°🌟7🌟°

🌟CHAPTER 7🌟~°THE BATHTUB°~

*🌟Third Person's POV🌟*

Hailey left Eleven with Mike to get cleaned up in the bathroom, her own senses screaming. The image of that van parked across the street was burned into her mind, setting off every alarm bell she had.

The walkie on the coffee table crackled to life with Lucas's voice, distorted and frantic, shredded by static and panic. Hailey could only make out shouting. Her heart leapt into her throat. "Dustin, get Mike. Now!" she ordered her brother, pressing the device to her ear, straining to decipher the panicked transmission.

Dustin burst into the bathroom. "Guys!" he called out, breathless. "It's Lucas. I think he's in trouble."

They rushed out to where Hailey was still trying to parse the broken messages. "Do you remember how he said he was looking for the gate?" Dustin asked Mike, taking the walkie from his sister.

"Yeah," Mike said, confused and scared.

"Mikey, what if he actually found it?" Hailey asked, the terrifying implication dawning on them all at once.

Lucas's voice, shouting and indistinct, continued to burst through the static. Mike grabbed the walkie. "What's he saying?"

"I don't know, he's way out of range," Dustin informed him, frustration evident in his voice. Hailey was a bundle of raw, nervous energy, her leg bouncing incessantly, her knuckles white where she gripped the edge of the couch.

"...son of a bitch!" was the only clear phrase that sliced through the noise. "Lucas, if you can hear us, slow down. We can't understand you," Mike said into the radio, his voice tight with fear.

Another burst of static and shouting followed, but this time, one phrase was clearer than the rest: "Mad hen."

"Mad hen. Does that mean anything to you? Like a code name or something?" Dustin asked, looking between them. But Hailey's gut twisted. That wasn't it. It was a misheard plea.

"The bad men are coming!" Lucas's voice finally cut through the static, clear and utterly terrified. "Bad men," Mike whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. Hailey looked up at him, her own fear a mirror of his. The pieces were falling into place, and the picture was worse than any of their darkest theories.

"Bad men!" Mike said louder, his voice cracking. The radio erupted in static again, and Dustin gasped. "Stay here," Mike told Eleven, already bolting for the stairs with Dustin and Hailey right on his heels. They crowded around the living room window, looking down at the suspicious van Hailey had seen earlier. It was still there, a silent, menacing sentinel.

"What's that guy doing?" Mike asked, his voice a low whisper. "You don't think..."Dustin trailed off, the unspoken fear hanging thick in the air.

Mike sprinted to the kitchen where his mother was on the phone. "...Well, I know she and Steve have been spending some time together, so I thought maybe..."

"Mom!" Mike tried to get her attention, but she waved him off. "Well, is he home? Maybe you could ask him?" Karen Wheeler asked the person on the phone.

"Mom!"

"I'm sorry, can you just hold on, please?" she said into the receiver before turning to her son. "Michael, I'm on the phone. I've told you a million times..."

"Did you schedule any repairs?" Mike interrupted; his voice urgent.

"What?" she asked, utterly bewildered.

"Is there anyone supposed to come and do repairs on the house?" Mike asked again, more insistently.

"I don't understand. Is there something wrong—"

"No, Mom, nothing's wrong in the house," Mike said, his frustration mounting.

"Mike!" Dustin yelled from the window.

"One second!" Mike yelled back.

"Mike!" Hailey's voice was sharp and urgent this time. She stood in the kitchen doorway, her face pale but set. More vans and cars were pulling up outside, men in casual clothes getting out with a purpose that was anything but casual. "We need to leave... right now."

"Michael!" Mrs. Wheeler called out as her son turned to run. "If anyone asks where I am, I've left the country," he called over his shoulder before disappearing down to the basement.

"What?" was all his stunned mother could manage.

They burst out of the basement door and onto their bikes, pausing for a split second at the end of the driveway. The men getting out of the vans immediately spotted them.

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go!" Dustin yelled, his voice pitching high with terror. They pedalled furiously, the sound of van engines roaring to life and tires screeching behind them fuelling their panic.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God," Dustin chanted, a frantic mantra of fear.

"Dustin! Dustin, do you copy?" Lucas's voice came over the radio, clearer now they were moving.

"Yeah, Lucas, they're on us!" Dustin informed him, his voice shaking as he took a sharp shortcut through a driveway that bought them a few precious seconds.

"Where are you?"

"Cornwallis!"

"Meet me at Elm and Cherry!" Lucas instructed.

"Copy. Elm and Cherry!" Dustin relayed to the others.

Hailey led them, her mind racing, cutting through backyards and narrow gaps between houses to get there faster. But the vans were relentless, quickly closing the gap. "Shit!" Dustin cursed, expecting a scolding from his sister, but her focus was entirely, fiercely on their escape.

"This way, come on!" Mike shouted, taking the lead through a gap between two buildings and into the park. Hailey rang her bicycle bell frantically, a desperate warning. "Out of the way!" Mike and Dustin yelled in unison, weaving through startled children and parents on the playground.

