Chapter Text
Drained of energy, Eleven fell heavily onto the elevator’s metallic flooring, and Chief Jim Hopper hastily stooped down to catch her and gather her in his arms. Sitting down, he pulled her into a tight embrace as her own arms clung around his neck, her fists fiercely clutching his coat. He held his breath an instant to freeze the moment in his memory, and, drawing her feeble frame closer, all trembling against him, he realized how vulnerable she could sometimes be. How she was right this moment. In spite of her power, in spite of her strength and incredible courage, she looked fragile as though she could break. Hopper knew he didn’t look any better. Jeez, he, too, wanted to cry with relief and gratefulness; he was emotionally exhausted, worn out yet extremely cheerful and optimistic. But he exerted himself as best he could to be her unwavering, withstanding building in the wake of an earthquake. As this unique child softly sobbed into his neck, the lump in his throat was the size of a grapefruit.
“You did good, kid,” Hopper said under his breath, his voice an earnest, quivering sigh. He sniffed and reiterated, “You did so good.”
His eyes fluttered shut and he pressed his lips to her cheeks for a few seconds. He was desperately trying to regain composure and be strong for her. He inhaled deeply, gritted his teeth, and held her tighter against his chest the way he’d held Sara half a decade ago, her small face resting numbly on his shoulder, the slight pant of her breath rhythmically striking his neck as he fondly watched her out of the corner of his eyes.
His ears were still whistling; the screeching, roaring, and groaning of the beast echoing in his head, and his racing heart still drumming wildly against his ribcage. Jeez, this black hole, this literal black hole had been so close to consuming her, too. He would have been as good as dead. But they were alive. They’d made it. No, actually, she’d made it. His part in the operation had significantly nothing to do with its success. He scrunched his lids tighter, his eyes retreating underneath his prominent brow ridges, and he cupped the nape of her neck, thumbing her soft wisps of hair self-consciously, maybe nervously, as he leaned his scratchy face against her baby skin.
“You did it,” he whispered again as if to convince them both, a rush of overwhelming love washing over him.
When the tiny platform had lifted them back up to the surface of their more peaceful world, he carried her out of the nightmare-esque lab compound, and she curled into him and nuzzled her face into his neck.
Whatever it took, he thought to himself. Whatever. It. Took. He repeated the words inwardly as if to brand his mind with hot iron in order to dutifully imprint his determination. He needed no convincing on that matter, though. This kid would have a life. As beautiful, simple, and normal as possible. If any kid deserved it, it was Eleven. Thirteen years stolen were enough. Way more than enough.
He cautiously lowered her and settled her onto the passenger seat, covered her with the spare blanket, and she half-opened her eyes as he was about to close the door.
“Over?” Eleven whispered tiredly.
Hopper took a second to look at her, telling her wordlessly that he cared and that she was important, and then he smiled warmly. “Yes,” he replied at last, gently wiping the blood from below her nose with the corner of the blanket and readjusting it under her chin. “Yes, it’s over. You can rest now.”
“Stay with me?”
His heart dropped in his stomach. “Of course I’m staying with you.” He mentally reprimanded himself.
“Promise?”
He leaned closer, grabbing the hood of the car with one hand and squeezing her shoulder gently with the other, and then locked unblinking and resolute eyes on hers. The fact alone that she’d raised the question hurt him. “I promise,” he emphasized softly, hoping he showed the air of a man whose dedication was fixed. She had been betrayed, let down all her life, and he had found nothing better to do than lie to her and fail her on multiple occasions. Dammit, how could he have been so thoughtless and stupid? “I’m staying with you. As long as you need me. As long as you can stand me.” The thought had occurred to him that he could have lost her tonight, and as he read her disconcerted eyes, he realized he needed her as much as she needed him. Possibly more. “The longer the better.” He smiled. “I’m so sorry again, kid.” She bobbed her head up and down, and he gently stroked his hand across her face. “Get some rest now, okay? I will be here when you wake up. I promise.”
Her eyes slowly closing, she nodded again and he stepped back, his gaze on her as he pushed her door shut. Sitting behind the wheel, he leaned his head back against the headrest, his eyes lost in the distance of an old memory, one hand ready on the ignition.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Sara shrieked in the deserted baseball field. “Faster! Go faster!”
