The Space Between Us
Chapter 7 – Pitch Black
When Richie opened his eyes again, it was strangely dark. He frowned into the darkness, because weren't hospitals supposed to stay pretty well-lit all night long? Eddie could have turned off the lights in his room so that Richie could sleep better, but even the hallway beyond his door was pitch black. There weren't even any lights out there for the staff or the other patients who might be wandering the halls at this late hour.
Richie could only tell he was in the hospital because of the faint moonlight streaming in through his window, throwing weird shadows across the room. It highlighted the branches of the tree outside, forming claw-like patterns of light and shadow on the ugly pink and white linoleum floor. Richie could just make out the bedside table, some of the medical equipment beyond that, and the empty chair at his bedside.
The empty chair that Eddie had been in when he had fallen asleep. The one that Eddie said he wouldn't leave unless he had to go to the bathroom. That was it – Eddie was in the bathroom, and he would be back any second.
Swallowing hard, Richie tried to relax back against his pillows, but he still felt on edge. Why was it so fucking dark and deserted in a hospital? Where was everyone? Shouldn't there be at least a few staff members walking up and down the hall, running errands and checking on patients?
The hospital's current atmosphere vaguely reminded Richie of the movie 'Halloween II'. It had always his favorite film in the franchise, even though he had always known it was stupid given how dark and empty the fucking hospital had been throughout the film. Hospitals just weren't like that, even in the middle of the night.
But here he was, in a hospital that was apparently just as dark and just as silent. Just as eerily empty, like Richie might be the only person there.
"Eds?" Richie asked, his eyes going to the bathroom in the corner of the room. He sat up in bed, leaning forward to try and see the bathroom door just around the corner. But from his vantage point, he could see that the bathroom door stood open and it was dark in there too.
Had Eddie gone to use the bathroom in the hallway? Richie didn't see why he would, but maybe Eddie would come back any second now and make a joke about not wanting to use Richie's same dirty ass bathroom. Actually, Eddie may well be having panic attacks up the ass from having to use hospital bathrooms in the first place. Maybe he was out in the corridor, applying copious amounts of hand sanitizer and trying to calm himself down after the fact.
"Eds?" Richie called again, but only silence met his ears. Richie turned around on his mattress, his head beginning to pound in pain from his movements. He flinched and sucked in a breath, slowly reaching out for the call button hanging over the top corner of his mattress. Richie pressed it and waited.
Richie felt a little bit stupid for calling a nurse just because it was dark, and quiet, and weird, and he had no idea where Eddie was, but he wasn't sure what else to do. They had told him that if he needed anything at all, that was what the button was there for. Perhaps they would even know where Eddie had gone, because Eddie wouldn't just up and leave, would he? He had promised he wouldn't, and Richie didn't think Eddie would lie to him. Maybe he had just gone to get something to eat or drink. Maybe he had gone out to talk to Bill for a minute. Maybe the other Losers had arrived and he went to greet them, but he would be back soon either way.
Richie waited for what he thought was nearly a minute – surely enough time for a nurse to come and check on him by now – but still the hospital remained dark, and quiet, and unmoving. Pressing the call button again, Richie tried to remain calm and tell himself that he was just imagining things. Everything was fine and someone would be by shortly.
It was just his stupid mind playing tricks on him, which he was desperately trying not to think about. Trying not to think about whoever had come into his home – his and Eddie's home (he had to keep reminding himself of that fact) and had maybe tried to kill him. At least, that was what Richie assumed. Richie had surprised the burglar, and they didn't want to leave an eye witness behind, so they had tried to kill him. What if they found out that Richie had survived the attack and was recovering in the hospital? Sure, Richie didn't remember shit about what had happened, but the perpetrator didn't know that. Richie might even remember what did happen at a later date, so wouldn't the person want to take care of Richie once and for all when he had the chance?
"Hello?" Richie called, feeling his heart speeding up in his chest at the thought. "Is…is someone there?"
When still no one answered him, he pushed the blankets aside, but then froze in his spot. He had only been out of bed once since he had woken up, and that had been when a nurse had helped him to the bathroom. He had been very unsteady on his feet, which the doctor had reassured him was normal after the injury he had sustained and the fact that he hadn't been on his feet in several days. Richie didn't know if he should attempt to get up on his own or continue to press the fucking useless call button, which nobody was answering!
