Chapter Text
ELEVEN
"Your story doesn't end here, Jane," was what her sister told her before proposing a plan that no one could know about.
It was madness, and Eleven didn't even know if it would work, she didn't even know if it was possible, many things could go wrong. Kali told her to leave her there, that there was no hope for her anymore, but Eleven could have it, and Kali would give it to her.
But Kali was injured. What if it didn't work? What if Kali died before she could execute the plan? She was wounded after all. Or what if, because she was hurt, her power wasn't strong enough? What if the illusion faded in the end?
There were so many things that could have gone wrong, so many loose ends, but in the end... it worked. Kali got her out of that place by making her invisible just before they turned on the devices that emitted her kryptonite. Eleven could hear screams calling her from afar, so she knew the illusion was in place, but she couldn't leave without saying goodbye to Mike.
When she made sure she was far enough, after running through the tunnels as much as she could, she focused on reaching Mike in her void, in his mind, to say goodbye, to see him one last time before disappearing again.
It wasn't easy choosing the last words, it wasn't easy giving that last kiss, or asking him to make the others understand her decision. She knew Mike didn't understand it either, but she wasn't going to let them hurt him, she wasn't going to let them kill Mike. For this to work, everything had to be perfect, which meant, everyone had to believe she was truly dead.
She had no possessions other than the clothes she was wearing at that moment—a dead person can't go back home to pack a bag, after all—but she could seek a new life.
"Owens" was her first thought after sleeping in the tunnels that day. She didn't trust the people from the lab and spent days stealing food and living in the tunnels before making a decision, but in the end, she knew she had no other choice and that only Owens could give her what she needed to start a new life.
She used her abilities to locate him, saw him sick in his apartment, but she couldn't risk someone else knowing where she was or being tracked. The military is nosy, but now her skills were stronger, and she took him to her void.
"W-what?" Owens looked around, lost, as his world suddenly turned dark.
"Dr. Owens," Once called from behind, and when he turned, he was surprised to see her.
"They said you were dead," was the first thing he said when the surprise allowed him to speak.
"Good. I want it to stay that way," she was serious. "I need your help."
"You need papers," he concluded, and Eleven nodded.
"Maybe it's the last good thing I can do."
"The last?" Eleven asked, and Owens nodded.
"Yes... the last," he sighed. "But that's a story for another day," he looked around. "I'll see what I can do... I don't think you can keep the surname Hopper, but maybe you can keep Jane," he turned as if looking to leave the void.
"No," she caught his attention again. "Not Jane," he seemed confused. "El, I want a name that says El."
El was the identity she wanted to keep because she felt it allowed her to hold onto something from Mike, something from what she had in that place, in Hawkins, to hold onto a piece of the life she had to leave behind.
"El..." he repeated slowly. "Okay, I'll think of something. Reach out to me again in three days."
Eleven left Owens and counted the days. On the third day, she contacted him the same way as before, and Owens had news for her.
"Eleanor Hansen will be your new name," was the first thing he said to Once.
"Eleanor Hansen?" Owens nodded.
"I've got your papers, but I need to know where you want me to give them to you."
"Tomorrow at 4, leave them somewhere as far from your home as possible. I'll be watching."
"Alright, I think I know where," he nodded.
"But if you tell anyone..." Owens interrupted her.
"No one will know, you have my word," he swore to her. "You'll be able to live, kid. I promised Hopper once, and now I'll fulfill it to you."
"Not even Hop can know," she said very seriously, and Owens nodded again.
"No one will know," he reaffirmed. "Only you and I will know."
It turned out Owens had left the package at a restaurant in Philadelphia. It was a long trip, but she met a very kind woman who took her to Marcello's in Indiana, a pizza restaurant.
Eleven had to ask for Joseph, according to Owens's instructions, and he handed her a huge backpack with packages inside.
"The doctor asked me to tell you to be careful and to check the package thoroughly," the guy behind the restaurant told her.
Eleven found more than just an ID document in the backpack. The first thing in the backpack was a sheet of paper, and when Eleven checked it, she realized it was a hotel room reservation for four days, a key, and a note.
"Stay here and rest; you'll be comfortable and safe, and you can decide your next move."
She went to the hotel. The room wasn't anything fancy, but it's not like Eleven was used to a luxurious life.
