Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing! I got some great feedback on the last chapter. One reviewer thought Hopper was too hard on Jane and said doesn't he want her to like him. Well, he's her parent, not her friend. As the mom of teenagers, I can tell you, it's not a parent's job for your kid to like you ;)

Friday was a pleasant day for Hopper. He'd gotten some Christmas shopping done on his lunch hour, and his work day had been calm. No crazy calls to deal with, the station was fairly quiet. He felt good about how he'd handled the situation with Jane, though he still second guessed himself somewhat. Did I go overboard with the list, he wondered. But then he told himself that some chores and schoolwork wouldn't hurt her. He was working on a Christmas surprise for her too, which helped to assuage any guilt he may feel for punishing her. He also reminded himself that she had certainly earned that punishment.

He picked up Kentucky Fried Chicken on the way home. Arriving at the cabin, he gave the secret knock, but got no response. He waited a couple of minutes and tried again. Maybe she is in the bathroom and didn't hear me, he thought. He pressed his ear to the door and heard no sound from inside. He knocked a third time, starting to get worried. He fought a wave of panic as he put his mouth to the door and said her name loudly. He felt relief as he finally heard the door unlock, and he entered.

"Janie, where are you?" He said, putting the bucket of chicken down and looking around in concern.

He saw a hand wave from the couch. Walking over, he was met with a half asleep form, sprawled out across the cushions..

"Hmmm, mmm" she mumbled.

The list he had left her was on the coffee table, along with several other pieces of paper showing definitions and word problems. The cabin smelled different, Hopper noticed. It looked different too. She had really cleaned the place. There was no longer dust on the bookshelves, the floor was clear, and he could see the kitchen sink sparkling from where he stood.

He leaned over her, and felt her forehead, making sure she didn't have a fever. She rarely napped and it was unusual for her to be asleep at 5:30. She didn't feel warm. Her eyes fluttered open at his touch and she sat up abruptly.

"Sorry, Dad!" She said, rubbing her eyes and shaking herself awake.

He sat down next to her and asked, "Sorry for what?"

"Fell asleep. Didn't mean to," she replied around a yawn.

He suddenly felt very guilty. She wore herself out, doing all that cleaning and work I told her to do. She didn't look angry with him though. She stood up and stretched.

"Did your list!" She announced proudly, giving him a hug. "Not a fun day," she added with a pout.

Mission accomplished, he mentally congratulated himself. It wasn't supposed to be fun. Yes she'd gotten tired but she hardly seemed traumatized. Kid has been through real trauma and this wasn't it. This was effective consequences for her behavior. He suspected that deep down, even she understood that. Not that he would expect her to admit it.

"The house looks great," he observed and she smiled.

"Didn't get to the writing. Fell asleep. Okay to do that part tomorrow? Please?"

Whoa, he realized, she's telling on herself. He thought about checking her again for a fever.

"I think that would be just fine," he answered, smiling. Definite point to Dad, he told himself.

"Are you hungry? All you did today probably worked up an appetite."

She nodded vigorously and went to the table, another yawn slipping out.

"Had Eggos for lunch. And milk," she said, reaching for a piece of chicken.

"I think a treat may be in order to go with this fine meal," Hopper said, going to the refrigerator and retrieving a bottle of Coke.

"There ya, go, kid. And I think we have some ice cream in the freezer for dessert."

"Oh, thanks, Dad!," she said, "Want to see my math?"

"I'd love to. I'll look at it all after dinner," he said fondly. "You did really good today."

Jane went to bed early and while Hopper enjoyed the peace and quiet, he did miss the TV. Normally at night after she was asleep he would relax with a beer and watch a football game or the news. Dang it, he realized, her punishment is hurting me too. He settled for listening to a game on the radio. He was startled to hear the phone ring late. He looked at the clock and it was after 11:00. He must have dozed off on the couch, the loud ringing shocking him.

He answered the phone groggily and was immediately wide awake when he heard crying.

"Hop? Can you come to the police station?"

"Joyce? What is it?"

"It's Jonathan. Please, can you come down here?" Her voice was shaky and distraught sounding.

"You and Jonathan are at the station? What's wrong?"

"He had a wreck. He was drinking and driving," she said, then he heard her break down in tears.

"I'll be right there. Sit tight." He quickly wrote Jane a note in case she woke up and put in on the desk in her room. Grabbing his hat and keys, he was out the door. He was sure to bring his one house key so he could get back in.

Hurrying into his police station, he saw Jonathan and Joyce right away. Jonathan was sitting in a chair at one of his officer's desks, with his mom standing closeby. He had on handcuffs and his head was resting on the hard wood surface of the officer's workstation.

The officer on duty jumped up and said, "Chief, sir, what are you doing here so late?"

"I called him," Joyce said, sniffing. Her face was red from crying, her features simultaneously tense and exhausted.

"She's a friend of mine," Hopper quickly said, then he added sternly, "Get those cuffs off the boy, now."

"Oh, yes sir, but you know we arrested him for DUI, right?" The officer was stumbling over his words, clearly nervous that his boss had made a rare late night appearance.

"I know that but look at him. He's basically passed out," Hopper said, exasperated. "The cuffs are not necessary. Get them off."

The cop hurried to remove the handcuffs, fumbling with the keys. Once they were off, Hopper walked over to Jonathan, and bent down close to him. The stench of alcohol was strong enough to make Hopper wince. He clapped Jonathan on the back, saying, "Wake up."

Jonathan slowly opened one eye and partially raised his head, then deciding that probably wasn't a good idea, put his head back down on his folded arms on the desk, rubbing his wrists. He was drooling, his hair was wildly going in all directions, and he had the beginning of a bruise on his forehead.

Hopper sighed, shook Jonathan's shoulder, and repeated a little louder, "Look at me."

Jonathan's head lifted, he looked at Hopper, eyes trying to focus and take in his surroundings. Hopper was quite sure the kid had no idea where he was or what had happened.

The chief leaned down and took Jonathan by the shoulders, so they were face to face. He was studying the boy's bloodshot eyes and bruised head with scrutiny.

"Must have been some night," he pronounced sarcastically, at which point Jonathan's face contorted in pain and he proceeded to vomit all over the desk, floor, and the chief's shoes.

"Damn it," Hopper cursed, jumping back to avoid being in the line of fire again. Joyce moved quickly, retrieving a trash can and putting it under Jonathan.

Hopper took off his shoes, giving Jonathan an aggravated glare, and walked to the sink to rinse them off.

"Let me help you," Joyce followed him. "I still can't believe this," she said, her breath coming in hitches.

"I've got it," Hopper said, running them under the faucet. "So, what happened, Joyce? I need to know everything."

She stood against the sink, running her hands through her hair and shaking her head.

"I really don't know much. There was a party, a bunch of the seniors got together to celebrate exams being over."

"Quite a celebration," Hopper said gruffly, grabbing a bunch of paper towels.

"I've always told him to call me. I've told him a hundred times to never, ever drive after drinking. I wasn't dumb enough to think he would never drink, but I thought he would call me before ever doing something like this," she put her hands over her face, giving in to her tears again.

"I keep thinking I could have lost him tonight, Jim," she said, leaning into his arms. "His car went into a ditch, which I guess I should be thankful. It could have been so much worse. He could have killed someone else or himself."

"Shh," he comforted her. "He's okay. Not great, but not hurt. It's okay.."

He was rubbing her back while she cried, putting his chin on top of her head and holding her close. Her despondent weeping was about to break him.

After a moment, Joyce realized, "He had taken Nancy to the party, but she wasn't in the car, thank goodness. I don't even know if she got home or how."

"Okay, go sit with him a minute while I check to make sure Nancy made it home."

He went into his office, watching as Joyce sat next to Jonathan. He was asleep with his head on his arms, mouth hanging open. That's quite a look, kid, he mused. His mom reached out and was stroking his hair. She lit a cigarette, keeping one hand on her son, as if to reassure herself he was really there and okay. Better be careful, Hopper thought. I have a feeling the boy is not done throwing up.

He called the Wheelers and Karen confirmed that Nancy was asleep in her bed. Hopper had to break the news about the party and Jonathan's accident. He told Karen not to wake Nancy up, she could find out in the morning. He assured her that Jonathan was alright and that Joyce was there with him.

He walked out of his office, and asked Joyce, "Is Will at home asleep?"

She nodded, "I ran out in such a hurry, I didn't even leave a note. I hope he doesn't wake up. What's going to happen now? Does Jonathan have to stay here all night? Am I just supposed to leave him here?" Her face was pale and she looked on the verge of falling apart again.

"No," Hopper said, "He's coming home with me."

"Sir?" Asked the officer. "Don't we have to book him? Let him sleep it off in a cell?"

"WE don't 'have' to do anything that I don't say we do, am I right?" Hopper was in full police chief mode.

