Chapter Text
Mike whispers El's name into the dark like it's a prayer. El, he says, El, if you're out there, give me a sign.
She doesn't reply. He knows she isn't there. It feels like Mike's entire world is closing in on him, because for so long, El has been everything to him. Since that day he found her in the woods when he was twelve, he'd known she was special, had felt drawn to her in a way he couldn't quite understand. He's still not sure what that feeling was in those early days. It was too early for love, but he doesn't know if it was attraction or empathy or maybe a feeling somewhere in his chest that they were kindred spirits.
He got so little time with her, if he looks at it all. A few days, and then he thought she was dead, didn't see her for nearly a year, and then they'd gotten that one, blissful year before the Byers had moved away and taken El with them. Then it was phone calls and letters, never enough time, never enough words to say everything he wanted to, and then it was spring break, and breaking her out of a lab, and then she was in hiding, and the only moments they got were when Hopper was on crawls.
She's the love of his life, and he thinks he knows her better than anyone, but sometimes he wonders how well he really knew her.
———
He's probably silly, for talking to a dead girl. Weeks pass without any sign, then months, and he knows he knows, that she's dead and gone and he's never going to see her again. Never going to get the chance to ask her everything he wants to, to ask her why she did it all.
Or rather, he's never going to get an answer. He asks her every day. He starts going out after school every day, sitting in the woods not too far from Hopper's cabin—close enough that he can pretend that maybe El sat on this log once too—and just talking to her. Asking her why, asking her how she's doing, but also telling her about his day, the party, their new D&D campaign, anything that crosses his mind. He knows he won't get an answer, but it becomes a ritual. He hopes that maybe, whatever afterlife she's in, she can at least hear him and know how much he loves her.
The truth is, he's not sure he remembers how to talk to anyone but her. Maybe he never learned. Oh, he can talk about D&D and classes and stuff like that—he talks a lot sometimes because if his mouth is moving then his brain isn't—but he's only ever felt like he can talk about anything real when El is the one listening. She's always understood him like nobody else.
———
It's late January and bitter cold in the woods when something starts to not add up in Mike's brain. He's talking to El again, saying I know you told me to tell the others why you did it, but I don't understand, El, I don't understand why we couldn't find another way, and he's picturing the scene, again.
He goes there often in his mind. Military surrounding them, stopping any of them from getting to El, El standing in the doorway between worlds, meeting his eye and then pulling him into her head to tell him goodbye; watching as the upside down collapsed in on itself in a blinding light, and then his ears ringing afterwards, no sound but the power dampeners meant to stop El and his own voice, screaming her name; the military running around, someone barking orders, and Mike could see their mouths moving but his ears had stopped processing sound altogether, and—his thoughts screech to a halt. The power dampeners. El pulling him into her mind. Those two things shouldn't be possible, not together. His mind whirls and he remembers Kali, working her illusions. What if—?
“El,” he says again, louder than he has in a long time. It doesn't feel like a whispered prayer anymore, but rather, maybe a real conversation with a friend. “El, if you can hear me, I don't think you're dead. You fooled us well, but it was an illusion, wasn't it? You're still out there, somewhere, aren't you?”
He's still not expecting a response, but then the forest in front of him shimmers and disappears, and all of a sudden he's in darkness, like he had been before El disappeared. He squeezes his eyes shut, worried he's imagining things, but when he opens them again, El is in front of him. She looks different—her hair is bleach blonde and it looks like she’s gotten a perm, and she has thin wire glasses perched on her nose. She’s clearly trying not to look like herself.
“Mike,” she says. She sounds a little choked up.
“El,” he says, and it feels different, saying it to her face.
“How did you figure it out?”
He grins. Relief and joy are coursing through his veins. “You shouldn't have been able to use your powers, but you did, to say goodbye to me. Which means you can’t have been in the gate, it was too close.” He pauses. “Why didn't you tell me what you were planning?”