They burst out onto Elm and Cherry just as Lucas skidded to a stop, his own face etched with fear and relief. "Lucas!" Hailey said, a wave of pure relief washing over her at the sight of him unharmed.

"Where are they?" Lucas asked, looking behind them.

"I don't know," Mike said, panting, chest heaving. "I think we lost them," Dustin ventured hopefully, gasping for air.

But his words were barely out when the sound of screeching tires filled the air. The vans rounded the corner, boxing them in.

"Go, go, go, go, go!" Hailey screamed; her voice raw. They launched themselves forward again, legs burning with the effort.

"Go, go, go, go, go!" Dustin yelled.

"Faster, faster!" Mike urged.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Dustin's panic was a constant, terrified refrain.

A van swerved in front of them, attempting to cut them off. Hailey's heart hammered against her ribs; there was nowhere to go. This was it.

Suddenly, the van was hit by an invisible, tremendous force. It lifted into the air with a shriek of tortured metal, flipping end over end above their heads like a toy before crashing down in front of the other pursuing vehicles, blocking the road completely in a heap of twisted wreckage.

Hailey didn't hesitate. She didn't question it. "This way!" she commanded, her voice cutting through their stunned shock, leading them to the one place she hoped they wouldn't be followed: the junkyard. They didn't stop pedalling until they were deep within the maze of scrap metal, finally collapsing behind a stack of rusted cars, safe for the moment.

Dustin was the first to break the stunned silence, his voice a mix of terror and awe. "Holy... holy shit! Did... did you see what she did to that van?"

"No, Dustin, we missed it," Mike said, his sarcasm a thin veil for his own profound shock.

"I mean, that was..." Dustin stammered, unable to find the words.

"Awesome," Lucas finished, his voice quiet but firm, filled with a new, grudging respect.

Eleven looked at Lucas, shocked by his choice of word. "It was awesome," he repeated, walking toward her. He stopped in front of her. "Everything I said about you being a traitor and stuff... I was wrong. I'm sorry." He placed a hand on her shoulder, a gesture of truce.

Hailey's heart swelled with pride for the Sinclair boy. It took real courage to admit he was wrong. "Friends...friends don't lie," Eleven said softly, her big eyes wide. "I'm sorry, too."

"Me, too," Mike said, holding his hand out to Lucas. Lucas took it, and they shook, the rift between them finally, truly mended.

Hailey gently wiped the fresh blood from under Eleven's nose with the cuff of her sweater before it could dry. She stood up, facing the group, her expression serious but filled with a fierce, protective love.

"I hope you guys know I'm the one that's gonna end up in more trouble than any of you," she began, her voice steady but soft. "So please, don't make me regret helping you get away from people who could end up killing us if they find us." She looked at each of them in turn. "You're all like little brothers to me, and Eleven is like my own little sister. That means I'd put myself in danger for any of you. So, let's start planning. Let's save Will and find a way to get rid of the Demogorgon."

Before she could take another breath, she was tackled in a group hug by the four children, their arms wrapping around her waist and shoulders in a silent, powerful promise of solidarity and gratitude. She held them tight, this weird, wonderful, brave family she would die for.

When they broke apart, Lucas drew a map in the dirt with a stick, explaining to the others what he had seen at the location of the gate: Hawkins Lab.

"This is Randolph Road, right here. The fence starts here and goes all the way around. And this is the lab right here. The gate's gotta be in there somewhere. It's gotta be," Lucas said, his voice firm with conviction. Hailey believed him without a doubt.

"Well, who owns Hawkins Lab?" Dustin asked, his scientific curiosity piqued even now. The group exchanged uncertain glances. "On their vans, it says 'Department of Energy,'" Hailey spoke up, the memory clicking into place from her clear view of the van earlier.

"Department of Energy? What do you think that means?" Dustin asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Dusty, it's military. It means the government is involved," Hailey explained patiently, though a flicker of frustration passed through her. Why couldn't he just get it?

"Then why does it say 'Energy'?" he asked again, and Hailey had to resist the urge to facepalm.

"Just trust us, all right? It's military. My dad told me before," Mike interjected, backing her up.

"Mike and Hailey are right. There's soldiers out front," Lucas added, hoping to finally get through to him.

"Do they make, like, light bulbs or something?" Dustin asked, his innocent question making the others sigh in collective frustration.

"No, weapons... to fight the Russians and commies and stuff," Mike corrected him. "Weapons," Lucas muttered in grim agreement.

Dustin's eyes went wide as the reality finally, fully dawned on him. "Oh, Jesus, this is bad," he said, holding his head. "Really bad."

"The place is like a fortress," Lucas confirmed. The group fell into a discouraged silence, the sheer, impossible scale of their obstacle looming over them.

"Well, what do you guys think we should do now?" Hailey asked, looking at her little fighters, her voice steady despite the cold fear coiling in her stomach.

"I don't know, but we can't go home. We're fugitives now," Mike stated, the word hanging heavily in the air. Hailey knew he was right. Those men would be scouring every inch of the town for them.

In the distance, the distinct thump-thump-thump of an approaching helicopter grew louder, cutting through their despair.

"Guys? Do you hear that?" Dustin asked, his voice trembling. They all looked up, their blood running cold as a black helicopter swept into view over the junkyard, its powerful searchlight scanning the ground like the eye of some monstrous predator.

"Go, go, go, go!" Mike yelled, shoving his bike under the skeleton of an abandoned bus. Hailey sprang into action, her body moving on pure adrenaline, helping the others hide their bikes out of sight in the rusted metal graveyard.

"Come on, come on!" Dustin yelled, already scrambling onto the bus—the only cover that would hide them from the sky.

"It's stuck!" Lucas grunted, struggling with his bike. Hailey dropped to her knees, yanking at the front wheel to wedge it further under the bus, her hands getting scraped on the rough asphalt.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Dustin urged from the bus door; his hand outstretched.

"Come on!" Lucas said as the bike finally slid into place.

"Go, go, go, go, go, go!" Dustin yelled, pulling Lucas and then Hailey onto the bus and slamming the door shut. They all ducked behind the torn, musty seats, holding their breath as the helicopter's whirring blades passed directly overhead, the wind from its rotors shaking the entire rusty vehicle. The beam of light swept across the bus windows, blindingly bright for a heart-stopping second.

"Get down!" Hailey whispered harshly, pushing Dustin's head lower, and they stayed frozen, a tangled heap of terrified children, until the sound of the engine finally faded into the distance.

"Mental," Dustin muttered under his breath, slumping against a ripped seat in exhausted relief. They were safe. For now. But they were trapped, hunted, and staring down the barrel of a fight with their own government. The stakes had just been raised to unimaginable heights.

*~*🌟*~*

Steve sat on the hood of his car, the cold metal a stark contrast to the throbbing heat in his face. His head pounded in rhythm with his heartbeat, but the physical pain was a dull ache compared to the emotional turmoil churning inside him. He kept replaying the look on Hailey's face—not of pity or disgust, but of straightforward, no-nonsense concern. She hadn't judged him; she'd just... helped.

"You owe me $1.20," Tommy said, emerging from the Fair Mart and tossing Steve a bottle of aspirin and a cold can of soda. Steve cracked the bottle open, dry-swallowed two pills, and winced as they scraped down his dry throat.

"Don't worry, he'll need more than aspirin when we're done with him," Tommy said, cracking his knuckles as if they were going to hunt Jonathan down right that second.

"Yeah, if the creep ever gets out. The cops should just lock him up forever," Carol stated, leaning against the car with a shrug.

Steve just pressed the cold soda can against his swollen eye, groaning at the sharp, blessed sting. "Did you see the look on his face?" Carol asked, looking at Tommy for agreement. She hit his chest playfully.

"Oh." Tommy chuckled. "He probably had that same look whenever he killed his brother, right?" He nudged Steve's shoulder, seeking camaraderie in their cruelty.

"Oh, God, I just got an image of him making that face while he and Nancy are screwing," Carol said with a malicious, gleeful giggle.

That was it. The vile image, combined with their cruel, empty laughter, snapped the last frayed thread inside him. "Carol, for once in your life, shut your damn mouth!" Steve snapped, his voice low and venomous.

"What?" Carol asked, her plastic smile vanishing, replaced by genuine, offended confusion.

"Hey, what's your problem, man?" Tommy asked, his tone shifting from amused too defensive.

"You're both assholes. That's my problem," Steve said, sliding off the car hood. He had too much on his mind—Hailey's words, Nancy's betrayal, his own pathetic fight—to listen to their garbage anymore.

"Are you serious right now, man?" Tommy asked, stepping into Steve's path, his posture turning confrontational.

"Yeah, I'm serious. You shouldn't have done that," Steve said, trying to move around him to the driver's side.

"Done what?" Tommy blocked him, not letting him pass.

"You know what."

"You mean call her out for what she really is? Oh, that's funny, because I don't remember you asking me to stop," Tommy said, getting right in Steve's bruised face.

"I should've put that spray paint right down your throat," Steve shot back, the memory of their vandalism fuelling his anger.

"What the hell, Steve?" Carol asked, her voice turning shrill.

"You know, neither of you ever cared about her. You never even liked her, because she's not miserable like you two. She actually cares about other people," Steve told them, the truth of his words hitting him with the force of a physical blow as he said them. He wasn't just defending Nancy anymore. He was defending a whole different way of being.

"The slut with a heart of gold? And we all know you don't actually care about her either, because you have your eyes set on someone else," Carol snapped back, her words a precise, calculated strike aimed at his weakest point.

"I told you to watch your mouth! And to keep Hailey out of it!" Steve roared, his anger flashing white-hot at the sound of her name in Carol's venomous mouth.

Tommy shoved him hard against the car, the impact jolting through Steve's sore body. He jabbed a finger in his face. "Hey! I don't know what's gotten into you, man, but you don't talk to her that way."

"Get out of my face," Steve said, shoving him back with what little strength he had left. Tommy grabbed his jacket, slamming him against the car again. "Or what?" he challenged. "Or what?" he repeated when Steve just grunted in pain.

