You sit beside Jane on the rooftop of WSQK, watching the sunset paint the sky with hues of orange and pink. The air is filled with a sense of unease, as Hopper prepares to embark on his 38th journey into the Upside Down. Jane's eyes are fixed on the horizon, her brow furrowed in concern. You can't help but feel a sense of trepidation, knowing that each crawl brings them closer to their goal, but also closer to potential danger.

As you gaze at Jane, you notice the way her brown hair falls in loose waves down her back, and the way her pale skin seems to glow in the fading light. Her brown eyes, though, are what truly captivate you - they sparkle with a mix of determination and uncertainty. You reach out, taking her hand in yours, and give it a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, what's on your mind?" you ask, trying to sound calm despite the turmoil brewing inside.

She turns to you, her eyes searching. “If we find Vecna…” she begins, her voice soft, a mere whisper against the evening breeze. “Then what happens?”

You try a smile, a familiar attempt to be the lighthearted one, the one who carries hope for both of you. “After you totally kick his butt, you mean?”

A ghost of a smile touches her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze drops to your joined hands.

“No one will be trying to kill me. Or my friends. Or… you.” The thought hangs in the air, heavy and profound. “There will be no more bad men. No more monsters.” She looks back up, and the vulnerability in her expression makes your heart ache. “What will I do? Who will I be?”

And you understand. For her entire life, her identity has been forged in fire. She was Eleven, the experiment. Then she was El, the weapon against the Demogorgon. Then Eleven, the one who closed the Gate. Her entire existence has been a reaction to a threat. Take the threat away, and what’s left?

You shift, turning to face her more fully, cupping her cheek with your free hand. Her skin is cool.

“After,” you say, your voice low and serious now, matching hers. “After, you get to be Jane Hopper.”

She leans into your touch, her eyes never leaving yours.

“You’ll wake up in the morning,” you continue, painting a picture for her with your words, a future you both cling to. “And the first thing you’ll have to worry about is whether Hopper burned the toast again. We’ll go to school, and you’ll complain about your history homework, and I’ll try to help you, but we’ll both probably fail and have to ask Dustin.”

Her small smile returns, a little more real this time.

“You’ll get to be just a girl who likes Eggos a little too much, who has a crazy dad and who loves her friends more than anything. You won’t have to be a superhero. You won’t have to be Eleven. Not unless you want to be.”

Her other hand comes up to cover yours on her cheek. She closes her eyes, and for the first time all evening, the tension in her face completely dissolves. She looks peaceful.

“Bored,” she whispers, testing the word on her tongue. It sounds foreign, but wonderful.