[ 19 ]

THE RIDE WAS silent as the grave. Each passenger was caught up in their thoughts, hardly realizing the eerie quiet that settled as they rolled through the off-beaten path.

     Jodie watched the dark-shrouded Hawkins Lab creep closer into view. It was dimly lit, surrounded by a chain-link perimeter fence, and riddled with warning signs against trespassers.

In the dark of the cab, Jodie pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips. Even now, they were buzzing and pulsing from Hopper's kiss.

Her mind slunk wistfully back to that moment, to the feeling of his touch. Her cheeks burned at the thought. She dropped her hand and swallowed, there was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. One she couldn't describe, not even to herself.

Jim watched her out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. She was glad he didn't. Jodie was sure that anything he would have said would take away her blissful, floating mood.

She'd seen the regret on his face as he'd pulled away, she didn't need him to voice it.

The police cruiser came to a slow, calculated halt at the edge of the Lab's perimeter fence. The trio scrambled from the car, each carefully closing their doors with as minimal sound as possible.

Joyce fell in line beside Jodie, shivering in the cold. She didn't seem too impressed as she eyed the bolt cutters in Hopper's hands. "So, this..." Joyce motioned to the chain-link fence, hardly keeping the groan out of her tone. "Is your plan?"

"Worked for me before, didn't it?" Hopper said with a grunt, squeezing the cutters against the chain.

  Joyce scoffed. "Well, did it?!"

"Come on, trust me."

Hopper worked meticulously and quickly, snipping with brute strength at each metal link. Jodie knew the power it took to snap a chain in two like it was tie-wire, and though she wouldn't voice it, she was impressed. Hopper was strong, that was true.

"It worked," Jodie quietly murmured to Joyce. The mother of two turned to her in surprise, sceptical and unconvinced. So, Jodie repeated herself. "It worked last time, it'll be fine."

If Hopper had heard Jodie, he made no indication of it.

Making quick work of the hole, he peeled back the fencing and helped Jodie and Joyce get on the property. He dropped the bolt cutters and followed, bending and twisting himself as his shoulder snagged on the chain link. He was stuck only for a moment, able to free himself without any help.

"Alright," Hopper whispered lowly. He used his hand to motion for the women to rush forward while he took the lead. "Let's go, quickly."

The air nipped cooly at Jodie's skin as they rushed in the dark towards the Lab. Both Jodie and Joyce followed Jim's directive, keeping close to his shadow. The land was dark and the moon was the only light they could see. Jodie wasn't confident in her footing, but she was sure if she traced Jim's steps carefully, it would be alright.

The tall, winding sides of the Hawkins Lab branched skyward as the trio drew closer. It was a big building, tan and inconspicuous against the dark horizon.

      It looked as any 'water treatment plant' should, Jodie thought. It would have been hard to believe something sinister was lurking just inside; that the Lab had created some sort of portal that released chaos in their little town.

Jodie could see the door to the Lab coming closer as her boots pulled into the muddy ground. They were close now. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest with anxiety. What would crossing into a different dimension be like?

BANG—POP

Suddenly, lights flooded their eyeline, casting down from the tall Lab's roof. Jodie squinted and shielded her eyes, fighting to see around them as the rushing sound of feet, lots of feet, filled the air.

"Don't move!" A man shouted. Soon, they were swarmed by a group of men in uniform, each brandishing a gun and a flashlight directed at the group.

"Move in!" Another man directed. Following command, the group of government police (or, at least, that's what Jodie thought they could be) inched closer to them. Their guns cocked defensively while Jodie, Joyce and Hopper each raised their hands above their heads.

Jim spoke softly and without hesitation to the women. "It's alright," he assured. "I'll do all the talking."

     For the first time, Jodie was happy to let him.

      As a black car pulled up to the scene, the militia group circled the trio, tightening their enclosure.

From the car stepped a man with pale, white hair and a familiar cocky smirk. It took a moment, as Jodie's eyes adjusted to the bright lights and flashing of police torches, but she realized that this wasn't just any man.

      It was Dr Brenner. Jodie and Jim shared a similar look of disdain and worry.

Jodie sat, alone, her hands handcuffed to a metal bar against the side of her small, musty cell.

The Hawkins Lab apparently was home to an interrogation room and holding cells, which didn't feel very experimental to her. Jodie's arms burned at the weird angle.

She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to test the tightness of the cuffs.

Tight as steel can be.

