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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
unpaid babysitting
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( the bathtub, pt. ii )

• °:.☆ . ₊°• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

THE INTERIOR OF the bus seems to grow stuffier the longer they wait, their breath only adding to the problem with each exhale. Laura had shed her jacket a while ago. She still feels too warm in her turtleneck and wishes she had worn something else—the fabric hugs her like a second layer of skin. She would much prefer a looser top. Then again, she had dressed in preparation for hunting a monster at night, not fleeing for her life on a bicycle across town in the late afternoon when the sun is strongest. Even on an overcast day in November, it's still enough to make her sweat.

Laura's spine aches from being cooped in one spot for God knows how long. She keeps shifting in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, and she can tell it's annoying Lucas from the way he sets his jaw tight every time she moves, but he doesn't make a snide comment. Probably because he sees her as the only semi-adult figure in their situation and doesn't want to piss her off.

Every time they start to think it's safe to come out of hiding, the sound of the helicopter blades looms overhead again. Laura is grateful that none of them have had to pee yet. Or started to get hungry. She doesn't have any snacks this time, and it's not like they can start eating the ammo stowed in the backpack she'd borrowed from Mike.

Her head rests against one of the seats, its crimson leather cracked enough that the yellow stuffing pokes through. She idly tears more bits of it just to have something to do. Staying in here, even out of necessity, is slowly driving her crazy.

As if adding to her sense of insanity, she starts hearing Nancy's voice.

"Mike, are you there? Mike?"

All of them startle at the sound. Dustin's head jerks toward the back window as if expecting to see her standing right outside. They exchange questioning looks, each wondering if it was a mere figment of their imagination as the bus lapses into silence again.

"You guys hear that?" Dustin asks.

An electronic whirring noise accompanies his question. Mike jumps up and yanks his backpack from one of the seats, rummaging through it until he locates his walkie-talkie, which spouts weird frequency sounds along with a crackly, distorted version of Nancy's voice.

"Mike, it's me, Nancy. Mike, are you there? Answer. Mike, we need you to answer."

"Is that your sister?" Lucas asks, confused.

Laura is also perplexed. The only people with corresponding walkie-talkies are inside this bus—Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. That must mean...

"Is... is she using Will's radio?" Laura questions.

"This is an emergency, Mike. Do you copy?" She sounds increasingly impatient with every word, and despite their perilous situation, it comforts Laura to hear something so familiar. The sound of Nancy's pestering is as natural to her as the sound of her own breathing. "Mike, do you copy?"

Laura reaches out to snatch the radio from Mike's hand, because staring at it dumbly isn't going to solve any of their problems, only for him to move it out of her grasp. They stare at each other with their brows furrowed. Laura—in confusion as to why he isn't answering immediately. Mike—well, she isn't quite sure what he's thinking.

"Okay, this is really weird," Dustin says.

Having the same idea as her, Lucas seizes the top of the radio and starts to lift it to his mouth. Mike yanks it back and covers the microphone before he can say anything. "Don't answer!"

"She said it was an emergency."

"What if it's a trick?"

"It's your sister!"

"What if the bad people kidnapped her? What if they're forcing her to say this?"

Laura rolls her eyes heavenward, wondering if they can go thirty full seconds without getting into another disagreement. Finding things to argue about is their special talent.

"Guys, when I left, she and Jonathan were at the police station," she tells them. "You think the bad guys got through there, kidnapped her, somehow found Will's walkie-talkie, and made her use it?"

Lucas raises his eyebrows and gestures to her in an exaggerated motion that says, 'Exactly!'

"I need you to answer."

Dustin, however, is the one being stubborn this time. "It's like Lando Calrissian. Don't answer."

Laura can't believe he's basing what might be a life-or-death situation on a scene from The Empire Strikes Back.

"We need to know that you're there, Mike."

A new voice replaces Nancy's, sounding gruff, utterly tired, and concise. "Listen, kid, this is the chief. If you're there, pick up. We know you're in trouble and we know about the girl."

It's Jim Hopper.

"Why is she with the chief?" Lucas asks.

"I literally just told you about the police station," Laura reminds him.

"How the hell does he know about...?" Dustin trails off, looking at Eleven.

"We can protect you, we can help you, but you gotta pick up. Are you there? Do you copy? Over."

Laura bites her lip and curls her hands into fists from the restraint it takes not to tackle Mike and force the radio out of his hands. She understands where his hesitation is coming from, but she trusts Nancy with her life. She knows her best friend wouldn't knowingly lead them into a trap.

