Chapter Text
“Does that sound like a good compromise?” He asks her in the truck on the way home. His voice betrays a sense of worry—sympathy, that this might not be enough. But he’s giving her answers. Concrete, solid answers. He was going to wait to tell her, but seeing her face as they drove away from the Middle School, not knowing when she’d see her friends again—she’s got him wrapped around her finger.
She nods.
Eleven’s black shoes are lost somewhere under her seat, legs tucked beneath her. Certainly wrinkling her new dress—but nothing an iron couldn’t fix. She appears smaller than usual, curled into herself, head on the car door. Tired. Emotionally drained on so many levels.
Tired. But good.
The pink makeup around her eyes that Nancy Wheeler painstakingly applied only hours earlier is mostly intact, with a few smudges here and there as a result of the one or two tears the young girl allowed herself to share leaving the dance. She hadn’t really known much of what to expect from a dance, going into it (music, dancing, nice clothes?). But going out, she knew she didn’t want to leave.
She’d been in that auditorium before. When the air had been colder and her hair had been shorter, before the policeman had found her again and before she knew she was going to have to leave all of them. Her first real family.
One year.
Well, two hundred and sixty one days.
That was now the definition of soon. And while it wasn’t anywhere soon enough for Eleven, it was a concrete number. She could count down to it. She could make check marks on paper to keep track, or knock off days on a calendar. Better than nothing.
The police cruiser swept through the streets away from Hawkins Middle—and El’s eyes are glued out the window. It’s been so long, too long since she’s really been out here. She doesn’t think much about the times she broke Hopper’s rules, snuck out—that wasn’t the same. Not the same as riding on the back of Mike’s bike, walking on the train tracks, seeing the town through the eyes of her friends. The town is quiet—or is this just what towns are like this time of night? She wouldn’t know—and she just wants to take in every little detail.
“Hey, buckle that seatbelt,” Hopper’s gruff voice snaps her out of overthinking everything. “That’s not all.”
The girl huffs back into her seat, straightening out her legs and reaching up to tug down the seatbelt and waiting for it to click. “More?”
“Yep, more good news, kid,” Hopper replies, eyes fixed on the road. “But...first you gotta tell me how your dance was.” It’s clear he’s not good at this—he’s had a daughter, yes, but Sarah never got a chance to go to school dances, start high school, like boys, put on makeup—this is way out of his league. It’s why he’d called Nancy Wheeler as soon as he’d convinced Dr. Owens that one night couldn’t hurt. He’d deal with any repercussions later. “I mean… You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t—”
“—It was nice.”
That gets a cursory glance from the police chief, a smile sneaking out at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah?...That’s good, that’s good.” His eyes begin flashing back and forth between the empty road and the girl in the passenger’s seat. She won’t look back, of course—there’s a natural sense of awkwardness in this...parental relationship they’ve got going on. “Did you...see everyone?” He’s also not dumb—he was a kid, a teenager, whatever, once. But he hasn’t even had half a second to process the idea that this kid (did he just think of her as his kid? A thought for a later part of this conversation) might be involved in...romantic teenager stuff.
“All my friends, yes,” She murmurs, leaning her head against the window, clearly actively avoiding eye contact. Just like a proper teenager.
“And...How’s Mike?” He can practically feel her eyes snap to him, choosing to—at least for the moment—drop the subject immediately. “Okay, okay,” He continues, pulling up the dirt and gravel driveway. “You did your bit—but c’mon, put your shoes on, we’re home.”
Home.
In the month since she’d closed the gate, Eleven’s home life with Hopper had improved exponentially—even having only seen her friends for a short period of time, and even under the terrible circumstances had improved her temperament immensely. It had started up the daily questions of when can I see him them again , but Hopper said he was working on it. And after the lab, she really did believe him.
Hopper had gotten into the habit of regular coffees and check-ins with Joyce Byers—they’d done it to take Will to Hawkins Lab for so long it almost felt bizarre not going anymore. Plus, he figured she might need the company...and he needed the advice here and there on raising a teenager. Until he’d gotten lunch with Dr. Owens at the beginning of the month, everything had been up in the air. But now, Eleven—Jane—was his daughter. For all intents and purposes.
To a degree, Hopper felt like he was betraying Sara. But he wanted to do right by Jane where he couldn’t by Sara—and maybe, just maybe, this was a second chance for both of them to have a family.
