Bev really hated this. She shivered, clutching herself as it was cold in here. She jerked upright, panicked, but her wrists refused to move. Something sharp and cold dug into her skin. She looked down groggily and saw that there were handcuffs holding her hands to the table. She bit her tongue, feeling an odd coldness on her tongue and that was when the door opened and slammed shut, making the young woman jump with the only little slack that she had. The grizzled detective in front of her was looking worn, his face lined and careworn.
"Evening, ma'am. Name's Detective Warren. Assigned to our case of the several missing kids goin' disappearing in Derry last few years. Been working this case for the last two years. I won't hurt you, but not many have escaped whoever is doing it, their clutches alive. I am here to interrogate you. Do you understand?" He clamped a cigarette between his jaws and folded his arms across his chest. Bev nodded slowly, her brain working on overdrive to process all the information.
"Handcuffs? Is this necessary? I haven't done anything wrong, detective!" she asked huskily, giving a rather harsh tug of her wrists to try to slip out of her restraints, and she flinched. The skin was still rubbed raw from where Pennywise had mishandled her, and she'd fought to get out of it, and now, this added measure of 'precaution' wasn't helping matters. In fact, such a gesture was only making things worse for herself.
"They're necessary so you don't hurt yourself, ma'am," came his curt answer, crankily so, as he sat himself in the chair opposite to her. Bev stayed silent, not sure what to think of this news. "What's your name?" When Bev did not answer him, he grew even more cross. "Tell. Me." he repeated sternly. Bev felt coldness envelope her, but no darkness came. The man called Warren broke her cuffs and wrapped his large hands around the girl's throat and squeezed. "TELL ME!"
She wanted to, but she couldn't very well do that with his hands at her throat. Bev coughed and spluttered as he raised her off the ground, and black spots swirled at the front of her vision. Just as her vision went blurry, two uniformed men came in, and Detective Warren dropped Bev to the ground. He was led out by an officer while she collapsed back into the cold metal chair, panting for breath. The cop who was left to supervise came to Bev's aid, removing her handcuffs.
"You okay, ma'am?" he mumbled, his face reddening as he looked towards the door. He reached up a hand and sheepishly scratched at an itch behind his ear as he threw his steno pad on the interrogation table. "I…apologize for Warren's outburst. I hope he didn't hurt you. He's been lead detective on these missing kids cases a long time, and I'm sorry to say it's gotten personal. The—the last victim... whoever is taking these children got his granddaughter."
Beverly felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. She had a feeling she knew all too well what happened to the guy's granddaughter, but she wasn't about to confess the truth to a bunch of strange cops. That was easily the quickest way to get yourself committed to a sanitarium.
There were a thousand retorts burning on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be released. Bev wanted to ask the cop where the police were when all of these murders first started happening, why it had taken them years to finally pay attention to all the children that were missing, and the very man who had saved her life was sitting just outside this room, waiting for her. But she very well couldn't tell them that their culprit was a demonic space clown…
They'd laugh her, Ben, and Eddie out of the station, though Eddie was at the hospital. Mrs. Kaspbrak had called Beverly's cell phone on the drive over in the back of the police cruiser from the hospital to the Derry Police Station, screaming obscenities at both Beverly and Ben, calling Bev names like dirty whore and little bitch, and saying how all of Eddie's friends from this godforsaken town were monsters.
Ben and Beverly, for the most part, let her get it out of her system and didn't take the woman's words to heart.
She was fairly certain Derry's chief of police, if the man was anything like Chief McGinnis back home, wouldn't like that little fact. Bev nodded mutely, gingerly clutching her ribcage as she heaved trying to catch her breath. "It's fine," she panted, sitting up straighter in her chair as the cop took the chair opposite from her. This one at least seemed kinder than the last one had. But still, she hated it here. It felt wrong. "Can't Ben come in?" she pleaded as the cop, who introduced himself as Reggie, got himself settled and placed a bottle of water in front of her.
