Bev, exhausted, slumped against the cold stone wall of the Neibolt's house's basement, feeling like her legs would give out if she so much as forced to take another step forward. "I can't…" she gasped, heaving and clutching onto her ribcage as she fought for breath. "I…what the fuck?" she whispered, horrified, watching as the scene before her melted away, the room distorting, and the air became clearer. "What…?" What is this place, is she wanted to say, but she knew if she opened her mouth to speak even further, it might draw Pennywise out into the open, and give away her precious newfound sanctuary.
Wherever this hiding place happened to be, exactly. Where was she?!
Her hallucinations the longer she spent in this godforsaken shithole of a house were getting progressively less amusing. Only moments before, she'd glanced up at the ceiling of the basement to see a corpse hanging by a noose from the lamp. She kept talking to herself, trying to reassure her that she was doing the right thing by constantly moving, though her conscience pricked at the thought of possibly others down here with her. Who all was here with her besides the fucking clown hellbent on stalking her until she could go no further and begged to be killed? Ben? His friend? Bill or Stan? Ritchie, Eddie? Had It called them back too? Or just her?
At the thought of the fucking clown, Bev curled her knees against her chest, though now she was no longer resting against the wall. Instead, it was the twisted, warped trunk of an old oak tree. She was in the woods again, and when she glanced down at her lap, she saw to some dismay her attire changed. She was back in clothing she felt the most comfortable in. Denim short jean shorts, red Converse sneakers, and her favorite red and white Cardinals baseball jersey. On her back she carried a small mini black backpack, the same she used for school. But one quick glance at her reflection in the quarry's water was more than enough for her. She was still very much Beverly Marsh, aged twenty, her fiery red ponytail looped through the hole in her baseball cap, and currently in a fight for her life against IT, but…but… Something about this place calmed and soothed her, in a strange way.
It almost felt like her world was spinning, and she just wanted to sit down. It felt like she was in a dream, peaceful, and yet a nightmare.
Stepping into the forest robbed you of one sense and heightened the others. It was disorientating to be almost blinded but given the ears of a wolf. Even the soft susurration of the branches felt heavy in the ears. The sense of smell was sensitized, the loam in the earth and the decomposing leaves made the atmosphere close and thick. The blackness nurtured a sense of claustrophobia inside you even though the woodland stretched unbroken for miles. The narrow path, which was made uneven by the knotted roots that crossed it, branched at intervals. There was no map to follow, but even if there was the perpetual dark would prevent you from using it.
Only the songs of old would take you through. That's why the children sang them every night before bed and then again after breakfast. They were the only way to navigate.
The path at Bev's feet faded as it led into the darkness of the woods yet follow it, she must for the sake of Ben Hanscom, and whoever else was here. Somewhere in there was the answers she needed to get out of here, and so her feet followed the narrow strip of naked earth among the giants of root and leaf. Bev let her hands touch their skin as she passed, feeling their gentle spirits soothe her own. For this is their world as they stretched toward the light they never saw yet sensed, and Bev knew she had to do the same... open up my other senses... to sound, to aroma and listen so very carefully to every instinct.
A man's voice from behind her startled her, as did the sound of twigs snapping beneath her, eliciting a startled cry from Beverly.
"It's really something that you never get used to, is it?" A man's voice, smooth, deep, rich, and melodious. The kind of voice a man should have. Bev furrowed her brows into a frown as the stranger drew closer, the sound of the twigs and branches crackling growing louder. She could feel the cold and slimy fingers just crawling up her spine and squeezing her neck with all the strength they had. Fear…
It was so…human.
"Who's there?" Bev called out shakily, swallowing the lump forming in her throat as the man drew nearer. Ben Hanscom's face came from the shadows, craggy features suspended between grief and joy. Seconds pass, her brain taking him in, struggling to comprehend that he wasn't one of the pictures she kept beside her bed, of him and all the other Loser's, that it wasn't another one of Pennywise's tricks, that he was real. Her brain could not formulate a single cohesive thought, at least not one based in any language, and if she did not touch him soon, her atoms would tear themselves apart. How the ground between them was erased they would never recall, but one moment the two old friends were standing ten feet apart and the next morphed into a single being. The warmth of his body met her cold skin, giving Beverly hope like he always did before all this shit started. One of his hands clasped around Bev's lower back, the other stroked her hair, toying with the ends of her ponytail. With each soft touch more tears fell, tears neither of them chose to wipe away.
