𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟭𝟱. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙩𝙚

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙩𝙚

Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to.

Not the plan, not the timing, not the fight.

Silence had fallen again, heavy, disorienting, unnatural. The creatures' snarls had died out beyond the walls. Weapons, once gripped tight enough to bruise palms, slowly lowered.

James wasn't sure he understood what was happening. Though, to be fair, he hadn't understood much since arriving in Hawkins.

But this, this was new. Above even the usual Hawkins-level weird.

No one had spoken since the two strangers stepped through the door. The entire Byers house seemed held in a single suspended breath, as if the walls themselves were waiting for someone to make sense of it.

James's eyes never left the two girls.

Two mysterious silhouettes standing where a monster should have been.

Did they... save them?

Had they shown up just in time, or had the creatures simply retreated?

James wasn't sure. No one was.

The first girl stood in front, short, dark hair slicked back, streaks of black eyeshadow framing eyes that looked older than she was. A thin line of dried blood ran from her nostril to the curve of her lip. She looked like she had walked out of a storm she'd personally fought.

The second girl stood behind her, half-shielded by the light.

Longer hair tied into a tight ponytail. Leather jacket, dark clothes, and splashes of unnatural, sickly-colored blood staining one side of her face. She held herself rigidly, every muscle alert. Uncomfortable.

Her eyes scanned the room, calculating, assessing threats or exits or both. She looked like someone who never truly relaxed.

The first girl, though, she wasn't looking at the room.

She was fixed on one person. A breathy whisper escaped her.

"Mike."

Her voice cracked as she stepped forward, expression softening in an instant.

Mike froze. Then he moved.

"Eleven," he breathed.

They closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, arms snapping around each other with a desperation that made James feel like he was intruding on something private, raw, necessary.

It wasn't just a hug, it was a reunion that pulled air back into lungs.

El, James realized. Eleven.

The girl Mike had talked about that night when they searched for Dart. Their mage.

Beside him, Max stiffened slightly, and then whispered to Lucas, "Is that...?"

Lucas only nodded, wide-eyed.

Eleven fought her tears, but they clung stubbornly to her lashes. Mike pulled back only far enough to see her face, still holding her arms.

"I never gave up on you," Mike said, voice trembling with something halfway between relief and heartbreak. "I called you every night. Every night for—"

"Three hundred and fifty-three days," she whispered. "I heard."

James inhaled slowly, feeling the last of his tension slide off his shoulders.

Mike searched her face. "Why didn't you tell me you were there? That you were okay?"

A new voice answered.

"Because I wouldn't let her."

Hopper.

Mike spun toward him in shock. Hopper stepped up beside Eleven, placing himself protectively between her and the confusion swirling through the room. Then he flicked a pointed look at the second girl, the silent one still lingering near the doorway.

"The hell is this?" Hopper demanded, voice even but strained. "Where have you been?"

But Eleven shot the accusation right back at him. "Where have you been?"

Hopper's face twisted relief, guilt, all snarled together. And then he moved, pulling her into a fierce embrace. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, jaw clenched as if he'd been holding his breath for months. Eleven melted into the hug, shoulders sagging with relief.

Mike's voice broke through the moment.

"You've been hiding her," he said.

Everyone turned toward him, confused.

Clearly, no one had known. Not even close.

Mike's voice rose. "You've been hiding her this whole time!"

He shoved Hopper. Hard.

"Hey!" Hopper barked, catching him before he could push again. "Let's talk. Alone."

Still seething, Mike let himself be steered toward the hallway. The door to one of the bedrooms slammed behind them a second later.

The quiet that followed felt strange, emptier, after everything that had just happened.

James's gaze drifted back to Eleven... then to the other girl.

The one who hadn't spoken a single word.

Who was she?

Lucas and Dustin didn't stay frozen for long. As soon as their shock cracked into recognition, they surged forward and wrapped Eleven in a three-way tangle of arms, an uncoordinated, overwhelming, desperate group hug.

"I can't believe it," Dustin breathed, nearly laughing and crying at the same time.

"We missed you," Lucas added.

"I missed you too," Eleven murmured into their shoulders.

"We talked about you pretty much every day."

Their hug finally broke apart, leaving the three of them blinking at one another, like they had to keep confirming she was truly standing there, breathing, alive.

Then Dustin glanced past Eleven, toward the silent figure still half-hidden behind her.

"You made a friend?" he asked, pointing with a motion that wasn't subtle at all.

All at once, the attention in the room shifted. Every set of eyes landed on the girl in the back.

She stiffened instantly. Shoulders tensing. Arms folding over herself like armor.

James didn't miss it. She wore discomfort like a second skin.

Eleven turned toward her, then back to the boys.

"She's my sister."

Lucas and Dustin blinked in unison.

"Your what?"

The girl finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady, its first appearance sending a tiny ripple through the room.

"Not blood sister."

Eleven nodded, her chin dipping once. "Lab sister."

Confusion swept through the group like a draft. Even Nancy looked momentarily lost.

James followed Lucas's gaze and noticed what had stolen his attention—a number inked on the girl's wrist. 013.

"Oh, holy shit..." Dustin whispered.

James could practically feel the girl's discomfort sharpen.

