Note: A quicker update than before! This chapter actually ended up being a bit longer than I expected. If you've read the book (still haven't finished it, I still suck) or seen the 1990 movie, then bits and pieces of this chapter will be familiar, but with a slightly different take on everything. I apologise for any gross inconsistencies though! In this chapter, you're of course welcome to picture whoever you like for the characters! But in terms of writing them, I kept in mind (as mentioned before) the "future" versions identified by the cast of this year's film: Chadwick Boseman (Mike), Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Stan), Jessica Chastain (Bev), Chris Pratt (Ben), Bill Hader (Richie), and Jake Gyllenhaal (Eddie). For Georgie, as before, Julian Morris. Slightly-older-Bill, who made an appearance last chapter, is roughly around 18 or so, but basically just an older version of Jaeden Lieberher. Casting him as Christian Bale seemed a bit odd (obviously with this version as well), so I'll wave the AU flag and run away. Thank you again to everyone who left a review for the previous chapter! Seeing your reviews spurred me on to finish this chapter, knowing people were waiting to find out what happened next :) I hope you like this installment - look forward to hearing your thoughts! x
They were the first to arrive at the dinner, not accidentally.
Mike had wanted to make sure everything was in order, and that the reservation had gone through, and that it was all ready for when the others arrived. He'd also insisted on bringing the mysterious old bicycle with them, chaining it up in a side alley next to Jim's with a firm belief that one of their group would surely recognise it. George believed in Mike, he really did, but he was also beginning to sense a degree of instability in his old friend, grasping at straws in a desperate attempt to try and make sense of their strange fate, looking for anything that would in the slightest help them defeat the evil entity waiting for them in the sewers. And George wasn't foolish enough to believe that spending the last few decades in Derry wouldn't do that to anyone, especially those wise enough to know the threat of Pennywise.
Now, they waited in a small alcove room that Jim himself had set aside for them, the owner smiling warmly and remarking how Mike was one of his best customers and it was so nice for him to be dining in rather than leaving with the usual small takeaway boxes. They'd been given the best group area, George had figured out quickly, as it was styled in a very Mediterranean theme with paintings of Italian landscapes decorating the white-painted walls. It was separated from the general dining areas, and almost private. Which was good, because the things they would likely be discussing would be far from normal polite dinner conversation.
Mike was standing anxiously near a golden-tinted Madonna statue, clearly on edge as they waited for the others to arrive. He had been pretty confident that everyone should have made it to Derry by now, but he'd wanted to give them their space while they processed what it meant to be back here. This dinner was the first contact they would all have with each other. It had been Mike who organised the bookings for them all at the only decent hotel in Derry, The Derry Inn. George had checked in earlier that afternoon, before embarking on his nostalgic trip back to his old family house, but he hadn't seen any of the others there at the time. It almost seemed like destiny that they would each arrive at different times, alone, lost in their own slowly-returning memories.
"Do you think they remember where this place is?" Mike wondered aloud, nervous. "I didn't send the address..."
"Mike, everyone uses Google now anyway," George reassured him. "They'll be here, it's only five past the hour."
"But what if-"
"Mike," George repeated. "It'll be fine."
He was genuinely looking forward to seeing everyone, despite the situation they were in. The walk around the town with Mike had been fun overall, as they visited the sites that had been so important to them as kids. The old movie theatre, the pharmacy, the candy store... and then there were other places, like the wreckage of the ironworks or the god-forsaken shell of a house on 29 Neibolt Street. What a shame that no one had knocked it down and flattened it into the ground, in all these many years. It was in an even worse state now, and yet something, maybe the clown's magic, had protected it from being demolished and turned into something better.
"You ratbags," came a voice from the side, and George followed the sound to see a familiar cross-armed jokester shaking his head at the sight of Mike and George.
"Richie!" George smiled. "I feel like I'd know your sultry voice anywhere."
"And didn't you grow up handsome, you Denbrough squirt," Richie quipped, arms outstretched. George hugged him back, realising suddenly how much he'd missed the trash-talking of the group's potty mouth. The random thought that Richie could just talk Pennywise to death crossed his mind, almost making him laugh at the imagined showdown. Richie pulled back, and moved towards Mike.
"You nerdy old bastard, bringing us all back to this hell hole of a backwater to fight an all-powerful demon clown," he said, pulling the other man into a hug. "I hate you."
