Chapter Text
It is 2 in the morning and Mike cannot sleep. He lays with his back on the hard floor, wrapped in one of the thin sleeping bags Robin keeps stored at the Squawk, mind racing. Beside him Lucas and Robin snore loudly, their silhouettes almost peaceful despite the night’s events.
Will. Gone again.
At least not physically this time. But Mike cannot drag his thoughts from the scene of Will’s lifeless form, lying stiff and unresponsive in the dirt. His body present, but his mind swept away in the hive. What is he experiencing in there? What is Vecna doing to him?
Mike doesn’t want to think about it anymore. The possibilities running on loop through his head are torturous.
With a deep sigh he crawls out of his sleeping bag, desperate to distract his mind. He tip toes softly to the kitchen, searching the shelves for a cup and pouring himself a glass of water. Raising the glass to his lips, he downs the liquid in one swift gulp. Its frigidity hits his throat, and he focuses his mind on the cold sensation as it trickles down his body.
Finally, he is met with a moment of peace.
That is, until the image of Will’s lifeless body being carried from Lover’s Lake overtakes his mind. The young boy’s body dangles limply as it is placed on a stretcher. His face is white as a ghost; all the life sucked from it. His lips discoloured from the cold water, a deep blue, never to open again. It’s been ages since Mike last thought about that night, and the paralyzing feelings associated with witnessing his best friends’ lifeless form. His heart begins to hammer against his chest. The cold from his drink grows in his gut, spreading like tendrils through his body and sending chills down his arms.
Will is gone again. Mike thinks. Just like back then. His breathing speeds up as the image of Will’s body, motionless and corpse-like outside the Squawk flashes in his mind. It’s much too similar. What if he’s really gone forever this time?
Mike’s entire body shudders and somewhere in the radio station a clock chimes. He rubs his eyes and wills himself to breath deeply… in and out. In and out.
Slowly, he shuffles out of the kitchen and into the doorway of the room where Joyce is keeping watch on Will. He needs to see him. Watch his chest rise and fall. Remind himself that he will be okay.
To Mike’s relief, Joyce is asleep in an armchair near Will, snoring softly. She had been hovering over Will all night, dedicated and desperate, hands stroking, mouth cooing. She is such a good mom, and Mike is relieved that Will has someone like her to watch over him, but he had lain in his sleeping bag all night, secretly hoping that Joyce would fall asleep. He didn’t understand it fully, but he feared her watchful eye. He had an inkling that she would take one look at him, at the tension in his body, the ache in his hands, the concern carved into his brows, and unravel him right there. One look and she would know just how much he wanted. Just how much he cared. Mike couldn’t have that.
He inches into the room, careful not to wake Joyce, and stops once he reaches the couch where Will lays. Mike exhales deeply. Will’s chest rises and falls steadily and his eyes twitch behind their lids. He thinks about his last interaction with Will... the way Will's eyes had gone distant and cold. His body shudders.
“Oh Will,” Mike breaths, unable to resist resting a gentle hand on his friend’s face and running a thumb along his cheek. “Come back to me.”
In the stillness of the room, Mike allows himself to study Will’s face, unguarded. He takes in the familiar slope of his nose, the arch of his brows, how his lips part slightly as he breathes. He wants to see Will’s soft smile dance on his lips and hear his laugh after Mike says something stupid. He wants to apologize for whatever he did to make Will so uncomfortable earlier. He licks his own dry lips and turns away, slipping into the other room to grab his sleeping bag.
Upon return, he sets himself up on the ground beside the couch, lying parallel to Will. He props his head up with a pillow, so he has a clear view of his friend. He is reminded of sleeping by Will’s side when he was in the hospital. He had been so young and so scared, wanting only to be close to Will. Mike remembers how he had curled up in a blanket, pretending to sleep but instead counting Will’s breath, checking every few minutes to make sure he was still there and still alive. It was so easy then. Mike was so carefree. He didn’t care if people thought they were too close; they were best friends, after all. All he cared about was making sure Will was okay and that he wouldn’t lose him again.
