Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

The Sound of Silence

"The Sound of Silence"

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

- Simon and Garfunkel

Joyce and Murray went back to her house, chauffered there by Hawkins Lab. Jonathan had coffee on, and Nancy had heated up some soup. El and Will sat at the table listlessly trying to eat. Joyce wasn't hungry, either, but Jonathan stood over her and made her eat a little, because it made him feel better.

None of them talked much. Tomorrow everyone would be together, they would all hear each other's part of the story. For tonight, they were all numb and shocked by the events of the day. Eleven, particularly, seemed lost, her brown eyes huge in her pale face.

"You okay to come sleep in my room tonight?" Joyce asked her. "We can figure ... things out tomorrow."

Eleven nodded silently, moving toward the bedroom as if she didn't care what happened to her. Joyce understood; she felt the same way.

Will made up the couch for Murray, who grinned wolfishly at Nancy and Jonathan when they went into Jonathan's room together and closed the door.

Eleven mercifully dropped off quickly, exhausted in mind and body. Joyce lay in her bed next to Eleven and tried to sleep, but tired as she was, she couldn't compose her mind. She could see Hopper's face, that last moment, in her mind, over and over again. First Bob, and now Hopper.

Staring up at the ceiling, her eyes dry and aching, wanting to cry but not able to, she realized that of all the men she had loved, Lonnie was the only one who hadn't died in front of her, while she was watching ... and he was the one she wouldn't have minded seeing vaporized by some giant Russian weapon.

Instinctively, she reached for the phone, ready to call Hop and tell him, to share the irony, and a choked sob disturbed the silent house when she remembered that there was no Hop there to call. She felt irrationally angry with him. How dare he disappear on her just when she needed him? Just when she wanted to be with him, and was ready for that? She wished he was here so she could hit him, and hug him, and kiss him the way she should have kissed him in that Russian bunker.

Sighing, Joyce tried to relax into the pillows. Next to her, Eleven murmured something, rolling onto her side, and Joyce held very still until she heard the girl's breathing slow again, deep and even. She should really start thinking about what to do now that she had another child to consider, but that was beyond her tonight.

She saw Hop's face again, his blue eyes, the way he had tried to smile at that last moment. Then Bob's, contorted with agony. Bob's body had been taken care of by the people who came to clean up Hawkins Lab, prepared for his funeral. Who would clean up Hopper's? Hawkins Lab again?

Tears prickled at her eyes, itching and stinging, as Joyce remembered that there had been nothing to clean up. Hopper had vanished. Gone, without a trace.

Not a trace, Joyce thought again. Not a button or a scrap of fabric or a smear of blood. A whole human body completely obliterated. She clenched her jaw, her throat aching with the tears she couldn't seem to shed, at the thought of Hopper's big body, so strong and powerful, completely gone.

Then she frowned into the darkness. That just didn't make any sense. The machine had blown up, but it hadn't vaporized. There had been twisted pieces of wreckage all over the room. And the walkway Hopper had been standing on right before the blast, it wasn't touched. No dents, no burns, nothing. So why, then, had Hopper completely disappeared, down to his shoelaces?

Joyce remembered the way he had nodded at her, telling her it was okay, and the way she had closed her eyes, not wanting to see what happened to him. What could have happened in that moment between closing her eyes and turning the keys? Where could he have gone, if there was no trace of him left? Was there any way he could have gotten out of that room?

No. That was foolish. If he had gotten out, he would be here right now, his strong arms around her and El. He would be with them, if there was any way possible.

But what if he had gotten out and there was no way to be here?

Joyce sat up abruptly as suddenly she realized that there had been a way out of the room: through the gate. It was open far enough. What if he had made a run for it, dove through the gate and into the Upside Down?

Sinking back into the pillows with an apologetic look at El, who thankfully slept on undisturbed, Joyce decided she was being foolish. There had been no time for him to get through the gate.

But a little spark of hope had begun to burn bright in her heart. There was a chance, after all, even though a very, very small one, and a chance was more than there had been an hour ago. Clinging to that spark, she pulled the covers up to her chin. Tomorrow she would ask El to look for him. Then they would know. For tonight, she owed it to Hopper, to the young girl he had left behind, to get some sleep so she could be ready in the morning for whatever she might need to do.