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His kisses on her forehead before he whispers, "I love you."

When he holds her chin with his thumb and looks into those big, brown eyes...

The kisses they share when they think nobody's watching.

He tried to push it to the back of his mind, but it bothered him. Once, when things get really rough, a friend asks him if he has any regrets. At first, he doesn't want to answer. He's never been the sharing type. But it's been eating at him like a parasite. He can't get it out of his head. He hurt the girl he loved just because she wouldn't love him back.

Years later, after returning from the Russian prison, his mind drifts back to when their relationship grew sour. He wonders if she has it memorized, or if it managed to slip her mind like it did his. If she remembered, would she hate him? Would she have ever come to his rescue with such a nasty memory in her head?

So he asks her about it. He waits until darkness falls so that he doesn't have to see the pain written on her face. She says she feels a vague pulse of hurt and disappointment, but she doesn't remember what even led up to that moment. The past few years have swallowed many memories whole, even painful ones.

He apologizes anyways. He says he's sorry for something he only half remembers, and she hugs him so tight that he can't not cry. Her compassion for him in that moment is endless, and he cries into her shoulder until the tears just stop.

Her love is limitless. For that, he is grateful.

He prays that he won't ever hurt her like he did back then.

He couldn't live with himself if it happened again. So he holds her, and tells her, and hopes that she really understands how sorry he is.

For the times he didn't believe. For abrasive words. For leaving her behind, even though he really had no choice.

Rating: G

Pairings: platonic Jopper, implied Lonnie/Joyce

Tags: Pre S1, Implied Joyce/Lonnie, Songfic, Pregnancy, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Insomnia, Stress Relief, Oneshot

A pregnant Joyce calls Hopper in tears. He helps her in more ways than one.

OR,

Lonnie is useless and Hopper is a good friend.

Jim Hopper was busying himself with paperwork when another officer tapped him on the shoulder. “Joyce Byers is on the phone. She’s asking for you.”

Puzzled, he closed the manilla folder he was so heavily focused on and rose from his seat. He picked up the phone, raising it to his ear almost hesitantly. “Hey Joyce, it’s Jim. What’s up?” he tried to sound like this was just the usual for them.

“Jim, Lonnie’s at work and nobody over there is answering me…it’s the baby, I haven’t felt him move all day--” She cut off with a sob, and Jim’s stomach lurched. “I’m sorry, Jonathan’s with me and I don’t know who else to call.”

“I’m coming over. Try to stay calm, alright?”

Her sniffling was the only response.

~

Joyce was already pacing on the front porch by the time Hop pulled into the drive. Her movements were desparate, frantic. Her eyes were swollen, her face reddened from where she was wiping her own tears, and her entire body was shaking nervously.

“Hop,” she stumbled over to him, a single hand on her belly, “I haven’t felt him move all day. It’s…it’s not normal. I know you must think I’m crazy but I know something’s wrong,” she took his hand and placed it on her rounded belly, her eyes searching his for any sign of relief. He paused, waiting to feel the usual kick or movement which he’d experienced recently with his own wife. For a moment he thought he felt something, then all hope disappeared as he came to terms with the fact that he was imagining it. “He’s not moving, Hop. I can’t feel him.”

“Hey,” her gaze had drifted, and he held her chin in his hand for a moment before wiping away her tears. Jim let his hand brush her cheek, wanting nothing more than to reassure her in that moment.

She laid her head against his chest and let out another sob. “Hopper, I don’t know what I’m going to do if something happens to him. I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s get you to the hospital so you can get help, and then we’ll know,” she looked up at him again, and fear was written across her features. “The sooner the better. I’ll start the car, and you go get Jonathan.”

She nodded and disappeared into the house. Moments later, Jonathan was in tow, his eyes wide. He looked terrified. “Hey, it’s alright Little Man. I’m gonna drive Mommy over to the doctor so she can get a checkup. Then maybe I’ll see if we can’t find you a lollipop, okay?”

Jonathan nodded, smiling now. Joyce helped him into his carseat and fastened him in, all while fretting over his hat and shoes.

The ride to Hawkins Memorial was tense. Jim placed a hand in Joyce’s lap and she took it, holding onto him like a lifeline. When they got there, Jim helped her check in and sat in the waiting room with Jonathan, who was very excited when the secretary brought him a red lollipop.

Another stress-filled hour later, a nurse came to speak to Hop. He told her that he was a friend and had driven Joyce over when she called about the baby. Then the doctor stepped out with Joyce beside him, looking only a little better than before.

