Hop entered the bar with a sigh, knowing full-well how he expected tonight to go. Gwen would probably be here and he'd play that game again where he pretended he didn't see her, wasn't interested. And then he'd get three beers deep and maybe consider sending her a glance across the bar and she'd strut her way over to him and lean down just enough for him to see her cleavage peeking out from underneath the cut of her dress.

It wasn't his favorite thing, but it held him long enough until the lonely left.

With Jane at a slumber party he figured he had time to do something for himself for once.

And then he met eyes with Julie nursing a mixed drink and looking completely downtrodden. And the night took a turn.

"Hey, Jules," he slid on the barstool beside her. She seemed startled at his presence at first which surprised him, given her abilities. Were things different when she was drinking?

"Hey, Jim," she put on a fake smile but he saw right through it. Was she still pissed about their last conversation a few days ago at the coffee shop? He sighed at the thought.

Tapping his fingers on the bar to get the barkeep's attention, he nodded toward the man who brought him his usual. He'd almost asked Julie if the two empty drinks beside her were hers but judging by the glassy expression he figured he knew that answer.

"You…uh…you alright?" Jim ran a hand down his beard as his drink came. He took a gulp of the Old Fashioned, waiting out her reply.

Julie debated unloading on him, letting him crack down the walls she'd started building up since her last escape from the facility. It might be helpful, she mused to herself, to let someone in. Maye it would help him to trust her so she could meet Jane after all this time in this crummy town…Yet she was so used to being in her head with her thoughts, learning poor coping skills when she was imprisoned in that room all those months. The little she did speak at the time was all bullshit, to Brenner, lies or half-truths just to get him to trust her enough to start letting her outside. Where could she begin to tell Jim or anyone these things? He still didn't trust her enough to meet Eleven. And if she let her biggest secret out? She couldn't even imagine the extent of that reaction.

Instead, she raised her glass, clinked it against his. "Let's drink."

Hopper didn't know how to take that. In his experience with women, the long pause typically meant something. He'd half expected her to word vomit at that moment, let him in. There were so many questions surrounding her and as a cop it pissed him off that she was so closed off sometimes.

Back when they'd first met she was hostile at first too, guarded, until she got to drinking or they were staring down the face of another danger and she let him in on her history – shined a light in the dark corners that he was curious about. He wondered if it would be similar now. What were those last months like in the facility? Did she know how badly it killed him to find out that she was here – right under his nose – all those months? Did he want her to know?

So he clinked his glass against hers and downed his drink quickly. Well, at least the company wasn't bad.

She ordered shots and holy shit did that girl know how to throw them back. Hop was impressed, really. He was never one to turn down alcohol.

Nursing her second drink since he showed up, Julie finally turned to him to see him counting the glasses around her. Working on her fourth of what looked like a mojito, two shots downed…

"Counting up, Jim?" she placed her elbow on the bar, rest her head on her closed fist, and looked at him. Jim opened his mouth to respond when she said, "catch up, Hop."

She never called him that, he came to realize, and it sounded foreign from her lips.

"Tell me," he started to say before drinking another gulp of his Old Fashioned. "are we celebrating or trying to forget?"

She pondered this a moment, scrunching up her nose before saying, "both."

Julie was jealous of Jim's tolerance. He must be practiced, she imagined. Not to mention his height and weight. She never did stuff like this, though she loved the mojitos and never figured out how to make them just right. She figured she should stop while she was right on the edge of drunk.

"Anything exciting happen today?" she asked before she realized.

Jim pursed his lips, almost smiling before shaking his head then glancing at her. "No," he chuckled. "You picked a pretty boring place to live, kid. Before, well, everything happened…this place was kinda dull." He took another sip. "People in this town don't have too much going on."

"People suck," she said before realizing that thought slipped from her mouth.

Jim watched her reaction; eyes scrunched closed, lips pursed. She opened one eye and then the other to look at him.

