Work Text:
When Mike slipped out of her mind, a fierce pain tore through her chest, so real it forced her shoulders to curl inward. It felt like the moment she had believed Hopper had died at the mall—an invisible wound, impossible to close, buried deep in her heart. No matter how many times she had survived pain before, this one was different. There weren’t enough tears in the world to make up for the certainty of what she was about to lose.
The relief of having seen him, even if only inside her mind, faded far too quickly, replaced by the sensation of a thousand burning nails driving into her skull. The military machine, with its relentless hum, pierced through the portal and tangled with Mike’s desperate screams echoing from a distance.
Forcing herself not to close her eyes just yet, she tried to memorize every detail of his strained face, his, Hopper’s, her friends’, and the innocent people dragged into this because of her. Horror was etched onto the faces of everyone who loved her, and a single tear slid down her cheek.
They were supposed to have won. Vecna was dead.
She had fought with everything she had. With every memory, every wound, every broken fragment of her childhood. She had fought for a world beyond Hawkins, just as Hopper had asked her to. She had truly believed that the future waiting for her was worth it.
She had fought for that future.
And still, it hadn’t been enough.
Kali had warned her.
It wouldn’t end with Vecna. No matter how far she ran or how well she hid, they would find her and use her blood to turn others into something like him. As long as she existed, the people she loved would never truly be safe.
That was when she knew what she had to do.
And she had told Mike.
Him, above everyone else.
She wouldn’t have been able to leave that chaotic world without looking at him one last time—even if only inside her mind. The boy who found her in the woods under the worst possible circumstances and still offered her shelter. The one who waited and called for her for 353 days without ever losing faith in her return. The one who saw her beyond her powers, beyond fear. The boy who loved her with every beat of his heart.
She trusted him.
She trusted him enough to leave him with the cruelest task of all: explaining to the others why she had made this choice. She trusted him with the same certainty she knew she would give her life for him without hesitation, in every universe.
And she prayed that one day he would forgive her for leaving this way. That he would understand why she had chosen to disappear.
She closed her eyes then, standing at the threshold, accepting her fate with quiet bravery, clinging to the words her father had once said to her.
“Fight for the day you have a kid of your own and can give her the life you never had...”
The future she would never have came to her without warning. Memories that, for a moment, she almost believed the universe had allowed her to see as a consolation prize for everything she had endured over the last four years.
She let herself drift into them.
[...]
Sara Terry Wheeler came into the world in the summer of 1996, far from Hawkins.
The doctors carefully placed her in her arms, a tiny figure wrapped in a white cotton blanket that contrasted with her skin, still flushed from the effort of being born. Outside, in the distance, the steady sound of waterfalls lulled every breath of her baby. Her daughter.
They had a daughter.
Her dark hair was the first thing they noticed, as dark as the night, identical to Mike’s. And then, of course, her cry, echoing through the small hospital of the mountain town, pulling a broken laugh from Eleven through her tears as her chest tightened with emotion. He cried too, without trying to hide it, holding her hand as they looked at their daughter as if they were witnessing the impossible.
“Hi…” he whispered. “Hi, Sara.”
The baby barely opened her little eyes, revealing lashes far too long for someone so small. Mike joked about it, but Eleven caught her breath when she saw them, gently brushing a finger along her chubby cheek. Those were hers.
That was when Sara closed her tiny hand around her finger. Her minuscule fingers clung tightly to her, as if she had known her her whole life. She sobbed silently, leaning closer, resting her forehead against her daughter’s.
“I’m here, baby,” she said, pulling her to her chest. “Your dad and I are here. We love you.”
Mike smiled, deeply moved. Having them both so close made him think that everything they had gone through to reach that moment with their daughter had been worth it, even the hardest parts.
Sara was an unexpected miracle. A surprise that changed everything from the moment they knew she was on the way.
