Archive of Our Own

Eleven followed the rules that Papa told them to follow. She obeyed because she didn’t want to be bad, but she didn’t know what the consequences of breaking the rules truly were until one frightening day.

She didn’t know what had started the fight, since she rarely paid attention to her older brothers and sisters. They weren’t all that nice to her, and they never played games she liked. All she heard was the swell of voices before she turned just in time to see a toy car thrown by Three hit Five square in the nose. It was almost funny the way it happened, until blood began to seep from a cut across Five’s face.

Five picked herself up off the floor. A hush of dreadful anticipation fell over the room as everyone else stopped playing to watch the conflict play out. Before any moves could be made, two orderlies grabbed both of them, dragging them apart.

Something cold and tight cinched in Eleven’s stomach as the doors flew open and Papa walked in. He did not look happy, and even though she had not done anything, it sent an uncomfortable feeling crawling through her skin. There was something about him that always scared her, even though he was always nice to her. It was something that made her afraid to even think about disagreeing with what he wanted, much less say ‘no’ outright.

Papa ordered the rest of them to line up, and Eleven obeyed, though it took great effort. She couldn’t tell if her siblings were afraid, because she could not tear her eyes away from him as he spoke.

“It seems there has been some forgetfulness about the rules.” Papa looked at them all lined up, and Eleven’s breath hitched as his gaze passed over her. “I do not expect that all of you will get along all the time, but what I will not tolerate is harming one another. Now…” He turned, facing Three and Five. “Who started this argument?”

Silence.

“This can go one of two ways. You can tell me how this began, or I can go look and find out myself.”

Both Three and Five looked more afraid by the second, increasing Eleven’s fear as well.

“But, if no one speaks, I shall punish both of you.”

“It was me.” Three’s response was barely audible, a trembling whisper. “I did it.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Three. You have saved yourself from further consequences.” Papa raised his voice, addressing them all. “Once, One thought he could act free of control and do whatever he wished, but he was sorely mistaken.”

Eleven’s eyes went wide. She had never considered the missing number before, that there was truly someone that came before Two. Sometimes, the others told stories that weren’t true, but she had never heard Papa speak of One before.

“Anyone who thinks they can act like they want will be punished like One was. Let this be a valuable lesson to you all.” Papa gestured, and another orderly stepped forward, holding a collar. Three trembled as it was fastened around his neck, and Eleven held her breath, her heart pounding in her head as Papa pulled something out of his pocket.

“Please—” Three’s plea ended in a strangled cry as a button was pressed, sending electricity coursing through his body. He crumpled to the floor, writhing, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Eleven’s vision clouded with tears, and as much as she wanted to, she could not look away from the awful sight. She could only imagine the pain Three was experiencing, and she bit down on her lip to keep a sob from breaking free. Papa looked on coldly, with no hint of compassion for Three’s pain.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the torment ended. The rigid set of Three’s body relaxed, and he let out a sobbing gasp, curling in on himself.

“Anyone else who demonstrates such lack of control shall face similar consequences,” Papa said, casting a hard look over them all. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, Papa.” Eleven whispered along with the others, their voices all subdued.

“Good. Now, return to your rooms until it is time to eat.”

Eleven’s chest hurt from the pressure of containing her tears. She finally turned away from the horrible sight of Three as an orderly moved to grab him. She wanted to find the door, to get away from what had just happened, but she could barely see…

A hand, large and familiar, fell on her shoulder. “Come on.”

Eleven looked up into Peter’s face. She wasn’t sure what to expect from him, but she found he looked almost scared, and that only upset her further. “P…Peter…”

Peter saw her tears starting to get the best of her, so he took matters into his own hands and lifted her into his arms, wanting to get her back to her room where it was marginally safer. He seethed at Brenner inwardly; he had hoped to never see that awful collar used on any other child, but he had known deep down that would be asking too much. Worse yet, Brenner had brought him up, and that only served to heighten the anger and frustration he felt towards this entire predicament.

Eleven let her tears flow freely as she clung to Peter’s shirt. The hallways passed by in a blur as he carried her, but she wasn’t as afraid anymore. Peter was kind, but it was a different sort of kindness than Papa’s. It was utterly safe, and there was nothing to be afraid of with him.