"Drunk thoughts there, huh Mississippi?" his tone was light and humored but he instantly felt like an asshole as he watched her expression change from humor to something hollow. So there it was, the reason she was drinking tonight: home.

She took another sip of her drink, body turning to face the bar again, away from him. He felt like she physically shut him out again. Great.

Glancing over his shoulder, he made eye contact with Gwen. Her blonde hair dusted over her exposed shoulder in that dress and she made her way to the bar. Jim turned away, glancing at Julie, then back at the bar top. He felt heat beside him in a moment and knew Gwen was there.

"I'll take another Long Island," she told the bartender. Jim didn't look up at her. "Oh! Hopper. Fancy seeing you here," her hand was on his bicep and he honestly just wanted her to go away. "You alone again tonight?"

The lilt to her voice would have made him crave the attention any other night. But tonight he was invading Julie's space and he felt like scum from bringing up her hometown, probably looked even lower with a blonde woman hanging on his arm now.

"Nah, I'm with a friend."

Julie was surprised by this and maybe it was the alcohol but him calling her a friend made her feel choked up. She'd lost all her friends, lost contact after the facility, distanced herself from everyone when she came home. Jim calling her Mississippi brought it all back in waves, all of the feelings and thoughts she was trying to swallow down with alcohol tonight.

She meant to look up at the woman, smile kindly at meeting her, but her eyes were brimming with tears and she felt like a fucking fool getting so emotional over him calling her his friend. She tried to pass it off as just the alcohol but she knew better. She'd needed this. They were friends.

The woman must have wandered off because Jim was looking at her again, trying to read her, she was sure. She tried to use her ability to read his thoughts but alcohol always numbed her senses.

Suddenly overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, she asked him. "What are you thinking right now?"

Jim finished another drink. "You tell me." He liked this game sometimes, liked to see what she could do when he was prepared to focus on one thing. He hated it when she could just weasel herself into his brain without him prepared. What had she learned from those moments if he wasn't on guard in front of her?

"I can't," she sighed, finally looking up at him from under her lashes. The vulnerable look she had almost knocked Hopper off his barstool.

So he'd been right earlier based on her reaction. "You can't?"

She looked frustrated suddenly, laughed without humor, shook her head. "Funny how I hate the fucking power but the moment it's foggy I can't rely on it and I want to."

"What do you want to know?" he asked tentatively.

She paused, glanced at the empty glasses. "What you think of me."

Julie said it so quietly he almost thought he'd imagined her words. What did he think of her? God, he didn't want to say the wrong thing and fuck this up. These vulnerable moments with her were few and far between from what he remembered. She was always so guarded, so fiery. Clearly she was feeling her drinks or she wouldn't have asked that question. Glancing at his empty wrist where Sara's hair tie used to be, he found his answer.

"I think you have baggage like the rest of us."

That response overwhelmed her. Julie felt the world shift beneath her, felt like those walls were caving in on her.

She ordered another drink.

Hopper didn't know if that reaction was a good thing or not and he spent the next five minutes in silence, running it over in his head.

He felt pressure on his shoulder which brought him out of his thoughts. Julie was getting down from the barstool, hand on his shoulder to steady herself as her feet met the ground. She was so short and it was kinda humorous watching her slide out of the seat.

She made her way to the bathroom with calculated steps that Hopper recognized quickly. Julie was pretty drunk.

Jim motioned to the bartender, closing his tab and paying for Julie's drinks too. He'd been right about the number of drinks she had. For someone of her body weight, he was surprised she held her own as long as she did.

"Don't tell me you paid my tab too, Chief," came her voice beside him. Her cheeks were heated but otherwise she looked fine. "No more favors." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I never promised that," he chuckled. "C'mon, let's go."

Julie's chest felt hollow at the thought of going back to that empty house again. She was still getting used to it. She was torn once again: happy to have a place of her own now, but lonely in a way that she hadn't felt in the facility. Back with Brenner she had a mission, didn't have time to focus on the sadness and the ache of the empty room. Now, she just had work.

