Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

NINA, March 1986

Her consciousness floated through clouds of understanding - she could barely tell when her eyes were opened or closed. A few minutes passed. Or seconds, she couldn’t really tell. Time eventually slowed to the point that she could ground herself in reality, not the dreamlike limbo she had been living in the past few… well, however long it had been.

Her eyes fluttered open, only to immediately clench shut to protect her fragile pupils from the pain of the blinding hospital lights. God, her head hurt. She began to lift her arms upwards, a feeble attempt to massage the dull ache radiating through her skull.

Her arms jolted to a halt, her range of motion severely limited by the restraints preventing her from raising her arms more than a centimeter off the cot. She opened her mouth, a scream caught in the base of her throat, struggling to free itself to the surface.

Panic was engulfing her rational mind. She kicked her legs, only to find that they, too, were strapped down to the bed. Her short, desperate breaths were the only sound in the desolate hospital room besides the beeping of the heart monitor keeping guard over her on the side of her bed.

“Mike?” She rasped.

“Mike?”

The tail of an IV held to her skin under a strip of bandage met her eyes. But as she turned her head to look, she realized that, too, had been restrained.

Now she really couldn’t breathe.

A thick metal collar, similar in design to a neck brace, kept her head looking straight forward. Now, suddenly aware of the cool intrusion, she couldn’t believe she had ever neglected to notice its presence. Claustrophobia suddenly overcame her. The scream finally made its way out of her lungs and filled the room with a piercing shriek.

She thrashed, the scream unending. Tears and terror blurred her vision, the realization setting in that she was utterly and completely helpless.

As her body seized, her eyes drew to a blinking camera mounted in the corner of the wall, aimed directly at her cot. Anger surged through her. She focused her eyes on the camera, on that ever-blinking red light that assured her she would never for a moment be unwatched.

Concentrating on the energy surrounding it, her brows tensed. The pain in her head slowly grew, as she prepared to combust the damn thing.

Zap!

A painful shock from the collar caused her breath to catch and a yelp to leave her lips.
Her eyes watered in pain as she stared helplessly at the camera.

Please, they begged. I surrender, just make the pain go away.

From the surveillance room, Brenner watched, smiling. The monitors lining the walls gave him a clear view of his daughter’s prison. His breath caught to see her helpless. He relished in it. His heart grew beneath his white coat, his love for the girl filling every crevice of his body.

“Is she ready?” He asked the orderly stationed at the control desk.

“Yes sir,” he nodded. “Should I call for a tranquilizer?”

Brenner shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

He stood nodding at the two nurses waiting by the door to follow him. Swiping his key card on control panel, he pushed the door open and marched ahead, the nurses hurrying to follow him.

***

El’s eyes bored into the camera, full of pain and betrayal. She had been promised that this wouldn’t happen again. Papa- Brenner said it wouldn’t. He had promised.

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her head was killing her, and her neck… it burned, it burned so bad.

“Eleven.”

She froze. That voice, she would’ve recognized that voice anywhere. It felt soft, comforting even, despite the terror it sent down her spine.

Oh god. She hadn’t expected to see him. Even though the rational part of her knew what she was signing up for, knew who she was going to have to face, it still felt incomprehensible. She wanted to turn to face him, she would’ve whipped her head around if she could, but the godforsaken collar prevented her from even the slightest movement.

Instead she sat, propped up against the back of the cot, her back to the door, waiting for him to come to her.

“Daughter. Father and daughter finally reunited.”

He took a step closer.

“How I’ve missed my favorite subject.”

Subject. That was all she was to him. He loved her, but in a twisted, decrepit way. She was his entire life, and he would now be hers. Finally. She was back in her cage where she belonged.

His voice was anything but soothing. El’s eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking down her flushed cheeks. She felt a hand on her arm, and flinched.

Her eyes opened, and there he was. Those bright blue eyes, cold and unfeeling, haunted her dreams. She saw them everywhere. At school, the supermarket, even in the eyes of Hopper when he was angry with her. A pang of sadness rippled through her. She felt guilty even comparing Hopper to Brenner.

“I’ve been waiting so long to see you, Eleven. I didn’t want to wake you, you’ve had a long week.”

Week? It had been a week?

“Week?”

He chuckled, a cold alien noise. El shivered.

“Now that you’re awake we can finally get started. I have something to show you that I think you’ll like very much.” He smiled.

El felt her heart start to race again.

“Where is Mike?” She demanded.

He waved his hand, dismissing her.

“That’s none of your concern, Eleven. You won’t be needing to think about him anymore. You’re free.”

El scoffed at the irony. Free? What about her situation said freedom? She wrestled against her arm restraints, uncomfortable with how her collar pressed against her throat.

“Let me out,” she said with pleading eyes.

“Please, Papa.” Her voice broke.

His thin lips twitched into a smile.

“I’ve missed you calling me that. I am forever grateful to be your Papa, Eleven. And believe me, I love you very much. But I cannot allow you to keep hurting yourself.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“Please, Papa, I don’t like it. It hurts”

He frowned, turning from her. “I wouldn’t have to do these things if you didn’t misbehave. You hurt everyone around you when you scream and hurt yourself.”

He spun on his heal quickly, causing her to jump.

“It’s childish, Eleven!”

Her nose began to run, causing her to hyperventilate even more.

“Why do you hurt me?” She asked, tears streaming down her face and her voice catching.

“H-Hopper didn’t hurt me. He loved me!” She screamed, immediately sobbing.

He hit her, his face a deep red, all the false-kindness gone. His eyes, those icy blue things devoid of humanity, threatened to kill her.

El inhaled sharply, tensing up in response to the blow. The side of her head burned, she could still feel the phantom hand pressed against the side of her skull.

She wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and scream. What had she done to deserve all the pain? She just wanted it to stop. Why was she always hurt? Why her? Why?

But given her situation, El couldn’t move. He could hit her as many times as he wanted and she couldn’t as much as turn her head. She really was his now.

Brenner looked down at his watch, a glistening silver Rolex. Unclipping his radio from his belt, he held it to his mouth and murmured something into it. El couldn’t hear what he said. She no longer cared. Her head was ringing, panic flooding through her veins, her body exhausted and trembling. He could do whatever he wanted to her. She didn’t care. She wasn’t a person anymore.

***

Lenora Hills, January 1986

El sat in her first period - English. Her least favorite subject. She was exhausted, despite sleeping at least 8 hours last night. She was always tired.

Her long hair was tied back in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She didn’t have the energy to do anything else. Of course, she was still grateful for her hair. After being without it for so long, it was everything to her. Pretty, she thought. Hair made her pretty.

Last summer Joyce had attempted to convince her to trim it before school started. She refused, tears bubbling to the surface.

Just looking at Joyce’s hair shears sent her heart racing. She wasn’t even able to look at Joyce’s leg razor in the bathroom. She had thrown it away 3 times before Joyce realized where it had been disappearing to.

After that, the razor was stored in the medicine cabinet, out of sight from El.

“Jane? Are you with us?”

El’s head snapped forward, pulling her out of her thoughts. She stared at Mrs Gracey blankly. She had no idea what she wanted from her.

The teacher sighed. “Please pick up reading where Harper left off. I really need you to pay attention, we don’t have the time to keep going back on this section.”

El’s cheeks burned red. Up ahead she could see Angela and her friends snickering at her.

El started reading slowly. She stumbled over the longer words, she still struggled with reading out loud. While she was decently good at reading on its own, doing so in front of a whole class was a different story.

Finally, after several painful minutes, the passage was over. El slinked back into her seat, putting her head down on the desk. She was so, so tired.

Near the end of class Mrs Gracey decided to put on a video. They were currently studying World War II, specifically the holocaust. The video was footage from concentration camps in Germany, and it included actual film of the prisoners.

El’s stomach lurched. The video was documenting how prisoner’s heads were shaved upon arriving in camps. Over the narration, video clips of German camp officers roughly shaved the heads of women and children strapped down to barber’s chairs.

Her throat grew dry, she could feel her heartbeat. The video felt too loud, too intrusive. She couldn’t breathe. She felt the restraints on her arms as she lay strapped to the bed, the sound of the razor in her ears. Her hair was short, small clumps of it littered the floor. Dr Brenner stood in the doorway, watching her. His eyes never left her face.

El stood up, the students sitting near her jumping at the sound of her chair scraping the floor. Grabbing her knapsack off the ground, El made a beeline for the door, weaving through rows of desks.

“Jane, where are you going?” Mrs Gracey called from her desk.

El ignored her, fumbling with the door knob.

“Jane!”

She stumbled into the hallway, heart pounding in her head. She needed to run. She needed out. She needed to hide, to get away, to scream. Breathing hard, El finally forced her way into the girls bathroom.

Locking herself in a stall, she slowly sank to her knees, a wail building up in her throat.

Hot tears ran down her face. She crouched on the ground, her face buried in her arms.

She cried softly, her breath heavy and ragged. She was back, back in the lab. Back in the room. Her room. The suffocating feeling of the tank. Papa’s fists against her face.

The tears, the scratches, the bruises. Some of them self inflicted, most of them from the man who promised he loved her most.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t want to feel this way. Her hands made their way up her arm, fingernails dragging against the skin.

She pressed hard. The pain stinging and bringing more tears to her eyes. Blood dimpled her arm, the scratches leaving trails of red against her pale skin.

She didn’t think she could go back out. What was even the point? She was broken. Nothing would fix her. She was damaged beyond repair and no one wanted her. No one except… ugh, she didn’t want to think about that.

El’s heart had a hole in it. Mike used to take the place of that hole, he was able to offer her love and comfort, although it didn’t always feel unconditional.

Hopper did too. But he was gone now.

Joyce was sometimes able to fill that space, but El always felt as though her adoptive mother didn’t really want her. Joyce swore that wasn’t true, that she loved El as much as her own two sons, but that little voice in El’s head always said otherwise.

That voice had started out as P- Dr Brenner’s voice. But over time is had slowly morphed into her own. She cursed herself. Everything always went back to him and what he had done to her.

She hated him, she wanted him dead. She wanted him forced into a box and shoved into the ground, left the suffocate on dirt and his own saliva deep under the earth.

But I love him…

That voice. Her voice. The part of her that wanted him. She needed him. That hole was the missing place where he had gone. Her Papa. He would always be her Papa.

Papa.

Lately she didn’t call him that. Ms Ruth (who told her to call her by her first name), the therapist Joyce had insisted she see, didn’t want El calling him that anymore.

She said he wasn’t her real father, and she didn’t need to call him that. His name was Dr Brenner, not Papa.

El enjoyed seeing Ruth, even if she didn’t feel fully understood by her. Ruth just didn’t seem to get it.

It was hard for El to articulate her complicated feelings on her relationship with Brenner. In her mind he still was her father. The closest thing she had to a father besides Hopper.

Her heart ached. It always did whenever she thought about Hopper.

The ringing of the bell startled her. She looked up, face to face with the graffiti covering the black and white speckled stall door.

Standing stiffly, El hauled her bag over her shoulder and unlocked the door, breath still shaky. She hadn’t had an episode this bad in a while. Things had been particularly hard when she first started school and Angela had first started in on her.

She hated every class she had with her. Somehow she had managed to get stuck in more classes with Angela than she had with Will. Funny how those things worked out.

El washed her hands at the sink, trying to avert her own gaze in the mirror. The bathroom was empty, that was a relief. She looked up, eyes locked with those of her reflection. They were teddy bear brown. Warm like caramel, the polar opposite of Brenner’s clear blue ones.

Her hair was messy. El smoothed her bangs and wiped at the mascara under her eyes. Joyce had taught her how to wear makeup over the summer. She liked the way it made her look, it made her feel pretty. Joyce always told her she was pretty.

Wiping her hands on her jeans, El opened the bathroom door with her sleeve and stepped into the crowded hallway. She was learning to be better with crowds. She actually preferred them to being all alone. They made her feel small, like she blended in. She didn’t want to be noticed.

She found herself quickly swallowed up by the crowd, and allowed the wave to take her to her next class. As she walked, always staying close the the wall on her right, her thoughts were interrupted by a girl knocking into her from the side.

“‘scuse me”, the girl said absentmindedly, not even bothering to look at her.

El’s muscles seized up. She didn’t like being touched, or pushed around.

It felt like a punishment.

Keeping her head down, she kept walking forward, shrinking in on herself as she did so.

Upon finding her next class El settled down into a chair near the back. She made herself as small as possible, trying to blend in.

It worked, no one spoke to her. She was finally left to herself.

Chapter Text

NINA, March 1986

El was strapped to a wheelchair, forcefully rolled through the lab corridors by the two nurses who accompanied her. Dr Brenner marched ahead, leading them through the long, dark hallways. The fluorescent lights above lit El’s skin green, making her look even more sickly than she already did with her freshly shaved hair and the dark circles under her eyes.

Her arms and legs were bound again. The collar still threatened to choke her. Papa had explained that it wouldn’t be coming off until she learned to “control” herself.

She was wheeled into what appeared to be an infirmary. Her eyes, large and panicked, attempted to catch those of the nurses. To see if they at least had some sliver of humanity left.

The first nurse, a tall African American man in a white coat with glasses, averted her gaze. The other, an equally large blond, scribbled notes on his clipboard.

“Where is Doctor Owens?” She asked. Her voice came out groggy and rough.

Brenner didn’t answer her. He disappeared into a supply closet and emerged with a rolling cart supporting a machine that bore a vague resemblance to an old radio. It was a wooden box, propped open, with a black surface board inside of it covered in dials.

Brenner continued to adjust the box, taking wires from the nurses’ hands and plugging them in. A nurse approached El, bending down to undo the straps on her ankles.

“What… what are you doing?” She groaned, her voice small. “Papa?”

The nurse sat up, now undoing El’s wrist cuffs. The leather straps left red indents on her pale flesh. Brenner finally turned to look at her, the machine seemingly ready.

“This will be your first lesson in obedience, Eleven. We will continue with the work we started until you are strong enough to fight One.”

He reached down with a thick cord in his hand, and plugged it into the wall socket. The machine began to buzz.

“Where is Doctor Owens?” She asked again, her voice trembling. “He said I could go. Where is he?”

Brenner looked to the nurses, who glanced at each other nervously. “Stand her up.”

El gasped as she was hoisted up by her armpits. She kicked at the air, screaming, “No! No!” as they dragged her to large chair, similar to something one might expect to find in a dentist’s office.

The chair was also equipped with restraints, and she was quickly buckled in before her feet could do any real damage. The men seemed unfazed by her futile kicks.

Dr Brenner lifted a headpiece from the box. El’s blood ran cold. It was a red headband, with metal clips that the cords connecting to the box hooked on to. Brenner then removed a long stick-like instrument, with a mouth bit attached at the end.

El groaned, kicking her legs and thrashing.

“Hold her still.” Brenner said shortly, bringing forward the headpiece and mouth bit.

“Papa, please!” She screamed, sobbing. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He smiled at her gently. “There there, Eleven. It will all be over soon.”

“No, no…” She moaned. “Don’t Papa, don’t, please…”

He brought the band closer, attempting set it atop her head. She resisted as much as the collar allowed her to, throwing her head forward and crying at the pain as the metal prods pressed against her neck.

A nurse’s hand suddenly grasped her jaw, pressing her face against the back of the chair and allowing the headband to be hooked around her head.

El could barely breath, his hand was so close to her lips and the claustrophobia was setting in.

“Don’t resist it, Eleven. This is for your own good.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Thrusting her chin down, she bit the nurse’s hand, eliciting a yelp from the man. He drew his hand back sharply, examining the puncture mark. El barely had a moment to breath before her breath was knocked out of her by Brenner’s impending slap. She moaned, tasting blood. He had split her lip.

Using his hand to press her forehead against the chair, Brenner forced the headband onto her. The mouth bit was quickly thrust into her gasping mouth, the uninjured nurse pulling at her lips so that it fit comfortably.

She screamed around the gag, images of her mother, in the same position that she was now, intrusively coming to mind. She would be left in the same state. She wouldn’t be able to resist anymore, she would be his.

El’s nostrils flared as she sobbed behind the bit. Tears ran down her face like raindrops against a windowpane, like the ones she would watch back at Hopper’s cabin in Hawkins. There wasn’t much rain in California.

Brenner’s hand reached for her face, and she flinched instinctively. He gently wiped at the blood dripping down her chin, caressing her.

“Shh…” He whispered, leaning in close to her.

His hand came to rest atop her head. He ran his fingers through her cropped hair, smiling softly.

“You will do great things, Eleven.”

His hand stopped. She looked up into his face, her brows knit together in hurt. She felt his hand slowly clench to grasp her hair. Her cries were muffled as he pulled, fingers rough against her scalp, the tension threatening to rip out what little hair she had left.

“But first you must learn.”

His head turned sharply to the nurse stationed at the box. He nodded. El’s gaze flickered to his eyes one last time before she was met with the worst pain she had ever been subjected in her entire life.

Electricity shot through her skull, burning her eyes within their sockets and setting her brain aflame. White flashes corrupted her vision, the pain blinding her. Her eyes rolled up, and a scream erupted from deep within her. Papa’s hand stayed atop her head, relaxed now, petting it as she writhed.

And then it was over. Her teeth ached from clenching down on the mouth piece, and her head throbbed behind her eyes as if it had been a migraine. Brenner leaned down again. She could feel his breath on her face.

“This is what happens when you act selfishly, Eleven.”

Tears sprung from her eyes. All she wanted was for the pain to stop. She hated him, hated him more than she had ever hated anyone before. More than Angela, even. More than the demogorgon. More than the Mind Flayer, even. She hated him for keeping her here, from taking her mother away from her, and for later on taking her father. He took her childhood, he took her youth, and now he would take her future, too. She was trapped with him, they were bound together, and that bind was as real as the restraints keeping her under his thumb.

“I know you’re angry with me.”

Her eyes clenched closed, small gasps escaping from behind the gag. She trembled, fear and rage swirling within her, threatening to rip her apart.

“But it was the only way.”

Brenner looked up. The nurse’s hand raised to the dial, waiting for the command.

El could only scream as Papa nodded, and the dial was twisted again.

***
Lenora Hills, February 1986

El awoke with a start, drenched in cold sweat.

She had a nightmare, one that had been plaguing her recently. Her hands instinctively rushing to her head, running through her long hair, assuring her that her hair was not shorn. She ripped off her bedsheets, still breathing heavily. She was wearing an old pair of boxers and one of Jonathan’s old t-shirts. Not a hospital gown.

She breathed shakily. Slipping out of bed silently, she made her way to the door, opening it softly. She kept her bedroom door shut every night. Joyce had asked her if it would make her feel better to keep it open, but El insisted it stay shut. That was she had the ability to lock it if she ever felt unsafe.

She often did, and would retreat into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her as she did. Whenever the memories got too strong, or the emotions became too much, she would isolate herself to keep from hurting the people she loved.

I am a monster. I am bad. I am a monster.

Her brain would repeat like a broken record, those same words playing over and over until she couldn’t take it and was forced to grab the scissors from her desk drawer and make peace the only way she knew how. Pain. Her left arm was covered in thin white scars, remnants of those many nights of “remembering”.

Papa would hit her when she was bad. She would cut.

El walked on tiptoes to the kitchen where she approached the window cautiously. After pausing to make sure everyone was still asleep, she slowly pulled open the shutters. She cringed as she slid the window open as softly as it would allow. She breathed in the fresh night air. It was cool, typical winter California weather. In Hawkins it would probably be snowing. She wondered if Mike was awake right now, watching the snow, and if he was thinking about her.

“El?”

She jumped, whirling around to come face to face with her adoptive brother. Will.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“J-just a nightmare.” She mumbled. “I’m sorry, I was loud” she said, reaching to close the shutters.

“No, no,” Will’s hand came to rest on her arm. “Keep them open, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

He could hear the way her voice trembled, and withdrew his arm.

“What was the nightmare about?”

“Nothing. It was nothing. I’m sorry.”

Her arms wrapped around her body, the right one caressing the scars that patterned her left. She was always hiding the small tattoo printed across her wrist.

“El, you can tell me anything.”

She looked at him, the way his eyebrows knit together, the concern on his face.

“Please, El. Please talk to me.”

She took a deep breath in, clenching her eyes shut and looking down. The moonlight pooled on the wooden floorboards of the kitchen. A cool breeze drifted through the room, dotting both teenagers’ skin with goosebumps.

“I…” Her breath came out shaky. “I dreamed about… Papa…”

Will’s face fell. He knew how the man still haunted her. He had heard Joyce talking to her late at night when she thought the boys weren’t around, telling El that she was making great strides in therapy and that she was completely safe now. Far away from Hawkins, far away from the lab. Far away from… Brenner. Will shuddered. He barely knew the half of what El had been through, but what he did know haunted him.

“Oh, El.”

Her face broke then. Tears trickled down her cheeks, a sob erupting from the back of her throat. She fell forwards, and he caught her. His arms wrapped around her shaking figure, engulfing her in a hug.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe now, it was just a dream.”

She buried her face in his t-shirt collar, tears leaving wet spots on the neckline. Pain rippled through her muffled cries, piercing Will’s heart. He hurt so bad for her, he just wanted to take her pain away. She didn’t deserve this. But what hurt him most was the fact that El deeply, sincerely believed that it was her fault. As much as she hated Brenner he knew that she hated herself just as much.

“I was there, again. I was back, Will. Papa- he was there.” She sobbed. Will held her tightly in reassurance.

“I was s-strapped down. Couldn’t m-move. He told me, he told me I could never leave. He said he loved me.” Another sob escaped her. “He said I was br-broken. That it was my fault H-Hopper-“

A cry cut her off, and she crumpled to her knees. Will quickly knelt down with her, holding her, not letting go. He wouldn’t let her go.

“I killed Hopper.”

“No!”

Will’s voice startled her, and she flinched away from him, her arms once again shielding her chest. Will reached for her, regretting raising his voice and mentally cursing himself for scaring her.

“No, El.” He said softly. “You did not kill Hopper. Never… never say that again.”

She shook her head, tears escaping her eyes. “But I did, I did…”

“You didn’t El,” his voice broke. She looked up to him, staring into those kind hazel eyes, now glistening and wet.

“Please El, you didn’t.”

She brought her hands to her face, her palms pressing into her closed eyes. His crawled towards her, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

“I should not be here.” She whispered, her voice far off and dazed.

“El.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“El.”

Her voice cracked. “I hurt… everyone.”

His arms wrapped around her, squeezing her as tight as he could. Both of them were crying now. El collapsed into him, never wanting him to let go.

The pair stayed there the rest of the night, until dawn came. Joyce awoke to find her two youngest almost-adults asleep on the kitchen floor, holding each other tightly, breathing softly. She retreated into her room, closing the door softly so as not to wake them.

***

NINA, March 1986

El awoke in bed. Her head ached, and her eyes felt watery. She lifted a hand to her head, realizing that for the first time in what must have been over a week that her hands were no longer bound. Relief instantly washed over her, she was grateful for the small victory.

She reached up to run her hands through her hair. It was something she always did to soothe herself. It was comforting, to know she at least had-

Her hand stopped, fingers barely touching her prickly scalp. She felt as though the breath had been knocked out of her. The room suddenly felt much smaller, more like the cell that it was. She kicked off her bedsheets, suddenly becoming aware of the metal cuff locked around her left ankle, chaining her to the bed.

She wiped her eyes, trying to breathe, trying not to scream. She was so angry, she was so tired. Her right hand crept to her left, crawling up her arm and finding its way to her scars and caressing them Her nails dug into the flesh. Small moons dotted her arms, a contrast to the older slashes running up and down them.

Her hair was gone.

Although she had expected as much, it was still a shock realizing it really, truly, was gone. Her identity had been ripped from her. She was just a number now, the same number that had been printed on her wrist at birth. The same number that replaced the name her mother had chosen for her. Eleven. 011. Not a person, just a number.

She didn’t want to feel anymore.

Will.

She missed Will. His loving embrace, his soft voice, his gentle eyes.

Brenner’s face flashed in her mind, replacing Will’s kind one.

She gasped, unable to breathe. She only had him now. Dr Owens was gone too, he could’ve been dead for all she knew. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. She wanted Joyce, she wanted Hopper, she wanted Jonathan, she wanted Will. She was crying again. She was always crying now.

Her legs curled up under her chin, her arms wrapped around them. She buried her head in her knees, allowing herself to cry. To mourn what she had lost, everything that had been stolen from her.

There was no relief.

There was no horizon in sight.

Nothing but cold white walls and restraints that bound her. Needles that drugged her. Prisons that confined her. Men who liked to make her suffer.

Her head tilted back, staring up. The collar pinched her skin, and she winced.

That blinking red light again, the camera watching her. He could see her. Or if not him, then someone. Some orderly whose entire job was to watch her scream and cry, chained to the bed like a feral dog and collared just the same. To watch her scratch her arms and bruise her hands. To watch her writhe and suffer, the depression consuming her.

She was living in hell. Hope didn’t exist down here.

Chapter Text

Lenora Hills, February 1986

El stood on the front porch, alone, hands shoved deep into her jean pockets. It was chilly, her oversized navy blue sweater (courtesy of Jonathan) wasn’t doing much to shield her against the biting breeze.

It was still sunny, though. As it always was in California.

She glanced at the car parked just down the walkway. Joyce smiled at her from the driver’s seat, and gave her an encouraging thumbs up. El gave her a half smile in return and turned back to the front door of the house. She knocked again.

The door opened and an older woman appeared, greeting El with a big smile on her face accompanied by the sound of a fire crackling in the background.

She was wearing a red top with a long beige skirt, and must have been in her late 50s. El liked her short curly brown hair. It was pretty.

“Jane! Come in, come in.”

She bustled El through the front door and into the entryway. El sheepishly waved goodbye to Joyce through the door.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but Bruno would not leave me alone until I gave him his bone.”

A sad looking hound dog stared up at El from the top of the staircase, absentmindedly chewing a large dog bone.

“It’s okay,” El said, attempting to reassure the woman. “I was not waiting long.”

The woman, Ruth, beckoned her into the sitting room and closed the door behind her. El sat at her assigned place on the sofa across from Ruth’s chair, legs pressed tight together and hands nervously fidgeting with the blue hair tie on her wrist.

“Your mom called me, honey.”

El looked up, confused.

“What did she say?”

Ruth sighed, reaching for the notebook on the coffee table.

“She told me you’ve been having some nightmares lately. Is that true, Jane?”

El fidgeted with her hands, averting Ruth’s gaze.

“Yes.”

Ruth paused, waiting to see if she would go on. But El was silent.

“And..? What were these nightmares about?”

El stayed silent. She didn’t like talking about… him.

Take a guess! She wanted to say. But she didn’t want to be rude to Ruth, not after she had been so kind to her. Joyce would be hurt if she knew El wasn’t doing well in therapy.

“My dreams are- they were about Papa.”

Ruth’s jaw visibly twitched. She didn’t like when El referred to him as anything other than Dr Brenner. They had been working on this for months now.

“And these dreams about Dr Brenner… how have they made you feel?”

Ruth didn’t want to let on how much she knew about El’s sleep troubles or how she had recently been spending the night in Will’s room (and occasionally on the kitchen floor).

“Um…”

El thought for a moment, unsure of how to answer that question. How did they make her feel? It was… complicated. Afraid, for sure. Panicked. Trapped. But also… lonely. Like she was missing a piece of herself. She missed him, Brenner. As uncomfortable as it made other people, she still loved him. And hated him. But also loved him.

“You do not like when I say it.”

Ruth raised her eyebrows.

“Say what? You’re allowed to say anything you want, Jane. This is your time.”

“My name is not Jane.”

“Right. But that is your legal name, the name your mother gave you. I don’t think you should continue to refer to yourself as a… number… but I will call you anything you feel comfortable with.”

“El.”

Ruth hesitantly jotted that down in her notebook. Yes, she preferred calling the girl “Jane”, as that was her real name. But she wanted to respect her preferences, knowing all that she had been through.

“Now why do you like the name El so much?”

El had always been called that, since meeting the party. It felt right. That was who she was - El. The name Mike had given to her, all those years ago.

“My friends. They call me El.”

Ruth nodded. “The name ‘El’ has a positive connotation to you. You like that it reminds you of your friends, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the name ‘Eleven’? How do you feel about that?”

El tensed. The only person who called her by her full number was Dr Brenner. Back at the lab.

She nervously rubbed her wrist, pressing on the tattoo. Pushing against her skin, trying to make it disappear.

“How does it make you feel, El?”

“Bad.”

Ruth jotted that down. Bad.

“Can you be more specific?”

El shut her eyes, clenching them. Number Eleven. 011

“Are you up for some more lessons, Eleven?”

“Are you listening, Eleven?”

“What have you done?”

“Eleven!”

“What. Have. You. Done.”

El’s eyes fluttered open. Ruth was still looking at her, intently. Waiting for her answer.

“It makes me feel trapped. Like I am in a cage. I cannot escape. I can’t- I can’t breathe.”

Ruth smiled gently. “It’s okay to feel that way. That’s how trauma works, El. I’m happy you’re able to recognize those feelings.”

El shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Ruth flipped back through the notebook, looking inquisitive.

“Would you mind sharing your dream, El? Dreams can tell us a lot about ourselves.”

El breathed in, slowly.

“In my dream I was… tied up. My hands were- stuck. The leather straps.”

Ruth scribbled, trying to keep up with her.

“Papa was there. He was smiling. At me. In the rainbow room.”

She breathed shakily, steadying her voice.

“Mike was there, too.”

Her eyes glistened as she spoke, and her hands clasped together in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

“Papa was hurting him. Mike was hurting. He wore… a hospital gown. His wrist had a number, like mine. Papa was… Mike’s Papa too.”

Ruth looked up from her notes in sympathy, nodding at her to keep going. She wasn’t used to the girl speaking more than a sentence, usually.

“He was cutting Mike’s arms. I could not stand up to help him. I told him to cut me, instead. Papa would not listen to me. Mike was screaming, telling me I was bad for not saving him. Papa was going to kill him. I told him, kill me. Kill me! Do not kill Mike!”

A tear dropped from El’s cheek onto her knee, the blue denim of her jeans quickly absorbing it.

“Mike screamed so loud. I screamed too. Papa looked at me, and smiled. He said he loved me, but he was angry. He said I should not have left him. It was my fault Mike was dying. I should not have left.”

Ruth looked up from her notes at the sound of a sob. The girl was crying now.

“That was very good, Jane.”

Ruth smiled at her, trying to comfort the crying thing.

“Thank you for trusting me with that dream. I’m sure it was very painful.”

El’s head was buried in her hands now, resting against her knees. Sobs racked her body, leaving her a shaking, teary-eyed mess.

Ruth stood up, moving around the coffee table to seat herself next to the girl.

“It can be hard to forgive the people who hurt us. But it is necessary to forgive, in order to heal.”

Ruth gently rested a hand on her back.

El flinched away from her touch, violently. Her eyes were red and angry, old feelings and pent-up rage suddenly active.

“Don’t touch me! I am not a child!” She yelled, jumping to her feet.

Ruth looked startled, afraid even.

“All you… doctors, you act like I do not understand! I will not forgive Papa for what he did to me. For hurting me.”

She held up the tattoo on her wrist, rolling up her sleeve to reveal the scars covering her arm.

“I understand everything. Do not talk to me like I do not. I lived through Papa, not you. You will never understand what that is like.”

Ruth was shocked. She hadn’t realized that the girl even had that advanced of a vocabulary. It was easy to forget that she was almost 16 years old, capable of so much, of things greater than even Ruth, with her fancy degree and psychology books, could even begin to comprehend.

“Do you understand?” El yelled, her fists clenched by her sides. The air seemed to stand still around her, as if her anger had the power to stop the ventilation from circulating the room.

“Y-yes! Goodness, Jane, please calm down!” Ruth yelped, backing away from her.

El took a step towards her.

“My name is El.”

Ruth’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t believe that this teenage girl had her cornered in her own room. In the session that she was running. It was unbelievable, and not at all what she had signed up for when agreeing to take on such a client. Yes, she knew the girl had issues, but she would not tolerate being spoken to in such a way.

“Jane, you need to leave.”

El stopped, the anger seeming to drain from her face.

“I’m sorry, I understand that this is all incredibly hard for you but I do not tolerate this kind of behavior.”

El backed up slowly, looking shocked. What had she done? Ruth was so kind, how could she have hurt her like that?

“I-I’m sorry-“

“I will discuss this with your mother. But for now, you need to leave.”

She approached El cautiously, backing her through the doorway and into the entryway.

“I’m sorry” El whimpered. All the fire from earlier was gone. She looked so small, so weak now. Ruth felt a bit guilty just seeing her trembling figure.

She sighed. “This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, I just need to talk to your mother. Go home, get some rest, and call me later this week.”

El nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. She reached for the door handle, trembling, and stepped outside, wincing as Ruth slammed it behind her.

***
NINA, March 1986

It was morning. El hadn’t slept well the night before. She was frequently awoken with nightmares, and had tossed and turned the entire night.

The fluorescent lights flickered on as an orderly entered, carrying a tray of plain toast and a glass of water. El’s stomach growled, she hasn’t realized how hungry she was. When was the last time she had eaten from anything other than a feeding tube?

She sat up on the bed, taking the tray eagerly and stuffing the bread into her mouth. She didn’t care if it was piggish, she was starved. Her head still ached, and her lip was slightly swollen.

When she was finished the orderly took the tray and left her. She waited alone for almost twenty minutes before her door opened again.

Dr Brenner. It was him.

“Hello, Eleven. Are you feeling better this morning?”

She scooted away from him on the cot, the chain on her ankle rattling with each small movement.

“Ah, yes.” He looked down. “I apologize for the ankle cuff. But precautions were necessary.”

She didn’t look at him. She felt like an animal, caged and abused. An injured dog, afraid of its master and cowering at the end of its chain.

“Are you not speaking to me?” He said gently, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“There is lots of work that still has to be done. I hope your training yesterday wasn’t too much, but I have to ensure your absolute cooperation.”

She flinched. He had such a way of speaking, twisting every little detail around to make it so that she was the problem. He downplayed his actions, making her feel small and stupid, like a dumb child. As if it was her fault he had electrocuted the shit out of her yesterday.

“You seem to think you have a choice in the matter, Eleven. I hope you soon realize that this is absolutely not the case.”

She finally raised her head to meet his gaze. His eyes. Glaciers, full of depth and devoid of feeling. Was there any love in there? Did he care for her, at all?

She exhaled. “Please tell me where Dr Owens is.”

Brenner sighed, his hands resting on his knees.

“Dr Owens was having trouble cooperating with the plan of action we had previously agreed on.”

“Is he alive?”

“Yes, he is alive.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

“If you focus on your training and do not continue to behave selfishly, it is possible that you may get to see him.”

El blinked, weighing his words. She knew she would be forced to cooperate no matter what. But if she went with him willingly, at least for now, there may be something in it for her.

“Okay. I will go.”

He smiled, holding out his hand to her.

She closed her eyes before reaching out and taking his hand. It was larger than hers, his palm strong and rough. Standing slowly, he helped her to the edge of the bed. Reaching for the radio on his belt with his other hand, he held the button and muttered to an orderly on the other end. Seconds later the door opened, and an orderly emerged holding a ring of keys. He knelt by her ankle and unlocked the wrist cuff. Papa held her hand the entire time.

She felt… safe. In a strange, deeply fucked up way.

There was no other way to put it. Every part of her screamed that this was wrong, there was no way that she could trust this monster. Everyone she had known in her past life, whether she was El, or Jane, but not Eleven, screamed at her in her head to run. This man was not safe. He could not be trusted.

The key turned, and the cuff was slipped off her ankle. But she was not free yet. Papa still held her hand tightly, not allowing her to let go. The collar remained on her neck, the remote control proudly displayed on Papa’s belt.

He still had control, and he wanted to make sure that she knew it.

***

The pair walked through the hallway, El barely keeping up with his brisk pace.

“I am very happy to have you back, Eleven.”

He smiled, looking straight ahead.

“It is very difficult for a Papa to be away from his daughter for so long.”

El cringed. She needed to stay calm, allow him to believe that he was in control. What mattered most was seeing Owens, making sure he was alive. It was possible he was her only way out.

The pair walked down the long corridors, finally approaching the NINA. El looked to him, uneasily. Hadn’t she seen enough in her visions? What was left for her to do?

Brenner kneeled down next to her. His hand reached up to cup her chin. He held her there, his thumb gently pulling at her lower lip.

She had to strain herself not to pull away. His touch sent pain throbbing through her lip, and she inadvertently sucked her teeth.

“It hurts, doesn’t it,” he said, peering at the small wound. His grip on her jaw didn’t loosen.

She nodded, wishing he would stop touching her.

“Pain is like a lesson. When we do things that hurt ourselves, we learn not to do those things again.” He ran his thumb over her lips, feeling the swelling.

“Isn’t that right, Eleven?”

A tear stung her eyes.

“Yes, Papa.”

Her eyes closed, and she breathed softly. She tried to imagine herself in another place, away from here. With Will, in the kitchen. She missed Will’s warm embrace, and his soft hazel eyes. She imagined it was Will holding her cheek, not Papa.

“Please Papa, it hurts” she whispered. She didn’t want to displease him.

His hand withdrew, and he stood up.

“I do not like to hurt you, Eleven. I hope you know that.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at her bare feet, and the white hospital gown that clung to her knees.

He reached for her hand again, and she reluctantly took it. As he had said before, she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

They walked towards to NINA, together. Hand in hand, captor and prisoner. Master and dog.

Father and daughter.

***
Hawkins, October 1984

The leaves on the trees surrounding the cabin were bright red. The faded path leading to the porch was covered in leaves, some soft and still brightly colored. Others brown and crispy.

The sun was beginning to set. It had been getting dark earlier and earlier lately, meaning that El was left alone in the dark far more often. Hopper was usually gone during the day, meaning she was forced to entertain herself.

It was a Friday night, and El was in the kitchen making dinner.

Well, her version of dinner.

Neither her nor Hopper were great cooks. What consisted of dinner tonight was a can of black beans (seasoned with salt and pepper) with a side of mashed potatoes.

And of course Eggos for desert.

Disgusting, maybe. But El didn’t mind.

She stirred the pot slowly, like Hopper had taught her. She sprinkled in a bit of salt and a pinch of pepper. Not too much.

She wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her flannel, pushing back her short, curly dark hair.

Knock knock knock.

Pause.

Knock.

Knock knock knock.

El looked at the electronic clock on the wall. Five zero zero.

Finally!

She raced to the front door, swinging it open and grinning.

Hopper stood in the doorway, wearing his winter coat and sheriff’s uniform. He looked tired, El noticed. He had deep purple rings under his eyes and hadn’t shaved recently. He reached down and ruffled her hair, managing a small smile.

“Hey, kid.”

El opened the door wider allowing him to walk past her. He hung his hat and coat up on the hook on the wall, and sighed, collapsing in his armchair. Standing in front of him, El pointed to the kitchen.

“Dinner.” She said proudly.

“Really? You made dinner?” He asked.

