runtowardsomething | (no subject)

Entry tags:

jim hopper

(no subject)

She's in shock, Beverly hears someone say. That must be what it is, why she's gone so quiet, staring straight ahead at something indeterminate ahead of her. All things considered, they probably aren't wrong. At some point, she's been cleaned up, though she still feels grimy like she's covered in blood and is certain that lingering patches of it were missed, drying by her hairline and between her fingers and embedded under her nails. At some point, still something resembling coherent, she'd gotten her phone and called Hopper, not knowing what else to do or where else to go short of sneaking out, which would have been an impossibility when the staff is watching her like a fucking hawk. It's somewhere safe, at least, or presumably safe. Right now, she thinks anywhere would be better than here, and though there are people she would take with her if she could, the small handful of friends she's collected for herself, the most important thing is putting whatever distance she can between herself and the Home.

When she'd first shown up, she thought she was safe here. It was one thing Darrow had going for it — that, strange or not, it was better than home, that there was no one here who was going to hurt her. Something is horribly wrong, though. She's known that for a while, but she's all the more aware of it now, her throat thick and tight and the taste of copper lingering in her mouth even when the front door opens and a familiar figure comes in. The two staff members who've waited with her practically swarm him, simultaneously explaining what's happened and trying to make excuses for it, as if such a thing could even be possible, asking a few questions before they let him sign her out for the night.

Beverly has a small bag with her, just a few pieces of clothing, something to sleep in and something to change into. She gets to her feet and picks it up wordlessly, remaining silent until she's stepped out to the sidewalk, feeling for the first time in — how long has it been? Minutes, hours? — ages like she can actually start to breathe. "Thanks," she mumbles. "For coming to get me."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It takes him all of four seconds to get out the door after Beverly calls him and Hopper curses the fact that he doesn't have a car. The cab driver doesn't seem like he's in any particular hurry and in the back seat, Hopper's fingers drum on his knee, his anxiety at peak levels until they finally reach the home and he's out of the door, barking instructions at the driver to stay here and wait for him.

The staff inside the home impress him even less and Hopper's impatience is clear, especially as they try to make excuses for what's happened. It wouldn't have occurred to him to blame them until this moment, until they start to explain to him what's going on, until they work to so clearly cover their own asses instead of worrying about Beverly, and then his expression turns colder still and he doesn't say another word until they finally let him sign her out. Whatever the hell they've done, she doesn't want to stay here and he sure as shit isn't going to make her.

"C'mon," he says as he leads her out the door, then pauses on the sidewalk for a moment before he nods toward the cab. "Of course, kid. I'm not gonna leave you somewhere you don't wanna be."

It doesn't quite ease the tension that's settled in her shoulders and spine, doesn't quite make it easier to breathe, like there's something gripping her lungs that hasn't wholly loosened its hold yet. It's still something, though, and Beverly is still relieved for it, glancing briefly back over her shoulder at the building like she expects it to retaliate somehow but otherwise not hesitating to open the backdoor of the cab and get inside. Her skin is still crawling, and she's not sure how to fix that, but at least she's not there anymore. She's known for what feels like ages now that there was something wrong inside the walls of the Home, just as there'd been something deeply wrong in Derry, and she's all the more convinced of it after tonight. What that means, where she goes from here, Beverly doesn't know, but at least being out for the night, with someone whom she's deemed to be safe, is a start.

"I just... couldn't stay there," she says once they're both in the cab, the words feeling caught in her throat the same way the same way the taste of blood does. She's not sure how to explain why that's the case, but she's beginning to think that maybe she should, at least to some extent. The believable parts, if nothing else. She doesn't remember all of it now in the first place.

She's also not sure how to go back there, but that's a bridge she'll cross when she gets to it. Besides, she can't just abandon Eddie. He's the best friend she's got.

"That's okay," she says. "You don't have to."

Ever. That's what he wants to say. She never has to go back there if she doesn't want to, he'll make sure there's a place for her wherever she wants to go and that includes his place. It won't be the first time he's slept on the couch and he doesn't mind if he ends up there on a full time basis again. Hell, he doesn't mind having to find a two bedroom apartment if she really wants to stay, but he's not about to launch into something like that now.

He's quiet for a moment as the cab glides through the dark streets and then he looks over at Beverly. "They said something about blood," he says cautiously. They hadn't explained clearly, but he'd gotten a sense they couldn't explain it, that they had no real idea what had happened to her.

She'd expected the question, of course. In a strange way, Beverly is almost a little relieved for it. She can't claim that it's something she really wants to talk about, and she doesn't think he would push her to do so any more than she's comfortable with, but it's strangely validating. The others had seen it — not just other kids, but the staff, too, even if they hadn't been able to explain it. No one looked at her like she was crazy. What was happening back home was real, too, and at least her friends had seen the state her bathroom was in there, but she doesn't have to try to justify herself now. It's just a simple fact, albeit one that doesn't make sense.

Blood isn't supposed to come out of pipes like that, just like it wasn't supposed to come up from her sink. Things haven't been right at the Home for weeks. There's something deeply, deeply wrong there, but she wouldn't know where to start to look, and she's certainly in no state to right now anyway, far too shaken for that.

"It came out of the shower," she says after a long moment, her throat still feeling tight around the words, as if something is trying to hold them back. "I just turned it on, and it... That was all there was. Just blood. It was everywhere."

"Jesus," he says and then nothing else for a little while. Back home he'd have deputies on it, men looking into what might have gone wrong with the pipes. It's a stretch, but he knows it's possible to get blood into water supplies if someone really wants to make a mess, but he can't see why anyone would do something like that to a home for kids. A place where they go when they don't have any legal guardian here to look after them. Behaviour like that, if that's what it is, is especially messed up and Hopper's seen some shit, but he thinks that'd be a little too much.

Of course, he's not a cop here, so he doesn't have any deputies he can send to the home, but he'd made it pretty damn clear that they better call the cops and get this worked out before they can even think for a second they're getting Beverly back.

"I'm glad you called," he says, still frowning deeply. "Christ, kid, just out of the shower? Did they offer to do anything?"

"I don't think they knew what to do," Beverly says, and it's not like she can blame them for that. It's not exactly a conventional problem to have to deal with, and between the state she was in and trying to find out what happened at all, it doesn't surprise her at all that they were more clueless than not. She suspects that they were probably grateful that she had somewhere else to go for the night. So is she. There's no way she could have stayed there under these circumstances, even if they managed to come up with an explanation for how blood could have come out of the shower like that.

She's pretty sure she knows the answer, and it's that there isn't a good one. Given all the other shit that's been happening lately, there's no way this could be unrelated. While she can try to write off hearing her father's voice and feeling his hands on her as nightmares, this is unambiguously real.

"Things have been weird there for a while anyway."

"It's their damn job to know what to do," he answers, his voice hard, though his anger isn't directed at her. "That's what they get paid for, taking care of shit when it happens. They need to call the cops, to get an investigation done, they need..."

But it doesn't matter. Not right now. He's not a cop, he can't do anything besides help Beverly deal with this and give her a place where she can feel safe and he's not going to be able to do that if he's off and ranting about the shitty reaction from the staff. They do need to take care of it and he can call later and make sure they're getting things done, but right now she's got to be his focus.

"Sorry," he says, then scrubs his hand over his face before looking over at her. They'll be at his place soon and he thinks he could leave his question until then so she feels comfortable answering, but he doesn't want her to feel ignored either, so he pushes ahead. "Things are weird how?"

For a moment, at his question, Beverly glances at the driver, though she's not sure why it matters. It isn't as if she'll ever see him again or as if this involves him at all. She really doesn't want to be written off as crazy, though, something that seems likelier from a stranger than it does from Hopper. It sounds crazy, of course, but in the event that he doesn't believe her, she'll just tell him to ask around. There are other kids at the Home who've had experiences like she has, and she knows that some of the staff is aware of it, too. Hell, there are probably more of them willing to admit now that things aren't right than there were before. What can be done about that, she doesn't know, but it's something, a far cry better than the persistent obliviousness she saw in adults in Derry.

"Like... like people are seeing things. Hearing things," she says when she's confident enough that the driver isn't paying much attention to them, shrugging a moment later. "Creepy shit. And different for everyone." Eddie's leper, Bill's brother, Stan's woman, she thinks, absently pressing a fingernail into the scar across her palm as if that might keep such thoughts present. They all saw something different, but they were wrong when they first talked about it. It was real. This is, too. "And then there's other stuff, like food going bad early, or really gross bugs. A couple weeks ago, a girl went missing, and one of the staff members still swears that she was there in the Home one second and gone the next."

Hopper listens, still frowning, though he doesn't say anything at first. It's more important to just let her talk, tell him whatever she's willing to and then deal with whatever it is that comes out. It sounds like some kind of haunting, though, the sort of thing he would see in a movie, not something that would happen in real life, but that could be said about the shit he'd left behind in Hawkins, too. None of that should have been real, but it was, all of it, right down to the smallest, strangest details.

"That's... really damn weird," he says when she's done, looking ahead at the seat in front of him, chewing on his lower lip. He believes her, though, he hopes that's obvious in the fact that he's not questioning what she's told him. He does believe her. There's still blood flecked here and there, after all, bits of it in her hair and the staff at the home had seen it, too.

"The girl, did she come back?" he asks. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, someone found her," Beverly says, nodding. Truthfully, she's not really sure what all of that was about, but if the story she heard about Betty being there and then just not is true, then it's just one more thing to add to the list of really weird shit that's been going on lately. And she does believe it, mostly because it almost makes sense, given everything else. Plenty else has happened without an explanation. Why shouldn't she suspend her extension of disbelief to that, too? "She was out by the woods or something, I think. I don't really know her."

She's mostly kept her head down, maybe especially lately, with things going on she hasn't felt able to talk about. It probably doesn't make much difference, though, one way or the other. "Whatever it is... There's something that's not right there. There has been for a while."

There are plenty of people who wouldn't believe her and just a few years ago Hopper knows he would have been one of them, but things have shifted a hell of a lot since Will went missing and when Beverly says something's not right, he takes her at her word. He's not an expert, he doesn't know how to figure out what she means by that, but if she says there's something wrong, then he trusts there's something wrong.

And if she needs to stay away from it, he'll be there to help her.

They pull up outside his building and Hopper pays the driver before he grabs Beverly's bag for her, then opens the door and holds it for her to climb out after him. "You can come here whenever," he says, still holding her bag and heading for the front door. "I can get you a key, it's fine."

She needs a place to go if she's freaked out and if she trusts him enough to call him, then he's going to make sure he doesn't screw that up. He'll be there for her, he'll open his apartment up to her without a question.

It's more of an offer than Beverly is expecting, and for a moment, it shows, her eyes widening a little. For him to show up for her tonight is one thing, or even to tell her that she's welcome anytime. She'd have approached that the way she did this, albeit perhaps with a bit less desperation; there's no way to be entirely sure, of course, a thought that's somewhat chilling, but she's hoping not to have a repeat of the incident in the shower. A key implies more freedom, though, letting her come and go as she pleases or as needed. Any nights she spends away from the home, she'll still need to be signed out for, but she's been stuck there for months, and she'll be stuck there for much longer. Having somewhere else to go would make a huge difference on that front, especially in light of how off things have felt lately.

"Seriously?" she asks, closing the door of the cab behind her once she's gotten out. She still feels only about half-present, but that brings her back to herself a little more. The fresh air helps, too. It might not be especially pleasant in the middle of the city, but it's better than having the lingering thick, metallic taste of blood in her mouth. "Yeah, that would be... great."

It feels almost like an understatement, but she doesn't want to be too effusive. This is foreign territory for her. There's only one way in which she's ever really been wanted anywhere, and Hopper hasn't ever once looked at her like that's what he has in mind.

"Yeah, of course," he answers easily as he unlocks the front door of the building. It's a simple thing for him to offer her because she needs it, but also because he doesn't necessarily think of this place as a home. None of the places he's lived in since their home in New York have ever really felt like something he needed to worry about protecting and he knows he'd like for that to change, but as long as he's the only one living in any of these places, they'll continue to just be places to stay. The only way something like that changes is to invite people in.

He'd let Eleven in and that cabin had become more than a home than anything else has been for him in a long time. Maybe Darrow can be the same.

"Of course, this building is haunted," he adds, looking over at her. "But not blood in the shower sort of haunted. More like..." He trails off and shrugs a little as they wait for the elevator that always seems to take forever. "Sad ghosts kind of haunted."

"Sad ghosts?" Beverly echoes, brow raising slightly. Under other circumstances, she might be more inclined to question something like that. It sounds like the hazing stories she was told when she first moved into the Home, ones that she highly doubts have anything to do with what's going on there now. Hopper doesn't seem the sort to pass on inane rumors, though, least of all at a time like this, and he'd probably tell her if sad ghosts were dangerous ghosts. That's just common sense, regardless of how much time she's going to spend here.

Maybe especially given the events of tonight, though, she believes it, or at least believes that it's possible. There are a lot more things she could say that about than she used to, but she's already seem plenty that would once have seemed beyond implausible to her. Sad ghosts, all things considered, aren't really any stranger.

"Have you seen them?"

"I have," Hopper says. There are still days when he thinks how strange it all is, that his life has changed enough to the point where he believes in ghosts, but he'd seen her in the basement while doing laundry one day. She hadn't said or done anything, she'd just looked at him, but she'd seemed sad more than anything.

He's not sure how else to explain it. She hadn't been scary, though. Not like the shit in the Upside Down and not like blood coming out of the damn pipes.

"She was just there," he says with a shrug, going to the elevator and pressing the button. "She didn't do anything. She just looked at me."

"Whoa," Beverly replies, eyes wide. Under any other circumstances, she might find the prospect intriguing; even now, instinctively, she files it away in the back of her head. It's hard to imagine going looking for a ghost or trying to find out the story behind one at a time like this, though, when not all that long ago, she'd been covered in blood, her chest still tight with residual panic. Back home, she hadn't been afraid of It, one of those few things that she remembers even when she doesn't have the context for it. Here, though, she doesn't even know what's happening. Somehow, that makes a difference.

"They have this story at the Home," she says, stepping into the elevator once it's opened, though her movements are all still careful, guarded. "Some dumb hazing ritual about a ghost in their basement, but I think that one's just made up. Wonder what any of 'em would do if they came over here instead."

Hopper shakes his head as he presses the button for his floor, digging his keys out of his pocket at the same time. Hazing rituals are pretty normal, he's been through them himself, first on sports teams and then in the army. But those are boys. Stupid boys, but still boys, ones who generally pride themselves on being tough. He knows Beverly is tough, too, but he still doesn't like the idea of her being subjected to something like that.

Especially because he knows kids can be real assholes if they want to.

"You hang around here long enough, you can bring 'em over and find out," he says with a small grin as the elevator lurches and then the doors slide open on his floor. "I mean it, though, she's not scary. I've seen some weird shit and I guess I'd include her in that, but I bet you wouldn't be scared of her at all."

"Probably not," Beverly says, just a little quieter, almost wistful, for just a moment. She hadn't been afraid of It, either, something she remembers with more clarity tonight than she has in a long time. A ghost, particularly one who doesn't seem violent or angry, doesn't seem likely to faze her all that much. At least it's better than a clown with sharp teeth and those awful lights down its throat. At least it's not her father coming into her room at night.

Clearing her throat to try to bring herself back to the present, she adds, "It sounds kind of cool, actually. I mean... not that she's sad, but that she's there. As ghosts go, it sounds like it could probably be worse."

"Yeah," he says as the elevator doors slide open again and they find themselves in a dimly lit hall. The building is old and it isn't particularly well lit, it's full of creaks and groans and ghosts, but Hopper is happier to have her here with him than in the Home.

"Look," he says, stepping out into the hall at the same time. "Whatever's going on, it's not gonna follow you here. Nothing's gonna hurt you here."

It's a bold promise, the sort of one only idiots make because it's not always possible to keep a promise like that, but then Hopper is a bit of an idiot. And it's a promise he does intend to keep, even if he's the one who ends up hurt as a result.

"Here's hoping," Beverly says, though she shoots him a thin, appreciative smile. She believes him, or else she wouldn't be here at all. It wouldn't have been too difficult to find somewhere else to stay, or she bets Eponine would have helped her leave out a window or something like that, anything to avoid still being at the Home after something like this. Staying here is far better than winging it like that, though. She likes Hopper, has come to trust Hopper, and if he's really alright with her staying here more often, she thinks she'd be crazy to pass that up. Tonight may have been the worst it's gotten, but she's been uncomfortable in the Home for a while now. "Really, I... appreciate this. I don't think I could have slept there tonight."

