Author's note: I apologize for the wait on this chapter. I was a little bit unsure about the events of this chapter at first, so I worked on my other ongoing story, Brave while I decided on the plot here. And then life happened and my beloved seventeen-year-old kitty fell ill and passed away, which has been very hard and understandably killed any inspiration I had. Needless to say, it's been a very rough holiday for me and…just fuck 2020. It's been such a struggle getting back into writing, but thank you so much for being patient and for your continued interest in this story! Rest assured that I will keep working on this story, even when there might be longer breaks in between updates. I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

The rest of this story will be dedicated to my sweet kitty, who was the bestest writing buddy in the world and would sit with me while I was writing to make sure I wouldn't stop and get up!

Beethoven
My sweet baby boy
June 23, 2003 ~ December 17, 2020
When I needed a hand, I found your paw

The Space Between Us
Chapter 9 – Homecoming

Eddie's hands were shaking as he reached up and removed his and Richie's wedding picture from the wall. He set it down on the table in front of him and stared at it for a very long time. He let the pad of his thumb drift across the glass, over his and Richie's hands clasped tightly in the picture, over their wedding rings shining brightly in the setting sun.

A moment later, Bill joined him from the back bedroom, carrying a few more of Eddie's pictures with Richie. "Do you want these put away too?" Bill asked, joining him at the table in the hallway.

The pictures in question were from Richie and Eddie's various visits to landmarks around California – one from the Santa Monica Pier, another from the Golden Gate Bridge, and the third from their most recent trip to Clear Lake. Eddie took them from Bill, his fingers tightening around the frames so much, his knuckles were turning white.

"There's nothing romantic about these pictures," Bill offered helpfully, indicating the pictures in Eddie's hands. "I think you'd be safe leaving them out."

It was true; unlike their wedding picture, Richie and Eddie simply had their arms slung around each other and were grinning at the camera, just like friends might do. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that they were in a romantic relationship together.

"I don't know," Eddie muttered, setting the three smaller frames on top of his wedding picture on the table. He pressed his palms over his face and rubbed his eyes.

Eddie was so fucking tired and making even the simplest decision felt overwhelming to him. On the one hand, Richie was doing so much better than he had been physically, and the doctors were more than confident in sending him home. Richie, however, was still prone to anxiety and panic attacks over what had happened, which in turn made Eddie's own anxiety shoot through the roof.

Eddie was trying so hard to be strong for Richie. He knew that none of this was Richie's fault, and he didn't blame him in the least for what he was going through, and the last thing he wanted was for Richie to think that he was making Eddie's own anxiety worse. In the end, it got to be exhausting, trying his best to remain strong when Eddie felt anything but. It was the rare times like these, when Eddie took some time away from Richie, that his emotions threatened to overwhelm him completely; even doing something simple like making a dumb decision for himself felt like enough to push Eddie over the edge.

Just then, Bill placed his hand on Eddie's shoulder, gripping it tightly and then letting it drift down toward the top of Eddie's back. He traced small circles over the back of Eddie's shirt, offering as much comfort as he knew how.

"Remember what the doctors said," Bill told him. "It's going to help Richie in the long run to be reminded of things he's forgotten. Maybe it would be better to leave these out for him." He ran his fingers over the white painted frames of the three pictures in question. "You guys had good times together."

All at once, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, unable to continue staring down at the pictures before him any longer. His eyes burned with tears that threatened to leak out of his eyelids and it was everything he could do to keep them from falling.

"Come on," Bill said, wrapping his arm around Eddie's shoulders and pulling him closer.

Eddie leaned against him, letting Bill wrap him tightly in both his arms. Eddie turned and pressed his face into Bill's shoulder, hiding his eyes there while a part of him wished that it could make the world around him disappear. At least for a little while.

"I told you, he still loves you," Bill said firmly. "Nothing is going to take away his feelings for you. Ever."