Mike spends the entire night diligently monitoring Will. Watching his chest rise and fall. Counting his breaths. Determined to be there if he happens to stir. As the hours wear on, Mike’s eyelids weigh heavily, but he rubs them hard to ward off sleep. The room is silent except for Will’s soft breathing and Joyce’s quiet snores, and he finds comfort in the sounds.
When the sun begins to shine through the Squawk’s front window, Joyce stirs in her chair. Her breathing changes as she shifts positions and stretches her legs out. Mike freezes in place, muscles taut and heart racing. I’m not doing anything wrong, he reminds himself, but it doesn’t ease the thumping in his ribcage. The feeling he’s about to get caught. He stands up in a hurry and collects his sleeping bag, dragging it back to where Robin and Lucas sleep.
Mike has only been back for a few minutes when Robin and Lucas begin to stir.
Robin yawns loudly as she sits up in her sleeping bag. Her hair is tangled, sticking up at odd angles, and she offers Mike a soft smile as she notices his gaze, “G’morning.”
“Morning.” Mike says, voice weak from exhaustion.
“God, you don’t look very well.” Robin states bluntly.
“Didn’t sleep.” Mike mutters and Robin’s eyebrows scrunch together in sympathy.
“I’ll go make us coffee and check on Will.” She says, standing up and stretching her long legs.
Mike watches her leave and prays that they can find a way to get Will back today. He needs him. They all need him. Plus, if Lucas’ theory is right… it’s November 6th today. Mike doesn’t know what to expect, but he knows it won’t be pretty. He takes deep breaths to calm his nerves and graciously accepts a large mug of coffee from Robin as she returns.
……….
The morning passes in a blur. Lucas is frantically trying to make sense of what happened last night with Will and how he saw Max with Holly. Despite Mike’s best efforts and the fact that this is important to him, he keeps zoning out. His eyes keep half closing, his stomach keeps clenching, and nausea keeps threatening to bubble up. He groans and grips his stomach as his vision blurs.
“Is this real? Is Vecna messing with us again!?” Lucas is yelling. “This makes no goddamn sense!”
“Oh god,” Mike mutters. He’s going to be sick.
Without explanation, he stands abruptly and hurries to the Squawk’s washroom, racing to the toilet and bending over it just in time. He hasn’t eaten much in the past few days, and his throat burns with bile as he retches again and again.
He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater and slowly stands, using the toilets’ edge as leverage to steady himself.
“Not the most convenient time to be getting sick.” He mutters, stalking towards the bathroom sink to wash his hands.
As he rubs soap into his dry skin, he looks up at himself in the mirror. His face is pulled tighter than usual and the bags under his eyes are dark and defined, the result of stress and lack of sleep. His hair is disheveled and lips look cracked and dry.
Robin was right. He doesn’t look well.
As he washes the soap from his hands, a quiet hum fills the room and the lights stutter overhead, a sickly flicker that drains the room of its colour. A chill creeps over his skin, raising goosebumps along his arms. The air grows thick, pressing in on him and making it difficult to breath.
“What the…?”
Mike catches movement in the mirror behind him, but when he turns around no one is there.
When he turns slowly back to face the mirror, he is no longer alone.
Will stands beside him now, tall, sturdy and smiling softly. His large hand reaches forward to rest on Mike’s shoulder.
“Will!” He yells. But, when he looks beside him, Will is absent. He can’t feel the weight of his hand on his shoulder.
When Mike turns back to the mirror, the Mike reflected there is still looking sideways at Will. His lips are parted, eyes soft and round, head tilted in reverie. Vulnerable and exposed and open. Every emotion laid bare in a way Mike, real Mike, would never allow.
He is looking at Will with something that could only be described as…
No.
His stomach twists and nausea threatens to rise again. No. He can’t say it. Can’t even think it.
“Everyone can see it. They all know what you are.” A warped, rasping voice echoes through the bathroom. Mike feels its’ hollowness circling him, vibrating through the air and raising the hairs along the back of his neck.
In the mirror, Will seems to notice the raw look on the face of Mike’s reflection. Will studies it for a moment, absorbing its meaning, before he inches away, fear and disgust etched across his face.
“No Will, I—it’s not what it looks like,” Mike cries desperately, but Will can’t hear him.
Blood begins to spill from the nose of Mike’s reflection. It takes Mike a couple seconds before he realizes blood is dripping onto his hand and the nosebleed is real.
“Shit,” He whispers, grabbing paper towel and holding it to his nose, head tilted back to stop the bleeding. His hands are shaking and his stomach is twisting and churning with shame and a sense of wrongness. He hates himself. He…
The humming stops abruptly. The lights in the bathroom flicker once again, returning to their regular intensity. When Mike looks back into the mirror, it is just him. Alone. His face is devoid of colour, eyes wide with fear, mouth turned downward in disgust. Disgust with himself.
God, Wheeler. Pull it together.
He shakily splashes water on his face, sucking in deep breaths of air.
You’re just tired. He thinks. Your brain is sleep deprived. You aren’t actually…
His mind cannot form the words. Wrong. Sick. Disgusting.
When the shaking in his body finally stops, and his mind clears enough that he can fake a smile, Mike exits the bathroom.
Lucas and Robin have moved into a different room, and they are speaking in an enthusiastic tone.
Lucas turns when Mike enters the room, “Are you okay, Mike?”
It feels like Lucas is always asking this now. Mike nods and forces a small smile,
“Yeah, yeah everything is fine. Just tired, not feeling the best.”
Robin nods. “Understandable.” She says, then her eyes light up. “We figured something out, though. Something important.”
“What is it?” Mike asks, moving closer.
“Max, Holly and Will… they are all in a Vecna trance. We think they must be… trapped in Vecna’s mind! But… Will said Holly and Max were escaping which means…”
“You need to get to the hospital!” Mike says, connecting the dots. Lucas needs to help Max find her way back. Mike’s heart races and for a second, he allows himself to feel… hopeful.
“I’ll stay here with Will.” Mike says, and even the name makes his stomach lurch with shame.
As Lucas and Robin race to get keys and their coats, Mike trails into the doorway of the room where Joyce sits with Will. He watches her stroke his hair, whispering softly in heartbroken murmurs. He wants to reach out, to say something, to tell her they will get him back. But he stays in the doorway, a nervous bystander.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there. Minutes? An hour? He only moves when he hears tires screeching and the soft hum of an engine outside.
“Joyce,” he says, and she looks up at him in the doorway. He points to the window where a car is pulling up, and she stands, following him out the front door.
Mike’s chest loosens for the first time that day as he watches Hopper park the car and Eleven leap out of the front seat.
“El!” He yells, racing to meet her. He pulls her into a tight hug, relaxing into the familiarity of her body and the soft press of her cheek. Relief floods his chest. “You’re okay!”
She pulls away and smiles at him, “I’m okay.”
Mike takes a deep breath. For a moment, everything feels simple and calm.
A small figure emerges behind El, looking about wearily and shuffling self-consciously.
“Mike, this is my sister. Kali.” El moves so Mike can get a clear view of Kali behind her.
Kali looks up at him with dark unnerving eyes. She studies him carefully, her eyebrows narrow and her mouth a thin line, before she says, “The famous Michael Wheeler. I’ve heard lots about you.”
Her voice is unfriendly and her words hold weight. She does not look pleased to meet him. Mike’s stomach turns… what had she heard? He glances at El, expecting reassurance, but her expression is unreadable, almost grim. Quickly, though, it is replaced by her familiar softness, and she smiles at him again.
“Great. Should we go inside?”
Mike nods, but the moment leaves him unsettled. Truthfully, he doesn’t really know where things stand between him and El.
18 months ago, he had been ready to give up on their relationship. They were always fighting, never satisfied, and neither of them ever seemed very happy. But then, El had commissioned Will’s painting for him, and he had told her he loved her.
There had been no conversation after that, no “what are we”, or “what are we doing”. Communication had never been Mike’s strong suit.