“Easy, ladybird,” Peter murmured, feeling her shiver against him as he finally arrived at her room. He let himself in, shutting the door behind himself and sitting down on the bed, just holding her as she cried. He reflected grimly that he should have known this would come, when she finally got her first look into the cruelty that lurked beneath the surface, but it had frightened him too much to think about. Even catching a glimpse of that collar had set his heart racing and his scars ablaze, and it made him nauseous to think of her in that position.

Eleven cried until she had exhausted herself, her eyes stinging and her chest aching. As her sobs tapered into shaky, uneven breaths, she leaned into the gentle hand tracing random, soothing patterns across her back. He would never hurt her.

“Deep breaths,” Peter murmured, trying to push his own fear into hiding.

Eleven obediently sucked in a huge breath, letting it out in a big gust as she curled into his warmth. She didn’t feel cold, but she couldn’t stop shivering like she was. “Papa hurt Three…bad.”

“I know.” Peter wasn’t sure what else to say. He hated it, but he had no more power than her in the situation.

“Three was bad, but not…”

“I know,” he said again. It was truly telling how even a child as young as she knew that Three’s actions had not warranted such a cruel consequence.

“‘M scared.”

“What your Papa did was very scary, but I’ll keep you safe.” Peter reached up to wipe some of the stray tears from her cheeks. It was a promise he could not keep, not truly as long as he remained chained down, but he felt he would rather tear Soteria out with his own hands than ever see Eleven subjected to such torment. He only hoped that she remained free from Brenner’s scrutiny until the day she could finally escape from the lab herself.

Eleven let out a shaky sigh, resting against him. Peter had been afraid; she had seen it in his face, and though he was hiding it now, she had a feeling he still was. Nothing had ever made him afraid before, and for the first time, she felt as though there were something terribly wrong with her life.

And that feeling never truly went away again.

Rain pattered against the beat-up cabin, testing the mettle of everyone’s handiwork. So far there had been a couple of leaks, but nothing that couldn’t be remedied with a well-placed pot.

It was Peter’s first real rain after long years of isolation in some form or another. When it started, he sat by one of the intact windows for over an hour, just looking out at the rain and listening to its even, soothing rhythm. He had forgotten that it was such a relaxing sound, and it reawakened memories of himself drawing by the window as it rained when he was younger.

But the rain also brought something new with it. Some of his scars, which he had done his best to ignore, ached with a dull twinge, especially the ones around his neck. It was just enough discomfort to be bothersome, and remind him of where they had come from, but he tried to push it away.

Eleven, however, was becoming very good at reading him. Maybe it was the years together in the lab, or the bond they shared through their abilities, but neither of them were very good at keeping things from the other. She could tell something was a little off once the rain began, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it until they got into a game of cards and she saw him reach up to rub unconsciously at his neck, drawing her attention to the pale scar tissue there.

She hadn’t asked him about the scars yet. There were some on his neck, and on his hands, but that was all she had seen so far. He seemed to favor clothes with long sleeves, and even if he just liked it that way, she was almost certain that there were more scars hiding beneath. What scars, if any, could be differentiated between the lab and the Upside Down remained unknown to her, except for the markings on his neck. She knew without a doubt where those had come from, for she had seen the treatment that caused it more than once.

As she sat across from him with a set of cards in her hand, she remembered Three writhing in pain on the floor, and she wondered if Peter had suffered the same if not worse. She did and didn’t want to know the answer, but ultimately she felt it was better if she knew. He had never told her back then, likely to spare her and keep her safe, but now she was older and able to understand better. She didn’t want him to bear the weight of his experiences alone anymore.

“Ladybird,” Peter said, drawing her from her thoughts, “are you cheating?”

With a start, Eleven realized she had been staring very hard at the back of his cards, though she had been focused on his scars. “No,” she said, looking back at her own hand and trying to focus on what the non-number cards meant. “I was just…thinking.”

“About what?”

“…Nothing.”

“That look on your face doesn’t seem like nothing,” Peter pressed gently. “Are you mad that I’m winning?”

Eleven glared at him. “You’re not winning, and no. Are…are your scars bothering you?”

“Ah.” Peter smiled wryly. “Is it that obvious?”

“You keep touching them.”

“The rain has made them hurt.”

“Badly?”

“No. They’re not that bad at all.”

Eleven fidgeted with her cards. “Are they…from Papa?”

Peter’s hand hesitated over the draw pile. “Some of them.”