"I just wish-" Eddie broke off with a sob, pulling away from Bill and quickly trying to wipe the tears away from his eyes. He turned his head, catching a glimpse of the pictures again before he continued. "He's forgotten so much, you know? I…I think that's what hurts the most right now. That he doesn't remember all of the good times we've had together. That he doesn't remember our wedding. Even if he does still love me, do you think he'll ever remember all of this?" Eddie gestured towards the pictures, staring into Bill's eyes hopefully.

Bill let out a heavy breath and said, "I wish I could answer that for you. I can't even begin to imagine what it must feel like to not know what he may or may not remember." Bill paused, swallowing audibly in the quietness of the hallway. "But…even if he never remembered any of this, if he just took you in his arms one day, and hugged you, and kissed you, and told you he loved you – would that be enough? Because I think that's definitely in the realm of possibilities."

Those tears were back with a vengeance and this time, Eddie did nothing to stop them. They dripped down his cheeks as he nodded in response to Bill's question. "That…what I wouldn't give for that. Even if he didn't remember all of this-" Eddie paused, pressing his palm against the glass over his wedding picture, "-it would hurt. I'm not going to pretend that it wouldn't, but…I just want him. I want to be able to…love him the way we used to. The way…the way we woke up on that last morning before, and…just loved each other without even having to think twice about it. If we have to make completely new memories again together, so be it, but I'd just be happy knowing that nothing could make him stop loving me. Not even these fuck nuggets that tried to hurt him."

"Nothing could make him stop loving you," Bill said firmly, gripping Eddie's shoulder again. "Okay? I know that's hard to think about right now, but I refuse to believe for one second that you two won't find your way back to each other. I've never seen anything stronger than the love that you and Richie share, and that isn't going to go away. Just don't tell Audra I said that."

This caused Eddie to smile the tiniest bit. "I won't."

"These fuck nuggets certainly aren't going to take that away from you, okay?" Bill asked. "You and Richie are so much stronger than that. Don't let them make you believe otherwise. Please."

"Okay," Eddie whispered before something that Richie had said came rushing back to him. "Richie told me the other day that he felt like he could get through this as long as he has me. I guess…I feel that way too. We can do this together and…maybe we will find our way back each other." Eddie momentarily glanced at the pictures on the table again before he added, "In some form."

"You will," Bill told him. "You found your way back to each other after twenty years apart. Nothing's going to keep you apart now."

Just then, the alarm on the dryer beeped, and Bill said, "The sheets are done. Do you want me to get them back on the bed for you?"

"Can you?" Eddie asked, a pleading tone to his voice. He felt like he was asking so much of Bill lately, but still, Bill never made Eddie feel like he was a burden in any way. Bill had truly been by Eddie's side through all of this, and Eddie sometimes wondered what he had done to deserve friends like this.

With the knowledge that the assholes who had done this to Richie had ransacked their bedroom, Eddie made it his purpose to clean, wash, and disinfect every single surface they might have touched. That included washing all clothing and bedding items as well as wiping down everything else in the room. It infuriated Eddie to know they had come into his and Richie's private sanctuary and gone through their things. Knowing that every trace of the perpetrators had been wiped away at least helped him to feel a little bit better.

As it was, however, Eddie didn't quite think he could go about putting the sheets back on the bed he shared with Richie. The bed he had shared with Richie but wouldn't be any longer. Eddie had begun moving some of his things into the spare bedroom under the guise that that was the room he used and slept in since moving in with Richie.

It was strange, to say the least, attempting to inject some sort of life into the second bedroom. They had never done anything with it in terms of decorating, not like they had to the master bedroom. They had painted the walls in the master bedroom a soft sky blue and had hung deep navy blue curtains over the windows. Not to mention, there were pictures along the walls and littering the surfaces of the tables and dresser. Eddie had a bunch of his books laying around and Richie's notebooks were everywhere, because god forbid he think of a joke and didn't have fifty million pieces of paper to write it down.

The spare bedroom, on the other hand, was devoid of any of those touches. The walls were still pale white and plain blinds hung over the windows. They hadn't hung up any pictures or brought in any of their own personal items here. Not like they had with the rest of the house.