"You gonna fight me now, too? Huh? You gonna fight me now, too?" Tommy taunted; his breath hot on Steve's face. "Because you couldn't take Jonathan Byers... so I wouldn't recommend that."

Steve just stared at the two of them—his former friends, his partners in crime—their faces twisted with spite and a complete inability to understand what was happening. They were a closed loop, and he had finally broken out of it. Without another word, he pushed past Tommy, yanked the car door open, and collapsed into the driver's seat.

"Here, let me get the door for you, buddy," Tommy said, slamming it shut with unnecessary, final force.

Steve didn't hear another word. He turned the key, the engine roared to life, and he peeled out of the parking lot, the tires screaming in protest. He left his old life and his toxic friends behind in a cloud of burnt rubber and unresolved anger, watching them shrink in his rear-view mirror until they were gone. He had no idea what he was going to do, or where he was going, but he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he had to start fixing the mess he'd made. And he knew exactly where to start.

*~*🌟*~*

Hailey lay on the grimy, cold floor of the bus, staring up at the rusted ceiling where a single shaft of moonlight cut through the dust. Her mind was a whirlwind, desperately trying to chart a course forward that wouldn't lead the children she loved straight into a trap or a body bag. The others hadn't moved from their hiding positions since the helicopter's thunderous presence faded, still frozen in a state of paralyzed shock. She couldn't blame them. Their world had been upended in a matter of hours.

"Mike, are you there? Mike?" A faint, staticky voice crackled from Mike's backpack, slicing through the heavy silence.

"You guys hear that?" Dustin asked, his voice a hushed, hopeful whisper. Mike got up, carefully stepping over Hailey's legs to retrieve the walkie from his bag.

"Mike, it's me, Nancy. Mike, are you there? Answer. Mike, we need you to answer." Nancy's voice was faint but clearer now, laced with a desperate, pleading urgency that made them all instinctively lean in closer, forming a tight huddle around the small device.

"Is that your sister?" Lucas asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. Hailey stared at Mike, her own bewilderment mirroring his. Why would Nancy be looking for them now? Mike's wide-eyed, bewildered expression confirmed he had no idea what was happening either. This wasn't part of the plan.

"This is an emergency, Mike. Do you copy? Mike, do you copy?" Nancy's voice pleaded, cracking with a hopelessness that felt all too real.

"Okay, this is really weird," Dustin stated the obvious. Hailey reached out and gave him a light, admonishing slap on the back of the head. He shot her a glare but fell silent, understanding the need for quiet.

"Don't answer," Mike instructed sharply as Lucas's hand twitched toward the radio. "She said it was an emergency," Lucas pointed out, his hand hovering in the air, torn between trust and caution. "What if it's a trick?" Mike countered, his eyes darting between his friends, the paranoia of the last few days taking root. "What if they have her?"

"Here's the plan," Hailey interjected, her voice a low, steady anchor in the centre of their storm. "Until we're one hundred percent sure it's not a trick, we don't answer. We listen." Everyone nodded in grim agreement except for Lucas.

"It's Mike's sister!" Lucas argued, his loyalty warring with his fear. Hailey gently grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to meet her steady, serious gaze. "Lucas, listen to me. Nancy could have been found by those men who chased us—the same ones looking for us right now. They could be forcing her to say these things to lure us out. So, until we know for sure she can be trusted and is alone, we do not answer the radio. Do you understand?" she stated firmly, her logic cold and hard but irrefutable. Lucas finally nodded, the fight draining out of him as her words sank in.

"I need you to answer," Nancy's voice came through again, weaker this time, frayed with static and despair. "It's like Lando Calrissian in Cloud City. Don't answer," Dustin agreed, eyeing the radio as if it were a venomous snake.

"We need to know that you're there, Mike," Nancy tried one last time, her voice fading into a burst of empty static. They all just stared at the radio where Hailey had placed it on a torn seat, the weight of the decision hanging heavily in the stale air. The silence that followed was suffocating.

Then, a new voice. Gruff, authoritative, and laced with a no-nonsense urgency that made them all jump. "Listen, kid, this is Chief Hopper. If you're there, pick up. We know you're in trouble, and we know about the girl."

The words landed like a physical blow. A fresh wave of cold, sheer confusion and fear washed over them.

"Why is she with the chief?" Lucas asked, his face a mask of utter bewilderment.

"How the hell does he know about..." Dustin trailed off, and as one, everyone's eyes instinctively flicked toward Eleven, who shrank back against a seat. None of them had told a soul about her. The violation of their secret was terrifying.

"We can protect you. We can help you, but you gotta pick up. Are you there? Do you copy? Over." Hopper's voice was impatient, frustrated, but underneath it was a thread of something that felt genuine, a raw need to connect that cut through the official tone.

Hailey looked at the faces of the children—scared, confused, and looking to her for guidance. She saw the silent question in their eyes. This was different. This was the chief of police. And he knew. She took a deep, steadying breath, the mantle of leadership settling firmly on her shoulders. She gave them a single, decisive nod.

