A/N: Well folks, here we are.

First of all, I want to apologise to anyone who is still keeping up with this story - if anybody actually is. It has been far, far too long since I last updated it (nearly a year) and frankly; an apology is long overdue. I certainly got swamped last year, and I'm not going to pretend as if it's not going to happen again. It may well. However, I understand that just leaving and saying nothing is not the right way to go about it.

I recently rewatched both seasons in anticipation for the third and the urge to write hit me again. So, here it is. It has been a while and I'm probably rusty, but I hope it lives up to expectations. More will come, I can say that much - as for when, no promises.

The V8 in Hopper's truck rumbled and spluttered back to life, a quick fix for the deafening silence that, only moments ago, had surrounded the duo. His face was crinkled. His eyes spoke a thousand words. Hopper had gone from nearly, almost, perhaps, ever so slightly vulnerable - straight back to gruff and angry.

Joyce did feel sorry for him. She honestly, truly did. Or, well, she tried to pretend that she did. Whatever helped, really. Opting - probably for the best - to remain silent, Joyce was jerked in her seat as Hopper shoved the Chevrolet into gear and peeled off. Of course - she'd never say it out loud, but she was almost giddy. This really was exciting.

He spoke carefully and assuredly. He knew what Joyce was like, and he wanted to make it absolutely clear that she couldn't extract anymore information from him.

"It's not right, y'know. Kids that age."

Joyce remained silent. She could tell exactly how he felt, and exactly what he was thinking. He was, of course, hoping it wasn't really true. He knew Michael. Not awfully well, but not so unwell that he didn't know what he was really like. And this wasn't a stunt typical of Mike to pull. The kid had had some nerve in the past, punching him and all - but it wasn't like that was undeserved on his part either. But really?

He got their 'schtick'. They liked each other. That was - as much as he'd hate to admit - for the most part, alright. Mike made El happy, and Hopper didn't have it in him to complain about having a happy daughter. This, however, well.. this was certainly something. He didn't know who to believe. Was El telling the truth? Did they.. really? They couldn't have. That Wheeler kid wouldn't have had the guts.

He felt her staring. It was obvious. She knew exactly what he was doing. He was running through every possible outcome in his head.

Joyce talks to them, it's a lie. All is safe.

Joyce talks to them, it turns out to be true, and Mike is never seen or heard from again.

A myriad of possibilities. Somewhat unsurprisingly, an increasingly large number of these possibilities involved Mike never being seen or heard from again. It was in his nature, he was a father.

Wrapping her small, almost fragile hand around the large, burly wrist dangling from the centre console, Joyce tried to squeeze out a word or two. She could, for the most part, keep Hopper in check. She knew that very well. It was just finding the right words - that was the hard part.

"You should stay outside, Hop. I'll talk to them. I can handle it."

He glanced at her for a moment before flicking his head back toward the road. It was pitch black out. The winter darkness had enveloped Hawkins. He let out a sigh, nodding slowly. Moving her hand from his wrist, she grabbed her still gently burning Camel from between her lips, offering it over as if it were a peace treaty.

Mike laid on the couch, his mind once again drifting off. Every Breath You Take had long since finished, and The Dark Side Of The Moon was slowly running its paces on Hopper's record player. As El quietly nuzzled beneath Mike's chin, the duo faced the ceiling, not so much as a peep between them. It wasn't awkward - it was bliss. Ignorant bliss, mind you - as the prospect of interruption was far from off the table. It was guaranteed.

Life just couldn't get any better than this. Even the prospect of starting High School wasn't that daunting. He went over the previous year in his head. Every night, spilling his thoughts about the day into a radio frequency that spoke only in silence. But he was heard. Every night, she knew. She listened. She cared. Every night, tears would well up in his eyes as slammed down the antenna. Sometimes he felt like she was there, even when he knew she wasn't.

He sniffled quietly, welling up a tad, finding himself stuck in the past for a few seconds. The grip of his arms around her stomach tightened. He opened his eyes, looking down at the curly mess of hair atop her head. Mustering up a smirk, he exhaled with ease, back to the present. He slowly poked his head over hers, glancing down at his wristwatch. As it turned out, time had decided to run away rather quickly.

He didn't care. He had El. He felt safe, despite safety being the girl currently snoring under his chin. Resting his head back atop one of the couch's armrests, he closed his eyes, the music in the background the only solace for the silence otherwise draping the cabin.

Just as the Chevy had started, it stopped. With a squeal, the rustling of leaves and a quiet clicking, the engine turned off. Hop didn't need to talk. He wasn't in the mood. He swung open his door and stepped out, swiftly moving around to Joyce's side. Staring as she gently pushed open the door on her side and hopped down, he spoke concisely.

"Let's go."

So off they went, the fateful trek through the freezing woods. It was far from an enjoyable experience, despite the duo both being fairly well suited for the weather at hand. It was dark, it was damp, it was dreary, and - to top it all off - Joyce was going to be late home. Now, of course, this was an important matter she was attending to, but still. Being away from Will for a second longer than necessary was mounting un-needed tension.

She and Hop plundered towards the cabin, the lighting from within casting a faint haze over the woods surrounding it..