      She sighed and sat back against her enclosure's cold, stone walls. Joyce and Jim had been immediately separated from her. She was beginning to worry if she would ever see them again, if they were alright.

Jim could handle himself, of course, but she feared for Joyce.

Jodie hadn't gotten herself into this blind. She'd weighed the repercussions in her mind, that she might not return from this trip. The cold air of the cell prickled at her skin as she inhaled slowly.

She'd come for Jamey. For answers, for a body, for a glimmer of hope. For what, she wasn't exactly sure.

The cold stones soothed the pebble of perspiration on her brow as Jodie leaned against them. Her mind wandered to Jamey, the last time she'd seen him, and the promise she had broken.

The air conditioner rattled as her mind wandered to a far-off place.

— NOVEMBER 1982;

"Well, promise you'll stay until after Thanksgiving."

"I promise."

The Whittier kitchen was sticky with a humid heat as the first snowfall of winter clung to the ground outside. The house's heat was cranked to 11, creating a sweltering heat that was making Jodie sweat.

      Jodie was pacing in the kitchen, the tawny sleeves of her corduroy shirt rolled up over her elbows to combat the warmth.

On the stove, a pot roast whistled and rattled.

The smell permeated the little house and, though it was a pleasant smell, it made Jodie nauseous. The aroma was synonymous with late nights and silent, judgemental dinners — like this one was sure to be.

Across the kitchen, Josie Whittier was stewing over a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. She was short, a trait she'd given to her daughter. Her dark brown hair, which had been voluminous and healthy in her youth, had grown brittle and streaked with grey. The woman angrily scrubbed at some baked-on grease while Jodie watched her cautiously, knowing the signs of a storm brewing.

With a sigh, Jodie reached into the cream-coloured fridge and pulled out a can of beer, readying herself for the impending argument. They hadn't even had dinner yet.

"Those aren't just for you to take, you know," Josie Whittier snapped, hearing the pop of the beer's tab. "Your father works hard and pays for those with his hard-earned money."

Jodie forced herself not to sigh, feeling the annoyance bubble up in her chest. Her mother could get her to a boiling point in two seconds flat.

Jodie set the beer on the counter and turned to face her mother, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just thought I could have one, I'll buy him more if you want." She suggested with the hopes that her mother would drop it. Jodie just wanted to make it to Thanksgiving.

"That's not the point." Josie snipped. She turned off the water and watched her daughter with a sharp eye, wringing her hands with the dish towel. Jodie could see the disdain in her mother's blue eyes. Frank Whittier got up from the living room and made for the fridge, for a beer of his own.

"You 'just think'," her mother used air quotes, earning an eye roll from Jodie, "all the time, but do you actually think about the repercussions of your actions, Jodie?"

Jodie didn't stop the sigh that escaped her mouth this time. It infuriated her mother further. "You know what," Jodie held up the palms of her hands, "I don't care, I don't want it." She picked up the untasted beer and handed it to her father. "Here, Dad."

"Er, thanks, Jode," Frank said cautiously with an arched brow. He took the beer but remained in the kitchen, careful and curious. Jodie could hear his show come back on the TV but he lingered close by.

Jodie smiled tightly at her father and turned to the pot roast, checking its temperature. The steam was hot against her face, only adding to the house humidity. It was nearly stifling.

Jodie wasn't dumb. She'd long learned that the only way to get along with her parents (after her obligatory 18 years under their roof) was to make herself useful. If there was cooking or chores to be done, she'd best do it before they even asked.

If they had to ask, it was already a fight.

Josie, who had been silently stewing again over something Jodie had said, finally spoke again. "That's just it though, Jodie — you don't care. You never care."

"What's this about?" Jodie demanded, clenching a tea towel in her fist. "You obviously have something you want to say, and it isn't about a beer."

"Jodie, don't speak to your mother like that," her father cautioned.

"It's the present," Josie spoke over her husband. "That Rubik's cube. We told you we were waiting until Christmas to give it to Jameson."

Jodie gapped, open-mouthed, as her mother's answer processed in her mind. "The, you're mad about the presents I gave him?" Jodie's voice deadpanned. "He's been asking for it for months. I figured why not? It's not like you guys don't have anything else to give him for Christmas anyway."

"That's not the point," her mother battled, "the point is, you should have waited."

"Why?" Jodie scoffed. "Why wait? He wanted it, so I gave it to him."

"You spoil him, he doesn't need things right away. He could have waited until Christmas!"