Inside the hotel, she really began to check the backpack. She found clothes for herself, for starters, which was good because she had only managed to get other clothes from a supermarket far from Hawkins that she had to steal. She also found fake documents, a birth certificate, and fake school records. She also found a passport, but it wasn't American—it was Danish. It seemed like a solid life, but she wondered if this had been someone else's identity before because even the passport and certificate had the wrong birth year. Instead of 1971, it said 1969, making her a couple of years older than she really was.
"Who were you, Eleanor Hansen?" she asked softly, caressing the name on the Danish passport.
She thoroughly checked the backpack, every pocket, and it had several hidden compartments. Owen had left her things that could be useful: a refillable water bottle, winter and summer clothes, nothing too complicated or stylish. There was also a first aid kit inside, containing bandages, ointment, disinfectant alcohol, gauze, among other things.
Eleven took the bandages, it was inevitable to remember Max. Thanks to her, she had learned how to treat wounds, and she felt a void in her stomach realizing that, after all, her friendship with Max hadn't had the reunion she had hoped for; instead, it was rather cold.
She set those thoughts aside and focused on continuing to explore the backpack. Hidden in many places was cash in various amounts, from bills to coins. It would help her start something new for sure, but she'd have to learn to manage it.
There was a notebook with a pencil and a dictionary.
—"English-Icelandic?" —she looked at it confused. Inside, there was a note and a map of a small town she could barely imagine how to pronounce. She didn't understand it at first, nor did she notice the note behind the map.
The rest of the days she could stay at the hotel were spent resting and regaining her strength. She tried to contact Owens again to let him know she had received everything, but all she found was a coffin and dirt.
She said nothing upon seeing it. It wasn't that she felt deep sadness for him; if he had been part of Dad's team, he was also responsible for her life being the way it was now. But she didn't hate him; she simply didn't care much. At least now she knew that with Owens dead, her secret was safe.
On the last day she had the room available, she checked the backpack once more, trying to devise a plan. Now she didn't have to plan how to kill a horrible monster; she just had to plan how to try to live.
She picked up the dictionary again and found Owens' note behind the map. She hadn't seen it the first time she opened it, but there it was, attached.
"This is a small town, far from where you've been. Follow this list of transports, and you'll arrive safely. No one will find you here."
She packed everything after eating, making sure not to forget anything, and then understood the envelope with money inside the backpack labeled "transport." It was enough to reach this town in Iceland.
Through buses and boats, the journey wasn't easy or quick. Owens had planned everything: stops at certain places, some hotel reservations in distant towns to rest. Eleven was able to see incredible places beyond Hawkins or Lenora for the first time. And although she didn't have much time for sightseeing, she enjoyed watching them occasionally from the bus.
Owens had left very clear instructions: she had to stay at least two years in this small town, live a quiet life without getting into trouble, and not use her passport for at least two years after her arrival. After that time, she could do whatever she wanted as long as it was a peaceful life, never drawing too much attention, and preferably, she shouldn't return to the United States.
Owens had given her a list of cities where she could live once the two years had passed, along with some recommendations.
Since she was supposed to be a couple of years older than she actually was, she was thought to have already finished high school. However, Owens recommended in a letter a general education plan to help her feel in place, as the reality was that apart from Lenora, she hadn't studied, and Lenora was an experience she preferred not to repeat.
Traveling incognito was much slower than a normal trip, so it took Eleven four months to arrive safely at that small town.
—"Three waterfalls" —she smiled upon seeing them. There were three waterfalls around the town, which was indeed quite small, but the view was beautiful, and it worked for now. Perhaps Mike had managed to write an ending like in his campaigns, where the heroes separate, and one finds a safe place with three waterfalls.
Owens had given her the keys to a property, and its location was marked on the map he had provided. It wasn't anything big or fancy, just a small, cozy house with some old furniture.
She still didn't have many things, the less she had, the less she had to carry. She left the backpack beside the bed and sat down with a sigh. Finally, after months of traveling, she didn't have to wake up the next day to catch a bus or something similar; she had arrived at her new home, at least for the next two years.
During her journey, she had studied the dictionary, had some general idea of certain words, and had notes she had made in the notebook. Her Icelandic was far from perfect, but it was functional... maybe.
The little house needed repairs, but it was nothing she hadn't done with Hopper when they lived in the cabin and later had to restore it again. It wasn't her first time doing this, just the first time doing it alone.
