Judge, Jury, and Executioner - [Jopper]

03. Who I've Become

The wind rattled against the window panes, disrupting the silence that the night had cast over them. From the right side of the guest bed, Joyce stared at the blank and boring ceiling. With her head tilted back against the pillow, she tried to imagine that the ceiling was the sky instead. That the plaster had been removed and now all that was above was just the stars and the moon, each shining through the navy blue sky. Maybe if she lifted her arm, she could reach out and grab one of those stars. 

But she couldn't. Not because they weren't real, but because Hopper's hand was interlaced with her own. That, she wouldn't change for any of the stars in the sky. To let her fingers fall from his to reach for something that wasn't there, it would be foolish. 

Oh, how that was true in more than one way. 

The man holding her hand was broken. He was traumatized and scared, a victim of the world's cruelties. She wanted the old Hopper back, of course, but that would mean reaching out for someone who didn't exist anymore. Letting go of the hand that she had to reach for one that would fade away. The fact that she had him at all was better than nothing.  

He had shown her his tears. He had allowed his vulnerabilities to drop away from the vest that he held them closest to. When she had last seen him cry, it was for an entire world of different reasons. He had cried for her and El and his life. He had cried tears of sadness whilst saying goodbye and cried tears of joy that he would be reunited with Sara. He had worn those tears with a smile, one last sliver of his strength breaking through. 

These tears came without strength. Broken pieces of himself shedding through his eyes. They came with little hope and more despair than he could physically hold in the shell of what was left. The shell had cracked and the tears had fallen. A wound that only time could heal; that was if it could even be healed at all. 

As soon as his calloused palm had met her own, she couldn't imagine ever letting go. Just the simple feeling of his skin on hers, a sensation she had once taken for granted. It seemed as if everything she took for granted had eventually left her, leaving her behind to pray for its return.