Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Homeward Bound

"Homeward Bound"

Home where my thought's escapin'

Home where my music's playin'

Home where my love lies waitin'

Silently for me

- Simon and Garfunkel

Hopper was ready this time when Antonov's fist came out of nowhere and slammed into his stomach, prepared to be grabbed by the collar and hauled off around the corner.

"Did you talk to him?" he demanded as soon as they were alone.

"Yes, he will do it. For much money."

"How much?"

"Forty thousand American dollars. Including my cut."

Hopper thought rapidly. Joyce should have that much and more if she'd cashed in on his pension. He was so glad he had thought ahead and taken care of all that paperwork, so that she and El would be protected if something happened to him. "Okay," he said finally, feeling the tension in Antonov's body. The other guards had accepted by now that he was Antonov's favorite whipping boy, and they found it amusing that he liked to pound on the American, but it wouldn't do to make any of them suspicious. "That should be okay."

"Okay," Antonov echoed, his grip easing slightly. "Who do we contact?"

Hopper found himself strangely reluctant to mention Joyce's name. If this was all a trick, he would be putting her in danger. When he had first been captured, the Russian in charge had wanted to know who Joyce was—could this be some elaborate scheme for him to lead them to her? He looked at Antonov's face. It seemed so open, his blue eyes guileless and friendly. But that could be a trick.

Still ... if they knew who he was, finding Joyce shouldn't be that hard. Probably they had given up looking for her. And besides, who else would he contact? Flo? Murray? Not a chance.

"We don't have time for this, American!" Antonov hissed. "Either you trust me, or you do not." He looked over his shoulder. "Time's up." He punched Hopper in the face and dragged him back to the line.

Either he trusted Antonov—or he did not. That was the question, wasn't it? If he was wrong, if Antonov was going to betray him, then he was putting Joyce and possibly El in danger. But if he was right, if he could really trust this man ... could he risk missing a chance to get out, to go home, to be with them again? He couldn't. And, if the tables were turned and it were Joyce here, or El back in that lab, while he thought they were dead—

No, there was no question. He was going to trust Antonov, and he was going to take this chance.

Next time the guard showed up at his side, he was ready. "There is someone," he said hurriedly under his breath. "A woman."

Antonov laughed delightedly. "Of course it is a woman. What is her name?"

"Joyce. Joyce Byers."

"And she lives in your delightful small American town?"*

Last time Hopper had seen Hawkins, it hadn't felt so delightful, but he supposed it had a certain charm. "Yes. I can give you her address."

"So, you have decided we can do business?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Only the choice of fear. And you are not a man who shrinks from danger. I said that the moment I met you—this is a man who takes risks. I gave you odds of ten to one that you would come to trust me."

Hopper looked at him sharply. "Am I going to regret it?"

"No."

And Antonov was gone, moving up the line of men, leaving Hopper to watch his back and hope he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

Later that night, the heavy metal door of his cell swung open, and a key turned in the lock of the barred gate. Hopper sat up, straining to see in the darkness.

"It is me," Antonov murmured softly. "We need to talk."

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing. But a plan like this must be discussed. They will not know I am here for a few minutes, I have arranged that, so we must work quickly. Give me this Joyce's address."

Hopper recited it, seeing the house in his mind's eye.

"All right. I will arrange to have a package sent. My—" Antonov paused a moment. "Never mind. You do not need to know that part. I will hide a message in the package."

Imagining Joyce opening a strange package from Russia, Hopper frowned. "She'll never believe it's real."

"That is where you come in. Tell me something I can say, something only you and she will know."

Hopper thought back through the years. High school? Something to do with El? No, he couldn't risk that. Something to do with the Upside Down? And then it came to him, and he smiled. "You don't want to sign your own name, because then it can be traced back to you, right?"

"Yes."

"Then sign it Enzo, and tell her I'm looking forward to our date."

"Ah, not just a woman, then, but your woman!" Antonov's soft voice was delighted. "You are an American, after all. A girl in every port."

"She's not my woman," Hopper said.

"Of course not. So, Enzo, and your date. She will know that is you?"

"She will." He couldn't help remembering what she had looked like there in that Russian bunker, in that oversized uniform. God, he missed her.

"I will give her a number to call, and then I will tell her the terms."

"Why are you doing this?" Hopper asked abruptly. "I mean, really. Just for the money?"

"Money is a good thing to have."

"There are easier ways of getting it."

"Here?"

"No, maybe not," Hopper conceded. "Dmitri?" He had never used the guard's first name before.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

In the darkness, he felt Antonov stand up. "Thank me when we succeed. I can't say that I like our odds."

And then the doors clanged shut again, the key turning in the lock, and Hopper was left to consider their odds and decide he wasn't sure he liked them, either.

*****

*I know that in the show the package goes directly to California, but I can't think of any way Hopper in Russia could have known where Joyce moved to, since Owens was the one who picked the place in California. So I'm tweaking things a bit.