There were a few cleaning supplies in an old cabinet. The house wasn't a dump or anything, but it was dusty from years of disuse, so the first thing Eleven did was clean.
She met her neighbors the next day, very kind people she didn't understand much. They were an elderly couple living with their daughter, her husband, and their granddaughters. She could communicate well with Margrét and Magnús, who were the parents of Sunna and Lilja; they all spoke English except for the grandparents, who were more traditional.
"Ertu nýi nágranninn? (Are you the new neighbor?)" Margrét greeted her in the morning while Once was cleaning the entrance of her new house.
"I'm sorry... my Icelandic isn't very good" she said in slightly slow English, a bit lost.
"Are you American?" the woman spoke to her in English with a distinct accent.
"Danish" she explained "But I grew up in America, yes" she smiled softly.
"Við hvern ertu að tala, mamma? (Who are you talking to, Mom?)" the eldest daughter came out of the house.
"Hún er nýja nágranni okkar (She's our new neighbor)" she introduced "I'm Margrét, and this is my eldest daughter, Sunna."
"Nice to meet you" she smiled "My name is Eleanor" she introduced herself, savoring the sound of her new name in an official way. She had used it during her trip, but this was the first time it felt legitimate.
"Eleanor is a lovely name" Margrét smiled back.
"What do you like to be called?" asked the young girl "Sometimes they call me Su."
"El" she replied, smiling softly "You can call me El."
"Welcome, El" Margrét said kindly "You should join us for lunch this afternoon. Are you with someone else?"
"No, it's just me" Sunna nodded, smiling.
"I have to go. See you this afternoon, El" Sunna said goodbye with a smile, and Eleven couldn't help but smile back.
Sunna was her false age, 18. Thanks to that, they started getting along, and she began teaching her Icelandic. Eleven also got a job at the grandparents' restaurant. Owens had written her a backstory on a piece of paper she had memorized as if it were her own.
Eleanor Hansen is an orphan; her parents died when she was a child. She was born Danish but lived in the United States most of her life, and now that she was of legal age, she wanted to settle in the land of her roots, trying to connect with her parents.
Lilja became like a little sister, while Sunna was like an older sister. They took her in as one of their own—they truly did—and Eleven thought she could really make a home.
"You like coming here a lot, don't you?" Sunna often found her sitting at the edge of the dock behind the restaurant, watching the waterfall.
"I like watching the waterfalls" there was a certain nostalgia in her tone.
"Do they remind you of your parents?" but Eleven shook her head.
"No," she said softly. "They remind me of someone else."
"Who?"
"My boyfriend..." she paused "Ex-boyfriend" she grimaced, letting out a sigh. If there was something she didn't want to lie about, it was Mike.
"Ex-boyfriend? Why did you break up? You seem like you still love him."
"It was better that way" she kept it simple "Our paths diverged."
"Yeah... that happens sometimes" Sunna sighed "I had a partner too, whom I miss."
"Partner?" Sunna nodded and smiled.
"I'll tell you that story another day. Come on, let's go. Break's over; we have to clean the tables" Eleven nodded, and they stood up.
They were the simplest two years of her life, and she liked that. She didn't have to worry about anything more than following the general knowledge study guide Owens had left her.
Sometimes she felt tempted to spy on her old friends, especially when she was alone in her small house on a cold night, gripped by nostalgia.
She was curious to know what Dustin had been up to these past months, how Lucas was doing, how Max was holding up, if Will was okay, but above all, she wanted to see Mike again. She never did.
It wasn't for lack of wanting; maybe it was more out of fear. She was afraid to see that they were better off without her, that she had held them back, that she never truly belonged there, just as she never belonged in Lenora.
Still, she allowed herself to imagine beautiful things about them: Hopper and Joyce finally having a life together, Max fully recovering with Lucas by her side, or Will finding a boy who loved him.
Thinking about Mike was painful, but she hoped he could be happy. If she couldn't be with him, maybe he'd find someone someday who would make him as happy as he deserved.
She liked her life in Iceland. Maybe she wouldn't go to university, but after Lenora, she realized that school wasn't what she had imagined. She preferred learning at her own pace, reading about topics that interested her.
She discovered she was good at fixing things. She learned with the help of Magnús. Hopper had taught her a few things before, but Magnús was more meticulous.