Jim was leading her out the door, hand on her lower back and she appreciated the closeness for once, leaned into it. Hopper felt it, felt her arm wrap around his middle as they walked to his Blazer, felt her lean her head against his side as they continued on.

"I can't drive, Jim," she hummed, hiding her face in his shirt with a slight giggle.

"Oh, I know," he easily stepped into this caretaker role. The bartender had given him a look on the way out that was annoying to him. What with his past, he was sure the barkeep had him pegged as some scumbag who fed Julie drinks to get her to sleep with him. Maybe he should care more about his appearance around town, but he didn't.

"I don't wanna go back there," she leaned against his Blazer, crossed her arms.

"Where?"

"That house," she said it like a curse word.

"Your house?" Jim questioned to which she shrugged it off, rolling her eyes. Jim sighed. "Why's that?"

Julie reached out for his thick wrist, tried pulling him toward her which just resulted in her stepping closer to him instead.

"It's lonely," she whispered, pressing her head to his chest. Hopper tensed, feeling her hands slip from his wrist to his middle, tracing her fingers up his chest to his biceps. Being touched like that threw him off for a minute and he forgot what his endgame was here.

Lonely. He got that one.

"Let's get you sobered up and then we'll talk about taking you back." He'd almost said home but thought better of it.

She jumped into the passenger seat all too eagerly and when they were on their way to the cabin things felt too familiar. He thought back to that time crossing state lines with her, running from the guys they would later find out were part of MKUltra. That felt like a lifetime ago. Before he knew who Brenner was, right after the loss of Sara. Things were bad at that point but Julie's situation had managed to distract him temporarily. That is, until she was taken and he was left to pick up the pieces. Those months were dark. Burying himself so deep in sex and booze and pills. He had nothing.

"You're thinkin' some dark thoughts, Chief," Julie hummed beside him, slight smirk on her face.

Jim's mouth fell open as he glanced from the street to her then back. The moonlight made her look even paler and he could see the way her chest rose and fell steadily with every breath in the darkness.

"I thought you said you-"

"Alcohol seems to weaken it, especially in a crowded room. Now it's just you and me, Jimmy."

Hopper felt his cheeks redden at the thought. "Did you plan this?"

"What? To get shitfaced in your presence?" she laughed. "No, Jim. Was not my plan."

They got to the cabin and to Julie's irritation Jim helped her out of the Blazer and up the steps.

"You're so damn stubborn," Jim griped as she forced her arm out of his grip.

Julie was aware that he was housing Eleven but she didn't want to make it obvious that she was curious. She was feeling the alcohol still and it was awful how the room was spinning. The cabin seemed homey, lived-in, and it made her ache even more.

"I'm sorry, Jim…" her emotions finally came to her full-force as she huffed down on the couch, head in her hands. She could feel the tears prickling and it pissed her off. The mix of emotions and the booze really hit her hard all at once and how damn embarrassing was this?

Jim ignored her apology, he hadn't needed it. Stepping toward the fridge he got her a bottle of water. When he came back to sit beside her, she was looking at him, pink cheeks, eyes glassy, tearstains. Aw fuck he was uncomfortable with crying women. He handed her the water and she hesitated but took it.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked quietly, not leaning back and getting comfortable yet. She looked at him like a wounded animal. "Figured I'd ask. It's only fair."

She smiled at that but hid it when she slumped her shoulders and shook her head.

A shaky breath left her. "When I started drinking or now?"

"Both," Jim answered instantly and she realized it mirrored the statement she'd made at the bar about celebrating and trying to forget.

She huffed, glaring at him for a second before shoving his shoulder which, again, did nothing to move him. The moment held sadness but he couldn't help but be humored by her antics.

"Earlier…" she exhaled loudly then glanced over at him again. "You're staring."

Jim raised his hands in innocence, leaning back a bit. "I'm not!"

Julie shot him another look, pursing her lips before laughing awkwardly. "I can't do this."

