Chapter Text
It was the first month of summer vacation and the Wheelers were off visiting family in Michigan. Mike hadn't wanted to go, had argued vehemently against it in fact. He insisted he was old enough to stay home alone for a week. He pled his case to his parents three days straight before his mom threatened to ground him for the rest of the summer if he didn't quit his whining.
Will shouldn't have been surprised. Mike never liked those trips, and now that El was around, that was even more reason for him not to want to go. Still, the way Mike fought tooth and nail not to be separated from her…it was a kind of devotion Will almost never saw from him. A kind of devotion that left an ache in the pit of his stomach.
He saw it with Lucas and Max too. He wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have a relationship like that. To be able to hold Mike's someone's hand as they shared inside jokes and soft looks with one another.
He shook his head. There was no use dwelling on it. It was never going to happen.
Parking his bike on the Wheelers' front lawn, he headed across the lawn to the Wheelers' house. He reached for the key underneath the mat, unlocked the front door, and went inside.
It took less than a handful of seconds for Will to realize something was wrong. The fridge door hung open, the TV was running. Most importantly, there was a complete stranger in the middle of the living room.
The stranger, a girl, stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "Um," she said. "I can explain."
Will gaped at her. "Who are you? What are you doing in the Wheelers' house?"
She winced. "It's really not what you think."
"It looks like you're either robbing the place or you're a squatter," Will said pointedly.
"I'm no thief," she said, offended.
"So you're squatting."
"That's not—" The girl cut herself off with a sigh. "Dammit. Okay, fine. Maybe we are. But it's not our fault. We didn't mean to show up here. And we would leave, it's just—"
"We?"
The girl's eyes widened even further. "Did I say 'we'? Nope. No 'we'. Just me."
"Has anyone told you're a terrible liar?" Will asked. He took a moment to take in the girl's appearance. She had dark brown hair cut into a messy bob, sun-kissed olive skin, and umber brown eyes. As for her clothes; she was clad a white leather cropped jacket over a pale pink dress that stopped by her knees, and wore a set of knee-high white combat boots.
She was around Will's age, maybe a little younger if height was any indication, as she was about an inch or two shorter than Will. Maybe that was why he didn't feel a particular need to call the police, even though he was face-to-face with a literal burglar right now. A burglar who might not have been alone.
The girl pursed her lips. "I'm not a burglar," she said, indignant.
Will blinked. "How did you—"
"It was written all over your face," she said, voice dry. "And I already told you, I'm not here to steal from anyone. I didn't even mean to come here in the first place, but…" She trailed off. "It's complicated."
"How do you not mean to break into someone's house?"
The girl didn't answer.
Will crossed his arms. "Look. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
"No offense, but I can't see how you'd be able to help."
"Try me." Will dared. She narrowed her eyes.
Without warning, the TV shut off. The lamp on the coffee table began to flicker on and off, followed by the rest of the lights. The windows rattled.
Will startled. "What the—"
"Crap," the girl breathed out. She whirled around and ran further into the house. Towards the basement, Will realized.
"Hey," he called out. "Hey, wait! You can't go down there!"
She ignored him. He sprinted after her, reaching out his arm to try and grab her, and she slapped his hand away, gaze fixed in front of her.
Despite his best efforts, she made her way downstairs. Slightly out of breath, she knelt down beside the basement couch, attention solely on the person draped across it.
"Emma," she murmured. "Ems, are you okay?"
Will's eyes widened. Laying on the couch was a near carbon copy of the girl, the only differences being their hair and outfits. The girl on the couch had waist-length hair, accentuated with a purple skunk stripe. Whereas the first girl wore a dress, the girl on the couch wore a unbuttoned plaid purple shirt over a white undershirt and light blue jeans ripped at the knees. Like the first girl, she wore a combat boots, though hers were a pitch black.
Twins, Will's mind supplied.
Couch girl—Emma—smiled weakly. "I'm fine, sis." she said. "Wish I could say the same for you. Seriously, Mary, you look like you haven't slept in days."
"Maybe that's because I haven't," Mary said, deadpan.
Emma's grin grew. Her gaze slid away from her sister and then landed on Will who, unsure of what to make of the situation, simply stood there, assessing the situation best he could.