Eddie now brought some of his books into the second bedroom as well as one of the pictures of him and Richie that he had decided to leave out. Eddie moved some of his clothes as well, shoving them into the dresser that already held some of his workout gear. He only hoped that Richie wouldn't question the fact that most of Eddie's clothes were still in the master bedroom. Truth be told, Eddie was too tired to even attempt to move every single one of his belongings, so this would have to do. At least the master bedroom was much larger and had way more closet space than the spare bedroom, so perhaps Eddie's things being in the former wouldn't look too out of place.

Actually, the only thing that Richie probably wouldn't buy was the fact that his own laptop was in 'Eddie's' room. Richie had habits that were a bit out of the ordinary. He would sometimes stay up until all hours working on material, and he would often get up in the middle of the night when the inspiration happened to strike him. There was no way in hell Eddie would tolerate Richie clicking away on his laptop at ungodly hours when he was trying to sleep, so why would he let Richie work in his room at all? It didn't make any goddamn sense and Richie would know that immediately.

But still…Eddie couldn't bring himself to move or even touch Richie's laptop. It was one of the very last things he had touched before half of his memories had been stolen from him, and Eddie felt like it would be wrong to put it elsewhere. It still sat there, open on the desk in the corner just as Richie had left it, and that was the way it would stay for him.

A tiny part of Eddie felt the urge to sit down at the desk and wake up Richie's computer. To take a look at the very last thing he had been working on before everything had been ripped away from them. But no. That was for Richie's eyes only. At least for right now. Eddie was always the first one to read Richie's material anyway, but that was only when Richie was at least somewhat happy with it. Richie was the only one to see his first drafts, and Eddie would respect that.

That was when Eddie glanced down at his hands and realized that his and Richie's wedding rings were still on the ring and index finger of his left hand respectively. Richie hadn't seemed to notice them yet, but he had so much more on his mind right now than what jewelry Eddie happened to be wearing. Eddie ran his right thumb over Richie's ring, wondering if it was time to remove it, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do that either.

Eddie thought back to that night in the emergency room when he had first been allowed to see Richie after the attack. He had fished Richie's ring out of the plastic bag the emergency staff had shoved it in and had settled it on his index finger where it sat perfectly. Eddie had told Richie that he was going to wear it and keep it safe until he could put it back on Richie's finger. None of the most recent turn of events changed that. Not Richie's memory loss or the fact that he didn't even know they were married. Eddie was going to keep Richie's ring there, and if Richie happened to notice it at some point, then Eddie would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Two of their most important material possessions were their rings, and Eddie wanted to keep them exactly where they were, consequences be damned. Who the fuck knew? Maybe even seeing the rings on Eddie's fingers would spark something in Richie's memory, because the doctors seemed almost positive of that fact.

In fact, it seemed as if everyone was sure of these things except for Eddie.

When Eddie entered Richie's hospital room nearly an hour later, Richie's face immediately lit up. Ben, Beverly, and Mike were seated around his bed, but it seemed as if they didn't even exist to Richie; his eyes were fixed only on Eddie.

"Eds," Richie said quietly, smiling warmly. "You came back."

"And our company isn't good enough for you anymore?" Beverly asked good-naturedly. "We fly halfway across the country to see you, and this is the thanks we get."

"You're only one step above my shadow out there," Richie replied, gesturing to the guard that the police had posted outside his door.

The daytime guard, Adam was nice enough, but he was there for one reason and one reason only – to provide protection for Richie. He remained outside Richie's door and followed Richie whenever they made him take a walk around the hallways to stretch his legs and monitor his mobility. Despite Richie's numerous attempts to engage the man in conversation or even get him to laugh or crack a smile, he never got very far. Adam was simply more interested in keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, which Eddie appreciated; it meant he was serious about his job and was trying to limit any distractions, but he just wasn't the sort of person that Richie would pick to hang out with. God forbid someone didn't fall over in laughter at every crack Richie made, or at least banter with him over it.