"Too late, you already started. Don't be a tease," he meant it as just a comment but soon realized the entendre and his mind went elsewhere. Just in case she was paying attention to his headspace, he tried shifting his thoughts again.

Julie leaned back against the couch. "This is so hard," she was still laughing from the buzz or the tension Hop didn't know.

"Oh, right, I don't feel bad at all!" Jim retorted. "You realize that nothing is private for those around you."

Her mouth fell open and Hopper worried he said the wrong thing again.

"Harsh, Jim, real harsh," she still had a smile on her face though. "Okay, fine, I'll go." She was stalling but he could wait all night. "Don't look at me," she groaned.

"Nu-uh. Too bad, I'm looking at you," he bit back.

"Then I'm turning away," she gripped the water bottle tighter and turned her back to him. Jim waited, sighing.

After a few minutes he was amazed at her ability to stall. "If you don't talk I'm taking you back."

She said nothing at first and he started to get up, grab his keys.

"Okay…" she breathed, reaching behind her to pull him back down, hand landing on his hip. When she felt the weight of him back on the couch, she pulled her hands back in her lap. "So…earlier…I was just…stuck in my head, I guess." He gave her a second. "I was thinking about the facility. About Brenner. My home…" her voice broke at this and Hopper had an image in his head of Sara crying, reaching out to him when she scraped her knee. He held back the urge to comfort her. "I was thinking about all the people who've been killed because of this thing. Because of me. Because I escaped."

"Julie…" Jim wanted to stop her there, correct her, interrupt this negative talk.

"I shouldn't have run. I should have torn that place apart from the inside out and never gotten anyone else involved. My sister would still be alive. My parents…" she wiped a hand against her face.

Jesus, what a heavy burden to carry. He couldn't blame her; his head would probably be in the same place if the situation were flipped. Yet she couldn't have handled that all her own. It was too big. Hopper wondered what she'd been thinking when she first came in the cabin, when the tears started.

Julie read this from him, wanting to know his reaction to what she'd said, yet still afraid to turn to see him.

"Jules, I...you can't blame yourself. Believe me that dark thought will get you nowhere."

And he knew, God, he knew. Knew what it felt like to bottle shit up, bury it so deep down so he had a few days of reprieve from that feeling, that guilt. Survivor's guilt. God, he knew it well.

Julie sat quietly, reading him again, sobering up with the more water she drank, yet the room still spun.

"I'm sorry, Jim," she buried her head in her hands. "This is not how I wanted tonight to go. I'm so sorry."

"Just stop, okay? Shit happens. I'm just glad you didn't drive."

"I walked."

"What?"

"I walked to the bar." At this, Jim fumed. The bar was pretty far from her place. What was she thinking? What kind of reckless move was that, given all that had happened to her? Julie was suddenly thinking about her comment about her house and that guilt settled in her chest. "I didn't mean that I don't like my place, by the way." Jim sat silent. "I guess I just didn't expect my life to be like this."

Jim nodded, completely getting that feeling as well. She finally turned back to him and he stilled, feeling vulnerable himself now that she could see his expression.

"Expectations will kill ya."

Julie pulled her legs up onto the couch, rest her head against the back cushion, stared up at Jim. She looked tired; like that emotional outburst was enough to push her into exhaustion.

"Did you have any?"

"Expectations?" he inquired. She nodded sleepily. "Yeah?"

"Hmmm…" she closed her eyes for a second and he flinched, worried she was trying to read him again. "Things never work out like we plan, huh?"

"No."

A few moments of silence and he left to go take a leak. When he came back into the room, Julie was curled up on the couch, breathing even. Snaking the water bottle from her hand, he leaned down to pick her up. He worried that Jane might see her in the morning on the couch if she came home early – God forbid – and ask questions, so he figured letting her take his bed for the night was a good choice.

Careful through the doorway, he set her down in his unmade bed and pulled the covers up over her. She'd probably be uncomfortable sleeping in jeans but he didn't want to risk any injuries to himself; if she woke up in his bed with no pants on he could imagine the fiery woman coming after him with a sharp object.