Work Text:
A part of Mike wishes he hadn't come with her to this desolate underground bunker. It's for the sake of relearning to use her abilities, and the world needs that now more than ever, so of course it's necessary... but El has been subjected to reliving all the worst parts of a repressed childhood in the process, and all he can do is watch from the outside, watching these memories of hers on a cold, staticky screen, helpless to change any of it.
Each time El resurfaces, she's timid and wide-eyed and speaks in slow, broken sentences again, like she was when he first met her... She still recognizes him, so it's not quite the same as amnesia... but it's disorienting for both of them nonetheless. She'll go in and out of these regressive states in waves. She's at her smallest when she comes back to her room right after a session in the tank. It's breaking his heart to see her be forced back into that headspace. It makes him inconsolably angry that they did those things to her in the first place.
After a particularly rough memory, in which the other numbered children were particularly cruel to her, Mike gets so worked up watching the playback of the tapes that he storms off to her room before he breaks something; he tries to calm down before she returns. When she does, there's tears in her eyes. The pull on his heart to go embrace her is too much; he jumps up and approaches her with his arms open, but she flinches, reflexively covering her ears.
Mike stops cold in his tracks. He retreats back into the corner of the room, like his mere presence might burn her. El recovers a bit... but as she moves to sit on the low cot, her steps are slow and careful and she watches him with wary, anxious eyes.
"Eleven..." he starts carefully, "...It's okay. It's just me. You... you remember me, right?"
Her gaze wavers slightly. She just sits there and stares for a long moment... before nodding slowly. Her voice is small and raw, like she hasn't spoken in years, "Mike."
He offers a tentative smile. The corners of her mouth twitch a little.
"Can I... Is it okay if I come sit with you?"
Still staring, she nods once and croaks, "Yes."
Mike crosses the room, trying very hard to not startle her... her entire body is tensed up, like she's ready to bolt, but the closer he approaches, the more she seems to relax. It's as though familiarity is dawning on her the clearer she sees him. Her glassy eyes shimmer with gathering tears. When he's right in front of her, her face twists and she lets out a choked sob. She reaches her arms out weakly, like a child asking to be picked up... it sends another stab right into his chest. He drops to his knees and pulls her into a tight hug, and she clings right back like he's a lifeline.
"Oh, El... it's okay. I'm here."
Her weeping is so light and hushed, as though she's afraid to make noise... a tiny whimper slips out, just a quiet murmur. She makes the same noise again, and then again... humming in a strange repeated rhythm, as though the sound were a skipping record... Mike is puzzled for a moment about this, but then he remembers his baby sister Holly doing the same sort of thing-- echoing noises back to herself. He used to find it annoying, but it was always a lot less annoying than her crying... Maybe it's a calming sort of habit for her, the same way it was for Holly...?
Mike tests a theory by humming softly too, mimicking the noises El is making. El starts to echo a little bit louder. Her shoulders relax. After a moment of this gentle exchange, sending brief little murmurs back and forth to each other, El seems to release all the tension out of her body. She leans into him, nuzzling into his neck... He feels the little puffs of air against his skin with each hum, and she nudges her nose up against his throat when he hums back, feeling for the vibrations...
"Hey," he says softly. "Feel better?"
El sort of... grumbles. Her hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, refusing to let him go.
"Can I sit next to you now? We can keep hugging, y'know, it's just... my knees are starting to hurt," he lets out a light chuckle.
At the mention of him being in pain, Eleven backs away to stare worriedly at his face. Mike offers a smile in reassurance, though, and her concerned expression softens. He stands up and moves to sit next to her on the low cot, scooting back to lean up against the wall. She's watching him intently, but not moving.
"C'mere, it's okay!" Mike opens his arms again, inviting her closer.
El crawls over to him right away. She slides her arms around his waist and holds on tightly, pressing her face into his chest and curling her body against his. She's leaning almost all of her weight into him, but he lets her; she's in the headspace of a far smaller, skinnier, lighter version of herself, after all. Mike sighs and thinks back to the grainy CRTV footage, and the tiny wisp of a girl it was focused on... how easy it was for the larger kids to fling her around in the air, as though she weighed nothing at all... She was so small... He cradles Eleven in his arms as gently as he can, despite the overwhelming urge to hold her so tightly that nothing could ever rip her away from him ever again.
She probably never had anyone to hold her like this, no one at all. The cold neglect she faced at the lab during her childhood was always something he tried not to think about... but having to witness it day after day, watching her relive that torture, while knowing that she never even knew how wrong and unfair it was to do all of that to children... Having to stand in the same room as the man who did it to her... There wasn't really any way to avoid thinking about it. The entire time Mike has been here he's wished for nothing but to be able to travel back in time and stop them... To stop all these heartless bastards from stealing her life away from her... He wishes so badly to take it all away, all the hurt and the fear, make it all just go away...
El lets out a soft little sigh and moves one of her hands to his chest, right next to her face. She starts lightly tapping one of her fingers in a strange rhythm, and it takes him a moment to realize... she's tapping out his heartbeat. She's fixating on sounds and touch, tangible sensations like pressure and vibration. He wonders what sensory deprivation must be like for her, how terrified and alone she must feel every single time.
Sharp strands of freshly-shaved hair poke and tickle his face, but he presses a kiss to the top of her head anyway. "I'm here," he says again, his voice catching in his throat. El breathes a sigh in response, seeming to be a million times more at ease now.
Maybe he doesn't need to travel back in time to help her, Mike thinks. Maybe she's already doing that now, and being here-- holding her, breathing with her, keeping her grounded like this-- maybe that's enough.
Maybe this is enough.