Notes: Pre "Show, Don't Tell". Vicky's made aware of a certain someone.
For the record, my OC was named before anyone was cast in a similarly-named role in Chapter Two. That's coincidence for ya, nothing more.
"Live What You Learn"
K
Timing.
It had proved to be as important in real life as it was in any film. Or book for that matter. Whether the medium was visual or literary, the full significance of a given moment often hinged on when and where it was placed. You had to make the most of your established atmosphere, or else your pacing would have been for naught.
Today, this mode of thinking very much pertained to a long-awaited conversation Bill Denbrough had held off on actually having for so long.
He had to spring the subject at just the right time.
Preferably when Audra was out.
That is, out like a light.
Sparing one last look over his shoulder, Bill gently closed the bedroom door behind him before stealing a glance at the nearest clock. Naturally, a tried-and-true quip regarding one's beauty sleep jumped to mind, as he regarded the still-slumbering form of his wife, burrowed deep into the comforters of their bed. Not that Audra was in any way lacking in the aforementioned attractiveness department, but nearly four days' worth of continuous travel around the country did the trick. The actress had many pokers in various fires between here and New York.
She was still human, when all was said and done. Her endurance, though impressive, had its limits. Shouting through a bullhorn wouldn't be enough to wake her now.
Ergo, it was a simple enough matter for her husband to slip out of the sheets to don a bathrobe, sleuth his way down the hallway, and visit their three-year-old daughter's bedside.
The nightlight was enough to see by, and the room itself was as neat and tidy as it ever was. The same couldn't be said for Victoria, who dozed as peacefully as her mother, hands hidden elbow-deep beneath her pillow. Her copper-red locks were splayed across the pillowcase in hopeless disarray. Bill hesitated only a scant few seconds, smiling at the unruly incongruity of the undisturbed sight, before gently setting a hand on her shoulder.
"Psst. Victoria... Vicky."
One whisper was all it took. The girl's sleep-hazy eyes popped open, blinking sharply, shifting anxiously before following the sound of his voice to his face. Backlit was it was, she squinted before familiarity set in and her nervousness vanished, replaced only by a foggy look of curiousity.
"Da... Daahddy?" The urge to yawn overcame her mid-pronounciation. She fussed only enough to put a hand over her mouth, as Mommy said that's what all proper ladies did.
"Yeah, it's okay, it's just me," Bill assured, waiting until she took the time to rub the blurriness from her eyes, before scooting up to sit, cross-legged, against the headboard. Delicately, he took a seat on the mattress' edge. "Sorry if I scared you."
"Oh." Victoria blinked, squinting around in the near-dark. Idly, she brushed and finger-combed her disheveled hair aside, so it didn't hang in her face. "You... you didn't. What's wrong?"
Wrong.
Besides everything else, not this, at least.
"Nothing, sweetheart, I just... wanted to talk."
"Yeah? What about?"
And at this late hour?
But at least she wasn't fretting about being awakened in such a fashion.
Bill paused, picking at the suddenly-itchy collar of his robe. He wasn't the secretive, conspiratorial sort. Even something as simple as a late night powwow with the only other member of their family felt out of the norm to him. He could just as easily have brought the subject up sometime in the last week Audra had been traveling.
But no. Instead, he delayed. He procrastinated long enough, burying himself in fresh writing assignments set in fantasitical, fictional realms, to somehow cope with the reality, to turn the what-ifs over and over in his head. The visit was right around the corner. Was there any other way to go about revealing the full measure of its significance now?
Timing.
Provided Stanley and his family weren't delayed, a shy twelve hours from now meant introductions could no longer be avoided. Victoria already knew she was to meet Abigail Uris, her honorary cousin, and the two households would be spending a week together, dually catching up on old times and making inroads where none had existed before.
One of those said inroads wasn't to be a paved street, but more like a secretive path through the woods - one only three of the six of them knew the location of.
Vicky would soon make four.
Like it or not.
Denbrough sincerely hoped for the former.
And much of the like would be determined by how much preemptive warning his daughter had at her disposal. Like Audra, she loathed surprises. She liked routines, their oh-so-organized surroundings, and the peace of mind to be had therefore, compared to the hecticness of the city outside their home.