Mike had just released his second book, inspired by everything they had survived together. Being a writer suited him well; it didn’t surprise her that he wanted to put their experiences into words—after all, he had the soul of a storyteller. She, for her part, worked at a nearby community shelter, helping run art workshops and supporting children who, like she once had, carried burdens far too heavy to bear. She didn’t have an official title because of her anonymity, but she was doing what she had always wanted to do.
They had been living in a cabin away from town for three years. It wasn’t very big, but it was enough for the two of them. Everything about that place was meant to last. Life there was so comfortable it made all the horror they had endured feel unreal, and even though they couldn’t get married—once again, Eleven’s anonymity wouldn’t allow it—in every way that mattered, they already were.
The peace they had in that paradise shifted slightly when she found out she was pregnant.
She remembered that moment with perfect clarity: the test resting in her trembling hands, her heart pounding in her chest, sitting by the window of their home while she watched the water fall again and again from the top of the mountain. She thought about everything, what she didn’t know, what scared her.
The fear of not being a good mother settled into her chest from that instant on. She was afraid of many things. The biggest one, even though she no longer had powers, was that she might pass the curse on through her blood to a life that was just beginning. She had spent years being an experiment because of her abilities; she didn’t want to give that fate to an innocent. Least of all to her child.
When she told Mike hours later in their shared bedroom, he didn’t say anything at first. The shock showed in every part of his face as he stayed perfectly still, processing the news. Then, when he finally managed to breathe normally, he sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and rested his forehead against hers.
“El,” he said at last, gently. “Look at me.”
She did, tears gathered on her face.
“You are not what they did to you. You never were,” his voice broke slightly. “And you would never hurt anyone, especially not a child. But…” He swallowed. “The decision is entirely yours. If you don’t feel ready, that doesn’t make you a bad person. It never will. Whatever you choose, I’m going to be right here by your side. I swear.”
Mike spoke with absolute sincerity. There were no conditions, no hidden expectations in his voice. He wasn’t going to force a future on her that she wasn’t sure she wanted, and that was what made her love him even more.
Eleven took a deep breath. She looked around the cabin, the walls they had painted together, the wooden table covered in marks, the fireplace… everything in that place screamed home.
“I’m scared, Mike” she admitted. “Scared of doing it wrong. Scared of the past coming back. Scared of not being enough.”
“And I understand…”
They were silent for a moment.
“But... I want to try,” she said at last. “I want to have the family they once took from me. I know this wasn’t part of our plan, and it scares me, but I don’t want to let fear decide for me anymore. It’s had that power for too long—if I keep giving it to fear, I’ll never be completely happy. I know it will be hard, but I truly feel like I can do this if you’re with me.”
Mike took her hands firmly.
“I’m with you, El. Always.”
And he meant it. They would have a family of their own, a family they would protect at any cost.
The pregnancy went smoothly. Mike’s parents, Hopper and Joyce, were the first to know. They took their time telling their friends, wanting to keep the secret to themselves a little longer. It didn’t last long. Eleven couldn’t resist telling Max. After all, she was her best friend.
She knew it even before the doctors told her—it was going to be a girl. She felt it deep inside every night, a quiet certainty that stayed with her until it was finally confirmed. And even though Mike said it didn’t matter either way, it was clear that a little girl had always been his deepest wish.
They already loved her. That was why they chose her name so carefully.
Sara, after Hopper’s first daughter. After the brave little girl who never stopped living in her father’s heart, even after all those years. It was a tribute to his child, and even though Sara would never meet her, it was a way to keep her present. When Eleven told her father, he couldn’t speak at first. Emotion closed his throat, and the tears came before the words.
He cried in gratitude, holding Joyce’s hand.
For her middle name, they chose Terry, after her biological mother. The woman she had been torn away from as a child. Even though life had separated them in the cruelest way, Eleven had never stopped belonging to her. Carrying her name was a way of honoring the motherhood that never had the chance to exist.
Sara Terry Wheeler.
When she was born, the world seemed brighter and more alive for both of them. She became the light of their days.
