BACK TO YURI'S warehouse they drove, the van's tires screeching as they came to a halt before the structure. Snow was steadily falling as they unloaded, apprehensive eyes shifting about for any armed men actively pursuing them.
However, the coast appeared to be clear, so they ambled towards the shed without interruption. "Heh, come on. This way," Yuri encouraged the group forward with a gesturing hand, his prompting receiving a warning in Russian from Dimitri in turn.
Even with the presumed threat, Yuri's response was taunting as he unlocked the padlock with his keys. "You were trapped in a cell with this dull man," he waved at the former guard in reference, "and you didn't take opportunity to smother him." The smuggler tittered at Hopper in disappointment before throwing the doors open.
Inside was not a plane per se, but some kind of aircraft none recognized. Still, Yuri sang his pleasure at the sight, arms thrown open in an embrace. "Beautiful, yes?" He simpered joyously, but his delight wasn't returned.
"Please tell me this is another poor joke," Murray glowered in irritation, his annoyance shared by the four lined up beside him.
Joyce's voice was heightened in frustration as she stepped forward and wafted her finger in accusation. "You said you had a plane," she fumed, slapping the pilot aggressively on the shoulder. "A plane!" She screamed, accompanied by another hit that's sound bounced noisily throughout the room.
"No, no, no," Yuri argued, taking a protective step back lest he receive more abuse. "I...I told you I could fly you home," he defended the obvious omission. "And Katinka can fly you home, little bird. She was named Katinka after my first lover. Katinka also had very beautiful, very round buttocks. Uh, mu...much like this," he announced, throwing himself on the nose of the machine, laughing wheezily.
Ana rolled her eyes at the cringeworthy display, leaning towards Dimitri to whisper, "I'd be on board if you shot him now," to which the disgraced guard seemed to consider the proposition for a moment before shaking his head begrudgingly.
"This cannot fly us to America," he stated instead.
"Why not?" Yuri shot back in offense. "As long as winds are not too strong and your military friends do not shoot us out of sky, we can make it to the coast," he explained as if it were simple. "There, while we refuel, we skin dip in ice cold water and wash off this muck. Then we fly her rest of the way. Happy ending."
For a beat, there was disbelieving silence, until Joyce broke it. "Okay, what is the furthest Katinka has ever flown?" She asked, and they watched Yuri draw open his mouth hesitantly.
"For me," he started carefully, intentionally avoiding five sets of skeptic stares. "She is still a virgin," he confessed to a cascade of exasperated groans. "Uh, not real Katinka. Goodness, no. That Katinka, no. But this Katinka, pretty much unspoiled. But I'm sure she will soar when given a chance. She just need little tuneup," he concluded before striding away from their indignant glares.
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.
"No," she sighed in feigned denial, shaking her head in disagreement. "You're right. I just came all this way because I really wanted to see Russia when it was freezing cold. Oh, and getting to crash a plane, then trek through miles and miles of snow with Murray and Joyce constantly bickering the entire time, that was just a bonus. And, I think Yuri and I are going to become life-long friends after all the bonding we've done," she sassed, leveling him with an unamused stare. "What do you think?"
The attitude, the insistency without restraint, that's what he cherished most about her, and seeing it now, before his very eyes in full force, made him chuckle, the sound rich as it tumbled from his tongue. "Good. I've been dreaming about it," he admitted, the sly smirk gradually returning to lift his features. "I think Thompson's about due for retirement."
"Oh yeah?" She teased, allowing her fingers to travel down his now chiseled abdomen, though she missed the protruding tummy she'd grown accustomed to. He was slimmer, svelter than the version she remembered, but Ana still lamented the loss of his heft that used to incase her like a warm blanket, staving off any cold that dared approach. "What else have you been dreaming about?" She wondered aloud, thumb toying with the brass button on his newly acquired jeans.
"I've been on a diet of watery soup, moldy bread, and maggots," he cautioned as she tugged sharply on the denim, thrusting their bodies together so only a small sliver of space remained between them.
If he thought the warning would deter her, it didn't. Like something as irrelevant as his earlier eating habits or breath could ever hope to diminish the spark that was igniting between them, pledging to bring flames that would engulf them both. "I'm amazed you think I give a shit," she scoffed, lips blazing a path across his chest marred with markings of his survived torture.
Her ministrations encouraged a stuttering inhale as his muscles flexed beneath flesh that was rapidly warming. "You've got a real smart mouth on you, you know that?" He hissed when Ana nipped lightly at the already sensitive skin of his neck.
The recognizable remark did have her drawing back, albeit briefly, and her brows rose in enjoyment. "Oh, my mouth can do plenty of things other than being smart," she said, recalling the first evening they'd found themselves angling towards similar circumstances, the disastrous night of her thirty-first birthday.
An echo of a memory lingered between them, a reminder of where they'd been and just how far they'd come, but the reverie was shattered when Hopper careened forward and finally captured her lips with his own. It was like waves lapping upon the shore, giving a measure but taking some in return. His mouth pulled upon hers like the last willful grasp at a lifeline, dragging him towards salvation.
It was hasty and sloppy, but it didn't matter. Every tug of his lips made her hum, every swipe of his tongue against hers eliciting a moan that made Ana shudder. Their restless hands groped, grasping for purchase, reacclimating with valleys and divots they'd once imagined lost.
Together, they stumbled backward from the force of their affection, Ana's spine making sharp contact with one of the wooden boxes, not that she noticed the resulting pain. "Eight months was way too long," she whimpered as his fingers fisted in her long locks, yanking her head to the side so he could return the favor of lavishing the nape of her neck with open-mouthed kisses.
"Way too fucking long," Hopper growled in agreement, the husky timber reverberating from deep within his chest, absorbing into her own heaving frame as he hoisted Ana up by the thighs so she could perch on the edge of another container. With the change in position, her shaky legs wrapped greedily around his hips, hips that bucked into her with such an intensity that she choked on a lustful whine.
She could feel his prideful grin against her collarbone, thoroughly pleased to be spurning such reactions after their extended time apart. "This is what else I've been dreaming about," he panted, heavy exhales dancing across her blushed skin as he reached around her, expertly unclasping her bra for it to slip from her shoulders before swiftly being tossed away.
With the obstacle removed, Hopper took a moment to withdraw, observing her body and noting how it had changed, the same as she'd done to him minutes prior. "You're absolutely gorgeous," he sighed in praise before he descended upon her once more, palms kneading at billowing breasts until they peaked.
With hands that trembled in anticipation, Ana's fingers fell back to the enclosure of his jeans, determined to find release, intent on reliving ecstacies they'd too long been stripped of. And they were nearly there, flimsy barriers between them ready to be removed, seconds away from reexperiencing the euphoria their uniting always promised.
Until the phone rang.
"Dammit!" Hopper seethed, sucking his teeth in dissatisfaction.
"No, no, no, no, no," Ana groaned in aggravation, in defeat, knowing her repeated pleading wouldn't stop the shrill sound from chiming or their dire need to acknowledge it.
No matter their desire, their longing, Hopper drew away from her and towards the noise because he needed to, because they had to return home, to their children, to Hawkins.
Even as his absence left her feeling vacant, the burning want reduced to a discontented simmer, Ana still found the sense to shout, "remember, they're listening!"
And the call was answered, burying their passionate but fleeting interlude six feet under.