“Are you the father?” the doctor asked.

“Um…family friend, Officer Jim Hopper.”

“I see. Everything is quite alright, Joyce is just very stressed. She admitted she hasn’t been sleeping well and I suggested we keep her overnight for observation, but she wants to wait until her husband is home. I told her that she can go home to wait for him if she pleases, but she needs to stay in the ward overnight so we can keep an eye on her. For now, I recommend you get her home and keep her as comfortable and relaxed as possible until he returns.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Only then did Jim allow himself a sigh of relief. He coaxed Joyce forward and Jonathan started chattering away to his Mom, clearly very happy to see her again.

“Are you gonna be okay, Mom?” he asked, staring up at her with worry in his big brown eyes.

“Oh, I’ll be just fine, sweetheart. I might have to stay in bed until your little brother is born so that we can keep him good and healthy,” she explained.

Minutes later, Hopper helped Joyce out of the car and walked her and Jonathan to the door. She sent the little boy inside and stood in the waning light at Hopper’s side, her eyes threatening to well with tears. “I’m sorry, Jim. I didn’t mean to disturb your work, but Karen is away and I really didn’t know who to call. And I…I really thought he was dead,” her voice broke, and he hugged her, holding him gently against him as if he could absorb all her fear. “I’ve just been really anxious, and I haven’t slept, and I let my mind get the better of me. I should’ve known. I’ve been through this before. All my anxiety is putting him at risk, and I can’t seem to control it.”

“It’s not your fault, Joyce. You’re not crazy. Even if it had been a false alarm, it still matters. He matters. You matter to me.”

For the first time in a long time, Joyce let herself calm in his embrace. For the first time in a very long time, she believed him and knew that he meant what he said. She held him close, tears wetting his shirt, and felt cared for. Safe. Loved.

He rubbed circles into her back. One hand drifted down to her belly and she breathed deeply, wishing only that the little one inside could feel and understand how much she loved him. She never wanted him to feel unimportant. Unloved. “I love you.”

She pulled away, jolting herself out of the moment. “Thank you, Hop,” was all she dared to say. They both belonged to someone else, and there was enough love and loyalty there for them to ever think of betraying that.

The motel wasn’t anything special. There was a TV, a rickety bedside table, and two beds covered in tan comforters with light fixtures overhead. He was just grateful for a comfortable, semi-clean place to lay his head for a while. Hop landed on the bed closest to the while Joyce sat on the other, their gazes uncertain.

His mind mulled over the events of the past few days. The first time he spotted Joyce, he swore he was hallucinating. Seeing ghosts. He’d gone completely crazy, and now his mind was playing tricks on him. But then she was able to run to him, touch him, hug him. He couldn’t help himself: he wore the biggest grin on his face like a lovesick puppy. He didn’t care. This was all he’d dreamed about. Not breadsticks and lasagna: Joyce. Her warmth. Hop had dreamed about her for days. She’d obviously missed him. Finally, they were together.

Of course, Murray had to interrupt with almost smug urgency. Demogorgans. Russians. They were still in danger as long as they stayed.

After the first escape, Hop had found them cleaner clothes to change into. He remembered glancing over and catching the white of Joyce’s underwear. He turned away, revealing a cascade of scars down his back, some not fully healed.

The gash on his arm pulsed angrily against its bindings, pulling Hopper from his thoughts. He was perpetually cold. He wanted to wait until Joyce went to the bathroom so he could wrap himself under both comforters, but his heart started to pound at the thought of her leaving his sight.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go first?”

He shook his head. “You go ahead,” he replied tiredly.

She didn’t argue. Hop watched Joyce gather another stack of clean clothes before she turned back towards the bathroom. “Joyce?”

“Yeah Hop?” her wide eyes gave way to momentary discomfort on his part. Her voice was little more than a weary whisper.

“I don’t think I can stand to be alone right now.”

Her gaze softened. You can sit in if you want. Gives us a chance to talk things over, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Hopper let out a sign of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding in. His heart hammered at the thought of losing her again, and he had to convince himself that just because he couldn’t see her and feel her didn’t mean she wasn’t there.

The steam of the shower blinded Hop. His frame spilled out over the toilet even as he leaned back against it, ignoring the feel of the knob jamming into his back. The heat comforted him and lulled him into a doze. After mere moments, he allowed himself some shut-eye. He was surprised that Joyce didn’t jump in to break the silence, but then, she was probably as tired as he was.

Had there ever been a moment when she really believed he was dead? What was it like for her, having El and Will under the same roof? He imagined that the two got along just fine, but worry flooded his mind constantly. Were they still in Hawkins, or did Joyce move like she said she would? Was El adjusting to life without him?

He could picture it perfectly in his mind’s eye: Joyce telling El that her father had died saving Hawkins. He could see the grief in his daughter’s eyes, the pain at knowing that she’d lost another important person in her life. Her Dad. He took a deep breath again, steadying himself. Surely El was alright. She had to be. He scrubbed a hand over his bald head, and it reminded him of the way she looked when she first came to live with him-- he had told her that she could grow out her hair as long as she wanted, and she had been so happy. She said she wanted to be pretty, but to Hop, she already was.

A fragile melody broke through his thoughts, whisking his troubles away:

I’ve got your memory,

Or…has it got me?

I really don’t know,

But I know, it won’t let me be.

She was slightly off-key and her voice carried that jagged raspiness that was synonymous with her. He had to fight off a chuckle, worried that it would spook her from this strangely calming performance.

“Joyce?”

“Hm?”

“I need to tell you-- I need to tell you, before I regret it all over again…I love you.”

The shower’s spray permeated the silent air. He hadn’t wanted or even expected a response. He just needed her to know. But then, as he readjusted himself on the uncomfortable toilet, a single hand pushed back the curtain just enough for Joyce’s head to pop out. For a moment, he was afraid he’d just messed up in saying what he felt.

Her hair was slightly dampened, and he did a double take when he saw that her cheeks were wet. Had to be from the shower, right? Only after she sniffled did he realize he was wrong. “Hop?” her voice cracked. Her eyes searched his face for expression, as if she couldn’t believe how easily the words had escaped his mouth.

He stood and held his face in her hands for a split second before he kissed her. A hand tangled itself into the cheap blue shower curtain and yet the two were hardly disturbed as the rings popped off the metal beam, clanging as the whole thing fell into the bathtub. She pulled away long enough for him to really see her naked. At first her smile faltered and she bit her lip. His lips landed on hers again, this time so hard that her knees buckled underneath her. Hopper noticed her instability and scooped her up easily, eliciting a giggle from the woman in his arms.

His mind went back to the baseball field. Joey had hit a ball in Joyce’s direction. It struck her hard and Hop heard her cry out as she went down. He ran across the field to rescue her. There were tears in her eyes; her hands shook as she inched them closer to a swollen knee. He scooped her up gently, as if he was carrying a wounded dove. The injury was a painful shade of purple and red. Joyce’s fingers threaded into the same shirt that was wet with her tears. Except now, she wasn’t hurt.

Joyce grinned up at him with such admiration that he feared his heart would burst right out of his chest. He laid her on the bed furthest from the door and immediately his hands were on her, making her moan.

She undressed him between kisses, stopping only once to curse at the buttons on his shirt. He chuckled and took her hands in his own. He kissed them before pulling the shirt over his head. A moment later they were both unclothed and reveling in the feel of each other. He could feel Joyce’s hands at his neck as his body met hers, and he moved to graze the skin above her navel. Ragged cries escaped her mouth and he felt her nails digging into his back as she arched towards him. Pain seared through his body and he jerked backwards, pulling himself away from her as he gave an agonized cry.

“Jim, are you alright?” her voice was overcome with worry.

He groaned and hid his face behind both hands. “It’s the scars. They’re not…fully healed yet.” he hated to hear his own voice crack as he spoke to her. He wanted to please her, but now he only felt more pathetic than before.

“I hurt you.”

He wanted to hold her face in his hands and tell her that she was wrong. She refused to look at him. “It wasn’t your fault, Joyce.”

“I thought you were dead, Jim.”

The two phrases became a tangled mess as they overlapped each other.

“You did what you had to do. I would never hold that against you, even if I hadn’t made it out.”

Finally her eyes sought him out again. His mind flinched against the raw guilt that he saw inside those auburn depths, but he recognized that she was coming to terms with this as she wiped away her own tears.

They held each other again. Joyce begged him to hold her longer, and he wrapped her in a strong embrace. He flooded her with chaste kisses until their bodies were once again so close that he couldn’t move without nuzzling her, causing them both to chuckle. She moved to lay her head on his chest. He gave a contented sigh and let his pain slip away underneath her.