Eddie thought the police protection had been nice while it lasted, but Richie wasn't keen on the idea of continuing it once he went home. He said it would be weird to have a virtual stranger around their home. Eddie didn't necessarily disagree with that, but at the same time, he liked the effect that the guards had on Richie; he seemed a lot calmer and relaxed whenever they were around. Eddie wasn't sure what would happen once they went home, but Detective Bannerman reassured them that any time Richie changed his mind, the police protection could be reinstated. At least they still had the option there if they wanted it.

The thought of Richie perhaps being home alone scared the shit out of Eddie. Eddie had managed to take some time off of work while Richie started his healing, but he'd have to go back sooner or later. The other Losers were going to stay in town for a while and help out for a while, but they'd eventually have to go back home as well. What would Richie do if something happened when he was alone?

Since Richie was still prone to panic attacks, who would be there to hold him and talk to him while he calmed down? What if something happened with Richie's injury, and there was no one there to help him? Even though the doctors said it was perfectly safe for Richie to return home and even be on his own at times, Eddie was still terrified that something, anything could happen to him.

Meanwhile, Richie was scared to death that whoever had done this to him would come back to finish the job. All the more reason for the guard to remain, but Eddie wasn't going to try and change his mind. He knew that what Richie needed now more than ever was to feel supported and like his feelings were valid; if he didn't want a guard hanging around the house, then Eddie would respect his wishes.

Eddie had gotten the lock on the door fixed and changed, and had the locksmith check the locks on all the windows. The house was as secure as he could make it on such short notice. Eddie really wanted to look into getting cameras set up around their property, but that would do fuck all if the assholes who attacked Richie decided to come back. They would be caught in the act, sure, and have pictures of the perpetrators to aid in the investigation, but they wouldn't do anything for Richie in the moment.

More and more, Eddie kept coming back to the fact that Richie had wanted a dog all his life. Perhaps an animal companion would help with Richie's anxiety, and provide them with a little bit of reassurance when Richie was home alone. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that Eddie would be stressing out over dog shit, and dirt, and germs, maybe it would help with his anxiety too.

But he would keep that information to himself until he decided for sure. He didn't want to get Richie's hopes up if Eddie ended up changing his mind again.

"I promised I'd come back," Eddie said reassuringly, quickly going to Richie's bedside. He reached out, letting Richie thread their fingers together, which they had been doing more and more over the last few days.

Whenever Richie seemed like he was getting the least bit scared or upset, he almost always reached out for Eddie's hand if they weren't already touching. It was such a simple gesture, one that they had already engaged in hundreds upon hundreds of times during the course of their relationship, but they both seemed to find it comforting nonetheless. Despite the fact that their lives had been turned upside-down, at least their need to touch each other never seemed to waver. That was what Eddie wanted right now – to feel some sort of habit and consistency in the whirlwind that had upended their lives.

"I was just getting things ready for you at home," Eddie continued. "Making sure things were clean, and put away, and…making sure there was food in the cupboards, since I haven't been there in days." Eddie sniffled before he added, "And we brought you a change of clothes." Eddie held up the small gym bag he had in his free hand and said, "Unless, of course, you want to wear that ugly ass hospital gown home from the hospital."

Richie's face didn't quite morph into a smile like Eddie thought it might; instead, Richie's expression turned into one of almost-pain which Eddie was coming to recognize as a signal that Richie was remembering something. Something buried deep down in the depths of his mind that was now rushing to the surface.

"Wait a minute," Richie said, recognition flashing across his field of vision. "You told me that the hospital gown was an improvement over my regular wardrobe. You said you wanted to see if I could get a couple. Now you're changing your mind. I knew you loved my Hawaiian shirts, you liar." Richie snorted and shifted on his bed, completely unaware of what he had just said.