The first thing she repaired was an old clock in her small house, useless until then. Later, Magnús taught her more in his workshop, and she left the restaurant to become his assistant after her first year in Iceland.
Sunna taught her another craft, besides everything else she always showed her. Eventually, they created handicrafts together.
At first, she wasn't as good as she hoped, which frustrated her. She practiced at home without giving up until she crafted her first decent piece, then a lovely one, followed by a good one, then a very good one, and finally an excellent one.
"Do you want to come to Ireland for the fair? We usually set up stalls there. My mother sells her food, and Lilja and I sell crafts," Sunna explained, but it hadn't been two years since Owens had told her to lay low.
"Maybe next year, mine aren't that good yet," she excused herself.
"That's okay," Sunna smiled.
"El! Will you come with us?" Lilja entered Magnús's workshop. Magnús lent his workshop to his daughters to paint their crafts before the fair.
"Not this year, but maybe next," she told the girl. Lilja was 12 and adored El.
"Okay... but next year, you should come to the other fairs with us," Lilja suggested excitedly.
"I'll think about it," she replied, smiling amusedly.
She liked to believe her plan had worked, that the U.S. government wasn't looking for her anymore, that the military had finally left her alone, and that they believed she was dead.
But the following year, she still didn't go, giving a vague excuse about fixing some appliances for Mrs. Helga. El had become very skilled at it and earned good money both from repairs and working as Magnús's assistant.
It wasn't until the next fair that she dared to go. She was scared but wanted to trust that everything would be okay.
She used her passport for the first time in years, feeling nervous but mentally prepared, and there were no issues using it.
In Ireland, she stayed with Lilja and Sunna in a hotel room and thoroughly enjoyed selling at the fair. Nothing bad happened, no one came to arrest her, and no one seemed to be following or tracking her.
They returned to Iceland a week later, and El had never felt more confident that she finally had a life.
On her birthday, it had become a tradition for Margrét and Sunna to throw her a small party at the restaurant with the entire village present. It was a tiny village where everyone knew each other, and everyone appreciated Eleanor Hansen.
"Happy birthday, El," said Helga's children.
"We brought you a gift, El," the youngest excitedly showed her a wrapped box.
"They're new tools just for you," said the older brother proudly. "It was grandma's idea; she thought you'd like them."
She learned to communicate in a mix of English and Icelandic, but she had built a good community there.
In her fifth year in Iceland, Sunna suggested they process paperwork to move to London and open a craft shop there since she had landed a good contract and secured a location.
"I don't know..." she hesitated. She had traveled before, but moving from Iceland? Wouldn't that be like losing everything again?
"You don't have to if you don't want to... What if I start first, and you visit me? Maybe that'll convince you of how it could work," Sunna proposed with a smile. "El, this is an incredible opportunity, and I'd love for you to come with me." El smiled.
"I'll think about it," she exhaled. "Maybe... in six months, I'll join you there."
"Promise?" A promise...
"I promise," she nodded.
At the end of the day, everything reminded her of Mike. Sunna had tried setting her up with cute guys, but she always preferred retreating into her memories of Mike.
She had many friends now and a community that genuinely cared for her, but she missed Mike.
Six months later, she visited London.
"What do you think? Do you like it?" Sunna showed her the studio. "And look, I have a big surprise for you," she said, guiding her through the lovely apartment. "I've set up this space... just for you," she smiled. "It would be your own workshop, El." It was small but had everything she needed in one corner of the apartment. It worked. "Imagine all we could do here, El."
El pressed her lips together, exhaling before nodding with conviction after a few seconds.
"Alright, I'll move in with you," she said, and Sunna hugged her.
"We'll go back to Iceland every summer and winter, I promise. We'll see everyone, and they'll take care of your house until we return." El nodded happily.
Margrét and Magnús helped her the most with the residency paperwork, along with Sunna, who already had hers.
She could finally breathe easy again when everything went well. Eleanor Hansen officially had permission to live and work in London.
She had been there for three months, working in the craft shop, which also doubled as a place to deliver her repair work.
"El! Help me here!" Sunna called from outside, arranging the shelves.
El stepped out, picked up the box in her arms, and helped hold it while Sunna organized.
"El?" someone else called her. A familiar voice, slightly changed from how she remembered it.
When she turned around, he was there, surprise flooding his face, and El felt her arms weaken for a moment.