Work Text:
Indiana, Hawkins. March 13th, 1993
8:37PM
Stood in a huddle, the girls of the Wheeler family gleamed with pride; their food on the dinner table ignored as they skimmed through the newspaper in their collective grasp, enjoying every letter and word that formed any praise towards their eldest son.
“Look at you, Michael! They’re calling you the next big thing!” Karen Wheeler shouted, looking back and forth from the paper to the young man, who was seated across his father, muted as usual.
Yesterday, Mike had took notice of the newspaper, skimming through it and finding his name in the Writers Section. Specifically, the Upcoming Writers section. He’d been told in advance about it happening, and since becoming a legal adult, it went all through him before anyone could find out.
He stashed the paper in his bedroom, doing his best to avoid his father’s scrutiny the day prior when he’d asked why the weekly paper was missing, at least for one more day until his elder sister had arrived for Spring Break.
Now that everyone was here, he had pretended to find the paper his dad been looking for, who almost spat his tea out when he saw his only son’s name in it.
With what happened here in Hawkins, he had fictionalised his suffering into a digestible supernatural thriller, publicised as a nod of remembrance towards anyone that had to go through the troubles and sacrifices his people did, never intended to reach a larger audience.
But to Mike’s surprise, the nation had noticed after all.
Theories that were meant to stay a hushed conspiracy exploded in the papers, several anonymous sources claimed to have witnessed and partaken in experiments in unlisted American projects, in which small and repetitious towns across the country were exploited, used as test subjects.
Hawkins had been one of them, the easiest to believe as there’d been undeniable motion a few years ago with the military constantly getting caught in the middle of their town. Nancy had the courage to collate as much as she could, she'd be the first name to any of this.
Therefore, his innocent, eccentric and exploratory side project had been gaining traction. Being her brother, as well as being from Hawkins amplified the curiosity, with the secretive nature surrounding his experiences being in the spotlight just as much as his book.
Dropping out of college seemed a possibility, with his talents being noticed by publishers around the globe. Mike’s plan to start searching the many waterfalls around the Earth could start far earlier than he anticipated.
Cup of water in his hand, he had finished his dinner, mind already gearing towards his bedroom. But first he walked over to the sink to wash his plate and utensils, relaxation plastered all over him, despite the surmounting praise from the tabloid, and his family.
When he didn’t respond, only smiling, Nancy chimed in: “His seemingly authentic tale of the supernatural, small town horror in the fictional town of 'Brookridge' has captured the minds of many. Even with its dystopian premise, it’s the prideful connection between its fantastical, yet grounded characters that shine proudly through the abyss.”
Well, the wordplay was something to consider, Mike thought.
“Coinciding with the trending exposure of our leaders’ mistreatment of people across the nation, and the author’s connections to its real world conspiracies, the reader is immersed in a never ending cycle of question and answer, as well as fiction and reality.” She sounded more impressed in every word, also looking back and forth.
Their younger teenage sister finished, “This novel isn’t just a story, it’s a message. A message that our country has never needed more than it does now, a must-read regardless of taste or background!"
There was no exclamation at the end of that sentence, but Holly couldn’t contain herself. She raced over to Mike to hug him in amazement, to which he softly accepted, light laughter escaping him in response to her ridiculousness.
“Thanks, guys. Mom and Dad too.”
He didn’t know what else to say. The concept of fame confused him as much as it did surprise him. He’s been told how good a storyteller he is, but with no face to accurately depict that praise on a larger scale, what was he supposed to do?
The phone rang as he finished up, this wasn’t the only thing he’d been expecting. Karen picked it up and despite her composed responses, Mike knew what her additional excitement was about.
”Someone just called from the The Paris Review, they were just calling to confirm Michael’s interview was still happening! It’ll be featured on Paris’ magazine next month!” At that point, his mother practically sprinted towards him, engulfing him with one of those hugs where the recipient is swayed side to side.
The girls’ chatter was interrupted when their dad interrupted from his seat, “Still happening? Doesn’t that mean that it was already agreed? Did you know about this Michael?”
One after the other, even Holly connected the dots.