"Rich…" Eddie gasped out. He shook his head, because he couldn't quite believe how easily some of Richie's memories seemed to be coming back to him. And Richie didn't even seem to realize it – like it was an automatic action, like breathing or blinking. "I told you that when you were in a medically-induced coma. You…you remember that?"

Richie blinked up at him, like he didn't quite believe what Eddie was telling him. "Yeah," Richie replied. "I…you really said that while I was sleeping?" He squinted in thought, like he was trying to figure out some complicated math problem.

"I did."

Falling into silence, Richie stared off at the far corner of the room, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

It was perhaps a good thing that Richie had chosen to be quiet for once in his life, because Eddie's thoughts were running rampant. Eddie had said a lot of things while Richie had been asleep, talking about their wedding and their relationship most of all. If Richie remembered some off-hand remark about his clothing of all things, Eddie couldn't help but wonder what else he may remember.

And what he may think about it.

The rest of the Losers proposed a small welcome home party at Richie and Eddie's, but Richie had ended up declining. He said he was tired and he had a headache. Honestly, Eddie was glad. He thought it was going to be a lot for Richie coming back to a home that he didn't even remember, and it was probably best for him to take it easy on his first night out of the hospital anyway. There would be all the time in the world for parties later.

"Do you want to get some takeout?" Eddie asked as he steered his Cadillac through the streets. "Anything you want, my treat."

Richie didn't answer right away, but then he said, "I don't know. I'm…not really all that hungry. I'm mostly tired. Maybe just some soup or something later?"

"Okay," Eddie whispered, even though something about Richie's tone made him feel uneasy.

Maybe he really was remembering something else that Eddie had said while he had been asleep, and he didn't know what to do with that information. Perhaps he was realizing that things that had happened during his medically-induced coma hadn't necessarily been a dream or the product of his head injury and pain meds.

"You hate takeout anyway," Richie said.

It was true; it was so hard for Eddie to find healthy places to eat at, let alone a menu that accommodated his diet and allergies. It was just easier for him to buy and make everything where he could be sure of the things going in his body. But for Richie, Eddie would make a sacrifice every now and again.

Like the night of Richie's attack when Eddie had stopped at that Mexican place to make up for being so late getting home. To make up for the fact that he wasn't home when some assholes were trying to bash Richie's brains in.

"Sometimes," Eddie responded, "but it's not everyday you come home from the hospital."

"I guess." Richie diverted his gaze to his window and didn't say anything more. Didn't even seem to want to look at Eddie during the rest of their ride home.

Eddie kept furtively glancing over at his husband, desperately wanting to reach out for his hand. They did that a lot – drove with one hand while holding hands over the console. It was everything Eddie could do to keep his hands to himself, so he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

When Eddie pulled into their driveway, Richie still hadn't said anything more. He was sitting and staring at their front door like he had never seen it before, his hands twisting into what looked like a painful ball, and that hurt Eddie's heart.

"Remember this at all?" Eddie asked tentatively, still straining to keep his hands on the steering wheel.

Richie shook his head miserably, then finally turned his gaze to Eddie. Richie was frowning deeply and truth be told, he looked miserable. Eddie only wished to god that he could do something for this man sitting next to him that he loved so very much. He would give anything to be going through this instead of Richie. His beautiful, amazing, loving husband who had never done anything to anyone. Except make stupid jokes about them.

"Maybe the inside will look more familiar," Eddie said, getting out of the car, because he was having a hard time sitting next to Richie and not touching him.

Not that they had shied away from touching in the hospital, but Eddie wondered if it was appropriate now that they were home. Maybe Richie wanted to try and stand on his own two feet now that he wasn't lying prone in a hospital bed any longer.

Eddie reached into the backseat, withdrawing Richie's gym bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Richie, meanwhile, had gotten out of the car as well and was staring at the house like the door might open and swallow him whole.

And then all at once, it occurred to Eddie exactly why Richie was so uncomfortable, and he felt like a major idiot for not realizing it sooner. This was where Richie had been attacked, and even if he couldn't completely remember the location itself, he may be having flashes of that night in particular. His anxiety was probably running rampant, even if he was trying not to let on.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Eddie hurried around the car and wrapped an arm around Richie's waist. He didn't know if he was overstepping his bounds, but Eddie wanted Richie to know that he was supported, pretenses be damned.

"I'm here," Eddie said encouragingly. "You're not alone and you're safe."

Richie let out a heavy breath and relaxed into Eddie a bit. Encouraged by this, Eddie tightened his grip around Richie, although he wondered if that was a bit too much. Richie, however, didn't protest and didn't pull away as they made their way up the steps to the front door.

Eddie's breath caught in his throat as he put his key in the lock, but he tried not to let it show. It certainly wouldn't help Richie's anxiety to know that Eddie was on the verge of having a panic attack himself. Truth be told, Eddie didn't ever think that opening the front door would not give him flashbacks to that night – opening the door to his husband lying in a pool of his own blood was probably one of the most horrific things he had ever witnessed.

Even more so than some of the shit that Pennywise had shown him, and that was saying something.

Eddie led Richie over the threshold, immediately reaching for the light switch with his free hand. Eddie really should have had the foresight to leave at least one light on, considering the fact that it was starting to get dark outside already. Coming home to a darkened house probably wasn't a good thing for Richie's state of mind right now.

Eddie only hoped to god that seeing the place on the floor where he had nearly bled to death wouldn't bring any flashbacks to Richie right now. Richie just needed a place where he could feel safe, and the last thing Eddie wanted was for the home they shared to give Richie a panic attack right off the bat.

When light flooded the entryway, Richie blinked, letting his eyes adjust. He didn't seem to recognize it or be overcome with any sort of panic, which was both a win and a lose in Eddie's mind. Of course he didn't want Richie to be thrown into a panic, but he just wished that something, anything would look familiar to Richie.

"Recognize anything yet?" Eddie asked quietly, leading Richie into the hallway. Eddie took a moment to shut and lock the door, because that was the way he liked it, and probably the way Richie would like it from now on.

Richie shook his head again, turning back to watch Eddie's movements, like he was afraid to let the other man out of his sight. Eddie supposed he couldn't blame him.

"It's okay," Eddie said, placing a hand on Richie's shoulder. He led Richie farther down the hallway, gesturing to the living room on their right. "Do you want to watch TV for a while? We…we used to do that a lot."

Richie scrunched up his face before pressing a hand over his eyes. "My head really hurts. Can…I just want to sleep right now."

"Yes," Eddie said, "of course." He guided Richie through the hallway, past the point where Richie had been lying in a pool of his own blood, and into the kitchen. "Whatever you want, okay? Just say the word."

When Richie didn't reply, Eddie set Richie's bag down on one of the barstools. He unzipped it and started sorting through it, looking for Richie's pain pills. "Do you need your meds?" Eddie asked unnecessarily, because Richie was flinching in pain more and more.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Eddie said, withdrawing the bottle of pills and then getting a glass down from one of the cupboards. "The…your bedroom is through there," Eddie told him, gesturing to the hallway that led towards the back of the house. "First door straight ahead. Why don't you go lay down and I'll bring your meds in?"

Richie took only one step past the refrigerator before he froze in his tracks. His eyes widened before his breathing grew harsh.

Jesus, why was Eddie so fucking stupid? Why was he trying to make Richie do things before he was clearly ready? When he was still struggling so much?

"Oh, shit," Eddie said, immediately setting the glass and pill bottle down on the counter before hurrying over to Richie. "I'm sorry." He placed his hand on Richie's back again, rubbing small circles over the fabric of his hideous Hawaiian shirt. "Just…stay right there."

"Don't…don't make me go in there alone," Richie whispered, turning his wide-eyed gaze to Eddie. "It…it's dark. Anyone could be in there."

"No, I know," Eddie said, moving his hand to Richie's shoulder instead. He pulled Richie into his side, now rubbing his hand up and down Richie's arm. "Shit, I'm sorry I'm such an idiot. I won't make you go in there alone. Just tell me to use my fucking brain when I tell you to do stupid shit."

