A/N: I never thought I'd be writing Stranger Things fic but here we are. Many thanks to my wonderful betas, el_spirito and hkusgirl, for helping make this story a reality.

Jim Hopper hated hospitals. Had for as long as he could remember. That was even before Sara, the memories, the treatments, and the news.

His hatred only burned brighter when he'd learned that getting your ass kicked wasn't emergent enough to get you seen by a doctor right away. He'd argued, flashed his badge, and pointed multiple times to Steve, who was conscious but not quite present, but still the receptionist had pointed to a bank of chairs and told them they'd be seen in order of urgency.

"How ya doing kid?" Hopper asked as he dropped into the hard plastic seat again. Steve half-nodded as he continued to press an ice pack against his brightly-colored face. He hadn't said much since they'd arrived but, since Hopper had barely spoken to the kid before the Shadow Monster mess, he had no idea if this level of silence was normal or not.

After everyone had reunited at Byers' house and checked on both Will and Eleven, Joyce had pulled out a first aid kit and started to go to town on everyone's various injuries while they recounted their individual adventures. The Henderson kid's story was conveniently light on details, until he got to the part about just how badly Steve had gotten his ass handed to him.

"I'm pretty sure he needs to go to the hospital," Joyce had said, after wiping off as much blood off Steve's face as she could.

Hopper had been inclined to agree, given how little Steve was reacting to the action around him. "Should we call—" he began but was interrupted by Nancy informing him that Steve's parents were out of town until Thursday.

Steve had then revived enough to insist he'd be okay without the checkup, and, in his interest in avoiding all hospitals ever for the rest of his life, Hopper almost took him up on it. Almost. Instead he'd pulled out his keys; pushed back the fear, panic, and unwanted memories; and informed Steve they were leaving.

The Henderson kid had planted himself in the doorway, begging to come with, but Hopper had put his foot down. The kids had been through enough for the day; there was no need to extend that by exposing them to the blood and trauma of an emergency room, even one as mundane as Hawkins. Before the kid could argue, Joyce had swept in, telling them all how worried their parents would be if they didn't come home tonight and how Hopper would call them if anything serious happened.

Hopper was 86% sure the kids would all still be at the Byers' when they got back but he nodded his concession all the same.

The remaining kids had looked less than thrilled, especially when Eleven began to say her goodbyes. It was only when she started trudging to the door that Joyce offered to let her stay with them until Hopper and Steve got back. The teen had turned to Hopper, eyes wide and expression brighter than it had been in the last week, and the Chief found himself unable to say no. Besides, he hadn't really wanted to take El to the emergency room anyway, not when she looked half a second away from crashing herself.

And so here he and Steve were, watching people coming out of examination rooms with casts and bandages but no one being summoned back in.

They sat in silence for another few minutes before Hopper leaned over the next two chairs and retrieved a magazine. He held it out to Steve, who was clenching his jaw so tightly Hopper was sure he was going to crack his teeth. But then, all the color drained from Steve's face and, a split second later, he was sprinting for the nearest trash can, where he proceeded to puke his guts out. The receptionist calmly made a call and by the time Steve was bringing up bile, they were being escorted to an exam room, trash can in tow.

Then, they hit a small stroke of luck. The doctor on duty, a pasty young Hawkins-native named Wilkin, recognized Steve as Sam Harrington's kid, meaning he was evaluated and hooked up to an anti-nausea drip in a span of fifteen minutes. As Steve slurred his way through his cover story about being mugged, Hopper made sure he was looking anywhere but the needle sticking out of the back of Steve's hand, the unwanted memories a brief lapse in focus away from overwhelming him. He had to stay composed for Steve's sake, and calmed himself down by rubbing frantically at the blue band around his wrist.

While Steve was getting his brain scanned, Hopper called the station and tasked Powell with getting a hold of Steve's parents and picking up Billy Hargrove, who had been gone from the Byers' by the time the first party got back. In general, Hopper was pretty lenient about arresting people for fighting, as long as neither side was hurt too badly and both had given about as good as they'd gotten. Billy though had crossed a line: he could have killed Steve if Max hadn't intervened. Despite that, Hopper made sure Powell would take Billy to the ER first because, no matter how horrible the kid seemed to be, he didn't deserve to die from any unattended injuries tonight.

By the time he'd hung up and grabbed a cup of what passed for coffee from the cafeteria, Steve was back in his room and Wilkins was ready to report the results. Thankfully, the scans revealed no intercranial bleeding or skull fracture, which had been Wilkin's main concerns. Steve had definitely sustained a concussion but, other than a cracked rib and a few stitches to close up the more serious cuts on his face, had only bruises. He wouldn't be awarded any modeling gigs any time soon but was expected to make a full recovery.

"All in all, he was lucky," commented Wilkin while taking down the film. "Could have been much worse."

Steve just muttered something incoherent and closed his eyes...which caused Hopper to lurch off the wall in panic until Wilkin caught his arm.

