Author's Notes: Thank you so much for reviewing and liking my fic. I appreciate all of them.
Unaware of your former lover's evil plans, you try to focus on Eggy herself. You're aware that she won't conform to a human child's milestones, so you're at sea as to whether she's meeting the appropriate thresholds or not.
What you do know is this: she can't speak, not yet, opting to show her feelings with purrs and hums; she can walk and run, as your attempts to get her to bathe can attest and that she has teeth that can chew through human flesh and bones within seconds. Also, she can 'see', in a way. Despite having no eyes she's capable of walking unescorted, avoiding obstacles along the way. She also sniffs at things that catches her interest, although her face is devoid of a nose.
Your days are now filled with her crawling around, sniffing, touching and humming at whatever curiosity she finds.
And your daughter is ever curious.
The first few days of your paid leave is spent with following her roaming around the house. Examining every nook and cranny of her new home, holding things and experimenting them with her hands. You never worry about her wrecking your things, even when she nearly gave you a heart-attack because she somehow dismantled your prized Millennium Falcon Lego figure. The only reason why you didn't die on the spot was because she managed to set it back up in minutes; her fingers deftly attaching one piece to another until the jumbled mess from hell forms back into Millennium Falcon Mark II. Despite this, you told her to stick to your figurines and avoid things more complex, like the fridge or your car because hell no.
Then, there's question of outdoors. It was the first rule you set for her: never go outside, not without telling Mama. Since Eggy is still incapable of shapeshifting, you don't want to risk exposure. Even with Pennywise's power of manipulation, he'd be hard-pressed to silence the very existence of Eggy if she's discovered, especially in today's world of social media. At best you can dismiss her as some sort of hoax, at worst you'd have to deal with curious sickos who would want to dissect her. Then you're going to have to kill them and you'd like a life free from actually murdering someone, association to a known serial-killer notwithstanding. You made it very clear that stepping outside is absolute forbidden and she has, so far, adhered to it.
That doesn't stop you from catching her peering outside from the window, her hands flat against the glass as she watched with eyeless eyes. You feel bad at forcing your daughter to stay indoors for an indefinite amount of time, but it's to keep her safe until she's strong enough. You are not looking forward to the time when Eggy will resent you for it and she will, because no creature likes being stuck in a cage, no matter how gilded.
Today, however, she comes over to you, holding one of your books in her hands. She tugs the hem of your shirt and cocks her head aside, her way of asking "What is this?"
"That's a book sweetheart, people write stories in them," you explain as you try the sewing machine again. While Eggy prefers being nude, she's prone to chills. At the moment the weather is still quite warm for the fall, but you'd rather not risk her freezing to death during winter. The problem is you are completely rubbish at sewing. It does not help that Eggy's torso is not exactly human shaped, being slightly long and her lower body elongated almost like a spider's butt. Your initial attempts had been disastrous and you are now resorting to starting from scratch. In the meantime, whenever Eggy gets chilly, you wrap her in a blanket. It is stop-gap however, and you wish you hadn't scoffed at your grandmother's attempt at teaching you how to sew a long time ago. Then again, nobody in your family would ever have guessed you'd sleep with an alien spider clown demon and create a child with him.
Maybe you can start asking online, couch the whole I need a baby sized clothes that fits eight limbs that's shaped like a pseudo-human spider hybrid, no questions asks! Etsy was a bust but maybe you can try a more exotic kind, like costume makers or something. You can hear your bank account whine because they are not going to come cheap.
Fighting the urge to kick the machine away, you glare at the pieces of cloth on your table, trying to will it into becoming proper Eggy clothes.
Suddenly, you feel a gentle tug at your shirt again and you look down to find Eggy, holding out the book for you. She flaps the covers open and close and you stare for a while.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
She flips over to the first page and holds it out to you.
Beauty and the Beast. It was your first book that you ever owned. Its cover's battered from your multiple readings and you can see your name, written in your scratchy childish scribe across the title. You remember your father's voice changing for each character; soft and kind for the heroine, shrilly for her shrewish sisters and a terrorizing growl for the cursed beast. He sucked at them of course, but you cherished those memories all the same.
A pang of sadness hits you, your father isn't here anymore and your mother, Jesus, you don't want to think about that bridge. So much is happening and so fast and you're falling apart because of sewing of all things and you're a mother with a reality-warping ex in the background and you can't fucking sew or even feed your kid properly because you don't want to have to kill!
You don't notice that you're shaking, until Eggy croons at you, clutching your hand and rubbing her head against your body. She mewls at you as you rub the tears from your eyes.
"Yeah, sorry, Mama's just, it's okay. I'm okay, sweetheart," you say, forcing yourself to calm down. Inwardly you want to scold yourself, you can't keep falling apart like that. You have a child now, you have to grow up and be strong for her. Because Pennywise is sure as hell isn't going to do that. God, you can't even imagine what sort of parental things he'd do…actually you can and it's crossing to the realm of the disturbing and you really, really wish you have a glass of wine now.
Your daughter gives a small giggle at your expression. Carefully, you take the book from her hands and slide away from the sewing machine down to the floor. Eggy crawls over to your lap as you prop the book your knees, letting her lean back into your embrace, her many arms wrapping around yours. Just like that your worries melts away, as you start the first lines of your old book:
"Once upon a time, there lived a merchant and his daughter, Beauty,"
Eggy purrs with contentment and you feel at that moment you can take over the world.
