Work Text:
But I miss you most of all
My darling
When autumn leaves
Start to fall
Halloween, 1976
The wind whistled through the trees outside the house just off Kerley Street, bringing with it a billowing wave of red and gold tumbling down. Joyce looked out the front window to see the sun beginning to set behind a swirl of grey and orange clouds; a warm autumn day slipping away into a dark and stormy Halloween night. The bones of the old rancher groaned and moaned with the shifting of the wind, and Joyce shivered on the couch, clutching her warm cup a little tighter.
She hated being alone in the house on nights like tonight, even more so — tonight was her first Halloween without the boys. She had been stuck working a double-shift at Melvald’s earlier that morning when Karen had popped by to grab another box of candy and Ted’s prescription. Joyce mentioned she was covering for a coworker and was worried she wouldn’t make it home in time to take the boys out trick-or-treating. She could tell by the expression on Karen’s face that she must have looked a fright, almost running on empty.
“Oh, sweetie,” Karen said, patting Joyce’s hand across the counter with a knowing grin. “You look like you need a night to yourself. Have a bath, read a book, watch a movie, whatever. Let me take the boys for once. You just relax.”
Joyce relented eventually, but it took some convincing on Karen’s part. It was strange not taking her munchkins out. She loved going door to door, holding Will’s hand or eating Jonathan’s Good and Plenty as fished them out of his haul (because he hated licorice and refused to let it touch the other candies in his pillowcase. )
That year her boys had decided on going as Charlie Brown and Snoopy, and Joyce had worked diligently on their costumes every night for over a month, taking great pains to get every detail right. She even planned ahead and added extra space so they could wear their jackets underneath, in case it was cold out, which it was — mother’s intuition, naturally. As a last minute surprise, she even saved up and got them the matching plastic masks to wear from Melvald's special order right from the catalogue. They looked perfect and she just wished she'd had another polaroid cartridge so she could have at least snapped a picture or two. Hopefully Karen would get one for her.
She hoped they were staying warm and having fun and that they didn’t miss her as much as she missed them right now. Jonathan would be fine for one night, but Will was her baby, and sleepovers were still a new thing for him. What if he got scared and she wasn’t there for him? Lonnie would say she worried too much, or she was being too soft on him, and sure, Will had his brother there to look after him, but she couldn’t help it. Those boys were her whole world — if anything ever happened to them…
Flipping through the channels, there wasn’t really anything on television she wanted to watch, nothing but b-list horror movies, so she settled on a marathon of Little House on the Prairie. Taking a deep breath, Joyce sipped at the hot apple cider in her cup. She let the heat soothe her nerves and settled in for another tale from Plum Creek.
A knock at the door broke Joyce’s calm, startling her. The hot drink in her hand splashed over the side of her cup and down onto the couch.
“Shit,” she sighed, grabbing tissues and holding it to where the hot liquid seeped through the heavy fabric. “Just a moment!” She called over her shoulder to the door, putting her cup down, muting the television when she walked by.
She glanced out the window into the evening twilight as she made her way to the front door. A beige sedan was parked in the driveway, one that looked unremarkably like every other rental car in the midwest. Who the hell is that? She wondered. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and they never got trick-or-treaters this far outside of town. It couldn’t be the boys, either. Joyce was sure they’d be halfway through their first round of houses with Nancy and Mike by now.
Her brain started feeding her all sorts of potential nightmares of who could be on the other side of the door on a cold Halloween night: an ax-wielding serial killer; aliens from outer space; a monster without a face. Common sense told her that none of those evil things would be polite enough to knock, but as she slowly opened the door, she wished she remembered where Lonnie hid the shotgun.
Who she didn’t expect to find on her porch, was an old friend. Jim Hopper was smiling down at her with an empty, plastic pumpkin dangling by his side, and Joyce relaxed at the sight of him. He still looked the same as he did almost a year and a half ago: clean-cut, Detective Hopper of the NYPD — except for an awful set of sideburns that made her want to cover her face to laugh and ask what he was thinking.
“Aren’t you a little old to be trick-or-treating?” she asked instead, breaking into a smile.
“I am, indeed,” he nodded solemnly, holding back a grin. “But I’m not here for tricks, or treats — she is.”
Hopper stepped to the side, revealing a pretty little blonde girl in pigtails standing behind him. She was dressed in a fuzzy tiger onesie with a navy pea-coat buttoned right up, protecting her from the cold front that was quickly moving in.
“Hi, I’m a tiger!” Hopper’s daughter growled for proof, her mitten fingers wiggling beside her face.
Joyce giggled. “You are a tiger, aren’t you? How ferocious!”
Sara’s smile was so wide it cracked the thick layer of orange and black face paint that covered her cheeks.