“And the others?”

“I don’t remember exactly, but if I had to guess…the Mind Flayer.” He gave her a meaningful look.

“Probably.” Eleven stared at his hands and the bit of his wrists showing beyond his sleeves. He hadn’t had the scars on his hands before the Upside Down. “How many do you have?”

Peter looked down at himself. “I haven’t bothered trying to count.”

Eleven’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “You hide them.”

It was not a question, and it took Peter a moment to find a reply. “Because I don’t think you’d want to see them.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. I have them too, see?” She rolled up her sleeve beyond her elbow. The scars had faded considerably with time and the wear of the sun on her skin, but they were still there. The white pinpricks where needles had punctured her skin many times over, just set apart enough to be noticeable against the rest of her arm.

“I forgot about those,” Peter said. “They look better.”

“I wanted to hide them at first, but I learned not to. No one has ever asked.” She let her sleeve slide back into place, eyeing his hands. “I don’t remember those.”

“You shouldn’t.” On impulse, before he could decide against it, Peter pulled his sleeve up, revealing most of his arm to her for the first time.

Eleven restrained the dismayed noise that threatened to leave her, not wanting to scare him. Pale, slightly reddened marks ran the length of him arm, thin and long. At first they seemed to be placed at random, until her mind made the connection. They formed a complex, interwoven pattern, exactly where the tendrils that had overtaken his body would have lain once.

“The lab was never quite this bad,” Peter murmured, feeling the need to speak into the uncomfortable silence.

“Yes,” Eleven said. Brenner was cruel, but never quite that cruel.

Peter cleared his throat, rolling his sleeve back into place. It was an uncomfortable subject, one he had wanted to approach with some delicacy and care for her, considering he had been absent from her life for so long, but now that she had brought it up, he figured there would likely be no better time to ask. “Eleven, did Brenner…did he ever use…?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud, and gestured to his neck instead.

“No,” Eleven said softly, the card game forgotten. “He never did.”

Relief rushed through Peter like a wave. It was surprising to hear, but perhaps Brenner’s twisted version of affection had become enough to spare her from the worst experiences.

“He just locked me up when I said no instead,” Eleven continued, her tone tinged with sourness.

“I see.” It was useless to get angry now that the man was dead, but Peter couldn’t help the rush of cold fury that came upon him. Some dark part of him wished that the Mind Flayer had finished Brenner off all those years ago.

“Will you tell me what happened, before he found others?” Eleven asked. “Why did he took your powers away?”

Peter had figured she would ask at some point, but he still felt compelled to try and protect her from his hardships. “It’s not a nice story, ladybird.”

“I know that. I just think you shouldn’t have to be by yourself with it. You made sure I wasn’t alone.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Peter said after a considerate moment, setting his cards aside. “I’ve never told anyone before.”

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

“There’s no point in hiding it, now that we’re safe and we both know what kind of man he was.”

Eleven nodded, pushing the cards aside so she could scoot closer to him. “You can stop whenever you want.”

Peter sighed, closing his eyes as he began to dig the memories out. A hand, not as small as it used to be but still small to him, slipped into his own, and he smiled a little as the warmth of her skin against the ridges of scar tissue began to banish the underlying ache. The rain droned on, a reminder that he was no longer confined by long hallways, steel doors, and cameras at every corner.

A spare drop of water plinked against the metal of the frying pan.

He breathed, and remembered.

Henry didn’t want to believe he was never going home. When he first woke up in the hospital, he searched for his family among the unfamiliar faces but did not find him. The doctors around him didn’t even speak to him at first, until another man arrived. He said his name was Doctor Brenner, and he seemed nice enough.

It was tragic, how much of a falsehood the kindness was.

Over the course of Henry’s hospitalization, he was asked lots of questions about what he remembered about himself and about what had happened. He couldn’t remember much of anything about the time leading up to waking up in the hospital. All he could see in his mind was himself sitting at the dinner table, frustrated at his parents, and then…

Then what?

It disturbed him, how little he knew, and he took back all his frustrations and anger towards his family. He wanted to see them so badly, to hear Alice call him names and make faces, but as the days stretched on, they never came. He asked the nurses every day if his family had arrived, but the answer was always no.