"Yes, sir, Chief," the younger cop agreed, nodding and swallowing hard.

"Glad we understand each other here," Hopper continued. "I say the kid is coming home with me. I'll keep an eye on him tonight and Joyce, I'll call you in the morning. You get home and be there for Will. Jonathan is going to sleep and he's going to feel like absolute crap when he wakes up. You know he will be safe at my place."

Hopper and Joyce helped Jonathan up and together they walked him to Hopper's truck. The teen was being supported by Hopper, his mom helping on the other side. Jonathan started groaning when they eased him into the truck..

"Is he going to be alright?" Joyce asked. "You don't think he needs to go to the hospital, do you?"

"Naw, I don't think so. He'll be okay. He may feel like he's dying but at this point the best thing for him is sleep. I'll get some water in him so he doesn't dehydrate. If I have any doubt, or if he seems worse, I'll take him to the emergency room. Do you trust me?"

She nodded, wiping her face of a few stray tears. "I absolutely do. And thank you for taking him. I couldn't have left if he were in a jail cell."

He gave her a quick kiss on top of her head. "I'll call you when he wakes up."

When Hopper arrived home with Jonathan, he looked at the sleeping teen and wondered how best to get him in the house. I can't carry him and if he only halfway walks like he did leaving the station, he was liable to fall over in the woods. I'm going to have to wake him up, he realized. That would be good though, he could do a quick assessment and make sure Jonathan wasn't dehydrated or sporting a concussion. He knew that rousing him would not be easy. He had snored the entire ride, his mouth wide open.

Hopper reached over, and shook the boy's shoulder, saying loudly, "Jonathan! Wake up. Come on, you have to walk." Jonathan opened his eyes quickly, then closed them again.

"Jonathan!" He practically yelled. "Get up NOW"

Finally, he saw the boy's eyes open and focus. He regarded Hopper with confusion. "What? Where am I," he mumbled, wiping his hand over his face. Hopper knew from experience that his mouth probably felt as dry as a cotton ball.

"It's me, Chief Hopper, and you're at my house. Well, not yet. At the moment you are in my truck in the middle of the woods. You've got to wake up enough to walk. Can you do that?"

"Sure," Jonathan replied, as if Hopper had asked him to perform a ridiculously easy task. With that, he opened the door and obviously misjudged his ability to stand, let alone, walk. He promptly rolled out of the truck, threw up, then tumbled onto the ground with audible moan.

"Oh good Lord," Hopper sighed, walking over to the passenger side and closing the door. Jonathan looked as if he had no clue how to get up or where he was. Thank God he didn't puke in my truck, Hopper thought, looking at the prone lump in the middle of the leaves.

"Let's go," Hopper said, helping to heave Jonathan to his feet. The boy was swaying.

"You've got to walk. I'm going to help but if you can't make it to the house, we are going back to the police station and you are sleeping in a cell. Got me?"

Jonathan nodded, his head moving heavily. "Want to sleep."

"I'm sure you do," Hopper quipped, putting one of Jonathan's arms around his own shoulder and steadying him as they headed to the cabin.

Upon entering, the chief deposited Jonathan on the couch and took off his shoes.

'Okay, son, you're going to sleep here but you've got to do a couple of things first. The first is go to the bathroom. I don't really want you pissing yourself on my sofa, no offense."

Jonathan focused on the light in the bathroom to help him reach the destination, wobbling the whole way. He returned to the living room and spread out on the couch, face halfway hanging off a cushion.

"Not yet, Sleeping Beauty," Hopper stopped him. "Next step is, drink this. If you get dehydrated, we'll be in the emergency room getting you IV fluids. I'm sure it's lots of fun down there on a Friday night," he added sharply. He handed Jonathan a glass of water and watched until he'd ingested it all. He refilled the glass and set it on the coffee, with instructions to keep sipping on it.

"Last thing. Change into these. Your clothes reek of vomit and booze," Hopper handed him a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt.

Jonathan scoffed, "I'm not even that drunk," taking the clothes and removing his own shirt.

"Really?" Hopper questioned, holding the dirty tee shirt at arm's length. "We'll talk about that when you wake up. No sense in doing it now considering you wouldn't remember it in the morning anyway."

Jonathan collapsed onto the pillows, grumbling that he hadn't drank that much. The last thing Hopper did before the kid was snoring was place a trash can next to the couch, put an ice pack on Jonathan's head, and cover the sleeping figure with a quilt.