keeptheselights | (no subject)

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It might have been disorientating for someone else but, honestly, the last while in Hawkins has been one mad thing after another and Joyce has learned to roll with the punches. It doesn't make her any less dizzy, in the end, but it does make everything easier to take. After they pick up her packet and go to take a look at her apartment, she finds herself in a kitchen that Will says belongs to Hopper. If that's true, it's a definite step up from that cabin in the woods. Looking around, she feels this weird rush of pride at the home he's built here.

Joyce waits, wearing clothes borrowed from Will while her own are washing. She'll need to go shopping but, for now, she cradles a cup of coffee in her hands and she watches the door.

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"Okay," he says, then exhales. "Okay, sit. Tell me... what do you remember? The last thing before coming here."

He needs to know if they're on the same page, at least to some extent. He needs to know what she knows, if she remembers the same things he does. If she doesn't, he'll be okay, he won't do the same shit he'd done before. He just needs to know.

Joyce sits, waiting for him to settle too, her dark eyes fixed on his face.

"We were...in the prison," she says. "And Murray had the flame thrower and then you were gone and..." She gulps air. "Jesus Christ, Hop, I thought you were dead and then Will was there."

Hopper nods, taking it all in, then asks, "Did Will explain this all to you? The... the way time works? How messed up it can all be?"

Because he knows that telling her he's been here for five years and didn't remember anything beyond helping Eleven close the gate beneath the lab until very recently is going to be a tough thing, even if Will has explained it.

She nods, her eyebrows drawn together in concentation as she puzzles it through again, puts all of the pieces that Will gave her back into place.

"Yeah, he said...That Eleven had been here since Starcourt and that you..." She reaches out, her hand closing over his. "Oh, Hop. You've been here so long." Her mouth quirks. "That must have been tough, huh?"

"Five years," he says, nodding. "Most of it on my- well, no, that's not right. I haven't been on my own."

Eleven had only arrived recently, given how long he's been here, but he's had Beverly almost right from the start. Maybe he hadn't had many people from Hawkins, only Steve for the longest time, but Beverly has been living with him for a long time now.

"There's this kid, although I guess she's not a kid anymore," he starts. "She's eighteen now. Graduated high school. I've been looking after her almost this whole time, she's... she's my kid now. As much as El is."

"That's great," says Joyce, and she means it, completely. She knows the darkness that Jim has carried with him since Sara died, and it's good to see that some of that, at least, has lifted. "So you've got two girls, now. You've got your hands full."

"Christ, do I ever," he agrees with a laugh. "At least neither of them seem all that interested in dating yet."

He's quiet for a second before he shifts his hand in Joyce's grip, holding onto her in return. "I missed you, though. A hell of a lot. Could've used you some of the time with Bev, even though I don't think I did half-bad."

"You've got that to look forward to," says Joyce, laughing, thinking about Jonathan and Nancy, about the saddness that she sometimes saw in Will's eyes without ever really having an answer for what he was longing for. "I missed you too," she says. "When you were gone, I mean. I...when I saw you again. God, Jim. I thought you were dead."

It's such a strange mix of emotions and memories he has now. He was in Darrow for all the things Joyce has lived through, but he remembers it now, too. At the time, he's sure it seemed like the right choice, jumping into the gate. There had been no way for him to know where he would end up or how bad it would all be.

"I'm sorry I was gone," he says. "I know I didn't really spend those eight months in a Russian prison, but being here has given me a lot of time to reflect, too."

"Yeah?" asks Joyce, his hand warm around hers, her dark eyes fixed on his face. "What've you been reflecting on, Hop?" She hopes she knows. She hopes, selfishly, that this version of Hopper feels the same as the one back in Russia, the one who seemed barely able to hold himself back from kissing her.

"I took good care of Eleven while you were gone."

"A lot of shit," he says. "Sara. My drinking. Which I don't do anymore. Goin' on over two years now."

He's been tempted. Sorely tempted, more than a few times, but he's made it this far and now he has one more person to keep himself right for.

"How I was with you. Pressuring you for that date when you were still grieving over Bob. That was shitty and I'm sorry."

"What? That's awesome. I'm so proud of you." She means it utterly, emphasises it by squeezing his fingers warmly. "I think that just...wasn't the right time for either of us, but...maybe it's different now?"

Anything could have happened to him in the years since he's seen her. He could he dating. Married. But she hopes that the way he reacted when he saw her means that they're still on the same page.

Hopper smiles a little and says, "I think it's different now. I hope it is."

It's different for him. He's had the time and space to reflect, like he'd said. Through AA, on his own, with Dan. He knows the life he wants and who he wants in it. Most of them are here now and as it turns out, it was only a matter of time, waiting for the last one.

"Definitely different," says Joyce, nodding, a soft warmth flushing her cheeks again at the thought of it. "Will and I went to get my packet from the station. I've got keys to my apartment. We went and looked at it. It's pretty nice. Room for both of us, so I guess you'll be able to get your bed back."

He laughs and says, "I was working on a long term solution for him. Putting a proper bed in what's kind of an office I never really use anyway. Just hadn't gotten around to moving out the desk yet."

Now it won't be necessary and while Hopper realizes he'll miss having Will around, it's better for him to be with Joyce. With his mother.

There's this sudden weight of emotion on Joyce's chest and, for a second, she can't really breathe. She just sits there, her fingers curled tight around Hopper's and, when she looks up, her dark eyes are brimming with grateful tears.

"Thank you, Jim," she says, quietly. "Thank you for looking after my boy."

"Hey," he says and squeezes her hand. "Of course."

Will's his body, too, in different ways. All those kids, even Mike, even when he's annoyed with them, they're all his kids. Hopper would do anything to keep them safe, every last annoying one of them during every last annoying minute.

"Just because you would have done it anyway, doesn't mean I don't have to thank you, Jim," says Joyce, gently, looking down at their joined hands and, once again, thinking of how it had felt to have him pressed against her. "I...God, I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too," he says. Anyone who knows him much knows this about him. He's talked about her plenty, even during the moments he hadn't meant to, unable to think of Joyce as a part of his past.

And now she's here. With the same memories he has. He doesn't know what that means, but he hopes it can be good.

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