The moment they’re in the house, he’s locking the doors behind him out of habit, drawing the shades shut, checking once, twice, sometimes three times; but then he turns, and she’s standing there near the couch, shoes in her hand and a sadness in her eyes that he’s not quite sure if it comes from his actions or the fact that her night’s over.
“You said there was more…?” She states plainly. A month ago, her tone could’ve read as anger or frustration. But now, it’s got that hint of hope.
And Hopper can’t help but smile, thinking he’s about to make her day. Compromise. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” He continues, hooking up his coat as she watches him wander their space. There’s a bit of joy in the suspense, but he doesn’t hold it too long, stopping in the kitchen area. “I know you just...want something normal. And I mean, kid, our lives ain’t normal—they’re never gonna be really normal—but… I think you startin’ out at a normal school with your friends next year wouldn’t hurt.”
Her eyes widen a bit as she processes what he’s saying. “School?” Her voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. “...Every day?”
“You bet,” He begins, looking away for just a moment, going to pick up a comb Nancy left after getting El ready. “It sounds thrilling to you now, I’m sure, but you’ll start to discover school’s not a total—” But before he can even finish, she’s run over to hug him, her small arms wrapped around him. He’s over the moon.
“It’s still high school, though—so we’re gonna have to have you studying a lot so you can catch up with everyone else in the meantime. You’ll get it though.” She’s smart, takes in everything like a sponge, with a few exceptions—he’s confident in her. And if nothing else, he knows her sheer determination to go to school with her friends will push her through.
“Thank you.” In that moment, Eleven truly thinks that she can’t be happier. She wasn’t just going to be out in the world in two hundred and sixty one days—she’d be seeing Mike and Will and Lucas and Dustin every single day. She’d seen television shows in passing about school, and, while they’d already seemed exciting to her, this was something else entirely. He didn’t lie.
“You don’t gotta thank me,” He insists, his hand finding the back of her head as she looks up at him. “You deserve this. You more than earned it, kid.” He ruffles her hair just a bit. “There’s a couple’f other things we’ve gotta talk about, but how about you go and get changed first and not stand around in your nice dress, okay?”
She’s immediately out of the living room and into her room, door psychically slammed behind her not out of anger, but out of eagerness. It’s not that they didn’t fight anymore—and certainly not that they’d never fight again—but after all of that damage and hurt, there wasn’t really anywhere to go but up. “Hang it up like we talked about!” He calls after her.
By the time he’s said that, she’s already tossed the dress onto her bed, sweatshirt halfway over her head and sweatpants being tugged on. As soon as she’s finished, though, she complies, lifting the dress in front of her and taking a small moment to smile.
“Beautiful.”
And she does hang it up, she would have anyway—it’s something that’s beautiful, that’s hers and hers alone—she can just hardly focus, all things considered. Her mind is spinning with a thousand questions she wants to ask—and needs answers for—and Hop isn’t even done with their “talk”. Usually, when he says they need to talk, she dreads whatever’s coming. But now, the young girl is giddy, pulling on socks and quickly making her way back into the living room, initially looking for Hopper in the kitchen space but instead finding him already seated on the couch.
She does understand he’s trying to protect her. Protect Mike. But… The bad men were gone now. And she’s still working to get what she heard and saw in Chicago out of her mind. The bad men were gone, Papa was gone, and she could be...normal. As normal as she could be. So why does she still have to stay?
“Sit down, kid,” Hop calls to her, patting the seat next to him. He’s leaned back in the seat, having tried to figure out exactly how to say this to her for the past week since he’d met with Dr. Owens. It’s all just sort of coming out at this point, and seeing her this happy—it’s all he’s wanted to give her. She’s making him soft, and...he’s not entirely objecting. But he knows he’s also got to lay down the ground rules. Everything in moderation, and keeping her safe, still, is a priority. But he can’t let her suffer anymore.
Once she’s seated, Hopper’s gaze shifts just slightly to the television. Gotta act nonchalant. Don’t get too caught up in the big brown hopeful eyes or you’ll cave on something and make everything worse. “So...It’s like I said. Start of next year, you can start off in high school with your buddies. Doc Owens recommended we wait about a year, but agreed a bit less won’t hurt—and that it’ll be less suspicious for you to get started at the beginning of the year with everyone else.”
“Doctor...Owens?” He can hear the nerves in her voice. Of course she’s gonna be apprehensive of someone from Hawkins Lab.
