[COMPLETED UNTIL SEASON 5]
Ana Thompson always seems to wind up in the strangest predicaments...
A perpetual victim of Murphy's Law, Ana finds herself arriving in Hawkins, Indiana just prior to the events of November 6th, 1983.
And, just prior to f...
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HOPPER'S ARM AROUND her shoulder didn't drop, not even when he greeted Murray and Joyce, thrilled to see each other alive, and not even when introducing Enzo, Dimitri, to those who'd only known the co-conspirator by voice.
"Ah, so this is your woman," the disgraced guard teased, eyes observing the two embraced in contentment. "I was certain we would not meet."
"Yeah, about that..." Hopper turned to look down upon Ana, suddenly considering her unexpected inclusion. "You two weren't supposed to meet."
Even with the untimely reminder, the moment for arguments hadn't come just yet. So, to buy herself time, Ana began pulling Hopper away from his companion and towards the back of the room. "I think we should get that cut looked at, don't you?"
Shouldering off the left arm of his suit, Ana tried to wipe away the blood still steadily trickling down his wrist before wrapping the wound with the scarf formally looped around her neck. Hopper watched her careful movements, stormy eyes never straying from her fingers, eyes, nose, lips, a pleasant grin lifting his own.
"How'd you get my message?" He finally asked the question that had been resting on the tip of his tongue since their great escape. Sending the package to Joyce had been intentional, a means of keeping her out of danger, but he should've known she'd get herself embroiled in some mess whether he wished for it or not.
"Unfortunately for you, El and I were visiting Joyce when your message arrived," she informed, knotting the makeshift bandage across his forearm, encasing the deep cuts the Demogorgon's talons had left behind. With the bond in place, Ana allowed her nails to trail across the pale skin of his bicep, littered with grim and bruises, relishing the way goosebumps rose along the path.
"You two getting along?" He wondered, leaning closer to her comforting caresses without realizing.
The notion made Ana scoff, the noise sharp in contradiction to their quiet words and her soft touch. "God no," she denied with a shake of the head. "We're more like Luke and Han. Murray is Princess Leia, of course."
The remark made them both laugh, and in the levity, Hopper reached for her now unoccupied hand and wove them together, puzzle pieces of affection falling into place as their palms slotted against one another perfectly. "I thought I lost you," he lamented, thumb swiping across the back of battered knuckles to ensure she was really there, not lost as he'd feared.
"I did lose you," she corrected, the memory leaving a hollow darkness in the pits of her stomach. "For eight months. They even held a funeral. Not that I ever believed you were dead. You're not allowed to just up and leave me like that, you know?"
"I know," he agreed with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Anybody show to the funeral?"
"Are you kidding?" She questioned, watching his weary face fall a fraction. "The whole town came. You're the hero of Hawkins."
