too fast.

Háifoss, Iceland, the title read.

Her heart began to pound. The words echoed in her mind, settling somewhere deep and electric. She stared at the image, the sound of the library fading until all she could hear was her own breathing.

And then - his voice. Clear as if he were standing beside her.

“In my campaigns, if the party wins, then they all live happily ever after.”

Her fingers tightened on the magazine.

“Happily, how?”

She could hear herself asking it - younger, curious, desperate to know that this could all work out.

“Well,” Mike’s voice continued, warm and animated, “usually what happens is the party doesn’t return to their local village. Because too much has happened. They’ve seen too much.”

Her throat closed.

“So they travel to a far away land. A peaceful land. Somewhere beautiful. With like… three waterfalls or something.”

The image blurred slightly as tears pricked at her eyes.

“And they all start again. Together.”

Together.

El pressed the magazine to her chest, heart racing, breath shallow.

A far away land. A peaceful land. Waterfalls.

The ache inside her shifted – sharpened, pulling her forward with terrifying clarity. For the first time since she had run, the future didn’t feel like something she was avoiding.

It felt like something was calling her home.

The kitchen in the Kelly house always felt warmer at dinner time.

Not just because of the oven or the steam rising from plates, but because the room filled up in a way El had come to crave. Voices overlapping. Cutlery clinking. Sue’s chair scraping loudly against the linoleum because she never just sat down. Dave easing into his seat like he’d been carrying the world on his shoulders all day and dinner was the first time he could set it down.

Danny hovered near the doorway for longer than necessary, pretending he wasn’t waiting to see if Sue would shout at him for coming in late or if it would be safe to breathe.

Jenny was already there, uniform swapped for a soft sweatshirt, hair half-damp from a rushed shower, cheeks flushed from whatever had happened on the ward that day.

And El…

El sat with a fork in her hand and didn’t eat.

The cottage pie Sue had made was perfect - she knew it was. The mashed potato sat in thick, golden peaks on top, browned beautifully where the oven had kissed it. The gravy had soaked down into the meat underneath, dark and rich. Steam curled gently from the plate, carrying the smell of salt and pepper and comfort.

And still, El couldn’t swallow.

She picked up a single pea and let it balance on her fork, circling it slowly through the gravy as if she were drawing shapes she couldn’t name. Round and round. The same motion. The same thought looping in her head.

Iceland. Waterfall. Far away land.

Together.

Sue noticed everything. It was impossible not to. She ate three mouthfuls, eyed El once, ate another, then finally slammed her fork down gently - but with enough emphasis that it made everyone look up.

“Alright,” Sue said, voice sharp but not unkind. “What’s wrong with you, love?”

El blinked, like she’d been pulled back from somewhere far away.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she said automatically.

Sue snorted. “You’re circlin’ one pea like it’s gonna answer your prayers. That’s not fine.”

Jenny shot El a look - half concern, half tell her before she starts guessing.

Dave glanced up from his plate. Not intrusive, just attentive. The way he always was.

Danny, sensing drama, leaned back in his chair slightly like he wanted to be invisible while also hearing everything.

El swallowed. Her fingers tightened around the fork. She looked up at them - her new found family. Jenny’s tired eyes, still kind. Danny’s guarded face, trying to look uninterested. Sue’s fierce stare, waiting to fix whatever needed fixing. Dave’s steady calm, a quiet anchor at the end of the table.

She hadn’t planned to say it out loud. But the question had been burning in her chest all day, impossible to ignore.

“Where is Iceland?” El asked softly.

There was a beat.

Then Sue’s face lit with instant certainty. “The shop, my love? It’s on - ” She frowned, glancing towards Dave like the street name might be written on his forehead. “It’s on… what is it? London Road?”

Danny groaned. “Mum, that’s not -”

“El doesn’t mean the shop mum,” Jenny said, trying not to smile.

El’s lips twitched, a small, reluctant thing. “No,” she said gently. “Not the shop. The… the place. Iceland. The, um, country. Where is it?”

Sue paused mid-chew, eyes narrowing like she was offended the universe had created two things with the same name. “Well how the bleeding hell am I supposed to know that?”

Jenny shrugged. “It’s… cold?”

Danny shrugged too, mouth full. “Somewhere with polar bears.”

“Danny,” Sue snapped.

“What?” he said, swallowing. “What? I don’t know!”

Dave sighed - long-suffering, fond - and put his fork down properly, wiping his mouth with a napkin like he was about to deliver a lesson none of them asked for.

“It’s above us,” he said simply.

Sue rolled her eyes. “Oh, thanks, David. Above us. Great.”

Dave ignored her. He looked at El instead, voice calm. “If you go north. Through Scotland. Past it. Then it’s the North Atlantic between you and Iceland.”

El blinked. “Above Scotland,” she repeated softly, as if anchoring it in her mind.

“Yes,” Dave nodded. “That’s right.”

Sue leaned forward, suspicious now. “Why are you askin’ about Iceland chick?”

El’s cheeks warmed instantly. The attention made her feel exposed, somehow. Like the thought had been safer in her head.

“I saw a magazine today,” she admitted, eyes dropping briefly to her plate. “At work. It had… a waterfall on it. Three waterfalls.”

Sue’s mouth softened a fraction. “Waterfalls,” she repeated, like that alone explained everything.

“It was beautiful,” El continued, voice quiet but firm. “It said Iceland. I… I want to go.”

The room went still for a moment - not uncomfortable, just surprised.

Sue recovered first, of course.

“To Iceland?” she repeated, eyebrows shooting up. “But it’s freezin’, love. You’ll need the biggest coat of your life!”

Jenny snorted into her drink.

Sue jabbed her fork in the air for emphasis. “Honestly. You’ll step off the plane and your eyelashes will freeze together.”

El couldn’t help it, she smiled faintly.

“And besides,” Sue added briskly, already moving into practical-mother mode, “you can find waterfalls in the UK, you know. Um…” She turned sharply to Dave. “Dave?”

Dave sighed again, but he answered like he’d been waiting years for this moment. “Wales and Scotland have the best ones,” he said. “England’s got a couple, but they’re smaller.”

Sue nodded with satisfaction like that settled it. “There you go. We’ll take you to Wales. See a nice waterfall. Have a picnic. Make a weekend of it. Sorted.”

El’s fingers tightened around her fork again. “I… I would like to go to Iceland,” she said softly.

Sue frowned. “But why though? What’s in Iceland that isn’t in Wales?”

El hesitated, throat tight. Her eyes flicked to Jenny, then Danny, then back to Sue and Dave.

“Even… even just to see,” El said quietly. “To know.”

“To know what?” Jenny asked, gentler than Sue, but curious.

El inhaled slowly, the ache in her chest expanding until she thought it might swallow her whole. She could feel her pulse in her fingertips. The promise ring on her hand seemed to hum faintly under the kitchen light.

She lifted her gaze.

“If what Mike said is true,” she whispered.

Silence.

It dropped into the room like something heavy - not dramatic, not loud, just real.

Sue didn’t have a comeback. Danny’s mouth closed slowly. Jenny’s face softened, eyes shining just slightly.

Dave stared at El, something old and knowing in his expression - as if he understood, suddenly, that this wasn’t about geography. This was about hope. About survival. About a story El was still living inside.

Because they had heard about Mike. Not details. Not everything. But enough. Her ‘fella’ back home. A love that hadn’t faded. A girl who spoke his name like it was stitched into her bones.

El swallowed hard. “He told me once… in a story. About what happens when the party wins.” Her voice shook, but she kept going. “He said they don’t go back home. Not when too much has happened. They go somewhere far away. Somewhere peaceful. Somewhere beautiful.”

She glanced down at her plate, shame flickering through her - for wanting something that felt impossible.

“And he said… three waterfalls,” she murmured, almost embarrassed.

Sue’s eyes softened. Her mouth tightened, like she was holding back something fierce and emotional and inconvenient.

Jenny broke the silence first. “Well,” she said, brightening deliberately, like she was refusing to let the heaviness crush El whole. “I wanna come too.”

El blinked. “What?”

Jenny shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We could go in July,” she said. “After I finish first year. It’ll still be bleeding freezin’ though!”

El stared at her, stunned. “You’d… come with me?”

“Of course,” Jenny said immediately, like El had asked if she’d pass her the salt. “I’m not lettin’ you go off gallivantin’ to the Arctic on your own.”

“It’s not the Arctic -” Danny began automatically, because he couldn’t help himself.

Sue shot him a look. “Oh hush, David Attenborough.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I mean - it’s not -” He gave up with a huff, then pointed at El with his fork. “I wanna go too.”

Sue’s head whipped round. “Why do you wanna bleeding go Daniel Kelly?”

Danny sat up straighter, defensive fire flickering in his eyes. “Because Liverpool’s too close minded,” he snapped. “And before you start, yeah, I know, it’s better than other places. But it’s still -” He faltered, jaw tightening. “It’s still… a lot.”

Sue stared at him for a moment. Her expression shifted - something like understanding flickering behind her annoyance.

Danny kept going, voice faster now, like he’d been holding it in and couldn’t stop. “It’s about time I get to explore somewhere new. See somethin’ different. You never know what we’ll find.”

Jenny snorted. “A polar bear. Like you said earlier.”

Danny flushed. “Shut up.”

El watched them, warmth blooming in her chest that almost hurt. The way they bickered was like a language of love. It still amazed her how easily they existed together. How loud affection could be.

Sue leaned back, arms crossing. “Right,” she said, like she was calling order in court. “And how are you three gonna afford this then?”

Jenny opened her mouth - then closed it again. Danny’s face fell slightly, the reality landing.

El hesitated. She didn’t like thinking about the money. It sat in her drawer like something cursed. Like something that didn’t belong to her, even if it technically did now. It had come from a bad man. It was stained. It made her stomach twist.

But it was also… a tool. A way forward.

“I have money,” El said quietly.

They all looked at her.

El’s cheeks warmed. “A good amount,” she added.

Sue narrowed her eyes. “From where?”

El’s fingers curled around the edge of the table. “From… a bad man.”

Sue went very still. Dave’s jaw tightened slightly. Jenny’s eyes lowered, understanding immediately.

Danny frowned. “What bad man?”

“Danny,” Jenny warned softly.

Sue held up a hand without looking away from El. “It’s alright.”

El swallowed. “It’s money I kept. When I ran. It wasn’t… it wasn’t mine. But it is now. Because he is never coming here.”

Sue’s face shifted then - anger, protectiveness, something fierce and maternal rising up like a tide. She didn’t ask for details. She didn’t need to. She reached across the table and covered El’s hand with her own.

Warm. Solid. Certain.

“Alright,” Sue said quietly. “Then we’ll use it for somethin’ good.”

El’s throat tightened. She nodded once, unable to speak. Sue released her hand and sat back like she’d made a decision. Then - because she was Sue, she clapped her hands sharply and stood up, taking her plate to the sink like she was closing the matter.

“Well,” she announced brightly, washing her plate with aggressive purpose, “if you three are goin’, we may as well go too, Dave!”

Dave didn’t even flinch anymore. He just sighed like a man who understood his fate.

Sue turned, pointing the sponge at him. “You can get two weeks off, can’t you love?”

Dave opened his mouth. Sue raised her eyebrows.

Dave closed his mouth again. “I’ll… ask,” he said carefully.

“You’ll do more than ask,” Sue replied cheerfully. “You’ll tell ‘em. You are meant to be the manager. I’ll come down there myself if they start being difficult.”

“Alrigh’ boss,” Dave muttered, his eyes lifting to El, returning her amused grin.

Jenny smiled into her drink. Danny muttered, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath.

Sue, unfazed, turned back to the sink. “I hear they’ve got hot springs.”

El blinked. “Hot springs?”

Sue’s eyes lit up with gleeful wonder, like she’d just remembered the world still held magic. “Can you imagine it?!” she exclaimed, hands dripping soap. “A hot spring! In the freezin’ cold! You’re sat there nice and warm like a bloody queen while your hair’s turning to ice!”

Jenny laughed. “Mum, you can’t even handle a cold shower.”

Sue gasped. “Excuse me! I can handle it. It’s only a shock when I realise you lot have used up all the bleeding hot water.” Sue sighed, drying her plate. “I am treated like a second-class citizen in this house.”

Danny snorted. “You’re treated like a Queen mum.”

Sue pointed at him without turning around. “Know your place than peasants!”

Danny threw his hands up in protest. Jenny dissolved into giggles. Dave shook his head, smiling despite himself.

El laughed too. It surprised her - the sound, bright and real. It slipped out before she could stop it, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her like relief. Like she’d been holding her breath for months and the Kelly family had just reminded her how to exhale.

She looked at Jenny across the table, still smiling, still half-laughing. How had she ever thought she was doing this on her own? El shook her head slightly, cheeks warm, eyes shining.

“I didn’t think…” she started.

Jenny’s smile softened, reaching across the space between them. “Yeah,” she said quietly, like she knew. “You don’t have to do any of this on your own anymore.”

El swallowed, the ache in her chest still there - but threaded now with something else.

Hope.

It wasn’t loud, or even certain yet. But it was present now. Somewhere far away, in a land of waterfalls and quiet peace, a future stirred.

And for the first time in a long time, El could almost see it.

Together.

Late May 1989

Mike

Graduation morning didn’t arrive in bright celebratory lights for Mike. There was no cinematic swell of music in his head, or sunshine and roses that people talked about like it was inevitable.

No.

Hawkins woke up under a sky that couldn’t commit - pale and overcast, light filtered thinly through the curtains like the day itself wasn’t sure it deserved to exist.

Mike lay staring at his ceiling for a long time before he moved.

The house was quiet in that early way - the kind of quiet that should feel peaceful but only made his thoughts louder. Somewhere downstairs a floorboard creaked. A cupboard door opened softly, then shut. He heard his mom’s familiar movements, the soundtrack of a mother trying to make a moment normal through sheer willpower.

His stomach turned.

Graduation.

A word that was meant to feel like an ending and a beginning all at once. A clean line under a chapter. A confident step into the next one.

Mike did not feel confident.

He sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His body moved out of habit. He could do habits. Habits were safe. Habits didn’t ask him how he felt.

He rubbed his face, fingers pressing into his eyes until little sparks bloomed behind his lids. When he dropped his hands, his gaze landed on the suit laid out neatly on his chair.

His mom had picked it and ironed it. Of course she had.

The jacket hung perfectly, shoulders squared like it was trying to stand proud on his behalf. The trousers were folded with surgical precision. His white shirt looked too clean, too crisp - like it belonged to a boy who hadn’t spent the last year haunted by a girl who had saved the world and then vanished out of it.

And the tie…

The tie was folded and placed on top like the final instruction. The finishing touch.

Do this, it seemed to say. Put this on. Become the version of yourself everyone expects.

Mike stared at it for a moment too long. Then he stood, moved to the bathroom, and turned on the shower.

The water hit his skin in hard, hot sheets, steam curling up to fog the mirror. He stood under it with his head bowed, letting it run over him until his shoulders loosened slightly, until the tightness in his chest dulled from sharp to constant.

He washed his hair. Scrubbed his skin. Let himself become clean in a way that felt almost ridiculous when nothing inside him felt clean at all.

When he stepped out of the shower, he didn’t dry off right away. He stood dripping for a moment, breathing, listening to the hush of the house beyond the bathroom door.

He could do this. He had to do this.

Mike dried himself, pulled on boxers and a vest and then reached the safety of his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

He reached for the shirt - slipped it on, buttons cold against his fingers. The fabric smelled like laundry powder and something soft and familiar.

Home.

He stared at his hands as he fastened each button. His fingers trembled once – subtle, then slowly steadied.

He pulled on the trousers, then the jacket. When he reached for the tie, he hesitated, the strip of fabric dangling from his fingers.

Don’t.

He didn’t know who he was speaking to - himself, the universe, the memory of Hopper’s voice - but he heard it in his head anyway.

Don’t.

Mike forced the thought away and lifted the tie to his neck. He began to knot it, eyes lifting to the mirror automatically.

He looked… older.

Almost eighteen had become eighteen, and his face had followed suit - cheekbones sharper, jawline more defined, eyes darker with things that no kid should have to carry. His hair was still too long, still falling into his eyes the way it always had, but now it looked less like a boy who hadn’t had a haircut and more like someone who didn’t care enough to fix it.

Mike sighed, pushing his hair back as neatly as he could.

His fingers found the tie again, and he tightened the knot, the mirror offering him a version of himself that looked like he belonged on a graduation stage.

But he didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere.

Mike’s gaze drifted, and there it was. The framed photo. It sat on his dresser like a quiet altar.

El, smiling softly, eyes bright and stubborn and warm. Her hair shoulder length in the picture, the way she’d worn it in 1985, her face still touched with innocence, still so young. She looked like sunlight, captured and trapped in a frame.

Mike’s fingers stilled against his tie. A slow dissociation crept in, like fog rolling over a field. It started at the edges of his mind and moved inward. The room around him stayed the same - the posters, the curtains, the familiar clutter, but suddenly it felt… far away. Like he was looking at it through glass.

Graduation.

He couldn’t make the word fit his life. Because graduating meant closing a chapter. And this chapter…

This chapter had been written wrong.

There had been a plot twist no one had asked for. An ending that didn’t match the story. A heroine ripped out mid-sentence. A love story paused and left bleeding.

Mike stared at El’s photo until his throat tightened. She should have been here. Not in a frame.

Here.

She should have been standing beside him in a cap and gown that looked too big for her shoulders. She would have fidgeted with the tassel and asked him, quietly, if she looked stupid. He would have told her no – never, and he would have kissed her cheek until she laughed and rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe him.

She would have walked across that stage.

And the cheer…

Mike could hear it in his head like a sound that belonged to another timeline. Even if the audience had been smaller than everyone else’s - even if it had only been the Party, Hopper, Joyce… his mom and Nancy, maybe - it would have been the loudest cheer that day.

Because she had earned it more than anyone. She had fought monsters and men. She had sacrificed again and again. She had saved them all. She deserved to be celebrated.

She deserved a future.

Mike’s tie felt too tight. He loosened it slightly, swallowing, but it didn’t help. The pressure wasn’t fabric. It was grief.

The intrusive thoughts came suddenly, uninvited, like they always did. Hopper’s voice -rough, angry - from over a year ago.

She planned this with Kali.

Mike’s stomach lurched.

He’d tried not to think about it. Tried to treat it like one of Hopper’s worst moments - the things people said when they were drowning in fear and didn’t know how to breathe.

But today… today the thought sank its teeth in.

Planned this. Always intended to… die.

It was the first time the word truly landed in Mike’s body instead of just his brain. Not gone. Not lost. Not missing.

Dead.

Mike’s vision swam. His mouth went dry and his heart began to hammer, sharp and uneven. He gripped the edge of his dresser, knuckles whitening, breath coming too fast.

No.

El wouldn’t -

But what if she had?

What if she had always believed there was no life for her after all of this? What if she had expected to save them and disappear like some tragic hero in one of those books Will liked? What if she had thought… this was how it had to end?

Mike felt sick.

He turned sharply, stumbling to the bathroom, and braced both hands on the sink. His reflection stared back at him - pale, wide-eyed, trapped.

“I should’ve done more,” he whispered, voice shaking.

He should have been stronger. Smarter. He should have found a way. He should have fought harder, demanded more, promised more.

He should have promised her more than waterfalls. The thought hit him like a punch. He had promised her a story. A peaceful land. Three waterfalls. A place where they could start again…

But really, he should have promised her a safe and happy life with him. One he would fight to the end for. Not just a dream he used to keep them going between disasters.

Mike swallowed, throat burning. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t put on a suit and smile for cameras and walk across a stage while El… while El was -

His mind tried to fill in the blank, and his chest tightened until he thought he might break.

So instead, he fled.

He didn’t think. He just moved - out of the bathroom, down the stairs too fast. He heard his mom call his name once, startled, confused, but he didn’t stop. The front door slammed behind him and the morning air hit his lungs like a slap.

He walked fast at first, then faster, until it became a near-run. His shoes scuffed the pavement. His tie loosened. His suit jacket flapped against his sides like it didn’t belong to him.

He didn’t know where he was going. He just knew he couldn’t be there. Not in that house. Not in that suit. Not in that story everyone else wanted him to act out.

And somehow, without conscious decision, his feet took him to the place they always took him when he didn’t know how to exist.

The monument.

The bench in front of the plaque that lied politely to the world. Great Earthquake victims.

Mike sat down hard, chest heaving, suit creasing. The air smelled like cut grass and early summer dust. Somewhere nearby a bird chirped like this was just another ordinary morning.

Mike stared at the monument until his eyes blurred. He didn’t know how long he sat there before the shadow fell across him. A truck door opened. Boots on gravel. Then Hopper’s voice - low, rough, familiar.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

That was how Mike ended up in Hopper’s police truck. Eventually heading to graduation. But as they got closer, the doubt built back up in him, like vomit threatening to surface. Mike’s throat tightened. He forced the words out anyway, because silence felt like drowning.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

Hopper exhaled slowly - a long breath that sounded like it had been pulled from somewhere deep. Mike heard it and, irrationally, it made him want to cry.

Hopper didn’t push. He just continued to drive, slower this time, prolonging the journey.

“You don’t have to be happy about it,” Hopper said. “But you gotta do it.”

Mike’s hands curled into fists in his lap. “Why?”

Hopper’s gaze stayed forward, fixed on the road. “Because you’re still here,” he said simply. “And because there are people who need you.”

Mike swallowed, the words scraping on the way down. He thought of his mom, probably with panic now climbing her throat. He thought of Nancy, who had already lost too much. He thought of Holly - bright and brave and too young to understand grief this big.

He thought of his friends. Dustin, who never stopped trying. Lucas, steady. Max, who had fought her way back into life with teeth bared. Will…

Will’s eyes, wet and terrified, when he’d said the words out loud.

I’m scared of what you might do to yourself.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut. He could still hear it.

“I’m trying,” Mike whispered.

“I know,” Hopper said quietly.

Mike opened his eyes and finally looked at him. Hopper’s face was rougher than it had been a year ago - more lines, more greys, more wear. But his eyes were steady. Grounded. A man who had survived his own hell and was still choosing to stand.

“You can move forward without forgetting her,” Hopper said. “That’s not what moving forward is.”

Mike let out a shaky breath. “It feels like… betrayal.”

Hopper’s jaw tightened. “No,” he said firmly. “Betrayal is giving up. Betrayal is letting this town swallow you whole. Betrayal is dying while you’re still alive.”

Mike flinched at the word.

Hopper saw it. His expression softened slightly. “Sorry,” he muttered. Then, quieter, “You know what I mean.”

Mike nodded once, throat too tight for speech. Hopper shifted, rubbing a hand over his face like he was bracing himself for something else. He checked his mirrors and indicated, pulling on to the side of the road.

He didn’t talk until the truck had come to a stop.

“I heard from Sam Owens yesterday,” he said.

Mike’s head lifted fully now. “What?”

Hopper nodded slowly. “He’s gathered enough evidence. Enough to make it stick.”

Mike’s heart thudded.

“Dr. Kay’s been arrested,” Hopper said. “Gonna stand trial.”

For a second, Mike just stared, stunned. The words didn’t fit. Arrested. Trial. Like there was a system that could be trusted to do something right for once.

His mouth twisted bitterly before he could stop himself. “She’ll probably get away with it,” he muttered. “There’s no justice in this country.”

Hopper’s eyes flicked to him sharply. “Don’t start.”

Mike huffed, looking away. “I’m serious. People like her -”

“I know,” Hopper said, voice rough. “I know how it usually goes.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice like the words mattered. Like they were something he was offering Mike carefully.

“But I believe in Owens,” Hopper said. “And I’m telling you - have some faith. For once.”

Mike swallowed. Faith felt like a fragile thing in his hands. Like something that broke the moment he touched it. But Hopper’s voice was steady. Insistent.

And Mike… Mike was tired of breaking.

“Come on,” Hopper sighed, watching the road as he started to move, the gravel crunching under the large tires.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The radio played quietly, static threading through the music. Mike stared out the window, watching Hawkins slide by - familiar streets, familiar houses, the world pretending nothing had happened.

And then a song came on.

The opening chords were bright and simple. Mike’s fingers began to tap against his knee without him meaning to. One, two, three — soft, rhythmic. His chest tightened strangely, a flicker of recognition that didn’t belong.

Hopper glanced at him. “You alright?”

Mike didn’t answer. He just kept tapping, eyes unfocused.

The lyrics started.

Oh yeah, I tell you something, I think you’ll understand…

Mike’s breath hitched. He knew this song. Or - he didn’t. Not like this. Not in a way that made his throat tighten and his skin prickle like a memory brushing too close.

His fingers tapped harder, as if trying to hold onto something just out of reach.

“Turn it up,” Mike said suddenly.

Hopper blinked. “What?”

“Turn it up,” Mike repeated, voice rough. “Please.”

Hopper reached for the dial, raising the volume. The Beatles filled the cab, bright and earnest and impossibly alive.

I wanna hold your hand…

Hopper’s mouth twitched into something almost like a smile. “Since when were you a fan of The Beatles?”

Mike swallowed, still staring straight ahead.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice quiet.

Because he didn’t. Not really. But somewhere deep inside him, something shifted - something that wasn’t Hawkins, wasn’t the monument, wasn’t the suffocating finality of graduation.

Something that felt like… a thread.

A faint, stubborn tether stretching across an ocean.

Hopper’s eyes flicked to him again, softer this time. He didn’t say anything else. He just drove.

And Mike kept tapping his fingers to the beat, heart pounding in his chest like it recognised the song before his mind could.

Like somewhere far away, someone else was hearing it too.

Mike

By lunchtime, the day had already felt like it had lasted a week.

Graduation itself had happened in flashes - heat trapped beneath caps, sweat at the back of his neck, the squeak of folding chairs, the relentless hum of voices echoing around the Hawkins High field, like even the large open space couldn’t contain the volume of moving on. The kind of noise that belonged to celebration, but still felt violent in Mike’s ears.

Dustin had been valedictorian, because of course he had. And man did he deserve it. He had been through a lot – especially after losing Eddie. He had lost himself for a while there. Mike only hoped he would eventually move forward like Dustin had.

His speech had started out almost… acceptable.

There’d been a moment, when Principal Higgins had begun to relax, shoulders dropping like he’d finally accepted that nothing catastrophic was going to happen.

Then Dustin had grinned. That alone had been the warning sign.

He’d launched into his attack of the school and Hawkins as a whole. There were giggles, there were murmurs. Cheering – especially from the party. There was Higgins’ face tightening like a man who’d just realised he’d trusted the wrong student. A student that had a debt to settle.

And then Dustin - with the timing of someone possessed by chaos and the ghost of Eddie Munson - had given Higgins the finger.

Not subtle. Not hidden behind the podium. Straight up. Proud. A little flourish, like it was a bow at the end of a performance.

There had been a second of stunned silence.

Then the field erupted.

Not everyone cheered - some parents gasped, some teachers looked like they might faint, but a surprising amount of the student body lost their minds. Mike heard someone yell, “YES HENDERSON!” from the bleachers. Lucas had laughed so hard he’d nearly choked. Even Nancy, sitting with Karen and Holly, had covered her smile with her hand and looked down like she was trying to pretend she wasn’t proud.

Principal Higgins had gripped the sides of the podium so hard Mike thought he might actually rip it apart with his bare hands.

Eddie would have been very proud.

Mike had felt… something. A flicker of warmth. A moment of normal. And then the day had kept moving, like it always did.

Now they were at Enzo’s for a celebratory lunch.

The restaurant was too loud, too bright, too crowded. Graduation had emptied into the town like a wave - families spilling out of the field and into every diner, every café, every place that served food and could pretend this was a happy ending.

The smell of pizza and garlic and hot oil hit Mike the second they walked through the door. It should have made him hungry. It should have been comforting. Instead, it made his stomach twist with something he couldn’t name.

They’d been given a booth near the wall.

Karen sat opposite him, cheeks flushed with pride and exhaustion. Ted was beside her, already halfway into a story about “back in my day,” which no one was listening to. Holly sat squashed between Karen and Nancy, swinging her legs under the table and picking at a breadstick because she couldn’t wait.

Nancy sat on Mike’s side, near the end, twisting a straw wrapper around her fingers, eyes occasionally flicking to him like she was checking he was still there.

Mike stared down at the pizza in front of him. Pineapple. Grease pooling in little orange circles. Cheese stretching in soft strands where he’d already taken a slice.

He’d eaten some. Not much. Enough to make Karen stop watching him like he was glass. Enough to keep Ted from making a comment about “I knew you weren’t going to eat a pineapple pizza.”

Enough to look normal.

But his mind wasn’t on the pizza. It was on tonight. Tonight mattered. Tonight was something he could control.

He’d planned an epic D&D campaign for the Party - something big enough to feel like the old days, but different enough to match who they were now. He’d spent weeks thinking through it. Mapping it. Writing dialogue for NPCs. Drawing a new world with careful detail - a faraway land, peaceful and strange.

Max had hesitantly agreed to join them. That alone still felt like a miracle. Mike had even made her a folder - a proper one - thick with character sheets and notes.

He couldn’t wait to get back to it. To them. To something that felt like theirs again.

Ted was still talking. Something about “how a degree opens doors,” even though Mike didn’t have a degree yet - just a diploma and a summer looming in front of him like a held breath.

Karen reached across the table and patted Mike’s hand. “I’m proud of you,” she said softly.

Mike nodded, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

Holly leaned forward, crumbs on her chin. “You looked funny in your hat,” she announced loudly.

Nancy snorted. “Holly.”

“What?” Holly said, wide-eyed. “He did!”

Mike’s smile became real for half a second. “Thanks a lot,” he told her.

Holly grinned, pleased.

The restaurant buzzed around them. Voices and laughter, plates clattering, a waitress calling out an order. Somewhere near the bar, a jukebox played something upbeat and forgettable.

And then -

The speakers.

Mike’s gaze snapped up as if yanked. They were mounted high on the wall, angled downward. Ordinary black boxes, humming softly as music filtered through them.

His chest tightened. Not because of the song. Because of the sound. Because of the memory.

At graduation, the speakers had been turned up too loud. Too loud for a field full of teenagers and proud parents, too loud for someone whose nervous system still remembered sirens and screaming. Mike had winced when the first song blasted, the sound sharp and deafening.

