u·nite

verb

come or bring together for a common purpose or action.

Just as Emilia had promised, she made sure to visit El at least twice a week. Usually it was more, spending alternating nights between Jonathan's, Hopper's and the cabin. She only went to Hopper's because all of her clothing was there, she had her own room there instead of sleeping on the couch at the cabin, and someone had to make sure the place hadn't been ransacked here and there. In her car, which was idling and rumbling, there was a weeks worth of Eggo's. Inside the house, Hopper's house, Emilia grabbed a few things from the fridge that were going to go bad, stuffed them in a plastic bag and brought them out to her car.

She drove down through the town, taking side roads and avoiding all possible late-night, September traffic. The town seemed to slow down when the fall and winter months rolled around, like the old times before electric lights, people rose and fell with the sun. The sun was dipping down the horizon, only an orange glow over the trees now. Glimmers of blinding light would flicker through the windshield, which was filthy, and making it nearly impossible to see. Emilia felt her throat hitch every time it happened, for if she couldn't see the road, she could crash. Then it would disappear, and she would remind herself to fill up with wiper fluid next time she got gas.

She always forgot.

Mechanics and anything car related would not be something she would see in her future.

When she arrived at the cabin, she grabbed a bag of clothes for El -stuff she had ransacked through her old house a week back when her father was gone- a bag of food, and a bag of Eggo's -which Hopper and Emilia did not count as food. Kicking the door shut with her muddy boot, she walked though the heaps of fallen leaves and knocked on the front door -also with her foot.

The door opened, and Hopper greeted her with a tired smile. He mumbled, "It's been a bad night."

"Fret not," she grinned, knowing that Hopper and El had been at the end of each other's ropes these days. "Big sister is here."

After Hopper had taken the two bags of edible food, Emilia strode into the cabin pretending as if she knew nothing about what was going on. To enter with a big smile and approach El as though she didn't know anything could be wrong, was the best approach. El always lit up when she saw Emilia, no matter how big or small the fight with Hopper was.

"Hey, kiddo," Emilia said, long ago having adopted some of Hopper's speech. "I brought you some stuff."

"Hello, Emilia," El said politely, but there was obvious excitement that she hid.

"It's not much, and it might not fit you yet, but I brought you some clothes. Get you outta the stuff Hopper thinks is in style."

"Hey!" Hopper called from the kitchen. He was preparing dinner for the three of them.

"No offence, Hop, but I've never seen you wear anything other than your uniform or jean on jean." Emilia flashed a grin before ushering El into the bedroom where they could ogle over clothing, distract El from whatever was bothering her, and give Hopper some breathing room.

Emilia sat down on the tidy floor, and El sat on the end of the small twin bed. She was posed so proper, hands in her lap and her back straight. Emilia pulled out two old jackets, a warm winter coat that Emilia hadn't worn since she stopped walking to school, and a leather one that was a bit too tight on her. It was a soft ash brown. Two shirts, simple and black, that she never wore. A pair of jeans that El would eventually grow into. She handed them to El one at a time, and El smiled brighter each time. Even if she never wore them, it was simply a sign Emilia could give to show that there were people who cared about El. Everyone who ever met El last year cared about her, whether they believed her dead or alive. Emilia had to show that to her in a way that wasn't with straight-out words.

"Thank you," El said. "These are very nice."

"You're welcome, kid, I never wear them much these days anyways."

"Why?"

Emilia shrugged, "Not really my style, besides, I have most of my stuff at Jonathan's, the stuff that I wear day after day. I own a lot of clothes I don't wear, but I find it hard to get rid of them, and so I hang on to them even if I don't wear them."

She pondered this, "Hang on to them."

Emilia reached up and grabbed El's hands, "Sort of like how you contact Mike, you listen, but you never say anything. You know you aren't supposed to -yet. But it's comforting to know that he is there, that he is still waiting for you. He's hanging on, and you're hanging on. And it is just a matter of time before this will all be over, and things can start going to some sort of normal."

El offered a slight smile.

"Oh, I also brought you some more books," Emilia slung her backpack off of her shoulder, and reached in to grab them. El was tearing through books, absorbing every bit of information. Emilia figured that the books she read in school had to have some lesson to be learned in them, why else make kids read them, and so she hoped El would get something out of them too.

"Kids!" Hopper shouted; he always got their names wrong these days, and so he simply used a generic term that covered both of them. "Dinner!"

El and Emilia entered the little dining room, the scent of basil, oregano and Parmesan wafted through the small cabin. All sitting down, two glasses of water and one beer at the plates, they began to chat about their days. Like a normal family, they spoke to one another, talked about their highlights.

Emilia remembered the night before, when she had that awful nightmare.

She forked some spaghetti into her mouth, swallowed without chewing, and then said -without looking at Hopper- "Can you teach me how to shoot a gun?"

Hopper sputtered the beer he had sipped, "What?"

"I want to learn how to shoot," she repeated.

"Why?" He stared right at her, but she avoided eye contact.

She thought about the monsters. Her fork pushed the pasta along her plate absentmindedly.

El stared, wide eyed, eager.

"I'd like to try my hand at things, you know? I can't do anything car related, so mechanic is out of the career path. Maybe I want to be a cop. If I am a sharp shooter maybe I'll apprentice with you when school is out."

"I thought you were going to New York after school," Hopper said it more as a statement than a question, but there was an obvious glimmer of hope that she would stick around.

She shrugged, "I've got a lot here, you know?"

There was a painful silence.

Then El said, "You should teach her."

"I can't just go around teaching-"

"Most kids know how to shoot a gun," Emilia argued. "I'm not saying I want a gun, I just want to go to a range and shoot one."

"You should stick to shooting a camera, not a gun, kid."

"Those in favour of me learning how to shoot, raise their hand," Emilia winked at El, who raised her hand quickly. Emilia's hand snaked into the air, her eyes cheeky as they united against Hopper.

He groaned, "Fine! But none of this teaming-up-against-Hopper again, okay?"

El giggled, Emilia smirked. 

I promise this story will go somewhere, I just want to make sure I cover a few bases before we jump headlong into the show. Billy will be appearing soon, as per popular demand, and I'm actually having a lot of fun writing for him, and soon Steve too.

Question of the Day: How do you think Billy will approach Emilia?