Christmas had come to Hawkins.

There were great big bows on the street lamps and candles in every window, lights twisted around all the trees in the rich side of town. Tree farms had replaced pumpkin patches, carefully curated rows of firs demarcated by strings of lights. Bradley's played carols and Malvern's sold lights, there were toy displays in storefront windows, and Santa rang a bell for charity outside of St. James' on Main Street.

It was a goddamn nuisance.

Hopper had lost his subscription to the Christmas spirit years ago, sometime before he'd left Chicago and after he'd lost Sara. He hadn't really thought of Christmas since moving to Hawkins, except for the Monday after Thanksgiving every year when Flo put up the tinsel he'd be cleaning off his hat for three months.

It wasn't that Hopper hated Christmas; he saw nothing inherently wrong with it. But Christmas, like most holidays, was something that did not apply to him. It was about family, and giving, and loving. Hopper had no family, so while he did give himself a six pack and an extra pack of cigarettes and loved falling into an early night, Christmas as a phenomenon was nothing special. Even last year, after the earth-shattering chaos of the Upside Down, Christmas, to Jim Hopper, had been just one more snowy day in December.

This year, however, was different.

"I want a Christmas tree."

Hopper jumped and nearly nailed his thumb to the wall. "Jesus, kid," he glanced down at Jane from his spot on the stepladder. "Don't sneak up on me like that." He drove the nail into the wall and picked up another. Jane stood by, watching expectantly. He drove in another nail, and another halfway, and then stopped. His brain caught up. He turned to her. "Did you say you want a Christmas tree?"

She nodded her head.

He blinked. "What, in here?"

She nodded her head.

He was nonplussed. Jane told him that she wanted things fairly often, but about half of the time, it was Eggos. The other half of the time, it was non-Eggo food items, drinks, heat, blankets, clean clothes, or, if she was in a good mood, a story. Christmas trees did not factor into it.

"Why?" He found himself asking.

"It's December," she explained. "Christmas."

Hopper didn't know what to say. He hadn't had a Christmas tree in ages - Christ, how long had it been? It certainly hadn't been in this house. Or his last. Sara had always loved the tree… and everything that went under it. Shit, Jane had seen a Christmas tree on TV, hadn't she? Had she seen the presents? Stockings? A Norman Rockwell-worthy Christmas dinner? Christmas trees were harbingers of other Christmas things, things that would be much harder to hold in a promise, and promises were not taken lightly in the Hopper household.

Jim squared his jaw. Better to keep her from disappointment early on.

"It's a fire hazard," he told her, and turned back to his task.

"It wouldn't be near the fire," she insisted. "It would be over there," she pointed to the spot by the door, by the record player. "Safe."

He gave an exasperated sigh. "You've thought this through." Of course she had.

She nodded.

He sighed again, dollar signs dancing before his eyes. "Even if we did get a tree. And even if we did set it up there," He pointed halfheartedly with his hammer. "What would you put on it, huh?"

This time, she looked more uncertain. "Pretty things," She decided.

"Yeah? And where you gonna get pretty things?" He turned back to his task and began hammering.

Jane fidgeted uncertainly. Amid the noise of the hammer and nail, she thought. Eventually, she said, "Outside. The store." Hopper threaded his hammer through a belt loop and surveyed his handiwork.

"You mean I'll get them from outside and the store." He marched down the stepladder and put it aside. He opened the new window and gave the sill an experimental shake.

"It will be pretty," she insisted. "Happy. For Christmas."

He hadn't meant to slam the window shut as hard as he did. She jumped, stepping away. "Listen, kid," He turned to her and opened his mouth, ready to list all the reasons they couldn't have a big Christmas, how expensive all these new windows had been, how he'd have to work on Christmas day anyway, how he had no clue what gift she would like except Eggos.

But then he saw her face. Thirteen years old, it reminded him, and never had a real Christmas. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"How about… I rustle up some lights, grab a small tree from the forest, and you can decorate it with some stuff we have around here, alright?" Jane bit her lip and he could tell she wasn't pleased. "How's that sound?"

"Will you pick a pretty tree?"

"'Course." He wasn't sure he was qualified to classify a pretty tree.

"A tall one?"

"Not too tall," He said. "I have to carry it home, ya know."

She smiled a teeny bit a that, even though she tried not to. She studied the floorboards for a moment, deflated but not upset. At length, she shrugged and looked back up. "Halfway happy?"

"Yeah," he picked up the stepladder and moved to the next window, next to where Jane stood. "Halfway happy." He ruffled her hair as he climbed up, and she smiled. She scurried off to her room to find whatever pretty things the cabin had to offer. Hopper only shook his head and went back to work.