Hopper and Joyce visited whenever they could. Since getting married in 1990 and moving to New York, the trips took hours, but they never minded. Hopper adored his granddaughter with almost exaggerated devotion. He carried her through town, talked to her about life as if she could understand every word. Joyce, on the other hand, had a habit of knitting her little flowered sweaters almost always too big. She was convinced Sara would grow in the blink of an eye.
Physically, Sara was identical to Mike. The same dark hair, the same eyes, even the same crooked smile when something amused her. But her mannerisms… those were all Eleven. The way she tilted her head when she was paying attention, how she frowned when she concentrated, how she stayed quiet while listening to her parents talk. She was smart, observant, taking in the world at her own pace.
Mike liked to call them both “my heroines.”
Eleven always smiled when she heard it. It reminded her that they weren’t superheroes. They didn’t have powers. Their baby hadn’t inherited any either. And that filled her with a deep, peaceful relief.
Three years later, Sara had become more aware of everything around her. Mike often joked that she would outgrow them soon, considering how fast she was growing. Still, some things never changed. Every night, he sat at the edge of her bed with a story in his hands the same ritual since she was five months old. Sometimes they were published books; other times, stories he made up on the spot. There were always heroes, always magical creatures learning how to live in peace. Sara listened with wide eyes, clutching her favorite teddy bear, until she fell asleep with a smile.
It had become their nightly father-daughter tradition.
During the day, Sara belonged entirely to Jane.
She followed her everywhere, and now that she was old enough to run on her own through the fields with her toys clutched in her hands, she chased after the animals at the shelter Eleven helped at on weekends, laughing uncontrollably whenever one managed to escape her. She fell, scraped her knees, got back up without complaining, and ran again. Her world was far too big and beautiful to stop.
The waterfalls, present since her birth, bore witness to a free childhood and to how happy life had become for them.
By the time Sara turned four, the cabin had grown used to the noise. To dolls forgotten on the floor, to family drawings taped to the refrigerator, to laughter spilling out from under the bed when she hid there or curled up on the couch.
And every time the boys, her uncles, came to visit, that noise multiplied.
Dustin always arrived with candy hidden in his pockets and quickly became her favorite. Will would sit with her for hours doing crafts, cutting out crooked shapes and painting without hurry. Max braided her wavy hair with endless patience while Holly picked out colorful outfits for her. Lucas joked with Mike in the kitchen about how much fatherhood had changed him, telling him he couldn’t wait to have something like that with Max once the season with his basketball team was over and he proposed.
It was thanks to Dustin that they learned Steve had had his first child with a woman named Samantha, and that he had become the best baseball coach Hawkins had seen in years. Nancy was now a well-known reporter, traveling from city to city—Mike talked to her about once a month. According to Will, Jonathan was directing independent films, and Robin had gotten engaged to her girlfriend.
Life was as simple as it was wonderful.
And everyone, absolutely everyone, loved Sara.
It was during one of those occasional winter gatherings when a devastating feeling pierced the pit of her stomach.
Eleven held a cup of coffee between her hands, sitting on the living room couch. The heat numbed her fingers, but it did nothing to calm her. Her gaze was fixed on her daughter, who was playing a childlike version of D&D on the floor with Dustin and Will in front of the fireplace. Sara laughed with her usual carefree giggle, while the fire crackled and filled the cabin with warm light.
And yet, something wasn’t right.
The first sign was the lamp beside her, flickering irregularly, dragging back memories of years spent fighting. The second sign was worse—no one else seemed bothered by the blinking light, almost as if they didn’t notice it at all. Mike kept laughing from the kitchen with Max and Lucas. The voices, the waterfalls outside, everything continued just the same.
For a moment, Eleven almost convinced herself she was imagining things. But by the third sign, there was no denying it.