Richie let his feet hang over the edge of the mattress, staring down at the branches made from moonlight and shadow on the floor. He didn't quite want to put his feet down there, feeling almost like a stupid little kid again. When he had been about five or six, he had always been worried that if he got up in the middle of the night, the monster under the bed would reach out and grab him. He could remember scampering back and forth to the bathroom, hurrying back to bed and burying himself back underneath the safety of the blankets before the monster came out.
And in a way, it eventually did come for all of them in the form of Pennywise.
But this was a hospital and he was a fucking adult. Nothing was going to reach out and grab him, because It was fucking dead. Unless whoever had broken into his house had come and hunted him down, but Richie tried to push that thought from his mind as he lowered his feet to the floor. He was wearing those dumb socks the hospital had given him, the ones with the tread on the bottom, but he still felt the chill of the linoleum floor cutting through the thin material.
Richie leaned heavily on the mattress as he tried to push himself up. He gritted his teeth and strained against the wobbliness in his legs. They felt like they were full of jelly, and his head started throbbing even more as his blood started rushing through his body. Oh shit, he almost definitely shouldn't be up on his own, but he didn't know what else to do. He wouldn't have to be if someone would just check on him and tell him what was happening already!
"Hello?" Richie called again as he pushed himself away from the bed. His legs were shaking horribly, and he considered collapsing back on the bed and just waiting for someone to come to him. But he felt like he had waited long enough and no one was coming! There was no one here!
He stood rooted to his spot for a long time, willing his legs to support him, or at least stop shaking. It was the strangest sensation. It almost felt like his legs were asleep and would buckle under his weight at any moment. As carefully as he could, Richie shuffled his feet across the floor, the treads on the bottoms of his socks catching slightly on the floor as he went.
He made it to the door where he quickly reached out for the doorjamb. He gripped it tightly in shaking hands, slowly peeking out into the hallway. That was even more bizarre, because it was almost completely pitch black in both directions. He could just make out vague shapes in the darkness, but nothing concrete and he certainly didn't see any people.
What the fuck was going on?
"Is anyone there?" Richie asked, but his voice was shaking so much, he was pretty sure no one would hear him anyway. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he stepped around the doorway and out into the corridor.
He had no idea where he was even going, but he had to find someone. He desperately wanted to find Eddie, because for reasons he couldn't explain, Eddie was the only one who made him feel even halfway safe since he had woken up in the hospital. Richie supposed it was because Eddie was just his best friend, and even after years and years apart, things were still comfortable and familiar between them. That was the way Eddie always made him feel, and that was all Richie wanted right now, but he'd settle for any fucking doctor or nurse at this point. Anyone to let him know that he wasn't alone and that he was safe.
"Please," Richie said as he continued to amble down the hall, his fingers brushing up against the wall and the railings there as he went. His felt a little bit steadier now, but he still didn't entirely trust his legs to support him. "Will someone please answer me?" Richie asked into the darkness. "I woke up and…I don't know where everyone went."
Richie suddenly felt horribly stupid, standing in the middle of a darkened hospital, calling out like an idiot. Just why was it so dark and where had everyone gone? This couldn't possibly be a hospital, because things like this didn't just happen in them!
"I'm here," came a voice from behind Richie.
"Oh, shit," Richie gasped, turning around in his spot as quickly as he could. His legs shook as he did so and his head gave an extra hard throb, so he grabbed onto the wall in an attempt to steady himself. At first, he felt a surge of relief course through him at the thought that he wasn't alone any longer, but then it occurred to him that he was pretty sure he didn't recognize the voice that had spoken to him.
"Who…who's there?" Richie asked, his eyes darting around, desperately trying to pick out any kind of shapes in the darkness that was surrounding him.
Was it just him, or was it darker now than when he had first ventured out into the hall? Perhaps, because there weren't any windows here letting moonlight in. Richie had thought that his eyes would have adjusted to the darkness by now, but that didn't seem to be happening. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse.