It wasn't the strangest favor he'd asked of her, but he was still embarrassed. Then again, they'd been captured together and signed nine hundred pages of NDAs and voluntarily travelled through actual hell to rescue her son from another dimension, so he figured he could ask for this one stupid thing and she would understand, one broke single parent to another.

He had to knock on the door a few times before anyone answered.

"Oh, hey chief," Jonathan flashed him a smile, but almost immediately it faltered, his ever-haunted eyes glancing behind Jim to his blazer. "Is everything okay?" After the last few months, Hopper couldn't blame him for wondering.

"Believe it or not, this is a personal call. Your mom home?"

"Uh, yeah, she's-"

"Who is it?" Shouted Joyce. Her short, quick footsteps sounded in the hall. "Either go outside or let them in, just shut the door, it's freezing-" Joyce, still in her Malvern's smock, stopped short.

"Hop? What are you doing here? Come inside, you're letting in the cold." She waved him in and he could only comply. She went back to the kitchen while he took off his hat.

"You should have told me you were coming, Hop," she said above the noise of the oven door. "I'd've set another place at the table."

He glanced into the dining room where Nancy Wheeler sat, looking a little uncomfortable, by the window. Will was beside her, scribbling away with crayons at a decent rendering of a knight and a wizard. Hopper could smell food, and realized how hungry he was.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, I didn't realize…"

Joyce re-emerged from the kitchen, bearing a steaming meatloaf to the table. She set it down and turned back to the kitchen.

"Because you don't have a phone, you dinosaur," she teased. Jonathan hid a smile - Will didn't bother hiding his. Hopper ignored them.

"They bugged my house once, they could do it again," he told her, as he'd told her several times already. "Phones are a risk."

"Uh huh," Joyce stirred a bowl of steaming corn and balanced it on one hand so she could grab a bowl of sugar snaps peas. "And the Hoppers don't take risks," she parroted.

He frowned. "Where'd you hear that?"

"El- sorry, Jane told me."

Without asking or having to be asked, Hopper took the bowl of peas from her so she wouldn't drop them. "She told you? When?"

"When I was helping her with her makeup. Call it girl talk."

"How is El?" Asked Nancy when the two adults emerged into the dining room.

"Oh, you know," Hopper shrugged. To be completely frank, even after a year living with the kid he felt no more qualified to read her moods than anyone else. "Quiet. Little moody. Loves waffles and soap operas."

Nancy laughed, and Joyce scoffed. "You're still letting her watch those?"

"What should I let her watch? Drying paint?"

"What's a soap opera?" Will asked. Joyce waved him off. Hopper set the peas out on the table.

"Now she wants a Christmas tree."

"Aww," Nancy smiled.

"That's so sweet, Hop," Joyce was smiling, too. Hopper was not.

"Yeah? Well, I got no shortage of trees, but…" he looked around at the kids. Nancy Wheeler probably had no clue what it was like to pinch pennies, but he knew Jonathan understood what it was like being poor. Even Will did. But Jim was a grown-up. The damn Chief of Police. Revealing his financial problems in front of a bunch of teenagers didn't sit well, no matter who they were.

"Joyce, can I talk to you a minute? Alone?"

Confused, Joyce frowned, and glanced at the food on the table. "Sure." She gestured to Nancy and the boys. "You go ahead and eat, we'll be back in a minute."

They stepped out on the back porch. Joyce huddled in her sweater. "Is something wrong, Hop? Is it about El? Is she okay?"

"No, no, nothing like that," he assured. Joyce's shoulders slumped in relief and he felt guilty. "I was just, uh, I was wondering…" God, why was he so embarrassed about this? Dragging her out here in the cold for the sake of his own pride. What an asshole. "D'you still have all those Christmas lights?"

She was nonplussed. "Most of them." She frowned at him, as if almost afraid of what he would say. "Why?"

"Do you think I could, uh… borrow a few? Just for the holidays."

She stared at him. "Wait… for, what, for a tree?"

"Yeah."

"That's it?"

He realized how stupid he sounded, and sniffed, nose starting to run in the cold air. "Yup."

She laughed. "Hopper, you - you pull me aside and ask about some crap I kept from from… back then, you were scaring me." She caught the look on his face and added, "you don't have to be embarrassed."

He gave an exasperated shrug. "Don't I? Gone and gotten myself a daughter, can't even afford damn Christmas lights for her damn Christmas tree." He tapped his pocket, itching to smoke but knowing he shouldn't. "Kids are expensive."

