Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Glory of Love

"Glory of Love"

I'll be the hero you're dreaming of

- Peter Cetera

Hopper dropped the gun and he and the Demogorgon stared at each other across the pit. He couldn't fight it with his hands. Even weakened, it was a hell of a lot stronger than he was. But there had been weapons here before, scattered around the pit. If any of those had survived the flames ...

And as he thought it, he looked down and saw the gleam of metal at his feet. A big-ass sword, just lying there, ready for a hero to pick it up and go to town on the monster.

So, he did. Slowly he reached down, closing his hand around the hilt of the sword. He was surprised that it wasn't too hot to touch, but maybe it was and he just didn't notice it. Either way, it felt pretty good in his hand as he stood up, facing the monster.

The Demogorgon stamped a foot on the ground and screamed at him, the petals of its face flaring.

Hopper raised the sword, setting his stance, feeling very calm and sure of himself in the face of the threat. He didn't dare look back at Joyce. He hoped she trusted him to be able to do this; he hoped she wasn't seeing Bob's last moments again in her mind's eye. But for the moment, there was no time to think about her, or El, or anyone. There was just him, Jim Hopper, lifelong screw-up, and the monster that threatened everything he cared about or hoped to live for.

He took a few deep breaths, readying himself. The strike would have to be perfect. Precise.

It screamed at him again, and he didn't bother to scream back. Keeping a firm grip on the hilt of the sword, he ran toward it. Ducking its head, it ran toward him.

He lifted the sword, falling to his knees underneath the arm it tried to claw him with, sword raised above his head, and as he slid and the Demogorgon tried to slow, the sword sliced through its arm.

Hopper was on his feet again as soon as the Demogorgon passed him, sword poised. It reached for him with its remaining arm and he dodged the strike. It did it again, and he dodged it again, then he raised the sword like a baseball bat. Screaming, he put everything he had into the swing, forgetting that he had never been any damned good at baseball, and he felt the sword move in a perfect arc, felt the resistance as it struck flesh, and the give as it sliced through it.

The Demogorgon's head flew off its body, and the body crumpled to the ground at his feet.

It was over. They had won, at least this battle, at least this day. Hopper was coming to realize that maybe the war would never be won, so you had to accept that whatever you could do today was all you could count on.

He turned to Joyce, who ran into his arms, and he held her. Today, they had stopped the Upside Down in Russia. They had killed the Demogorgon. And they were together, the way they should have been from the start.

Hopper pressed his face against Joyce's filthy hat, taking the moment to breathe.

And then, the miracle to end all miracles: Above their heads came a whirring noise, and they looked up to see Yuri's weird helicopter thing descending from the sky.

"Son of a bitch!" Murray screamed triumphantly above the sound of the rotors, as the door of the helicopter slid open and Yuri grinned smugly down at them.

Murray kept laughing and screaming and dancing for joy. Yuri saluted them all, and from the passenger seat Antonov waved.

Joyce and Hopper looked at each other in relief. They were going home. God only knew what they would find there, but ... they would get there, and they would see their family, and together they would all set right whatever had gone wrong.

It took a little doing to get them all into the helicopter. Yuri couldn't land in the pit, so he had to find a place outside to land instead, and then Hopper and Joyce and Murray had to make their way through the prison and find a way out.

He tried not to think about the other prisoners. They were probably long dead by now, victims of the Demogorgon and the Russians' stupidity. It was too bad. They had deserved better.

Outside, the air was crisp and clear and did not smell like burned monster or death or prison.

"Come, come," Yuri shouted over the sound of the rotors. "No time to waste!"

He wasn't wrong. Murray climbed in first, then Joyce, then Hopper.

The inside of Katinka was pretty cramped. Joyce ended up on Hopper's lap, looking at him shyly before she rested her head on his shoulder and fell asleep in his arms.

He should sleep, too, he thought, but he didn't want to. He wanted to sit here being flown home and listen to Joyce's breathing against him and think about his girl and her boys and what life would be like after they'd beaten whatever the kids were fighting and they could just be a family together.

Up front, Yuri and Antonov were arguing in Russian, with Murray putting his two cents in wherever he could find a space. Hopper didn't even try to listen for familiar words. It was too hard over the sound of the rotors anyway.

He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against Joyce's fuzzy hat.

And the next thing he knew, they were on the ground, somewhere near the ocean, judging by the smell and the sound of seagulls.

"So. You wake, my friend." Antonov was smiling at him. "Go back to sleep. We are refueling. Next stop, Alaska."

"Alaska," Hopper muttered. His eyes closed again. Alaska. America. Home.