41. Talking In Your Sleep

Chapter 41: Talking in Your Sleep (by The Romantics)

"When you close your eyes and go to sleep, and it's down to the sound of a heartbeat. I can hear the things that you're dreaming about when you open up your heart and the truth comes out…"

. . . . . . . .

They would have been able to have a more elaborate talk had Mike not been sitting in the backseat of the car. Both Jonathan and Nancy had a million things running through their minds as the night came to a close. As the craziness of the situation with El calmed for now, they were able to remember just how incredible their time together up to that point had been.

"So…" Nancy said once Mike was out of the car, her cheeks pinkening as she looked down.

"So," Jonathan nodded, equally nervous after what had transpired between them earlier that day.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Nancy looked up, meeting his gaze and finding it impossible to subdue her smile.

"Yeah," Jonathan grinned, his eyes settling briefly on her lips but it was enough for her to pick up on and lean forward a bit. Taking the hint, he leaned in as well, leaving a chaste but sweet kiss on her lips before settling back into his seat.

He watched her cheeks turn an even deeper shade of pink, more noticeable in the light from the streetlamp, and the apples of her cheeks became more pronounced with her bashful grin. "I should go," She murmured, her unceasing smile having an infectious effect on him.

"Yeah," He breathed with a hint of disappointment. "Goodnight,"

Nancy unlocked her door and put one foot out of the car just as Mike slammed the trunk closed. "Night," She glanced at Jonathan once more and finally got out, purposefully ignoring her brother's looks. She could read it in his face that it would only be a matter of seconds before he was giving her a hard time about her lingering moment with Jonathan.

. . . . . . . .

It had been a while since he'd seen that place - the dark, damp wasteland that took his breath away like a soul sucking demon. The floating white particles that made the idea of snowfall a little more menacing now. The threat of danger lurking behind every corner and never quite knowing when you were finally safe after running so long your legs felt like they could give out at any moment.

He hadn't slipped into the Upside Down in weeks and with the slugs gone, he thought he could escape the horror of that world but there was nothing to shield him from the vivid memories his brain harbored and the chills he experienced when he closed his eyes and saw the decay and sludge that dripped from every surface.

He woke up in a cold sweat, his hair slicked to his forehead as he panted. His eyes wide and bloodshot, he looked around the living room. He was still on the couch, wrapped in the blanket Joyce had given him. The clock on the wall read 4:23 and the streetlights were still on outside, casting a soft glow through the curtains and across the living room. Joyce lay asleep in the armchair by the couch, her hair disheveled and her mouth slightly agape as a soft snore escaped her.

Suddenly, as his breath steadied, the world around him flashed and the warm, soft glow from the light outside turned to a harsh, cold, blue light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. Those white particles floated past his face and he shivered in the cold, clutching the blanket to him though it was now covered in dark brown slime. Was this another dream? Or was he slipping into the Upside Down again? Why was this happening? He had to figure it out.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he tossed the blanket off of his legs and sat up on the couch. His bare feet stepped in cold, wet sludge on the floor and he grimaced at the sensation but stood up nonetheless.

The Demogorgon was gone. He didn't need to worry about that. And he'd seen this place many times since he'd initially been trapped here before. He didn't need to be afraid. That's what he told himself at least and it seemed to take the edge off of his anxiety. He crept through this rotting version of his house, trying not to relive memories of being trapped in this place and begging his mom to hear him as he called out her name, then Jonathan's, then El's.

He was alone in this house and the silence was deafening as he cautiously padded his way down the hall.

"Mom?" He called out again, approaching her bedroom door. Vines lined the baseboards and wrapped themselves around the door handle, leaving the door slightly ajar. He tentatively pushed at the wooden door, the moisture in the air leaving it feeling damp and cold. Taking a breath, he stepped through the threshold into the room. He didn't expect to find anyone necessarily and he was beginning to calm himself down as he went. In his mind, he reminded himself that he always came back and this could all very well be a dream. "Can anybody hear me?"