She nodded, clearly proud of herself.

“Well, I’m hungry.”

El went back to the kitchen and opened the fridge door. She hauled the jug of milk over to the counter where she set it down next to the pot. She continued to stir the potatoes, picking out bits of skin she had missed while peeling.

Hopper stood up, walking to the fridge and swinging it open. He grabbed a beer from the bottom shelf.

El lifted the milk over the pot. It was much heavier than she anticipated, and it wobbled in her hands. She started to pour, slowly, trying not to spill-

Splash!

The jug slipped from her hands and tumbled to the floor. Upon impact the milk splattered everywhere, soaking her overalls and Hopper’s uniform.

“Goddamn it El!”

She shrunk back from him, startled.

“Jesus Christ that milk was expensive!” He roared.

His face was bright red and milk dripped from his chin. It really was a full gallon, and it was everywhere now. El felt her blood start to warm beneath her skin. The yelling. She hated yelling. He had no right to yell at her.

“Do. Not. Yell at me!” She shouted back.

His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. El noticed this out of the corners of her eyes and stepped back, panic beginning to set in.

“Christ, El, what is wrong with you?” He yelled.

She took another step back, hands flying to her ears.

Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

For Hopper, realization suddenly set in. Oh God, what had he done. She was just a kid. A small, traumatized kid. And he had just screamed at her.

He stepped towards her, raising a hand. “El, I-“

She flinched, covering her face with her arms.

Hopper stopped immediately, horrified. Shame rushed through him. Did she think he was going to hit her? Christ. Fuck. Fuck. He never meant to scare her, he was just tired and fuck, the milk…

“El, please-“

She looked at him from behind her arms, her eyes large and doe-like.

“Do not touch me” she whimpered, closing her eyes. “Please, Papa.”

Hopper’s heart broke right there.

Papa.

Christ.

Was he really no better than that sick, psychotic son of a bitch? He would never hurt her. He would never ever hurt her. He loved her, with all his heart. His eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of the blue rubber band on her wrist. Sarah’s hair band. His daughter. El was his now daughter, too.

And then he saw the tattoo.

011

“El, I’m sorry.” His voice broke. “Please, El, I am so sorry.”

Her arms stayed covering her face. She didn’t open her eyes. She was trembling, her skinny arms covered in goosebumps.

Hopper could almost imagine them covered in bruises. Her, cowering helplessly in the corner in her hospital gown, thin arms black and blue. Raised defensively against Brenner’s fists.

He carefully reached a hand towards her, gently lowering her arms. Her eyes opened, wide and full of fear.

“I shouldn’t have yelled. I should not have yelled.”

Her arms were lowered down to her sides now, and she stared directly at him, her lips quivering.

“I am sorry for being bad…”

His head dropped down. God, he was ashamed.

“You weren’t bad, kid. It was an accident.”

“Accident?”

“Yeah, accident. That… that can be your word of the day. A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T. It means it wasn’t your fault.”

“Not my fault…”

He put his hands on her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. She avoided his gaze.

“I will never hit you, El. Please understand that.”

She still didn’t look at him.

“I don’t know what all that man did to you, kid. I probably don’t even know the half of it.” He sighed. “But I am not him. I am not that monster.”

A tear slipped from her eye, running down her cheek. Hopper gently wiped it with his thumb, trying to smile at her. His eyes were teary now too.

“I will do whatever I can to protect you. That man will never lay a hand on you again, so help me God. And I swear that, on my life.”

She sniffed, smiling through the tears, still looking at her feet.

Hopper couldn’t help but hug her, then. He let her cry into his shoulder. He would never let her go, he swore that.

And he would take that fucker Brenner down.

Finally El pulled away. She wiped her eyes, looking sheepishly at the spilled milk on the floor.

“I will clean.”

Hopper shook his head, getting to his feet. He grabbed two rags from the drawer and tossed one to El.

“We’ll clean it, kid. I’m not letting you get all this by yourself.”

He ruffled her hair, and she smiled.

She hugged him, again.

***

God, he loved her.

Chapter Text

NINA, March 1986

El opened her eyes, and slowly sat upright. Her head swam, the bright sterile lights blossoming across her eyes, clouding her vision.

The walls. Those white walls.

Her eyes widened in horror, pushing the white sheet off of her legs. She was in a bed, but not the same one she had woken up in that morning.

This room was different. A child’s drawing was taped to the wall by the bed, and her ankle wasn’t chained.

Memories began to swell within her, the drugs starting to wear off now that she was awake and conscious. She stood up, stumbling to the door and forcing it open. The hallways were lined with white tile, the fluorescent lights causing her to squint.

She could hear indistinct chatter in the distance, the voices of children. Metal doors lined the halls, a seemingly endless maze of corridors. She turned around, trying to orient herself.

Which was had she come from? Where were the voices?

She turned again. It seemed as though the voices came from… everywhere. They echoed down the halls, growing louder the longer she waited.

She walked, taking in her surroundings. It felt familiar, as if her feet instinctively knew where to go.

Each door was numbered. 010, 009, 008, 007…

At the end of the hall, after walking for what felt like an eternity, El saw them. Two large double doors stood at the end of the corridor. The voices were stronger there, as if they dared her to join them inside.

She ran ahead, pushing the doors open, and stopping upon setting foot inside. There were children everywhere. All wearing matching white hospital gowns with shaven heads to match.

El trembled, the realization suddenly hitting her.

This was a memory.

The machine, that damn machine. None of this was real, she was hooked up in that dreaded water bath again being forced to relive her memories hour after hour for as long as Brenner deemed necessary.

She looked up, eyes drawn to the blinking camera stationed in the corner of the room.

Her breath quickened, and her mind grew fuzzy again. She had to play along. As long as she cooperated, and the more Brenner was convinced she had submitted, the better her chances were of seeing Owens - and eventually escaping.

She would continue to develop her powers, just like Brenner wanted, but she would use them for her own best interests. She would kill him, and she would make him suffer. Then she would take Owens and get the both of them out of this hellhole and back to Hawkins where she would see her friends.

Yes, that was the plan. El closed her eyes, exhaling. She could stay calm, she knew how to pretend. After all, she had done this before, many, many times. She was familiar with the script.

A voice from behind her startled her, causing her to turn abruptly.

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to join us.”

This wasn’t real, he wasn’t real.

“Someone’s a sleepyhead this morning.”

She turned, her heart beating faster.

One smiled at her. “Lessons begin promptly at ten.”

As difficult it was, to release control, she let herself fall back into the memory, relaxing her mind. Her mouth opened, the words that tumbled out feeling natural. It was like muscle memory. Some part of her knew exactly what to say, even if she actively couldn’t remember any of this ever happening.

“I-I’m sorry. Am I… in trouble?”

The memory flickered. She felt young again, small. Her body was different. One looked at her kindly, chuckling softly.

“Trouble? No. You’re just missing out on all the fun.”

He smiled again. His face was so kind. El couldn’t remember why she had ever hated him, felt afraid of him. He just wanted to protect her. One knew what Papa did to her, to all of the children. He just wanted to help her.

She felt warm inside, feeling herself sink even deeper into the experience. It was like laying in a pool of honey, slowly sinking deeper and deeper into the warm sweetness.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Hey.” His arm reached out, to touch her shoulder gently. The child in her relished in the gesture, feelings of safety and comfort overtaking her 16-year-old mind.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re going to do great today.”

His face glowed. He looked angelic, with his neatly combed blond hair and crisp white uniform. She trusted him and his words. Training. She needed to go to training.

Suddenly the door opened, and El’s head jerked to the side. Brenner pushed the doors open, captivating the room with his presence.

“Good morning, children,” his voice boomed.

The kids hurried to their feet, forming lines on either side of him. El looked at One nervously, unsure of if she could trust even this dream version of Brenner. But he just smiled at her reassuringly, and gently cocked his head in the direction of the lines.

El hurried to find her place, keeping her head bowed.

“Good morning, Papa,” she said in unison with the rest of them. The words felt natural to her, but still revolting.

“How are we feeling today?”

Her eyes bore into the floor.

“Good, Papa.”

She hated herself for going along with it. She hated the rest of them for it too. Couldn’t they see how cruel it was? Their entire existence was just for Brenner’s pleasure. They were his rats, his hamsters. His test subjects. He didn’t see them as real children, nor as a people. As much he professed to loving them, El knew his heart was empty.

But she forced these feelings inside of her, going along with the simulation. Resentment wouldn’t help her in here.

***

The training room was dark. Black tiles lined the walls and floors, making El feel as though she was confined to a box. She didn’t remember leaving the last memory. It was as if one second she was in the rainbow room, and the next she was… here.

She stood in the line, with the rest of the children, her siblings, waiting for… something.

“Eleven!” Brenner’s voice boomed.

She stepped forward obediently, as if her legs had a will of their own.

“Please join me in the focus room.”

El remembered the focus room. Its white tiled interior contrasted that of the training room. In there she would sit behind a glass wall with wires hooked to her skull, her ankles bound to the chair if she was particularly resistant.

No one liked the focus room. The tests run there were usually more intense than normal training. Papa liked to use animals, and sometimes, even people. Orderlies who disobeyed him. Doctors who disagreed.

El hated the focus room.

***

The memory shifted again. It was a nauseating feeling, as though she had tripped in a dream and upon falling ended up in an entirely different one.

She looked around, scared. She was sitting in a chair positioned in front of a table, wired headband covering her head. Brenner looked in at her from behind the glass, knuckles pressed to his mouth inquisitively. Two doctors stood on either side of him, each equipped with clipboards and pens.

El turned her head, eyes focusing on the machine behind her. A long receipt of paper lined with squiggles continuously fed out of it, making a whirring noise as it did.

Brenner said something to the doctor on his right. The man nodded, opening the door and leaving. El was confused. What was she supposed to do here? Why was he showing her this memory?

Suddenly the door opened, and El jumped. Turning at the sound, El saw the doctor enter the room. In his arms he carried a large metal cage containing an angry looking white cat.

The cat hissed as him, a low growl emitting from its body.

El looked back at Brenner, the fear apparent on her face.

The doctor set the cage in front of her, adjusting it so that the creature faced her directly. It hissed at her.

El looked at the man helplessly, mouth open in shock. The doctor didn’t look at her, and, upon checking the machine behind her, left to return to Brenner’s side of the room.

Brenner frowned at her from behind the glass. El didn’t know what she was supposed to do. What did they want her to do with the cat?

El looked to do blinking security cameras above her in confusion. Why didn’t he help her?

And then she felt it. It was as if understanding had been injected into her - she suddenly knew what he wanted.

The cat stared at her in anger, as if it dared her to touch it. But El knew she wouldn’t have to. To do what he wanted, she knew she wouldn’t even have to move. Her eyes darted back to Brenner, watching her intently with that cool stare of his. She could feel his displeasure radiating through the glass.

This wasn’t real. The cat wasn’t real. None of this was real.

Her attention once again fell on the animal. She felt its energy, kneading it with her mind. She could feel its muscles and its blood vessels. Its firm white bones, softly bending with each thrust she gave. She compressed the energy, feeling it squeeze within her.

The cat yowled, thrashing within the cage. Blinking back tears, El squeezed harder. She could feel its blood vessels popping, like an unopened bag of chips when squeezed.

The cat screamed, its shriek piercing the air.

Tears were falling from her eyes now, blood dripped from her nose. Brenner had a slight smile on his face, and the doctors were attentively jotting down notes. The machine behind her whirred faster, the squiggles becoming longer and longer.

El tried to concentrate on the energy, and not on the screaming animal before her. She pushed harder, her head aching. Her mouth opened in a gasp, blood dripping down her lips.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill this poor, helpless creature.

The truth was, they were one and the same. Her and the cat. Both trapped in their own respective cages, forced to fight and kill and suffer, all at the will of the same man. Neither of them were human.

El stopped, releasing her grip on the animal.

Her hand flew to her head, ripping off the wired headband and letting it fall to the ground. The machine went silent.

She stared at Brenner, who looked at her in displeasure. His arms folded in front of his chest.

She shook her head at him, a sob building up in her throat.

His head dropped, and he nodded knowingly, as if he hadn’t expected any better of her.

Two orderlies burst through the door, grabbing her. El thrashed and screamed, hitting the men as hard as she could.

“Papa!” She shrieked. “Papa!”

She was dragged down the hallway, tears clouding her vision. Her throat burned, each cry ripped out of her as if by force. He stepped into the hall, watching her as she was carried away.

His face was stoic, emotionless.

El knew how this memory ended. She didn’t want to go there, to her isolation room. She didn’t want to be locked in there, for hours, in the darkness.

She begged him, pleaded, not to put her in that room. She would do better, she would do what he wanted, just please don’t put her in that room…

Her skull hit the ground with a thunk as she was tossed to the ground. She skittered to her knees, crawling towards the open doorway.

“No! Papa! Papa!”

The orderlies kicked her back, and she fell to her side. Her ribs were bruised now, along with her head. She could feel her ears ringing as the panic overtook her.

She felt hatred surge within her for these men. The people who hurt her, the doctors who confined her to this place like she was an animal. She hurt for all the other children whose lives they had stolen, and for the parents they had been ripped from.

Thrusting her hand out, she screamed. The orderly on the left flew back against the wall, his skull hitting it with a sickening crack. He slumped to the ground, a bloody heap on the floor. The second man looked at her in fear, and reached for the gun in his holster.

She stood, head snapping to the side. The men’s neck jutted to the side with a pop, his eyes exploding in a flash of red. Blood dripped from his empty sockets as he fell to the floor.

El sobbed, and fell against the wall. All the energy had been seeped out of her. She could feel warm wet blood pooling from her ears. She felt exhausted, a low moan escaping her as she trembled.

Brenner stepped into frame, his back to her as he inspected the cracks in the wall. She choked, hand pressed against the wall. She couldn’t tell how old she was now, if she was 16 or 7. Her body felt childlike and weak as she stood there, barely even able to stand.

Papa walked towards her, and she slowly sank to her knees.

“Papa…”

It was a low cry, a desperate plea for help.

His hands slowly cupped her head, thumbs petting her temples.

She relaxed into him, her neck unable to support her head anymore.

His rough hands held her, and he gently pulled her closer, to allow her head to rest in the crook of his elbow.

His other hand reached under her knees, and he stood slowly, now carrying her in his arms like a fallen martyr.

Stepping over the bodies, he walked with her through the halls as she lay helplessly against him, her arm hanging from her limp form. She felt close to him, comforted, safe. Maybe he would protect her now, now that she had shown some promise.

Maybe he would love her, finally.

***

El gasped, the freezing cold and blinding lights assaulting her senses.

“Air!” Someone yelled above her. She couldn’t focus on any of the faces staring down at her. Defibrillators were pressed against her chest as her body convulsed with another shock.

“Is she breathing?” Brenner asked.

Another doctor reached for an oxygen mask, pressing it against El’s face. Her lungs were suddenly filled with fresh air. She gasped, taking in as much of it as she possibly could.

Her heart felt like it was a going a mile a minute, the tremors racking her body, making her unable to stop shaking on the stretcher.

She moaned behind the mask, reaching for something, anything to get these doctors away from her.

“It’s alright, Eleven. You’re safe now.” Brenner said, leaning down.

She felt her arms forced against the bed, the leather straps buckling her wrists down.

She thrashed, kicking her legs. An orderly suddenly seized her ankles, binding those, too, to the stretcher.

She was unable to move now. Those memories… those awful memories were still fresh in her head. She couldn’t separate past Brenner from the current one who stood above from now.

The levels of his kindness and cruelness seemed too intense to coexist. She could barely comprehend that he was only one man - a collage of personalities expertly pieced together under the illusion of being one complete person.

She clenched her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her lids, she saw the cat. The screaming animal, convulsing as she tortured it. She was the one hurting it. It was her fault it suffered.

“Cat…” she mumbled weakly, behind the mask.

Brenner motioned for the nurse to remove the thing, and it was hastily taken off of her.

“What was that, Eleven?” He asked. His voice was so familiar, that low rasp that barely ever rose above a murmur. It was comforting in a way.

“Cat…” her voice was more distressed now. Why was he patronizing her?

“Yes, Eleven. There was a cat in your vision. You will later see why it was important for you to relive that memory.”

“I hurt it,” she gasped. “I hurt it.”

“Yes.” He said simply. He was so unfeeling, so distant suddenly. She wanted him to hug her again, to touch her face. She wanted to feel wanted.

“I didn’t listen.”

He said nothing, just continued to check her vitals and make notes on the chart by the stretcher.

She knew what he wanted to hear.

“I was bad, Papa.”

Finally he looked at her.

“You often disobeyed when you were younger. I am hopeful that you will someday grow out of such childishness.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Your resistance has always been your greatest flaw. You must learn that obedience is a virtue, and that by refusing to listen to me you only harm yourself.”

“I am sorry, Papa.”

She did feel sorry, deep down. She was sorry for upsetting him, as well as sorry that he was the monster he was. Her feelings for him were so… complicated. It was impossible to articulate how deep and layered those emotions were.

People like Ruth, even with their educations and certificates, couldn’t see past the black and white. Didn’t they realize it was no easier for her to understand it than it was for them? She knew it didn’t make sense, for her to love and hate someone with such intensity. She had never met another soul who made her feel the same way Papa did. He was just… different.

***
El was sitting in her bed, wearing her familiar hospital gown and grey sweatshirt over it. She was dry now, and warm. The collar was back on her neck, and she had tried to not cry as it was fastened to her.

Her ankle was chained to the bed rails. She had been brought warm soup for dinner, something she was grateful for. She made a mental note to thank Brenner for that later.

She ate in silence, wondering if he would be happy with her for not screaming and not hurting herself. The soup tasted good, and she was relieved that she had been trusted to eat in alone.

When she was finished, she set the bowl in her lap. She stared at the small black number on her wrist, her tattoo.

Here, it was the most vital part of her identity. Usually she hid it as best she could under sweaters and bracelets. She tried to distract from it with the scars patterning her arms and the cuts she made with her fingernails.

She didn’t try to hide it here.

El thought back to school, and what she would’ve been doing right now had things been normal. Probably sitting in Ms Gracey’s class, watching Angela giggle with her friends and feeling resentful.

She wondered what Angela would think of her situation now. It was probably too much for her small mind to even comprehend - labs, chains, needles, wires. Angela had no doubt ever experienced anything even nearing El’s life.

Just the thought of living like that stunned her. How could someone even go about their life with so little pain? It was almost incomprehensible that some people were just… okay. Normal.

Some kids got to go to school, talk to their friends, have dinner with their parents all with a smile on their face. They didn’t have panic attacks in the school bathroom stalls, or cut their arms, or cry themselves to sleep over memories too painful to remember. They didn’t have tattoos on their wrists, forced on them against their will when they were too young to understand what they meant.

They didn’t live in fear of their guardians beating them, or drugging them if they disobeyed. They didn’t go to sleep with bruises on their cheeks and indents on their arms from IV bags.

They had Papas who comforted them when they cried, not Papas who hurt them to watch the tears run down their faces. Other kids didn’t sleep with their ankles chained to their beds to they wouldn’t escape. They didn’t have security cameras watching their every move, and they didn’t live in labs.

They didn’t have her abilities. Her “gifts” she had been born with by no choice of her own. Her much sought after powers that kept her trapped in this life, never once having experienced the privilege of what others called “free will”.

El’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Brenner entered, alone. He approached her bed, pulling the stool from the corner to her bedside and sitting upon it.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. His eyes showed genuine concern in them.

“Better.”

“I am very glad to hear that. I know that was a very difficult memory for you to experience, Eleven.”

“Yes.” She said quietly.

He reached for her and took the bowl from her lap. He set it at the foot of her bed, and reached a hand out to her.

She hesitated before reaching her own slender arm out towards him. He took it, gently. His thumb ran over the tattoo on her wrist.

“I am proud of you, Eleven.”

Her cheeks felt warm. She wasn’t used to Papa praising her, it was an alien experience.

He stepped off the stool, letting go of her hand. He slowly sat down next to her on the bed, and she moved over to make room for him. There was a part of her that was grateful for his closeness. She was so deprived of touch down here. Of real, genuine touch, that wasn’t some sort of punishment.

“I am tired, Papa.”

He put his arm around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder. His suit lapel was soft but firm under her cheek.

“I know. You are very strong, Eleven. I ask a lot of you.”

Her hand traced the buttons of his jacket. She could feel his heart beating beneath his chest.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

She closed her eyes, letting herself feel his warm breath. It was so nice to be cared for. She didn’t want the moment to end, for him to let go of her.

She tucked her legs up against her chest, resting close to him.

Brenner’s hand gently grasped the chain on her ankle. He held the metal, his fingers running over the links, tugging at it softly.

She was met with realization at this small gesture.

He owned her.

None of this was real, it was all just another facade. Her heart crumbled softly inside of her, the dust coming to rest on her lungs, making her breath catch.

She sat up, pushing away from him. His grip remained tight on the chain, not allowing her to go far.

“I want to see Dr Owens.”

He nodded to himself, chuckling gently.

“Yes, of course you do,” he said. “I did promise you that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

He released the chain, and El moved to sit on her knees. Brenner stood up, smoothing out his suit as he turned to face her once again.

“Alright, that is fair. You made good progress in our session today, and I am pleased with your work.”

She looked at him, expectantly.

Please, she thought. Please let him be kind.

“Tomorrow I will take you to see Dr Owens.”

Chapter Text

Lenora Hills, February 1986

El sat in the back of Jonathan’s truck, unmoving. Will was in the front seat, Jonathan driving. The school parking lot was nearly devoid of people, it was so late in the morning. Everyone was already in class.

El looked up from her lap. The rows of parking slots were filled with cars. She was surprised Jonathan had even been able to find a space.

Of course it was her fault they were so late this morning. She had overslept, exhausted from a restless night filled with nightmares, and ended up sleeping through her alarm clock. The only reason she had been able to get out of bed was because of Will, who had thankfully shook her awake at half past nine.

She already had more than enough absences this year. That, layered onto the guilt she felt over making Jonathan and Will miss their morning classes was enough to ruin her mood.

She still wasn’t ready to go in. Walking in a few minutes late was bad enough. But over an hour? The embarrassment would kill her.

Will turned from the front seat.

“Are… you ready to go in?” He asked awkwardly.

They had been sitting in the parking lot for ten minutes, music blasting from the front seat and windows down. A teacher walking from her car to the door had already given them a weird look.

“Y-yeah.” She muttered, unbuckling her seat belt.

“I mean, we can wait a bit longer if you want,” Jonathan offered. He looked exhausted too, with his dark circles under his eyes and mussed hair.

El nodded, sighing.

“Are you doing okay?” Will asked gently. “Did you at least sleep well last night?”

“Yes,” She lied. “I slept fine.”

Jonathan rubbed his temples. Probably a hangover, El guessed.

“You know you can talk to us, El. We do get it.”

“I’m fine, really,” She insisted. “Just tired.”

Jonathan and Will looked at each other skeptically.

“Another nightmare, I take it?” Will asked.

El didn’t answer, she just continued fidgeting with the blue hair tie on her wrist.

Will reached his hand back palm up, gently offering his touch.

El squeezed his hand, grateful for the gesture. Her hand shook in his grasp. She definitely hadn’t slept.

“Hey, are you seeing Ruth today?” Jonathan asked. “I think I can take you after school.”

El shook her head, her hand retreating into the back seat.

Will nudged Jonathan, trying to signal not to go there. But Jonathan clearly didn’t get it.

“You’re supposed to see her once a week, right? When’s your next session?”

“I don’t know.” She muttered.

“But-“

“Jonathan, drop it.” Will cut in, frantically trying to silence his brother.

“Wait, did something happen? Are you not seeing her anymore?” Jonathan asked, eyeing the two of them in confusion.

“I’ll tell you later. It’s not a big deal-“

“It was a big deal” El said quietly from the backseat. “I hurt her.”

“El. No you didn’t.” Will said softly, turning to face her again.

“She doesn’t want to see me anymore.” She stated it like it was a fact.

“That’s not true, El. Stuff happens sometimes, it wasn’t your fault.”

Jonathan turned from El to Will. “What’s going on? Am I missing something? Because-“

El buried her face in her knees.

“Can we please just go home?” She groaned, her voice muffled. Will could hear her desperation.

“Come on, El, it wasn’t that bad.” He tried. Seriously, Joyce had told him to make sure she wasn’t missing too much school.

“I want to go home,” she pleaded, sitting up abruptly. Her mascara was smudged and her bottom lip trembling. A tear trickled down her cheek.

“Please.”

Jonathan sighed again, releasing the emergency brake and shifting the car into reverse.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

***
El ran inside the house before either Will or Jonathan could say a word. Will followed her, obviously concerned about her wellbeing after she had impulsively convinced them to ditch school. Her bedroom door was locked.

“El!” Will banged on the door. “Come on, open up!”

She didn’t answer. Jonathan approached the door, rapping softly.

“El, please open. We just want to talk.”

In her bedroom, El sat with her back pressed against the door, scissors pressed against her forearm. Her eyes watered as she cut, drawing blood in a smooth line across her skin. The sight of the fresh wound brought back flashbacks to the lab.

While Brenner had never cut her, his needles often drew blood. Drugs were forced into her to keep her sedated. A fresh tear sprung from her eyes as she struggled to suppress a sob.

Ruth had been suggesting she try some new medications as a way to cope with her “moods”. So far Joyce hadn’t gone alone with it, but El was always nervous she’d one day change her mind after seeing how unhinged she had become.

El didn’t used to be this way. She wasn’t sure why everything had to hit her now. Years after it all happened. It just didn’t make sense.

As it turned out, having irreparable damage done to your psyche as a small child massively fucked up your teenage brain. Trauma really was a bitch.

“El!” Will knocked again.

Fresh guilt washed over her. Why did they care about her so much? It just made her feel worse, knowing that by hurting herself she was ultimately hurting the people she loved. It’d all be easier if they truly didn’t give a shit about her. Then she wouldn’t have to feel the guilt.

El crawled towards the door, reaching up to unlock it. She didn’t want them to see her in this state - bleeding and emotionally numb, totally unable to care for herself. But she didn’t want them calling Joyce, either, and making her worry even more than she already would.

Will pushed the door open as soon as he heard the lock click. There she was, kneeling on the ground, arm dripping with blood. Her hair was hastily tucked behind her ears, presenting her tear stained face. Mascara ran down her cheeks in small dark streams.

El felt so small kneeling there, on the ground, the two boys towering above her. While she knew it wouldn’t happen, and she knew it was delusional, she braced herself mentally for them to hit her. She immediately cursed herself for thinking that. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, hand moving to cover up the blood.

“Will, get me a bandage and the antiseptic,” Jonathan said quietly. “I’ll take care of it.”

Will nodded, eyes wide in fear. He scrambled out of the room, hurrying to locate the stash of medical supplies.

Jonathan kneeled down next to her, arms held out in front of as if to show her he meant no harm.

El felt so fragile. People treated her as though she might break at any moment. Well, that wasn’t too far off from the truth, seeing as how she was now.

“Jonathan, I-“

He shook his head at her.

“You don’t need to apologize, it’s okay.”

“But-“

“El. We’re just going to get you cleaned up.”

She nodded, wiping tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. The small movement revealed her tattoo to Jonathan for a brief moment. He forced himself to stay calm, not let his emotions overtake him. She needed him.

“El, I wish you would talk to us,” he said gently, hands now resting on his knees. “You don’t need to be afraid, we won’t hurt or judge you. We get it, honestly.”

She shook her head slowly, chin dropping down. “You do not get it.”

“El-“

“Jonathan. I am different.”

Will reappeared in the doorway, holding a box of bandaids, a bottle of antiseptic spray, as well as a bag of cotton balls for good measure. He knelt down next to Jonathan, handing him the supplies.

Jonathan carefully reached for El’s arm, and she reluctantly allowed him to take it.

He began to wipe the blood with the sterile cotton ball, while Will leaned back on his heels and watched.

The three of them were silent for a moment, Jonathan concentrating on his work while El gritted her teeth at the sting of the antiseptic.

Will cleared his throat. “El… did your dream have something to do with… Brenner?”

Her head snapped towards him, fear and pain both apparent in her gaze.

“I know you don’t like talking about him, but I really think it would help if you felt comfortable being… open. We understand, you know.”

El expression shifted from shock to anger, as if his last sentence had triggered an emotion buried deep inside of her, underneath all of the fear and hurt.

“You do not understand. You do not.”

Will looked shocked, scared even. His expression was eerily similar to Ruth’s, which made El do a double take.

She looked down again, ashamed at her anger.

“I’m sorry, Will. I just…”

Will moved towards her again, reaching out to squeeze her hand as Jonathan continued to bandage her arm.

“It’s okay, say it. We want to listen.”

She took a deep breath, gazing deep into his eyes before shutting hers.

“No one knows… everything that happened. It was… bad.”

Jonathan glanced at Will. Bad? He mouthed. Will shook his head at him.

“How bad, El?” He asked, squeezing her hand tighter.

She looked at him pleadingly, as if begging him not to make her say it. She didn’t want to. What Papa did to her… she never wanted to speak about it again.

“El, how bad?” He repeated.

A tear dropped from her eye. A perfect raindrop, softly slipping down her rosy cheek.

“He made me do things. Hurt people… and animals.”

She breathed again, trying to stay calm. She wasn’t there. She was safe in her bedroom with her two step-brothers. Not with Papa in his lab.

“He would hurt me if I didn’t listen.”

Will’s lip trembled. Just imagining what El described made his stomach drop. Joyce had always been nothing but kind to him and Jonathan. She barely ever yelled, and had never laid a finger on either of them. She wasn’t perfect, sure, but she was his mom. She loved him more than anything. The thought that El didn’t even have that… it broke his heart.

“How did he hurt you?” Jonathan asked softly. El’s arm was fully bandaged now, the bleeding had stopped. Will still held her hand though, a comforting gesture he always did when she was upset.

“With shocks. Electricity… in my head. Bruises, with… with his hands. He hit me when I was bad.”

She looked down again. “I was bad a lot,” she whispered.

Both Jonathan and Will averted her eyes. The realization of how truly bad her situation had been was finally starting to hit them.

“There was a room called the… the isolation room. Papa put me there when I didn’t listen. It was dark, I stayed there for… many hours. No food, no light. The orderlies hit me if I screamed too much.”

Will couldn’t help it anymore. He hugged the girl, both of his arms pressed against her back and his head buried in her shoulder. He just wanted to protect her. He didn’t want anyone to ever hurt her again - he would never let her go.

Jonathan joined in, his arms encircling El on top of Will’s. El was like a sister to him now, and he felt just as protective of her as if she had always been. He hated to think of anyone hurting her in ways like Brenner did.

“I’m sorry, El,” Will breathed, his voice shaking. “I am so sorry.”

***
NINA, March 1986

El followed Brenner down the long, dimly lit halls. Two orderlies equipped with machine guns walked behind them, supposedly for protection. Brenner held her hand tightly, never allowing her to be more than a few steps behind him. El had grown used to this treatment. To him, she was nothing more than a pet.

Brenner’s hand was much larger than hers. He insisted they walk hand and hand whenever she wasn’t physically restrained. A “safety precaution”, he called it.

She was grateful to be out walking, not locked in that room unable to even stand on her own. The confinement might’ve been the worst part. It reminded her of the isolation room from her childhood. Locked doors, solid walls, no feasible means of escape.

She didn’t know where Brenner was taking her, where Owens was being kept. While she was hopeful, she had grown to assume the worst. His situation was no doubt much better than hers.

Finally they stopped at a door. Brenner swiped the key card hanging around his neck through the slot next to the door, and opened it. Inside there was staircase, descending even deeper into the ground than the main floor of the silo.

He led her down the staircase and through another corridor, before arriving upon another set of doors. Brenner once again swiped the key card, and the doors slid open with a click.

El gasped at what she saw before her. The room was dark, save for a single light suspending from the ceiling. The main room was empty, save for two chairs resting against the wall. A large glass wall divided the room into two sections. A button was attached to the wall connected to a loudspeaker positioned in the corner. Security cameras observed everything.

Owens sat behind the glass on a thin white cot, ankle cuffed to the bed frame. His face hung towards the floor, exhausted. It was a mess of cuts and bruises, leftover wounds from a past beating. His left hand was fully bandaged up to his wrist, and he looked exhausted - as though he hadn’t slept in at least a week.

El tried to run to him, but Brenner’s grip remained tight on her hand. Brenner motioned for the orderlies to move the chairs to face the glass, and they did so without hesitation. El was still stunned at Owens’ condition. His own men had turned against him so quickly, and now he sat in a cage no different from El’s own.

“What did you do to him?” She whispered.

He walked her to the chairs in front of them, and handed her off the an orderly who promptly sat her down.

“Don’t move,” the man warned her gruffly.

El sat in the chair, hands pressed against her gowned knees. Brenner took a seat next to her, his chair positioned so that he could keep a close eye both on her and Owens. The armed guards stood in front of the door, guns held securely in their arms ensuring both prisoners that escape was not possible.

“Can he hear us?” El asked.

Brenner smiled and shook his head. “No. We will begin momentarily. But first, I want to make sure you understand your rules.”

His hand moved to his belt, pushing his suit jacket back and exposing the tranquilizer gun on his hip.

“This visit is a privilege, Eleven. And that privilege may be taken away at any moment. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.”

He stared at her, obviously displeased with her response. She quickly corrected herself.

“Yes Papa.”

“Good.”

He allowed his jacket to fall back into place, concealing the weapon. El’s mouth felt dry. She would have to be very careful with her questions.

“Can I talk?” She asked. Brenner reached to press the button on the wall, and the loudspeakers crackled with feedback.

Dr Owens looked up, suddenly aware of their presence.

“Eleven? Is that you?” He asked.

Eleven nodded, feeling emotional. She couldn’t believe how much she had missed him.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m okay.”

He looked down, trying to gather up what to say. Brenner watched unmoving.

“Well kiddo, that’s good to hear.” He chuckled. “I myself have obviously been in better shape.”

El tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace.

“It’s good to see you too, Martin.” Owens said bitterly.

The smile on Brenner’s face stiffened.

“Yes, Sam. It’s a shame things had to end the way they did.”

Owens grit his teeth, exhaling sharply.

“I can only hope you’re treating the kid better than me.”

Brenner didn’t answer him.

“Are you, Martin? Or are you beating her again? Electrocuting her?”

Brenner stood up, taking a step towards the glass.

“Watch yourself, Sam. Remember where you are.”

El looked at him, tears in her eyes. “Papa-“

Owens stood up too, the chain around his ankle clanging.

“You have the kid calling you that again too? Jesus Christ, Martin. I swear to God.”

Brenner shook his head at the ground and scoffed. “Use your time wisely, Eleven. Dr Owens can no longer be trusted.”

Eleven reached her hand to the glass. “How… how did this happen? Why are you… here?”

Owens sighed. “Your Papa and I had some disagreements about the way your training would be handled here, kiddo. As well as certain terms and conditions he didn’t end up following through with.”

Anger blazed in Brenner’s eyes. El noticed how the vein in his neck tensed up.

“My top most priority has always been reaching One, and keeping Eleven safe. Your methods would not have allowed either of those to happen.”

“You can’t keep her here, Martin!” Owens yelled. “She’s a kid, not a dog! I agreed to bring her to you under the conditions that she would be free to leave whenever she wanted. That was our agreement. You broke that.”

El stood up abruptly, rushing to the wall and pressing her hands against the glass.

“Dr Owens, I am going to get us both away from here,” she breathed. “I am going to save you.”

Brenner’s hand grabbed El’s shoulder, yanking her away from the glass.

“No!” She yelled. “Let me talk to him!”

She pulled away from him, wrenching her arm out from his grasp. She ran to the glass banging on it with both hands.

“I’m sorry, Dr Owens” She sobbed. “This is my fault”

“Eleven!” Brenner yelled.

Owens shook his head, reaching for her. “No kid, no. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you here. I never should have brought you here.”

Brenner went to grab her again, but she dodged him.

“Tell me how to get out,” she gasped. “My collar-“

“Why are you just standing there?” Brenner yelled to the orderlies. “Do something!”

The men lifted their radios to their lips.

“We’ve got a code blue in Owens’ room, we’re gonna need back up!”

“The collar, kid, they take it off during testing-“

Brenner lunged at her, pinning her against the glass.

“Doctor Owens!” She screamed.

“Do not say another word.” Brenner growled into her ear. She wrestled against him, kicking at his legs.

Suddenly two orderlies stormed into Owens’ room, pulling him away from the glass.

“Eleven!” He yelled. “Don’t you fucking hurt her!”

El managed to get a kick directly in his shin. Brenner yelled, dropping her and grasping his leg. She flew to the glass, banging on it.

The men withdrew large police batons from their belts, aiming them at Owens.

“No! No!” She screamed. Lifting her arm, she concentrated on the glass. Fuck the collar.

“Stop her you fucks!” Brenner yelled, pointing at her.

They were beating Owens with the batons, his arms shielding his face from the blows.

The glass began to vibrate, cracking under the pressure. El’s abilities were definitely coming back.

An electric shock swiftly cut through her, causing her to fall to the ground and scream. El’s arms rushed to her neck, trying to yank the thing off of her. Of course her attempts were futile, and the shock continued to radiate through her body.

An orderly grabbed her shoulder, and she kicked him.

“Let me go!”

The second orderly grabbed her other arm, and she was lifted into the air by her shoulders, gripped by the two men.

“Let me go!”

El could hear Owens’ groans from behind the glass. Blood pooled on the ground below him. His white sheets were stained red.

“You’re killing him!” She shrieked.

Brenner stood up straight, turning to her.

“This is your fault, Eleven. I thought you had grown.”

She screamed, kicking the air harder. “Stop it! Stop it!”

Her screams were cut off by a prompt slap against her face. She yelped, unable to protect herself as her arms were firmly secured.

Brenner hit her again, harder. And again. And again.

Owens yelled from his prison. “Don’t hurt her! Martin!”

His cries too were silenced by incoming blows from the batons.

Eleven sobbed. Her nose was trickling blood, although this nosebleed was not caused by her powers. She could feel her eye bruising, the sting of his fists still lingering on her cheeks.

“She’s just a kid! You’re punching a kid!”

Owens continued to shout in the background as Brenner removed the tranquilizer gun from his belt.

“No,” El whimpered. “Please, no…”

The gun was pressed against her neck. “You make me do these things, Eleven. This was your choice.”

He pulled the trigger, and the shot was injected into her bloodstream. El’s eyes slowly shifted out of focus, the sounds of the batons and Owens’ shouting all echoing together in her ears. A symphony, of sorts.

El was dragged from the room. She could barely see straight anymore, and her ears were ringing. She could still hear Owens’ screams from the other room, as she was hauled further and further away from the open doors.

Brenner followed soon after, the doors sliding closed behind him. A smug smile rested upon his face as Owens’ cries faded into nothingness.

The guards stopped, El still suspended in the air and bleeding. Everything was blurry now. Brenner approached her, his hand tilting her chin upwards to look him in the eyes. Her concussed and drugged mind was clouded with anger as well as pain.

He wiped the blood from her upper lip, tutting at her with his tongue.

“I hope this has served a lesson to you, Eleven.”

Her bloodshot eyes met his icy blue ones.

“You’re- you’re a monster.” She sputtered, her last words.

He raised his hand to hit her one last time, and at this point, El barely flinched. She welcomed the blow in her drugged state. Let him hit her. Watch him beat his precious daughter, his precious number 011.

The last thing Eleven saw was those cold blue eyes behind his fist, before her world faded to darkness.

Chapter Text

Lenora Hills, February 1986

The bell rung, and El stood up. Gathering her papers and shoving them into her bag, she hurried to the front of the room to catch Ms Gracey before she left.

“Excuse me?” She asked tentatively.

Ms Gracey was tucking her folders away and sealing the file cabinets, preparing to lock up the classroom for her break period.

She looked up to see El standing there in front of her, in her old jeans and faded flannel.

“Jane.”

She sweeped the remaining papers into her desk drawer and took a seat, fingers entwined and resting in front of her.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Jane, but you were absent yesterday and I couldn’t find you during the lunch period.”

El bit her lip.

“S-sorry. I was sick.”

Ms Gracey nodded sympathetically.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But it does seem you’ve been sick quite a bit recently…”

El sensed the skepticism in her tone. It was true she had been absent frequently. Her nightmares had gotten worse lately, and Angela wasn’t treating her much better. It was easier just to avoid the class altogether than deal with all of it.

“I’m sorry… Did my mom tell you about my accommodation?” She asked nervously.

Ms Gracey exhaled through her teeth, seeming annoyed.

Brenner used to do that.

“Yes, she did mention it. However, that does not mean you are allowed to just skip my class whenever you feel like it.”

El felt as though she had been punched in the gut.

“What? What do you-“

Ms Gracey rubbed her temples with her hands, resting her elbows on the desk.

“Jane, I am aware of your… issues. I know what happened with your father last year, and I know that the move had been hard on you.”

“But-“

“That being said, I cannot continue to excuse you from work you are making no effort to make up. It’s just not fair to the other students.”

El was stunned. Joyce had promised her this wouldn’t happen. She had told her that all of her teachers had been understanding.

El couldn’t help but feel guilty. Was she just lazy? Maybe it wasn’t fair to the other students.

But that wasn’t right. What she had been through was nothing like anyone else had ever experienced. And it wasn’t her fault. None of it was her fault.

“Ms Gracey, I-“

Ms Gracey put a hand up, silencing her.

“I really do not want to hear any more excuses, Jane. I have been extremely lenient with you, and I feel as though you have been abusing that leniency.”

El flinched, feeling anger boil within her. She was tired of being talked over by adults who had no idea about any of the shit she had been through.

An angry laugh rose in her throat. “You think I’m lying.”

Ms Gracey pursed her lips. “I didn’t say that, I just think-“

She thought. People were always thinking things about her, assuming things. Assuming that she was stupid, a freak, a liar. And after everything she had been through, all of these people she had dealt with in her life, she was done.

Emotion overtaking her, El held up her wrist.

“Jane?”

She shoved it in the woman’s face, yanking up her sleeve to reveal the small tattoo.

“Do you know what this is?” She asked, her eyes narrowed and tone dead serious.

“I don’t-“

El pulled her sleeve up farther, the thin white scars becoming visible as well. Her fair, slender arms were covered in small raised scars, marks left behind from the scissors she kept in her room. A fresh bandage covered one of the newer cuts.

Ms Gracey gasped. “What is this?”

El’s eyes bore into hers. “I am not a liar. Do not call me a liar”

“Are you hurting yourself Jane?”

Her voice was trembling now. Ms Gracey knew there was some sort of protocol for this sort of situation, but in that moment none of her training was coming to mind. In all of her years as a teacher, she had never experienced a confrontation with a student quite like this.

El put her hands on the desk, and leaned in to the teacher’s face.

“I do not lie.”

And with that, El turned on her heel and left. Ms Gracey was left sitting at her desk, stunned. She knew the girl had been having issues with Angela (which was odd, since Angela was one of her best students), and was a new student. Given her current academic track record (many missing assignments, frequent absences, reluctant participation in class), Ms Gracey was not inclined to pursue the issue.

But those scars…

And the tattoo! Did her mother know she had a tattoo? That wasn’t legal, was it?

Ms Gracey shook her head to herself. A stick and poke, likely. But why the number?

011

So odd.

Kids these days. She must’ve been one of those goths - cutting herself and doing her own tattoos with her drug smoking friends no doubt. That older brother of hers, he was trouble too.

She sighed, and opened her desk drawer searching for her pack of Marlboros.

Ms Gracey needed a smoke.

***
NINA, March 1986

It was bright. Very bright.

It took El several minutes to get her eyes fully opened without feeling like she was staring directly into the sun. She was in an infirmary, it appeared. Not her usual room. God, her head was killing her.

She tenderly reached a hand to her forehead, and winced upon its touch. While she couldn’t see what she looked like, she suspected she had a black eye.

A black eye..? How did that...

Oh.

She remembered now.

Seeing Owens trapped in that glass cage, watching him being beaten, being beaten herself by… Papa.

Oh god.

She sat up, whipping her head around. The room was mostly desolate, except for the IV bag standing by next to her bed. Moving to the edge of the cot, she made to stand up before realizing that she was once again chained to the railing. Searching frantically for the cameras, she finally made eye contact with that blinking red light.

“Hey!" She yelled. “Let me out!”

The panic - there it was again. That black feeling inside of her that felt like a gaping hole had opened up right in the center of her chest. The ache. It radiated from her chest to her fingertips, forcing her to double over and groan.

“Papa!” She screamed.

This was all her fault. Owens was probably dead because of her. And she had been doing so well! She had a plan, she was progressing, Papa was happy with her… how did it all go wrong so fast?

That was what life was like with Papa. One moment he was so kind, so loving. And just when El started to feel safe, he would flip on her. It was like a literal switch inside of him - one minute he was kind Papa, the next he was cruel. It was always a gamble which one she would get.

“Papa!” She yelled again.

…

So he was ignoring her now.

She couldn’t take this anymore. She was so tired of his games. What more did he want from her? Here she was, literally begging for him, and couldn’t even be bothered to come.

Her nails dug into her arm, leaving little crescent moons behind. She pressed harder, the tears freely flowing now. She pressed harder, and harder, until she could feel her fingers growing wet. Blood.

Anger welled within her. She was going to die in here, wasn’t she. This was her life. And even if she could somehow escape… who’s to say anything would be different? She felt so damaged. Even when things were normal, the panic attacks never left her. She still cut herself. She still had nightmares and cried herself to sleep over nothing.

In that moment, El genuinely wanted to die.

Why wouldn’t he just kill her?

She just wanted to be put out of her misery. Hurt over and over again like a beaten dog. Kept around just to torture. Her whole existence was just that - pain and pain and more pain.

Sobs were wracking her body now. Trembling, she crossed her arms over her chest, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms.

She screamed a shrill, bloody scream. Her nails left bloody trails on her forearms, ripping up her skin like it was nothing more than paper.

The door banged open, making her jump. A nurse appeared, holding a needle in her hand.

“No!” El screamed, scrambling backwards. “Get out!”

The nurse continued to approach her, needle aimed and ready.

“The doctor says that if you continue to hurt yourself, you will have to be sedated.”

“No!” She shrieked. Her hands flew to her collar, yanking at it.

That goddamn collar. If only she could get it off- if only she had her powers… oh the hell she would wreak on this place.

“Sit still.” The nurse said, reaching for her arm.

Staring deeply into her eyes, El hissed at her.

“I will kill you.”

The nurse ignored her, grabbing her wrist.

El’s hand flew backwards, grasping for the IV pole.

There it was.

Her fingers closed around it, and she swung it at the woman, knocking her to the ground with a scream. The needle scattered across the floor.

Overcome with adrenaline, El was barely able to register the alarm that had begun to sound. Four orderlies rushed into the room, each equipped with tranquilizer guns.

“Get away from me!” She screamed, brandishing the pole. “Get out!”

Her vocal cords felt as though they had been rubbed raw, each word ripping through her throat.

The men charged, yelling at her to put the pole down, frantically calling for Brenner on their radios. The entire staff was aware that only he could soothe her.

The pole connected with the first man’s head, a satisfying whack sending him sprawling on the ground. Unfortunately for El, she was outnumbered.

She could only scream as the needle found its way into her neck.

***

Several hours must have passed, because she was back in bed, in her normal room.

Her arms and legs were both bound to the bed, the leather straps digging into her skin. Brenner must not have wanted to take any more chances with her.

El groaned, her head still swimming with the remnants of the drugs.

She wanted to vomit, she was so nauseous. Everything ached, and she couldn’t even move to relieve some of the pain.

Eventually the door clicked open, and Dr Brenner entered the room. He was accompanied by two orderlies carrying a tray of food and a glass of water. Just seeing it made El’s stomach growl.

“Good morning, Eleven.”

She struggled against the bonds. She felt feverish, too hot under the sheets and nauseous from the drug cocktail.

Brenner felt a twinge of sorrow in his chest seeing her like this. Her face was pale and glistening with perspiration. Her black eye and numerous other bruises stood out against her white skin, drawing attention to just how purple they were. He hoped she had learned her lesson.

“I wanted to give you time to rest but I had a feeling you’d be hungry.”

El closed her eyes, sweat beading on her forehead. If only she could move her arms.

Brenner pulled up a chair beside her bedside and ordered the orderlies to sit her up.

El felt a pillow being propped up behind her and her arms being adjusted. To her dismay she remained bound.

An orderly handed the bowl of oatmeal to Brenner. A glass of orange juice was sat on her bedside table as well.

“Thank you, Jacobs,” he said to the man. “Please leave us.”

The two orderlies nodded and left, letting the door close behind them. El winced as it slammed shut.

“I’m glad you’re awake now, I missed seeing you.”

He stroked her hair.

“Don’t touch me.” She mumbled, his touch making her feel even more ill.

“You’re not feeling like yourself right now. I understand that.”

His hand reached to cup her cheek.

She shook her head gently, a tear rolling down her cheek. He promptly wiped it with his thumb.

“What happened to Dr Owens?” She asked softly, her voice wavering.

He withdrew his hand sharply, frowning at her.

“Everything that happened with Dr Owens was brought on by you, and you alone.” He looked to his lap, stirring the oatmeal with its accompanying metal spoon.

“That’s not true,” El whispered. “I didn’t hurt him.”

He stopped stirring.

“This is not a matter I want to discuss any longer with you, Eleven,” he said shortly.

He scooped up a clump of oatmeal with the spoon, raising it to her lips.

“Open.”

Her lips remained sealed in defiance. She wasn’t going to eat for him like some… pet.

“Eleven, open your mouth,” he said coldly. “I am only going to ask you one more time.”

But her mind couldn’t stray from Owens.

He was probably dead because of her. Brenner was right, it was her fault. If she hadn’t insisted on seeing him, then he might still be alive.

“Open.”

His fingers pinched her nose, cutting off her air supply. She gasped for air, crying out in pain. He immediately shoved the spoon into her mouth.

She swallowed the oatmeal quickly so as not to suffocate.

“Papa, please,” she cried.

His fingers remained in place, pinching her nose harder and eliciting another yelp from her.

She was force fed another spoonful. And another. Brenner’s hand didn’t move until she had eaten the entire bowl.

Finally, after she had swallowed the last bit, he released her nose.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Her nose burned and her eyes were watering. She desperately wanted to rub the pain away, but the leather straps around her wrists wouldn’t let her. She pulled at them in frustration, reeling in her discomfort.

“Please let me use my hands,” she begged. “I’ll be good.”

He sighed and reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

“I know, Eleven. But it is very difficult for me to trust you after what you did last night. It hurts me to keep you like this, but you have to learn.”

She squeezed his hand back, allowing the tears to fall from her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, but she was slowly breaking.

He looked at her sympathetically, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Why are you crying, daughter?”

A sob escaped her lips. Everything was coming out now, all of her pain.

“Is this my life now?” The question was bitter on her tongue. She didn’t want to hear the answer.

Brenner sighed, moving the chair closer to her.

“What you are experiencing is in no way fair. I know how difficult it is, Eleven. Believe me, I know.”

The tears were free flowing now. Her head was killing her.

Brenner rubbed her back while she cried, attempting to console her. He smiled to himself. Her resistance was breaking.

“It will get easier over time. I truly believe that you can beat One.”

She raised her head to look at him.

“Will I ever see my friends again?”

He shook his head softly. “Right now it is too dangerous for you to leave me. You’re safe, Eleven. I will protect you.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted so bad for that to be true.

But she knew she couldn’t trust him. Maybe he did love her, underneath all of that cruelty. Maybe all that he did was out of love.

But she couldn’t trust him. Not after all he had done.

***
Hawkins, August 1985

It was the last week of summer vacation. The last Saturday of freedom, the last few days of their lives before high school.

El’s room was full of boxes, most of them only half full. Her posters still hung above her bed, as well as a few of her drawings. Will had been giving her lessons lately, and El was proud of her work.

Max knocked gently on the half-opened door. Joyce had told her it was alright to go on in, but Max wanted to give her friend some warning before just barging into her room.

El looked up from the box she was sorting through on her bed. It was full of old photos and drawings she had done.

“Hey,” Max said from the doorway.

“Hey.”

Things had been different since Starcourt. Both Max and El were dealing with their own losses as a result of it, and had been too wrapped up in the funeral planning to properly hang out since.

Max awkwardly approached the bed, sitting down on the edge. El flinched slightly, which, Max had to admit, stung a little.

“What’s that?” She asked, pointing at the photo El was currently holding in her hands. El handed it to her with some reluctance, as if she didn’t want to let it go.

The photo was small, and Max had to lean in close to get a proper view of it.

It took Max a few moments to properly register what exactly she was looking at.

A small child stood in the photo, wearing nothing but a white hospital gown. Their head was shaved, making it hard for Max to decipher whether it was a girl or a boy.

Whoever it was, they stood in front of an older man with white hair wearing a grey suit. His hand was gripped tightly on the child’s shoulder, and neither of them were smiling. What kind of photo was this?

Max turned the photo over. Printed in the back in neat handwriting was a date.

04/12/1983

“El?” Max asked. “What is this?”

The girl didn’t say anything. She stared at her hands, fingering the blue hair band she always wore on her wrist.

“Who is this?”

Finally El looked at her. Without saying a word, she held out her wrist and pointed.

011

Oh.

“That’s… that’s you, isn’t it?” Max stuttered in shock.

“Yes.” El said gravely.

El hadn’t meant to share this part of her life with Max. Her time in the lab, she barely spoke about it with her friends. Even with Mike, it just wasn’t something they ever talked about. Mostly she just wanted to forget.

But of course she couldn’t. Hell, every time she even looked at her wrist she was reminded of it. Of him. Her childhood felt like a dark shadow constantly hovering over her - no matter how far she ran she could never escape it.

“And that man? Who’s that?”

El closed her eyes. God, why did she have to find that picture? This was just supposed to be a nice night with Max. Their last sleepover before California.

“Papa,” she whispered, looking away.

El didn’t want any more pity. Yes, her situation sucked, but she didn’t want to subject her friend to the same pain she had felt all her life. Papa was a secret for her to keep. She didn’t want to burden anyone else with him.

“The bad man, right?” Max asked.

Of course Mike had told her. El wondered how much Max really did know. To be fair, Mike wasn’t all that well versed in the history of El Hopper, but what he did know, she figured, he must’ve let Max in on back when she joined the party.

El snatched the photo, stuffing it into the box. Grabbing the lid off the bed, she forced the box closed.

“El,” Max said softly, her hand coming to rest on her friend’s wrist. “You don’t have to hide from me. I want to listen.”

El shook her head, face feeling warm. She hated feeling this way. Vulnerable. It was easier to keep everything bottled up inside of her, that way no one else had to suffer. Why had she let Max see that photo?

“Max, no.” She pushed her arm away. “You don’t want to hear.”

At the sight of Max’s face, her heart twinged. Max looked as though she might cry.

“El,” she pleaded. “We’ve been so… distant since everything happened. I want to be close to you again.”

Max looked away for a second before sighing. “I love you, El.”

El wiped at a tear on her cheek, not even realizing she had been crying.

The two sat in silence for a moment, while El gathered her words. She had progressed a lot in her speaking abilities, but it was still difficult for her to articulate everything.

“I wasn’t… happy.”

Max nodded, listening close.

“Papa. He hurt me.”

El breathed in. Why was she so nervous? Papa was gone now. He wasn’t going to hurt her anymore, she had nothing to be afraid of. All of those years of indoctrination had really done a number on her psyche. She couldn’t even think about him without shaking.

“Back in the lab, he hit me. Locked me away. Alone, all the time. All I had was Papa.”

“Do you miss him?”

El stopped. No one had ever asked her that before. Almost everyone assumed that she hated Papa, and was overjoyed that he had finally met his demise. But miss him? Who in their right mind would ask if she missed him?

The answer should’ve been No, of course not.

But it wasn’t. No, nothing about any of this was simple. That was the most confusing part about it.

“Yes.” She said it quietly, barely above a whisper.

Max nodded sympathetically. “I get it. I feel the same way about Billy, honestly. Yeah he was a piece of shit, but I loved him.”

“Piece of… shit?”

Max laughed. “Yeah. Like a bad person.”

El laughed too, softly. Max had that way about her, always managing to lighten to mood without making it feel superficial. She loved that about her.

“Everyone assumes I’m glad Billy’s gone, but I just feel… empty. As much as I hated him, it’s like a chunk of me is missing.”

El bit her lip. That sure sounded familiar.

“I feel the same.”

Max smiled at her, nudging her with her elbow. “That’s why we’ve gotta stick together. We get each other.”

El laughed again, shifting closer to her.

“I’m gonna miss you, El.”

El’s heart skipped a beat. She had almost forgotten that she was going to lose Max too. El felt as though a piece of her chest had just be ripped out of her. How could she ever be apart from Max, her best friend, the girl she loved most in the world?

A tear trickled down her cheek. It felt as though everyone she loved had been ripped away from her, just one after another. Papa, Hopper, Mike… now Max too. All of the party she would have to leave. She didn’t think she could survive without them.

“I don’t want to leave you,” El sobbed, wiping at the tears on her face.

Max could feel her heart breaking. She was going to miss this girl so much. She loved her. She really did.

“I know. I know.”

She slung her arm around El’s back, pulling her close.

“But we’re together now, okay? And I’m not going to leave you.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” El sobbed into her shoulder. “I can’t keep losing people.”

“El,” her voice broke. “We’re not losing each other, okay? We’re still gonna be friends. I’ll write you letters, I promise.”

“Promise?”

Max nodded, tears stinging her eyes, pulling the girl close. “We’ll always be best friends.”

Those words rested heavy on El’s mind. She wasn’t ever going to let Max go, no matter what it came to. She wouldn’t let a little distance come between them.

“You’re not like Papa,” El said softly.

It was strange, this kind of love. So pure and so soft. None of the sharp edges that came with Papa’s love.

If Papa was a rose, Max was a daisy.

Soft to the touch and sweet smelling. Her daisy. Her Max.

“God I hope not,” Max giggled.

She laid back on the bed, her long red hair falling in swirls across the white pillowcase. El shifted to lay next to her, her hand resting softly on Max’s arm.

“No,” El said. “I mean… it doesn’t hurt to love you. It’s different. Does that make sense?”

Max exhaled and nodded. “Yeah.”

She turned over to face El, their noses almost touching.

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt. That’s a lie people tell you, pieces of shit like Billy and Papa, to make you think what they’re doing is okay.”

“A lie,” El repeated.

“But you have to remember, El, that the people who really love you, won’t hurt you. Love is not supposed to hurt.”

El nodded.

Love is not supposed to hurt.

She would remember that.

“People like Mike, Lucas, Dustin… Joyce and Hopper too. That’s real love.”

God she was going to miss them. All of them.

“I’m such a hypocrite,” Max sighed, laughing slightly. “Saying all of this lovey-dovey crap when I’m just as guilty of loving shitty people.”

“Billy?” El asked.

“Yeah. But you know what? I think that’s okay.”

El raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not our fault other people have treated us badly. We can’t help who we love, and we shouldn’t feel bad about it. Y’know?”

El nodded. That made sense. It wasn’t her fault she had grown to love Papa even through all of his evil. Her loving him was mostly a means of ensuring her own survival. A coping mechanism.

“I miss him,” El sighed. “I don’t want to, but I do.”

“Yeah.”

Max sat up. “We’re gonna be okay, right?”

El sat up too to face her. “Yes. We’re friends.”

“But it’s gonna suck.”

“Uh-huh. Suck ass.”

Max laughed at that.

“Big time.”

El smiled. It was bittersweet, her and Max. There was no pain greater than meeting your person, your best friend and greatest love, and then having them ripped away from you just like that.

“I won’t forget you, Max.”

Max reached for her hand, squeezing it. “I could never forget you.”

Chapter Text

NINA, April 1986

A few weeks must have passed, El supposed. Her days had been mostly the same since the incident with Dr Owens. She hadn’t heard any word about him since the last time she questioned Brenner about it, and she figured she probably wasn’t going to again.

El had forgotten what night felt like. The lighting of the underground silo never changed, and the only way she had any remote idea of what time it was was from the watches she occasionally caught glimpses of on the wrists of the orderlies.

She had spent countless times in the NINA reliving her childhood, traumatic moments and all. Her powers were developing slowly, but developing nonetheless. She had fallen into a numb routine. Barely speaking, but obeying. She felt like a walking corpse most days.

El didn’t feel much like doing anything anymore. Without the promise of Owens being alive, she felt hopeless.

Brenner had been picking up on her indifference. He was growing more and more disconcerted with her worsening depression, and El could sense his frustration with her.

***

El was sitting on her cot, ankle cuffed to the bed. It wasn’t really necessary anymore as she mostly stayed silent in her room, completely dissociated in a foggy haze.

“Eleven.”

El snapped out of her trance at the sound of his voice. Her eyes were empty, devoid of light. Her face held a deathlike pallor, the dark circles under her eyes emphasizing the exhaustion clear on her delicate features.

She didn’t answer him. She barely even looked up.

“I have something I’d like to show you. Would you be open to that?”

She didn’t look at him. Why was he asking her opinion, as if she had any say in the matter. What she really wanted was just to be left alone. Left to herself to rot.

He turned to the door, murmuring to one of the orderlies who always accompanied him. The man swiftly approached El and unlocked her cuff. She didn’t acknowledge his touch.

Brenner and the man glanced at each other in concern. The girl continued to stare at the wall, apparently unaware of her new freedom.

Brenner put a hand on her shoulder. “Stand up, Eleven.”

She stood slowly, not looking at him. He took her limp hand in his own, and led her to the door. She followed him with no resistance.

El recognized the pathway he was leading her down. This room was similar to the focus room of her childhood, only there was no glass between her and her captors.

Brenner pulled up a chair, and she sat down passively. He left the room for a second, leaving her alone. She didn’t move.

When he returned, he carried several thick manila folders in his arms. Sitting directly across from her, Brenner rested his hands on top of the folders, which were spread evenly across the tabletop.

“Do you recognize the name Ruth Hillsborough?”

El froze. Ruth? How did he know about Ruth?

“I need a verbal response, Eleven. Does this name resonate with you?”

She looked up at him, staring deeply into his cold blue eyes. It felt like it had been weeks since she’d really looked at him. It was like seeing him for the first time all over again.

His mouth rested in a fixed straight line. He could’ve fooled her into believing that he found no pleasure in this - that going over her past therapy records was just some sort of formality.

But his eyes betrayed him.

She could see that in the way they sparkled. Cold anger mixed with excitement, a typical emotion for Brenner that usually meant hell for El.

“Yes,” she croaked, her voice unused voice feeling ragged in her throat. When was the last time she had spoken?

He opened the first folder, removing a stack of papers from the inside.

“She was your therapist, correct?”

“How- how do you know that?”

He ignored her, and began to read from the document.

“Sixteen year old female, Jane Hopper, complains of frequent nightmares that appear to be manifestations of trauma. These recurrent nightmares feature her primary caregiver, Dr Martin Brenner of the Hawkins Department of Energy.”

He lowered the paper, surveying her reaction.

“That is private,” she rasped, shaking her head in confusion. “Why do you have that?”

“I am very disappointed in what you have been saying about me, Eleven.”

“How did you get those files?” She demanded.

He sighed in mock exasperation and continued reading.

“Patient experiences extreme distress when reminded of the abuser and becomes hyper-sensitive to the point of panic. Symptoms intensify upon exposure to events that symbolize or resemble the traumatic event, in this case the patient’s involuntary captivity in Hawkins National Laboratory under the surveillance of Dr Brenner, referred to by the patient as ‘Papa’.”

El could feel her eyes burning. He should not have had access to those documents. How did he find Ruth and access her private files? It should’ve been impossible.

You know what he did, a deep part of her whispered. She’s dead.

“Did you hurt her?”

He ignored her question.

“The symptoms displayed are consistent with a diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which the patient is currently being treated for under the care of the author of this assessment, Ms Ruth Hillsborough, MA.”

El hastily wiped a tear from her cheek. The numbness had quickly become pain again, like a scab suddenly torn off to reveal the wound underneath. He set the file down.

“You’re being lied to, Eleven. It hurts me to see how they’ve turned you against me.”

“What are you talking about?” She choked.

It wasn’t often that Brenner was hurt. But now, after reading this assessment of her, El could see in his eyes that he undoubtedly was.

“I have suspected how you must feel about me for a while now. But after reading this… I’m just stunned.”

El wanted to scream, to call him out on his hypocrisy, to let her mind be heard that none of this was fair. She felt completely exposed, sitting in that room in front of him, all while listening to him attempt to alter her reality once again. It was sickening.

“I want to go back to my room,” she said firmly.

“When you were younger we were so close. You used to tell me how much you loved me, Eleven. Now you won’t even speak to me.”

“I want to go.”

He looked genuinely injured by her words. El’s heart twinged in guilt, but she immediately corrected herself. She wouldn’t get caught up in his manipulation anymore. She had to remember that none of this was real, he was only using her.

“I know you’re getting older. But I am still your Papa, Eleven. And you are my daughter.”

“I am not your daughter!” She said suddenly, standing up. “And I want to go!”

He stood up too, keeping his composure calm and unmoved by her anger.

“What exactly have I done to you, Eleven? Why do you hate me?”

“Let me go,” she insisted, tears pooling in her eyes. “I don’t want to be here!”

“Tell me, Eleven.” He was getting angry. “Tell me!”

“I hate you,” she sobbed softly. “I hate you.”

“Damn it, Eleven!”

She jumped, shrinking away from him.

“Papa-“

“All I’ve ever wanted was the best for you. All I’ve ever done was love you!” He yelled, slamming his fist against the table.

She pulled back, her back pressing against the wall. He was moving around the table now, getting closer to her every second. El was familiar with this scenario of cat and mouse, where he was the hunter and she was the prey. It was his favorite game to play with her.

“You are angry with yourself, and you are taking your anger out on me. Because you know it was you who released One.”

She turned away from him, hiding her face in the cool white tile of this walls. She was so afraid of him and his anger.

“Look at me, Eleven!”

“Papa does not tell the truth,” she whispered, her hands pressed against the wall and face turned away from him.

“What did you say?”

“Papa does not tell the truth!” She screamed, whirling around. “You lie!”

His face contorted in a wave of emotion. Anger, betrayal, and hurt all overcame his usually emotionless features.

“So now you believe Henry, after all that he did to you? You hate me more than him?” He walked towards her, his usually cool eyes now looking thunderous, like a storm swirling above the glaciers of the arctic.

“You have been manipulated, Eleven. By Henry, by that therapist, and by those doctors on the outside. You do not know who you are anymore.”

“Please let me go,” she begged in a hushed tone, trying to make herself small. Please, let him not hit her. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“You will go when I say you go.” His voice was low and unwavering. Her blood felt like ice in her veins.

“What do you want from me?” She asked, stifling her tears.

“Sit down.”

She shook her head, inching towards the door.

“Eleven.”

His voice. It sent shivers down her spine. She looked to the door, defeated, and back to him.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” Her voice was small, like a little girl’s. His eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Come here, Eleven.”

She went to him, wiping the tears from her face. She needed him, deep down. She was so helpless without him, her Papa.

She stared up at him, feeling smaller than ever.

“Papa-“ Her voice broke.

She hugged him, burying her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her. “It’s alright now. You’re safe.”

As she stood there, in his arms, her hands pressed against his back, El knew she had to act fast.

She only had one chance, before it was too late and she was bound to her bed again, the chains and leather restraints keeping her off her feet and incapable of movement. She hoped he couldn’t feel her heart practically leaping through her chest.

She closed her eyes for a second, feeling his warm breath against her scalp. Fuck, it was now or never.

Her arms withdrew suddenly from his embrace, extending towards the key card suspended around his neck and pulling, hard.

“Wha-“

He could barely blink before the key card was ripped from his neck, and she was running. Her fingers closed around the doorknob and pushed, forcing the door open and stumbling out into the hallway.

“Eleven!” He screamed behind her.

She didn’t look back once as she ran.

***
Lenora Hills, March 1986

El hadn’t spoken to anyone since the incident at the roller rink. Mike and Will had been treating her strange… like a porcelain doll who might break at any moment. It was just easier to not be around them. She couldn’t bare to see the way they looked at her.

El was sitting at her desk, carefully dabbing glue to the bottoms of each chopstick tree. The broken diorama had been mocking her through the night, with its little trees fallen down and the roof of the cabin caved in. Repairing it helped her to take her mind off of everything. It reminded her of when she and Hopper had worked to repair his real cabin, all that time ago. The records he played while they worked, and his encouraging words as she learned to use a broom.

“Hey, El?” A knock sounded on the door. “Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know why she was angry at Mike. He hadn’t done anything wrong, really. It was stupid to be upset. But she still didn’t feel like talking to him, it was too painful to relive all of the events of the past 24-hours and she didn’t feel like his questions.

“We made you some Eggos, figured you might be hungry.”

She didn’t turn around.

“Well, I’ll just leave these for you over here… I guess.”

She wished he would just leave already. But she could feel his presence, standing behind her waiting for her to turn around or say something.

“Is that Hop’s cabin?”

She nodded, focusing hard on the tree in her hand. The chopstick had snapped in half after Angela tripped her. She imagined pushing the broken stick through the bitch’s brain.

Mike awkwardly sat on the edge of her bed with a sigh. “So… are we just not gonna talk about it?”

El clenched her teeth. “About what?” She said flatly.

“I don’t know, just… maybe, like, about yesterday? Or... uh, everything?”

“There’s nothing to say.” She pressed the base of the tree firmly into the cardboard base of the box. There, the tree was standing.

“Yeah…” Mike shifted awkwardly. “I guess I’m just a little, uh… guess I just don’t really understand.”

El adjusted the tree so that the leaves pointed outwards. Joyce had bought her the construction paper and Will had cut the leaves out. They both said it was going to be an A+ project, promising that everyone would love it. El’s eyes darkened as she remembered the incident in school, how people laughed. It was humiliating.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on here?”

“Nothing is going on.”

Mike looked down for a second, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“I mean, you know I’m not exactly Mr. Popularity back home, right?” He laughed awkwardly. “You’ve seen it, El. I’ve been bullied my entire life. I mean… I know what it’s like.”

She put the paintbrush down, turning to him. Her eyes were red and watery, and her eyebrows creased together in the middle in silent anger.

“No, you don’t.” Her voice was hushed but firm.

Mike frowned. “Okay…” he looked to the door awkwardly. “What don’t I understand?”

El looked down again, clenching her fists.

“I am different. I do not belong.”

“What?” Mike asked. “Do you mean in Lenora?”

El’s eyes closed, a tear softly slipping from under her lashes. “Anywhere.”

“That’s crazy, El. Of course you belong. You can’t actually believe that.”

She shook her head as she glanced up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. “Everyone looks at me… like I’m a monster.”

“Huh? No one thinks you’re a monster.”

El wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, her breath catching. “You did, at Rink-O-Mania. I could see your face, Mike.”

“I did not, I swear! How could you think that?”

El’s arms folded in front her chest, hugging herself tightly.

“You were scared of me.” Her words shook as they came out, each syllable seeping with pain.

“No- no, that’s not true. A little surprised? Yes. I was upset, but-“

“Don’t lie.”

His eyes were wide in surprise. “Come on, El. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, it was so crazy, it all happened so fast!”

El felt as though her throat was closing up. Tears were freely flowing from her eyes now, her cheeks wet and warm.

“I- I care for you, El.” He stammered, trying to find the right words. “I care so much.”

El flinched at that word. Care. Not love, care. So it was true, then. Her worst fears were confirmed. He didn’t love her anymore.

“Care.” She repeated, eyes distant.

“What?”

She shook her head, another tear slipping loose. “But you don’t… you don’t love me anymore?”

Mike looked taken aback. “Who- who said I didn’t?”

“You never say it!”

He reached for her hand. “I say it.”

She yanked her hand back, standing up.

“You can’t even write it, Mike.”

A sob escaped her lips as she reached for the chest sitting on her bed. In her hand she clutched a fistful of letters.

“From Mike,” she read, discarding each letter one at a time. “From Mike. From Mike. From Mike. From, from, from!”

“Okay, Eleven, you’re being ridiculous! What, like- what is this?”

She looked down, seething in anger. She couldn’t even look at him anymore.

“You know what I think of you. You’re the most incredible person in the world! A superhero!”

She knelt down, picking up the letters and crumpling them in her fists. “Not anymore.”

“Your powers don’t mean anything. You can’t let those- those mouth-breathers ruin you.” He pointed at a photo of the two of them pinned to the bulletin board by her desk. “Ruin us!”

She sat back on her heels, the letters hanging limply from her fingers.

“Mike… we’re not the same anymore.”

He slid off the bed, kneeling down next to her and placing his hand on top of hers.

“That’s not true. We’re still us.”

“No,” her voice wavered. “Everything is different now. I’m in California with Will, you guys are back in Hawkins. I haven’t talked to Max in… so long.”

“We miss you, Eleven.” He squeezed her hand. “Max misses you, Dustin and Lucas miss you. I miss you.”

“Why don’t you call, Mike?”

“Huh?”

She withdrew her hand, leaning back. “You don’t call. Ever.”

“El-“

“I know things are different. I love you, Mike. I have always loved you. But you don’t love me.”

“That-“ Mike frowned, shaking his head in bewilderment. “That is so manipulative.”

“What?”

“That’s not fair, El! You can’t just blame me, cause I’m trying! You- you’re the one who lied to me all day yesterday!”

“I didn’t want you to know!” She yelled suddenly. “You weren’t supposed to know!”

“Know what? That you’re unhappy?”

El buried her face in her hands. She just wanted him to leave.

“Please leave me alone,” her voice sounded defeated, all of her anger from before suddenly evaporated to reveal the hurt hiding underneath.

“Don’t push me away. I want to be here with you, El, don’t you get that? Why else would I fly all the way out here, if I didn’t care about you?”

“Just go.” She whispered.

He put his hands on her shoulders, and she looked up at him. “Please don’t lie to me, just to make me happy. I want to know the whole truth, even if it’s ugly.”

“Mike-“

“Friends don’t lie, remember?”

She smiled weakly through her tears, wiping her eyes.

“You can talk to me. I won’t judge you, and I won’t be upset.” He pushed her hair back behind her ears gently. “Honestly, nothing you could say would even surprise me. Nothing could be crazier than demogorgons from other dimensions or crazy labs full of kids with superpowers.”

She looked down, smiling dejectedly, and let out a laugh that was partially a sob.

“Remember the first night we met? Can’t get crazier than that.”

She nodded, taking his hands off her shoulders and lowering them gently.

“Raining.”

“Yeah, it was raining. Me, Dustin, and Lucas were on our bikes searching for Will, remember? And then we saw… you.”

She shivered at the memory, feeling once again the rain soaking her skin through her thin hospital gown, and was grateful for his warm touch. Life was so… different back then. Not less complicated, per say. They had been, after all, battling interdimensional monsters and top secret government scientists.

“I remember.”

He looked at her, his eyes full of love and longing.

“Our lives changed forever that day.” He smiled softly. “And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me neither.”

He kissed her, then, taking her by surprise. But she didn’t resist it. She had missed the way his lips felt on hers… It was comforting, nostalgic.

Mike drew back, looking nervous. “Is this okay? Cause- I mean, I can stop if you-“

She shook her head, smiling, and pulled him back in. God, she had missed him. Awkwardness and all.

El relished in his kiss, warm and loving and so wonderfully Mike. It had been months since she had last touched him like this. She had forgotten how much she missed his touch.

“Uh, guys?”

Mike and El drew back sharply, jumping at the sight of Will in the door.

“We’ve… got a problem.”

His face looked pale, and El’s heart pounded as she stood up, dusting off her jeans.

“What happened?”

Mike stood up too, looking equally confused.

Will swallowed before continuing, looking nervously into the hall and towards the staircase.

“The cops are here. And they’re looking for El.”

***
NINA, April 1986

Her heart pounded as she ran, the alarms blaring overhead and echoing down the long, empty corridors of the silo. She could hear the pounding of feet in the distance and the shouts of orderlies. They weren’t far behind.

She spotted the door up ahead. It was distinct, a pair of sliding electrolyzed double doors. El darted towards them, frantically sliding the stolen key card through the reader. It slid open and she slipped inside, the door closing swiftly behind her. El ran down the stairs and through the final corridor before finally stumbling across Owens’ door. Another swipe of the key card, and she was in.

Her first impression was relief. He wasn’t dead. Thank god he wasn’t dead.

Her next was dread. Owens looked worse than ever now. He was much thinner, his cheeks hollow and gaunt. His bloodstained lab coat clung to his fragile frame.

She pressed the button on the wall, the intercom crackling to life, alerting Owens to her presence.

“Eleven?” He asked weakly. “Is- is that you?”

She nodded, tears budding in her eyes, and pressed her hands against the glass. She was trying not to cry as she took in his condition. She had so much to say, so much she wanted to tell him.

But she didn’t have much time.

“They’re coming. Papa’s coming,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath. “No time.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “Jesus Christ, kid. Jesus-“

She shook her head, interrupting him. “My collar, how do I get my collar-“

“The remote control. Brenner carries it with him at all times. The button at the top? That’s the release. You press that, and you’re home free, kiddo.”

She nodded, pressing her forehead against the glass. Owens raised an arm to the glass, pressing his hand against the barrier. El mirrored his action, pressing her own hand against his. They were united through all of this, in a way. Separate, but in this together.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

“No, kiddo, no. None of this is your fault. Don’t worry about me.”

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, choking back a sob.

“I’m sorry, Dr Owens.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be alright, I swear.” He chuckled weakly. “I’m a tough old man.”

She glanced nervously at the door. She had time, and there was one last thing she wanted to ask him. A question that had been burning in her brain the past three years.

