Chapter Text
“Do you remember my old man?”
It was the first thing Hop had said in a very long time, and his hoarse whisper caused Joyce to jolt a little bit. The drive back to the cabin had been quiet as she tried (and failed) to think of anything comforting she could say. They both stared straight ahead, the short drive seeming endless, as they thought about everything that had happened that night.
It was all so unreal. If it weren’t for the new soreness in her shoulder and arm from swinging an ax, she could almost imagine it all being a horrible, vivid nightmare. She glanced over at Hopper, his hands clutching the wheel and his jaw clenched tight, and wished it had been.
She followed Hopper into the dark cabin, hesitant about what to do next. She wanted to suggest a hot shower, a warm meal, even a shared cigarette, but she fell silent as he opened the door to El’s room. A partially made bed, a half-empty glass of water on her desk, some clothes on the floor…all evidence of someone who was planning to return home with them.
Hopper stood still, just taking it all in, before he slid down as if his legs had given out. Now seated, back against the wall, he let out a soft sigh and put his head into his hands. She sat down next to him and put her head on his shoulder. She was exhausted in every sense of the word, and the bed in his room called out to her, but she wouldn’t leave him.
She didn’t know how long they stayed there in silence, sitting sentry for a girl already gone.
And then he asked that question.
Joyce did remember James Hopper, Sr. and she was not a fan. He was a mean man, cold and dismissive to his only son. Referring to Hop as “Junior” was one of the worst insults you could give him. She murmured a quiet yes and waited for him to continue.
“Did you know my dad used to call me a piece of shit?” Hopper asked. “And I always told myself that I would never be like him if I ever had kids. I was so sure I’d be a great dad. Because I would love and protect my kids.” He laughed, a mirthless bark of a sound. “I was so cocky about being better than my dad, but maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was worse.”
She scooted even closer to him, mindful of both their injuries. He put his arm around her. “I loved them so much, but I couldn’t protect either of them. I failed my girls, and now they’re both gone.”
“You didn’t fail them,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. She needed him to believe this. “I want you to know that.”
He took a shuddering breath. “I’m going to stay here for a while, but you should go to bed. It’s so late.”
“No. I’m staying here with you.”
But she was bone-tired, and he was so warm and solid next to her that her eyes closed, and in those hazy moments before sleep, a dreamlike memory surfaced.
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. Hopper was working double shifts, and Joyce offered to watch El for a few hours so she wouldn’t get too bored stuck in the cabin. Joyce made brownies (and only burned them a little bit at the edges) and gave El full control of the remote. El paused the channel surfing when she spotted a girl with curly red hair singing. Annie.
“Why is she singing?” El asked around a mouthful of brownie before setting the remote on the couch. Then the cute little dog came on screen and El was entranced.
Part of Joyce wondered if Annie would stir up any bad memories for El. An orphanage wasn’t a lab and Miss Hannigan certainly wasn’t Brenner, but would any talk of “orphans” or “family” upset her? She watched El out of the corner of her eye, but El was just smiling, enjoying the movie.
“I am like Annie,” El announced as the credits rolled, and Joyce tensed a bit.
“How so?”
El scrunched up her face, deep in concentration. “Annie is adopted at the end. I am adopted too. By Hopper.”
Joyce smiled. “That is true.”
El smiled back at her. “I am glad Hopper adopted me.”
“Me too, sweetie.”
When Joyce woke up, she was no longer against the wall, but lying on El’s floor, a pillow beneath her head and a few blankets on top of her. Multiple sore and stiff spots on her body protested as she stood up. She had no idea how long she had been asleep, but it was light outside and her stomach was growling. She could not remember the last time she had eaten, but she was suddenly starving.
She could hear water running in the bathroom, so she headed to the kitchen to make some breakfast. She started a pot of coffee and was almost done scrambling some eggs when she sensed Hopper behind her. “Hey,” she said as she turned down the heat on the stove. “I thought---.” She stopped completely at the sight of him.
Hopper was completely clean-shaven. The long unkempt beard with hints of gray…gone. Any sign of a mustache…gone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him without any facial hair. High school? His smooth pink cheeks contrasted with the nearly purple undereye circles, making him appear both younger and older at the same time in a way Joyce found jarring. It was difficult not to stare.
“I need to give you something,” he said.
“Ok.” She poured some coffee, plated up the eggs. “We should eat first,” she said, just barely able to resist shoving huge forkfuls into her mouth.
He ignored the food and placed a plastic bag in front of her. She swallowed, took a sip of coffee that wasn’t nearly strong enough, and opened it. Four bottles of vodka. The good stuff that Murray was able to smuggle in. A full bottle of aspirin. And buried underneath, his shaving kit. She didn’t get it at first. It was a puzzle. How did vodka, aspirin, and a shaving kit fit together and what did he want her to do with this? And then she cursed herself for being so dense as it dawned on her.
It wasn’t the actual shaving kit that was the issue, but the razor. Alcohol. Pills. And a very sharp razor. Oh, Hop.
“I’m…” He drummed his fingers against the table. “I’m going to be thinking about things for a while. All the stuff I should have done differently. Not just these last few days and training and how I could have changed her mind, but going back to when I first met her and took her in. All the things I did wrong with her. And it would…uh…help if you could maybe hold on to this for me.”
“Yes.” Her eyes began to well up. For him. And for El. El. Last night, she had been in shock. But it was all finally hitting her. The brave girl who had risked so much to save Will, who had become part of their family in California, had sacrificed herself and was never coming back.
“And if you want to leave and go somewhere else with the boys for a while, I’d understand. It might be better for you three.”
“Absolutely not,” she said. “We’re in this together, Jim.”
He was starting to cry a little bit too. “I made so many mistakes with her. I was too strict keeping her away from her friends for so long. And trying to limit her time with Mike. I needed her to be safe, but I wanted her to be happy too.”
She reached for a napkin and wiped her eyes. “As I was falling asleep, I had this memory of El. That day a few years ago when we watched Annie. And she told me that she was glad you adopted her.”
She handed him another napkin as the tears began to stream down his face. “After you two watched that movie,” he said in a shaky voice, “she asked me for a dog. And she would yell, ’Hard Knock Life’ at me whenever I told her to clean her room or help with dishes.”
Joyce managed to laugh a little. “She was a funny girl.”
“Yeah,” Hopper said. “She was.”
Was.
Joyce’s appetite was now gone, her stomach in knots. She walked over to him and settled into his lap. “I love you,” she said as he held her tight. “And we’re going to get through this somehow. Together. I’m not leaving you.”
“Thank you.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to miss that kid so damn much.”
“I know,” Joyce said. “Me too.”
Time passed. The uneaten eggs grew cold and rubbery. She could feel him start to slump against her, the exhaustion finally winning out. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go lie down for a while. We both could use it.”
He seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Ok.”
She stood up and dumped the eggs in the trash. She would try again later with lunch. But for now, she led him into the bedroom.
“Can you tell me another memory of her?” he asked. “One where she was happy?”
“Of course.” They got into bed and, curled up around him, she told him happy El stories until he fell asleep.