Chapter Text
They let out a long, collective exhale as the rickety helicopter touched down on American soil. The frigid four-hour flight was the least frightening thing they'd encountered together, yet the relief they felt upon landing was palpable. They'd made it out of Kamchatka, away from the monsters. They were free -- and they were going home.
"Safe and sound, as promised!" Yuri exclaimed as the engine died and the group unbuckled and stepped out onto the frozen ground. "Now as for the matter of payment--". Murray, Dmitri, Hopper, and Joyce all shot him vicious looks. Dmitri reached to grab Yuri's jacket with one hand, yanking Yuri towards him and raising his other hand in a clenched fist. "Right, right..." Yuri softened, raising his hands up in surrender and bowing his head down low. "On the house!"
The group looked around the snowy wilderness, dark and empty save for a winding narrow road splitting two mysterious hills.
"Where the hell are we?" Hopper exclaimed, wrapping his arms around a shivering Joyce, their puffed jackets still wet from the mix of the blood, sweat, and grime of the gulag.
"Alaska, American," Dmitri responded, furiously blowing air into his hands. "Where else would we be?"
Murray chuckled in disbelief. "Couldn't have made it a few extra miles into civilization, eh comrade?"
"I don't do airports," Yuri replied, spitting and shrugging his shoulders. "I get you here, you do rest."
Joyce, exhausted, wrapped her arms around Hopper's waist, unwilling to separate from his touch. "Well," she sighed, peaking up at him. "Now what?"
He returned her gaze and found himself once again lost in her eyes. He still couldn't believe it. Joyce, his miracle. She was here. She was his. Everything else faded away as he bent down and leaned in to answer her question with a kiss.
The moment was interrupted as two small, moving lights appeared in the distance, piercing through the pitch black darkness of the night. Everyone crouched down, unsure of what they were looking at. Were they followed? Impossible. Could it be the Soviets? Something worse? The lights grew bigger, brighter, as they came closer and closer to the rag-tag group. Hopper squinted, desperately trying to make out what it was. The lights were coming from the road.
"It's a car," he said, furiously turning to Yuri. "Who knows we're here?!"
"The call!" Joyce answered, excited, placing her hand on Hopper's chest. "We told them we were coming, and they did say they'd be ready for us!"
"Yeah but," Hopper stammered, "they said to call again once we made it back and there's not a phone in sight so--". They braced themselves beneath the propellor as the car careened to a stop and the driver's door opened. Blinded by the headlights, hands shielding their eyes, they heard a voice.
"Hey convicts -- welcome home." Agent Stinson stepped forward into view, a slight, stoic smirk on her face. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go!" They all rushed the vehicle and piled in one by one, Yuri in the passenger seat, Murray, Dmitri, Joyce, and Hopper all crammed on top of each other in the back.
"How did you find us?" Hopper asked incredulously. "How did you know--".
"Not that hard to track air traffic, Chief," Stinson answered. "Wasn't expecting such a large party though. Who the hell are you two?"
"Yuri Ismaylov, pilot and ladies man, at your service!" Yuri winked and reached his hand out to beckon for Stinson's; she briefly and skeptically glanced in his direction but did not move her hands from the wheel.
"And you?" she gestured to Dmitri, her demeanor coy and her tone almost flirtatious.
"I was a guard in Kamchatka, but I have ... reformed my ways," Dmitri answered, unsure of how much he could say in the presence of this unfamiliar woman.
"I see," Stinson replied, now emotionless. "So what's the plan, heroes? We'll get you three home," she looked at Murray, Hopper, and Joyce in her rearview mirror as she spoke, "but what about the new kids?"
"Dmitri saved my life," Hopper said sincerely. "It's not safe for him to go back. He needs to be reunited with his boy, and needs a safe place to start over." Dmitri gave Hopper a grateful nod.
"Oh, sure sure, any other diplomatic miracles you need me to perform?" Stinson rolled her eyes. "What about you pilot, want to run for President of the United States?"
"Oh God, yes!" Yuri hollered. "I would be handsome and beloved leader, like the Kennedy!" Joyce interjected.
"I'll answer for him," she sneered. "He needs fuel for the flight and money for the road." Yuri started in protest but Joyce cut him off. "We get you there. You do rest."
"Alright then," Stinson replied. "We will make a quick pit stop, then get you all on your way."
The chatter stopped. The bitter cold wind blew outside as the crew sped down the winding, icy road. Hopper stretched an arm out behind Joyce. She rested her head on his shoulder, then slowly walked her hand across his lap and softly traced the palm of his hand before linking her fingers with his. He rested his head on top of hers, inhaling her warmth and feeling the electricity of their connection course throughout his aching body. Their breath slowed as they sank into one another, feeling relaxed, and happy, for the first time in a long, long time.