“Why- why is he like this? Why does he want me?”

“Who, Brenner?” He shook his head gently, his laugh faltering at the insanity of it all. “Kiddo, he’s got a real fascination with you. An attachment.”

She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth. “Attachment?”

“He needs his daddy-daughter time. That’s what this is to him.”

“I don’t understand.”

Owens smiled at her faintly, grimacing at the pain of his swollen lip. “He loves you, kid. It’s hard to understand, but he really does.”

El flinched. It was sickening to hear that. That’s what this was to him? Bonding time? So he had taken everything from her, all because he loved her. She didn’t know if she would prefer it if she hated her, but it would sure be less confusing.

Love. This was his version of love.

“But promise me this, kiddo,” he started. “Don’t let that love kill you. Promise me-"

Heavy footfalls and yelling cut through his last sentence. El whipped her head around at the sound, her heart rate skyrocketing.

“Kid!”

She turned back to him, heart pounding in her ears.

“Promise me you’ll get out of here.”

She nodded, trembling.

“I promise.”

The door banged open behind her. The room was suddenly filled with sounds of orderlies barking at her to put her hands up and step away from the glass. The blare of the alarms up above cut through her ears, drowning out the sound of Owens’ voice.

“Don’t hurt her! Hey!” He banged on the glass.

El was knocked to the floor, a needle pressed against her neck. But even in the midst of all that chaos, that fear, her last thoughts before darkness were ones of hope - she would make it out of this place, or she would die trying.

Chapter Text

Lenora Hills, September 1985

El stood up, putting her hands on her hips and surveying the room. She still had a long way to go until it felt like home. She had finally got around to putting a few of her posters up (DnD from Mike and a Tears for Fears one from Max), and her bed was now neatly made with the sheets Joyce had gotten from the thrift store.

Boxes still stood stacked in piles around her bed, but El figured she’d get to them eventually. Her closet was now full of clothes (a few gifts from Max, but mostly hand-me-downs from Joyce, Will, and Jonathan), so at least she’d have something to wear when she started school tomorrow.

School.

El’s stomach lurched. She didn’t know how she was going to survive at a new school, in a new state, with none of her friends to help her. She hadn’t ever actually attended a real class before. This would be her first time.

El steadied herself with the bed rail, her breath catching. She felt ill and lightheaded, like she was about to faint.

“El, honey?”

Joyce rapped softly on the door, pushing it open. “Dinner’s here-“

Joyce stopped, realizing something was wrong.

“Honey? Are you okay?”

El sat down on the bed, face white. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. Everything just felt… wrong. Like the room was closing in around her.

Joyce hurried to sit down next to her, concern clouding over usually pleasant expression.

“Do you want me to hold your hand until it goes away?” She offered gently. She had read a bit about panic attacks at the advice of Owens, who had sent her some medical documents on how to deal with El’s foreseen issues, given her trauma.

El nodded, tears swelling in her eyes.

Joyce took her hand and squeezed.

“It’s just a panic attack, sweetie. It’s going to pass.”

Joyce’s hand was the only thing tethering her down to reality. Other than that, El felt lost. Like she was back in that black void, surrounded by only darkness and fear.

“I- I can’t-“ El gasped, the sobs closing up her throat. Her vision was clouded and her heart was racing. She felt like she had just ran a mile she was so breathless.

“You’re safe. You’re safe with me, and nothing is going to happen.”

El tried to nod, to listen to her comforting words and believe them, but her mind refused. It was as if all of the hope had been sucked out of her, and all that was left was the bad.

Every black moment played simultaneously in El’s mind. Papa. Billy. The demogorgon. Barb. The mindflayer. Mama. Will. Dr Owens. Hopper. Vecna. One. Henry.

All of it, all at once. It was too much to bare. El leaned against Joyce, burying her head in her neck.

The girl’s tears darkened Joyce’s t-shirt as she cried against her. Her sudden touch was a surprise to Joyce, who wasn’t used to El initiating physical touch. Usually, she cowered away and cringed whenever anyone but Mike tried to touch her.

“Oh sweetie.”

Joyce put her arms around her, rubbing her back. She took the newfound closeness as a sign that El felt comfortable around her. Joyce wanted to be there for her. If anyone needed a mom, it was El.

“I’ve got you, honey,” she consoled her.

Joyce just wanted to take the pain away. She wished, if she could, that she could take those awful memories and shield El from them. To let the poor girl be happy for once, and not wracked by trauma and guilt.

El had been through more shit than any child ever should. It wasn’t right, all that she had been forced to do. She was just a kid, a little girl. She didn’t deserve any of this.

Finally El sat up, wiping her eyes in embarrassment.

“I- I’m sorry…”

Joyce’s eyes softened. “Hey.”

“But-“

She took El’s shaking hands again, squeezing them.

“What did we say about apologies?”

That they’re left in the door, El reiterated in her mind.

Ever since moving in with them, Joyce noticed how often El apologized for every little thing. Spilling a glass of water, shutting the door too loud, and even crying.

And so, Joyce had implemented a system forcing El to stop with the habit. No sorrys for things she hadn’t done wrong. Joyce wanted to make it clear that she wasn’t Brenner, and she didn’t expect the girl to apologize for every slight mishap.

“Is it over now?” El asked tentatively.

“I think so.”

Joyce paused for a moment before deciding to dig deeper into the girl’s mind. She had to be careful in moments like these, as El was not the most trusting person.

“What was going on in there?” She asked, gently brushing El’s bangs aside.

“It was… dark.”

“Did you see anything?”

El bit her lip. “It was a feeling.”

“Tell me.”

El squeezed her eyes shut. “It-“

Joyce tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

El breathed slowly, trying to relax. Joyce was a safe person. She could trust her.

“Papa used to make me search… the dark. I felt like that. Alone… scared.”

Joyce took El’s hands and held them firmly in hers, anchoring her to the present moment.

“It was a panic attack. It wasn’t real, okay?”

El nodded, sniffling. Joyce let go of her hands and smiled at her gently.

“You gonna be okay at school tomorrow?”

El sighed. “I don’t know.”

Joyce slung her arm around her shoulder, rubbing her back.

“I’ll make sure Will looks out for you. He’s good at that.”

El nodded slightly, staring into her lap.

“I’m scared.”

“It’s normal to be scared, sweetie. But it’s gonna be okay. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“I just wish…” El’s voice trailed off.

She rested her head against Joyce’s shoulder again. “I wish I could stop thinking about… everything. I want it to be over.”

Joyce wiped the tears from her cheek softly.

“Do you think it would be helpful for you to talk to someone? Like a counselor?”

El’s muscles tensed up at that. “N-no doctors.”

Of course, no doctors. Right, Joyce reminded herself.

“Oh sweetie I know. No doctors. But I let me see if I can find someone… safe, for you talk to. Would that be okay?”

El shrugged limply.

“Okay.”

Later that evening Joyce phoned Dr Owens using the number he had given her way back when. She spoke with him briefly, asking if he could send a therapist for El to talk to, someone she could confide in about everything that had happened. The lab, the upside-down, the monsters… She just needed a space to let it out.

Dr Owens agreed to this, and promised he’d send someone as soon as he could.

“And this, this will be confidential, right?”

“Of course,” Owens assured her. “Everything she says will be a complete secret. None of my men will have any access to anything she talks about in a session.”

“Okay,” Joyce sighed. “I trust you, Sam. You were so good with Will…”

“Is he doing okay?”

Joyce fingered the telephone cord while she spoke, twisting it around her fingers.

“Yeah, yeah. Will’s fine. He misses his friends, of course, but I think they all need a fresh start.”

“That’s real good to hear, Joyce. And the kid, is she okay, aside from the panic attack?”

Joyce sighed and turned towards the kids’ bedrooms. El’s door was locked, as always.

“I don’t know, Doc. Losing Hop has been… really tough on her.”

Joyce bit her tongue, not wanting to tear up. Any mention of Hopper’s death was painful, so she avoided talking about it as much as she could.

Owens sighed on the other end of the line. “Poor kid. I’ll be checking in with her soon, I promise.”

“In person, you mean?” Joyce asked curiously. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll let you know the details later. It’s still in the works, but yeah, I’m hoping to meet up with her again real soon.”

“Okay,” Joyce looked down again, sighing. “I think she’ll like that.”

“It’ll be good for her.”

Joyce heard a beeping noise from Owens side.

“Doc?”

“It looks like our minute’s almost up.”

Joyce glanced at her watch. It was a quarter to nine, the 20 minutes of their allotted time was almost at an end.

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath.

“Please don’t hesitate to call me if you have any other concerns. I think Eleven will like Ruth, she’s a real professional.”

“Ruth, is it?”

Joyce fumbled for a pen, rummaging through the kitchen drawers searching for a pad of paper.

“Yes, Ruth Hillsborough. She’ll be a good fit.”

“And you’ll send her here?”

“You can count on it.”

Joyce scribbled that down. Ruth Hillsborough.

“Thank you, Doc. You’re great as always.”

“Any time Mrs Byers. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Alright. Bye-bye.”

She hung up with a sigh, staring at the post-it in front of her. Some therapy would be good for El.

This was good, she told herself. Things would be good.

***
Lenora Hills, January 1986

“Hey!”

El glanced up from her shoes - old vans Max had convinced her to buy last summer. She was walking quickly through the halls, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. People weren’t friendly, she had come to realize. It was easier if she just kept her head down and didn’t speak. There was usually less getting made fun of that way.

“I’m talking to you, freak!”

El walked faster, not turning around. She pushed past other students in the crowded halls, frantically searching for a bathroom. She needed a locked door, desperately.

“Hey!”

El’s bag was rudely shoved from behind, causing her to tumble forwards. She fell to the ground with a thud, pain searing through her knees.

Angela’s pretty face peered down at her from above, smiling sweetly in mock concern.

“Awww did the baby hurt herself?”

Her friends burst into laughter behind her. El’s face glowed red under the fluorescent lights, humiliation flooding through her.

El looked around, panicked. Other people were looking at her now, and laughing. Of course there were no teachers in sight. There never were when Angela decided to strike.

“Why- why did you do that?” El stuttered, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Do what?” Angela asked innocently. “I was trying to get your attention and then you just tripped!”

“I did not-“

“You’re so clumsy, Jane.” She giggled.

El looked at the nearby crowd helplessly. None of them were going to help her, of course. Why would they help a freak like her?

“Here,” Angela’s outstretched hand hovered just above El’s face. “I’ll help you up.”

El hesitated, eyes fixed on her pretty manicured hand, pink nails gleaming. She wasn’t sure what other choice she had. She cautiously took Angela’s hand, and was quickly yanked to her feet.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“What do you want with me?” El asked shakily.

“Backpack please,” Angela sung, reaching for El’s bag.

“No!” El yanked it back, stepping away.

Angela frowned. “Didn’t we agree that sharing was caring? Give it!”

El took another step back, heart racing. She wouldn’t hand over her work. She wouldn’t.

Angela’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re gonna be difficult, huh?”

Her friends scoffed at that, whispering to each other.

“Leave me alone, Angela.” El clenched her fists around her backpack, preparing to run.

“You’re making a mistake, Jane.”

“Leave me alone!” She yelled suddenly, snapping. “Leave me alone!”

Angela looked surprised. “What, are you gonna cry again little baby?” She mocked.

El could feel the hot tears sliding down her face. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, standing her ground.

Angela took a step towards her, smirking again.

“I said stay back!” El screamed, thrusting her hand out in front of her instinctively, meaning to send Angela flying back.

But shit. She didn’t have her powers now.

“What was that?” Angela laughed, turning to her friends. “You really are a freak!”

El felt… humiliated. They were all laughing at her now. All those eyes, all on her.

The hallway had cleared to leave her alone in the center, with what felt like hundreds of eyes aimed directly on her. And they were laughing, like she was some joke.

El longed to feel the rush of energy, that piercing headache she got whenever she used her powers. The blood that dripped from her nose. God how she missed it.

“Go away,” El sobbed, wiping her eyes and stumbling back.

Angela laughed again. “Look at the baby! Crying like the freak she is.”

“Hey!”

That voice cut through the sounds of laughter echoing through the halls. El looked up, eyes wide in fear and shame.

Will burst through the crowd, stepping in front of the shaking El.

“Leave her alone, Angela.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “And so the other freak emerges.”

“I said cut it out!” Will yelled, grabbing El’s hand.

“Will…” she mumbled, feeling weak. She didn’t want him to get roped into this too.

“El, it’s okay. We’re gonna get out of here, alright?”

She nodded, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

“We’re not done here, Jane,” Angela hissed menacingly.

“Fuck off, Angela.” Will said bitterly, pulling El with him through the crowd. It parted for him in shock, whispers creeping along the corridor as people took in what had just happened. Had Will really just stood up to Angela?

“What did you just say to me, freak?”

“Fuck. Off.”

The crowd gasped as the two of them took off running, weaving through the spectators and racing down the stairs.

“Come on!”

Will pushed El through the doors as they ran through the courtyard and to the parking lot where Jonathan’s car stood. There was Jonathan, sitting in the hood smoking pot with Argyle.

“We need to go, Jonathan!” Will ordered, red faced and breathless.

“Hey little man, I thought track practiced on Thursdays!”

“Argyle!”

Jonathan finally caught sight of El, who stood there shaking and pale, fresh tears still staining her face.

“Hey, El, what happened?”

“Angela.” El whimpered.

“Oh shit! That little bitch?” Argyle asked.

“Yes,” Will sighed. “That bitch.”

Argyle suddenly jumped up, pointing towards the school doors. “Hey there she is now!”

“What?” Jonathan asked, turning abruptly.

And there she was, absolutely fuming. El whimpered at the sight of her, looking pleadingly at Jonathan to open the door.

“We need to go!” Will yanked open the door to the backseat, ushering El inside and sliding in next to her.

“Shotgun, yes!” Argyle pumped his fists in the air as he took his seat in the front, Jonathan slamming the doors behind him.

“This isn’t over, freaks!” Angela yelled from up ahead, her posse following her closely.

“Please Jonathan,” El begged.

“Drive!”

At Will’s request Jonathan shifted the car into reverse and skidded out of the parking spot, and out towards the open road. The tires squealed on the pavement, flakes of gravel spattering behind them.

Argyle turned to face the teary-eyed El in the backseat.

“What’d you do to piss off the queen bee, little dudette?” He seemed sympathetic enough, but his eyes were bloodshot, El noted.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Will put an arm around her.

“She didn’t do anything. Angela’s just mean.”

Jonathan glanced back at Will in the rearview. “Jesus, we need to tell a teacher.”

“No!” El interrupted. “That’ll make it worse.”

“But El…” Will tried.

Argyle shook his head. “Nah man, she’s right. Those teachers don’t do shit.”

“Alright…” Jonathan said reluctantly.

Argyle fiddled with the radio while the four of them drove in silence. El leaned her head against the glass, watching the trees as they drifted in and out of sight. She felt so helpless, in this new place without her powers. They were all she had, the thing she had relied on for years to protect herself. Without them… she felt empty.

So, so empty.

Chapter Text

NINA, April 1986

The first thing El noticed was the cold. Her skin was covered in goose-bumps, and her body shivered uncontrollably against the chill.

“Papa?” Her voice croaked quietly. Her throat hurt horribly and her head ached.

She shifted in her binds, uncomfortably. Both her arms and legs were tightly strapped against the thin cot she lay on, which was raised in the center of the room.

She tugged against the restraints, testing their give. The leather straps dug into her flesh, leaving her skin rubbed red and raw beneath them.

As she lay there, breath coming in shallow gasps and thoughts becoming increasingly disjointed, she called out for him.

“Papa!”

Her mind was becoming frenzied, brain zipping from one explanation to another as she desperately racked her brain for an explanation of what could possibly be coming next. What was he going to do to her? What punishment lay in wait?

Sweat beaded on her brow and dampened her hands, the cold and sickly feeling making her flesh feel clammy.

Her chest heaved beneath her thin white gown, and her lips parted in a desperate attempt for air. She couldn’t breathe in here, in this cold, dimly lit room with its sloping walls and robotic metal contraptions.

The panic was overtaking her.

“Papa!” She screamed, bucking her legs and sobbing. The screams ripped through her vocal cords, bloody and frantic as she pleaded for him to save her. He was both captor and her savior. He was a paradox of a person.

After several minutes alone and in agony, door slid open.

Dr Brenner emerged from the dark hall outside, his grey suit crisp and ironed, his white hair neatly combed. The cord-like scar that cut through his face was ever present, a reminder to El of how his mortality seemed to bypass time. How he had managed to survive the demogorgon she didn't think she would ever know.

“Eleven.” He said simply.

“Papa, please-“ she gasped, struggling to meet his eyes as a result of the uncomfortable angle her head was positioned in. Her body was forced into a reclining position, her face tilted up towards the ceiling and held in place by the metal collar firmly secured around her neck.

He approached her, his footsteps echoing in the vast, cavernous room. El flinched with each step, simultaneously craving and dreading his touch.

His outstretched hand rested gently on her cheek, cupping it soothingly. He tilted her head upwards, examining her face for signs of injury.

“Papa…” she whimpered, eyes wide and wet with tears.

He ran his finger gently across her lips, shushing her softly.

“No… No…” She twisted her head away from him, squirming in discomfort.

His grip suddenly tightened, forcing her head to remain still. His fingers dug into her soft skin, making her cry out in pain.

“You have done enough, Eleven,” he said coldly, eyes narrowed. “It would be wise for you to quit resisting.”

“What are y-you going to do to me?” She asked helplessly.

He released her jaw, stepping back. “Your behavior has been appalling, Eleven. And you will not be released until you understand the gravity of your actions.”

“I-I’m sorry, Papa,” she whimpered.

Two orderlies entered the room, followed by a nurse equipped with a clipboard. The orderlies swiftly attached a wired headband to her skull, securing it tightly against her shaved head.

“No, no!”

She jerked her head away from them, desperate to shake off the intruding wires.

“Hold still,” the man said gruffly, pressing his hand against her mouth to silence her cries.

She weeped behind his fingers, her eyes staring pleadingly into Brenner's, silently begging him to show her some mercy.

The nurse attached the cord feeding into the headband to a box positioned on the table behind her. El recognized it to be a brain-wave reader. They were recording her neural activity.

The man released her mouth, stepping away. Brenner surveyed the scene cooly, not saying a word as she was manhandled and forcibly hooked up to the countless wires, which wrapped around her head in a way one might visualize the Gorgon's snakes would.

The nurse flipped a switch on the back of the machine, and a soft whirring sound began to emit from it steadily. The paper that fed out of the machine was covered in long swirling loops that increased in length at the speed of El’s thoughts , which raced faster as her heart pounded.

Brenner reached into his coat pocket and removed a small remote control from within.

El’s eyes widened.

“Papa, no, please…” she begged, heart hammering against her ribs so hard she thought they might break.

“I’m sorry, Eleven. You make me do this.”

“No!”

Click.

El screamed, writhing and thrashing against the straps. A bloody, bone chilling scream erupted from her lungs. The electric currents burned the skin of her neck, her brain feeling as though it had been lit on fire. The pain coursed through her skull, each wave sending her muscles spasming and her voice shrieking.

“Papa!”

As the current faded she moaned, feeling weak and numb as she lay there, helplessly.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, her voice faint.

He stroked her face gently. “Don’t fight it, daughter.”

“No more, Papa, please…”

His hand withdrew, and he stepped away from her. “You’re still not sorry, I see.”

“I am, I am!” She wailed, a tear trickling down her cheek. “I’m sorry!”

“No, not yet,” he murmured, looking down to his hand where his thumb rested upon the remote's button.

Click.

She shrieked again, her body jolting at the shock. “Stop it, Papa!”

As she screamed, flesh burning and brain smoldering, she wondered why no one would help her. The orderlies in the room, and the nurse. How could they just stand there and just watch as he tortured her?

The whirring of the machine hummed faster as her brain raced, her skull feeling as if it was about to collapse under the pressure of the energy. Ropes of electricity were squeezing it, pulling tighter and tighter until her mind would inevitably burst. Just like Mama’s had.

Click.

Again.

Click.

Again.

“Papa, please-“ she cried.

Papa’s face had begun to melt away as her vision was overcome by red.

Pure red, pure anger, pure fire. Nothing but red was left.

All the of the eyes watching her, the blank faces, they bled together as the world turned red. As red as the blood seeping from El’s nose, eyes, and ears as she screamed, louder than she had ever screamed before.

She hadn't used them in so long. But like breathing or blinking, El's powers came naturally to her. With just a slight shift of the energy in the room, she was free.

The bonds broke with a snap, the ripped leather falling limply away from her ankles and wrists.

Her hand shot out in front of her. The barely had to think as her mind reacted, bending the energy and absorbing it within her. She concentrated all of her power on the nurse, who stared dumbstruck in amazement.

It felt good, El thought, to be in control. Now it was her turn. Now she would make them pay.

The woman’s eyes exploded from her skull, an eruption of flesh and brain matter sent splattering across the room. The woman’s lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud, blood pooling around it.

El turned her attention to the orderlies, who were already shouting into their radios and sounding the alarms.

“Eleven!” Papa yelled, grabbing her arm.

She turned to him, face red and dripping with blood, both her own and of the woman’s whose life she had just taken. With a thrust of her hand, she sent him flying backwards, crashing into the machine.

She ripped the wires from her head and aimed at the two men.

“You little bitch,” the one to the right breathed, gun aimed at her.

With a twist of her hand, the man’s spine cracked in two and he lay sprawling across the floor. His legs bent at an unnatural angle, white shards of bone poking out from his shredded skin.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, freak?” The other man shouted, his expression a mixture of horror and hatred.

She cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowing. Freak. She thought back to Angela and her cronies, how they had made her life a living hell day after day. That’s how they all looked at her, like she was some freak.

She lifted him, slowly.

“Hey! Put me down!” He yelled, flailing his arms helplessly in the air.

She stepped off the cot, and walked towards him, tears and blood seeping together as they dripped from her eyes.

“I,” she hissed, “am a person.”

“You sick fuck!”

“I am a person!” She screamed, sending him flying backwards and slamming him against the wall.

She wailed as his skull burst, bits of bone sent ricocheting across the room. The body dropped to the ground, red stub of a neck splattering blood as it did.

The sounds of distant thundering footsteps were getting louder as the orderlies and guards swarmed the door outside. The alarms blared overhead, a deafening noise that made El wince in pain. She reeled around, lifting the cot from its tether to the ground and throwing it against the door, creating a temporary blockade.

She turned to Papa, who lay groaning on the floor beside the toppled machine.

“You,” she said bitterly, words slick with hatred.

“Eleven, listen to me.” He said weakly.

She was tempted to kill him right there. She wanted so bad to watch him burn just as she had moments ago. She would give him the same amount of mercy as he had given her. That was to say, none.

“For years,” she began, voice wavering, “you have lied to me.”

“No, Eleven. No…”

“You do not love me. That is a lie.”

He shakily staggered to his feet, formerly crisp suit now rumpled and blood stained.

He extended a hand towards her, and she flinched away from him.

“Do not touch me!”

“Listen to me, Eleven. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

She noticed the way his eyes flickered past her, searching frantically for the dropped remote that lay somewhere on the ground.

She felt her anger start to rise again, boiling up inside of her until the pain in her head was pulsating again, threatening to split her head in two.

“You don’t care about me. You only care… about Henry. That’s why you do all of this, for him. Not for me.”

He shook his head slowly, maintaining eye contact with her.

“That isn’t true and you know it. You… you are my daughter, my prized number Eleven. The most gifted of all of my children.”

Those unblinking blue eyes stared into her soul. “Of course I love you. You are my survivor.”

Her lips trembled and she gulped back a sob. “You made me think I killed them. You let me think that, even though I didn’t.”

“I needed you to see the truth for yourself.“

“You were killing me!”

He reached to her again, taking a hesitant step towards her.

“Come to me, daughter. Our fighting must end.”

The men outside were pounding at the door, smashing their weapons in vain attempts to break the barricade. El knew she didn't have much time, the bent cot was starting to crack.

“Get away from me,” she sobbed, voice breaking.

“Hush now,” he said softly. “I am not angry with you.”

“No,” she mumbled, shaking her head and glancing back towards the door. It would be open any moment now, and she would be once again detained.

The relief was clear on his face the moment he locked eyes on remote control. There it was, lying covered in blood and brain matter next to the open skull of the now dead nurse.

El made to stop him, to throw him back and hold him against the wall, anything to keep him away from that damn remote. But in that moment, the door burst open.

El whipped around to force it closed manually, her skull feeling as though it was literally about to cave in and her brain about to burst. She screamed as she held the door, forcing it to stay closed even as her makeshift barrier fell to the ground.

Brenner took that instance of distraction to dive towards the remote, blood splattering his face as he grappled for it. Raising the remote in the air, he pressed the button, sending a current of electricity flooding through El’s brain.

She shrieked and fell to her knees, the door immediately flying open as hoards of guards swarmed her.

Brenner wiped the blood from his face, breathing shallowly. He stood slowly, watching as El writhed and moaned on the ground.

Her eyes were dilated, the bright flashing lights of the room multiplying the pain in her skull. As the shock faded away, leaving her limbs twitching and head aching faintly, she slumped to the floor, energy fully depleted. Blood ran steadily from her nose, seeping onto the cool ground where her cheek rested.

The voices floating through the air were fuzzy. They seemed to drift by like birthday balloons caught in the wind… so far away and distant. Wisps of smoke and nothing else.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“The girl, she-“

“I’ll take care of it.”

“But-“

“Leave her to me. I am her father, and I will decide what’s best for her.”

Another voice. Female, this time.

“She might be hemorrhaging, sir. She needs the infirmary.”

“I’ll carry her.”

El closed her eyes, groaning softly. Her fingers tingled, like they were full of the static on the TV she used to use to find people.

Suddenly his arms were around her, her head nestled in the crook of his arm.

“Papa…” she croaked.

She felt faint, and her head hurt terribly. As her eyes fluttered open, she saw it. There was blood… everywhere. Smeared on Papa’s suit, dripping from a wound on her head, and pooling on the ground around the bodies.

“Shhhh, shhhh…” he hushed softly, cradling her. A bloody tear trickled from her eye, and he wiped it away with his free hand.

“I…” she choked, trembling in his arms.

“Don’t speak,” he murmured, holding her close. He stood up carefully, his arms fully supporting her small, fragile body.

"She's a monster..." an orderly murmured to himself, staring at her in shock.

Brenner's head whipped around to face the man, anger clouding his features. "Do not speak that way about Eleven. She is the reason all of you are here, do you hear me? Have some damn respect!"

"I'm sorry, sir." The man quickly apologized, looking sheepishly at the ground. Brenner's head turned back to Eleven, where he tenderly held her tighter.

El felt absolutely and utterly helpless lying there, in his arms. His strong arms rocked her gently, hushing her as if she was nothing more than a small child. And she supposed, in his eyes, she wasn't.

"Hurts..." she whispered, wincing at the pain in her head.

"I know. I'll make it better, Eleven. I promise."

She was too weak to respond. Instead she turned her face inwards, resting her forehead against the firm material of his suit jacket. For whatever reason, she felt safe in his arms. She ignored the murmurs of the watching orderlies, focusing on him and him alone. Whenever he held her like he was right now, it was easy for the rest of the world to fade away and for her to really believe it was just the two of them.

Brenner stood slowly, consoling her as she whined. He carried her close to his chest, her head supported by his elbow and arms draped around his neck. His love for her, in that moment, overshadowed anything else. His anger from before had melted away. She would be punished later, he decided. But right now, she was his one and only. His beautiful, incredible number Eleven. His world.

The orderlies whispered amongst each other as he walked with her, cradling her in his arms. She whimpered softly, afraid of what was to come next.

“I’m scared…” she whispered.

“There is no need to be afraid. Papa’s here now, Eleven. You’re safe.”

She could no longer stand to keep her eyes opened. Her body felt weak, exhausted. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was Papa’s face, staring determinedly ahead as he marched forward. She closed her eyes, grateful for a chance to rest, and grateful most of all to forget.

***
Lenora Hills, March 1986

The police car rambled along the pothole covered road down the middle of the desert. El’s stomach jerked with each bump, making her feel even more sick than she already did. She gazed helplessly out the back window of the van, wishing she could break the door down.

She was so… angry. It ruminated inside of her, like a festering wound, growing bigger and more painful with each passing day. She wanted so badly to scream. To rip the skin off her face and watch the blood as it poured down her neck.

Her nails dug into her forearm, peeling off the tender flesh and leaving trails of blood behind them. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted to hurt someone, someone else besides herself. For so long she had sufficed on taking out her anger on her own flesh, but the desire to make her abusers pay was growing stronger by the minute.

Papa. She wanted him.

She wanted him in front of her, helpless and alone like she had been for years, throughout her entire childhood. She wanted him to see, to feel her pain. What it felt like to be torn away from everything you knew and loved and dragged bloody and bruised by your arms and neck, thrown into rooms that locked from the outside, leaving you screaming with no one to hear you but the ghosts of your own mind.

She wished she could take a slice of her herself and squeeze its bitter juice into his cold, emotionless blue eyes. Watch him scream as it burned, her memories invading his mind just as they unceasingly invaded her own.

It didn’t matter what she was doing, where she was. She never had peace. That was the thing no one seemed to be able to understand. Life was a waking nightmare for her. She was living her past, present, and future all the time, all at once.

He had never truly left her. His eyes were still as bright and blue as the day she was born. If she closed her eyes she could still feel his hands as they hugged her, caressed her, hit her and made her bleed.

But deep down, she knew she would never get the closure she so dreamed of. He was dead, gone. He was never coming back and she would have to accept that.

Her voice had been stolen long ago. Everything that had happened was classified, of course. She had no one to speak to but the woman she was forced to see weakly to discuss how best to move forwards and how to stop “ruminating” on the past. That was the word Ruth used often. El hated it because it made it seem like she had a choice in what memories resurfaced.

The fact was, she didn’t. The past wasn’t over for everyone. For some people, people like El, the past never ceased to end. Each pain, each newfound trauma, was just as fresh as the day it had happened. Her entire existence was an open wound. Not a scar, like people so often mistakenly assumed, but a bleeding, gaping wound, still wet with blood and blue from the bruises.

She turned her head towards the officers in the front seat. The back of their heads were blank, no emotion to be detected. If El could, she would kill them. She would kill every last one of her long series of captors if she had the chance.

She was tired of being silent, of being polite. She wanted flesh, she wanted blood. She wanted revenge and catharsis, the ability to feel anything but the numbness she was trapped in.

A mind couldn’t survive under conditions like these. The pain, the pressure, the ache of it all… it was enough to drive anyone to insanity. El felt like she was close, so close.

Just a pinprick away from ending it all.

Beneath all of the hatred she held in her body, in her veins, in the very makeup of her atoms themselves, it was herself she hated most of all.

She hated herself for taking it all, for not snapping sooner and ending her life when she had the chance. Of course it wasn’t her fault. None of it was, the doctors and therapists told her. But somehow, it always was. Her fault for not being able to move on, her fault for not being normal. Her fault for letting what happened to her affect her as much as she had let it.

The world wanted a survivor, not a victim.

Someone who didn’t need help, who wasn’t cracking under the pressure and who didn’t cry themselves to sleep wishing for the suffering to end. She was supposed to welcome the suffering, use it to inspire others and draw strength from. For El, though, it was much the opposite. She was a broken person, cracked and damaged from the countless nails that had been hammered into her.

Don’t cry, don’t scream. Smile, act normal, be kind and loving and never show your anger.

Don’t hurt yourself, and god don’t you hurt anyone else.

El put her face in her hands, and screamed. The two cops sitting at the front of the van jumped at the sound, the one in shotgun banging on the chains separating her from them and yelling at her to cut it out.

She banged her fist against the hard plastic seat, feeling as her blood vessels burst into bruises.

She banged it again and again, until her hand was red and throbbing.

She wished they would shoot her. More than anything, she wanted to die.

Chapter Text

Hawkins, August 1985

“Can we get a table for six, please?”

It was a Friday night, El and Will’s final evening in Hawkins. The last time the six of them would be together for a very long time. Dustin had insisted they go to the diner (Mike wanted Enzo’s but was outvoted) and had convinced Steve to drop them off.

“You kids be safe, alright?”

“Yes, dad, thanks.”

“Just looking out for you, Henderson.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Be out front by nine, okay?”

“Nine-thirty.”

“Fine.”

“Love ya, Steve.”

Mike drummed his fingers on the counter impatiently while the hostess flipped through her notepad.

“Six?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, glancing at El. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he looked back to the hostess. “Uh, could we get a booth?”

“Sure. Y’all can follow me.”

Mike followed first, with El close behind him. Max, Dustin, and Lucas were horsing around behind them, arguing over something trivial. Will was last in line, not talking much and looking anxious, as he always did.

El stopped for a moment and waited for the three of them to pass her, and offered a hand to Will. He took it gratefully, smiling at her sheepishly.

“Are you okay?” She asked, concern in her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just… gonna miss everyone.”

El understood that. The entire evening had a bit of a downer undertone, as all of them were well aware that this would be the last time any of them were all together for a while. The moving truck was coming bright and early the next morning, and after that Will and El would be off to California.

“Let’s just… try to have fun?”

“Yeah. Fun.”

The hostess sat them at a booth, haphazardly passing out the diner menus.

“Yesss they’ve got the good shit here,” Lucas said grabbing a menu.

“Milkshakes?” Dustin asked.

“Hell yes.”

El sat on the outside of the booth, with Will on the inside and Mike next to her. Dustin, Lucas, and Max were across from them. El picked up a menu uneasily. She hadn’t eaten out very often and wasn’t exactly sure what to do.

“Mike?”

Mike immediately swooped in to help her out, carefully reading each item off the menu to her.

“What’s a… milk-shake?”

“It’s like ice cream,” Mike explained. “But you drink it and there’s whipped cream on top.”

“You’ll like it, El. Trust me.” Said Max.

El looked back at the menu. Out of all the choices, she had her heart set on one thing.

Waffles.

Mike waved over a waitress while the rest of them argued how best to split the fifty-dollar bill Mike’s parents had given them to share.

“Hey, can we order?”

El fiddled with the blue hair band on her wrist while the rest of them did the ordering. Mike got her a chocolate milkshake and waffles, a huge relief that she wouldn’t have to stumble over the menu in front of the waitress. Talking to strangers flustered her.

After several minutes of arguing and switching around who was getting what, the waitress finished scribbling down all of the orders and retreated back to the kitchen.

“God, I’m starved,” Max sighed. “What time is it?”

“It’s only, like, seven.” Dustin said checking his watch. “We’re not that late.”

El didn’t talk much. She always preferred to listen to the rest of the party arguing and laughing. She wanted to savor it, knowing she wouldn’t get to hear it for a while. Dustin and his lame jokes, Max and her eye rolls… El’s heart hurt with how much she knew she was going to miss them.

She knew Will felt the same way, although he seemed to be particularly saddened over leaving Mike. El thought she understood. Mike was his best friend, after all.

“D’you guys know what time the moving truck comes tomorrow?” Lucas asked suddenly.

“Ugh, Lucas,” Max groaned. “Can we not talk about that?”

Lucas rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “Are we just, like, not gonna talk about it? Cause it’s gonna happen, no matter what.”

“Lucas-“

“The truck comes at eight,” Will interrupted. “We have to be ready by seven, though.”

“Are you… excited?” Dustin asked, turning to El.

Mike scowled at him from across the table.

“What? I’m just asking.”

El bit her lip. To be honest, she was a bit. Mostly just to start school, and get to live a “normal” life. Outside of Hawkins, she could be just like everyone else. No one had to know anything about her past. It was a fresh start. But mostly she felt awful. This would undeniably be one of the hugest changes to her life (a close second to leaving the lab), and she was justifiably terrified.

Will shrugged. “Not really. I’m gonna miss you guys.”

Lucas’s smile wavered. “Yeah… me too.”

Max looked down to the table. “Honestly, I hate that you guys are leaving.”

“Come on, Max,” Dustin sighed.

“Why do you have to leave, though? I don’t get it.”

El noticed the way Max’s eyes glistened in the dim lighting of the diner. She felt a pang of sadness in her chest at the realization.

Will took a deep breath.

“My mom’s been wanting to leave for a while now. And with Hopper…” he glanced at El sympathetically, but she avoided his gaze. “…gone, now, she just decided it felt right.”

“You can’t, like, convince her to stay?” Max asked angrily. “It’s not just her decision.”

“Max!” Mike yelled suddenly. “Stop it, okay? They’re leaving. And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Mike…” El said softly, putting her hand on his. He looked at her anxiously, eyes deep with concern.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I’m sorry it got brought up.”

Max looked embarrassed. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry, El.”

El pulled her hand away from Mike’s, and fidgeted with the bracelet in her lap.

“Let’s just talk about something else, okay?” Will tried. “Um, are you guys doing any clubs or anything this year at school?”

“Yeah!” Dustin said, eyes brightening. “Mike, Lucas, and I are joining this totally awesome DnD club.”

Will raised his eyebrows.

“You’re… playing DnD now?”

“I know, I know,” Mike sighed. “But I think it’s gonna be cool, right guys?”

“Totally cool.” Max said with mocked enthusiasm.

Dustin glared at her. “You’d probably like it if you tried.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

El allowed their voices to fade into the background. She gazed past Max’s shoulder into the bustling diner ahead. There was a family in a booth to the right, and behind them two old men playing cards. It was getting dark outside now, the sun having started to set.

But El’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest at what she saw next.

Papa. It had to be him. There was no way it wasn’t.

There he was, white hair neatly combed back and navy suit wrinkle free. He was approaching their table, coming to get her. Her heart beat faster and faster, threatening to burst out of her chest.

Mike glanced over at El, and froze when he saw the look on her face. She was as white as a ghost, eyes wide and pupils dilated. She was shaking, slightly, knuckles white where she gripped the table.

“El? What’s wrong?”

El stood to her feet shakily, not taking her eyes off the man. “No, no,” she whispered under her breath.

Mike stood up, looking at the other party members in alarm.

“El!”

But she didn’t hear him. Papa’s face… she hadn’t seen it in years. His bright blue eyes glinted with cruelty, unfeeling and unblinking. Those eyes, they had haunted her nightmares for years. She would wake up shaking and drenched in sweat every time they invaded her dreams.

He wanted her back, back to the lab where she’d be a prisoner once again. The pain. The abuse. Papa’s fists and needles and collars and restraints, all of it was happening again. She wanted to run, to get away as fast as she could. But her feet were frozen in place, not allowing her to move.

He’s going to take me back. He’s going to make me go back. I won’t be able to escape this time. He'll keep me there, forever.

Mike grabbed her arm, and she whipped around to face him, eyes wet with tears.

He took hold of her shoulders firmly, forcing her to look at him.

El’s breath came short and shallow as she forced herself to meet his eyes.

“El, you’re okay, it’s all okay!”

The other party members were observing the scene in shock, mouths open in disbelief. They hadn’t seen El in such a state of panic since the battle of Starcourt. It was frightening.

