IT TOOK TWO DAYS to make the trek back to Hawkins, Indiana.
As promised, Yuri had flown Katinka to the coast and refueled, but they didn't make it much further. Unregistered ships, especially ones with Russian callsigns, tend to draw attention from those on the ground diligently monitoring American airspace.
Upon landing, they were finally able to make contact with the mysterious woman Hopper had only briefly spoken to over the phone, now known to be Agent Ellen Stinson, and she orchestrated the remainder of their journey back. However, Dimitri and Yuri wouldn't be joining them for the last long haul.
"Do you know what you'll do now?" Joyce asked Dimitri as the group stood close, most waiting for their government escort back east, while the others' futures remained uncertain.
The former guard seemed to bat the question around until his head shook in acceptance. "Maybe I will go back home. Those who knew me as a traitor are now dead. I can return to Mikhail with my head held high."
Hopper slapped a warm hand on his former comrades' shoulder, shaking it slightly in support. "He'll know his father was a hero," he emphasized, and the others agreed. He'd done more to ensure their survival than was necessary or expected, but they were all grateful for his altruistic sacrifice.
"Not a hero, just a man," Dimitri corrected, giving them each a firm nod in parting before he strode back to the aircraft to wait, leaving only Yuri left for goodbyes.
The smuggler hadn't been so willing at the start to aid them, but he'd come through when they'd needed him most, which had to count for something. Still, the memory of his earlier betrayals continued to linger like a bad taste in the mouth.
"Can't say our parting is with such sweet sorrow," Ana remarked, and for once, the pilot didn't wheeze or cackle antagonistically but instead looked bashful for the first time.
"I...I sorry for trying to kill you, ya?" It wasn't the strongest of apologies, but it was better than nothing. "Maybe one day I will be a hero again, too. Like the man I once was."
Ana didn't hold out much hope, not when there was so much peanut butter left in the world to upcharge for profit, but the sentiment still stood. "It's never too late for a change," she placated as an unmarked sedan crawled to a stop beside them.
With one last look back at their Russian counterparts, Murray, Hopper, Joyce, and Ana all squeezed into the vehicle for the two-thousand-some-mile ride back. It wouldn't be quick, and it wouldn't be comfortable, not with bloodshot eyes courtesy of hours without sleep and rears that ached from being prone too long in the crowded encasement.
Phone lines were down all over Hawkins, so none of their friends could be reached no matter the repeated efforts to make contact, which was worrisome. They'd gotten a brief rundown of the events which had taken place while they were busy fighting for their lives at the prison, and it reinstilled a fear that sunk into the stomach without letting up.
Gates had opened up all across town, craters and fault lines that splintered buildings and homes, leaving a wealth of distraction in their wake. It was a failure, at least somewhat, but whatever evil had flourished in their absence hadn't succeeded entirely. There would be more battles to come—the war certainly wasn't over.
Clouds of smoke marked their approach, a string of cars fleeing the ruins that had once been their sleepy city. The group was able to avoid much of the chaos as they maneuvered through back streets along the outskirts of town. Their first destination was Hopper's old trailer by the lake, and if what they found there wasn't promising, they would move on to the next familiar haunt until they were met with answers.
The weathered structure was still intact, thankfully. Ana's old truck parked alongside, and the tires of their borrowed car were barely able to stop turning before she was throwing open the passenger door and lunging out of the backseat.
Each step up the porch felt like a mile as she climbed them, forgetting all about the others left behind in her haste. Fingers gripped the cool metal of the handle, turning it hurriedly without taking the time to acknowledge that it wasn't even locked with the hinges sprung open.
Chris was slumped dead center on the couch, face buried in his hands, left leg bouncing in distress, a trait both Thompson siblings had acquired from their grandfather. His head eventually rose with the draft coming in from the open doorway, and his eyes grew wide at the sight that awaited him. "Thank fuck!"
Then he was on her, Chris' arms wrapping firmly around his sister's slighter frame like he was afraid he'd never see her again, which probably wasn't too far from the truth. "We thought you were dead," his broken murmur was muffled by her shoulder, and he clung to her tighter to be certain it wasn't true.