And for a split second - instinctive, irrational, he’d wished he had El’s power.

Just for a second. Just long enough to knock the sound out. To silence it. To give himself peace.

The thought had been automatic.

And then the next thought had followed it like a knife.

The hedgehogs. The sirens. That night…

The sound that had ripped through Hawkins, through their bones, through… El.

Her kryptonite.

Mike’s mouth went dry. He stared at the speakers as if they might answer him if he looked hard enough.

The hedgehogs… the sirens… they had been everywhere. Inescapable. El had told him how they had been loud enough to make her scream, loud enough to drop her to her knees when she was in the upside down with Hopper.

El couldn’t use her powers around that sound.

She couldn’t.

It wasn’t possible…

And yet -

Mike’s heart stuttered.

How…

How could she have used her powers?

The void. She had pulled him into the void.

But how?

How could she have been close enough to hear the hedgehogs and still powerful enough to do that?

Mike’s breath came shallow. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

Because there was only one answer.

A possibility so enormous his mind rejected it instinctively - like his brain knew it would break him if he let it in.

Could it be…

Mike’s chair scraped back suddenly.

Nancy jumped, startled. “Mike?”

Karen’s face tightened immediately. “Michael?”

He didn’t even know how to speak. The words tangled in his throat like barbed wire.

“I -” He swallowed hard, forcing something out. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. Just… stomach ache.”

Ted barely looked up. “Too much pizza.”

Holly frowned. “He hardly ate any!”

Mike couldn’t breathe properly. He pushed past the booth, muttering something that sounded like “bathroom,” and hurried out before anyone could stop him.

The bell above Enzo’s door jingled sharply as he burst outside. Sunlight hit his eyes. Warm air wrapped around him, heavy with summer heat and car exhaust and cut grass. The noise of the town hit him too - laughter spilling from the restaurant, people calling out congratulations, someone honking their horn in celebration.

Mike stumbled down the sidewalk like he didn’t belong in his own body.

His hands flew to his tie and yanked it loose, fabric sliding harshly against his throat. He ripped it free entirely, shoving it into his pocket like it was choking him.

He walked. Fast at first. Then faster, and faster.

His suit jacket felt wrong, too tight across his shoulders, trapping heat. Sweat gathered at his brow. His heart raced so hard it made his vision pulse at the edges.

He walked and walked and walked, like movement alone could keep him from exploding.

Could she be…

Alive?

The thought broke through fully now - bright and terrifying and impossible.

But he saw her.

He had seen her in the Upside Down gateway. He’d seen her body. He’d seen…

Had he?

Mike’s steps faltered. His stomach rolled. He remembered the moment like a film reel - dark and frantic, fear and smoke and blood. He’d seen her and screamed and reached, but it had all been so fast. Too fast. Too chaotic. Too much.

And there was Kali.

The mention of her had always sat wrong in Mike’s mind, like a piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit the picture they’d been given. Hopper had told them, angry and broken, that El had planned it with Kali - that they’d always intended to die.

But Hopper had been grieving too. He had been drowning.

And Kali…

Kali could make you see things. Make you believe them. Make you feel them.

Mike’s breath hitched.

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, chest heaving.

The void.

Him crying, telling El he didn’t understand.

El’s voice, calm and sad and certain.

One day you will.

Mike’s eyes widened.

Was this it? Was this one day?

His heart slammed so hard it hurt. Tears sprang up instantly, not from sadness - not this time - but from something huge and uncontrollable rising in him like a wave.

Hope. Hope so sharp it felt like pain.

Because the hedgehogs were El’s kryptonite.

If she was truly there that night… if she was truly close enough to hear them… she wouldn’t have been able to do anything. She wouldn’t have been able to open the void. She wouldn’t have been able to reach him.

But she did. She reached him.

That meant -

Mike let out a strangled laugh, half-sob, half-breath. His hands shook as he dragged them through his hair.

It couldn’t have been her in the gateway. It couldn’t have been.

Mike turned sharply and kicked the nearest post. The pain shot up his leg instantly.

“OW - fuck!” he hissed, hopping back and grabbing his shin like an idiot. He leaned against the post, panting, blinking through tears.

How did I not realise? How did I not realise sooner?

He squeezed his eyes shut, mind racing, replaying everything. The dreams. The buildings. The water. The books. The smells. The Beatles song in Hopper’s truck. The way he’d felt tethered without understanding why.

Evidence. Facts. Possibilities.

And the more he weighed them, the more the conclusion solidified - not like a theory, but like a truth that clicked into place with terrifying certainty.

Mike opened his eyes, staring at the street ahead of him like he was seeing it for the first time. His chest was still heaving. Tears clung to his lashes. Sweat slicked his forehead.

But his mouth was pulled into the biggest smile he’d felt in over eighteen months.

Not cautious, forced or even temporary.

Real.

Because he knew now. Not hoped. Knew. With his whole being. His whole heart. His whole soul.

El was alive.

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Chapter 8: Let It Be

Late May 1989

Mike

The morning after graduation arrived without ceremony. No bright sun. No triumphant sense of completion. No swelling music to mark the end of something monumental.

Hawkins woke beneath a pale, washed-out sky, light filtering thinly through the curtains of Mike Wheeler’s bedroom like it wasn’t entirely sure it should commit to the day.

Mike was already awake, and he had been for hours.

Sleep had come in broken fragments - shallow, restless, slipping through his fingers every time he thought he’d caught it. And when it had finally claimed him, it hadn’t been peaceful.

It had been water. Cold, endless and moving.

He lay on his back now, staring up at the faint cracks in the ceiling above his bed, heart still racing as though he had been running. His chest rose and fell too quickly. Too sharply. His sheets were tangled around his legs, twisted from the way he had fought through dreams he couldn’t quite hold onto.

Red brick. Narrow streets. Iron railings. The sound of seagulls cutting through cold air.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the images back into focus. They dissolved every time he reached for them, slipping away like something seen underwater.

He could almost remember the smell. Salt, metal and damp stone. He could hear water lapping gently against something unseen. Music so joyous it seemed to be sung with pride.

His throat tightened.

“Where are you?” he whispered into the empty room. The words barely carried. They fell flat against the walls and died there.

He swallowed hard. It still didn’t feel real. El was… alive.

The knowledge struck him again - sudden and electric. And for one dizzying moment he thought he might actually collapse under it. She was alive. She wasn’t gone. She hadn’t disappeared into nothingness. She was somewhere in the world, breathing the same air he was.

He could sob with relief. He could fall to his knees and thank God. But the joy was knotted so tightly with fear that it made him nauseous. Because she was still out there. Somewhere. And he had no idea where.

Was she safe? Was she alone? Had she found people she could trust? Had she been forced to hide? Had she been hurt?

And if she was okay… why hadn’t she come back? The thought burned, immediate and ugly - and just as quickly, his gut recoiled from it.

Don’t be so stupid. Of course she couldn’t come back. If she had run, she had to get as far away from Hawkins as possible. Mike knew that with certainty. It was probably the one thing he was certain of.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. The questions never stopped. They whirred through his mind constantly now - relentless and mechanical, looping over one another until he felt sick from it. He rolled onto his side, curling slightly inward, breath shallow.

He had no starting point. No map. No clue. Just dreams.

Books. Water. Red brick buildings. He tried to piece it together like a puzzle. Tried to drag something solid out of the haze. He could see rows of books - tall shelves, old wood, dust floating in pale light. He could hear gulls. He could feel cold air biting at his face.

It didn’t even feel like America. It felt older. Closer together. Tighter somehow.

His heart pounded harder.

College.

The word surfaced like something irrelevant now. In three months’ time, he was meant to pack up his life and leave for Purdue. Dorm rooms and lecture halls and a future everyone else seemed convinced he should want.

Start over… But how could he? College had never felt right. Not really. Even before. Even when he’d pretended it did. There had always been something inside him - quiet but stubborn whispering no.

Not this. This isn’t what comes next.

He had ignored it. Tried to drown it in logic and expectation and the desperate need to feel normal. But he knew now. He wasn’t meant to leave for college. He was meant to find her. The certainty settled into him slowly, frightening in its clarity.

It didn’t matter if it was dangerous. It didn’t matter if it was reckless. It didn’t matter if everyone told him it was impossible. He didn’t know which was worse - believing she was gone forever, or knowing she was out there, and he had no idea if she was safe.

At least when he’d thought she was gone, the grief had been final. This was something else entirely. This was hope without direction. It felt like his head might crack in half at all of the possibilities - fear and desperate longing to find El at war in his chest.

He stared at the wall, jaw tightening. Books. Water. Red brick.

He had to believe the dreams meant something. They were too sharp now. Too vivid. They didn’t feel random. They felt like threads - thin and fragile, but real.

He dragged in a shaky breath. She was alive. He had to believe she was okay. He had to.

Because if she wasn’t… if something had happened to her while he lay here doing nothing - going to movies, sending college applications, pretending to move on…

The thought made his stomach twist violently.

Mike pushed himself upright in bed, heart still hammering, sheets falling away from him. The room felt too small suddenly. Too still. The air too thin.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to start. But he knew one thing with bone-deep certainty. He wasn’t going to college.

Not yet. Not until he found her. Not until he knew.

And for the first time since waking, the racing in his chest shifted - not calming, not easing, but sharpening.

Direction.

Even if it terrified him. Even if it broke him. He would find her.

Somehow…  

Mike didn’t stay in bed long. Lying there had started to feel dangerous - like if he stayed still for too long the thoughts would swallow him whole.

He swung his legs over the side slowly, feet pressing into the cool carpeted floor. The house was quiet in that fragile early-morning way, one move and it would be broken. Light stretched across his bedroom walls, thin and washed out, making everything look slightly unreal.

Mike moved through getting dressed mechanically. Jeans. T-shirt. Hoodie.

He pulled the hoodie over his head and let it sit heavy on his shoulders, like armour. He dragged a hand through his hair in the mirror, studying his reflection for a moment longer than usual.

He looked old. Tired in a way that sleep didn’t fix. And underneath it all lay something fierce. Something awake. He didn’t recognise himself entirely, but he didn’t look lost anymore. He looked like someone about to do something.

The kitchen was louder. The world, apparently, had decided to continue. Ted sat at the head of the table with the morning paper spread open like a shield, muttering under his breath.

“It should be warmer by now,” he grumbled, shaking the paper slightly. “It’s almost June. This is ridiculous.”

Karen stood at the counter, coffee cup in hand, leaning forward slightly as Nancy spoke animatedly between bites of toast.

“I’m telling you, Mom, it’s different up there,” Nancy insisted. “The newsroom doesn’t care that I’m young. They care if I can write. And I can.”

Karen’s face shone with pride, soft and unguarded. “You always could.”

Holly sat opposite Mike, legs swinging beneath the chair, humming tunelessly to herself as she dragged her fork through syrup in elaborate spirals across her pancake. A magazine lay open beside her, half-read, sticky fingerprints already marking the corners.

Life. Ordinary, loud and unbothered life.

Mike slid into his seat quietly. He poured himself cereal and didn’t taste it. His spoon scraped against the bowl once, twice. He stared at nothing in particular while conversation rose and fell around him. Nancy laughed. Ted sighed at something in the paper. Holly began singing louder, some half-remembered jingle from a commercial.

It all felt… distant. Like he was watching it from behind glass.

He needed a plan. The thought landed heavily in his chest. He needed more than just panicking or hoping. An actual plan.

He couldn’t just ride around town thinking about water and books and red brick buildings. He couldn’t just sit here and let three months tick by until someone packed him off to Purdue.

He needed someone who understood risk. Someone who understood her. Someone who would know what to look for.

Hopper.

The name settled into him like inevitability. His heart gave a sharp thud in warning. Hopper would question him and tear apart his logic. He would demand proof. He would ask things Mike couldn’t possibly answer.

And he wasn’t sure he could survive that. Because hope - fragile and terrifying as it was, was all he had right now. If Hopper dismantled it, if he said it was grief twisting itself into fantasy, if he looked at Mike with that steady, practical disappointment and told him to stop -

Mike’s stomach turned. No. He couldn’t let anyone destroy this. But he also couldn’t do it alone.

He slowly set his spoon down.

“I’m heading out,” he muttered, already standing.

Karen glanced up. “Where?”

“Just into town.”

She studied him for half a second - mother’s instinct flaring briefly, but she only nodded. “Be back for dinner.”

Mike didn’t answer.

The air outside was cool, but not unpleasant. It was the kind of morning that still held condensation on cars but swore to have you sweating by midday.

Mike mounted his bike and pushed off hard. The wind hit his face immediately, sharp and grounding. Gravel crunched beneath his tires as he turned off Maple Street, pedalling faster than necessary. His legs burned slightly but he didn’t slow.

He rehearsed the words in his head as he rode.

I think she’s alive. No. Too blunt, too easy to pick apart.

I’ve been having dreams. God, that sounded insane.

There’s a place. Water. Books. Red brick - Hopper would tear that apart in seconds. You’re grieving, kid. You want her to be alive, so you’re inventing signs.

The thought made Mike grip the handlebars tighter. He couldn’t cope with that. He needed Hopper to believe him. Or at least not crush him.

He slowed slightly as the police station came into view - brick, squat, familiar. His heart hammered against his ribs as he dismounted, wheeling the bike to the rack.

This was it. He inhaled deeply. Don’t let him destroy this. He thought it again and again, the same words pulsing in his head.

He pushed through the door. The station smelled strongly of coffee, cigarette smoke and old paper. A low murmur of voices drifted from somewhere deeper inside. Mike barely registered it. His focus was singular.

The deputies and Flo didn’t even bother to acknowledge Mike. They were extremely used to him walking through now. Only ever interrupting him if they knew Hopper was actually busy.

Which was never. At least not anymore.

Mike didn’t need to knock - Hopper’s office door was wide open. He could see him leaning back in his chair, sleeves rolled up, looking like he owned the room in a way no one else ever could.

But there was something different. Hopper looked… lighter. The tension that usually sat between his brows had softened. His shoulders weren’t hunched forward in perpetual battle stance. He was holding a mug loosely in one hand, expression distracted - almost thoughtful.

“Kid,” Hopper said when he spotted him. “You’re up early.”

Mike opened his mouth. The speech he’d been rehearsing tangled instantly.

“Uh… yeah.” He managed to mumble out as he closed the office door behind him.

Hopper studied him for a moment, then huffed softly, something like amusement flickering across his face.

“I was gonna come by later,” Hopper said, shifting in his chair. “Save you the trip.”

Mike frowned. “Why?”

Hopper hesitated. Actually hesitated. Then he rubbed the back of his neck - a rare gesture of something almost shy.

“Joyce and I…” He exhaled once. “We got engaged last night.”

The words landed heavier than Mike expected. For a split second, he forgot to breathe.

“Engaged?” he repeated.

Hopper nodded, eyes flicking away briefly before settling back on him. And there it was - unmistakable. Happiness. Real, unguarded happiness.

“I asked. She said yes,” Hopper muttered, as if embarrassed by how much it meant. “Don’t let them lot hear,” he added, waving his hand towards the door. “But we’re going to be moving too. Montauk. I got offered a job there. You know… fresh start.”

Mike blinked. Montauk?! The speech in his head evaporated completely. He looked at Hopper properly then - really looked at him. The man who had shouted at him. Threatened him. Protected him. Lied for him. Fought monsters for him.

The man who had loved El as his daughter and had paid the price in grief.

He was also the man who now looked alive in a way that Mike had never seen before. Not burdened. Not bracing for attack. He was truly alive.

The words Mike had planned to say lodged in his throat. If he told him now… if he dragged him back into uncertainty, into investigation, into danger –

What if he was wrong? What if this was grief making patterns out of nothing? What if he sent Hopper chasing shadows and destroyed this… peace?

Mike swallowed.

“That’s… that’s great,” he managed, forcing a small smile. “I’m really happy for you.”

Hopper’s eyes softened slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was an awkward beat. Then Hopper stood, clearing his throat, and clapped a hand onto Mike’s shoulder. It lingered there for a second longer than necessary.

“Karen said you are going to Purdue,” Hopper said gruffly. “Well done.”

Mike shrugged. “Maybe.”

Hopper raised an eyebrow. “Maybe?”

Mike looked down at the floor briefly before meeting his gaze again.

“I might… travel first,” he said carefully.

Hopper studied him, reading more than Mike was saying. “Karen know that?”

Mike hesitated.

“…Not yet.”

Hopper huffed, not unkindly. “You should tell her.”

Silence settled between them - not hostile, not tense. Just heavy with everything unsaid. Their relationship had never been simple. Hopper had once told him to stay away from El. Mike had once screamed and pounded on the Chief’s chest calling him a liar.

They had both been wrong at times. And they had both lost her.

But beneath all of it - the shouting, the stubbornness… there was something unbreakable. They were bonded. Whether they liked it or not. Because if El was alive…

Then Hopper was more than just the chief of police or Will’s stepdad.

He was family to Mike. And he knew, deep in his bones, that if he could bring her back - if he could stand here one day and say she was safe. Hopper would forgive him for this silence.

Hopper pulled him into a hug before Mike could overthink it. It was awkward and not exactly graceful. But it was real.

“Don’t screw it up, kid,” Hopper muttered into his shoulder. “Whatever you’re planning.”

Mike stiffened slightly.

“Not planning anything,” he lied.

Hopper made a noncommittal sound that clearly meant I don’t believe you. They stepped apart, and for a second, they just stood there – two stubborn men pretending not to feel too much at once.

But then Mike really looked at him. Hopper looked… cheerful. Not forced. Not performative. Not the gruff, almost embarrassed half-smile he wore when someone thanked him for doing his job.

This was different.

There was something open in his face. For the first time, Hopper looked like a man who believed he might get to keep something.

Mike felt it settle heavily in his chest.

“I’m glad,” he said quietly. “About you and Joyce.”

Hopper’s mouth twitched - and then he smiled. Not wide or dramatic. But enough that it changed his whole face. The tough exterior cracked just slightly, and something raw and almost boyish showed through.

“Yeah,” Hopper muttered, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck again, like he didn’t quite know what to do with the happiness. “Me too.”

He didn’t say much more than that, but he didn’t need to. His feelings about Joyce were written all over him - in the way his eyes softened when he said her name, in the way his voice lost its gravelly edge.

Mike hesitated. The words rose up before he could stop them.

“And I’m glad,” he added, more firmly now, “that Will and Jonathan get the father they always deserved.”

The air shifted and Hopper stilled. Something passed across his face so quickly Mike almost missed it - surprise, maybe. Or disbelief. Or the sharp, defensive instinct of a man not used to being told he was needed.

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His throat worked once. Twice. For a fleeting second, Mike saw it - the other losses. The ghosts that hovered permanently behind Hopper’s eyes.

Sarah.

And then El. The girl he had let into his life cautiously, stubbornly - who had crawled into his heart whether he liked it or not. The girl he had called his daughter.

Hopper swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” he managed eventually, voice rougher now. “Well.”

He cleared his throat, looking away briefly as if to steady himself.

“I’ll try not to screw that up.”

Mike nodded once, throat tight. Hopper had lost two daughters. One to illness. One to the world.

The idea that he might get to be someone’s father again - not in grief, not in memory, but in everyday life, meant more than Mike could probably articulate. It meant something to him too. Because if El was alive…

Then this wasn’t over. None of it was.

Hopper looked back at him then, eyes clearer but still bright at the edges.

“You’re a good kid,” he muttered, almost reluctantly. “Even when you’re a pain in my ass.”

Mike huffed a soft laugh. “Thanks.”

They stood there for another beat - years of shouting matches and slammed doors and protective threats layered between them. Hopper reached forward again, pulling Mike into another hug - firmer this time. Less awkward. A heavy hand thumped against his back.

“Montauk’s not the moon,” Hopper muttered. “You need anything, you call.”

Mike nodded into his shoulder. If I find her, he thought. You’ll be the first person I tell.

He stepped back and smiled slightly. Hopper looked hopeful and Mike would not destroy that. Not when the only proof he had was dreams and instinct and a feeling that refused to die.

“I’m really happy for you,” Mike said again, quieter this time.

Hopper nodded, emotion still hovering just beneath the surface. And before he could lose his nerve. Before the words she’s alive could be torn free –

Mike turned to leave.

The door shut behind him with a soft click. The sun outside felt brighter than it had earlier. But the weight in his chest had shifted. Not lighter, but sharper.

He mounted his bike slowly this time. If he was going to find her, he might just have to start alone.

El

The bus lurched violently before it had even properly pulled away from the stop. El grabbed the metal pole instinctively, steadying herself as Sue barrelled forwards like she had personally insulted the driver by not being seated already.

“Honestly!” Sue snapped, clutching her handbag to her chest. “Are we in a hurry to meet Jesus or wha’? It’s eight in the mornin’!”

The driver didn’t respond, but Sue tutted anyway.

El followed her down the narrow aisle, trying not to smile too much. The bus was already half full - school children, pensioners, a man in a fluorescent jacket smelling faintly of engine oil.

Sue clocked three people within seconds.

“Oh for God’s sake,” she muttered under her breath. “Will I ever get a moment’s peace?”

“Sue! El! Mornin’!” a woman called from two rows ahead.

Sue’s face transformed instantly.

“Maureen!” she boomed, like they were long-lost war companions. “Still alive, are ya?”

Maureen cackled. El slid into a seat by the window while Sue hovered halfway down the aisle, already mid-conversation.

“You hear about Linda’s Colin?” Sue continued loudly. “Absolute disgrace. Thirty-two years old and still livin’ off toast and bad decisions. Sowing his wild oats I hear.”

The entire bus could hear.

El stared out of the window, hands folded tightly in her lap. Liverpool moved past in flashes - red brick buildings, corner shops, rows of terraced houses pressed close together like they were sharing secrets.

Her stomach churned. She was going to the Registry Office. The words echoed like a drumbeat. This is where the rest of her life would start.

She had talked it all through with Dave. Well, she hadn’t told him why she needed this documentation, why she didn’t already have them. But the first step was a certified copy of her birth certificate. Then from there she could get her national insurance card and most importantly – her passport. Her British passport.

That alone felt crazy.

She felt ready for this step in so many ways. She was tired of tricking people, tired of not being ‘official’. But to get to that point, she ironically had to call upon Kali’s gift again.

El hadn’t used her powers properly in months. In truth – over a year. She had tried to practice a little. Late at night when the house was asleep.

She had stood in the bathroom, making things levitate. She had sat on a bus like this and tried to do simple illusions – like making the bus driver slow down.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes it resulted in a thin line of red beneath her nose which Jenny always noticed.

“You’re gettin’ nosebleeds again,” Jenny had said sharply last week, eyes narrowing.

“Stress,” El had replied quickly.

Jenny hadn’t believed her.

El swallowed. What if it didn’t work today? What if she walked into the Registry Office and nothing happened? What if the illusion faltered mid-sentence? What if someone saw her?

Her heart began to race. She needed that birth certificate. Without it, there was no passport. Without a passport, there was no Iceland. Without Iceland -

Her chest tightened painfully. She didn’t let herself finish the thought.

Sue finally flopped down beside her with a dramatic sigh.

“Honestly, if Maureen talks about her bunions one more time, I’m throwin’ meself off the bus.”

El gave her a faint smile.

“Sue,” she tried gently, for what felt like the fifth time that morning, “you don’t need to come in with me.”

Sue whipped her head around immediately.

“Nonsense.”

“I can do it.”

“I know you can do it,” Sue shot back, offended. “That’s not the point.”

El hesitated.

“You’ve never applied for a certified copy before,” Sue continued, lowering her voice slightly like they were discussing state secrets. If only she knew. “They’ll ask questions. They always do. And I’ve got a face that says ‘don’t mess with me’.”

El almost laughed. “That is true.”

Sue nodded proudly. “Exactly.”

The bus jolted again. A man across the aisle glanced at them curiously. Sue leaned closer.

“Why are you so desperate to go in alone anyway?” she asked, squinting at El suspiciously.

Because I need to change how they see me. Because I need to bend memory and reality. Because I need to become someone else.

El forced her expression into something softer.

“It’s about my real parents,” she said quietly.

Sue stilled. The humour drained from her face in an instant.

El stared at her hands. “I just think… it will be hard,” she continued, voice small but steady. “Talking about them. I don’t want to do that in front of you.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie. Her parents. Her mama. The lab. The lies. It was hard.

Sue’s expression shifted - irritation melting into something far gentler.

“Oh, chick,” she murmured.

El kept her gaze lowered, allowing silence to stretch just long enough.

“I know you want to help,” El added softly. “But this is something I think I need to do alone.”

Sue sighed heavily. “Well now I feel like an absolute villain.”

“You’re not. Trust me.” El said solemnly.

Sue huffed. “I just don’t like the idea of you walkin’ into government buildings on your own. They’ve all got faces like slapped arses.”

El blinked. “What?”

“It’s a sayin’!” Sue snapped. “Means they’re miserable.”

“Oh.”

A beat passed. Sue leaned back in her seat, folding her arms.

“Fine,” she said finally. “I’ll wait outside.”

El looked up. “You will?”

“I’m not abandonin’ you entirely,” Sue said sternly. “I’ll be right outside that door. If anyone so much as breathes funny at you, I’m stormin’ in.”

El felt something warm bloom in her chest. “Thank you.”

Sue narrowed her eyes at her. “You better not be doing anythin’ illegal.”

El’s stomach flipped. “Of course not.”

Sue studied her for a long second - as if weighing something unspoken, then nodded once.

“Good.”

The bus began to slow.

“El,” Sue added quietly, surprising her.

El turned.

“You don’t owe anybody the full story,” Sue said. “Not today. Not ever, if you don’t want to.”

El’s throat tightened. She wondered – fleetingly, if she would ever be brave enough to tell Sue. To tell Jenny. To tell any of them. About the lab. About her powers. About all the people she had to leave behind. She didn’t know.

The bus hissed to a stop and Liverpool Registry Office came into view ahead - solid grey stone, official - unwelcoming. El’s heart began to pound. She rose slowly. Sue stood too, adjusting her handbag like she was preparing for battle.

“Right chick,” Sue muttered. “Let’s go deal with the bureaucratic bastards.”

El almost laughed again. Almost. Because underneath it all - the humour, the noise, the bus chatter -

Her fear sat sharp and bright in her chest.

Please let this work.

Please.

El and Sue followed the crowded aisle of passengers off the bus. Thanking the driver as they hopped off. Sue waved to Maureen and then muttered “busy body” under her breath.

They walked the short distance to the registry office and Sue turned to El, adjusting her collar like she was sending her into a fighting ring.

“You’re sure?” Sue asked again, though her tone had softened now.

“Yes,” El replied gently.

Sue leaned in and pressed a loud, unapologetic kiss to El’s cheek.

“If anythin’ goes wrong,” she said firmly, gripping her shoulders, “you run. I’ll be right outside, and I swear to God I’ll whack ‘em with this handbag.”

She lifted it slightly for emphasis.

El almost smiled. “You’re only half joking,” she observed.

“Exactly,” Sue replied. “Half.”

She squeezed El once more and then stepped back, planting herself on the bench outside the Registry Office doors like a self-appointed bodyguard.

“Go on,” she urged. “You’ve got this.”

El nodded, steering herself towards the oak double doors and stepped inside. The air changed immediately. Cooler. Still. The door shut behind her with a heavy click that echoed longer than it should have.

Liverpool Registry Office felt old in a way that clung to the walls. The brick inside was darker than outside, stained by years of damp air and quiet waiting. The ceilings were high and slightly arched, sound carrying upward and dissolving into shadow.

It smelled faintly of dust, parchment paper, and over-brewed tea.

Her hands were clammy. She wiped them discreetly against the thighs of her jeans as she approached the front desk.

The receptionist sat behind it like she had always been there - small and narrow-shouldered, grey hair pinned into a tight bun that matched the faded stone of the building itself. Her glasses perched low on her nose as she flipped slowly through a ledger.

The woman looked up. Her eyes were pale and sharp.

“Yes?”

El swallowed. “I have an appointment,” she said carefully. “For a certified copy of my birth certificate.” The words felt larger than they should have.

“Name?” the receptionist asked, pen poised.

And everything inside El stilled. This was the moment. She had rehearsed it for weeks. Turned it over in her mind late at night. Whispered variations into the dark.

Hopper. For a long time, she had thought she would use Hopper.

Eleanor Hopper. It would have been… right.

He had been her father in every way that mattered. He had fought for her. Lied for her. Built her a bedroom. Loved her.

But Eleanor Hopper would be traceable. Too traceable. If anyone from the lab was still searching - if even one thread of that world had survived, an American surname linked to a police chief who had publicly claimed her as his daughter would not go unnoticed.

She had considered Ives. Her mother’s name. Eleanor Ives.

But that felt dangerous too. Too obvious. Too close to files that might still exist somewhere in a government drawer. She had even thought about changing her first name. Something softer. Something forgettable.

But no. That was sacred. Mike had called her El.

It was the first name that had ever felt like hers.

More than Jane. Jane felt like a stolen life. Who she had meant to be. If anything, it hurt. It reminded her of the life she should have had with Terry and Andrew.

El was her chosen name. Even if a part of her worried that saying that was a betrayal of her mother.

Eleanor had only come about because of Sue.

“Are you Eleanor or Ellen?” Sue had asked casually one evening.

And El had thought quickly on her feet.

Eleanor. It had sounded right. Fuller and strong. A name she would happily use for official documents and strangers.

The receptionist cleared her throat softly. “Name?” she repeated.

El lifted her chin. “Eleanor Kelly.”

The words landed solidly in the air between them.

Eleanor Kelly.

The receptionist nodded without reaction, scribbling something into the ledger. El’s pulse roared in her ears. She hadn’t told the Kellys that she was using their surname, and she prayed they wouldn’t mind.

Logically, it made sense. If anyone was looking for her - if anyone ever crossed an ocean in search of a girl who had disappeared, a house full of Kellys was less suspicious than anything else.

A common surname here in Liverpool. It allowed her to be normal and blend into the background. But deep down… she knew it was more than strategy.

It was because they felt like family. Because Sue had kissed her cheek that morning without hesitation. Because Dave checked the locks every night. Because Jenny looked at her like she was worth protecting. Because Danny argued and laughed with her like she belonged. Because they had taken her in without question.

Because they loved her. And she loved them.

The receptionist flipped another page and then nodded briskly.