Maybe it would later spiral into a kind of obsessive-compulsive personality, but for now, Bill had other concerns.
"You remember... when I said, my old friend Stan and his family, they'd be flying out to visit us? To meet you?"
Victoria raised an eyebrow, hands kneading together beneath her blanket. The skepticism was there, but remained momentarily outweighed by her need to hear more. Knowledge of the fast-approaching nature of the visit certainly wasn't lost on her. "Uh huh..."
Bill swallowed, rubbing at his neck before thinking to still his hands. "Well, there's... one more- person coming with them."
Like untold times before, there was only one close-enough noun to assign It and the many masks comprising him. So rather than duck the unavoidable, he went with it.
Denbrough paused, watching the myriad of emotions flicker behind Vicky's eyes. His apparent reluctance didn't seem to unnerve her. The girl only perked up as young children tended to when new information was sprung on them. Her eyes brightened with budding inquisitiveness.
"Yeah? Who?"
"He's a f... friend," Bill intoned, carefully. Was this how It felt, years ago, trying to explain something similar to the likes of him and Georgie? Wanting to say everything, and yet not too much, at the same time?
When the writer failed to continue, Victoria picked up the slack. Her brow creased as she thought more on the idea, undoubtedly beginning to wonder at her father's evasiveness. "Is- is he one of your friends? Like Uncle Richie?"
Sort of.
But at least It won't actually turn up at our door after shimmying over a fence like that.
"Because, by Gawd, your closed-circuit television needs some excitement, I say," Tozier had brazenly declared, standing proud in the foyer. "And I, sir, aim to provide!" To which Victoria had been easily charmed, his appropriated British accent being an instant win to her ear, and dashed down the stairs to catch him in a unabashed hug.
No. In the end, It went with a more-mannered, Stanley-esqe approach to avoid competing so directly with Richie for club mascot.
But as far as where he hails from-
Weighing his options yet again, Bill took a steadying breath. His stutter was virtually extinct, save for those rare occasions when nerves returned in full force. "No, honey, he's not- from- well, yes, actually. He's from Maine, too. That's where we all- met."
Beyond that, she need not know. Abby doesn't, last I heard.
Looking every way open and earnest, Victoria tilted her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's his name?"
Aaand... this is where it gets complicated.
Again, Bill opted for the simplest response in lieu of the whole headache-inducing truth: "Penny."
"...You're kidding." Save for a disbelieving giggle, Victoria waited, pulling her knees up beneath her blanket, looping her arms around them as if to say tell-me-for-real-now. When her father's pensive expression remained unchanged, her amused smile faded a notch. Her head tilted the other way. "Really? That? That's his name?"
Among others.
"Yes, it is."
She blinked, more bemused by the second. "I didn't know boys could be named Penny."
Androgyny - another big word she needs to learn.
Bill had to fight a mistimed urge to grin. Though tempting, he chose not to explain the concept then and there. It didn't matter how well-read a child was. Some topics were best saved for later in life.
"He is. And he's not- not... well. There's no more simple a way to put this, Victoria. You'll know him when you see him, because he's... he's a clown."
Her next peal of laughter went off like a discordant bell, bouncing off the rose-toned walls of her room, before she held her hands to her mouth, remembering after the fact Audra was still asleep. "A clown, Daddy? Really? You're friends with a clown?"
"Yes."
"From a circus?"
Not... exactly. Bill scoffed, unable to help a slowly-building smile from finally forming, picturing the inane possibility as it formed, when the reality had been so dire, complex, and anything except jolly. He didn't quite roll his eyes, but paid the ceiling an appreciative glance all the same. "I know, silly, right?"
"A clown from Maine," Victoria quantified, trying to put the pieces together, despite her mirth. "He'll be visiting, too?"
"Yes, honey, along with Abby. I just wanted you to know so... it wouldn't be such a shock. I know how you don't like surprises." Bill reached over to pat her shoulder. The anticipatory tension was now a thing of the past. The words, now uncorked, flowed easier and easier now. At her nod, he went on: "Penny tends to- show up where you least expect him. I didn't want you to be scared, if he does. He won't hurt you, that's all you need to keep in mind."