She blinked. Her eyebrows furrowed as she took him in, and then she flopped back onto the couch.
"Mierda," she said. "Pense que tuvimos mas tiempo antes de que esto paso."
Mary frowned. "De que estas hablando? El es solo un niño."
"Hey," Will said. "Not to be a jerk, but could you guys speak English, please?"
Emma paid him no mind. Instead, she shot Mary an expectant look. "Mary. Ese niño es nuestro padre."
Mary paled. "You can't be serious," she said. She glanced back at Will, and, slowly, her face flickered with recognition.
"Crap," she said. "Will Byers?"
He took a step back in alarm. "How do you know my name?"
She closed her eyes. "Son of a bitch."
To say the last few days were a mind fuck would have been a serious understatement.
Mary wasn't lying when she said they didn't break in. After all, it wasn't breaking and entering when their grandmother was the one to invite them over.
Granted, that wouldn't happen for more than another forty years. Because apparently, time travel was a thing.
The day started out normal. One minute Mary and Emma were in Grandma Karen's basement, sorting through heaps of cardboard boxes while Grandma, Dad, and Pops talked upstairs, with Grandma no doubt trying to convince (read: guilt) them into extending their visit an extra week. Next thing Mary knew a literal tear in time and space appeared out of nowhere and engulfed her and her sister, spitting them back out before disappearing as if it never existed to begin with. To make matters worse, Emma passed out immediately afterwards, leaving Mary alone to figure out what the hell was going on.
The empty basement was now a cozy den, filled to the brim with the usual sorts of things you expected to find in a rec room: board games, action figures, even a TV. Except the TV was one of those small old-timey box models no one owned anymore.
For some reason, the mere sight of it gave Mary the creeps.
Leaving Emma on a nearby couch, she'd ventured upstairs to search for her parents, yet they were nowhere to be found. And as if that weren't weird enough, Grandma's house was now completely different. And she knew it was still Grandma's house because of the old photos of Pops and Aunt Nancy and Aunt Holly still stationed on the mantel.
Except there were no pictures of them as adults.
Where was the photo of Aunt Holly's college graduation? Pops' and Dad's wedding portrait? The framed copy of Aunt Nancy's first award winning article, published back in 2003? Even weirder, there were now pictures of Ted Wheeler suddenly on display, but none of the grandkids.
Mary tried very hard to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach as she switched on the TV in the living room for answers (no longer a flat screen but instead a larger version of the television set in the basement, which did not help Mary's nerves).
Said attempts at denial then crumbled to dust when some random reporter started to talk about President Reagan's current attempts to defuse tension with the Soviet Union.
Mary wasn't one to get easily spooked. But even she needed a minute to compose herself after that bombshell. Now, face to face with the teenage version of her dad, she felt like she needed another minute. Or maybe sixty.
Yeah. Sixty minutes to freak out would be nice. But she wasn't going to get said minutes, anytime soon so instead she forced down her panic and turned to her sister. "How do you want to play this?" She asked in Spanish.
Emma glanced at their dad. He was glaring at them with a mix of frustation and trepidation. "We could always tell him."
"You're not serious." Mary said. "Wouldn't that be breaking the timeline?"
"Not if this operates on multiverse theory like Uncle Dustin says," her twin said. In the background, Dad's eyes widened. "And anyway, do you have any better ideas?"
"You know I don't."
"Alright then," Emma said, triumphant. She sat up gradually and pivoted her gaze towards their dad. "Sorry about that," she said in English. "We don't mean to be rude. Desperate measures and all that. It wouldn't hurt you to learn Spanish, though. I'll even teach you. Our Tía Blanca says I'm practically fluent. Mary too, but she's not really teacher material."
"Hey!" Mary protested.
Their dad gaped at them. "I—you—"
"Huh." Emma cocked her head. "High-strung. I guess you grow out of that."
"You're not making any sense," Dad said, voice strained. It was clear his patience had more than wore thin at this point. "How do you know who I am? How do you know Dustin? And what was that about the multiverse?"