Finally, Brenner explained things to him a bit. He had fallen into a coma, and had been asleep for several weeks. The length of time left Henry dismayed, and he could only imagine the worry his parents—especially his mother—must have been experiencing. But immediately after that, Brenner told him that he would not be seeing his family for quite some time.

That was the first of many despairs.

So great was his disbelief that Henry called him a liar to his face, because who was this doctor to take him away from his family? It was then he glimpsed the first inklings of Brenner’s true nature, hidden carefully beneath the congenial surface, a coldness that pinned Henry in place with its utter intensity. But it was gone as soon as it came, and Brenner’s kindly smile returned.

“You are very special, Henry,” Brenner said. “Am I correct in understanding you’ve never quite fit in with everyone else?”

Henry was unnerved by his knowledge, but he answered anyway. “Yes.”

“It’s because there is no one else quite like you in the world. You have abilities other people could only ever dream of having.”

“I do?”

“You do, and I’ll help you do great things with them.”

The idea seemed nice, but Henry missed his family. “I just want to go home.”

“You’ll see your family eventually. You just have to help me.”

“Okay.” Henry agreed, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the truth. Home as he knew it was lost, and he would never see his family again.

The doctors and nurses started hooking him up to strange machines, even though he felt fine. They asked him to try and feel things, see things that weren’t physically there, like a person in a brightly colored jacket standing several rooms. It seemed insane to him at first, but it was jointly frightening and exhilarating when he realized that it worked.

There was some other, nameless part of him that allowed him to reach out and see without his eyes. Maybe it had always been there and he hadn’t wanted to see it. He was almost excited about it in the beginning, until the day Brenner strapped him to a chair and pressed a needle into his skin. It was so painful, so surprising, that he couldn’t even cry out as fire shot through his arm, and he began to understand that Brenner was not a good man.

The ink of the tattoo stood out in stark contrast to the pale of his skin, the numbers etched into his wrist forever. As he looked at the finished marking, his only thought at first was how his mother was going to kill him for getting a tattoo. Only later did he truly weep from the pain and distress of the marking, and no amount of scratching would make it go away.

The tests only increased after that. Henry began to discover the true length of his abilities, but the more he understood them the more he realized how bad his situation was. The building—the lab—he was in had no windows. There were cameras everywhere, and armed guards to go with them. His every move was watched, and eventually he was transferred to a new place, where he was given a cramped little room to stay in, all white and sterile like the rest of the building.

The first night in his new room, as he heard the door lock on the outside, he knew. He was not staying here as a patient. He was staying as a prisoner.

He tried defying Brenner. He wanted nothing to do with tests, or his strange abilities, or the tattoo that throbbed on his wrist, and he told Brenner as much.

“And here I thought you’d be no trouble,” Brenner replied, gesturing to one of the guards.

Before Henry could react, a taser was jammed into his ribs and the world went white with pain. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, his forehead pressed against the frigid tile. Blood pooled warm and metallic on his lips from where he had bitten himself, and it dripped onto the floor to mingle with the salt of his tears.

“I hope you understand that there are consequences to your actions,” Brenner said somewhere above him. “You can make things easier for yourself and simply do as I ask.”

So Henry did for a while, fearing reprimand and clinging to the hope that he would one day be released to his family again. He was set loose in a room full of toys meant to help stimulate his abilities, but it was frustratingly slow going. He spent hours trying to move the simplest of objects, but Brenner was never satisfied. Days stretched into weeks, then months, until Henry lost count and he longed for the touch of sunlight on his skin. He got taller, bigger, and some point, he realized he had been there so long that his birthday and Christmas had already passed by at least once, and he felt heartsick for a while after that.

Slowly, slowly, his abilities began to morph into something more and, slower still the voice of the monster trickled back into his thoughts. The first time he heard it again, he stopped breathing altogether as he began to remember what it had told him, and what it had done.

“What did you do?” he asked angrily, after taking days to work up the courage to speak to it once more.

The response came at once, as low and soft as ever. I saw our pain. I wanted to set us free.

“What about my family?”

I wanted to take away their pain. To free them.

“We’re trapped in this place now.”

We—I—can set us free again.

“No. Stay away from me.” Henry had a dreadful feeling, deep down, that something had happened to his family, but he didn’t want to believe it.

Somehow, Brenner found out about Henry’s conversations with the monster in his head, probably through the cameras everywhere. When Brenner approached him about it, it was startling. No one else had ever acknowledged it, to the point he had almost wondered if it was a product of his imagination.

“Henry, do you talk to yourself sometimes?” Brenner asked, seating himself on the other side of the cold metal table.

“Yes.” Henry didn’t bother trying to lie, since Brenner obviously knew the answer already.

“Do you hear voices speaking to you? Even when nobody is there?”

Henry stared at him, wondering how he could know that. “Yes.”

“Do these voices frighten you?”

“Sometimes.”

“I see.” Brenner wrote something down on a clipboard. “It must be scary for you, but we’re going to take care of you. You’re safe here.”

He’s lying.

Henry didn’t need the voice to tell him that. By himself, with the treatment he had already received, he knew that was nothing but a lie.

They started making him take a medicine, something Brenner said would make the voices go away, but it only made everything worse. All the turmoil he felt was increased tenfold, and he felt barely alive most of the time. But regardless of his feelings, Brenner pushed him and his abilities, and he began to be able to move larger objects, like humans.

He started using his abilities even when Brenner wasn’t there, after finding that putting himself in his mind made the turmoil of the medicinal haze lessen to something bearable. He stretched his mind far, listening in on conversations in different rooms, even on different floors.

“I know the kid’s probably psycho,” one of the doctors said two rooms away, “but it really feels like there’s something inside him, watching us.”

And there was.

In the twilight of lucidity wrought by the medication, the monster’s voice only grew louder. It whispered to him all the time, though he couldn’t always hear or reply.

They hurt us, the voice urged, so hurt them.

Henry, increasingly resentful towards Brenner, didn’t push that thought away. One day, after Brenner pushed him to the point of tears, his head aching and blood running from his nose, he decided he had enough. His sense of reason wore out.

Show them.

So he did.

The lights in Henry’s room flickered like they were going haywire, but he paid no attention to it. His mind was far away, caught in a storm of pain that had been growing for a long time, whipped into a frenzy by the monster. Beyond the door of his room, he heard the cries of the laboratory staff as they gazed upon the horrors he wanted them to see. For a moment, it felt good that they were experiencing a fraction of the horror he had felt.

The door to his room flew open, revealing a bedraggled Brenner and armed guards behind him. Henry opened his eyes, the twisted satisfaction fading into fear and anger.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?” All pretenses of kindness were gone from Brenner, his face full of horror.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Henry choked out, bile and bitter tears swelling within him. “I want to go home!”

“I’ve tried to protect you, Henry—“

“You’re lying!” Henry slammed a fist against the hard mattress, and the light above buzzed dangerously in reply. “You’ve just hurt me! I want to see my family, now!”

“If you’re going to act like this, then I suppose you leave me no choice.” Brenner’s gaze was grim and angry, but almost pitying. “You won’t be able to see your family again. They’re gone.”

“What? No they’re not.” The flickering light evened out, and the lab quieted as the dark phantoms haunting every mind vanished.

“They are. You lost your memories in the coma, but they’re all dead.”

An iron band wrapped around Henry’s rib cage, crushing the air from his lungs. A scream, his mother’s voice, echoed like a faraway nightmare in his mind. “No…no…they’re…”

“I kept it from you because I wanted to help you.” For a moment, the kindly Brenner was back.

Henry opened his mouth, and as he looked the falsehood in the face, it wasn’t quite his voice that came out.

“Liar.”

Something frightened flashed across Brenner’s face. “I’m—“

Henry’s hand flashed out. The light sparked and shattered as an invisible force took hold of Brenner, rendering him motionless as he began to lift into the air.

“You have hurt us, lied to us,” Henry stood up, his mind caught between past and present as the memories started to trickle back. “You thought you could control us—control me—and that is your mistake.”

Before he could do anything else, one of the soldiers tackled him, driving him backwards into the bed. His head knocked against the metal frame, stunning him, but his mouth moved nonetheless.

“Let me go!”

“I’ve tried to be reasonable with you.” Brenner’s voice came from nearby as something was slipped around his neck. “I will not tolerate you acting uncontrollably.”

Debilitating pain ripped through his body, emanating from the object around his neck. He might have screamed, but it felt like he couldn’t breathe. The shadow in his mind raged, and he began to see the things he had forgotten, that his mind had tried to put away. The screams of his family as waking nightmares ravaged them, a many-legged creature drawn upon the page of a sketchbook, his mother and his sister rising into the air as their bodies were broken by unseen forces.

He cried out then in his mind as he knew what the monster had done, but all his will against it wouldn’t stop it. It was angry, furious, spurred by his own pain and rage and taking it unto itself. Every current of electricity that wracked his body only made it worse.

With great effort, through the throes of pain, Henry turned to look at Brenner through the dark, but it was not him who looked out of his eyes anymore. “We will kill you. I will kill you.”

Henry passed out, and woke in a different cell. His neck burned like it had been set on fire, the pain bringing tears to his eyes. He didn’t remember everything that had happened, but he knew one thing for certain: his family was gone, because of him.

He cried until he couldn’t anymore, and then he just laid there. Doctors came in and out, but he let them do what they wanted with no resistance. He didn’t care anymore.

They had done something to his neck, a point near his right shoulder throbbing with an intense pain that outmatched the other places where the collar had been. It took him a while to see through the despondency of his family’s fate and see what had changed: his head was silent, and there was no voice of the monster anymore.

Finally, Brenner came to see him, and provided an explanation to the sudden quiet.

“You have failed me, Henry,” Brenner said, sounding truly disappointed. “After what you did, I cannot continue to try and train you.”

“What will happen now?” Henry didn’t feel frightened or disappointed by Brenner’s revelation. Now that he knew his family was gone, at his own hand, he felt…nothing. His abilities were gone, and he felt bereft, though he had only truly understood them for a little while.

“I don’t intend on getting rid of you, if that’s what you’re wondering. I have always envisioned you as the first of many more like you, and we’re going to move forward with that.”

Something uncomfortable twisted in Henry’s chest. It should have been comforting to think of other people like him, but there was no solace in it if they were going to be treated like he had. “What do I have to do with it?”

“I have made sure your abilities are no longer a threat, but you can help in other ways. I’ve decided to make you an orderly.”

The thought of being one of those white-clad people, lifeless except to keep him in check, made Henry nauseous. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m not sure where you keep getting the idea that you have a choice.”

Henry reached up, touching the tender spot on his neck. There was a lump beneath his skin, and he hated it more than the torment of having the monster in his head. At least with the monster, he was not defenseless.

“That is Soteria. It suppresses your abilities, but maybe one day, if you prove yourself worthy, we will remove it again.”

Henry made no reply, and in that moment, he wished the world would open wide and swallow him up.

He was given a new, fake identity. His name was Peter Ballard, and he was an orderly working for Hawkins Lab. Brenner made sure this new identity was drilled into his skull so deeply that Henry Creel started to feel like nothing but a dream. The other orderlies, ones who were not quite as imprisoned as he, gave him a wide berth, likely on Brenner’s orders.

For a while, nothing happened. He learned the identity of Peter and learned to adhere to the dress code, with special attention being applied to the tattoo on his wrist. No one outside of him, Brenner, and some of the other doctors were to know who he once was. He didn’t even bother trying to tell anyone, because he knew it would only end in pain.

But finally, the day came when the orderlies were summoned to the infirmary, and the moment he stepped inside, Peter’s heart dropped. A child sat upon one of the beds, only five or six, with his hair shorn short, and a number tattooed onto his left wrist.

He was Two, and he was the first of many.

Peter stayed away from Two and the others that came after, only doing the bare minimum as an orderly. It was too painful, too horrifying, to be around them for long. They were all so young, blissfully unaware of the true nature of their situation, and as each new child began to appear, Peter realized that Brenner had planned it that way. He had been old enough to see through Brenner’s lies and rebel, but these children were six at the very most when they arrived, the perfect age for Brenner to set himself up as a father figure that must be obeyed. And obey they did, unquestioningly, eager to please with the range of abilities they had.

With each new child, Peter sank deeper into despair. He was powerless now, and all he could do was keep his head down and pray that Brenner would somehow meet his end as the months and years dragged by.

Eleven didn’t realize she was crying until Peter paused his story, opening his eyes to look at her with concern. “I was afraid this might upset you.”

Eleven shook her head, wiping hastily at the tears on her cheeks. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re telling me.”

Peter nodded, looking down at their intertwined hands. It had taken a bit of courage to delve into the things that he had been supposed to keep secret, but now that he had done it, he felt lighter. It was no longer his burden to carry, and Eleven approached his experiences with the same incredible understanding she had since she pulled him from the Upside Down

 “For a long time in the lab, I didn’t see any good in the world,” he said. “I was angry, and I wanted nothing to do with the children.”

The admission startled Eleven, for it was so unlike him. “What…what changed?”

The answer came to his lips, simple and without thought. “You.”

“Me? Why?”

Peter tried to maintain his composure. Thus far, he had managed to keep it together, the reminiscence of old pain coming easily to him. But there was something about Eleven, and there always had been, that made him feel unreasonably emotional, in a good way. “You were young, younger than all the others had been, and I think that’s where Brenner made a mistake. You were too young to care about pleasing him at first, and you just wanted someone to…be there. I think you knew, somehow, who I was, because you always wanted to be around me.”

“I’m not sure if I knew,” Eleven said, “but I knew you were good.”

“And you were good to me.” Peter’s voice shook a little. “You gave me a chance to do something good after a lot of bad.”

“But it was Papa doing the bad things, not you.”

“Not everything I did or wanted to do was good. That time was confusing, but I know that much.”

Eleven just nodded. She knew what that was like. “I’m sorry I never knew how bad he was to you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t want you to know.”

Eleven quieted as she pulled at old memories, listening to the drumming of the rain. “Do you remember the day Three hurt Five?”

“Yes,” Peter said softly.

“That was the day I knew Papa wasn’t good. I could see how afraid you were.”

“I tried to hide it.” Peter sighed, unconsciously rubbing at his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a good job.”

“You were trying to protect me.” Eleven rubbed a sleeve across her eyes. “You were a good brother, even if I didn’t know it.”

Peter let out a watery chuckle. “And you were a good sister, even if you didn’t know it.”

Something hesitant flickered across Eleven’s face. “Even though I put you in the Upside Down?”

“Yes, ladybird. Even then.”

“You shouldn’t feel like you need to hide your scars.” She brushed her fingertips across the little ridges on the back of his hand. “I want to see them, because I can see how much you survived.”

“It has been a lot, hasn’t it?” Peter said with a rueful smile.

“You’re like a superhero,” Eleven said earnestly.

“I suppose you have a point.” Peter’s smile became softer. “I’ll get used to them eventually.”

“The boys would probably think they were ‘cool’.”

Peter laughed. “You’re probably right.”

Eleven sighed, trying to scrub the wetness from her face. Out of habit, Peter took a corner of his sleeve and tried to help her. She snorted, batting his hand gently away. “I’m not five.”

Peter drew away with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. You’ll always need help in my mind, I think.”

Eleven huffed, but she wasn’t truly mad. It was reassuring to see the things she knew resurface after his ordeal in the Upside Down. She fidgeted with her sleeve as another thought worked its way into her mind. “Uh, do you…do you want me to keep calling you Peter?”

“What?” Peter asked, surprised.

“Your name is Henry,” Eleven said. “Papa gave you a different name, but I never thought about it…”

“Oh.” Peter hadn’t thought about it either, and he didn’t answer right away, taking his time to think over the question. “I think…I’ll just go by Peter.”

Eleven frowned at him. “You like it?”

“I hated it at first,” he admitted, “but you made me like it.”

“How?”

“You would look so happy when you called to me. I couldn’t hate it when you said it like it was the best name you ever heard.” Peter took a deep breath. “I don’t think much of Henry is left, but that’s not a completely bad thing.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Peter’s smile took a slightly devious tilt. “I especially stopped hating it once you named your lion after me.”

Eleven’s hands flew to her face in an attempt to cover her embarrassment, and she glared at him between her fingers. “Stop.”

“I’m just telling the truth, ladybird.” His deviousness faded into sincerity. “You made things better back then, and now you’ve done it again with my scars.”

Eleven let her hands drop into her lap, her demeanor becoming serious once more. “I want to help you. You helped me so much, even after everything Papa did…”

“You’re doing a good job.” When she gave him a skeptical look, he said, “I mean it. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be.”

Eleven sighed, eyeing the beginnings of the vine pattern on his wrist. “You’d have less scars.”

“But then I’d have less to show for my survival.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’d be less of a superhero.”

“You’ll never be less of a superhero.”

“Well…” Peter looked down at the cards on the floor, his aches and pains all but forgotten. “Want to see if you can beat one?”

Eleven smirked. “I will."