[ 11 ]

JIM HOPPER WAS starting to accept the fact that Jodie Whittier wasn't going to leave his side anytime soon. In her cavalier voice message, that prattled on about her illegal knife and personal hygiene, Jode had exclaimed that she was Hopper's new wart — and infectious as hell. The memory of her voicemail made Jim smirk and chuckle lowly. She sure was a spitfire.

     They were on the way to Hawkins Mortuary, to see for themselves what was going on. The mystery of it all didn't sit right in the pit of Jim's iron stomach. It eroded at him. And, Jim could tell it was tearing it's claws into Jodie.

      Jim reached up his calloused hand and adjusted his rear view mirror, sparing a glance to his wart. He watched her wide, worried brown eyes as they dashed across the fields flying past the Police Cruiser as Jim pressed harder on the accelerator.

She was a fascination to him, a small blip. A distraction to the chaotic charade that his daily life had become: a waking curse — day in and day out.

But, he didn't want to get any closer than this. 'A seat apart is where it'll stay,' he thought tumultuously to himself. The cruiser hit the curve in the road at an alarming speed. Jim had passed that fickle point in his life where he was looking for something more than ... well, whatever this was.

Besides, his thoughts were bitter. I'm damaged in ways that Jode wouldn't be able to understand. It wouldn't be fair to her to pretend... Pretend I'm good for her.

Jodie could feel Jim's gaze on the side of her cheek as she watched the road fly by, like sand through the hourglass. Her shoulders weighed heavy on her spine, as if crushed by the load of the world. She wondered if they would find anything as she toyed with the lighter in her palm. Her thumb glossed over the etchings in the metal, feeling every nook, every divot.

     Jodie wanted to be able to give Joyce something good. But, she couldn't help but worry.

It was a shot in the dark, the idea that perhaps Will Byers was alive. And, if he was, Jodie considered that she needed to give Joyce a firm apology.

Jodie couldn't stomp down the sadistic sweet fluttering wings in her chest that sang a melodic hymn, almost begging for it to be true.

After all, if Will Byers could make it...

Jodie tried to crush the feeling once more. The more it circulated in her thoughts, the more she hurt herself with hope. No amount of hope would be able to resurrect the dead.

If Jamey Whittier was, somehow, some way, involved with the same thing Will Byers was... it had been too long for him to return.

The dream that she'd had of him last night filtered through her consciousness. His light curls, the toys, the bracelet she'd made. It was all enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Jodie sniffled, tearing her staring eyes from the window and to her hands. Pushing back the long, distressed sleeves of her father's sweater, Jodie pocketed her lighter — forcing him out out mind. Instead, she picked anxiously at a hangnail, biting back tears.

"Y'alright?" Hopper asked, voice low and gruff. Jodie rapidly blinked away the dew that fogged her vision and offered him a smile; it was weak and faltered as soon as it spread.

     Jim watched her cautiously, a weathered brow arched high as they made for the Morgue.

"Just," her voice travelled for a moment, "excited." The words didn't fit. Jodie was aware of it, but she couldn't find anything else to say.

The sun was beginning to set, and it was nearly dark by the time the Police Cruiser came to an abrupt halt. The headlights of the truck reflected back into the cab, throwing golden bright light against the pair. Jim threw the cruiser into a parked position, but before they got out, he turned to Jodie and put his hands up, illuminated gold.

"When we get in there," he said, "let me do the talkin'."

Jodie smirked. "Cuz you're so smooth."

"You know why," he corrected. "Can you do that?"

Jodie lifted her hands and crossed her heart as if sealing a deal. "Sure thing. In and out, then we'll hopefully know the truth."

"Good."

Jim grabbed his hat as if to put it on but then paused. Jodie watched the 'thinking' furrow grow between his brows and he dropped his hat onto the dash of the cruiser. "Alibi," he said, filling her in on his private thoughts.

THE MORGUE WAS still brightly lit, and the front desk receptionist waved them down as they filed inside — Jodie hung tightly to Jim's back. The receptionist's nameplate read Patty K., and she had her hands full.

Patty paused her phone conversation with a client, putting her delicately manicured hand over the telephone's transmitter as she nodded to the pair that had just strolled into her office.

"Hey, Patty," Jim addressed her with a smile and Jodie did the same.

"Do you need something, Chief?" Patty asked politely. Her dark gaze hovered through her large, oval spectacles and over Jodie with an extra air of caution.

"Ah, nah," Jim chuckled and playfully smacked the side of his head. Really playing it up, Jodie thought to herself with a hint of humour. She didn't know if it was concerning... or kinda hot that Jim Hopper could lie so well. "I forgot my hat! Just give me a minute."

Patty relaxed and laughed along, "Oh, okay."

And, just like that, they were past the front door. As they rounded the corner, Jodie had to work a little harder to keep up with Hop's wide strides.

     The brightly lit halls passed by as Jodie clung to Jim's shadow. The plan was pretty straightforward: get in, get out.

