Chapitre 28: 28. Is This Love?
[A/N: Oh man, y'all... I wasn't planning on posting again this quickly but I gave myself feels with this chapter... Hope you like it!]
Chapter 28: Is This Love? (by Whitesnake)
"I should have known better than to let you go alone. It's times like these I can't make it on my own. Wasted days and sleepless nights, and I can't wait to see you again…"
. . . . . . . .
It was hard not to think about the stuff his friends had said at the ice cream shop. As the night rolled on, Mike lay in bed, hands cradling the back of his head, reflecting on the events of the day.
Interestingly enough, he and El would be going to their first school dance together sooner than he anticipated and she'd beaten him to the punch by being the one to ask. He certainly hadn't seen that one coming but he couldn't say he wasn't happy about it and that didn't mean he wouldn't get his chance to ask her when the Spring Fling rolled around at his school.
Lights from the streetlights outside peeped in through the venetian blinds on his window and his eyes adjusted to the dimness in the room after a while. How strange it was that when El was gone, he couldn't wait to get to sleep in the hope of dreaming of her yet with her regularly in his life again and things going well, he had such a hard time turning his mind off. Especially as one small word buzzed around his head.
Love.
He wasn't even sure what to think of that, honestly. He knew it was a big deal and too often people threw that word around for nothing. He wanted her to understand what it meant but he wasn't even entirely sure that he did. And he didn't want her to get the wrong idea or get confused or weirded out. It was too important.
How did he feel, though? He'd always heard adults tell kids his age that they were too young to actually know what love was. And considering he had essentially zero experience with girls, he obviously didn't have anything personal to compare it to. But what he shared with El, whatever it was, was special. He treasured her and would do just about anything to make sure she was safe. But was that love or was that being a good person? He couldn't be sure. Then again, he tried to imagine fighting a futile fight with an interdimensional monster or standing up to cold-blooded government agents with guns for anyone else and he just couldn't see it. Maybe his family and his close friends but he couldn't think of anyone else. Still, wasn't it reasonable to say that everything he'd done for El, he would have done for any good friends? Or someone in need? It made sense but didn't explain the feelings he felt around El.
It was obvious he had a crush - he'd had plenty of those before, albeit, none that had been well-received. In fact, he'd never even had a close friendship with a girl before El so the entire experience was new for him. Most girls, whether he'd liked them or not, had thought he was weird or too nerdy. But El didn't care and that was part of what had set down the groundwork for their current relationship. She didn't know, or at least didn't seem to care, that most other kids at school thought he was a loser. She somehow seemed to get it, get him, even despite her past. But how did someone draw the line between a crush and something more? And what could he do about it? Should he do anything about it?
He tried to calm his excited mind. It was already quite late and he had school in the morning. For now, he could be satisfied that things were going well and he didn't necessarily have to have everything all figured out. Things were okay as they were - El was back in their lives and her living arrangement had proven to be stable, all of his friends were together and even Will seemed to be doing better. No monsters, no government agencies trying to hurt them, and the most he had to worry about was school bullies - though, since El's altercation with them, Troy and James had been keeping their distance. With a final sigh, Mike let himself drift off into sleep, content that his life had not only gone back to normal but that things were possibly even better than before.
. . . . . . . .
They were only a couple of weeks away from the Sadie Hawkins Valentine's dance but the excitement was cut short when Gabby apparently came to school on Monday with a broken wrist and a remarkably different, though familiar, attitude. Rather than go over to her house after school, Trish and Emma had escorted her to El's and the four had walked to Trish's house, not too far away.
"What happened?" El had asked, pointing to Gabby's wrist, but when no one responded right away, she decided not to push. The looks on their faces weren't good. They reminded her of the way they'd looked when she'd asked about Gabby's burn scars and when her father had burst into her room to yell at them, and the way Mike had looked after Troy hurt him at recess.
Trish lived in a big brown Victorian about a quarter mile away, amidst several other houses in similar styles. Her older sister was already away at college so it was just her and her parents in the charming old home.
"I'm home, Mom!" Trish called into the empty foyer as the four girls entered. "We're going to my room!" She called out, despite having received no response. "Come on," Trish said, leading the girls up an elegantly detailed wooden staircase and down the hall to what El deduced was Trish's room.
The walls were painted violet and several posters with people El didn't recognize adorned the room from every angle. There was a full size bed in the middle of the room with a crocheted blanket laying overtop the larger quilt and dirty clothes and other random objects were haphazardly strewn all over the floor. Trish tossed her backpack into a corner and went over to the window, the wood frame creaking softly as she opened it.
Gabby sat down quietly on Trish's bed and Emma plopped down next to her, rubbing her friend's back as Gabby stared down with a vacant expression at her cast. El decided to mirror Emma's actions, taking a spot on Gabby's other side and discreetly looking at the off-white cast covering Gabby's wrist.
