Finally (Mileven)

Chapter 7

Jane sank into a chair at the kitchen table. She looked up at her dad and scowled. "You weren't very nice."

Hopper huffed in response. It hadn't mattered to him if Mike came over at all; he made the call for Jane. He hadn't want to rehash everything with him that he'd just done with her, so if he'd said no, Hop would have been just fine with that. But he could tell by the excitement in his voice that that wasn't going to happen. Mike couldn't wait to see Jane again. Hop briefly wondered what he thought of the police car waiting for him outside. He'd gotten a friend to go over to the Sinclair house to pick up Mike as a favor, and he wondered if Mike had picked up on the irony of the police cruiser sitting at the house. Also, the fact that he'd used his surname, and called him 'kid' a few times. Hopper had always done that, even with his deceased daughter, Sara. It was his term of endearment, much like other people use 'honey' or 'sweetheart'. Over that week, the only time he'd used any of the boys' real names was when shit was about to get real and he needed them to pay attention. Otherwise, 'kid' it was.

"What do you think he's going to say?" she asked quietly. She was ringing her hands in her lap nervously.

"I don't know, kid," he said tenderly. He joined her at the table and grabbed one of her hands. "Are you ready? Were these last few days enough time, to process everything?"

She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "Dad, we have to tell him. He has to know. Everybody else thinks I died that night; he's the only one who thinks I'm still alive. I can't believe he's held on to that for so long." She swallowed thickly. "He's ready to move on, with me, but I want him to know who I really am. That I'm his-," she paused, looking for the right word,"-El, his girl, his world. Everything he lost that day, everything he's been looking for, it's right here." She choked out, gesturing toward herself. "I'm right here."

The ride to Jane's seemed to take forever, when, really, it was only about 20 minutes. She'd been on his mind since she walked away from him on that crowded New York sidewalk a week ago, and now he could barely contain his excitement at actually seeing her again. His knee bounced up and down shortly into the ride and he constantly ran his hands up and down the thighs of his jeans. He was nervous, but he knew it wasn't because of her. It probably had to do with the man who called him this morning, who introduced himself as Jane's father that made his palms sweat. He sounded...tough. Like, he'd probably kill Mike if he ever hurt his daughter. Hell, he was a cop, he might be able to get away with it. But, seriously, Mike would never do that. He couldn't imagine seeing Jane hurt or sad or in pain. He didn't think he could handle that. He knew he wouldn't squander this second chance, that he'd do everything he could to make sure she felt wanted and happy.

Soon enough, they pulled up to a house, stopping behind another cruiser. The driver hopped out, not even turning off the ignition, and made his way around the car. Mike reached for the handle on his door, but stopped, remembering that back doors on police cars couldn't be opened from the inside. As soon as that thought went through his mind, his door opened. "Uh, thanks," Mike said, getting out and looking up at the house.

'No problem," the guy mumbled. He shut the door, and was back around the car so fast that Mike could have sworn he must have ran. The car pulled away, leaving Mike standing on the curb. He turned and looked up at the house. Jane was behind that door. He started up the sidewalk, and slowed, when he remembered that her dad was in there also.

Suddenly, the front door swung open.....and Mike's heart stopped, along with his breathing. A large, bearded man stood in the doorway, taking up most of the space. Again, a sense of familiarity came over him, along with a sense of unease. As they looked at each other, Mike's eyes narrowed, trying to recall where he might have seen him before. Seeing him made Mike think back to a time of turmoil and fear. Anxiety and despair. Anger and sadness. When the man finally spoke, Mike understood why.

"Mike Wheeler," the big man said knowingly.

Those two words did something. Mike stumbled backwards, his legs feeling like jelly, ready to give out at any time. He bent over, his hands on his knees, trying to get air into his lungs, while at the same time, feeling like he was going to throw up.

"Noooo, no, no, no, wh-what are you-, how are you here? Jane, how do you know Jane-," Mike stuttered, his questions coming out in a jumble of words and sounds. He wanted to say more, but he couldn't form anything close to a coherent sentence, there was too much to process.

He felt two hands on his arms, helping him up. "Kid, hey, hey, take it easy. Breathe. Easy, easy." He was being led up the walk to the porch. As he walked by the flowerbed, he noticed the daisies, and, for some reason, remembered that those were El's favorite flower. He shook the memory from his head as Hopper led him up the steps and into the house.

The first thing Mike noticed were the photos on the wall in the hallway, family photos from over the years. Birthdays, vacations, holidays. Seeing the man in the pictures finally triggered the recognition that had been eluding him. He turned toward the man beside him, realizing that, after six years, he was now as tall as him.

"Hopper? Chief Hopper?" Mike questioned. "Um, what...what are you doing here? And, and, Jane....."

Hop looked at Mike, then glanced over his shoulder. He watched Hop's eyes focus on something behind him, so he turned to look at where his eyes had come to rest. It was a photo of Hop.....and someone else. A girl. She was young, with short brown hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones, full lips. They were in a park, surrounded by other people. There were presents, and a cake on the table in front of them. They looked happy. Mike reached out and ran his fingertip across the girl in the photo, recognizing her immediately.

"El," he whispered, smiling. He closed his eyes, and everything that was her crashed through his mind, all at once. Her fire, her determination. Her sincerity, her innocence. Her loyalty, her persistence. Her face, her smile, her voice, the way she felt against him. All that she was ran through him, swirling images of when he knew her to ones when she was older, culminating into the woman she was today. She was alive. She was here. His finger slipped from the photo, and he leaned into the wall, finally letting himself go, slipping down and coming to rest on the floor.

He didn't see Jane approach from the kitchen. She looked at him there on the floor, legs out in front, eyes open but not really looking at anything, and she choked back a sob. He looked like he was in shock. She went to him, squatting down so she could see his face. His hair had fallen over his eyes a little, so she gently smoothed it aside. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. She could see he was crying, his tears sliding down his cheeks silently, gathering on his shirt. He still didn't look at her.

"Mike," Jane whispered. Her own tears fell on her lips as she spoke. "Mike, please look at me."

Mike slowly looked over at Jane. He took in her face, her lips, her nose, her eyes. When their eyes met, he blinked, sending fresh tears down his face.

"El," he breathed out.

She smiled. "El," she said.

He closed his eyes, and a small, contented smile formed on his lips. He visibly relaxed, and took in a lungful of air. Squeezing her hands one last time, he reached over and pulled him to her, wrapping his arms around her body. This wasn't nearly close enough for El. She needed him closer, so she climbed onto his lap, her knees coming to rest on either side of his long legs. He drew his legs up to rest against her back and just held her there, both of them crying into each other.

Every emotion that Mike had been holding in seemed to pour out of him at that moment. Resting his face in the crook of her neck, taking in her vanilla scent, feeling her hair on his face, he cried into her skin. He cried for all the time they'd lost, and he cried for all the time they now had to rediscover each other.