"Who's there?" Richie demanded again, feeling his free hand drawing up into a fist. When Richie's questions went unanswered, his brief relief was replaced by terror, ripping through him like a lightning bolt. His legs felt wobbly all over again, his heart began pounding a hole through his chest, and there were pinpricks of sweat breaking out all over his skin.
"God, fucking answer me!" Richie shouted out, about at the end of his rope with this nonsense. Why was someone hiding in the darkness of a hospital just to play games with him? "Who the fuck is there? What's going on? Where is everyone?"
"It's just you and me, Tozier."
Fear continued to surge through him, and Richie was absolutely sure now that he had no idea who was speaking to him. It was a man's voice, but any recognition ended there. He ran through the doctors and nurses he had met thus far, but he couldn't pair any of them up with this voice. Meanwhile, if it was a member of the hospital staff, why were they standing in the darkness, speaking cryptically to him?
"Who?" Richie asked. "Fucking tell me who you are." Richie tried not to let his voice shake, tried not to let on how thoroughly terrified he was, but he was pretty sure he failed miserably.
"No, I don't think I will," the disembodied voice replied back. "See, if I did that, then we would have a big problem."
Was it Richie's imagination, or did he hear a faint chuckle following those words through the darkness? He wasn't sure, but then he heard footsteps echoing impossibly loudly in the corridor, in his ears. Richie took a few steps backwards in an attempt to get away from whoever was there, but he knew that in reality, he was doomed. If this person decided to come after him, Richie would be way too weak and unsteady to put up much of a fight or to even try and get away; if he couldn't even fight off an attacker in his own home when he was in perfect health, what hope did he have now? He had no idea where anything even was in this stupid hospital! He kept hoping that he would eventually be able to make out some signs in the darkness, but he couldn't see anything at all.
"You don't have to tell me who you are," Richie said, clinging to his next viable option. "Just leave me alone. That…that's all I want. I don't…I don't want to be hurt anymore." Richie could feel tears stinging at his eyes, and he tried with all his might to fight them off. It certainly wouldn't do any good against this perpetrator if he thought Richie was crying. This man would probably just think he was weak and laugh at him.
Even his words sounded stupid to his own ears. Why in god's name was he fucking begging like a little child? He should tell this asshole to just fuck off and leave him alone. On the other hand, however, wasn't that most likely what he had done at home? Yes, he could imagine having that sort of reaction, and he had just ended up in the hospital with a head injury.
"Just leave me alone," Richie pleaded again, despite his best efforts to contrary. He didn't feel like he could even force out any harsher words at the moment, because he was terrified. He was scared to death to swear and curse in front of this person, afraid of where he might end up as a result. He was even afraid to fucking move, to try and run away, because he thought he'd just fall over, and then he would be a sitting duck.
"Oh no," the man finally answered him again, and he was closer this time, even though Richie still couldn't see him. "You weren't supposed to wake up. Ever. So now I just have to put you back to sleep."
Those words finally got Richie moving. He tried his best to turn around, to start running away, but for all the good it did. Richie was shaking so much, he only succeeded in getting his feet tangled up in each other. The hallway tilted at an awkward angle before his hip and his palm slammed down hard onto the linoleum. His head erupted in pain again, and he let out a whimpered cry before closing his eyes against it. Richie began trying to dig his feet underneath him in an effort to stand up, but the treads on the bottoms of his socks only grabbed and then skidded weakly across the floor.
Oh god, it was happening. He was just like every stupid character in a horror who tried to run away and only succeeded in falling over. Richie could remember screaming at those stupid characters with the other Losers, telling them to get the fuck up, and here he was. Nothing more than fodder for a slasher villain. For Pennywise. For the monster under the bed.
A moment later, Richie could make out a big, burly, black shape in front of him, darker than the rest of the hallway around him, but he still couldn't make out any details. There was warm, putrid-smelling breath in Richie's face, and he cringed away from it. Richie let out a whine against it, but that only got him a laugh in response.
"Look at you," the man said. "Just a whimpering, crying mess lying on the floor like a little baby. You couldn't stand up to me in your home, and you're no match for me now. Just lie down and fucking let me put you out of your misery."
Richie let out a squawk of surprise when he felt something close around his throat. He was being pushed farther back down into the floor, but he wouldn't let this man just fucking kill him! He wouldn't!