Hopper leads Beverly down the hall to his place, then unlocks the door and lets her inside. The nice thing about this building, for all it's old and creaky, is that because it's older, it looks more like a home than he would have been able to manage on his own. The furniture isn't nice, but it looks warmer than some of the other places he's seen.

And he's done a bit. Gotten some blankets even a couple throw pillows. Most of what he's got was here when he arrived, but it works.

"Don't worry about it," he says as he heads inside and locks the door behind them. She'll take the bed, of course, and he's already moving into the hall to get some linens for himself out of the closet. "And you don't have to. Sleep there, I mean. You need to stay here, you just come on over."

Coming over here, Beverly really hadn't known what to expect. She'd just needed an escape; just about anywhere would have done. As she takes a look around his apartment, though, she finds herself comparing it not to the Home, but her apartment back in Derry. From that perspective, this seems like a considerable step up. The building may be on the older side, the elevator more than a little creaky, but at least at a glance, she thinks this must be a nice place, a comfortable one. Maybe she'll actually manage to get some sleep, something she knows would have been impossible if she'd stayed at the Home.

Or maybe whatever's been happening there will have followed her. At least if that's the case, being here will be able to determine that one way or the other.

"It's nice," she says, still looking around a little, taking everything in. "Even without all the... weird stuff, it's so crowded there. And months of that gets a little..."

"A little much?" Hopper guesses, tossing a pillow toward the couch and then dropping the blankets on top of it. He's been on his own for such a long time that he's pretty sure he'd go nuts in a place like that. Even making space for Eleven in his life had been difficult and he knows the transition hadn't always been all that smooth.

"C'mon," he says, gesturing down the hall. "You can take the bed. I'll get set up on the couch."

He'd lived like that for years. Darrow is the first place he's slept in a bed regularly for the first time in a really long time.

For half a second, Beverly thinks that there must be a catch. It's a thought she dismisses quickly enough, but that she can't help happening, either. This could too easily be too good to be true, and then what? There's no real reason for her to believe that, though. She called him tonight, not the other way around, and he's never once looked at her in a way that's made her feel uncomfortable. If that weren't the case, she wouldn't have come here in the first place. She just needs to remind herself of that safety, nothing she's ever been able to take for granted before.

"Are you sure?" she asks instead of admitting any of that. "I don't want to be kicking you out of your own room or anything."

"It's fine, kid. I end up falling asleep on the couch most nights anyway," he says, waving his hand. "At least this way I'm prepared and I have a pillow."

Leading the way down the hall, Hopper gestures at the bathroom and says, "Bathroom is in here if you want to have a proper shower or anything. Towels are in the closet. There's a robe in the bedroom, too. I never use it. It'll be too big on you, but you can use it if you want."

And he hopes she'll sleep well. That she'll be comfortable. Maybe she won't be able to forget what happened at the Home, but at least he can give her a place where she's safe.

"That sounds great," Beverly says, earnest. Shaken as she might still be, it really does. Tonight of all nights, she thinks having some space will be good for her, and this is more of it than she's had in months now, something far closer to privacy than the Home ever affords. She can actually try to relax, even if she isn't sure how successful she'll be, and not have to worry about sharing a room or anything of the sort. As much as she might like some of the other girls there, grateful especially for Eponine's presence when one of them is having a bad night, this is still a welcome change of pace. "I haven't had a room to myself in ages now."

"Well, it's all yours," Hopper says. "Nothin' much exciting in there, unfortunately, but there are a couple of books if you get bored. Or you can come back out and watch some TV with me for awhile."

If she's still freaked out, he wants to give her the option of company. Whatever the hell had happened in the Home tonight, he thinks it's got to be the kind of thing that sticks with a person, even if they try to forget. Maybe she feels better here and maybe she's safe, but if she closes her eyes and see the blood, then he wants her to be okay with coming out to sit with him. Sometimes a bit of company is all that's needed, even if they don't talk much.

"You need anything, you can just shout for me," he says, giving her a gentle shove down the hall. "But take your time, kid."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only