"Nice to see you too, Richie."
"No one's gonna believe me when I tell this story on air later," Richie said wistfully. "What a waste."
The Richie of the past was still there underneath his suave older exterior, echoed through every word he said. But the thick glasses were long gone, shed for contacts as soon as he was old enough to stop causing himself eye infections, and his hair was no longer the unruly mop it used to be. Instead, it was clearly and carefully styled to look messy, though every lock of hair was seemingly cut to exactly the planned length. Richie had become a successful talk-show and radio host based in Los Angeles, and it was obvious from his appearance and his understated but expensive suit that he was doing pretty well from it.
"Never believed a word you said anyway," came another voice, and the smirk accompanying it was clearly audible in the tone. The three of them looked to the doorway to see Eddie Kasprak, but he'd been minus the fanny pack and false medication for years, with the exception of his trusty inhaler which always sat as a comforting reassurance in his pocket. He looked dapper, in smart casual clothes and slicked back dark hair with only the slightest hints of grey above his ears. After all these years, he was no longer the shortest of the group and instead had grown to about the same height as George.
"I missed you guys," he said, his aloof demeanour dropping and his eyes suddenly a little watery. "Why did we fall out of contact for so long...?"
He crossed the room in a few steps, and embraced all of them at once, tightly. "I'd break my arm for the Losers any day."
"Don't get too keen," Richie said darkly, extracting himself. "You may live to regret that over-emotional promise."
"Promises are what got us here, after all," a wry voice remarked, belonging to a tanned and trim man leaning against the doorway. He was built in a way that clearly showed he worked out, with a nonchalant handsomeness and a playful gleam in his eyes. Though his outfit was somewhat casual with a blazer thrown on top to increase the formality, he exuded confidence and charm.
"No way... Ben?!" exclaimed Richie in disbelief, throwing his arms in the air. "You're more ripped than any of us, what is going on?" He grabbed the other man in a hug, to Ben's evident surprise as he staggered backwards a bit.
"There's nothing left of you to hug!" Richie chortled, fake-punching at Ben's stomach.
"Ah, a bit of eating better, getting fit, and growing out of my kid fat," Ben said, his cheeks a bit pink. "I don't miss the stomach, let me tell you."
He moved through the room and greeted Eddie and Mike, and then finally George.
"You look great, Ben," George said honestly. Ben smiled at him.
"Thanks, buddy," he said, embracing George. He, like the others, had never really grown out of seeing George as their adopted kid brother. "It's been too long."
They turned back to the others as the room suddenly went silent, looking to the doorway to see a beautiful red-haired woman standing there, apparently lost for words. There were a few long moments before anyone reacted, and then suddenly Eddie was almost tackling the woman.
"BEV!" he said joyfully. She laughed, hugging him back. Despite having been a similar height to them back when they were kids, Bev was now quite petite in comparison, easily a few inches shorted than Eddie and the others despite her heels. She was dressed in a floral patterned dress, likely of her own design as she'd long been a household name in fashion. According to Mike, who'd had to research all of them to make sure he contacted the right people, she had her own label now and was worth upwards of a hundred million dollars.
George glanced sideways at Ben, whose eyes were fixed on Bev and his cheeks even pinker than before. George smiled a little to himself. It seemed that crush on Beverly Marsh from all those years ago hadn't faded in the slightest. It actually made George a little sad, though, because he had gotten a vague feeling from Bev just before she left for Portland that she felt some of the same feelings for Ben. And yet here they were, so many years later, and the two of them had basically become like strangers again.
Bev finally reached the two of them, and stared at Ben, her light blue eyes wide.
"I know, I left half of me behind in New York," Ben joked sheepishly. She grinned at him and pulled him tight, her arms around him and her eyes closed.
"I missed you, Ben Hanscom," she said, quietly so that only Ben could hear, but George still managed to catch her words.
"You too, Bev," Ben said, returning the hug. There were heavy unspoken words between them, about the revelations they'd come across in the cavern while rescuing George that they'd never really been able to fully deal with. Ben remembered the day in the field before she left, her auburn hair glinting in the sunlight as they sat together. Then, when Bev had gotten up to leave, even though every bone in his body told him to run after her... he didn't. He let her leave, and it was one of his biggest regrets to this day. When Mike had called, it hadn't been the case that he didn't remember everything. Although he'd forgotten Derry, and their fight against Pennywise, he'd never forgotten the way he felt when Bev signed his yearbook, or the admiration he'd felt whenever he had been around her.
