Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

For Your Eyes Only

"For Your Eyes Only"

For your eyes only, only for you

You'll see what no one else can see, and now I'm breaking free

- Sheena Easton

Joyce wasn't sure what she thought about this new encyclopedia job. It was nice to be able to work from home, but she got awfully tired of talking to people on the phone all day. She missed Melvald's. The counter, the customers, even Donald, pinch-faced and stingy though he was. She missed being able to see people's faces and get to know them over the course of a day or a week or a lifetime. So far, California had been short on opportunities to get to know people. Other than her mailman, who was a friendly type who liked to stop and chat, and Jonathan's friend from the pizza shop, Joyce found most people kept themselves to a friendly wave—or often a less-than-friendly stare—and went about their business. Much as she had disliked living in a town where everyone had known her all her life, she wasn't sure living in a town where no one knew her at all was any better.

Still, sometimes Joyce got someone nice and friendly on the phone who seemed really interested in the possibilities that owning a set of encyclopedias could bring them, and then she got on a roll with her script and felt like she was succeeding for a change. It was a good feeling.

This call was shaping up to be one of those. "Have you ever wished you could have the answer to any question, right at your fingertips?"

"Oh, gosh!" said the woman at the other end of the line, impressed by the idea.

Joyce laughed. "Yes—it's just like those ... big, fancy books you see on TV."

"Oh, yes, they're lovely!"

The doorbell rang and Joyce got up to answer it, continuing with her script—and a few embellishments of her own—as she moved across the house. "Yeah, just imagine, you'd never have to go to the library again. Hey, think of all the money you'll save on gas alone."

As she opened the door to find the mailman waiting for her, Joyce heard the woman on the other end say, "Oh, good point."

It was a good point, if Joyce did say so herself. And she would follow it up in just a minute. But seeing the mailman brought Jonathan's long-awaited acceptance letter to mind. Maybe it would arrive today, and maybe that would give her a chance to talk to Jonathan and find out what was really going on with him these days.

She covered the phone with her hand to avoid being heard by her caller and whispered "Anything?" at her mailman.

He shook his head. "Nothing." As he handed her the day's mail, including a giant package, he added reassuringly, "These acceptance letters tend to come end of the week just to make you sweat."

"Well, I'm sweating," she told him.

"It's coming, Mrs. Byers. Don't you worry."

If only he knew how much there was to worry about. "I always worry. But thanks."

With a cheery smile and a wave, the mailman went back to his truck. Joyce turned inside, balancing the package on one hand while she moved the phone back into place with the other and kicked the door closed with her foot.

Her caller was on the other end of the line, concerned. "Oh, gosh, did I lose you? Hello?"

"No, sorry." She searched for the caller's name. Mrs. Something or Other. First name ... Carol. "Carol? Can I call you Carol?"

"Of ... of course."

"Great. So what are we thinking? We could do volumes A through C, or we could do the whole alphabet." Joyce put the box and the pile of mail down on the table, pushing the mail aside so she could see the box better. She wasn't expecting anything. Maybe something from Hawkins, something Nancy sent for Jonathan? No, it was her name on the package.

"Well, uh, remind me how much money that would be. I can't remember ..."

Joyce completely forgot anyone was talking to her as she studied the block of stamps in the corner of the package. They were Russian stamps. After all this time, Russians. Her breath caught in her chest. When she could speak again, she cut her caller off. "Carol, uh ... can I call you back?"

Without waiting for a response, she ended the call, put the phone down, and stared at the package, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. The address was in a handwriting she didn't know, with a forwarding sticker in the corner from Hawkins. So this package had gone to Indiana first and then come here. Which meant the Russians didn't know where she lived. But they knew her name. Why were they sending her a package? What was in it? What did they want from her?

Grabbing a pair of scissors from the junk drawer, she cut the twine that was wrapped around the package. Then she jabbed the scissors viciously through the brown paper and ripped a line along the box top and tore the flaps open.

Inside the box, nestled in brown paper, was a large doll. A creepy Russian doll in brightly colored clothes with a creepy smile painted on its china face.

Who the hell in Russia would be sending her a doll?

She needed answers, or at least theories, and there was only one person she could turn to for them.

*****

A/N: Starting next week, this story will be going to an every-other-Friday update schedule, in hopes of stretching out the content until Season 5 comes out.