The air grew heavy in her chest, each breath harder to take. Her fingers tightened around the cup until the hot rim burned her skin. And suddenly, the distant sound of falling water stopped being comforting.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
The world around her began to fracture, and she was the only one aware of it. Soon, her mind screamed the cruel truth at her—none of her current life was real. Not the cabin. Not the waterfalls. Not her work. Not the years she had shared with Mike…
The time she had been lucky enough to live was a fantasy. In real life, her life was about to come to an end.
Then she felt a small weight against her side and looked down. Sara was there, clinging to her, arms wrapped around her torso. Eleven held her immediately, desperately, pressing her tight against her chest. The sob that escaped her wasn’t quiet—it was a broken cry that collapsed into her daughter’s dark hair.
“Sara…” she whispered, her voice in pieces. “My baby…”
If nothing was real, then she wasn’t either.
Eleven closed her eyes and breathed in her scent, trying to carve it into the deepest part of her memory. Memorizing the exact weight of her body, the way her head fit beneath her chin, the warmth of her mere existence—something she had grown used to since the day she was born. She clung to her as if love alone could keep her from fading away.
“Mommy, are you okay?” her daughter asked, her thick brows knitting together.
Eleven swallowed, forcing her trembling voice to steady.
“I’m okay, baby,” she said, stroking her hair. “Mommy loves you. Mommy is always going to love you, no matter what.”
Sara pulled back just enough to look at her.
She had Mike’s eyes. The same quiet calm he had always managed to give her, even in the middle of chaos. With her small hands, she took Eleven’s face and held it with a devotion that didn’t belong to an ordinary child. It was a look full of deep love.
“I love you too, Mommy,” she said in her soft little voice. “I always will. Friends don’t lie, remember?”
“Friends don’t lie…”
The lamp’s flicker turned into a white flash.
The couch vanished. The walls crumbled like dust. The sound of the waterfalls became a sharp, violent ringing that tore through her head. Eleven felt Sara’s weight fade from her arms, like smoke slipping through her fingers.
El didn’t scream. She had no voice left, her heart went with her.
[...]
The explosion was heard in the distance, like a muffled thunder rolling slowly through the air. Eleven kept her eyes closed; every trace of fear and doubt had left her. Everything she had wanted to be, everything she had dreamed of living, was etched within her with an impossible clarity, something that could never be erased. No one could take it from her.
Not even death.
The heat began to surround her, at first like a distant embrace, then like a presence growing ever more intense. She didn’t fight it. Her body was tired of fighting and, for the first time in a long while, she was at peace. She had done everything she could. She had given everything she had.
In her mind, just before the shockwave consumed her, a small hand reached through the light, searching for hers. Fingers closed around her hand, the same fingers that had clung to her for the first time in the hospital in the summer of 1996. Eleven squeezed them with the last strength she had left, trying to hold on to the memory of the baby she had carried for nine months and watched grow for five years, far from the noise of destruction at her back as the Upside Down was being torn away.
It didn’t matter that it had never truly happened. The love she carried was real, and it had lived in her heart ever since. In another life, Sara Wheeler would have been her devotion.
Then she thought of Mike. Of the way he used to look at her over his typewriter when he thought she wasn’t watching. Of the life they shared, of the promises that existed only in that fantasy. She thought of the man he would have become; she would never know him, but she held on to the certainty that he had loved her even when she didn’t know how to love herself.
In another life, she and Mike would have been so happy.
And finally, she thought of herself. She wasn’t a weapon, or an experiment, or even Eleven. She was Jane Hopper, a creative, sensitive, intelligent woman who learned how to love after knowing only pain. A survivor who left behind a life of humiliation and chose to protect others even when the cost was herself.
In another life, she would have been free.
When the shockwave of the explosion finally reached her, wrapping El completely in a blinding light, she felt no regret. Only a quiet certainty that the future she had fought for had come true in some other universe.
And even though she never got to live it in this one, the others would.
Her friends.
Hopper.
Mike.
They would all make it. Her Mike would make it.
That was enough for her to surrender herself to the arms of eternity.