“You had to grieve,” El says quietly, “or else no one would have believed it. They are still watching you, although less now than they were. I think they are finally giving up.”
That makes sense. Mike can't blame her for needing to make it look real, even though the weight of months of grief still sits heavy on him. “And you? Were you watching me?”
“Yes,” El says simply. “I have been watching all of you. I had to make sure you were okay.”
“Have you heard me talking to you?”
“Yes,” she says again. “You come at the same time every day. I have watched you for weeks here.”
Maybe that should be weird, but Mike feels a sense of peace covering him instead. He'd spoken out loud on purpose, hoping against hope that she was somehow alive and could be spying on him—whether consciously or maybe just out of habit, he’s not sure. “I'm glad. And I'm—I'm glad you're okay.”
“I have missed you, Mike.”
“I’ve missed you too.” It almost still doesn’t feel real, to see her standing in front of him now, especially looking so different. Yet at the same time, he knows somewhere deep inside himself that she is real. She has to be. It’s the only thing that makes sense. “Where are you?”
“I don’t think you should know that. Not yet. Even Hopper doesn’t know?”
“Hopper knows you’re alive?” Of course he did, and of course he wouldn’t tell Mike. He wants to be mad, like the first time the man had kept El not being dead from him, but, well, he’s older now and he understands more, why it would be a secret. Especially now. “For how long?”
“I had to stop by the cabin and pick up some things, before I left. I left him a note so he didn’t think someone else had found our place. He was really mad when I first visited him like this, said I should not have left without him, but I did not want him giving up his life for me. You either, Mike.”
“I would have come with you,” Mike says, and the words feel bittersweet leaving his mouth.
“I know you would have,” El says. “But you have friends in Hawkins, and family. I didn’t want you to leave all of that behind.”
“So do you, though,” Mike says. “Everyone you know is here.”
“Yes,” El says, with a sad note to her voice. “But I will see them again. When it is safer.” Something in her posture lightens. “Besides, I don’t want Hawkins and Lenora to be all I ever know. I am seeing so many things, Mike. There is so much in the world I want to see.”
She looks happy, Mike thinks. Not completely—she still carries far too many burdens on her shoulders—but she seems so alive in a way he’s never seen her. Even though she’s on the run, it must be magical for her, after her world has been so small for so long, to see something outside of what she has known. The stand together in silence for a minute, and he misses her so much it aches, but also he likes seeing her smile like this.
“I am glad you know now,” she says, after a moment. “I wasn’t sure when to tell you, but now that you do know, we can meet like this. No one follows you into the woods anymore, so we should be safe.”
“Someone used to follow me into the woods?” Mike asks, with mild alarm. He feels like that’s something he should have noticed.
“Yes. The military had people tailing all of you at first. They still watch your houses sometimes, and the school, but not as often now. I think at some point it will be safe to tell the others I am alive as well, but for now, I think just you and I should meet like this. I will tell Hopper you know next time I go to him, but don’t say anything aloud about me. To be safe.”
“To be safe,” Mike echoes. He hates the thought of lying to everyone, but for El he’d burn the whole world down, so lie he will. “But this is safe?”
“Yes. I hope. I am willing to risk it.”
Mike doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t want her to take any sort of risks that she doesn’t have to, but he’s also missed her so much and he can’t imagine continuing to not see her, now that he knows she’s alive.
“I should go,” El finally says. “I want to catch the next bus, I have been here for too long now. I think I will still be travelling tomorrow, but I will meet you here the day after next?”
“I’ll be here,” Mike says. “I’ll come tomorrow, too, so no one is suspicious if they’re watching the school.”
“Good idea. I will see you soon, Mike.”
She gives him a quick peck on the lips, and then she’s dissolving, and Mike is back in the forest again. He feels like his whole world has, once again, turned on its’ head, but in a good way, for once, and he has to fight to keep the skip out of his step as he walks home.