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"Hotel California"

Plenty of room at the Hotel California

Any time of year

You can find it here

- Eagles

Joyce came out of the police station to find Dr. Owens standing there next to her car. He smiled as she came closer, a smile that seemed determined to ignore the suspicion on her face. "Mrs. Byers. Nice day to take care of some business, isn't it?"

"What can I do for you?" she demanded. Whatever he was here for, she guaranteed she wasn't going to like it.

His smile was unchanged. "You see, that's what I like about you. Right to business. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?"

Joyce suspected that she was going to have to hear whatever it was he wanted to say anyway, might as well stick him and whoever employed him for the price of a cup of coffee. She shrugged.

"Excellent." With a hand on her elbow, Owens led her to the coffee shop down the street. It was empty—even with the mall out of commission, people had found other places to shop, and downtown Hawkins was dead.

Over coffee, and a piece of apple pie Joyce hadn't wanted that Owens had jollied her into ordering, his determined smile faded for the first time. "How are you, Mrs. Byers?"

"How should I be?"

"And … Jane?"

"About the same."

"But—physically, she's okay."

"Yes." Joyce decided not to mention that El had lost her powers. She didn't want to take the risk of these people wanting to study her girl to find out where the powers had gone.

"I can't imagine it's too comfortable here in Hawkins. All the memories." He was watching her closely, with those sharp blue eyes that belied his down-home regular-joe attitude.

"Something like that. Look, do you want to get to the point? I should get back."

Owens nodded. "I want to get you out of here. All of you. The girl, and your boy, and you. Somewhere … that isn't Hawkins."

Alarm filled her. "Why? What's happening?"

"Nothing that I can tell. But that gate is still down there, still … a possibility. We're going to keep a close eye on it," he promised, "but I'll feel a lot better if Ele—if Jane is far, far away from it."

Joyce would feel better in that circumstance, too. "I've been thinking about that," she admitted, a little unwillingly. She really didn't want to let this man or the people he represented know anything more about their lives.

"Mrs. Byers," Owens said gently. "We are a national organization. If we want to find her … we can find her. You are much, much better off letting me help you. I can keep you safe, I can keep you protected, I can keep you off the official radar."

"Why? Why would you do that for us?"

He sighed, and she could see the deep weariness in his face. "I liked him, you know? He was a bit of a bull in a china shop, but he was a square dealer and a straight shooter. He did his best in a situation where most people wouldn't have done anything, and he did it a lot better than anyone had expected. I owe him."

"So do I."

They sat there for a moment in more accord than they had ever shared. Joyce took a bite of the as yet untouched apple pie and found she was hungry after all.

"So, you'll let me help?"

"I don't see any way to keep you from helping."

Owens chuckled. "You learn fast. Were you thinking of anywhere in particular?"

"Somewhere warm," Joyce said immediately. "No snow, no shoveling, no heating bills."

"And as far away from this place as you can get."

She thought of Mike, and Nancy, with a pang of guilt. Her initial thought had been somewhere within driving distance, to be able to visit as often as they could. But … Will needed to get out of here, and El needed to be able to make a fresh start where she could experience a real life, not touched by her past. Somewhat reluctantly, Joyce nodded. "As far away from Hawkins as we can get."

"California sound okay to you?"

It sounded warm. And sunny. And far away. And exotic. Joyce nodded.

"All right. You get things ready on your end, I'll set things up on the other end. Nothing fancy," he warned her. "I do have a budget."

Clearly he had never seen her current house, Joyce thought. "We don't need fancy. Just … safe."

Owens nodded. "I get that."

The waitress came over with a pot of coffee. "Need any more?" Her tone made it clear they had already had more than she wanted to give them.

"No, Barb, thanks."

Barb's face twisted, and she slammed a piece of paper on the table. "Pay at the counter."

"Friend of yours?" Owens asked.

They used to be friendly—back before Joyce lost her son, and then got him back, before Joyce got the police chief tangled up in her mess and he got himself killed in the process. But she didn't bother to mention that to Owens. "Not really."

"Uh-huh." The kindliness in his eyes as he studied her said he understood more than she was telling him. "Eat your pie. You deserve it." He ducked his head and looked at her intently across the table. "You didn't do anything wrong, Joyce. In fact, you did as much as anyone could have expected you to—more. If you hadn't been so sure Will was … where he was, we'd all be in a much worse situation right now."

"I just want to get them somewhere that no one knows anything about them."

He nodded. "I think you should. I'm going to help you. Will you trust me, at least that far?"

"At least that far," she agreed. And no farther.