Bev pulled back slightly to take a good look at Ben Hanscom in his simple blue and black plaid shirt and jeans. Over the last seven years, he'd lost a lot of weight and she thought he looked better than ever.
He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerizing dark brown, causing Beverly focused on his eyes, which were darting back and forth, shining in the sunlight. They were a deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. But there was something else in them, something glistening. Glistening like an old copper penny being examined in the warmth next to powerful flames that were licking the safety glass door of an old fireplace. They held secrets, the same way a pot holds layers of deep soil- cradling- because it is essential to keep the plant safe. The roots are held in place the same way his dark, liquid eyes held so tightly onto his secrets. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. His usually playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face. His strong hands, slightly rough from working, held Bev's as he stared deep into her eyes.
Bev stared, hardly daring to believe. "You," she whispered, before breaking into a relieved grin, flinging her arms around his neck. "Ben? I—Is it really you? This isn't another one of It's tricks, is it?"
She couldn't help but blush. His smile etched its way back into his face. His body was warm and toned as he hugged her, comforting to the touch. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the room warmer somehow, her future within its walls seeming a little less bleak. His voice was deep, with a serious tone.
His lips brushed Beverly's ear as he spoke, "No. It's not. You're safe, Bev," he breathed. "I—I promise."
"B—but how did you find me?" she whispered hoarsely, suddenly wishing she had a drink of water to quench the burning in her throat.
Ben said nothing, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on Bev, taking a moment to study her features. When finally, she got closer to him, her gait was halting like there's something wrong, she's almost walking right but there's something out of sync. Perhaps one leg was stopping a little short or maybe going long, it's so hard to tell. Maybe she'd been injured and was walking on a turned ankle, and if that was the case, then they were well and truly screwed, trapped down here.
But when she turned and smiled at Ben, all thoughts of inquiry flee, she wasn't conventionally beautiful, but to him, she's simply haunting. The time I last saw you, Ben thought sadly, just one day in a lifetime, surrounded by the rest of the Loser's Club - I wanted to take you by the hand and lead you away. I wanted to walk with you, talk with you, but I was too goddamned shy for my own good. You're my crush, Beverly Marsh. I don't want to steal you, cheat or lie - just to be able to tell you that I love you and know that you love me. I did want to be there, yet you are the only one I truly came to see. I wish you had been my cousin or something, then who would ask questions? Who would mind if we spent time together? Why the fuck not, if It's going to kill us down here?
Beverly started to walk forward, frowning at the familiar sight of the Derry woods. "Why here?" she mumbled to herself. "It's…familiar."
"Don't know," mumbled Ben, and even he was surprised at how calm he sounded. "I guess…maybe It wants us to remember something?"
"Remember what? None of this is adding up, why he's toying with us like this! I—I don't understand, why me, why me, of all people, Ben? What does he want with me?" wailed Bev, scrunching her hands into fists and pulling at the ends of her ponytail. "I just want to go home."
An invisible hand clasped over Beverly Marsh's mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierced her heart, unloading in an instant. She could feel her ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate her lungs. Bev's head felt more like a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing her mind into blackness.
I want to run; I need to freeze. Sounds that were near feel far away, like she was no longer in the body that stood paralyzed on the wet grass, feeling the dew from the individual blades seep into her shoes.
Bev was losing her mind…again. She can feel it unraveling, the threads of every happy memory she could ever once recall, all but a disarray of strings scattered about her feet. Her sharp knees dig into the earth as she hit the ground, her hands unsteady as they silently claw at the dirt. Bev opened her mouth to let out a scream or a cry, anything to know she was still alive, and this somehow wasn't Hell or Heaven or wherever you were supposed to go when you died, but not a sound came out. Her eyes saw nothing; they had lost all sight of what is and what could have been.
"Hey." She was only briefly aware of Ben coming up behind her, kneeling so he matched her pose on the ground near the lake's water. "We're gonna get out of this, Bev, I—I promise. I swear it." His voice was grave, but his brown eyes flickered and remained mostly positive.
"Bev," he whispered, his voice breaking as he practically bowled her over in an almost violent hug. "Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?" he demanded, his jaw becoming rooted and hard as he pulled back slightly, holding her steady by the shoulders, examining her for any injuries. "Did he…did he…?" His voice trailed off.
Bev knew what he was asking. If the fucking clown had raped her.
