feel

8

THE NEXT morning, Carter's only thoughts were about the mystery girl from the night before. That and how cold the building was in the absence of her bomber jacket, which she imagined was still wrapped around El.

She had hardly gotten any sleep the night before, tossing and turning for a few hours before getting up and trying to find the boxes filled with all of her old clothes.

She'd dug out the ones not covered in dust and the ones that didn't smell of cigarettes or regretful memories and placed them in a bag that now sat hidden in her locker.

Carter weaved her way through the crowded and buzzing hallways, tired eyes not bothering to look at any spot in particular and shoulders bumping unintentionally into those who walked past her.

"What are you thinking about?"

This time it wasn't her brother's voice. It was soft and sweet and feminine; broken but sunlight. A voice Carter wished, so desperately it hurt, to have heard earlier in her life. A voice she wished she'd discussed boys with and laughed with into the late hours of night. A voice that held with it the possibility of having a little sister.

But she didn't.

Hopper had chosen for a reason to keep this one, tiny, living, life-changing secret from her. From his own - daughter. Daughter. That word brought with it lead dripping like blood on her tongue. Cigarette burns on tanned skin. Screaming into the night about lives ruined by drugs.

Daughter.

"I'm ashamed to call you my-"

Daughter.

"You can call me Hopper. Or - if, if you really, really want, I guess dad works too. I guess now you're my - my -"

Daughter.

"Carter, you understand? I need you to look after my-"

"Duchess!"

The word echoed like thick hot fudge running down an icecream cone.

She could feel herself melt under it.

"Hargrove," she could feel him following her, "I'm not in the mood."

And then topaz was cutting into hazel. A smirk curling in response. A flirty remark already on his tongue and his hands on her bare arms.

His face contorted into shock.

"Jesus, Carter, your arms are like ice!"

Carter blinked once, and then twice, deciding after a moment that that was the first time she'd enjoyed hearing her name out loud.

She must have been staring, dazed and unfocused for a moment, because she jumped with a shock as something heavy and warm draped over her shoulders and she was standing in the middle of an empty hallway, denim jacket pulled tight across her shoulders and his eyes gazing worriedly into hers.

"Duchess?"

Her head slowly drifted to the side, suddenly feeling heavy in the warmth that cascaded from her shoulders.

"I-" And then she recognized the jacket and the familiar smell of cologne and smoke and dreams ripped in half like an unwanted letter.

"Thank you," she whispered, pulling the denim tighter around her frame, which she only just noticed was shivering.

Whether from the cold or from lack of sleep, she did not know. But she was thankful for the comfort of this foreign jacket and of the smile suddenly slipping past his facade.

"Don't sweat it. You okay?"

Carter nodded lightly.

"Just tired," she sighed, involuntarily leaning into his warmth so slightly neither of them knew if it was real or a waver of imagination seeping into their realities.

Billy nodded, that small smile soon replaced along with the conversation.

"I assume that means you're not coming to the party tonight?" He asked.

Carter was thankful for him not asking her questions and for the topic change.

"Party?" She questioned, before Billy shoved a bright orange flyer into her now warm hands.

She read it once, not actually taking in any information, and then twice, and then a third time before sleep deprivation blurred the words together.

Maybe this was what she needed.

"Maybe," came her repsonse after a minute.

Billy's smirk widedned at her as he slowly backed away.

"I'll see you there, duchess!"

It was only after he had disappeared from the hallway and Carter looked up from the flyer to find herself alone did she realize the jacket still fell heavily and comfortingly across her shoulders.

*****

The door to the cabin somehow swung open just as Carter raised her fist to knock. Somewhere deep down she knew she should ask El how it happened, but somehere stronger begged for no questions she knew she'd regret hearing the answers to.

There were some things Carter never wanted to know about. And the door unlocking and swinging itself open as she poised her fist against it was one of those things.

She set the bag of clothes down on the counter and winced as the door provided more unanswerable and silent questions as it slammed shut behind her.

Eleven was waiting at the dining table for her, her fingers drawing bored circles on the wood there.

"Hey, El," Carter winced at how tired she sounded, but recovered once she saw it had gone unnoticed by El.

"Car-ter!" El called back, bouncing up from her seat to greet her.

Carter wondered how many friends El had to have to be so excited about seeing a girl she'd met only yesterday.

Carter smiled the lopsided smile she knew El was so confused by. It stretched into a smile as El's lips tried to contort in the same cresent shape as Carter's, but ended up stretched in a comical Cheshire grin.

"Almost there, kid," she whispered mostly to herself.

"Almost there, kid. Just hang on for a couple more minutes, then I can take you home and you can forget all about your mom, okay?"

"Okay, Hop."

A sad smile lit up her face as El mimicked her.

Sad, because she could see herself in the young girl's eyes. Sad, because she wished Hopper had saved her that early on, too.

"You're doing it again, Car. Losing yourself."

And then Carter shook her head to snap out of her trance and tunred to the bag on the counter.

"I brought you some clothes. Girl clothes. I know what it's like to be wearing Hopper's clothes, and after a while it just gets so - so-"

"Plaid?" El offered.

Carter winked at her playfully.

"Yeah. Plaid. I hope you don't mind, this is all my old stuff. I promise when I have the time I'll buy you some new ones. For now, though, hand-me-downs."

El's head cocked to the side.

"Hand...me...downs?"

Carter stopped for a moment, hand frozen in the bag.

"Uh, yeah. Hand-me-downs. Like, clothes that were someone's and then they gave them to you."

El nodded in understanding.

"Hand-me-downs."

Carter smiled to herself as a warm happiness soaked through her bones.

"That's right, kid. Hand-me-downs."