Like a flash of light, Will was home, standing a foot away from El's blank expression. The room was warm, the light from the lamp on the end table was soft and El stood face to face with him, per puzzled yet concerned face eyeing him closely.

Suddenly everything made sense. He wasn't scared anymore. He was getting used to this, unpleasant as it was.

"El, I figured it out!" He exclaimed in a hushed voice, trying not to be too loud given the late hour. "I know why I keep going in and out of the Upside Down!"

El looked at him expectantly, the skin under her eyes puffy and he felt a brief pinch of guilt. Had he woken her up? Was she already awake when he appeared in the room?

"Well, not really why but how, I think," He clarified, crossing the room and plopping down on the bed as El watched with interest, still half-asleep. "Every time I've slipped into the Upside Down, something crazy has usually been going on like throwing up slugs or trespassing at the lab. I think maybe it's connected to me being worried or scared, or freaked out, I guess. Does that make sense?"

El gave a small shrug, then nodded her agreement. "Makes sense,"

"I was having this dream," Will continued, still processing his new revelation with wild eyes. "I was in that place and it was like before, with the Demogorgon, and I didn't know if I'd ever escape or if that thing was going to eat me or what. I woke up and everything was normal but then all of a sudden I was actually in the Upside Down again but it wasn't a dream - I don't think. But then I came back and I think it was because I started to calm down!" He looked up at El for some sort of exclamation or reaction but she was particularly stoic when she was tired, apparently. "I'm sorry; did I wake you up?"

"Heard you yelling," She replied and Will did a double-take.

"You heard me?" He repeated. "Like, before I came back?" El nodded and Will's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, I didn't think anyone could hear me. I guess you used your powers?"

El shrugged as a yawn escaped her and she pawed at her eyes.

"Wow…" Will breathed in amazement at all of these realizations.

"What are you guys doing up?" Jonathan suddenly appeared in the doorway, his shaggy hair sticking up in various directions and his eyelids heavy with sleep. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Will nodded emphatically. "Yeah, everything's fine. Sorry, Jonathan,"

"Mhm," Jonathan mumbled before plodding across the hall back to his own room.

"I'll tell him in the morning," Will said to El and her questioning expression. Even if she didn't say much, she communicated everything she was thinking with her face and given Will's recent history of keeping his interdimensional illness a secret, he knew she was questioning his judgment in that moment. "Don't worry," He added, standing up. "I'm gonna go back to the couch though. Sorry I woke you up,"

"It's okay," El replied with a small smile as Will left the room and headed back to the couch, carefully tip-toeing past Joyce in the armchair so as not to wake her up.

As Will settled back onto the couch, his mind swimming with thoughts and revelations, he found it hard to fall back asleep until the sun was already peeking over the horizon outside.

. . . . . . . .

Much to Mike's relief, Karen didn't go as hard on him as he had anticipated. He'd sat through a half hour lecture on letting her know where he was and the importance of doing so but she'd been more concerned with how El was doing and if she or anyone else needed anything. Thank goodness for Nancy filling their mom in on the reason he snuck out.

He'd fallen asleep around midnight with the ever-present glow of the moon shining through his window and illuminating the edges of everything in his room like a nightlight. His mind was focused on El and the current circumstances surrounding her family, making it difficult for him to relax enough to fall asleep. When he finally did, she was still there.

"El?" Mike said, tentatively approaching the young girl as they stood outside her aunt's home on a sunny afternoon.

El reached a hand out to him and he offered his to her without question. She led him across the lawn and to a table and chairs on the porch. The grass was dead and frostbitten, the trees bare, making it feel more like a memory than a dream. Or like it was actually happening.

"Why are we here?" Mike asked, taking a seat in one of the plastic chairs as El pulled her feet up on her chair and clutched her knees to her chest.

"I miss them," El replied, her voice muffled by her arms and knees in front of her mouth. "I want…" She lifted her head and looked up wistfully at the house. Even without going inside, Mike could feel that it was empty. "I want to find them,"

"I know…" Mike said sympathetically. "I wish there was something I could do… Maybe I can help find your mom?"