Things just sort of… happened. They had fallen back into normalcy, adopting a steady rhythm: long phone calls, late night conversations about school and training and their friends, movie nights in the cabin. They relied on one another for support and comfort. Mike enjoyed the familiarity, the predictability, the ease.
Hopper still referred to Mike as Eleven’s boyfriend, even if it was spoken with thinly veiled disdain. The party still frequently joked about their relationship. Mike visited the cabin when he could, while El trained and stayed in hiding.
But… he couldn’t remember the last time they had kissed. He couldn’t ignore how they both avoided any use of the L word. And, it hadn’t slipped his notice how, over these eighteen months, El had slowly pulled away.
There had been bigger things to worry about than their relationship this last year. There had been training to accomplish and crawls to complete, on top of school and Vecna’s looming threat. But, still, he wished he knew how El was feeling.
Over the past year, he had tried asking Will for his opinion. Will spent his time split between El and Mike and knew them both better than anyone. Mike wanted to know how El was feeling, if they were friends or more, if she still loved him. Will hadn’t entertained him for long. He rolled his eyes and told Mike to talk to El. He was staying out of it.
Mike had stopped asking. Instead, he settled into the quiet assumption that he and El would figure things out eventually. Once Vecna was defeated, once the world stopped ending, once she was no longer training and had more time to talk to him. Until then, it was easier to be there for each other and enjoy the comfort. Life was easier if Mike didn’t question things. It was easier to accept the way things were.
Mike watches El lead Kali up the stairs of the Squawk, and his heart pulls. If he knows anything for certain, it’s that he can’t imagine his life without El. Losing her feels impossible.
“Where’s the rest of our greeting party?” Hopper asks as they all shuffle inside the Squawk.
Joyce and Mike exchange a grim look before Joyce launches into an explanation of what happened with Will. As Joyce speaks, Mike studies El. Thank goodness she is here. Finally, they have a chance at getting Will back.
El’s face contorts into pain as she takes in Joyce’s story, and she rushes forward into the room where Will lays.
“Oh,” she sighs, kneeling beside her brother and cupping his face with her hand. “I’ll get you out of there, Will.”
She turns to Mike, eyes glistening, “How long has he been like this?”
“Since last night.” Mike replies, desperately scanning El’s face for answers, “Do you think you can find him?”
Everyone is looking at El expectantly. In the corner of the room, Mike notices Kali scowling, but she remains quiet.
El’s jaw sets and her eyes narrow with determination, “I will.”
……….
While El is hooked up in the radio booth, blindfolded and searching for Will, Mike stands in the kitchen with Hopper who is tending to his wounds. They are discussing what happened in the Upside Down, Nancy and the others, and Hopper’s experience with the wall.
Kali clears her throat, and Mike looks at her in the doorway. She has been glued to El’s side, scowling with disapproval while El prepared for the search, silent but watchful.
“Jane hasn’t found anything,” she says. “She’s struggling in there.”
Hopper doesn’t look up. He’s busy wrapping his arm in a bandage. “Maybe you should give her some time.” He mutters, absentmindedly.
Kali’s lip curls, voice growing sharper. “She’s getting weaker, not stronger!”
Hopper finally looks up and takes in Kali’s hostile demeanor. She is angry. “So, you’re the expert on El, huh? You’ve known her for what? A day and a half?”
Kali huffs. Mike stares longingly at the opposite opening to the kitchen, wondering how to escape.
“Longer than you, actually. We were raised together. Anyways, her name is Jane! Not El, not eleven. She’s more than a number!”
Hopper is getting angry. “I know that! Jane Hopper.”
Suddenly, the lights flicker. Mike’s mind flashes to his vision earlier. He feels a chill crawl over his skin and glances around to make sure the others notice the flickering. Hopper stands abruptly and Kali is already racing toward the booth.
“Jane!” she yells. Mike follows behind her, heart pounding.
He runs into the radio booth where Kali is already standing with a hand on El’s shoulder. El is looking around bewildered, gasping for air, blood dripping from her nose.