"Short answer," Emma said. "Mary and I are from the future. About four decades in fact. You're…" Here, she hesitated for a full five seconds; a new record. Of course, she wouldn't be Emma if she didn't throw caution to the wind, consequences be damned. "You're our father. We were visiting our grandmother when all of a sudden we found ourselves in 1985, with no clue how we ended up here and no clue how to get home. As for the multiverse part: we're banking our continued existence on the multiverse theory, which I know for a fact was a thing in the eighties, so I won't bother to explain it." She leaned back against the couch. "Any questions?"
Dad stared. "You're insane."
"Not a question," Emma waved her hand in the air. "You want proof, here." She dug into her pocket and pulled out her iPhone. "Take a gander at this baby—shit," her face fell. "It's out of battery."
"That's convenient," he said.
Mary scoffed. "No, that's Emma forgetting to charge her phone, again." She sighed and reached for her own Samsung. She unlocked it and headed straight for Spotify. "There's no service. Lucky me, I downloaded a bunch of songs and stuff before we ended up here. Here," she selected a random song and tapped on the link to the album page. "See. It says right there, came out 2016."
Dad reached out for her phone. Mary let him take it, and she and Emma watched with baited breath as he inspected her cell.
He peered up at her. "'Murder Song'?"
Mary huffed. "Don't hate."
The corner of her dad's lips twitched upwards. He redirected his attention back to her phone, exiting out of Spotify and tapping on Netflix.
"I got a bunch of shows downloaded there," Mary said helpfully. "My favorite's Bridgerton, which is a totally age-appropriate show for me to watch."
Emma stifled a giggle.
Dad ignored them. Seconds passed before his eyes blew wide open and his head shot up.
"He-Man gets a sequel?" He asked.
This time Emma didn't bother to hide her laughter. "That's what convinces you. He-Man. Sheesh, once a nerd, always a nerd."
"Don't worry. She means that as a compliment," Mary said.
"Well, duh. How else would I have meant it?" said Emma.
Dad shook his head, a dazed expression on his face. "This is crazy. This is batshit crazy." He handed Mary's phone back to her and plopped onto the couch besides Emma, face buried in his hands.
Mary blinked. Dad never swore. "Uh. Are you alright?" She joined her dad and sister on the couch.
Dad hesitated. He lifted his head up and studied her almost fearfully. "You're really my daughters?" He asked.
Mary and Emma nodded. "Yup," they said in unison.
He paled. "Okay," he gulped. "Okay, okay, okay. That's…"
He trailed off, staring off into the distance.
Mary frowned. "I think we broke him."
"Oh, come on," Emma said. "We did not break him."
Was it possible for a brain to snap clean in half? Will never used to think so, but today was really pushing his limits, to say the least. And to think all he came over to do was water Mrs. Wheeler's plants.
Daughters. From the future.
Will had (will have?) daughters. Plural.
Which meant he was going to…with a girl? He wanted to throw up just thinking about it. How would that even work?
It wasn't until Emma and Mary gave him identical looks of consternation that he realized he'd asked that last bit out loud.
"Adoption is a thing, you know." Emma said dryly.
Will blinked. Some of the panic building in his chest lessened. "Adoption." He repeated.
Mary cocked her head and raised a single eyebrow. "Is there a problem with that, Dad?"
He did his best not to wince at being called 'Dad' and focused instead on his relief. "No, no problem. I was just surprised. I can't really picture myself as a single father."
Emma narrowed her eyes. "Single father?" She echoed.
"Emma," Mary said sharply.
Her sister glanced at her. For a brief second Will thought the two girls would start talking to each other in Spanish again. Instead they stayed silent, their gazes locked for almost a full minute.
Emma was the first to break eye contact. "Whatever," she grumbled.
Mary rolled her eyes, then turned back to Will. "Not to spoil everything about the future, but…things get better," she said. "It's not perfect, and we've got a long way go, but. It does get better."
Will's stomach dropped. The relief in his chest shriveled up, and his heartbeat skyrocketed as if he were being chased by a Demogorgon. Suddenly, it was as if the walls were closing in on him. "What are you talking about?"
Mary fidgeted. "I don't know how much to tell you," she said slowly. "I don't want to, like, fuck up your brain or anything."
"I'm fine," Will said immediately. His voice cracked on the word 'fine'.
"Uh-huh, yeah," she said, unimpressed. "Still, for all we know the multiverse theory is a bunch of tontería. If we're not careful, we could seriously mess up the future."