El’s head snapped back towards the man, who had stopped at the counter and was gathering up napkins. She blinked, and couldn’t believe her eyes.

It wasn’t Brenner at all. Just some… normal man. He wasn’t even wearing a suit, just a navy blue checkered shirt and some jeans.

“I- I saw-“ El stuttered, looking back and forth from Mike to the man.

“What did you see?”

“P-Papa, it was him, I-“

She looked back at the man. He was walking back to his table now, completely unaware of his affect on the group of teenagers who stood gaping at him.

Mike turned over his shoulder and followed El’s gaze.

“Him? You thought that was..?”

El nodded, blinking back tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of Mike, on their last day together. But the panic… it was so real. It had been him. He was coming to take her away, put her back in the lab…

Will stood up, eyebrows knit together in concern. “El…”

Mike glanced towards him helplessly, unsure of how to approach her.

“Let’s… all just sit back down, okay?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded in agreement. “Come on, El.” He took her hand and led her back to the booth, sliding in to the seat after Will. Max reached across the table and gently laid a hand on El’s arm.

“Hey. You’re safe.”

El squeezed her eyes in a vain attempt not to cry. “I saw him, I did…”

Dustin and Lucas eyed each other anxiously.

“Was that like a flashback or something?” Lucas asked tentatively.

Will sighed. “Kind of. It’s like, a trauma thing. I… I get them too.”

“Hey, man, you can talk to us.” Lucas said kindly. “We all get it.”

Will nodded at them, a soft smile on his face. He looked back at El, who was still trembling as Mike rubbed her back.

“El, shhh…” he consoled her. “I’m here, I’m here.”

El rested her head on his shoulder, bottom lip quivering. “I don’t want to feel like this forever,” she said quietly.

“You won’t.” Max said firmly. “It’s going to get better. It’s bad now because the memories are still fresh and you haven’t had much time to process.” She looked at the rest of the party, grimacing slightly. “None of us have.”

Mike draped an arm around El, holding her tightly. “It’s just a panic attack, you’re safe.”

El tried to breathe slowly, and focus on the feeling of Mike’s arms around her. Papa was dead, he wasn’t coming back. She was safe now. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.

“Guys,” Dustin interrupted, gesturing awkwardly at the waitress who had reappeared by their table, arms laden with plates of food and a tray of milkshakes.

El quickly wiped her eyes in embarrassment and sat up, forcing a polite smile to the waitress as the food was sat down in front of her.

“Fuck yes,” Lucas breathed, taking in the smell of his cheeseburger, fresh from the grill with cheese still melting.

Max thanked the waitress and began to pass around the milkshakes. El poked at the whipped cream curiously.

“Oh that? That’s whipped cream. It’s sweet!” Mike said, smiling at her.

“Pretty.” El said softly, admiring the way it swirled and glistened in the light.

“Yeah it’s pretty, but it’s even better to eat,” Max laughed. “Try it!”

El dipped her finger in and lifted it to her mouth, hesitantly. It was indeed very sweet. Sweeter than the maple syrup she loved so much from Hopper’s cabin.

“You like it?” Mike asked.

She nodded, taking another taste.

“El, use the straw,” Will said gently.

She brought the straw to her lips and sipped, eyes widening as the taste hit her tongue.

The rest of the table laughed, each one lifting their own milkshakes.

“Good, right?” Max grinned at her, enjoying the taste of her own strawberry milkshake.

El nodded. “Sweet.”

Mike leaned over the table to swipe some of Lucas’s fries.

“Hey!”

Dustin took a bite of his burger, moaning at the taste.

“Shit that is good.”

“Very dramatic.” Max said, rolling her eyes at El.

El smiled, looking down.

“Hey,” Mike said quietly. “You feeling better?”

“Yes.”

El took a breath before looking at him.

“Thank you, Mike.” She said sincerely.

She loved him. So much. And she couldn’t believe that he actually loved her back. It was strange, El had always been told that no one could ever love her like Papa did. But that didn’t seem to be true. In fact, all of El’s friends loved her. So did her adopted family, and her step-brothers. Hopper especially. He loved her like she was his own daughter.

Mike squeezed her hand. “I’d do anything for you, you know.”

El leaned her shoulder against his. “I love you, Mike.”

Mike’s face reddened, but he lit up into a smile.

“You know I love you too, El. I always will.”

El relished in that moment, wishing for it to never end. Mike’s shoulder against hers, the way his face glowed when he smiled. The sounds of laughter at the table and the comfort of knowing she was safe here, and loved. It was all she could ever ask for. She loved her them. Her friends. More than anything.

***
????

El’s eyes fluttered open.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. The ground beneath her was cold to the touch. She was laying down, she realized, sprawled across the floor with her face pressed against the tile. She sat up, carefully, trying not the anger her aching body.

Those metallic grated walls. The cool tiled floor. The dim light, illuminating what little of the space there was.

El’s heart stopped.

No.

It couldn’t be.

She staggered to her feet, mind flooded with pure terror and panic.

“No, no, no…” she breathed, fingers tracing the small grates on the coppery brown walls.

This room, this godforsaken room. How did it even still exist? How was she… here? In the Hawkins Lab, in her childhood prison?

She turned, searching for the door. When it was closed like this, the room was given the illusion of being completely doorless. An entity that only existed to contain her. As a child, El had been forced to spend countless hours in here. That dim light ever pulsating above her. The light brown walls with their small grates that blended together over time. All of it, it haunted it her. After being in that room for several hours, she would start to see those walls even behind closed eyes. Not even her mind was safe from the confinement.

El banged her fists against the wall she presumed was the door.

“Papa!” She screamed. “Papa!”

Panic surged through her body. She punched the wall, shrieking at him to let her out. He couldn’t keep her here. He couldn’t. She wasn’t a child anymore. At least, she shouldn’t be.

What felt like hours passed by.

El’s voice felt ragged and raw. Her hands were bruised after spending the first hour banging her fists against the door. Her knuckles bled, the skin purple and swollen.

She was hungry and exhausted. She slumped against the wall, and slid slowly to her knees. The floor was cold beneath her skin. She remembered being forced to sleep in here, how her back would ache after a long, restless night in the isolation room.

Papa usually didn’t feed her in here, at least for several hours. The longest she had gone in this room without eating must have been a full day. Her stomach ached horribly by the time an orderly had unlocked the door to let her out. Papa had stood behind him, watching her coldly. That time, after finally being given food, she had complied with his wishes.

But that was years ago, when El was much younger. She didn’t know any better then. This was before she had ever met Mike or even set foot outside of the lab. Knowing what she knew now, El couldn’t believe there had been a time when she had never even seen the sky.

She pulled her knees up to her chin, burying her face in her arms. She had to believe he was watching her in the cameras, from wherever he was lurking. While she couldn’t see the surveillance camera, she had no doubt it was there somewhere, silently watching her every move.

One thing the isolation room was good for was remembering. Just the physical aspect of being in the room brought back so many memories. Most of them awful, but a few comforting ones too.

Papa was usually extra kind to her after a punishment was over. He apologized, sometimes, saying he was sorry to hurt her but he only did what was necessary. When she was younger, El would agree with him. It was her understanding that when she was bad, he needed to hit her. Spending time in the isolation room made her behave better.

However, upon talking to Ruth and other people outside of the lab, El came to realize that this was, in fact, not normal or healthy or… sane. Classic abuse and manipulation, Ruth had said.

“Jane, I hope you know that what Dr Brenner did to you was in no way ethical or justified.”

El forced herself to meet Ruth’s eyes.

“I… I was bad. I shouldn’t have been bad.”

Ruth shook her head. “No, Jane. You were not bad. You were a child, a child who needed comfort and love, not fear and pain.”

“But Papa loved me.”

“Maybe,” she sighed. “But that doesn’t excuse his actions. Your friends’ parents, do they treat their children like how Dr Brenner treated you?”

El’s eyes were downcast as she shook her head softly.

“And Hopper, did he ever do any of the things Dr Brenner did to you in the name of love?”

“No,” she said quietly. “He didn’t.”

El wiped her eyes with the back of her bruised hand. The skin of her knuckles had broken and they were now bleeding, leaving streaks of red across her cheek.

El shifted her body to try to make herself comfortable. She was exhausted. Everything ached. Her hands, her feet, her knees, her head. She still didn’t understand how she was here. Maybe she had died, and gone to hell. She had hurt enough people, killed enough to secure her a one-way ticket.

She gently lowered herself to the floor, tucking her knees up into her hospital gown. Her arms were covered in goosebumps from the chill. She shivered, trying to keep herself warm with the small coverage the white gown provided.

She reached up, a finger gently tracing the grates on the wall. The claustrophobia always made the isolation room feel smaller than it actually was. El laid in a way that kept her back pressed against the wall, something she had always done in the cell. It was comforting, in a way. The firm wood reminded her that she wasn’t floating through empty space. It tethered her to reality, what little of it she had left.

Her eyes drifted closed. Sleep didn’t come easy as she was frequently awoken by nightmares. In these visions she was usually running, running through the woods pursued by Papa and his men. In every dream she was so close to freedom. But she’d trip, or run into a barrier that forced her turn and confront the bad men. She would scream as the men carried her screaming and kicking back to the lab where Papa stood, smiling as he waited to be reunited with her.

***
Lenora Hills, September 1985

Lunchtime.

The most humiliating time of day for any person who had the misfortune of going through high school as an awkward loner. The giggles of the popular kids from across the lunchroom, and the judging stares the larger groups of friends gave you as you weaved through the tables, looking longingly for a place to sit.

This was the situation El found herself in at Lenora Hills High.

Mike had told her it would be easy to make friends. He said there was nothing about her not to like. Max had told her that anyone would be lucky to have her as a friend. Dustin and Lucas assured her she’d find her people.

So far, in the three weeks she’d been a student here, this had proven not to be true.

High school was lonely. Most of the time she’d sit by herself in the back of class, cringing every time a teacher called on her and bracing herself for the inevitable laughter. Most of the time it came from Angela and her friends. Since the very first day of school, Angela had been making her life a living hell. She would call her names, make fun of her hair and clothes, and would always laugh at her.

El did her best to avoid Angela, but she seemed to follow her everywhere. Will did his best to be supportive, but he was too shy to ever really stand up for her. El didn’t blame him. Angela could easily ruin his life just as she had ruined El’s.

El walked through the lunchroom, clutching her tray to her chest nervously. Every time she approached a table, bags were slid over to cover up empty seats and glares were aimed her way. Somehow the word had spread that she was a social pariah. The new girl, a total freak, already marked by Angela as her prey.

“El,” came a gentle voice from behind her. El’s panic subsided in relief at the sight of that familiar face - Will.

“Do you want to sit outside?”

El nodded gratefully, relieved to have found an excuse to leave the dreaded cafeteria. Will led her through an open door to the courtyard where they found an empty spot by the stairs.

“Has… everything been okay?” He asked, seeming concerned.

El hesitated, not sure if she should be honest. She didn’t want him to worry, but truthfully, school had been terrible.

“You don’t have to lie, El. I’ve seen the way Angela treats you.”

“It’s nothing,” El said, brushing it off. She took a bite out of her sandwich, averting Will’s troubled gaze.

“It’s not nothing.”

“We- we’re friends. She’s just joking.”

Will scoffed at her. “Joking. Really?”

“It’s… what friends do.”

Will took a sip from his bottled water, clearly not fooled by her bullshit.

“It’s been hard for me too. I… I really miss everyone. It sucks.”

El froze, mid-chew. She swallowed the sandwich as well as the budding lump in her throat.

Will sighed. “Honestly… I hate it here.”

El bit her lip, desperate not to cry. She didn’t like thinking about Hawkins, or her friends. It all made her too emotional.

“El, come on,” Will suddenly snapped. “We need to be able to talk to each other. We’re- we’re siblings now, whether we like it or not.”

Will noticed her bottom lip was quivering, and instantly felt regret.

“Look, I’m not angry. I just… I don’t want you to lie to me, okay?”

A moment of silence, before El opened her mouth to speak.

“I miss Hawkins too.” She said quietly.

She rested her elbows on her knees, gazing off into the distance as she finally opened up.

“My whole life was in Hawkins. I- I didn’t want to leave.” She looked at her feet. “Even though… a lot of bad things happened, that was where I met you, and Mike, and Dustin and Lucas and Max.”

Will sighed, gaze fixated on the distant mountains that dotted the horizon.

“Yeah. Everything I knew was in Hawkins.”

El buried her head in her arms. “It’s too different here.”

Will hesitated before putting an arm around her shoulders. “El, we’ve gotta remember that we’re not alone, okay? We have each other.”

El looked up, tears in her eyes.

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

She sighed again, leaning to rest her head atop his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have lied. Friends… don’t lie.”

Will bit his lip instinctively. He felt guilty, for some reason. He felt as though he had been lying to her, even though he hadn’t. He had nothing to hide from her, nothing at all. The thing about Mike… no, what was he thinking? There was nothing about Mike. He just missed him, they were best friends after all. He was happy for El and Mike. Nothing but happy. And that was not a lie.

“I’m sorry, Will.”

Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts and back to reality. He cleared his throat.

“I don’t blame you for lying, El. I just would rather know what’s really going on.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You know I care about you, right?”

“I know.”

They finished eating lunch out there, just the two of them. By the time the bell rang, El’s tears had dried and she felt better than she had all month. It was good to talk to Will. Like he said, she wasn’t alone anymore. And she knew that now. Will was someone she could trust. He had her back, like a brother should.

***
????

El had finally managed to doze often after many long hours of short, restless bursts of sleep. In her dream, she was outside with Mike. They were walking through a field carrying a picnic basket and a blanket. It was a pleasant dream, a well needed break from El’s nightmarish reality.

El was jolted awake suddenly by the sound of the heavy door being pulled open. She sat up abruptly, back pressed against the corner in fear. An orderly loomed above her in the open doorway, his white uniform crisp and holstered gun gleaming.

El whimpered, huddled up in fear as far away from the man as she possibly could be. She didn’t want to be beaten anymore, and she was terrified to move. Her stomach grumbled, and she realized how long it had been since she had last eaten. She had been in the room for at least 24 hours now, and in all that time had not eaten a single bite.

“Get up, come on now.” The man said gruffly, opening the door wider.

El didn’t move. Her legs had gone numb in the amount of time she had been on the ground. The room was too small for her to stretch her legs out all the way.

“I said move!” The man said again, taking a step towards her. “Don’t make me drag you.”

“Where’s Papa?” She whispered. Her voice was scratchy from disuse. In the isolation room, there was no one to hear her and no point in speaking. In 23 hours she hadn’t spoken a word.

The man ignored her and instead made to grab her arm and haul her up himself. El flinched away from him, whimpering. She tried to back herself further into the corner, legs pulled tight against her, but she was as far away from him as the cramped quarters would allow.

“Get up!” The man yelled, fingers closing around her bruised wrist.

“Leave her.”

The voice came from the doorway. El looked up, in both fear and relief at the sound of it. There was Dr Brenner, his figure backlit from the fluorescent lights of the lab hallway. His suit was as well-ironed as it always was, never a wrinkle to be seen. She couldn’t make out his expression, if he was still angry at her or was coming to comfort her. It was always a gamble with him.

“Papa…” she said shakily. She was so weak, so hungry and fragile. But there he was, his dark figure towering over her, hopefully coming to save her from this prison.

The orderly let go of her wrist and stepped back.

“I’ll take it from here,” Brenner said cooly.

“Yes sir,” the man said, glancing at down at the shaking girl at his feet before turning to leave.

Brenner stood above her, his cold gaze washing over her skin with a wave of goosebumps. She trembled, still too afraid to move. After being in that prison for so long, El felt uneasy leaving it.

“Come now, daughter.” He said gently, reaching a hand down to cup her cheek. He traced his thumb across her face, seeming not to notice the way she shivered at his touch.

El let her face rest in his palm. He was coming to protect her now. He would make the pain go away, make her feel safe again. She was grateful for his presence in that moment. So grateful she almost cried.

Brenner withdrew his touch, and reached down for her hand. El took it, but found that she was still too weak to stand. Her feet ached with any pressure she put on them, legs still cramped and numb.

“Papa, I can’t,” she said weakly, curling up once more on the floor.

He knelt down next to her, and took her hand in his.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, Eleven.”

He said it like a statement, not a question. She nodded, tears springing to her eyes. She felt ashamed at her weakness. Shame for having been punished like this, for misbehaving. It was humiliating.

“Were you able to get some rest in here?”

She shook her head this time, averting her gaze. She felt too ashamed to look at him. Too small.

He sighed, and squeezed her small, bruised hand.

El yelped at his touch, her cuts and bruises suddenly reactivated and throbbing again.

Brenner frowned at her and relaxed his grip, examining her hand.

“What have you done to yourself, Eleven?”

El couldn’t stop the tears now. Her pale hand was mottled with purple and blue, and small red cuts covering her knuckles. It hurt just to touch, and made her feel even more ashamed just looking at it.

He pressed a bruise gently, observing her reaction. She pulled her hand away sharply, crying out in pain.

Brenner reached for her face again. “I wish you wouldn’t hurt yourself, daughter.”

She closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Papa…”

His touch disappeared from her face once again, and she opened her eyes.

“Come to me.”

She reached for him, wanting nothing more than his consolation. Never mind the fact that he was the one who had trapped her in this place, all that mattered was the fact that he would be the one to set her free.

He pulled her in close, realizing that her legs were still too weak to move. He took her atop his lap, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. She felt so small, so young. So utterly helpless in his arms.

He rocked her gently, holding her tightly. “It’s alright now. You’re safe with Papa.”

El breathed in the scent of his cologne. She didn’t ever want to forget the way his suit felt under her cheek, the way his strong arms held her. His soft voice, telling her that it was going to be okay. She allowed herself to melt into him, completely surrendering herself to his will. She would listen, now. She would do anything if it meant being loved.

He stood carefully, still holding her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he walked, lowering her eyes at the sight of any passing orderly.

El felt her vision start to blur, and her mind become even more tired. His touch was fading now, and after a few seconds she couldn’t feel him anymore. When she opened her eyes, all that was left was darkness. Her brain felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton. She called out for him in the darkness as the world melted away, taking her with it.

***
NINA, April 1986

El awoke soaking wet and sputtering on the stretcher.

Her breaths came in short gasps as she struggled to orient herself. What had happened? Where was she?

“It’s alright, Eleven. You’re back.”

Papa stood above her, smiling down at her gently as she was forcefully dried off with a towel by a nurse.

“Wha- what happened? I-” She stammered, looking around in confusion.

She wasn’t in Hawkins after all. She was back at the NINA, in the underground silo in Nevada. That meant… none of that had been real. The isolation, the hunger, Papa’s caring words… it didn’t happen.

“What you just experienced were memories, Eleven.” Papa said, seemingly having read her mind. “You were looking into moments of your past, just like what you did with One.”

“With… NINA?” She asked.

“Yes, with the NINA. I showed you that memory for your punishment because, as you know, we do not have access to an isolation room here in our current space.”

El flinched at the words “isolation room”. She had never expected to end up back there, even in a memory. She did her best to block out the most painful moments of her time at the lab, but it was just like Papa to force her to relive them all again.

“Memory…” she whispered.

“Yes. What you witnessed happened many years ago. But I am confident that the effect was just as meaningful as it would have been had it happened just now.”

She shivered in the cold, and Brenner ordered another towel to be wrapped around her. He helped her sit up, allowing her legs to dangle over the side of the stretcher.

El looked down at her hands, which were now unmarked and free from injury.

“My hands…”

“They are not injured, no. But you felt that pain in the memory, did you not?”

“Yes.” She said quietly. She hated the fact that Brenner had the power to use her memories against her. He could make her feel pain without even laying a finger on her. Her own brain would do the trick.

“I am sorry for having punished you, Eleven. But it was necessary, after your most recent defiance.”

El looked away. Her body still feeling strange, still recovering from the memory. She shivered again.

“Come, now. I will take you back to your room where you may rest.”

He helped her off the stretcher, taking her hand in his. She dropped the towel to the floor, allowing her hand to be engulfed by his.

“Papa…” she said quietly as they walked.

“Yes, Eleven?”

“It felt… so real.”

“It was real, Eleven. Everything you experience in the NINA was once real.”

They reached her room, and Brenner unlocked the door with his key card. He led her to the bed, closing the door behind her.

“I have a fresh gown for you, Eleven. You may sleep after getting changed, and I’ll leave you for the night. Is that alright?”

El sighed, surveilling the bleak room. She turned to him, pulling her towel against herself tightly.

“Why, Papa? Why the room?”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean why? Why what room?”

She bit her lip, shivering. “The… the isolation room. Why did you… put me, in there?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Have a seat on the bed, Eleven.”

She sat nervously, moving over to make space for him. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. She hated herself for it, but she wanted to be close to him.

“You can be very rebellious. Dangerous, even. Your powers… they are sometimes too much for you to handle, and that was especially the case when you were a child. Does that make sense?”

She didn’t answer him.

“We didn’t want you to hurt yourself, or any of our staff. You were very hard to control, at times, and we just wanted to protect you. I have never wanted to hurt you, Eleven. Yes, your punishments are often unpleasant, I won’t deny that. But all of them serve a purpose. They are absolutely necessary for the kind of work we are doing here. I hope you can understand that.”

El didn’t look at him. All of his excuses, all of his explanations. She didn’t know why she even bothered to ask.

“Eleven, look at me.”

He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting her head upwards to meet his eyes.

“I love you. I have always loved you, and I always will.” He kissed her forehead.

El closed her eyes, and leaned to rest her head against his chest.

He put an arm around her, hugging her.

“My little girl…” he said gently, holding her.

She silenced the voice in her head that screamed at her to stop.

She let him touch her, breathing in his scent and relaxing into him.

A deeper part of her screamed at her to get away, to run and escape from this hellish place. Her psyche was left fractured, damaged. Her feelings for him so conflicting, so polar opposite. As strong was the part of her that hated him, her love for him won out in that instant. She could believe, just for the moment, that he did love her. It was easier to relent, sometimes. And forget.

She knew she may never forgive herself for loving him. But for the time being, during her imprisonment, it was those small crumbs of kindness that kept her alive.

Chapter Text

Lenora Hills, March 1986

“I- I mean I just don’t think they’ve thought things through!” Will tossed the ball against his bedroom wall, letting it bounce back into his hands as he paced back and forth.

“If this goes on for months, and people just can’t get ahold of us, everyone’s gonna totally freak out. We can’t just be under lockdown indefinitely.”

Mike wasn’t listening. Will had been panicking ever since they got back to the house after El’s fiasco at the police station. While Will had been too anxious to stop talking, Mike was totally silent. A very unusual disruption from their normal dynamic.

He fingered El’s letter in his hands, reading and rereading those three short lines over and over again.

Dear Mike,
I have gone to become a superhero again.
From El.

From. From. Mike’s heart ached at the sight of word. He felt so much… guilt. Just weighing on him. Even the last time he had seen her, he still hadn’t said it. He didn’t know why he couldn’t say it, he wanted to. Because of course he loved her! He loved all of his friends.

It was just…

He just couldn’t say it. He was too afraid, afraid she wouldn’t feel the same way and he’d get his heart broken. Or something. Of course that entire line of logic was stupid, Mike knew. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

And now he was paying the price.

“Mike, are you even listening to me?”

He looked up.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Staring at it isn’t gonna change what it says, you know.”

“I know, I know.”

Mike sighed, crumpling up the note and tossing it into the waste bin.

“I thought you two… made up.” Will said tentatively. “Before the cops came?”

“I thought we had too,” Mike admitted dejectedly.

“But you still didn’t say it, I take it.”

“Right.”

Mike shifted awkwardly in discomfort. He didn’t know why he was even having this conversation. Talking about it just made him feel even more shitty. He honestly didn’t know what to do anymore. El was gone, and it felt like he was to blame.

“Mike, we’re gonna see her again.”

Mike frowned at that, feeling strangely angry. He had no reason to be mad at Will, but for some reason his constant hopefulness was getting on his last nerve.

“No, Will. We’re not.”

Will was taken aback by his bluntness, and opened his mouth defensively. But Mike ignored him, continuing.

“We have no idea where she even is. She could be anywhere by now!”

“You’re not listening to me, Mike!” Will interrupted. “We don’t have to stay stuck here, on house arrest.”

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“They took Jonathan’s keys. We are stuck here.”

“We don’t need ‘em,” Jonathan said suddenly appearing in the doorway, dangling a piece of paper from his fingers.

“Jesus, Jonathan!” Mike flinched. “Where the hell-“

Jonathan didn’t let him finish. “Look, man. I’m sure none of us are cool with just sitting here while El’s off doing who knows what. We have to do something, I mean it.”

Will reached for the paper in Jonathan’s hand.

“Pizza?” He asked skeptically.

“Oh god, you don’t mean-“ Mike groaned.

“This?” Will waved the paper in the air. “This is your big plan?”

Jonathan yanked the flyer from his hand.

“Got any better ideas?”

***
NINA, April 1986

El walked aimlessly through the long, dark corridors of the silo, led only by Brenner’s hand which she gripped tightly. She shivered in the cold, her pale arms speckled with goosebumps. She was wearing the suit she wore in the tank, leaving her bare arms and legs exposed to the chill of the underground lab.

“We are going to try something different today, Eleven.” Brenner said calmly.

El looked at him nervously.

“Different?”

He nodded as they walked.

“While your usual medications are working as they should, I would like to try something new today.”

El frowned. “A- a different drug?”

“A new medication, yes.”

El stayed silent as he led her through the main corridor and into the large chamber where the NINA tank stood. She took note of the orderlies and lab assistants plugging away at stations surrounding the contraption, seeming not to notice her. El couldn’t imagine choosing to live down here willingly.

Brenner led her to a chair positioned next to the tank. The brown leather straps attached to the armrests stood out against the white plastic of the chair. El froze when she noticed them, and Brenner seemed to take note of her unease.

“Those are just a precaution, Eleven. I do not wish to use them.”

El sat in the chair reluctantly, and placed her arms on the armrests at the direction of a lab assistant. Another assistant, a woman, carried a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab in her hands. El flinched as the cold alcohol-drenched swab was dabbed on her arm.

“Try not to move,” the woman said not unkindly.

El looked at Brenner apprehensively.

“What drug?”

But he was busy preparing a needle and vial at the counter, and did not answer her immediately.

“It is called lysergic acid diethylamide. I have done several trials using it in the past, but never with you as a subject.”

El could feel her breath catch as he approached her, gloved hand gripping the needle steadily.

“Papa, no…” she whispered, shakily standing to her feet.

“Sit down, Eleven.” He said firmly.

She shook her head, bottom lip quivering. Her senses were overrun with fear of the strange drug. She didn’t know why Papa was so set on using it on her, but she was certain the reason was nothing good. Papa had little to no moral compass when it came to his research.

Brenner sighed in exasperation, looking down at the needle.

“Strap her down, please.”

“No!” El shrieked as she was suddenly grabbed by both arms and forcibly sat back in the chair. Her arms were pressed face-up against the armrests and the leather belts were pulled tight against her wrists.

“No, no!” She thrashed, pulling at the restraints.

“Hold still.” Brenner said coldly, kneeling down next to her.

“Papa don’t do this, please…” She begged. “I’ll be good, just please, no drugs…”

Brenner tightly grasped her arm in his hand, pulling the skin taut in search for a vein.

El looked frantically at the lab assistants, who continued to act completely professional and unfazed, as if drugging a human lab-rat was nothing out of the ordinary. She still couldn’t believe Brenner had somehow managed to assemble an entire team of people as cold and heartless as he was. As much as El wanted to believe his cruelty was unique only to him, the fact that not one person came to her aid was enough to disprove her of that naive notion.

“This will hurt,” he said impassively, injecting the needle into her bloodstream.

El cried out in pain as the drug invaded her vein, her arm feeling as though it had just been socked.

Brenner handed the used needle to a lab assistant, and reached towards her to stroke her cheek.

“That wasn’t too bad, now was it?” He brushed a tear from her face, smiling kindly.

“Why?” She asked tearfully. “Why do you do this?”

The drug must not have been fast acting as she still felt normal, aside from the overwhelming sense of fear and dread of course. But she suspected that had less to do with the drug and more to do with her current circumstances.

“We are doing very important research here, Eleven. It is not always pleasant.”

He let go of her cheek, and stood up to retrieve another needle from a lab assistant who appeared at his side.

“No more…” El whined, twisting her body away from him. “Please, Papa, don’t…”

Brenner picked up the second needle, examining its contents before reaching for El’s arm again.

“This is just your usual medication, Eleven. You need it for NINA to work properly.”

El cried softly as she was injected again. It was so… dehumanizing. She felt like an animal, confined to her cage and forced to endure strange and experimental drugs. She had no power of her own in this place. It was daily practice for her to be chained up, drugged, tortured… all in the name of science. It sickened her.

Unlike the last drug, El was able to feel the effects of her typical “medication” instantly. Her eyelids fluttered as she slowly slipped in and out of consciousness, Papa’s face becoming blurrier and more deconstructed with each passing moment.

“Papa…” she groaned.

“Shhh…” he hushed, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Your contributions are allowing us to do great things here, Eleven.”

She shook her head weakly, opening her lips in protest. He shushed her again, gently closing her mouth with a finger.

“Rest now, don’t fight it.”

She couldn’t speak anymore, the world was slipping away even faster. Soon his face would become nothing more than a blur, and his words distant, garbled sounds that would echo through her brain like the chimes of a bell. El closed her eyes, letting the darkness consume her.

***
Lenora Hills, March 1986

Mike lugged his duffel bag from the guest room up onto Will’s bed with a thud.

“You’re packed already?” Will asked from the ground, busy stuffing clothes into his backpack from his dresser.

“Yeah,” Mike shrugged. “I mean, I never really unpacked.”

“Fair enough,” Will said with a goodnatured smile.

“By the way,” Mike cleared his throat. “I never got the chance to thank you.”

Will turned to face the bed, raising an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For knocking some sense into me! I was being a total self-pitying idiot.”

Will laughed. “Well, I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to,” Mike said with a grin. He looked down for a moment, suddenly grimacing. “About the last few days…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Will said quickly. “I was being a total jerk to El. I deserved it.”

Mike frowned. “No,” he shook his head. “No, no, no. You didn’t deserve anything.”

Will looked up again, taken aback. He hadn’t expected Mike to come to his defense like that. He had been pretty rude at the roller rink, and the burrito place that morning. Like El had said, he was being a total downer. And that wasn’t fair to Mike. It wasn’t Mike’s fault that he didn’t feel the same things for Will as Will felt for him.

Mike spoke again. “This year’s been weird, y’know?”

Will nodded.

“I mean, Max, Lucas, and Dustin, they’re great.” He chuckled. “But… it’s Hawkins. It’s not the same without you. And I feel like I was worrying too much about El, so much so that I… didn’t even think about you.”

He bit his lip, and Will looked away, embarrassed. He didn’t want to get emotional. That would totally ruin the moment, and just make things… weird. God, why was he so sensitive?

“And I’m sorry for that, Will. Really, really sorry.”

Will could feel his eyes growing wet. He blinked back his tears quickly, face growing red.

“I have no idea what’s gonna happen next,” Mike continued, seeming not to notice. “But I just want you to know, that you’re my best friend. You’ve always been my best friend., and you always will be”

Friend. The word stung. Will knew he shouldn’t be surprised that Mike only thought of him that way. That’s what they were, right? Friends. Best friends, even. Nothing more. It was crazy for him to think that there was a possibility, even a slight chance, that Mike felt the same way about him.

It was just… wrong. For so many reasons.

Will wished he could just turn his brain off, but it was as if the floodgates had been opened. He wiped at his eyes frantically, praying Mike wouldn’t notice, or connect the dots. It would ruin everything if he did.

“But whatever it is, whatever does happen… I think we should work together. As friends.”

Will nodded, wiping his eyes.

“Yeah,” He choked. “Friends.”

Mike smiled, completely oblivious to Will’s emotion.

“Cool.”

The two boys looked up at the sudden screech of tires outside.

“That was… fast.” Mike said, frowning.

Will shrugged, taking the opportunity to hastily wipe away his tears. “30 minutes or less.”

The doorbell rung from downstairs.

“So if I understand correctly, we’re just running for it?” Mike asked, pitching his duffel over his shoulder.

Will stood, grabbing his own bag. “Yep, that’s the plan.”

They could hear the shuffle of footsteps as one of the agents approached the door. Will waved for Mike to follow him into the hall, waiting at the top of the stairs for Jonathan’s signal from below.

The doorbell rang again, and again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Jesus.”

Silence. And then-

BANG

BANG BANG BANG

Mike nearly pissed himself at the sudden sound of gunfire.

Will whirled around, shoving Mike against the wall.

“What the FUCK is that?” Mike screamed, covering his head.

The sounds of bullets ricocheted through the house. Will grabbed Mike’s hand, dragging him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Hey! Hey!” Jonathan shouted, waving from the dining room table. “WILL!”

“Get down!” The deep voice came out of nowhere as a large, uniformed man barreled into the kitchen, gun clasped firmly between his hands and finger resting on the trigger.

“What the FUCK is going on?!” Mike screamed, ducking for cover.

“Just stay behind me, and do exactly as I say,” the man breathed, shoving the boys behind him.

The man leaned out from behind the wall and aimed the barrel towards the swarm of military men flooding through the open door.

“Move!” He yelled, ushering the boys into the living room and firing into the room behind him.

“Who are they?” Will panted, looking around frantically.

Two more intruders emerged from the basement, but were quickly knocked off their feet by the sudden burst of bullets from the agent shielding the boys.

“Friends of Brenner’s.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Mike asked in dismay.

“Brenner?” Jonathan reiterated. “Like, Doctor Brenner?”

More gunshot erupted from the behind them.

“Get ready to move!”

Jonathan grabbed the agent’s shirt, ducking behind him as he followed. Mike and Will did the same, following en suite, too afraid to do anything otherwise.

More military men burst through the walls, seeming to come out of nowhere.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!” Mike shrieked as Will shoved him behind a wall.

“I said follow me,” the man hissed, reloading his gun.

Jonathan shielded the two younger boys in terror, a futile attempt to protect them from the incessant gunfire.

Their savior, the strange agent man, once again stepped out from behind wall (the only blockade shielding them from death) to fire into the doorway. Several military men dropped to the floor, but not before finally landing a blow right in the center of the agent’s chest.

The boys screamed in unison, grabbing him as he fell to the floor.

“The car! The car!” The man gasped, clutching his bleeding chest. With Will under one shoulder and Mike under the other, Jonathan yanked the front door open and screamed at the Surfer Boy Pizza van that was just pulling up to the curb.

“ARGYLE, OPEN THE DOOR!” Jonathan screamed.

Argyle rolled down the window, terror apparent on his face.

“Oh my god, why is that guy holding a gun?!”

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” Mike and Will shrieked in unison, legs faltering under the weight of the slowly dying man.

Argyle unlocked the doors with a click, mouth frozen open in shock.

“Go, go!” Jonathan yelled, forcing the boys into the van and hauling the door shut behind him.

“Why does he have a gun? Why are there so many guns?!”

“DRIVE!!!” All three terror-stricken boys screamed from the backseat.

Argyle floored the gas, sending the van careening down the road and into the open desert ahead of them. From the now quiet house, a surviving soldier reached for his radio.

“Sir, the targets have escaped. I repeat, the targets have escaped.”

From the other end of the line, Col. Jack Sullivan spoke only two words. Two words, but each one ominous enough to send a prickle down the lowly soldier’s spine.

“Find them.”

Chapter Text

????

El awoke standing upright, which was, quite frankly, a jarring experience. One moment she was just… nothingness. And the next, she was back. In the lab. In Hawkins.

She was alone in the room. The black tiled walls made the space feel much larger and more cavernous than it actually was. El turned, immediately searching for a door. In a lifetime of confinement, it was practically hardwired into her mind to be on lookout for the nearest exit. Her feet were bare on the cold ground and she was wearing nothing but a hospital gown, the typical uniform of Brenner’s test subjects.

“Hello?” She called out. Her voice echoed through the room as she turned again, feeling lost and disoriented in the dark testing room of her past.

“Papa?”

The door behind her opened suddenly.

Appearing in the doorway was Dr Brenner, only it appeared to be a slightly younger version of him. His face was unscarred and his skin appeared smoother, less worn from age. He was flanked by two armed orderlies and a young looking nurse. The nurse, El noticed, was holding a chain, the end of which connected to handcuffs on the wrists of two men who walked solemnly behind her, heads bowed.

“What-“ El stuttered. “What is this?”

Brenner’s face wore a pallid expression. “Eleven.” He smiled thinly. “I’m glad to see you’re already here.”

“What’s going on?” She demanded. “Why- why am I here?”

He ignored her, and waved the young nurse forward. She tugged the prisoners past El and led them forward to the dark tiled wall behind her. She clipped the end of the chain to a metal hook on the wall, securing the prisoners in place.

As the prisoner on the left looked up, El winced. It was none other than One.

His delicate features were creased with exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises against his pale skin. His white uniform was rumpled, as if he had been involved in a struggle before being brought here against his will.

“Henry,” El breathed, eyes wide with shock.

Brenner surveilled the scene calmly, seeming not to have heard her. He approached One and tugged at the chains on his wrist, ensuring that he was properly secured to the wall. One’s fellow prisoner also wore the white uniform of an orderly, although El didn’t recognize him as anyone she knew. He was larger than One, but trembled in his binds. His dark hair was plastered against his forehead with sweat and his cheeks were flushed in fear.

“Please, sir, don’t do this…” he said quietly, voice wavering.

Brenner tugged at the other man’s chains and handcuffs as well before stepping back. The two armed orderlies stood on the opposite end of the room in front of the door, blocking the only exit.

“Papa, what’s going on?” El looked around helplessly, hoping for some clue as to what why she was back here, in this memory. She had no recollection of any of this, apart from a strange feeling that something bad was about to happen. There had to be a reason she couldn’t remember, why her mind wouldn’t let her.

From an unlit corner of the room emerged a cart carrying an EEG device. The machine was wheeled to the center of the floor next to where El stood. The nurse removed from the cart an electrode cap, and grabbed El’s shoulder to hold her still.

“Stand still.” Her voice sounded almost robotic.

El pulled away from her, looking at Brenner fearfully.

“Papa, I don’t understand…”

Brenner looked at her, his expression serious. “Do as the nurse tells you, Eleven.”

She looked back at the nurse, who again reached for her shoulder.

A stern glance from Brenner finally forced El to relent, and she allowed the woman to hold her still while the electrode cap was fitted to her skill.

“Why are you doing this?” El asked the nurse weakly.

The woman didn’t look at her, and continued to adjust the wires of the cap.

“Eleven.” Brenner said sternly.

She looked at him, and then to the prisoners chained to the wall. One looked so… different. She wasn’t used to seeing him so weak, so vulnerable. He looked actually looked human for once, and not like the monster he would later become. It was like seeing a teacher in their own home - something you just got the feeling you weren’t supposed to see.