It turns out that she doesn't have to resort to violence. Mike finally raises the radio to his mouth and presses the button on the side. "Yeah, I copy. It's Mike. I'm here ... we're here. Dustin, Lucas, El, and Laura."

But the peace only lasts for an hour, because instead of Mike grating on her nerves, it's Dustin. He continually paces up and down the aisle while tugging at his curls. Laura sits on one of the seats, her leg bouncing, her jaw set tightly, and her nails digging into her palm as she glares up at him. She's surprised that the sheer force of her scowl doesn't freeze him in place.

"Will you stop pacing?" Mike finally bursts out.

"It's been way too long," Dustin replies. "Do you know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe this is all a trap and the bad men are coming to get us right now!"

Lucas throws his hands out in indignation. "It's not a trap. Why would the chief set us up? Nancy, maybe, but the chief?"

"Nancy would not set us up," Laura fires back. Mike also makes an offended face at Lucas's words. "You've got the wrong idea about her if you think that."

Dustin points at Lucas. "Lando Calrissian."

"Would you shut up about Lando?"

"I don't feel good about this." Dustin is shouting now, leaning into Lucas's face, his anxiety prevalent in his voice. "I don't feel good about this!"

"When do you feel good about anything?"

The sound of car engines stops their brewing argument. Laura stays put while the kids rush toward the front of the bus, peering out the grime-coated windshield. Whatever they see is not good. She knows this because Dustin shrieks, "Shit!"

Their shoes pound against the floor, sneakers squeaking and scuffling while they race toward the back once again. Mike yanks Laura off her seat as he passes. They resume their hiding positions, ducking low to prevent being seen by any passerby.

"Lando," Dustin pants.

"You think they saw us?" Lucas asks.

Mike glowers at them. "Both of you, shut up."

Laura glances at the rifle, which she'd stowed on the seat across from her. She slowly crawls toward it. Once it's in her hand, she feels comforted, though the thought of killing someone makes her want to hurl. But she'll resort to murder by self-defense if one of those men breaches the inside of the bus.

Lucas sucks in a breath when he notices that one of her fingers rests on the safety with the other on the trigger. Laura doesn't look at him, keeping her eyes locked straight ahead.

Car doors slam shut. It's so quiet she can hear dead grass crunching underfoot. Wherever those people are, they're close enough to make her heart pound and her mouth go dry. Her tongue feels like sandpaper.

Laura forces her hands to remain steady even though they want to shake. The last thing she needs is to accidentally flick off the safety and get them all in deeper shit than the six-foot pool of manure they're already stuck in.

The footsteps move closer. Laura scarcely dares to breathe. There's someone directly outside of the bus.

She inhales sharply when the door starts to creak open, groaning loudly from decades of rust. She flicks the safety off and loads the gun. Slowly, Laura rises to one knee in the aisle, positioning the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. Her head dips to peer through the sight alignments.

Except she never sees whoever had opened the door because a thud shakes the entire bus. A man's voice shouts, "Hey!" from outside. Two shots echo through the air, followed by a cry of pain.

A different voice yells, "What the—?" before being silenced by several more shots. There's the distinct sound of a body slumping against the side of the bus. Then the door creaks open again.

The trigger burns hot under Laura's finger, eager to be pulled, as heavy footsteps enter the bus. She sees a brimmed hat first. Then the bearded face of Jim Hopper, who glimpses the muzzle of Laura's rifle and immediately throws his hands into the air, a revolver dangling from his index finger.

"Woah! Hey, hey, hey! Don't shoot!" he yells, his eyes darting around the bus as if doing a mental headcount. Once he determines that everyone's accounted for, he addresses Laura again. "Jesus, kid. Do you even know how to use that thing?"

"Yes," Laura replies matter-of-factly. Her shoulders slump from a wave of relief so strong it almost makes her crumple to the floor. She hadn't wanted to kill anyone today, even if she was willing to.

She flicks the safety back on and slings the gun over her shoulder. Satisfied that he's no longer in danger of being shot, Hopper beckons them forward. "All right, let's go."

The chief is a massive guy in terms of both height and weight—Laura has seen him basically live off of cigarettes, beer, and the boxes of donuts that are occasionally delivered to the station, so he has a resulting belly to show for it. Laura has never had any particularly strong feelings toward the man. He's not a Hawkins native, but he'd worked his way up to the top ranks somehow, and she begins to realize why as they exit the bus and try to ignore the bodies of several men lying on the grass. She feels safer in his presence than she has throughout the entirety of this long, awful day.

Lucas gapes at the three corpses, blood staining their suits from bullet wounds, lifeless eyes staring at nothing. She places a hand over his eyes and hauls him to the station wagon waiting for them.

Laura had been playing the role of an adult figure, but with Chief Hopper here, that weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She didn't realize how heavy it was until it's gone. She's only older than the other children by a few years. When you're a teenager, you like to think you're so independent and close to adulthood, but, inevitably, the façade will someday burst. Today is that day for her.

She's no less of a kid than they are.

—°• ☆ . °—

It's pitch black outside by the time they reach the Byers residence, and Laura is grateful. Part of her had wondered if the darkness would ever come. This day has stretched on for far too long—it had begun with her fitful sleep at Nancy's house, and she has since been tormented by Tommy and Carol, witnessed a fight, been to the police station, and chased by government agents. The arrival of nighttime reassures her that the slow day is just an illusion. Time is moving normally, and this hellish twenty-four hours will soon come to an end.

Hopper's headlights cut through the shadows, illuminating the Byers's front porch. The door bursts open seconds later. The figures of Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy rush down the steps to intercept them.

"Mike," Nancy says, heading straight for her brother. "Oh my God, Mike!"

She pulls him into a hug. Laura is surprised as she climbs out of the vehicle and shuts the door behind her—the two older Wheeler siblings rarely show affection for each other.

Only Nancy can make her following words sound accusatory. "I was so worried about you!"

"Yeah..." Mike trails off, also caught off-guard. "Uh.. me, too."

Nancy's eyes roam over the group until she finds Laura. She sighs, running toward her as well, and flings her arms around her in a bone-crushing embrace. Laura's heart does approximately seven somersaults. She returns the hug, enveloping Nancy's tiny frame.

"Thank you for keeping them safe," Nancy mumbles into Laura's shoulder.

"Of course," Laura replies.

"Yeah, she almost shot me," Hopper casually remarks.

Nancy's head rears back in shock as she releases Laura, but she ultimately decides that too much has happened today to warrant further questioning. Instead, she does a double take when she notices the pink, dirt-streaked dress Eleven is wearing. Her forehead creases. "Is that my dress?"

Nothing could have prepared Laura for what the interior of the house would look like. As soon as she walks in, she's shocked by the sight of strings of Christmas lights everywhere, only the bulbs are missing. They hang along the ceiling in the kitchen and hallway in odd clumps like they'd been set up haphazardly. But perhaps the most shocking is the living room. Not only are the lights hanging in lines along the back wall, but the alphabet has been scrawled over the wallpaper in black paint.

And there is an enormous hole in one of the walls. It doesn't look like something had exploded, but rather that the paper had been hacked at until the person splintered the wooden exterior of the house. A plastic sheet had been pinned in place in an attempt to keep the draft out, but it still causes a chill.

Laura doesn't realize that her wide-eyed staring might be considered rude until Jonathan discreetly whacks her in the arm. She blinks and tries to school her expression into neutrality.

"She was using the lights to talk to Will," he explains in a whisper.

The alphabet immediately makes sense. Laura realizes that each letter has a place for a light underneath it, which would allow for communication. But how would Will be able to illuminate a single bulb? Can he hear everything that's going on in their world? Can Barb?

What first appears to be the work of madness at first glance is actually the genius of a mother hell-bent on reaching her son. Laura is impressed that Joyce had managed to create a direct line of communication with Will.

The group gathers around the coffee table. Joyce, Jonathan, Nancy, and Laura cram themselves onto the worn sofa while the kids crowd around the table's opposite side. Mike uses a red marker to sketch something on a piece of lined paper. A few moments later, he presents a simple drawing of a line across the entire length with a stick figure and a tiny dot on top of it. The small dot has an arrow attached that points underneath the line.

"Okay, so, in this example, we're the acrobat," Mike says, pointing to the stick figure. "Will and Barbara, and that monster, they're this flea. And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding." He points to the space underneath the line. "Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space."

"A gate," Dustin supplies.

"That we tracked to Hawkins Lab," Lucas adds.

"With our compasses." Upon noticing that none of them understands what the hell a compass has anything to do with locating a gate, Dustin sighs. "Okay, so the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the directions of a compass needle."

"Is this gate underground?" Hopper asks. Since there isn't free space on the sofa, he sits in an armchair by himself.

"Yes," Eleven replies.

"Near a large water tank?"

"Yes."

She doesn't appear shaken by these precise questions, instead answering his inquiries factually and somberly. Laura can't imagine what this poor girl has gone through to be unfazed by this talk of interdimensional monsters and electromagnetic gates.

The other kids, however, are staggered by the detail in his questions.

Dustin stammers, "H—How do you know all that?"

Hopper remains silent, his mouth pressed into a thin, grim line. His dark eyes stare somewhere indistinct.

"He's seen it," Mike gasps in realization.

Joyce leans forward, her hands wringing together nervously as she speaks to Eleven. "Is there any way that you could... that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this—"

"The Upside Down," Eleven finishes.

"Down," she confirms. "Yeah."

Eleven nods.

"And our friend Barbara?" Nancy asks, placing a hand on Laura's shoulder to group them in her question. "Can you find her, too?"

Eleven nods again, this time with a slight upward curve to her mouth. It's like she can feel the desperation radiating from each person on the sofa and is eager to finally use her abilities for good. The confirmation makes Laura want to turn her entire body limp and sag to the floor in relief. But she remains still, her muscles tense, too afraid to believe that this will work.

They move to the kitchen for the next phase. Eleven sits at the small, circular dining table with photos of Will and Barb placed in front of her. Will's walkie-talkie is placed beside them. The others crowd around her, enthralled by this development and a child who can do the impossible, but also wary of scaring her if they get too close.

Laura and Nancy stand shoulder-to-shoulder. As Eleven closes her eyes and travels through the void only she can reach, something brushes against Laura's fingertips. She realizes Nancy is trying to hold her hand. She opens her fingers, and Nancy's thread between her own, squeezing tight. Her mouth is puckered in an anxious line.

Seconds tick by. The movement of Eleven's eyes is visible through her eyelids, her spine straight and palms flat on the table to ground her. Static whirs. The light, which casts a warm glow over everyone in the room, flickers, dousing them in darkness for a moment. The buzzing sound grows louder, almost like a swarm of flies. And then it falls silent.

Eleven opens her eyes. Her expression is crestfallen. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Joyce questions. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Eleven sniffles, her brows furrowed, tears lining her eyes. She has been so composed up to this moment that witnessing her break down is alarming. Her voice is quiet and tentative as if waiting for a blow. "I can't find them."

Joyce covers her mouth with her hand. Jonathan rubs her shoulder reassuringly, and it's clear she's trying not to show the true depth of her despair in front of Eleven, who is only trying her best. She shields her face so the others can't see her cry.

"Why don't you go to the bathroom?" Mike suggests to Eleven. "Put some water on your face and cool off?"

Eleven nods, her bottom lip trembling.

"I'll show you where it is," Dustin offers.

Eleven stands, tucking her limbs into her body as she squeezes past the others. Dustin leads her through the small house. Eleven closes the door behind her, and he returns to their group.

Nancy's grip has gotten so tight it's almost reaching the point of pain. Both of their knuckles are bone-white from the pressure. Laura looks down at their clasped hands, noticing that Nancy's fingers are digging into her flesh. She sucks in a breath when she feels the sting of her nails.

Realizing what she's doing, Nancy immediately drops Laura's hand. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

Laura shakes her head. "It's fine."

Nancy rocks from foot to foot, seemingly hesitating. "We'll still find Barb. Yeah?"

Hope is the only thing they have. Even if there's one setback, they're not going to give up. Not when they're so close.

"Yeah," Laura says. "We will."

Mike stands from his spot at the table and leans on the wooden surface, sighing. "Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak."

"The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets," Dustin adds. "Like, she flipped the van earlier. It was awesome."

"It was really cool," Laura agrees.

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

"Well... How do we make her better?" Joyce asks.

"We don't. We just have to wait and try again."

Nancy leans forward, unable to keep the impatience from her voice. "Well, how long?"

Mike shrugs. "I don't know."

"The bath."

They all turn around at the sound of Eleven's voice. She stands in the hall, the tear streaks wiped from her face, and wears a new expression of resolve.

"What?" Joyce asks.

"I can find them," she says. "In the bath."

______

a/n:

who is your favorite stranger things kid? mine has been lucas from the beginning, but i also love max (and i'm so excited to introduce her in season 2!). but also dustin is hilarious so like ??? but if i had to pick ONE favorite, i'd say lucas. with a sprinkle of max. ok i can't pick one—

shoutout to jim hopper, who has no idea that he'll eventually become a surrogate dad to all of the kids on that bus. i love his development!!

this is a double update, so i hope you enjoy the next chapter as well (even though it's PAINFUL)

— kristyn

( word count: 3.7k )