A/N: So, I made myself promise not to post this until I finished Playing With Danger, since three freaking stories at once would burn me out. Nice to know how much promises to myself count, eh?
So, this is basically what it says on the tin: a crossover (I think) with Stephen King's It, which is a pretty amazing book if you get past the sex and swearing and ridiculously strong language. It's way different from the mini-series with Tim Curry, so I suggest you read it, even though it's like 1138 pages.

It was one of the most dreary nights Worth would ever experience.

At exactly 2:19 in the morning, the city was sparkling with the moist sheen of the steady rain that had plagued practically the entire state, and Luce Worth had gotten tired of waiting: waiting for patients that had nowhere else to go, waiting for something to relieve him of his incredible boredom.
At exactly 2:19 in the morning, Worth opened the door of his office, pushing his fur-lined coat back to dig in his pockets. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered under his breath, finally producing a carton of cigarettes in his nimble fingers. As he made his way to the sidewalk outside of the alley, he also retrieved a box of matches.

Impatiently, he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and, despite the moisture of the air and the warm drops of water dampening his coat and hair, tried to light it. "C'mon," he growled under his breath, irritation creeping in through his boredom and exhaustion. He finally managed to get the cigarette lit, and took a grateful drag of smoke with a sigh.

A crashing behind him had him nearly jump out of his skin, whirling around with eyes wide. "Who's there?" he yelled, his cigarette nearly dropping from his mouth; he quickly became conscious of this and found it wise to take it between his fingers.
Rustling and a wheezing cough was his only answer. Knowing the sound of injury when he heard it - many years later, he thinks back to this and laugh at how compassionate he had been - he cautiously made his way towards the sound, his brown shoes both clicking and squeaking on the concrete beneath him. "Hello?" he called again, his heart thudding in his ears as he came to a collection of trash cans, looking around them to see -

A boy. If he could even be called that. Skinny to the point of looking anorexic, damp and dark red hair that fell in curly flops around his large ears, making his skin look almost as white as chalk. He was wheezing and whimpering, curling up into a ball. His feet were bare, his clothing ripped... and was that blood?
Worth froze, looking down at the boy as if he was a part of a black and white movie with no sound. "Holy... are you al-"
The boy shrieked at the sound of a voice, curling up even tighter and clutching at his ears. "NO NO NO LEAVE ME ALONE I -"
Worth knelt down and grabbed the kid by his broad shoulders, wincing at the lack of muscle between his skin and bones. "Hey! Hey!" While the boy continued to bawl frantically, Worth finally snapped, forcefully slamming his open palm into the boy's cheek.

Stunned, he silenced, looking up with the most vibrant blue eyes Worth had ever seen. "Wh-wh... huh? You're...?" Before he could even finish comprehending what was happening, the boy started coughing hackingly into a fist.
Worth, unsure of what to do, reached for his cell phone in his back pocket. Flipping it open, he never took his eyes off of the boy in front of him as he hit speed dial and held it to his ear. Before the receiving end of the call could even utter a tired "Hello?", Worth was snapping, "Lamont. Get'cher ass over here." Offering no explanation, he carefully took the boy in his arms and, his cigarette forgotten on the wet cement, made his way back into his office.
As calmly as a man in panic could, he took the boy's limp form
(jesus, this kid weighed next to nothing, how was he still alive?)
to the back room, where an empty gurney awaited them. The boy only whimpered when he was placed onto the metal, eyes rolling back to the whites for a good second at the sudden temperature change. Worth, uncharacteristically hesitant, watched over him until the kid's eyes blinked back to normal before leaving the room to fetch a pillow and blankets.

Lamont arrived a few minutes later, disheveled and annoyed. "This had better be important, Luce," he said drowsily, black hair even curlier than normal from the moisture outside.
"It is." A grim smile on his face, he led Lamont to the back room, and any sign of doubt in his companion's face disappeared at the sight of Worth's new patient.
"Holy shit," he breathed, eyes widening despite the awkward bandage above one eyebrow.
"He hasn't said anythin' I can understand," Worth informed, crossing over to move some of the clutter on the medical tray at the head of the gurney.
"Where'd you find him? He looks like Death frozen over."
"Outside, behind the trash cans. Somethin' spooked him, I think."

The boy started to mutter under his breath, and the two older men exchanged glances before huddling around him. "Wot?"
More mumbling, but this time, Worth could make out basic words. "Y'gotta speak up."
Lamont spoke next, his voice gently and subtly scared. "What happened to you?"

The boy struggled with his next few words, but when he finally managed to choke something out, his expression was so terrifying that the both of them still lost sleep over it; eyes wide, bloodshot, like he had just seen the coming of the end as he said:

"It."