“I can’t find him. He keeps slipping away.” She sounds exhausted and there is a quiver to her voice. Mike’s heart aches for her, but he also feels his stomach drop. He needs Will to come back, and El is the only way.
Kali rubs El’s shoulder gently. For the first time since she’s arrived, Kali’s face softens and her eyebrows squeeze together in sympathy rather than annoyance.
“It’s okay, Jane. It’s okay. I’m here for you; you did your best. Let’s get you something to eat and find a place to rest. You did what you could.”
“Good idea,” Mike agrees, “You can eat, rest, and recharge your battery. Then we can try again.”
Kali’s eyes widen and she whirls on Mike, face furious. Before she can say anything, Hopper pipes up from the doorway,
“Or we could improve your signal.”
“The tank.” El says and Mike nods in agreement.
El looks to him before responding, “Okay, let’s do it.”
“Jane…” Kali starts, but El grabs her hand and squeezes it reassuringly.
“It’s okay. I want to find Will.”
El stands and follows Joyce and Hopper out of the radio booth to prepare. Mike starts to follow, but Kali grabs his arm and pulls him back. Hard. For someone so small, she is strong.
“Hey!” Mike whines, as he stumbles backwards.
Kali closes the space between them and snarls in his face, “Recharge your battery?!”
“That’s just a thing we say when El needs to rest. Hop says it all the time. El doesn’t mind.”
“Jane! Her name is Jane! God…” Kali puts her head in her hands and lets out a frustrated sigh.
Mike opens his mouth to respond. To explain that El was just a nickname that stuck. It isn’t as deep as Kali is making it seem. Kali speaks before he can.
“No.” Kali says, “I don’t want to hear it. Listen to me. She is not some number. And she is no superhero, either. She is a teenage girl who has been made to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders. Only I know how that feels. To be raised your whole life to believe that your entire worth lies in your ability to help others. To feel as if you are only seen as a weapon, as a superhero, for what you can do for other people… rather than who you are as a person. She thinks of you all as her family, as friends. She loves you guys. But you just treat her like everyone else has. You don’t know what it’s like…”
Her voice begins to break, and Mike sees her façade crumble. All that anger, annoyance, ferocity… melting into pain and sadness.
Hopper enters the radio booth. Mike is unsure how long he has been there. He reaches toward Kali.
“Kali, it’s okay.” Hopper’s voice is softer now. All remnants of anger from their earlier conversation washed away in understanding.
“Stop, stop!” She shrieks, backing away from Hopper and bumping into a stack of cassettes. She looks like a cornered animal. Scared. No, petrified. Mike realizes how young she is despite the way she holds herself. Only slightly older than he is.
Tears are streaming down her face now and her body is shaking, but she’s trying to fight it. “You… you don’t understand. El is not a weapon. We are not bodies to use until we break. I’ve seen what happens… I’ve seen what people will do to us when given the chance. People can’t resist power. And you guys only perpetuate it… you only reinforce to El that she must sacrifice everything to save this town. The world.”
She is really crying now, eyes darting around as if she is remembering all she has witnessed. All she has experienced. Mike may not understand, but his heart aches for her, replacing any ill feelings he felt previously. Her words echo in his mind, and he can’t help but feel she isn’t wrong. Maybe he does expect too much from El.
“Kali,” Hopper says again, carefully. His hands are still outstretched towards her, as if trying to tame a wild animal, but he doesn’t try to touch her.
Kali is watching him, eyes wide and face red.
“Mike,” Hopper whispers, “Why don’t you go check on E… Jane? Leave us to talk for a bit?”
Mike doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly scurries out of the booth, but before he makes a full escape, Kali calls out.
“Wait! Mike… I’m not trying to be cruel,” she sniffles, “I know you care deeply for her; you just don’t fully see her. You don’t understand her. Also, Jane… she told me everything about your relationship. Jane says she thinks you lie… to her. But also, to yourself.”
Mike stops in his tracks. His face turns hot and red. “Wh—What?” He chokes out. “El said that to you?”
Kali’s eyes settle on him. They aren’t full of anger anymore, it’s something else. Pity? Mike can’t handle it. He races out of the room.