Her eyes pressed shut, the little girl held tight to her father’s neck as Hopper made them both spin around himself. He was sure she could feel a horde of butterflies winging its way quickly through her belly, and he wondered how she managed to breathe between her bursts of laughter. Her golden hair flew in a horizontal line behind her head as if she had superpowers. She was having fun, he knew it. Nonetheless, his own head was getting dizzy, therefore he slowed down and lay down on his back.
He smiled up at Sara. Frowning, she propped herself up with a question on her face. “Helicopter tired?” she wondered out loud.
“Yes,” Hopper replied, gasping. “Helicopter needs to catch his breath.”
Sara leaned upright and hopped on his stomach with a pout as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Ouch!” Hopper chuckled. He gave in: “Okay, okay, give me just a couple of minutes, and I’m sure we can make it fly again.”
“Promise?”
He laughed. “Yes,” he asserted, pulling her down to his chest again. “Yes, pumpkin, I promise.”
Hopper shook the grief-induced memory out of his mind, took one last glance at Eleven, and then he turned the ignition. Oh yes, he needed her. He needed Eleven badly. The loss of his daughter was still there, that would most likely never go away, and Eleven grew up without parents; they meant more to each other than they could ever have imagined. Two broken pieces that fit.
Jonathan’s car was still there when Hopper arrived at his grandfather’s shack about thirty minutes later. He hadn’t even put the car in park when Joyce dashed out from behind the trees with a flashlight in her hand. Was something wrong? He noticed the mask over her face, but he wasn’t sure whether it was relief, or anxiety, or both. She stopped short before the hood of the car. In the headlights, she covered her mouth with both hands. He switched off the lights and killed the engine.
Joyce rushed toward him and wound her arms around his neck as soon as he was out of the car. “Oh, thank god you’re all right,” she let out. “Is Eleven okay?”
Hopper hugged her back. “Yeah. She’s fine; she’s sleeping.” He wanted to pull back, see her face, and he asked the question several times in his head before he dared say it out loud: “Is Will … all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s good.” She brushed the hair at the back of his head. “He’s good,” she repeated. “We … the … whatever it was that was trapped within him … it got out.”
Hopper breathed. “Good.” He pulled back just enough to look at her and they searched each other’s eyes for a moment in the dim light of the night before Hopper jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just, um, I’ll get her out of the car,” he spluttered as he disengaged and started round the car.
“Your cabin has no windows anymore,” Joyce called.
He turned around and glanced toward the trees where the little wooden house stood out of sight. “Oh. Right.” He turned to Joyce again and his eyes twinkled. “Yeah, well, we’ve had windows incidents before. We’re used to using extra blankets in such cases.”
“And you have shattered glass all over. I mean, on the floor, the beds, the couch, everywhere,” she reported.
Hopper looked at her blankly. That too had happened before. It was no big deal.
“You two should come home with us.”
“Thanks but I don’t want to be in the wa—”
“None of that, Hop. You’ll take Will’s room,” she decided. “I was planning on keeping him with me tonight anyway. Maybe even for the next five years.”
He chuckled. “Okay …” He paused. “Are you guys ready to go, then?”
“Come on, Hopper!” Joyce’s seventeen-year-old self shouted cheerfully in his head. “I may have short legs, but I’ll still race you to my place! Catch me if you can!” She’d started running already and he’d chased playfully after her.
Joyce snapped her fingers in front of his face, and he instantly came back to the dark woods. “Where were you?” she asked. He shook his head and stared at her absently, gathering his thoughts. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“A friendly ghost,” he admitted with the ghost of a smile.
“Okay. I was saying that the kids are in the car. D’you want me to drive you?”
“What? No, no!” He looked around, wondering how long he’d been out. “I’m good.”
“You car’s right there,” she pointed out humoredly as if he couldn’t find it by himself, as if he was on autopilot — and maybe he was. “You know what? I am driving you.”
Hopper considered protesting but he had neither the strength nor the heart to argue, so he climbed into the back behind the driver’s side, and sat on the edge of the seat. As Joyce dragged her seat almost all the way forward, Hopper leaned against it and closed his eyes.