"No." Her voice barely came out as a whisper. "He didn't. But he put something in my wrist," she added, raising her hand to the light. "It was too dark, I—I couldn't see what it was. "I'm fine though." She smiled and met Ben's light brown eyes, hoping the gesture was enough to quell his rage, but her smile quickly faded as his eyes bore into hers, desperately searching hers for the truth. Bev had never been good at hiding her emotions, especially not from Hanscom, but what could she say? It's just what he did to her. "How are we going to get here out of here?" she whispered, glancing around the quarry in front of them.
Ben did not say anything, at least not at first. His brow was furrowed, and he seemed to be thinking about something, lost in thought. He scooted a little closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "I was worried about you," he said quietly, no trace of humor in his serious tone. "I was fully prepared to kill anything I came across to get to you."
"I'm glad you didn't," Bev whispered, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "That isn't you. I won't let you destroy yourself anymore. I only wish that I could have told you."
"You just did," he added, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.
Bev pulled back slightly to study his face, realizing his smile was genuine. He was just relieved to see that she was alive and for the most part unharmed. She opened her mouth to speak further, but the swirls of emotion Bev saw there made her gasp. Lust and desire. However, before Bev could ponder about it further, Ben yanked her to him and covered her mouth with his in a hungry kiss. As their lips crushed together, she felt like she was walking on air. It was magic, the way his lips connected with hers. His mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than Beverly could have ever imagined and she opened her mouth with a low moan. "Wait," she pleaded, breaking apart, panting slightly, shoving him backwards. "Why do it? Why do you like me, Ben?" she begged, her tone sounding sincere, desperate.
Ben dropped his hand from her cheek and fiddled with a loose string on his shirt sleeve instead, not sure what to do with his hands, though the inner beast within was urging his hands to explore.
He loved the fading sunset behind her eyes, the moonlight that danced through her hair, the sadness nestled in the creases of her milky white palms. Ben loved all of Bev, not just the parts that made sense, not just the parts she'd shown him just now.
He loved the parts of her he did not yet understand, the parts that weighed on her shoulders, the parts only he noticed when he stole glances at Bev during the silence. "How could I not like you?" Ben placed his arms around her, and she leaned in closer to him. The softness and gentle touch of his arm against her neck made her back tingle through her t shirt.
They did not speak, because in their own way, they were already communicating so much. There is so much in Ben's silence, so much he just won't say. Bev could see by his expression there was a lot going on in his head, but if she asked, he just said he was thinking of how pretty she was. Got to give the man credit, he's smoother than silk. He flashed Bev the smile that had her tied up tighter than a businessman's money. Bev knew that she was always safe with him, even if he did keep secrets. Loving him did not give Bev the right to know every pain and doubt, to rummage through the wreckage of his head. Some scars are invisible, she knew he carried his share.
Bev slipped her left hand into his and they wound through the woods, just two lovers, connected. Bev moved her head closer to Ben. He stood frozen, both from fear and exhilaration. She leaned in, so her forehead rested against Ben's. They closed their eyes, content to just bask in the newfound moment. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You came for me. I—I hoped you would."
"For what?" Ben replied, his voice low and husky, and heavy with desire for the young, intelligent, funny, beautiful young woman with the bright red hair that had stolen his heart before he'd even known it was gone. "I've done nothing, Bev. I'm just…me."
"For being you." Her voice wavered, exhilarated from the tension between them. She reached up and intertwined their fingers together. He startled a little at the sudden jolt of electricity that seemed to pass through his body, but he liked the warmth it gave off, that Beverly gave off. "You accepted me for who I am, not for who you wanted me to be." She gestured to her hair and scrunched her nose in disgust. "You never once pestered me to change my looks or—or told me I wasn't good enough. Or pretty enough for you. So, thank you, Ben. Truly." At her last comment, her voice cracked and broke.
It broke his heart, to see her this way. "I love you for who you are. I just…" Ben hesitated. "I love you for who you are. I just want you to be happy, and why you could want me?" he whispered into the shell of her ear, and was given virtually no time to react as Bev had to reach up on her tiptoes to gently lean in and kiss his warm lips. They pulled apart, taking shaky, shallow breaths.
"How could I not?" echoed Bev, a wry smile on her lips.
A beat. A pause. For a second, Bev wondered if she made a mistake. Unable to contain himself anymore, Ben caught Bev's head between his hands and pulled her close for a fiery passionate kiss. Her hands snaked their way up his body around it, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect physique underneath his black sweater. All of this was very real. The tiny moan he heard her give out was real, and this only made Ben want more of her. He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. When she kissed him, Ben's brain lit on fire and the warmth spread throughout his entire body. After that, Ben was addicted. He couldn't bear not to be with her, and he could barely breathe when she was around.
Those kisses were his salvation and his torment. He lived for them and he would die with the memory of them on his lips. Ben dedicated his life to being with her from the moment of that first kiss, for he knew that if he lost her, he would lose himself. She was the half that made him whole. Their first kiss obliterated every thought. For the first time in forever Ben's mind was locked into the present. The worries of the day evaporated like a summer shower onto hot pavement. His usual mode of hurrying from one thing to the next was suspended, he had no wish for the kiss to end. Drunk on endorphins his only desire was to touch her, to move his hands under her smooth summer layers and feel her perfect softness.
In moments the soft caress has become firmer, he savored her lips and the quickening of her breath that matched his own.
A kiss like this was a beginning, a promise of much more to come.
She opened her mouth to speak, but she did not get a chance as a sharp, shooting pain travelled through her stomach and down the center of her spine, rendering her paralyzed.
The sudden pain in her stomach had an unpleasant warmth, eating away at her insides as it consumed her, just enough for to clutch onto Ben's arm for support and breathe slow. Ben was saying something to her, sounding utterly panicked, but she couldn't make out what it was. As someone who came from an abused background, she'd often prided herself on the ability to ignore pain and just keep on regardless, but that just wasn't possible right now. It owned her, dominated every thought, controlled her every action right now. The pain in her stomach wasn't sharp like a needlepoint or a knife, but it burned her insides better than boiling water. Everything felt scalded and move or not, Bev was in more pain than she could have ever imagined. For Pennywise to end her life would be a mercy now.
"Beverly?" Ben demanded, shaking her slightly, but she could not respond. "Beverly, what is it? What's happening?" he pleaded.
But Bev couldn't respond. She just knew that something was happening to her. She wanted to scream, to tell Ben to make it stop, but she opened her mouth in a silent scream, she couldn't form the words. She could no longer see clearly, there was a white cloudy haze in her vision, and it felt like she was no longer in control of her own actions, almost as if she was being possessed. The last conscious thought before she dove for the blackness was of Ben, how he'd risked his life to save her.
"I—I don't know!" shouted Ben, careful to support her head, as he slumped against the prison's wall, her lower thighs supported by his knees. "I—I don't know what to do. Eddie, wh—where's Eddie? He'll—he'll know what to do, Eds patched me up all those years ago, he'll—he'll fix you, Bev," Ben moaned, but a low cackling voice reached his eardrums.
Ben was not at all surprised when the booming echo filled the woods, sounding muffled and distant, like it was coming from a few trees behind them, or maybe he was skulking in one of the bushes.
"She's under my control now," came Pennywise's sinister, childlike voice. "I'm afraid…there's nothing you can do for her."
"PUT HER BACK! FIX HER RIGHT NOW, GODDAMN IT!"
"No," came Pennywise's voice. Ben looked to the left and right, all directions wildly in search of the fucking clown, but he saw no sign.
"FIX HER!" shouted Ben, his face paling in anger.
"You and I boy, we need to have a conversation soon."
"I'm not telling you a goddamn thing until you fix this! Fix her!" shouted Ben, his grip tightening on Beverly s limp form. He glanced down and saw that she had practically gone blind. He could see nothing but a cloudy white haze where her brilliant blue irises once were. He missed their color. He wanted to look into her eyes.
Pennywise's voice, wherever he was, let out a tired sigh. "The girl was getting to be too much of a problem. She's a feisty little thing, and she smells intoxicating," he growled, goading Ben even further. "I can see why you like her so much." He almost sounded disappointed.
With surprising gentleness, Ben shifted slightly, holding Bev close to his chest. The blank, white stare she was giving Ben made him feel incredibly uneasy and heartbroken. He'd failed her.
I need you. He remembered her words to him the night they'd finally confessed their true feelings to one another, and he'd vowed to Bev silently in that moment that he'd always be there for her.
A tiny, muffled cry of pain broke the silence. Bev was speaking, trying to say something to Ben, to reach him somehow.
"Ben," she whispered in a voice that did not sound like her, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes still white and unfocused through a blind, misty haze. "You're too late." Ben stared, swallowing back the lump in his throat. His anger and pain resurfaced at hearing Pennywise's voice, and he vowed with all his might he would kill him.
Pennywise laughed. He recognized the sign of a class human outburst coming on in the young Hanscom boy. How quickly he would whiplash from despair to destruction. He recognized the signs. How the slump of his shoulders quickly straightened, and his posture became rigid, how his normally light, kind brown eyes darkened to almost black in color, he was growing upset, past the point of no return. "I can see how hard this is on you, Fat Boy," drawled Pennywise's voice, his tone flat, unforgiving. "I'll give you some time to make your peace, boy. But I'm coming for her in an hour, and then time's up. I warned you all, to let me have the Denbrough kid, or I would kill you all."
"Why her?" bellowed Ben, feeling his fingers curl instinctively into a protective ball around Bev's t shirt as he held her unconscious form in his arms, slumped against a tree trunk for support. Ben did the only thing he could. He held the love of his life in his arms and prayed, somehow, that she heard him.
Pennywise did not answer him.
Like one of those cheesy horror movies that Kate loved so much and insisted they watch every Friday night, it played again in his mind, watching Beverly go from vibrant, full of life and alive, to this. It played repeatedly, as if his brain was unwilling to let the images go and its attempts to analyze them, made poor Ben see them all over again, when he just wanted Bev back, the way she was, for their lives to go on as they had been. He knew the more he tried to repress it, the more it would just play again, but he couldn't help it.
In moments, he was back at his dorm room, replaying the voice mail IT had left on his phone, claiming Beverly Marsh had been taken and was his target now. Streaks of fire burned his cheeks as he cried. Each new wave a hot trail of agony as he gently rocked Bev back and forth in his arms, as if he could will her to wake up that way.
Fire of shame and anger at his failure to protect the woman most important to him burned just underneath his pale skin and a deep emptiness filled his heart as the sentiments brewed over and boiled past the seams he could no longer hold together. There was no hope for a man who cried to his death, drowning himself in the tears of his personal hell. "I don't care what I have to do, Bev," he whispered, when he'd finally managed to regain at least a little composure, though he considered it a damn miracle he could even form a coherent sentence. "I'll burn this whole fucking house to the ground if it means keeping you safe. I won't let them get away with us. Look what they've done to you," he wailed, burying his head in her hair.
He was grateful she wasn't awake to hear him curse. If Bev was anything like Kate was, she always hated it, and it was rare that he did, but this counted as a stressful situation, and he felt that it was highly warranted this time. I'll get you out, Bev. I promise… A stray tear slid down Ben's cheek. He was crying for her. The first time in perhaps his entire life, he was crying for a woman that he loved, more than he even loved himself. He cried, and Bev wasn't even awake to mercilessly tease him about it. Ben gingerly raised a hand, smoothing back a stray strand of red hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. Bev's spirit was gentle, and her very presence was like the sun itself, and without it, his miserable life was nothing.
How could he be expected to continue, when he would never see her smile that beautiful white, infectious smile that lit him up from the inside again? Lifting her limp form just so, burying his face in her hair, allowing the sweet scents of lavender and jasmine to fill his nostrils, his jaw rooted shut. Clenching his eyes shut, his teeth rooted in the effort to stay calm. But he just couldn't. The dam broke, and suddenly, he felt his tears begin to slide down his face. It was more than just crying.
It was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person drained of all hope. He cared not for her blood from her various cuts and bruises that soaked his shirt or stained his palms. His gasping screams echoed around the otherwise empty prison. The pain that flowed from Ben was as palpable as the frigid autumnal air.
Ben had to believe that she was safe somehow, comfortable.
"I…" His voice broke. He wondered if he could say the thing that he'd always wanted to say to her. No. He couldn't. But...but...
But if there was a chance that saying it would bring her back…
"I love you, Beverly," he whispered, choking back a half-sob. Hard, wracking sobs shook his frame, yet he no longer gave a good goddamn. He was only barely aware of the sound of something shuffling behind him. The footfalls were light, and he wondered if it was Kate or Eddie.
A quick glance upward told him that it was Kate, he recognized her footsteps. She seemed distant, and at first looked relieved to see him alive and unharmed, though her smile quickly faltered. Ben froze as he took in her appearance. Her blonde pixie was now a vibrant shade of fiery red, and he thought for a moment he was looking at Beverly.
"Twins," he croaked hoarsely, his gaze flitting from Kate to Beverly.
But that couldn't be, because Bev was currently lying in Ben's arms.
"Ben! Oh, thank fuck you're all right and—My God!" She rushed over to Ben's side. "What the hell happened?" she demanded angrily.
"She…she…" But he could not make himself say the words. He didn't care if Kate saw. The look of heartbreak in Kate's eyes was almost too much for Ben to bear. Sensing her friend needed a minute, she slid down, her back resting against the opposite side of the tree trunk.
"Ben, I—I'm sorry, but we gotta get out of here. I need to take her," croaked Kate hoarsely. "She needs to…" His friend's kind voice broke as she looked away from the heart wrenching scene. "We…"
Ben knew what Kate wanted. To dispose of her body so they could get out of here. "NO!" he bellowed immediately, feeling his voice go hard and bitter. "You're not taking her, Kate!" he bellowed, feeling his voice rise an octave and his ironclad grip on Bev' lifeless corpse tighten.
"Ben, I'm sorry, but I can't feel a pulse," urged Kate gently.
Ben heard Kate's words, but he could not, would not, accept them as Beverly's fate. She was strong, stronger than most gave her credit for. He had never experienced grief this bad before, not even when his mother passed away all those years ago. Now, though, it snuck up on him quietly and took him under his arms in an instant. Every memory of the times they'd spent together played like a song in his head, repeating itself for what felt like forever.
"Isn't it crazy, Katie, when the hand you want to hold is a weapon, and you feel like nothing without them?" he whispered, clutching one of Bev's hands in his own, bringing her knuckles to her lips for a gentle kiss. "She's so cold, Kate," he moaned. "What do I do?"
Kate poked her head around from the other side of the pillar, close enough to talk to her friend, but facing the other way to give the distraught man some semblance of privacy. "What are you feeling?" came Kate's question. Her tone was soft, quiet, serious. Seething jealousy and ire coursed through her bloodstream, screaming at her to act on it, as it had done so for the last hour despite her fighting it.
"I…" Ben's voice cracked as he fought back a fresh wave of tears as he brushed back another lock of Bev's hair out of her face that had fallen into her right eye. " I'd go to the ends of the whole fucking world for her, Kate. To the ends of time itself if I had to. It's crazy when the thing you love the most is the detriment. I thought, for so long…"
"What is it?" prodded Kate, not unkindly, though unbeknownst to Ben, she was biting her tongue hard enough she could feel the blood that settled and lingered on her tongue, its coppery scent filling her nostrils.
" My walls have been up for years, but she…she broke them, Kate, and I…I failed Bev."
Kate let out a sad laugh, fighting back her own bitter, hateful emotions. "She's quite good at that, I guess, huh?" she asked, feeling her voice go soft.
"She is," Ben agreeing, allowing just the briefest ghost of a smile to grace his lips. "For so long, it's…it's like I've had to carry around this lie. This horrible secret, Kate, and I hate it so much."
"Which is?" Kate prodded. Anything to keep Ben talking. She knew all too well what he was going through, having gone through it herself.
"My secret is I thought I'd never be capable of love." Ben paused for a moment. Ben's voice faltered as he dared to glance down at the young woman in his arms. "Feelings. Jesus," he muttered darkly. He shifted Bev into his arms and held onto her even tighter, burying his face once more in her hair. "The truth is, Kate, for so long, I—I'd forgotten what those even were. I'd been stuck in one place. In a cave, you could say. A deep, dark cave. And then…Beverly came into my life and for the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again," he breathed, feeling slightly breathless. "I started to feel happy. At peace. And now…" His voice cracked as he gazed at Bev's lifeless body. "Everything's changed, because she's gone."
All it took was another glance at the young woman in his arms for his tears to come again. Ben cried as if his brain were being shredded from the inside out. Emotional pain flowed out of his every pore. From Ben's eyes came a thicker flow of tears than he had cried even for his mother all those years ago. He'd expected to bury his parents one day, of course, but never the one love of his life who he would never quite get over, and now he knew this to be true. He never would. Kate was talking to him for all the good it did, desperately trying to calm him.
The whole world had vanished for him, now there was only pain enough to break him, pain to change him beyond recognition.
"I know," Kate whispered, brushing back her tears with a flick of her finger. "But that's not how life works, Ben. It's naïve, to hope things will never change. It's moving, always moving, whether you like it or not. And yeah. Sometimes it's painful. Sometimes it's sad. And sometimes…it's surprising. Happy, even. Bev would want you to be happy. Don't let her death stop you. When life hurts you, because it will, remember the hurt. The hurt you feel is good. It means you're out of that cave," Kate said somberly to Ben.
"What happened to Beverly was my fault, Kate," Ben answered thickly, anger and pain laced in his voice. "I—I can't do this..."
