Chapter Text
The searing headache, a pain that seemed to mercilessly hammer within her skull as if trying to break through bone. That was the first sensation to greet her. Joyce swallowed hard, the faint metallic taste of blood on her tongue. Her eyes remained closed as she tried to piece together what fragments of a memory lay etched in her mind. One that would answer what had happened. One that had led her into the gates of Hell.
Starcourt Mall.
The Key.
Hopper…
She remembered standing alongside him in the room overlooking the machine. It had been hot. So hot as the rift glowed like a forest fire. Though she didn't admit it aloud, it frightened her. Joyce knew well enough what possibly lurched on the other side. What creatures it held. That's why they had to close it. That's why it had to be now. But in that moment, with Hopper by her side as they counted down to turn the keys, their plans had been foiled again. The Russian hitman. There had been a fight, but Hopper had won. He won and for the briefest of seconds, she thought everything was going to be okay.
Then the unthinkable happened. The image of Hopper's bruised and bloodied face as he urged her to turn the keys with a smile burned in the back of mind. His way of letting her know it was alright. That he wasn't afraid. And through anguish she did. For him. Forcing herself to finish the mission even though she knew the costs. Then the explosion happened and Joyce was thrown backwards. Everything faded away after that.
"The American is up."
Joyce's blood ran cold as the sound of a voice yanked her back into reality. Whoever it was, their accent was thick, and she knew well enough after today-if it still was today, what it was. Russian. Suddenly, Joyce found herself forced upright. She bit back a scream as the motion sent shock waves of pain throughout her head, bile rising in her stomach as the urge to vomit drew dangerously close. Finally, she found it within her to open her eyes. Something she found herself suddenly regretting.
"Hello, American."
Three men in uniforms stood before her, their faces unreadable. Joyce watched them from the chair she had previously been slouching forward in. This was a nightmare. It had to be. When she was knocked unconscious, perhaps this was nothing more than a fever dream. But as the taller of the soldiers stepped forward, adorned with military patches and pins, she realized such a mercy hadn't been granted.
"You must bear with me." He began, his eyes never leaving hers. "My English is not strong. But I do not think that will be much of a problem." The man bent down just enough to be at her level, and Joyce could smell the familiar scent of cigarettes on his hot breath. "I am Warden Melnikov, and you will address me as such. Understand?"
Joyce drew in a breath, but said nothing. The warden frowned.
"I do not take insubordination, especially from a woman," Melnikov growled. "I said, do you understand?"
Her eyes narrowed as she glared back at him in defiance. Fear had begun to pool in the pit of her stomach, but she thought of Hopper. Of the man she so deeply had cared about-and still did. The one she never had the chance to tell how she truly felt. Without warning, the warden drew his hand back and slapped her hard. Joyce couldn't help but yelp softly as the white, hot pain burned across her cheek. The noise caused the corners of the man's mouth to twitch slightly upward as he straightened up.
He tried again. "Do you understand?" And this time she nodded. "Good."
Until now, Joyce thought she understood what true vulnerability felt like. But as the warden began to pace back and forth, never had she felt so small. Every so often he paused, eyeing her as if at any given moment he'd strike her again. Building that sense of uncertainty. Showing her who had the upper hand in this.
"What is your name?" Melnikov finally broke the silence, stopping in his tracks. "Your name. What is it, American?"
Her mind instantly went to her children. Jonathan, Will, even El…whatever she told them, even as simple as her first name, how far would they be able to trace that information? How much danger would she put them in? If something happened to them, she'd never forgive herself. Joyce swallowed hard and shook her head. His hand came back down even harder than before.
"When I ask a question, you answer!" He spat, and Joyce prayed that he couldn't see that she was beginning to tremble. "What is your name?!"
Jonathan. Will. El. Jonathan. Will. El. Those three names replayed again and again in her mind. She could taste blood from where she had been biting down on her cheek. Joyce fought back the tears that had begun to prickle in her eyes. What would Hopper do? He wouldn't give in and neither would she. No matter what would happen. She shook her head again and closed her eyes, anticipating the sting of his hand.
"The bitch is stubborn." A bubble of triumph rose in Joyce's chest at the warden's words. "But there are other ways of finding out." And it bursted. "Let's bring them together and see who will break first."
Who will break first? The warden's words swirled in Joyce's mind as she found herself uncuffed from the chair and hoisted upwards. Her knees felt weak and if it hadn't been for the guards supporting her, she would've collapsed. The men spoke in Russian to one another as they began to haul Joyce from the room and down the hallway. She tried to listen, pick up any sort of hint as to what was going on. Any word that sounded slightly familiar. But there was not one to be found. And she could only give in as they half held, half dragged her down the corridor.
The door Joyce found herself stopped in front of wasn't as ominous as she expected. Old, sure, and in great need of a new paint job, but it was no giant, metal gateway that she had anticipated. By now, the conversation between the two men had ended. As one grabbed the door handle, the other looked her straight in the eyes.
"Try anything, American," he threatened. "You die."
Before she could react, Joyce found herself thrust into the room. She fell hard, barely able to catch herself as she hit the floor. The door closed behind her as the other guards walked inside, and once more she found herself hoisted onto her feet. It was then that she saw it. Or rather, who. Joyce's stomach clenched as she took in the sight of the badly bruised and battered man hanging by his wrists from the ceiling. The chains so tight she knew his circulation was being cut off. Their stares met and equal horror was shared between them. Hopper.
"No…"
The word was faint, his voice hoarse, but Joyce heard it clear as day. She was stunned. Her mind reeled as she tried to decide if it was due to the fact that he was still alive. That he had survived the explosion. Or that he, like her, was now trapped in the hands of the Russians. Joyce was so fixated on the Hopper that it wasn't until she was roughly forced into a chair that she snapped out of it. She saw the brief flicker of fury in his eyes as she winced in pain while being tightly bound in place.
"Ah, so Melnikov decided to hold the reunion early."
As soon as she had seen Hopper, Joyce had become oblivious to whatever else had been around her. Instantly, she found herself snapped back into reality as a man approached. He resembled the warden, in the sense of how he was dressed. Joyce couldn't help but notice the metals that stood out brightly against the dark green of his uniform. He certainly held power, but how much she was unsure. Hopper disappeared from her sight as he stepped in front of her line of vision.
"He neglected to tell me you were so pretty." The poor lighting in the room made his already dark eyes look black as he reached up and cupped her chin. "Like a doll." His grip tightened and Joyce's jaw began to hurt. "Wouldn't you agree?"
"Leave her alone!"
Hopper's voice cut through the air like a sharp knife. Joyce could only watch as the man let go of her face and turned to look at her friend. Shut up. She thought, as if concentrating on those words would actually silence him. Just shut up. Her heart began to pound as their capturer nodded to the guard closest to Hopper. With complete brute strength, the man brought his fist right into Hopper's stomach causing him to grunt in pain. Joyce internally screamed.
"So the American speaks." The smirk on the officer's face made her skin crawl. "I was beginning to worry you'd lost your ability to use your tongue." Another nod left Joyce to watch helplessly as Hopper received a punch to the ribs. "You were saying, American?"
"I said to leave her the hell alone." Hopper growled through clenched teeth. "She has nothing to do with this."
The man snorted, eyeing him with mock surprise. "Do you think I am an idiot, American? Just because you damaged the Motherland's facility does not mean we were unable to get what we needed." And from his pocket, Joyce watched as he produced what looked like a photograph. From the look of resentment on Hopper's face, she knew it wasn't good. "Does this or does this not match your woman?"
"Kinda hard to tell when your technology is shit!" Hopper spat, his eyes never once flickering over to Joyce.
Every punch and every jab Hopper took struck Joyce to her core. Yet he did not give in. Even as blood dripped down from his nose, he remained stoic. So badly she wanted to open her mouth and beg them to stop. So much so it hurt. But he'd always throw her that look-that stare begging her back to keep quiet. And she did.
As the officer opened his mouth to begin another round of questions, the door suddenly opened and a guard leaned in. She listened, and though the brief conversation was in Russian, she picked up on what she only could assume was a name. Barinov.
"Unfortunate," Barinov sighed. "Melnikov won't be joining us as I would've liked." Joyce regretted looking over at him as their eyes met. "I'm sure you are most displeased by this news." The sound of Hopper's chains rattling as he struggled met her ears. "You two were friends, yes?"
His dark humor didn't sit well as Joyce remained silent. Her wrists had begun to ache, but she did her best to ignore the pain. It was nothing compared to what Hopper was going through. Barinov frowned deeply as he continued to watch her, clearly not satisfied by her lack of participation.
"English may not be my native tongue, but I'm more well versed than most," Barinov stated, drawing closer to Joyce. "So when you ignore me, I know it isn't because you don't understand me." He reached forward, only this time his hand lightly gripped her throat. "What is your name? Who do you work for?"
Joyce stared straight back at him trying her best to show little emotion. When his fingers began to tighten, she dug her fingernails into her palms. She couldn't see Hopper from how Barinov had her head tilted, only the light that loomed over her head. Her throat burned, eyes watering as her body began to struggle for oxygen.
"Bastard, leave her alone!" Hopper roared. "I told you she doesn't know shit! Let her go, she can't fucking breathe!"
Ignoring the man's protests, Barinov squeezed harder causing Joyce to let out a squeak. "What is your name," he tried again. "And who do you work for?" White spots began to dance in her vision as her lungs begged for oxygen. "Answer the questions!"
Joyce's body betrayed her as she fought against Barinov's hold. She writhed in the chair, trying to knock herself backwards and away from him. All of it to no avail. But as she found herself falling away and drifting towards the darkness, a shout erupted in the room.
"Joyce! Her name is Joyce!"
Barinov let go of Joyce's throat, sending her into a coughing fit. She swallowed big gulps of air, trying her best to regain her composure. Through watery eyes, she watched as the officer made his way over to Hopper. When she caught his attention, she could read his expression. Apologetic. Creating a small crack in their wall of defense.
Barinov hummed pleasantly. "Joyce. A fitting name for such a pretty face." He brought his hand to her cheek and for a moment, Joyce thought he was about to hit her. Instead, he gently ran his fingers down, stroking the curve of her face. How she wished it had been a slap. "Surely one that doesn't belong here." He withdrew his hand and exhaled.
"Let her go." Hopper's breathing was labored as he spoke. "Just let her leave this place, wherever the hell we are. She won't say anything. Keep me and do whatever you like. Kill me, I don't give a shit. Just let her go. Please." And Joyce's heart broke at how pained his pleading sounded.
"No!" She managed to choke out, catching herself before she said his name. Eventually, she knew it would come out in the open, but for now, hers was enough. "Don't do this." Joyce looked to Barinov. "Please leave him alone."
A look of amusement appeared on the officer's face as he considered both of their demands. Joyce knew the likelihood of either being met was slim to none. That all of this was simply a game to him at this point. She tried to catch Hopper's eye, but he was still watching Barinov closely. If looks could kill, the hatred on the chief's face would've caused a massacre.
"I think I have heard of this before." Barinov mused, looking from one to the other. "In your country, you call them soap operas, yes? All of this between the two of you, very…" He paused as if trying to find the right word. "Dramatic, I believe that's right. Dramatic." The smile that appeared on his face was anything but warm as he clasped his hands together. "Anyway, my most important question has yet to be answered. Who do you work for?" And his eyes landed on Joyce.
"The United States of Kiss My Ass!" Hopper hissed before Joyce had a chance to think of a reply. "I told you, no one!"
Barinov was visibly unimpressed by the outburst. "I wasn't asking you, American." And with a wave of his hand, Joyce watched as one of the guards slammed his fist right into the side of Hopper's face causing him to fall silent. "Well? I am losing my patience. I am done with being reasonable."
It was almost as if it was involuntary. Her mind not registering what the consequences to her action would be. But the moment Barinov bent over and got right in her face, Joyce spit at him. He blinked, and she could've sworn she saw a glimmer of surprise flicker across his expression. The officer's nostrils flared as he wiped the saliva off of his cheek.
"I see." His tone had grown cold, void of any emotion. "A change of plans then."
Barinov turned his head and called out to the other guards. Joyce strained her neck trying to take a better glance at Hopper. The sight of him just dangling there made her stomach drop. Almost lifeless. And even though she knew he was still alive, the very sight of him like that made her want to vomit what little contents she had left within her.
"Perhaps you need time to think things over." Barinov spoke, staring down at Joyce. So he wasn't going to risk bending over again. Wise decision. "Have a nice sit in the dark while I have a few words with your friend."
Joyce found herself at the mercy of the guards as they unbound her. Held up by her arms, she glared up at Barinov whose height, unlike Hopper's, offered no comfort. The officer snapped his fingers and she watched as the other men dragged the chair she had previously been sitting in over to Hopper. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart beginning to pound much faster than before.
"What are you going to do to him?!" She demanded, unable to hide the panic in her voice. "What are you doing?!"
"When I was a boy, I loved learning about animals. My favorite was the elephant." The sinister grin Barinov gave Joyce caused her to struggle against the guards. "Do you think your friend likes elephants?"
Her feet scraped against the floor as the guards began to haul her away. Joyce shouted in protest, ignoring the ache in her neck as she looked over her shoulder to see Barinov standing beside Hopper. He watched her with keen interest and she wanted nothing more than to knee him right where it hurt.
"I'll see you soon, Joyce." Her name sounded like venom when he spoke it. "Think hard. Think about your friend."
The guards completely ignored Joyce as they escorted her down yet another corridor, far from the room she'd been in with Hopper. When they stopped in front of a new door, she half expected to be threatened again. But none surprisingly came. Instead, she found herself flung inside, landing hard on her shoulder as she hit the cold concrete. Joyce bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. As she sat up, the last glimmer of light danced in front of her vision as the door was pulled closed. Joyce tried to hug her knees to her chest as complete and utter darkness seemed to swallow everything whole.
Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Joyce had lost the concept of time as she stayed locked away in the cell. She thought of Hopper and what was happening to him. If he was going to be okay. He had to be okay. And their kids. The boys and El. What of them? If today was the end, what would happen to them? If there was a higher power, she was grateful that Jonathan was old enough to legally have Will in his custody so he wouldn't be stuck with that bastard Lonnie. And El, surely she'd stay with them too. Somehow Sam Owens would find out, help them like he had in the past. Maybe Murray would even offer a helping hand too in some way. They would be fine, she couldn't afford to think otherwise.
Joyce inhaled, feeling the slight sting from her bruised cheek. She watched in the direction she could only assume was the door. Barinov would be back. His fascination with her told her that. Her mind wandered to dark places. Thoughts and scenarios of things that might happen. Horrible, awful things. Suddenly the sound of the door being unlocked brought her back to reality. Her body betrayed her as she froze in place, unable to move as it swung open.
The light that flooded into the room caused Joyce to squint as she looked at the door. Two guards stood at the threshold, ones she did not recognize. Hopper was held between him, both supporting his weight as hung dangerously close to the floor unconscious. Before she could register what they were doing, they tossed him inside. The door closed the second his body hit the ground and Joyce scrambled over to him.
"Oh Hop…" Tears stung her eyes as she felt him in the darkness. "What have they done to you?"
She didn't need to see to know the condition he was in. His breathing was slow, heavy as she managed to pull his head into her lap. The moan he let out was both comforting and heart breaking. He was here-in great pain, but here. She stroked his face, unsure of the wetness she felt was from sweat or blood. More time passed as she held him close, unable to turn away even though the darkness masked everything.
"Joyce…"
Her heart leaped as she heard her name. It came out slurred as she felt him move a little. Joyce held his head steady, her hands not leaving him.
"Shh…" She murmured. "I'm here."
"Are you okay?"
She almost laughed at the question. Out of the two of them, she should be asking him that. But Joyce knew he was worried. He always worried about her. A trait of his that sometimes got on her last nerve. Even if secretly she adored it.
"Yeah," she reassured him. "I'm okay." Joyce paused, feeling how hot his skin felt against her palms. "I thought you were dead."
"I thought you got away." Hopper admitted, his voice soft. "I thought you were safe. Joyce, I'm so sorry. I never wanted…"
"Stop." And she hoped he could hear the firmness in her tone. "This isn't your fault."
She half expected him to start arguing. When he didn't, she grew a little worried. What she'd give to actually be able to see him. Joyce let her fingers run through his hair as she tried to focus on the sound of his breathing.
"Your hands feel nice." Hopper mumbled, breaking the silence. "Cold."
"You're burning up." She responded, moving her hand to his forehead. "God, Hop…"
He let out a weak snort. "I'm fine…you worry too much."
Joyce rolled her eyes. "You're one to talk."
Hopper let out a loud groan of pain when her words caused him to chuckle. She felt a pang of guilt. Again they sat there in silence, his head in her lap as her fingers now combed through his hair. As terrified as she was, she was glad she wasn't alone. That he was here. Even though it killed her that he was.
"I'm gonna get us out of this, Joyce." He finally said, sounding as if he was on the verge of sleep. "I promise I'll figure this out…"
"I know you will," she said gently. "We'll figure this out. Just try to rest, okay? I'm right here."
Hopper didn't argue, much to her relief. Joyce sat there quietly, cradling his head as he drifted off. Once she was sure he was asleep, she bit down on her lip as tears began to fall from her eyes. She didn't want him to hear her. To wake him up because she was weak. He needed to rest and she needed to try to pull it together. For them. For him. As she sat there, fighting back against her rising emotions, the uncertainty of what was to come continued to relentlessly pull at her, wrapping around her brain like tendrils. And though Hopper was there with her, Joyce suddenly began to feel strangely alone.