Trish returned from the window and stood in front of the trio, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms. No one had the words, nor did they know if speaking would even be a good idea. That is, until Gabby inhaled sharply and a small whimper escaped her throat.
"Hey," Trish said gently, stepping forward as tears brimmed in Gabby's eyes. "It's okay,"
El wasn't sure what to do but she could understand how Gabby was feeling. There had been so many instances both during her time in the lab and after escaping that she would be overcome by the pain of it all and the only thing that she seemed fit to do was cry. Even that didn't always help, though.
"It's not fair," Gabby said, her voice punctuated with shaky breaths. "I didn't do anything wrong!"
"I know, I know," Trish said, grabbing Gabby's hands and crouching down in front of her so she could look up and make eye contact. "He's a piece of shit,"
This brought about a sob from Gabby and Emma pulled her in tighter, resting her head on her shoulder. "Was your mom around?"
"Yeah, she was downstairs," Gabby sniffled. "But she never does anything about it. I was just trying to do my laundry - you know I'm supposed to get my chores and laundry and stuff done on the weekends - but I um, I didn't get to it until Sunday and I didn't remember until later in the day and that's when he needed his clothes washed for work today and my load was still going and he just got pissed," She paused to inhale, her eyes still glistening with tears. "And I don't know - I never know when he's gonna… Sometimes he's really nice, you know? H-He just got us tickets to see Cats and he and mom have been getting along... He still yells but he hasn't um, he -" Another surge of emotion overwhelmed her and a fresh onslaught of tears streamed down her cheeks.
"He can buy all the musical tickets he wants," Trish said bluntly. "He's still an asshole and you don't deserve it. You understand that, don't you, Gabby?"
Gabby pursed her lips, her ginger locks falling forward to shield her face like a veil.
"So we um," Gabby managed to continue, sniffling and taking a deep breath. "I was taking my stuff out of the washer to put it in the dryer and he grabbed my arm really hard and pushed me back," She said, her voice wavering. "He said I wasn't listening to him and that I didn't respect him but he just kept saying the same mean things over and over again and… and I guess I lost my balance or something because I fell and when I caught myself, that's when I broke my wrist,"
As El listened, memories of lab employees grabbing her, carrying her, and throwing her into isolation rooms flooded her mind. She tried to push aside the panic that filled her veins every time she thought of her time there. She was safe now. She wasn't in the lab. But Gabby was currently experiencing these things, being hurt, and that made her angry. As much as El wanted to keep her powers a secret still, she felt like her insides were on fire and she wanted nothing more than to break Gabby's father's wrist. At least.
She thought about what made her feel better when she felt scared or hurt. Mike's promises helped, as did Joyce telling her she was "safe". That word had such a powerful resonance to it.
Finding her voice, El patted Gabby on the knee. "We're here," She said solemnly, deliberately. "You're safe here,"
. . . . . . . .
Mike had been exhausted through the first three periods of the day. He'd finally managed to fall asleep a little after midnight but that hadn't left him enough time to get a good amount of sleep so he spent the morning trying not to nod off while Mr. Clarke talked about the different types of rock. Lunch had helped him to wake up, especially after meeting up with Dustin, Lucas, and Will whose outpouring of anxiety and reluctance over the dance at the girls' school was palpable. Dustin was especially nervous which, Mike considered, made sense if he had a crush on Gabby. He hadn't really noticed anything but El did have this otherworldly ability to sense things about people so he didn't doubt that it was true.
"'Something wicked this way comes'..." Mike murmured, reading through his assigned reading for English. They'd moved on to Macbeth which was kind of cool but the way Shakespeare wrote a lot of his stuff made it difficult to understand sometimes so Mike found himself reading the same passages over and over again until his mind would start to wander.
With the dance being fresh on his mind, this is what he naturally gravitated toward. He'd never been to a school dance before and had always thought they were pretty cheesy, though that hadn't stopped him from wanting to go. Everyone at school always talked about how much fun they more or less decided that they were lame but that had been a thinly-veiled attempt at convincing themselves they didn't care that they didn't fit in at school.
But now he actually had a date. The idea was so weird to wrap his mind around, one that had begun to form on a November night in the cafeteria was now manifesting, though not as he had originally imagined it. The reality of it all made him more nervous. He'd need to wear suit which, thankfully, he had, but what else did he need? What were those flower things called that girls wore on their wrists? He should get one of those, probably. And what would they even do at the dance? There was no pretending that he had anything resembling dancing skills. He had a general idea of what to expect based on movies and stuff but even that was a bit nerve-wracking.
And this was going to be a Valentine's dance so even if they were all going as a group, there was definitely an emphasis on the romantic side of the night, even if El wasn't aware of it… but then again, with her new friends, how could he be sure what she was aware of or not? Maybe they filled her in on a lot of stuff that girls know or do or expect which would make him completely clueless and he could end up looking like a total wastoid…
A card. He'd get her a card. A Valentine's - wait, no… a Valentine. That would be something special and El probably didn't know what they were so it could be a nice thing for her. Mike pushed himself away from the D&D table where he'd been working on his homework and began furiously searching the basement. It'd been a long time since anyone had used it but he knew his mom had packed up the arts and crafts stuff somewhere down here.
. . . . . . . .
The girls spent most of the afternoon at Trish's house. Gabby eventually started to feel better and they'd spent some time watching MTV and commenting on whether they thought certain musicians were hot as well as the outfits of some of the women. El was able to deduce that 'hot' was sort of like 'pretty' except they always used the word to refer to the guys on the screen.
At one point, they'd gone down to the kitchen to get drinks and snacks. Everything in Trish's house felt old but really nice. The ceilings were high and all of the floors were made of wood with some of the rooms having large, ornate rugs covering much of the floorspace. The kitchen was large with an island in the center and a back door that led out to a large unfenced backyard and a thick patch of woods behind the house.
As Trish and the other girls entered the kitchen, they'd found Trish's mom slumped over the kitchen table on the opposite end of the room.
"She's fine," Trish said with casual disdain, following El's gaze that had warily settled on the older woman. "Probably just trashed, as usual,"
"Trashed?" El repeated, still watching the unmoving woman as the girls walked over to the fridge and Trish began to rifle through its contents.
"You know," Emma said, clarifying. "She kind of drinks a lot,"
"Pfft," Trish scoffed. "There's an understatement,"
El's brow furrowed as she processed this. Terry would sometimes slump over like that, never moving and seemingly unresponsive, but she didn't drink. 'Drinking', as they were using the word, seemed to mean with regards to alcohol. And if that was the case, how could alcohol make someone seem so… different. Becky 'drank' sometimes, but she said it was to relax and El never saw Becky go unconscious from it. Maybe something was wrong?
"Does she… need help?" El wondered aloud, contemplating going over to the woman but trepidation kept her feet firmly planted on the other side of the room.
"She needs help but not the kind we could get her," Trish said with a roll of her eyes as she poured four glasses of iced tea on the counter. "Hey mom!" She called out sharply but the woman didn't stir. "Mom!" She moved slightly, murmuring and mumbling into the tabletop. "Yeah, she's out,"
El, still perturbed by the compromised state of Trish's mom, did her best to direct her focus elsewhere. Her friends didn't seem to think this was an unusual occurrence so El chose to go along with it as well.
"She's always like that," Trish could tell El was still a bit worried. "She hates her life so she drowns her sorrows in any bottle of vodka she can get her hands on. My dad seems to feel the same way except he just doesn't come home most nights," Trish shrugged. Her demeanor was like Teflon, as though nothing could stick to her but El wondered if she was actually as okay with the situation as she portrayed herself to be.
. . . . . . . .
Another quiet night at home. Becky helped Terry get to bed and then excused herself to her bedroom for the night, though she never went to sleep right away. El didn't have to go to bed when Terry did but by the time Becky came back out and got ready to actually go to sleep, that was when she generally expected El to hit the hay.
El liked the routine. She liked knowing what to expect. She'd grown up with some routines in the lab but the only ones that stood out were the ones she wished she could forget. The procedure for preparing her for the EKG, the bath, the somewhat regular bathing schedule when she'd shower in front of two female guards who never spoke to her but stayed nearby to make sure she didn't run off. She rarely got little more than a hand towel to dry herself off back then… Most things in the lab weren't expected, though. Some days she'd spend the whole day in her small cell of a room with no one to talk to and the only human interaction being the brief, wordless encounters with the guards who brought her bland, minimalistic meals. On her busier days, she'd participate in experiments but the only thing she could predict about that was that over time, they seemed to expect more and more out of her.
But these routines at home felt nice. Predictable and comfortable like the reliable feeling of a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. She could tell both Becky and Terry cared about her, even if they had their own problems. She could rely on them to be there, to talk to her if she was feeling lonely, and she thought that if there ever came a time when it'd be necessary, they would protect her as well.
She snuck into her mom's room again that night, another of her favorite routines. She was getting used to meeting Terry in the darkness, eager to speak to her and learn from her everything she couldn't say outside of this place.
"Something's bothering you," Terry said, sensing her daughter's discomfort.
El paused, then reluctantly nodded. "My friend…" She said, hesitating. While Gabby hadn't asked her to keep what happened a secret, she could also imagine that she might not want other people to know what happened. But Terry didn't talk to anyone so that probably made it okay, right? "She's hurt,"
"Oh no…" Terry's voice in El's head was soft like velvet and warm like a summer breeze. "Is she okay?"
El made a gesture somewhat resembling a cross between a shaking of her head and a shrug of her shoulders. "Her...dad…" She said quietly. "Hurt her,"
"Oh…" Terry said softly, her face etched with empathetic concern. "You're worried for her,"
El gave a small nod, her gaze cast down as she kicked at the thin layer of water at her feet. A thought crossed her mind but before she could speak the words, even in her mind, Terry responded.
"You want to know about your father," She said knowingly. "Your real one,"
El pursed her lips, listening but refusing to look up.
Terry sighed. "We met on orientation day at the lab," She explained, her voice serene and contemplative. "Before they put us through the really intense experiments, we had a full day of getting oriented to the places we'd be expected to come to, as well as a week or so of basic tests that provided information about our current mental states, cognitive abilities, and health. There were so many of us in those initial stages that sometimes we'd spend hours waiting in conference rooms until our turn was called,"
Terry's eyes stared off into the distant blackness and El could tell she was reliving the memory, though she wasn't sharing it with her. "We met at the coffee station. I had overfilled my cup and he stepped in to help clean up the mess I'd made," A soft smile traced her lips. "He told me his name was Ben and he was hoping to get enough money out of the study to cover start-up costs for a business he wanted to open," El's brow furrowed at that as the gears began to turn in her own mind. "He was a little bit older than me but he was very sweet and had the most charming smile… We started spending a lot of time together outside of the lab but when the experiments started getting more involved and the drugs got stronger, he dropped out. He said he'd earned enough money to get a loan from the bank for his restaurant… he wanted me to quit the study with him but I was still in so much debt with school…" She trailed off before adding in a wistful tone, "I should've followed him…"
El's heart was pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know or not but she impulsively asked, "Show me?"
Terry looked down at her daughter and smiled, then suddenly El was bombarded with a familiar image. She was in a grocery store, of all places, watching as her mom selected boxes of pasta noodles when a tall man came up behind her, wrapping her in a hug. El watched as her mother spun around, giggling as she looked up into the face of someone El knew and the realization made her chest feel tight, her heart shattering into a million pieces.
He was younger, thinner, and had more hair but it was him.
"Benny, what are you doing?" Her mother laughed in the memory and tears flooded El's eyes before the image vanished.
Back in the darkness, Terry looked at her daughter with concern as El's breathing quickened. Everything felt tight, spinning. Her heart hurt and her tears burned. It was him. The first person to have shown her kindness after she escaped the lab. She remembered the Benny she'd met - balding and burly but gentle and kind. He'd given her new food, things she'd never had before, and her first piece of clothing that wasn't a hospital gown. He'd tried to help her and he was gone. That woman had killed him and she'd never be able to see him again. Benny could have been her dad. Not like Gabby's abusive one, not like Trish's absent one or even Mike's clueless and distant one. And certainly nothing like her Papa. She couldn't even fathom the way things could've been different but she knew they would've been and that realization, that sorrow, made her feel like she'd had the wind knocked out of her.
. . . . . . . .
Flashback
The rooms at Hawkins National Laboratory felt colder and more sterile than the children's hospital had. Several of the corridors had been closed off and Hopper and Diane wondered what went on beyond the caution tape and security codes but chose not to ask about it. Their first and primary concern was Sarah and if this place could help, they didn't want to step on any toes. Besides, it was no secret that the HNL worked on other projects aside from children's cancer research. What those projects were didn't necessarily concern them, even if Diane still had her reservations about attempting another treatment rather than giving their daughter some comfort in her last months of life.
Sarah was lying in a hospital bed and dressed in a hospital gown just as she'd been back home. The same machines that monitored her breathing and heart were hooked up as well as an IV that connected to her new medicine. The unfamiliar pink liquid dripped steadily in its pouch by her bed.
"Is it gonna hurt?" Sarah asked plaintively, her eyes wide as her parents and doctor stood around her bed.
"We don't actually know, kiddo," Hopper admitted, crouching down so his face was next to hers. "It might be like the other medicine; you remember that, don't you?"
"It made me sick," Sarah nodded regretfully.
"Yeah," Hopper sighed. "I know. So it might be like that or it might be a little different but I tell you what," He said, his voice picking up pep to brighten his daughter's spirits. "If it doesn't work or we really, really don't like it, we'll stop," He offered, mentally crossing his fingers that this wouldn't be the case. He wanted desperately for this to save her. "How's that sound?"
Sarah pursed her lips in thought, glancing at the faces surrounding her before looking at her father and nodding. "Okay, Daddy," She said bravely. "I'll try,"
. . . . . . . .
"Is this love or am I dreaming? This must be love 'cause it's really got a hold on me…"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone