Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Runaway

"Runaway"

I'm a walkin' in the rain

Tears are fallin' and I feel a pain

A wishin' you were here by me

To end this misery

- Del Shannon

When they didn't find Will, or any trace of him, in the woods, Joyce came back to the house and did what she had been putting off all morning—she called her ex-husband. And, of course, she got some tramp he must be shacked up with. 'Cynthia'. Of course she'd be a Cynthia. She sounded like a Cynthia.

Even with her back to him, Joyce knew how Jonathan was sitting. Closed in on himself, like he could disappear if he tried hard enough. The way he always sat when Lonnie was involved. If she'd had any sense, she would have kicked Lonnie to the curb before he had the chance to hurt Jonathan as deeply as he had. One of many regrets she'd carry with her the rest of her life.

She tried so hard to remain calm while Lonnie's Cynthia brushed her off, so hard. But she was so afraid for Will and so upset at the idea that Lonnie might be involved and so unhappy in general that her voice rose and her hand tightened on the phone without her meaning them to. And then Cynthia hung up on her, and Joyce slammed the phone on the wall and screamed "Bitch!" at it.

"Mom," Jonathan chastised her from the other room.

"What?!"

"You have to stay calm."

Calm. Right. Because she did calm so well where Lonnie was concerned. Joyce dialed the number again, getting an answering machine. On the one hand, she was glad not to have to talk to 'Cynthia' again. On the other hand, answering machines turned her into a stammering fool. She held on to her temper, and her cool, with both hands, long enough to leave what she hoped was a coherent message, and then lost it again on the phone, slamming it onto the hook two or three times while she shouted at it.

That was when Hopper showed up, with Will's bike in tow.

This was a whole different Hopper than she'd talked to this morning. Then, he hadn't taken her seriously. Now, he was worried. And while a worried Hopper meant Joyce had reason to worry, she already had been nearly out of her mind—and a worried Hopper was a sharper Hopper, one who would be able to think things through and find her boy. She was sure of it.

*****

Hopper went through the house, looking for clues, spending time out in the shed in the back. There were shotgun shells spilled on a table, evidence of some kind of violence in some smashed wood up against a wall. Something had happened out here. Maybe the kid had made it home, made it to the shed behind his own house, and then been taken. Stranger things had happened ... although not usually in Hawkins.

He had his deputy call back to the office and get a search party together, and he grilled Joyce, as gently as he could, considering how on edge she was, about any detail about Will that might be helpful.

Then they spread out, flashlights in hand, moving slowly through the woods, calling for Will.

Behind him, Hopper heard a voice. "He's a good student."

Turning, he saw the teacher there, the one who had been with Will's friends this afternoon. "What?"

"Will? He's a good student. Great one, actually."