Eddie had been hoping that Richie would latch onto Eddie's attempt to make a joke, to get Richie to poke fun at him, but only silence met his ears. Richie was still staring straight ahead into the darkened hallway, almost like he might be remembering something, but not quite. The expression of his face was only one of abject fear, not of recognition.

"Here, wait here," Eddie said before slowly releasing his hold on Richie. His hands were trembling as he fumbled with Richie's pill bottle, opening it and shaking out two tablets into the cap. He then filled up the glass with water from the refrigerator before holding them out for Richie.

Richie robotically put the pills in his mouth before swallowing them and chasing them down with a gulp of water. He set the half-empty glass down on the island counter before turning to Eddie like he didn't know what to do next.

"Come on," Eddie said quietly, wrapping his arm around Richie again. He flipped the hallway light switch on before leading Richie back towards the bedroom. Richie's bedroom.

Eddie made a mental note about the way he still thought of the master bedroom as being 'theirs' or simply 'the bedroom'. It wouldn't do for Eddie to slip and make Richie question their sleeping arrangements. Or to catch onto the fact that he and Eddie used to share the same bed.

When they reached Richie's room and Eddie turned the lights on there as well, Richie stood staring at it like it was a fucking alien lifeform.

A tiny part of Eddie was terrified that Richie might remember something about their relationship. About the many times they had made love, and kissed, and touched each other so tenderly under the covers. At the same time, however, Eddie wondered what would happen if Richie did remember those things. Would he be terrified, disgusted by the possibility, or would he be thrilled by the idea like Bill had suggested? Thrilled by the possibility that he and Eddie had been in a relationship together.

Jesus, what if?

Eddie left Richie standing in the doorway and crossed the room to the bed, starting to pull the sheets down and fluff up the pillow. "Nice fresh sheets," Eddie said, "just came out of the wash this afternoon. That's always the best feeling, isn't it?"

Richie didn't reply but simply nodded his head at Eddie's words. A moment later, Richie reached out to start unbuttoning the Hawaiian shirt he had on – bright blue with orange and yellow tropical fish.

Dear god, why did Richie always choose these horrendous color combinations?

Richie only got halfway through the buttons before he unceremoniously pulled it off over his head and tossed it on the bed. Richie was left wearing black sweatpants and a pale yellow t-shirt, which he apparently decided to wear to bed. It was exactly what Eddie had intended, because he rather doubted that Richie even felt like changing his clothes in his current state. He toed off his shoes before sluggishly making his way over to the bed. He dropped down heavily onto the mattress, immediately lying down and curling up in the spot that Eddie had cleared for him.

Eddie pulled the covers up, tucking them tightly around Richie so that he'd feel as warm and safe as possible. Eddie gently sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching up to push a few strands of Richie's hair from his forehead.

"We'll have to check your bandages when you wake up," Eddie said. He gently patted his hand around the back of Richie's head, checking to make sure that the bandages weren't wet. Richie's bleeding had long subsided by that point, but they were under strict instructions to monitor Richie's injury closely for the next week to make sure that it stayed that way.

Eddie longed to run his fingers through the locks at the back of Richie's head, but that was something he could no longer do. The doctors had shaved that particular spot in order to clean up the wound, and there was no longer anything there for Eddie to thread his fingers through. Not to mention, the bandages were covering that particular spot anyway, so it was off limits for the time being. Eddie wasn't even sure if such a gesture would cause Richie pain or not, considering his headaches and pain there. Eddie just knew that it was something that had always seemed to comfort Richie in the past, and that was all Eddie wanted right now.

Richie slowly rolled over onto his back, staring up at Eddie. "Can…I mean…will you leave the light on?"

"Of course," Eddie replied, still fingering the locks of hair emerging from Richie's bandages. "The light isn't aggravating your headache?"

Richie shook his head slowly, softly, like the very movement was causing him pain. "No," he whispered, his eyes already drifting shut. "I…I don't want it to be dark."