Out of all the times to talk to a cop, why did she have to talk alone? Her uncle was all the way back in Portland and very well couldn't serve as her lawyer states away. Then again, she had to remind herself, these guys just wanted to talk. To get her side of the story. Not accuse. The cop, she realized, and the rest of the others on the town's payroll, were just doing their jobs, and this guy's job right now was to question Bev and get her side of the story directly.
"I'd just like to talk with you for now, Miss Marsh. You're not in trouble." Reggie forced a smile that didn't quite meet his green eyes. In fact, he looked to Bev like he was ticked. "Your boyfriend is right outside. I just need your version of what happened in the barn tonight, everything to start out, ma'am."
Bev swallowed past the lump forming in her throat and looked down at the water bottle. She was thirsty, and her throat felt scratchy and dry, and an hour ago she'd wanted nothing more than a simple drink. But now as she looked at the bottle, it almost felt like a trap. She recognized she was at the Derry Police Department, and they certainly weren't going to poison her or drug her or anything like that. But still…Beverly couldn't help but be cautious. And after the night she'd had, she didn't think the cops would blame for her being at least a little bit cautious.
Reggie laced his fingers together and regarded the broken young woman in front of him. "Can I get you anything else? You hungry? I think we got some donuts and bagels in the lounge if you're hungry. You look like you've not eaten in at least a day. Is it warm enough in here for you? You're shaking, ma'am. Do you have blood sugar dips, by any chance? You aren't a diabetic, are you? Donuts, we have donuts, somewhere if you are and haven't eaten. Want me to go get you one?"
"N—no," she stammered, folding her arms across her chest so that her now-bandaged hands were over her upper arms. "I—it's just been a long night, Officer. One I wasn't sure I was going to survive."
"No need for you to be scared," the cop piped up reassuringly, offering her a smile and hoping it was genuine. "I'm just here to get the truth from you, that's all. I promise you, ma'am, that you're not in trouble. We just want to hear what happened. Shouldn't take long, miss."
Bev let out a tiny sigh and shivered, wrapping the blanket the cop had given her tighter around herself, letting the thing drape loosely over her shoulders as she chanced a glance towards the one-way mirror. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Ben was standing on the other side of the glass. Though she couldn't see him, she could sense his presence. And right now, she needed for him to be sitting next to her, though she knew her request was going to be denied, that did not stop her from asking. "Can't Ben come in?" she pleaded. "I—if he doesn't say anything, can he just…sit next to me?"
But Reggie was shaking his head no. "Sorry, Miss ah…Marsh is it?" he added, scrunching his nose and glancing down at the steno pad in front of him. "Um. Beverly is that right? But people call you Bev?"
"Only friends and family," corrected Bev immediately, a tremor of cold going down her spine and she shivered. She bit her bottom and lip and stared blankly at the bottled water in front of her. She had to start telling the cop the truth. "The truth," she whispered. "About It. Who he is…" Bev knew she was going to look like she was covering for him if she didn't speak up, and fast. "I…he took me," she whispered hoarsely, and then, remember the man's last words to her, was quick to correct herself. "B—but he didn't… he didn't hurt me," she added softly, as Pennywise's threat lingered in her mind, refusing to part from her thoughts. If she told the truth, how he had almost strangled her to death, and this next part was a very big if, if he ever awoke twenty years later from his slumber (highly unlikely, but then stranger things had happened to Bev) then Pennywise would most assuredly come after her, Ben, her friends and family. No. That she could not allow. "I—I swear," she breathed, hating the tremor laced in her voice.
The police officer quirked a brow at Bev and folded his arms across his chest. His scrutinizing gaze drifted down towards her arms and at the rapidly developing bruise that was already starting to purple underneath her eye. His gaze settled on her bandaged hands. "You have an awful lot of cuts and bruises on your arms. How did you get them? Who took you, Miss Marsh? A name, we need a name. Can you remember any details about the man who abducted you? What did he look like?"