“We’re in town visiting Grandma for a few days,” Hopper explained. “And we happened to be driving by on our way to go trick-or-treating. Little missy here wanted to stop in to ask if your boys would let her tag along. Show her where all the good houses are in town. Right, pumpkin?”
Joyce looked to the little girl with her daddy’s eyes and choked back a smirk at the blank expression on the five-year-old’s face. Hopper was lying on multiple levels, the first being there was no way he just happened to pass by her house since it was on the literal outskirts of town, but she rolled with it anyway.
“You did? Well, you must be Sara! Nice to finally meet you.” Joyce smiled and knelt down to Sara’s eye level.
“I am Sara,” the little girl nodded, eyes wide. “How did you know?”
“Your daddy’s told me lots about you. I’m Joyce,” she said, pointing to herself.
“Hi Joyce,” Sara said, suddenly shy. She clung to Hopper’s hand, trying to hide behind it. “You’re pretty.”
Hopper shuffled his feet. “I didn’t tell her to say that.”
Joyce laughed and thanked Sara for her compliment as she stood up.
“The boys are with their friends in town already, but why don’t you come in for a minute? I can make you some hot apple cider before you head out,” she said, inviting them in. Speaking to Sara, she pretended to whisper, “I might even have candy for you, too, but I’ll have to look.” Turning to Hopper with a pointed glance, she explained, “We don’t really get kids on Halloween, this far out of town.”
Hopper nodded and shrugged, knowing she caught him in his flimsy white lie. He helped Sara with her coat, throwing it over the back of Joyce’s couch and looked around, following her into the kitchen.
“Lonnie’s not around?” Hopper asked, tentative, feeling out if he should keep his jacket on in case her husband was due home any minute.
“Does a tiger change his stripes?” Joyce shot him a wry look over Sara’s head, digging into her cupboards.
“Somethings never change,” Hopper mumbled under his breath.
Joyce pretended not to hear. She didn’t bother to convey her utter displeasure with her absentee husband any further and she wasn’t about to let a conversation about Lonnie ruin her night. Hopper didn’t seem interested in talking about him much more than that. Thank god Lon wasn’t home. She could only imagine the scene he would have caused when he saw Jim Hopper pull into the driveway.
“Ah, hah!” Joyce pulled out a bag of Tootsie Rolls and tossed them to Hopper, then she got to work at getting a couple more ciders ready at the stovetop, watching him closely out of the corner of her eye as he got Sara settled at the kitchen table.
“We’ll leave before it gets too dark, okay?” he said to Sara, unwrapping a candy for her.
Sara nodded and kicked her legs under the vinyl chair, just happy to have something sweet to munch on.
It was odd seeing him wear this costume now, a doting father wrapped around his darling daughter’s pinky finger. Joyce used to daydream about what a good dad he’d make, a lifetime ago, when thoughts of her future as Mrs. Joyce Hopper occupied her mind.
“So, Diane’s up visiting too?” Joyce asked as nonchalant as possible, feeling him out. She knew exactly how the real Mrs. Hopper felt about their long and complicated friendship, as she so fondly recalled from their high school reunion.
“She stayed behind in New York. Said she couldn’t get time off from school, so this is just a daddy-daughter trip to Grandma’s. Isn’t it, Princess?”
Hopper sounded miffed with his wife but didn’t show it, ruffling his daughter’s pigtails. Sara giggled, a muffled laugh in a mouth full of taffy.
Joyce picked out some clean cups from the dish-hider and reaching up on her tiptoes, she grabbed a bottle of liquor on the top of the fridge, waving it at Hopper without saying a word. He nodded, closing his eyes for emphasis. Yes, he would absolutely love a shot of Lonnie’s nicest whiskey.
“This is certainly a visit I wasn’t expecting,” Joyce said, smiling to herself, letting herself relax finally. She poured two fingers of booze in his cup and one in hers. “I hope it’ll be a regular thing? I like seeing your ugly mug around town.”
He smiled before getting serious.
“Not for the best reason. Mom’s uh…” he said, looking down at Sara and then back to Joyce before mouthing the last word: Sick.
“It doesn’t look good,” he added, matter-of-fact.
Joyce’s face fell.
Hopper’s father passed away only last year, after a long fight with a bad heart, and now his mother, too? Life seemed to be trying its best to kick her friend when he was down and even though he played it off like it didn’t phase him much, she knew better — he was always so good at hiding his emotions.
“I’m so sorry, Jim.”
The words came out like molasses rolling off her tongue. Joyce didn’t know what else to say, so she poured their ciders in with the booze and passed him his cup.
“You don’t have to say that.” He took the drink from her and blew on it with a frown, hiding his heartbreak in the steam. “Just the way it goes, it seems.”
Joyce nodded. Losing her own mother was still a recent phenomenon for her as well, and she recognized that pain all too well, even if she and Ma didn’t get along much towards the end, no thanks to Lonnie. The look on Hop’s face told her that he was already preparing for the inevitable. She only hoped that would make it easier for him. Joyce got a smaller cup of plain cider ready for Sara and sat down next to her. She had found Will’s coloring book and crayons and was now happily filling in pictures of castles with all different shades of pinks and blues.
“Here, honey. Careful, it’s hot.” Joyce blew on the small cup for Sara and smiled as the little girl followed her example before taking a sip, her baby blues lighting up, licking her lips at the cinnamon-y sweet drink.
“The boys are good?” Hopper asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject.
Joyce nodded. “Yeah, they’re always good. I got lucky with them. I just wish I could be around more. I’ve been pulling extra shifts at the store to make ends meet.” Joyce picked at the tablecloth, confessing the state of her affairs to Hopper, despite herself.
Hopper’s face dropped. “Lonnie’s not sending money home when he’s gone?”
Joyce rolled her eyes. She wished.
“Not since he lost his job with Ford in Indianapolis,” she fluttered her hand in the air. That was four years ago now, and it had been a struggle since.
Hopper pressed his lips together, and Joyce thought for a moment that would be the end of the Lonnie-talk.
“Did he ever say why he lost that job?” Hopper asked, curious now.
She shook her head with a sigh. “He kinda glossed over that whole event.”
“You never thought to ask him about it?”
“No, he was pretty upset, and he doesn’t like talking about his feelings. What is with you men ignoring your feelings?”
Hopper ignored her question and kept on asking his.
“What’s he doing now?”
It suddenly felt like the Spanish inquisition at Joyce’s kitchen table, and she wriggled in her seat, put on the spot. Truth be told, she didn’t know much about what her husband got up to when he wasn’t home. Lonnie was so secretive with her and kept her on a need-to-know basis. He also had a funny tendency to blow up if Joyce asked, so she had learned to stop wondering years ago.
Looking to Sara, and back at Hopper, Joyce shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled. She did know, but not much. “Lonnie told me a few months ago that he’s running courier for parts between the factories in Indy and doing odd mechanic jobs when he can. He’s working with a bunch of his old friends from Marion, I think. All I know is he only comes home when he wants, and he’s happier working than being home.”
Hopper frowned. “So he’s working lots, but nothing’s coming home to you and the boys.”
Joyce blinked. “The money comes home with him and leaves with him. I don’t get much say and you know how Lonnie is. Probably spending it all on some hot young tail on the side he keeps hidden in the city.”
She knew what Hopper was thinking. Her husband always had trouble staying faithful and true, and Joyce deserved better than Lonnie Byers, but what was she supposed to do? They’d been together ten years now, and she knew what he was like when she married him. It was stupid of her to think having a family would change his ways.
But if Hopper was thinking it, he didn’t say it, thankfully, focusing on another train of thought.
“He’s not still doing anything illegal… is he?” Hopper lowered his voice.
Joyce watched Sara’s ears perk up at his words, obviously familiar with that I-word.
“In case you haven’t figured it out, Hop,” Joyce said sweetly, hiding her annoyance in a cheery voice, letting Hopper know that this would be the end of the Lonnie Q&A. “I stopped asking questions a long, long time ago.”
Hopper stared at her for a long moment before he understood this was not the time, nor the place. He dropped the black crayon he had been fiddling with and pushed his chair back from the table, ending his interrogation. Fishing in his pockets, he found a pack of smokes. He shook it, silently asking Joyce if she wanted one. She picked up her cider, waving him over to the back porch.
Hopper had lit up two smokes before he even stepped outside and he passed one to Joyce as he leaned up against the railing facing the door to keep an eye on Sara.
Joyce took a drag, holding her cough at his choice of cigarette when she exhaled. “I thought you quit?” she asked.
“I did. As far as Diane knows. You didn’t see this.” He waved the smoke in the air, making the cherry dance in the dark.
Hell would have to freeze over before she would talk to Diane again, but Joyce nodded anyway.
“Mum’s the word.”
Then she wondered: what other little secrets he was keeping from his wife? Would this visit be one of them?
Joyce admired Hopper’s profile, lit up in the sepia of the porch light. She didn’t mean to stare, but it was always so surreal seeing him back in town, as if time had stopped; like nothing ever changed when he was gone.
He smiled at her sweetly when she caught his eye, making his own observation.
“You look good,” he told her, sincere.
Joyce snorted into her cider and looked down at herself. She was wearing her favorite red cardigan over a plain teeshirt and her old bellbottom jeans. Her long dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail. Nothing fancy. He must have felt bad for leaning into her so hard about Lonnie.
She stood up and leaned against the railing next to him, shivering in the cold.
