Chapter Text
In the Canadian winter chill, with snow falling in icy pelts, covering the town of Cedar Falls, all 73 year old Jim Hopper wanted was an adequate place to sleep and rest before it got too dark, after what had turned into a tumultuous solo vacation. Although he had come to Canada with every intention of clearing his head and seeing some nice sights, he was starting to think that maybe Joyce had a point when she’d told him she’d rather skip this one. The entire first day of travel had brought nothing but calamity: first his flight had been delayed by several hours, then his hotel had had a fire the day before, forcing them to give refunds to all customers and forcing him to find an alternative. As he spotted a blonde head with a professional looking bun behind the solid oak desk, turned away from him, scribbling something down, he hoped that this cozy looking place “The Cedar Falls Inn”, would do for the night.
Then the woman at the desk turned around and his whole world stopped. It froze, throwing him back 27 years towards a ghost he thought he’d never stop mourning. Time had etched itself deeply into both of their faces. His hair had turned to dark silver, hers was now a platinum hue that fit much more into the icy winter he’d just walked through than the rustic woods of Hawkins. But those eyes, those soulful and stubborn brown eyes… he’d recognise them anywhere. They were the eyes of his daughter.
He could see alarm growing in those eyes as he fell to the floor as the shock of seeing her again hit full force. As she ran to his side, he was only able to whisper in wonder “… Kid?”
“I thought…” he tried to speak but tears were starting to come in, blocking out the flood of words and thoughts running through his head. She was here? How was she here? What kind of miracle was this, after almost 30 years of mourning?
“I know”, she replied, looking around with a clearly practised caution. “We should go in here”, she said, ushering him towards a private office.
As he sat down on a plush flowered armchair, he still couldn’t find the words for the storm he was feeling. He let all of his retired Police Chief bravado slip away as hot tears started to roll down his face. El didn’t say a word: she just hugged him, in a way that made him think of the Starcourt Mall so, so long ago, before any of this pain and separation and grieving had ever happened. As he felt the solid weight of her arms and he could feel that she was crying too, he started to absorb the reality in front of him: she was here, she was in Canada, she was real, she was alive, she was crying and she had missed him too. They sat there like that for a long time and eventually she whispered “I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you.”
She laid back in her own chair opposite his, looking wistfully into a past he’d missed. “Everyone had to think I was gone. For me to start again…”
“And that’s what you did?”, he asked with a questioning edge, a cautious but hopeful pride filling him, almost taking over his disbelief.
“Yes. Thanks to Kali. She cast an illusion to make everyone think I was gone. I ran back to the cabin. I used my birth certificate from Owens and my high school ID to cross the border…”
That part made him draw in a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. She’d been there, hours before he’d collapsed onto the couch in the worst pain he’d felt since he’d lost Sara, in sharp, dreadful disbelief that that previous worst moment of his life was happening all over again. She had packed for survival. While they all grieved, she had been out there, all alone, trying to reach safety. And, deep down, he felt fresh guilt too. Kali, the girl he had dismissed and rolled his eyes at, had saved his daughters’ life, had given her everything right under all of their noses.
“I found this place.”, El continued. “The lady who owned it, Anna, was and still is very kind. She let me stay with her, gave me a job here. I told them my story, but different, to be safe. I told them that a cult took me away from Mama. That I escaped and found you, but that we both realised I would not be safe if I stayed, so I fled. To protect everyone.”
“And it worked?” He questioned, listening intently.
“It worked”, she replied, nodding, fully, warmly smiling now for the first time since their reunion. “With my documents, my tattoo, a PTSD diagnosis, with the help of everyone here… I was believed. I was allowed to stay. They called it humanitarian and compassionate grounds. I am a citizen here now. I am safe. As long as I stay here, they cannot reach me.”
As she said his, the grief and pain that had been stored in Hopper for almost 3 decades began to wash away, replaced with pure, brilliant joy and relief, a beaming smile spreading across his face. Freedom was all he’d ever wanted for her. And now she had it. And then fierce pride came in as she continued to tell her story.
“I worked my way up here”, she explained. “I became the manager. When Anna retired she gave the inn to me. I own it now.”
That frightened shadow of a little girl he’d found in the woods and taken in. The girl who he’d taught new words to every single day. Now middle aged, a free Canadian woman, a business owner… It was hard to comprehend, but so wonderful that he let the feeling wash over him, absorbed this new joy that he thought he could never have for so long.
“There is something else.” She added as she watched him smiling. “16 years ago, a tiny baby girl was left outside the door of the inn, with only a box and a blanket. She had no one in the world. I thought of how you gave me a home, when I had had none before. I took her in, as an emergency foster parent. After a year, when no family had come forward, I officially adopted her.”
His smile grew even wider at this, with new tears mixed in. “You’re a mom”.
She nodded with assured pride.
“I am a mom”, she replied. “I did exactly what you said. I gave her everything I never had.”
It was almost jarring, to hear the same parental love and pride he’d felt for El for all of those years, now echoing in El’s voice. At the same time, it was a wonderful revelation: she was a proud mother, he was a grandfather. His girl, who he thought he had lost forever, had miraculously survived, had really made it to the life he’d always wanted for her: she’d broken the cycle, she’d risen above what the cruel world had done to her. She’d run a business, she had given a little girl who needed a home the childhood that had been so cruelly ripped away from her.
They both sat in silence for a few minutes more, absorbing the weight of everything that had happened.
“I have missed you”. El finally said. “And everyone else. Every single day. But I can never risk going back.”
“I understand”, he said, reassuringly placing his hand on hers in a way that made him think of the two of them in that tiny cabin so long ago. “I’m just happy to see you again.” Honestly that was an understatement, but it would do for now.
“I am happy to see you too”, she replied, tears springing up in her eyes again. “It is almost time for me to go home anyway. If you want, you can come back to my house. You can meet your granddaughter?“
“Absolutely”, he replied, feeling fully peaceful and excited for the first time in 27 years.