“Take a seat,” she instructed. “You’ll be called shortly.”

El stepped away from the desk carefully, legs slightly unsteady. The waiting area was lined with wooden chairs polished smooth by decades of anxious hands. The floorboards creaked faintly under her weight. Somewhere deeper inside the building, a door opened and shut with a hollow thud.

It echoed. Everything echoed.

She sat. Her hands folded in her lap, fingers pressing tightly together. The building felt like it was holding its breath. She could feel the faint hum beneath her skin now - that familiar vibration that came when she reached for something beyond the visible. For her power.

Since she had got on that ship, nothing had mattered as much as this moment. She inhaled slowly. Don’t fail.

Outside, Sue was probably chatting to a stranger already. Inside, El waited.

The waiting room clock ticked too loudly. Each second struck the air like a hammer. El’s hands rested in her lap, fingers pressed so tightly together they ached. The wood beneath her felt cold through her jeans. The air tasted stale.

If this failed… if she lost control.  If someone looked at her too closely… they would call someone. And someone would call someone else. And somewhere, in a dark room across an ocean, a file would reopen. She could see it so clearly it made her vision swim.

She swallowed nervously just as the door down the corridor creaked open.

An old man stepped into the waiting area. He was tall but slightly stooped, his suit worn at the elbows, his hair thin and white against a scalp that matched the pale stone of the building. His glasses slipped down his nose as he peered at the clipboard in his hands.

His voice was dry, almost papery. “Eleanor Kelly?”

The name echoed. Eleanor Kelly. It was real now.

El rose slowly. Her knees felt weak, but she forced her shoulders back. Forced her face into something calm. Something harmless.

“Yes,” she said, voice steady enough.

He nodded once and turned without waiting for further acknowledgement. She followed him slowly. The corridor was narrow and dim. The floorboards creaked beneath their weight. Doors lined either side, each one painted the same institutional beige that made everything feel temporary.

He pushed one open. “Through here please.”

The office smelled faintly of stale cigarettes and old ink. The curtains were half drawn, allowing in a thin strip of daylight that cut across the desk like a blade.

The man sat behind it with a soft exhale and gestured to the chair opposite.

“Take a seat.”

El did. Slowly, carefully. Her pulse roared in her ears. This is it. Her nose tingled faintly. She inhaled once, grounding herself.

He adjusted his glasses and reached for a form. “Right then,” he muttered. “Certified copy.”

His pen hovered. “Mother’s name?”

And El reached. Not violently. But as gently as she could.

She let her mind unfurl like smoke, quiet and precise. She slipped between the cracks of his attention. She found the soft place in his thoughts where routine lived. Where paperwork was automatic. Where memory blurred easily.

You are going to give me a certified copy of my birth certificate. My name is Eleanor Kelly.

The words pulsed through her and along the line to him.

Mother: Mary Kelly.

Father: Unknown.

Born in Liverpool, England, United Kingdom.

Date of Birth: 16th February 1971.

She chose the date carefully. Old enough. Plausible. Unremarkable. Her nose began to sting. The man’s hand twitched slightly, but he didn’t look up. He simply reached for another sheet of paper.

El’s heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was certain he would hear it.

He began to write. His handwriting was beautiful - looped and careful, like he had spent decades perfecting the shape of letters. Ink flowed smoothly across the official paper, black and permanent.

Eleanor Kelly.

She watched the letters form. Watched her name take shape. Not in a lab file. Not in a government experiment log. Not assigned to her. Chosen. Created from love.

Her vision blurred briefly, her hands shook. She knew this moment was going to be a lot on her powers. She had not anticipated how hard it was going to be on her emotions.

Stay focused. You were born here. You exist here. You belong here.

The man reached for a large ledger, flipping through pages that crackled faintly with age. He wrote again. Cross-referenced. Confirmed. His movements were methodical – normal. A routine that he did every day.

El’s hands began to tremble and her nose was starting to feel very damp, but she ignored it. This was the final fight. Not against Henry, the Mind Flayer or a Demogorgon. No. This was a fight against being a girl who had never officially existed.

The man reached for the stamp. The heavy, metal stamp. He pressed it down firmly onto the paper. A solid, satisfying thud. The sound echoed in the small office. Ink transferred cleanly. An embossed seal followed, pressed into the thick official paper with quiet authority.

There it was. A real, stamped, official UK birth certificate. Registry reference number, embossed crest, government seal. A powerful document. Proof.

This is mine.

For her and no one else. A document that she was born here. That she always had a place to go. That she could apply for a passport and that she could travel. That she could stand at the airport desk, next to Jenny, Sue, Dave and Danny and hand over her name without fear.

This gave her something she had never had. Choices. Choices and options in a world that had just opened up to her.

Her breath hitched. The illusion wavered for half a second - just a flicker, and she poured the last of her focus into it.

You have done this a thousand times. This is just a routine.

She forced her mind steady, and the man slowly lifted his head. His eyes looked slightly dazed, like he had surfaced from a very shallow nap. But he smiled at her kindly.

“Here you go, Miss Kelly,” he said gently, sliding the certificate across the desk. “Have a good day now.”

Miss Kelly.

El reached for it and her hands shook, her hazel eyes widening in disbelief. She felt the texture of the paper beneath her fingertips - thick, official, real. Not imaginary, not conjured. Official.

It was perfect and it was hers.

Tears blurred her vision completely now. “Thank you,” she said, voice breaking despite her effort to keep it level.

She stood carefully and walked to the door.

“Miss Kelly?”

El startled, turning slowly to look at the man. Her heart jumped into her throat. Had she ended the illusion too quickly? No. It couldn’t all have been for nothing. Please.

The man pointed at her face, a slight concern in his brow. “You’ve got a nose bleed love. Bathrooms third door on your right.”

El wanted to laugh, she hesitantly dabbed beneath her nose. Blood came away on her fingers. She smiled, she couldn’t help it.

“Right,” she exhaled shakily, trying to control her emotions. “I… um, I’ll go sort it out now. Thank you.”

El opened the door and stepped into the corridor, her lips already curving into a smile. The space felt brighter somehow. Louder and alive. She walked straight past reception, past the grey-haired woman who barely glanced up, past the waiting chairs and the ticking clock.

Her heart was still racing. Her nose burned slightly. She wiped at it quickly, catching the faintest smear of red on her sleeve.

She pushed through the heavy doors into daylight. The air hit her like freedom, and a noise half way between a laugh and a sob broke free from her chest.

Sue turned immediately from her bench. “Well?!” she demanded.

El couldn’t speak, she just clutched the certificate to her chest and beamed.

Sue’s mouth fell open. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, thank god.”

El blinked rapidly, wiping at tears she couldn’t stop now. She had done it. The first step – the hardest step.

Sue wrapped El up in the warmest, tightest hug. She couldn’t stop her sobs, feeling safe and accepted in the arms of someone who loved her. She was no longer a ghost. No longer someone who didn’t feel like they didn’t belong. She was Eleanor Kelly. She was El. And she had a life to live.

And the world had just made space for her.

The jigsaw pieces clicked together with quiet precision. El sat cross-legged on one of the wooden kitchen chairs, leaning over the table while Dave studied the puzzle box lid with more intensity than she had ever seen. It was a countryside scene - rolling hills, sheep, a cottage with smoke curling from its chimney.

Dave had insisted on starting with the border. “Structure first,” he’d muttered. “Can’t have chaos.”

El smiled faintly, sliding a small green piece into place. It fit and Dave nodded approvingly.

“See?” he said. “Patience.”

Sue’s voice cut across the room immediately.

“Patience my arse, David! You nearly threw the box across the room when you couldn’t find that corner piece!”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did!”

The kitchen smelled like comfort. Sue stood at the counter in a cloud of steam and badly pitched singing to George Michael, chopping potatoes with dramatic flair.

“I’m never gonna dance again! Guilty feet have got no rhythm! Though it’s easy to pretend, I know you’re not a fool – “

“You sure?” Dave muttered without looking up.

Sue ignored him entirely. Carrots were already diced, peas sat waiting in a bowl. Gravy simmered in a saucepan, thick and rich. Cottage pie – El’s favourite.

Sue had declared it a “bloody celebration feast” the moment they had walked through the door and announced the good news to Dave. Dave who had been enjoying a calm day off for once after working a long weekend at the supermarket.

Her birth certificate lay safely upstairs in her room, tucked inside a folder. Like normal people did with their important documentation. The thought made El smile to herself as she put another piece of the puzzle in its place.

The kitchen door suddenly flew open with a bang. Jenny burst in like a hurricane, nurse’s uniform slightly crooked, cap askew, cheeks flushed from rushing. She stopped dead in the doorway, her eyes scanning the room before landing on El.

“Well?!” she demanded. “Did ya get it?!”

El didn’t even try to hold back her pleased grin.

“Yes.”

Jenny let out a squeal so loud Sue nearly dropped a potato.

“I knew it!” Jenny shouted, throwing her bag onto a chair and launching herself across the kitchen. She collided with El in a fierce hug, wrapping her arms around her so tightly El nearly toppled sideways.

“Careful!” Dave barked. “You’re ruinin’ the bloody sheep!”

Jenny didn’t let go. “You did it,” she breathed into El’s shoulder. “You actually did it.”

El laughed softly, hugging her back.

“Yes.”

Sue wiped her hands on a tea towel and turned dramatically. “Of course she did,” she announced proudly. “Have you seen her? Determined little thing.”

Jenny pulled back slightly, eyes shining. “Let me see it then,” she insisted.

El hesitated - then something else rose inside her. Something she had meant to say.

“I need to tell you all something,” she said quietly, her stomach starting to twist in knots.

Sue narrowed her eyes instantly. “Oh God, wha’?”

El stood slowly, glancing between them.

“When I gave my surname…” she began carefully. “I put Kelly.”

There was a small pause. Dave blinked. Jenny frowned slightly in confusion.

El rushed on. “I didn’t want to use my parents’ surname,” she explained. “It’s… too traceable. And if anyone were ever looking…” Her voice softened. “It made more sense. A household of Kellys is less suspicious.”

She swallowed. “I should have asked you. I know that. I just… I hoped it would be okay.”

Silence hung for a split second. Then Sue’s expression changed – not offended or confused. Proud.

“Oh, chick,” she said softly. She crossed the room and cupped El’s face in her slightly damp hands.

“Nonsense.” Her voice carried that familiar steel underneath the warmth. “You’re one of us, my love,” Sue said firmly. “And we protect our own.”

El’s throat tightened immediately.

Dave cleared his throat awkwardly, but his eyes were kind.

“Doesn’t change much for us,” he muttered. “Just means we’ve another one to worry about.”

Jenny beamed. “So we really are like sisters now,” she said, nudging El lightly. “Or cousins? What’s the technical term here?”

El laughed through the tightness in her chest. “I’m always going to be your sister,” she said softly.

Jenny’s grin widened. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you.”

Sue sniffed loudly. “Right,” she declared briskly, turning back to the stove before she got too emotional. “Enough of that. Dinner in ten. If anyone ruins me mash, I’ll disown the lot of you.”

Later, they ate together. The table was loud and full and alive. Cottage pie steamed in generous portions. Gravy pooled at the edges of plates. El took a bite and nearly closed her eyes at the taste - salt and warmth and safety.

Danny was mid-rant. “I’m tellin’ you, it was offside,” he insisted, stabbing his fork at nothing. “Absolute robbery.”

“You say that every week,” Jenny replied with a smirk.

“It was though!”

Sue leaned back dramatically. “Maybe you’ll find a girlfriend at a match one day,” she teased. “Bond over shared disappointment.”

Danny groaned. “Oh for God’s sake mum.”

El laughed quietly, spoon scraping gently against her plate. Dave ate contentedly, occasionally glancing at the newspaper folded beside him but mostly just listening.

It was all so normal. Comfortable. Steady.

Jenny leaned closer to El, her knee nudging against hers beneath the table. She squeezed her hand lightly. Her bright blue eyes vulnerable and kind.

“He’s gonna be so proud of you,” Jenny whispered.

El didn’t need to ask who she meant. Her heart stuttered softly in her chest.

Mike.

Across an ocean.

She smiled through the swell of emotion rising in her throat. She desperately hoped he was okay. She hoped he was still staying safe. She hadn’t managed to pluck up the courage to visit him again in the void. It had been too much – too painful to even breathe afterwards.

El felt like if there was something terribly wrong, she would feel it. She couldn’t explain why. Couldn’t put that feeling into words. It felt more complicated than that - like part of her DNA now. But since she had seen Mike in the void, she felt an undercurrent. Always there now. In the background humming away. It was something infinite.

El took another bite of cottage pie and let herself be in the moment. The warmth, the noise, the love. For tonight, that was enough. But across that ocean, something was shifting.

Mike

The basement felt smaller than usual. Or maybe Mike was just too full of thoughts for the space to hold.

The radio sat on the old folding table near the couch, volume turned just high enough to fill the room without overwhelming it. Music drifted through the stale air - steady, rhythmic, grounding.

He hadn’t consciously chosen The Beatles. He’d just turned the dial until something felt right. Now the sound of guitars and harmonies threaded through the basement like oxygen.

Mike paced - back and forth, back and forth. His sneakers scuffed the same patch of carpet repeatedly until it began to flatten under the repetition. His hands ran through his hair so many times it stood uneven and wild.

Think.

If she wasn’t in America -

He stopped, pressed his palms to his eyes. Could she have gone north? Canada? It was closer – safe, quieter than the US.

But the dreams. Grey water. Not lake water. Something bigger. Something vibrant and busy.  Red brick buildings pressed close together. Not like Hawkins. Not wide streets and lawns and quiet suburban sprawl.

Could she have gotten to the UK? His heart thudded harder at the thought. That would have meant a ship. Or a plane. Would she do that?

Mike let out a shaky breath. There wasn’t much El wouldn’t do to survive.

He knew that.

She had crossed dimensions. She had closed gates to hell. She had run before. Again, and again because for some horrid reason she wasn’t allowed peace. It made Mike’s jaw twitch with frustration.

His hands gripped at his hair again. He was missing something. He had to be.

The radio swelled slightly - “Let It Be” humming softly through the speakers.

Mother Mary comes to me…

Mike froze.

He didn’t even consciously register the lyrics. He just let the music wrap around him and for a moment - just a moment, his thoughts slowed enough to line up.

Music helped him focus. It cut through the noise in his head. He didn’t question it. Not yet anyway.

The basement door creaked open followed by footsteps. More than one set. The familiar shuffle of people who had been down here a thousand times before. But Mike didn’t even register it as he continued to pace.

“Why are you listening to The Beatles?” Will’s voice asked, gentle but curious.

Mike looked up. Will stood halfway down the stairs, hand resting lightly on the railing. Dustin hovered behind him, already scanning the room like he was about to diagnose a problem. Lucas leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Max stood slightly apart -watchful.

“You know their music?” Mike asked, distracted.

Will shrugged. “Some.”

Mike nodded once and resumed pacing. The four of them exchanged a look. It was silent but loud with concern.

“You okay, man?” Lucas asked carefully.

Mike let out a short laugh that bordered on hysterical. “Do I look okay?”

“...No,” Dustin said bluntly. “Definitely not okay.”

Max stepped forward slightly. “Is this about El?” she asked. “What you told us last night?”

Mike stopped pacing, and turned to stare at his friends. He really looked at them now. The four faces that had stood beside him through monsters and Henry and near-death experiences. The four people who had watched him break and hadn’t walked away.

He could feel how vulnerable this moment was. How unbearably fragile the situation was – how fragile he was.

“I want to find her,” Mike said. The words landed heavy and for a moment, no one spoke. But he could feel it in the air. Hope flickering, grief tightening.

Max exhaled sharply - almost like she’d been holding her breath for months.

“Finally,” she muttered. “When do we leave?”

Mike blinked.

Lucas blinked. “Max?” he asked, his voice slightly startled.

Max looked genuinely affronted. “What? From the moment Wheeler said El could be alive, I wanted to find her. She might need us.”

Mike looked at her properly then. Her jaw was set. Her eyes bright. Not reckless -determined. She met his gaze and gave the smallest nod.

“Okay,” Dustin said cautiously. “I’m all for Operation Find El. But is this not slightly insane? Shouldn’t we involve more people? Nancy? Jonathan? Ste -”

“Not Steve,” Mike muttered automatically, rolling his eyes.

“Fine. Not Steve,” Dustin conceded. “But adults? Hopper?”

Mike’s jaw tightened slightly at that.

“Not Hopper. Not yet anyway…”

Will sat down on the edge of the couch, fingers laced together. “Where do we even start?” he asked quietly.

Mike hesitated. This was the part that sounded crazy.

He swallowed loudly, embarrassment starting to surface.

“I’ve… been having dreams.”

He braced himself. He expected Max to slow clap. Expected Dustin to immediately diagnose him with something. But there was only silence. Silence that told him his friends were giving him their full attention. In fact, they were encouraging him on.

“I, um…” Mike rubbed the back of his neck. “I dream of grey water. And red brick buildings. Narrow streets. Sometimes I dream of books. Like… loads of books. Shelves. And I can hear music.”

He glanced at the radio. “It’s usually The Beatles. I think…”

Max frowned thoughtfully. “Were you getting those dreams before El disappeared?” she asked.

“No,” Mike admitted. “And not straight after either. They’ve grown stronger. Clearer.”

Dustin began pacing now too, mirroring Mike’s earlier movement. Will leaned forward. Lucas looked between Max and Mike like he was watching two chess players.

“Okay,” Dustin muttered. “Grey water. Red brick. Books. The Beatles.”

“The Beatles are British,” Will said softly.

Everyone looked at him.

“Well,” he added, shrinking slightly. “They’re from Liverpool.”

The word hung there. Liverpool. Mike’s pulse quickened so drastically he felt light headed. The room felt blurry and he had to blink rapidly to focus.

Max’s eyes sharpened watching Mike’s reaction.

“Could she have gotten to England?” Lucas asked slowly.

“That’s a long way,” Dustin said, but there was no dismissal in his voice now - just calculation.

“Ships,” Max said. “Cargo ships. They leave from ports.”

“Or planes,” Will added.

“Does she have ID?” Lucas asked.

Mike shook his head helplessly. “Hopper said she left everything.”

The helplessness started creeping back in - cold and paralysing. Mike thought of everything El had left behind. Not all of them were physical items.

Dustin snapped his fingers. “Research,” he said decisively. “We hit the library. We check maps. We look at port cities with lots of red brick architecture.”

“Music,” Will added. “If it’s The Beatles every time -”

“Music store,” Max said immediately. “We ask if they know where their biggest fan bases are. Or if there’s a British-themed section.”

“World map,” Lucas muttered. “We need a world map.”

They were talking over each other now. Planning, arguing, moving.

Mike stood still in the middle of it all. And slowly, the weight shifted. He wasn’t alone in this. They weren’t looking at him like he was insane. They weren’t telling him to let it go. They were strategising. Max was already pulling her keys from her pocket.

“Okay,” she declared. “We split up. Wheeler, you’re with me. We start with maps. Lucas, Will, you hit the record store. Dustin - library.”

“You’re very bossy,” Lucas muttered.

“Shut up,” Max replied automatically.

Mike felt it then. A smile. Small but unavoidable. Because for the first time since waking up that morning, the panic wasn’t suffocating him. It was being shared. It felt like the old days. Like when they had drawn maps of tunnels beneath Hawkins. Like when impossible things became missions. Missions that had always moved them forward. Missions that had ended in success and not heart break.

“Okay,” Mike said quietly.

Max glanced at him. “You good?”

He looked around at all of them. Will. Dustin. Lucas. Max. His party.

“Yeah,” he said, and this time it wasn’t a lie. “I’m good.”

Because they were moving.  And when the party moved together – they found things. And somewhere, across an ocean, a place filled with red brick docks, grey water and music, someone was waiting to be found.

Mike could feel it.

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Chapter 9: Come Find Me

Mike

The Hawkins Public Library had always felt bigger than it actually was. Tall windows filtered in pale afternoon light that caught dust in slow-moving beams. The carpet was a muted brown that swallowed footsteps. The smell of old paper and glue and something faintly lemony from the janitor hung in the air.

It was quiet. Not exactly empty – just reverent. Like the building understood the weight of information it held.

Mike stood at one of the long wooden tables near the geography section, a map of the United States spread out in front of him. His palms pressed flat against it, as if proximity alone might reveal something hidden.

Max leaned beside him, elbow digging into the table as she traced coastlines with her finger.

“Okay,” she said, practical and steady. “Are you absolutely sure she isn’t still in America?”

Mike exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he admitted. “It just doesn’t feel like that.”

Max didn’t immediately argue. She just watched him, her blue eyes patient for once.

“It doesn’t feel like home,” he added quietly. “The dreams… where she is feels older. Wilder. Not spread out like this.” He gestured vaguely at the sprawl of states.

Dustin appeared from between two towering bookshelves, arms overloaded with glossy photo books that he dropped onto the table with a heavy thud.

“Behold,” he announced with a loud exhale. “Europe.”

Mike blinked. Dustin flipped one open dramatically to a full-page photograph of London – tall terrace houses lining narrow streets, iron railings, grey sky hanging low above the Thames. Mike leaned forward before he could stop himself.

He felt his pulse quicken. “That’s what I mean,” he murmured.

Max and Dustin exchanged a look - their gaze was a whirl of hopeful anxiety.

“That feels right?” Max asked carefully, her eyes flickering over Mike’s face like she was looking for even one small shred of doubt. He knew how much this meant to her too.

Mike nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s closer.”

He flipped the page. There was countryside too. Mountains, hills and open space. Stone cottages. More brick buildings, more narrow streets. Bridges arching over grey water. He could almost hear it – the gulls, the wind.

Dustin shifted awkwardly. “You know Europe is a big place, right?” he said.

Mike gave him a flat look.

Dustin raised his hands in surrender. “Just… scientifically speaking.”

Max refocused on the map she’d dragged over - this one a world map, corners curling slightly from years of being folded and unfolded.

“If she took a ship,” Max said thoughtfully, “cargo ships from America most likely land in Southampton.”

She tapped the southern coast of England. “Major port.”

Mike’s stomach dropped. The image hit him without warning. El curled in the dark hull of a cargo ship – cold metal walls. No light, no food. Alone.

“I hate the thought of her hidden on a cargo ship,” he muttered, jaw tightening. “Scared and hungry. Dirty…”

The words tasted bitter, and he felt his fingers twitch. A desperate need to be able to hold her overtook him. It came over him like a wave. It was like he was drowning, desperate to reach and gasp for the air he needed to survive. He knew he would never breathe easy until he found her and knew she was safe.  

Max’s head snapped up sensing the spiral coming. “Wheeler,” she said firmly.

He looked at her hesitantly.

“We don’t know that was her reality,” she continued. “Give her some credit. You know how powerful she is. She might have found a way around it.”

Her tone wasn’t soft. It was protective. Of El. Of him.

Mike stared at her for a second. He had never felt more grateful for Max in his life. He didn’t say it, and she didn’t say ‘you’re welcome’. But he did give her a small smile. And she nodded once, like that was enough.

Across the room, Dustin sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by open atlases, flipping pages carefully.

The library felt alive in a way it hadn’t before. Not just quiet anymore but anticipating. It felt like they had been rehearsing this subconsciously. That they had all been waiting in the wings for this exact moment.

Mike heard the door burst open, and he had barely looked up before Lucas and Will hurried in, slightly out of breath, arms loaded with plastic record store bags that clanked faintly.

“We come bearing gifts,” Lucas announced, dropping the bags onto the table. Vinyl’s and cassette tapes spilled out in a small avalanche of black plastic and cardboard sleeves.

Dustin’s eyes widened. “You robbed the place?”

“We paid,” Will said defensively. “Mostly...”

Lucas nudged him. “We got as much Beatles as they had in stock,” he explained. “In case it sparks something.”

Mike stared at the pile and smiled softly at the help his friends were providing. At the genius of them.

Dustin slowly stood, brushing dust off his jeans. “Did you ask the store manager about Beatles fan bases?”

Will and Lucas exchanged a look.

“Yeah,” Lucas admitted.

“And?” Dustin prompted.

“He looked at us like we were idiots,” Will said.

Lucas shrugged. “He said everywhere. The UK. America. Canada. Europe. Even Asia.”

“Great,” Mike muttered automatically. He immediately regretted it. “Sorry,” he added quickly. “Thanks. Really.”

Will gave him a small smile while Max was already digging into her backpack.

“I grabbed this,” she said, pulling out a compact cassette player. Lucas flinched slightly at the sight of it. It may have been a new player, but it was still a trigger for him.

Max set it down in front of him like a weapon being placed in the centre of a war table.

Mike slowly tried to swallow the lump in his throat. The room felt smaller suddenly. Everyone was watching him. Waiting. He cleared his throat and picked up one the tapes – Help! His hands felt steadier than they had that morning.

Mike took a deep breath and sat down in a hard wooden chair. His hands shook slightly as he put the headphones on. The world narrowed to the soft click of plastic and the whir of the cassette engaging.

The first notes filled his ears. I need somebody. Help! Not Just anybody. Help! You know I need someone. Help!

Mike closed his eyes, making the library disappear. It was just him and the music now. And the faintest echo of grey water in the distance.

“Come on,” Mike whispered, his hands clenching on the arms of the chair. His brow furrowed. “Show me.”

Around him the party held their breath. Max looked at Lucas with beseeching eyes – this was a lot for her. Even if she wouldn’t admit it. He stared back at her, squeezing her hand in gentle reassurance.

Will and Dustin swallowed nervously, fidgeting slightly as their eyes went between Mike, the maps and the cassette player.

The noises were so quiet, but Mike’s heart was thudding loudly. He exhaled deeply, trying desperately to focus.

He whispered gently, trying to send his words down a line he had no idea was there or not.

“Let me find you.”

El

El had never felt lighter. Her national insurance card lay on her bedside table beside her birth certificate, both tucked neatly inside a thin plastic sleeve. Official. Real. Tangible proof that she belonged.

Her passport application had been almost… easy. No need for illusions, shaking hands or fear.  Just forms, signatures and waiting. Because she was Eleanor Kelly. The name no longer felt like something she was borrowing. It felt like something she had grown into.

El lay on her stomach across her bed, ankles crossed in the air, pen moving slowly across the cream-coloured paper in her notebook.

She was humming under her breath. Blackbird singing in the dead of night…

A female street performer had played it earlier that afternoon near Bold Street. The melody caused by a gentle voice and soft guitar had followed her home like a shadow. It felt like a sign somehow.

Dear Mike,

I am closer now.

Her handwriting was steadier than her pulse. Writing to Mike always made her feel like this. It reminded her that while the pressure on her shoulders started to leave, her chest was just as hollow as always.

I have my birth certificate. A real one. A stamped one. I have my national insurance card too. My passport application is sent. It was so easy once I had the certificate. There were no uncomfortable questions. I didn’t have to use my powers.

She paused. The truth hit her softly, her lips twitching with a smile.

Because I am Eleanor Kelly. El for short of course. Always.

She swallowed and kept writing.

When the passport comes, I will go to Iceland. I don’t know exactly where yet. I need to find the right place. Somewhere quiet and safe. Somewhere beautiful.

She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek.

And then somehow… I will call for you.

She didn’t know how or even what that meant exactly. But she would find a way – she always did. They had already been away from each other too long.

I am not travelling alone, she added. The Kellys are coming with me. They feel like family. I cannot believe how I went from no family to one on both sides of the Atlantic.

Her eyes blurred, her hand trembling as she continued to write.

I hope you are not angry with me. I hope you understand why I could not call you sooner. I have been trying to secure my future. Our future. I have been learning how to be happy and who I really am as a person. I think that matters. But I miss you Mike. Every second of the day. I long for you. Every day.

Her hand paused for a long time, and ink pooled slightly where the pen hovered.

There was noise on the stairs and a minute later Jenny, appeared, opening their bedroom door and smiling over at El. She was still in her student nurse uniform, her cardigan hanging loosely from her shoulders.

Jenny’s grin faltered slightly as she noticed El quickly wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. Her blue eyes flicked immediately to the paper in El’s hands.

“You okay chick? You writin’ to Mike?”

El nodded, clearing her clogged throat. She tugged down her sleeves, her fingers pinching into the fabric for comfort.

“Yes.”

Jenny leaned against the doorframe for a moment, studying her gently. She seemed to hesitate to speak for a moment before the words finally came out.

“Is it safe yet?” she asked quietly, her voice tender and understanding. “To call him?”

El shook her head. “No.”

Jenny winced slightly. “Mum would probably go spare at the phone bill anyway.”

A faint smile tugged at El’s lips.

“Even if she didn’t,” El said quietly. “I can’t.”

Jenny stepped further into the room, perching on the end of the bed.

“What about a letter?” she pressed smoothly, her eyes kind.

She was trying, really trying to find a solution. El knew that. But her smile faded anyway.

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t, Jenny.”

The words cracked and Jenny’s expression changed.

“Why?” she asked.

It wasn’t an accusatory tone. It was tired of guessing, tired of trying to find the right puzzle piece to fit the situation. It was a question she had clearly carried for months.

El’s throat tightened. There it was… the edge. And if she stepped over it, there would be no going back. She looked up slowly into Jenny’s eyes. Blue, vulnerable and caring.

The same girl she had seen alone on the cruise ship. The same girl she had trusted instantly without understanding why. El’s chest rose and fell unevenly. She could trust her completely, but was this too much? Too big a secret to ask her to bare?

But Jeny wasn’t stupid. She knew there was a big part of the plot missing, and it was going to eat her alive if El didn’t speak up. It would drive a wedge between them. Something El couldn’t allow to happen.

“I grew up in a lab,” El said abruptly.  The bedroom so comforting and warm went very still. Jenny didn’t interrupt. The only proof she had even heard was how her bright eyes had widened in surprise.

“My mama was part of experiments,” El continued, voice trembling but steadying as she forced herself forward. “And when she was pregnant with me, they injected her with something. They gave her the blood of a man named Henry.”

Jenny blinked slowly. “Henry?”

“He had abilities,” El whispered. “They wanted to recreate them.”

Jenny’s hands tightened in the blanket. “El…”

“They stole me at birth,” El said. “Raised me there. In the lab. I was there my entire childhood.”

Jenny’s face had gone pale. Her lips were slightly parted as uneasy breaths escaped her mouth.