“Thanks. Wanna know my secret?” she asked, deflecting his compliment and switching to a subject they both could agree on. “Children.”
“Have a kid, they said. It’d be fun, they said.” Hopper grinned, joking, but unable to hide his pride for the little girl that stole his heart.
“Last time he was home, Lonnie told me he wants another. A girl this time. Like that’s gonna fix things,” Joyce divulged, feeling the need to get it off her chest, before realizing who she was speaking to. She hadn’t told anyone yet, not even Karen. Her mouth drew shut as she watched his face cloud over.
“And what do you want?”
Joyce took a moment to really think about it, all the while Hopper’s gaze burned into her. She looked over to his little girl, who was now singing Sesame Street to herself as she colored, and her heart melted. She always wanted a daughter, particularly one as sweet and precocious as Sara.
“I’d want a girl, sure. Someday,” she said finally, eyes falling on him.
“Just not right now,” he finished for her, knowing what she meant. Not with Lonnie.
She nodded, and he almost looked relieved. There was a long pause between them, and they listened to Sara sing off-key.
“You’re really great with her, you know,” Joyce spoke up; she knew a good father when she saw one.
He followed her gaze to his daughter and knocked back the rest of his hard cider with a shrug, being honest. “I’m still learning as I go. And I can’t take all the credit. I couldn’t do it without Diane.”
Joyce felt a hint of jealousy at Hop’s words, and she hoped her face didn’t let on. She gave him a big smile instead.
“Behind every great man, is a great woman,” she quoted, and then added as a mindless afterthought, “But you also get credit where it’s due. Diane’s a lucky lady.”
Joyce brushed up against him as the words left her lips and she watched his whole demeanor change, biting her tongue a bit too late. Hopper blanched, and he reached around her to throw the last of his smoke into an empty Schlitz can.
Diane was definitely a lucky lady because Hopper didn’t even react.
“Hey, thanks for all of this, but we should probably get going. Get out of your hair,” Hopper said, awkward as he reached for the door and an excuse. He nodded to Sara. “She’ll pitch a fit if that pumpkin’s not full by bedtime.”
Joyce stubbed out the rest of her cigarette, silently cursing herself for stepping too far over his line, once again. She followed him back inside, chewing on her lip. That’s when she realized: this was Hopper’s version of a welfare check, nothing more, dropping in to make sure she was okay and wasn’t caught up in whatever shit Lonnie was into. Joyce had a strange feeling that whatever it was, Hop knew more about Lonnie’s business than she did.
“Guess what time it is?” Hopper clapped and called out to his tiny tiger across the kitchen.
“Candy-time!” Sara squealed, dropping the crayons on the table as he picked her up. Hopper threw her over his shoulder with ease, tickling her as they went.
Joyce followed the glorious peal of Sara’s laughter through her house back to the front door, her mind wandering. She was fairly certain he was still carrying feelings for her, and here he was, pushing Joyce away again, keeping her at arm’s length. She wondered what he would do if she knocked down the wall he was currently reinforcing and asked him to stay the night? Part of Joyce wanted to ask just to see what he said, but her morals got the better of her, and she grabbed Sara’s coat instead. She wasn’t about to sink down to Lonnie’s level, which is why she had to let Hopper go.
“Thanks for checking on me, Hop.” Her hand grazed his as she passed him the coat, and she gave his fingers a gentle, subtle squeeze under the heavy wool. “It was good seeing you.”
“I wasn’t ch—” he started, then stopped. “I just want you to take care, Joyce,” he said softly, pulling her in for a quick hug, pressing his lips to the top of her head out of habit. Then, he cleared his throat, getting Sara’s coat ready.
“Thanks for the cider, and the candy. What do we say, Sar?”
“Thank you, Joyce,” Sara parroted him, still shy as she spoke to the strange woman, clinging to her dad’s jacket as he buttoned her up.
“My pleasure,” Joyce said, cheeks flushed. She opened the door for them, breathless to watch Hopper leave once again. This was all they was destined for. A few, brief, fleeting moments in time when their paths happened to cross; forever haunted by the ghost of what was, and what could have been.
“Guess we’ll be seeing you,” he said, hovering at the edge of the porch. The icy breeze tossed his jacket open, pushing him down the driveway, away from Joyce.
She nodded, taking a step back from the door.
“Yeah. See you around.”
Hopper gave her a salute and turned to go, guiding his daughter back to the car, and that was it. Joyce closed the door and leaned her head against it, shivering as all the warmth left her body. She fought the urge to call out after him and make him come back and stay. Just a little bit longer.
Later on, closer to Christmas, Joyce read in the obituaries that his mother had passed away peacefully in her sleep — no service would be held at her request. Joyce wouldn’t see Hopper again for two more years, soon after his whole world came crashing down around him in New York, and he found his way back to Hawkins for good.