The padded but well lived-in cell nestled below the bitter surface of Kamchatka held its common silence, only Tatum's concentrated breathing pattering within its walls.
A steady trickle of blood dripped down her nose, an open tissue laid out in her lap as she sat on the freezing floor, back pressed firmly to the metal bed frame. She couldn't muster up enough energy to speak into the Void, but she had enough to check in on familiar faces.
"Easy! Don't scratch the walls. I don't want to lose the deposit on this place."
"I got it!" Steve called, barely making it through the doorway of their IU apartment with a box so large only his hair could be seen jutting out from the top.
Billy shook his head, laughing gently as Steve bumped into the corner of the once unoccupied bedroom door. Hauling several bags on his arms from the department store, he kicked the apartment door shut behind him.
"Did you get the pillows from the car?" Steve asked as he struggled to drop the box on top of the bed only bearing a sleeping bag. "I slept like shit last night."
"I got them," Billy assured, setting the parade of home-good bags on the island counter. "Hey, when's your first class after we get back from break?"
Steve ran a hand through his hair as he resurfaced from his bedroom, leaning against the frame. "Uh, a ten a.m. on Monday. I knew if I signed up for anything earlier I'd never make it."
Billy nodded approvingly. "Fair enough." He gestured a thumb over his shoulder. "Want me to show you main campus? It's a bitch trying to find buildings the first day if you don't know where they are."
Steve hesitated, mildly unnerved from the causality of it all when Billy had been the one to beat him senseless a year before. "I think I might start getting my room set up. Campus tour after we hit the caf for dinner?"
"Sure," he agreed, leaning a hip on the counter. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah of course," Steve quickly replied, nodding before slipping away into his bedroom. Although he had every intention of unpacking the suitcases and duffles strewn about the bare-bone room, he found himself turning on the radio sat atop his dresser. He sat on the edge of the waxy college mattress, focused on the radio as his elbow rest on his thighs. "Come on, Tate," he whispered.
"I'm still-"
Tatum jumped as her cell door swung open, slamming into the concrete wall. She raised a tissue to her nose on instinct, opening her eyes to the harsh light bleeding in from the corridor. "I was busy," she grumbled in Russian, blotting the crimson from her face.
A figure not bearing the somewhat calming features of Eitan stepped through the cell door, lips pursed tight. "You're busy when we tell you you're busy." A cruel finger jabbed behind him. "You're busy."
"Maybe if I had a watch," she said on her slow, aching rise from the floor, "I could keep track of time."
"Yeah, right." The guard only laughed, deep and cruel. "Move it, princess."
Tatum's eyes rolled as she stretched, the Russian cold soaked deep into her bones. "Don't call me princess," she retorted, snagging a piece of paper from the solid metal desk in her room and slapping it into the guard's hand. "Get that to Zharkov."
"Get to your session," the guard griped as she pushed past his burly frame.
Free to walk the halls only to her sessions, Tate had no option but to treat her "privilege" as falsely as it was given to her to keep herself sane. She waved to the passing guards, ignoring that the response was only ever annoyed glances. Despite her somewhat better living conditions to the other captives of the Soviets, she hadn't been given more than over-washed scrubs and sad slippers to protect her feet from freezing to the ground.
Tate rounded the corridor, absently waving a finger to unlock the private training room door. A smile grew as she spotted Hopper, quick to close the door behind her. "I hate not getting to see you every day."
Hopper wrapped his arms tight around Tatum. "I'll take what I can get." He pulled pack, running a thumb along the ghastly bruise lining her cheekbone. "What happened? Are these assholes touching you?"
"I'm fine," she assured, letting his touch fall away as the two of them sat in the center of the room. "They just don't appreciate my charm."
"It does take some getting used to," Hopper replied with a shrug.
Tate rolled her eyes, waving a hand absently. "Close your eyes so they think we're working."
Hopper sighed, pinching his eyes closed as she did the same. "Are you still set on getting us permanent powers so we can make it out of this place?"
"I'll need more than just me if we're all going to get out," she replied. "My energy will be depleted before we can make it to the elevator if I'm flinging every nearby guard. Have you heard from the others how long they're able to hold their powers outside of training?"
"Orlo is able to hold for thirty minutes and he's got the record right now. Aella's struggling. So are the others."
Tate's brow quirked despite closed eyes. "And you? How are you doing?"
"I've got a good twenty minutes in me," Hop said. "But the nose bleeds are killer. I've got a headache for a good hour after using any kind of ability."
