Love is flourishing, fanvids are churning along here we are again. I was tempted to add the fervour to this chapter but I think I'll leave it to last or keep it lingering . Enjoy and review if ya like
A few hours earlier the sun was sun was setting over the bay and a disgruntled Federal Agent was trying not to be too conspicuous as part of his assignment was in the waiting, endless amounts of waiting
Two coffee cups made him restless a third would make him irate, there wasn't much suspicion, Thank God for this was 1986; Trench coats were all.the rage. Black, white, navy, woollen - He could have avoided the trope if he wanted to. The Spook with the Aviator shades, all that was needed was a briefcase and some clammy hands.
But Adam Lange wasn't clammy, he was cold and tired and maybe even a bit nervous. It was Midwinter and he was about to head out to rescue not one American but three, three Americans and a Russian defect.
He'd heard about defections, about the Soviet ruin and how so many would flee and keep on fleeing. He'd never handled a defection case before and he was wary.
In the diner was a booth with a Two-fold door, with great reluctance he bundled himself inside and tapped the extension to World's End, otherwise known as Siberia.
After Three rings a gruff voice bellowed into the phone.
"Hello..Daniel? This is Uncle Stefan, are we still on for that fishing trip?"
A woman started to whisper but 'Daniel ' Shushed her softly.
"Uncle Stefan - feels like forever, can't wait" Daniel replied calmly but with a bit of grit.
"Oliga will set your gear up, we can't have another rod left to those bears...It's very expensive stuff" Lange iterated
"I don't plan to leave anything behind, we're eager to see you Uncle Stefan"
"The damp gets to my bones, Mornings are bad for it, good sun is due and then we can just drift and get to that fishing"
" It's long overdue Uncle Stefan" Daniel deeply sighed
The two men prattled on, going on minuscule detail in the most droll fashion but the dullness of the conversation was the point.
After that he quietly left the booth and stepped into a black Ford Escort, where he drove it to the shoreline. Hidden in a cove was a Grand Banks 42 Yacht - Hardly discreet but time and discretion never were firm friends
On the upper deck was his partner Agent Thackeray , a sea faring man from the clave of Myrtle Beach. Were they from their local jurisdictions? Yes Was it obvious? Always - Nothing said Federal like State reps of State agencies. They travelled around but maybe not this far or too stupid...for a job.
"Lets get this show on the road" Lange ordered as he swaggered aboard.
The sky was diluting into the grey of morning by the time the escapees saw any water. Like the Scoundrel that he was, their very own Gyro Captain left them where safety was near but a little farther than necessary.
So the three of them trundled not really knowing what to expect next, Hopper kept the rifle, which was quite absurd considering Soviets could swarm them in seconds never mind minutes.
"You're everything he said you'd be and I'm still in shock!!" Enzo sniffled in between the crack of snow underfoot.
"Dmitry, leave it alone"
"Ah you remember my name, American, that's good, we're actually friends now, are we not? Dimitry-Jim, Jim-Dmitry...I like" Smirked the Communist
"What exactly shocks you about me?'
" Russians are seen as these big bad bears of the East, right? Not so, not since I see you raid Gulag to get your man out. I shouldn't fear God I should fear women like you! Pa ha" Enzo guffawed
Joyce cringed while Hopper stared back at them and smiled in a way she rarely saw, if ever. I guess that was her reward along with a passion found at long last.
It would have to sustain her as the Siberian Coastline was looking eerily like the banks of the River Styx with its grey mist and black waters not yet touched by daylight.
For a whole hour nerves shredded into ever shrinking pieces they followed Dmitry's translations of the road signs. In the far distance was infrequent glows of light that were either from a lighthouse or watch tower.
They came to a little bank that may or maybe not be the edge of Cape Oliga
Squeezed around the rubber ring, belonging to a vessel called Polaris, was the mechanism for a rubber dingy.
After it exploded into form, Hopper glanced at his first Western product in nearly a year, everyone tried to be quiet as they tread water while helping to launch the boat. He circled the Sun Sport and helped his friends into their freedom flotilla.
He stopped waist deep in the freezing cold water when Joyce was overflowing with relief. Pursing her lips then smiling, pursing her lips then smiling, like a child on Christmas morning.
He had to kiss her then so he did, slowly, deeply and with the most profound joy.
"We're going home" Hopper cooed
"Indeed we are" Joyce laughed, he kissed her again before climbing into their air-bubbled raft.
"Well, I'm definitely not watching an Arnie movie ever again" Murray blustered. He was trying to be sardonic, dry, Murray.
The same Murray that would joke away the Anti-Semitism of 1956 Hawkins. But cry by punching his locker while nobody was watching.
Hopper was watching
Hopper was loud now but quiet then, he was loud like his father but not brutish or traumatised. That would come later, peace was always such a Pyrrhic thing to achieve anywhere.
"Hey you, you took charge for me, you took care of her for me. I don't why you did what you did, we never owed each other anything. And now I owe ya everything...Thanks Murray, thanks a lot" Hop rubbed his chin awkwardly
The Sheriff distracted himself by adjusting the motor but as he turned back a wide, gloved hand hung in mid air. The men shook hands firm and fast, and Hop was hit with emotion again
He was cared about and yes he was worth it and his Father's anger was drowned out by the memory of Joyce's sighs and the promise of what could be.
"Good going, Starsky" Joyce Nodded
Their joviality was brief as the Motor roared into life with a treacherous rumble. With Jim Hopper at the helm they bid a very swift farewell at their visit to Hades on Earth
Hopper refused to look back
With every mile of water churned, he cried the way men cry. Crying without crying, the blinking of tears, the choking in the throat, the rubbing of the head.
Joyce noticed and took his free hand and squeezed it, even then he took care of her, even then he turned her hand in a clasp and pressed it to his chest. He took the back of it and nestled it against his cheek, Hop couldn't stop rubbing his cheek against her tiny gloved hand.
Every shake of his head was trying to calibrate the thousands upon thousands of words to say, all of love, all for her. But God damn it, he was still the Teddy Boy jock that was just as tongue tied as the night he saw her in the red prom dress Thirty years earlier.
There was one sentence that was larger than all of them
A truth he'd known for some time and James Hopper had to say it once, just the one time:
That Joyce Byers could very well be the love of his tortured life.