[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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IT TOOK TWO DAYS to make the trek back to Hawkins, Indiana.
As promised, Yuri had flown Katinka to the coast and refueled, but they didn't make it much further. Unregistered ships, especially ones with Russian callsigns, tend to draw attention from those on the ground diligently monitoring American airspace.
Upon landing, they were finally able to make contact with the mysterious woman Hopper had only briefly spoken to over the phone, now known to be Agent Ellen Stinson, and she orchestrated the remainder of their journey back. However, Dimitri and Yuri wouldn't be joining them for the last long haul.
"Do you know what you'll do now?" Joyce asked Dimitri as the group stood close, most waiting for their government escort back east, while the others' futures remained uncertain.
The former guard seemed to bat the question around until his head shook in acceptance. "Maybe I will go back home. Those who knew me as a traitor are now dead. I can return to Mikhail with my head held high."
Hopper slapped a warm hand on his former comrades' shoulder, shaking it slightly in support. "He'll know his father was a hero," he emphasized, and the others agreed. He'd done more to ensure their survival than was necessary or expected, but they were all grateful for his altruistic sacrifice.
"Not a hero, just a man," Dimitri corrected, giving them each a firm nod in parting before he strode back to the aircraft to wait, leaving only Yuri left for goodbyes.
The smuggler hadn't been so willing at the start to aid them, but he'd come through when they'd needed him most, which had to count for something. Still, the memory of his earlier betrayals continued to linger like a bad taste in the mouth.
"Can't say our parting is with such sweet sorrow," Ana remarked, and for once, the pilot didn't wheeze or cackle antagonistically but instead looked bashful for the first time.
"I...I sorry for trying to kill you, ya?" It wasn't the strongest of apologies, but it was better than nothing. "Maybe one day I will be a hero again, too. Like the man I once was."
Ana didn't hold out much hope, not when there was so much peanut butter left in the world to upcharge for profit, but the sentiment still stood. "It's never too late for a change," she placated as an unmarked sedan crawled to a stop beside them.
With one last look back at their Russian counterparts, Murray, Hopper, Joyce, and Ana all squeezed into the vehicle for the two-thousand-some-mile ride back. It wouldn't be quick, and it wouldn't be comfortable, not with bloodshot eyes courtesy of hours without sleep and rears that ached from being prone too long in the crowded encasement.
Phone lines were down all over Hawkins, so none of their friends could be reached no matter the repeated efforts to make contact, which was worrisome. They'd gotten a brief rundown of the events which had taken place while they were busy fighting for their lives at the prison, and it reinstilled a fear that sunk into the stomach without letting up.
