Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

The Twist

"The Twist"

We gonna twist, a-twist, a-twist

Till we tear the house down

- Chubby Checker

Hopper moved cautiously but quickly through the dark and silent halls of Hawkins Lab. He hadn't taken Joyce and her magnets seriously; he had mocked her, nursing his hurt over the humiliation at the restaurant. He had brought her here mostly to dare her to face it—but face it she had, as she had faced everything else since this nightmare began. And even though the Gate was closed, someone—or something—was here.

As usual, Joyce had been completely right, and he had been an ass. He really was going to have to start trusting her instincts.

Next to him, a door squeaked on its hinges as it swung slowly closed and latched. Hopper lifted his gun, holding it ready, and burst through the door—into an empty stairwell. But that door hadn't moved on its own.

Moving faster now, he made his way up the stairs, keeping the gun and flashlight steady in his hands. There were sounds ahead of him now—whoever was here wasn't worried about being found, it appeared. If this was the lab, and they were moving back in without letting him know, he was going to be super pissed. But it didn't feel like that. They were unlikely to sneak in this way, one person, maybe two. No, they'd just reopen, and one morning the whole facility would be fully operational as if they had never left.

Only he didn't think that was going to happen. Their experiments here had failed—the dead bodies they had to explain probably hadn't looked good to their superiors. No, whoever was here, Hopper felt sure it wasn't the lab.

Flashes of lightning through the windows lit the place as he closed in on the room the noises were coming from, a door standing ajar.

"It's Hawkins Chief of Police," he called out. "Come out with your hands up." The briefest of pauses, no response, and he shouted, "You hear me? Hands up!" and kicked the door open without waiting.

The room was empty. A long window was open to the outside, where rain was falling steadily, and Hopper advanced to it, looking out, seeing nothing.

And then someone grabbed him from behind, his gun falling from his hand and skidding across the floor. An arm came around his neck, across his windpipe, as he struggled instinctively against the hold, reaching back with the flashlight, hitting out with it again and again. It struck solid flesh, but did little to dislodge the strangling arm from around his neck.

In desperation, he used his head, ramming the back of it into the face of whoever was holding him. In their clash, they had made it across the room, and he could feel the person behind him smash into a row of metal cabinets.

He was shoved forward, his head smacking into another window with an audible thunk, a fist smashing into his kidneys from behind, and then hauled away from the window and smashed face-first into a desk. Hopper lost count of the blows rained down on him as he was held there, pinned by that very strong arm.

The pressure let up for a moment, and he was moving, swinging a punch that sailed through empty air. His assailant's fist caught him square in the face, sending him reeling, and a vicious kick to the back of the knee collapsed him to the floor. Another kick, to the face this time, knocked him into the window.

Everything after that was a blur, rapidly fading into total blackness.

*****

Joyce waited alone in the worst place in the world, staring at the cemented-over Gate, as long as she could stand. Then she took her flashlight and went after him. The place was silent, and at first she tiptoed along, barely breathing, terrified of what might lie ahead of her.

But the longer she went without Hopper coming back to check on her, the more certain she was that he had found someone up there in the lab, and something had gone wrong. Worry for him overrode her fear, and she picked up the pace, calling out his name.

At last she found him, bloodied and beaten and unconscious on the floor of an office. She shook his shoulder. "Hopper! Hopper!" There was no response.

Outside she could hear the rumble of an engine, and she hurried to the window, stepping out into the rain, watching as someone's motorcycle drove out of the empty parking lot. What had they been after? Had they found it, or had Hopper interrupted them before they could? Who were they?

Fear for Will clutched at her heart, followed closely by fear for Eleven, and then by fear for Hopper, so still there on the floor. She couldn't do anything about the kids right now, but Hopper was right here in front of her, and he needed her help.

"Hop." She knelt next to him, shaking him again. Gently at first, then harder as he groaned. "Come on, Hop. You have to get up. I can't carry you."

He mumbled something indistinctly, rolling to his stomach.

"Come on, Hop. Let's go." She got her hands under him as best she could, helping him as he tried to raise himself up on his hands and knees.

Slowly they managed to get him to his feet, and still slowly he limped his way through the building. By the time the doors were in sight, Joyce was bearing most of his weight. She was going to be sore tomorrow—but not as sore as he would be, she thought, hearing his whimpers of pain. He was far gone if he sounded like that.

The rain seemed to help clear his head a bit, and he leaned on her less heavily on the way to the car. She got him in with a sigh of relief, grabbed his keys out of his pants pocket, and got the car in motion.

She took him to his cabin. By the time they got there, he was mostly passed out again, and nearly fell out into the mud when she opened the door. The progress into the cabin involved more dragging than either of them would have liked, and she was so tired by the time she got him to the couch that she sank down onto the floor next to it and leaned her head back with a weary sigh.

A moan from Hopper brought her to her feet again. Piece by piece she stripped off his wet, filthy clothes, checking him over for injuries, wiping away blood, bandaging cuts. He seemed more comfortable when she was done, but she didn't want to leave him alone in the empty cabin. A note on the fridge said El was staying over at Max's, and Joyce smiled to see it when she went to get a glass of water to put by his bed. She'd known at some point the two girls would be able to get past their initial standoffishness and become friends.

Putting the water glass down on a table, Joyce sat on the edge of the couch, watching him sleep. He was resting more easily now. Reaching out, she gently brushed his hair back from his face. What would she do without him? Every time she'd needed him, he'd been there. No questions asked.

She thought guiltily about last night. The only thing he had asked of her, all this time—come out to dinner with him. And she'd been a coward. Yes, she'd been distracted by the magnets, and yes, that had turned out to be something, clearly—but she had also been afraid to start something with him, afraid to tie herself further to Hawkins. Afraid of getting hurt again, losing someone she loved again, trusting again.

Maybe it was time to be brave, Joyce thought. Maybe it was time for her to be there when he needed her.

She took his hand gently in hers and sat there holding it for a long time, listening to his breathing.