Jodie rolled her eyes and waved the tea towel in the air. "It's a toy, mom. A brain toy, for smart kids. Someone needs to spoil him, the kid hardly gets out of the house. You treat him like a dog. 'Sit Jamey, Jamey stay!'. It's totally bogus!"

The pot roast whistled on the stove.

"Oh, don't talk to me about how we raise him. You've done enough damage. I can only thank God that you're not here any—"

"— That's rich, mom. Real sweet. You know, this isn't even a home, it's hell. If it wasn't for Jamey, I wouldn't even be within 10 miles of this shithole town, or you."

Frank Whittier was upset now and he set down the untouched beer. "Don't talk to your mother like that!"

Jodie scoffed, looking from him to Josie with a slight shake of her head. "No," she sneered. "You know what," Jodie inhaled deeply and set the tea towel on the tiled counter. "I'm outta here."

Her dad stepped forward and shook his head. "No, Jodie," he tried. "Don't. It's the holidays — just, just stay."

"No," Josie snipped, "if she wants to leave, let her." Her nose was turned upward and her eyes no longer watched her rebellious daughter.

Jodie stormed to her room and started unpacking the drawers she had filled just the other day, roughly jamming the clothes into her duffle bag while muttering curses under her breath. This wasn't a family, it was a prison.

Slamming the dresser drawers shut, Jodie threw her bag over her shoulder. She could walk to the bus stop, take it into Indianapolis then grab the Greyhound bus up North. Jodie was sure the diner would let her pick up shifts early. Hell, it was the holidays after all, they'd need help.

It wasn't the first time she'd run from a fight. She'd done it before, more times than Jodie or her parents could count.

Jodie counted her cash on hand as she reached for the bedroom door. Just as Jodie's hand hit the nob, Jamey's blonde mop of hair popped into her room.

"Wait, what's going on? Where are you going?" Jamey asked, quickly noticing her bags and empty, ransacked drawers.

"I'm sorry, Jamey," Jodie bit out, barely looking at him as she checked that she had everything. "This, er, this was a mistake."

"What was a mistake? Where are you going?"

"I-I gotta go, I can't be here, dude."

"But, you just got here." Jamey rushed to the doorway and blocked it, spreading out like a star with his gangly arms and legs, trying to take up as much door space as he could. "You just got here!" He raised his voice as Jodie softly tried to push him out of the way.

"Jamey," she sighed, wetting her bottom lip as she tried not to look into his eyes. "I know, I know, but your parents are driving me nuts!"

"They're your parents too!"

"They're —" her voice faltered, "they don't even want me here. It's better if I just —" Jodie grunted as she finally pushed past him, breaking the feeble blockade. "Go."

"But," Jamey's voice wobbled, his deep golden eyes watering. Jamey sniffled and angrily rubbed at his traitorous tears, forcing them down as if ashamed to cry. "But you promised."

— PRESENT DAY;

JODIE BANGED HER head against the white cinderblocks of her cell, wanting to hurt. She hated that memory of Jamey, the last time. The very last time they'd been together, she'd hurt him. She'd broken her promise.

Hot, wet tears rolled down her cheeks, but Jodie couldn't wipe them. She yanked once more at the handcuffs, feeling her chest rising and falling with short, shallow gasps as she cried harder for her brother.

     BANG CLANK — the metallic clang of a jail cell being opened caused Jodie to hold her breath.

As she steadied her pulse, a group of heavily guarded men escorted Jim Hopper past her cell. Jim and Jodie met eyes and she could see the relief wash over his face, only if for a moment. The relief turned to worry as Hopper examined the state she was in.

"It's gonna be alright," Jim assured her. "—ooph!" A guard elbowed him in the stomach and Jim tried not to resist as they pushed him back towards his holding cell. Jim caught his breath and called out to Jodie once more as he disappeared from view. "We're gonna get him!"

Jodie didn't know how he could be so sure. His confidence was astounding.

"You're next." A pair of guards stopped outside her cell and unlocked it. "Don't make any sudden moves," they warned, "or we will shoot."

Jodie allowed the men to lead her down the dimly lit hall, towards a cold, isolated interrogation room. They forced her down into a steel, uncomfortable chair and re-cuffed her hands behind her back.

     She made no attempt to struggle or fight back. It wasn't her first time in a room like this, and she had the sneaking suspicion it probably wouldn't be her last.

