Title: Friends Don't Lie

Rating: Strong T – Mostly the usual stuff you'd see on Stranger Things

Disclaimer: Stranger Things and its affiliated characters do not belong to me. I mean no copyright infringement. I only use them as a means to de-stress myself.

Summary: Mike goes to visit Eleven at Hopper's cabin, but it's empty. She's gone. Now, 15 years later, Mike runs into a familiar stranger, but she has no memory of him. What happened to Eleven? Will they reconnect? Mike/Eleven Mileven

Spoilers: All episodes of Stranger Things

Chapter 1

Friday, February 8, 1985

Mike trudged through the woods, his eyes peeled for the small cabin that had once belonged to Chief Hopper's grandfather. Mike had made the trek a few times in the months that since he learned that Eleven was alive and living with Hopper, but the cabin was so far back into the woods that Mike was always afraid he'd miss it and somehow get lost. He knew Hopper didn't like when he arrived at the cabin unannounced, but Mike was too excited to wait until he had time to talk to Hopper and to get him to agree to let him see El. Besides, Hopper was at work. Eleven would be at home all alone. Mike didn't see the harm in visiting her.

Finally seeing the cabin ahead of him, Mike broke into a jog. As he ran, he dodged tree roots and rocks and fallen leaves that were still slick with the rain they had had the night before. With a large envelope tucked under his arm, Mike sped up the rickety old steps to the front door. Mike brought his hand up to the door, ready to knock his secret knock so that Eleven would know it was him. That's when he noticed the door wasn't closed all the way.

"Eleven?" Mike called out.

Hearing nothing, Mike pushed the creaky door open with the palm of his hand. He stepped inside. Mike looked around, shocked. The TV was gone. The couch was covered with a dingy, gray sheet. There were no dirty dishes in the sink or shoes by the door or Eleven's jacket hanging up on the coat rack next to the refrigerator. The cabin looked uninhabited.

"El?" Mike yelled, this time more panic in his voice.

He ran to Eleven's bedroom. He had only been in there once before. He and Eleven had sat on the bed, talking about the things that had happened when Eleven had gone to see her sister. Mike was happy to learn that Eleven had made the decision to return to Hawkins to save them all, rather than choosing to stay with her sister. After Eleven had told him that story, Mike had invited Eleven to the Snowball Dance. She had smiled and said 'yes.' Mike had taken her hand and they sat beside each other, hands entwined. Mike had turned to Eleven and she turned her face towards him. He thought about kissing her then, but Hopper had come in. He eyed Mike suspiciously, as if for the first time seeing him as a teenage boy rather than the kid who had found and helped Eleven. Hopper informed them that they needed to spend their time on the couch in the living room, rather than alone in Eleven's bedroom. Eleven didn't really understand why, but Mike did. Hopper didn't trust him.

Even though that had only been a few weeks ago, it felt like a lifetime as Mike stared out at the empty cabin. He couldn't keep his mind from thinking of the worst case scenario. Did someone find out about Eleven? Was she kidnapped? Was she taken to some other awful laboratory where she would be tested and forced to do things that she didn't want to do? Where was Hopper? Did he run away with Eleven? What had happened? Where were they? Why hadn't she said goodbye? Mike couldn't calm his thoughts.

Mike's eyes flitted around the room, hoping he'd see something – anything that would tell him what had happened. That's when Mike saw the corner of a white piece of paper on the floor of Eleven's room. It was mostly tucked under the bed. Mike bent down and picked it up. He unfolded it. It was a color drawing of Mike and Eleven. In the picture, Eleven was wearing a blue knee-length dress with a red belt around her waist just like the one she had worn in real life. Mike was wearing a tie and a suit jacket. They were standing close to each other, his hands at her waist and her hands on his shoulders. They were dancing and smiling. The word Snowball was above them. The picture brought a tear to his eye. Mike turned the paper over. On the back was the word 'sorry' written in black crayon. The paper was for him. It was the only thing left in the house and Eleven had left it for him. Finding the picture put his mind a little at ease. He doubted that if Eleven had been kidnapped she would have time to leave him a note about the Snowball. But it didn't make him feel better overall. Eleven was gone.

Mike took on last look around and saw nothing else. He folded the drawing he had found under Eleven's bed and put it in his jacket pocket. He opened the envelope he had tucked under his arm. He took out large photograph. It was the picture he and Eleven had taken at the dance. He was visiting Eleven to give her a copy of the picture. Mike placed the photograph in the middle of the bed. If she came back, she would know he was there. That's all Mike could hope for.

15 Years Later

Monday, May 15, 2000

Zippering his lightweight coat, Mike stepped outside of the large office building he worked in and looked up. The skyscraper that housed dozens of different businesses, including Thompson's, the company that Mike worked for, normally blocked the sun, but today there was no sun to speak of. The sky was a dark grey. The ominous clouds looked like they were ready to start spilling rain at any moment. It wasn't the perfect day to be outside. But Mike didn't care. He needed to take a walk. He needed to get out of that stuffy, ridiculously tall building for even just a few minutes. He felt like if he didn't, he might suffocate right there at his desk. And it was only Monday.

Mike headed down the sidewalk away from the building, walking aimlessly. He pulled the hood of his jacket over the messy tangle of black hair on his head and wondered where he might go. Maybe he would stop at the deli down the street to get a sandwich even though he wasn't really hungry. Or maybe he would walk to the park nearby and just stop and stare at a flower or two. He had heard on the radio that the tulips were particularly pretty this season. Not that Mike cared much for tulips, but it sounded nice. Or maybe he would skip the deli and the tulips and would just walk.

With his hands in his pockets, Mike did just that. He walked. When he came to an intersection, he turned away from the deli and away from street that led to the park. He continued on his journey down a street he had only been on once or twice before. Despite the fact that he had worked in that very same building for years, Mike hadn't really explored the area. On most days, he barely had time to grab a sandwich for lunch, no matter just to take a walk to see what was around. Work kept him busy, which usually Mike enjoyed. But for some reason, he was not enjoying it that day.

The street Mike was walking down was empty of pedestrians, probably because everyone else was taking shelter from the impending rain. But Mike could hear a voice in the distance. A female voice. He saw a woman up ahead in a black skirt and yellow rain jacket complete with dingy, white sneakers. Her outfit made him laugh. She looked exactly like one of those career women who wanted to look nice, but who were practical enough to not wear high heels. Although her back was to him, Mike could see that the woman had a cell phone to her ear. Definitely a career woman. Mike was about to simply walk past her when he heard a bit of her conversation.

"No!" She shouted into the phone. "That is not ok. You cannot place that child back in his home. Are you listening to me? Mike! Mike!"

Just a few steps ahead of her now, Mike stopped dead in his tracks. The way the stranger said 'Mike' was very familiar. He turned and stared at her, now able to see a little bit of her face for the first time. At first the woman didn't seem to notice him as she was listening to whomever she was on the phone with. But eventually she looked up, giving Mike a perplexed look.

"Hold on," she said into the phone. She lowered it, putting her hand over the phone so that the person on the other end couldn't hear her. She stared straight at Mike. "Can I help you?"

Mike removed the hood from his head and he got a good look at her face. He recognized her dark brown eyes, her nose, her lips, everything. She looked older, but she was still the same.

"El?" He squeaked out, surprised he could even make a sound.

"I'm sorry?"

His eyes were wide. His brain was in shock. Her voice. He had memorized the sound of her voice. And it was the same.

"It's you. It's really you."

"I don't know you," the woman said, stepping back away from him.

As she said that, it began to rain. A sudden downpour. The rain was loud, the droplets causing instant puddles in the street. The woman didn't seem to mind the fact that they were getting soaked just standing there with nothing to cover them. What she did mind, however, was how close Mike was getting to her. And Mike could sense it. But he couldn't help himself. He took a small step closer.

"El, it's me. Mike."

"I think you have me confused with someone else. I'm sorry, I'm very busy." She went to put the phone back up to her ear, but whoever was on the other end had clearly hung up. "Damn it," she whispered. She shoved the phone into her pocket.

"No," Mike stated. "I don't have you confused with anyone else. I'd know you anywhere. It's been...fifteen years, but…"

The woman raised her eyebrow. "Fifteen years, huh? You definitely have me confused with someone else."

She turned to walk away.

"Tattoo," Mike sputtered. His brain was working a mile a minute. He couldn't let her walk away. He had to figure out some way to get her to stay with him. To keep her talking to him. "You have a tattoo of the number eleven on the inside of your left wrist. How would I know that if I didn't know you?"