"But- won't I meet him along with Uncle Stan?"
"You will, sweetie. Probably not at the same- time, though. Penny's... not like other clowns."
"How? How can he be?"
In pretty much every way there is, he can.
Denbrough shook his head and shrugged. There was no greater sense to debate with oneself on the subject any more than that. "He just... is. You'll understand when you see him."
"Is he... Is he slow? Special? Like that boy at the daycare?"
"No."
"Does he look... different, from normal clowns?"
"I don't think there is such a thing as a normal clown, hon. Do you?"
Victoria frowned, raising an eyebrow. Her enthusiasm dimmed visibly. Still, she knew better than to fuss and tantrum in front of him. Those rare episodes were more reserved for Audra, probably on the basis of mutual femininity alone. "Daddy, that- that doesn't tell me very much."
"I know, I'm sorry. But I can't explain any better, any other way. You have to... see it to believe it," Bill summarized, somehow able to keep a straight face at delivering such a cliché line. He stood and leaned over, closing the distance between them into something more intimate. "No matter what he does, what he says, he won't hurt you. That's all you have to remember, okay?"
The next nod wasn't as unhesitant as the first. Vicky's shoulders hunched as she pondered the words, clearly deciding whether they were more a soft-spoken caution or a delightful secret. Mysteries weren't something she had much experience with, and this one ough to prove harmless enough an introduction to the concept.
In a way, there was no mystery left at all. If Abby could be left in Pennywise's arms, utterly unguarded, at a tender three months old, and on countless occasions to follow without incident, therein lay the proven standard of trust. Stan had taken some convincing, as any good father would have, and if for him the ultimate hurdle could be cleared, the rest of them would follow soon enough.
There wasn't anything to fear from It now.
"Will Mommy meet him, too?"
Bill smiled. Audra's presence was not an unwelcome factor in this arrangement. There simply was no getting around her not consciously comprehending It, so there was nothing to fret over.
"No. He's... only here to see you. He asked if he could, and I agreed. I wouldn't've if I didn't trust him."
Insofar as his interest in attending this meet goes at all, you're the real draw. There'd be no incentive otherwise.
Just giving my permission was excitement enough for him, according to Stan.
"Okay..." While not appearing very convinced, Vicky unfolded her arms. With even more reluctance, she scooted down under the covers again. While her father proceeded to tuck her in, she voiced one last question, "Should I- I tell you when I see him? Or Mommy, even?"
"No, sweetie. Mommy doesn't need to know, she has enough to do already, for dinner and all. And I'll know he's around, one way or another. Don't worry about keeping us- abridged." Bill smirked, brushing her bangs aside to kiss her forehead. One last big word for the road wouldn't hurt. "I mean that. Now get some sleep. I love you."
"Ah- ahb-bridg-ged..." Distracted by the newness of the term, Victoria trailed off, before suddenly remembering to return the sentiment. She clutched her blanket against her chin and smiled. "Oh-okay. Love you, too, Daddy. Thanks for telling me."
Bill left the door open ajar, per her unspoken liking. He returned to bed already feeling about fifty pounds lighter, having finally said something. He marveled quietly at his own bout of foolishness, for not saying anything sooner. It wasn't unlike pitching a virgin screenplay to a studio, one you thought they would immediately scoff and turn their noses up at, only to be equal parts thrilled and relieved to see it did, in actuality, garner some favorable interest.
Still aslumber, Audra didn't move, save for a soft sigh as he retook his place, nuzzling up against her bare back. Yes. Ultimately, the talk had been easy enough. Less than a day away he would have some new roads charted out on the proverbial map that was his life, two routes known as Patricia and Abigail. And in addition to them he would be making a very tangible reconnection with an almost-forgotten trail, which had always been there, albeit warped to some degree by time.
Overgrown and faded into the foggy, dewdrop-laden Maine woods, maybe.
It was never completely gone, though.
Like taking a marker to a line, originally drawn in pencil, and tracing it anew, that path would only bolden, branch forth, and lead to new and exciting possibilities.
For him as well as Victoria.
Armed and ready, she could start to navigate the path for herself now.