The door clanged shut behind them when they left, echoing ominously off the walls. Jodie sat in the silence, rolling her shoulders and looking around the plain room.

It was empty and quiet. A single, metal table sat in front of her, with another empty chair for the Questioner. To her left, a wide, two-way mirror peered in. Jodie wondered if Dr Brenner was behind it, watching to see if she'd squirm.

Jodie waited.

She blinked slowly, feeling the dryness of her eyes after shedding so many tears. She looked at the mirror, checking her reflection. A tired, red-eyed woman stared back, expression blank and without emotion. Her short blonde hair was matted, her clothes were wrinkled, and her dark brown roots were beginning to sprout.

The reflection rippled as she turned in her chair to examine herself closer. She blinked slowly again. The reds of her eyes contrasted against her deep brown irises. For the first time, Jodie thought her gaze looked almost hazel. And, in that moment, she saw Jameson in her reflection.

"Miss Whittier, correct?"

With an arched brow, Jodie turned numbly to the doorway. She hadn't heard anyone enter.

She hesitated to answer. Instead, Jodie watched the curious doctor as he strode into the room, shoulders back and chin pointed high. The fluorescent lights above him cast the man in a sinister glow. He seemed prideful, with his blue-collar suit and freshly shined leather shoes, but the furrow in his brow only deepened as her silence stretched thin.

"We know you and Mrs Byers have been in contact with her son."

"I know you, too," Jodie replied flippantly, ignoring his words. "You're that quack doctor guy, from the papers. You know, the one that was discredited?"

Dr Brenner's lips pressed into a tight line as he stepped to the chair and sat down. "Joyce told us everything," he said, twisting the watch around his wrist. "But, we need you to confirm some things. You understand."

"It's Dr Banner, right?" Jodie leaned forward in her chair until her cuffed hands yanked her back. "Bruce Banner, that sounds... familiar." Jodie clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth and turned her eyes back to the two-way mirror.

She watched their reflections impassively. The cool air spewing from the A/C calmed the anxiety in her chest, helping her keep up the facade of tranquillity.

Dr Brenner sighed and folded his hands together, tilting his head to watch the young woman. Before he could speak, Jodie interrupted again with an intemperate snort.

"No, Banner -- that's," she tsked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "that's a comic book hero. You're the guy who abducts little girls. Sorry, I got that wrong." Jodie leant back in her chair with a wicked grin.

"Though, you gotta admit the correlation. Both doctors, both involve superpowers and both torture people with chemicals. Funny, right?"

"Tell me what you know," Dr Brenner said cooly, "and we can save more lives together." If she was getting under his skin, it didn't show.

Jodie blinked slowly and didn't respond. 'I agreed to let Jim do all the talking,' she reminded herself. It didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun though.

After a moment, Dr Brenner realized she wasn't about to speak. "Six people." Jodie arched a brow but remained vigilant. "Six people have gone missing... since this monster arrived. Who knows how many more may die? We need your cooperation on this, Jodie."

Jodie's eyes snapped to his. The sound of her name leaving his lips felt like nails on a chalkboard. Her jaw clenched, but she forced her eyes away. "I have no cooperation to give."

"I don't want to force your hand," Dr Brenner said, his voice wavering in patience. "But our time is wearing thin."

"You'd think that you could have used your time better, then," Jodie replied.

Dr Brenner tilted his head to the side. He watched her with his dark, calculating eyes. But, eventually gave in to his curiosity. "In what way?"

"Well, you say your time is running out," she said slowly, slumping down more in her chair until she was practically splayed out, eyes drifting to the ceiling light, "but you seemed to have spent an awful amount of time creating fake bodies of little boys, killing diner owners, and making a woman believe her child never existed in the first place." Her eyes snapped to his. "Seems like a lot of wasted time to me."

"I think," he snarled, coming to his feet, "we're done here,... for now."

Dr Brenner left the room, letting the door slam shut with a WHOOSH BANG. The metallic clamour rang through Jodie's ears and she flinched, despite her best efforts.

And, then she was alone. For a long time, she was alone.

Jodie's shoulders began to ache from the handcuffs. No matter how she shifted or rolled her arms, the ache grew. But, even if her arms went completely numb, Jodie would refuse to call out.

Dr Brenner's team wanted her to sweat, to be uncomfortable. They wanted her to tell them what she knew. And, so, she'd let her arms fall off if it meant sticking it up their asses.