It would have been great if it had faded like the rest, but Bev never faded at all.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ben pulled back from Bev, looking down at the ground, and she moved on to greet George.
"You grew up so handsome," she said, ruffling George's hair affectionately. "I knew you would though, you were the cutest kid."
She was even more disarming than she'd been when they were kids, back when she was the fearless older sister George had always wished he had. He hadn't been awake to see it, but he knew from the awestruck stories of Eddie and Richie that she'd been by far the bravest and the most heroic down in the sewers. She'd even survived a direct encounter with Pennywise, and not been scared. He wondered if she'd changed over the years, or if she was just as brave as she ever was.
Up close, George noticed her left cheek looked red and a bit swollen, and was suddenly concerned.
"Bev, what-"
She hushed him quickly, shaking her head with wide and suddenly fearful eyes, glancing back nervously at the others. George frowned in confusion, but went along with her desire to not bring attention to her cheek. He resolved to bring it up with her later, in private.
"Well, are we eating or did I fly over for Derry's best pasta for no reason?" Richie demanded, gesturing at the table. It was a round table with seven places laid, a glass of water set at the side of each entree plate.
"Wait, but Stan isn't here," George pointed out. There were only six of them so far.
"You snooze, you lose," Richie waved his hand dismissively, taking a seat and biting into a bread roll.
"He'll probably be along soon, George," Mike agreed. "We can get started, it's already twenty five past."
Something didn't sit right with George though, as the others took a seat. Ever since that phone call with Stan, he'd been a bit worried and he wasn't sure why.
"I'll just duck outside and see if he's there," he said. Bev looked at him in puzzlement, not understanding his worry. None of them would, they hadn't heard Stan's voice sounding like it belonged to a stranger over the phone. He really hoped Stan had kept his promise and returned to Derry after all.
As he exited the front door, away from the warm interior and into the darkness of the outside streets, his eyes took a minute to adjust to the lower lighting. There were people walking past, dressed in thick coats, heading to whatever arrangement they had on this even. The street lights had come on, a mix of warm orange and icy cold white lights sprinkled along the main street. George had always preferred the halogen lights, for their false conveyance of warmth no matter how cold it was outside.
He looked to his right, where a bus bench was located, and saw a figure with a beanie sitting there, evidently waiting for a bus that would never come.
"Hey mate, the buses stop at 6pm during the fall," he offered helpfully, and the figure turned to look at him. He blinked in surprise.
"Stan?"
The look on his old friend's face was guilty, just like his voice had been on the phone.
"What are you doing out here? Everyone's inside, waiting for you."
"Ah..." he said, looking away again across the road. "I'm sorry, George."
George went over to the bench and took a seat next to Stan, looking at him worriedly.
"What's the matter?"
"I just..." Stan started, still not looking at him. "It's a lot, being back here. I wasn't sure how it would be, seeing everyone else as well."
George felt a little guilty himself, because for him everything so far had mostly been a brilliant reunion and he'd not really thought for a second that it would be anything but that. Denial was a powerful drug, it seemed. But for Stan it was clearly more than that.
"No, it's been great," George said truthfully. "Richie is up to his old antics, Eddie's so tall now, Bev's as amazing and beautiful as she ever was... Mike's still holding us together. Oh and you should see Ben!"
"I saw him on the cover of Time last year," Stan said, without cracking a smile. "For his architecture projects."
"Well, he's super fit in person," George insisted. He grabbed Stan's gloved hand, prompting a surprised look from the still curly-haired man.
"Come on, they'll want to see you."
He pulled Stan to his feet, and began towards the restaurant entry.
"Wait, George, I-"
George turned back to Stan, surprised at how pale his face was. It wasn't that cold outside, not yet. And the night had turned mostly cloudy, so the temperature would stay higher than normal.
"It'll be fine," George reassured him with a smile. "Trust me."