Well, he’d been caught. “Surprise?” He exclaimed half heartedly, doing the weakest jazz hands ever.
Karen shot her son a brief look of hurt at his admittance, but she didn’t want to sour the mood, as well as the fact that Mike had grown enough to make his own decisions. “He wanted us all together to share this moment, so it’s fine,” pointedly glaring at her husband, who merely scoffed in return. “It’s about time people recognised how good you are at writing!” Mike wasn’t too sure if his mother had actually ever read the book itself. “You’re going to be in a magazine, then that means they’ll probably be taking a picture of you too!”
Holly perked up at that, “I’ve seen some people include an item in theirs, then the interviewee asks them a question about it. Will you have something in yours?”
“Ooh what about a photo? Like your Halloween outfit in ‘84? You look so cute in that one!” Karen suggested.
There were so many things that were wrong about that suggestion, “Mom, I hate that picture.”
But she loved it-
“What about all your D&D boards? Shows your youthful side.” offered Nancy.
“Too many to pick from, plus it’s been a while since I’ve thought about anything Dungeon and Dragon related. Need to also reflect the current me.” But it wasn’t a bad suggestion, Mike noted. “I think I’m just going to go simple, have me sat by my desk or something, either using the typewriter or just writing into my work log.”
He could feel the collective cringe of disappointment across the girls. ”That might be the most boring thing you’ve ever said.” Holly deadpanned.
Nancy didn’t add on but didn’t disagree, whereas Karen’s mind was racing, thinking of something better. “What if you play into the rumours?”
“What rumours?” Mike played dumb.
She looked at him like he were an idiot. “The ones being told across the country, in Hawkins. You could join your sister, be a part of the team that exposed it all. Expose the military for what they did to us, to the Byers, Sinclairs, Hopper.” The names just fell out of his mother’s mouth, she’d rightfully never let go of the ordeal, more so with how they all were forced to keep quiet. “We all deserve some kind of justice! Right dear?”
Mike didn’t have to look at his father to know the older man didn’t have much of a meaningful answer for them.
Justice for his friends and family made sense. Just don’t mention her. He loved his Mom, but she better not mention her, don’t even consider it.
He didn’t get to finish his internal plea, “You could be the one to tell the world about El! How awesome she was and how she saved us all!”
There was a wondrous glee in Holly’s expression, still mesmerised by the fact that such a legend had once been in her life. “Imagine if you were the one to expose the truth, that we have real life superheroes!” His younger sister failed to spot the sudden tension across the dining room, as she kept on going, “All those times she went up against the Demogorgan’s, the Mind Flayer and even Vecna himself. The world should know!”
Mike fought the urge to tell his younger sister off, but he was losing grip, he needed to escape.
“Imagine you’re asked about the photo, and you show El to the camera and introduce her as this normal looking teenage girl but she’s actually a total badass, listing off her powers and how- to save the entire world- she went out in a catastrophic blaze of destruction! The military would be so pisse-“
“Holly.” Nancy’s voice was quiet but the scolding finality in her tone said everything.
Heading up the stairs, the tension had been strained enough. There was no explosion, no need to shout at one another in a manner that the household stopped seeing years ago. But they’d mentioned her, and Mike thought it was unnecessary to listen to them for any longer.
He stole a glance at his older sister, who was looking at the floor with angered guilt, whether it was for Holly or himself, he couldn’t say for sure.
A sentiment he'd grown used to accepting.
8:51PM
He’d given up any idea of writing something when he saw her sitting by his desk, as he refused to make eye contact. Instead he just picked her up, and placed the photo over his pillow as he changed into his nightwear.
From his dorm, and back into his bedroom, El followed him, right by his side. It weren’t a huge distance, as he was attending right here in Hawkins. But even that distance for a prolonged period was suffocating, so Mike regularly ensured he’d return home to where she was far more familiar with.
If he dropped out to focus fully on his writing, he could probably gather the money he needed to start searching. He’d be lying if he weren’t thinking of some potential destinations already. For how he’d deal with the unreturnable distances then, was up to how far his determination could carry him.
