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They were almost to Hawkins. Maybe another thirty minutes, and it would make absolutely no sense to stop now. Joyce knew this logically, and she was desperate to find her kids, to make sure they were safe and sound, but something was off and she needed to figure out what it was and she didn’t think she’d be able to focus on anything important until she knew.
It was this feeling she was having. Not the familiar fear or frustration or exhaustion, although that was all there too. After the last few days, how could she not be feeling all that? It was something else, some not unpleasant jitteriness that felt different, and she knew without a doubt that if she had five minutes alone to think away from these three idiots in this stupid, stolen car, she’d be good. She made a decision.
“I need another pit stop,” she said to Hopper who had been eerily quiet since Murray’s tirade.
He didn’t look at her when he said, “We’re not too far. Can you wait?” He seemed annoyed. But lately he always seemed annoyed, so she couldn’t tell how much this particular request bothered him. She didn’t really care at this point.
“No.” Then she placed her hand on her stomach and said, “Female problems of the monthly kind.”
She was proud of herself for that inspired lie and waited for his reaction. Perhaps a juvenile joke or snide comment.
Instead, he nodded and said, “I think there are a few gas stations up ahead. Is that ok?”
Well, that was a pleasant surprise. “Yeah. I’ll be quick.”
The gas station bathroom was reasonably clean and smelled strongly of lemon air freshener. It was so much better than what she had been expecting. She stared at herself in the mirror for a second (dirty face, greasy hair, filthy red shirt she would be burning as soon as she was home) and then sat on the closed toilet seat. What the hell was going on with her?
It was this whole experience. Not being able to relax for a second. Running around and trespassing and piecing together clues and sort of taking a hostage and stealing a car, and she wasn’t just an anxious mother or a long-suffering wife or a bitter ex-wife or the town crazy lady. She was Detective Byers and she was Wheelbarrow and she was threatening people and she was full of adrenaline and not her usual self but someone much cooler doing reckless things and then Murray had gone off on them and said…
Oh. Wait. As she had suspected, it had only taken a few minutes of introspection, but she thought she had identified the mystery feeling. It was kind of funny actually.
She was a little bit turned on. Slightly hot and bothered. Halfway horny. It had been a while, but that seemed to be what was going on with her. Well, she would deal with that issue once she knew everyone was safe. She would go home and go to bed and do what needed to be done. Think about who she needed to think about. She had done it before and she would do it again. Stupid moody asshole. Stupid sexy asshole.
Damn him.
She would imagine blue eyes lit up just for her. The scratch of a beard as he kissed her (The current big mustache look was fine, but she preferred the beard and it was her fantasy dammit.). Not that ugly patterned shirt she had been staring at for what now seemed like forever but the full uniform and hat thank you very much. Gruff voice saying her name. Groaning her name. Gigantic hands that would touch her everywhere. Big strong body against hers.
Looked like Murray was right.
Well, damn him too.
A few calming breaths, a splash of cold water as she washed her face and she was fine again. Ready to face the idiots in the car and whatever obstacles remained. Now she could focus on getting through the rest of this awful car ride and getting to her boys.
Whatever she would need to do after that for herself, well, that was her business.
She walked to the car and couldn’t help but smile a little at Alexei, who was beaming as he drank another Slurpee. Murray was working his way through a massive bag of chips, crunching loudly. Hopper looked miserable.
As she opened the passenger door, she noticed a small paper bag on the seat. She opened it and pulled out a chocolate bar.
“Sometimes,” Hopper began in a soft voice, “Diane liked having chocolate. When she was dealing with that.”
“Thanks,” she said, oddly touched. As they pulled out of the parking lot and started what was hopefully the final leg of the journey, she unwrapped the chocolate and broke off a few squares. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was, but their eating and sleeping schedules had been thrown off. After savoring a few bites of her treat, she broke off a couple more squares and nudged Hopper’s hand.
He looked over and shook his head. “No thanks. Getting too fat.”
She rolled her eyes at that comment and said, “Are you sure? Chocolate might help with the mood swings.”