Stan didn't finish his sentence, but instead gave a small nod and allowed George to lead him inside. The group gave a big cheer when the two of them entered, Richie raising a glass already full with red wine. Stan smiled awkwardly, somehow still the same as ever, and greeted everyone with a reservation in his eyes that only George seemed able to detect. Probably, he was just nervous about seeing everyone again, George told himself, and squashed the worry about Stan from his mind as Mike filled his glass with merlot.
The entrees came without delay, a mix of antipasti and small servings of the famous pasta in different flavours that Jim's had become famous for. They all chatted and caught up and shared the stories of the different paths they'd taken since departing from Derry. Everyone clapped when they found out George was actually Dr Denbrough now, since completing his PhD a few years ago. Eddie revealed that he was working as a driver for celebrities in New York, most recently for one of the child stars of the Netflix show, Stranger Things. Bev had been in Tokyo at the time Mike called, launching a new line of fashion designing specifically for the Japanese market. Ben had just received an award for one of the buildings he'd designed, which he confessed that he'd dropped straight onto the floor after hearing Mike's voice at the other end of the phone call.
"So that was what that noise was," Mike realised aloud. They all laughed.
They continued chatting as a trolley with the main courses was wheeled into the room by a waiter, not really paying much attention. George was literally laughing out loud at Richie's story of being trapped in an elevator with Julianne Moore, when suddenly Beverly gasped and Eddie shrieked, and his laugh died on his breath.
He looked behind him, to where the waiter with the trolley had gone, to see none other than Pennywise, dressed in a waiter outfit complete with bowtie but the same cracked clown make-up as always, beaming at them all. Being the closest, George tried to stand up to face the clown, but Pennywise slammed his gloved hand in a downwards motion and George was forced back into his seat, held there tight by a invisible and almost painful force.
"Hi Losers," he sang, waving. "It's been a while."
George looked next to him at Ben, who was also struggling to get out of his seat, and he realised that Pennywise was holding them all locked in their seats. This was a new development, compared to the last time they'd faced the clown.
"Oh yes," Pennywise said, teeth showing. "My powers are a bit stronger this time around... so don't try going anywhere, it would hurt my feelings."
"What do you want, clown?" Richie demanded, only the slightest tremor in his voice.
"So brave, Richie, so brave," Pennywise smirked. He walked closer to George, his hand outreached. George winced as he got closer, but he just felt the gloved hand scruff his hair, before patting his head.
"Duck," Pennywise said, moving on to to Stan, getting really close to his face and inspecting it carefully. Stan was looking straight ahead, not at Pennywise, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Pennywise found what he was looking for - the scars his teeth had left on Stan's face all those years ago - and stroked them with delight. Stan shuddered, his eyes closing. George wished he could reach out to his friend, who was clearly the most affected by Pennywise's presence.
"Duck," Pennywise continued, drawing back from Stan and tapping him on the head. He got to Mike, and his eyes narrowed, his hand going around the man's neck.
"It's all your fault they're back," he hissed in Mike's ear, tightening his grip. "You should have left me be. You'll regret that."
He released Mike, who gasped for breath.
"Duck." He clouted Mike on the head, and everyone jumped in shock. Mike grimaced, but seemed otherwise mostly unfazed by Pennywise's hit.
"Duck, my dear Eddie," Pennywise said, reaching down and lifting the blue inhaler from his pocket. He tapped Eddie's head, shaking his own at the same time. "Still holding on to the myths your mother raised in you."
He dropped the inhaler on the table, and proceeded to Richie.
"I'm not scared of you, clown," Richie said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, but you made a career out of lying, didn't you, boy," said Pennywise, running a gloved hand down Richie's face. "I see everything, Richie. I know you're still terrified of clowns. Of me."
Richie's face crumbled a little, and he dropped his eyes, silent.
"Duck," said Pennywise, patting Richie's head with a cackle.
When he got to Bev, whose blue eyes flashed with defiance, Pennywise stopped. He almost looked a little disconcerted, George thought, but then he recovered with a malicious smile.
"I'd tap you, but then, didn't your daddy already beat me to it?"
Bev's face paled, and the defiance in her eyes faded, replaced with... shame? George's heart panged, seeing the look on her face at the reminder of her father. He hated the clown for the pain he brought so easily to people.
"Duck," Pennywise said, not tapping her head but instead waving his hands in her general direction.
"I guess that makes me the goose," Ben said coldly, still pulling against the invisible ties, glaring at Pennywise.
"Correct you are," Pennywise said, moving so that he was standing behind Ben, a gloved hand on each shoulder. He knelt down, so that his ghastly face was next to Ben's, and planted a kiss on his cheek. Ben flinched and lurched away, but was still held in place. A red smear was left on Ben's cheek, to all of their disgust. Pennywise laughed, shaking Ben in his chair as he did so, clearly enjoying this situation. Then suddenly, as quickly as he started, the clown froze with a strange look on his face, stepped back from Ben, and waved his hand so that Ben along with his chair was thrown backwards across the room and into the wall.
"Ben!" Bev cried. Ben groaned, slumped against the wall, the chair broken next to him. Pennywise clapped loudly, directing their attention away from Ben and back to him, where he was now standing again next to the trolley.
"I came here tonight for a reason, my dear old enemies," he said, wheeling the trolley out of the corner as he spoke. He began to deposit one plate in front of each of them, the content hidden by a large ornate metallic dome in each case. "Just as you all heeded Mike's desperate call and returned here."
George stared at the metal dome in front of him, somehow not really wanting to know what was underneath. He was pretty sure it wasn't his fettuccine arrabiata with meatballs.
"Don't get me wrong, I would rather enjoy devouring each of you in the slowest, most painful way I can devise," Pennywise smiled in what the clown probably thought was a charming way, rows of teeth poking from his mouth. "But, my time here would undoubtedly go a lot smoother if the seven of you crawled back to the holes you came out of, even I have to acknowledge this."
Having deposited Stan's and Mike's meals, he moved on to Eddie, continuing his chatting with the air of a talkative host. George tried again to pull himself away from his chair but to no avail. Meanwhile, Ben was holding a hand to his head, his eyes squinted shut in pain.
"So I thought I'd give you one last chance to leave. Leave this town, or die trying in vain to stop me. I think it's a great offer," he said, depositing a meal in front of Richie, then grabbing Richie's head in his hands. "Don't you agree, Richie?"
"Yes sir this is a great idea," Pennywise nodded Richie's head back and forth comically, in a terrible rendition of his on-air presenter voice. "Or my name isn't Richie Trashmouth Tozier!"
He released Richie's head, slamming it forward into the metal cover in front of him, from which it bounced off with a loud clunk. Richie groaned in pain, swearing under his breath at the clown.
"Fuck you, clown," Bev said darkly when he approached her, having apparently recovered from his previous attack on her past. "I'm not leaving until your guts are smeared all over the walls of that cavern you like so much."
"Lovely," Pennywise said, dropping her meal in front of her. "Wouldn't expect anything less from you, Bevvie dear."
She pulled against the chair angrily, almost hissing at him as he passed close behind her, the trolley now only containing one meal.
"Well, maybe you don't need another meal, huh, Fat Boy?" he addressed Ben, deliberately trying to provoke him. "How many meals have you skipped over the years to achieve this facade you've got going?"
"Shut up," Ben growled at him. He didn't move as a metal dome was placed in front of him on the floor. Evidently the clown's powers were still holding him in place as well.
"Well, I take it you're all staying?" Pennywise prompted, returning to his spot just behind George. The silence and glares he was greeted with affirmed what the clown already knew. It amused him that despite their fear, they would still choose to stay. But Pennywise always knew it would be that way.
"Then, please," he said dramatically, bowing in a greatly overstated way. "Enjoy this main course glimpse into your bright futures."
Pennywise, with a wave of his hand, removed the covers from all their meals at once, to reveal the horrible surprise he'd prepared for them. George gagged at the sight of his own severed head, eyes closed and face bloated, a small apple stuck in the mouth for decorative effect. Maggots crawled in and out of every orifice, pooling in small heaps on the bed of lettuce beneath the rotting head. He looked around the table to see the same scene repeated in front of each of his friends, to varying reactions. Richie looked genuinely horrified, while Bev was just staring numbly at the head in front of her. Eddie had his eyes scrunched shut, determined not to look at the horror in front of him.
"And with that, my dear Losers, I will leave you," Pennywise declared with satisfaction, a giggle creeping into his voice. "Rest assured that your fate, should you unwisely choose to stay, will be long, drawn-out and extra painful. I'll make sure of it."
With a loud bang and a theatrical puff of smoke, they were left only with the fading sounds of his cackling, as the invisible binds that held them fell away. The severed heads disappeared too, replaced by their real food orders as if they'd never been there in the first place. And yet, somehow, George's appetite had disappeared along with Pennywise's dark magic. A long silence followed, as they all tried to process what had just happened. Ben slowly got to his feet, lifting the pieces of the broken chair to assess the damage and concluding that it was definitely beyond repair.
"Well," Mike said finally, mouth drawn in a tight line. "Welcome back to Derry."
Against his will, and despite the situation, George suddenly found Mike's apologetic and slightly sarcastic phrase along with the clown's appearance at their reunion dinner completely absurd, and he burst out laughing, unable to stop. The others stared at him in amazement, stunned by his laughter. But it turned out his almost manic laughter was contagious, and before long the whole room was laughing, a kind of desperate crazy laughter at something that was both hilarious and traumatising.
"Gosh, are we screwed!" exclaimed Eddie.
"Absolutely," Richie agreed, high-fiving him. "Look forward to going down with you, brother."
Eventually their laughter died down, and the spontaneous hilarity of the situation wore off, leaving somewhat of a cold reality in its wake. The clown had made it clear, that this was their last chance to back down. They would either win somehow, despite the fact that they really didn't have a plan yet, or they would likely die horrible deaths in the worst way their enemy could imagine. It wasn't a great set of odds in their favour. But what they did realise pretty quickly was that all of their appetites had been effectively quenched thanks to Pennywise. So without further ado, they gathered their things and sorted out the bill, including the cost of the "drunkenly broken" chair, before heading outside into the biting evening air. They were about to hail some taxis when Mike remembered, and stopped them.
"Wait, everyone," he said with urgency in his voice. "I have something I need you to see first."
George hung back a little, warily, as Mike led the others towards the chained up bike. He watched as, just like he had earlier, Mike wheeled the bicycle into the washed-out light of the overhead street lamp, and looked hopefully to the others. But to his evident dismay, no one said anything. There was no shout of familiarity, no claim of recognition. Instead, just a long drawn out silence, which made Mike's face fall in disappointment.
"It's okay, I knew I-" he began, then stopped mid-sentence, his face changing. "Bev... why are you crying?"
Stunned, the rest of the group followed his gaze to see tears rolling down Bev's face, her eyes fixed on the silver bicycle with a mix of sadness and confusion on her face.
"I... I don't know," she choked out, hastily smearing the tears from her face. "I don't know..."
"Do you recognise this bike?" Mike asked sharply, suddenly returning to detective mode. "Did it belong to one of us?"
"Mike, I don't know," she said again, a couple more tears leaking out. She paused, breathed out and closed her eyes for a few seconds, before opening them again to look directly at Mike. "All I know is that when I saw it... I felt really strong emotions. Sadness mostly... some regret... I'm not sure. Yes, some familiarity. This bike was a part of our past, Mike. I'm sure of it. I don't... I don't know why I can't remember how."
It didn't matter that the details from Bev were foggy, George could see that fact written all over Mike's suddenly hopeful and vindicated expression. Suddenly, here was a clue to a detail in their lost past, and maybe a step in the right direction towards defeating Pennywise. He could see the wheels turning in his friend's mind, see links being made that Mike wasn't yet voicing aloud.
"Okay," Mike said at last. "Okay. It's late. Let's regroup tomorrow. I truly believe the key to defeating Pennywise is to figure out what he is hiding from us, and what parts of the past we still don't remember yet. Try to get a good night's sleep. I'll meet you at the hotel at 10am, and we can decide where to go from there. But we stick together, do you hear me? Don't ever be alone, because he can sense that. Don't let your guard down. He's everywhere."
Everyone nodded sombrely.
"Mike, what about you?" Ben asked suddenly, concerned. "Shouldn't you come to the hotel with us?"
"No, I'll be fine," Mike said, shaking his head. "If Pennywise decides to pay me a visit, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve to make him regret that."
No one seemed particularly convinced by his confident answer, despite his own certainty, but he waved their concerns away and flagged a couple of taxis to leave the rank and come pick them up.
"Tomorrow morning, 10am," Mike repeated to them, through the rolled down windows of the two cars.
"Don't be late."