He picked the frame up once he was done, still not making eye contact yet as he lounged over his covers, using his headboard as a rest. Once he was comfortable, he loosely draped the covers over his hips, ready to stare into the layout of his anachronic bedroom. Eventually, he'd settle further into his covers and his head would be pinned to the pillow, he would close his eyes in fight for sleep, he would have to face her once more, as the photo rested over his straightened lap, face down.
However, he could feel the apprehension when someone walked into his room. It could’ve been an intruder, but only one other person in this family moved as if she were avoiding eggshells when she was around him.
Nancy peered into his space, an ambiguous stare was all she offered him. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
His elder sister could clearly see it was his bedtime, yet she continued, “Mom’s upset.”
Mike wasn’t concerned about that, she’d be fine. It wasn’t as if she’d done anything wrong this time, even she’d learned to not mention El, or the idea of finding someone else that wasn’t her.
“You know you’re going to have to apologise to Holly, she ran into her room too.”
Apologise Mike would. Holly’s suffered like everyone else, and she’d never been told about his theory, so her belief would obviously be stored in some form of retaliation, to uncover and commemorate the life of the magical hero who saved her, and her family. Holly’s idea made sense, she wasn’t at fault either.
“I didn’t run, I pointedly left.”
“Hard to tell since the sass was identical.”
“Funny. When’s your report coming out?”
“Soon. Should be out in around 2- no, 3 weeks.” His sister peered upwards, counting with her fingers to check if her numbers were correct.
”Being the brother of the investigative journalist that might send the country into a frenzy is going to make me look extremely suspicious. Should I be worried?”
“I taught you how to use a gun, if anyone should be worried it’s the people trying to keep us silent in the first place.”
The banter was nice, different to what he’d grown used to the longer he spent in college. His sister hadn’t come to his room just to catch up though, so he may as well steer the conversation towards her target.
”Not as safe as the pair of superpowered hands we used to have.”
Nancy paused, the apprehension in her step returned as she walked forwards, leaning over his bedroom wall.
“Just so you know, the report’s going to include snippets of her ‘public appearances and unclassified abilities’,” she used her fingers to quote, “Nothing personal. We won’t even use any of her aliases, if you can come up with a nickname, let me know.
Very thoughtful of her to do all that, it filled Mike with relief he didn’t know he needed, “Thank you.”
She gave him a look that implied he didn’t have to mention it. He wasn’t sure about everyone else’s level of respect for El, and how willing they were to keep her a secret that only they knew of, but his sister was probably the least likely to betray her, other than the party of course.
“In your book, El’s pretty much the only person you don’t make any link back to from what happened, right?”
“I was tempted to leave you out,” Mike couldn’t resist, his sister merely rolled her eyes.
“Yeah the superhero’s nothing like her, he’s not even human.” The same could be said about his bond with the rest of the main characters. At least America can sleep safe knowing no one was turned into an indifferent halfling.
”Not your story to tell, that’s what you said right?”
Mike only nodded, maybe he could fictionalise the powers, but capturing her? He wasn’t worthy.
Nancy scanned the room over and over, trying to recall its shape and style. They were rarely ever home together, and it would probably continue be that way with where their careers were going. Looking around, she noticed the frame of Eleven being unusually rested next on top of Mike's lap, she pointed, “Why’s that there?”
“Just looking at it again.”
No one had ever questioned the frame. If you’d known Mike, or the escapades that he was associated to, you know who the girl in the picture was.
His elder sister watched over him, a realisation caused her to blurt out, “When was it even taken?
That question caused him to prop right up, and it was the way his heart pumped just a bit quicker, with his back now rested on the headboard instinctively, he felt right again.
The story, and reason behind the photo. Finally someone bothered to ask.
“Well,” Mike picked the picture up off his chest and faced it towards Nancy, “This was taken in May ‘85 by Jonathan. It was originally going to be in the basement but he said it’d be better to take it in my bedroom, better lighting, less objects and all that.” Mike remembered effortlessly, despite never revealing this to anyone else before. “I’d known about Jonathan’s love for photograpy since he was constantly taking pictures around Hawkins. Will, Will’s mom-“
“Everything.” Nancy replied, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, but smiling.