The older Henderson stood up; her movements deliberate. She took the radio, her thumb hovering over the talk button for a second, a silent prayer on her lips that the chief reached them before the "bad men" did. She keyed the mic, her voice calm but clear.

"Yeah, we copy. It's Hailey. Mike's here. We're all here."

*~*🌟*~*

An agonizing amount of time had passed since Hailey's transmission, each second stretching into a miniature eternity. Dustin was starting to lose it, pacing the narrow, grimy length of the bus like a caged animal, his footsteps a frantic, rhythmic tap against the metal floor. Hailey could hear his breathing becoming ragged and panicked with each frantic step, a wheezing counterpoint to the tense silence.

"Will you stop pacing?" Mike asked, his own irritation a thin, brittle veil for the shared fear coiling in his gut.

"It's been way too long. You know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe this is all a trap and the bad men are coming to get us right now!" Dustin declared, not breaking his frantic stride, his words tumbling out in a rush of anxiety.

"Dusty, breathe. It's not a trap," Hailey told her brother, her voice firm but gentle, though her words seemed to bounce off the wall of his rising panic.

"Why would the chief set us up? Nancy, maybe, but the chief?" Lucas asked, trying to cling to a thread of reason, his eyes darting between Mike and Hailey. Mike threw his hands up in exasperation, but Hailey found herself leaning toward Lucas's logic. Hopper had sounded... different.

"Lando Calrissian," Dustin said, pointing a trembling finger at Lucas to emphasize his point. "Betrayed Han to Darth Vader. It happens!"

"Would you shut up about Lando?" Lucas snapped, the endless waiting and suffocating fear fraying all their nerves to a breaking point.

"I don't feel good about this. I don't feel good about this!" Dustin yelled as he passed by Lucas, his voice cracking.

"When do you feel good about anything?" Lucas shouted back, surging to his feet.

"Guys!" Hailey interjected, her own voice rising to cut through the escalating tension. She stood up, placing herself between them. "Yelling at each other isn't going to get us anywhere, okay?" She was just as terrified, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs, but she couldn't let it show. They needed a rock.

The distinct, low growl of an engine approaching cut through their argument. It was close. Too close. Hailey was on her feet instantly, a finger to her lips, motioning for absolute silence. She moved to the front of the bus, peering through a crack in the dirt-caked windshield with the boys right behind her, their breaths held. It wasn't just one vehicle; it was several, their headlights cutting swaths through the junkyard's darkness. The bad men had found them first.

"Shit!" Dustin cursed, the word a terrified whisper.

"Go, go, go, go!" Mike urged in a harsh whisper. They scrambled to the very back of the bus, crouching down behind the last row of seats, making themselves as small as possible, hoping against desperate hope they wouldn't be discovered.

"Lando," Dustin panted, his worst fear seemingly confirmed.

"You think they saw us?" Lucas asked, his eyes wide and luminous in the dark as he looked to Hailey for reassurance she couldn't give. "Dustin, Lucas, not a sound," Hailey whispered sharply, her arm pulling them both closer.

They could hear car doors slamming shut, the sounds echoing through the silent junkyard. Men shouted to each other, their voices cold and professional as they fanned out. Hailey's heart hammered against her ribs, so loud she was sure it could be heard. She saw a long shadow fall across the bus windows as one of the men drew closer. The bus door creaked open on rusty hinges. But no one entered.

Instead, they heard a man grunt in surprise, followed by the sickening, wet thud of a fist hitting flesh. "Hey!" a voice yelled—Hopper's voice. More punches landed, accompanied by pained grunts and the brutal scuffle of a one-sided struggle. A body hit the ground outside with a heavy, final thud.

It fell silent for a few terrifying seconds. They all looked at each other, frozen in fear, unsure who had won. Then, the bus door creaked open again.

Chief Hopper stood there, silhouetted against the night, breathing heavily. A fresh cut bloomed on his lip, and his knuckles were raw and bloody. His eyes scanned the dark interior, finding them huddled together. "All right, let's go," he said, his voice a low, gruff command that brooked no argument. They just stared, too stunned to move. "Let's go!" Hopper barked, the order jolting them into action. They jumped to their feet and scrambled off the bus, not looking at the unconscious man on the ground, piling quickly into the safety of Hopper's waiting Blazer.

Hopper took the long, winding way to the Byers household, his eyes constantly flicking to the rear-view mirror, weaving through dark back roads to ensure they weren't being followed. The tension in the car was a physical presence. They arrived under the deep cover of darkness. As they pulled up, the front door flew open and people rushed out—Mrs. Byers, Jonathan, and Nancy.

"Mike. Oh, my God. Mike!" Nancy cried, running forward and pulling her brother into a tight, desperate hug. When she pulled away, she held his face in her hands, her eyes searching his, overflowing with a relief so profound it was painful to see. "I was so worried about you," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"Yeah, uh... me, too," Mike stammered, awkward under the unfamiliar, raw display of affection from his usually composed sister.

Jonathan's eyes immediately found Hailey. His face, usually so guarded, was an open book of relief. He crossed to her in two strides and pulled her into an unexpected, tight hug that momentarily stole her breath.

