Chapter Text
Friday 24th May, 1985
“Michael Wheeler...the doctor will see you now.”
Mike raised his head from the mattress in the soft cell where he’d spent most of the afternoon. The state troopers had brought him to Pennhurst psychiatric hospital that morning and since then he’d been awaiting his evaluation. It had to be close to evening now. The large male orderly at his door ushered Mike to his feet and then kept a cautionary grip on his arm as he led him down the long featureless hallway. Mike’s jeans felt loose around his waist. They’d taken his belt when he'd arrived here and his shoelaces too. If Mike tried to run, his sneakers would probably fall off and he’d have to escape barefoot. Just like El when she’d first escaped from Hawkins lab.
El, he thought. He really did need to break out of here.
Whatever it took, he had to get away. He had to find her.
But this was the scary thing about nuthouses. If they thought that you were crazy, then they could keep you locked up for as long as they wanted. And right now, everyone in Hawkins had to be thinking Mike Wheeler was certifiably insane. That or he was one dangerous criminal. If Mike wasn’t imprisoned here, then he’d be on his way to juvie. He still might be.
Mike and the orderly rounded another corner, then stepped into a doctor’s office.
“Good afternoon, Michael,” said the doctor, rising up from behind his desk. “I’m Doctor Cohen.”
Mike blinked at the doctor in confusion. “You?” he said.
He recognized this man. This wasn’t any Dr Cohen. This was Dr Owens from Hawkins lab.
“No, young man…I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” Owens said hastily, motioning Mike towards a chair.
“Please, take a seat," the imposter doctor went on. "And might I request that you refrain for a moment from saying anything else...” He placed a large black tape recorder on his desk. “Everything that we say in this room needs to be recorded. To be assessed by medical professionals, that is. Nothing that’ll be used against you in court. But still…I would be careful what you say…”
Mike nodded, beginning to understand. He tightened his lips.
The one time Mike had been let out of his soft cell earlier that day was around lunchtime. He’d been taken to some white-walled communal area with little nailed down tables. There he’d been permitted to sit and eat a sandwich while his family had been allowed in to see him. Well...his mom and Nancy at least. Mike hadn’t asked where Dad was and he’d assumed that Holly was with a sitter. It...it wasn’t much of a visit. His mom had been crying the whole time, barely able to get any words out besides “Why Michael?” and "What did we do wrong?!". Nancy hadn’t said a word, but she’d reached out to grasp Mike’s hand under the table. At first, Mike had taken this as a consoling gesture. But then suddenly he’d felt his big sister pressing a note into his palm. He’d pulled his hand back, glancing down at its words…
Help is coming, Nancy’s note had said. Don’t tell them anything.
Mike had caught his sister's eye and nodded. He'd tried to pass the little slip of paper back to her, but at that exact moment, the buzzer had sounded, signalling the end of visiting time. So Mike had crumpled Nancy’s note in his fist and then brought his hand up to his mouth, faking a cough. He’d slipped the paper inside his cheek and then started swallowing it as he was walked back towards the cells. He'd made sure the note was eaten before the orderlies could stop him and shine a torch down his throat again.
“So...shall we begin?” said Dr Owens, his finger poised to record.
Mike lowered himself into the chair as the orderly stepped outside the room. He still couldn’t make sense of why Owens was here. As far as Mike knew, Dr Owens had been laying low since the dismantling of Hawkins lab around seven months ago. Mike hadn’t even seen the man since the night he’d escaped from the facility when it’d been swarming with demodogs. But he knew that Hopper had remained in touch with him. He knew that Owens had been helping to provide El with the necessary documentation for her new identity as Jane Hopper. Mike supposed that if Owens could give El a false identity as Hopper’s illegitimate daughter, then he could also fake an identity for himself as a mental health professional. It’s not like they’d ever believed Owens was a real doctor at Hawkins lab either.
“Sure,” said Mike, offering a shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”
Owens nodded and hit the big red button.
“Okay. Let me start by asking what you remember of the incident this morning?”
“The…incident?” Mike said hesitantly.
Dr Owens lifted a sheet of paper and read off it. “Yes, according to police and witnesses at the scene...at approximately 9am you chased an unarmed man across the yard of Hawkins Middle School. I’m told that you were carrying a gun and that you shot this man in the leg. Do you remember doing that, Michael?”
Mike held Dr Owens gaze. Then slowly he nodded.
“For the benefit of the tape, please,” Owens prompted.
Suddenly, with a start, he remembered Nancy’s note. Don’t tell them anything…
So Mike just took a breath and kept his mouth shut.
“What? You shy all of a sudden, kid? You know, the police spoke to a couple of your friends who were present at the scene too. They had this idea that the shooting must have been in self-defense. They supposed that the man who you injured must have done something to you…that maybe this man was the reason that you’ve been missing for the last two days...” Dr Owens lowered his eyes to Mike’s hands. “Don’t think that we haven’t noticed those bruises, son,” he said, nodding to the purple rings around each of Mike’s wrists. “The only trouble is...it’s hard to tell if they were caused by somebody else or through self-harm. We get a lot of wrist-bangers here in Pennhurst.”
Mike continued to say nothing. But it was a good thing he’d been given meds to keep him calm.
Dr Owens sighed. “Trouble is...all eye-witnesses state that you were running towards this man, not away from him. So it’s hard for the police to see you as the victim here, kid. Especially given your previous record...” At this point, Dr Owens opened up another file on his desk. “Were you aware you have a police record? It dates back to November 1983, when you were just twelve years old. It says right here you were questioned by federal agents after having harbored a suspected Russian spy in your family’s basement. A young girl about your age...” Owens put the file down and narrowed his eyes at Mike. “So given this little backstory, the state police are forming their own theories on the incident at the school this morning. They’re thinking that maybe you’re back in contact with this Russian girl. They're thinking that she’s brainwashed you with commie propaganda and trained you up as an assassin. That she’s given you a hit list. That she’s getting you to target former employees of the Hawkins laboratory. The ones who she failed to kill herself during the massacre at your Middle school. There any truth to that, Mike?”
He bit down hard on his lip. Don’t tell them anything. Don’t say a thing about her…
“Son, I’ll be honest,” said Owens. “There’s a few other psychological exams I’ve got to go through with you...” He lifted a sheet of ink blots and waved it vaguely. “But if you’re refusing to answer any of my questions, then it’s hard not to view that as obstruction.” He paused a moment then added. “You realize that if this evaluation deems you were in your right mind at the time of the attack, then you’ll be moved from this hospital to the nearest detention facility. Sheriff Hopper is waiting outside to escort you at this very moment.”
Mike’s eyes widened at this. Dr Owens held his stare and winked.
Help is coming...Nancy’s note had said. Mike realized this must be it. This was his chance to escape.
“Sooooo if you don’t want that to happen…then you'd better start talking.”
Mike did want that to happen. So he sat back. He crossed his arms and said nothing.
Owens smiled. “Suit yourself. Let the police form their own assumptions on what you’ve been up to these last two days.”
Mike swallowed. Had…had it really only been two days? It was crazy, but it was true. It’d taken just two days for Mike to screw up his life and lose El again. Then there was the end of the world to consider...the end that’d be coming soon if he couldn’t find a way to reach her.
Yeah. He really needed to get out of this nuthouse right now.