“Yeah, he’d sometimes offer to take pictures of Will with us when he’d come to pick him up, and we did. Then a few days later he’d show us and we’d always be blown away by how good his stuff was, how good he was at making us look so cool.” He should eventually look through the Party’s stuff, make sure Holly and her gang hadn’t dare infiltrated it.
“Things happened, and Jonathan got busier so we’d just forgotten about his love for cameras. But one day El and I were reading a magazine in her bedroom, it had this photo of Molly Ringwald with some facts about her personal life.” Nancy nodded in remembrance, as she’d been obsessed with those teen magazines when she was a pre-teen.
“El then realised that the concept of a photo, a picture taken of a person and it being stamped into a book is kinda weird, and she asked me why did certain people get to be in them. So I was trying to explain to her how pictures of people are taken, but she didn’t get it.”
Whether he succeeded or failed, Mike loved explaining things to her, teaching her about the world.
”Then I remembered that Jonathan’s into photography, and that he has many cameras. So then I told her-” Mike shook his head in disappointment, “Maybe he could explain it to her.”
How did he miss the easiest set up? The chance to excite El one more time with something far cooler. Nancy scoffed in response, realising where this was going.
“Then El suggested, ‘What if we ask Jonathan to take some pictures of us?’” Mike did his best to mimic her curious excitement, “And I, cursing myself for being so stupid, said yeah that’s a way better idea, let’s do that. I’ll ask Will to ask Jonathan tomorrow at school.”
“How’d it go?” Nancy asked.
“Literally the next day, when I went over to the cabin after school to see her, she had her outdoor jeans and top on. Foundation, redder lips, then she was ushering me out the front door,” Mike stuttered in remembrance. Pretty as ever, "If I didn’t mention the fact that Jonathan was still at work, she’d have dragged me right to Will’s house. Or flung me, if I had refused without that vital reason.” Mike's heart tugged at him from the thought of her lovable impulsiveness.
Nancy shared the humour, laughing quietly, “I remember that day. You guys were up here with Jonathan before dinner, he’d brought his camera. The sunset was perfect that day, wasn’t it?”
Mike only hummed deeply in response, dropping the frame that had been in his grasp onto his knee, facing downwards.
”You’ve never been much of a picture person. Yet with El, there was no hesitation, was there?”
Mike didn’t say a word once more, merely shrugging.
Nancy looked towards his abandoned desk, seat not tucked in, “Back then, everyone believed it was you. You was always getting her into trouble with Hopper but it wasn’t like that, was it?”
It was only fair that someone tried to cut her some slack. She deserved to do bad things and get away with it, like any kid. But sacrifice seems to be her only purpose, the world tells him.
Mike slowly nodded, eyes distant, not feeling the smile on his face anymore, “Yeah, we got into all sorts, egging each other on constantly. Don’t get me wrong I enabled it, but you try to stop the girl with the superpowers.”
Something flickered outside, the siblings could see it through the window. Their street lights had been having problems for some time now, especially when the rain set in.
Nancy got up to close the curtains, returning to the edge of his bed instead of leaning along his wall. Noting the proximity of the frame and herself, she asked, “Is that the only picture?”
“Nope, we posed for two more. There’s one of me, and one of us together. Jonathan photographed each one twice so we could both keep a copy. My one of me is somewhere in the basement, and the one of us together is in my ‘El basket’. El’s ones were all up in her bedroom until Hopper moved, so all her stuff is also in the ‘El basket.”
Not that Nancy would ever try to go though it anyway, but if it was in the basket, that meant those photos were not to be seen. Pretty much any of Mike and El’s shared possessions were stored in there, which he wouldn’t show anyone, even he seldom acknowledged it.
Mike knew Nancy could sense his decreasing liveliness, that his mind was somewhere else now, gone and right into back then.
“Mind if I take a closer look? It’s been a while,” she asked, hesitation laced in her voice. Mike handed it over without a thought. Perhaps Nancy had travelled into their past as well, as the adoration in her eyes soon poured out droplets, reminded of how much she missed El too.
A prosaic, mundanity. At first glance, that was all it would be to anyone if they were were to take a look at the photo, to anyone that didn’t know who she was, didn’t know her story. Just another picture of another girl.
