Hopper went to the kitchen table, dropped into a chair, and massaged his temples. Joyce was still sipping her final sip of coffee. His attire, jeans and a checkered shirt, surprised her. It was both comfortable and terrible not to see him in uniform. Too domestic. Joyce longed for routine and stability, but she knew she'd never have it.
"You're not a morning person, are you?"
"Hey," Hopper mumbled, holding back a yawn. "Oh, please, make yourself at home," he sarcastically replied, pointing to her coffee.
She ignored his remark and poured him another cup; he obviously needed it. "And the sleeping beauty woke up! How did you sleep?"
He stared at the coffee oddly, and perhaps the scent began to wake him because, before taking a sip, he looked about worriedly. "Where is Jane?"
"At school." She responded promptly to avoid him from becoming overly concerned.
"What?" He was taken aback when he looked at his watch. 11:00 a.m. "Oh, shit..." He rubbed his face. "Yeeah, another point for father of the year."
"Oh, please. It's not that bad. You were sound asleep like a baby, and..." She nearly laughed as she sipped from her cup. "Jane says that not even a passing truck with Queen playing at full blast could wake you up."
"Wow," The cup brushed across his lips. "I had no idea you two were going to turn against me."
"We're not against you; We're just being objective." Her cup fell gently on the table. "How did you sleep last night? Did it work?"
He made circular motions with his shoulder. "Perhaps you aren't that awful at this."
Her lips formed a grin. She realized it was the closest thing to a 'thank you' she could get from him.
For a time, Hopper sat silent, finishing his coffee thoughtfully. It wasn't a frustrated stillness, but rather one of calmness, perhaps the calm before the storm. They needed to talk, and they couldn't ignore it any longer.
"Hopper," "Joyce," they both exclaimed, shocked.
"You first," Hopper spoke, taking a pack of smokes from his pocket.
"Why? Because I'm a lady...? Cut the crap." She wanted to listen before making another mistake with him.
Hopper smoked a cigarette. "You're a long way from being a lady. Still, you go first. Remember, my house, my rules?"
Joyce snorted, wondering why everything between them had to be so complex. "Ok," It was pointless to argue. She had just recently discovered how obstinate Hopper was. "I only wanted to thank you for everything. This gives me an opportunity to get my son back."
Hopper's eyes were drawn to the window. Uncomfortable. "What are you going to do now?"
"I'll get my son back. That's all I can do. Brenner is extremely dangerous. Nobody knows it better than you do."
He chuckled, and she lowered her gaze. "I know you think it's ridiculous and not even a plan, but I can't risk it, Hopper. He's my son. I'll get the cylinder, flee Hawkins, and make my way to New York. There I would try to contact that bastard, return his damn cylinder, and get my son back. That's exactly what I'll do."
"Can you contact Brenner?"
She crossed her arms, somewhat nervous. "No! Of course not. It's just a guy who sends Brenner messages. That's all."
"Aha," he murmured, exhaling the smoke out of his lungs, taken aback by her self-assurance. "And how do you plan to do all of that?" His tone was too casual as if he were teasing her.
"Do you think this is a game for me?"
"I just want to know how you're going to do it because I'm hoping you don't do something stupid." He leaned his elbows over the table, dead serious. "This isn't a game to me either."
Joyce became irritated. Hopper definitely had a different point of view that he didn't want to share with her. "I know you don't like my plan, but I don't have another." Finally, she replied. "I don't want to compromise you. You have a life, a job, and a daughter. You've already done a lot for me. Just give me the cylinder and forget about me. I'm good at fleeing. I'll be able to leave Hawkins." He lifted an eyebrow, about to respond. "I am! I've gotten away from you countless times. I've also covered half of Hawkins on foot, while the feds were looking for me! Do you know how far is your house?!"
"Yeah, you're pretty good at running away," he assured, his tone ironic. "but that's not what worries me."
"Brenner will never find out about you, I swear. Why can't you trust me?"
"Do you want me to write a list?" When his blue eyes latched on hers, she realized there was something more he was afraid of, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Hopper fiddled with the pack of cigarettes in his hand. "Look... I can help you, but we'll do it my way."
"Ok." She responded. He raised an eyebrow in astonishment. It had been far too simple. "But first, you will give me the cylinder, and then, we shall see your plan. I think it's fair."
"So you can flee later? No thanks."
The frustration was getting unbearable. Joyce couldn't take it anymore. "Doing things your way means I have to do whatever you say, or what? You'll never give me the cylinder... Is that it? You arrogant jerk! Don't you realize that the only reason I'm still here is because I want to?" She placed her palms on the table with a thump. "I'm sure I could have found it. In fact, I believe the cylinder is in this house." He was taken aback by her tone. "You're too stubborn; you wouldn't sleep well if you didn't know whether it was safe. I could have looked for it yesterday when you fell asleep like a log, and I'm sure I would have found it. But guess what?" She fixed her focus on him. "I have faith in you." Joyce became more confident since she knew she had nothing to lose. "And I think you have some faith in me. You wouldn't have allowed me near you if you didn't want me to. You know all this, but you're scared to accept it, so all you do is try to push me away!" She took a deep breath, relieved that she had expressed her thoughts out.
