Chapter Text
He’s not expecting the knock.
He’s rarely at the trailer, but he’s trying to clean it up a little before he moves permanently to the cabin; he sets down the box in his arms and heads for the door, swinging it open to find Joyce Byers standing there, hand extended to knock again.
“Hey,” he says, blinking, watching as she shifted in place, lowering her hand.
“Hi,” she greets, voice quiet, and he watches her neck bob as she swallows.
“Come in,” he finally says, gesturing for her to come inside, and she steps into the trailer, pulling her coat a little tighter around her. She'd always been a wisp of a thing, but now, she looked downright skeletal. “Is something wrong?”
“Not- not exactly,” she starts, and his eyebrows furrow, concern and confusion blending together within him. “I, um- I just needed to talk to you. Alone.”
“Okay,” he replies slowly, watching her carefully as her fingers knotted together nervously in front of her stomach. Their relationship was like a balancing act ever since they’d found Will; they’d found ground to stand on together, for the first time in over a decade, but it was precarious. Everything was so hesitant, so fragile, so delicate between them. “What’s up?”
“Dr. Owens said that there’s- a treatment. A potential treatment. For Will,” Joyce stumbles over her words, fingers worrying a frayed thread in her shirt sleeve as she looks down at her hands, which were visibly shaking. “Something about using bone marrow and stem cells and- it was a whole lot of science nonsense that didn’t make sense to me, but the bottom line is that Will needs all his biological family members to pitch in. There's only a slim chance a single one of us will be enough of a match for this to work.”
“You need my help tracking Lonnie down?” Hopper asks, wiping his palms on his jeans, and his forehead creases when Joyce lifts her face back to his and her eyes are filled with tears. “Joyce?”
“Lonnie wouldn’t be any help,” she whispers, voice hoarse, and Hopper’s eyebrows furrow further. “Because he’s not Will’s biological father.”
The deep breath she takes sounds more like a sob, but he’s frozen on the spot, unable to move an inch.
“Do you…remember that night?”
The words are soft- so soft he barely hears them above the blood roaring in his ears, but he nods once, swallowing hard around the glass shard lodged in his throat. “It happened. We moved on. But when I found out I was pregnant, I knew it was yours. Lonnie had been at the racetrack more, and barely spending any time with me, and…”
Joyce trails off, biting her lip, and his chest tightens. It hurts to breathe.
“You were with Diane by then, and I couldn’t ruin that. It was the first time I’d seen you smile in years,” her lips quirk at that, a deep sadness etched in her face. “It was easy enough to pull the wool over Lonnie’s eyes- Will’s only started to look like you as a teenager, thankfully. And you just- you had a life. It didn’t…it didn’t need to include us.”
“But he’s my son,” Hopper’s voice cracks around the word, and Joyce’s eyes close, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Will is my son.”
“Yes,” she whispers, the singular word seeming to open a chasm of space between them that suddenly felt so large it could never be healed.
“You’re sure?” he asks, and Joyce nods. “So that means that you’ve known, for the last thirteen years, that Will is my son, and you’ve never seen fit to tell me.”
“Hop,” Joyce whispers, throat tight, and watches as he turns away from her, pacing the small space of the living room.
“You knew about Sara. From the beginning,” he faces her again, and his face is devastatingly blank. It stings more than if he would just yell at her. “You watched me come back to this town without her, without Diane, and you said nothing, all while knowing my son was under your roof.”
“Hopper, I didn’t-” Joyce tries to start, but Hopper shakes his head, and she falls silent.
“I’m trying to be understanding, Joyce. I am,” he says, and she watches his fists clench at his sides. “But you’ve been raising my son for thirteen years and I just found out about it, and I’m trying not to lose my shit.”
Joyce nods, and swallows hard.
“I will go to Owens,” Hopper tells her after a few long, awkward beats of silence. “I will do what he needs from me, because Will has done nothing wrong, and deserves whatever chance he's got to get better. But I- quite frankly Joyce, I don’t want to see your face right now. I don't know when I ever will again.”
The words sting, but she understands. She'd known that protecting Will would mean hurting Hopper. She just hadn't expected it to hurt her so much as well.
“Can I-” she swallows again, words clogging her throat, and digs her fingernails into her palms, forcing herself to continue. “Can I ask that you not say anything…”
“I won’t say anything to Will,” he finishes her statement, voice curt. “Not even sure how I’m supposed to- what I’m supposed to do. He’s my fuckin’ kid, Joyce.”
She winces at his tone.
“I know,” is all she gets out, biting her lip, sure to draw blood. “I know, Jim. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, for all of this.”
He looks at her, for a long time, just blinking.
“I’ll talk to Owens,” is all he finally says, and it’s a clear dismissal. “I think it’s best if we communicate through him. For now.”
Disappointment and shame twine in Joyce’s belly, but she understands. She gets it. She fucked this up. All that matters is Will, and making sure he was okay. No matter what. Even if it meant Hopper could no longer stand to look at her.
“Okay,” she whispers, and bites back the tears that sit in her throat. “I really am sorry, Jim. I never wanted this for us. For you.”
She watches as he swallows, and then turns to go, fingers curling around the door handle. She chances a glance back, and offers him a small, sad smile.
“I know it won’t mean anything, but- I am glad that he’s yours,” she murmurs, and she watches as the words land like gunshots, his spine stiffening. “No matter what- I’ve never regretted that he’s your son, Hopper.”
She leaves the trailer, letting the door slam behind her, and as soon as she’s inside the Pinto she bursts into tears, dropping her head against the steering wheel as her eyes burn. The weight of the secret she’s kept buried finally being uncovered should be lifted from her shoulders, but instead it feels a million times larger, crushing her under its severity.
This had never been what she’d wanted. She’d never meant to hurt Hopper; never meant to lay this burden at his feet. It feels like too much; too big for her small hands, grasping at straws.
She worries she’ll be pulled under by the strength of the current; a riptide waiting to happen.