Bev felt the heat creep to her cheeks, and she could ignore the scratching sensation in her throat no longer and she shakily reached for the water bottle, undoing the cap with trembling fingers. "I…Ben and I were walking in the woods in the dark. I fell down a lot. Ran into branches, trees, you know how it goes when you're in the woods. I—I slipped. It was dark out, I couldn't see, rocks, branches, trees…"
"Oh?" he asked, narrowing his green eyes. Reggie leaned over the interrogation table and his fingertips grazed Bev's neck, to which she immediately shirked back from his gentle touch, her back resting against her chair as far as she could go.
"Don't," she pleaded, inhaling a sharp breath that pained her lungs. Before she could even fathom what she was doing, she reached up and slapped Reggie's hand away. "I—I'm sorry," she apologized, as soon as she saw the all-too familiar flicker of anger pass through the cop's eyes. "I—I didn't mean to…" Reggie's lips pursed into a pencil-thin narrow line and he gave a curt nod, forcing an obviously faked smile, though Bev could read this man like a book.
It was in his eyes. Bev wished he had kept his trance at the spot on the wall behind her. The young woman knew that deliberation was over for him. He had judged her already, and in the cop's eyes she saw only misunderstanding and a cool hatred.
"It's okay," the police officer breathed, feeling his shoulders sag as he settled back in his chair. "Listen to me, Miss Marsh…I need you to be straight with me. Whatever he said to you to make you scared, forget his words. We'll catch the son of a bitch that did this. And when we do... he'll spend the rest of his life in the state prison. I realize you know that you're a victim here. There's no point in trying to pretend otherwise." The cop hesitated, running his hands through his tuft of dark hair and fixing Bev with a glare. "I get it. What happened to you was scary. But you've gotta tell me everything you know, otherwise this guy's just gonna continue killing kids."
The cop reached over and grabbed Bev's hand, squeezing her right hand a little tighter than what would have supposed to have been reassuring. Bev flinched, saying nothing, and he let go of her. Bev jerked her hand back, tenderly rubbing it. The gauze the nurse at the hospital that had applied it was starting to loosen, but maybe once she got out of here, Ben could tighten it for her. He was good at tending wounds. She swallowed nervously and glanced up at Reggie, who took a sip of coffee from his mug. The way his eyes squinted when the cop glared at Bev reminded her of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. She gulped a swig of her water nervously. A burning animosity was developing in the police officer's green orbs, and Bev could tell she was likely the root cause of the problem right now.
But still, she couldn't bring herself to talk about it. It was all too fresh. She just wanted to sleep.
"You can trust me, Miss Marsh. I'm an officer of the law, I'm on your side. It's my job to help people. So you have to tell me what happened to you, and it has to be the truth," he growled, leaning over the table and squinting his eyes at the markings It's strong fingers had made around her throat.
Bev swallowed another sip of water, all the while actively avoiding the police officer's piercing gaze that felt like it was burning a hole in her skull. She really wished her uncle was here. She didn't want to answer any more questions, though she knew that as a victim she wouldn't get in trouble tonight, but… She was also the victim here, and she doubted she was going to get in trouble if she refused to talk. The cop seemed to sense her hesitation and stifled a low growl from the back of his throat.
"Those are finger markings on your neck, Miss Marsh, and that bruise underneath your eye looks mighty painful. Doesn't take a genius to guess that our boy hit you while he had you cooped up in that barn of his, am I right?" When Bev did not answer, the cop continued pressing the young woman. "Protecting someone, a serial killer no less, who hurt you is just going to make things worse, yeah? Especially if you're called to testify what happened to you in a court of law, it's going to look back, Miss Marsh. For your sake. Don't. If someone threatened you, you gotta let me know. There's no need for you to protect that creep, Miss Marsh."
At his words, Bev bolted from her chair and backed herself further against the wall, pretty much into a corner. Why was this cop cornering her in an interrogation room and treating her like she was a suspect? She hadn't done anything wrong! She just wanted to leave Derry!
She wondered briefly if he had done the same to Eddie, questioned him until the point that he broke and did whatever the cop told her to do. Coercion. Surely, this asshole realized she wasn't a criminal, right? "Get away from me! I already told you and your friends at the scene everything I know. I—I invoke the fifth!" whisper-hissed Bev desperately through clenched teeth, back pressed against the wall. Every muscle bone and fiber in her body ached and screamed for relief, to sleep, but she couldn't. Reggie slowly raised his hands in defense. "Why am I being detained? You know this isn't right. I—I want a phone call. I'm calling my lawyer, Officer!"
"Miss Marsh, Beverly, can I call you that? I swear, I'm not trying to scare you. What you've been through tonight, no one should ever have to go through that, but you gotta start talking to me."
An angry shout rent the air that rendered both Bev and the Derry police officer frozen to their respective spots. Both swiveled their heads towards the door. The knock came quietly first, and then there was silence, save for the occasional murmuring of Ben Hanscom's voice talking in low tones to someone. The knock came again, louder and faster this time. Bev stood next to Reggie, who stared at the door, unmoving from her spot, nor he from his. "Bev?" came a voice, a man's, and Bev's ears perked up as she heard a sound that was unexpectedly comforting—her uncle's voice. "Beverly, honey? You in there, sweetheart? It's Uncle Greg. Let me in, Beverly, I can hear voices…" Greg Marsh knocked against the door, then yanked it open.
"Oh, Uncle Greg," Bev croaked hoarsely, feeling fresh tears well in her eyes. She hadn't realized how much she missed her uncle and how much she needed him here. Bev all throughout the trip up here had been worried what her uncle would think of her putting her own life in danger to catch a serial killer. Asking too many questions, asking the right questions to the wrong people, being ticked at her for getting into this mess, for not letting the proper authorities deal with this. But in the moment, she only wanted her uncle to hug her tight, to hold her, be overprotective. Greg Marsh strode into the room, Ben hovering by the door, his arms folded across his chest and a grim expression on his face.
He walked up to Bev slowly and pulled his niece closer to him wrapping his arms around her. His embrace was warm, and his arms seemed very protective when wrapped around Bev's frail, healing body. The world around Bev melted away as she squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end. Her Uncle Greg, a well renowned attorney in his early forties, and still quite handsome with dark hair and kind green eyes behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses, was currently looked very upset. "What are you doing here, Uncle Greg?" she whispered, tightening her grip around her uncle's middle.
"Ben called me a few days ago, asked me to catch the earliest plane I could. Told me what was happening."
Bev snuggled in, "You're the only person I know that gives indefinite hugs."
Her uncle snickered, "Well, Bevvy, where else would I rather be?" In that moment the arms squeezed a fraction tighter and Bev breathed more slowly, her body melting into her Uncle Greg's as every muscle lost its tension now that help was here. This was life, real life, and she was headed for home. She craned her neck upward to look at her uncle, but she saw to her surprise her uncle was glowering at the police officer.
One glance over at Reggie was more than enough. Bev bit her lip to suppress her urge to break into laughter. She knew what the cop saw when he looked at Greg. Everybody always thought the same thing. Greg Marsh was fitter looking than anyone expected. His face told of a lean body beneath his black business suit and his expression behind his black-rimmed glasses was serious but not unkind. He had that beginning look of salt and pepper look that was beginning to fleck to his dark hair as he aged, against his still youthful skin it looked good on him. Bev Marsh in a sharp breath, steeling herself for one of her uncle's outbursts.
"How dare you?" Greg accused, glaring directly at Reggie. "Can't you see my niece has been through enough? She's lucky to be alive after the ordeal this Baines character put her through, and you want to traumatize her even further? How dare you take her in here, all alone without me being present. I'm a lawyer," he added coldly, seeing the look of dawning confusion in the cop's eyes as he opened his mouth to retort. "You're questioning her like she's some sort of…criminal," he growled. "She barely managed to escape with her life after being held against her will by a serial killer, Officer…?" He fell silent and waited.
"Newall, sir," the police officer answered stiffly.
"I'm fine, Uncle Greg," Bev spoke up softly, still allowing her uncle to keep his arms around her shoulders.
"With all due respect, sir, your niece is covered in bruises and cuts. I know some asshole did this to her, but she won't talk. I gotta get to the bottom of this and having other people present in the room leads to a lot of witnesses and victims alike withholding vital information that will allow us to put this guy behind bars for good. That's why I wanted to talk to Miss Marsh alone. Lawyer or not, Mr. Marsh, with all due respect, you need to leave," growled the cop, taking a step towards the uncle and niece.
Greg instinctively pulled Bev back, stepping in front of her and holding out a hand in front of her to prevent her from taking another step forward. When he spoke his next words the cop, his words were cold enough that even Bev shivered. "No. Just look at her. She's in no condition to answer any questions right now. You will not talk to my niece like this. You cannot corner her and threaten her and demand she tell you what happened. My niece's wounds are healing, and her conditions are causing her a great deal of stress which your…aggressive methods of questioning will only exacerbate. Now, if you will excuse me, officer, I'm going to take my niece and her…boyfriend," here he glanced towards Bev for confirmation, who gave the tiniest of nods and a small crooked half-smile, and then his gaze flitted to Ben, who had entered the interrogation room and was hovering behind Bev, one hand on the small of her back and the other and he barely held back his smile as a pink blush graced his niece's cheeks. "And we're going to go home. You've already got her statement when your men arrived on the scene, and accounts from neighbors nearby the Neibolt House, who claimed to see a man running away," he added, glancing towards Bev and Ben for confirmation, who quickly nodded, confirming this bit. "That should suffice as evidence enough to hold up in his trial when he goes to court. Bev, Ben, let's get out of here and head for home. Come on, you two, let's get out of here. Right now," he added harshly.
She knew his fire-seed of anger that had seemingly sprouted without warning was more so directed towards the cop than at Bev or Ben, but still, sensing the irritation in his tone and seeing the agitation in his eyes behind his glasses, she hurried. Bev, sensing danger as the cop immediately opened his mouth to argue, took a ginger step forward, despite Greg's arm still planted firmly in front of her. She peeked over his shoulder, having to stand on her tiptoes, or as well as she could given her ankle throbbed and screamed for relief, and the other was sprained, not to mention her poor thigh still throbbed from being stabbed, but it had been treated. Bev had undergone one hell of a night, however, and she just wanted it done. "I already told you everything, Officer. My Uncle Greg's right, sir. You can't keep me locked up in here. I can't force you to believe what I told you was the truth, but…I've already said everything there was to tell. I haven't done anything wrong. You can't keep me here," Bev reminded Reggie quietly, timidly.
The cop regarded the uncle and niece for what felt like an eternity in an uncomfortable silence. If tension in the room would have been a color, the air would have been scarlet. Finally, he huffed and exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're right, Miss Marsh. I can't keep you here, or force you to talk, but I wish you'd just tell me the truth. I know someone did those awful things to you. But you and your uncle are right. I can't force you. Though it would go easier for everyone if you would just say it."
"I am telling the truth." Bev flinched as she felt the lie escape her lies. Lying went completely against her nature, unless she was faced with no other choice while on a case, and to lie to a law enforcement officer was even worse, but she wanted nothing more than to put what happened behind her forever. If she told the truth about Pennywise, they would think she was insane and lock her up away someplace, and she'd never see the light of day ever again.
Greg nodded and put his hand on his niece's right shoulder, shooting the Derry police officer one last look of distrust as he steered her out of the interrogation room and towards the precinct's parking lot. "You're lucky you have someone like Ben Hanscom watching your back," he complimented, raising his voice loud enough so Ben, who hadn't left Bev's side once since the pair had re-emerged from the interrogation room, could hear him. He chuckled as he watched Ben's face flush at the compliment. Leaning forward just slightly and lowering his voice so only Bev could hear, he spoke to his niece in low tones. "I was sorry to hear about Tom Rogan, Bevvy," he apologized, his voice sounding pained. "But...Ben? Are you sure that's what you want? It won't…affect your friendships with any of the others?"
Bev nodded mutely, instinctively reaching for Ben's hard and giving it a squeeze. "Yes. I think…I think I've known for a while now, but…didn't want to admit it to myself," she whispered timidly.
Greg returned the nod, showing his only child he understood. "Good." He turned to Ben and regarded the dark-haired young man standing protectively next to Bev, and he did not bother to hide the small smile that crept onto his handsome but quite lined features. "Treat your woman like a queen, I always say," he said solemnly, clapping Ben on the shoulder. "Take care of my niece, Hanscom. And please…" he added, a sudden note of mock sternness twinkling in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, "When you come over, for the sake of my wife and your poor old Uncle Greg, Bev…keep your door open three inches." His mouth was set into a hard line, though the corners of his mouth twitched, fighting a smile.
Ben looked surprised but quickly recovered. "Y—yes, sir," he stammered. "I promise."
Greg held open the car door of the taxi and gestured for the two to get in the backseat.
"Let's go home," Greg said, chuckling softly at witnessing the silent exchange between Ben and Bev. With Ben, Greg knew, it was different for his niece than it had ever been with Ned. The two didn't even have to communicate in words, because even now, as they sat in silence in the backseat of the cab, Bev's head resting against Ben's chest as she slowly drifted into an easy sleep.
Greg knew that that Bev could not see the world through his eyes, and mostly it was a good thing she couldn't. She was so like her mother (his sister) had been, seeing excitement and possibilities, whereas Greg saw a world of danger and uncertainty. She wanted to walk out of their house after dark, and why shouldn't she? Take on a serial killer? Why not. When Bev would rail against the confines of being a woman in a world that wasn't necessarily kind to female detectives, Greg was reminded of its unfairness. To him, as her uncle, it was simply a reality he unquestioningly accepted.
A reality he was forced to impose on her lest he wanted the risk of burying her one day, just as her had done for his wife. And he didn't. Yet, as he glanced in the review mirror at the pair now sleeping soundly in the backseat, he was filled with a newfound sense of admiration and respect for the Hanscom boy. He just wanted his niece to be happy. And it would seem to Greg that she had finally found her source of happiness. In Ben.
And if that were good enough for Bev, then it would be good enough for him too.
Bev was jolted back to reality as her uncle was saying something. She'd drifted in and out of consciousness over the last thirty or so minutes in the backseat of their car. "I'm sorry I couldn't get to you in time to prevent that cop asking you questions." There was no mistaking the bitterness in Greg Marsh's tone. Bev knew he blamed himself. She knew that her uncle was thinking if he had not suggested Bev to take a break, get a fresh start, go somewhere, she wouldn't have had to endure madness at the hands of a deranged serial killer and would not have gotten hurt.
"It's not your fault, Uncle Greg. There's no way you could have known what was going to happen. And we solved it, didn't we? All of us," she offered shyly, as her eyes skimmed the pages of the magazine haphazardly tossed in the backseat of her uncle's car. She was just grateful all of them had made it out relatively unharmed as it were. She had seen enough blood. Bev stared at her phone in her palm numbly before plunking it back into her purse, before remembering that her purse had a hole in it, and, in a moment of frustration, kicked her ruined bag to the floor by her feet.
Maybe her aunt could help her buy a new one when they got home. A sudden flash of white came into Bev's view on her left side, and she froze, remembering something.
"Wait, Uncle Greg. Stop here a moment, just here," came Bev's voice, sounding urgent. She reached for her phone and shot Ben a curt little nod. "I won't be long, Uncle Greg. Five minutes. If I'm not out by then, call me," she added, plunking her cell phone into her bag and zipping it up, pinching the hole at the bottom shut with her thumb and forefinger, and threw her purse over her shoulder, all the while having to hold the bottom shut so the contents of her bag wouldn't spill out, and making a beeline straight for the city's hospital.
The hospital corridor of Derry, Maine, was stuffy and the air had an unpleasant undertone of bleach. The hospital hallway has as much personality as the interstate. The dull beige tile leads onward passed identical doorways edged in grey. The walls simply grow from the floor and stretch upward to the matching ceiling. It is a place of sickness, a place to be forgotten slowly after the initial shock of admittance. After that it's a slow slide to the morgue, sallow eyes tilted toward a sun that remains stubbornly on the wrong side of the dirty windowpane.