“I...I shoulda mentioned that bit earlier,” He admits, voice soft. “I told you, he only got put in place at the lab after...everything that happened with Brenner last year.” Hopper hardly knows how to address ‘papa’. It’s an appropriately sensitive topic for her. She still calls him ‘papa’, certainly out of habit and ritual, but—the idea that the psychopathic scientist who gave her so much pain is her only real father figure gives Hopper a pain in his chest.
It drives him to be better.
“I went and got lunch with’m last week to...talk out some stuff. He’s the one who made it so you’ll be able to go to school. So you could go to the dance tonight. He’s...he’s trying to help. You know me. You know I’m just as suspicious as you of anyone who walks outta that lab, but—”
“You trust him?” Her voice is quiet.
He nods.
“I trust him, too.”
They share a small smile for just a moment before Hopper moves on. “So we gotta have some rules. A few updated ‘don’t be stupid’ rules.” Eleven rolls her eyes just slightly. “—Hey. I didn’t say we were talking about all of those right now, this is—this isn’t a lecture. You’ve got eight months before you’re even thinking about going out to school. But you are gonna have to study. More than just...word of the day stuff. And I can...teach you words and stuff, that’s fine, but...” As he rambles, Eleven’s eyes just watch him curiously, examining every nerve and doubt and...anticipation in his facial expressions. “Bein’ honest, I wasn’t that great a student for the most part. Especially in high school. So I’m not sure I’m really qualified to be catchin’ you up.”
The young brunette’s brow furrows, creases forming in her forehead as it does when she’s trying to make sense of something he’s said, and it’s taking all of Jim Hopper’s self control to keep the grin from his face. “So I was thinking… ” He’s just being terrible now. “If that Wheeler kid wanted to come here…”
“Mike?!” Eleven’s voice is shocked, excited, brimming with just enough hope that Hopper can’t help the corners of his lips turning up just a bit in the smallest smile.
“Yeah, Mike—if he wanted to come, maybe— maybe eventually bring the others along every so often ,” He’s accentuating his words as he sees her eyes widen. Ground rules. It’s not like he doesn’t trust the Wheeler kid, he’d pull the moon from the sky if she asked...but they’ve gotta have some limits. It’d be so easy for him to just let her do what she wants—she deserves it, she deserves everything—but he knows he should at least try to enforce a rule or two. And if he spooks the boy like a proper father, well, that’s a bonus. “Every so often, if the whole group of them’re here all the time it’ll get suspicious—”
“Yes—”
“To help tutor you to get you ready… Well, I don’t think that’s out of the question.” After all, he could throw the kids a couple bucks, El would be more happy, and them tutoring her would explain a lot about her showing up the first day of school and being all buddy buddy with them, even though she supposedly just came to town.
In no time, her arms are around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you,” comes her soft, muffled voice against his shirt. He’s positive there’ll be pink eyeshadow and whatever else Nancy Wheeler put on her face all over the fabric—but he’s also positive he doesn’t care. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” His hand finds the back of her head again, scruffing up her once neatly done hair so it starts to resemble her usual curls.
“I’ll talk to him, and we’ll—we gotta still do it safe, okay? We can come up with a story, I’ll come up with something, but...You deserve it, kid. You deserve it.”
They have a moment—the moment is calm and peaceful and possibly feels, for even a second, that they’re a normal family in their normal cabin, where she’s just come home from a school dance and the biggest thing they’ve ever had to worry about is making sure they get vegetables into dinner between courses of Eggo waffles. And while none of that is true—it never has been, and it never will be—it, for the moment, is a nice feeling.
“There’s one last thing, kid,” He murmurs quietly. This is the hardest part.
When Hopper had found Eleven in the woods, he...really didn’t know what to expect. He wasn’t sure what would happen, if she’d come with him, how long she’d stay, what their relationship would be like—and though, to the naked eye, it would seem like he was really just helping her, she’d saved him, too. He was smoking significantly less, started a diet, got back into a schedule and wasn’t drinking himself into oblivion—she’d given his life structure and meaning again.
But she’s hard enough to read as is. It’s not her fault—she’s been making major steps, and they’ve gotten into a rhythm—but there’s still so much they don’t talk about. He’s hardly gotten anything from her about where she’d really gone while he was with Will and Joyce and Mike last month, but he knows from the clothes she came back in and her worse-than-usual sleeping habits as of late that it wasn’t just her mom’s place. It’s hardly irrational for him to be worried about what she’ll think of what’s in the envelope.