"I'm glad to see you're okay," he murmured into her hair, his grip firm. Hailey caught Nancy staring at them over Mike's shoulder, a complex flicker of something—jealousy? surprise?—in her eyes, and she couldn't help a soft, exhausted chuckle as she gently extricated herself.

"Of course, I'm okay. I gotta keep an eye on my boys," Hailey said, winking at Dustin and Lucas who were hovering nearby.

"Is that my dress?" Nancy asked, her gaze finally landing on Eleven, who was trying to hide behind Mike. No one answered her. The group, united by their shared secret and ordeal, moved silently past her and into the house.

Inside, the atmosphere was charged. Joyce and Hopper immediately began questioning them, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and determination. Hailey nudged Mike to explain the gate first; he was the party leader, after all.

"Okay, so, in this example, we're the acrobat," Mike began, grabbing a notepad and using a drawing to illustrate Mr. Clarke's metaphor just as he had at the funeral. He drew a tightrope.

"Will and Barbara, and that monster, they're this flea." He drew a flea. "And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding." He flipped the paper over to the blank side. "Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip in time and space."

"A gate," Dustin stated.

"That Lucas tracked down all the way to Hawkins Lab," Hailey added, unable to keep the pride out of her voice for the Sinclair boy.

"With our compasses," Dustin said. The adults across from them looked confused.

"Okay, so the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the direction of a compass needle," Dustin explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hailey noticed Hopper's intense focus was solely on Eleven, a curious and calculating look on his face, as if he was fitting her into a puzzle he was only just beginning to understand. "Is this gate underground?" Hopper asked, his question directed squarely at her.

"Yes," Eleven answered softly, not meeting his gaze.

"Near a large water tank?" he pressed; his voice low.

"Yes."

"How do you know all that?" Dustin stuttered out, the group staring at the chief, wondering how he could know something even they didn't.

"He's seen it," Mike stated, the realization dawning on him, his eyes wide. Hopper's stony silence was all the confirmation they needed.

"Is there any way that you could... that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this..." Joyce tried to ask the girl, tripping over her words in her desperate, heart-wrenching hope.

"The upside down," Eleven finished for her.

"Down. Yeah," Joyce whispered, her hands clasped tightly together. Eleven gave a small, hesitant nod.

"And my friend Barbara? Can you find her, too?" Nancy asked, stepping forward. The younger girl just stared at her, unsure how to answer, the weight of their expectations visibly pressing down on her small shoulders.

They moved to the kitchen and sat around the table. The air was thick with anticipation. Nancy gave Eleven the photo of Barb, and Mike placed the radio in front of her. Eleven closed her eyes, her face tightening in concentration.

The radio emitted a low static that quickly grew louder, filling the small kitchen. As the static increased, the kitchen lights began to flicker violently, casting jumping, frantic shadows around the room. Just as the static reached a fever pitch, it suddenly cut out and became faint, distant. Eleven's eyes snapped open. Seeing everyone's expectant, desperate stares, she seemed to shrink under the overwhelming pressure.

"I'm sorry," Eleven whispered, tears welling in her eyes and tracing clean paths through the grime on her cheeks.

"What? What's wrong? What happened?" Joyce asked, her voice rising in frantic despair. "I can't find them," Eleven cried before bolting from the room, overwhelmed.

Hailey got up without a word and followed her to the bathroom. She found Eleven hunched over the sink, her small body shaking with silent sobs. "Hey," Hailey said softly, closing the door behind her. "You did good. You tried. That's what matters." She began rubbing soothing circles on the girl's back. Eleven offered a weak, grateful smile, leaning into the comfort. "Why don't you wash your face and come out when you're ready. No one is mad at you," Hailey suggested. Eleven nodded silently, her tears slowly subsiding.

Returning to the kitchen, Hailey heard Mike explaining Eleven's limitations to the adults. "Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak. It takes a lot out of her."

"The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets," Dustin added.

"Like, she flipped the van earlier," Lucas said, the awe still evident in his voice.

"It was awesome," Dustin chimed in, unable to contain his excitement.

"But she's drained," Mike finished. "Like a bad battery."

"Well... How do we make her better?" Joyce asked desperately, looking from face to face for an answer that wasn't there.

"We won't be able to," Hailey spoke up, drawing all eyes to her. She leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed. "We are just gonna have to wait and let her rest. Then we try again."

"Well, how long?" Nancy pressed, her impatience clear, her worry for Barb making her tone sharp. Hailey rolled her eyes, her own patience wearing thin. "It doesn't matter. However long it takes. She's our only hope at finding them, and she's just a kid. So, you have no choice but to wait," Hailey snapped, her protective instincts flaring. She wouldn't risk another child burning out for Nancy's impatience.

"The bath," a small voice said from the doorway. Everyone turned to see Eleven standing there, her face washed clean, looking small but resolved.

"What?" Joyce asked, her voice soft. "I can find them. In the bath," Eleven stated, her voice a little stronger.

It turned out none of the science geeks knew how to make a sensory deprivation tank, so Dustin, ever resourceful, offered to call their teacher. The phone rang for a bit before Mr. Clarke's sleepy voice answered.