The walls of the patient's rooms were a dark magnolia and are scraped in places from the hundreds of trolleys that have bumped into them. The pictures on the walls are cheap benign prints of uplifting scenes and above the double doors are large blue plastic signs with the areas of the hospital that lie ahead. Bev, with Ben in tow, weaved through the crowded hallways of doctors, nurses, and visiting family members to those who were cooped up here. Finally, they found it. The door, just like all the others in the hospital, was brown and dull, but she could already see people inside.
"Well, here we are," the nurse smiled kindly and opened the door wider.
Doctors and nurses surrounded Eddie Kaspbrak's hospital bed, attaching IV's, heart monitors to him. Luckily, Mrs. Kaspbrak was nowhere to be found. Bev decided to explore the room while the other people were still crowded the young man. An old TV set hung from the ceiling. A window giving Bev the view of the world below was just beneath the screen. In the corner were two chairs, frayed with wear and tear. It was a typical hospital room, sparse and functional. Bev and Ben dragged the two spare chairs towards Eddie's bedside and stared dejectedly up at the ceiling, glancing down at the thank you gift Beverly thought to buy from the hospital gift shop.
It wasn't much. Just a little 8 inch stuffed brown moose with a Get Well Soon message scrawled on its little t-shirt, and a couple of Eddie's favorite candy bars and some graphic novels and comic books for him to read, given the poor guy was to stay here for at least a couple days before he could be expected to be discharged, given the scope of the man's injuries. Eddie blearily opened his eyes and struggled to focus his gaze a few feet in front of himself.
The young dark-haired hypochondriac had seen better days. Dark circles were still quite prominent under his dark-lidded eyes and he still appeared very pale, but a little tinge of pink color had returned to his cheeks, so that was something. "When…when did you two get here?"
Bev perked up at the noise and sat up straighter in her chair. "Not very long ago. How are you feeling?"
"Weak, but better…thank you, Bev."
The young redhead felt the heat creep to her cheeks, and she brushed away the Loser's compliment with a wave of her hand. "Don't thank me. It's Ben you should be thanking and…" But she didn't finish her sentence as her voice trailed off. But then she didn't need to.
Bev knew they were all thinking the same thing. That they were lucky to get out of the Neibolt House alive. Finally, Eddie broke the awkward silence and asked the one question he really didn't want to ask, but the three of them were thinking it anyways, so he said it.
"If…if It's not dead…" Here, he swallowed hard and looked suddenly nervous. "What…what should we do?" Eddie whispered and glanced towards his other two friends for confirmation. "That motherfucking clown sure has a hard time staying dead, doesn't it?"
Ben and Beverly exchanged a glance. It was Ben who spoke up. "Then we'll come back," he answered steadily, no fear in his voice or on his face. He glanced at the other two, who quickly nodded in agreement. "We made a pact. Us Loser's gotta stick together, right?"
"Right," Bev and Eddie said in unison.
"We swore…if it ever comes back again, that we would come back too," breathed Beverly, remembering Bill Denbrough's words, and feeling a new surge of determination course through her veins as she instinctively reached for both Bill and Eddie's hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "And we'll keep that promise."
Eddie and Ben nodded, though neither looked particularly happy about it. But they swore.
And a Loser always kept their promises to one another. No matter what. That's just how it was.
Bev coughed once to clear her throat and quell the frog that had formed in her throat and she tossed her red hair over her shoulders. "Well…we can't stay long," she mumbled, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as she felt Ben's gaze. "But we just…wanted to stop in and make sure you were okay before going home."
Eddie nodded tiredly. "They're saying I can go home in another day or two, but they want to keep me overnight for a few days to make sure nothing else is wrong," he breathed, his fingers curling into tight fists over the heated blanket one of the nurses had draped over his lap. "It was awful," he said, shuddering.
Bev knew this was an already sensitive subject, and she didn't want to pry and make things worse for the young man, but her curiosity was just killing her now.
Besides, her conscience reasoned. Maybe talking it over with me will help….