Even friends and family would elicit a similar response, and they were far more in on the secret. “Why this one?” she asked, gathering herself together.
Mike pretended to not know what she meant. “What do you mean?” He simply questioned.
“Why is this the picture you keep on display? Didn’t you take pictures during the Snowball, when they opened the Starcourt Mall, when you went to Lenora?” Nancy pressed.
Mike sighed in response, correctly anticipating the question, “Don’t you like it? I think she looks really pretty in this one.”
“No of course not. It’s just so… s-”
“Simple.” Mike finished. Surprised by the prepared intuition, Nancy merely sniffled, looking towards her brother for an explanation.
Breathing in, he was ready. He’s always had this answer prepared.
“Holly sorta mentioned it already,” Mike admitted shamefully. “It’s kinda why I left so abruptly, I was shocked.”
Nancy stared back. “Huh?”
Rehearsing the story beats, Mike wordlessly took the photo back, “If someone were to break into our house, went through my room and saw this sitting by my bedside or work desk, they’d think nothing of it.” His hands traced the edges of the weightless portrait, Nancy’s eyes shifted in confusion, wondering where Mike was going with this.
When out of nowhere, he suddenly lifted it face-first in dramatic fashion, with El now staring at Nancy. “But they’d be fooled, for there is a grand tale behind it. Rumour has it, this innocent frame is one of the very few images that remain of the blacklisted Hawkins conspiracies that created an urban legend, a super soldier.” Mike paused for effect, Nancy’s bewilderment growing. “After a number of failed experimentations, America finally created it, they had what they desperately needed, they created Eleven.”
He swung his arm out, “Telekinesis, telepathy, psychic projection, portal manipulation, technopathy, psychometry, resurrection!” Mike gulped in his desperate need for air, “The perfect soldier. How America misses her! How the world could really do with such a seismic being.”
Mike let himself out of his storytelling demeanour as he sunk back into his bed, placing the picture over his knee again, with only the back visible to Nancy. A sense of accomplishment seized him, as he looked towards his sister like he’d saved the day.
“Cool right?” Mike said, both arms raised with his hands open, “Leave the secret out in the open, just like my book. You’d never expect it. I’ll have to question Holly, how she knew about this.”
Nancy raised herself off the bed slowly, her grievances turned into frustration. “Cut it out Mike.”
She knew he wasn’t going to tell her the real reason.
It made sense that except for El, the only other person who could read him nearly as well was his elder sister. They now both lived very busy lives, with Nancy being fully fledged into adulthood. But one Easter break, one dinner shared with him and she could feel the unease deeply stored away in Mike’s soul. Normally she’d probe him further, find out what was wrong, but whenever it came to El, she knew there was a line. He gave her his trademark oblivious look in response, the look for when she’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t and he pretended that he hadn’t done anything in the first place.
Which was true in this context, it was a picture of childhood, a secret that only a few knew about that revealed something far more extraordinary. One look from El and he was inspired all over again when he hit the familiar writer’s block. What she did for everyone pulled him back into the insanity they’d gone through, she made writing the action and horror simple.
“We don’t have to talk about it, I’m sorry for even bringing it up," Nancy said it with such fragility, and Mike wasn’t sure why she felt the need to, he knew she just wanted to help.
He watched her think of a shift in conversation, “Look, whatever you choose to show and tell the world, won’t change the fact that you're a brilliant writer. The Paris Review? That’s big time.”
For writers in his space, that pretty much was all Mike needed. “Despite what happened, you deserve a life in which you take control, and make the world’s yours, don’t you want that?”
Nancy was referring to the concept of moving on, as did everyone else when they found the courage to speak about their previous lives around him. They all had a point, maybe El would think the same, or want him to regardless of what she desired.
But that’s why this photo stays by his side, because he swears it’s only him that remembers of what was stolen from El, from both of them. While everyone, even his very own friends and family remember her for what she did, Mike remembers her for reasons far deeper.
He finally dropped his feigned confusion with a nod, hoping it would be enough to convince her that she'd somehow changed his mind, “I do.”
If Nancy didn’t believe him, she didn’t show it. Sometimes there wasn’t a solution, the correct advice, but he loved his sister because she understood that.
Ready to leave but turning back one last time, “So, the picture, I assume you won’t-“
Mike shifted his upper body to place the frame on the stand by his bedside, using his stretched arm to turn it around, then he looked back towards Nancy.
There was the smallest smile, then she left him with his thoughts.
9:07PM
The young man thought more about what his sister said at the end of their conversation, about ‘the world being his’.
Did he? Did he deserve the world?
Someone he knows would tell him yes, absolutely. Although he’d never gotten her exact opinion on his ability to story-tell, she seemed to love it whenever he did. Her eyes would never leave his, and sometimes he’d stutter and forget what he’d been saying as he got lost in her. She always gave her entire attention to him, she was the first person to make his stories and ideas feel special. So Mike doubts the world’s validation could match El’s.
He heard the shared muffles of goodnight between his parents, so down he’d go. It was time to turn in for the night, as Mike delicately picked up his cornerstone, ready to submerge his mind in thought only of her, hoping she’d let him get some sleep.
Maybe tonight would be it. She knows he’s taking another big step in his life, but he wouldn’t complain if she didn’t, because he enabled her distractions when he keeps the table lamp on till sunrise, he couldn’t see her as well in the dark.
There’d be questions as the world took notice of him, and yes, he could lift the lid entirely, show the world how brilliant she was.
But it would be so, so wrong.
Mike didn’t even tell Nancy about the part where Jonathan failed to explain what cameras are to El too. The part where they actually took the pictures, her never ending laughter amongst Jonathan’s professional impatience for perfection. Nor her priceless admiration when she held the photos in her small, giddy hands a few days later.
How, even though Mike had an unfathomable bond with the photo itself, he knows what was taken by the camera could never compare with what his eyes had captured over the years he had with her.
He stared so hard. Enlarging his pupils, clearing the blur of his peripheral vision to magnify his focus, as if he were a telescope gazing upwards in awe, into another galaxy. Diving into the photo to get a better look, the photo he’s lost himself in, a thousand times before. The background was softly painted by the fading glow of the afternoon, its grainy strokes served as a reminder of a past that had an unfortunate future. A moment only captured, not completely told.
But the golden normality of El right in the centre of it all, and he was completely gone.
Finding himself at the start of ‘85, soft silken ends, proudly flourishing as spring turned to summer, coloured in light brown that accentuated her dazzling features. The small curve of her smile over soft lips he missed. Her soothing instrument that was her voice, and a special soul stored within her precious vessel that had endured everything.
Yet despite it all, she found the strength to see total peace, captured by her gorgeous eyes.
Would he find those eyes again?
They could reunite, but could he provide her the wondrous perfection they had when she’d first returned? When he was hers and she was his, when they were just kids in love and nothing else mattered.
Slowly, tears sauntered down a stream over both his cheeks, but he doesn’t feel their indifferent chill till they drop onto his neck, gathering one by one into a pool that stained his pillow, as he continues to search all corners of her expression, doing his best to keep a firm grip with both hands. A flash brightened his curtain but he doesn’t care to look, and the roar that was supposed to follow doesn’t make its presence known.
Below the surface, the truth that would matter to most, is that it’s a picture of a legend. A super soldier sickeningly designed to produce an augmented army, breed a cycle of control, and make this country a totalitarian force. A product for maximum usage, till there would be nothing left.
But she’d become aware, too aware for her own good.
So she was forced into silence, and the world said nothing. Simply watched as she was whisked away into hiding, and it was up to him to seek her out.
But in the deepest of trenches, far beyond pure darkness, there was one, simple reason.
The photo’s only secret, that only Mike would know, is that in the end, it actually is, just simply: a picture of another person.
But that person was a small-town, reserved and gentle girl. A girl he’d shared the most normal of moments with, a normal girl that he is absolutely aware exists, is real, and will never forget.
A girl he loves, because she somehow loves him.
The world doesn’t remember, and if it did, it robbed her of that life. But Mike remembers.
If not the world, then it was up to him.
That’s why he keeps this picture of her by his side. Not because she was some superhero- but because she’s the girl in this photo.