Richie kicked his legs out, hoping that they would connect with at least some part of this perpetrator. However, he didn't feel anything on top of him at all; his feet just met with air and he only felt the pair of hands around his throat. He reached up with his hands, grabbing at the man's arms and digging his fingernails into his skin as hard as he could. The attack on him didn't cease, and Richie struggled for a breath against the pressure on his throat.
His vision was growing darker, even darker still than the hallway had been. Richie could see tiny pinpricks of pitch black floating into his field of vision, eventually growing to consume him – except for one thing. He could see the bright white of an LA Dodgers logo standing out in the blackness, almost like it was burning itself into his brain before the darkness overtook him completely.
Eddie fell into a fitful sleep at Richie's bedside that night. It was hard enough trying to sleep in a fucking chair as it was, but the hustle and bustle of the hospital didn't help in the least. Eddie eventually ended up leaning far forward in his chair, his head cradled awkwardly against Richie's mattress. His back was going to be killing him in the morning, but he would have to deal with it, because Richie needed him there. For Richie, Eddie would do it.
One of Eddie's arms was folded under his head, and he was gripping Richie's hand tightly with the other. If Richie woke up at some point in the night, Eddie wanted him to immediately feel Eddie's touch, to know that he was right there with him. That he hadn't left, because Richie didn't want him to.
Eddie didn't think he'd been dozing for very long when felt Richie's hand jerk inside his. Lifting his head up from the mattress and opening his eyes a crack, Eddie looked in Richie's direction, checking to make sure that he was okay. Richie whimpered then and at first, Eddie thought his pain medication was probably wearing off. But then Richie's hand was pulled out his entirely, and Eddie sat back in his chair, completely startled awake.
Richie let out an ear-piercing howl, somewhere between a scream and a cry. He began kicking at his mattress, his blankets and feet flailing around in the air as he did so. His hands flew up to his neck next, grabbing for something that wasn't even there. It almost looked like he was being attacked by some unseen force, and it took Eddie's sleep-clogged brain a few moments to figure out what in the fuck was happening.
"Rich!" Eddie cried out, immediately springing up off his chair and sitting down on the edge of Richie's bed instead. He reached out for Richie's hands, grabbing at Richie's wrists, but for all the good it did. Richie was still flailing and he tugged his hands out of Eddie's grasp almost immediately. "Oh, fuck, Rich, wake up!" Eddie said, much louder this time, laying his hands on Richie's chest.
Screaming again, Richie continued to thrash around, almost knocking Eddie off the bed in the process. He started to turn away from Eddie, apparently trying to get away, and Eddie was almost afraid that he would tumble off the other side of the bed.
"Richie!" Eddie yelled again, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders this time. He didn't want to scare Richie any more than he already was, but he wasn't sure how else to rouse him. Eddie gave his shoulders a shake and said, "God, Richie, please! Please wake up! You're having a nightmare!" Eddie was almost screaming on this last word, and that was what did it.
Jerking one last time, Richie opened his eyes, gasping loudly for air. His eyes were unfocused, however, darting across the room in confusion. He shot his arms out again, trying to push Eddie away, but Eddie kept his hold firm on Richie's shoulders. His hospital gown was soaked through with sweat, and his hair peeking out from underneath the bandages clung to his forehead in small clumps.
"Richie," Eddie said, more softly this time. "Richie, please look at me." Eddie let his hands drift up to Richie's face next, placing them softly on Richie's cheeks. "It's me, okay? It's Eddie. I'm here."
Finally looking in his direction, Richie continued to gasp loudly, his eyes wide. Eddie was sure he couldn't make anything out without his glasses on, but Richie at least recognized his voice, so Eddie kept talking to him.
"You're safe, okay?" Eddie asked, rubbing his thumbs gently across Richie's hot and tear-streaked face. "I'm here with you in the hospital and you're safe. I've been here all night, ready to stab anyone's ass that even attempts to lay a hand on you."
Richie's breathing had slowed a bit, but it was still coming harsh and loud. He stared up at Eddie unseeing, but then he gasped out, "Eddie?"
"Yeah, man," Eddie whispered. He lifted one of his hands from Richie's cheek, using his thumb to wipe at the tears that had formed under his eyes instead. "You were just having a nightmare. I've got you, and I'm not letting anything happen to you."