"You said you were adopted, right? It's not like you'd be erasing yourself from existence."
"Maybe. But we could still mess up your life. What if you don't—" She cut herself off, frustrated. "Forget it."
"Mary," Emma murmured. For the first time, she appeared genuinely concerned. "It's gonna be okay."
"You don't know that, Emma." Mary snapped. "What if we created a butterfly effect? And now Tía Blanca doesn't hook up with the sperm donor, or she decides not to put us up for adoption? What if we're adopted by some other family? I happen to like our life the way it is, thanks."
"Mare."
"I said forget it." She got up from the couch and headed over to the other side of the room, crossing her arms.
Emma bit her lip. She swiveled towards Will and shot him a pleading look.
He shook his head. What did she expect him to do? He was still freaking out himself over here, Mary's words from before rattling around in his head.
'It got better'. What had she been talking about? Because it almost sounded like—like—
Emma clasped her hands together. She jutted out her lower lip and gestured over towards her sister. Please, she mouthed. Please please please please please—
"Alright, alright!" He muttered under his breath. He took a deep breath; it did little to settle nerves. Still, he stood up and followed after Mary.
Mary kept her gazed fixed on the floor. "What do you want, Dad?" She asked tiredly, then winced. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Force of habit. Must be weird to have a kid your age call you 'dad'."
"It's…well, yeah," Will admitted. "But that's not your fault."
Mary glanced at him, searching his face. For what, he didn't know. Maybe she wanted to see if any part of him resembled the Will Byers from her time, the one who had chosen to raise her as his own. Her father.
She sighed and uncrossed her arms. Conflict warred on her face until she groaned in defeat. "Okay, look. About what I said before."
"You don't have to explain," Will said hurriedly.
"Sure," she agreed. "And trust me, I'm terrified telling you will shoot the timeline straight to hell. But, do you want me to tell you?"
He hesitated.
A part of him said yes, please, tell me you meant what I think you meant, tell me the world gets kinder towards people like me. Tell me I don't have to hide anymore.
Another part of him gnawed at his stomach. Afraid he'd misunderstood what she was talking about. Afraid of being known by this girl who, for all that she was his daughter, was little more than a stranger to him. And, to his own surprise, he wasn't simply afraid of her, but afraid for her. Because what did they know of how time travel worked? What if Mary was right and the more she told him about his future, the more she put her own present in danger?
She might have been a stranger, but he didn't want that for her. Or for Emma.
So caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed what she said next.
He froze, unsure he heard her correctly. "What?"
She huffed. "I said I'm a lesbian, Dad. Keep up."
"You…" Will stared at her. "You're gay. And you have no problem telling me that you're gay."
"Well, yeah. I told you, things get better in the future. Plus I know you. If prior history, or future history I guess, is any indication, you're about to tell me how proud you are of me. Or you know, maybe not. You're definitely not going to be an asshole about it though."
"Does that mean," He swallowed. "Do you know about…about me?" His voice was little more than a whisper.
Mary hesitated.
"Do you?" He pressed.
"…You get married December 2015," she said. "Six months after the Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage nationwide. Me and Emma were flower girls. Uncle Jonathan was your best man and Grandma Joyce barely made it through her toast without breaking down. Happy tears." She reassured him. "…Kinda like I hope those are?"
She gestured towards Will. With a start, he realized he was crying.
"Crap." He gasped and hurried to wipe his tears away. "S-sorry. I didn't expect to hear all that."
"I think you actually broke him this time, Mare," Emma called out from the other side of the room, the callousness of her words betrayed by the worry in her tone.
"Shit, did I? I'm sorry, Da—Will. I'm sorry Will, I don't know what I was thinking—I shouldn't have—"
"No, it's alright," Will said. He let out a watery laugh. "Trust me, it's more than alright. I just…never thought I'd get to have that, you know?" A wedding. A marriage. A future where his family not only knew about him but accepted him. It was too good to be true.
"I mean, you're still gonna have to wait awhile." Emma pointed out.
Right. There was that. But still—"I'm fourteen. I'm not in any rush," he said. "Knowing one day I'll be able to is enough for me right now."
Mary grinned; It was the first smile he'd seen from her all day. "I'm glad," she said.