"What happened?" Bev encouraged gently, not unkindly, seeing how Eddie was fumbling to reach the glass of ice water that was perched on his nightstand, immediately reached out a hand and gave it to him. "Can you tell you tell me?"
The college student gave a meek little nod after swallowing a few sips of water through the straw in the glass. "I did what he said, Bev," Eddie said in a tiny voice.
"What did he do?" she pressed, careful to mind her tone. Of course, she wanted Eddie to open up and talk about it in his own way, but she also wanted the truth.
Eddie blushed and looked down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "Anyways, I—I did what he told me to. I ran at first, tried to fight him, but he was stronger."
Bev noticed how Eddie's voice was weaker than normal, almost strained. She met Eddie's gaze and noticed how scared his eyes looked, darting this way and that. Almost as if Eddie expected Pennywise the Dancing Clown himself to pop out from behind the hospital room's door, or out of the bathroom or closet or something. Eddie stuck out his lower lip in a slight pout and continued.
"I—I tried to get out to find you and Ben, but I got lost. It's those goddamned sewers. It's like a maze down there!" Eddie cried, growing increasingly upset.
"What happened after you stopped resisting?" Ben urged, his hands drifting towards Bev's lap and settling there. Eddie noticed the gesture but said nothing.
"He hit me over the head with something sharp," Eddie continued, wincing, and as if the very recollection of the memory itself had caused his head to hurt, Eddie felt his hand instinctively wander of its own accord towards the back of his skull. It really fucking hurt.
"I fell down the floor trying to get to you guys. Into the sewers." He gagged at that memory but fought back the urge to be sick, thinking of the filth and germs that were down there. He—he was gone by the time I woke up a—and I don't know how I managed to get out, b—but I did. I'm glad I ran into you two when I did or we all would have been fucked, guys."
Ben and Bev exchanged a wry sad smile and nodded. "We're glad you found us too, Eds."
"Thank you for telling me what happened," Bev said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "You can always talk to me, Eddie. You know that. Now, or later."
Eddie smiled and gave a curt nod. "Thanks," he sniffed. "I'll keep that in mind." But Bev knew by the look in the young man's dark brown eyes. There wasn't going to be a next time. Eddie wanted just as much as Bev to try to forget these last five days had ever happened. They'd all been through so much. They were done here.
"I'm so sorry," Bev soothed, reaching out a gentle hand and giving Eddie a light pat on the shoulder. "No one should ever have to go through what you did."
Eddie blearily lifted his chin, jutting out slightly defiantly to meet his gaze.
"You did," Eddie pointed out rather bluntly, and Bev flinched, blushing.
"Ah…well…that's—that's not what's important right now," Bev stammered, immediately trying to steer the conversation towards a more pleasant direction. Bev didn't want to talk about what had happened to her. Not for a while. Her uncle had already made her an appointment with a therapist to meet with her at their house sometime early next week, Greg had painstakingly told her. She didn't really want to go through these sessions, but if there was the slightest chance that they would help her get to the bottom of what she was feeling… well, then she would do it. Bev heaved a heavy sigh as she noticed Ben tap his watch out of the corner of her eyes, signaling it was time for them to be on their way back home. "I'm afraid we can't stay any longer, Eddie, but don't be a stranger, 'kay?"
"Write to us from time to time, and if you ever make it back to Portland, we'd love to show you the area," offered Ben, helping Bev to her feet as they both made to stand. Bev let out another exhausted sigh as she grabbed for her purse, making sure to pinch the bottom of it with her thumb and forefinger to prevent the contents from spilling out. Ben noticed this movement from her and stifled back his urge to grin, opting instead to merely roll his eyes in good humor.
Bev chanced one last glance backward over her shoulder as she hovered in the doorway of Eddie's hospital room, and the ghost of a smile graced the edges of her lips. Eddie was already fast asleep, the little brown moose Bev had brought Kaspbrak as a Get-Well gift currently resting against his head, using the animal as sort of a prop to his pillow, a tiny smile on Eddie's pallid, ashen face as his head rested against the pillow.
Somehow, Bev knew. Eddie was going to be okay. Ben was going to be okay.
And so was she…