Unfortunately, you and contentment don't last long as you're about to finish the fairy tale, your doorbell rings.
At first it took you some time to realise that it is your doorbell because you seldom have visitors at this hour. Eggy follows your eyes as you stare at the door. You hope that it's not one of those salesmen or Jehovah Witnesses because you really don't want to get up from where you're sitting, so you keep quiet, hoping they'd go away.
But whoever it was, didn't and started knocking on your door instead.
"Miss [L/N]! It's me Bill, Bill Denbrough!"
Your head snaps up in shock. What the fuck? Bill Denbrough? At your house? What in world?
As though sensing your confusion, Eggy lets out a tiny hiss, tightening her grip around your arm. You pat her back to calm her down as Bill continues to pound at your door.
"P-p-please, I know you're at home! It's urgent!"
Confused and curious, you gently push Eggy of your lap, "Go to my closet – no, listen Eggy - and stay there until Mama comes back." Your daughter fidgets but you press her forward towards your bedroom closet. Once you're sure she has hidden herself well, you walk up the door. Taking a deep breath you swing it open to find Bill Denbrough knocking midway. He jolts in surprise.
"Miss [L/N]!" he cries out as he drops his arm to his side.
"Mr. Denbrough this is a surprise," you reply and give him a cursory glance. The man looks tired; his eyes are baggy and red, like he hadn't slept in days, his hair's a mess and there's a five o'clock shadow around his chin. He seems agitated and fights to calm himself as he looks at you. A rather tall man, with a serious expression stands behind him, eyeing everything suspiciously. Your wariness shoots up as you cling to your door like a shield.
"…and this is?" You ask the stranger. The man turns and gives you a faint smile, "The name's Ben, Ben Hanscom. I'm a friend of Bill's," he says, extending his hand to you. You shake it but still hold on to your door frame, wondering why the fuck is Bill Denbrough at your house with his friend of all things. A million reasons run through your mind, most of them edging towards mortal peril but you dismiss them, maybe it's something harmless…
"I – I'm s-s-s-sorry to disturbed you but your life's in d-d-danger!"
…or not.
You fight the urge to bang your head against the wall. This week is just getting better and better. Also, deep down you know this is all Pennywise's fault.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Denbrough –"
"Just Bill, please,"
"Okay, Bill, look you say that my life's in danger? I don't think –" you start but Bill puts up his hand to stop you, his face frowning as though everything hurts. Ben's hand falls on Bill's shoulders as the author looks up to you, his expression grim and hard. A chill runs up your spine as he stares at you and you're reminded of a man who must bear the weight of command, of a man who had faced death in face and lived and your words die in your mouth.
"We c-c-can't t-t-talk here, if you can just c-c-c-come with us, we'll e-e-e-explain everything," Bill stammers, "I know this s-s-sounds r-r-ridiculous but please, trust me."
You don't or you can't because this is all absurd and ridiculous and you find your voice as your hands start closing the door.
"No, I – I'm sorry Bill but –"
Ben all but shouts the next words, pushing past his friend, "It, Pennywise is trying to kill you [Y/N]!"
You feel your eyes widen at the mention of Pennywise's name. Fuck – fuck you are right and holy shit these people know Penny – they know him and from the way Ben nearly spits his name, they know what he is.
"[Y/N], please we need to get you to a safe place!" Ben continues but you're not listening anymore; they know Pennywise, they know! Shit, shit, Eggy – you have to protect Eggy!
Unfortunately, you don't get to do much as you feel an extremely familiar coldness enveloping your body. You know this sensation; Eggy's draining you and you barely have enough time to turn around and make her stop as the world tilts and swirls and darkness consumes you.
Pennywise was tucking Bill's woman among his things when he received the panicky message from his child.
It was just a few words but it was enough to make him nearly drop the woman in his arms. From that height, it would be a miracle for her not to end up dead. Not that Audra's death would mean anything but he had been planning on playing with her while Billy-boy's forced to watch. He would have liked it if sweet Bevvy was here too, but Rogan's dumb enough to take a peek into his Deadlights and is now caught in madness to be of use to anyone.
'Dada! Mama's gone!'
There's a pain in his chest and the world is spinning but he breathes and it rights itself again. Eggy is scared, his child is scared enough that she had to resort to seeking him out. He thought that she might be exaggerating, a child's fear that, maybe, you're out of sight for a while and she mistook it as abandonment. He knows of it, had feasted on plenty of children with that fear. But Eggy doesn't wait for his response as she sends over her memories.
He sees you telling her to hide as she answers the door. There were words exchanged and his blood freezes at that familiar voice. Though muffled since Eggy's listening from behind a door, he knows that voice no matter how stifled. Billy-boy is trying to warn you but something, somewhere along the way, went wrong.
It could have been that Eggy who panicked upon sensing your distress and accidentally drains you. He hears you fall and Bill and Ben's panicked voices.
"Shit, we have to –"
"We – take –"
He throws Audra into the pile, sticking her to his many victims. Anger surges through him. That fucking brat, how dare he, how dare he?
Instantly, he warps and teleports himself to your house but you are already gone. Eggy is curled up on the floor, crying for you and the sight of her like that makes his heart clench. She didn't even flinch when Pennywise sweeps her straight into his arms.
'Gone, gone, taken away,' she keens, her mind calling out to him.
"Hush, young one." He whispers, tucking her hair behind her ear. Your child whimpers, then wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulders.
"Don't worry," he promises, "I'll save her."