Everything about her posture, her clenched jaw, her darting eyes, the way her fingers dug into her sleeves, screamed that she wanted nothing more than to bolt straight back out the door.

Eleven felt it too.

She stepped closer to her, protective, and gestured to the boys.

"This Lucas and Dustin," she said slowly, "they are my friends."

Lucas and Dustin both attempted their best friendly smiles, wide, awkward, overflowing with curiosity and excitement about the existence of another girl like Eleven.

The girl gave a small nod.

"I'm Erin."

"Nice to meet you, Erin!" Dustin said immediately, because of course he did.

James sensed Max move beside him. She stepped forward with a polite smile, trying her best to seem welcoming.

"Hey, um... I'm Max. I've heard a lot about you," she said, offering her hand to Eleven.

But Eleven didn't take it.

She barely even looked at her.

Instead, she slid past Max without a word, as if she hadn't seen her at all, heading straight toward Joyce. She passed close enough to James that he felt the air shift, barely gave him a glance.

Charming, he thought, though not unkindly. Given everything she had survived, politeness probably wasn't at the top of her skill set. And Mike's devotion to her suddenly made... a lot more sense.

Max's smile wilted, her outstretched hand hanging uselessly before she slowly lowered it. The hurt flashed quickly across her face before she tried to hide it.

James stepped to her side and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," he said quietly. "Seriously."

Max let out a tiny breath, almost a sigh. Lucas stepped closer too, offering a reassuring half-smile.

"She'll warm up to you," he said.

Maybe he believed it. Maybe he just wanted her to.

Across the room, Eleven called Erin softly. The two joined Joyce, and together the three headed toward Will's room, disappearing behind the half-closed door.

And as the house settled again into a fragile stillness, James couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had just walked into their lives, whatever these girls represented, was only the beginning of something far bigger.

Something they weren't prepared for.

- ⏳-

Hopper looked as though the weight of the entire damn situation had settled on his shoulders, dragging him down, inch by inch. He braced one hand on the table, the other on his hip, breathing unevenly before he spoke again.

"It's not like it was before," he said, voice rough. "It's grown. A lot. And that's assuming we can even get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs."

"Demo-dogs," Dustin murmured, almost proudly.

Hopper straightened slowly. "I'm sorry—what?"

"Demo-dogs," Dustin repeated, more sheepishly now. "Like... demogorgon and dogs. You put them together, it sounds kind of badass."

James pressed a palm over his face and let out a breath that was almost a groan. Of all the times, Dustin...

Hopper threw his arms out. "How is this important right now?"

"It's not, it's not," Dustin blurted, shrinking into his jacket. "I'm sorry."

The room fell into a kind of dead, vibrating quiet, the kind that rang in James's ears. Like the house itself was waiting. 

"I can do it."

Every person in the room stilled.

Eleven stood near the doorway, shoulders squared, chin lifted. She looked small, but her presence filled the space like a sudden line of electricity. Determination radiated from her, fierce and steady.

Hopper shook his head immediately. "You're not hearing me."

"I'm hearing you," she said again, louder this time. "I can do it."

Something flickered across Hopper's face, fear, pride, anger, helplessness. All at once.

Mike stepped closer to her, eyes softening. 

"Even if El can, there's still another problem." His voice wavered. "If the brain dies, the body dies."

Max frowned. "I thought that was literally the point."

"It is," Mike said, his voice breaking. "But if we're really right about this, if El closes the gate, destroys the Mind Flayer's army..."

James felt the realization slam through him like a shove. His throat tightened.

"Will is part of that army."

Mike nodded, teeth clenched. "Closing the gate will kill him."

A heavy silence crushed the room. James felt it settle against his chest, pressing the air out of him. Losing Will now... after everything? That wasn't a sacrifice. It was a tragedy. A failure. And it wasn't acceptable.

They had to find another way.

The group drifted toward Will's room without deciding to, pulled like metal to a magnet. James found himself at the end of the line, heart pounding as they stepped into the cold, dim space.

Will lay motionless on the bed, swallowed by blankets and hospital fabric. His breaths were shallow. The air itself felt colder around him, like the room exhaled frost.

That window, half open, let a faint winter breeze curl across the floorboards.

Joyce moved toward it with trembling hands.

"He kept saying that it likes it cold," she whispered. Then she pushed the window shut with a slam. "We keep giving it what it wants."

Nancy crossed her arms tight against her chest, staring at Will like she could memorize him before anything else could go wrong. 

"If this is a virus, and Will's the host, then..."

Jonathan finished for her. "Then we need to make the host uninhabitable."

"So if it likes cold..." Nancy murmured.

Joyce turned to them, fire flickering through despair in her eyes.

"We need to burn it out of him."

Mike flinched as though she'd struck him. "We have to do it somewhere it doesn't know this time. Somewhere it can't anticipate."

James stepped forward, voice steady despite the tremor in his stomach. "Yeah. Somewhere far away."

For a beat, no one moved.

Then Hopper inhaled sharply through his nose, decision settling onto him like armor.

"I know a place."

Thank you so much for reading this far! 🎡

The next chapter shifts its focus toward Erin, i hope you'll like it.

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