Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Like Nothing Ever Happened

"Like Nothing Ever Happened"

Like nothing ever happened

There's no look in your eye

No feelings to hide

- Sylvia

Joyce read and reread the note from inside the doll probably a hundred times in the afternoon before the kids got home from school. Twice she actually picked up the phone and started dialing, despite Murray's strident insistence that she definitely should not call the number on the note. Not until he arrived the next day, at any rate.

But what if a day made the difference? The package had already had to travel across Russia, and then across the ocean, and then get delivered to Hawkins, and then be forwarded to California ... who knew what could have happened in that amount of time. Wherever Hop was, clearly he was in trouble, or else why was someone else signing that note? What if she waited until Murray got here and something went wrong and by the time she called tomorrow it was too late?

She picked up the phone and started dialing again, but stopped when she heard the familiar rumble of Argyle's pizza van dropping the kids off from school.

Hastily replacing the receiver, Joyce forced a smile as the door opened, but it faded, bit by bit, as Eleven rushed past her into her room, Will went straight to his room, and Jonathan stopped for a moment, his mouth open to ask a question, then closed it again and retreated to his own room.

So much for family togetherness, Joyce thought. She never thought she'd say so, but she missed Hawkins. She missed that small house where they had all come together and Will had eagerly told them all about his day at dinner time.

Okay, so that had happened rarely—she and Jonathan had both worked so much, as soon as he was old enough to hold down a job, and Will had spent most of his time at Mike Wheeler's house. Still ... they'd been a happier family in Hawkins than they were in California.

Mike Wheeler. Joyce had completely forgotten that he was expected the next morning. She went to Eleven's door and tapped on it. "El? Can I talk to you?"

There was a pause, and a wavery voice, as if El had been crying, answered, "Not right now."

"I just ... wanted to check on the plans for Mike arriving tomorrow."

Another pause. "I'll be out in a minute."

Joyce went next to Jonathan's door and knocked on it. "Hang on!" There were sounds from inside, Jonathan opening a window, and then a long pause before he opened the door. His room, as usual, was smoky and smelled funny. Joyce had been smoking for a long time, although she had found she didn't do it as much in California, so she knew what a room where someone had been secretly smoking looked like, but this smelled different. Maybe tobacco was different in California.

She frowned a little at Jonathan, who refused to meet her eyes. "Hey. No letter again today, buddy, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mom. Maybe later this week."

"Right. Anyway, I just wanted to double-check: Are you sure Nancy isn't coming tomorrow?"

"I don't think so."

"But it's possible."

"She hasn't said for sure."

Joyce frowned. The phone calls between the Wheeler and Byers houses leaned far more heavily toward Eleven and Mike's talks all the time. Jonathan and Nancy didn't seem to talk much at all anymore, and she didn't see letters very often, either. "Everything okay with you two?"

"It's fine, Mom. It's just ... a busy time of year. She's got the yearbook, and I ..." He trailed off. Joyce wasn't sure exactly what Jonathan had these days. He didn't seem to take pictures anymore, and he hadn't been able to get a job because his car had broken down, and he didn't seem to want to get it fixed, although Joyce had offered to pay for it. Something was up with him, but none of her prodding could seem to get it out of him.

"Okay. Well, if she does come, we'll put her in your room and you'll take the couch, yeah? Since Mike's bunking in Will's room."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Mom." Gently but firmly, Jonathan shut his door in her face.

She went to Will's room next. He, at least, answered immediately, telling her to come in. She opened his door and smiled, seeing him behind his easel.

"You going to show me this one?"

He ducked his head. "Maybe."

"You used to show me all your drawings."

"You used to make fun of my green fireballs."

"Good point." Joyce smiled. "Argyle's taking you all to the airport in the morning, right? To meet Mike's flight?"

"Yeah."

"You excited? It's been a long time."

"Yeah." Will looked his painting over critically. "Mom, do you mind if I finish this?"

"No, not at all. Dinner's at 6:30." Or it would be if Joyce got started making something. She had forgotten all about it in the excitement of that note. It was in her pocket right now, blaring its news at her. Should she tell the kids? She wanted to tell the kids. El deserved to know her dad was alive.

But if she told them about the note, they would want to call the number, and what if they called and it was all a joke? Or the Russians were after her and they found Eleven through her? Joyce felt a chill. No, she couldn't risk it. Tomorrow, after Murray was here, after they'd made the phone call. Then she could tell them.

Eleven was sitting at the table, staring at the wall, when Joyce left Will's door.

"Hey. Everything okay at school today? How did your diorama go over?"

"Fine." Her tone said there was more to it, but Joyce had learned that pushing Eleven didn't get her anywhere.

"You have big plans for Mike's first day in California tomorrow?"

"Yeah." For the first time today, the girl's face brightened. "Breakfast burritos, of course."

"Of course."

"And ... then maybe, um, the desert? Or ... I don't know, drive by the school so he can see it, or ..."

Joyce put her hand in her pocket and closed it over the note. She nodded along and made encouraging noises as Eleven spoke, but she wasn't listening.

Hop was alive. Everything was just the same as it was yesterday, except that Hop was alive. Maybe now the rest of them could live, too, at long last.