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Chapter 14: Don't cry, kid.

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Owens and Joyce had left. It was clear that the doctor had something important to tell them, and for some strange reason, he wanted to do it alone in his office. Whatever it was, it could wait for El.

The only place she wanted to be at that moment was there. Together with Hopper. Nothing else mattered.

However, she was still worried. Was it all over at last? Owens wasn't so sure about it. That's why it was incredibly hot in that room. He said it was a way to make sure if that thing wasn't still inside Hopper. The sleeves of El's shirt were rolled up and she still felt drops of sweat falling down her face. The doctor was cautious, he said that thing was learning to adapt to our atmosphere, but that was excessive. If she threw an egg on the floor she was sure it would fry.

At the Russian base, she had not been able to notice the consequences that the last months had had for him. She had been far too busy dealing with the Mind Flyer to observe him closely. A shiver ran down her spine, that had been one of the worst experiences of her life. She wondered what was worse, seeing Hop possessed by that being, capable of everything, even hurting her, or seeing him like that- so emaciated, such a shadow of the great man he had been.

He was very thin and tremendously beaten. Bruises of different colors, some newer than others, decorated much of his battered body. A big gauze covered a large part of his chest. The doctor had talked about suture stitches. It sounded really weird. And scary. El whispered silent pleas for him to wake up as she watched him.

Her arms leaned on the footboard of the bed as an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. Time is so slow when silence is your only companion. Only the sound of the monitors, measuring his vital signs, broke the silence. El wanted to do something, anything that could help him, but the doctor made it clear that all they could do was wait for him to wake up.

"I hate waiting. You should know that already," The girl stated aloud, remembering her life in the cabin, waiting for him and throwing her anger every time he was late, which ended up being something usual. It was almost fun to see what excuse was invented every day. One day he told her he was two hours late because he had to throw a bat out of Mrs. Harris's house. A bat, seriously? And for two hours! Many times she pretended to be outraged, he knew it, but still, she always got more Eggos for dessert. A weak smile appeared on her lips.

"These months, I've missed your excuses." The girl confessed. "And I've missed a lot of Miami Vice. Maybe this Friday we can see one." She spoke with false hope, knowing full well it was too early for that. "It will be fun, I promise." She got no response, the monitors kept making the same noise. Some beeps that at least indicated that Hopper was still alive. Every single one of them signified another second Hopper didn't wake up.

She approached the side of the bed. Owens had forbidden her to be near Hopper or touch anything, but, the doctor wasn't there, right? "Ok. Let's make a deal." She patted Hop's limp hand.

"I take care of popcorns and beer. But in return, you just have to wake up and stay here. I think it's easy. You win with the deal. But only for this time, ok?"

Owens closed the door and pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Joyce shook her head and instead of sitting down she grabbed the back of the chair. "Would you mind stop being so mysterious, and just tell me what the hell is happening?" Her face didn't hide her annoyance.

"I'm sorry, but since there is a certain security problem right now..."

"You mean another possible agent Jones?" The woman crossed her arms. She already knew all that, even before him, so it wasn't the time to mess with her.

"Well, yes. But I think it's just an isolated case. No need to worry."

"Of course not," Joyce snorted, "That's why you dragged me to your office, to not speak in front of anyone. Just in case you have some unwanted ears."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm just discreet. Besides, the important thing now is the chief, right?"

Joyce sighed and finally sat on the chair, or rather, she dropped on it. Her hand rubbed her face, she was tired, everyone was. "How is he? And I want the truth, not the sweetened version you've told Jane."

Owens glanced at his table for his anti-stress ball, he was going to need it. "Everything I've said is true. He has lost a lot of blood and..." he trailed off as Joyce tensed, so he cleared his throat and changed his tone trying his best to sound confident. "He is a tough guy. Physically, he will recover."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Why do you keep saying that ... physically."

"Well, I can't assume anything for sure. As I have explained before, we have to wait. But we also have to prepare for the worst, for what may happen," Without realizing it, he squeezed the anti-stress ball. A gesture that did not go unnoticed by Joyce. "While operating the chief, I had a very interesting conversation with our mutual friend, the Russian guy."

"Smirnov?" To say she was not surprised would be a lie. How could she forget him?

"Now that he has nowhere to go, he is collaborating a lot, and, he has told us many things, including what they have been doing with the chief these last three weeks," Owens looked away, hesitant. "Believe me, it's better if I save you the details."

Joyce felt a stomachache. She remembered perfectly well the interrogation they had heard at Murray's house. Oh, God. Suffering that torture for how long ... three weeks? No. It couldn't be. "No way. Hopper has been missing for four months. Did the Russians only have him for three weeks? Where had he been before?"

"Now we get to that part. According to Smirnov, Hopper came through the portal, from the other side."

"Holy shit," Joyce got up from the chair, she didn't even know what to do with her hands, so she took out the pack of cigarettes from her shirt's pocket. "Fuck," On the third attempt she could lit one, definitely in need of fresh air, her feet went to the nearest window.

Hopper had been in the Upside-Down for three damn, ridiculous, months. She could not believe it. Her son was there less than a week and the consequences were terrible. Nightmares, fear of anything. He had been so on-edge that even the slightest sound made him jump. Not to mention the thing that stayed inside him. She puffed on the cigar with shaking hands.

Will was indeed only a child, but even for an adult, three months? She repeated herself in disbelief. For not adding what the Russians later did with him, as if having spent three damn months in hell was not enough punishment for a man.

Owens pulled her out of her thoughts. "Our priority now is to check his psychological state and make sure that thing is gone for good. We have to do some tests."

Joyce frowned, she didn't like those words. "What kind of tests?"

The hum of the monitors began to accelerate. Something was happening.

"Hop?" El called him when she saw that his heart rate quickened for no apparent reason. He was taking short wild breaths, his face soaked with sweat. She could have thought it was the heat, but he looked haunted.

She took him by the shoulders and shook him a little, trying to wake him from what looked like an awful nightmare. "Hop!"

His head twitched, then his eyes cracked open. He groaned and shut them again to keep out the painful light. It took almost a whole minute to open them again, and even then, his pupils took time to adjust to the brightness.

She waited patiently for him to finish waking up and soon found herself looking into a pair of confused blue eyes.

"Wh…." The words didn't come out easily. His tongue was dry. Hurriedly, she held a glass of water to his lips and lifted his head to help him drink.

"Easy," she said and felt as if she'd achieved a major accomplishment when she got him to drink several swallows. Then she placed his head back into the pillow while her fingers stroked his shoulder, softly, waiting for him to say something.

"El?" he finally asked with a sore voice, that she could hardly recognize.

"Yeah, it's me." She beamed, feeling a great relief to see that at least he recognized her. It was the first step.

"H... How?"

It was painful to see him so alienated. She tried, by all means, to suppress her enormous desire to hug him, she wanted to do it so badly, but first, she still needed to know if that man was the real Hopper. Her real father. The one she missed and cried out for in sleep every day for months.

Hopper glanced around and then opened his mind to try and recall where the hell he was. It wasn't going to be an easy task, his body felt exhausted and didn't even know why. Since when were the lights so bright?

El hesitated. Words had never been her strong point, it was always Hopper who led all the conversations, sometimes, especially at the beginning of their relationship, his monologues were the usual thing in the cabin. She didn't care, she learned from them, but now their papers had changed. It didn't help that her mouth was dry from shock and happiness.

"You are safe. We are at the base of Dr. Owens." She tried to sound convincing but didn't seem to get the desired effect. He looked so exhausted, she wasn't even sure he had heard her. "You should rest." She advised.

"No," He said with more force this time.

Ok. She thought. He was actually listening. "Why not?"

He remained silent until he got all serious. "This is the best dream I've had lately, I don't want it to end."

For a moment she was shocked by his words. "This is not a dream, Hop."

"Yes, that's what I usually repeat myself. But then I always wake up wiped out in my cell, remembering almost nothing," He sighed, throwing his head back in contemplation. "I don't know what is real and what isn't anymore."

If someone had thrown a brick to her face, it would have hurt less. She understood that he was not yet in his sound mind, probably because of the effect of the painkillers, but that agony was real, the suffering to which he had been subjected, day after day, had made a dent in him. She couldn't stand to see couldn't stand thinking of what those Russians had done to him, of what he might have seen, or apparently, hallucinated, in that hellhole.

"Hop. Listen to me," She reached up, took his hand into hers, and brought it to her face. A weak sad smile appeared on his lips, as she rested her face on his hand, in need of that comfort. A simple gesture that meant a lot to both. "Don't worry. No one is going to hurt you. I won't let that happen." A tear rolled over her eye but he quickly wiped it away with his thumb.

"Hey kid, I'm not worried about me." He confessed, his voice sounded like gravel. "I'm worried I will wake up, and you still won't be there. I can't protect you." Gut-wrenching pain shot through El at his words. How often had this happened?

She was afraid of hurting his already bruised body but those words were the last straw for her. Carefully, she climbed the bed and sought refuge in his arms. Tears surfaced freely and soon she began to sob in his chest. With some difficulty, he wrapped his arms tightly around her body, holding her strong against him, praying that that moment would last forever, that he wouldn't awaken to the sound of a cell door opening. "Don't cry, kid." He begged, his voice was only a murmur, the forces were leaving him again.

The girl burrowed further into his chest. "I'll be with you when you wake up."

With the last of his might, he managed to kiss the top of her head. "Do you promise?"

"I promise." She replied, pressing her ear to Hop's chest to hear his heartbeat. After a few minutes, she noticed how that buzzing slowed down to a steady rhythm. He was finally asleep. El closed her eyes concentrating on that sound, with the conviction that whatever happened, she would fulfill her promise.

"That is not going to happen," Joyce snapped angrily.

Owens rose from the table resting his knuckles on it. "I am not asking you to choose nor am I asking for your consent. It is not in your hands to decide because this is a case of the government. I'm just informing you." He pointed out.

"Are you listening to yourself?" Joyce snorted in disbelief. "I won't consent to you using Hop as a guinea pig. He has suffered enough, don't you think?"

"Take it easy. We have specialists, psychologists specialized in war traumas. We can help him."

"Just like you helped my son?" She spat back, remembering how lost those specialists were with the case of Will. "No. Fuck, no!"

Owens sighed. "Listen. The chief is important. He is the first person who may recover from full possession of that thing. It could help us to better understand how it thinks, at least that is what those above me believe. I'm just the middleman, Joyce. I have my hands tied with this matter."

The woman still did not believe what she heard. "I'm guessing, he will have something to say on this matter."

"I'm afraid that he's in no position to be objective."

"At least, I think his daughter has the right to decide?"

"Oh… you mean the girl I'm helping to hide precisely from the government? The one that with just one call…"

"Don't play dirty Owens, because you have more to lose."

"Oh, yeah? I am being polite. I could make them arrest all of you."

Joyce rolled her eyes. "Even the kids?" Her hands waved tiredly before exiting the room. She wasn't going to waste her breath in a futile conversation.

"Hey. Where are you going?!" Owens exclaimed to an empty room. "Holy shit..." He murmured, running to catch up with the woman.

"Leave me alone!" She exclaimed, speeding up her steps.

He soon reached her. "At least be a little reasonable. We need to know if the being is not within him."

Joyce stopped just as she entered into Hopper's room and her jaw dropped. El and Hop were curled up together, sleeping peacefully. The image in front of her eyes was so tender, that all the anger she had evaporated in just a second.

She smiled sympathetically, blinking a few tears away. "Do you still think that this is not our Hopper?" Then she turned to face Owens. "There must be something that you could do. If you leave him here and do what you are planning to do, you will finish him off. Both of them."

Owens sighed for the umpteenth time. He had a feeling that the next few days were going to be hell.

To be continued

A/N: Hi there. I would like to ask if I should finish this story or extend it with a Jopper/Hop-Eleven part. You decide :) Just let me know. Thank you for reading!