The nurse finally seemed satisfied with the fitting of the cap and stepped away from her. With a flip of a switch she started the EEG machine, which quickly began printing the long receipts of swirl-covered paper El was so used to.

Brenner cleared his throat, and the nurse retreated to the back of the room where she stood attentively with a clipboard, pen ready. Brenner walked towards Eleven, stopping at the machine and glancing at one of the receipts spilling out of it before taking his place next to her.

The two of them stood facing the prisoners, side by side. Brenner placed a hand firmly on El’s shoulder, causing her to involuntarily twitch.

“Eleven,” he gestured to the prisoners. “Mr Ballard and Mr Jones. I’m sure you recognize them from around the facility.”

Jones, the man El didn’t think she had seen before, suddenly seemed vaguely familiar. Of course she had seen him, this was a memory after all. And whatever was about to happen, she realized, had already occurred many years ago. She was at the mercy of time to stop it.

“I have received word that Mr Ballard has been seen acting dishonestly towards our patients here. As a result of this, he must face the consequences of his actions.” His cold blue eyes bore into hers. “Don’t you agree?”

El was too stunned to speak. She doubted she’d have a choice in the matter anyway. Brenner tended not to put much weight behind her opinions.

Brenner nodded towards the other man.

“Mr Jones, here, has been caught leaking confidential information of our work here.” His brows creased as he continued, his tone growing sterner. “This, of course, is extremely dangerous to our subjects. Mr Jones could have hurt all of my children with his behavior, and that is not something I can forgive.”

The man, Jones, was staring at Eleven pleadingly. Begging her with his eyes to do something, anything. She found this entirely ironic. As if she had any more say in the matter than he did. She was a prisoner the same as he was, at the mercy of the man they both cowered before.

Brenner cleared his throat, continuing. “As everyone in this facility knows, I am a strong believer in discipline and punishment. There are consequences to all actions. Mr Ballard and Mr Jones,” he smiled coldly. “Today you will receive your consequences.”

And then he looked at her.

El felt as though the breath had been knocked out of her as the realization dawned on her of why, exactly, she was there.

“Your safety is not something I can risk to jeopardize, Eleven.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, gripping it firmly. “As a result, I am asking you to teach these men a lesson.”

Her throat tightened. She understood it now. What exactly he wanted her to do.

“No,” she said softly. “No, no, no…”

She looked back towards the men, specifically One whose eyes were downcast and glossy. He looked so weak, so helpless. Jones, on the other hand, was in a state of panic. His uniform clung to his body with sweat, and his eyes were wide and wild.

“I don’t want to hurt them, Papa…” she whispered. “Please don’t make me.”

Brenner withdrew his hand from her shoulder, his expression suddenly cold.

“I was hoping you would be cooperative, Eleven, given the gravity of the situation.”

When she didn’t respond he merely sighed and looked away.

“I will ask you kindly one more time. However,” she shivered. “If you continue to refuse, I have other methods I will not hesitate to implement if they will succeed in making you obey.”

Goosebumps prickled El’s skin. She felt as though her throat had closed up, or like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. She knew she didn’t have a choice, and that she’d end up cooperating no matter what. But she just couldn’t bring herself to hurt them. Even though she hated One and knew everything that he was capable of… she couldn’t do it.

And Jones? The other man? She barely knew him at all. She had little to no knowledge of what, exactly, he had done or what his motivations had even been. Maybe he had leaked the documents in an attempt to help her, and her siblings. There was no way of knowing.

But in good conscience, she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

“No, Papa.” She said softly.

Brenner nodded, not looking at her. His mouth was a thin line. “I see.”

El whimpered, taking a step away from him. She was utterly terrified now, absolutely paralyzed with fear. She felt no different than the prisoners cuffed to the wall. She might as well have been one of them, chains and all.

“Sir, please…” One said quietly from where he stood cuffed, slumped against the wall. “She’s only a child.”

Brenner turned to him, eyes livid with anger. “Do not speak.”

He approached the orderly angrily, and delivered a resounding slap across his face. One yelped, unable to defend himself with his cuffed hands.

“Papa, stop!” Eleven cried. “Don’t hurt them!”

Brenner’s attention was now directed back at her.

“You are an incredibly stupid child.”

He advanced on her suddenly, jaw clenched and expression stern. He backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling on the ground.

“Papa!” She shrieked, covering her face with her hands.

“You will do,” he said, kicking her in the stomach forcefully, “as I say.”

El cried out in pain. He reached down and grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet.

“Are you ready to cooperate?”

El didn’t answer, she was too busy trying to catch her breath. Her cheek stung where he had hit her, and her stomach now ached.

He struck her again, and she moaned. Her cheek was beginning to bruise.

In that moment, his eyes were full of hatred. As cold and turbulent as the seas of the arctic. There was no warmth there, as far as she could tell. Nothing but utter cruelty.

“Eleven, you will answer me when I address you.”

He rarely ever raised his voice when he was angry. His calm demeanor was almost more frightening, showing just how apathetic and emotionless he could really be.

“I can’t hurt them,” she whimpered. “I can’t do it, Papa.”

Another blow landed across her face. She would have fallen had his grip on her arm not been made so tight.

It was in that moment that El’s vision began to swim. She couldn’t tell if it was from the blunt force trauma to her head, or the drugs she had been administered earlier in her conscious state. Whatever it was, the room grew darker and the tiles began to melt from the walls.

Brenner’s features slowly disappeared until he was nothing but a blank face staring down at her. His eyes, though… they were everywhere. Blue and blinking, covering the room from floor to ceiling, staring down at her and watching her, like she was nothing more than a bug under a magnifying glass.

El blinked, and the eyes were gone. But Papa’s grip was still tight on her arm, and his jaw was clenched in silent rage.

“Their blood is on your hands,” he said coldly.

She looked at him in sheer confusion before she was thrown to the ground, her head thunking hard against the linoleum.

From her view on the ground, she was forced to bear witness as the brutal scene before her unfolded.

Brenner withdrew a black pistol from his pocket , and loaded it wordlessly.

“No,” she breathed, vision becoming foggy again.

He clicked off the safety, holding the gun out steadily in front of him. The barrel was aimed directly at the man he called Jones.

At this motion Jones began to scream, wrestling against his chains and begging for his life.

El could only watch in horror as Brenner pulled the trigger.

It was a clean shot to the chest. The man slumped against the wall on impact, blood soaking through his white uniform shirt. But to El’s utter horror, the man wasn’t yet dead. She suspected this had been purposeful on Brenner’s part. He had always liked to make his victims suffer.

One stared at the man who lay at his feet in dismay. Blood was spattered across his white uniform and equally colorless face.

El struggled to breathe. The man wasn’t dead. He was still alive, still suffering. She wanted to reach out to him, to stop it all. But she was frozen in shock, as if her limbs had been turned to stone.

Brenner walked towards the man silently, his footsteps the only sound in the room aside from the man’s ragged breathing. Grasping his bloody jaw in his hands, Brenner struck him across the face with the butt of his gun. The man writhed in agony, face now bleeding just as profusely as his chest.

“Please, sir…” he croaked.

“It can take anywhere up to several hours for a person to die from a close range gunshot wound to the chest.” Brenner said coolly, turning to face El.

She stared at him in complete shock.

“Papa…” she said, voice breaking, her eyes filling with tears.

Clicking the safety back on, he replaced the gun in his holster.

“It is your choice, Eleven, whether you want to end his suffering now.”

El’s body shook with sobs as she collapsed onto the ground. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think. She wanted to rip out her hair, cut into her flesh, and scream. Every nerve in her body felt as though it had been lit on fire. Every molecule, every atom, all of screamed out in agony. She just wanted it to end. More than anything she wanted it to end.

Brenner surveyed her with a slight smirk on his face as she finally stood, shakily.

The EEG device behind her whirred faster as she concentrated on the trembling, bloody mess of a man before her.

Stretching her arm out in front of her, she pushed. Jones’ neck snapped with a crack. His head lolled forward, a blood covered bone protruding from the wax-like skin of his neck.

El turned to meet Brenner’s gaze. Blood trickled from her nose steadily, and she suddenly felt as though she might faint.

“Papa…” she muttered weakly, feeling the ground shift beneath her. The eyes were back, staring at her from all around the room.

With that she collapsed on the ground, the strength completely taken out of her.

“Stand up, Eleven. We’re not done here.”

El looked at him helplessly.

“Please, Papa…” she said, a mixture of blood and tears wetting her face. “No more.”

“I will decide when you are done.” He said coldly. “Now stand up.”

El forced herself to stand again, breathing heavily. The entire room was spinning and her vision was filled with man’s death replaying continuously in her mind. She felt like a TV stuck between channels.

“I have a very simple request for you. I think you are more than capable of doing what I now ask, seeing what you have just demonstrated.”

El didn’t speak. She waited meekly for her next command, trembling. She just wanted it to stop. She wanted the memory to end.

He pointed to One.

“Break his wrists.”

One stared at her with a panicked look on his face.

“Eleven, don’t-”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Brenner interrupted.

One shut his mouth, averting his gaze once again.

Brenner turned to her.

“Do it now.”

“Papa, don’t make me-“ she said tearfully, wiping blood from her nose.

“I do not like to repeat myself, Eleven.”

“Papa-“

He took a step forward and raised a hand as if to hit her once again. She recoiled at the motion and flinched, chest aching as fear flooded her veins.

He lowered his hand, expression stoney and cold.

“Do it.”

El took a deep breath before focusing her attention on One and his wrists, which hung shackled to the wall. She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling the bones in her mind.

This isn’t real, she told herself. It’s not real, none of this is real. I’m not here, I’m at home, with Mike. I’m in my room, and the door is locked. None of this is happening. None of this.

She exhaled, and opened her eyes.

Snap.

One howled in pain, falling to his knees. His hands suddenly forcibly contorted to bend downwards at an unnatural angle, each finger snapping backwards and cracking like pop-rocks. The skin of his slender wrists was bruised purple and black. His hands looked less human and more birdlike in the position they took now.

Brenner smiled. “Very good.”

It was all too much for El, and she fell to her knees with a gasp. She choked back bile, coughing at the burn in her throat. She couldn’t believe what she had just done. She didn’t want to believe. It was too much. Everything was too much.

The last thing she felt was his arms around her, gently easing her into his lap. She cried softly as her vision faded to black. Bruises, broken bones, gunshots, needles… the memories looped in her mind. All the pain, all the agony.

She wanted to forget again. She longed to stop remembering.

El welcomed the darkness gladly.

***
Lenora Hills, March 1986

They had been driving for half an hour now. Argyle had eventually stopped with the questions upon realizing the entire back of the van was so sick with shock that they were in no state of mind to answer.

It was Mike, though, who finally broke the silence.

“Could someone kindly explain what the fuck just happened back there?”

Will closed his eyes, and Jonathan sighed.

The agent groaned from the floor of the van, rubbing his face with the back of his hand and coughing softly.

“Hey man, I think we need to get this dude to a hospital.” Argyle glanced at Jonathan in the rearview mirror nervously.

“No hospital,” the man groaned.

Mike frowned. “What do you mean no hospital? You’re literally dying.”

The man shook his head weakly, face pale.

“C-can’t find… you.”

“Who can’t find us?” Will asked nervously. “Who?”

He coughed again. “The d-d-doctor.”

“What Doctor?” Mike frowned. “Owens?”

The man groaned again. “No. Us… we are w-w-with Owens. Protecting. Girl.”

“That little super-powered girl, right?” Argyle asked. “Sorry to break it to you but she’s in jail, man.”

Mike ignored him. “El, right? The girl?”

He nodded. “D-d-danger. N-no contact. Owens.”

Jonathan rubbed his forehead with his hand. “So you’re saying you lost contact with Owens, then?”

The agent’s brow was beaded with sweat as he struggled to speak. “N-n-no contact. Gone.”

Mike shook his head. “No, no, no… What does that mean, gone? Where’s El, then?”

“The doctor. B-brenner.”

“But he’s dead, isn’t he?” Will asked uneasily. “Right? I mean, you saw him. The demogorgon… it got him.”

“Demogorgon?” Argyle frowned. “That’s a wild name, man. But I dig it.”

“A-a-alive.” The man coughed.

Mike covered his face with his hands, his breathing becoming shallow. “He can’t be. No, he can’t be. El can’t… no, no…”

“How did he get El? I thought- I thought Owens said she would be safe.” Will sputtered.

“N-no contact. Danger.”

Mike’s hands dropped, and he turned to the man in anger.

“Owens knew, didn’t he?”

“Mike, calm down.” Will said, gently resting a hand on Mike’s shoulder.

“He pawned her off to Brenner! Even though he knew what he was capable of, he- he sold her!”

Will shook his head. “That- that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why would Owens do that?” Jonathan demanded. “And why would he want to hurt us?”

The man opened his mouth, but was launched into another coughing fit.

“I-Indigo.”

Will reached for the soiled shirt the man clutched to his chest. It was soaked through with blood.

“Fuck,” he breathed, realizing just how bad the bullet wound was. It was slowly dawning on him that their new agent friend wasn’t going to make it.

“What?” Mike pressed. “What the hell does ‘indigo’ mean?”

“Indigo,” the man insisted, suddenly forcing something into Mike’s hand.

Argyle chuckled absentmindedly from the front. “Indigo, man. That’s a nice color.”

The man coughed, sending blood splattering down the center of his white shirt.

“Fuck, fuck!” Will cursed, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Is he- is he dead?” Jonathan asked in bewilderment.

“The fuck is this?” Mike demanded, holding up the pen he now held in his hand. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Indigo…” the man breathed one last time, before his eyelids fluttered shut.

“No, no, no…” Will put a finger to the man’s neck, eyes wide with shock.

“No!” Mike yelled. “He- he can’t be dead! It doesn’t make sense, none of it makes sense!”

“Shit man, did that dude just die?”

“Pull over,” Jonathan said forcefully, standing up.

“Can’t believe you’ve got me carting around a dead body, man. D’ya want me to get fired?”

“Jesus, Argyle! Pull over!”

***

Mike sat with his head in his hands. He and Will were sitting side by side on the hood of an abandoned car in the junkyard they’d stumbled upon in the middle of the Californian desert.

“I just can’t- I can’t believe it. He’s alive, that sicko maniac is alive and he’s got El.”

Will’s face was solemn. He couldn’t believe it either. El… God, he didn’t even want to imagine what she was going through. The possibility that Brenner could even be alive hadn’t crossed his mind. He was supposed to be dead. And El was supposed to be safe. None of this was supposed to happen. None of it.

“Indigo…” Will murmured to himself. What the hell was indigo? Some sort of code? A secret message?

Mike shook his head and groaned. “Real fucking nice of him to leave us with no information on how to find her or any idea if she’s okay.”

Argyle emerged from the shallow grave he’d been busy digging with Jonathan, hands orange with dust.

“At least you’ve got a dope pen, man. That’s more than I’ve ever gotten from some secret agent dude.”

Will closed his eyes and sighed. “What?”

“Is he stoned?” Mike groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

Jonathan sighed, appearing next to him and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Purple palm tree delight.”

“Hey man,” Argyle shrugged. “I’m just saying, it’s a sick looking pen. I’d kill for a pen like that.”

Will turned to Mike suddenly. “The pen, Mike. The pen!”

Mike looked down at the pen in his hands, confused. “The pen?”

Will grabbed it from him, and turning it over in his hands. “Yes, the pen.”

Will finally twisted the cap off, and a scrap of paper fluttered to his lap. He reached for it, hand trembling, and held it up to his eyes.

“It’s… it’s a code.”

Argyle grinned at him, eyes bright red and glazed over. “See, man? Super cool pen. Nothing to be sad about.”

Jonathan reached for the paper.

“What… exactly does it mean?”

Will shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Lemme see it.” Argyle reached for the paper, and held it up to the sun. “Secret agent man’s got secrets, huh?”

Jonathan snatched the paper back. “What?”

Argyle shrugged. “Weird username, man. Very cryptic.”

“What is he talking about?” Mike asked in frustration.

“Let me see,” Will said taking the paper from Jonathan. He examined it closely, reading and rereading the two strings of seemingly nonsensical words written printed upon it.

He gasped, suddenly.

“I- I think he’s right. It is a username. And a password.”

“A login,” Jonathan breathed. “For a computer.”

Chapter Text

Fort Wayne, Indiana, March 1986

Agent Ellen Stinson hung up the phone for the fourth time today. It had been dead line after dead line all day. And at this point, she was beginning to grow worried.

Yesterday’s troubling phone call from the Doc had been enough to shake up Stinson’s nerves. But twenty-four hours of radio silence?

Something had to have happened.

Stinson dialed again, checking the carefully printed number on her notepad repeatedly before pressing dial. She held the the phone to her ear, not breathing.

Nothing. Only the busy dial tone she’d grow used to hearing in the hours she’d spent dialing and redialing all day.

“Fuck, Doc…” she muttered, lowering the phone slowly.

The last thing he had said to her was that the girl was better now, and to send transportation to Hawkins. But the thing Stinson didn’t understand, was why he had hung up so suddenly.

It was good news that the girl had her abilities back. It was what they had been working towards for months. Sure, the entire team knew it had been a risk to team back up with Brenner and his men, but it would be worth it to ensure the safety of the entire world. A small price to pay, Stinson thought. But she’d still been wary about this so-called “alliance” from the beginning.

This wouldn’t be the first time Brenner had broken his word when it came to matters concerning his darling daughter. He was prone to putting them all at risk when it came to “family matters”. Stinson had no doubt he’d put a knife in the Doc’s back if it meant more daddy-daughter time for him.

Stinson tucked her tucked her short dark hair behind her ear and glanced down at her notepad once again. Owens and NINA were a bust. She figured she could try Harmon and Wallace next, and check in on the boys. Strangely she hadn’t heard much from them, either.

Stinson dialed the number she had been given for the Byers’ Lenora Hills home. The phone rang once, then twice. After five more rings Stinson hung up in disbelief. She couldn’t believe it. Silence on all ends.

She flipped through her notepad for one last number. She had known deep down that they shouldn’t have trusted Brenner. Of course he had betrayed them, and now all three of her colleagues were M.I.A.

She dialed one final number.

“Federal Bureau of Investigation, Indianapolis Headquarters. Please enter call number at the sound of the beep-“

Stinson quickly punched in her ID and waited impatiently while the line rung.

She swore to god, if no one answered…

“Stinson? That you?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Reggie. Thank god.”

The sound of his chuckle came in crackly over the line.

“Everything alright, Ellen? You’re supposed to be taking it easy, remember?”

She closed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Sam’s been AWOL for twenty-four hours now. I’m worried.”

“Shit,” he breathed. “Let me dial him.”

She crossed her arms at the sound of buttons being pressed on the other end of the line. “I’ve called him five times today, after he hung up on me abruptly yesterday afternoon.“

“He called you?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Apparently the girl’s back in business. He wanted me to send a truck to pick the two of them up from NINA, but the line was cut before he could finish.”

“That’s not a good sign.”

“Have you heard anything from them? Anything at all?”

“From NINA?” He paused. “No, not recently. The last word I’ve got from them was… the 24th. Sam confirmed his arrival, and said, and I quote, ‘everything’s running smoothly’.”

“That’s it? That’s… the last you’ve heard?”

“For our office at least. I can call around, check in with DC and Vegas. If you want, I can reach out to the pentagon-“

“No! Not yet.”

She could practically see Reggie’s eyebrows raise over the phone.

“We’re working together whether you like it or not, Ellen. I know it’s not ideal, but if we want to keep the girl alive, we’ve gotta play by their rules.”

She put a hand to her forehead and massaged her temples. “I don’t like it, Reggie. Something’s wrong.”

“Have you tried calling Harmon and Wallace? They’re with the boys right now so I hear.”

“Of course I did. Radio silence on their end too.”

“I’ll try them right now.”

Stinson waited on hold while her partner (and best friend of eighteen years) Agent Reginald “Reggie” Rivera switched lines in a last ditch effort to contact Harmon and Wallace, their two remaining colleagues who had been granted the full responsibility of protecting the three teenage boys from Brenner and Sullivan’s men.

The deal was that girl would be safe if she cooperated. The boys weren’t supposed to be involved at all, meaning that the job should’ve been easy. There was no reason for Harmon and Wallace not to answer, no reason unless…

“Ellen?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Yes?”

At the sound of his sigh on the other end, Stinson’s heart sank.

“Nothing. Radio silence, like you said.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Just find them, do whatever it takes to find them.”

“Already on it.”

“And Reggie?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s keep this under wraps, alright? I’ve got a feeling the colonel’s behind this.”

“Of course. In fact, I’m taking care of it myself.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I’ve got local PD on the other line. Looks like I’m the lookout for a ‘Surfer Boy Pizza’ van? Shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”

“Alright. I should… head over to Hawkins.”

“You think they’ll be back?”

“The DOE?” She shook her head. “Not in Hawkins, no. There’s a ‘Max Mayfield’ I’m supposed to be keeping eyes on.”

She flipped through her notes again.

“Sam left me the address before… you know. It’s the least I can do.”

“Give me a call tomorrow. I’ll see to it that those kids are found safe and sound. Harmon and Wallace, too.”

She shoved her notepad in her pocket and bit her lip.

“Sounds like a plan. Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

***
NINA, April 1986

Papa’s strong arms wrapped gently around her as he carried her through the dimly lit hallway. She groaned softly and reached a hand up to rub her eyes, attempting to rouse from the grogginess that had settled over her.

He looked down at her, cradled in his arms, and smiled kindly.

“You’re awake.”

Confused and distressed by the events that had just unfolded before her, she parted her lips in an attempt to verbalize her thoughts. Her mind was whirring with questions, but it was her mouth that stayed stubbornly quiet, refusing to follow her commands.

He hushed her and held her tighter, continuing to stroll confidently down the long corridor.

“I’m taking you to your room now, if that’s what you’re wondering. There is a lot we have to talk about.”

She found that she was able to lift her neck and peer over his shoulder. Two armed orderlies followed about ten feet behind, faces dark and unreadable in the dim lighting.

Brenner rubbed the back of her neck soothingly, continuing to hold her close.

“The men are just for your protection. Rest now, Eleven.”

El closed her eyes and was met with the immediate vision of blood. Flashes of the dead orderly changed to the wall invaded her subconscious. The snap of One’s broken wrists rung through her ears as though she was once again back in that moment, forced to torture him.

“I hurt them…” she said softly.

“We’ll discuss everything after you’ve had something to eat. I want you to save your voice.”

El closed her lips with a resigned sigh and put her head down on his shoulder. She absentmindedly counted each step he took as she was carried down the seemingly endless corridors. She let herself feel his rough hands around her, his strong arms supporting her body weight. His smell. She breathed in his cologne and closed her eyes. It was a nostalgic and comforting scent, making her feel as if she was no more than a child again.

“Here we are.”

Brenner stopped at her door and allowed the orderly behind him to open it. El was carried to the bed and gently laid atop the sheets, head positioned carefully on the thin pillow she had previously been awarded with for good behavior. She was wearing a grew sweatsuit now, she noticed. She mentally recoiled at the thought that someone had had to undress her while she was unconscious.

Brenner pulled up a chair to the side of her bed and sat down, taking her hand in his. He squeezed firmly, a reassuring gesture that quieted her racing thoughts.

“Bring us dinner now,” Brenner said to the orderlies, his attention still fully on her. El watched as the men left wordlessly, the door clicking into place behind them. It was locked, as always.

Brenner’s thumb traced her knuckles, rubbing them in circles thoughtlessly. Small moments like those made her feel like he actually was her father, and not just the doctor to whom she belonged. His specimen.

“You… made me hurt them.” She said quietly, not looking at him.

He squeezed her hand tightly, and reached to cup her cheek.

“On the contrary, Eleven. Mr Jones hurt you.”

El blinked back tears as Papa’s cold words from the past echoed through her mind.

“Mr Jones has been caught leaking confidential information of our work here to outside parties. This, of course, is extremely dangerous to our subjects. Mr Jones could have hurt all of my children with his behavior, and that is not something I can forgive.”

“He didn’t deserve to die,” she said softly. “And One… he didn’t used to be a monster.”

Brenner withdrew his hand from her face, his eyes growing cold.

“I do not react kindly to people who attempt to hurt my children. What Jones did was unforgivable. And One…” He sighed. “I agree with you there. He did not used to be a monster.”

El bit her lip. “None of us did.”

He looked away, his expression distant.

“None of my children are monsters, Eleven. I wish you would stop referring to yourself as such.”

El drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin atop them. “Do you still love One?”

He looked at her sharply. “Of course I do. I will never stop loving any of my children. One is no exception.”

“Even though…”

“Enough, Eleven.” He said sternly. “One is just as much my child as you are. No matter what you do, I could never, ever stop loving you. I know how you think of me, and it hurts me deeply to know that you do not believe in my love for you.”

“I know you love me, Papa…” she said quietly, not wishing to upset him.

“Good. Because I do.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Everything I have ever done has been out of love for you. I hope you understand that.”

Everything I have ever done… her mind was suddenly overtaken with images of the tank, the demogorgon, the blood. Being ripped away from her friends, covered in bruises from his fists. The isolation room. The guns and tasers. The fucking shock collar.

El pulled away, stomach reeling.

“Eleven-“

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

He grasped her arm firmly, and she looked at him in pain.

“That is not for you to decide.”

“Don’t,” she pulled her arm away and pushed him off of her. El stood, crossing her arms and turning away from him. “I want to be alone now.”

He sighed, resting his hands on his knees. “I know you hate me, Eleven. And I’m sorry for that.”

She didn’t answer.

“I just want to keep you safe. That is why you are here, for your protection. I’ve never wanted to hurt you, Eleven. But if I did, I’m sorry.”

El wiped a tear from her eye. She couldn’t stand to listen to him and his fake fucking apologies. “If” he had hurt her, as though that wasn’t an undeniable fact. She just wanted him to leave.

“Get out,” she said quietly.

“Eleven-“

“Get out!” She whirled around, eyes red and wet with tears. “I said get out!”

His gaze hardened. “You do not speak to me that way.”

“Get out!”

Brenner stood, circling her so that he was now the one closest to the door. “Sit down, Eleven. We aren’t finished here.”

He took a step towards her, forcing her to back herself against the bed.

El wiped her eyes, choking back a sob. “Get out,” she said quiet but firmly, tears streaming down her face.

“You are out of control, Eleven.” He shook his head in mock disbelief. “And after everything I’ve done for you. You are so ungrateful.”

El looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“I feed you, I give you a bed to sleep in. I keep you safe from harm, and still you disobey me. You want to hate me? Fine. But I want you to know, Eleven, that I will never stop loving you, and I will never let you go.”

El flinched. Who knew such an innocent word could turn so threatening. “Love”. His love was as sweet as a cyanide perfume. She was trembling now, knuckles white where she gripped the bed frame.

He closed his eyes and gave a cutting sigh. “Now sit down.”

When she didn’t move, he shoved her backwards into the bed, now pinning her against the thin cot. El yelped in surprise as he loomed over her, hands on her shoulders as he continued to glare down at her, his eyes cold and demanding.

“You will do as I say, Eleven. Sit down.”

“Get. Out.” She said adamantly, eyes dark with fear and anger.

Brenner sucked his teeth, and forced himself to look away, as if he was willing himself not to hurt her.

“Say ‘get out’ one more time.”

El looked up at him, wide brown eyes boring into his.

“Get out!” She screamed suddenly, raising her arms and forcing him backwards with a burst of power.

Fury clouded Brenner’s eyes as he steadied himself against the wall before he lunged at her.

His hand struck her across the face, causing her to gasp in pain and curl away from him.

“You do not speak to me that way.” He said darkly, grasping her shoulders and forcing her to look at him.

El’s body was racked with sobs, her cheek swelling where he had hit her. She didn’t want to look at him but he continued to shout, specks of his spit spattering her face.

“You will obey me, Eleven. I am tired of your insolence and I will no longer tolerate it. Do you understand me?”

She didn’t answer. Her mind was elsewhere now, tucked away somewhere safe. Mike’s house. His basement. He could hurt her physical body but not her mind. She was safe.

“Eleven!”

His hands were so tight against her shoulders, so tight she feared they would bruise. She felt so fragile in his hands, her body so small.

“You will answer me when I speak to you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, flinching in fear.

He looked at her in disgust before letting go. El stood up, one hand pressed to her smarting cheek the other outstretched in front of her.

“Papa-“

His anger had not yet dissipated, it seemed. He grabbed her by the arm and threw her to the floor with unexpected strength. She cried out as her shoulder collided with the cold tile, feeling a new bruise already starting to swell.

Brenner looked at her in utter disdain, as if she was a spider he had just been forced to step on.

“Clean yourself up,” he said coldly, before striding from the room.

El sobbed to herself as the door opened and shut with a clang, the lock clicking steadily into place behind him. She shivered in the cold, unable to stand up. She lay there, cheek pressed against the ground as she cried softly, willing herself to die.

Chapter Text

Salt Lake City, Utah, March 1986

“Ugh,” Argyle groaned, staggering out of the van and rubbing his back. “I can’t feel my butt. Can you guys feel your butts?”

“I can feel my butt,” Will winced, opening the door from the backseat and squinting in the sunlight.

“Everyone needs to be on their best behavior, okay?” Jonathan said, turning around.

Argyle groaned again and followed Jonathan reluctantly up the gravel driveway. “Why’re you looking at me when you say that?”

“I didn’t!”

“They’re just really religious,” Mike muttered, stepping onto the front porch and pressing the buzzer.

“I’m like, super spiritual, dude.”

“Yeah,” Mike sighed. “I think they’re spiritual too. Just… in a different way.”

A barely clothed young boy opened the door with a scowl on his face. He appeared to be dressed like an Indian chief, feathered headband and everything.

Will and Mike glanced at each other.

“Uh, is Suzy here?”

***

“And three, two…” Suzy glanced up at the lights expectantly. “One.”

The lights suddenly flickered back on as power was restored to the old colonial house.

“Way to go Cornelius,” Mike said, impressed. Suzy breathed a sigh of relief before pressing the start button on the side of the computer, tapping impatiently on the keyboard.

“We don’t have much time, but I’ll do my best.” She said, adjusting her glasses. “What is it you want me to look at again?”

Will rummaged through his pocket for the scrap of paper he’d been carrying all the way through the ten-hour drive.

“Our… friend gave us this. We think it’s… a username and password?”

Suzy took the paper and squinted at it inquisitively. “Interesting. This friend, who was it?”

“A secret age-“ Argyle started, before Jonathan clapped a hand over his mouth.

“It’s a secret! We… can’t say.”

Suzy raised an eyebrow. “A secret?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, thinking quickly. “It’s for this video game… console. It’s like, s new Nintendo. But like, American.”

“American Nintendo?” She seemed skeptical.

“Amerintendo,” Will said with a half-convincing smile. “Super secret.”

“I’ve never heard of that.” Suzy said frowning.

“That’s cause no one knows about it.”

“Except our friend!” Mike said frantically. “He works at Walmart, and knows all about that kind of thing. He gave us this username and password, but we don’t know how to use it.”

Suzy paused before setting the paper down.

“Okay, fine. I can search the internet using this program I’ve been exploring lately. I think I can find whatever website this username’s good for, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“The ‘internet’?” Jonathan asked.

Suzy laughed. “It’s too hard to explain. But just you wait. It’ll blow your minds.”

“But you’re sure you can find this…” Mike hesitated, the word feeling unfamiliar on his tongue. “’website’?”

Suzy grinned. “Sure I can.”

***
Lenora Hills, February 1986

El bounced her leg up and down as she sat impatiently in the hospital waiting room. She didn’t want to be there, and the only reason she was had been through no choice of her own. Ruth had made a deal with Joyce, that she would continue seeing El without getting any of the higher ups involved if she agreed to go to the government-mandated group therapy Owens had been pushing on her lately.

El had pleaded to no end with Joyce, but after Jonathan had let slip one night (while high) that El was hurting herself, she knew she didn’t have another choice.

“Jane Hopper?”

A man holding a clip board emerged from the door next to her. He looked around the nearly empty waiting room expectantly. El raised her hand tentatively, at which the man smiled kindly.

“You can come with me, Jane.”

The military hospital was windowless for the most part. Its patients were mainly people the government (El assumed it was the Department of Energy, or something like that) wanted to keep quiet. The building was hot and stuffy for February, an overcompensation for the mild chill outside. El followed the doctor down the long, blank corridors, skin prickling with the eery sensation of familiarity.

But she wasn’t wearing a hospital gown, and her head wasn’t shaved. She could leave whenever she wanted, the door wasn’t locked.

I’m not a prisoner, she repeated firmly in her head. I am safe.

The doctor opened the plain brown door for her, holding it open for her politely. The room was simple, mostly undecorated save for a slightly ugly abstract painting hung up on the wall, a feeble attempt at making the room feel more homey.

A long, plan table stood in the center of the room. There were three green chairs positioned at its edge, with two on one side facing the other. A boy sat at one of the two, staring blankly at his lap. He had cropped dark hair and dark skin like Lucas’s. He didn’t say anything when El took a seat next to him.

The doctor cleared his throat and took his seat across from the two teenagers. He held two manila folders stuffed full of documents, which he positioned neatly in front of him on the table.

“Alright, well, that looks like everyone.”

El glanced around the barren room. It was just the three of them. Her, the doctor, and the boy. This was… the group?

Ruth had promised there would be other kids there, other kids who had experienced the same things she had. Where had all those other children went? Her and the boy, they couldn’t be the only ones, right?

El suddenly felt very alone.

The doctor spoke again. “Can we go around and introduce ourselves?”

Neither of the two answered, and after several moments of silence, the doctor sighed. He had a defeated looking face, as if the years of sitting around with sullen, traumatized teenagers all day had taken quite the toll on him.

“Alright, I’ll start. My name is Dr Mendoza, but you can call me Daniel. I’m an employee of the Department of Energy, and I have worked with several of your caregivers and attendants in the past.”

El’s jaw twitched involuntarily. She knew all of her therapy was government backed, but just hearing the name of the organization brought back memories. She could feel her heart beating steadily beneath her chest, the sound filling her ears and causing her breath to catch.

“I know the both of you have gone through a lot as a part of our research, that of which has negatively impacted your mental state. However, I believe what we are doing here will help you to process what you have experienced, and I am looking forward to getting to work with you to discuss any complicated emotions that have come up. Any questions?”

The boy raised his hand smugly.

“Yes?”
“What time do we get outta here?” He asked, smirking slightly.

The doctor sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Three-thirty.”

The boy checked his watch, groaning.

The doctor smiled thinly, a vain attempt to hide his grimace. “Now, Bill, would you mind introducing yourself to our newest member?”

“Fine.”

The boy, Bill, turned to El with a roll of his eyes.

“My name’s Bill, like he said.” He paused. “What else d’ya want me to say?”

“Name, age, and the reason you’re with us would be fine.”

“A’ight. I’m Bill, sixteen almost seventeen. And I’m here…” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, doc, I’m here by no will of my own. I’m from New York, you see,” He said, looking at El. “I got caught up in some ‘program’ while I lived on Long Island. In Montauk, to be exact.”

El had never been to New York. And she had never heard of any other “programs”, either. She didn’t know how she felt knowing Papa was apart of a larger picture, one that extended beyond Hawkins and the lab. Did that mean… there were other labs too? Other special kids like her? There must’ve been, seeing as Bill was sitting there right in front of her, as alive and real as she was.

“They did stuff to me there. Stuff… I don’t really like to talk ‘bout. Anyways, that’s all over now, and now I’m here, forced to listen to this shit.” He gestured with his thumb towards to doctor, smirking at El. “Guess I’m not out of the storm yet.”

Dr Mendoza smiled tightly. “Thank you, Bill.” He turned to El. “Jane? Would you like to go next?”

Seeing as she was the only other person in the room, El didn’t see any other choice.

“My name is Elev-“ She stopped herself. “Jane.” She looked down at the tattoo on her wrist, then decided she had nothing to hide here, not in this place. “My name is Eleven, my friends call me El.” She held up her wrist, tattoo glinting in the fluorescent light.

“Papa gave me this, when I was born. In Hawkins.”

“Papa?” Bill snickered.

“Quiet, Bill.” Dr Mendoza hushed, frowning at him.

El’s face flushed red. “D-doctor Brenner. He was…” El stopped again. What even was he? Her doctor? Her captor? Her father?

Whatever. She shook her head and continued. “I was born there, in the lab. My home. Papa-“ She caught herself, avoiding Bill’s glinting eyes. “Dr Brenner made me… hurt people.”

Dr Mendoza nodded, tapping his pen against his chin. “When you say hurt people, Jane, how do you mean?”

El blinked, unsure how exactly to answer that. “I… can do things. With my mind.”

Bill burst out laughing.

“Bill!” The doctor said angrily.

“Sorry, sorry Doc.” He chuckled, smiling to himself. “Just funny, that’s all.”

Dr Mendoza’s eye twitched, and he sighed again. “Please continue, Jane.”

“He made me find people. Bad men. And… listen. Tell him what they said.”

“But what did you say before about hurting people?”

El exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. “Sometimes he wanted more. I had to…” she blinked back tears. “Break them.”

The doctor scribbled on his clipboard, nodding to himself. “Could you go more into detail for me, Jane?”

El sighed. “He made me kill. And if I was bad, and I didn’t listen, he put me in the room by myself. In the dark. It was called…” She breathed shakily. “The isolation room.”

Bill cleared his throat, and El looked up.

“Do you have something constructive to add, Bill?”

“Yeah, doc. I do.” He bit his lip. “I actually get what you’re talking ‘bout, y’know. When I was… in the program, they wanted me an’ the other guys to take our shots at hurting people. Usually Soviets, but sometimes other Americans.”

Dr Mendoza coughed lightly. “Don’t get too deep into specifics now. Remember what we’re doing here, and what you’re allowed to disclose in front of other patients.”

Bill huffed. “Well if I can’t talk about that, what else are we s’pposed to talk about, then? The weather?”

“This is a warning, Bill. Behave yourself.”

“No, man. I’m done sittin’ quiet for you folks in the white lab coats with the clipboards and the tasers. It’s not fair, I should be allowed to talk about it!”

Dr Mendoza stood up, looking angry. “We have cameras in here, Bill. Don’t make me report you. I can call security with the click of that button.” He pointed to an angry looking red button next to the wooden door. Above it stood the camera, red light blinking with life.

“You… had to hurt people too?” El asked, eyes widening. “I’ve never heard of any programs in ‘Mon-talk’. Papa didn’t tell me.”

“And I’m sure that the other Doc didn’t either. Owens. D’ya know him?”

El nodded. “He didn’t tell me anything. That- that there’s other kids out there, and… other doctors.”

Other men like Papa, El thought to herself, cringing at the thought. Meeting another person like Papa was one of her worst nightmares. At least she had the reassurance that he was dead, and not coming back anytime soon. It was the only thing that kept her going most days.

The doctor marched over to the button on the wall, fuming. “I told you kids to knock it off. I’ll be forced to suspend this session if you don’t cut it out!”

Bill ignored him, focusing all of his attention on the pale-faced girl before him. “Oh sure there’s other doctors. I dunno how big this “Project Indigo” thing is, but I got no doubt there’s more programs.”

“Indigo?” El asked.

The name of the project was new to her. In all honesty, she’d never actually known the exact premise of the experiments she’d been involved in as a child. She was sure it’d had something to do with something called “MKUltra”, as that was word she’d overheard several times from Hopper while he was whispering away on the phone. She’d also heard it from her Aunt Becky, when she’d visited Mama all those years back.

“I dunno much about it, but that’s what we’re apart of. Right Doc?” He asked, smiling cockily at the doctor who stood fuming in the corner.

“That’s it, Bill. This is your last warning.”

“Or what, old man? You gonna lock me up again? Shoot me up with your experimental needles?”

The doctor snapped just then, and his palm slapped against the button. “I warned you, young man. But now you’re going to learn your lesson.”

Bill stood up, rebellious smirk wobbling. “Shit Doc, you’re really gonna put me through this again?”

Dr Mendoza smiled cooly. “These are the consequences of your own actions, Bill. You deserve this.”

El felt chill prickle her skin. It was as if Papa was back in the room with her, torturing her all over again with his threats. She looked to Bill, eyes wide with fear.

“Bill, no, I can’t-“

Dr Mendoza interrupted her smoothly, hand still on the button. “Don’t worry, Jane. Our guards are not coming for you, not today. Bill, on the contrary, should know better by now. He’s a veteran of our program, to say the least.”

The door banged open suddenly, and two large security guards burst into the room.

“Jesus, Doc. Don’t do this.”

Bill was roughly spun around by a guard, and his wrists were forced behind his back where they were promptly cuffed. El winced at the clink of metal, slowly backing up against the wall and away from the table with the green chairs.

“Doctor..?” She asked tentatively, her blood in her veins coursing with fear.

“It’s alright. I’ll take you into the waiting room now, and we’ll see if we can resume with our meetings next week. Hopefully by then Bill will remember to be mindful of our rules.”

El could only watch as Bill was dragged from the room by his shoulders, pleading with the guards all the way.

“Aw come on now, I was only kidding around. I can’t go back there, I’m serious! I swear I’ll be good, Doc. Please. Please!”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

Dr Mendoza adjusted his glasses, gently resting a hand on El’s shoulder as he guided her from the room. “We have a special place for dealing with patients like him. Similar to your “isolation room”, as I recall from your notes.”

“No…” El murmured, stopping in her tracks. “Not again, not again.”

“Come along, Eleven.” The doctor said, nudging her forward. “You won’t be going back there, not if you work with us.”

“I want to go home now,” she said forcefully, twisting her shoulder away. “Where is my mom?”

Dr Mendoza’s jaw tightened, but he nonetheless pointed in the direction of the waiting room. “Will I see you next week?”

El bit back the urge to spit at him. But she held her tongue, turning away wordlessly and heading straight for the door, and out of this place, this new prison. And she didn’t look back, either.

Chapter Text

Salt Lake City, Utah, March 1986

“Is this… it?” Mike asked, squinting at the screen over Suzie’s shoulder.

Argyle and Jonathan glanced at each other nervously, unsure of what exactly they were looking at.

The “website”, or whatever it was called, looked simple enough. The screen looked completely black, with the overlayed words appearing to be printed in electric green—a similar layout to that of the computers at school. At the top of the page, it read, United States Department of Energy: User Login. Below that, there were just two empty text boxes: username and password.

“Can someone read the username out loud?”

Will took the scrap of paper and began to read slowly, pausing after each letter and number and looking at Suzie expectantly.

“Now the password.”

Mike crossed his arms as Will read steadily from the scrap. He’d played Nintendo, sure, but that was the extent of his computer knowledge. Dustin was significantly more qualified in that arena, sending a pang of sadness through Mike’s heart. He missed him greatly, along with the rest of the party.

“Does that look right?” Suzie asked, looking up. Will read off the screen, glancing down at the paper as he did so to confirm they matched.

“Yeah, that should be it.”

Suzie sighed. “Here goes nothing.”

With a click of the keyboard, she pressed enter. The entire room held their breath as they waited for the screen to load, staring at the swirling loading icon intently.

“Jesus Christ, what if it doesn’t work…” Jonathan muttered under his breath.

“Language.” Suzie snapped.

“It’s gonna work,” Mike said assuredly, brows creasing as he stared at the screen.

Suddenly, a new text bubble lit up across the screen: access granted.

Will breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

The text bubble then disappeared, revealing behind it a seemingly infinite catalog of files.

“Fuck,” Mike breathed. “That’s a lot of files.”

Suzie dragged the scroll bar down, eyes narrowing in concentration as she took in the vast amount of information before her. The files seemed to go on forever, with more and more appearing each time the page reloaded. Their names weren’t much help either. Most were strange combinations of words and numbers with not much sense to them.

“Aelesund0725.47. Aalii1946. Aaron397.38. What the hell does any of this mean?” Jonathan asked as he read off the screen.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Suzie said, shaking her head. “This is a government website, isn’t it? I've never seen a video game like this before.”

“Suzie-“

Realization suddenly set in. “Are you guys lying to me?” Her eyes were wide with shock.

“What?” Mike looked towards Will for help. “No, no! It’s all… apart of the game! It’s like, secret agent themed.”

“Cut the crud, Mike!”

Mike laughed nervously. “What?”

“I know you’re lying! Amerintendo doesn’t even sound real.”

Will stepped in front of Mike. “Look, Suzie. You’re right. The truth is… well, it’s too hard to explain right now because we don’t have a lot of time. But I promise, this is important.”

Suzie crossed her arms. “Well, I guess you’d better get talking.”

Mike bit his lip. “It’s our friend. Dustin’s friend, too. She’s in danger. Like, life or death danger, and this is our only way to find out where she is.”

He took a deep breath. “Please, Suzie. We need your help. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Suzie appeared to be thinking it over, but Mike still held his breath. “Well… I guess if it’s life or death. You said this was Dusty-Bun’s friend?”

“Yeah, Dusty-Bun’s.”

Suzie looked back at the computer. “All right. Just… tell him to call me, okay? As soon as he can.”

“Of course, sure. Will do.” Mike said, half smiling.

“But there’s still a problem.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “What is it?"

Will put a hand on her shoulder. "We’ll do anything, Suzie, we swear.”

“Have you even seen how many files there are on here? How am I supposed to get through them all?”

Will glanced down at the paper in his hands, thinking hard. The agent had wanted them to find something; otherwise, why would he have given them his pen? It was his dying wish, his last words to get them to this place. His last words…

“Indigo.” Will said quietly, interrupting her.

Mike looked up. “What did you say?”

Will shook the paper, holding it up. “Indigo, remember? That’s… that’s the file name.”

“Shit,” Mike whispered. “You’re right. Suzie, search ‘indigo’.”

Suzie double-clicked, pressing the shortcut to search the files by name. She quickly typed the word, waiting as the screen reloaded to reveal a single file: Indigo1959.

***
NINA, April 1986

El lay on her bed on her back, hands folded atop her stomach as she stared up at the ceiling. If she let her vision blur and relaxed her mind enough, she could almost convince herself that she was back in Mike’s basement. It was her safe place, the place she went to in her mind when things were bad. Scary.

She could imagine the rain on the window panes outside, the way the cool moonlight would stream through the curtains illuminating the hardwood floor below. If she were there right now, she would curl up and sleep under the blankets of the fort, comforted by the warm glow of Mike’s nightlight.

El eased herself off the bed, an idea suddenly occurring to her. She dragged Papa’s chair from the corner of the room to the side of the bed, turning it around so that it faced away. With a tug of the grey blanket on top, she had stripped the bed to its sheets.

El draped the blanket over the back of the chair and the bed, making a sort of canopy for the floor below. She took her pillow, bringing it with her underneath the blanket. It wasn’t the same as Mike’s fort (definitely less comfortable), but she could imagine the rest. Clutching the pillow against her chest, she curled in on herself on the hard linoleum floor, bare legs shivering against the chill of the room.

She missed the piles of blankets that Mike had supplied her with when she first came to stay with him all those years ago, when she was newly a runaway, away from home for the first time. Home. She cringed inwardly at herself for calling it that, at the thought of the lab being her home. When she was younger, that’s what she had called it before she knew better of the word.

Now, home was her house in Lenora Hills with Joyce, Will, and Jonathan. Home was also in Hawkins, at Hopper’s cabin, where she’d stay up late watching Johnny Carson and eating waffles with Hopper. But most of all, home was with Mike. With all of her friends, in general. Home was Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas, and Max. Wherever they were, she felt safe. As long as they were together, El knew nothing could happen to her.

Because the truth was that home wasn’t a single location. That’s what she had been missing when she was just a kid, and the only home she’d ever known was the lab. Papa used to tell her she belonged there, with him. That the lab was her home, and he was her Papa, and they were meant to be together forever. And because she was so young, she didn’t know any better than to believe him.

But now that she had seen the outside world, met her friends, found a family… She knew he was wrong. This was not where she belonged, like a guinea pig. A lab rat. And she suspected he knew it now, too.

He had taken everything from her, so he thought. But El knew deep down that she still had one thing left to call her own, one small shred of hope keeping her tethered to the outside world.

She still loved her friends more than Papa could ever even begin to comprehend. And they loved her back. Even when they were apart, El could feel them. She could feel their love inside of her, not through her powers, but through her heart.

The bond the party shared was far deeper, far more human than any of the supernatural abilities El was lucky (or unlucky) enough to possess. She didn’t need to use her powers to feel them there with her, because her heart just did so on its own. Despite being separated by miles of Earth, walls, and even state lines, she still felt as though they were together, just as close as if they were standing in the same room.

That was how El knew she had found home. Because she could feel it, in the deepest and most hidden crevices of her heart. She loved Papa, in a dark, complicated way. But the love for her friends was different. Where Papa was darkness, they were light. As warm and pure as the sunlight on a summer day.

So in the dark, under her thin blanket with nothing but a pillow to call her own, El felt warm. She felt loved, and she felt safe. The warmth came from within her, illuminating her body with a soft golden glow and protecting her from the dark, unlit corners of her room.

She closed her eyes again and this time, was able to see Mike’s basement clearly. She was back under the blanket fort, her fort, El's fort, as Mike had called it, and Mike was sitting beside her.

She leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. She could smell the laundry detergent his mom used on all his clothes, and the shampoo he used to wash his hair. He smelled like Mike, exactly as she remembered him.

It was as though she really had been transported out of the silo and back to Hawkins, Mike’s house, the place she truly belonged. The NINA, the shots, the drugs, Papa… all of it was behind her now, far away and of no concern to her. Because as long as she had Mike, she was safe. Safe from harm’s way, and happy. Finally happy.

El fell asleep like that, curled up on the floor beneath her makeshift blanket fort. Her goosebumps melted away as her dreams filled with visions of home. Hawkins, Mike, the party, and Hopper, too. Family. El smiled as she slept, clutching the pillow tightly against her chest. It was the best sleep she had had in ages.

***
Salt Lake City, Utah, March 1986

“That’s it, it has to be,” Jonathan said, leaning over Suzie’s shoulder.

“Click on it, Suzie.”

Suzie clicked, mouse hovering over the icon as the screen buffered. Finally, after a few seconds, the file loaded to reveal a document entitled “University of Hawkins, Indiana, Research Proposal for Project Indigo”.

“It’s… a research proposal?” Will asked, brows furrowing.

Suzie nodded, scrolling down a bit. “For the University of Hawkins. And it looks like the author is… a researcher, Dr Martin Brenner, PhD.”

The room was silent. The gaunt faces of Mike, Jonathan, and Will, told Argyle and Suzie everything they needed to know. This was bad news for their friend, the girl—bad news for all of them.

“N-no way. That’s impossible, right?” Mike asked, eyes wide with panic.

Will shook his head. “Not impossible. This… was 1959, right? Almost 30 years ago.”

“Who’s this Brenner dude?" Argyle folded his arms, squinting at the tiny font of the document. "Not a cool guy, I take it.”

“No,” Jonathan sucked his teeth. “Not a cool guy. Very uncool guy.”

The entire room froze as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs.

“Darn it, Cornelius! Leave the breaker alone!”

Suzie whirled around in her chair, eyes wide and panicked.

“Father’s coming! You need to go, quick!”

“Wait, hold on,” Mike pointed towards the laser jet. “Can you print this?”

Suzie nodded and double-clicked, pressing print with the mouse. The printer beside the computer whirled to life as pages upon pages spewed free from its open mouth. Will gathered them up in his hands, holding the stack tight to his chest as Jonathan whipped the door open.

The group of teenagers sprinted down the stairs and past the very confused Mr Bingham.

“H-hey! Who are you kids?”

Racing outside, Jonathan unlocked the van and hopped into the front seat with Argyle close behind him. Will and Mike situated themselves in the back, waving to Suzie who stood perched in the open doorway of the house.

“Good luck!” She called out, waving as the van sputtered to life.

Jonathan turned around, hand on the steering wheel. “To Hawkins now, right?”

Mike nodded, dark hair glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the open windows. “Right.”

Will spread the documents out on his lap, rifling through the pages as he skimmed them. These documents had to be the key to where El was. They had to.

***
NINA, April 1986

El awoke to find Brenner towering above her, frowning slightly at the now halfway-collapsed blanket fort.

“I see you’ve taken apart your bed.”

El scrambled to a sitting position, rapidly blinking away the sleep from her eyes and tugging down the hem of her hospital gown. She hadn’t meant to doze off on the ground with her fort still standing and her room in disarray.

“I’m sorry, Papa, I couldn’t sleep…”

He plucked the blanket from the back of the chair and began to fold it in his hands.

“Was it because of our fight last night?”

El looked away, biting her tongue.

“I didn’t feel good about it either, Eleven.” He set the folded blanket down on the foot of the bed. “You must be angry with me.”

She shook her head, not wanting to admit anything that could be used against her. That response seemed to please him.

“I was angry at you for disobeying me, and it was for that reason that I acted harshly. But I apologize, Eleven. And I hope you can forgive me.”

“No," El sighed, knowing the drill. "I’m sorry, Papa. I… was bad.”

“Daughter,” he extended a hand towards her, and she took it, reluctantly.

Papa helped her to her feet, squeezing her small hand before pulling her into a hug.

“We both must learn to control our tempers.”

El closed her eyes, burying her face in his chest. The fabric of his dark suit was rough against her cheek, and she could smell the faint hint of cologne on his neck.

“I hope that much can be agreed upon.”

She sensed a brief hint of a smile in his words. At least he wasn’t angry anymore. That much was a relief.

“Yes, Papa.” She said quietly.

He released her from the hug.

“I forgive you, Eleven. But I cannot excuse you for making a mess of your room.”

El’s shoulders tensed.

Papa took the chair from her bedside and turned it around so that it faced her. “I am going to sit here and watch you clean up. I think that’s a fair enough punishment, wouldn’t you say?”

Absolutely.

El internally let out a sigh of relief, relaxing. “Yes, Papa.”

He took a seat, leaning back and crossing his arms as he watched her. El bent down to pick up her pillow, neatly propping it up at the head of the bed. She straightened out the sheets as he watched her, burying her pride as she did so.

He cleared his throat. “What were you doing anyway, Eleven? I can’t imagine the floor was too comfortable.”

El stopped, unsure of how to answer him. He didn’t like it when she talked about her friends, Mike especially. It was as if, in Papa’s mind, she was still a little girl who had never ever left him. He liked to pretend that was the case, anyway.

“Pretending,” she said simply, not turning around to face him. She smoothed the sheets with her hands before reaching for the blanket and spreading it out over the bed.

“Pretending, were you?”

She didn’t answer him, instead choosing to focus all of her attention on tucking the blanket in as neatly as she could.

“Look at me, Eleven.”

El stopped again, and turned, slowly. His arms were still crossed, and he had a faint smirk on his face. She didn’t want to look at him, to see the joy in those cold blue eyes as he played with her head.

“What were you pretending?”

She took a deep breath and looked away.

“Mike’s house,” she said softly. “Basement.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah. I see.”

She closed her eyes, cheeks flushing. “I couldn’t sleep. It helps me… to pretend.”

“If you are having trouble sleeping, we can adjust your medication, then.”

“No,” she looked at him, eyes pleading. “No more medication.”

“You are the one who said you were having trouble sleeping. I don’t want you lying awake at night, or having to rearrange your room in order to rest.”

El fidgeted with the hemline of her gown, avoiding eye contact.

“Do you need your ankle cuff again?”

She looked up abruptly, and immediately shook her head. “No, not that.”

“Then I suggest you stay in your bed at night. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He stood up. “And I’ll let your doctors know that we need to increase the dose of your night medication, at least until your sleeping habits improve.”

“Please, no…”

He moved the chair back to the corner of the room. “Your medication is here to help you, Eleven. You won’t get better if you resist treatment.”

She shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

He turned back towards her, and gestured to the bed. “Sit down.”

She let out a resigned sigh and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t look at him as he took his seat beside her, causing the mattress to sink slightly under his weight.

“Eleven-“ he started, putting an arm around her shoulder. She wasn’t resistant to his touch, but wasn’t particularly welcoming either.

“I want you to be able to trust me. As your doctor, and as your Papa, I know what’s best for you. Whether you like it or not.”

She stared down at her knees, unable to bring herself to look at him.

“You are my daughter, and I love you more than anything. I know I ask a lot of you, and it isn’t always fair, but I need you to trust my judgment.”

She knew his word was final, and there wasn’t much use fighting back. She knew that if he wanted her to take one drug or another, she wouldn't have a choice in the matter. The same went for whether he wanted her cuffed or chained up or not. It was his will, not hers.

“You,” his voice was shaky now. El looked up, not used to witnessing actual emotion from him.

“You are my family. My child.”

El closed her eyes, blinking back tears.

“Everything I do, I do for you.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, allowing him to hold her. He squeezed her tightly, kissing the top of her shaved head.

“Papa…” her voice broke.

“I know, I know.” He gently pulled her onto his lap, nestling her deep in his arms.

El closed her eyes, allowing herself to feel small again, taken care of. She could worry about her escape later. But right now, she was okay. Safe, in his arms. He wouldn’t hurt her.

Maybe, she allowed herself to think, maybe last night had been the last time, for real. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt her again. Maybe things would be different.

She could only hope.

Chapter Text

Lenora Hills, October 1985

El’s room was quiet.

It was late, the clock nearing a quarter to midnight. El couldn’t hear voices coming from the kitchen downstairs - Neither Joyce’s hushed tone over the phone as she struggled in vain to sell encyclopedias, nor the sound of music gently emitting from Jonathan’s boombox.

No, it was quiet. The world was asleep.

Well, everyone except for El, that is.

Her mind had been ruminating again, a common occurrence now that her friends weren’t a constant distraction from her state of mind. El was trying to force herself to close her eyes. She had school the next day, and had to be up early so as not to make her brothers late. Again.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. 2000 miles away. 2000 miles away. 2000 miles away.

That’s how far she was from the lab, from any remaining memories of Papa. She’d been trying to remind herself of that every time she had another nightmare. Those vivid dreams of him chasing her had gotten more frequent lately, as did the ones of the isolation room.

A week ago, fed up with 3 consecutive restless nights of nightmares, El had tacked up a post-it note tp her bedroom door. 2000 miles.

Will had asked her what it meant, and she’d shrugged off the question. It was just a number, that was all. No special meaning. He’d raised an eyebrow in skepticism, but didn’t pry. Will was good about knowing when to back off.

El lay atop her comforter, shaking slightly as she bit back tears.

Bad memories had been stirring up again, making her throat clench and her veins constrict in pain. Sometimes they were just overwhelming. And her brain, for whatever reason, was able to trick her body into thinking that he was still alive and waiting for her.

She knew it was impossible. But still the bad thoughts came.

“I don’t want to go back,” El whispered softly, wincing as the words left her lips.

You’re not going back, her rational mind whispered back. You’re safe here. 2000 miles away, remember?

El shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn’t believe it. There was no way it was all truly over.

No one is going to hurt you here. You’re in your room. In your house. Not his.

She sat up, blinking away tears. She could feel a tension headache coming on.

With her eyes open it was easy to see that she was in her own room, her own space, with a lock on the inside of the door instead of the outside. A room she wasn’t a prisoner in, and a place where she wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was a bit surreal in all honesty, a new kind of safety she had never experienced before. Years ago she wouldn’t have though it even possible, a world where she didn’t constantly have to be on guard and ready to fight.

It was probably for that reason that her mind couldn’t accept it.

This wasn’t right, she couldn’t trust her surroundings. He had to still be alive. She was still in danger. The lab could decide at any moment that they wanted her back, that they’d made a mistake letting her go. She couldn’t let herself relax.

Reality was unstable, and if she looked away for a moment too long, she could stumble and fall back to where she started from. That dark place she’d been born in, raised in, trapped in for as long as she could remember.

She gripped the sheets tightly in her fists, balling them up as her blood pumped with fear and rage. She wiped away a hot tear with the back of her hand, collapsing back upon her bed.

It was so different, so much more painful, knowing that this is what she could’ve been having all those years she suffered. None of it had to have happened, her mistreatment didn’t do the world any good. As much a Papa would have liked her to believe, she did not deserve any of it. And after 15 years, she was just realizing that now.

He was coming back, she’d open her eyes and she’d wake up back in the lab.

She didn’t want to fall asleep and go back to that place.

Stupid girl.

In her dreams, she was still a prisoner of her past.

So she’d stay up late, fighting sleep with books she struggled to read and journals she’d rip pages from when the words just wouldn’t come. At school she’d fight to stay awake, fearing the harsh rapping of the teacher’s knuckles on her desk if she did end up drifting off.

You’ll never be safe.

She curled in on herself like a paper on fire, all goosebumps and tears as her body wracked with sobs.

Her most recent nightmares were simple, but equally terrifying. She’d go to sleep in her room as she did every night, but when she’d open her eyes, she’d be back. She’d wake up in her hospital gown in that cold white cell she was humiliated to call her own.

And that was the dream. She’d wake up in a cold sweat, cheeks damp with tears. Nothing had happened, per se. But it was the knowing that something would that made her mind implode, unable to handle the absolute terror that that bedroom installed in her.

Her worst fear was going back. Even more so that the demogorgon, or the upside down.

How fucked up was that?

That her greatest nightmare wasn’t a Lovecraftian monster from another dimension, or even the other dimension itself. El had had to learn earlier than most that worst of the world revealed itself in the form of man, not nature. Humanity was far more terrifying than anything belonging to the natural world.

El knew that better anyone.

***
Springfield, Missouri, April 1986

They’d been driving for two days now. March turned into April, and the sprawling willows and maples dotting the horizon were blushing pink with fresh buds. Jonathan drove with the windows down and the music up, taking in the warmth of spring.

It was sunset, half past seven. Will was fighting back sleep same as the rest of them. They’d been trying to make as little stops as possible, meaning everyone was constantly on the verge of exhaustion. Was this a safe decision? Will knew it definitely was not. But they were on a mission - get to Hawkins, reunite with the rest of the party, and ultimately find El.

Will glanced at the rearview window, frowning. The black Ford Mustang had been following them closely the past 30 minutes, and Will was growing suspicious.

“Jonathan?”

His older brother reached for the radio, dialing back the sound of The Clash blasting through the speakers.

“What’s up?”

Argyle was fast asleep in shotgun, his snoring much more apparent without the sound of the music to drown it out. Mike blinked back sleep, yawning.

“Have you noticed that car behind us? It’s been following us for half an hour.”

Jonathan craned his neck, checking the rearview. “Fuck. Are you serious?”

Mike turned around, peering over his shoulder through the rear window.

“The black car?”

Will nodded.

Jonathan sighed, and turned his signal on.

“I’m gonna pull over, let him pass.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Mike’s voice wavered slightly. “Then what?”

“I… don’t know.”

Jonathan merged right, then right again. His blinker lit up one last time before he pulled off onto the shoulder of the interstate, and slowly rolled to a stop.

The car was silent. Mike turned around again. “I don’t see him.”

Jonathan looked backwards, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift.

Argyle suddenly lurched awake with a snort. “We there yet?”

Jonathan ignored him. “Will, are we good?”

Will rolled down his window, sticking his head outside. The warm breeze ruffled his hair, the sky a watercolored canvas of red, blue, and violet.

He opened his mouth to answer, feeling relief that his concerns were nothing. But as he glanced back one last time, he saw it. The car was now right behind him, rolling to a stop just a few feet away from their bumper.

“…Fuck.”

***
NINA, April 1986

El was back in her room.

She’d been training all day in the NINA, reliving old memories and training sessions. Practicing with her abilities so that she would one day be able to fight One.

But Papa had been growing impatient with her.

“You need to try harder, Eleven. You’ve grown lazy. Spoiled.”

Tears stung her eyes with each cruel word. She’d been trying her best, her body weak with exhaustion and mental fatigue. The NINA hurt her. Her heart ached more often now, not just from the sadness and sense of longing she’d grown accustomed to. Dr Owens had warned Papa weeks ago about the toll the machine would take on her body. But he didn’t seem to care. One was the most important thing to him.

Every time El came back from a failed training session - whether it had been by her own refusal or a physical incapability to complete the task at hand - Papa would punish her.

Sometimes he sent her back to the isolation room, where she’d relive those hours spent in the cold metal box of her youth.

Other times it was the shock collar, but that only lasted a few moments. Papa would bring her to her room, shutting the door behind him so that she couldn’t see the horrified faces of the doctors and orderlies outside. They knew what he did to her, but never did a thing to stop it.

El didn’t expect them to. She’d grown used to their complacency.

When Papa used the shock collar on her, he’d hold her down against the bed and fasten it around her neck while she cried. She tried not to, and had gotten better at holding back her tears, but sometimes the emotional betrayal was just too much to bear.

It wasn’t the physical pain that hurt her the most. She knew that was hard to believe, especially for someone who had never been in a situation as complex before. But in reality, the worst pain she faced was emotional, seated deep in her heart and pulsating through her veins like liquid poison. It was as though the very makeup of her body was bruised.

The fact that Papa could hate her so much - truly, truly hate her - that was what cut the deepest. It pained her to know that the man who claimed to love her more than anyone else in the world could hurt her so deeply. And all in the name of love.

He’d only shock her three or four times in a row, stopping after each one to watch her pained expression and the tears that seeped from her clenched eyes. He’d kneel down next to her, and hold her face in his hands. His cool touch on her cheek was more of a shock to her skin than the electric current. He’d shush her gently, caressing her cheek and wiping away her tears.

“You need this, Eleven. It’s the only way that you’ll learn.”

Other times he beat her.

El tenderly lifted a hand to her cheek, wincing slightly as her fingertips made contact with the bruise. The doctors who took her vitals averted their gaze, refusing to look her in her blackened eyes. Sometimes she went into her appointments with a split lip, or a bruised nose. Small cuts always covered her arms, but the entire silo knew it wasn’t Brenner who inflicted those.

El shivered in the dark beneath her thin blanket. The ache was back, as it always was when she reminisced on memories.

“You can’t dwell on the past, Jane. It’s called the past for a reason.”

Those were words that swam through Ruth’s office, whispering to and taunting her from every corner.

But the past hadn’t passed. Every day, every moment, every waking second she lived with those memories. That was her cross to bear, that as well as the hell she always had to look forward to the very next day.

She turned over, burying her face in her pillow. She screamed silently, allowing her rage to pour from her body and into the thin pillowcase.

The nightmares she’d been assured were over now, the sleepless nights she’d spent sobbing in fear of waking up in that wretched place again - they had come true.

Nightmares weren’t things of the dark, strange conjurings of a restless and traumatized mind anymore. No, they were very much alive and breathing.

***
Springfield, Missouri, April 1986

Reggie unbuckled his seat belt and adjusted his sunglasses, squinting into the hazy twilight.

Surfer Boy Pizza. Bingo.

The door opened with a click, and Reggie stepped outside. Orange dust kicked up around his black loafers, the clouds drifting behind him as he approached the van. He rapped twice on the window, holding up his badge.

“FBI, open up.”

The teenage boy in the driver’s seat looked utterly terrified. His unkempt brown hair was greasy and matted, and dark circles bruised the hollows of his eyes.

The boy rolled down the window, eyes wide with fear. Reggie took note of his fearful posture and the way his right hand never left gear shift.

“W- what do you want?”

Reggie proceeded calmly. He didn’t want to scare the boy. “I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle, sir.”

“Do you work for the lab?”

Ah. That’s what he thought this was.

“No, sir. Please step out of the vehicle.”

Reggie then took notice of the other boys. An older teenager with long black hair and brown skin sat shotgun. His eyes were slightly red and there was a bit of dried saliva clinging to his chin.

In the back sat two younger boys. One had mussed black hair and fair skin, the other an unfortunate brown bowl cut. All of them looked utterly exhausted, and equally petrified with fear.

“I’m only gonna ask one more time. Out of the vehicle, now.”

The oldest boy glowered at him, cursing under his breath before removing the key from the ignition and opening the door. The other boys followed suit, avoiding Reggie’s gaze and looking around nervously, as if searching for the nearest possible escape route.

“You can’t arrest us, we haven’t done anything wrong,” the boy muttered.

“Who said I was arresting anyone?” Reggie chuckled. “Loosen up a bit. We’re on the same side.”

The younger boy with black hair spoke up suddenly. “This is crazy! Who the fuck even are you?”

“Woah, cool it, junior. All your questions’ll be answered shortly.”

“We know our rights,” bowl cut said quietly. “You can’t do this.”

Reggie reached into his pocket and removed a small spiral notebook and black ballpoint pen.

“I’m gonna need your names, if that’s alright.”

No one answered.

Reggie cleared his throat. “Alright then, I’ll start.” He flashed his badge again, along with his 24 karat smile that earned him usual comparisons to Robert Redford. “Reggie Rivera, FBI. Born and raised in South Bend. Indiana native.”

“Indiana?” That was bowl cut.

“Yes sir. Now that you know who you’re talking to, it’s only fair I get to know the same.” He pointed at the oldest boy, the one with the angry eyes and greasy hair. “You start.”

“Jonathan Byers.”

“Ah, Byers! That rings a bell.”

The boy, Jonathan, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘rings a bell’?”

“Your family’s pretty famous around my part. Your mom is…” he flipped through the notebook, searching for the name. “Joyce. That’s it.”

Jonathan crossed his arms. “She’s away on business.”

“So I hear. And this must be…” he turned to bowl cut. “Will Byers, am I right?”

The younger one nodded.

“The famous Will. Disappeared back in ’83, declared dead, then alive again. I’ve read up on all your records. Fascinating stuff.”

The older boy with long dark hair stuck out his hand, his glassy eyes suddenly present.

“Argyle. Nice to meet you, man.”

Reggie smiled tightly, grimacing at the boy’s sticky grip. “Argyle… haven’t heard that one before.”

“You still haven’t told us why you’re here,” the other boy said darkly, brown eyes glowering. “Do you have something to do with those soldiers who tried to kill us?”

“Me?” Reggie laughed. “God no. Your friends, Agents Harmon and Wallace, they’re my team.”

Something changed in the boy’s expression at the mention of those names.

“Speaking of which,” Reggie said cautiously, sensing the tension. “Might you have any idea where they could be?”

Jonathan breathed out shakily. “They’re dead.”

He should’ve suspected as much. A week of radio silence, what other explanation was there?

Reggie sighed. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

“The army killed them, when they raided our house. We didn’t get to know them much.”

Reggie nodded. “I’m surprised you’ve made it all the way here all on your own. That’s impressive, you’ve got my respect for that.”

The black haired boy rolled his eyes. “We’re not going with you, if that’s what you’re thinking. We’ve got our own shit to deal with. Cleaning up your mess.”

Reggie flipped open the notebook again, searching for the name. “And you must be… Wheeler.”

“Mike. Not a pleasure.”

Reggie smiled, sliding the book into his pocket. “Look, Mike. I understand why you might not trust me, and I completely understand your hesitancy. But I need you to work with me.”

Mike took a step back.

“Why should we trust any of you? It was you who took El away. You who stormed our house and tried to kill us.”

Will put a hand on Mike’s shoulder in solidarity. “That’s right. We’re not going anywhere.”

Reggie slipped his hands into his pockets. “Do you know a Dr Sam Owens?”

The boys’ ears perked up at the mention of that name.

“He took El,” Mike breathed.

“Have you seen him?” Will asked. “Where is he?”

“That we don’t know. It’s been several weeks since we’ve last had contact with him, which is why it is vital that you come with me.”

“Why?” Jonathan asked angrily. “So you’ve lost him, that’s what you’re telling us? So El’s just alone with that psychopath Brenner, and you can’t do a fucking thing?”

“My team has never been in support of working with Dr Brenner’s. That was Owens’ decision, not mine. But it’s my job to pick up the pieces, and that includes you.”

“It was Brenner trying to kill us, wasn’t it,” Will said softly. “He doesn’t want us finding her.”

Reggie nodded solemnly. “Yes, the attack was ordered by Dr Brenner as far as we can tell. But it was Colonel Sullivan who carried it out.”

“Who the hell is Sullivan?” Mike demanded.

“Colonel Sullivan is the current head of our Pentagon faction. He’s… not good news for your friend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jonathan’s eyes were dark with fury. “‘Not good news’?”

“As much as our research suggests that it is not your friend behind the Hawkins killings, there are certain groups who believe otherwise.”

“Killings?” Will raised his eyebrows. “W-what do you mean killings?”

“So you haven’t heard,” Reggie said sighing.

“No shit we haven’t heard! No one tells us a goddamn thing!” Mike’s eyes were dark with fury.

“I promise I’ll explain everything, I just need you to come with me.” Reggie eyed the boys carefully. “Please don’t make this difficult.”

“In your dreams,” Mike spat. “You’re crazy if you think we’ll come with any more of you government freaks, after what you did to El.”

Reggie knew he needed to be sympathetic. These kids had survived through more than any child, scratch that, person, should ever have had to experience. They’d lived through more near-death experiences than should even be possible. And the girl… Reggie’s heart ached for her. A 16-year-old human lab rat confined to a prison still unknown to everyone but her captors. Reggie knew Owens’ reasoning for banding together with Brenner’s men. But still… he had to have known the risks. And now Owens was missing without a trace, and the girl had practically vanished off the face of the earth.

“I want to find the girl just as much as you do,” Reggie said sincerely. “Please believe me when I say that her safety is my utmost priority.”

Mike scoffed. “You really don’t get it, do you? None of you get it! She’s a person. A person! Not some experiment or weapon!”

Will’s gaze was cold. “She’s my sister.”

Jonathan nodded. “Mine too.”

“She’s a cool chick, man.” Argyle added in solidarity, his expression just as fierce as that of the other boys.

Reggie took a deep breath. These kids were more stubborn than he had previously expected. But he had a job to do, and a promise to hold up with Stinson.

“Have you boys heard of something called ‘Project Indigo’?”

Mike and Will looked at each other, both sharing the same sentiment.

“F-from the pen…” Will murmured.

Reggie raised an eyebrow. “Pen?”

“Your colleague left us a message,” Jonathan said haughtily.

Will carefully reached into his back pocket, his hand emerging with a thick rolled-up bundle of papers.

Reggie blinked. “You… you have the documents.”

“Harmon gave them to us,” Mike said. “His last words before he died.”

Reggie reached for the bundle hesitantly. “May I?”

Will reluctantly handed them over.

He unfolded the documents, rifling through the papers. Pages upon pages of experiment details were listed below, including the names of participants - both willing and not.

“How much do you know?”

Jonathan shifted uneasily. “Not much. We haven’t had much time to really read through it.”

Mike took a step forward, lips clasped together in a thin line. “But that’s what all of this is, isn’t it? Project Indigo. That’s what the lab was.”

Reggie sighed. “Yes and no. Eleven is a subject in the project, yes. Not the only one, of course, but she is a key component.”

“So it’s still happening.”

“Technically no, the project officially ended in 1985. And as far as the public is concerned, it never happened.”

Mike crossed his arms. “And I’m sure you want to keep it that way.”

“Me?” Reggie shook his head. “You’re getting me confused with the real enemy. I’m apart of Dr Owens’ team with Agents Stinson, Harmon, and Wallace. I am just as much against Dr Brenner as you are.”

Jonathan shoved his hands into his pockets and began to pace. “So you really don’t know where she is.”

“I’m working on it, I can promise you that. But what I’m most concerned with, right now, is your safety. You are just as crucial to this equation as she is.”

“The army’s still after us, aren’t they,” Will said softly.

“Exactly.”

Mike stepped in front of the other young boy. “We’re not just getting in your car and letting you lock us up too! We’re going to Hawkins, and that’s final.”

Reggie put his hands up as if it were evidence of his harmlessness.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say anything about where I was taking you. I’m perfectly happy to give you a ride to Hawkins.”

Jonathan looked up. “Really?”

Reggie took a step towards the car, holding open the passenger seat and gesturing inside.

“Of course. I have a colleague I need to introduce you to, who is very excited to meet you. And a lot we need to discuss.”

Mike seemed hesitant. “You have to promise, though, that you’ll tell us everything.”

Will nodded. “No more secrets.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Reggie looked embarrassed. “You boys shouldn’t have been kept in the dark so long. You deserve more than that.”

“Damn right we do!” Argyle said, smiling lopsidedly. His eyes were a very angry shade of red, his pupils large and dilated. Reggie chose to ignore this fact, seeing as they had bigger issues to deal with.

“Can you give us a moment?” Jonathan asked, holding up a finger.

Reggie nodded curtly, unlocking the car door and choosing to spend the last few minutes on the shoulder of the interstate flipping through his notebook in the driver’s seat of the car.

After a brief discussion in private, and several minutes of arguing over where each bag would go and who was sitting where, the boys were ready.

Will looked to Jonathan for reassurance one last time before stepping into the backseat of the car.

“It’s okay, bud. I think we can trust him.”

“But what if-“

Jonathan hugged his brother suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere to Will. “I don’t think we have any other choice.”

Will squeezed him back, accepting their fate. “Okay.”

And so the bags were slung into the car, a total of four duffel bags and one large plastic Safeway bag of chips and other junk. And of course the purple palm tree delight.

Reggie glanced back one more time as he shifted the gears into drive.

“Onwards and upwards, boys.”

Chapter Text

Hawkins, April 1986

The day Billy died was the day Max died too.

Her life became an endless cycle of waking, eating, sleeping. Repeat, and repeat again. It was like she blinked and it was suddenly April. Summer was long gone, as was fall and winter too. School was a blur of cloudy, sunless days and lectures she could barely remember.

She slept the entire winter away. She remembered November, the crunch of the brown autumn leaves under her still blood-stained vans and that nostalgic smell that distant snow had, coming in from the north. Then suddenly it was December, Christmastime, the last week of school before winter break.

At that point it had been weeks since she’d last spoken to Lucas, Mike, or Dustin. They were busy with dungeons and dragons or basketball or whatever it was that boys did. She knew they cared about her. Lucas would occasionally leave messages on her answering machine assuring her that she could talk to him, and that he missed her.

But as the weeks went on, the spaces between each message grew farther and farther apart. By January, they were barely talking.

Max spent all of winter break alone in her room. Her mom was picking up doubles nearly every night now, so the hours Max spent alone increased exponentially.

She stopped turning on her fairy lights at night, and her record player began to gather dust. Her Walkman sat atop her desk, the batteries long dead. The small silver trash can that stood ever present under her desk was filled to the brim with crumpled schoolwork, most of which she hadn’t even attempted.

Her math grade was just barely pushing a D, and biology was no better. Only freshman year and she was practically flunking high school.

January turned into February, although Max barely noticed the difference. It was just as cold as it always was during midwestern winters, with the grey sludge of leftover snow piled up on the sides of the road and the wind that cut like blades of steel.

On Valentine’s Day Max opened her locker to find a bouquet of tulips from Lucas. A handwritten note was attached to the stem, a sheepish apology for the weeks of no contact.

Sorry. Still miss you. Lucas.

She didn’t know why she was crying, but the tears came quick. Max ditched first and second period that day, retreating to her usual bathroom stall, second from the right, the one farthest away from the door.

When she got home that day, she rediscovered her Walkman and some of the old tapes she’d left buried in the old moving boxes under her bed that she never bothered to unpack. Kate Bush was at the top of the stack, which Max figured would do for now. She could always pick up some more at Melvald’s later on.

The week after the Valentine’s Day incident Max got her first notice from Ms Kelley. She was sitting in second period when all of a sudden the loudspeaker crackled to life, and she was faced with the mortification of being ordered down to the counselor’s office in front of all of her peers.

Slack legged and blushing, Max shoved her Walkman into the jacket pocket and slung her brown backpack over her shoulder. She could feel Lucas’s eyes boring into the back of her neck as she made her way to the front of the class, rimmed with pity. But she still didn’t acknowledge him.

And so she sat silently in Ms Kelley’s office, week after week for her mandatory “mental health check-ins” that her mom had requested after seeing her latest report card. Max was constantly reminded that this wasn’t going to look good for colleges, and that she needed to start thinking about her future. Like she gave a shit.

According to Ms Kelley, Billy had died in the mall fire along with countless other Hawkins residents. In this version of rewritten history expertly put together by the Hawkins Department of Energy, Max never watched him get ripped to shreds after he gave his life to save her and her friends. There were no questions asked as to why a body was never recovered, not even the vague remnants of charred bones.

No one seemed to care that Will and his newly adopted sister had suddenly packed up and moved across the country when everything Mrs Buyers had ever known was located right in their small town. And the old sheriff was swiftly replaced after a decently sized memorial service held in his honor at the end of the summer. It was like the town wanted to forget, scrub their memories clean from the painful past and look towards the future.

People just moved on, it seemed.

Max had been advised over and over again by her mom, her teachers, Ms Kelley, that she just needed to move on. The rest of the world had, it seemed, but not her. Even her friends (or, ex-friends, to speak truthfully) seemed just fine now, as if none of it had even happened. Mike and Dustin had their DnD club with that senior freak Eddie Munson (who had somehow been attending the same high school since before Max even knew what a demogorgon was), and Lucas, of course, had basketball.

It might as well have been called sporty bible-study with the amount of religious freaks on that team. Jason what’s-his-name, he was team captain. Tall, blond, charismatic Jason, with his tiny wisp of a girlfriend Chrissy Cunningham.

Max had the same biology period as her, sitting exactly two rows behind her and across the aisle. Her perky blonde ponytail gripped Max’s attention with each passing period, and she’d made it a habit to keep tallies on how many times a class Chrissy would flip it back over her shoulder.

She was so effortlessly beautiful, so freaking perfect. Max grit her teeth together with each girlish giggle, fighting to keep from rolling her eyes every time Chrissy would raise her hand to excuse herself to the restroom.

It happened at least twice a class, or at least often enough for Max to take notice. She was probably excusing herself to makeout with Jason under the bleachers, like all the popular girls did with their hunky boyfriends. It was gross, honestly. The obsession with each other.

Max was surprised she didn’t shoot herself on Valentine’s.

March, however, was when things started to pick up.

Max was feeling it for sure. Sudden headaches started plaguing her throughout the day. On more than one occasion she’d found herself in the middle of a quiz with the sudden sensation of liquid dripping from her nose and large droplets of blood staining her formerly blemish-free scantron.

She wasn’t sleeping well, either. Nightmares of that night filled her mind the moment she closed her eyes. She didn’t understand why this was all happening now. After months of feeling nothing, barely able to remember her death at all, she was suddenly reliving every detail, every emotion, all over again.

Ms Kelley said this was normal with trauma. That sometimes the mind waits months, even years, until it feels safe to start processing difficult memories. Max nodded along with her, agreeing to talk to her doctor about maybe starting sleep medication. Even though she had no intention of doing any such thing.

The last time she saw Chrissy in school was in the bathroom. She’d followed her down the hall and into the girl’s room one morning, not expecting to find much. Maybe to catch her smoking a cigarette or two, or meeting up with some of the other cheerleaders to ditch class.

What she didn’t expect were the sounds of vomiting, the choking sobs that came from the seemingly perfect girl’s small bow shaped mouth. Max stopped in the doorway in utter shock, not knowing whether she should try to help or not.

“A-are you okay?”

Chrissy choked back a sob, coughing. “F-fine!”

Max took another step forward. “I- I can help. If you want.”

“Just leave me alone!”

***
Now it was April.

The visions had been coming for almost a month now since they first started back in March, before spring break. Chrissy’s death had been the spark, the catalyst for all of the chaos that had fast ensued. Max, of course, had reacted poorly upon receiving the news that Eddie was being framed for murder. Chrissy’s murder.

So she’d teamed up with Dustin all the while Mike was off frolicking around California with Will and El, completely oblivious to the festering love-triangle he was the center of that was oh-so obvious to the rest of the world. They met up with Steve and Robin, and somehow, against all odds, managed to find Reefer Rick. They’d reconnected with Nancy in the wake of the death of Fred, some newspaper kid who met the same demise at Chrissy.

Nancy helped with the lead to Victor Creel and the old Creel house in northern Hawkins, where they learned about Vecna, the overlord from the Upside-Down hellbent on taking over the world. Just normal Hawkins things. Nothing they hadn’t dealt with.

Now, once again, they were facing demons. After Billy, Max had prayed for it to be over. The monsters, the portals, the lab. And it seemed to be, for a little while anyways. All she had to worry about that winter was the nightmares, flashes from the past and memories that haunted her.

But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss it a little.

The camaraderie, that sense of purpose she carried when she was fighting with her friends. It was honestly a nice distraction from the emptiness she felt inside, the hole that Billy had left.

And Vecna, to no surprise, took advantage of that. He fed on her insecurities, the survivor’s guilt that plagued her mind during restless nights spent lying awake, reliving every moment of that wretched night all over again. She knew her time was running up, that she was next on Vecna’s list. So she took it upon herself to write letters to everyone in her life that she knew she’d miss. Her mom, Lucas, Dustin, Steve. Even one for El, tucked behind her pillow when she realized it would be stupid to send it with absolutely no context.

Hey Pal, remember me? Your ex-best friend you haven’t talked to in eight month? Yeah, just writing to say hey! I’m probably gonna die in the next week, just a heads up. Well, whaddya gonna do?

It was stupid. And embarrassing. Why hadn’t she called more? She promised she would, and she never stopped thinking about El. She loved her, with all of her heart. Last summer was both the best and worst time of her life, and mostly because of El. Well, the good part, that is. Obviously.

The letters. The last one was for Billy, some dumb attempt at the closure she was never able to get. She’d been too choked up at the funeral to talk, and never had the heart to tell her mom what had actually happened. There was probably some NDA out there forbidding her from doing so, anyway.

Aside from Billy’s death, that day made her “top ten worst things to ever happen to Max Mayfield” list. Vecna’s cave, lair, whatever it was, was the stuff of nightmares. The pain in her head, her mind, the feeling of being so close to death she could practically kiss it. She couldn’t describe what had happened, what he had made her feel, to anyone else. It was like all the guilt she carried, the guilt everyone had assured her she wasn’t responsible for, was her fault. She could feel Billy’s blood on her fingers, her prayers for him to go away or just die already ringing true in her mind.

The scariest thing about Vecna was that he showed the truth. Survivor’s guilt was bullshit. It was murderer’s guilt she carried.

Fast forward to the Creel house, the same day Patrick lost his life. Using their flashlights to guide the way, they managed to track Vecna down and confirm his presence. He didn’t stay long though, because the moment night fell they received a horrifying call from Eddie - Patrick was dead, and Jason thought he had killed him.

Now Max’s life was more entangled with Jason and Chrissy’s than she ever would have liked it to be. She was lonely, yes, but content watching the popular kids from afar and rolling her eyes at them behind their backs, not admitting to herself that she was secretly daydreaming about what it would be like to be them. Now she was investigating their murders, and trying to keep a new friend from finding himself with a life sentence in prison.

They managed to find the gate beneath Lover’s Lake, Max with Kate Bush steadily playing in her ears to keep Vecna’s visions at bay. Steve was sucked in, Nancy quick to follow. Max was quick on her feet and managed to distract the cops, to buy them some time. As she stared out the window in the back of the cop car, Dustin and Lucas squished in beside her, she thought back to her visions. Vecna wasn’t gone, and he definitely wasn’t going to leave her alone. Patrick’s death seemed like more of a threat than anything, promising her that he’d be back.

After Steve, Robin, Eddie, and Nancy returned from the Upside Down (mostly) unharmed, they decided they needed to wait. Find Mike, find El and Will, and figure out what the hell they were supposed to do now. Now they knew Vecna’s plan - that he was inevitably going to destroy Hawkins and with that everyone in it.

***
A week later, Max found herself at the Wheeler’s house once again.

“Guys!” Dustin yelled, slamming his fists on the countertop. The chatter stopped abruptly, silence filling the room. “We can’t beat him, okay? It’s suicide.”

“Then what else are we supposed to do?” Robin demanded, standing up. “Just lay down and die?”

“I thought better of you, Henderson,” Eddie sighed, clucking his tongue.

Max shook her head. “No, he’s right. We can’t take him on ourselves. I’ve seen how powerful he is, and believe me, it’s suicide.”

Nancy sighed. “I saw it. He… he showed me too.”

“But we can’t just let you die, Max,” Lucas said, grabbing her hand suddenly. Max flinched, yanking it away abruptly. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “But you’re not gonna be our martyr.”

“That’s very honorable, Lucas,” she rolled her eyes, hiding a smile behind her disdain. “But I’m not sure what else we’re supposed to do.”She felt a tapping on her ears. “Hey!”

“We keep the music playing,” said Dustin from behind her. “He can’t get you if you’re tethered to reality, right?”

“That’s not gonna work forever,” Steve sighed. “Kate Bush is only a temporary solution.”

“That’s why we need El. She’s who he wants, right? She’s the only one who can take him.”

Max readjusted her headphones. “Has anyone heard from Mike?”

Eddie cocked his head towards Nancy. “Well, Wheeler?”

She bit her tongue. “No, I haven’t. My parents said Mrs Buyers had some… business trip, I guess, and had to leave town for a few days. I assume the kids are at home, though.”

Steve put a hand to his forehead. “So… you’re telling me you haven’t heard from your brother in over a week and aren’t a bit more concerned?”

“Not even your parents?” Robin asked, eyebrows raised.

Nancy looked flustered. “They’ve got a lot going on, okay? I’m sure he’s fine. I’ll… try him again tonight.”

Dustin groaned, flopping himself atop the sofa. “So Mike’s missing then, great.”

Max looked up, eyebrows knit together in concern. “Do you think El’s okay? What if Vecna-“

“No, no,” Steve shook his head. “I don’t think he can travel distances like that. I mean, right?”

“We don’t know anything!” Lucas exclaimed suddenly. “He could, we have no idea!”

Robin put her hand on the table. “We need to calm down, okay? Just, everyone, take a deep breath.”

Nancy stood up. “I’m going to make some calls. Everyone… just stay here. I’ll be back.”

Max watched the older girl walk away in a huff. Lucas’s comment had gotten her thinking. Could Vecna have gotten to El? There’d been no contact from the California crew since Mike left almost two weeks ago. She didn’t know what was more concerning, the fact that his parents couldn’t seem to care less or the silence on its own.

A knock on the door upstairs made the entire party jump, conversation coming to a screeching halt once again.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder. “Who is that?”

Steve and Dustin blinked at each other, before quickly ushering Eddie into the blanket fort once reserved for El. “Don’t move,” Steve hissed, tossing a blanket over his mop of curly brown hair.

Eddie rolled his eyes before ducking beneath the blanket. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Harrington.”

Muffled voices came from upstairs, prompting worried glances and hushed whispers across the room. Max’s knuckles were white against the tabletop, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. It couldn’t be the police, could it? How could they know Eddie was here? They’d been so careful, laying low and keeping him out of sight. And she could’ve sworn she was alone when she broke into Ms Kelley’s office at school.

The sound of footsteps creaked overhead.

Max braced herself for gunshots, shouts, her mind primed to the carnage she had grown used to. But the voices remained low, and the footsteps slow. The basement door creaked open slowly, causing her to inhale sharply.

“Hello?” A female voice echoed down the stairs. As the woman descended, Max took note of her polished appearance and the large, golden badge she held out in front of her almost as a shield. Her hair was dark and cropped short, not typical for a woman of her age. She looked to be mid-forties, with frown lines creasing her brow bone.

“I’m Agent Stinson, FBI. I’m here to talk to you about your friend, the girl. Eleven.”

***
NINA, April 1986

It was late at night, and El’s room was dark.

For the past few hours she had only been pretending to be asleep. It was quiet, the silence unwavering. The perfect conditions for what she was about to do. Her ankle was no longer chained to the bed after her last punishment. It seemed Brenner was confident enough in the effects of his discipline to allow her to sleep untethered.

Although, he had warned her that if she tried anything, anything at all, she would be strapped back to the bed faster than she could blink.

El opened her eyes, taking a moment to adjust them to the darkness of the room. She sat up slowly, pushing the sheets to her knees. She slid off the bed, careful not to creak the floor with her footsteps. She had specifically worn socks that night to make sure her footfalls were silent.

She held her breath as her feet touched the floor. But to her relief, the linoleum tile didn’t give. Carefully she made her way to the sink, twisting each knob to the max. The faucet ran steadily, and she made her way back to the bed.

El sat cross legged on top of the rumpled sheets, closing her eyes and exhaling softly.

She allowed to mind to focus on the sound of the faucet, taking in the darkness and allowing the vision to come to her.

The headache came fast, the pressure in her ears and sinuses swelling until they suddenly popped, as if she’d been a passenger in an airplane that had just landed. She’d only been on a plane once in her life, coming to California from Hawkins. It had frightened her, and she hated the headache it gave her.

She opened her eyes, feeling the warmth of her tussled bedsheets beneath her legs fade away into nothingness. She was standing now, still wearing her white hospital gown and white cotton socks. The ground squished beneath her clothed feet, a texture that was neither wet nor dry, material nor abstract. Her pale white arms were dotted with goosebumps, the chill of the void a shock to the system.

She stepped forward carefully, feeling for him. Mike, her Mike, the boy who’d occupied her entire world the past three years of her life. His vibration was warm and glowed gold like summer sunlight, not in color but in sensation. She could pick him out in a crowd full of people with her eyes closed easily.

He wasn’t in Lenora Hills, or California at all for that matter. She could feel him there, distantly. Imagining his face, his ivory white skin and large dark eyes, she could see his face in the darkness. As she walked forward again, she felt him. It was strong now, she had almost found him.

Another familiar sensation was there too, an energy she’d been asked to find years ago when she was fresh out of the lab and newly a runaway.

“Will?”

Her voice echoed across the void. It was so empty there, like a vast cavern deep beneath the earth’s surface. He was there too, she was sure of it. She walked towards the warmth, following the energy until she was almost able to make it out with her bare eyes.

There.

She saw him sitting there, his curly black hair mussed and uncombed, shrouding his face and keeping his eyes from meeting hers. He was sitting on what looked to be leather, a seatbelt unbuckled across his lap. Will was next to him, head resting against the invisible glass of a car window.

That must be it, they were driving. But where? Mike said he would wait for her, in California. Why were they in a car?

A male voice spoke from the distance, startling her.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I swear on my life that every word is true.”

Mike’s voice. “Yeah it’s a lot to take in. I just… don’t understand how he could do this.”

The rest of the car materialized into place as the voices grew stronger. Jonathan was riding shot gun next to an older man who looked to be mid-forties. He had wavy, closely cropped dark hair and a 5 o’clock shadow just beginning to shade his jaw. He was wearing a slightly undone black suit, no tie, with the collar spiffed out. A pack of cigarettes was just visible from his lapel pocket, noticeably halfway empty.

El realized there were three boys in the back, not just two. Argyle, Jonathan’s friend from school, was crammed into the middle seat between Mike and Will. On his lap was a stack of documents he was urgently flipping through as though he couldn’t believe what he was reading.

Will spoke up. “So the murders, they’re all connected to this… Henry, guy?”

Henry? How did Will know about Henry?

“We think so, yes. He’s currently hunkering down in Hawkins, from what I’ve heard. In the old Creel house. That’s what I’ve gathered from my partner.”

Will sighed, glancing down at the papers in Argyle’s lap. “Can I see those for a second?”

Argyle handed them to him without a second thought, his red-rimmed eyes starring blankly ahead. It felt like months since she’d last seen him.

“November 1st, 1959. That’s when this all started, right?”

“Yes, the day after the Creel murders. That’s the day the project officially began.”

Mike spoke up, rubbing his nose with his knuckles. “I don’t understand what this has to do with MKUltra though. Didn’t you say that started in, like, the early fifties?”

The man in driving nodded. El leaned in closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the documents Will now held.

“’53, to be exact. All of it is connected. Indigo is a spin-off, a sub-project, of sorts, with regards to MKUltra. Henry wouldn’t have even existed if it hadn’t been for that.”

“And,” Mike muttered, a distant look in his eyes. “Neither would El.”

Her heart thumped loudly against her chest. Indigo… that sounded familiar, although she couldn’t remember where she had heard it before. Not from Papa, surely, but somewhere. But this meant Mike hadn’t forgotten about her, hadn’t moved on. He was looking for her, coming to save her from her prison like a knight in shining armor. She was his Snow White, a princess in a casket locked away from the rest of the world. Only his kiss could save her.

That was a stupid delusion to feed into and she knew it. She’d been practically self-sufficient most of her life, unable to trust anyone around her not to turn on their heel and kill her. Papa had nailed that instability into her, making it nearly impossible for her to trust her own life in anyone’s hands but her own.

But it was nice all the same. She couldn’t escape alone this time, not with desperate Papa was to hold onto her. She needed his help, just as much as she needed her own.

But what did it mean? Why did he say she wouldn’t exist if not for Indigo? She had a vague idea of what MKUltra was, Hopper had explained it lightly before. It was the experiment her mother participated in in college, and the reason she had her powers. But if what the man said was true, One had already been born by the time the program started.

“The girl is one of the later generations of Indigo subjects, like the rest of the children housed at the Hawkins Laboratory. Henry, though, was the first. Brenner’s brainchild, if anything. His trial run.”

Jonathan spoke up. “But how could he do something like that to a kid? The amount of risks there must have been, how wrong it all turned out…”

“It’s hard to wrap your head around, I know. I myself don’t know how someone could do that to a child.”

He took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Really, I don’t. And to your own son, nonetheless.”

She froze, waiting for any sort of confirmation that what she just heard was false. Because it couldn’t be true. It was impossible. One- Henry-

No.

No. No. No. No.

Chapter Text

NINA, April 1986

El’s eyes sprang open at the sound of her door opening.

Mike was gone. Her eyes burned with the sudden sensation of light flooding in through the open door. The lights to her room were flicked on, the fluorescents forcing her to clench her eyelids shut once again. She shielded her face from the light, wincing at the sound of shouts and footsteps invading her space.

“Really, Eleven?”

It was Papa.

“Just as I thought we were getting somewhere.”

He looked like an angel, she thought weakly. With the light from the open door behind him creating a sort of halo, and the distorted echo of his voice hammering against her sleep-deprived ears, there was something sort of biblical about him.

He slapped her across the face, breaking her trance.

El yelped, falling backwards across her cot. The door was slammed shut outside by a nearby orderly, leaving her alone with him - Papa - the monster.

She curled her legs up in on herself, shielding her face. The water continued to run steadily from the faucet, but Papa seemed too preoccupied to notice. He stood beside her bed, his dark halo-lit shadow towering down over her. His arms were crossed at his chest, and the vein at his temple twitched.

She didn’t understand. It was too much to even begin to comprehend. One? Papa?

No.

It was impossible. He wouldn’t lie to her like that, would he? And he wouldn’t keep his own son locked up like that… like a monster.

She suddenly felt a tight squeeze on her shoulder, wincing in pain.

“I’m talking to you, Eleven. You will listen-“ He pulled her forward, yanking her shoulder hard enough to leave bruises in the imprints of his fingers. “When I speak to you.”

El’s bottom lip quavered, and he let go of her. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Where did you go?”

She closed her eyes.

She felt his hands on her shoulders again, shaking her.

“Answer me, Eleven!”

A tear trickled out from beneath her closed eye. Her lips parted, and she softly asked, voice barely above a rasp, “What is… Indigo?”

His gaze darkened. “What are you talking about?”

She bit her lip.

“Answer me!” He barked sharply, his voice splintering her eardrums.

She choked back a sob as she shrunk backwards again, shoulders caving in on her chest as if to protect herself from harsh words of his anger.

“I heard it! I heard it!”

She glanced down at his hands by his sides, and noticed with a sinking realization that they were balled into fists, trembling with rage.

“From whom?” He asked darkly.

“I don’t… know.” Sensing his displeasure with her answer she quickly added, “a man. In a car.”

“Who else was in the car?”

She couldn’t tell him. He’d find them somehow, and hurt Mike. Besides that, El knew she was forbidden from contacting any of her friends through any means. She didn’t know what sort of punishment secret communication would bring.

He struck her then, flat across the face. She coughed out a sob, covering her face with her hands as she curled away from him.

“Stop, Papa… don’t-“

She shrieked as he grabbed her by the collar of her gown, dragging her off the bed and towards the door. He banged on the glass, shouting at the orderly to open. El pulled at his grasp, gasping and struggling to get away.

“Test me one more time, Eleven,” he hissed.

As the door slid open he pulled her forwards once again. Grasping both of her shoulders he spun her around so she stood facing him.

“Handcuff her.”

Her wrists were immediately seized by the orderly behind her and cuffed roughly behind her back. With a hand to her neck he pushed her forwards, forcing her to walk.

“Where are we going?”

He ignored her question.

“What is Indigo?’

He turned to her sharply. “What you don’t know has always been for your own good. But of course you weren’t satisfied. No, you never are.”

His grip tightened on the back of her neck, and he resumed his brisk stride.

She was led down another long corridor, shoved forward every few steps whenever Brenner deemed her pace too sluggish. Her cheek throbbed where he had hit her, and her neck began to ache beneath his harsh grasp.

Then, suddenly, they stopped. An orderly stepped in front of the two of them, swiping his key card against the unmarked metal door. She was shoved forwards again, thrust into the darkness of the cavernous chamber.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to become adjusted, but when they did, she saw the staircase descending below them. An orderly took Papa’s place with his hand on her back, and gruffly led her down the stairs into a very familiar room.

***

The glass cage still smelled like dried blood - coppery and sweet with decay. A reclining exam table stood positioned in the center of the room, a bright white overhead light aimed directly onto it.

She was led through the door by the orderly, and ordered to remain still as she was lifted atop the table.

“Don’t do this, Papa,” she breathed shallowly, eyes wide with fear.

The orderly stepped close to her, blocking her view of Papa. She could smell his cologne - a cheap Ralph Lauren knock off. She could imagine him dabbing it against his cheeks that morning as he dressed in his white uniform for work. She wondered if he had kids back home, and if he ever thought of them when he looked at her. Maybe he had a daughter, a little girl with long hair who wore lace dresses instead of white hospital gowns.

He wrapped his arms around her body, one hand coming to rest upon her breast and the other under her knees. Her blood ran cold with realization, and she was left frozen with fear, unable to do anything to stop him as her hands remained cuffed behind her back.

She swallowed back a sob as she was lifted, her body held close to the man’s chest. Papa would carry her like this when she was tired, usually after her punishment was over. She tried to imagine it was Papa holding her, not this orderly with his hand upon her breast - who she now hoped didn’t have a daughter.

Finally she felt the back of her thighs collide with the cold leather of the examination table. She had goosebumps now, and the man must’ve noticed as he smirked, taking his time to release her body from his grasp. Her head was laid back against the table, knees bent and feet resting at the edge. The sharp metal of the handcuffs dug into the soft skin of her wrists beneath her back, and she was left wishing she could move them.

She gazed at the ceiling, trying not to think as the orderly buckled the leather restraints around her ankles and across her chest.

Papa pulled up a chair by her feet, sighing as he took a seat. He smiled kindly at her tearful eyes, gently lifting a hand to stroke back her closely-cropped hair.

“I want to help you. You deserve to know the truth, and you’re old enough to hear it.”

El turned her face away from him, gritting her teeth. “You never tell the truth.”

He pulled her head back towards him, grip on her sheared hair tightening. “Who told you about Indigo?”

She bit her lip before his grip on her head became unbearable. “I can’t tell you,” she said. “You’ll be angry.”

He released her from his grasp and sat back in his chair, sighing. She watched him as he reached into his lapel pocket and removed a package of newly opened cigarettes.

She stayed silent as he opened the package and removed a cigarette from the cardboard carton. With a quick nod to the orderly by the door, a lighter was presented to him and the cigarette swiftly lit. El watched as the lightly flaming paper curled back to reveal the sweet smelling clove of the cigarette.

What was he playing at?

Her heart thumped against her chest as he took a long drag of the cigarette, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke float from his lips. “Who did you see?” He asked again, flicking the cigarette with his index and middle fingers and letting the hot ash flutter to rest on her bare arms.

She inhaled sharply as the ash hit her skin.

He paused for a moment, waiting for her response. When none came he sighed again, shaking his head and chuckling softly, as if she was a disobedient toddler refusing to explain a mysterious stain on her clothes. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.”

The cigarette made contact with her shoulder in that instant. The burn came with a slight delay - she had just the time to register that the cigarette he once held against his lips was now pressing against her upper arm before the fiery pain shot through layers of burned skin.

El shrieked, thrashing against her bonds. “Stop it! Papa!”

He pulled the smoldering cigarette away, face expressionless. “Tell me, Eleven.”

“Please, I can’t-“

He snapped at the orderly for the lighter, and swiftly lit the cigarette again. “Last chance.”

“A man! W-with Mike and Will,” she sobbed, teeth still grit together in pain. “In a car. Driving.”

Papa’s eyebrows raised. “Mike Wheeler? He’s escaped?”

“W-what?”

Papa cursed under his breath. “It is vital to me, Eleven, that you describe the vehicle and location of this vision. For your own goddamn safety, you will tell me.”

She lay trembling on the examination table, completely and utterly helpless. Maybe if she told him he would let her go, and she could warn Mike. He’d get the answer out of her somehow, no matter how long or how painful the process. Papa was dedicated.

“There were trees, big roads. Sunny. I don’t know where.”

Papa’s eyes flicked towards the orderly nervously, then back to her. “And the car?”

“Black. N-not big. Not like Hopper’s or y-yours.”

Her eyes watered as she watched him stand and converse quietly with the orderly by the door.

After several minutes of this, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Papa,” she called, voice straining. “I answered your questions, now you mine.”

He whispered something once more to the orderly who promptly picked up his hand radio and muttered something into it. Papa returned to her bedside, the lighter still gripped in his hand.

“So you want to know the truth, is that it?”

She nodded, lip trembling.

“You are Indigo, Eleven. As were your siblings. And as was… Henry.”

“And who is Henry?” She demanded, voice starting to break.

“I think you know who Henry is, Eleven. Henry is my son.”

***

Lenora Hills, February 1986

El lay in her bed after school. The sunlight was fading as the clock neared 6. She longed for winter to be over, for spring to come. She’d only ever experienced two before, and it had been the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

Mike had taken her up through the fields where the wildflowers coated the grass in the summertime. The white buds were just beginning to dot the branches of nearby trees, and the cheerful chirp of robins could be heard from all around.

California winters were a special kind of dreary. No snow, not much rain. Just clouds, cool dry winds, and runny noses galore.

El wiped at her nose with the back of her wrist. She’d been feeling bad again, and not just from the flu going around at school. It was getting harder to pay attention to her teachers’ droning, harder to smile at familiar faces in the halls. At lunch she barely had the energy to talk to Will, even less so to raise her hand in any class past 10 am.

This past week she’d been given two warnings for dozing off in class. It wasn’t like she wasn’t sleeping enough - she ended up laying in bed at 9 o’clock every night staring at the ceiling and pretending she didn’t have weeks worth of late schoolwork to get through.

Other kids talked about Friday parties on Monday mornings. They complained of hangovers, regretful make-out sessions, and migraines. El stayed quiet. She’d never been invited to anything of the sorts, not even a birthday party. She didn’t blame them. She was weird. Quiet. Who’d want the freak at their sweet sixteen?

She started skipping school more often. She was already behind anyways, what harm could a couple of absences do? She could feel Will’s judging stares at the back of her neck every time she excused herself to the restroom backpack in tow, ignoring the giggles of Angela and her posse.

One lunch period she snuck into the Spanish teacher’s empty classroom and swiped a pad of hall passes. And so she began to hand out expertly filled in excuse notes every time she had a class with any of the kids she didn’t like.

She’d sit outside in the winter chill, shivering in her hand-me-down coat and second-hand scarf. Occasionally the football players would blow spit-balls at her hair on their way to gym class, but she’d pick them out without saying a word. It wasn’t worth getting upset over. She’d put up with worse, a little spit ball wouldn’t hurt.

Usually it was after school that the bad memories would resurface. When she was alone in her room, after dinner when she’d excuse herself from the nightly news with Joyce to work on “homework” by herself.

She often wondered to herself if she’d ever feel better. The danger was over, she was safe now. The only monsters lived in her own psyche. She didn’t have to fight her own battles anymore. But for whatever reason, that reassurance didn’t help.

She’d still wake up in cold sweats, screaming at visions of the isolation room and the bruises that would come from Papa’s fists. It was stupid. Weak. He was dead, he couldn’t hurt her anymore. Why was she so sensitive?

She knew she needed to move on. Joyce said it, Ruth swore on it. But for whatever reason she couldn’t. And deep down, deep inside her heart in her most protected place, she knew she didn’t want to.

She held onto that piece of herself like a lifeline. Because if she didn’t have her pain, she didn’t have anything. Who was she if she didn’t have Papa? Or even the demogorgon? Or Hawkins?

El turned over in her bed, internally groaning at the return of the ache in her heart. She wished she could just forget already. But every time she wanted to relax, take some time to herself, the memories came back in full force.

She sometimes stared longingly at the bottles of pills that decorated her bedside table. Pills to help her sleep, to not have those thoughts, pills to make school more bearable. Sometimes, and this was never something she would admit to anyone ever, she prayed to someone up above to give her the courage to swallow them all at once and just be done with it.

The hardest part, she had to say, about healing, was the realization that none of it mattered. She wasn’t special, no one saw her as brave or even tragic. The truth was, none of what happened to her had had to have happened. The world wasn’t a better place, and by no means was she stronger.

El curled her legs up against her chest, breaths becoming more shallow and sharp as the ache in her ribcage grew, spreading to her fingertips. She mourned the girl she could’ve been had she just been allowed to live without consequences. That girl might’ve gotten good grades, enjoyed reading and roller skating, been popular.

But because of the selfishness and cruelty of someone completely out of her control, that life had been snatched away from her from the moment she took her first real breath.

She stared at the piles of unopened books on her desk and the stacks of incomplete homework assignments. It was just too much energy to force herself to read them. She was already behind, and already stupid. What did it even matter?

El turned over in bed, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand. She wanted to tell Joyce how she felt, but she didn’t think she would understand. Or maybe even phone up Ruth, just for reassurance that someone was listening. The truth was that no one was, and no one cared. Times like these, as embarrassing as it was to admit, she missed Papa.

Yes, it sounded insane, because of course she hated him.

But at the same time, he made her feel special. And loved. Like she was important, and needed, even if it came at the expense of her own health and wellbeing.

She reached under her pillowcase for something she’d been carrying with her for practically forever. It was a faded discolored polaroid taken years ago, back when she had still been too young to understand Papa for what he had truly been.

Her younger self stood next to him, rumpled hospital gown falling just below knobby knees. Her hair was gone. Papa had told her it was necessary her hair stayed shaved. She never questioned it.

She traced his face with her finger, running her skin over his tight-mouthed face and neatly combed white hair. Even the folds of his suit were nostalgic. She could still feel the rough but warm fabric against her cheek from when she would bury her face in his chest.

She wiped a tear from her cheek, not wanting to stain the photograph. It was all she had left of him, now that he was gone. She didn’t understand why she missed him so, knowing he was the single root cause of all of her problems. It was a paradox, her predicament.

***
NINA, April 1986

She felt numb. The bright white spotlight felt hot upon her face and only added to her disorientation. Her ears were ringing, drowning out the sound of his voice.

“Eleven. Eleven!”

Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, and her breath came quick. The light was too hot and the bonds too tight. She felt as though she had been submerged under water with bubbles filling her lungs and throat, leaving her lost in the darkness and unable to scream.

She felt movement by her feet and chest.

“Eleven!”

The bonds had been loosened, and she was now forcibly sitting up on the table. Papa had both his hands on her shoulders, and was looking at her with a face of concern.

“Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

She nodded weakly, swallowing the lump in her throat. She was parched. When was the last time she had been given water?

As if he could read her mind, a plastic cup was held to her lips.

“Sip.”

She obeyed him, drinking all of the liquid, which tasted like water and was cool enough.

She turned her cheek when she was finished, unable to lift her still cuffed hands to push the cup away. Papa took the cup, setting it on the ground beside him. He brought both of his hands to her face, smoothing her cheeks.

“My daughter. You scared me.”

She closed her eyes, resting her face in his warm hands. She could feel the calluses on his palms and the stiffness of his finger pads. They were the hands of a man who had spent his life working away with them, dedicating his life to his studies.

“W-what happened?”

“You fainted. I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up.”

He withdrew his hands, looking at her with a face of concern. She looked around, overseeing her body and taking note of its condition. Her eyes were suddenly drawn to the cigarette burn on her shoulder, and she stiffened again.

Papa didn’t seem to remember, however, and continued to stroke her face with his hand.

She shook him off of her, frowning slightly.

“Y-you lied to me. About One.”

His hand dropped, and he sighed. “I didn’t lie to you, Eleven. But you cannot expect me to share with you every detail about my work.”

She stared at him. “Your work? He wasn’t your work. He was your family.”

“You do not understand the circumstances of One’s participation in my project. You don’t-“

“Then tell me!” She interrupted, brows knit with confusion and subtle fury. “Tell. Me.”

He was silent, appearing to be rethinking her demand. Suddenly he stood up, and dismissed the orderly at the door.

“Leave us, please. And lock the door behind you.”

The man nodded, leaving silently. As soon as the door was securely locked behind him, Papa returned to her bedside, standing facing her as she sat legs dangling off the exam table.

“What you already know, and what you heard in your vision is true. Henry is my son, and he, as well as you and all of your siblings, are and were apart of Project Indigo. My life’s work.

“Project Indigo was started years ago when I was a researcher at the University. It wasn’t an optimal position, but it allowed to me utilize the students and faculty as participants in my studies. While pursuing my research, I met a woman. She was a student, and volunteered to be apart of many of my tests.

“The pregnancy came as a surprise to both of us. Even more so when we realized she had reached the second trimester all the while still undergoing my team’s tests.

“Virginia, of course, fearing expulsion from the university and judgement by her family, decided to marry. He was a nice man, a veteran. He didn’t mind the pregnancy, and vowed to bring the child up as one of his own. I, meanwhile, continued to observe Henry from afar. Even in his infancy he displayed signs of a power much greater than that of a normal child. I took note of this, and began drafting a new research proposal.

“I brought my findings to the head of a new specialized department, one you may now know as MKUltra. They provided me with the team and funding I needed to continue running my experiments. It was here that I met Sam Owens. Yes, I see the look of surprise on your face. Dr Owens is not the man you think he is, and he never has been.”

El had stopped breathing. “D-Dr Owens? No, no, no…”

“Yes. He pointed me towards some of his branch’s test subjects - young mothers who participated in his department’s specialized drug trials and who were wishing to give up on their pregnancies.”

That isn’t true, the small voice in her head snapped. Mama didn’t volunteer. She didn’t want to lose you.

“Among those women was your mother, and the mothers of your siblings. We graciously took these abandoned infants and raised them in our facilities under strict government supervision. This, Eleven, is how Indigo was born.”

Facilities, she thought to herself. Plural. There were more of them.

“But I never forgot about Henry. Yes, I had my other children, but Henry was different. When I received that call from Virginia the day before he…”

Brenner took a deep breath before continuing.

“I knew he could never survive the outside world. He needed me, and so I did what any good Papa would do.”

She glared at him. “You locked him up like a monster.”

His look at her in fury. “Locked him up? I saved him.”

“He hated it there!” She yelled. “He was a prisoner.”

He raised a hand as if to hit her, and she flinched instinctually. Realizing what he had done, he quickly lowered his hand and stepped back.

“I am not arguing with a child. I did what was best for him, just as I am doing what is best for you.”

She yanked at her handcuffs, crying out in anger. She began to feel lightheaded, dizzy.

“Now, if you excuse me, I must do what is best for your friends.”

“No,” she sputtered, tongue feeling swollen and big. His voice was beginning to sound more warped, as if he was speaking to her from the end of a long tunnel. She lifted her head lazily, blinking in the spotlight. “What did you do to me?”

“Ah, that’s right. Your medication should be kicking in now.”

Her eyes drifted down his suit and past the examination table, coming to rest on the cup on the floor. No.

“Why?” She asked weakly, blinking back tears and fighting sleep.

He stepped towards her, cupping her cheek in his hand. She was so incredibly tired, so so tired. It felt good to rest her face in his palm, his fingers gently caressing her flushed cheek.

He hushed her softly, smiling at her fluttering eyelids. He gently eased her off the table, wrapping her sinking form in his arms and holding her against his chest.

Deeply nestled in his arms, writhing with fear and anger but unable to show it, she laid there helplessly.

Leaning down towards her, his lips so close to her face that she could feel his breath on her skin, he whispered to her.

“Don’t you understand, Eleven? It’s for your own good.”