Jodie took to counting ceiling tiles. After she'd finished counting those, she counted the dots on the speckled concrete flooring. And still, no one had come for her. Jodie shifted in her chair again, the ache turning to a burn.

Finally, the door opened. Jodie squinted in the dark, watching as Jim Hopper stepped into the light, with two guards and Joyce Byers following hesitantly behind. Behind them, Dr Brenner waltzed in, an insincere smile on his face.

"What's up, doc?" She asked.

"Jodie," Jim's voice was tight. The usual casual nature of his face was hardened and stoic. "Come with us, we're gonna get Will."

         "I don't understand," Joyce scoffed as the trio quickly followed the men in suits and guards with guns. Jodie clung to Jim's shadow once more, head held high. She eyed the soldiers with their weapons and tight stride. "What's going on?"

"We came to an agreement," Jim replied. Jodie turned to look at him, brows hiked high up on her forehead. An agreement? Absurd.

"What?" Jodie asked, reaching out to touch Jim's shoulder as they walked through the narrow, wood-panelled hallway. She hesitated and dropped her hand before making contact, her pale hand grasping a fistful of air.

"Look," Jim said, staring straight ahead rather than at either of the women, "everything that's happened here and everything that's gonna happen... we don't talk about." Jodie's head snapped to Joyce and they shared a surprised glance.

"You want Will back?" Jim asked Joyce, not pausing for an affirmative. "This place had nothing to do with it."

A guttural, snarky sound came from the back of Jodie's throat. The kind that hacked up phlegm and left a sour taste in one's mouth. "You've gotta be joking."

Jim turned for the first time to look at Jodie as if seeing her for the first time. Where Jodie had anticipated an acidic, industrious glare, there was shock and apprehension in the depths of his gaze.

"That's the deal." He told her, voice tense. It pulled out like a rubber band stretched too thin across a ball of wire. "You got it?"

Jodie blinked rapidly as the lead balloon settled in her stomach. To just let these... these people get away with everything they'd done? It was like asking her to cut off a thumb. Improbable. But, as she looked back to Hopper, who had already turned away from her, she knew it wouldn't have to be impossible.

For Hopper to give in like this, the Hawkins Lab was threatening more than just a few thumbs. They were escaping with their lives. Jodie swallowed the bile in her throat and pressed forward, keeping her head held high.

The lab technician led the trio into a wide, white room with big, yellow hazmat suits lined against the walls. "For protection," he explained. "The atmosphere is toxic."

Joyce gasped and turned to him, eyes wide. "But, my son is-is in there, he..."

Jodie grabbed a suit from its metal hanger and started unzipping the front.

Jim replied without looking at either of them, "Put it on."

Joyce scrambled to join them, slipping into her suit and mounting her headpiece. Once the lab tech assured that they were in their proper protective equipment, he handed each of them a large flashlight and pointed them to the elevator.

"My journey stops here," he told them, adjusting his glasses, "you'll go down to the basement floor. Once inside, you will find the gate."

Joyce, Jodie and Hopper crawled into the elevator and hit the button for the basement floor. As the doors slowly came to a close, Jodie watched the technician's face as it pebbled with sweat. The anxiety was high. Now was the moment, the defining juncture that would change everything.

Jodie was there, rushing in to help save Will. To bring Will home. This time, this time would be different than last time.

— NOVEMBER 1982;

At a truck stop diner just outside of Lansing, Jodie broke down from the guilt and used the payphone to dial home. It had been only a night, but she needed to talk to Jamey. She needed to apologize to him again. She never wanted to hurt him, and the look on his face had haunted her for the last 24 hours.

The phone rang for only one dial tone.

"JAMEY?!"

Jodie pulled the phone away from her ear, surprised by her mother's frantic voice. "W-what, no, it's... it's Jodie."

"Jodie," her mother sighed, "Jodie, let me talk to Jamey."

Jodie frowned against the receiver and looked around her paybooth, unsure whether to laugh. "What are you, what do you mean? Where's Jamey?"

Josephine Whittier's voice was shrill and fast. "He's with you! He said he was... Jodie, tell me he's with you!" The panic in her tone shot through Jodie's skin and straight into her bones like a lethal injection.

"He's not with me." Jodie's breath caught in her lungs. "Mom, what's going on?!"

"No, no, no," her voice broke, "No, he's gotta be with you. He left a note, saying he was gonna bring you home. Where are you?!"

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lots of backstory for ya'll! hope you enjoy (: