Like all good things that came to an early ending, her first instinct was to believe that it was her fault. Her old friend, distance, had reared its ugly head already, even before she could figure out where Hopper was. It took strength to try not to beat herself up too badly for her epic lack of the ability to bring him comfort. Or, at least enough comfort to want to stick around, instead of the overwhelming urge to run. 

He was running out of space to run towards. 

But in a deep part of her mind, her self-deprecating and simultaneously self-centered anxious mind, it was her fault. She drove him away as fast and as far as he could run and continued to drag him back. Then, there was logic. Like any good argument, it consisted of both emotion and logic. The logical truth was that it actually wasn't her fault, and that maybe he needed to be dragged back. Wrangling James Hopper was no man's land since nobody even dared to try. The only difference this time around was the fact that he needed to relearn the meaning of freedom, and all freedom still has boundaries.

They had a good run, though. Seven days. To some, that would be a pathetic amount of time to go without incident, but they were seven whole days that taught her that peace between all of them wasn't too far out of reach. That it wasn't impossible for him to smile or spend time with his daughter. It also taught her just how delicate those moments were because anything could shatter them. Something shattered them, she just wasn't sure who or what... or if it was herself.

There was no way of telling if she was part of the cure or part of the disease. Not unless he spoke up and told her. He was failing to realize that his old actions of bottling up anger and running away wouldn't work anymore. Not after the trauma he had been through. Old coping mechanisms didn't work for new wounds. His mind needed to heal itself, and it couldn't heal if everything he did to help only hurt him more. 

As she angrily slammed the front glass door behind her, she made a beeline for the payphone on the outside of the building. She mentally counted the number of times she heard the plinking sound from her loose pocket change dropping into the slot. Her forearm rested on the top of the box, her head leaning against it as she held the receiver to her ear with her other hand. 

The line trilled a few times until she heard the familiar sound of her younger son's voice answering. "Hey, sweetheart, I just wanted to call you guys and let you know that Hop and I might be coming home late. — Yeah, no, honey, I promise everything is fine, okay? Just... please make sure you and El both eat, there's some leftovers in the fridge. If I'm not home in an hour or so just go ahead and heat it up, okay? Okay, and make sure you do your homework too. Yes, yes, I already told everything is just fine, don't worry. I love you too, see you soon."

With her head hung low in shame, she shuffled her feet as she trudged back to her vehicle. The rain had started to pour down as soon as she slid back into the cab of the squad car. Poetic, really. It always seemed to rain at the same exact time that her tears fell. She banged her wrists against the steering wheel, trying anything to release the pent up anger without screaming. She couldn't scream, if she did, she'd never stop. 

She did what she could to shake off the feeling of defeat. Just like that, she was starting to miss the person she was before everything had changed, again. It felt so vain to even let the thought cross her mind, but defeat wasn't a feeling she had very often anymore. Not until she was faced with it every single day. Illinois had changed her, a lot more than any monster ever could. His absence pre-rescue was a journey she didn't realize would morph her personality into something new. She missed who she had changed into, now more than ever since she felt herself slipping back into who she used to be. 

Although, there was one part of the journey that would always be undeniable. No matter the circumstance, no matter the emotion, having him back had brought along the colors of the world. She had gotten used to the muted shades of grey that her life had become without him. Everyone did. The slow-motion movement of a dark and dreary world had come along with his supposed death. But now, despite how difficult the times were, there was color in the world once again. Maybe the personality she left behind that was returning was the price to pay for the ability to admire the vibrant autumn leaves. Any other time, she wouldn't have even noticed them. 

Her true fear in the 'old Joyce' returning was the softness. The taut skin of her cheekbones and hardness in her jaw that reflected in the mirror was her badge of honor. The change was esoteric; only a few people who passed her on the street would be able to look at her and just know that she had survived so much. She had become hardened in order to protect herself, she just didn't want to break. Not again. 

But then Hopper came back, reviving her in ways that quite frankly scared the hell out of her. He was a shadow of her old life, and shadows always stayed tethered to the bigger picture. The shadow of him lugged around the past, including who she used to be. 

Maybe it was the fear that she hated so damn much. It wasn't him leaving; it was what his departure did to her. The moment his tires hit the road, she didn't know where he was. She had spent three years not knowing where he was, it was becoming a demon for her. The security was gone and the fear would be with her as long as he wasn't in her field of vision. His disappearances that lasted for hours on end were crippling her with anxiety. 

As the thick and heavy droplets of rain fell on her windshield, she backed her car out of the driveway of the security office. She wanted to leave with some sort of confidence as to where she knew to start looking, but at this point, the best she could do was flip a coin and decide whether to go left or go right.