"They are," Joyce concurred almost jokingly, as a veteran to a trainee. He suddenly remembered that she'd been working two jobs for years to support her family. He felt very small.

"I just… I never realized how much I spent on…" he gestured vaguely. Cigarettes. Booze. Pain meds. He closed his eyes and sighed. You never knew exactly how messed up you were until you had a kid to take care of. "...on shit, I guess. I need to go back on that diet."

Joyce smiled but said nothing. "How're the windows, Hop?"

"Good," he shrugged. They had been the biggest expense so far.

"They keeping you both warm?" And that was the point, after all.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good." Joyce patted his arm and stepped out toward the shed. "It's freezing, let's hurry up. What color of lights did you want?"

"What do you have?"

He brought back six strands. She took the big colorful ones, the ones that were very clearly designed to go out of doors, and put those on the indoor tree. Of course.

He put his foot down before she could suggest they put any outside, a plan which ultimately backfired. He was the one who'd brought home six strands. He was the one who'd said none of them could go outside. He really should've seen this coming.

He kept reminding himself that the bundle of nails between his lips was not a cigarette, but he sucked on them anyway and tried not to fall over. He put one more in the wall as far over as he could reach. There was still a good six feet of lights levitating along the ceiling, waiting for him to catch up.

"You gotta slow up, kid, not all of us can just float over there," he teased, climbing down the stepladder. He glanced down at Jane as he did, and above the bloody nose, her expression was one of epiphany. He stopped mid-descent. "That is not an invitation," he forestalled, and planted his boots firmly on terra firma. "No using your powers on people, especially not me." He liked to pretend this fit under the umbrella of ethics, and was in no way related to his own aversions toward flying.

She crossed her arms and looked away with a miffed expression. Spoil sport. Still, she said nothing as he tediously moved the stepladder and climbed back up to tack in another nail. She handed him more nails when he needed and held the lights just so. She could have done it faster by herself, but he didn't like her using her powers around things like nails, and the fact that he was taking the time to help made her feel… she wasn't very good at classifying emotions. It made her feel at home.

"Alright," he said, descending the ladder one last time, "that oughta do it. How's it look?"

Jane went to the center of the cabin and spun in a slow circle. Five strands of lights, some white, some multicolored, were pinned up along the edges of their small cabin and along the loft's edge like icing, twinkling and beautiful. Their small tree, standing only slightly crooked by the record player, practically shone with the over-sized bulbs. By the time Jane spun fully around to look at Hopper, she was grinning ear to ear. She always looked more like a kid when she smiled, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Yeah?"

"Stunning," she said.

"New word. Where'd you learn that one?" She pointed at the TV. He really needed to get her some books. "I like it." He went for the door to put his tools back out in the shed. As he passed, he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. "Merry Christmas, kid."

When he came back to the cabin, she was still spinning slowly, watching the lights.

The next day, it snowed. It wasn't great snow, either. It was soggy and icy and disgusting, and it mixed with the road salts to leave a gritty film on just about everything it touched, including Jim's favorite hat. It'd also caused a wreck on main street that blocked off traffic. And since Callahan was out sick and Powell was working on the paperwork he'd refused to file for the last six months, it'd been Hopper left to direct traffic. In the sludge. For four hours.

It was already dark by the time he'd had the time to signal. He drove back that night, exhausted, feeling like shit. He gave his special knock and Jane let him in, but she was already in her room, all the lights off.

He ran into the tree immediately and it wobbled precariously. "Shit," he grabbed it before it could fall. Something hit the ground at his feet, and after he righted the greenery, he stooped to pick it up. It was a bow, made of… plaid? He recognized the pattern. Didn't Jane have a shirt that looked sort of like… He turned on a light, and raised his eyebrows at the tree suddenly illuminated before him.

She'd cut up one of her own shirts to make bows for it. It was a blue plaid. Not the most festive, but he wasn't sure she understood the whole red and green thing. There were bits and baubles here and there, old stuff she must've found around the house. An old wood bird with a string tied around it, a lace doily, and… were those some of his old dog tags? There was a popcorn string, though he had no idea where on earth she'd gotten popcorn from. It was pretty weird popcorn, too. In fact, it didn't even look like popcorn. It looked like little bits of…

Eggos. There was an empty box on the table behind the tree, crumbs and spare thread scattered beside it. He looked again at the tree. She'd sacrificed her own stash of Eggos for her tree. He laughed and put the bow carefully back onto the tree, ate dinner, and went to bed.

The night of Christmas Eve, he'd bought her a box of cinnamon Eggos and wrapped the box up in a bow, and had left a note under the tree telling her to check the freezer. He smiled most of the day just wondering what she must've thought when she found them.

He got back a little after 5:15, arms laden with a hot box of pizza, a carton of egg nog, and a handful of hot chocolate mix he'd stolen from the station. It was already dark, but he could see the Christmas lights shining through the window.

She let him in and followed him closely as he carried his wares to the kitchen. He thought it was because she was hungry, but when finally had everything out of his hands, he could see that she was holding something out for him. A present. Wrapped in a towel and tied up in the same ribbon that he'd used on the box of Eggos.

"Merry Christmas," She offered. Touched, he took it and unwrapped it. A broken, slightly overcooked stack of waffles sat in his hands. "Cinnamon waffles," she explained. "I ate the eggos. I made more. For you."

"Thanks, kid," he smiled at her, and picked at the gift. As touched as he was, something in the pit of his stomach clenched nervously; he'd taught her how to cook waffles. He'd never shown her how to mix the batter. He broke off a corner and put it in his mouth.

Cinnamon. Oh, god, there was so much damn cinnamon. Shit, it hurt. His eyes began to water, but she was watching him, so he swallowed and forced a smile. "It's good," He coughed, trying desperately to fight the gag reflex against the cinnamon caked on the back of his throat. He reached for the carton of eggnog and, with great restraint, took the time to pour a glass before dousing his throat. "Why don't," he coughed, "why don't I save that as a treat for after dinner, yeah?"

She smiled at him, and for a moment, he almost forgot about the cinnamon. He drank some more eggnog anyway.

They ate pizza and drank their Christmas-y drinks and he even ate an entire waffle in front of her, despite the fire breaking out in his esophagus. He'd probably regret it later. He chased it with another mug of cocoa, and she finished off the eggnog and the pizza. She fell asleep slumped against him on the couch, Miracle on 34th Street dousing them both in quiet light. He watched her dozing, and pulled a blanket off the back of the couch to drape over her shoulders.

He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep, too, until he woke up the next morning with the worst crick in his neck that he'd had in years and someone knocking on his door.

He froze.

Someone was at their door.

Jane was up too, looking confused and hugging her blanket. She looked at him. He looked at her. He twisted his head around to look at the door, but it was impossible to see anything through the drawn curtains. The lights were still on, reflecting dully against the shades.

Oh god. It was the lights. Someone had seen the Christmas lights. They'd found them. Someone had followed him. They'd followed him and seen the lights and they knew.

"Go to your room," Hopper said, as evenly as he could. "Like we practiced. Quietly."

Eyes wide, Jane stood and snuck into her room and shut the door behind her. He waited until he heard the emergency lock on her door click into place. He'd regretted installing that lock ever since last summer when she'd begun abusing it during her sulking episodes, and had even considered taking it out, but now he was grateful. He took his gun from its holster and held it behind his back, flicking the safety off as he approached the door.

Chain lock still in place, he cracked the door open.

"Merry Christmas!" a crowd shouted at him.

"Jesus Christ-" he jumped, and finally realized who it was. Joyce and Will… as well as Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Max. Hopper made his sigh of relief sound like one of frustration. "I have a damn gun in my hand," he complained, and slammed the door so he could undo the lock. He clicked the safety back on but holstered the gun in his belt. He opened the door again.

"I'm sorry, Hop," Joyce said, looking guilty. "I forgot."

"We came to wish El a Merry Christmas," Mike cut in, utterly unapologetic.

Hopper rubbed his neck where the crick was most pronounced. "Christmas was yesterday, kid."

"Well we couldn't sneak out here yesterday," Lucas said, "duh." Hopper didn't appreciate the duh.

"Yeah, that would've been way too suspicious," Dustin concurred.

They didn't seem to understand that everything was suspicious, out here. Then again, they were kids. "But today isn't?"

"Their parents all think they're at my house playing Rescue on Fractulus!" Will explained. Hopper's eyes shifted to Joyce.

"Video game," she mouthed. He nodded slowly.

"Oh."

"And we got this for Eleven!" Dustin hoisted a present from his backpack - a real present, wrapped and bowed and everything. Far more pristine than the eggos he'd left in the freezer.

"Right." He looked behind them to make sure there was no one else hiding in the trees. "Well, at least come inside before someone sees you." He ushered them all inside and shut the door, snapping all the locks in place behind them.

"Good to see you, too, Hop," Joyce teased his paranoia.

"El?" Mike was already calling. Hopper almost rolled his eyes.

"Calm down, kid," He brushed past him and tapped on the doorframe. "Jane, you got some visito-"

She opened the door before he could finish. "Mike?" She asked, eyes wide with hope.