“They tattooed my wrist,” El continued, her voice quieter now. “I wasn’t a human being to them. I was not a child. I was a number… Eleven.”

Jenny’s breath hitched, her eyes looked glassy. “What did they do to you?”

A thousand memories rush before El’s eyes. Hearing Russian voices. Cats hissing. Coke cans crushing. The tank. The Demogorgon…

“They tested me,” El said simply, her heart hammering in her chest. “They pushed me.”

“Pushed you how?”

El hesitated. This was it. This was more than just a story. This was her reality – the reason she was able to cross an ocean.

“Because I have powers,” El said quietly, a sheen of sweat starting to appear on her brow. She had not felt this anxious in a long time.

This was more than just revealing a secret. It was fear that one of the people she loved the most would see her differently.

Jenny’s lips parted. “Powers?” she whispered weakly.

El nodded, eager to get it all out. Not wanting to leave her newfound sister in such turmoil.

“They come from Henry’s blood. I can… move things. I can reach into people’s minds. I can see things that aren’t in front of me.”

Jenny stared at her, clearly torn between disbelief and absolute trust.  El kept going before she could lose momentum.

“I escaped the lab when I was twelve. I ran into the woods. Mike… found me. He saved me. Him, Dustin and Lucas.”

She swallowed, her eyes closing as emotions stirred in the pit of her stomach and started to reach for her throat – making it hard to breathe.

“There was… a lot after that.”

Flashes of a life only half lived flickered in front of her like a movie on double speed. Understanding what love was. Understanding friendship. Understanding what it was to lose both. 353 days. A father. More loss. More pain. Separation and fighting. Endless fighting. Feeling so far from human that for a moment she thought she didn’t belong here. That there was no place for her.

El left out the Upside Down. Left out the monsters. Left out the screaming, the blood and things that would haunt Jenny forever. She gave her enough – enough to understand.

“The government wants me,” El said quietly. “They always will. I am a weapon to them. To be used as and when they want. If I go back, they will find me. If I contact Mike… they could trace it. I won’t put him in danger. I won’t put any of them in danger.”

Even if it broke her heart. Even if it felt like she was living with half of her soul.

Jenny was crying now. Silent tears sliding down her cheeks.

“El,” she whispered. Her eyes were so blue and beautiful and utterly shattered. “Wha’ have you had to do?” she asked heavily.

El’s own tears spilled freely. She pictured guns, blood from noses, death. So much death. Necks snapping. Bones breaking.

“I think you know,” she said quietly, unable to meet her gaze.

Jenny closed her eyes. She exhaled a shaky breath and slowly nodded in understanding. She didn’t ask for details - she didn’t want them.

El exhaled shakily. “I faked my death,” she said. “With Kali’s help. My… sister from the lab. I-I… left them thinking I was g-gone.”

Her voice cracked fully now. “I have never felt more lonely than that moment. I have had to run before, and Mike has always believed I was out there. But this time… I don’t know. He might think I really am dead.”

El let out a sob and Jenny moved closer instinctively.

“But I had to run. I had no choice even though it felt like I left everything behind. It was like fighting against a magnetic pull.” El heaved a shaky breath and shook her head. “I kept running. I didn’t really know where I was heading. I relied on my powers to get me as far as I could.”

El wiped at her eyes with her sleeve and looked up slowly at Jenny.

“I overheard two men in a pizza place in New York,” El continued quietly. “Horrible men. I didn’t know it at the time but… one of them was Rick.”

Jenny’s head snapped up. “Wha’?”

“He was talking about you,” El continued. “About… controlling you. About how you thought you were escaping, but he was going to be on the ship. You wouldn’t have been safe again.”

Jenny’s hands trembled. “El… did you -”

“Kill him?” El finished softly. Jenny’s silence was answer enough.

El gave a sad smile. “I wish I had,” she admitted. “If I had known you then, I probably would have.”

Jenny flinched slightly, trying to take in everything that was being revealed. Her own traumas and past coming to the surface at the mention of her abuser.

“But I didn’t kill him,” El added. “I broke some bones though.  Threatened him enough that he would never come running.”

Jenny stared at her. And them something unexpected happened. Real, physical relief washed over her face. Like a shadow had finally lifted.

“He won’t come back?” she whispered.

El shook her head. “No.”

Jenny let out a breath she had clearly been holding for months. “Thank God.”

There was no anger. No fear of El. Just gratitude. And after a moment, Jenny wiped at her cheeks and looked at her again.

“So,” she said, her voice a bit steadier now. “These powers. Wha’ can you do with them?”

El sniffed. “A lot,” she admitted.

Jenny blinked. “Like… a lot, a lot?”

El’s mouth twitched. She could feel the tension in the air slowly leaving. She lifted her hand slightly, Jenny’s hair rose gently off her shoulders. Just a little. Just enough to float.

Jenny gasped and then laughed through her tears. “Oh my God.”

El lowered her hand. “I don’t use them unless I have to,” she said quietly. She couldn’t help it. She felt exposed. Vulnerable. Her hazel eyes lingered on Jenny, waiting for what would happen next.

Jenny reached forward and grabbed El’s shoulders firmly, meeting her gaze. “This changes nothin’,” she said fiercely. “Do you hear me? Nothin’.”

El’s tears spilled harder. She had been around so many bad people it was hard sometimes to remember that not everyone new coming in to her life was out to do her harm.

“I am just so sorry you went through all of that,” Jenny whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. “But I’m glad I know now.”

They fell into each other’s arms then. Jenny squeezing El in a fierce hug. They were every part real sister’s now. More than DNA could ever create. Their bond was on another level, like they had known each other in every life. Like they had been sisters before.

“You deserve to be happy,” Jenny swore into her shoulder. “And if you think you’ll find that in Iceland, then we will leave as soon as your passport comes.”

El laughed softly through tears. “But what about nursing school?”

Jenny shrugged. “If your passport comes before I finish this term then I will just do extra hours at the end of year three. This is more important.”

El felt her heart ache. “You would really do that?”

Jenny pulled back just enough to look at her. “Of course I would,” she said simply.

El believed her. And for what felt like the first time in a long time, she had told the truth. And she wasn’t alone afterwards.

Mike

The tape kept playing, and then another. And another. Mike kept listening, his eyes closed tight as he tried so desperately to focus. At first it was just music. Lyrics, harmony and the soft mechanical whirr of plastic turning.

Nothing.

Mike’s jaw tightened. “Come on,” he said quietly – desperately.

He pressed his fingertips harder into the arms of the chair. The wooden edge bit faintly into his palms. He could feel his friends watching him. Waiting. Hoping. The anticipation was almost suffocating.

And then the song changed.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life. You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

The first notes threaded into him like electricity. Mike’s breath hitched and it felt like the air around him started to shift. His head swam and it wasn’t his imagination. It felt like vertigo – like the floor tilted.

Mike squeezed his eyes tighter and felt the library dissolve around him. And suddenly – it was like he was moving. Not just standing or floating, he was walking. Through someone else’s eyes. The image was foggy at the edges, like breath against glass. But the centre was sharp enough to hurt. Cobblestones beneath his feet. A busy street with voices overlapping. There were no American accents. People talked loudly, in hurried voices. It was hard to catch what they were saying.

A girl sat cross-legged on the pavement ahead, strumming a guitar.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night…”  Her voice was soft and earnest.

A hand extended forward. Mike could see it clearly. Slender fingers dropping a coin into an open guitar case. The money wasn’t American, he knew that instinctively.

His pulse thundered and he felt the wind on his cheek. Smelled slightly salty air.

He looked up through her eyes. And there – against a pale sky, high above the other buildings – a bird. Greenish, wings raised. Perched on top of a white stone structure. Another further back. Not a small monument – massive. Iconic.

He didn’t know the name of it, but he knew it mattered.

The image flickered violently, and the street noise surged.

You were only waiting for this moment to arise. You were only waiting for this moment to arise…

The library snapped back into place and Mike lurched forward in the chair – the headphones slipped slightly off one ear. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, and he knew he was drained of colour and dizzy.

“Mike?” Max’s voice was tight.

The music still played faintly through the headphones. Mike pulled them off slowly with shaking hands. All four of his friends were gathered around him now. Concern written across each face.

“What did you see?” Dustin demanded.

Mike swallowed. “I was walking,” he said hoarsely. His throat felt raw and dry as sandpaper.

“Walking where?” Lucas asked, a bit more calmly than Dustin’s previous question.

“Not here.” It was all Mike could manage for the moment as he dragged a hand over his face. He could feel the party waiting impatiently.

“I was seeing through someone else’s eyes.” Mike said to the silence. He didn’t need to say her name, they all knew.

Max’s voice dropped lower. “Describe it.”

Mike closed his eyes again, trying to hold onto the details before they slipped.

“A street singer,” he said slowly. “A girl playing guitar. She was singing… Blackbird.”

Dustin’s eyes widened. “Okay…”

“I put money in her case,” Mike continued. “Or… she did. And it wasn’t American money.”

Lucas straightened. “Liverpool then.”

Will hesitated. “Yeah, but what if the Beatles reference is just a street singer?” he said gently. “It could be anywhere.”

Mike exhaled shakily. “It was busy.”

“New York?” Max asked quickly, almost hopefully.

“No,” Mike said. “Not New York busy.”

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the carpet. His legs felt unsteady. He started pacing slowly between the tables, mind racing. There had been something else. Something higher. Something -

He stopped near one of the tall windows. Outside, a small bird perched briefly on the sill before fluttering away. Mike’s eyes tracked it.

Bird.

He turned back sharply. “The building,” he said suddenly. “There was a bird on top of it.”

“A bird?” Dustin repeated.

“Big,” Mike said, hands moving as he tried to show the size. “Like… a statue. On a white building.”

Max frowned. “Like an eagle?”

“No.”

“Falcon?”

“No!”

Dustin was already darting towards the wildlife section. “Bird books!” he hissed.

Will followed immediately and Lucas grabbed another stack of books. Max started flipping pages at rapid speed. Feathers and beaks and diagrams flashed past.

They were talking over each other now.

“Seagull?”

“No.”

“Heron?”

“No!”

“Maybe it’s symbolic –”

“Excuse me!” the librarian snapped from across the room. “This is a library.”

They collectively muttered apologies without looking up. Pages turned faster, but nothing matched. Frustration began creeping in and Mike’s chest tightened again.

It had been right there. Right in front of him – or her. The bird had meant something. He could feel it.

The library doors opened again. None of them looked up at first, too consumed by the task. By the new information.

“Dustin!” a familiar voice called.

They all froze. Steve Harrington stood near the entrance, hands on his hips, expression mildly annoyed.

“You were supposed to be at your house,” Steve said. “Your mom had to tell me you were at the library.”

Dustin didn’t even turn around. “Busy!” he snapped.

“With what?” Steve asked incredulously. “You’ve already graduated!”

Dustin finally spun toward him, exasperated.

“We’re trying to find a British bird on a damn white building that has something to do with The Beatles and water and red brick buildings, okay?!”

Steve blinked. And the silence that followed was painful.

Eventually, oh so casually –

“What, you mean a Liver bird?”

Everything stopped. Even the librarian looked up.

Dustin stared. “A… a what?”

Steve shrugged, stepping closer. “Liver bird. Like the one they have on the Royal Liver Building in Liverpool. Well, there are two actually.”

The word hung in the air. Liverpool. Mike felt his stomach drop like he had just taken a plunge on a roller coaster.

Will was the first to speak. “You… you know that for sure?”

Steve gave him an offended look. “I do know things, you know.”

He walked over to the open Britain book on the table and flipped a few pages with lazy familiarity.

“My dad’s a huge Beatles fan,” he said. “We went to Liverpool when I was a kid. Watched the soccer. Saw the Albert Docks - huge red brick buildings by the River Mersey. Did all the landmarks.”

He jabbed a finger at a photograph. “There.”

They all leaned in.

White stone building. Two massive copper birds perched on top. The River Mersey stretching wide behind it. Red brick docks lining the waterfront. And on another page the Liverpool FC crest – a Liver bird at the centre.

Mike went pale. The image from his vision slammed into place. Relief. Fear. Shock. All at once.

“That’s…” his voice trembled. “That’s it.”

Steve looked between them. “What are you guys doing exactly?”

Dustin immediately stepped in front of him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. “I can’t do today.”

Steve blinked. “But I thought we were watching a movie?”

“Rain check, dude,” Dustin said firmly. “Ask Robin.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I could be on a date right now,” he muttered. “Ungrateful children.” He turned and walked out, shaking his head.

The doors closed behind him and silence flooded back into the space, along with a heavy tension.

The party stared at each other and Max stepped closer to Mike. Her voice dropped to almost nothing.

“Are you positive?”

Mike swallowed. His hands were still shaking. His heart was racing so hard he thought it might split his ribs. He felt sick and faint. So hopeful and yet so terrified. But he was certain.

He nodded slowly. “I know that’s where she is.”

Across an ocean, across everything they had ever known.

El was in Liverpool.

Mike’s basement had never felt this full before. Not physically of course – there was still only five of them. But the air itself seemed thicker somehow. Charged. Like the room understood something enormous had just shifted, that a big development was in the making.

Liverpool. The word still echoed inside Mike’s chest as he paced back and forth across the worn carpet. He stepped around the D&D table, the couch, the stack of board games pushed against the wall. Again, and again. His hands kept finding his hair, tugging at it absently as his brain ran faster than his feet.

Liverpool. England. Across the Atlantic Ocean, thousands of miles away.

“How,” he muttered under his breath.

The party sat scattered around the basement watching him. Dustin perched cross-legged on the floor with a paper pad full of scribbles. Lucas leaned back on the couch, arms folded but eyes sharp. Will sat near the edge of the coffee table, quietly observing everything like he always did. Max stood near the map they’d pinned to the wall - her eyes fixed on the UK land mass.  

Mike stopped pacing suddenly. “How am I supposed to get to England?” he said, half to himself.

Max immediately turned on him. “We,” she corrected.

Mike blinked at her and Max huffed a sigh of frustration before correcting him.

“How are we supposed to get to Liverpool.”

The certainty in her voice was so absolute it almost knocked the breath out of him.

Lucas nodded once. “Yeah,” he said simply. His voice strong and defiant.

Mike looked around at them, every single one of them. Still here. Still in. Will shifted slightly, clearing his throat as he worked up the courage to say something.

“We… technically have money,” he said quietly.

Four heads turned towards him.

“The hush money,” Will added awkwardly. A strange silence followed. Of course… the government settlement. Compensation for what had happened in Hawkins. For the Upside Down, for the deaths. For everything…

Dustin scratched the back of his neck. “Right,” he muttered. “The ‘please don’t sue us or talk to a reporter’ fund.”

Lucas sighed. “Problem is,” he said, “our parents’ control most of that.”

Mike resumed pacing. Of course, their parents still controlled the money. They were still kids in everyone else’s eyes. Kids who were supposed to be preparing for college. Kids who were supposed to be thinking about their perfectly constructed futures. Not flying across the Atlantic to find a girl who had died in the eyes of the American government and their families.

“We need a story,” Max said quietly, her face set with determination.

Everyone looked at her as she planted her finger on the world map on the wall before turning back to the boys.

“We say we’re travelling through Europe.”

Dustin’s eyes lit slightly. “Like a post-graduation thing.”

Lucas nodded slowly. “That actually makes sense. Loads of students do that.”

Max continued thinking out loud. “And we don’t fly into Liverpool.”

Mike paused mid-step. “No?”

She shook her head. “Too obvious,” she said. “If anyone ever asked questions later, Liverpool sticks out. It might be a major city, but it’s not the capital.”

She tapped London on the map. “We fly here.”

“That’s smart,” Dustin admitted.

“We land there,” Max continued, “do the normal tourist stuff in London. Make sure we are on enough CCTV footage that we look like we are doing nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Then we go north,” Lucas finished.

Mike nodded slowly in agreement. And while his heart ached to just go, he knew he couldn’t put El at risk. Not after everything she had clearly done to ensure her safety. Not ever. This felt right – less reckless. Less obvious.

“I don’t want attention on Liverpool,” he said quietly.  The others murmured in agreement.

Dustin flipped through his notebook. “Okay so flights… we book return tickets.”

Lucas nodded. “Just in case.”

Max leaned against the wall. “We’ve got time,” she said. “A few months before college starts,” she added. “That’s a decent window.”

Dustin tapped his pen against the page. “Worst case scenario,” he said, “we come back before school starts.”

None of them said the real question out loud. What would happen when they found her. If they found her. Mike felt the thought hovering over the room like a storm cloud none of them wanted to look at. He felt it was pretty obvious what he would do if they did find El, but he couldn’t speak for the others.

He kept pacing though, because there was still a problem. A huge one. Mike stopped suddenly and heaved a heavy sigh as he looked at his friends.

“My mom…” he said simply.

“Karen Wheeler,” Dustin muttered. “The final boss.”

Mike dragged a hand over his face. “She’s not just going to hand over that money,” he said. “Especially not if she thinks it’s for travelling.”

Lucas tilted his head, a deep frown on his brow. “Why not?”

“Because it’s supposed to be for my future.” Mike laughed quietly - bitterly. “A future I didn’t even believe I’d have until today.”

The words hung heavy in the room. For years they had all lived like the world might end again tomorrow. Now suddenly, they were supposed to have plans. College, careers, normal lives.

Mike stared at the map of Europe pinned to the wall. Liverpool – just sitting there. Real, not unreachable. But he felt the old fear creeping back in. The doubt. What if his mom said no? What if the money wasn’t enough? What if something went wrong before they even left Hawkins?

Max stepped closer. “You’ll figure it out,” she said quietly.

Mike looked at her for reassurance. Their relationship had certainly changed over the years, to the point where it made Mike cringe that he had once been so unwelcoming to Max. But here she was, defiant and determined that they find El. It was just as important to her. It was an unfinished story that neither of them could survive without the ending.

Lucas nodded. “And if Karen says no,” he added kindly, “we’ll find another way.”

Dustin pointed his pen at Mike. “We didn’t survive interdimensional monsters just to get stopped by airline prices.”

Will smiled faintly. “We’re going to Liverpool.”

Mike looked around at them again. His party. The same group that sat around this basement table rolling dice and fighting imaginary dragons.

Only now – the quest was real again. Across an ocean, across the world, somewhere in a city of red brick, grey water and music – El was waiting.

The basement had grown quiet after the planning. The maps were still pinned to the wall. Liverpool circled three separate times in Max’s aggressive red marker. Mike stood staring at it for a long time after everyone left.

Liverpool. Nearly four thousand miles away. But for the first time in months, the distance didn’t feel impossible, it felt like a destination.

The phone rang suddenly, Mike nearly jumped for it.

“Hello?!”

“Mike!” Dustin’s voice crackled down the line, loud and breathless.

“Operation Funding is a go.”

Mike blinked. “Already?”

“Dude, I told my mom I wanted to travel Europe before college and she cried for like ten straight minutes,” Dustin said matter-of-factly. “But then she said I absolutely had to do it while I’m still young and gave me access to my fund.”

Mike let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s great,” he said quietly.

“Also, she said I have to send postcards,” Dustin added.

“Deal.”

They hung up. Mike leaned his head briefly against the wall beside the phone. One step closer.

The phone rang again an hour later. Lucas this time.

“Not as smooth,” he admitted.

Mike sank onto the couch. “What happened?”

“My parents were hesitant,” Lucas said. “But I may have reminded them that between the earthquake and Max, and everything else… I’ve been through a lot.”

Mike smiled faintly. “And?”

“I might have guilt tripped them a little.”

Mike huffed out a laugh.

“They said I can get some of the money tomorrow.”

“Nice work.”

Lucas snorted. “Add it to the list of survival skills Hawkins taught us.”

When the call ended, Mike sat there for a long moment. Two down, three to go. And the hardest one? Was upstairs in the kitchen shouting “dinner’s ready!”

It felt like walking into a battlefield. His mom had made meat loaf - the smell filled the kitchen in a way that would normally feel comforting. Tonight, it just made Mike’s stomach twist.

Nancy had already gone back to Boston, so it was just the four of them. Ted sat at the head of the table behind his newspaper like usual, barely acknowledging anyone. Holly chattered happily beside Karen, her hands exaggerated as she talked.

“…and Derek says his mom might get him a hamster but I think hamsters smell so maybe he should get a dog instead. Can we get a dog?”

Mike poked at his meat loaf with his fork. His knee bounced beneath the table. Karen noticed – of course she noticed. She always did.

“Michael,” she said gently. “What’s wrong?”

Mike inhaled. The words burst out before he could overthink them.

“Dustin, Lucas and Max are going to Europe before college,” he said quickly. “Just travelling. And I want to go too.”

Holly gasped. “Europe?!” she squealed. “Are you going to Paris?! You HAVE to go to Paris!”

Mike blinked at her enthusiasm, while Karen looked at her son in surprise.

“But honey,” she said carefully. “That’s very far away. Do you have a plan?”

“Max is making the plans,” Mike said quickly. “She’s… good at organizing us. Dustin too.”

Ted finally lowered his newspaper slightly. “And how are you paying for that, son?”

Mike’s fingers tightened around his fork. “With my money.”

Ted frowned. “That money is supposed to be for -”

Mike’s voice tightened. “It’s about time that money brought some happiness.”

The words landed heavy on the table and Karen froze. Because she knew what that money represented. Hush money – payment for trauma no teenager should ever carry. And she had watched her son slowly crumble under the weight of it all. The sleepless nights, the hollow eyes. The way she checked on him some evenings just to make sure he was still breathing.  She had seen how close he had been to the edge. And now -

For the first time in years, there was a spark in his eyes. Determination, drive, hope.

“That money is supposed to be for your future -” Ted repeated.

“I won’t have a future if I can’t go,” Mike said bluntly.

“Michael -”

Holly went silent. Karen studied her son, really studied him. Mike slowly met her gaze.

“Please, Mom,” he said quietly. “I want to be happy.” His voice cracked slightly. “And I know that if I go… if I get away from here… travel… see new things… find things…” He swallowed. “I’ll be happy.”

Karen’s eyes filled instantly. She wiped them quickly, almost embarrassed. But then she nodded.

“Of course you can go.”

Ted lowered the newspaper fully. “Karen?”

“Oh be quiet, Ted,” she muttered. She reached across the table and squeezed Mike’s hand.

“It’s Michael’s money. He’s not being foolish with it. He’s seeing the world with his friends. Friends I trust.”

She smiled softly at her son.  “So of course you can go, honey.”

For a second Mike didn’t know what to do. Cry? Laugh? Jump out of his chair? Instead, he smiled. Soft and sincere.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Beside them, Holly had already recovered. “You have to go to France,” she announced. “And Italy! Oh! And Spain! We learned about Barcelona in Geography – ”

Mike laughed quietly and started eating his dinner. For the first time all day - food actually tasted like something.

He had emptied his plate when the phone rang again. Mike shot up from the table. “I’ll get it!”

He grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

Will’s voice came through. “I did it.”

Mike grinned immediately. “How?”

“I may have used the ‘I’ve been through a lot’ card,” Will admitted sheepishly. “Mom didn’t want to at first… but Hopper helped.”

Mike leaned against the wall. “Hopper?”

“Yeah,” Will said, a little amused. “Apparently, he thinks seeing the world is ‘good character building.’”

Mike smiled, grateful that the Chief was unknowingly helping them to find his daughter.

Will chuckled, “oh and Max?”

“Yeah?”

“She didn’t ask.”

Mike frowned in confusion, but before he could ask why, Will spoke again.

“She just… took the money,” he said with a small snort.

Mike laughed. The sheer audacity. But he wasn’t surprised either, Max’s relationship with her mom had always been complicated.

“We’re really doing this, Mike,” Will said softly.

Mike looked back into the kitchen. Holly was animatedly explaining to Karen where Barcelona was. Ted had returned to his newspaper. Everything looked completely normal. Ordinary. Like the world wasn’t about to tilt on its axis.

Mike’s heart pounded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. His voice almost a whisper. “We are.”

June 1989

The courtroom felt too small for the weight of what was happening inside of it.

Mike sat stiffly on the wooden bench, his hands clasped tightly together between his knees. The polished wood beneath him was worn smooth from decades of people sitting exactly where he was now – waiting for justice, hoping for it.

The air smelled faintly of paper, cigarettes and something metallic that reminded him of hospitals. Or the lab… Mike tried to not think about that.

Beside him, Hopper sat with his arms folded, his massive frame hunched forward slightly, jaw tight beneath his beard. The Chief’s usual rough confidence was muted today, replaced with something quieter. Something watchful.

On Hopper’s other side sat Dr Sam Owens. Prison had carved deeper lines into his face, hollowed out the softness around his eyes. But there was steel in his posture now, something hardened by everything he’d endured.

Mike stared ahead at the front of the courtroom. Dr Kay was sat at the defendant’s table. Even from across the room, Mike felt the cold twist in his stomach at the sight of her.

She looked smaller somehow. Contained. Gone was the military uniform she used to wear like armour. Now she wore an orange jumpsuit, her wrists cuffed lightly in front of her.

But the worst part was her expression. She was still composed. Still clinical. Like none of this had anything to do with her, even though this was her sentencing.

Mike’s hands clenched. Flashbacks flickered behind his eyes without warning. A little girl with a shaved head, bare foot in the woods. Terrified hazel eyes staring at him. The memory made his chest tighten painfully.

The judge’s voice echoed through the courtroom, but Mike barely heard the legal language. The words blurred into something distant as another voice took the stand.

A man. His voice trembled as he read from a folded sheet of paper.

“My wife was seven months pregnant when they took her.”

The courtroom fell completely silent. Mike’s throat tightened. The man’s hands shook as he continued.

“They told me she’d gone missing. Said maybe she ran away. But she never would have done that. She loved me, and she loved the baby. We had already painted the nursery.”

Hi voice cracked. “They took her and my unborn son. They experimented on them… and they never came home.”

Mike swallowed hard. Images flashed through his mind again. A tiny girl, so broken and scared. A number tattooed to her wrist without consent. 011.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. ‘You are not the monster’ he had told her once. Knelt beside her after she had saved his life at the quarry. He had meant every word. She had never been the monster, never been the problem, never been the reason things had been so terrible. She was innocent.

Another victim stood to speak. Then another. Stories poured into the room like open wounds. Women taken, families destroyed. Lives erased in the name of research. Mike’s stomach twisted with every word.

He glanced towards Dr Kay again, his eyes dark with disgust. She sat perfectly still. Listening. Unmoved. And suddenly Mike hated her with a ferocity that shocked even him.

Not just for the women in the testimonies. Not just for the lives destroyed. But for a small girl in a yellow Benny’s Burger t-shirt who had never known what it meant to be loved until she ran into the woods one night.

Mike’s mind drifted again to another memory. The roof of WSQK radio station. The autumnal breeze, El sitting beside him, her voice soft as she asked if they could be happy after all of this was over.

He could still remember the way her eyes searched his, looking for something to believe in. The way he had told her they would go away, to a far-off land where they could be safe and happy. With three waterfalls.

Mike opened his eyes again. The judge’s gavel struck sharply and the courtroom stilled. The verdicts began. One by one, each name called and each charge read aloud. Each word landing like a hammer.

“Guilty.”

Another.

“Guilty.”

Another.

“Guilty.”

Mike felt something slowly loosen inside his chest with every verdict. Years of buried anger, years of helplessness and years of not being able to protect El.

And finally, Dr Kay stood, and the courtroom held its breath.

Her sentencing echoed through the chamber. “Guilty. Life imprisonment. With no possibility of parole.”

The words settled over the room like the final note of a long, brutal song. Mike hadn’t realised he had been holding his breath until it rushed out of him. Beside him, Hopper exhaled too. A heavy, tired breath.

Owens remained still, but Mike saw the slight tremor in his hand where it rested on the bench. Justice. Not perfect, not enough to undo what had been done. But enough to know she couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Mike watched as guards stepped forward, Kay escorted away in the handcuffs she already wore. For the first time – she looked powerless. And Mike felt something close quietly inside of him. A door, a chapter. Finished.

Outside the courthouse, the afternoon sun felt brighter than it should have. Mike blinked slightly as they stepped out onto the steps. For a moment none of them spoke, then Sam placed a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder.

“You’re a good man for coming today.”

Mike looked up at him. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

Sam nodded slowly. Hopper shifted beside them, lighting a cigarette.

“Kid and his friends are heading off travelling,” he added casually.

“Oh?” Sam asked, looking surprised.

Mike forced an easy smile. “Yeah. Europe… before college.”

“Good,” Sam said warmly. “That kind of life experience changes you.”

Mike nodded. “That’s the idea.”

Sam clapped him once on the shoulder before heading down the steps. Hopper watched Mike quietly for a moment after Owens left. Long enough that Mike felt it – the weight of Hopper’s gaze. But after a moment, the Chief simply flicked ash from his cigarette.

“Well,” he muttered. “Try not to get arrested in another country.”

Mike laughed softly, “I’ll do my best.”

Hopper gave him a short nod. And just like that – he let it go.

Mike looked back once at the courthouse doors. At the place where years of pain had finally been sealed shut. Everything he could do on this side of the world – he had done. Now there was only one thing he needed. Four thousand miles away.

Mike turned towards the street. Towards the future. Towards Liverpool. Towards her.

El

The Kelly’s small back garden was warm with early summer sunlight.

The grass had grown a little wild around the edges of the narrow stone patio, and bees drifted lazily between the bright flowers Sue insisted on planting every year. The air smelled faintly of cut grass and something sweet from the neighbour’s roses.

El sat curled in a metal patio chair, one leg tucked underneath her. A sketchbook rested against her knees. Her pencil moved slowly across the page, almost without thought. Lines, shapes. The outline of a bird she hadn’t quite finished. 

Next to her, Jenny lay stretched out on a sun lounger with her eyes closed, soaking up the rare Liverpool sunshine like it might disappear at any second. 

“You’re thinkin’ again,” Jenny murmured without opening her eyes.

El smiled faintly at the paper. “I do that,” she said softly.

Jenny snorted. “You do it more than most people chick.”

El didn’t deny it. Her pencil drifted again, shading the curve of the bird’s wing. A blackbird. 

The song had been stuck in her head all afternoon. She would never forget the young female street performer, her Beatles renditions were always beautiful. But there was something about her Blackbird cover. Her voice was quiet and warm as her fingers moved over her guitar - raw and vulnerable. 