"It won't be," Eddie said. "I'll keep it on. Promise. And I'll just be in the living room watching TV, okay?"

Richie's eyes flew open at that and he said, "You won't…you're not going to leave me here, are you?"

"No!" Eddie said in a harsh whisper, not wanting to exacerbate Richie's headache in any way. "No, I'll be right out in the living room. I just…want to watch TV for a little while and I don't want to disturb you. I'll be right out there when you wake up." Eddie pointed towards the bedroom door and added, "Through the kitchen and hang a left – the room we passed on the way in. Remember?"

Richie nodded sleepily.

"Unless I go to the bathroom," Eddie said. "That's right across the hall from the living room, okay?"

"Okay, yeah," Richie whispered, and he had started to slur his words. Either his pain meds where kicking in or else Richie was extremely tired and achy. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. "Yeah, don't piss on the floor, because I'm not cleaning up after your ass." There was a very small smile on Richie's lips as he fell into silence.

One of Richie's hands was laying on top of the blanket, which Eddie immediately wrapped his fingers around. It warmed his heart slightly to know that he and Richie were already coming to have new inside jokes with each other. Building new memories just like he had talked to Bill about that afternoon. That things between Eddie and Richie were slowly but surely returning to normal despite everything they had been through. Despite everything they still had yet to encounter in the coming days and weeks.

When Eddie was sure Richie had fallen asleep, he quietly got up from the bed and made his way back out into the living room. He sighed heavily as he sunk into the couch, immediately lying down and curling up much like Richie had done in their bed. In his bed.

Eddie had said that he'd wanted to watch TV for a while, but he didn't even have the energy to reach for the remote control on the coffee table in front of him. He simply closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing in order to calm himself, but for all the good it did. Sobs had erupted inside of him and were spilling out before he could scarcely even process it. Tears were streaming across the bridge of his nose and down his left cheek, soaking into the couch cushion beneath him. He could feel snot dripping down his upper lip too, but he didn't even care. Eddie was way past the point of caring about much.

He was just so fucking tired and he missed Richie. Fuck, he missed his Richie like he was sure he would miss air if he was trapped underwater. He missed being able to curl up with Richie under the covers and snuggle up to him. He missed kissing him and lying in his arms while they fell asleep together.

He missed the happy-go-lucky pain in the ass that he used to be married to, and a part of Eddie wondered if he would ever have that person back. And Eddie was pretty sure that was probably a really shitty thing to think about – how much Richie had changed and how much Eddie missed the old Richie.

Why was Eddie such a shitty husband? Maybe if he'd been better, if he'd been home like he wanted to be instead of focusing on his work, none of this ever would have happened to Richie at all. Richie would be safe, and happy, and whole, and they'd be lying on the couch together, snuggling and laughing at stupid shit on TV. Instead, Eddie was lying here alone, drenched in his own fucking tears and snot, and perhaps that was what he deserved right now. It was exactly what he deserved after what he had let happen to his beloved partner.

Eddie eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep, tossing, and turning, and wiping absently at his tears and snot as he continued to cry.

He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, but the next time he opened his eyes, it was completely dark in the room. The only light was from the hallway behind him and from the pale moonlight dripping in through the window and throwing itself across the carpet.

Eddie didn't even know what had awakened him. Had there been a loud noise of some sort that had roused him out of sleep? He thought so, but his mind had been too sleep-clogged to be able to register it properly. But then he heard it again, the same thing he knew had awoken him in the first place – an ear-piercing scream from the bedroom – Richie's bedroom. Eddie bolted up like a shock of lightning had gone through him, and a moment later, something crashed loudly, sounding like it had shattered to pieces on the floor.

"RICHIE!" Eddie screamed, stumbling over his own two feet like an idiot before he flew across the living room, rounded the corner, and barreled down the hallway.

Eddie's only thought was his husband and what in god's name he was going to find once he made it to Richie's room.

To be continued…