Chapter 23: The Hopper Reveal
Hawkins Police Station at 9 AM on November 9th looked like controlled chaos—search volunteers checking in, missing person reports piling up, Flo fielding panicked calls from parents.
I walked through it all carrying a manila envelope and the weight of calculated risk.
"Chief Hopper available?" I asked Flo.
She looked up, recognized me. "Steve. He's been asking about you. Go on back."
Hopper's office smelled like stale coffee and accumulated stress. He looked up when I entered, expression caught between suspicious and exhausted.
"Harrington. Perfect timing. Was about to send someone to pick you up."
"Why?"
"Because two kids are missing, you found evidence at both scenes, and you keep showing up everywhere this investigation goes." He gestured at the chair. "So let's stop dancing. What do you know?"
I closed the door, locked it. "Off the record?"
"Way off."
"I know where Will Byers is. I know what took him. I know how to get him back." I set the envelope on his desk. "But you won't believe me without proof."
Hopper opened the envelope. Inside: photographs of the dimensional traces, printed transcripts of Will's radio transmission, maps showing bleed points, documentation of lab agent movements.
He studied each item with cop eyes—trained to spot lies, forgeries, manipulation.
"This is..." He looked up. "This is impossible."
"Is it? Your gut's been telling you something's wrong for weeks. The lab's hiding something. The investigation feels staged. Missing kids and burned ground and government agents searching for a bald girl who shouldn't exist."
"How do you know about—"
"Because I've been paying attention while everyone else looked away." I leaned forward. "Chief, I'm eighteen years old. I don't have badge or authority. But I have information you need. Question is whether you're willing to see proof that breaks your worldview."
Hopper stared at me for a long moment. Then he holstered his gun—I hadn't even noticed him rest his hand on it—and stood.
"Show me."
The drive to my house was silent.
Hopper kept glancing at me, trying to read something in my expression. I kept my face neutral, mind running through contingencies.
He draws his gun on El, I put myself between them. He tries to call it in, I disable his radio. He refuses to help, I proceed without him but lose critical adult support.
Please let this work.
We entered through the front door. The surveillance van across the street tracked our movement—two men in suits pretending to read newspapers.
"Lab agents," I noted. "Watching for the girl they lost."
"She's here? You're harboring her?"
"She's not property. She's a traumatized kid who escaped experimentation." I led him to the basement stairs. "And yeah, she's here. Under my protection."
The basement looked ordinary—couch, TV, my training equipment in the corner. No sign of Eleven or The Party.
"Where—" Hopper started.
I knocked twice on the wall panel. Specific rhythm. The bunker door opened and Mike emerged, followed by Dustin and Lucas.
"Chief Hopper," Mike said nervously.
"Boys." Hopper's cop face was firmly in place. "Where's the girl?"
El appeared in the doorway. Shaved head, borrowed clothes, eyes that had seen too much. She looked at Hopper, tensed.
"Bad man?" she whispered to me.
"No. He's here to help. I promise." I guided her forward gently. "Chief, this is Eleven. El, this is Chief Hopper. He's investigating Will's disappearance."
Hopper crouched to her level, movements slow and deliberate. "Hey there. I'm not going to hurt you. Just want to ask some questions. That okay?"
El looked at me. I nodded. She turned back to Hopper.
"Okay."
"The lab—Hawkins National Laboratory. You came from there?"
"Yes. Papa's lab. Bad place. They hurt people there."
"Papa?"
"Dr. Brenner," I supplied. "He ran the experiments on her. She calls him Papa."
Hopper's jaw tightened. "What kind of experiments?"
"Made me... different. Special." El's hand went to her shaved head. "Made me do things. Open things. The gate—I opened it. I didn't mean to but Papa made me and the monster came through and—"
"Easy." Hopper's voice gentled. "Take your time."
"The monster took Will. Took the other girl. My fault. I opened the door and they came through."
"Show him," I said quietly. "Show him what you can do."
El looked uncertain. Then she focused on Hopper's coffee mug sitting on my workbench.
The mug rose three feet into the air.
Hopper's hand went to his gun. Stopped. The mug hung suspended, rotating slowly, while El's nose began to bleed from the effort.
"Holy shit," Hopper breathed.
El lowered the mug carefully. Wiped her nose. "I can do other things too. Find people. Hear them. See things I shouldn't see."
"Like what?"
El tilted her head, concentrating. "You lost someone. Little girl. Sarah. You think about her every day. Miss her. The pain doesn't go away."
Hopper went absolutely still. "How do you—"
"I can feel it. In your mind. The hurt. The memories. She had blonde hair. Loved to sing. Got sick and—" El stopped, looking distressed. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have looked. Steve says I shouldn't use powers without permission."
Hopper's face had gone pale. His hand trembled as he pulled out his flask, took a long drink.
"Sara," he corrected hoarsely. "Her name was Sara."
"I'm sorry," El repeated. "I'm sorry she's gone."
The room held its breath. Hopper processing impossible reality—a girl who could read his mind, lift objects, perceive his deepest pain.
Finally, he looked at me. "Explain. All of it. Now."
I explained.
Twenty minutes later, Hopper sat on my couch with his third drink and the expression of a man whose reality had shattered.
"Parallel dimensions," he said slowly. "The lab opened a gate to one. This girl—El—accidentally triggered it during an experiment. Something came through. A creature. It took Will Byers and Barbara Holland into the other dimension."
"The Upside Down," El corrected. "That's what Papa called it."
"And Will's alive? You're certain?"
"Heard him yesterday. He's hiding in Castle Byers—his fort. Scared but breathing. Barb's alive too but hurt worse. She has maybe thirty-six hours before..." I didn't finish the sentence.
Hopper absorbed this. "You've been preparing for this. The training, the supplies, the equipment. How long have you known?"
Three years. Since I arrived in this world and realized what was coming.
"Long enough to get ready. Not long enough to prevent it."
"And you recruited children. Trained them for combat."
"I gave them tools to survive. The Party already investigates weird things—they're naturally curious, smart, strategic. I just channeled that toward useful preparation."
"They're twelve."
"And Will Byers is twelve and trapped in hell. We use the resources we have." I met his eyes. "I'm not apologizing for protecting kids. Even if the methods were unconventional."
Hopper studied me. "You're eighteen. Legally an adult. But you've been acting like a commanding officer for years. Who are you really, Steve Harrington?"
A fan who died and woke up here. A time traveler without a time machine. Someone who watched everyone die on TV and got a chance to save them for real.
"Someone who pays attention," I said instead. "Someone who prepares. Someone who refuses to let kids die because adults won't believe in monsters."
Hopper drained his flask. Then he stood, pulled out his radio.
"What are you doing?" Mike demanded.
"Calling Joyce Byers. She deserves to know her son's alive." Hopper keyed the radio. "Joyce, it's Hopper. I need you and Jonathan to come to the Harrington house on Maple. Bring no one else. I found something about Will."
Joyce's voice crackled back, desperate: "What? What did you find?"
"Can't explain over radio. Just trust me. Come now."
He hung up. Looked at El. "You can really find Will? Guide us to him?"
"Yes. I can show you. The tank helps—makes me stronger, lets me reach further."
"Tank?"
I led him to the isolation chamber. Hopper stared at it with the expression of a man beyond surprise.
"You built a sensory deprivation tank. In your basement."
"For meditation."
"Right. Meditation." He laughed—short, bitter sound. "I've been a cop for twenty years. Thought I'd seen everything. Then a high school kid shows me psychic girls and parallel dimensions and I realize I haven't seen anything."
"Will you help?" I asked directly. "I can plan and prepare, but I need adult authority. Someone who can coordinate with Joyce, who can navigate the law enforcement angles, who can make this official enough to matter."
Hopper looked at El, at The Party, at the evidence scattered across my basement.
"I'll help. But we do this smart. No cowboy shit. We plan every detail, prepare every contingency, and we don't lose anyone. Clear?"
"Crystal."
"Good. Because if we're going to raid a government facility and cross into another dimension to save kids from a monster, I'm damn well going to do it by the book."
"There's a book for this?"
"We'll write one."
Joyce - 30 Minutes Later
Joyce Byers burst through my door with Jonathan in tow, face wild with desperate hope.
"Where is he? Hopper said you found something about Will—"
"Mom," Jonathan said quietly. "Mom, breathe."
I guided them to the basement. Joyce's eyes found El immediately—the shaved head, the hospital gown visible beneath borrowed clothes—and something clicked.
"You're the girl they're looking for. The one from the lab."
"I didn't mean to open the gate," El said immediately. "Papa made me. I'm sorry—"
Joyce crossed the room, pulled El into a fierce hug. "Baby, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault."
El went rigid with shock. Then slowly, tentatively, hugged back. First real maternal affection she'd probably experienced.
Mike smiled. Dustin wiped his eyes. Lucas nodded approval.
"Mrs. Byers," I said gently. "El can find Will. She's been in contact with him. He's alive."
Joyce released El, grabbed my shoulders. "Where? Where is my baby?"
"Another dimension. Parallel version of Hawkins that's decayed and dangerous. Will's hiding in his fort—the Upside Down version of Castle Byers. He's scared, but he's surviving."
"How long? How long can he—"
"Days. Maybe a week. But we're not waiting that long. We're going in to get him."
Joyce's face cycled through relief, terror, determination. "When?"
"We're planning the operation now. Two days to finalize logistics. Then we infiltrate the lab, reach the gate, cross over, and extract both Will and Barbara Holland."
"Barb?" Nancy's voice came from the stairs. She descended with expression caught between hope and accusation. "You know where Barb is?"
And here comes the complication.
"Nancy. How did you—"
"Mike told me. About the girl, the powers, the rescue plan." She looked at me with eyes that demanded truth. "Where's Barb?"
"Lover's Lake. Upside Down version. She's hurt but alive. We're getting her out."
"Then I'm coming."
"Nancy—"
"She's my best friend, Steve. I'm not sitting home while you rescue her. I'm going."
Hopper stepped forward. "Miss Wheeler, this is a dangerous operation. Government facility infiltration, potential combat with unknown entities—"
"I don't care. Barb's in there because of me." Nancy's voice cracked. "Because I let her leave the party alone. Because I didn't protect her. So I'm going. You can argue or you can give me a weapon and point me at the rescue."
The room went quiet. Everyone looking at Nancy—seventeen years old, barely five-foot-four, but with determination that could cut steel.
I made the call. "Fine. You're in. But you follow orders, stick with your team, and don't do anything stupid."
"Deal."
"Good." I turned to the assembled group. "Then let's plan this properly. Everyone, meet your rescue operation."
Joyce, Jonathan, Nancy, Hopper. The Party. Robin and Eddie (who'd arrived during the discussion). Chrissy (hovering near the stairs, uncertain but committed). And El, watching everyone with overwhelmed gratitude.
Eleven people willing to storm government facilities and cross into hell for two missing kids.
This could work. This insane plan might actually work.
"Alright," I said, pulling out maps. "Here's what we're doing."
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