Jailbird || Stranger Things

fifteen ➵ 525 600 minutes

For once, the music in Teresa's car wasn't so loud. Instead, she drove with the windows down, choosing not to smoke, and just let the Indiana air blow through the car.

    It was due to the quiet drive towards her usual parking spot for the night that she managed to hear the crackling static of the radio on the seat beside her.

    Slowing the car down, she picked up the radio, one hand on the wheel as she shifted down a gear.

    "It's me. It's Mike. It's day 352, 7:40 p.m. I'm still here. If you're out there, say something. Or give me a sign. I won't even say anything. Just... I wanna know if you're okay."

    Teresa could feel her chest tighten at the pain in Mike's voice, and suddenly her own problems didn't seem like real problems.

    She could hear Dustin joining the channel, but she just put the radio aside, pressing on the gas to speed up. She was already late.

    By the time she reached the cabin, she knew Hopper was home. She was so late.

    Throwing caution to the wind she parked right beside Jim's truck, and rushed to step over the tripwire. She knocked on the door, the same rhythm she'd done since last Christmas, and the locks slid aside. The door opened with a little more power than normal, El's eyes hard as she looked at her from her spot at the table.

    "No signal!"

    "I'm sorry," Teresa sighed, stepping inside and peeling off her warm layers. She did her best to hurry it up, but by the time she got to the table, even Hopper was looking at her.

    "Where were you?" he asked. "It's eight twenty."

    "Eight fifteen," El told them both, making Teresa look to her father.

    "Only five minutes later than you. What's your excuse?" she asked him.

    "I'm the chief of police," he reminded her.

    "I was late for work, so I did an extra hour. Then Keith was late. I'm here now. I'm sorry."

    "No signal," El mumbled, poking at her plate as Hopper gave Teresa cutlery.

    "I'm sorry. I wanted to get here as fast as I could. That's all," the older girl offered, smiling lightly. "I promise I won't do it again."

    "You promise?"

    "I promise. I will signal next time."

     Once they ate, El was sent to clean up, while Teresa and Jim tidied away.

    "You have to let her see Mike," she lowered her voice, hearing the shower on. Jim glanced to his daughter, but went back to washing the plates.

    "Not yet."

    "Mike leaves her messages every day," she added, though she knew she wouldn't be able to get through. "He's been counting the days, dad. It's been almost a year. She takes promises seriously."

    Hopper knew all of that. But he also knew he couldn't chance it again.

    "I'll think about it. She needs a new identity, birth certificate," he sighed, drying his hands.

    Teresa let out a sigh, but she knew he was right. Stories wouldn't be enough.

    She measured up her father, trying to figure out why he was so on guard all of a sudden. It didn't take her too long, the smell of pumpkins and rot having hit her the moment she arrived. "Why were you late today?"