El hummed the melody under her breath until the sound of the front door slamming suddenly cut through the quiet garden.

“Girls?”

Sue’s voice rang through the house.

“Girls!”

Jenny groaned dramatically and lifted her head.

“Unless that woman has ice cream I am not movin’ - ”

“Girls?!”

Jenny sat bolt upright. “That is not the tone of voice of someone with ice cream.”

El was already halfway out of her chair. They hurried through the back door and into the kitchen.

Sue stood near the counter, practically vibrating with excitement. Her cheeks were flushed and she was holding a padded envelope in both hands. Her grin stretched from ear to ear.

“I just bumped into the postman outside,” she said breathlessly.

Jenny’s blue eyes dropped immediately to the envelope and then widened. The name printed across the front was unmistakable.

Miss Eleanor Kelly. 

El froze and her heart began to pound hard in her chest. 

Jenny let out a sharp squeal. “Open it!”

Sue swatted her lightly. “Keep your voice down!” she hissed. “The whole street will hear you!”

But Jenny was already bouncing on her toes. “Open it open it open it -”

Sue gently placed the envelope into El’s shaking hands. El stared down at it. Her name. Her real name. Printed clearly across the front.

For a moment she couldn’t move. Jenny nudged her shoulder.

“El.”

El swallowed and then carefully tore open the envelope. The thick paper slid away and something burgundy caught the light. Her breath hitched and she slowly pulled it free. 

A British passport.

The cover gleamed softly in the kitchen light, the gold crest embossed across the front.

El stared at it in stunned silence. Her fingers trembled as she opened it. The pages rustled softly. And there - her photograph. Her name. Her identity. Real and legal. 

A sob broke free from her chest before she could stop it.

“You did it!” Jenny shrieked.

Sue clapped a hand over her mouth. “Jenny!”

But Jenny didn’t care. She grabbed El in a fierce hug.

“You actually did it!”

Sue exhaled a breath like she was giving in, and then wrapped her arms around both of them a second later, pulling them into a tight, laughing bundle.

El cried into Jenny’s shoulder, half laughing through the tears.

“I did it,” she whispered.

Sue squeezed her tighter. “You did it, sweetheart.”

El pulled back slightly, staring down at the passport again through blurred eyes. It felt heavier than it should. Like it carried the weight of everything she had fought for. Everything she had survived.

But it didn’t just carry the past. It carried freedom. A future and a way forward.

“To Mike,” El whispered softly.

Jenny wiped at her own eyes, pretending she wasn’t crying.

“Well,” she sniffed dramatically, “I guess we’re going to Iceland.”

El laughed through her tears and clutched the passport tightly to her chest.

And over four thousand miles away, an airplane lifted slowly into the night sky. The runway lights blurred beneath the wings as the aircraft climbed higher through the clouds.

Mike sat by the window, his hands resting quietly in his lap. Beside him Dustin was already talking excitedly about London. 

Lucas and Max were arguing quietly over something in the row behind. Will sat across the aisle, watching the sun set with quiet awe.

But Mike barely heard any of it. He stared out the window as America slowly disappeared beneath a blanket of white.

His heart beat steadily in his chest. Somewhere across the ocean was Liverpool. And El was there. 

Mike rested his forehead lightly against the cool glass. He exhaled deeply and whispered the only thing that mattered. 

“I will find you El. I promise.”

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Chapter 10: In Her Footsteps

June 1989

El

Liverpool always glittered in the sunshine. White stone sparkled in an array of glitter as light moved across the iconic buildings. It was the sort of warm June afternoon the city seemed to hold its breath for all year – gentle, bright, the air carrying just enough breeze from the Mersey to keep everything moving. 

The smell of salt lingered in the air. And from the top deck of the bus, the water stretched out beside the docks, sunlight shimmering across its surface. Seagulls circled lazily overhead, their sharp cries cutting through the hum of traffic and distant laughter.

El pressed her forehead lightly to the window, feeling the rays of sunlight warm her face. She still wasn’t used to days like this. In Hawkins the heat had always felt heavy, thick with humidity. Liverpool’s warmth was lighter somehow – threaded with a cooler breeze and the smell of the distant Irish Sea.

Beside her, Jenny sat sideways in her seat, one leg tucked underneath her as the bus rumbled towards the city centre. Her blue eyes were bright, practically sparkling with excitement.

Across the aisle Sue clutched her handbag like it contained the crown jewels. Inside it sat five burgundy passports. One of them belonging to El. It had arrived barely an hour earlier, and yet it was already changing so much. It was the reason the three women had hurried out of the house, practically chasing the bus to get quickly into town.

El continued to look out of the window as the city rose around her. She felt her shoulders rising and falling as she took deep breaths – her stomach a knot of nerves and anticipation. Her lips started to curve into a smile she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to.

She still couldn’t quite believe this was happening. That she had a passport. A real one obtained like any other person. No tricks or magic.

El felt a heaviness suddenly appearing in her chest, an emotion that threatened tears in her eyes. She found it hard to explain the feeling. But she knew deep inside it was a feeling she had waited her whole life to experience. It was an emotion that sat between belonging and identity.

She felt like she was so close to being the person she was always meant to be. Before labs, before monsters, even before birth. Like the true story of her soul was finally getting to map out its plan for her.

But there was still something missing. Someone. And no matter what, her heart ached for him. Every fibre in her being reacted even at the thought of him. She was so close now. She could feel it - like something was stirring in the universe.

El blinked slowly, coming out of her daze as Jenny nudged her gently with her elbow. She turned to her friend – more like a real sister now than anything else.

“You okay?” Jenny asked quietly, knowing how important this moment was. Especially after El had told her the truth about her past.

It had been a risk. A risk El knew she was always going to take one day with Jenny. Because that part of her life had started to sit heavy between them. Jenny wasn’t stupid. She could see the shadows behind El’s eyes, knew there was so much more to her.

What El had truly not known, was how Jenny would react. It was impossible to know the answer to something so complicated. But her sister had accepted her. It almost wasn’t even a worry. Jenny had been more concerned about what El had been put through – showing the kind and empathetic person that she was.

And now there was no secrets between them. No hiding. And Jenny knew exactly why El wanted to make this trip to Iceland. She knew how high the stakes were.

El gave a shaky laugh, finally answering Jenny. “I am nervous. Excited… so scared.”

Jenny grinned, nodding in understanding. “I think that’s normal chick.” She looked around the bus and lowered her voice, turning back to El. “You think Iceland is the place? Where you can finally speak to him?”

El’s heart haltered and she swallowed anxiously. She looked back at Jenny, desperate hope in her eyes. “I think so. He said… he said after the battle the party go somewhere quiet. Peaceful. With… with waterfalls. I think that is where we are meant to go.”

Jenny watched her for a moment, and El appreciated how her sister didn’t ridicule her. She didn’t laugh and tell her it was all a fairy tale. No. Jenny’s eyes turned serious as they flickered over El’s face before she smiled.

“Well then. We need to get to Iceland as soon as possible.”

El beamed so brightly that Sue looked at the girls suspiciously.

“Wha’ you two chattin’ about? El love, you look like you’re about to break out into a routine.”

The girls laughed, Jenny rolling her eyes playfully. “Nothin’ mum.”

“You think I was born yesterday, Jennifer?” Sue asked sharply, a pointed look in her otherwise kind eyes.

Jenny smirked, looking her mum up and down. “Definitely not born yesterday mother.”

Sue scowled, “cheeky little sh – ”

Jenny quickly pressed the bell to stop the bus and Sue jumped, hurriedly gathering her handbag – back to clutching it like she would fight to the death over its contents.

The girls started to stand as the bus slowed, moving towards its stop. Music drifted through the open windows – someone had Radio City playing loudly from their car, the sound slightly warped but unmistakable.

Sue and the girls thanked the driver as they stepped off the bus and onto the heated shimmering pavement. Warm air wrapped around them immediately. A breeze lifted Jenny’s blonde hair as she stretched her arms above her head.

“Righ’,” she announced. “We are on a mission.”

Sue adjusted the strap of her handbag, her eyes weary as she looked around suspiciously at innocent passersby. “Let’s not call it tha’,” she said. “We’re only bookin’ tickets love.”

Nonetheless there was a smile tugging at El and Jenny’s mouths as they began walking beside Sue down Church Street. Music spilled from open shop doors. Someone was busking further down the pavement – an acoustic guitar drifting through the air. The scent of fish and chips mingled with warm pavement and sea air.

El felt so light. Almost like she might float away if she really wanted to.

They turned a corner and the Lunn Poly travel shop appeared ahead of them – its bright burnt orange signage cheerful in the sunshine.

Jenny pointed dramatically, “there it is!”

Sue snorted, “you’d think we were boardin’ a spaceship.”

El felt almost like she was vibrating with anticipation as Jenny opened the door and gestured theatrically for her mother and El to enter. Sue gave her a deadpan look but stepped inside anyway.

The shop was pleasantly cool after the warmth outside. Bright posters covered the walls – beaches in Spain, turquoise seas in Greece, palm trees in places El had never heard of.

Behind a desk sat a young woman with bright red hair and a friendly face, tapping steadily at a chunky beige computer. She looked up as the bell above the door chimed.

“Afternoon,” she said warmly. “Can I help you ladies?”

Sue’s eyes widened immediately. “Is that you Melissa?!”

The young woman blinked and then realisation registered on her face. “Sue Kelly?”

“Well I’ll be! I didn’t recognise you with the red hair love.” Sue laughed. “I know your mum Angie.”

Melissa sighed in the affectionate way of someone who had clearly heard that sentence her entire life. “Everyone knows me mum,” she said with a smile.

Sue waved it off happily, dragging a spare chair from another desk as the three women sat down in front of Melissa’s desk.

“Right then,” Sue said, putting down her handbag cautiously and leaning forward like she was about to negotiate international trade.

“We would like to go to Iceland chick,” she paused. “And I don’t mean the supermarket!”

Melissa closed her eyes briefly. “Good one,” she said dryly. “Never heard that one before…”

Jenny snorted and El covered her mouth to hide her smile. Melissa turned back to the computer and began typing – the keyboard making loud plastic clunks as the boxy monitor glowed faint green.

“Let’s have a look,” she said. The machine hummed while she scanned through options. El realised she was holding her breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Right,” Melissa said after a moment. “There aren’t any direct flights to Iceland from Liverpool Speke Airport.”

El felt her stomach drop and Sue shuffled uncomfortably in the plastic chair. “Well, that’s a bit inconvenient love.”

“But,” Melissa continued, her gaze narrowing as she looked through lines of information. “You can fly out of Glasgow -”

Sue leaned back sharply. “Glasgow?! That’s in a whole different country!”

Jenny rolled her eyes immediately. “Mum relax. It’s only Scotland.”

Sue looked horrified. “Yes well,” she said firmly. “Men wear kilts there and deep fry Mars bars. They are very different people love!”

Jenny choked with laughter. And El stared at them both, utterly fascinated by this revelation.

Melissa hid her smile by taking a slow sip of her cup of tea. She placed it back down and cleared her throat.

“You could take the train from Liverpool Lime Street to Glasgow Central,” she suggested. “It might actually be cheaper and makes more sense than tryin’ connect through London.”

Sue sighed dramatically. “Well… alrigh’ than love. We’ll brave the kilts...”

Melissa clicked through another screen. “The Icelandair flights from Glasgow to Keflavík run Tuesdays and Fridays,” she explained.

El leaned forward immediately. “Can we go Tuesday?”

Sue looked at her. “It doesn’t give us much time to prepare love,” she admitted.

El’s heart fluttered nervously, and something must have crossed over her face because Sue sighed, her eyes softening. “… but if that’s what you want.”

El’s face lit up and Jenny beamed, nodding her head enthusiastically.

Melissa smiled at their enthusiasm. “Alright then,” she said. “How many passengers?”

“Five,” Sue replied.

Melissa looked up. “And ages?”

They answered while Melissa picked up the phone and dialled Icelandair. The conversation was brisk and efficient as she confirmed the seats, occasionally covering the receiver to ask questions.

“Passports please.”

Sue handed them over from her bag. El watched Melissa examine them one by one. The woman flipped through pages, typed details into the computer, nodded once -completely normal. No hesitation. No suspicion. Just routine.

El felt something very much like pride swell inside her chest. For the first time in her life, she was simply a girl booking a flight. Not a weapon or a number. Not a secret. Just Eleanor Kelly.

Melissa finished typing and set the phone down. “Right then,” she said. “You’re all booked.”

El’s hands trembled slightly as she handed Melissa the money. This was real – actually happening. Jenny grabbed El’s arm, almost knowing she needed the support.

 “What time?” she asked eagerly.

Melissa printed the confirmation. “Icelandair,” she read. “Flight departing Glasgow Airport, Tuesday the 6th of June at 6pm, arriving at Keflavík International Airport at 7.25pm local time.”

El’s breath caught as Melissa slid the tickets across the desk.

“There you go.”

El picked them up slowly, the paper felt impossibly light. Beside her Jenny leaned close, blue eyes bright with excitement. They exchanged a look. The kind of look that said everything. We’re really doing this.

The bell above the Lunn Poly door jingled as the three women stepped back into the sunlight.

The warmth wrapped around them instantly, the breeze carrying the familiar scent of the Mersey through the busy streets. Liverpool felt louder now - more alive. Shoppers filled Church Street in a constant colourful flow.

El clutched the envelope containing their flight confirmation as if it might disappear if she loosened her grip. They were going to Iceland. In just two days, they would start their journey.

Sue stopped dead on the pavement. “Oh God.”

Jenny immediately looked suspicious. “Wha’?”

Sue turned slowly towards Melissa’s shop window like a woman who had just remembered she’d left the oven on.

“We need to go shoppin’.”

Jenny groaned. “Mum – ”

Sue spun back towards the door and marched inside again before Jenny could finish. Melissa looked up as they returned, already smiling like she knew exactly what was coming.

Sue leaned on the desk. “One quick question love.”

Melissa nodded politely.

“What’s the weather like in Iceland in June?”

Melissa’s smile widened slightly. “Usually between nine and fifteen degrees -”

Sue stared at her. “Nine bleedin’ degrees?!”

Her voice echoed through the shop. Jenny burst out laughing, El couldn’t help it as her own laugh came out, her shoulders shaking.

Sue shook her head in disbelief. “These hot springs better be worth it girls…”

Jenny wiped tears from her eyes. “Mum relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Sue snapped immediately.

Jenny blinked. “Mum you’re literally shoutin’.”

Sue ignored that entirely. Instead, she turned to El with the urgency of a woman organising a military operation.

“You got that money love?”

El nodded quickly. “Yes.”

Sue clapped her hands once. “Right then.” Her eyes lit with determination. “We got some shoppin’ to do.”

Liverpool was buzzing. The pavement was packed with shoppers weaving between shop doors and street performers. The sunshine glinted off bus windows and shop signs.

Sue immediately hooked her elbows through both girls’ arms. “Stick with me,” she declared. “This is tactical.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Mum it’s shoppin’, not a hostage rescue.”

Sue ignored her completely and steered them straight into Top Shop. Inside the shop, racks of summer clothes filled the floor, pop music playing through speakers overhead. Sue marched straight past the dresses.

“No.”

Jenny blinked. “No?”

“We need coats.”

Jenny groaned and El tried desperately not to laugh again. Ten minutes later they emerged with two thick jumpers, jeans, scarves and a heavy coat Sue insisted El absolutely needed.

Next stop was Chelsea Girl and then Littlewoods. Sue moved through the shops with unstoppable energy, grabbing warm clothes like a woman preparing for the Arctic.

“You’ll thank me when you’re not freezin’ your backside off,” she told them while throwing another jumper over her arm.

Jenny muttered under her breath. “I thought Iceland was supposed to be magical.”

“It will be,” Sue replied. “But you’ll still need a coat.”

Eventually Sue shoved a pile of shopping bags into Jenny’s arms and hurried outside.

“I’ll be two minutes.”

Jenny blinked. “Where are you goin’?”

“Phone box,” Sue said, already halfway down the street. She returned five minutes later looking far too satisfied.

Jenny narrowed her eyes. “What have you done?”

“Nothin’,” Sue replied innocently, a smirk on her face as she started rummaging through a rack of thick wool jumpers in the sale rack.

While she was distracted, Jenny gently nudged El from where they were looking at pyjamas. “Come over here.”

El followed her towards another section of the shop and Jenny lowered her voice conspiratorially.

“Okay I know this doesn’t seem that important. Especially with everything you’ve been through in your life. But… you need nice underwear.”

El’s face instantly flushed. “Jenny!”

Jenny grinned wickedly. “I’m serious.”

El tried to hide her embarrassment by pretending to examine a rack.

“You’ll regret it if he finds you and you aren’t lookin’ your best!”

El laughed softly, shaking her head. But Jenny’s teasing planted something deep in her chest. A flutter of hope. Because suddenly the idea felt… real. El reaching out to Mike, him finding her. Seeing him again… her heart squeezed painfully. She imagined his dark amber eyes. His voice. The way he used to say her name. So soft and almost full of awe.

The thought filled her with a dizzy mixture of nerves and excitement. She was so close now. Closer than ever before.

Jenny noticed the shift in her expression and softened. “You’re thinkin’ about him,” she said gently.

El nodded. “Yes.” Her voice was quiet but full of emotion. “I am.”

Before Jenny could reply, the shop door burst open. Danny appeared like he had sprinted the entire way from home. His t-shirt clung to his back with sweat, and he was slightly out of breath.

“Mum…” He gasped, clutching his sides. “What’s wrong? What’s the emergency?!”

Sue didn’t even look up from the rack of jumpers she was examining. “Oh there’s no emergency my boy.”

Danny blinked. “…wha’? You called me from a phone box to get here immediately,” he said baffled.

Sue finally turned around. “Oh that” She smiled sweetly. “I just need you to hold the bags love.”

Danny stared at the mountain of shopping already gathered around them. His expression suggested he might commit a small act of violence.

Jenny immediately began piling bags into his arms. El added two more with an apologetic smile. Sue handed him another and affectionately tapped his warm cheek.

Danny groaned. “Unbelievable.” But he still took them all and followed them anyway.

El and Jenny’s bedroom glowed with soft orange light. It came from the small lamp on the bedside table, the shade casting a warm halo across the room and turning the walls the colour of sunset.

Outside the window the last of the evening breeze rustled faintly through the trees, carrying distant city sounds - a passing car, a door closing somewhere down the street, faint laughter drifting from a nearby house.

Inside the room, everything felt warm. Safe.

Two suitcases lay open across the beds. Jenny’s was already half full, clothes piled in messy layers while she debated what deserved space. El’s was neater - everything carefully placed, deliberate, as if every item mattered.

Sue’s voice suddenly echoed up the staircase. “Jenny! Joe’s on the phone!”

Jenny’s head snapped up instantly. Her face lit up like a spark catching fire.

“Oh!” She jumped off the bed, smoothing her hair instinctively. “I’ll be two seconds!”

El smiled as Jenny hurried out of the room, nearly tripping over the doorway in her excitement.

“Take your time,” El called softly after her.

Jenny flashed a grin over her shoulder and disappeared down the stairs.

The house grew quiet again. El sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, listening to the muffled sound of Jenny’s voice downstairs - already soft and affectionate.

Jenny’s boyfriend Joe was kind. Gentle. The kind of boy who carried extra sandwiches in his bag just in case Jenny forgot lunch during her shifts. A porter at the hospital where she trained, always waiting for her outside when her shift ended.

El knew Jenny would miss him over the next two weeks. But she would be coming back, living her life as normal. Enjoying the summer before she would return to nursing school.

El rose slowly and walked over to her wardrobe. Inside, tucked carefully behind her everyday clothes, were the things she had taken from her mama’s house.

She reached for them gently. First the embroidered jeans. The denim was soft with age, the stitching delicate and beautiful along the pockets. They still carried the faintest scent of her mama’s house - something floral and almost warm.

Then there was a couple of cotton blouses. They were light and simple, soft against her fingers. And finally – El paused as her eyes flickered gently over her mama’s dress. She lifted it slowly from the hanger.

It was light blue, the fabric almost weightless, patterned with small delicate flowers that seemed to dance across the material. The skirt would fall just below the knee when she wore it.

El held it carefully against her chest. At her mama’s house she had imagined the moment she would wear this dress. There would be a summer breeze, sunlight and peace. A life where no one was hunting her. Where she could simply exist. She had told herself then, standing alone in that quiet house - One day I will wear this.

And now… now it felt like that moment was coming.

El folded the dress carefully - no, not folded. She smiled faintly to herself as she remembered Sue’s instructions earlier. “Roll it love,” Sue had said firmly while packing Danny’s suitcase downstairs.

“Less creases.”

El carefully rolled the dress the way Sue had shown her and placed it gently inside her suitcase. For a moment she simply looked at it. At everything packed around it. A future she still couldn’t quite see.

She moved back to the bedside table and picked up her notebook. Inside its pages were the letters she had written to Mike - words she had never sent but needed to say.

She slipped the small photograph of her parents between the pages. They were so young, happy and in love. She studied their faces for a moment before closing the notebook and placing it carefully into her hand luggage. She wanted them close to her.

El packed the small collection of toiletries she had gathered since arriving in Liverpool. Mascara, a couple of lipsticks, a small blush compact. Most of them barely used. If she was honest, Jenny usually did her makeup whenever the situation required it. El still wasn’t very confident with it herself. Not that there had been many situations that required it of course.

She packed a few books next. Some she had bought during the cruise, others from small bookshops in Liverpool. Their pages slightly worn from evenings spent reading beside the window while Jenny studied for nursing exams.

El paused again as something caught the light. Her hand lifted slowly as she stared at her promise ring from Mike. It gleamed softly on her finger. She turned it slowly, thumb brushing across the metal and she felt her breathing deepen.

She looked around the bedroom. The warm glow of the lamp, the quiet comfort of the house. The faint sounds of Jenny talking downstairs. This place had become something she never expected. Home.

And suddenly fear started to creep in. A quiet kind. The kind that settles deep inside your chest. Because the truth was… she didn’t know what came next.

Iceland felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. One step forward and everything might change. For the better, or for the worse. It could be the beginning of something beautiful. Or the beginning of another fall. The uncertainty made her stomach twist.

The door opened quietly, and Jenny slipped back inside, smiling so brightly it almost lit the room.

“El,” she said happily, flopping onto the bed. “Joe says he’s goin’ miss me.”

El smiled softly. “Of course he is. He loves you.”

Jenny laughed lightly, but her cheeks warmed up a pretty pink. She continued talking about the phone call, describing something Joe had said about sneaking time off work to visit the airport when they got back. But her voice slowed, her eyes drifted across the room. Across El’s suitcase, across the items carefully packed inside. The dress. The notebook in the travel luggage. The books. Everything…

Jenny’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. Her blue eyes flickered with understanding. She knew what she was seeing. Everything that mattered to El. Packed and ready.

A quiet question hung in the air between them.

Is she coming back?

Jenny cleared her throat gently. “So anyway,” she said, forcing brightness back into her voice, “Joe said he might try and grow a beard while I’m gone.”

El laughed softly. But the silence between those moments said everything. Jenny didn’t ask the question, and El was grateful, because it wasn’t something she was ready to answer.

Mike

“Cabin crew, prepare for landing.”

The captain’s voice crackled overhead, calm and practiced, but Mike barely heard it.

He was pressed against the window. Forehead resting lightly against the cool glass, fingers curled tight into the armrest as if that alone could keep him steady.

Below him, he could see it – London. It stretched out in every direction. Endless and impossible. The sky above the city was high and pale, the kind of soft gold that made everything feel almost unreal. Sunlight spilled across rooftops and glass towers, catching on windows, glinting off metal, turning the River Thames into a ribbon of light that cut through the city like a vein.

Mike’s breath hitched. Despite the 10-hour flight, it felt like only moments ago they had been in Indiana. Hawkins. Small streets, familiar houses. A life he had known his entire existence. And now… now he was here. Across an ocean, in a place that looked older than anything he had ever seen in his life.

Modern buildings rose sharp and reflective, towering above everything else. But between them stood history. Real history. Stone structures that looked like they had stood there for hundreds of years. Cathedrals, bridges, buildings that didn’t just exist – but had endured so many battles. They had survived so many moments in time that Mike had studied in school. But now it was real, right in front of his eyes.  

Mike swallowed hard. This wasn’t America. Not even close.

Beside him, Dustin suddenly gasped. “Ooh - look!”

He pressed his face closer to the glass, nearly climbing over Mike in his excitement.

“You can see Buckingham Palace!”

Mike blinked. “What?”

Dustin pointed wildly. “There! That big open space - see it?!”

Mike followed his finger, and then he saw it. A pale building set back in front of a vast area of monuments. Grand and unmistakable even from this height. Mike stared and couldn’t believe it. They were here. Not just in England, but in London.

His chest tightened. Because even though he knew El wasn’t here in London, it still meant something. They had crossed the ocean. They had left everything they knew behind. And for the first time since she disappeared, he was closer to her than he had been in years.

The thought hit him so hard it made his stomach flip. The plane tilted slightly as it continued its slow circle over the city.

Five minutes passed. Maybe more. Mike lost track of time and all he could was stare. Trying to take it in. Trying to ground himself in the reality of it. But reality didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream he might wake up from at any second.

The buildings blurred slightly as his eyes burned, and he blinked hard. No. This was real. She was real. And he was coming to find her.

The plane finally began to descend properly this time, and the city rose toward them. Closer and closer. The details sharpened – roads and cars. Everything rushing up to meet them.

Mike leaned back in his seat slowly, his hands gripped the armrests hard, his knuckles turned white. He could hear his breath hitch as he tried to control it. In and out. In – his chest felt tight. Too tight. Like there wasn’t enough air in his lungs. He closed his eyes trying to steady himself, but the nerves wouldn’t settle. They twisted and churned in his stomach, sharp and relentless.

What if she’s not there? What if I’m wrong? What if –

He shook his head slightly. No. No he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let himself spiral now. Not after everything. Not after coming this far. His breath came out shaky and he swallowed hard.

He closed his eyes again, listening to the engines and the sounds of the wheels hitting the runway with a jolt that rattled through his entire body. The plane steadied, speeding forward before the engines reversed with a loud roar, slowing them down.

Mike’s heart slammed against his ribs. They were here. They were actually here.

The plane taxied slowly across the tarmac. Passengers began shifting in their seats, loosening seatbelts, reaching for bags. The normalcy of it all felt surreal. Like this was just another flight. Another arrival. Another day. But for Mike… this was everything. This was the moment everything changed.

The plane finally came to a stop and the seatbelt sign dinged. People immediately stood, crowding the aisles. Dustin stood next to him, reaching up towards the overhead luggage compartment. But Mike didn’t move. Not yet. His chest was still rising and falling too quickly. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins – hot and restless.

Because now that they had landed – now that they were here it felt wrong to just stop. To shuffle slowly in a queue of people. Every instinct inside him screamed the same thing – move! Keep going. Don’t waste time.

Mike’s fingers twitched against the armrest, and he stood abruptly, almost smacking his head on the roof of the luggage compartment.

Dustin wobbled slightly as Mike tried to move forward, “whoa. Careful man.”

“Sorry,” Mike mumbled, his hand gripping the back of the seat.

He wasn’t sorry though. Not really. Because standing still… standing still meant waiting. And waiting meant time. And time was the one thing he felt like he didn’t have. Not anymore, not when he was this close.

Dustin stepped away from the seats and Mike sighed in relief, grabbing his bag and stepping into the aisle the same time as Will, Max and Lucas.

They were already looking back at him, a steady focus in all their eyes. He couldn’t help it but smile sheepishly back at them. They were all being pulled forward by something stronger than fear. Stronger than doubt.

Hope.

Mike adjusted the strap of his backpack and stepped off the plane, the party behind him. With him – the whole way.

The party moved together, following the hoard of passengers heading straight for Passport Control. People streamed past them in every direction. Businessmen in suits, parents holding tightly to their overstimulated children and flight attendants who moved with quick efficient strides. Voices layered together in accents Mike had only ever heard on TV. British, French, German. People speaking English in accents he couldn’t even identify.

“Holy crap,” Dustin whispered, looking around. “We’re in England.”

Lucas snorted. “Thank you, Columbus.”

Max stepped out behind them, stretching her arms above her head after the long flight.

“Ten hour flight,” she muttered. “My spine has permanently fused with that seat.”

Will walked beside her, his eyes already wide as he took everything in. The airport felt enormous. Huge glass windows showed the grey sky outside.

Announcements echoed overhead in crisp British accents. “Welcome to Heathrow Airport…”

Mike barely heard it. His heart had been pounding since the plane began its descent. Because every mile they travelled across the Atlantic had brought them closer. Closer to El. He could feel it like a pull in his chest. A magnetic tug drawing him forward.

He tightened his grip on his passport as they followed the crowd towards Immigration. The line moved slowly, and Mike’s stomach twisted harder with every step.

Dustin leaned towards Lucas. “Do you think they’ll notice we’re American?”

Lucas stared at him. “You’re wearing a USA t-shirt with an American passport in your hand.”

“…fair.” Dustin cringed. “Is it obvious we’ve never been out of the country?”

Lucas didn’t even respond, just shook his head and closed his eyes as if he was begging God for mercy.

Mike watched the Immigration officers, their slightly stern faces as they scrutinised passports, sometimes asking questions, stamping the books before moving on to the next person.

Mike slowly swallowed and whispered, “what if they don’t let us in?”

Will frowned, “why wouldn’t they let us in? We’ve got all the right visas.”

“I don’t know,” Mike panicked, his eyes shifting over the officers as they moved ever closer. “What if… what if they think we’re suspicious?”

Max snorted as she rubbed at her tired eyes. “You might be eighteen Wheeler, but you look like a kid who just lost his mom at the mall. There’s nothing intimidating about you.”

Mike didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended.

Will stepped a little closer beside him, quiet but steady. “They’ll let us in.”

Mike nodded, though his stomach still twisted with pressure.

When it was finally his turn, the immigration officer barely glanced up.  A tired looking man with glasses and a moustache flipped open Mike’s passport and looked at his visa.

“Purpose of visit?”

Mike froze. Purpose of visit? He couldn’t exactly say I’m chasing the girl I love across the Atlantic because she disappeared into another dimension.

“Tourism,” he croaked.

The man stamped the passport without even blinking. “Enjoy London.”

Mike exhaled slowly as he carefully took back his documentation, stepped through passport control and waited awkwardly for the rest of the party, his eyes wide with shock at how easy it had been.

He wasn’t the only one surprised. Dustin immediately whispered loudly as he joined Mike, Max, Lucas and Will. “I’m a bit disappointed how smooth that was.”

Lucas clapped him on the shoulder. “You were expecting MI6 to tackle you?”

Dustin shrugged. “Crazier things have happened to us.”

The five young Americans stepped into baggage claim. It was a bit chaotic – they shouted over each other as they hurried after their luggage on the conveyor belt. Will almost took an old lady’s suitcase confusing it for his own. The old woman started, but Will smiled apologetically and carefully lifted it, handing it over.

“Thank you young man,” she said, tapping his cheek affectionately.

Will turned back to the party, his cheeks pink as the Lucas, Dustin and Max snickered.

 “Oh you pretty little boy!” Max cooed in her best British accent as Will shuffled over embarrassed.

The group walked through customs nothing to declare, and straight to the arrivals hall. Suitcases rolled across the tiled floor in every direction. Families greeted each other and taxi drivers held up signs for the rush of people coming through the doors.

Lucas stopped abruptly near a kiosk. “Wait.”

Dustin followed his gaze. Both boys stared at the snack shelves like archaeologists discovering treasure. Rows of unfamiliar chocolate bars. Crisps with strange flavours. Bright packaging everywhere.

Lucas picked one up. “Prawn cocktail?”

Dustin grabbed another. “What the hell is a Nik Nak?”

Max rolled her eyes. “We’ve been arrivals for one minute...”

Dustin held up a Mars bar. “Research is important.”

Will wandered a few steps away, staring out the huge glass windows. The architecture outside looked nothing like Hawkins. Old stone buildings, black taxis. And towering red buses. His friends noticed him staring and gave him identical flat looks.

Will flushed pink immediately. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s just… cool.”

Max smiled. “Yeah,” she said softly, her gaze moving to the windows. “It is.”

Outside, the doors slid open automatically, and the world changed again. The air hit them first. It was warm, but not in the way Hawkins was warm. This was different - thick and slightly damp, the kind of heat that clung to your skin instead of settling on it. It carried smells Mike couldn’t quite place at first. Gas, hot tarmac, something fried and sweet.

Mike stepped out onto the pavement slowly and then he saw them. Black taxis lined the curb in neat rows, their rounded shapes gleaming under the grey sky. Drivers leaned casually against doors, chatting in accents that rolled and clipped.

A red double-decker bus roared past. It was bright and impossibly real. Iconic.

Dustin turned in a full circle. “Okay -” he said, breathless. “Okay this is insane.”

Lucas shaded his eyes slightly, looking out at the road. “They’re driving on the wrong side.”

“They’re driving on the left side,” Max corrected, though even she sounded a little thrown.

Will tilted his head back, staring at the buildings beyond the road. They weren’t tall in the way American cities were, but they were old. Solid and layered – every brick looked like it had a story.

“This place…” Will murmured quietly. His friends turned to him and Will flushed slightly but didn’t look away this time.

“It feels… important.”

Dustin blinked. “…what does that even mean?”

Will shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t know. It just - does.”

Mike didn’t say anything because he felt it too. Not in the same way Will did. But something… something in his chest shifted the moment his feet hit British ground. Like something had clicked into place, like a compass needle finally settling.

This is right. His heart thudded, loud and insistent.

“Underground’s this way,” Max said, gesturing towards a sign.

They moved together again, pulling their suitcases behind them as they followed the flow of people.

The entrance to the Underground yawned open ahead of them - a set of stairs descending into shadow, the red and blue rounded sign hanging above like something out of a film.

Dustin slowed slightly. “Are we sure this isn’t where the secret government base is?”

Lucas nudged him forward. “Keep moving, 007.”

They descended and the air grew warmer. The hum of the city above was replaced by something mechanical – a distant rumble, the echo of trains moving through ancient tunnels.

It smelt strongly of soot by the time they reached the platform, and the next train arrived with a screech. Doors slid open and Mike felt overwhelmed by how packed the carriage already was.

“They will all be like this,” Max sighed, nudging him forward.

People pressed in close, holding onto rails, reading newspapers, staring ahead like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Mike grabbed one of the overhead bars, his other hand firmly on his suitcase as the train jolted forward.

The tunnel soon swallowed them, and darkness rushed past the windows. Mike caught his reflection faintly in the glass. He looked pale. Tired. Eyes shadowed from the flight. But there was something else there too… something sharper and focused. Determination.

He could the pull building up again. That constant, relentless pull forward. Each stop, each mile and each second bringing him nearer to El.

It felt like Mike had merely blinked when the train stopped again and Max was once again ushering him forward. Mike could barely remember grabbing his suitcase and following his friends out of the station, grateful to get out of the dark and follow the light to the fresh air. Well, if you could call it fresh air.

They emerged into the city not long after. And London hit them all over again. It was even louder here, completely chaotic. The buildings stood closer and traffic surged past in both directions.

People moved fast - purposeful, effective, weaving through crowds like they knew exactly where they were going. Voices overlapped in a constant hum. And everywhere there was movement, energy, life. Mike barely kept up as they were swept along with it.

Their suitcases bumped over uneven pavement and their shoulders brushed strangers. Someone muttered “sorry,” another said “cheers,” and Dustin looked deeply confused every single time.

“Why do they keep saying cheers?” he whispered.

“It means thanks,” Max replied, not even looking at him.

“Then why don’t they just say thanks?”

Lucas sighed. “I’m begging you to stop talking.”

By the time they reached the centre of the city, the weight of everything had started to settle in their bodies. The long flight, the time difference, the constant movement. It all caught up slowly, their steps dragged slightly, and their shoulders slumped.

But Mike didn’t slow. He couldn’t. Even as exhaustion began to creep into his limbs, adrenaline kept him moving. Because just like on the plane, stopping still felt wrong. Wrong in a way he struggled to explain, like every second wasted was a second further from her.

Max noticed. Of course she did. She frowned slightly and stepped in front of him, forcing him to slow.

“Mike.”

He stopped. Barely.

“We need to think,” she said gently, her blue eyes glancing nervously around their new surroundings.

Mike shook his head. “No - we just need to get a train. If we go now, we can be in Liverpool -”

“Mike you know what the plan was.” Her voice was firmer this time.

Will stepped in beside her. “From what you’ve seen,” he said carefully, “she seems safe in Liverpool.”

Mike’s jaw tightened, his fingers slowly digging into the palms of his hands.

“I doubt she’s gonna suddenly get up and leave,” Lucas added.

The words landed slowly, and he hated that they made sense. The plan had always been for them to stay at least one day in London. To do the tourist things, to appear normal. But it didn’t stop him hating it with every fibre of his being.

He exhaled sharply. “…okay.”

Max nodded once and her shoulders lowered slightly.  “Good.”

They found a small Bed and Breakfast not far from the station. It was narrow and slightly cluttered, but clean. They dropped their bags in their rooms and Dustin argued which bed he was getting. But Mike barely looked around. He didn’t care where he was sleeping.

He only cared that it wasn’t where El was.

“Food,” Dustin announced shortly after. “No arguments.”

They ended up in a small pie and mash shop. It was warm and crowded and smelled incredible. They stood awkwardly at the counter, staring at the menu like it was written in another language.

“What do we even order?” Lucas muttered.

The owner chuckled. “First time, yeah?” he said in a strong cockney accent.

Dustin nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

“House special,” the man said, already moving.

A few minutes later, they sat around a small table. Steam rose from their plates. Thick pastry minced beef pies, mashed potatoes and a parsley sauce the menu called liquor.

Dustin took one bite and froze. “Oh man.”

Lucas followed. “Okay - yeah.”

Max nodded slowly. “This is actually… really good.”

Will smiled in agreement while Mike ate quietly. But he did notice it too. The comfort and warmth of the food. And for a brief second, he let himself feel it. Feel what El must have felt when she had her first proper meal in England. When she was finally safe and settled.

It brought a smile to Mike’s lips, an ache into his heart and a tear to the corner of his eye.

By the time they left, their bodies were completely done. The adrenaline was fading and the jet lag hit hard. They trudged back through the streets, dodging fast walkers and nearly getting clipped by taxis more than once.

Inside the B&B, they barely made it to their rooms. Mike dropped onto the bed – didn’t even bother taking off his shoes. Will was already half-asleep on the twin bed.

Dustin collapsed dramatically onto the double bed. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Mike stared at the ceiling through bleary eyes.

Liverpool. Tomorrow.

El.

His eyes closed. And this time – this time he didn’t fight it. Sleep pulled him under before he could think another thought.

The train pulled slowly out of London Euston, steel wheels screeching softly as it gathered speed.

Outside the window the city blurred past - brick terraces, graffiti-lined walls, rows of chimneys stacked tightly together. The skyline of London faded behind them, replaced gradually by wide stretches of countryside. Green fields, stone fences, cows, horses and sheep scattered lazily across the landscape.

None of them were really appreciated the view though. Not when jet lag had sunk into their bones like wet concrete.

Mike was sat next to the window in a bay of four seats, Will beside him quietly reading a British history book he had bought that morning. Dustin faced them, his elbows on the table that separated their seats. His chin in his hand, eyes heavy.

Max and Lucas sat opposite them across the narrow aisle of the train.

Lucas had his arm around Max, her head against his chest, her red hair spilling over his arm, eyes half-closed. Lucas seemed to be fighting to stay awake as the rhythmic sway of the train threatened to knock him out completely.

Mike slowly pulled on the headphones, staring out at the passing landscape with hollow, exhausted eyes. He had got little rest at the B&B. Even when his body shut down, his mind had refused to rest.

And now, every mile that they travelled North felt like another tightening knot in his chest.

Liverpool. In touching distance now.

He pushed the worn cassette into the Walkman clipped to his belt. The quiet crackle of the tape filled his ears. And then the gentle guitar notes began.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night…

Mike closed his eyes and the train rocked gently beneath him, metal wheels humming along the rails.

Across from him Dustin noticed the tape case sitting open as he adjusted in his seat.

“Beatles?” he murmured sleepily.

Will glanced down at the small table too, but Mike didn’t answer. His head had tipped against the cool glass of the window. Outside, the English countryside rolled past in shades of green and grey.

All your life. You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

The guitar notes echoed softly through his headphones and Mike breathed slowly. The music wrapped around him, the steady rhythm of the train, the warmth of the carriage. The exhaustion in every muscle. And then… something shifted.

The train window vanished, the sound of the rails faded. And Mike wasn’t in the carriage anymore. He was somewhere else. Somewhere bright and soothing. There was a murmur of other voices he couldn’t hear.

A pair of hands held a padded envelope. Small hands – familiar hands. Hands that Mike had held countless times. Skin Mike’s thumb had brushed over in gentle circles.

Mike’s breath caught.

El.

He wasn’t seeing her face. Just like in the library, he could only see what she saw. But it was all blurry at the edges. Her focus was solely on the envelope that she tore open. Paper crinkled and a burgundy passport slid into view.

Mike felt her breath hitch. Felt the surge of emotion rising inside her chest. And then – her eyes dropped to the envelope still in her hand. The return address printed neatly in black ink. The letters wavered, blurry and hard to read.

Did she have tears in her eyes?

Mike strained and focused as the words slowly sharpened.

160 Gwenfron Road

The rest of the address smudged and shifted like ink in water. But those words – those words burned clear.

Mike jerked violently and the train carriage slammed back into existence around him. He practically ripped the headphones off his ears, his chest heaved and sweat clung to his skin.

“Mike!”

Will had grabbed his arm as Mike blinked wildly. His heart hammered like it was trying to punch through his ribs.

Across the aisle Lucas and Max were staring at him and Dustin sat so straight he looked like an alarmed meerkat.

“Dude - what the hell?” Dustin said.

“I…” Mike dragged in a shaky breath. “I saw something.”

Lucas leaned forward immediately. “You saw her?” he whispered urgently.

Mike nodded. “Yes. Kind of…”

Max straightened instantly. “What did you see?”

Mike swallowed, still trying to steady his breathing. “A letter… in her hands. An envelope.”

Will’s eyes widened and Dustin grabbed a pen and notebook from his backpack.

“Tell us.”

Mike shut his eyes briefly, forcing himself to remember. “The address.”

Everyone froze.

Max leaned over so fast her hair fell over her face. “You saw her address?”

Mike nodded again, his heart refusing to calm. “I think so.”

Dustin shoved the notebook across the table. “Write it.”

Mike grabbed the pen and his hand shook as he scribbled quickly across the paper.

160 Gwenfron Road

He set the pen down slowly. The carriage was silent expect for the sounds of the train. Lucas stared at the notebook and then frowned slightly.

“That’s… that’s only the first two lines.”

Max leaned over his shoulder. “Is that enough?”

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. “Are we going to be able to find it with just that?”

Mike looked down at the address. Those words were the only clear thing from the vision. Except for –

“She’s got a passport.” The words came out of Mike’s mouth in almost a daze. Like he too couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“A passport?” Will whispered, his voice slightly hoarse.

Mike nodded looking at the others. “It… it wasn’t like ours. It was like the British ones.”

The words hung in the air around them. Mike knew they were thinking it too. How? How had she managed to get a British passport? He would think it might be stolen if it wasn’t for the emotion that had welled up inside of her. Emotion that Mike had felt too. Anticipation, fear, pride.

The exhaustion in all of them seem to vanish beneath something stronger. Mike looked up at them, eyes burning.

“We have to get to her.”

The train slowed with a long metallic sigh as it rolled into Liverpool Lime Street Station.

Mike stood long before the doors even fully opened. His fingers curled tightly around the strap of his bag and suitcase, his heart beating so loudly it almost drowned out the announcements echoing through the station.

Liverpool. They had made it.

Behind him Dustin yawned so wide his jaw cracked. “Please tell me this is the last train we’re taking,” he groaned.

Lucas stretched stiffly. “Dude my spine is permanently shaped like a seat.”

Max shoved her bag over her shoulder. “Move, you idiots.” Her eyes were as urgent as Mike’s.

The doors slid open and cool air rushed in. The moment they stepped out onto the platform, they could feel it. Liverpool was very different.

London had felt heavy. Dense and humid. Crowded in a suffocating way. But Liverpool felt like it was a living, breathing entity.

Even inside the station the air seemed fresher, carrying a breeze that smelled faintly of the sea. Music immediately drifted through the open station doors and people laughed loudly.

Someone shouted something across the street followed by a burst of swearing that would have made Hopper proud. A group of guys somewhere nearby were drunkenly singing despite it only being one in the afternoon.

Max blinked. “Okay,” she said slowly. “This place has… vibes.” She smiled slightly.

They stepped out onto the street and Mike stopped dead. The city stretched out around them in warm brick and old stone, buildings that looked weathered but proud. The sky above was still grey, but the air felt lighter here somehow.

And then Mike saw it. The Royal Liver Building – the same one from his vision. If he could call it a vision. The two Liver Bird monuments perched smugly on top of the towering structure.

Mike couldn’t help it. A small, almost disbelieving smile crept onto his face. They were here. And he could feel it in his chest, like electricity humming under his skin. He was standing where El had stood.

Max broke the moment with a long exhale. “So…” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “Do we just start asking for directions or something?”

Lucas shrugged helplessly. “Seems like a plan.”

Across the street a young woman sat on a crate with a guitar in her lap, a small open case in front of her filled with coins. Mike blinked slowly, he felt like he had heard this girl play before. The strum of her guitar made him think of dreams he had once had. Blurry, but the music had always been clear.

He exhaled a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. He was starting to understand now. All those dreams had been actual real fragments of El’s life here. How that connection had started Mike didn’t know. But it something he was beyond grateful for. A connection he prayed never faded.

Max walked straight to the girl. “Hey,” she called, with a polite grin. “Um… nice singing.”

The girl looked up with a friendly smile, “Thanks chick.”

Dustin blinked slightly at the strong accent and shared a look with Will who just smirked at him.

Max hesitated for half a second. “Do you know where Gwenfron Road is?”

The girl’s eyebrows lifted, and she took in the party. Aside from their accents, it was very clear they were strangers to Liverpool.

“Course.” She said softly as the group collectively leaned in. “I live just off it,” she added casually.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Dustin blinked and responded first. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” she said with a shrug.

Will was already fumbling for his notebook. “Can you tell us how to get there please?”

The girl looked Will over, smiling slightly, pink raising to her cheeks. She cleared her throat.

“Up tha’ road there, left past the shops, keep going until you see the park, then take the second right - Gwenfron’s just past the corner chippy.”

Will scribbled furiously.

“Left… park… second right…chippy…”

Mike barely heard any of it because the girl had started strumming her guitar again. The familiar opening chords floated into the air.

“Oh yeah, I’ll tell you something…”

Mike froze and the girl smiled as she sang, her eyes flickering over Will who was too busy with his notebook to notice. Or perhaps he just didn’t see it. Wasn’t looking for it.

“I want to hold your hand…”

A strange shiver ran through Mike and goosebumps rippled across his arms. El really liked this song. He could… feel it. Remember that moment somehow, that she had first seen this girl singing.

“Mike!” Lucas grabbed his arm. “Come on!”

The Party was already moving and Mike startled, hurrying after them.

The walk felt endless. Every street looked the same and every turn made Mike’s heart pound harder.

Finally, Will stopped and looked down at his notebook, then at the street sign up ahead.

“Gwenfron Road.” He said quietly, his eyes filling with nerves as he looked between Mike, Dustin, Max and Lucas.

Everyone froze. And in a moment of clarity, Mike realised what happened next wasn’t just about him. Because while he loved El more than he thought could even be possible, he wasn’t the only one who loved her. He wasn’t the only one who had grieved or wished they had done more. Wished they could have saved her somehow.

They stood staring at each other, terror and excitement flickering over their faces in equal measure.

“If we want to see her,” Max said breathlessly, her eyes a little wet. “We might need to start moving.”

Mike laughed, he couldn’t help it. A broken and heavy laugh, that made him hastily wipe at his eyes. He didn’t know when he had started to cry.

Together, they slowly turned towards Gwenfron Road. The houses lined the street in neat rows of brick terraces. They walked slowly past white curtains in windows, kids bikes leaning against fences and small front porches.

“Number 160,” Lucas murmured as they kept moving.

Mike’s throat was getting dryer with every step he made.

156. 158. And then -

160 Gwenfron Road.

Mike stopped, his heart now pounding so loudly he was sure his friends could hear it. They hung back slightly, and no one spoke. No one breathed.

Mike felt a cold sweat rise to his skin as he stepped forward. Closing the small distance to the front door. He looked down at his hand as it slowly curled into a fist and he raised it.

His breath caught as he knocked.

The silence made his head dizzy. He knocked again.

Still nothing. Mike frowned, glancing over his shoulder at the party.

“Again,” Max gestured, her eyes wide.

Mike lifted his hand, but before he could knock, a voice rang out from across the street.

“They aren’t here honey!”

Mike whirled, turning to see an elderly woman leaning halfway out of her window. Another neighbour poked her head up from a garden gate and a third woman appeared sitting on some worn steps in front of her house, a cigarette between her fingers and rollers in her hair.

They had all apparently materialised out of nowhere.

The one leaning out of her window squinted down at Mike. “Bloody hell, you’re tall ain’t ya!”

The woman sat on the steps chuckled, before her eyes moved to Lucas. She smirked slightly, looking him up and down.

“It is true what they say about black men?” she purred.

Lucas immediately choked on his breath while Max practically growled at the woman in a very clear warning. Dustin burst out laughing and Will covered his face.

Mike stepped forward, his gaze focused on the woman in the leaning out of the window. “We’re looking for El.” He said more hoarsely than he would have liked.

The woman over the fence gasped, “ooh you’ve come a long way chick! American, is it?”

The Lucas admirer narrowed her eyes slightly from the step, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Wha’ do you want with our El?”

Mike blinked slowly, the party beside him freezing in surprise.

“Our..” Mike stumbled over his words, shaking his head. “Your El?”

She gestured casually towards the house. “You’ve just missed them honey.”

Mike’s stomach dropped and he knew if the spinning in his head didn’t stop, he might vomit.

“Them?” Max asked carefully, looking between the three women.

The woman in the window laughed. “The Kellys’ course! Everyone knows the Kellys. Sue, Dave, Danny, Jenny and El love.”

Mike felt like he was swaying, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he tried to take in the information. It was all so confusing, not at all what he expected.

“They left early this mornin’,” the woman from the fence said, jumping up slightly.

“Where did they go?” Dustin blurted.

“Gone to Iceland! Can you believe that?” the step woman exclaimed, stubbing out her cigarette. “I asked me Steve to take me to Spain but oh no! But The Kellys can go to bleeding – ”

“Iceland?!” Max’s voice shot up an octave.

Dustin looked completely baffled. “What?! Why would she go to Iceland?!”

Mike stood perfectly still in shock. His eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. But no breath came out. It was like his body was on mute, even his brain had gone silent for a moment.

Will looked between the women and Mike. He stepped closer to him, whispering, “do you know why she would have gone to Iceland? Do you think they are telling the truth?”

Mike blinked slowly, sounds and voices starting to return to him gradually. He still felt faint, but he managed to take a step, then turned down the street and began to walk properly. He rang his sweating hands out against his shirt, his shoulders rising and falling heavily. His breath was loud now, short and rushed.

He could barely hear his friends shouting him, following him.

Was this a sick joke? Was any of this real? Was he stuck in a nightmare? It had certainly felt that way from the moment El had disappeared. He couldn’t have come all this way for nothing. He couldn’t have dragged his friends all this way for nothing.

“Mike stop!” It was Will shouting now.

But he didn’t stop. He kept walking, because he had to keep going. He had to. Because he couldn’t stop. If he stopped it meant a world with no El. And he couldn’t do it. Tears had sprung to his eyes, and he wiped at them foolishly, gasping for breath.

“Come on man,” Dustin huffed trying to keep up.

But Mike had no words. He was exhausted. Mentally, physically exhausted. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

A hand grabbed at his wrist, and he tried to yank it free.

“Stop.”

Mike wouldn’t have stopped, but it was the fact he had never heard a voice so desperate or broken, that he slowly turned, guilt in his eyes as he came face to face with Max.

She was still gripping his wrist, her shoulders were shaking, her eyes were wet. Lucas, Will and Dustin were beside her, all looking shell shocked.

Mike looked between them, tears running down his face. “I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought us here. I shouldn’t have – ”

“Stop,” Max repeated, staring at him so defiantly it frightened him. She let go of his wrist, but rage still flickered over her features.

“We are not done,” Max said through clenched teeth. “We are not running Mike. And we don’t give up.”

“But she’s not here!” Mike exclaimed, his arms open wide in frustration before his hands fell into his hair, and he looked up at the sky. “She’s in Iceland for fucks sake. How could I get it so wrong?”

“But you didn’t,” Will said stepping forward cautiously. “Remember what they said? El… El only left this morning. She has been here.”

“We shouldn’t have stayed in London,” Mike answered bitterly, looking away from his friends. “If we had just – ”

“Then we probably would have slept through our stop and ended up in god knows where!” Max replied sharply.

“Dude, we had to stop,” Lucas said gently, watching Mike with only concern in his eyes.

Mike followed his arms tightly against his chest like it might keep him from unravelling. He paced the street, ignoring the twitching curtains.

Seeing he was no longer a flight risk; Max exhaled a deep breath. “We just need to decide what we do next.”

Dustin frowned, “are we not just going to wait for her to come back?”

Max rolled her eyes, “after Wheeler here ran off, one of those women said they are going to be gone two weeks. Do we really want to stay here two weeks?” She stopped, looking at the boys hesitantly. “Is it not worth – ”

“Going to Iceland?” Mike answered, his voice a little numb now as he turned from where he had been pacing to look at Max.

She shrugged. “I know Iceland is big and all. But shouldn’t we at least try?”

Lucas smiled encouraging, reaching for her hand. “I mean, the worst thing is that we don’t find her in Iceland, and we just come right back here in two weeks.”

Mike stared at them, listening to Dustin and Will agreeing eagerly. He could have cried all over again. Because he had them with him. Because they were not giving up. And they wouldn’t let him give up either.

“Come on,” Dustin smiled. “Let’s go back to our new friends and get some more information.”

Mike nodded quietly, following his friends, letting Lucas pat him on the shoulder and for Will to fall into step beside him.

The women were still there, chatting to each other, laughing away – clearly gossiping about this new turn of events. Mike supposed it was unusual for five American teenagers to just show up on a small street in Liverpool.

“Hi,” Mike said in a shaky voice, trying to steady himself as he looked at the women. “Um… so El – the Kellys – they are back in two weeks? Do you have the exact date by any chance?”

The woman from the step craned her neck and shouted, “Annie! Annie love!”

The front door of the house next to her opened almost immediately. A middle-aged woman took in the scene in front of her and didn’t seem surprised by the new visitors. She had clearly heard everything.

“Wha’ do you need love?”

The woman on the step slowly stood, the rollers in her hair a little unstable as she moved. “When are the Kelly’s back? This lad wants our El.”

Annie appraised Mike and smiled slightly, “aw is this her fella from America?”

The woman shrugged, “think so.”

Mike opened and closed his mouth, but no noise came out. He went into a bit of shock. He could feel it in the way his spine stiffened, his eyes widened in surprise. She… she had talked about him?

Max smiled slowly, “what did she say?”

Annie shrugged, “it was Sue who told me love. My son Eddie wanted to ask out your El,” she said gesturing to Mike who felt his heart go cold. “But she adamantly said she’s got a fella in America and that’s tha’.”

Mike felt his heart restart and heat starting to warm his body again. He looked between the women, relief evident on his face.

“Enough gossip,” shouted the woman from the window. “Do you know when they’re back Annie? What day?”

Annie shrugged. “I dunno love.” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the city centre. “You could ask in the library.”

Mike frowned, looking between his friends who shrugged. “The library?” he finally asked.

Annie nodded, “El’s manager might tell ya.”

Mike’s voice came out stunned. “El… El works in a library?”

The women laughed warmly. “Course she does chick!”

“She’s not a scrounger our El!”

“Oh no, she works hard that girl.”

Mike felt something warm bloom in his chest. All the books he had seen. All those visions – it made total sense now.

“Which library?” he asked quickly.

One of the women giggled. “The big one my love.”

“Liverpool Central Library.”

Mike turned immediately to the group. “Let’s go.”

He started marching down the street, the party scrambled after him.

“Mike!” Dustin shouted. “You’re going the wrong way!”

One of the neighbours burst out laughing. “Oh, bless him.”

She waved. “You need the 26 bus, love!”

Will whipped his notebook back out. “Twenty-six bus - ”

“Or go back towards the park and take the main road!” she added.

Will scribbled furiously. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome!”  the rollers woman called cheerfully. Then she winked directly at Lucas making him freeze and blush.

Max glared at the woman and pulled Lucas along with her. The women cackled with laughter as the Party hurried away down the street.

And somewhere in the distance, Liverpool’s music kept playing.

Mike was already halfway down the street before the others fully caught up.

“Mike!” Dustin called, nearly jogging to keep up. “Slow down!”

Mike didn’t slow down. He barely seemed aware of where he was walking. His feet were moving automatically, carrying him through the Liverpool streets while his brain tried - and failed - to process everything that had just happened.

“She was here,” he muttered.

Lucas frowned slightly. “Yeah… we gathered that.”

Mike shook his head, almost laughing under his breath.

“No, I mean - she was here.”

He gestured vaguely behind them at Gwenfron Road.

“She lives there. Like… actually lives there. In that house. With neighbours and everything.”

Max exchanged a look with Lucas as they hurried to keep pace.

Mike was rambling now. Words tumbling over themselves faster than his thoughts could keep up.

“She has a job,” he continued breathlessly. “She works in a library. A library.”

Dustin blinked. “Well… yeah. She always liked books.”

“I know!” Mike said quickly, spinning around as he walked backwards for a few steps. “But she’s been doing it here. In England. Talking to people. Helping people. Just… living.”

He stopped suddenly in the middle of the pavement, and his chest rose and fell unevenly.

“I thought…” His voice cracked slightly. “I thought maybe she was hiding. Or scared. Or… alone.”

The words stuck in his throat. “But she’s not,” he finished quietly. A small, shaky smile spread across his face. “She’s been living.”

Will watched him carefully. “Mike… are you okay?”

Mike let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelief. “I don’t know.”

And that was the honest truth. His emotions were a tangled mess. Complete and utter devastation that they had just missed her. Joy so overwhelming it felt like it might split his chest open. Because she was alive. And she wasn’t just surviving.

No. The girl he had found that day in the woods – so scared and alone. She had stood up on her own two feet and she had built and built, until she had a life wholly her own. Mike felt an immense sense of pride.

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head like none of this quite felt real.

“I can’t believe this,” he murmured.

Max snorted softly. “Welcome to the club.”

They followed the women’s instructions, stumbling with their luggage back into the city centre. Eventually, Max cursed her suitcase and looked at the boys.

“We need to drop these somewhere.”

In truth Mike had already abandoned his luggage, and if it wasn’t for Lucas and Dustin, he would have left everything on Gwenfron Road.

They wandered for a while, Max and Lucas asking for directions, for hotel suggestions. Eventually their bags and suitcases were discarded between two hotel rooms, and they headed back out into the hustle and bustle of Liverpool.

Max shoved all five of their passports into her handbag and tucked it up her arm, looking between the party.

“I suppose we need to book our flights to Iceland,” she said tentatively. “I think I saw a travel agent – ”

“Do you mind if I don’t go?” Mike couldn’t help but interrupt her. His amber eyes were already fixed on a grand building. Liverpool Central Library – it rose up before him like something from another century. He supposed it was.

“To Iceland? Sure.” Dustin teased, earning a deadpan look from Mike.

“You want to go to the library,” Will asked kindly, watching where Mike’s focus had now returned to.

Mike didn’t need to explain, they knew of course. He just nodded.

Max sighed, “okay Wheeler.” She looked at her watch, “meet at the docks?” she said pointing towards the obvious red brick buildings. “In like an hour?”

Mike nodded once again, already moving away from the group and towards where his heart was pulling him.