Against his better judgment, Eddie used his other hand to pick away the sweaty strands of hair that clung to Richie's forehead. It probably wasn't something that friends would do for each other, but Eddie was only trying to calm Richie down right now, and he thought that this would help.
Eddie wanted to get a cool washcloth from the bathroom, but he didn't dare leave Richie alone in this state. Instead, he grabbed a few tissues from the box on Richie's bedside table, using them to dab at Richie's sweat and tears.
Richie swallowed several times before he looked away, staring at the opposite side of the room. His closed his eyes momentarily before opening them again, frowning deeply.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Eddie asked, still trying to wipe at Richie's forehead with the tissues. "That…helps sometimes."
Richie shook his head, his frown growing even deeper. The corners of his mouth pulled down too, his eyebrows knit together. He threw his hand up, swatting at Eddie like a fly, causing Eddie's arm to fall away from his head.
"Talk to me, Rich," Eddie said quietly, wanting to reach out for him again, but holding himself back.
"What's there to talk about?" Richie asked, finally turning to face Eddie again. The expression on his face, however, was hard and drawn, something Eddie very rarely saw there. "I had a fucking nightmare. It's not a big deal, and I'm fine." He looked away again, his cheeks growing red, and Eddie could tell he was embarrassed.
Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but his voice died in his throat. He had been about to tell Richie that he didn't think he was fine, but in the end, he rethought his words. Finally, he settled on, "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You remember how terrified we all were of Pennywise, and that was okay. It's okay to be afraid. And…I just thought you'd feel better if you talked to me."
"Well, I won't, so drop it!" Richie snapped at him, turning over onto his side and away from Eddie fully.
Eddie tried not to feel hurt, but he found himself failing. He and Richie always talked to each other when something was bothering them, and they'd both agreed that their marriage was a lot stronger for it. Even if it was something dumb that was troubling them, they both knew that the other would listen patiently and without judgment. They didn't have any secrets between them and that was the way Eddie liked it. But then Eddie realized that Richie didn't remember they were even married; there was a big difference between what one would tell a best friend and what one would tell a spouse.
Staring down at the wadded up ball of tissues in his hands in defeat, Eddie fidgeted with his and Richie's rings that were still around his fingers.
"Is everything okay?"
When Eddie lifted his gaze, he saw that one of Richie's nightly nurses, Kurt was standing in the doorway.
"I heard some commotion," Kurt explained. "I wanted to make sure everything was all right in here."
Eddie noticed Richie's shoulder tense up, and Richie mumbled something indiscernible.
"He…he had a nightmare," Eddie said quickly, wiping at eyes, because he could feel tears springing to life there. "He…he's fine."
"Fine," Richie echoed, although he didn't sound fine in the least.
"Do you need more painkillers?" Kurt asked, stepping farther into the room. "Or maybe a sedative? If you're having trouble sleeping-"
"I'm not!" Richie snapped, only glancing at Kurt momentarily. He returned his gaze to the wall, seeming to curl in on himself. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled his knees up towards his chest.
"All right," Kurt replied, glancing at Eddie uncertainly. "The call button is there if you need anything at all. We're all right outside."
Richie made a scoffing sound, and Eddie had to contain the urge to ask what in the hell his problem was. Richie had just had what seemed like a pretty intense nightmare, but Eddie and Kurt were only trying to help him. They certainly didn't deserve to be snapped at. But then Eddie reminded himself that Richie had been through some traumatic shit in the past few days, and he really owed Richie the benefit of the doubt.
After Kurt had made himself scarce, Eddie placed a soft hand on Richie's trembling shoulder, but it was immediately thrown off. Oh god, Richie was shaking so much, and Eddie just wanted to hold him. He just wanted to hold him until Richie calmed down if Richie would only let him! Richie probably thought it was stupid and childish now, but he forgot about all the times they held each other when the other one was upset. It always helped them to feel better in the end.
"Richie," Eddie began, but he didn't get very far.
"Just let me sleep," Richie mumbled. "'M tired."