"So, we've definitely still got some work to do," Tate sighed. "We're on our third week of this individual set up and although there's been some improvement, I'm sure Zharkov is going to change it up on us. He's not satisfied without perfection, but I don't think he realizes it's not something he's going to get."
"So, you still want us to pretend it's not working when they come by to test us?"
Tate nodded, pausing only when she realized he couldn't see it. "Yes, absolutely. Show them something minimal, enough to keep them from discarding you but we need to keep all of this off of their radar for as long as possible. The last thing we need is for them to get close enough to realize that we're on to something. They'll box us in and we'll never see the light of day if they get suspicious." She sighed. "But that still brings the problem of getting you guys enough ability to get us out of here. What we've got going right now is too slow to get us out any time soon."
"What have you got in mind?"
"I've been feeding Zharkov new ideas. New methods for bringing out the abilities."
"But is he going to trust you?"
Tate scoffed. "Of course not. Which is exactly why I've been sinking ideas that don't have a chance in hell of working. One, he'll underestimate me. Two, when he lands on the methods that might actually work, he'll think it's his idea. If he thinks he's in control, he might give us enough room to pull this off under his nose."
Hopper hummed mildly in thought. "And what do you think could work? To keep our powers."
"I think deprivation tanks might get us somewhere. When El and Nina were young, they spent a lot of time in them. It centered them in the void and allowed genuine connection," she explained. "And the only alternate to that is true threat."
"True threat?"
"My powers didn't come through until Eleven and I went head-to-head with the Mind Flayer in the laboratory," Tate said. "There had been inklings, but it wasn't all there. El knew before I even did. It was when I had to fight for my life that the powers came out." She sighed. "But that's also not any easy to come by option, so the tanks are our best next step if we can get Zharkov there."
Sighing, Hopper reclined on his palms but kept his eyes shut. "So, we work with what we have until he gets to the idea himself."
"Exactly," she groans. "Unfortunately."
"Have you still been able to keep an eye on everyone at home?" he asked.
"I've been getting interrupted by the guards lately, but I have been," Tate replied. "El's still having a hard time with school in New York. The boys seem to be happy. They're in clubs. They have friends. Nina is...flourishing, really." She smiled, some of her favorite moments peering in on her little sister at rehearsals. "She's in a musical at school. She's...amazing."
"And Billy?"
Tate's smile gently fell. "He hides it, like they all do. He's just trying to live a normal life. Steve just moved into his apartment at IU for next semester. Seeing them try to live together should be interesting."
Hopper laughed, attempting to restrain a smile for the security cameras. "They'll either start swinging or be best friends." Sighing as he shifted back forward, he asked, "All right, how about we try something that might actually help us break out of this rat hole?"
"Flex those brain muscles," Tate said, holding out her hands to Hopper. "I'll be your tether. Let's check on El."
"Yes, please," he said through a sigh, taking Tatum's hands.
"Do you want a walk through or do you-"
"I've got it," Hop assured, taking a deep breath in as he lets the darkness swarm.
As Hopper opened his eyes, the darkness continued with the soft sound of lapping water, the warmth brushing over his feet. Nothing like he had originally imagined when El used to try to explain it to him, he found the Void almost comforting.
"Are you coming in with me?" he asked, turning in a slow circle when Tate's projection didn't join him. As he doubled back, a light smile arose when the brunette's figure appeared beside him. "I still can't get used to this."
"I'm working on it, too," Tate replied with a smile. She offered out her hand. "I'll give you the image, you hone in on her."
Hopper nodded as he took her hand, focusing forward into the depths of the Void. Slowly, he pulled the likeness of his daughter from his connection with Tate and weeded his way through the physical distance between them.
"You're almost there," Tatum assured, squeezing his hand gently. "Just reach out for her."
A bed rippled into view in front of them, water lapping against the frame legs. The covers jostled ever so slightly, a child-size lump forming in the middle.
A smile grew on Hopper's face as his hand slipped from Tate's, stepping forward in the darkness. "Look at her," he quietly said, rounding to the side of the bed. "She's getting so big."
Tate folded her arms across her chest, her own smile bright as she stopped at the end of the teen's bed. "I wish she would cut herself some slack. Or just let herself be a kid."
Hopper tipped his head, taking in El's face as she slept peacefully. He gently pulled up the covers, tucking her in despite not knowing if it would change a thing in the real world. He missed those nights in the cabin, hidden away from the rest of the world where they had all the time in the world to learn about life. "I miss you," he whispered, gently running a knuckle along her cheek.