Stone columns framed the entrance, tall and elegant, the architecture grand and timeless. The old sandstone glowed softly under the grey sky, its domed roof visible above the surrounding buildings. It looked less like a library and more like a museum.

Mike didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked up at it. A slow smile spread across his face.

“She’s been here.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “She’s walked through these doors.”

He imagined it instantly. El stepping inside for the first time. Her shoes echoing across the cold vast floor. She would have been nervous, but curious. Her fingers brushing over the spines of books. Helping people find stories, learning new words. Meeting new faces. Working.

The thought made his chest ache in the best possible way.

Mike swallowed hard and then took a deep breath. “Come on,” he said, urging himself to go inside.

The interior of the library was even more breathtaking. The ceiling soared high above him. Polished floors made his sneakers squeak slightly as he walked carefully around the space. Shelves stretched endlessly in every direction, filled with thousands upon thousands of books.

It smelled like old paper and wood polish, and it felt quiet and peaceful. Very British.

Mike knew he looked wildly out of place. An exhausted American teenager with travel-wrinkled clothes standing in stunned silence.

It took him a moment before he worked up the nerve to approach the main desk. His movements slow and awkward as he stared at the middle-aged woman who was sorting through a stack of paperwork.

She looked up at him over her glasses as he cleared his throat.

“Hi,” Mike said carefully. “Is El in today?” He knew she wasn’t of course, but he wanted to be sure. Sure, that those women had been telling the truth, that at worst, the longest he would have to wait to see El would be two weeks.

She looked at him considering. “Are you a friend of hers from America?”

Mike smiled slightly, his heart in his throat. “Yes.”

He wanted to say I’m a lot more than her friend. But if this woman thought he was her boyfriend, then surely, he would have known her plans already.

“She’s on annual leave. Gone to Iceland of all places I believe.”

Mike nodded, his brain still whirling. Why Iceland?

“Did she say why she was going to Iceland particularly? Or when she’ll be back?”

The woman eyed him up, could clearly read his desperation just as well as the books in this library. “She’s back in two weeks love. And why she chose Iceland… I have no idea.”

The woman’s face softened and she smiled slightly, going back to sorting through her paperwork. “She’s not much of a talker is she.”

Mike couldn’t help it, he smiled. Warmly. “No. No not really. She prefers to listen. To take things in.”

The woman looked at him intently, “well then you know her well. She’s a lovely girl.”

Mike felt that familiar pride surging in him once more. “She is,” he agreed, his heart jumping madly. “I… I look forward to seeing her soon. Thank you.”

He gave the woman a slight nod and she smiled in return, her eyes back on her paper as Mike backed up, not sure what to do now.

He turned and looked around the vast library again, taking in all the details. Imagining El in this space once more. He sighed, in what he realised was relief. Because she was cared for here. Because people called her ‘our El’ or ‘lovely girl’. She was safe, and that was more important than anything else.

Mike nodded to himself, deciding it was time to leave and wait for the party when –

A magazine stand caught his eye. He blinked, taken aback by the main glossy photo of the publication that had been placed in the centre.

It was a waterfall. No. Not just one… but three.

It was one of the most beautiful things Mike had ever seen as he slowly edged towards the magazine. His eyes widening, his heart picking up pace.

The waterfalls were majestic, wild and… magical.

Mike picked the magazine up almost reverently. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his gaze went to the small text beside the photograph.

Háifoss, Iceland.

He almost dropped the glossy publication to the floor. His hands suddenly shaking, tears filling his eyes. Because he understood now. Understood with a heart wrenching clarity why El had chosen Iceland.

His own words echoed through his head, making it thrum.

“So they travel to a far away land. A peaceful land. Somewhere beautiful. With like… three waterfalls or something.”

The image of Háifoss blurred as Mike’s tears fell on to the cover.

“And they all start again. Together.”

The late afternoon had softened by the time Mike found the party again.

The city was turning gold. Sunlight poured low across Liverpool, warming the old stone and red brick until everything seemed to glow from within.

By the time he reached the Albert Docks, the air had cooled just enough to feel pleasant, touched by the river and carrying that faint salty freshness he was already beginning to associate with this place.

His friends were exactly where Max had said they would be. Sat between two wooden benches by the water, paper wrappers spread around them, they were halfway through a meal of fish and chips, and in the middle of what looked like a deeply serious argument over the last few chips.

Dustin had on in his fingers and Lucas was reaching for it.

Max smacked Lucas’s hand away at the exact moment Will, with surprising stealth, nicked two from the wrapper and quietly ate them.

“Hey!” Dustin cried. Will blinked innocently, still chewing.

Max narrowed her eyes. “You sneaky little – ”

Lucas pointed accusingly. “This is what happens when people think you’re the quiet one. It’s all deception.”

Dustin looked down at the wrapper in betrayal. “There were at least four chips there. At least.”

Max snorted. “No there weren’t.”

“There absolutely were!”

“Dustin,” Lucas said flatly, “you are hallucinating. It’s the jet lag.”

Mike stopped a few feet from them, just for a moment, and watched.

The setting sun turned the surface of the Mersey to rippling gold. Gulls wheeled overhead and somewhere behind them, music drifted faintly across the dock – someone singing, someone laughing, the city still alive around them.

And his friends. His wonderful, ridiculous friends. They looked up together, like they were one entity.

Dustin sat forward first. “Well?”

Max immediately caught the expression on Mike’s face and straightened. “What happened?”

Mike moved towards them slowly - the glossy magazine still tucked under one arm.

Lucas’s posture changed too, fish and chips forgotten. “Did you find something?”

Mike sank down onto the bench, suddenly aware of how tired he was. Not just in his body, but deep in his bones. The kind of exhaustion that came from too much adrenaline, too much hope, too much heartbreak all at once.

And yet… for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t crushing him. It was carrying him.

Will studied him with careful eyes. “Mike?”

He looked at all of them in turn. “Her boss confirmed it,” he said quietly. “El works there. She’s on leave. She really did go to Iceland.”

A beat of silence followed and then Dustin exhaled sharply and rubbed both hands over his face.

“This is insane,” came his slightly muffled voice.

“It is,” Mike agreed.

Max reached into her handbag and tapped the folded tickets inside. “Well. We did our part.”

Lucas let his head fall back slightly with a tired sigh. “Eventually.”

Mike looked at Max, “you got them though?”

Max gave him a deadpan look. “No, Mike. I just wandered round Liverpool for an hour for the vibes.”

Dustin snorted despite himself.

Mike tried to smile, but there was still a strain in it. “For when?”

Max pulled the paperwork out and sighed, “Thursday.”

Mike’s jaw tightened instantly. The frustration flamed in him so fast he was standing before he meant to.

“Thursday? Why not tomorrow?”

She looked up at him, already tired of this argument because she had clearly had it with the travel agent.

“Because,” she said in a resigned voice, “Icelandair only fly on a Tuesday and a Thursday, and we are going to have to take a train to Scotland first.”

Mike dragged a hand down his face. “Great.” He didn’t want to sound ungrateful. He knew there was nothing Max could have done. He knew she would have fought for an alternative. This was Max after all.

Lucas leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice calmer. “The travel agent also said another group went to Iceland this morning.”

Mike stilled. The air seemed to hold around him. “She must have gone to the same travel agent.”

Lucas nodded once. “Yeah. Sounded like it.”

Dustin sighed softly now, all joking gone from his face. “So we’re like… two days behind her.” He looked between them, his voice suddenly smaller. “But… it’s okay right? I mean…” He swallowed. “We can find her there.”

The question hovered in the evening light. Not just Dustin’s question. All of their questions.

Can we still do this?

Are we too late?

Is hope enough?

Does she want to be found?

Mike didn’t answer straight away. He looked out over the Mersey instead. The river had gone molten beneath the setting sun, every small ripple catching fire with gold.

The dock buildings stood warm and proud around them. The breeze touched the back of his beck. Voices drifted from passing people – laughter, music, the sound of life carrying on.

He thought of the library. Of the way her boss had smiled when she spoke about El. A lovely girl. He thought of the women on Gwenfron Road calling her our El. He thought of the fact that she had been safe here. Wanted here.

And then… his fingers tightened slightly around the magazine still tucked against his side. The imagine flashed before his eyes. Three waterfalls pouring down through wild land. Not just beautiful, but familiar. Fated.

His own words yet again echoing back to him from another life. Another version of hope.

So they travel to a far away land. A peaceful land. Somewhere beautiful. With like… three waterfalls or something.

He had given her that idea. No – that wasn’t right. He had given her a dream. And El, because she was El, had taken it seriously. She had held onto it. Had carried it across an ocean.

Mike’s throat tightened and he smiled then. Small at first, then real.

“It’s okay,” he said softly.

Max frowned slightly, “you sure?”

Mike looked back at them, eyes glassy in the sunset. The gold light caught the tears still drying on his face, but he didn’t hide them this time.

“I know exactly where to find her.”

Chapter Text

The Mage and The Storyteller

Chapter 11: Where We Begin Again 

June 1989

Tuesday

El

The plane dipped beneath the clouds, and the world began to change. El could feel it, even before she saw anything. There was a quiet shift in her chest that had been growing since they had left Glasgow. It was subtle, but undeniable. And it settled deeper into her skin as they descended. 

She pressed her forehead lightly against the plane window, her breath soft against the glass as the world outside slowly came into focus. 

At first, it was only clouds. Endless white stretching in every direction. It looked like a soft blanket more than anything else. But as they moved closer to their destination, they broke softly through the clouds, as fragments of land began to appear. 

El’s breath caught as she pushed her forehead firmer against the glass. Her hazel eyes widened as she took in the dark rocks and the silver water. All around there were wide, open spaces that looked beautifully untouched. It was nothing like England. Nothing like Hawkins either. 

Iceland felt… quieter. Patient and calm. Like the earth itself was breathing slowly beneath them. 

Beside her, Jenny leaned across slightly, her shoulder brushing El’s. “Can you see?” she whispered. 

El nodded, unable to take her eyes off the window. The landscape unfolded beneath them as the plane descended further. Vast black volcanic rock stretched across the land, broken by rivers that gleamed like silver threads. In the distance, mountains rose softly through the mist, their edges blurred by low clouds. 

And then… El gasped softly. Waterfalls. Even from this height, El could see them. Thin ribbons of white spilling down cliffs, catching the light as they fell.

Her heart stuttered. This is it. She felt it so clearly it almost scared her. This is where I am meant to be. 

Behind them, Sue’s voice cut through the quiet like a sudden burst of colour. “…I’m just sayin’, where’s all the ice?”

Jenny snorted immediately and El blinked, pulled gently out of the moment. 

Sue leaned across the aisle, peering dramatically out of the opposite window like she might have missed something crucial.

“I thought Iceland was supposed to be covered in ice,” she said, frowning deeply. “Have we gone to Greenland by accident? Melissa never said nothin’ about no ice shortage.”

Danny groaned from his seat, dragging a hand down his face. “Mum…”

“I’m serious!” Sue insisted. “It just looks like… rocks. Maybe with a sprinkle of snow.”

Dave, who had been sitting quietly beside her the entire flight, finally exhaled a slow, patient sigh. “It’s called Iceland love,” he said gently, his voice calm and steady. “Because, when the Vikings first found it, they named it after the icy glaciers.”  

Sue turned to him sharply. “You’re jokin’.”

“I’m not.”

“Well,” Sue muttered, settling back into her seat with a disapproving shake of her head, “that’s false advertisin’, tha’ is.” 

Danny let out a quiet laugh under his breath, leaning forward slightly to look out the window again, curiosity overtaking his earlier annoyance.

“…it’s actually kinda cool,” he admitted.

Jenny smiled softly at his words, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached for El’s hand and squeezed it gently.

El slowly turned her eyes away from the view and to her newfound sister. Jenny didn’t need to say anything. Her blue eyes said everything. 

I’m here. We’re doin’ this. You’re not alone.

El’s fingers curled around Jenny’s and she turned back to the window as the plane dipped lower. 

Everything was closer now and the details sharpened dramatically. The land was no longer distant and abstract, but real. There was texture - moss clung to dark rock. Water pooled in quiet, reflective lakes. The coastline curved into view, with the ocean stretching vast and endless beyond it. 

Reykjavík appeared slowly in the distance. It looked small. Almost fragile against the scale of everything around it. Low buildings scattered along the coastline - roofs were painted in warm colours. There were roads that looked thin and quiet. El couldn’t see any towering skyscrapers, and she already knew there would be no overwhelming noise in this city. 

El had never seen anything that looked so alive. She felt her chest tighten as she thought about everything it had taken to get here. The miles, the oceans. The people. Leaving her loved ones, leaving Mike. And then finding herself again, piece by piece in the city of Liverpool, taken in by a family who had become her own. 

And now here they were, willing to come with her to Iceland purely because she had a feeling this was where she needed to be. 

Her throat ached suddenly, and a tear slipped free before she even realised it was there, tracing slowly down her cheek. El lifted her hand quickly, brushing it away before anyone could notice. Her fingers lingered there for a moment, pressing lightly against her skin.

She exhaled slowly. Deeply. Letting the feeling settle instead of fighting it. Because for the first time in so long… she wasn’t running. She wasn’t hiding. She wasn’t lost. She had arrived. 

The plane lowered further, the ground rising to meet them and El’s heart began to beat a little faster. Not with fear – not this time. But with something else, something stronger. 

And somewhere, deep inside of her, something had stirred. Like a thread being tightened. Like something – or someone – getting closer. 

The plane landed more softly than El expected. It was a gentle shudder, a long cruise across the runway and then stillness. They had arrived at Keflavík International Airport. 

For a moment, no one moved. The hum of the engines filled the cabin, low and steady, as if even the plane itself needed a second to adjust to where it had arrived.

The instant the seatbelt signs turned off, Sue was of course the first to break the silence. “Well,” she said, already tugging her coat from the overhead compartment, “I’m not takin’ any chances.”

Danny groaned immediately. “Mum, we’ve literally just landed.”

“And?” Sue shot back, wrestling one arm into the sleeve of a thick winter coat that looked like a sleeping bag. “It’s the evenin’. You saw that out there. I don’t intend to freeze me tits off love.” 

“It’s June,” Jenny said, laughing as she stood, pulling her smaller jacket around her shoulders.

Sue paused mid-zip. “June where though?” she countered. “Because it’s clearly not June as we know it.”

Dave stood slowly beside her, calm as ever, lifting their bag down with quiet ease. “It’ll be mild,” he said gently. “Cool, but not freezin’ love.”

Sue narrowed her eyes at him. “You said tha’ about Blackpool once and I nearly lost a toe remember?” 

Danny snorted. “You did not nearly lose a toe.”

“You weren’t there Daniel Kelly,” Sue sniffed, zipping her coat all the way up like she was preparing for an expedition. She looked faintly like a caterpillar ready to be cocooned. 

El smiled softly, but she didn’t say anything. Her focus had shifted again. Her chest was aching once more, and her stomach twisted with nerves. That feeling. It hadn’t gone, even though they had now landed. If anything, the feeling was growing stronger. 

They moved through the terminal in a steady flow of passengers. El walked beside Jenny, her steps slow, her eyes drifting again and again toward the windows. Outside the land stretched wide and open. Even from here, she could see it. 

Dark earth, low hills. Mountains in the distance, their edges softened by mist. There was something so raw and magical about this land. 

Jenny nudged her lightly. “You alrigh’?”

El nodded. “Yes.” But her voice came out quieter than she intended. Like she was somewhere else already.

They made it quickly through passport control and baggage claim, and El marvelled at how easy it was. Nothing had been easy in her entire life up until this point. Everything had been a battle. A fight. And now here she was, in Iceland, smiling gently as she gave her passport back to Sue, who carefully placed the documents in her handbag. 

When they stepped outside the air hit them immediately. It was cool and fresh, crisp in a way El had never felt before. Not cold enough to bite, but enough to wake every nerve in her skin.

She inhaled deeply without thinking. It smelled so fresh – so earthy. Like how she would imagine nature itself would smell. 

Sue, meanwhile, pulled her coat tighter around herself dramatically. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “I knew it.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “It’s not even tha’ bad.”

“You’re young,” Sue shot back. 

Dave smiled quietly to himself, loading their bags into the small airport shuttle. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you to the hotel.”

The drive into Reykjavík was unlike anything El had ever seen. The road stretched long and open, cutting through land that felt almost empty. It was just open space. Wild, beautiful space. 

The city itself appeared gradually. Colourful houses scattered along the coastline. Reds, blues, yellows - bright against the earthy tones of the land. It felt so peaceful here. 

Sue peered out of the window. “Are we sure this is the capital?”

“Yes,” Danny sighed, rolling his eyes. 

Sue turned to him. “Of wha’? Four people?”

Jenny laughed, leaning her head lightly against El’s shoulder. El smiled again, but her eyes were elsewhere. 

The mountains sat in the distance, calling to her like a quiet promise. And every time she looked at them her chest tightened again. 

The hotel was simple. Clean and warm. The kind of place that didn’t try too hard but felt comfortable all the same.

Sue immediately made a beeline to the front desk, giving the receptionist a polite smile. “Hello love,” she said brightly, leaning forward. “We’ve got three rooms booked under Kelly.”

The receptionist nodded politely, looking through a large book. “Hae, yes, welcome.” She said, making a tick in her book and reaching for keys. 

“You are rooms 21, 23 and 24.” The young girl said softly, her accent delicate. She passed over the keys to Dave who thanked her in his calm voice. 

Sue coughed awkwardly, “sorry love, but can I just check that there is heatin’ in the bedrooms?” 

Danny buried his face in his hands while Jenny huffed out a “mum”. 

“There is heating,” the receptionist assured her though, smiling faintly.

“Good,” Sue nodded. “Because it’s Baltic out there chick.” 

The receptionist looked slightly confused but merely grinned courteously as Dave placed a gentle hand on Sue’s back steering her toward the elevators. 

The rooms were quickly sorted. Sue and Dave in one, Danny – smugly – in his own bedroom and Jenny and El together. 

El stepped into their room slowly. It was minimal – two beds, a small desk and a window. She moved toward the window instinctively while she heard Jenny hauling her suitcase onto one of the beds with a huff. 

Outside, the land stretched out again. Past the city below and beyond the mountains. It was endless and still. And yet, El felt it reaching for her.

“Well,” Jenny said, hands settling on her hips as she looked around. “Not bad.” She turned. “What do you wanna do first?”

El didn’t answer straight away. Her eyes were still fixed on the horizon. On the distant rise of land where the mountains met the sky.

Her chest rose slowly and fell. The pull had settled into something steady now. Certain. “I think…” she began quietly. Jenny waited patiently. “I think we need to travel…” 

Her sister’s eyebrows rose in mild amusement.  “More than we already have?”

El nodded, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I… I need to be near where the waterfalls are.”

The words felt right the moment she said them. Like something clicking into place. Like a truth she had always known but had only just found the courage to speak aloud.

Jenny followed her gaze to the window. To the distant mountains and to the land that stretched endlessly beyond them. She didn’t question it or laugh. She didn’t doubt El, not for one second. 

She just stepped closer. “Okay,” she said softly.

El finally tore her eyes away from the horizon to look at her. “Are you sure?” she said quietly, her eyes on Jenny. 

But Jenny merely smiled and nodded in return. “We’ll figure it out.” She let out a soft laugh. “Although I might need to eat somethin’ first. I’m starvin’.” 

El grinned, her stomach tightening with hunger in reply. “It will help us to think.” 

Jenny laughed, going to pull out her purse. “Exactly.”

El’s gaze drifted back to the horizon. To the place that was pulling her, stronger and clearer than ever. And she couldn’t help the nervous excitement that lit up her face. 

The first thing El noticed as the Kelly’s stepped inside the small café, was its warmth. It seemed to wrap around her shoulders, easing the cool edge that had settled into her skin since they had arrived. 

A small bell chimed gently above the door as it closed behind them.

It was cosy, with wooden tables and soft lighting. The low murmur of conversation drifting gently through the space. There was a smell she didn’t quite recognise - rich and savoury, mixed with fresh bread and something sweet baking somewhere out of sight.  

Sue shrugged off her heavy coat, while Dave pulled out a chair for her. She patted his cheek, and gave him a wink that made Danny - who was dropping into a chair by the window shudder. 

Jenny slid into the seat opposite El, kicking her foot lightly under the table. “Starvin’,” she muttered.

El smiled softly, her stomach tightening in agreement. 

A waitress approached, placing menus down in front of them with a quiet greeting. The paper felt slightly worn beneath El’s fingers as she picked it up, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar words. Some she recognised, some she didn’t.

Jenny leaned over slightly. “Fish,” she said, pointing. “Lamb… soup…”

Sue frowned down at the menu. “How do you say half of this?”

Danny leaned across the table. “Just pick somethin’ you recognise.”

“I don’t recognise anythin’.” Sue muttered.

Dave gently tapped the page. “That’ll be fish stew. Very traditional. There’s soup - ”

Sue looked relieved. “I’ll have soup love.”

Danny shook his head. “You came all the way to Iceland for soup?”

“I came for hot springs and a massage,” Sue corrected, pointing at her son. “The soup is just a bonus.”

Jenny laughed under her breath, then glanced at El. “So,” she said, quieter now. “Plans.”

El’s fingers stilled against the menu, and her heart picked up pace. It had been nerve wracking enough to tell Jenny that she wanted to travel – only mere minutes after they had entered their hotel room. But it was going to be 10 times harder explaining this to Sue.

“I have been thinking…” El began slowly.

Sue looked up immediately, her eyes suspicious. She looked between El’s wide hazel eyes and Jenny’s barely concealed smirk. 

El swallowed, her gaze drifting instinctively to the window. To the distant stretch of land, she could just make out between buildings. 

“I think we need to travel.”

“We are travellin’ love,” Sue said with a bewildered laugh. “A week in the hotel and then we can – ”

Jenny interrupted so El didn’t need to. “We wanna go on the ring road.” 

Dave didn’t react with surprise. He just gave a small nod, like he had already expected it. Sue however… 

“The wha’? Ring road? Sounds like a roundabout. And we’ve got plenty of them in England chick.” 

“It goes all the way around Iceland,” Jenny explained, being as patient as possible. “People travel it. Hire a vehicle and see everythin’.”

Sue stared at her. “…everythin’?”

Danny laughed quietly. “I think it sounds ace.”

Sue looked between them, suspicion creeping in again. “You’re not planning on goin’ already, are ya?’

Jenny smiled lightly. “We were thinkin’ tomorrow.”

Sue froze. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Sue leaned back in her chair slowly, her expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. “I just got here,” she said. “I haven’t even had a cup of tea in peace. I was plannin’ on using that hotel spa. Havin’ a rest.” She gestured between them. “I never get a rest.”

Jenny lifted her hands slightly. “That’s fine, mum. You and dad stay. We can go -”

Sue’s head snapped up. “You are not goin’ by yourselves. Don’t be so silly Jennifer Kelly.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jenny insisted, a rebellious grin curving her lips. 

“It will not be fine,” Sue said firmly. “You’re not drivin’ around some… volcanic island without supervision.”

Danny leaned forward, interest sparking immediately. “Don’t worry mum, I’ll go -”

Sue pointed at him. “Exactly. That’s half the problem. You can’t even keep your bedroom clean. How are you going to keep Jenny and El safe?!” 

Jenny opened her mouth to argue, but quickly stopped. El knew what she had been going to say, and she found herself shuffling awkwardly in her seat. 

We’ve got El. We’ll be fine. 

But Jenny had swallowed the words down. This was certainly not the moment for Sue, Dave and Danny to find out what El could do. 

Mercifully, Sue was too busy whispering hushed words with Danny – who had taken offense at her comment, to notice the look that passed between the girls. The waitress had come back too, a welcome distraction as Sue put on her most polite smile and ordered. It was clear from her eyes though - she hadn’t dropped the subject. 

As the waitress walked toward the kitchen, Dave cleared his throat, glancing between them all thoughtfully. 

“We could follow,” he said gently to Sue. “In a few days. Gives you plenty of time to have many cups of tea in peace. Maybe even two massages at the spa. And the ring road is a popular route love. Safer to have more people around than less...” 

Sue eyes widened, her lips parted as they mouthed two massages. 

Even El knew that Dave had caught and reeled Sue in. She found it hard to hide her smile, and when she looked to Jenny and Danny, it was to find they had matching smug grins plastered on their faces. 

Dave looked to his daughter, taking a calm sip of his steaming coffee. “When could we join you?” 

“Friday?” Jenny offered. “We can call you too, update you on our journey when we get the opportunity.” 

Dave nodded, the picture of ease. “And can you let me know where you plan to be stoppin’ at each day?” 

“Yes,” El answered, her heart racing slightly. “We can get you a map, decide together our schedule.”

Dave smiled at El with approval. “Sounds like a good idea love.” He turned to Sue who sighed, and nodded curtly in agreement. Dave’s kind eyes looked back at the three young adults. “Friday it is then.” 

The travel shop walls were lined with maps. Bright photographs of waterfalls, glaciers and endless landscapes filled every available space, each one more breathtaking than the last. El moved slowly through it, taking everything in.

Jenny spoke to the man behind the counter, her voice confident as she asked about routes, distances and what they would need.

“You need van for sleep.” He said in a thick accent. “Car if you already have tent.” 

Jenny nodded, trying to understand the man and his limited English. “Yes. A van… um … takk.” She cringed, hoping her Icelandic sounded correct. 

Danny leaned over a large map spread across the counter. “This is massive,” he muttered.

“It’s not tha’ big,” Jenny said, a hint of nerves in her voice.

Danny gave her a look. “It is when you’re drivin’ it.”

Jenny lifted her chin. “Yeah and that’ll be me drivin’ it. You’re too young to rent a camper van.” 

“I wouldn’t brag about bein’ old – ow!” Danny hissed, getting an elbow to the ribs by his sister. 

El stepped closer to the map. Her eyes traced the ring that circled the island. It was a full loop – beginning and ending in the same place. Something about it made her heart squeeze. It was a path to exactly where she needed to be. She just had to follow it. 

Jenny had sighed with relief when they eventually got through enough translations that their campervan was booked, and would be ready for them in the morning. 

Their next task had been to buy some hiking boots at the insistence of the shop worker. He had taken one look at their trainers and shook his head. 

Jenny picked practical boots, grabbing essentials they would need for their campervan - comparing the contents of her shopping cart to the list the man had kindly made her. 

Danny tried on hiking boots and grinned when the first pair fit. He declared himself Indiana Jones, looking at himself in the mirror with satisfaction. He flipped his brown hair out of his green eyes, ignoring his sister’s gagging in the background.

El moved between the siblings quietly, taking it all in. Her hands moved over the textures of the boots and she finally pulled out a brown pair. 

She tried them on and felt something shift. They felt right. Solid and grounding. It made her realise they truly were preparing for something real. It wasn’t just a dream anymore. 

They bought two maps – one for Dave of course. And a small Icelandic phrasebook. 

“Thank God,” Jenny had muttered, leafing through the pages. “I wonder how many more Icelandic words I can butcher.” 

That night, the hotel room was warm and quiet. Jenny was already asleep, curled under the covers, her breathing soft and steady.

But El lay awake with her notebook open in her lap. The curtains were still drawn back – she couldn’t bring herself to close them. Outside, the sky stretched wide and pale blue. Not dark at all. Just… dimmed. The horizon still glowing faintly in the midnight sun, the mountains barely visible in the distance.

Mike, 

I am so close now. I am in Iceland. And tomorrow me, Jenny and Danny will begin our journey on the ring road. 

Tomorrow, I move forward. And for once, I am not running from something. I am not having to make a decision just to survive. No. I am choosing where I am going. I am choosing what comes next. 

And I just hope I am right. I hope I will see you very soon. 

I love you. And I miss you more every day. 

El

Her breath slowed and her body softened into the mattress. And just as sleep began to pull her under, she felt a smile slowly curve at the corners of her mouth. 

Wednesday 

El

The van smelled faintly of fabric cleaner, petrol and something sweet Danny had already opened and abandoned in the cup holder.

Jenny slid into the driver’s seat with a confidence that was only slightly forced, adjusting the mirrors twice before settling her hands on the wheel.

“Right,” she said, exhaling once. “Road trip.”

Danny snorted from the back seat, already sprawled across it like he had no intention of behaving himself for the next several hours. “You say that like you’ve done this before.”

“I have,” Jenny shot back. “Once. In Wales...”

Danny leaned forward. “That is not the same as drivin’ around a volcanic island.”

Jenny turned sharply. She narrowed her eyes, gritted her teeth and sounded exactly like Sue. “Do you want to walk?”

Danny immediately sank back into his seat. “Drive, please.”

El laughed gently as she settled back into the front passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. Her gaze took in the expanse of land in front of them. Open to them. It was so devastatingly beautiful that it looked more like a work of art than a country. It was a masterpiece. Every piece of it. 

Jenny looked ahead to the open road, her shoulders rising up and then down in a heavy sigh. She turned to look at El. Both girls smiled - nerves and excitement in equal measure. 

“You ready?” Jenny asked breathlessly. 

El looked out again at the magical peaks and colourful sky. She nodded, beaming at Jenny. “Yes.” 

They left the city quickly - it didn’t really take long. Reykjavík didn’t cling to them the way other places might have. There was no long stretch of suburbs, no endless rows of houses fading slowly into the countryside.

One moment there were streets. The next… there was space. 

The road unfurled ahead of them in a long, steady line. Dark asphalt cutting through land that felt impossibly wide, impossibly open. The sky stretched endlessly above it, pale and soft, clouds drifting slow and unbothered.

El leaned her head lightly against the window. The landscape moved past them like something out of a dream.

Fields of moss spread across black volcanic rock, the green so vivid it almost looked unreal. It clung to the earth in soft layers, covering the jagged edges beneath like a blanket. In places, steam rose faintly from the ground, thin wisps curling into the air as if the land itself was breathing.

Rivers appeared without warning. Silver and fast-moving, weaving through the terrain in twisting paths that caught the light and carried it with them. They disappeared just as quickly, swallowed again by rock and distance. 

El’s breath came slow and steady, her eyes drinking in everything. She didn’t want to miss a single detail. Not the way the light shifted across the land. Not the way the sky seemed bigger here, like it had been stretched wider than anywhere else in the world.

They stopped for the first time just under an hour into the drive, just outside of Selfoss. Jenny pulled the van into a small gravel lay-by that overlooked a wide stretch of land. There were no signs or barriers here. Just a faint path worn into the earth by other travellers who had stopped for the same reason.

