After an hour of restless wait, Joyce was discharged and instructed to stay off her feet as much as possible. She and Jonathan made their way to the recovery wing where they'd been told Hopper was resting, nervousness twisting in the pit of Joyce's stomach; she clutched her son's hand as they went. A kind doctor showed them to his room, filling them in on his potential status. Joyce took a shaky breath as they stopped at a door like any other on the dimly lit hospital ward yet so unlike them all.

"I'll be here." Jonathan said, leaning down to plant a small kiss at the top of his mother's head. She smiled, pressing her small hand to his cheek as she did when he was so much younger. The brunette gave her son one last nervous but loving glance before pushing the door open with a breath.

The room was warm, but not uncomfortably so, and dark. The only light came from the sunlight dimly penetrating through curtains that were drawn tightly. The only sounds in the room were the steady, quiet beeping of monitors, and the soft inhale and exhale of two pairs of lungs. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room; when they did, she instantly focused on the figure sleeping in bed. A hand pressed to her stomach which now only showed the small bump that always was there, but would soon grow to hold their miracle, she crossed to sit on his bedside.

At the sight of his face and chest slowly rising and falling, Joyce finally allowed herself to completely relax. She reached her nimble fingers out to brush his hairline, sweeping stray chestnut hairs from his pale, waxy forehead. At this gentle touch, his eyes fluttered open; squinting up at the sweet smile of his lover.

"Joy." He murmured. His nickname for her or the emotion they both shared, neither was sure. The sound of his rough voice sent a wave of emotion through her so strong she could no longer keep her tears at bay. A choked sob of relief escaped her lips and she couldn't resist any longer the urge to kiss him, and she did. The taste of salt from his lips and her tears mingled with the sweetness of their lips in a perfect symphony.

As they broke apart, he lifted a hand to tuck her brown hair behind an ear. "Don't leave us, ever." She sobbed, her forehead pressed against his. He paid no notice to her choice of words, presuming she meant herself, Eleven and Will; the thought that she could be carrying a biological child of their own didn't even cross his mind. "Never." He whispered back. The pair quickly lost track of time as they embraced and spoke. If Hopper hadn't been connected to a multitude of wires and machines things would've been identical to the way they always were. Eventually though, despite the painkillers flowing through his veins, Hopper felt a nagging in the back of his head.

"Are you okay?" He asked. This was the second time he'd asked this in only a few minutes; the first was simply his verifying that she hadn't been hurt. She nodded like the last time, "I'm okay now I know you are." She repeated. He shook his head.

"No, you don't look well. You're pale." His words weren't the clearest. He was high on painkillers after all. In all the emotion she'd felt, Joyce had forgotten her current condition and suddenly felt an odd twinge in her heart. The last time this conversation had happened it had ended catastrophically. She wasn't sure how to give him the news - most women gave their partners some sort of comical gift, a baby's sleepsuit with words proclaiming to have the world's best dad, but she'd had no time to prepare herself for the fact, let alone witty catchphrasey clothes for a child she'd never dreamt of.

She smiled softly and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Get some more rest, we can talk more when you're stronger." She said, her spare hand intertwining with his. Hopper was in no state to argue, he wanted to; it was in his nature to stop at nothing when something was the matter with her, but he hadn't the strength. He gave a small grunt and closed his eyes, the gentle touch of Joyce's hands and the strong painkillers lulling him into a deep and comfortable sleep.

-

Joyce woke to the sound of beeping machines.
She was slumped over his bedside, leaning out of her chair so much she may as well have been in the bed with him.

The curtains were drawn, but it was late; the cheap material meant any daylight would've shone through them anyway, and there was barely any sound of footsteps outside the door. She sat upright and groaned as her back twinged from the discomfort of her sleep. A sleepy, stupid smile spread across her face as she set eyes upon Hopper, who was not sleeping as she'd first suspected.

"Mmh- I'm too old to be sleeping in chairs." She groaned, stretching her arms and twisting to crack the aching joints in her body. He laughed roughly and took her hand in his.

"Will you tell me what's bothering you, Joy?" He asked, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he gazed at her; her messy hair, an imprint of the sheets on her cheek, wearing a jumper much too big for her that Jonathan had clearly leant her. He was quite sure he'd never been so in love with her. "You can tell me anything." He added. Despite her anxiety, she smiled.

The steady and quiet beeping of the heart rate monitor, the gentle rattle of rain against glass, the sound of hushed conversation out in the halls. Somewhere in the building there was a baby being born. Somewhere else in the building there was someone passing on; every emotion possible is being felt, all in the same place. Dread, sadness, fear, anger, but also joy, and love, and peace. Somehow, Joyce was feeling it all at once.

"I... I'm going to need you - I mean, seriously need you - for this. I can't do it alone. Not again." She said, her voice wavering as her breath shuddered in her lungs. Hopper looked confused, possibly because of the painkillers, but he had his jaw clenched and his eyes set on Joyce's, and she knew he was listening. "I'm pregnant, Jim." She said, her eyes scrunched shut, shaking hands clasped together in her lap.

Hopper laughed.

Despite herself, Joyce smiled. She couldn't help it, his laugh was such a rare thing, with such an incredible effect on her.

"You're kidding." He said. Her smile dropped and she shook her head, finally allowing her eyes to meet his again. Joyce's tired eyes could've been playing tricks on her in the dimly lit room, but she was sure Hopper's face went three shades paler. But then a wide smile spread across his face. The brunette frowned. She'd expected shock, or regret, she'd expected an eruption but instead he was... He was beaming!

"We're having a baby?" He asked. It struck her, how he had somehow reverted to almost child-like joy so quickly. His smile was too much for her, it felt like he was signing a contract without reading the terms of conditions. It felt like he was falling for a scam that she had no power against. Could this baby even survive? She certainly wasn't young by anyone's standards, and despite how well the boys had turned out she hadn't taken care of a baby in a long time - and so much of her was different, what if she wasn't any good at motherhood anymore, what with the kids needing her so little now.

She nodded dumbly in response to his question, and before she knew it he'd swept her into a hug, tight and warm; she inhaled, the smell of him calming her ever so slightly.

"Aren't you happy?" He asked as they pulled apart. She didn't realise she'd been crying.

"I'm scared. Terrified, actually." She said it a humourless laugh. He frowned, pressing his hand to her cheek and wiping away a tear with his thumb.

"Hey. You are an incredible mother, you were when they were tiny, you are now. And I wasn't such a bad dad myself, when Sarah was little, plus god knows Ellie isn't easy." He said, his tone so gentle it instantly brought a wave of calmness over Joyce.

"But I've changed so much." She wept.

"Joyce, motherhood is an instinct, not a skill. I know because the second Jonathan was born you were never the same. I saw it, that girl who I skipped class to smoke her dad's stolen Malbros with was gone, at least part of her. You took to it like it was second nature. So did Diane." He said. The comparison to his wife was what did it; he thought the world of her, in his eyes she was perfection and from the few times Joyce had met her she knew why. If she was even a bit as incredible to him that Diane was, then she knew she could do this for him.

"We can do this. We'll muddle through, the three of us." And that was it, he'd said the perfect thing, exactly what she needed, and she believed him.

A.N - Thank you for the support recently!! Sorry for the shorter chapter, I've been swamped with work but wanted to get something out at least!