El shrugged, her eyes glistening with the threat of tears as she glanced down at her lap. She wished she had the words for everything she was thinking and feeling. The irony of having control of dreams in such a way that she can communicate with another person yet be incapable of forcibly producing her aunt or her mother's image. Even if it wasn't real, even if it was only a memory and she couldn't talk to them in real time, why couldn't she bring herself to create a dream like that?

"Don't cry, El," Mike said softly, reaching across the table and touching her arm. She hadn't realized her tears had escaped. "I promise we'll find your mom. She wasn't in the accident so she's gotta be around somewhere. We found Will and look at how crazy and impossible that seemed. We'll find her, okay?"

El bit her lip, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" Mike asked, his eye contact steadfast and his voice comforting her like no one else.

El blinked back her tears and nodded, offering him a small smile. "I… trust you,"

The corner of Mike's mouth turned up reflexively in a half-smile and his eyes twinkled at her affirmation. "Good," He nodded, satisfied and suddenly feeling bashful at the way she was smiling at him. "I-I'm glad,"

Suddenly El sat upright, her brow furrowed with confusion as she listened for something. Mike watched as she put her feet back down on the porch and looked around, then focused intently on nothing in particular.

"What is it?" He asked. "What's going on?"

"Hear something," El replied distantly, still trying to make out the distant voice in her head. "Will,"

Mike blinked curiously. "Will? What's he saying? What do you hear?"

El shook her head. "Not sure," She stood up and Mike mirrored her movements. "Gotta see,"

"Um, okay," Mike said uncertainly. "Should I be worried? Is everything okay?"

El shrugged and shook her head. "Gotta go now,"

"Okay, well, um," Mike stammered. They were less than a foot away from each other and he didn't want to leave her or have her leave or whatever was going to happen in this strange dream connection they had. He wanted to sit with her and hug her and just… be near her, even if it was only in their minds. "I'll talk to you later, then, I guess,"

El nodded, offering him another small smile as she stepped even closer to him, an action which flustered him a bit. "Yes," Her smile widened and she wrapped her arms around him, nestling her head against his shoulder and for a moment, Mike felt like his brain had disconnected communication to his arms. After a couple seconds, he brought his arms around her and hugged her back, all the while feeling like an immense electrical current was running through his limbs.

El pulled back and looked at him, the eye contact making Mike mildly uncomfortable, though he couldn't look away. "Night, Mike,"

. . . . . . . .

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight...or this morning. With the sun creeping over the horizon, Hopper made his way back to his truck, still doing everything in his power to keep what he knew under wraps. The rollercoaster of emotions, insights, and revelations he'd experienced in the past twelve hours likely would have had a more intense impact if he weren't so tired. For now, he felt numb yet focused and as he drove away from the lab with dawn on his heels, he brainstormed how he would handle this incredibly delicate situation.

By the time he'd left the Byers' he knew Becky's body would be on its way to the county coroner's office. The medical examiner had just barely gotten her body situated in one of the exam rooms by the time Hopper arrived, flashing his badge at the receptionist and finding his way down the hall. In a small town like Clarksville, it wasn't too easy to get lost in buildings like this. Most were one level with a clear indication of which corridors led to what. He'd run into the medical examiner on his way to begin assessing Becky's body and upon informing him that Hopper knew her and could personally identify her for him for procedure's sake, he was escorted to the exam room.

"I haven't begun the autopsy but I suspect blunt force trauma, given the nature of the accident," The coroner said as the two men entered the sterile room. There was a huge stainless steel case with drawer handles that lined half of a wall from floor to eye-level, likely holding who knows how many other bodies. A counter lined the perimeter of the room with countless medical instruments and tools that Hopper couldn't begin to identify. In the center of the room was a metal table with the form of a body on top, draped with a white sheet. He knew Becky was under that sheet and he felt like he'd been hit in the gut.

"I appreciate you coming all this way, Chief," The coroner said respectfully as he walked over to the table as though he were leading someone to something quaint and mundane like an art exhibit or a jewelry case, not the dead body of someone you'd known personally. "But I don't anticipate any surprises with this case. I inspected the body back at the crash site and her injuries appear to match up with an accident like that,"

"Just… show me the body," Hopper said gruffly, his brow furrowed as he stared at the sheet, imagining Becky, the real, alive Becky, asleep under it. He glanced up at the coroner and for good measure, added, "Please,"

The coroner nodded respectfully, pulling away at the head of the sheet to reveal Becky's cold, pale face. He hadn't had the chance yet to clean her up in preparation for the autopsy so blood was still caked at her scalp and her face was covered with tiny cuts and bruises, her wavy brown hair disheveled and unruly.

Hopper inhaled deeply, seeking into his feet as he studied Becky's face. How strange it was to see the snarky, upbeat woman's face so pallid and vacant. He peeled his eyes away from her closed eyelids, scrutinizing her hair, the peaks and dips of her face, the edge of her jawline and the thin curve of her neck as the coroner stood by, close but respectfully quiet. It was then that Hopper noticed something strange on the side of her neck, something he easily missed at the scene. A small circular dot along the side of her neck, smudged with dirt and grime. Under the watchful eye of the coroner, he feigned an affectionate brush of his fingers and smeared away the excess debris, revealing a tiny hole the size of a pin in her neck. He could have so easily missed it!

"Yes, it's her," Hopper said evenly, his poker-face impeccable. "Rebecca Ives,"

The coroner nodded, replacing the sheet as Hopper stared at the hole one last time. "I'm sorry for your loss, Chief,"

"Thanks," Hopper replied in a mumble, replacing his hat to his head. "Let me know your findings when the autopsy's done,"

"Of course," The coroner said, still certain that he already knew the cause of Becky's death.

As Hopper returned to his vehicle, a slew of realizations pelted him like hail. He'd spent enough time as a detective in the city to have seen a variety of different situations, specifically involving homicide victims. He'd spent enough time in medical examiners' offices to recognize certain things. What he'd seen in there had a striking resemblance to an injection hole, much like the one he'd received after getting caught in the lab. He'd been lucky - he'd been drugged and dropped off at home to work off his stupor. It appeared Becky hadn't had the same good fortune. He didn't know what they'd injected her with but he was willing to place money on the fact that someone, probably from the lab, had killed Becky and set up that accident scene. Much the same way as they'd put together Benny Hammond's suicide scene. This changed everything, though it didn't surprise him. The lab had killed Becky and if that was the case, they probably had something to do with Terry's disappearance as well. And in that same vein, if they were suddenly concerned about Becky and Terry, perhaps they knew that El was no longer in the Upside Down.

. . . . . . . .El woke up early that morning to the sound of stressed voices coming from the living room. Yawning and stretching across the length of Joyce's bed, she shook the blanket off her and padded out of the room.

Hopper, Joyce, Will, and Jonathan were in the living room and everyone briefly quieted when El rounded the corner. Hopper was still dressed in the previous day's clothes and the other three were still in their sleep clothes, their hair bedraggled and their faces tired but concerned. Joyce was clutching a coffee mug in one hand with a lit cigarette between her fingers as she stood by Hopper.

"Morning sweetie," Joyce tried to keep her voice light but El wasn't fooled.

"What's wrong?" She asked, furrowing her brow and looking between the four of them.

Hopper glanced at Joyce but decided the best thing right now was to be direct. They didn't have time to pussyfoot around things right now. "I went to see Becky last night," He said, crouching down in front of El so the two of them were eye-level. "She didn't die from the car accident, El," He searched her face for some sort of reaction, bracing himself for another destructive outburst. "The lab got to her and I think they know about you, too,"

. . . . . . . .

"When I hold you in my arms at night, don't you know you're sleeping in a spotlight. And all your dreams that you keep inside, you're telling me the secrets that you just can't hide…"