Ana couldn't help but laugh because he'd very nearly been right, and the rolling sound finally broke them apart. "Come on, you know I'm much harder to kill than that," she joked with a painless jab to his side, meant to alleviate some of the tension creasing his brow, but it never fully lifted.
"I'm never babysitting for you again!" Chris exclaimed, anxious pacing taking the place of their earlier revelatory embrace. "These weird kids came over, talking about curses and dark wizards or some shit. I can't believe you—"
Whatever it was that couldn't be believed was never said because an awkward cough behind Ana broke through his rambling.
"Hey," Hopper said questioningly, blue eyes bouncing between a man he only knew through reputation or old photographs and his fiancé.
Ana had neglected to wait for him, Murray, and Joyce in her rush, but now they were all crowded around the patio, patiently hovering until they were let inside, only once she was willing to move out of the pathway.
"Shit, right," she excused the absentmindedness, stepping further into the living room to allow their entry as well. Frames had fallen off the walls, items strewn across the carpet that hadn't been returned to their rightful place since the 'earthquake' had rattled the ground they stood on. Even through the screen of the back door that led out to the deck, Ana could see a divot running through the lake, which had swallowed most of the water, leaving the shoreline reduced. "Where's Robby?" She asked because he wasn't in the room with them.
Everyone else was eyeing each other in uncertainty, given she hadn't been bothered to initiate any sort of formal greetings and likely wouldn't since Ana's mind had settled on one track and one track only. "Uh, he's in the bedroom," Chris explained. "He's been very...active the last few days. I just got him settled down enough for a nap."
Active wasn't necessarily a word they ever used to describe the infant, but it was better than lost, like many of the city's occupants. Ana's gaze honed in on the closed nursery door, and the focus only broke long enough for her to shout over her shoulder, "get to know each other or whatever."
Inside, the mobile turned above the crib, a soft melody filling the room along with the dancing plush bears. Swaddled in the middle of the mattress, decidedly not asleep, was her son, whose familiar ocean eyes gazed up at her while something akin to a grin graced his tiny features.
"Hello, my baby boy," Ana cooed while lifting him into her arms, and he squirmed with a delighted squeal as she cradled him to her chest. "You've been giving your uncle a hard time, huh?" Another gibber that was probably in confirmation echoed from his toothless mouth, and the tip of her finger ran affectionately down his chubby cheeks. Stupid and wayward as her decision had been as of late, she couldn't find herself regretting them as she listened to every nonsensical warble and observed each minute gesture he made.
With her solitary ogling done, she was prepared to turn and retreat back into the living room, but the exit was blocked by a burly frame encompassing the doorway. "That him?" Hopper asked, sights set on the dusting of fine black hair beneath her chin. He lingered within the frame, hesitant to enter, watching them both with a troubled look that implied he worried it was just a dream, one that might shatter should he step forward and interrupt the serenity.
Since he was too afraid to tread nearer, Ana closed the distance for him, stopping when they were foot to foot, and extended the blanketed baby towards him. "Time to formally meet your son, Hopper."
Yet, he didn't immediately move, arms remaining stiffly crossed over him, too fearful of taking possession of the fragile package being offered to him. "What if I break him?" He croaked, and her heart clenched because that's truly how he envisioned himself, as someone who ruined things without meaning to.
"This isn't your first rodeo, if I remember correctly, and you're not going to hurt him. Robby's quite a study boy, I promise. Besides, I think he's been waiting for you," she said softly, and it finally encouraged Hopper to move.
Conscientiously, like he was handling something as delicate as tempered glass, he balanced the infant in the crook of his arms, tears welling up at the weight. It wasn't the same as being in the vacant room, and it never could compare to the authenticity of holding something he'd helped create in wondrous reality. "He's absolutely perfect, Ana," he said through a sniffle that turned into a light chuckle when one of Robby's petite fingers wrapped around his contrastingly sizeable thumb.
"He looks more like you than me," she commented with a genuine smile drawing up her cheeks. "He definitely has your eyes."
"But your hair and lips," Hopper noted, a stray tear making a wet path across his hollow cheek, but one spurred by joy instead of sadness. "I never thought I'd have this again."
A family to come home to? A second opportunity to raise a newborn? The chance to hold a child he'd given up on hoping ever to hold while stuck in Kamchatka? It wasn't clear which precisely he meant, probably all those things at once. "You could just look at him all day, right?" That's how it'd felt the first time she'd held him, like if she looked away, he might dissolve into nothingness because he'd only been a figment of something entirely unknown before birth.
"Yeah, I could," he concurred, head still bowed, vision consumed entirely by the new life between them.
It'd taken too long for this moment to come, and they wanted it to last forever, but, regrettably, they had people waiting for them. "Why don't we go introduce him to the others," Ana suggested, and his loving stare finally lifted from the small miracle cradled against him.
They left the room together to find Chris once again ranting about his recent experiences with the Upside Down to a less than captivated audience. "Then the curly-haired one with braces called me an asshole and told me to snap out of it. I didn't even know kids could talk like that! But, anyway, the older one with sick hair told him to pipe down, and they explained that it wasn't some devil-worshiping cult that was causing the killings. Not that that would have been any less ridiculous than the truth."
"You don't say," Murray mumbled, his exhausted face displaying his utter lack of interest in something that had, unfortunately, become commonplace in their lives. However, he perked up once he noticed the couple's reentry, which would allow them a reprieve from feigning to listen. "What do we have here?" The bespectacled man asked excitedly as he lifted himself from the sofa to stand.
"Murray, this is our son, Robby. Robby, meet your..." What was the conspiracy theorist's designation in their lives? Ana wondered as the instructions dropped off. Indeed a friend, but he'd become something more over the previous years spent contending with demons together.
"Uncle Murray," Hopper suggested the title, inspecting Ana's expression intently to determine if she felt the moniker fit or not.
The response he received was a simple, complacent shrug because it seemed valid enough given all they'd gone through together—family is more than blood, after all. "Sure, Uncle Murray," she reiterated, making the man in question beam.
"Can I hold him?" Murray asked tentatively to Hopper, who didn't look keen on relinquishing his hold, although he ultimately agreed, but not before reminding him that Robby's head needed to be cradled carefully. Their diligent interpreter did precisely as he was told, and with an encompassing palm supporting the baby's neck, he too gazed down at him in wonder. "Aren't you just adorable?" He baby talked in a display that didn't match his unruly appearance, and when Robby jabbered in return, he simpered. "Good job with this one, Jim."
Hopper's chest swelled with pride at the compliment, but his head shook as he let out a huff of laughter. "Can't take all the credit there. His mom did most of the work," he said, throwing an arm over Ana's shoulder and pulling her admiringly into his side. "Joyce, you want a turn?"
That made her stiffen despite herself. Ana should've forgiven Joyce now that they were safely back home, but some habits are hard to break, and she'd resented the other woman for so long that it had become second nature to bristle at the mere mention of her name, let alone the prospect of her holding their child.
The Byers matriarch seemed to sense this residual animosity, too, because she didn't move to take Hopper up on the proposal immediately. "Well, I mean, uh," she stuttered over a question that regretfully had to be answered before she would. "I would like to, yeah. But only if it's okay with Ana?"
Was it okay with her? She could remain bitter and let it sour a precious moment, or she could let go of grudges that were beyond due for expiration. Ana's head nodded slowly in submission. "Yeah, of course. Aunt Joyce can hold him."
It sounded like a collective breath of relief exuded from every mouth in the vicinity with the confirmation, and the bundle once again exchanged hands. "It's been so long since mine were this little," Joyce whispered, the reminder of her still mislaid children making the corner of her eyes mist as she gently rocked the content baby back and forth. Then, her teary sights rose to meet the others. "Do we know where they might be?"
"Like a good brother, a good uncle, I've been keeping tabs," Chris piped up, and all bodies swiveled towards him in surprise. "They stopped by the Wheeler's earlier today but didn't stick around. Do you know where they would go after?"
It didn't take much consideration before Hopper was speaking for the collective. "Yeah, we know where they might be. Chris, would you mind playing babysitter one last time? We've gotta get our daughter back."