Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Bridge Over Troubled Water

"Bridge Over Troubled Water"

I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes

And pain is all around

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down

- Simon and Garfunkel

Hopper and Jonathan did the heavy lifting, moving bags of de-icing salt from storage onto a cart, while the others got the kiddie pool set up. Hopper tried not to think of what a long day it had already been and how much longer it was going to be, and how much he'd like a cigarette and a beer and a hot shower.

"Wait," Jonathan said, catching one of the bags. "It's not going to snow next week, is it?"

"Worst case, no school."

"Even if you find Will in there, what are we gonna do about that thing?"

Hopper had kind of hoped the question would be another softball. At least he had an answer to this one, if not the answer. "We're not gonna do anything. I don't want you anywhere near this, all right? Your mom's been through enough already." It was bad enough Joyce had almost certainly already lost one son. She wasn't losing both of them, not if Jim Hopper had anything to say about it.

"He's my brother!"

"Listen to me." Hopper grasped the kid's shoulder, holding on. "I'm gonna find him. All right? You gotta trust me on this. I am going to find him." He let go, hoping he had been convincing. It was hard to do when you were pretty damned sure you were lying. But if someone was going to find Joyce's son dead, or not find him at all, it was going to be him so he could be the one to deliver the news, so he could be there to catch her.

Angry at having to lie, at the whole situation, he threw the next bag pretty hard, so that Jonathan staggered as he caught it.

"I can help," the kid muttered.

"Yeah, I know you can. But if you come help and something happens to you, who's going to be with your mom? Who's going to help her through it? I can do what I can, but she needs you. She depends on you, she loves you, she trusts you. The two of you, you're a unit, taking care of Will, and I see the way you take care of her, too. I am not going to be part of putting you in danger when losing you means Joyce loses herself, too." He caught himself, breathing hard after the speech, looking uncomfortably away from Jonathan's entirely too perceptive eyes. He hadn't meant to say anywhere near that much, to reveal how much Joyce and what she stood for, the past history they shared, meant to him.

After a few more bags, Jonathan said quietly, "Hopper."

"Yeah."

"I ... heard. About you. What happened to you. I'm ... sorry."

Hopper vividly remembered his own teenage years, and he wasn't certain he'd have been capable of the genuine empathy he heard in Jonathan's voice. "Thanks, kid," he said gruffly. "So you believe me, then? When I tell you I'm going to find him."

"I believe you will ... if it's possible." Jonathan was staring down at the bags of salt, and Hopper felt for him, for the way he had been dragged around. He had believed in the fake body, after all, and now he had some kind of hope, but the most fragile kind, impossible to trust.

Hopper didn't add any more false hope of his own. The kid had the facts down cold—Hopper would come through, if it was possible.

*****