Eddie hesitated for a very long time, struggling between wanting to argue with Richie and following the doctor's orders of trying to keep him calm. As Eddie had already seen, the doctor had said that it wouldn't be that out of the ordinary for Richie to get agitated about various things as he continued to heal from his injury. If that happened, it was best to let Richie rest and come back to the subject at a later date, because that would be more conducive to his healing in the long run.
Eddie nodded solemnly, even though Richie couldn't see him. Shrinking away from Richie, Eddie sat back down on the edge of his seat and whispered, "All right."
Neither of them said anything else, and eventually, Richie's breathing slowed and evened out further. Eddie wasn't entirely sure if he had fallen back asleep or not, but he didn't quite care at the moment. Eddie got to his feet and meandered out into the hallway, not so much as giving a warning to Richie.
He knew it was horribly unfair of Eddie to be angry, but he couldn't quite help it. He was only trying to help Richie, and Eddie didn't quite think it was fair that Richie was getting testy and snapping at him. Eddie didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do in this situation, but then, he was sure that Richie didn't either. There was no rulebook on what to do when one's partner ended up in the hospital with a head injury.
Eddie reminded himself that Richie was just scared and confused, and he didn't need people to be angry at him. None of this was his fault, and he needed compassion and understanding more than anything right now. Eddie was trying, but he didn't quite know how to give that to him right now.
Picking at the wadded up clump of tissues in his hands, Eddie sighed as he made his way down the hall. He wasn't even sure where he intended to go. He couldn't quite leave Richie, even though he really secretly wanted to. Despite the fact that Richie didn't seem to want his company right now, Eddie had still promised him that he wouldn't leave. The fact that they were both feeling strange and awkward around each other now didn't negate that.
Eddie would just walk around the floor for a while and return to Richie's room once he felt a little bit calmer. But then Eddie saw a familiar face that made things feel marginally better.
"Ben," Eddie whispered, closing the last several feet between them. He stood on his tiptoes to hug Ben around the neck, feeling one of Ben's arms curl around his waist. "Thank you for coming. I thought you were leaving in the morning," Eddie said when they parted.
"I planned to," Ben said, "but I couldn't wait. Not once Bill told me exactly what was going on. I…felt like I needed to come as soon as possible, so I took the red-eye."
"Thank you," Eddie said again, still picking at the tissues in his hands, but then something else caught his eye.
Ben had a fucking stuffed clown of all things tucked under his arm. There was a bright red balloon that said, "Get well soon!" in white letters tied underneath the clown's arms.
"What the actual fuck," Eddie muttered when he saw it, but he felt his lips curling up into a smile at the same time.
"I saw it in the gift shop downstairs," Ben said, using his free hand to tug on the clown's patches of orange hair. "I couldn't resist. And I thought the clown might…you know, stir something." Ben suddenly frowned deeply and then he added, "If it doesn't scare the shit out of him first."
"No, he remembers the clown is dead now," Eddie explained. He wiped at his eyes again, not wanting there to be any errant tears from his words with Richie. He snorted and then said, "I'm sure he'll love it. Maybe it'll make him smile…which he kind of really needs right now."
Ben's frown deepened as he asked, "So he's not…I mean, is he okay?" Concern was ebbing at his voice.
"He's confused," Eddie said. "Scared. He…just woke up from a nightmare just a little bit ago, and…" Eddie paused, turning to look back in the direction of Richie's room. When he turned to face Ben again, Eddie sighed, planted his hands on his hips, and stared down at the floor in defeat. "He's so fucking irritable too, and…I don't know what to do to help him. He…he doesn't even seem to want my help right now."
"What did the doctors say?" Ben asked.
Eddie started walking down the hall a moment later, and Ben fell into step beside him. "Just to give him space when he does get angry and let him cool down. Which I'm trying to do, but…fuck."
"I know," Ben replied. "He doesn't get mad a lot. It must be weird."
"Fucking bizarre," Eddie agreed. "I've just never really had to deal with him like this, and…" He trailed off and stopped in his tracks, turning to face Ben again. "Is it awful to say that he isn't Richie? Because that's all I keep thinking, and I can't help it." Eddie buried his hands in hair, almost feeling the urge to rip it out by the root.
"No," Ben said softly. "It's not awful, because you're right – it doesn't like sound like Richie at all. But…that's going to get better, right?"
"I don't know," Eddie said miserably, shaking his head. "The doctor said it may, but there's no telling for sure. It's so unpredictable when it comes to head injuries, because no two are ever the same. They can't guarantee if he'll ever be the same again or not."
Ben, ever the voice of reason said, "Well, he just woke up, you know? I'm sure things will get better once he gets accustomed to everything that happened."
"Yeah," Eddie agreed, even though he didn't really feel it. "But there's still so much that he doesn't remember, and…" Eddie trailed off, diverting his eyes up towards the ceiling now. Like he was praying that everything would work out for Richie in the end. "But I'm getting ahead of myself."
"Bill said that he doesn't remember you two…?" Ben waved around his hand, not needing to finish his question.
"No," Eddie replied, "and no one is going to tell him." When he lowered his eyes to Ben again, he said, "I already explained it to Bill, but…I don't want him to be told that we're married. I…I don't know. I feel like it's better if he remembers on his own. Maybe that's a bad idea, but…" Eddie stopped, shrugging his shoulders instead of finishing his thoughts.
"I can understand where you're coming from," Ben agreed. He waved a hand in the direction of Richie's room. "He's still trying to process exactly what happened to him, and…we all know it's fucking terrifying to realize that there's shit about your life you don't remember. Especially big things like…who you're in love with."
"Yeah," Eddie said around a breath, looking up into Ben's kind and gentle face. He had almost been expecting Ben to react like Bill – to try and change his mind about keeping certain things from Richie – but that wasn't what he got at all. It was just nice to feel understood about something Eddie felt so strongly about. He wished he could find the words to tell Ben what that meant to him, but he could only smile in appreciation.
Eddie started walking again, still desperately wanting to put some distance in between himself and Richie, and maybe that was an awful thing to think too. When Ben began walking with him again, Eddie asked, "Is Bev still in Chicago?"
"Yeah," Ben told him, "and I'm fucking telling you, man, at least you didn't have to deal with jointly owning a company with your ex-wife. Bev is about ready to pull her hair out over this." Ben forced out a breath of annoyance. "She would just let Tom have the whole thing if it didn't mean so much to her."
"So he's still contesting the divorce too?" Eddie asked.
Ben nodded. "Yeah. Unfortunately. He's throwing around words like 'infidelity' even though we haven't even done anything. And we're not going to do anything until after she gets this sorted out, because the last thing he needs is more fuel on the fire."
"He's a whack job," Eddie said. "It sounds like he's just throwing shit at the wall now to see what'll stick, because he's pissed off that he's lost her. I thought Myra was going to pull the same shit. I'm still surprised that she finally relented and gave me the divorce I asked for when she realized how happy I was without her."
"Well, that's the thing," Ben replied around a sigh. "He doesn't want her to be happy, and at least Bev knows now that nothing about the way he treats her is loving. It's just abusive."
As awful as this was for Ben and Beverly, and as much as Eddie wished he could make things better for them, it was kind of nice being able to talk about something else for a while. Eddie had done little else but think and stress about Richie's condition for five fucking days, but it already felt so much longer than that.
Eddie might have thought that he had been living at the hospital for a fucking month already if he didn't have the date on his phone telling him otherwise. It felt like forever and Eddie wondered if and when this nightmare would ever be over.
Richie had momentarily pretended to be asleep so that Eddie would leave him alone. Now that Eddie really had left his room, Richie wasn't sure that he had done the right thing. He hated lying there alone, curled up in his blanket in the damn fetal position like a little child. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted – to be left alone – and now his own pride had forced it upon him.
It wasn't that Richie didn't want Eddie around, because he did. He wanted Eddie there desperately, because there was nothing else in the world that made Richie feel as safe as Eddie did. But when Richie had woken up to realize that he'd had a stupid nightmare, he didn't exactly feel like Eddie should be coddling him either. It was just a nightmare after all. People had them, and then they went back to sleep. Richie was a grown man, and he didn't need Eddie holding him and brushing his hair away from his face until he calmed down.
Richie Tozier could do those things himself, thank you very much.
Except he couldn't, because here he was, lying in his bed alone and shaking like an idiot. His eyes kept shifting towards the door, waiting for either Eddie to come back or…someone else entirely. Despite Eddie's and the doctor's reassurances to the contrary, Richie was still convinced that whoever had done this to him was going to come back and finish the job. They had to, didn't they? Just like in his dream, Richie didn't think that a burglar would want to leave a fucking eye witness behind. Richie was just too much of a liability at the moment, but he tried not to think about that. About the fact that someone out there had very likely wanted him dead and wouldn't rest until that job was done.
Rubbing at his eyes harshly, Richie desperately tried to think about something else. But even that didn't help, because everything he had to think about was only a reminder that his life was a fucking disaster at the moment.
The other thing at the forefront of Richie's mind right now was a question the doctor had asked him earlier – What's the very last thing you can remember before waking up in the hospital? Richie kept trying to answer that question himself, but he couldn't quite do it. There were a few bits and pieces here and there, but nothing concrete. Richie could vaguely remember getting a phone call from Mike. Throwing up over a balcony. Something about fortune cookies and a token from the Capitol Theater. Eddie getting stabbed by Bowers and then returning the favor. Going back down into the sewer. A Pomeranian in a fucking closet. And then that giant fucking spider clown that Richie thought he could remember shriveling up, but he wasn't quite sure. All he had were Bill's assurances that It was dead, and Richie supposed that that was all that really mattered.
But then – and this was the most terrifying thing of all – everything went disturbingly blank after that. He didn't even remember leaving the sewer, almost like he had died down there instead and he was now living in his own personal hell.
Eddie said that he and Richie lived together now, but Richie had absolutely no memory of that either. It felt like there was a giant black hole in Richie's brain that was swallowing up everything around it, and there was nothing Richie could do to stop it.
Did they live in Richie's old apartment or had they gotten a bigger place? Richie assumed so, because his apartment had only been one bedroom. Eddie living with him at all was one thing, but it would have been a cold day in hell before he ever shared a bedroom with Richie. Eddie almost certainly would have killed him already out of pure frustration.
All of a sudden, Richie found himself absently rubbing his left thumb over his ring finger. His hand felt bizarrely naked and he really wasn't sure why. He pulled his hand away from his face and looked at it like something was missing, but he had no clue what that could be. He never wore any jewelry, and he was pretty sure he didn't even own a ring, so what on earth was he looking for?
Richie felt like he was losing his mind, but at the same time, something felt like it was just out of reach of his memory. He kept getting the sensation that that memory would hit him, that something would hit him, like a strange sense of déjà vu, but it didn't. It stayed there, hidden in the black hole of his mind, irretrievable even though it felt so very, very close.
It was like an itch he couldn't scratch.
Turning over onto his back, Richie flinched at the bolt of pain that flashed through his head. He was on the verge of calling the nurse back and asking for more pain meds, but he would hold off on that for as long as possible. Richie was terrified of falling asleep, of having another nightmare like the one he'd just had, and he wondered if those pain meds had made him extra sleepy. He could remember fighting off the urge to sleep when Eddie had been sitting there with him and then…nothing. Like he had literally been knocked out with something pretty fucking powerful.
Staring up at the television mounted in the corner of the room, Richie saw that opening day for the LA Dodgers was coming up this week. Richie didn't really care, because he never watched sports, but he stared at the news just to try and take his mind off of everything else that was floating around inside it.
When the camera settled on a close-up of one of the players, Richie's stomach suddenly clenched in on itself. There was nothing in there, because it had been quite a while since the hospital had served him dinner, but Richie could feel the familiar burning sensation rising up in his esophagus. Richie couldn't quite understand what was making him feel sick, because he didn't hate sports that much; he was just indifferent to them.
But the news program kept hovering on the one Dodgers player, on the pristine white shirt with the numbers and his name written across the back in blue. On the bright blue hat with the logo emblazoned across it in bold white lettering-
Richie sat up straight in bed like a bolt of lightning was coursing through his veins. Another wave of nausea swept over him, and Richie desperately looked around the room for a garbage can. The ugly pink receptacle sat in the opposite corner of the room, and Richie knew there was no way he was going to reach it in time.
Richie had to settle for leaning over the edge of the bed and vomiting up saliva and stomach acid all over the floor.
To be continued…