STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED_JIM HOPPER

059

Through Katinka's open doors, Murray provided Hopper a pointed look and submitted, "I did warn you, Jim." The conspiracy theorist was never too gracious for an untimely I told you so.

"Okay. Should I shoot him now? Or later?" Dimitri suggested to the bemused foursome.

"I was ready before he even started talking," Ana muttered though her remark went unacknowledged.

Faces were downturned in dismay, but all hope hadn't been lost just yet. "What about Owens?" Joyce posed, drawing all eyes towards her. "He... he's gotta have contacts or spies here that could help us."

It was a shot in the dark, a real hail Mary pass, but they were beyond the point of desperation. "Can we do that?" Hopper questioned as he approached Dimitri. "Can we make a call to the states?"

It turned out they could place a call to America, but not without notable caveats. Dimitri dialed the operator with the rotary telephone, conveying the number as Joyce offered it, but their faces fell into collective confusion when he returned the mouthpiece to its receiver without completion.

"How exactly do you think this works?" He inquired when subjected to Joyce's complaints. "They will make the call for us, and then they will call us back."

"How long's that gonna take?" Hopper pressed, given their precarious safety and limited time.

"Five minutes. Five hours. Five days. Who knows?" Was the unfortunate answer Dimitri provided. "And when we do get the call, assume the KGB will be on the other line, listening to everything you say. So, I suggest talking in code. Say the wrong thing, and they will be on us like flies on shit." An apt simile, but it wasn't as disconcerting as his parting statement. "Welcome to the Soviet Union."

They were stuck, simply relegated to waiting without requisition, hoping the phone would ring sooner rather than later. In the lull, everyone dispersed. Dimitri and Murray were standing outside overlooking Yuri's efforts to make Katinka flight-ready. Joyce had disappeared somewhere, leaving Ana and Hopper alone in the church.

The couple took the opportunity to change out of their grimy clothing, stripping off soiled tops and bottoms in favor of fresher ones. "This is attractive," Ana quipped, holding the oversized yellow Hulk Hogan t-shirt against her exposed chest, but the sarcasm died on her lips when her eyes made contact with Hopper's back. The entire expanse, from neck, shoulders, to his waist, was littered with lines—raised scars resulting from beatings he'd endured while imprisoned in Kamchatka. "What did they do to you?" A strangled gasp extended from her throat despite herself, causing him to turn towards her.

"No, it's not that bad. It's..." he floundered for an excuse to make it better, a way to undermine the worry warping her features. "You know, I needed to lose weight anyway," he joked, though the humor didn't reach his eyes. "It's actually given me time to think, you know? About who I've been and...and what I've done. I never should've sent Joyce that message."

"Stop," Ana disputed immediately. "It wouldn't have mattered anyway, I wasn't going to give up on finding you, and you didn't know what was gonna happen."

"I knew it would be dangerous," he countered, his shoulders sagging as his frown deepened.

"When has it ever not been dangerous?" She challenged, pulling towards him, taking the gauze hanging idly in his hand to rewrap the wound once contained within her scarf. "I'm content with the choices I've made, even in retrospect, even knowing everything that I know now. I'd still do it again, in a heartbeat," she reassured, knotting the wrapping so it would hold. "Plus, we do still have that date at the courthouse. Remember?"

Assuming that was still what he wanted, which Anna couldn't be sure of anymore, seeing the walls that'd built themselves back up around him, those dark thoughts dampening his vision again. "Is that still what you want?" He questioned with an uncertainty that stung like a stab to the heart.