Danny was out of the van first. “Jesus,” he muttered, turning slowly in a full circle. “It’s like… not real.” He was immediately pulling out his camera. 

Jenny followed, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders as the wind caught her blonde hair and lifted it from her face. “I told you,” she said, though her voice held a quiet awe of its own.

El stepped out last. The air hit her gently. Cool, fresh and carrying the faintest scent of water and earth. It filled her lungs differently here. 

She moved a few steps away from the van without thinking. The ground beneath her boots was uneven, small stones shifting slightly with each step. The wind tugged at the edges of her clothes, soft but constant, like a reminder that nothing here was still for long.

She stopped and looked out. And for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. 

The land stretched endlessly in front of her. No fences or boundaries. Just rolling earth and distant hills that blurred into the horizon. The sky above it all felt impossibly close, like she could reach out and touch it if she tried.

Something inside of her shifted. It wasn’t a sudden sharp pain. It was all just… too much. Too much beauty. Too much feeling. Too much of everything she had carried for so long finally having somewhere to go.

Her lips parted as a breath escaped her, unsteady. And then the tears came. They were quiet at first. Just a single tear slipped free, tracing slowly down her cheek. And then there was another. And another. And then her breathing faltered in soft uneven gasps that she could not steady. 

This wasn’t just one thing. It was everything. Hawkins. The lab. Years of fear. Of running. Of so much loneliness. 19 months without Mike. The ache of him sat just beneath it all, constant and familiar, woven into every part of her being. 

But this feeling right now was different. It was relief and exhaustion. Because El had been so tired of running. She let out a small, breathless laugh that caught somewhere between a sob and disbelief, shaking her head faintly as she wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“I’m okay,” she murmured, though no one had asked. But she could hear Jenny’s boots crunch on the uneven terrain. 

Jenny didn’t say a word as she crossed the short distance between them quietly, her steps steady against the shifting gravel. When she reached her, she didn’t hesitate. Her arms wrapped around El gently but firmly, grounding her.

El leaned into her instantly. Her forehead pressed lightly against Jenny’s shoulder as another soft laugh escaped her, wet with tears.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

Jenny huffed a quiet breath, her chin resting briefly against El’s hair. “Yeah, you do,” she murmured softly.

El let out another shaky breath, nodding faintly against her. Her hands curled into Jenny’s jacket as she steadied herself, letting the moment pass through her instead of fighting it.

They stood like that for a while. Wind brushing past them. The world quiet and vast and open. Eventually, El pulled back slightly, wiping her cheeks again, though a soft, almost embarrassed smile had found its way onto her lips now.

Jenny’s arm stayed around her shoulders, warm and solid. El leaned into it easily this time, her head resting lightly against her. Together, they looked out at the land stretching endlessly before them. Vast and untamed. Ancient in a way that felt almost knowing.

Two girls from completely different lives, bound by something neither of them had ever asked for. Eyes that had seen too much. Carried too much. And yet… here they stood.

Finding something close to peace in a place that did not hide its scars. In earth that had been broken and shaped and changed over time - and had still become something beautiful.

Behind them, Danny had stayed by the van. He hadn’t interrupted or tried to make a joke to alleviate the situation. No. He had just watched them. 

Concern had slowly softened into something more emotional as he took in the two of them – framed against the horizon, small against the enormity of the land, but steady together. They looked like they belonged here. 

A quiet smile tugged at the corner of Danny’s mouth as he lifted his camera. He didn’t call out or warn them. Just – clicked. Capturing the moment exactly as it was. The two of them silhouetted against the endless landscape, the sky stretching wide above them, something quiet and unbreakable held between them.

Danny lowered the camera slowly, still smiling to himself. “…yeah,” he murmured under his breath. That one was definitely worth keeping.

Eventually they all got back into the van and continued their journey. The road curved gently now, following the natural shape of the land. The terrain shifted slowly around them. The green moss gave way to darker rock. The rock softened again into open fields. In the distance, they caught glimpses of the ocean - vast and endless, the surface broken by whitecaps where the wind caught it just right.

Jenny had the radio on low, something faint and indistinct playing through the speakers, but it barely registered. No one spoke much. They didn’t need to. There was too much to see - too much to feel.

It was Danny who spotted the waterfall first. “Look.”

Jenny slowed instinctively, eyes following where he pointed. And then she was pulling the van over again, tyres crunching softly against gravel as they came to a stop.

They could hear it before they saw it properly. The sound of water rushing over rock, steady and constant, filling the air in a way that made everything else fall quiet around it.

El stepped out of the van slowly, and yet her heart was already beating fast. She followed the sound of the thunderous water – Jenny and Danny just behind her. 

The path was relatively clear, but slightly worn. It was evident that other people had been here recently – their footprints still pressed into the earth, leading the way forward. 

The waterfall dropped from a cliff face in a single, powerful stream, white water crashing down into a pool below that churned and shimmered with movement. Mist rose from where it hit the surface, catching the light and turning it into something almost ethereal.

Danny let out a low whistle. “Okay tha’ is beautiful.” 

Jenny laughed softly under her breath. “I think tha’ qualifies as incredible.”

El didn’t speak. She stood there, watching. Feeling. The water. The air. The pull in her chest. It was strong here - stronger than it had been in the city. And yet… it wasn’t right. 

The realisation came quietly. Not with disappointment, just understanding that she had a little farther to go. Her chest tightened slightly, her brows drawing together as she studied the falls. The way the water moved, the way it sounded. The shape of it against the rock. It wasn’t this. It was beautiful. But it wasn’t Háifoss. It wasn’t the three waterfalls she had seen on that magazine cover in the library. 

El swallowed, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. Somewhere deeper in the land, the pull remained. Waiting for her. 

They stayed longer than they meant to. Danny took photos, crouching at awkward angles and muttering about “lighting” like he knew what he was doing. 

Jenny laughed at him, “since when were you such an artist?” 

Danny grinned, taking another photo. “I think I might have found me real passion.” 

El stood near the edge of the path, letting the mist settle against her skin. She slowly closed her eyes. The water roared steadily in front of her, powerful and constant. The wind shifted around her, brushing softly against her cheeks. The earth beneath her feet felt solid.

She was closer. She could feel it.

El opened her eyes slowly. Her gaze lifted beyond the waterfall, past the cliff, toward the land that stretched further still. Toward the places they hadn’t reached yet.

Her heart steadied. “We keep going,” she said softly.

Jenny glanced at her, already knowing. “Yeah,” she replied with a smile. “We do.”

Danny slung the camera back over his shoulder. “Good,” he said. “Because I want to see what beats that.”

El smiled at them both, beyond grateful they were on this journey with her. They walked back to the van together, their steps sure now. Certain in a way they hadn’t been before. 

The pull in her chest had settled into something clear. She knew she would find her waterfall. And for the first time since leaving Hawkins, El wasn’t afraid of what she might find when she got there. 

Wednesday

Mike 

The decision to leave hadn’t taken long. It hadn’t been dramatic. There was no argument, no debate that stretched late into the night. It had just been accepted. Like something all of them already knew before Mike even said it out loud. 

“I can’t stay here.” 

That had been enough for them. 

Liverpool had welcomed him. It had surprised him. The music, the people, the way the city seemed to hum with something alive and defiant - it should have grounded him.

But it didn’t. Because she wasn’t here.

And the longer he stayed, the more he could feel it - not just emotionally, but physically. A distance that pressed against his ribs. A quiet, constant pull in the wrong direction.

Like standing still while something important drifted further and further out of reach.

So, they had packed swiftly, and taken the first train to Glasgow on Wednesday morning. The day before they would fly to Iceland. 

The train pulled slowly out of Liverpool Lime Street, metal groaning softly as it eased into motion. The platform slid past in a blur of brick and movement - people waving, rushing, shouting last-minute goodbyes. 

Mike didn’t look back. 

He sat by the window, shoulders slightly hunched, his hands loose in his lap but never still. His fingers tapped faintly against his knee, a rhythm he wasn’t aware of.

Beside him, Will leaned his head lightly against the seat, watching the city fall away. For a while, neither of them spoke.

The train moved through the outer edges of Liverpool first - rows of terraced houses stretching out in long, repeating lines. Red brick and narrow streets. Washing lines strung between gardens. Life stacked close together, layered and loud.

Then slowly, almost without noticing, the city began to loosen its grip. Buildings thinned, roads widened and green began to creep in. 

Will’s expression softened as he watched it happen. “I liked Liverpool,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Mike glanced at him and Will smiled faintly, eyes still fixed on the passing view. “I hope I come back.”

There was something gentle in the way he said it. Not longing exactly. Just… possibility.

Mike held that for a second. Then nodded once. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”

Across the aisle, chaos was unfolding.

“You said one packet each!” Lucas snapped, trying to wrestle a bag of sweets out of Dustin’s grip.

“I said one each to start!” Dustin shot back, yanking it away and clutching it to his chest like it contained state secrets. “This is strategy!”

“That’s not strategy, that’s greed!”

“It’s survival!”

Max, slouched between them with her legs stretched out into the aisle, let out a long, suffering sigh.

“You’re both embarrassing,” she muttered.

Neither of them listened. Lucas lunged and Dustin blocked. The bag crinkled loudly between them.

Max’s hand shot out with terrifying precision. The sweets disappeared and both boys froze.

“…did you just -” Dustin started.

Max was already opening the packet, completely unbothered. “Thank you,” she said calmly, popping one into her mouth. “I’ll take it from here.”

Lucas stared at her. “That wasn’t the deal.”

Max pulled her headphones over her ears, settling back into her seat with absolute satisfaction. “You two lost the right to fairness about five minutes ago.”

Dustin looked betrayed. Lucas looked outraged. Mike huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, the sound slipping out before he could stop it.

For a moment - just a moment - it felt like normal.

The train pushed further north.

Fields stretched wide and uninterrupted now, rolling in soft waves of green that seemed never-ending. Sheep and other cattle peppered the fields. Stone walls cut across the land in uneven lines, dividing space in a way that felt ancient rather than planned.

Mike leaned his head lightly against the window, watching it all pass by in a steady blur. The further they went, the more it changed. The green deepened and the land grew wilder. 

Hills turned into slopes. Slopes into something sharper. The edges of the world felt less softened, less shaped by people. By the time they crossed into Scotland, it felt like stepping into something older and untouched. 

It was beautiful in a way that didn’t try to be.  The colours were intense. Some hills covered in deep purple, others in dark shrubbery. 

“Mike?” Will’s voice was quiet and careful, cutting through Mike’s revelry. 

He didn’t look away from the window straight away. “Yeah?”

Will shifted slightly beside him, turning just enough to face him properly. “How are you feeling?”

Mike exhaled slowly. There it was. The question he’d been avoiding since they boarded.

“…I don’t know,” he admitted. It came out rougher than he meant it to. He dragged a hand through his hair, gaze dropping briefly before lifting again to the passing landscape.

“I thought getting here would make it easier,” he said. “Like… I’d feel more sure.”

Will didn’t interrupt. He stayed quiet as Mike swallowed, jaw tightening. 

“But I don’t,” he continued quietly. “I just feel-” He stopped, searching for the word. “… like I’m about to find out I was wrong.”

That hung heavy between them.

Will’s expression softened. “But… you’re not wrong. We know El was in Liverpool. We know she’s gone to Iceland.”

Mike shook his head faintly, and his voice dipped lower. “I don’t know anything.”

The train rattled on, steady and unrelenting. Mike stared out at the hills as they rose higher in the distance, shadows shifting across them as clouds passed overhead.

“I keep thinking…” he started, then stopped again.

Will waited.

Mike’s throat tightened. “…what if she didn’t miss me?” he said finally.

The words felt wrong the second they left his mouth, but he couldn’t take them back. He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh, but there was no humour in it.

“What if I’m the only one who… stayed like this?” he added. “What if she moved on? What if she didn’t need me the way I -” He cut himself off hard.

Will didn’t let him spiral. “Mike.” He just said his name, but the tone was resolute. 

Mike forced himself to look at him. Will’s eyes were steady. Clear. Certain in a way Mike didn’t feel.

“You know her,” Will said quietly.

Mike shook his head. “I thought I did.”

“You do,” Will insisted.

There was no hesitation in it. “She didn’t leave because she didn’t care,” Will continued. “She left because she felt she had no choice. That it was the only way to keep us safe.” 

Mike’s jaw tightened. “Then why didn’t she reach out?” he asked.

It was the question that had twisted in his thoughts – in his chest for too long. So long it had begun to fester. It felt dark and uncomfortable, like it should have never been so deep rooted into him of all people. 

Will’s expression shifted slightly. He wasn’t uncertain of his words, but he was careful. “Maybe it wasn’t safe…” 

Mike looked away again. “That’s not enough of an answer,” he muttered.

Will nodded once. He didn’t argue that. “Maybe…” he tried again, softer now, “maybe it would have hurt you both more.”

Mike frowned slightly. Will glanced out at the landscape, then back at him.

“Knowing she was out there,” Will explained. “But not knowing if she was safe. Where she was…” 

Mike listened. He really listened… but it didn’t settle the ache. He exhaled slowly, his voice quieter now. Smaller.

“…but at least I would have known she was alive.”

Will didn’t answer straight away. Because he couldn’t. They both knew it was true. 

After a moment, Will nodded. “Yeah,” he said gently. “You would have.”

Silence settled between them again. Not uncomfortable. Just… honest. The train thundered forward, cutting through the Scottish landscape as it opened wider around them - mountains rising in the distance now, mist curling faintly at their edges.

Mike watched it all, but he wasn’t really seeing it. Not fully. Because somewhere ahead of them – across the water, across the distance, across everything that kept them apart… she was there. And for the first time in nineteen months, he was getting closer. 

Thursday

Mike woke before the light fully reached the room. For a few seconds, he didn’t move. He lay still beneath unfamiliar sheets, staring at a ceiling that wasn’t his, listening to the quiet creak of a building that had settled around strangers for decades before him.

It took his brain a moment to catch up with his body. But then it hit him. It was Thursday. His breath caught slightly, chest tightening before it expanded again, sharp and sudden like he’d been underwater and finally broken the surface.

They were leaving today. They were going to Iceland today. The word pulsed through him, heavy and electric.

He pushed himself upright too quickly, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room was small - just enough space for two beds, a narrow dresser, a chair tucked awkwardly into the corner beneath a window that looked out onto a quiet Glasgow street.

Will was still asleep in the other bed, curled slightly on his side, one hand tucked beneath his pillow. Peaceful - for once.

Mike envied that for half a second, but then the fear came. It didn’t even creep in gently. It hit all at once. Iceland… it was too big to search. Too open and vast. 

Mike pressed his hands into his thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his pyjama pants as his breathing shallowed slightly.

What were the odds? The thought came uninvited, sharp and cruel. What were the actual chances of finding one person… in an entire country?

His stomach twisted. He didn’t know how big Iceland really was - not in any way that mattered - but he’d seen enough pictures. Enough maps. Enough of that wild, open land stretching endlessly in every direction.

Mountains, fields, waterfalls. Space. God too much space. His chest tightened painfully again. What if she wasn’t there anymore? What if they were already too late?

Mike squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching hard. No. He couldn’t let his brain go there. Not now. Not today. Because even if the odds were impossible – he would make them possible. He would. 

His thoughts steadied around something firmer. Sharper. If she was there… he would find her. Even if it took every second of those two weeks. Even if it took longer. He would stand at that waterfall - Háifoss, the name echoing clearly in his mind, and he would wait.

He didn’t care how long. He didn’t care if it sounded insane. If there was even the smallest chance she would come there, he would be there first. Waiting. Always waiting. For her. 

“I’ll find you,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough with sleep and something deeper. Something unshakable. He had to find her. There was no version of his life where he didn’t. 

The light shifted slowly through the thin curtains, turning the room from grey to pale gold. Mike stood and moved quietly to the window, pulling it open just enough for cool morning air to slip inside.

Glasgow was very different to Liverpool. He hadn’t expected that. When they’d arrived yesterday afternoon, stepping off the train into the city, it had hit them all at once.

The noise, the movement and the accents.

“Oh my god,” Dustin had whispered almost immediately, eyes wide as a group of locals passed them in rapid conversation.

“Did you understand a word of that?” Lucas had asked.

“Not a single syllable,” Dustin replied, impressed. “It’s like English… but faster. So much faster.”

Max had snorted. “It is English, idiots.”

“Then why does it sound like a completely different language?” Dustin had demanded.

Will had just smiled faintly, watching everything with quiet interest.

Mike hadn’t said much. He’d been too busy feeling that thread, pulling him North. He needed to keep going North. But for right now, his shoulders had eased ever so slightly knowing they were getting closer. Knowing their flight was booked. 

But in that late afternoon, the city itself had surprised them. It had historic tall buildings set in a dark stone. The streets had felt both familiar and completely different all at once. There was something heavier here than in Liverpool. Older in a different way. Less music spilling out into the streets, more grit beneath it. And yet - it had life. Plenty of it.

They’d wandered for a while, half-exhausted from the journey but too restless to sit still. That had been how the food situation happened…

Dustin had spotted it first. “Fried Mars bar,” he’d read aloud, horrified and intrigued in equal measure.

“No way,” Lucas had said immediately.

“Yes way,” Dustin insisted. “We have to try it.”

“We absolutely do not have to try it.” Lucas said adamantly. And yet, five minutes later they were both holding one. 

Max had folded her arms, watching with open judgment. “This is going to be disgusting.”

Will tilted his head slightly. “It’s kind of interesting.”

Mike just looked at it like it might personally offend him.

Dustin had taken the first bite and then Lucas. There had been a moment - just one- where both of them froze. Processing. And then - 

“Oh no,” Lucas had said.

“This is a mistake,” Dustin had added faintly.

By the third bite, they were both pale. Max had lost it completely, laughing so hard she had to lean against Will for support.

“Idiots,” she’d managed between breaths.

“Never again,” Lucas had groaned.

Dustin had nodded solemnly. “We’ve seen things.”

Later, it had somehow escalated.

“Right,” Max had said, pointing at a menu. “If they’re trying that, I’m trying this.”

“Haggis?” Dustin had said weakly. “Absolutely not.”

Max had shrugged. “More for me.”

Will had surprised them all. “I’ll try it with you.”

Mike had blinked. “Seriously?”

Will had just given a small, quiet smile. “Why not?”

They’d both taken a bite. There had been a pause while Max raised an eyebrow. “…that’s actually not bad,” she admitted.

Will nodded. “Yeah. It’s good.”

Dustin had looked betrayed. “You’re both lying.”

Mike had just shuddered and looked away. “I’m not even going near that.”

And then there had been the pub. That had been the strangest part. Not because of the place itself - low lighting, wooden tables, the hum of conversation - but because of what it meant.

They could drink. Legally. It had hit them all at once.

Lucas had blinked at the bartender. “Wait… we can actually order?”

Max had smirked. “We’re not in Hawkins anymore.”

Dustin had looked at Mike. “This feels illegal.”

“It’s not,” Mike had said, though it didn’t feel entirely convincing. They’d ordered anyway. Sat around a small table, glasses in front of them that felt heavier than they should have. For a moment, no one had known what to say.

Then Will had lifted his glass. And he smiled gently. “To… the journey,” he said.

Max had added, softer, “To not dying on the way.”

Lucas huffed a laugh. “Low bar, but I’ll take it.”

Dustin raised his too. “To science. And questionable food decisions.”

They all looked at Mike. He’d stared at the glass in his hand for a second too long, and then he had lifted it. 

“To El,” he said.

And just like that everything had stilled. The noise of the pub faded slightly at the edges. 

They clinked their glasses together. There was no jokes or teasing. Just… belief. 

Mike exhaled slowly as he stood by the window now, Glasgow waking up beneath him. Everything started today. The fear was of course still there - it hadn’t gone anywhere. But underneath it… there was something stronger. Terrifying and unrelenting. Hope. 

Mike ran a hand through his hair - his dark amber eyes fixed on the city. “Come on,” he murmured quietly, more to himself than anyone else. 

“Let’s go find her.” 

The first thing Mike noticed was the silence. Not in the cabin – the low hum of the engines was constant, the occasional murmur of passengers drifting in and out - but inside himself.

It was a strange, suspended stillness. Like something was waiting.

He hadn’t felt like that on the flight to London. Not on the train. Not even in Glasgow. Those had been filled with movement, noise, distraction - his thoughts chasing themselves in circles, never quite landing.

But now…now something had settled and it terrified him. 

Mike sat by the window, his shoulder pressed lightly against the curved wall of the plane, his fingers curled tightly around the armrest without him realising. The plastic dug faintly into his palm.

Max sat across the aisle, her headphones resting around her neck, her eyes flicking between him and the window every few seconds. Lucas was beside her, quieter than usual. Dustin leaned forward in his seat, practically craning over Mike to get a better look.

“Are we there yet?” Dustin whispered, as if the plane might hear him and respond accordingly.

“Dude,” Lucas muttered. “We’re literally descending.”

“Oh,” Dustin said, immediately more alert. “Okay. Okay - this is happening.”

The plane tilted slightly. Not enough to alarm, but enough for the world outside the window to shift. Mike hadn’t even realised how high they’d been until the clouds started to thin.

At first, it was nothing but white. Endless and soft. Like the world had been erased. But then there were fragments – the clouds parted slowly, reluctantly, like they were revealing something they weren’t sure should be seen.

Mike leaned closer to the window without thinking. And then – there it was. It wasn’t like England. It wasn’t like anything he had ever seen before. 

Dark. That was the first thing. Not dull, but deep. Black rock stretching endlessly, jagged and uneven, as if the earth had been pulled apart and left exposed. Rivers cut through it in sharp silver lines, catching what little light filtered through the clouds.

It looked… untouched and untamed. Like no one had ever truly claimed it.

Dustin sucked in a breath. “Holy -”

“Yeah,” Lucas breathed.

Max didn’t even try to hide it. “Woah.”

Will leaned forward slightly, his hand resting lightly against the back of Mike’s seat as he stared out too.

“…it’s beautiful,” he said quietly.

Mike didn’t answer. Because something inside him had just… snapped. Nothing had broken, but he had been realigned. His heart slammed hard against his ribs - once, twice, again - and then didn’t slow down.

His breathing changed instantly. Too fast and too shallow. His fingers tightened around the armrest until his knuckles went white.

She’s here.

The thought didn’t come like a question. It came like truth. Cold, clear and absolute. 

She’s here.

Mike swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t know how he knew to this absolute certainty. There was no logic behind it. No voice whispering it in his ear. Just… feeling. Deep – soul deep feeling. 

Like something inside him had been searching blindly for months… and had finally found its destination. 

His leg started bouncing fast and uncontrolled. And then he could hear his teeth chattering faintly, the motion subtle but there as adrenaline coursed through his veins. 

“Mike?” Max’s voice cut through, sharp with concern now.

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he might lose it completely.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

Lucas leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “You don’t look fine, man.”

“I said I’m -” Mike stopped. His breath hitched as he realised his hands were shaking now. Properly shaking. He dragged one hand away from the armrest, pressing it flat against his thigh, trying to still it. It didn’t work.

The landscape below shifted again - closer now. He could see more detail. The way water carved through the land. The rise of distant mountains beneath low, hanging cloud.

His chest tightened painfully and any confidence he had about finding El burst like a pin in a balloon. It really was too big. 

The thought hit him like a wave as his eyes – wide and wild, searched the land properly as it came into view. There was too much space. Too many places. 

How am I supposed to find her?

His breathing stuttered. No. No - don’t do this now. He forced air into his lungs, sharp and uneven, but the feeling didn’t go. Because it wasn’t just fear.

It was everything. Terror, adrenaline, grief, depression, hope… love. Nineteen months of it – compressed into one single moment. 

He pressed his forehead briefly against the cold window, eyes squeezing shut. “She’s here,” he whispered. It was barely audible.

But Will heard it. He didn’t question it, or dare to argue. He simply reached forward and placed a steady hand on Mike’s shoulder grounding him. 

“I know,” he said quietly.

The landing passed in a blur. There was a shudder of wheels against the runway. A slow glide and then stillness. Passengers began moving immediately, voices rising, seatbelts clicking open, overhead compartments snapping.

Mike didn’t remember standing. Didn’t remember grabbing his bag. Didn’t remember walking. Everything felt too close. Too much. 

The doors opened and cold air slipped into the cabin. Fresh and sharp – different. Mike stepped into it - and his entire body reacted. It hit him like a shock. Not painful, but overwhelming. 

The terminal distorted around him as they walked. Voices, movement – signs he didn’t read. People he didn’t see. Everything was background noise. Because his whole body was doing something else entirely. Shaking.

His hands trembled at his sides. His jaw clenched and unclenched, teeth chattering loudly now. His chest felt too tight – too full. 

“Mike?” It was Max again. She was closer now. “Are you – ”

He shook his head. “I just -” He swallowed hard. “I need a second.”

Lucas frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” Mike said quickly, finally noticing the sign. He didn’t wait for an answer. The door swung shut behind him and he was met with bright, artificial light, clean tiles, mirrors. And thankfully – silence. 

Mike stumbled slightly toward the sink, gripping the edge of it hard enough that his knuckles blanched again. His reflection stared back at him. His eyes were wide - his skin was pale and slightly sweaty. He was breathing like he’d just run a marathon. 

He looked… terrified. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

He wasn’t. His hands shook harder as he turned on the faucet, water rushing loudly into the sink. He shoved his hands under it.

Cold. Grounding. Not enough.

He cupped water in his palms and splashed it onto his face. Once. Twice. Again. Droplets slid down his cheeks, clinging to his jaw. He gripped the sink again, head hanging forward as he forced himself to breathe.

In. Out. In - His chest hitched. Out - His eyes burned. He blinked hard, but it didn’t stop the tears. Not really. They stayed there. Just beneath the surface, threatening to explode out of him. 

Nineteen months. 580 days since he had last seen her. 580 days of not knowing. Of hoping and fearing and grieving and holding on. Over 800,000 minutes… and not one of them with her. 

A broken breath left him. “I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.

The door creaked open behind him, but Mike didn’t look up straight away. He didn’t need to. He knew. The footsteps were familiar and comforting. 

“Hey.” It was Lucas’s voice. Soft and careful. 

Mike swallowed, lifting his head slowly. Dustin and Will were stood just behind him. All three of them taking him in. They saw everything – the shaking, the water dripping from his face, the barely-held-together look in his eyes. 

None of them said what’s wrong. Because they already knew.

Dustin stepped forward first, resting a hand briefly against Mike’s back. Solid and steady.

“We’ve got you, dude,” he said, a small grin tugging at his mouth - not joking, not dismissing. Just… there.

Lucas moved in closer, swinging an arm around Mike’s shoulders without hesitation, pulling him in just enough to anchor him.

“Yeah,” he added quietly. “You’re not doing this alone. We are going to find her together.”

Mike let out a shaky breath.

Will stepped forward last. He didn’t touch him, but met his eyes and nodded. Determination written on his face. It was enough. It always was. 

Lucas gave Mike a small squeeze, then nudged him gently toward the door. “Come on,” he said. And then he smiled softly, “Let’s go get our Mage, Paladin.”

Mike let out something that was half a breath, half a broken laugh.

Dustin pushed the door open, glancing back at him with a grin that held more meaning than words ever could.

“You okay Wheeler?” Max asked from where she stood, her arms folded, her face tight with tension. Their hand luggage sprawled around her feet. 

Mike shrugged his shoulder as much as he could under the weight of Lucas’s strong arm. “No,” he admitted. “I’m freaking the fuck out.” 

Max snorted, her lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah… me too.” 

Will grinned, looking around at his friends. “Crazy together… right?” 

Mike looked at him, and for a moment he could see the young boys they had been. The boys who had already been through so much trauma. Had seen too much. And yet, that Mike had not given up hope that El would come back. And he had been right. He had got El back. 

And he would this time too. He would never lose her again. He would never know a day without her. He promised himself. 

And as the party piled into a taxi and headed to Reykjavík, Mike felt calmer as his friends turned their heads to him, purpose in their eyes. 

“What do you want to do?” Max asked him, her voice calm. The boys were quiet for once, completely focused on their mission. 

Mike sighed, looking out at the beautiful sky. It wasn’t dark – if it ever got dark around here. But it was late. 

“Tomorrow,” he said, his jaw tight as he looked back at his friends. “We go tomorrow. We hire a car or a van – whatever. And we get to Háifoss. That’s where I need to be.” 

Max nodded, no teasing or sarcasm in her expression. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” She looked at the boys who gave similar reactions of agreement. “We find somewhere to sleep tonight, and then we begin the journey tomorrow.” 

Mike looked at his party – his friends. And he couldn’t help the soft smile that curved his lips. Even when Will turned his head to gaze at the amazing views, or when Dustin rifled through his bag for a snack. Even when Lucas put his arm around Max and pulled her in close. He couldn’t stop smiling. 

Because he was on his way. That connection, that thread – whatever it was. It was pulling tight now. He was close. So close. 

And he knew with absolute certainty, that this adventure would be life changing. 

Friday 

El

The village appeared like something out of a dream.

El saw it first through the van window - small, scattered houses nestled gently into the landscape as though they had grown there rather than been built. Painted roofs in reds and blues broke against the muted earth tones, smoke curling faintly from chimneys into the cool Icelandic air.

It was quiet. Not empty - but peaceful in a way El had never experienced before.

“This is it?” Danny asked, leaning forward between the front seats, squinting as if expecting something more… dramatic.

Jenny smiled softly. “I think that’s the point.”

El didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on it. Her chest tensed with overwhelm. She felt her breathing increase as she stared at the beautiful little village. 

“It’s perfect,” she whispered. And she meant it.

They stepped out into crisp air that seemed to slip straight into El’s lungs and settle there. It smelled clean and fresh. Like nothing had ever been corrupted here.

Danny immediately pulled out his small Icelandic phrasebook, flipping it open with the seriousness of someone about to negotiate international diplomacy.

“Right,” he muttered. “I’ve got this.”

Jenny snorted. “Go on then.”

Danny approached a small wooden sign near the entrance to the village, clearing his throat. “…Velkomin,” he read aloud, butchering the pronunciation so badly that it barely resembled the word.

Jenny burst out laughing instantly. “Oh my God, Danny.”