The woman stopped despite her better judgement to keep going. She turned and looked at him strangely. She pulled the sleeve of her yellow rain jacket up and revealed her left wrist to him. There was no tattoo. Instead, she had a small scar where Mike knew that tattoo had once been.

"No tattoo," she said.

"You must have had it removed," Mike said quietly as if saying it to himself rather than to her.

"Sir, I've already told you, you have me mistaken with someone else. Now if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to call the police."

She pulled the hood of her yellow rain jacket over her head although Mike wasn't sure why. She was already thoroughly soaked. As was he.

"I know it's you," Mike continued, not ready to give up. "Your name is Eleven, you…"

"Eleven? You think my name is Eleven? Like the number? The same number you think I had tattooed on my wrist?"

"We were friends," Mike explained. "I found you out in the woods in the rain and I brought you to my house. You...you have powers. You can do things with your mind!" Mike was practically shouting now. He couldn't understand why she didn't remember him. Why she was denying who she was.

"I think you need some help," she said. "Is there anyone I can call for you?"

"I'm not crazy!" He shouted. "It's you!"

"Well, if you're not crazy, then you're just lying," the woman said, turning to walk away from him. "And I'm done with this conversation."

"Friends don't lie!" Mike called after her.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks. For a moment, she just stood there, the rain splattering off her raincoat. Her dirty white sneakers had turned a dirty grey. She turned around slowly.

"What did you say?"

"I said friends don't lie," Mike repeated.

The woman's face was pale. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

"How did you...how did you know to say that?"

Mike walked towards her slowly. He didn't want to scare her.

"Because I taught you that," he told her. "I taught you what a friend is."

"I don't…" she sputtered.

"You remember that, don't you? You remember me saying that to you."

The woman turned her leg at and awkward angle and glanced down towards her feet. Mike wasn't sure what she was doing, but he followed her gaze. He hadn't noticed before that on her ankle was a tattoo. It was small. Mike leaned down to get a closer look. On her right ankle were the words 'Friends Don't Lie.'

"It's...it's just a coincidence," the woman said, trying to convince herself. "That must be from a movie or a book or…"

"I made it up," Mike said. "I made it up and I told you because you didn't know what a friend was. You didn't know what a lot of things were."

"That doesn't...that doesn't make sense."

"What do you remember from when you were twelve?"

"I...I...this is crazy," she answered, ignoring his actual question.

"What do you remember from when you were twelve?" He repeated, his insistence growing.

"I was in a car accident. I don't have any memories from before I was thirteen."

Mike sighed. It all made sense. Why she didn't remember him. Why she didn't remember herself.

"That's what they want you to think."

"They? What are you talking about? Who's they?"

"The government or whoever erased your memory," Mike answered.

"This is insane. I don't know you. You're just some...guy on the street. You probably saw my tattoo and read it before I said anything about it. You're just some creep who…"

"That's not true. Eleven, it's me. You have to remember me. You have to…"

The woman's cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID.

"I have to take this. It's important. I have to go."

"This can't be goodbye," Mike said. "I've found you after all this time…"

"I'm not who you think I am," she stated.

"Please. I can't lose you," he pleaded. He had tears in his eyes. One tear fell, mixing with the rain that stuck to his skin.

The woman sighed and stared down at her ringing phone.

"There's a coffee shop on 9th and Walnut. It's called Ricco's," the woman said, the words rushing out. "Meet me there at six."

"Ok."

"Just tell me you're not some axe murderer," she said.

"I'm not an axe murderer."

"Six o'clock," she said, her phone still ringing.

The woman flipped her phone open and put it to her ear. She gave Mike one last look and walked down the sidewalk, her sneakers sloshing in the puddles. Mike watched her until she disappeared around a corner. He leaned back against the building, his heart racing. As the rain poured down, his wet hair dripping into his eyes, his clothes clinging to him, Mike took a deep breath. He had gone fifteen years without seeing her. Fifteen years of wondering what had happened to her. Fifteen years of wondering if she was still alive. Fifteen years of not knowing if she ever thought of him. And fifteen years of wondering what if she had stayed? At six o'clock, he hoped he would get his answers.

Author's Note: Ok, so there's the first chapter of what I'm hoping will be at least a 10 chapter story. I've been working on this idea for a long time and have finally had time to start to plan it all out and put it down "on paper." I really hope you enjoyed this and that you are intrigued enough to keep reading. Don't forget to comment (I really appreciate positive reviews and constructive criticism) and I hope you'll stay with me on this journey!