A/N: Here's where things go full canon divergence, buckle up.
Been listening to Of Monsters and Men a lot and had Black Water on repeat as I wrote this. Consider it an OST of sorts, not just for this piece, but for all of our characters in this miserable fic, present and future.
Reviews make me smile.
October 15th, 1988
Georgie woke to white-hot, blinding pain that licked at his elbow like fire and raced up his bicep to consume his shoulder. He didn't realize he was shrieking and writhing, clutching at his upper arm and beating his rubber heels against the ground, rolling from side to side. His face was twisted with his screams, eyes shut and mouth gaping.
It frowned at Georgie from where It squatted just a few feet away.
A single, clear thought pierced the fog of pain in Georgie's mind: Stop that. Settle down. He heard, and understood, but could not obey. He continued to cry and moan, clawing at the shredded sleeve of his raincoat.
The clown's eyes flashed yellow, and Georgie's agony dulled to a bearable throb that kept time with his galloping, tripping pulse. He turned his head and vomited the remains of his morning oatmeal. He kept his eyes tightly shut, holding back sobs. Mind clearing, he became aware that he was cold. Very cold. And wet. Water had seeped into his boots and raincoat, soaking every inch of clothing. He smelled mold and rot. His teeth began to knock together, both from the chill and shock.
He had heard a voice. Was someone else with him? Georgie opened his eyes. There was only darkness, formless and complete. "H-hello?" He tentatively felt around the torn sleeve of his raincoat, feeling where his arm should be, breath beginning to come in sharp gasps. He had been chasing the boat Bill made for him. And he had seen something, down in the storm drain. A man. A clown? It had attacked him.
No, something else must have happened, some sort of accident, and he had dreamed the clown. He needed to get help. He needed Bill, his parents. Even a stranger. His arm was gone. His arm was gone and he could feel the sharp nub of bone where it had been.
Georgie rolled to his uninjured side. "Hello? Is someone in here?" His voice echoed back at him. Where was he? A sob escaped, despite his best efforts. He crawled forward, dragging himself with his good hand. He felt rough cement under several inches of cold, moving water. Soggy leaves, bits of paper and plastic. Another hiccupping cry. How was he going to get home if he didn't know where he was, couldn't even see? He didn't care if Bill or his parents were mad with him. Getting home was all he cared about.
"Hiya, Georgie."
Georgie clenched his spasming jaw, a whimper leaking through his teeth. He recognized that voice.
With a small pop, the clown winked into view to his right, clearly visible despite the total lack of light. Pennywise. Pennywise was squatting on Its haunches, gloved hands clasping Its knees. The clown's suit was completely dry, even though Georgie could hear water flowing and was himself completely soaked. Its eyes glowed an unnatural blue, Its buck-toothed grin making Georgie vaguely nauseous again.
"Do you know where you are?"
"No. I'm wet, and I'm hurt, and I just really need…"
"Do you remember what happened?"
"A little." Georgie's voice broke on a sob. Maybe he was still dreaming. "Mister, I'm hurt really bad, and I need to get back home."
Sensing that Its usual charms weren't doing It any good in this case, It dropped the goofy smile.
"What… where am I?"
"The sewer."
"How did I get here? What happened?"
It supplied the explanation his mind already had, the easier one. "An accident."
"Am I dreaming?"
Such a question would normally have stirred Its ire. Instead, It grinned, briefly. "Nope."
Georgie was dizzy, and cold, and scared, and confused, and his arm hurt, and his head hurt, and little spots were twirling in his vision, and this weird clown didn't want to tell him what was going on. He hung his head, nose touching the greywater current he could feel but not see, and began to softly cry.
Pennywise watched Georgie's despair for a long moment. It had no problem seeing in the dark. Its too-blue eyes took in Georgie's spit and snot and vomit, the trail of red leading to his mangled limb. It reached out, bells around Its wrist tinkling, and tapped Georgie on the forehead. He jerked sharply, as if shocked. The cold was gone. The wet was gone. The muck was gone. The dark was gone. The red-and-white striped walls of a tent surrounded him. A small tent, almost a teepee, lit with a soft light from up near the peak. Under his hands was not grime and street runoff but hard-packed dirt and a thin layer of dry hay. His clothes were dry. The ache in his arm was still there, a constant pulsing. It was hard to keep his head lifted.
"You must be tired." Pennywise plucked a blanket from thin air and draped it over Georgie's body. "Perhaps a nap is in order, yes?"
"I need… to go home…"
"Not in this state." It placed a hand on Georgie's head.
He didn't so much fall asleep as pass out from shock and blood loss and a little bit of Its eldritch magic, facedown in the hay.
Pennywise stooped over the boy's sleeping form. Fragile though they ultimately were, humans could be surprisingly resilient. The vessels and arteries in Georgie's arm had constricted, slowing blood loss, and the blood coating the torn flesh and broken bone had coagulated as best it could in the soaking wet. His body was shutting down all non-vital functions, like consciousness and digestion, in an attempt to divert all resources to keeping his heart beating and his lungs breathing and as much blood as possible inside the body instead of out. The more blood he lost, the less efficiently his body would be able to keep itself alive. He was currently bleeding at an unsustainable rate, despite his body's efforts.
It had been five minutes since It had taken his arm in a single bite (and had some odd, impulsive burst of whimsy). The clean severance and cold temperatures were in Georgie's favor. It gave him another five minutes before he was beyond saving. Maybe less than that.
It frowned and clicked Its jaws together. The irritating indecision had not left. Pennywise crouched and clamped a hand firmly around Georgie's bicep, right above the ruined elbow. The trickle of blood slowed to a sluggish seep. The fingers of Its greyish glove turned red. It pressed Its other hand against the stump, feeling blood seep through the palm of the glove. A sizzling sound rose from Its hands, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air. Georgie didn't so much as flinch; he was as deeply asleep as one drugged.
It stepped back, admiring Its rather neat cauterization job. There, hypothermia and exsanguination taken care of. That would at least give It some time to think. What did It need to think about? Damned if It knew.
Pennywise cocked Its oversized head to the side, probing out with Its mind. First, It dialed in to Bill's mental wavelength, the older brother. The one who had made the S. S. Georgie and sent its namesake out in the storm to play despite their parents' orders. Bill had already noticed something amiss; Georgie wasn't answering his walkie talkie. Bill's queries were met with staticky silence. Georgie's walkie was ruined, electrical components waterlogged, and the hunk of plastic lay where it had fallen from Georgie's pocket inside the mouth of the storm drain. Bill was concerned. The parents would be alerted soon. Boring.
It found the little paper S. S. Georgie floating on the speeding current of storm runoff, already a nearly a quarter mile from them. It snapped Its bloody fingers and the boat materialized in Its palm. It set the boat by Georgie's outstretched hand, then flopped onto Its belly and arched Its back, planting Its feet on either side of Its head as easily as a practiced gymnast, chin resting on Its crossed arms. The soft light of the tent faded away. The only sounds were the thundering storm aboveground, water tumbling into storm drains and flowing through tunnels and dripping from overhead, all muffled by the fabric of the tent. The only thing visible was a pair of vivid yellow eyes, unmoving and unblinking. It stared at Georgie, and thought.
A/N: I'll be working on other projects and deadlines for the next two weeks or so, therefore it will be a little bit before I update this fic again. Don't worry, I really like this fic and have some ideas on where I want to take it. It won't be abandoned.