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Hopper was checking his gun in the radio station room where they kept their armament. The weapons, as well as the rest of his equipment, had to be in flawless condition for the next crawl. They weren't certain about when it would be, so he did regular maintenance just in case.
"Hey, can I try?," Jonathan's voice surprised him from behind.
Jim tuned his head, looking him up and down in disbelief.
"Have you used one of these before?," he inquired humorously as Joyce's son approached.
"Uhm... Not one this big, but I've... I have some experience with small guns," Jonathan replied hesitantly.
"Yeah? Because the last I heard, Nancy is your gun-woman because you didn't want to fire it," Hopper recalled the conversation they once had about firearms.
"That's true, but... Maybe it's time for me to give it another go. You know, in case we find Vecna. It wouldn't do any harm to have more guns."
"Okay. Although I know you guys usually rely on Nancy and she's amazing, you're right. It wouldn't hurt to have another shooter in the group. Do Robin or Harrington know how to shoot?"
"That's definitely a no," Jonathan laughed.
"And why the sudden change of heart on your side?"
"It’s just... I want to feel more useful. Nancy has her guns, Steve has that damn bat, and Robin is a genius, she solves everything with Nance," Jonathan raised his hands in surrender. "Sometimes I feel like a puppet following them around. Which don't get me wrong, it has served me pretty well because I'm still here, but... Still."
"You're not a puppet, Jonathan. Will counts on you, your mom does too, I do as well, and your friends... We all count on each other, okay? We do what we know and the best we can. This is about survival, there is no right formula for success. We've studied the enemy and now we’ll attack with the resources available," Hopper replied encouragingly.
"Yeah, I know. Today is one of those bad days when everything seems unfair and dark."
"You don't need to explain, I get it. I really do. And if you want to try, I'll help," Hopper assured him and saw a small smile appear on Jonathan's lips. "What experience did you say you had?"
The smiled vanished from his face and he began to shift uncomfortably, staring at the floor.
"My... Uhm... Lonnie used to take me hunting. I didn't exactly become an expert with guns because it was quite a terrifying experience for a 10-year-old. He taught me how to shoot and even made me kill rabbits," Jonathan explained with gestures of disgust. Then, he sighted, turning his gaze back to Hopper. "Even so, I've learned more from watching Nancy these past few years. I'm not a kid anymore, I think I can handle it."
Jim was aware of Lonnie's rather questionable habits with the children. He had overheard stories from his colleagues at the police station and from the backbiters in Hawkins. Joyce had also commented on the nightmares Lonnie had put them through during the years they lived together. Especially, when the children grew up, he would do anything to turned them into young versions of himself, a behavior Joyce hated. Fortunately, success wasn't on his side because the boys were nothing like him.
Despite any ideas Hopper might have had about the Byers' family dynamics before witnessing it firsthand, Jonathan's openness about it caught him a little off guard. Jim was alarmed by the possibility that he might be responsible for awakening old memories in Joyce's son's mind. He wouldn't forgive himself, and he doubted she would either. However, Jonathan was right: he was no longer a child, which meant he could make his own decisions. Hopper felt like he was walking a tightrope.
"Hey, you don't have to do it if you don't feel comfortable, okay? I don't want you to relive awful memories. There are other weapons you could use," he finally replied, giving the teenager a brief squeeze on the shoulder.
"It's my choice, Hopper. Lonnie won't keep messing with our family forever. We've already gotten over him. And honestly, I’d like to try," Jonathan assured him.
"Understood," Hopper answered, giving him a respectful glance.
Both Will and Jonathan were undoubtedly Joyce's sons. There was no trace of Lonnie's violent and cowardly behavior. She had raised two kind, brave and smart children while dealing with her bastard husband and overworking herself to death. Joyce was the only person who kept the Byers household together. When Lonnie left, it was more of a relief than a complication.
Jonathan felt far more comfortable around Hopper than he ever did with his biological father. The boys had tried to connect with Bob in the past, but it was a difficult process. They didn't trust people outside their family, except for their friends and Hopper. If anything, the Chief had saved Will's life and proven himself trustworthy. Beyond Joyce's previous unclear relationship with Jim, the boys had also found it easy to confide in him. Either way, it was a little easier to bond with Will than with Jonathan and his mother, as he was younger and friendlier. He hadn't developed the typical skepticism towards people, even though half of Hawkins took him as a joke.
Apart from the constant intention to protect his family, Jonathan hadn't trust Bob because he didn't fit into the Byers' family. He was a noble man, for sure, and good company for Joyce. However, the different realities in which they lived, along with the secrets, constituted a relationship based on avoided topics and fake smiles. Bob had been the last attempt at normalcy and it had gone wrong. Very wrong, sadly.
Perhaps a higher power was telling the Byers that they couldn't ignore their past and they needed someone who understood what the family had been through.
That person was Hopper. Jonathan had sensed it since the first few months after Will's kidnapping. The way Joyce moved around him and how she talked about him. Jim's concern and care for her and the family. The Chief had been the sole person who had treated Jonathan with a more mature perspective when the Upside Down appeared in their lives, even though he was a teenager. The boy would always be grateful to him for that.
Not only was Joyce happy, which made her children glad and relieved that their mom could find support in someone else, but the entire family felt safe.
Jonathan considered Hopper's respectful gaze toward him for a moment and it reaffirmed his intentions to give firearms a try. He knew the Chief wasn't going to scare him or force him to do anything he didn't want.
"I can’t guarantee my aim is any good, though," Jonathan joked.
"That's okay, it’s normal at first," Hopper replied, and they shared a relaxed laugh.
"Well, I don't mean to show off my girlfriend, but Nancy was amazing from the very first shoot."
"Yeah, I can imagine, that girl has great precision in everything she does," Hopper commented. "The one I have here is a bit excessive for a beginner," he added, pointing to the military firearm on the table. "There are smaller guns you can practice with. We can give it a try tomorrow, what do you think? I'll give you some pointers and we'll see how it goes."
"Yeah, of course. Sounds good."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. If I don't like it, I'll go back to basics."
"Okay, great, kid."
On the other side of the wall, Joyce listened to the entire conversation without them noticing. It wasn't her intention, but once she recognized Jonathan's voice, she couldn't help herself. She had meant to talk to Hopper and ask if he needed anything. However, when the conversation began and she realized where it was leading, a flood of old memories she thought were long buried came rushing back. Her heart pounded in her chest as she took a step toward the other room.
There was an inner urge that pushed her to get away. Not only from them, but she also needed to escape those recurring memories.
Joyce physically felt the impact of a specific recollection storming into her mind, like thunder on a cloudless day.
"You have to stop taking him to those activities, can't you guys do something else?," Joyce's voice echoed through the old Byers' house.
"For God's sake, Joyce. I'm trying to man him up," Lonnie replied annoyed.
"He's 10 years old!," she pointed out.
They stood in the kitchen, facing each other. Joyce did her best to keep the voice down, but with Lonnie it was impossible to have a calm, reasonable conversation.
"If he doesn't start to understand what it means to be a man at this age, he'll be the joke of the party," he argued.
"He doesn't like it, okay? He comes back crying. Terrified. Can't you think of any other activities to do with him?"
"No, Jonathan needs to grow up strong. He won't be a scaredy-cat just because you overprotect him," he snapped.
"I don't overprotect him, I listen to him and he doesn't want to go anymore," she replied, rising her voice and standing her ground. "He's afraid of guns and suffers every time you force him to kill an animal. So, you’re never taking him again, unless he asks to go."
“A man needs to learn how to use a gun. Killing is in our nature, okay? They're just animals, that's how the food chain works. He's scared now, but one day he'll be good at it. He might even enjoy it and want to put the skills I've taught him into practice,” he insisted.
"He will learn if he wants to. And that's the end of the discussion. You aren’t going to traumatize my boy for the sake of your manhood," she stated decisively.
"He's my son as much as yours, Joyce. I'll take him wherever I please and make him strong. Otherwise, he'll end up fragile. He'll end up like...," he stopped there, not out of respect for her, but because the mere thought that crossed his mind seemed repugnant to him.
"Like who, Lonnie? Say it. Come on, just fucking say it," Joyce urged, fed up with putting up with his bullshit.
"He'll end up like you. A pathetic, frightened bitch. Too anxious and sensitive to face a real problem. You’re weakening him, Joyce. I won't allow it. He'll follow my advise. Or else, it'll be your fault when he faces danger and he can't defend himself."
It wasn't the first time he referred to her in such terms. In fact, he seemed to enjoy doing so, and she was too accustomed to it to defend herself. Nothing she could say would make him behave any less violently. He always found synonyms for the same insults.
"You're an asshole, you already know that. Fuck you, Lonnie," she yelled. "You might have ruined my life, but you won't ruin theirs. So, you can stop pretending you care about the kids and just admit that you're doing this because you don't want a child who isn’t interested in violence."
The heated conversation had escalated with more insults. Then, he had grabbed her by the wrists, shaking her, and would've thrown her to the floor if it hadn't been for Jonathan's cries coming from inside the bedroom due to their screams.
The scene replayed in her mind after watching Hopper and Jonathan arrange their shooting practice. She trusted Jim's care toward the boy, he was extremely attentive to them and always acted on their behalf. It was a testament to his love to her and the boys. However, she didn't like those memories from the past ghosting around in Jonathan's mind.
Lonnie could burn in hell and still leave a bitter taste in their mouth every single time they remembered him.
According to him, it was her fault that their children were sensitive, it was her fault that she wasn't a perfect wife, it was her fault that their lives were screwed. Apparently, nothing was on Lonnie. Even though he was the only one in the family who wasted their money on alcohol, gambling and other women.
Damn you, Lonnie. You and your stupid manhood-probing excursions.
The walk through the tunnels from the radio station to the cabin was quiet. Hopper and Jonathan exchanged a few comments about the routes and the equipment, but Joyce's mouth was zipped shut. Lost in a different decade, her mind kept reminiscing about old times. Disgusting and terrifying old times.
Anxiety was rising within her again, and it had a clear cause: guilt.
"It'll be your fault when he faces danger and he can't defend himself."
She wasn't responsible for Jonathan's being unable to defend himself, because he was capable of doing so. However, she felt the weight of the torments he had to go through on her shoulders.
"You're a mess," Lonnie's voice echoed in Joyce's mind.
"Glass houses, Joyce," Jim's word at Murray's house suddenly came back to her. "You know, the pot calling the kettle black."
Callahan’s condescending tone when Jonathan was taken to the police station, the buzzing murmur reverberating through Hawkins' streets constantly labeling her crazy, and the nicknames Will's classmates gave him echoed in her mind along with the image of different pitying looks from Karen, Bob, Donald, and many others who believed they knew her.
Crazy, insane, certifiable, mad, unbalanced, mental, deranged, psychotic, disturbed, nuts... The letters flew around inside her mind, forming words that fit the same definition that had haunted her for decades.
Jim noticed her somber demeanor. He didn't like the fact that she was quieter than usual. Even so, after asking her twice whether she was fine and receiving an unconvincing affirmative answer, he desisted. She'd talk to him if she needed to or he'd find a more appropriate moment to inquire again.
Frozen and silent. That's how the outside of the cabin was.
Boiling and noisy. That's how the inside of her entire body felt.
Joyce's mind screamed, her muscles were tense, her heart pounded loudly in her ears and her vision was blurred.
The soothing sound of the tree leaves was not enough to calm her waves of panic. The porch steps marked the spot where the charged atmosphere of the cabin collided with the peace emanating from the forest.
Daylight accentuated her beauty while her inner darkness emphasized her torments.
Hopper called out to her over and over again from inside, receiving no response. They needed to go over the details of the crawls one last time. He could see her silhouette standing in the porch and didn't understand why she wasn’t turning around to address him.
He stood up and approached her.
"Hey, you okay?"
A cadaver would've been less pale than she was. The way her eyes were glassy and her lips slightly parted, trembling, provided him with the exact picture of what was happening. Although he knew how to act in such moments, nothing could've prepared him for the name which came out of her mouth.
"Lonnie," she gasped.
Where on Earth did that bastard come from?
His name hadn't been part of their vocabulary for a long time. Hopper didn't particularly like the associations that came with the vision of the man’s face whereas Joyce and the boys only held traumatic memories of him.
Alcohol, gambling, drugs, cheating, insults, punches, shouting, and much more along the same abusive theme.
"What about him?," he asked, ignoring the disgust those six letters together caused him.
"He was right," she whispered.
"Joyce, what are you talking about?," he questioned, confused. Then, an alarming possibility crossed his mind. Despite of the quarantine, nothing was impossible in Hawkins. "Have you seen him? Did he hurt you?"
She didn't register the question. Her head was spinning with Lonnie’s endless speeches about how useless and crazy she was. Her ex husband had been the cause of multiple horrible situations in the past which made her suffer in ways she didn't believe possible. Nevertheless, his words still lingered in her mind some days. And, hearing Hopper willing to teach Jonathan how to use a gun triggered an internal fear in her.
It wasn't that she didn't trust Jim, but she couldn't help wanting to protect her son from bad memories.
Hopper waited impatiently for an answer because if Lonnie Byers had came anywhere near Joyce, he was going to find him and break even the smallest of his bones.
"I'm a mess," she sobbed. "It’s all my fault."
Damn it.
Those days were practically an invitation for her anxiety to manifest itself and he knew it. The image of her clutching the wooden railing of his porch as she stared blankly into the woods was not new to him. Her skin was paler than usual, which made her red lips and brown eyes stand out on her face.
His heart ache every time it happened because she entered a dark cloud of negative emotions where she was her own worst enemy.
"Hey, that's not true. Look at me, Joyce. Nothing is your fault, okay?"
"How can you say that?," she snapped, her voice hurt and tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes pierced him. "I let Vecna take Will the night I didn't check on him because I fell asleep on my damn couch. My baby almost died. Jonathan thought we had lost him. He had to search for his brother at only sixteen because I was too out of control. He didn't even believe me at first due to my paranoia. My own son thought I was crazy, like everyone else in this cursed town," she cried as her heart raced. "Then, I killed Bob. He wasn't supposed to be involved in any of this, and the moment he helped me with the tunnels, the moment he learned about the Upside Down, I signed his death sentence," she practically poured the words one after another and he could see her mind rushing to draw absurd conclusions. Abruptly, her eyes widened in realization. "Oh my God... I almost killed you. I turned those keys. The Russians took you prisoner because I didn't look for you under the platform. El lost her dad for eight months due to me. We believed you were dead, while you were being tortured. No one showed me a body, but I just trust the agents who told me such a lie. I should've searched for you, like I did with Will," she kept talking and he couldn't find a moment to interrupt her. "I've hurt everyone I love. Maybe... Maybe I became some kind of curse on others."
Her gaze dropped to the floor, disoriented.
Oh, he knew that phrasing all too well. Hopper opened his mouth to respond, but she continued reciting made-up discourses which had been put into her head.
"After marrying Lonnie, my life swung from one tragedy to another. He shattered my dreams, we ruin out kids' lives and I kept dragging people into my mess," she suddenly fixed her broken gaze on him again. "I dragged you into my mess. At the police station, I... I'm sorry, Hop. I'm so sorry. You deserved better, you and El deserve better... Heavens, even my sons deserve better."
Her sobs became uncontrollable.
"Stop, Joyce. Stop!," he said firmly. He wasn't going to let her continue saying harmful nonsense. "Focus on me and listen, can you do that? Please. Try to breath with me. In and out. Just like we’ve done the other times."
He took a deep breath, held the air for a second, then slowly released it. She imitated him gradually. Over and over again until she seemed to settle back into time and space. Her eyes were still filled with new tears which were threatening to fall. Her breathing was still irregular, and her hands trembled.
Hopper had never seen her in such a state and it scared him to death. It was undoubtedly the worst panic attack he'd ever witness. He wondered briefly whether she had experienced one like it before and if anyone had been there to hold her.
Lonnie wasn't even an option. Will had been just a kid by then. Probably Jonathan. God, that thought only made his heart ache more.
"Are you feeling better?," he asked her gently.
She nodded because the weakness in her whole body and the dizziness which clouding her mind prevented her from muttering any word.
"Great. Now, why don't we sit here?"
She nodded again, hesitantly.
They sat down on the porch steps. His hands on either sides of her. As if he was holding her so she wouldn't crumble into pieces.
How could such a wonderful woman believe those atrocities about herself?
Lonnie had put horrible ideas in her head, making her believe every one of his lies. He'd completely destroyed her self-steam and left her thinking she wasn't worthy of any love. He had treated her like some machine to satisfy him sexually and financially. Then, when she started to behave as a human being, he simply went out to screw his problems away with the first woman he could get into bed. He made a mess of her and didn't stay to help her deal with reality. He only made everything worse.
“If I could get my hands on you, Lonnie Byers, you'd regret every insult, assault, and infidelity you've inflicted on her. I truly hope you burn in the deepest hell,” Hopper thought as he watched Joyce struggle with her insecurities.
Jim realized that there were more important priorities than her miserable ex-husband.
The woman he loved was suffering because of someone who was worthless.
He wouldn't allow it.
"Joyce... Look at me," he said seriously and waited until she met his gaze. The angst in those beautiful, big, sad brown eyes he loved so much broke his heart.
"You're not responsible for anything. I'm not saying this just because I love you. What you've been through is inconceivable for the rest of the world. I know all the details of your story and I chose you every single day. It's my decision to be here with you and our children. Do you really think I'd entrust El to someone I don't believe is a good influence on her? God, Joyce. She loves you, she discovered what a real family feels like in California. You're the best mom I've ever known," the tenderness in his eyes was almost unbearable. "Lonnie's a bastard, to say the least. Your boys love you, Joyce. They'd never, ever blame you for anything because they witnessed what Lonnie did to you. How he treated you and all the abuse the three of you suffered at his hands," Hopper hated that man with every fiber of his being and was willing to discredit every conclusion she had reached. "Bob's death could've been prevented, like so many other things in life, but any one of us could've died in there too. It could've been you, and although you might have preferred it that way, I would never have let it happen. Neither would Bob."
Jim could see that the mention of Lonnie and Bob pierced her like a dagger. It was constant remorse which twisted in her heart with every memory. Lonnie had been the man who turned her life into a living hell and Bob had seen his future consumed to ashes due to her.
Both should've stayed away from her.
Joyce used to be a carefree, curious soul. Full of dreams in her teenage years. But, then, fate tore her apart. Time and again.
Hopper left, Lonnie stuck around.
And her existence suddenly caught fire. The smoke suffocated her, pushing her toward anxiety. It had intensified into panic attacks and damaging thoughts. Then, it continued to escalate until Will was kidnapped and guilt was added to her mix of destructive emotions.
Hopper's life had been pretty much the same. Nightmare after nightmare, culminating in the final, most fatal tragedy: Sara's death. The only difference was that Joyce faced her regrets and calamities by overworking herself for her children. Instead, he sank into alcohol, drugs and sex as the perfect excuse not to face his torments.
One day, they paths crossed again and it was the best thing which could've happen to both of them. Despite the tragedy that brought them together, their reunion had been a salvation.
A miracle for two cursed people who were destined to find each other during the worst moments of their lives.
Hopper took a deep breath and returned to Joyce's words about his "death". They'd gone over it a hundred times. Her guilt over the machine explosion wasn't new to him, but she has never been so explicit and cruel to herself about it.
"Now, what you say about me and Russia... It's not true, Joyce. I made a choice at Starcourt and you acted on it. I was willing to die for you, for our family and for the rest of the kids. The torture I suffered in Russia is on the government and the soldiers who hurt me, not on you. It was never your fault, Joyce. Never, not for a single day, did I blame you for it. I just tried to protect you, and I would have died to do so. Jesus, you literally flew across continents to rescue me. It’s insane. Nobody else would've done something like that for me. I'd never have believed myself worthy of such a sacrifice. But, you did it. Against all odds, you convinced Murray and went to seek out for me in Russia's deadliest prison. Just as you did with Will in the Upside Down. Do you realize how much courage it takes to do something like that? And you did it twice with no guaranties," he expressed as he couldn’t believe the facts he was recounting. When he saw a smile appear on her lips, he realized it was working. "I don't know if I deserve all the love you radiate, but I feel the luckiest man in the world to spend every day with you. I love you. I always have and forever will. Our three kids love you. There's no one better for us than you, Joyce. You're the light of our lives. So please, never dare to think otherwise again. Because I'll be here to remind you how essential you're for us."
Joyce only stared at him in astonishment. Not quite believing him as intrusive thoughts kept invading her mind.
She was still breathing heavily and her heart was beating irregularly.
There was a faint smile remaining on her lips.
Then, she frown and her tone became serious.
"No one has ever spoken to me like that before. You... Do you mean it? Isn't it just a speech to calm me down?," she asked, almost chocking on her sobs.
"No, it's not. I mean every word and I'm willing to repeat it to you everyday if that's what it takes for you to believe it," he said in an equally serious tone. Hearing this, the smile returned to her face, so he smiled back at her. “I mean it, Joyce. When you need to hear it again, let me know. Understood?”
"Yeah... Okay," her smile widened.
"Come here."
He stretched out his arms to hug her. Once her head was buried in his chest, she took a deep, controlled breath. It was the first relaxed exhalation he had heard from her all day.
The world around them was crumbling down and, for a moment, his own world had been on the verge of collapsing before him.
"I'm afraid that someday you'll get sick of my panic attacks and anxiety," Joyce said in a timid voice.
"I won't, Joyce. I promise, okay? I couldn't get tired of you. You're the best thing in my life," he said sincerely. "Anxiety and all included," he joked.
She laughed in his arms.
"Can I ask you something?," Hopper had been left with a doubt lurking between his words of comfort.
"Of course."
"Why did you mention Lonnie? He made you believe those horrible things about yourself, didn't he?"
"Let's just say he called me a mess far more times than he complimented me in our entire relationship. And that's the softest term he used to refer to me.”
"That bastard is damn lucky I never had the chance to lay my hands on him."
"Hop... It's over," she said pulling back from his embrace and caressing his cheek.
"I know... But he doesn't deserve to live in peace without any consequences. He should be held accountable for his actions. For everything he put you and your boys through."
“As far as I'm concerned, he can burn in hell. And if he ever shows up around here, which I honestly don't think he will, I won't stop you from giving him what he deserves, arresting him, or whatever. In the meantime, I don't want to waste any more time thinking about him.”
"Okay, got it. We won't bother with him anymore. He doesn't worth it."
"Now... Since you asked, I mentioned him because...," she shifted uncomfortably, so he rubbed his hands over her arms. "When we were at the radio station I heard your conversation with Jonathan about the shooting practice and it brought back a memory of when Lonnie used to take him hunting. I tried to forget about it, but it seems my anxiety took advantage of it.”
"Jesus, I'm sorry, Joyce. Jonathan mentioned the same situation and I hated it. I don't want you two to revisit past traumas, okay? If you'd prefer me to withdraw from the training, I will. I can find an excuse. He's your son; you know better than anyone what's best for him."
"Don't withdraw,” she replied convinced. “I don't want to interfere with his decisions. Neither with the relationship you two have built. He asked for your help and I'm sure you'll be careful with him. I trust you, Hop. You're nothing like Lonnie. And more importantly, Jonathan trusts you."
“That has always been my intention, to make them feel safe.”
“I know. And they do.”
She lifted her head to give him a quick kiss. All the tension had dissipated. When she pulled away, she was smiling again.
“You’ll have to be patient with him, though. I don’t think his aim is any better than mine.”
“Really? That bad?,” he joked.
“Yeah,” she replied with a laugh.
“Do you want me to teach you too? I can handle two Byers.”
“God, no. I’m fine with my axe.”
“You’re right. You’re very good with that thing.”
Joyce giggled again and so did he. The porch echoed with their cheerful voices. Anxiety and fears were forgotten for a moment.
Happy and hopeful. That's how it felt outside the cabin, and within herself.