He didn’t reply at first, and she realized she probably shouldn’t have said it. He had been so temperamental and unpredictable lately, and she honestly had no idea if he would smirk at her gentle teasing or push her out of the moving vehicle. Both options seemed possible. She relaxed when she noticed his lips quirk into a slight smile. She hoped this meant her friend was back.
“Joyce?”
“Hmm?”
“I think I might have a concussion.”
“Shit,” she said. It made sense. He had been knocked out and then woke up puking. And then he got hit a few more times after that. That wasn’t good. “You need to see a doctor. Why didn’t you say something?” It was unintended, but her worry came out sounding more like an angry accusation.
“When?” he asked. His voice suddenly got lower. “Was there a good time between all the blows to the head I received? Maybe once we took a hostage. But last I checked there weren’t any doctor’s offices in the middle of the woods.”
She shouldn’t have said anything. “Hop…”
He kept going. “Should we have stopped at a hospital while I was driving our hostage across state lines because the only person I knew who spoke Russian was a goddamn nutcase in Illinois? Or maybe I could’ve stopped on my way to getting food for everyone to make sure you were all fed and our little hostage had the exact sugary drink his heart desired. Actually though, would I have even been allowed to take time out to see a doctor before we figured out the great mystery of Joyce Byers’ magnets?”
She was too shocked and hurt to reply. Bastard. Murray was the one to break the silence. “You know I can hear you, Jim,” Murray said. “And that was very rude. I may be a goddamn nutcase, but I’m providing you with a service, remember?”
“Sorry,” Hopper mumbled. Then he repeated it a little louder. “Apologize to Smirnoff for me too, will you?”
Murray’s voice was cool, clipped. “No, but I’ll apologize to *Alexei* for you.”
There were several low murmurs in Russian from the backseat followed by a few snickers. Finally, Murray said, “Alexei says he accepts your apology for being a large yelling man who isn’t having sex.”
Joyce couldn’t help the inappropriate, nervous giggle that escaped. Hopper smacked his hand hard against the dashboard, making her jump.
“Sorry,” he said again. “Sorry to all of you. I mean it. I know I’m being a dick. Especially to you, Joyce. My head is fucking killing me, but I promise I’ll shut up for the rest of the drive.”
She turned to face the window. He was definitely being a dick. She remembered telling him to take it easy after he had come to, but he hadn’t listened and she hadn’t pushed. He was an adult after all. But maybe she should have insisted on him getting checked out. Especially after the second round of punches he received. He was strong and could more than handle himself in fights, but he had had no recovery time. No time to rest or get some medical attention because she kept pushing him to keep going with her, to keep investigating and fighting. She even encouraged him. She remembered how thrilling it was for her when he had the mayor behind a locked door. She had known what those sounds meant. Now feeling a little guilty, she opened up her purse and rummaged around for anything useful. A very old bottle of aspirin with one pill left. She couldn’t read the expiration date but assumed it was better than nothing. She shook the pill into her hand and nudged him again. This time he didn’t argue when she put the pill and a few squares of now slightly melted chocolate into his hand.
“The chocolate was supposed to be for you,” he said as he took a bite.
“And I’m sharing.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m just… sorry.”
She nodded and turned back to the window. She was starting to recognize landmarks. She would be seeing her boys soon. An unbidden thought came to her then just as they passed the city’s welcome sign. I just might be a little bit in love with this stubborn, argumentative asshole. It didn’t fill her with surprise or dread or excitement. It was just there. She accepted it like she accepted her earlier revelation in the gas station bathroom as something to put away for now and to revisit when things had settled down. When she was in the right frame of mind.
But maybe I’ll do something really crazy, she thought as they finally reached the carnival’s crowded parking area, lit up by all the rides and booths. Maybe I’ll ask him out this time. She let her mind wander briefly, picturing them dressed up and eating Italian food. Laughing like old times. Could be something. She snuck one last glance at him as he parked. His jaw was set hard, an absolutely furious expression on his face. Another unbidden thought appeared, sillier than the last one, showing how loopy the lack of sleep and the multiple epiphanies and constant anxiety had made her.
Yeah, maybe we’ll go on a date and live happily ever after.
If I don’t kill him first.