"He's been through a lot," the doctor said calmly, not looking the least bit concerned. "It's okay for him to sleep."

While Hopper's heart continued to pound against his ribs, Wilkin noted his findings in Steve's file. "Are his parents back in town?" he then asked Hopper, who shook his head. "In that case, we can keep him overnight for observation but there's really no need medically. He just needs someone to wake him up every few hours and check his mental state."

"I'll do it," Hopper immediately interjected.

Wilkin blinked at him. "You?"

Not having the energy to be offended, Hopper patiently said, "Just tell me what to look for and what to ask him."

Wilkins still looked less than convinced but flipped to a blank page in Steve's file and began writing.

After the last IV was finished and some over-the-counter painkillers had been prescribed, Hopper helped Steve into his truck then very gently took off for the Byers' residence to pick up Eleven. Steve passed out less than two minutes into the drive and every so often, Hop grabbed the kid's wrist, feeling for a pulse, to ensure he was still breathing.

Sure enough, all the kids were still at Joyce's, spread out over every inch of her floor, sharing an assortment of blankets and pillows. Hopper and Joyce had a quick conversation, where he learned Jonathan had fixed the phone so all the kids could call their parents and that Joyce had spoken with each of them, ensuring she'd send their kid home early enough to get ready for school. Hopper then filled her in on Steve's condition and the fact that the kid would be staying with him until his parents returned. After leaving instructions on how Joyce could radio the cabin if something were to happen, Hopper carefully stepped over Lucas and lifted El into his arms, not bothering to try to wake her.

It was a testament to just how exhausted she was that she hardly stirred. He settled her into the truck beside Steve, who was snoring unevenly through his swollen nose, and quietly set off for the cabin.

His next challenge came when the road dead-ended and he was left wondering how he was going to get both sleeping kids into the cabin. He contemplated leaving Steve while he took Eleven, but that meant leaving Eleven on her own while he came back for Steve—after all that had happened tonight, that separation was a little too much for him to handle. His next thought was carrying both of them, but his back and knees took that moment to preemptively protest...which left him with just one option.

He gently pulled El into his side, put one hand over her ears, then hissed, "Steve" as loudly as he dared. The kid lurched forward with a groan, arm immediately going to his ribs.

"Calm down, Steve," Hopper said, reaching out and laying a hand on the kid's back. "It's Jim Hopper. Chief Hopper. The gate is closed. You're safe."

It took a minute before Steve's head turned to look his way. "Where're we?" he mumbled, his bruised face squinting in confusion.

"My cabin." Steve just blinked at him but, without another option, Hopper continued, "It's about a five minute walk from here. I need you to walk, so I can carry Eleven."

It took a moment before understanding flashed through Steve's expression. He nodded, then hauled himself out of the car, leaning heavily on the hood. Hopper slid out himself, arranged Eleven in his arms bridal style, then lowered one shoulder so Steve could swing his arm around it. Intertwined, they shuffled to the cabin at an achingly slow pace.

When they finally made it to the door, Hopper deposited Steve in a kitchen chair before carrying El to her room. Once she was settled under her covers, he returned to the front of the cabin where he pushed his bed back against the front wall and cleared an assortment of heaters out of the way to the couch.

"You r'lly don…I'm 'kay…" Steve protested as Hopper helped him shuffle to the couch. The Chief just rolled his eyes and, after the kid was laying flat, swung Steve's legs over the armrest.

"Thanks," the teen muttered before his head dropped back down to his chest and the stuffy snoring began again. Smiling despite himself, Hopper gently fit a decorative pillow under Steve's head and laid a packet of frozen peas over his nose.

"Okay?"

The question was so soft Hopper almost missed it. He looked left to see a half-awake Eleven still in bed but pointing at Steve. "Okay?" she repeated, this time a little more loudly.

"Yeah, kid. He'll be fine. Are you okay?"

Eleven nodded drowsily and she pulled her blankets tighter around her chin.

"Want to wash some of that gunk off your face?" Hopper asked, already seeing the smudges against her pillowcase. He didn't care around the pillowcase itself, more that it might be uncomfortable for Eleven in the morning.

She shook her head exactly once before her eyes drifted closed.

Knowing there was going to be a lot of activity in the front room throughout the night, Hopper closed her door so she could get her rest uninterrupted. At the very last moment though, he cracked it open an inch so he could hear her if she had a nightmare. After triple-locking the front door, he took a serious look at his bed, taking in the wrinkled and sweat-soaked sheets. Since he didn't have the energy to do a load of laundry that very moment, he grabbed the alarm clock from beside the bed and set it for two hours before curling up in the arm chair.

It was going to be a long night.

Not a lot of action in this chapter but we had a lot of missing time to cover and plotlines to wrap up. We'll get into more dialogue and interactions in the next chapter, beginning with the 2 AM concussion check.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought.