Special A/N: This chapter is released on the behalf of our brilliant football team of Croatia who won today's match against Denmark, fought to the very end with their last dying breath and scored their final chance impeccably, therefore winning us the pass to quarterfinal against Russia on this World Championship. Well done, Vatreni. Your country thanks you for this incredible victory. 3

. .

Part 4 of 'Levantation'. Time to wrap this saga up, right?~~~

. .

.

The flame flickered on and off captured in a cycle the thumb had it inflicted with. Despite the day being fresh and sunny, the mind that controlled the thumb felt opposedly glum. While he'd normally find the isolation of nature repulsive, he found himself craving for quietness recently. And that included the whole of Derry. Barrens as well. Too many chances to encounter someone he knew, and that was even worse.

What Derry couldn't give him, her woody surroundings surely could.

The sigh that came next was both heavy and greatly needed. When he exhaled, freely through his mouth, it felt as if the burden of the whole world would slide and flow off his shoulders. But then after a few seconds of sitting still, it would be back in his head again, swarming like a busy beehive. Flicking the lighter on and off was a somewhat helpful distraction. Close to none, if we were being honest with each other.

At times he would recall with nostalgic fondness how carefree he was before That. How he was living in the moment, doing entirely his own thing and not giving a single flap about what anyone said to that.

„Need a gun?"

Richie didn't need to be startled from his thoughts since he didn't have any, but he turned around fast nevertheless to observe the owner of the light, feminine voice. Over there, Beverly Marsh was beaming him a smile, hands on the backpack straps. For such a lovely day, she wore a proper facial expression, unlike his gravy one, with bags under the eyes and excessive wrinkles that made him look old enough to buy cigarettes without gaining suspicious looks.

Beverly wore an easy knee-length dress that fluttered in light wind, pulling the bangs to one side with a hairpin so her lit-up sky-blue eyes were clearly visible. She almost looked too careless.

And for people with such different home situations (took her a while to open up with hers. Months, that is), she was better at keeping her problems for herself. Didn't mope around with them. Unlike him.

Yeah. He supposed he could use practice on that area.

Richie scoffed, turning back around. He could hear her walk over. ˮI have a gun. Just not the ammo."

The only girl in the club sat on the rock next to him, shaking something in her hand so it rattled. It didn't take a second look. A box of Chesterfields was instantly received, with an air-exhaling laugh of disbelief on Richie's part.

„How do you keep getting those?" The question came out crumpled as the cigarette flickered up and down between his lips with every word. Like a real, mindful gentleman, Richie brought the lighter near her so he could lit Beverly's own cylinder first.

Marsh winked, puffing. „I have skills, too."

Richie scoffed the smoke out. „Right."

The comfortable silence stretched out on halfway through. Richie would never admit his lungs still didn't stand the weight of the tobacco yet and contorted in protest every time he inhaled, threatening to explode him a cough, but if he allowed that, it would've crushed all of his dignity like a furious fist crushes snail's shell between its calloused fingers. No, no coughing. In front of a girl, no less. Older one, yes, but a girl all the same. He had to keep his manhood on a straight road.

„You're being evasive these days", she said suddenly, bringing him back to where he was now. He hoped the intent on smoking as quickly as possible wasn't as obvious as he fretted it to be.

He blew out slowly, letting the misty smoke disperse and vanish completely. „You would know", he nodded at her. „What's up with the tattoo?"

Beverly's defenses slipped like Pennywise on ice and she cupped her right upper arm where the edge of her summer dress had obviously proven to not be long enough to cover up the bruise striping in four identical smudges — only two people could've done something like that and make it linger: one she could escape from to school, but the other one would be waiting there.

„N-nothing", her gaze was pointed down, but flush found no place on her freckled face. „Just... leave it. It's not important."

„So I'm supposed to think my problems are bigger than yours?" Richie scoffed again, this time in disbelief. „Sorry, woman. Not happening."

„Unlike you, I know how to deal with my problems."

It could've been the sharper note her tone of voice took, sliting through the gritted teeth and clearly saying 'drop it' that made Richie's face fall into a serious expression he hadn't sported since the first days of trying to come around after hospital. Or it might've been the essence of the said words, cutting deeper than he was prepared. Well... he wasn't prepared at all.

From a perspective, human emotions were a store display. Some people had it more colorful and spacey, filled with all kinds of gimcracks and trinkets and whatnots, while others didn't bother showing off much, simply offering what they deem necessary to not appear absurdly empty. No more, no less.

Beverly was the one whose store display could only be found in the books of mythology. Underneath all the engaged defenses and defined smiles she liked to broadly sport whenever they had a carefree gathering, none of the Losers had the slightest hope to decipher what she really was. Or, what was behind her. Richie knew, as did others, how the same smile tended to drop just as abruptly whenever she was by herself, sitting aside and smoking, opening space to blankness. More than there already was.

Marsh was imprisoned by something, and she wanted out. But she either didn't want to admit it or was afraid to ask for help. Or her self-preservation, — something none of them really had to that extent that she had (except for maybe Mike) — which was the dose of rust that crooked the keyhole, and now the key is difficult to fit in. Especially from her outlook, from inside the cell.

Clearly realizing she had just lashed out, Beverly awkwardly roamed her blue eyes around the ground, occasionally flickering them in his direction. The weight of what she said seemed to settle in her voice when she finally spoke.

„Sorry", she cleared her throat, putting the cigarette butt out on the rock they were sitting on. The nature around them kept producing its sounds of birds and rustling leaves, and the river in the distance. Like the tension between the two wasn't currently unwinding in its presence, but that was okay because nobody had to witness this. „I'd just rather... not have anyone meddle. Not now."

Richie suddenly found the ground interesting, too. His sneaker rubbed the ground back and forth, leaving a depth mark in the dirt and creating thin whisks of dust. „It's alright, just..." He tried digging something useful out of his brain and try not mouth-trash this time. „I know you're always doing your best to help. But maybe you could let someone help you sometimes. I... we just want you to know that... self-preservation and self-importance aren't the same deal."

She was looking at him again. This time without previous sharpness. She was actually listening. Richie's bespectacled gaze was still following the movements of his shoe.

„We don't always seem like it", he was speaking, ˮbut we're worried about you. Those dorks Ben and Bill in particular...- Oh, come on, don't look at me like that, everybody knows they think you're fly. I'm only not yelling it around because obviously everybody's got that figured out—"

„Yes, alright, I get it, Trashmouth", she flicked the extinguished butt into his head while he snickered, unable to not genuinely smile herself. „Thanks. I'll think about it. Honest."

He nodded. For now, that would do. It was a big step for her to open like this in the first place, however little it was. The most important message was already delivered — she was not as alone as she might've thought by now.

So they sat, both individuals with their own shields of defense forged into different methods lowered moderately. The tension could be felt lifting slowly and both their shoulders sagged and back relaxed under the flexing nerves.

„I meant more than usual", Beverly said, referring to her earlier statement prior to this interruption. ˮSeriously. Not even after exiting the hospital you haven't changed."

A pause.

„Alright, you did start doing an absurd amount of puzzles, but nowadays you're just... keeping to yourself."

Now it was Richie's turn to turn serious again. The girl noticed a permanent light spark of humor in his eyes flicker out like a candle in the shivering wind, shallowing his breaths. The cigarette between his fingers has burned all the way to the filter, leaving a grey cylinder of ash to linger, useless but present, just like the contents of his head.

„I... saw something the other day", he finally spoke, looking forward, voice hoarse. „Doesn't matter where, just... You know that feeling when you see something you think you've already seen, but then after a second, it doesn't feel familiar at all? It was a fox, but not just a fox, it was—"

„A memory."

He couldn't connect if he was surprised by her finishing his sentence or not, but he returned her look either way. „Yes. Of That."

'That' was a word the group has been referring the incident by. At first outside Tozier's presence. Then he told them to stop pulling shit because they were as stealthy as fat drunk ninjas.

Still, there was something more candid in his eyes the girl had never seen before.

„Bev, I think this might be a step closer to truth."

„You never cared about truth."

„Yeah, well, then I wasn't afraid of forgetting."

He shook his head, looking ahead again. The sound of distant creek distracted him for a moment, but not for long. Nothing could've distracted him for long. Not even Street Fighter. „I keep imagining that all the time", he said. ˮForgetting everything about my life, little by little, bit by bit. Important facts, basic knowledge... you guys..." Finally, he discarded the cigarette end, not caring in the slightest its sole purpose was disregarded halfway. „It just scares the crap out of me."

Beverly's bright blue eyes never left his face. Somehow, she seemed to be doing that the best; assessing the situation, seeing what she could do. Because since no one had shown her, she had to learn to do that herself, and over the years, it became easier and easier to tell what people are thinking.

Women are different than men, mom told her once. And it has been so since the beginnings of humankind. While men were hunting, women stayed at home and interacted with each other and their children. And over the centuries, it evolved into something much more powerful, something no man can hope to conquer. Because in reality, women are stronger than men, Beverly. As you will learn over the years.

And so she did. Those weren't the exact words, she was sure because she was still young when Elfrida passed away, but it went something along those. And only now could she see the real sense in them.

„We found you", she started slowly. "In the Barrens. On the sixth night. You kept missing out of school three days in a row and all tries of phoning you ended up blank. Like you literally disappeared.

Your mom said you kept mumbling to yourself behind closed door. Like you were readying for a play. That is, it wouldn't have been unusual if it wasn't happening in the middle of the night. And during the day, you kept staring at the wall. Not beeping a word. She said you were sweating, but shook at the same time, like your body couldn't decide whether it was hot or cold. And when Pennywise—" she abruptly cut herself off, like she sliced the words with a dice. Her brilliant blue eyes unfocused and poured out of this reality and into another. Like when a grasshopper frees itself from the tight coils of old skin.

„What?" Richie prompted, piercing her distant gaze. Things could never be good if she spaced out. That was never good.

Because she never did that.

Without blinking, or refocusing, she answered. Still elsewhere. „You didn't recognize him. When he came to see you. Wouldn't let him approach you. You didn't see him." Finally, her eyes met his.

„You were afraid."

Some inner, instinctive, defensive part of him wanted to scoff at that but was quickly silenced, or unheard in the first place. This was no time for shields or armors. Or fake disguises. There was not even strength for them. And both of them felt the same.

There was only truth.

So Richie didn't scoff.

Instead, unable to hold her gaze, Richie looked back ahead, to the farther creek. He steered the information around his mind, trying to fit the missing puzzle pieces, but the curves and edges of Beverly's words just wouldn't fit in the core middle. They merely arranged themselves of the edges of the half-completed image, like a makeshift replacement. Until and if the real pieces come together.

And it felt like with each passing day, the chances of finding them went further and further away, like a soul doomed to walk on a neverending road of silence.

„When your mom finally decided to call the hospital, you were gone", Beverly said. ˮFor the whole afternoon and night. Then we've had enough. We decided to find you."

„And the clown?" he asked, not sure if there was a genuine curiosity in there.

She shook her head lightly. ˮWe don't know. We haven't seen him a couple of days after he told us about you.

Silence fell again like a repetitive, uninvited guest or a Jehovah's witness who won't stop knocking on the same door.

Beverly had been genuine. It was time for him to do the same. No schemes.

„When you showed me that bag... I did recognize it", he admitted. ˮWithout a doubt. It's that borderline before That started. A purple powder... but that's it", he shook his head for the effect of vacancy.

Beverly gave a slow, thoughtful blink. „You don't remember a guy behind that powder?"

„I remember nothing."

To that, the girl felt a pang in her chest even before she even realized why. There was something in Richie's voice that made the sentence completely blank. Like you asked him what color is the sky. Decisive. Settled. Like he was forced to come to terms with the fact he had a hole in his head, and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Beverly couldn't imagine how he felt since she experienced nothing similar, but she knew what it was like to be helpless.

And it was all the worse when you had no friends to avow to.

But just like Tozier had convinced her the same, she was going to return the favor: he wasn't alone.

„Richie, I know you want to figure out what caused all That, and I know how awful it must be to have a part of your life just taken away from you... but don't you think it's time... to move on?"

At his look that shifted between confusion, bewilderment, and even anger, she hurried on.

„I mean, I know you think you've lost everything. I know it might seem like every next try isn't worth a candle. But you've still got us. We've got each other. We're a family of our own. And no matter what stupid shit you did, it would never change how we feel about you. And were we in your shoes, you'd say the same thing to us", her lip twitched a little while she paused, eyes full of understanding. „We need our mascot back."

Richie squinted, undeterred. ˮI thought Forehead was our mascot."

She rolled her eyes. ˮYou know what I mean."

They stared at each other for an endurable total of five seconds before bursting out laughing, leaning against each other like dawn-disrupting drunks, completely leveling the quietness of the woods like the first wham of guitar in an empty concert hall. And upon re-locking eyes again, they only started convulsing harder. And the more they laughed the more difficult it was to stop, so after a while, neither knew what exactly they were laughing at.

But it didn't matter — they were having a blast in this miniature speck of a moment, and they were gonna use it entirely.

Feeling reckless, Richie decided to slip into his role of a royal comedian again by touching the tip of his nose with his finger, dropping in a heavy British accent and quoting ''Withnail and I'' respectively: ˮIf I medicined you, you'd think a brain tumor was a birthday present."

Beverly was nearly shrieking now, clutching her stomach and slapping repetitively at his upper arm in a wordless attempt to tell him to stop, but she needn't try hard; Tozier was there with her already.

Beverly started to feel light-headed. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed so hard and her sides were beginning to hurt. But in the end, it was the best kind of pain. And both of them wouldn't mind if it never ended.

It did, in fact, gradually ease as the two teens were regaining their breath, wiping tears out of their eyes and off their flushed cheeks. Richie began coughing and Marsh had to slap his back a couple of times while helpless giggles still kept escaping her. They settled down after another few moments, and by now sun began dipping down.

„I swear to God, if you don't become a shrink when you graduate—"

„Don't finish that sentence, you douchebag", she jabbed his cheek with a finger, smirk shattering the seriousness of her voice.

„I'm serious!" he swiped the hand away, carefully, and then smiled, not carrying insincere humor. ˮThanks, Bev. I needed to hear that."

„Sure", she nodded back. ˮYou, too."

Before Richie could figure out the sense in those words, something zipped right above his head ruffling his dark hair forward. Both he and Bev ducked in late reaction. There was a rustle from behind, and then a theatrical manic holler whereupon another gust of wind brought forth a blur of silver and orange in an outstretched leap over the teens' heads.

The blur chased after the red elliptical thing that had caused initial disruption and caught it mid-air, landing in a crouch with a thump and sforzatto of crashing leaves and chiming bells. Pennywise turned around, a broad red frisbee hanging from his smiling mouth. His blue eyes shone with mirth.

Unlike Beverly's broad grinning, Richie wasn't impressed. ˮCould you be less conspicuous?"

More rustling from behind indicated the arrival of new visitors. ˮBevvie and Richie, sitting in a tree~" Georgie sang, hopping towards them.

„I have a nutsack down to my knee~", Richie returned automatically, gesturing.

„Beep-beep, Richie!" Beverly laughed.

„How'd you guys find us?" Richie wanted to know when Bill stepped onto the clearing. A backpack hung off his shoulder.

„Frankly, it was difficult n-n-not to, considering you've successfully scattered all the b-birds with that noise."

„You seem to be doing the same to other people with your tongue-twisters", Tozier noticed. He watched as Pennywise trotted over to Beverly on all fours and she took the red frisbee from his mouth, cringing comically at the slobber which didn't spare a single spot on the thing, and then skillfully flicked her bracelet-tinging wrist. The clown dashed after the flying disc like a living impression of a trained shepherd.

„Hardy-har", said Richie's oldest friend.

„You're turning him into a dog now?" Beverly asked, wiping her hand on the edge of her dress. While he seemed perfectly content on running back to them, the lazy thing didn't run after the thrown source of amusement. Rather, in his own unbelievable cosmic way, he zipped in a smudgy shape that might've been a virtual nuance of himself, nearly unfathomable to the human eye and if you watched for too long, you'll get dizzy. Like a wild, epileptic fata morgana.

But comparing to that, he made such an absurd noise akin to a heard of charging elephants when skidding over the fallen leaves and the thought made Beverly burst out laughing again.

„I found it at the bottom of his tower", Georgie shrugged nonchalantly, already having squeezed his way between her and Richie. ˮI just threw it to show him what it does. He started chasing it on his own."

„And then you k-k-kept throwing it, you little w-wuss", Bill followed up, affectionately ruffling his brother's hair. Georgie brushed off his hand with a pretend-growl.

„Where are the others?" Richie asked.

„They went to help Mike on the farm", Georgie said, grinning widely when the clown slipped on the edge of the creek and flailed his giant arms like a biplane to keep balance. ˮHe's gotta fix a log cabin roof, so he invited them over. Even Eddie went along."

„What? That's impossible! I don't believe it. Pale as cheese as he is, he's gonna get roasted like a fresh beef!" Richie exclaimed.

„It's true!" Georgie giggled.

„I hope the fellas have braced themselves", Beverly said. ˮThere's gotta be a non-stop babbling session about how bad for skin sun is. Provided Mike isn't singing too loud."

„Bet your ass he brought three hats and about fifty different sunscreen tubes", the bespectacled boy grinned.

„And a p-p-parasol hat", Bill nodded and they all snickered.

„What do you say we go and join them?" Beverly looked at the boys, eyes shining. ˮA little labor might be a good distraction."

She was looking at Richie when she said it, and he didn't miss it. But instead of exposing their conversation that they both decided to keep among themselves with only the look in their eyes saying so, he got into gear.

„You wanna do work on a beautiful day like this? Gee, you gotta have run outta cigarettes, Red. Otherwise, I'll just assume you lost your sense of—hey- -hehey! What's up, Dingles?"

Not allowing a single second of attention off himself, the beast disguised as a wacky clown was in front of Richie in a second flipping the frisbee unceremoniously in the boy's lap. In his excitement-dilated pupils, Richie could see, was no trace of prior discomfort from weeks ago, when the Tozier boy had a meltdown on the second floor of the Neibolt house. He didn't seek it, either, and was grateful the clown didn't hold on to it as much as he despised thinking about it.

What happens on the second floor of 29 Neibolt house, stays on the second floor of 29 Neibolt house.

„You throw, Richie. You thROw, yEs?"

And all of a sudden, all foul thoughts have dispersed like a bullet fired in the center of a murmuration, and before he registered what he was doing, Richie was standing up.

„Oh, you want me to throw it? You want me to throw that frisbee? Huh? You want me to throw it? Well, take this!"

Ignoring the spit wholly soaking the object, Richie took a few ready steps in front of the clown who all but exploded, eyes glued to the target, and launched the flying plate with his entire arm, staggering when the force pulled him forward. The blur of red rivaled the entity with how fast it was going and before anyone could comprehend it, it was already a tiny dot, fleeting towards the creek. Georgie jumped up whooping while Pennywise was dashing after it in his own otherworldly way.

„What the f-f-fuck, Richard?!" Bill exclaimed, albeit with a glorious open-mouthed grin on his face.

Their innocent laughter echoed around the woods when the entity crashed into the creek, materializing again fully-corporal.

Yeah, Richie finally thought, watching as Pennywise straightened and gave his entire lanky body a fair shake. What the redhead said. It's not good to dwell on the past and forget to live. He could deal with a few unanswered questions. Where's the point in repeatedly tormenting yourself?

He was alive, wasn't he? And that was the most important.