"El!"

Mike rushed to her first and the gang followed, squeezing Hopper aside so they could mob her, hugging her and telling her how much they'd missed her and wishing her a Merry Christmas. He found himself shunted off to the side with Joyce.

He sighed and crossed his arms, trying to look as annoyed as he should be. But Jane was absolutely beaming, so it was hard to save face. Joyce looked up at him and laughed.

"For you, milady," Dustin produced the present and held it out to Jane as some grand gesture.

"Open it, open it!" Lucas chanted excitedly. Jane looked at the wrapped thing with interest, but unfamiliarity.

"What is it?"

"It's a Christmas present," Mike explained, "something you give to your friends on Christmas."

Jane had only one such experience so far. "Like eggos?" She asked.

"Well, it's not Eggos," Mike smiled, "but you'll like it. I promise."

"It's from all of us," Will smiled, "Max too. Open it!"

Jane looked briefly to Hopper, who forced a grin and gave her a nod. She smiled back and tore in, shreds of wrapping paper falling to the ground. The kids cheered, and Jane had to turn the box around a few times to see what it was.

"Realistic walkie…" she paused, "walkie… talkie?"

"Yeah! Like the ones we have," Mike told her. "You remember. We all have one - Max got one yesterday. So we can all talk to each other."

"Open it! Open it!" Dustin kept encouraging. They helped her tear open the packaging and put in the batteries.

"A walkie-talkie?" Hopper turned to Joyce, talking low so the kids wouldn't hear. "You got her a... Joyce, those things are expensive."

"Don't look at me," the mother shrugged, gesturing to the kids. "They all pitched in. Been saving up their allowances and arcade money for weeks. Mike chipped in the most."

"Of course he did," Hopper scoffed. Joyce shook her head.

"He likes her, Hop."

"Oh, I know." Jim assured her, crossing his arms. "He's all she talks about."

They watched as the kids settled to the ground amid the Christmas carnage and all pulled out their own walkie-talkies and began messing around with the channels, practicing their overs and outs, the various codes indigenous to their party. They had code names and abbreviations for everything, a whole language all their own. And El - Jane was included. Hopper felt guiltier than ever keeping her cooped up here.

Hopper went out to the porch for a smoke and Joyce followed him.

"It's a risk, you know. Having a CB radio." He took a long puff and blew out a cloud, trying to ignore how the kids' chatter was audible even out here.

Joyce took out her own pack and lit up a cigarette. "You have one already, in case you hadn't noticed."

"We only use it for Morse."

"As if someone couldn't decode that?" Joyce shook her head. "You can't keep living like this, Hop. She can't either. So let her have her walkie-talkie. And get yourself a damn phone."

He didn't say anything for a few minutes. He smoked some more and tried not to shiver in the cold air.

"You helped with the walkie-talkie, Joyce." He said.

"Yes, I did," She confessed, and took a drag.

"Thought so."

They smoked in silence. At length, he jabbed the used butt into the ashtray. "Should've been me," he said. "I should've planned better. Saved a bit. Course she would've wanted a radio."

"Hop,"

"They use them constantly. I should've thought of it. Where do they sell 'em? Radio Shack?"

"Hop,"

"Who am I kidding, I don't have the money, anyway."

"Hop," Joyce snapped at him. She flicked her cigarette away. "It's a gift. We all wanted her to have it."

He sighed. Humility was a new feeling for him. "Thanks, Joyce."

"Hey mom," Will peeked through the door,

"What is it, baby?" Joyce turned.

"Where'd you put the eggnog?"

Hopper frowned at her. "You brought eggnog?" Jane had nearly made herself sick on the stuff last night.

"Eggnog!" shouted Dustin through the door.

"Let me get it," Joyce ignored him and went inside. Hopper was left alone on the porch, shaking his head.

He leaned on the rail and looked out over the slope of the forest. The snow obscured whatever greenery was left on the ground, and the trees themselves were bare, so he could see almost to the road. He only hoped that the road could not see to him. Or the smoke rising from the chimney. Or the lights in the windows. Or the excited, youthful voices echoing through the walls. His blazer was just visible from the house. Something moved by it, and his hand went immediately for his gun. It moved out in front of the truck; a rabbit.

The door slammed and he jumped again. "Okay," Joyce rejoined him, carrying two mugs of eggnog. "Here we go."

He couldn't help but smile as she pulled a flask from her coat and thoroughly spiked both drinks. She gave him one and raised the other with a smile. "Merry Christmas, Hopper."

He smiled at her and forced himself to look away from the road. He clinked his mug against hers. "Merry Christmas, Byers."