Her first instinct was to check the local bars in town. She had managed to cross the first ten places off of her list pretty quickly, but with no luck. After that, she moved her way slowly towards the outskirts of town. The last place on her list was likely to strike out just like the rest. She pulled the car into the driveway of the Eight Ball Tavern, slamming the door behind her as she charged into the facility. As soon as she stepped in, she was met with the overpowering scent of stale cigarettes and tap beer.

"Hey, Bucky!" she called out, grabbing the attention of the burly bartender/owner. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed the photo of Hopper and slammed it down on the table. "You've got two choices here, alright? Number one, you tell me where this man is right now. Number two, I bust you for the sale of alcohol to minors and get this disgraceful hovel shut down for good. So, which is it?"

The man crinkled his nose as he rolled his eyes, snatching the photo to get a better look. Once he examined the photo, his knitted brows let up and he slid it back to her. "You know I don't serve to kiddies, Byers." 

Joyce glared at him for a moment before turning to a young blonde girl sitting in a stool, looking more like she belonged in a high school cafeteria instead of the dumpy dive bar. "Hey, sweetheart. Lemme see your ID."

The girl chuckled in a valley-esque voice before reaching into her wallet. "I swear, officer. I'm twenty-two, just like it says." she smiled, straightening her shoulders as if she was trying to establish her territory in the same manner as any popular high schooler would. 

Joyce took one look at the driver's license before turning back to the young woman with a smirk. "Nice ID. By the way, there are two "L's" in 'Illinois'. Get the hell out of here." she punctuated her sentence by folding the thick plastic card in half until it snapped. She grinned, turning back to the bartender. "So, Buck. I'll tell you again. Either I drag your ass in and make your life miserable for a while, or you tell me where he is."

The bartender sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in contemplation. 

"Oh okay, so we're doing this the hard way?" she asked, reaching for the handcuffs that were latched to her belt. 

The bartender immediately caved as soon as he saw her reach for the cuffs. "Alright. I swear I haven't seen him since I threw that jackass out of my bar last week. None of my regulars have said anything about him other than the fact that they haven't seen him around before and that he's quiet. On Mama's grave, that's all I know." he said, his hands up in the air. 

Joyce rolled her eyes, starting to head towards the door. "Your mother isn't even dead yet, Buck. Don't go swearing on her grave or your word won't mean shit. I catch another minor in here, I'm hauling your ass in and tipping off the health department about the roaches on the floor." with that, she let the heavy door slam behind her. 

As she slid back into the driver's seat for the 14th time, she still managed to keep herself pulled together. The scream waiting to be released was reaching the surface along with her frustrations that were continuing to build up. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, debating on whether or not to call it quits and go home or to keep looking. If she were desperate enough, she would've prayed for the answer... not that God was listening to her prayers very often anyway. 

Instead of going home, she decided to find somewhere to stake out for a little while longer. Watching the numerous cars drive by was one of the only things she missed about being a beat cop. She'd spend endless hours on patrol, watching the world go about all around her. 

She chose a small lot of land on the southern outskirts of the town to sit. She had a love/hate relationship with the road that it was on. It was the first road that greeted her into the new town during her move from Indiana. Her old life was nothing but a reflection in the rearview mirror that day. Years had passed, and the road still hadn't changed since. The same old blue and white 'Welcome' sign stood tall right on the line that separated one town from the next.

Sitting parked in the little patch of hidden land off the road always felt bittersweet. Each time she had pulled in, it was as if her cheeks were still damp with the same tears she had shed the day she left Hawkins. The land had welcomed her, but she had not welcomed it in the beginning. At first, the trees were unfamiliar but so similar to Hawkins; like a whisper of the past. When she had first moved, everything felt so out of order. Even though her job was mostly in the city, a few miles away from her home, the small town on the outskirts was where she lived. Every small town was the same, just in a different order. Like walking into a different classroom during a new school year; they looked the same, but something was always just off. 

Soon, the road leading the way from Hawkins to her new home had become a sort of sanctuary. In her desk-jockey days, it was the first place she'd volunteer to do a patrol tour. It made her feel close to home; until Hawkins didn't feel like her home anymore. Just out of her reach as she made the transition of comfort zones and Illinois became home to her. Still, the road that zoomed into the past always brought her comfort in knowing that at any time, she could turn around and go back. Even on the days where it felt most tempting to do so, she remained strong-willed and kept her roots exactly where she had replanted them.

They had officially reached the season of the sun setting earlier in the day. She knew from the clock on her dashboard that it wasn't as late as it seemed, but the darkness outside told a different story. Every few minutes, a new set of headlights would grow over the horizon until they passed her by. Each time, she made a mental note of each license plate number. Every time she did, it reminded her of the time she scribbled down the mixed digits of the biker's plates back in Hawkins. Hopper had told her to stick to sales, and that was the moment she decided to prove him wrong. Ever since then, catching a plate number in record timing had become a sort of ritual. She knew it was most likely a manifestation of her anxiety that was creeping its way into her job, but she still never missed a single digit. 

