Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight

"Tonight, Tonight, Tonight"

Because tonight, tonight, tonight

We're gonna make it right

- Genesis

As Joyce drove—like a bat out of hell, Hopper thought with approval—Hopper leaned forward from the back seat, shouting at Murray. "What are they saying?"

Murray held the walkie-talkie to his ear, trying to translate over the sound of the car speeding through the night. "Something about the food court. What's this about, anyway? Why do the Russians care that kids are in the mall? Isn't that where all the kids want to be these days?"

"Just listen, all right?" Joyce screeched, taking a turn with a squeal of the tires. The car fishtailed a bit before straightening.

The walkie burbled away in Russian, Murray frowning as he tried to listen.

"Anything?" Hopper demanded. He could hardly stand this. His girl was out there, Joyce's boy, being pursued by a bunch of Russians who were trying to reintroduce evil to all of their lives, and what was he doing? Hunkering down in the back of a car waiting for some nutcase to tell him what was going on.

"No."

Joyce drove on. She glanced nervously at Murray. "Still nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Food court?" Hopper frowned. "Are you sure they said food court?" What could possibly be in the food court of the mall?

Murray turned on him. "I'm sorry, have my translation skills been letting you down?" They stared at each other for a moment, Murray clearly feeling superior, Hopper wanting to shake the guy to make him understand the seriousness of the situation. In one of those 'calm down, you dummy' tones that Hopper absolutely hated, Murray added, "We don't know it's your kids."

"Yes, we do," Joyce told him. She cut the wheel sharply and took a hard left, the tires squealing on the road. Hopper was grateful that not only was Hawkins a quiet town, everyone in it was at the carnival, so the roads were clear. The last thing he had the patience for tonight was to be stuck behind some Sunday driver out for a late night spin.

"How do we know it's your kids?" Murray demanded.

"We just do, all right? All this stuff going on, it all started with—" But Hopper couldn't tell him about El. He couldn't talk about El. Not now.

"They're together," Joyce said, partly to Hopper and partly to herself. "They can handle things if they're together."

"Hang on. Joyce ... Byers. Related to Jonathan Byers?" Murray asked.

Joyce turned to look at him. "How do you know my son?" The car swerved sharply, and Hopper called out, "Joyce! Watch the road!"

"I had a visit, last winter, from a young man named Jonathan Byers and a young woman named Nancy Wheeler. Actually, they reminded me a bit of the two of you. Except they had the sense to—" He stopped himself.

"Yeah, they've done that a lot at my house, too," Joyce muttered.

Hopper put a hand over his face. They were having this conversation now?

Joyce kept her next glance at Murray quick. "So you know what's been going on here, then." She stomped on the brakes, coming to the briefest of pauses at a stop sign, then gunned the engine again.

"I know some of it."

"Then you know this is our kids."

"I didn't know Jim had a kid."

"It's a long story." Ahead of them, Hopper could see the lights of the mall, and he tensed.

"Hop! Don't jump. Not until I've stopped."

"Right."

Joyce swung around a corner. They were on the mall property now, but with dividers filled with flowers between them and the entrance. "Oh, hell with it," she muttered under her breath, and jammed her foot down on the gas pedal, the wheels bumping up and over the concrete and churning the flowers underneath them. She brought the car to a screeching halt just in front of the doors, and Hopper's feet were on the ground within seconds of the forward momentum ceasing.

Murray was right behind him, hopping over the door rather than bothering to open it. Apparently they had convinced him of the dire urgency of the situation. Behind them, Joyce stayed only long enough to turn off the ignition and yank the keys out of the car before all three of them were prying open the front doors.

As soon as they had the doors open so much as a crack, Hopper could hear El screaming, and the rush of adrenaline allowed him to pop them open the rest of the way. He ran for it as soon as he could squeeze himself through, Joyce right behind him. Murray stopped to pull the doors closed again before catching up.

They ran for the food court, deep inside the mall, El's screams echoing off the walls and turning Hopper's insides to ice. What if he was too late?

Then the cries changed in tone. He recognized the way she had shouted when she was using all her strength to close the gate, and something eased in him. She was still able to use her power, still in control. Maybe she would be okay. Maybe he was on time to help, to keep her safe.

Her shrieks rose in tone, piercing the air. Hopper heard glass shatter.

And then the screaming stopped, just as Hopper and Joyce and Murray burst into the food court. Some—thing landed at Hopper's feet, some mass of bloody flesh. He didn't even want to know what it was. All he knew, all he needed to know, was that somehow that thing was what had been making his girl shriek in pain. Lifting his foot, he brought it down with all the force he could muster onto that thing, splattering it on the floor.

The kids were there. They were all there. El, the red-haired girl, the D&D squad, Jonathan and Nancy, the Harrington kid, and two other girls Hopper didn't recognize. Relief flooded him. They had made it in time.