To that, Kate had nothing to say. What could she even say? There was nothing that she, or anyone could say that would comfort the distraught man in front of her. Ben was utterly lost without Bev. He felt as though he'd lost a huge part of his heart. Ben could not get that part back and he wanted her back so bad, as his very life depended on her being next to him. But she was gone.
"And this time," Kate growled, feeling that familiar fire-seed of anger the fucking clown seemed to have planted deep within the pit of her soul emerge. "She'll stay that way. Forever, Hanscom," she growled. The coldness of the blade only steadied Kate's resolve. It pulled away the heat from her clasping fingers and they blanched in response. The knife was one perfect piece of steel, the sharp cutting-edge morphing into the smooth handle in a way that reminded him of the dorsal fin on the sharks he used to hunt. She had slain cold blooded creatures before back home on the ranch with her grandpa, eliminating Bev shouldn't be too hard.
Ben let out a yell, but had no time to react or so much as scramble to safety to get Beverly a safe distance away from Kate. "Kate…"
Kate's blue eyes, even the irises, had turned black. "Kate," he begged desperately. "No, no, no, th—this isn't you! It's Pennywise, he—he's fucking with you! Don't let him win." The cold look reflected on Kate's face gave Ben the chills. Her delicate hands were tightly closed around the cold surface of the metallic grey dagger clutched in her hands. The young woman seemed to have no sense of humanity. Her heart seemed to be made of stone, the way he brutally twisted the knife into Bev's ribcage.
Beverly screamed, and could barely hear Ben's horrible grief-stricken screams and shouting something. Searing fiery bursts pulsated around the wound site, intensifying with each dragging step as the young woman stumbled backwards, the only barrier between her and certain death was Ben's grip on her shoulder. With each step she tried to take, the pain only intensified, the wound site screaming for relief, her consciousness ebbed. Black mists swirled at the edges of her mind, drawing her into sweet oblivion that she desperately fought, trying her hardest to stay awake. She had to save Ben. Even the passage of light slowed and the sounds of her friend screaming something became as if underwater. Aside from the beat of her heart, no muscle moved.
That pounding inside beat a rhythm to the words of her execution, that cold steel of Ben's friend's blade was her judge, jury, and executioner. Her face was frozen now, blue eyes open, as she was propelled backwards towards the ground. Beverly's eyes held Kate's steel dark eyes, how like Pennywise's they were, and in those fractions of seconds, she was there and then gone, the warmth of the ages that had been her love slowly heading towards extinction. She fought to stay awake, though it was becoming harder for her. Her eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up, though they were.
Everything became hazy, and then she saw nothing at all.
Ben would never forget the evil glint in Kate's beady eyes. The murderer had smelt of blood. Of danger. Kate, satisfied her role as executioner had been performed, moved to stand over next to It, who was smirking in triumph and gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder, much like a proud father would. It made Ben want to vomit.
At first, he thought grief was something horrible that took him ten feet under with no hope of escape, but he knew now as he desperately clutched onto Bev's lifeless form, that it was simply the price he had to pay for daring to love someone. He could not help but notice how limp and almost doll-like Bev felt. But it was the slight chill that clung to her skin that was far too pale that frightened him more than anything. She grew so cold. He allowed himself to gently fall against a tree and using it as a brace, gently lowered himself to the floor.
Once he was settled, he balanced Bev's body across his thighs, thus allowing the free usage of his left hand, which no longer had to support her knees. Lifting his free hand, he gently tried warmth back into one of her arms. She looked already dead. Her skin was too pale, absent of any color, her white tinge making her look a corpse. Deep, purple bags had begun to form underneath her closed eyes and beads of clammy sweat clung to her forehead. Luckily or unluckily, however he looked at it, the wound on her right ribcage was facing away from him, which meant the stab wound to her rib cage was not being pressed against him. Of course, this meant her wounded leg and severely broken left wrist now rested between them and it was not until Bev tried to move it that he noticed the injury on her arm. The first he felt was the extreme heat that emanated from the appendage and when he gingerly lifted her arm to examine it further, he noticed that the break was in at least two different places, at best.
"Jesus Christ, Beverly," he whispered, his voice breaking and cracking. He shifted her slightly in his arms, careful to be mindful of her injuries. One hand drifted to her uninjured hand, gripping it tightly, the other finding purchase in her hair, supporting her head against his forearm. "I—I'm so sorry, Bev. I should have…been there for you." A choked sob worked his way up into his throat. This was not supposed to happen. Bev should never have risked herself for him.
