Chapter 8:

Steve Harrington, Jim Hopper decided, was an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, shoved in a puzzle and locked in a damn safe. He was a kid with too many damn layers to be healthy. When he'd first heard about the kid it had been 'son of James and Adelaide Harrington, bit of a jerk, petty crime'. Hopper hadn't particularly liked the kid. Every time a report came across his desk about the kid. He'd sigh and read through it. The more he read, the less he disliked him. Steve ultimately wasn't a bad guy, sure he did stupid things, a lot of stupid things, but he would take responsibility.

When he'd heard about the graffiti about Nancy Wheeler, however, his opinion changed again. He had been disappointed, right up until he saw Steve up a ladder cleaning up what he'd done looking every bit as contrite as he should have while the cinema workers bustled around (he'd asked later when he'd had less pressing matters, impressed to hear the kid had owned up and offered to help of his own volition). He'd seen the kid when they'd had to sign those secrecy act forms. Steve had had an irritated look on his face as he filled them out. Hopped couldn't blame him but he also didn't exactly know how Steve Harrington of all people knew about the situation. He left Nancy Wheeler to keep an eye on him.

A year later and Hopper found himself standing in the Byers' front room with Steve wielding a baseball bat. When he returned to the Byers he saw that same kid covered in blood lounging on the couch. He let Joyce deal with him, having his own charge to worry about. It wasn't until late that night when Steve was passed out on the couch that Hopper got the full story. He flipped between wanting to shake the kid for letting thirteen-year olds be so reckless and commending him for managing to maintain some semblance of control while protecting a bunch of maniacs. He'd left, thinking they could manage. Then Steve had powers and managed to worm his way into Hopper's life.

Now that same kid, whom he'd come to adore, was sat on his couch covered in forming bruises and cuts. He wasn't wearing anything on his feet. The thin t-shirt was soaked from the rain, sticking to Steve like tape. Jane was awake, carefully examining Steve. Hopper decided that Steve needed to be treated for whatever the hell had happened. He could ask later. It was a long process. Steve had tried to wave him off, tried to stop him from actually examining him. Hopper was having none of it and managed to peel off the tee. He stayed calm as he bandaged and cleaned Steve's wounds. When he went to the kitchen, his heart dropped. He didn't really have much ice.

"Sorry kid." Hopper said. "I don't have many ice packs."

"Water." Steve rasped. His throat hadn't looked too hot. Hopper obliged, watching as Steve poured the water over himself, freezing it. Hopper made an odd noise.

"Not exactly what I thought you were going to do." Hopper admitted. Steve gave him a lopsided grin.

"Solves the ice problem." Steve murmured. Hopper nodded, sitting down next to Steve. Jane draped a blanket over Steve, who didn't seem to realise he was, or rather should be, cold.

"What the hell happened kid?" Hopper asked, he'd never been tactful or delicate.

"Got into an argument." Steve muttered. He grinned at Hopper. "We all know I've never been a good fighter." Hopper remembered. Jonathan Byers (kid could be damn violent) and Billy Hargrove (there was a story there but Hopper was looking after too many kids already). Still, Hopper thought it was a bit late for Steve to get into a fight.

"Who with?" Hopper asked. Steve didn't answer and Hopper felt his stomach turn. "Kid, let me help you."

"M'fine." Steve muttered, not that Hopper believed him. It sounded like breathing hurt.

"Fine." Hopper sighed. "You're staying here tonight though." Steve nodded, slowly shifting on the sofa. Jane and Hopper moved, letting Steve stretch himself out. Jane tugged the blanket more securely over him, Steve gave her a weak smile. Hopper pulled Jane into her room.

"Will he be okay?" Jane asked, a small inflection creeping into his voice. Hopper rubbed a hand over his face.

"He should be." He said. He wasn't going to lie or make a promise he couldn't keep. "We'll look after him."

"Look after." Jane repeated with a nod. She gave Hopper an uncertain look. "Was it Papa?" Hopper looked down at this tiny girl with enough power to destroy Hawkins. She was scared.

"I don't think so." Hopped assured her. "Steve would have told us." Jane nodded and allowed Hopper to tuck her into bed. Hopper went back and asked Steve, just to be safe. He relaxed minimally when Steve assured him it was nothing to do with Doctor Brenner. Hopper drifted off to sleep, feeling a deep unease in his stomach. If it wasn't Doctor Brenner, then who had hurt Steve so badly?