     An Indiana State Trooper was posted outside the morgue doors. He was a young man, the skinny type with a thin mustache and his face glued to the latest Stephen King novel Cujo . Jodie grimaced at the cover. The film adaptation was playing at The Hawk, and though she'd never seen it, she could hear the screams and rabid growling that came from the theaters — it was enough to give anyone a nasty fear of hounds, that's for sure.

     "Hey," Jim casually said, pointing to the book cover as the pair approached the Trooper. "I love that book. That's a nasty mutt."

     The state trooper stood up, confused about why they were there. Jodie could tell as he dropped his novel and reached out a hand, standing to stop them, that he wouldn't be as easy to get past.

     "Hey, you can't be back here." The trooper stood firm between Hopper and the door. Jim towered about a foot over the man, but he maintained his courage, staring deep into Jim's unwaveringly cheerful gaze.

     "Yeah," Jim scoffed, "look. I just got off the line with O'Bannon and he said that he needs you at the station. Some emergency, urgent business—"

     "— What the hell you talkin' about, man? I don't work with an O'Bannon."

     "Did I say O'Bannon?" Jim looked to Jodie, playing the part well. Jodie's pulse raced, like a fettering bird. "I mean—," Jim faltered, unable to think of anything new. A moment passed and Jim sucked on his teeth, before sighing a defeated, "Okay."

     Jodie stifled a gasp as Jim punched the trooper straight in the face, causing the man to knock his head against the glass window pane into the next room. The Trooper let out a small whimper as he slid to the floor, collapsing into unconsciousness.

     "Oh, shit," Jodie whispered, watching Jim clench and release his sore hand, popping the knuckles. She reached down to the troopers belt, where three keys dangled, and yanked them from the hook.

     "It's often the last key that opens the lock," Jodie told Jim. She flipped to the final, brass key on the chain and jammed it into the door knob.

     CLICK

     "Who said that?" Jim chuckled as they both stepped inside the morgue.

     "I don' know," Jodie admitted. "Probably some poet or something."

     Jim took the key from the door and closed it right behind them. They searched the morgue, opening doors and pushing around tables. Jodie tried not to think about the fact that these people had all be alive not too long ago. Jim ripped back a blue sheet spread over one of the smaller bodies in the room.

     Biting her bottom lip, forcing her mouth shut and hey eyes open, Jodie stared down at the tiny boy. The skin around his eyes and mouth had gone purple from asphyxiation and the freezing cold temperatures. His hair was coated in dirt and debris from the Quarry floor, and his body was so small.

     She didn't want to look away, but she did. Sucking in a tight breath of air, Jodie doubled over, her hands on the side of the cold, metal table, supporting her as she slumped. She struggles to breathe for a moment, and the tears that she had been fighting all day finally won the battle.

     Fat droplets rolled down her cheeks, splattering to the linoleum floor. "Fuck," she whispered. When she closed her eyes, it wasn't Will Byers laying there.

    Jim was battling his own fight too. He ran his hand over his sombre face, trying to keep his composure and he watched Jodie Whittier.

     "Hey," Jim said, placing a warm hand to her back. "You gonna be okay?"

     Jodie sniffled and cleared her throat. Shaking her head, she tried to clear away the bad thoughts. "We don't have a lot of time," she spoke with a heavy voice. "I'll be fine."

     "Don't watch," Jim told Jodie. The Chief pulled back Will's sheet further, revealing his pale chest. Jodie forced herself to look.

     She stepped closer to the sight and frowned. "I-I thought you said they did the autopsy?" She pointed at his chest. "There's no... there's no incisions."

     With a furrowed brow, Jim placed his hand on the boy's chest, pushing down gently. He was met with resistance. Hopper took a shaky breath and putted a switchblade from his pocket.

     Jodie eyed the blade in the dark, a shot of misplaced happiness and instant guilt flooded her chest. It was her blade. That bastard.

     Jim reached forward with the knife and tentatively pressed against Will's torso. He wasn't sure if he could do it, it was plain by the look on his face. Jodie wasn't sure if she could watch.

     With one steady breath, Jim plunged the blade belly deep into Will. Jodie jumped, despite herself, feeling a total visceral reaction to the site, smacking a hand over her mouth to keep from saying or doing anything.

     The knife carved a long, jagged cut into the body. Jodie watched the trail as Jim drug it towards the sternum.

     A long, dark moment passed as the pair simply stared at the body. Jim reached his hand into the incision and grunted. "Jodie, take a look at this."

     Jodie leaned in closer to the body, watching at Jim pulled out tufts of cotton, like the kind you'd find in a teddy bear off the shelf. This was some fucked up teddy, that was for sure.

      "Oh, thank god," Jodie heaved a sigh of relief.

     Hopper pushed the cotton back inside and tossed the sheet over the fake. "Let's get outta here."

⌱ ⌱ ⌱

( wow unreal, an update? )

This one goes to @cullensbears for the support ! Thank you so much
— more to come soon.

Looking for a new read in the meantime? Check out my Eddie Munson fic: Psychometry !
I'm going to try to update both this and that regularly 💕

Thank you all again for the votes and comments, they really are appreciated !