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"Neverending Story"

Make believe I'm everywhere

I'm hidden in the lines

- Limahl

They sat there together, comfortably silent, sure of each other now, waiting. Joyce felt … strong, certain that they were going to win. They had before, after all. Working together—herself and Hopper, her boys and their friends—they had won before. They would again. She tried not to think about Bob, or Barbara Holland, or Alexi, those they had lost in the process of winning. This time it would all come out right; this time would be the last time. From now on, Will and Eleven and all the others would be safe. She had to think that way, and with Hopper's warmth next to her, it was easy to be sure.

The walkie-talkie crackled to life, Murray's voice: "Bald Eagle has landed. Repeat: Bald Eagle has landed."

Hopper got to his feet at the first sound, waiting tensely, exhaling only after Murray had repeated himself. He turned to Joyce with a relieved smile. Now it would be their turn.

The walkie was silent, though, and Hopper's impatience, never far from the surface, was rising. He raised it to his mouth, demanding, "Come on, how much longer?"

"I don't know," Murray shouted back, "I've never done this before!" There was a brief silence, then Murray again: "Get ready, lovebirds, you're almost up to bat."

Joyce felt a pleasant flutter at the idea of being called lovebirds, at the thought of looking back on this as the beginning of a real partnership between herself and Hopper. Underneath the pleasant flutter were the nerves, more of an upheaval than a flutter, and she tried not to focus on that.

Above their heads, an alarm went off, and a woman's voice came across the PA system, speaking in Russian.

"He did it!" Hopper said, as if he hadn't believed Murray could—or would—get it done. "You ready?"

Joyce nodded. "Let's end this. No more."

Hopper reached for her hand, giving it a quick squeeze. "No more."

They hurried through the halls on their way to the vault. So many people in Russian uniforms were running around that two more weren't noticed in the midst of them all. Joyce followed Hopper up the stairs, nearly smashing into his back when he stopped. A man was standing in front of him, a soldier who asked them a question in Russian. They looked at each other, looked back at him, and did exactly what Murray had told them to do: They smiled and nodded. He jerked his head to indicate that they should continue in the direction they had already been going in, and with a sigh of relief, they did so, while the soldier dashed past them on his way to somewhere else.

Joyce couldn't believe it had been that easy. Hopper used the card he had found in the Russian uniform to open the door, and they found themselves in a very small room with a tunnel that led to the vault they needed to open. They walked through the tunnel, and Joyce took out the paper Murray had given them.

"Give me the code," Hopper said, frowning at the number pad on the vault.

"Okay. 6-6-2, 6-0-8, 0-0-4."

Hopper punched the numbers in, and the panel beeped, a red light appearing above it. Hopper tried to open the vault, but it wouldn't budge. He stared at the number panel in disbelief. This was not the part that was supposed to be difficult. "Uh … again?"

Joyce read him the numbers again, he punched them in again, the vault door failed to open again.

Stepping back, Hopper lifted the walkie-talkie. "Murray? Your goddamn code is wrong."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Well, I—I suppose it could be wrong."

Hopper and Joyce exchanged looks of irritation and despair. "How could it be wrong?" Hopper shouted into the walkie-talkie.

"The code is a number, a famous number. Planck's constant. I—I thought I knew it."

"How do you know it's this plank thing?"

"Alexi told me!"

"Told you what?" Hopper demanded. "Didn't you get the numbers from him?"

"He told me it was Planck's constant, which I know. Why would I need him to give me a number I already know?"

Hopper put the walkie-talkie down and cursed. A lot. Joyce knew exactly how he felt. What were they going to do now?

Then another voice came over the walkie-talkie—Dustin's, talking to some girl Joyce didn't know, asking her for Planck's constant. There was some chatter between the two kids, and then, for reasons Joyce wasn't entirely clear on, they started singing.

It was a pretty song, and they were clearly happy to be singing it together, but Joyce couldn't help feeling the weight of each second ticking by, coming closer and closer to that monster finding her boy, and Eleven, and to the gate opening fully again and letting whatever horrors lived in the Upside Down that they didn't know about through, a horror movie that might never end. She rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to resist the urge to rip the vault open with her bare hands. She was amazed Hopper wasn't trying to do that very thing.

At last the song ended, and the girl's voice came through, calmly: "Planck's constant is 6.62607004."

Hopper didn't waste a moment before typing it into the keypad. This time the light turned green, and he grasped the handle and opened the safe, yanking out the briefcase hidden behind the door.

"Let's go."

And Joyce was incredibly glad to hurry behind him, hoping they could make up for all the time they had just lost somehow.