Every once and a while, she'd catch a plate that wasn't even from Illinois. Like her own Indiana plates that she had ridden in on. When the kids were younger and Lonnie was still making her question the sanctity of marriage, she'd drive off with her boys in the backseat and keep driving until she reached a familiar territory. Sometimes it would be a night with a family member, but she couldn't run very far with two little boys who needed stability. In those car rides, when Will would cry from the confusion of not know where they were headed, she'd play the license plate game with them. Jonathan was just old enough to read and Will had started to memorize the different state plates by their colors. The moment that they saw a plate that didn't match Indiana's cream and orange colors, the boys would cheer with excitement as if they had just accomplished a task. 

She was bringing old memories with her; clinging to them as a way to try to forget that the world was moving faster and faster right under her feet. Somehow, the old memories were the angel that danced on her shoulder while the new memories were the devil who danced in tandem. 

As soon as she was about to pack it in and call it a night, a familiar car was coming towards the patch of land she was parked in. The route that led directly to Hawkins was suddenly occupied by one '82 black Chevette with the same plates she had recognized that once belonged to Jonathan. "Oh, hell no," she whispered under her breath.

As soon as the car sped past her secluded vehicle, she spun into a U-turn to follow close behind him. She flipped her lights on, unable to wait and follow him back into town. Instead, she wanted to catch him red-handed, before he had any more time to think up a pathetic excuse. 

Within seconds after she flashed her lights, he pulled over on the side of the road and she followed in suit. Barely able to put the car in park first, she saw him step out of his car and slam the door. "Who the hell do you think you are flashin' your blues at me?" he yelled as soon as she was out of the squad car. 

"Me? Where the hell have you been?" she shouted back, rage boiling every cell of blood in her body. "You ditched work and didn't even have the decency to tell anyone that you'd be gone for God knows how fucking long? Not to mention, you think I don't know that you were driving straight out of the only road here that leads to Hawkins?!"

"I wasn't in Hawkins!" he barked as he bent down to see her face-to-face.

She slapped her arms down at her side, chuckling with fury. "Yeah, and I should believe you because you've been so goddamn forthcoming and truthful! What is it gonna take for you to realize that when you step foot back in that town, you're putting the entire family at risk?! Does that even cross your mind, Jim?"

"You're paranoid, Joyce." he laughed, pointing at her with a look in his eyes as if she was out of her mind. 

"You're fucking right that I'm paranoid!" she screamed, her volume echoing off the nearby woods. "Apparently I need to be paranoid for the both of us since you can't ever stop playing fast and loose with everyone's lives!" with the amount of anger that coursed through her system, she tried her hardest not to say something she didn't mean — or even something that she did. But God, she was tired of always having to be the careful one... especially since he clearly didn't care about being careful anymore.

"Right, because all you ever see in me is someone who doesn't give a shit!" 

"Oh yeah, throw yourself a pity party, Hopper!" she called out as he started to walk away. Her fists balled up as her nerves electrified. "That's worked real well in the past, huh." 

He stopped in his tracks, turning around to face her with a baffled look. "You sayin' this is my fault?" he asked, his words slick with venom. 

"All I'm saying is that maybe if you learned that the world didn't work the way you want it to just because you want it, we wouldn't be in half of the mess we're in right now! If you listened to other people who may or may not have a little bit more fucking qualifications instead of going off half-cocked, everyone's lives would be a hell of a lot different!" she screeched, instantly regretting the words as they slipped off of her tongue. 

He took another step closer, his eyes going without a blink as he glared at her. "You're mad... because I didn't listen to the fucking Henderson kid at Starcourt?" he spoke low and slowly, inching towards her until they were nearly toe-to-toe. 

Joyce's breaths were coming in heavy puffs that were just another failed attempt at calming herself down. "Well, it's pretty clear from the events of the last three years that maybe, just maybe, he might've known what he was talking about." she matched his tone, lowering her voice without losing any of the lethality. "But you... you don't care about the consequences. Not for yourself, not for others. You just jump right in. I am not going to let that happen again. Not to you, not to me, and not to the kids. You might not see this right now, but I care about you. I care about you and the kids and all of our lives. By doing what you're doing, you're signing us all up for a much worse fate than where we're at right now."

He stared at her for a moment, allowing himself to soak up her words. "I wasn't in Hawkins," he stated simply. With a heavy exhale, he turned around and started towards his car. "See you at home," he mumbled, sliding into the vehicle and slamming the door. 

As he drove off, she managed to get herself back into her squad car before breaking down entirely. She hit her wrists against the steering wheel, letting out a horrific scream of anger before falling forward to rest her head on it. As if on cue, the clouds above her head began to break apart, leaving thick and heavy raindrops to bounce off of her windshield. God's anthem to her sadness and despair. The one constant in every single distressing situation; the rainfall.

She wasn't sure just how long she had sat in the car, listening to the clicking against the roof of the vehicle. Her headlights shined in alignment with the road ahead, illuminating every drop of rain that crossed its path. 

He said he didn't go to Hawkins, and she didn't believe him. Maybe that was the real reason that she had tears falling from her eyes at that very moment; because for once, she didn't trust the man who had once been the only man she trusted. 

The next few days passed in a blur. Joyce was quieter than usual, not that many people noticed. Somedays, she just kept to herself. Most didn't ask questions, they just allowed her to focus solely on her children and her work. 

After the second time that her Captain had asked for her and her partner to be on patrol duty, she knew something was on his mind. She had earned her badge, she wasn't a traffic cop anymore. She assumed that maybe he just wanted her to warm up a little bit before throwing herself right back into the mix of it all. Ackerman didn't complain, neither did she. In some ways, she was more thankful than anything. Stress had been eating her alive and she was bottling it up into silence as usual. Being in the field with an open case would only add more to her plate. For the first time ever, she didn't throw herself into more stress just to forget about the other problems that were plaguing her. 

She had managed to get Hopper his job back, but that was pretty much all they spoke to each other about. That, and the fact that his boss was giving him another week to get his head together first. Aside from that, the silence had fallen back over the house once again. It didn't matter, she was stupid for thinking that the seven days of happiness they had would last. She was playing house with a man she didn't know anymore. 

It was on the fifth day of patrolling that her partner had finally asked her if she was okay. She nodded simply, ignoring the depth of the question. Yes, she was okay. Was she happy? No. Was Hopper happy? No. Were the kids happy? No. Was life blissful and happy and domestic? No. Was she okay?

She would be, eventually. That was good enough to warrant her answer, despite it not being the entire truth. 

The truth of the matter was that she was developing a deep and sophisticated self-loathing. She was beating the hell out of herself for the fact that she couldn't fix the mess that they were all in. There was no compromise, no halfway happy. She was miserable with him and miserable without him. She just wasn't sure which was worse. What kind of person was she if she wasn't happy to be around the man who she had cried for even three years after his presumed death? 

There was no time that she could think back to and wish to go back. Before everything with Will, she didn't have El or Hopper. After Will's return, she was fighting a never-ending battle with post-traumatic stress and Hopper was only there to protect her. After Starcourt, she had El but she then had the blood of the man she cared about on her hands. Not a single moment in between that she would've wished to go back to; not without losing something or someone she loved. The domino effect, it truly was a bitch. 

Each day she had spent patrolling, she had watched his car zoom down the road, heading right into the warzone. Instead of chasing him down, she just watched with the look of death behind her eyes. If he wanted to go so badly, she'd let him. 

Until the sixth day of patrolling... the day she had borrowed an unmarked car from the precinct. 

She had decided to stay late, off the clock. Right back to the familiar piece of land she always parked in. This time, something had changed. Maybe it was that Ackerman wasn't in her passenger seat, or maybe it was the nagging in the back of her head, wondering where it was that he was going. She waited in the silence, right back to watching the cars commute back and forth. This time, she held on tightly to one of the polaroid cameras that Jonathan had left behind. If she was going to confront him, she needed as much proof as she could get. 

At first, her plan was just to capture the photo of him heading down the route to Hawkins. He had changed it up since she had last caught him. Instead, he went at night, no longer in the sight of the daytime. She watched the clock on the dash, flipping digits as the minutes passed on. Every day since the night she had pulled him over, his routine was like clockwork. Right down to the exact second on the clock. 

She saw the headlights begin to shine in her rearview mirror. Her hands fidgeted with the camera, getting ready to hit the button. The headlights got closer and she held the camera up to her eye, focusing it on the windshield. She had a window of time where she needed to capture the photo, right with his plate number in the photo. 

In her head, she started to count down the seconds until his headlights in her rearview would become his taillights in her windshield. 

3

2

1

Her finger squeezed the button as soon as he passed her, snapping the beginning stages of her paper trail. As soon as he was half a mile up the road, she started to follow him. Just far enough that he couldn't tell he was being followed. In the unmarked car, she was provided with a bit more protection of her identity.

They both inched closer and closer towards the place they had once called home. Each time he had passed a landmark, she had managed to covertly snap a shot to add to the pile. Each mile closer, each building that started looking vaguely familiar, her heart raced faster underneath of her ribcage. 

The moment they had passed the sign, her heart had sunk down to the pit of her stomach. 

'Welcome to Hawkins.'

a/n: I don't know if I'm coming back for good yet. this chapter has been in my drafts for some time now, but I've been hesitant to post it because I wasn't sure if I was ready or not. right now, I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know if I'm gonna take another break or what, but so many people have asked me to continue, so I hope you enjoyed this.