Why had she done it? He was not worth her life. Take it back! Bev should have run as soon as the fighting started. If she had, she would be safe right about now. Safe and unharmed, not lying here in his arms as icy as death and…and…dead. She was gone. A stray tear slid down his cheek. He was crying for her. The first time in perhaps his entire adult life, Ben Hanscom cried, and she wasn't even awake to tease him mercilessly about it. He gently raised a hand and smoothed her hair, brushing strands of her blonde bangs out of her eyes.
Bev's spirit was gentle, and her very presence was like the sun itself, and without it, his life was nothing. How could he be expected to continue when he would never again see her smile that beautiful white smile of hers. Lifting her limp form just so, he buried his face in her hair, his eyes clenched tightly shut, his teeth rooted gritted in the effort to stay calm. But he couldn't. The dam broke and suddenly, he felt the tears begin to slide down his face. It was more than crying. It was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person drained of all hope. He cared not for her blood that soaked his robes or stained his palms. His gasping screams echoed around the otherwise empty woods. Though in his mind, he knew the woods were only an illusion Pennywise had created. "I love you, Bev," he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. Hard, wracking sobs shook his slender frame, yet he no longer gave a damn. Let Pennywise fucking see.
He buried his right hand deeper into her hair and rocked her cold frame back and forth. It hurt him, it physically hurt him, wounded him greater than anything else in his life had. She was well and truly gone. He sobbed harder, a panic beginning to rise within him, and he felt as if the last remains of his sanity were slowly unwinding. He felt as if someone had plunged their hand into his chest and ripped out his heart. He had lost everything now. Everything that mattered was gone the minute Beverly Marsh had left this world for the next.
"I…I'm…so sorry, Bev. It's all my fault." He didn't know how he was even able to form words. With the amount of pain, he was in at this moment, it shouldn't even be possible. And yet, he knew he had to say something. Even if she could no longer hear him or respond. He needed to say it. It was all his fault! His fault for being born in the first place. All he had ever caused others was pain and suffering, and now…now death! He had killed a woman. The very woman he cared for above all others. Above his own pitiful and useless life. How could he possibly live with himself now? Bev did not deserve to die like this! Not here, alone without her loved ones to surround her and say goodbye. Without her aunt and uncle. He had robbed them of their chance to say goodbye. He was not worthy any of the kindness or care or love Bev had chosen to give him.
He did not deserve it, not after what he'd done to his only friend. He wanted to hold her and have her hold him back. It was selfish, oh, he knew this. He did not deserve it and yet, he wanted it so badly, it ached! His sobs only intensified as he continued to clutch onto Bev's lifeless form closer to him as though his very life depended on her.
Eventually, by some strength he still possessed, he managed to pull away and chance a glance at her face. She was still pale, and her eyes were still beneath their lids, indicating that no movement could be found. Still, in a strange sort of way, she looked at peace and there, upon her lips, was a faint, barely noticeable smile. As if, even though she had been through so much pain, she had a reason to be happy. He raised a trembling hand and gently pressed it to her cold, pale cheek, caressing the smooth, silk like skin there with the pad of his thumb.
"Always." More tears flooded his eyes and it was with a heavy heart he knew it to be true. His friend was gone. Dead. She had left this world in a very painful and wrong way. Bev, who had been nothing but a gift to this world and to him, was gone because of the cruelty of other people. Ben's heart gave another painful lurch and then, he had another realization. He was mourning her as if she was the very light of his life. "You are," he whispered, his voice breaking as he stroked her hair. He loved her. There was no trying to deny it anymore. To care so deeply for another that their very absence from the world would leave him crippled and hopeless, unable to envision a life or world without her? To care so much for her that it physically hurt to have her leave. To have this emptiness threaten to swallow him up into a horrible darkness so deep that it would have been better had he not lived at all. "If this is love, I don't want it."
Now…now that he could understand, could think it for himself, would he be able to—to…say it out loud? Maybe, maybe then, she could somehow hear him and come back to him? "I…" he began, feeling rather unsure and hesitant. Yet, he steeled himself and pushed onward for her. "I…I love you, Bev. More than anything, my friend." Then feeling just, a bit bold, he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was soft and his lips barely touched her skin, yet it was still a kiss. Though Bev would say it wasn't a true kiss and that it didn't count were she awake to tease him about such things, to him it was real, genuine, and true. It came from the bottom of his heart and only one person in his life was worth giving it to, and she was here with him, in his arms. He'd keep her that way, as long as he could.
He would stay awake with her all night if it meant he'd never have to let her go.