"I miss you, too," Eleven softly said, pulling the covers up to her chin before settling deeper into her bed.
The Void fell out from underneath them like a Graviton, both Hopper and Tatum snapped back into the reality of the training room, any inkling of Eleven's bedroom gone from sight as their eyes tore open.
Hopper's lips parted, a tear streaking down his face as his gaze fell on Tate. "What the hell was that?" he asked, quickly wiping the tear with the back of his hand. "How...how did she hear me?"
Tate laughed gently, a smile growing. "If there's anyone who might hear you, it's her. She's like us."
"Like us," Hop repeated, staring distantly for a moment. His finger lingered over his upper lip, crimson dotting his fingers as he pulled them away. "That's never happened before."
"You're getting stronger," Tate told him. "I'm usually able to get little things to them, but none of them let themselves think I'm still here," She handed him a tissue, taking one for herself to blot the minimal nosebleed. "First the music before I was awake, and now words here and there. I think I'm driving them all insane."
"At least they would know you're still alive," Hop replied. "If you told them-"
"Who knows what kind of trouble they would get into if they knew," she countered. "Dustin overheard a Russian transmission on accident and we saw how that turned out. I don't have a doubt in hell those doofuses would try to bust into Russia to break us out of here and it would fail miserably."
Hopper's lips pursed slightly. "Tate, they should know."
Tatum held up a defensive hand. "When we can figure out how to get out of here, when we can meet them safely, then I'll let them know. I don't...I don't want to give them false hope."
Hop blew out a steady stream of air, questioning her methods. He never truly understood how her brain worked, and he imagined he never would. "And what do you have planned?"
"I already put a few things in the works, even if they don't realize," Tate replied, resting her forearms on her thighs. "While I'm still working on the exact mechanics of getting out of here, once we're top side, I think I've got it figured out."
"Don't wait to share with the class then," Hop pressed. "Go on."
"When I was brought here, Ozerov flew in here in a twin-engine aircraft. His personal plane. The facility I was being held at was just below Moscow and I calculate from our flight time that we're in the far reaches of Soviet land. We flew for hours. Hours, okay?"
"Okay," Hop said with squinted eyes.
"We passed over water just before we landed, putting us in the Russian peninsula that falls directly above Japan and is only a puddle jump to Alaska. Depending on the time we make a move and the snow, either of them are viable options because they each have American air bases. It's almost January now and the snow will be settling strong over Alaska, so unless this takes a lot longer than we're hoping, dropping down to the most northern American base in Japan is our best option. It's half the time it took to fly from Moscow to here, so we'll be good on gas even if they don't have enough time to fill all the way back up. I've already pressed Owens enough to make him suspicious about us and all it takes it one grab and I know he'll meet us wherever we need him. He knows he was too late to Starcourt to save us, and if he knows we're still alive, he'll pull out all the stops. We force Ozerov to come here once we're ready, we fight to the surface, we get the plane out of Russia and to Owens, then he gets us home."
Hopper took a deep breath in, nodding gently. "And who knows how to fly said plane?"
Tate jabbed a finger in his direction. "Don't ruin my parade. I'm still working on that. There's a chance I can telekinetically rig it, or we just take the pilot hostage. We'll have guns from taking out the guards and we can keep him quiet, then turn him over to the Americans so they can grill him for any information he has about other secret Soviet operations."
His brows raise sharply. "I'm concerned at how casually you said that."
Tatum sighed, shrugging lightly. "I don't have the luxury of thinking any other way, Hop."
Hopper studied her for a long moment, the bruise on her face standing out even more than the pale gray eyes that once held a vibrant blue.
"Please don't ask me if I'm okay," Tate whispered, her hopeful demeanor slacking.
Holding her gaze, he nodded gently. "All right, T." He sighed. "You've really thought about all of this."
"I don't sleep very much," she replied, running a hand along her forearm. "I slept for long enough when I was dead. I can't seem to stay under anymore, not unless my powers are depleted. It just gives me more time to plan, to get us out of here."
Hop's eyes flickered between hers. "I..." He smiled gently, pushing away his desire to question her further. "I'm with you, kid." He offered out his hand. "Whatever, whenever."
Tate clasped her hand over his, a hopeful thrum singing through her chest. "We're going to get out of here, Hop. Alive."