Hopper put out his cigarette, concerned. "You're right." He was aware that he had let his guard down the night before, and she could have done anything, yet here they were, drinking coffee. Something had changed, and Hopper was still wondering what it was, completely ignorant of the way she was looking at him. "I can help you get out of Hawkins, but first, I have some business to settle and a few favors to call in." He placed the cigarette pack on the table. "I want to walk out that door knowing you'll be here when I return. I truly do. But the last time I asked you that, Joyce, you bolted."
"True, but..." She was skilled at getting away from awkward situations. "I saw you had chicken in the fridge."
"What?! I'm serious, Joyce!"
"Me too." She fought back. "If I have to wait for you, the best thing I can do is prepare some food. You're obviously not a decent cook. Frozen food is unhealthy!" She grinned, finding it amusing to see him so perplexed.
"Have you also snooped around the kitchen?"
"Even if you think otherwise, I'm not leaving, so I had to check the supplies." She took a breather to consider what she was about to say. "Even if you don't know it or don't feel it the same way. Hopper, you've given me hope. I know that you are acting in your self-interest and that it has nothing to do with me, but any help is better than none. You've even inspired me to think of leaving this mess and opening my new workplace."
Joyce had to glance aside to keep her eyes from glazing over. She had actually daydreamed about more than just the office; with a normal life, and... who knows if he'd be there. Despite their differences and quarrels, she felt extremely comfortable close to him. She didn't know why, but even if he didn't feel the same way, she wanted to imagine they might become friends. It was so easy to fantasize...
His voice softened. "When you told me about the new office. Were you serious? Would you start a new life without all this crap?"
"Of course! I just want to live in peace, with my son and have a decent job. I don't ask for anything more."
Hopper kept silent for a few moments before shaking his head. He smacked the cigarette pack, and the cylinder dropped on the table. "You're right that it was inside the house. I'm not sure if I should be worried about being so predictable." He admitted, grinning regretfully, but, at the same time, averting his gaze from hers, as if he didn't want to admit he'd made a mistake.
Joyce took his hand without hesitation, trying to reassure him. "Thank you." She opened his palm, surprised he didn't resist. "However, you should keep it." She placed the cylinder in his palm and closed his hand over it.
Hopper was perplexed. He tried to understand her, but she always surprised him in some way. "Why have you pressed me so hard, just to hand it back to me?"
Her grip on his hand grew firmer. "You demonstrate to me that you truly trust me, that you believe I won't flee this time. That's enough for me." She softly rubbed his knuckles. "I show you that I could have taken it but didn't because I trust you as well." She gradually let go of his hand. "Besides, you're so stubborn that I'm sure you'd feel better carrying it yourself."
He glanced at the spot where her fingers had been seconds before, missing the contact. "I guess..." he cleared his throat. "I like chicken."
"Me too." She said lightly, relieved. They appeared to have finally reached an agreement.
Hopper drove in silence, rehearsing the plan. He'd attempted to tie up all the loose ends, though his mind were entirely focused on Jane. He hoped she would be fine while he was gone. He had to ask the Wheelers to stay with her for a few days. That meant he'd have to put up with terrible, infuriating stories about how lovely Mike was when he returned. "Fuck," he grumbled.
"What's going on?" Joyce yelled. He had forgotten for a second that she was hidden behind blankets in the rear of the car.
"Hey, be quiet and don't make any noise. We're almost at the roadblock."
"Worst plan ever!"
"Joyce! For God's sake, keep silent. I'll take care of everything."
Hopper rolled his eyes but returned his attention to his mission. When many agents gestured for him to halt, he began to slow down. They had even planted spikes on the ground to rupture tires, ensuring that no one went through without first passing through the checkpoint. An agent, relatively young, approached his window. Hopper began to lower it, uneasy. He anticipated to see Wilson at that checkpoint; he knew the man, and that was why Hopper had gone there!
He attempted to put on his best smile. "Morning, agent." Hopper spoke, pretending respect despite the fact that he knew the man was a rookie.
The agent also greeted him. "Hey, chief."
"I've an emergency. Could you remove those spikes?"
"Sure, but first, we must inspect the car."
Hopper gave him an irritated look. "What? You can't be serious..."
The agent shook his head. "These are the instructions. Check every car leaving Hawkins."
Hopper's jaw tightened. Perhaps the plan needed some changes.
To be continued.