"Mr. Clarke? It's Dustin."

"Dustin? Is everything okay? It's late."

"Yeah, yeah. I just, I... I have a science question."

"It's ten o'clock on a Saturday. Why don't we pick this up..."?

"Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks? Specifically, how to build one?"

"Sensory deprivation? What is this for?"

"Fun."

"Okay. Well... Why don't we talk about it Monday? After school, okay?"

"You always say we should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door, we find."

"Dustin..."

"Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?"

Hailey handed her brother paper and a pencil. He began scribbling down everything his teacher reluctantly told him. "Uh-huh. Epsom salt... okay. How much?" Dustin asked, his tongue between his teeth as he wrote furiously. Hailey could hear the teacher's surprised chatter over the phone.

"1,500 pounds? You're sure? Yep, all right. Yeah, we'll be careful. Definitely. All right, Mr. Clarke. Yeah, I'll see you on Monday. Bye." Dustin hung up the phone, and everyone looked at him expectantly.

Dustin's attention went straight to Joyce, pointing his pencil at her. "Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in at the Halloween party?"

"I think so. Yeah, out in the shed," Joyce said uncertainly. Jonathan confirmed it with a, "Yeah, it's there."

"Good. Then we just need salt. Lots of it," Dustin stated, as if asking for 1,500 pounds of salt was a perfectly normal request.

"How much is 'lots,' Dustin?" Hailey asked, staring at him.

"1,500 pounds," Dustin said matter-of-factly.

"Well, where are we gonna get that much salt?" Nancy asked, voicing the impossible question.

Hailey looked up from her brother's face, her eyes meeting Chief Hopper's across the room. A silent understanding passed between them. She knew exactly where they could get it. And by the grim set of his jaw, so did he. The school. The very place they'd just narrowly escaped. The plan was insane. It was their only shot.

*~*🌟*~*

The group caravanned to the darkened middle school, a silent procession moving with a shared, grim purpose. Inside, they split into teams with assigned tasks. Joyce took Eleven to find blackout curtains and cardboard to darken her surroundings for better concentration. Nancy and Mike scavenged the janitor's closets for every hose they could find, their mission critical to filling the massive pool. Hopper and Jonathan, being the strongest, were tasked with the monumental, seemingly impossible job of acquiring the salt from the school's storage.

Hailey stayed with Lucas and Dustin in the vast, echoing gymnasium to set up the pool, meticulously following the instructions Dustin had scribbled down from Mr. Clarke.

Dustin grunted, straining as he tried to roll the heavy, folded pool into the centre of the basketball court. "This damn thing is heavier than it looks." Hailey rolled her eyes fondly and moved to help him, the two of them manoeuvring the bulky, unwieldy vinyl into place.

"Come on. It's upside down," Lucas directed, pointing. The three of them pulled and pushed, grunting with effort, trying to unfold the stubborn material. "No, this way," Lucas said, tugging it toward his side.

"Okay, um..." Dustin huffed, getting tangled in a fold. "How does this even work?" Dustin asked, his frustration mounting as the pool refused to cooperate.

"Dustin, try that side," Hailey instructed, taking charge of the chaotic situation. He pulled, but the side flopped down the moment he let go. "Son of a bitch!" Dustin grunted, kicking at the limp vinyl.

"Pull it back to your side. Dustin, you pull there, Lucas, you pull there, and I'll pull here," Hailey directed, positioning them like a general deploying her troops.

"On three. One, two, three!" They pulled in unison, and this time, the pool snapped open with a loud whoosh and stayed put, a large, shallow blue circle on the gym floor.

A short while later, Mike and Nancy arrived, their arms laden with a tangled nest of hoses. They quickly connected them to the gym's wall faucets, and the work of filling the pool began. The water temperature was critical. Hailey put the most meticulous member of the party in charge. "Lucas, you're on thermometer duty."

"Colder!" Lucas yelled to Nancy, who was manning the hot and cold taps.

"Warmer! A little more... Right there!" he finally shouted, holding a thumb up.

Just as the water reached the desired level, Hopper and Jonathan arrived, wheeling in a massive janitor's cart piled impossibly high with bags of salt. Without a word, they began the back-breaking work of ripping them open and dumping the contents into the pool. The air filled with the gritty smell of salt. Dustin, using the raw egg test as Mr. Clarke had instructed, called out, "More!" each time it sank to the bottom. Finally, after countless bags, the egg bobbed to the surface, floating perfectly in the supersaturated solution. "It's ready!" Dustin announced, his voice echoing with triumph in the large space.

Mike placed the radio on a nearby bleacher. The stage was set. When Joyce and Eleven returned, the younger girl quietly and solemnly removed her socks, jacket, and watch. She climbed into the murky, salt-saturated water; her face soon obscured by the darkened goggles Joyce had fashioned. She lay back and floated, the incredibly dense water supporting her completely, making her look ethereal and weightless.

As Eleven focused, the gym lights began to surge and flicker violently before plunging the entire space into an eerie, half-light, then into near darkness. A tense, breathless silence fell, broken only by Eleven's whisper.

"Barb? Barbara?" she murmured into the void. Nancy leaned closer, her every muscle tense, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides. Eleven's breathing became ragged, and the building's electricity pulsed in time with her exertions, bulbs humming and flickering in sympathy.

"What's going on?" Nancy whispered to Mike; her voice tight with fear. "I don't know," he replied, his own voice hushed and anxious.

"Is Barb, okay? Is she okay?" Nancy pressed, unable to hold back.

"Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone," Eleven chanted, her voice breaking into heart-wrenching sobs. The finality in the word was devastating. Hailey immediately knelt by the pool's edge, not caring about the saltwater soaking her jeans. She reached into the water, her warm hand finding Eleven's cold one and grasping it firmly.

"It's okay, El, it's okay. I'm here, Mike's here. We're right here, honey. Don't be afraid, I got you. I'm right here next to you; I'm not going anywhere. You're safe, you're okay, El." Her calm, steady voice seemed to anchor the terrified girl, a lifeline in the psychic storm. Eleven's breathing slowly evened out, her sobs subsiding into hiccups.

She didn't let go of Hailey's hand but took a deep, shuddering breath and focused once more, this time on Will. "Castle Byers," she whispered. Joyce gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes flying to Jonathan, who had silent tears streaming down his face.

"Will?" Eleven asked into the static. Joyce found her voice, desperate and fierce. "You... you tell him... tell him I'm coming. Mom is coming. For real this time."

The silence that followed was agonizing. Then, a weak, staticky voice, thin and reedy, came through the radio: "Hurry." It was Will. There was no doubt. "Okay. Listen, you tell him to... to stay where he is. We're coming. We're coming, okay? We're coming, honey," Joyce pleaded, as if he could hear her through the girl.

Eleven began to whimper, a sound echoed eerily by a feedback whine from the radio. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright in the water with a sharp, terrified gasp, yanking the goggles off. Her eyes were wide with a primal fear.

"Oh!"

Hailey didn't hesitate. She pulled the shaking, hyperventilating girl from the water, wrapping her in a large, waiting towel. Eleven clung to her, her small body trembling violently, crying into her shoulder.

"El, you did so good. You found him. But it's over now; everything is okay. It's okay. I got you. I got you," Hailey murmured, holding her tightly, rocking her slightly. "You're so brave."

Once Eleven had calmed, her shivering subsiding to occasional tremors, Hailey led her to the bleachers, letting her sit next to Mike. The younger girl immediately leaned her head on his shoulder, seeking comfort. The two looked small, exhausted, and far too young for any of this.

Hopper let out a loud, weary sigh, turning to Joyce. "So, this fort. Where is it?" "Uh, it's in the woods behind our house," Joyce told him, a new hope blazing in her eyes.

"Yeah, he used to go there to hide," Jonathan added, wiping his face. Without another word, Hopper turned and strode out of the gym, his jaw set. Joyce and Jonathan shared a look before quickly following him, their footsteps echoing in the quiet gym.

Hailey noticed then that Nancy was missing. After ensuring the kids were okay and had water, she went looking for her. She found Nancy sitting on the floor against the wall just outside the gym, her knees drawn to her chest, her face buried in her arms. Hailey sat down beside her in silence, their shoulders almost touching.

After a long moment, Hailey asked softly, "Are you okay?" She knew Barb had been Nancy's best friend, her only real friend outside their strange, monster-hunting little group. "I'll be fine," Nancy whispered, her voice hollow and distant, not looking up. It wasn't a dismissal, but a statement of grim necessity. Hailey understood she didn't want to talk and simply stayed with her, a quiet, solid presence in the dim, empty hallway.

Jonathan returned alone a while later, the adults having left for Hawkins Lab. He slid down the wall to sit on the other side of Nancy, not saying a word. The three of them sat in a heavy, shared silence, each lost in their own thoughts of loss and fear.

"We have to go back to the station," Nancy said suddenly, her voice firm and cutting through the quiet. She lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed but dry and blazing with a frightening intensity.

"What?" Jonathan and Hailey asked in unison, turning to look at her.

"Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait," Nancy stated, her words sharp and clear.

"That thing is still in there, and we can't just sit here and let it get them, too. We can't." Jonathan sighed, running a hand through his hair, the weight of the night pressing down on him.

"You still wanna try it out?" he asked her, referring to their previous plan. "I wanna finish what we started." Nancy's voice was ice. "I want to kill it."

Jonathan then turned his gaze to Hailey. "Hailey, we could really use an extra set of hands. Would you like to join us?" he asked, his tone serious and respectful. Nancy didn't object; their history of friction was irrelevant now, burned away in the face of a greater threat. They needed all the help they could get.

Hailey hesitated for only a moment. The boys were safe here for now, hidden. This was bigger than their squabbles, bigger than school, bigger than anything. This was for Will. For Barb. For all of them. She met Jonathan's gaze, then Nancy's, and gave a single, decisive nod.

"Okay," she agreed, her voice steady. "Let's go."

*~🌟~*