Eleven’s pulled back at this point, curious but truly ready to listen to anything else he’s got to say after all the good news he’s been giving her tonight. Hopper’s tone worries her though—she’s been around him long enough to sense the nerves in his voice, or catch on to when he’s hiding something. “Something bad?”
“No, no—I mean, I don’t think it’s bad,” He begins, wanting to clearly establish she’s allowed her own, independent thoughts on the whole situation. “But it’s...it’s something we gotta talk about. With you goin’ to school, starting to do...normal things. People’re gonna ask questions about you, and you can’t just tell them all about the bad men and the Upside-Down. You know that, yeah?”
She nods in understanding. She’s not as naive as she used to be, and she knows, at least to a degree, that there are some things we keep secret to keep the people we love safe. Consequences taught Eleven that.
“So, uh,” Hop reaches over to where he’d laid his jacket, pulling a slightly creased envelope out of his pocket. “Doc Owens, he...he gave me this to give us a little helping hand.” His hands are shaking as he fumbles pulling the piece of paper from the envelope—and briefly, Eleven reaches to take them. For a kid raised without much compassion, the police chief is often amazed at her capacity for love and empathy. He nudges himself over a bit, finally getting the certificate out and putting it in her view. “With everything that happened with your mom, y’know, they—they said you were never even born, and it’s a little hard to get someone who’s got no records into school. So the Doc got you this made…” He offers it to her. “Proof, y’know, that you were actually born. Not some...experiment, just a kid who was born.”
She takes it from his hands carefully, pulling out words here and there that she can recognize. “Jane.” A pause. “...Hopper?”
The silence that fills the cabin is deafening, only broken by the slight creaks of the wind outside. “Yeah, that’s—you know, that’s me. This whole thing would make it like—” Spit it out, Hop. “—Not like, it...makes it that I’m your guardian—”
“Guardian?”
“Yeah, like—’cause I’m takin’ care of you. I… I think, even when we’re fighting, we’ve got a pretty good thing goin’ on, if you think so too. I wouldn’t—” Why’s he getting so weird about this? He can see the gears shifting in her head as she looks at him struggle through his words. “I wouldn’t mind keepin’ it up.”
“...But me, Hopper?”
“Well—well, yeah, it’s… part’ve the cover, I’m, uh, listed as your father here, see,” He begins, pointing it out to her. “We’d have to come up with some sorta story, but it’d be that I was your father—obviously not for real, but that’s… That’s what it’d be like to everyone else. If you don’t like that, we—”
And she’s cutting him off again with a hug that could break his bones.
Family.
She’d spent so much time thinking about the family she’d lost or left behind that it took running so far away to realize her friends here in Hawkins were her family. She didn’t know what family did—she had no real experience with it, only from the outside looking in, watching on tv, seeing Mike with Nancy—But the past year felt like what family should be. Fights and all.
It takes the gruff man a moment or two to process what’s happening here—he had no idea what to expect from the little brunette girl. She’s nothing if unpredictable. But after a few seconds, his arms are wrapped around her, too—and he’s definitely not crying, not even a bit.
“Sad?” She asks quietly, pulling away for a moment, now kneeling on the couch to try to stay at level with him.
“No, kid, no—definitely not sad,” He assures her, leaning to press a kiss to her hair. “Not—” He’s cut off as she reaches to wipe his face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt (has he cried in front of her before?). “You don’t gotta do that.”
Her answer is plain. “I want to. I don’t want you sad.”
“Sometimes, people cry ‘cause they’re happy.” Like the Wheeler kid when she showed up the night they closed the gate. Or Joyce when Will woke up last year in the Upside-Down. “Like when you came back and saw everyone. You weren’t sad. Happy tears.”
“Happy tears,” She repeats back. “Happy tears...because we’re family.” It’s a statement. Not a question. She takes a pause, clearly thinking closely about the words she’s choosing. “Because I’m home.”
“That’s right. That’s right,” He says quietly, leaning back a little in the couch. She settles in too, flipping on the television with a cock of her head. They’ve done this before, on late nights. Playing whatever’s on the TV until Hop insists she go to bed. “...Okay,” He concedes, looking over at her. “But I’ve still gotta work tomorrow. And you’ve gotta...get into some sorta schedule if you’re gonna be studying and goin’ to school. Deal?”
One late night wasn’t gonna hurt either of them.
“Deal.”