Chapter Text
These kids can’t catch a break.
It’s the only thought that goes through Hopper’s mind as he sits down in his office after months of being “undercover”, and having to work on ensuring the town didn’t go and lynch the now declared innocent Eddie Munson who’s barley got his strength back. Despite the press conference with members from the goddamn FBI giving evidence that Eddie Munson was innocent and indeed a hero for saving trying to push a group of kids out of harm’s way (their cover for his injuries in the Upside Down) , an ungodly amount of Hawkins residents were still ready to grab their pitchforks.
He’s driving back to the cabin from his shift, excited to get back into his routine of Miami Vice and Eggos with El. When there’s a car just flipped in the middle of the road. The drunk driver probably did a hit and run, bastard.
He stops his engine and music and that’s when he hears the crying. The all too familiar crying he’s heard before after countless battles against demogorgons and mind flayers.
Dustin.
He turns on his radio to reach the station. “I need two ambulances now, I got a hit and run.” He explains before giving the location and cautiously making his way towards the front of the car, assessing any danger.
Dustin is in the passenger seat with his hands balling fists of his hair, his knuckles turning a mangly mixture of ghostly white and blood-stained red. His arms are laced with scratches from the shattered windows, though fortunately he seems to have blocked his face.
“Dustin, It’s Jim Hopper. I need you to try and focus on me and my words. Are you hurt?” Hopper tries to guide the kid’s focus with a low and calm tone, not wanting to spook him anymore.
“Hurt?” Dustin repeats, almost mimicking his tone as he tries to focus on the question. “Hurt. No.”
Jim can feel his lungs take in a new rush of oxygen as Dustin answers him shyly. “That’s good. Now what you need to do is stay nice and still until the ambulance comes.” Dustin hums what Jim makes out to be a yes and moves onto the next victim. “Claudia, can you hear me?” When there’s no response, Hopper’s alarm bells start going off. “Dustin I’m going to check on your mom now. So I want you to focus on staying still. Remember, stay nice and still.”
“Nice and still.” He echoes as tears continue to stream and he anxiously hums.
“Perfect, nice and still.” He repeats back one more time before moving to get a better look at Dustin’s mom. And that’s when he registers the large glass piece fully impaled into Mrs Henderson’s neck. Almost to humor himself, he checks for a pulse or breaths but of course, nothing.
The sirens of ambulances begin to near, causing Dustin to press his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes tightly at the wave of new sound and let out a nervous hum in an attempt to drown it out.
“One Boy, various small lacerations to both arms.” He waits for the paramedic to get closer and out of Dustin’s earshot to explain the rest in a hushed whisper. “Mom’s D.O.A, glass shard straight through the neck, no pulse and too trapped for CPR.” They nod in understanding that this needs to be handled in private from the distraught teen and Hopper moves back over to Dustin. “Okay Dustin, the doctor needs to put something around your neck and then we’ll get you out of there.” Hopper tries to pick him up but just as he’s almost got him out, the boy lets out a wail of pain. Shit.
“Let me take a look.” The paramedic answers and by some small luck of fate, Dustin’s foot is stuck in between but not stabbed. He’s able to gently maneuver the foot out of the small gap and carry the kid to sit over by the ambulance. There’s an eerie cone of silence as the paramedic cautiously looks over Dustin’s injuries while the kid anxiously chews on his lip and squeezes his eyes open and shut.
When the medic moves away to give Hopper some much needed space for the conversation, his heart slows down. “Kid, there is no easy way to say this.” He sticks to his script, and god does he hate that there is a script for when he has to report that someone died to a kid. The heavy eyes blinking mindlessly remind him so much of when they’d found Will's ‘body’. He’s so unnaturally still and quiet as the words enter his ears and slowly get interpreted one by one. “Do you have any other family I can call when we get to the hospital?” He ends with and the kid’s mind is clearly whirling in a hundred different directions.
“My mum was driving.” He murmurs as he hobbles to gain balance with such a glazed look over his face. Another officer is ready to sit him down but Hopper waves a hand to say he’ll handle this.
“Dustin, sit down.”
“Mum was driving me to camp.” He’s rocking himself back and forth and winces at the pain, though it doesn’t stop him.
“No!” His hands are clenched into fist as they come flying down onto the side of his legs. Thud. “My mum was driving me to camp.” Another, Thud. “ She was driving!” He repeats the motion again and again. Thud Thud Thud, as his hands grow bright red in discomfort.
Jim can see a part of Dustin register what’s happened to his mom whilst the other part of his brain refuses to entertain the nightmare, pushing it as far away as possible through brute force. As the cuts on his hands only get more aggravated, he moves to hold Dustin still, unable to watch his injuries get worse. There’s a wave of new high pitched shrills resounds but his steady pressure does not waiver.
Eventually, someone manages to get a sedative into the kid and he falls limp in Hopper’s hold. He gently lays his down as they instruct him and keeps a gentle hold of Dustin’s hand while they drive to the emergency department.
The ambulance drive is a harrowing experience. Everyone works in silence as the kid lays completely knocked out in the center. His treasured Camp Nowhere t-shirt speckled with crimson spots as Hopper holds onto his beloved camp hat, that’s been slightly scarred by the glass.
When they get to the hospital, a sleeping Dustin is taken away for examination and he goes to make some important calls. Hopper runs through the list of people he should probably talk to, starting with Joyce to make sure her and El know he’s safe. She says she’ll explain everything to the other kids.
“Hey Joyce, could you grab Harrington’s number off Jonathan?” Soon after he’s dialing the number he’d scribbled down and awaited, the teen failed to answer the first two times.
“Jesus Christ, Hello?” Steve huffs out from the other side of the line and Hopper takes a breath before getting into the conversation.
“Hey Kid, it’s Hopper.”
“Okay. Hi? What can I do for you?” The young man questions slowly with justifiable confusion. He hates what he has to say next.
“Dustin’s in the hospital.” Hopper can hear Steve’s breath halt and tries to explain before he loses the kid. “Hey, he’s fine. There was a hit and run. He’s got a few cuts and bruises and his leg got another injury but he’ll heal up okay.”
“Well what about his mom?” The instinctive sigh Hopper lets out says it all. “Oh god.”
“Steve”
“I’m coming to the hospital now.” The phone hangs up and Jim sighs.
These kids can never get a break.