Author's note: It seems like I'm always apologizing for taking so long to update. Suffice it to say, the holidays are just a really hard time for me, and I am so glad they are finally over. I hope I can get back into updating more regularly in the new year (both with this story and my other Reddie story, Brave), and I hope that this was worth the wait if you're still around! I was also a bit unsure of how much to include in terms of the police investigation, but I will just say that this chapter has something that I know some of you have been wanting to see, so please enjoy!

The Space Between Us
Chapter 19 – The Red Notebook Again

The man with the big nose paced back and forth across his living room rug. If he didn't quit soon, he was going to wear a hole right through it, but he had much more important things on his mind at the moment.

"For the love of god, no!" he shouted into his cell phone, waving around his free hand for emphasis even though no one was around to see it. "I told you, I am not doing anything else with you, Connor! In case you've forgotten, no one was supposed to get hurt the first time! You promised me before we even went into his house that no one would be hurt! You promised me! That's the only reason I agreed to do this with you in the first place! So no, I will not help you!"

"In case you're forgetting," Connor immediately replied, "your face is the one that's plastered all over the television and newspapers! I'm not the one that has to worry!"

"Oh, I think you are worried. I think you're a lot more worried than you're letting on, so stop this bullshit that you're doing this to help me. That's how we got into this position in the first place – wanted for attempted murder."

"I told you, you're the one who's wanted for attempted murder right now. There's absolutely no mention of anyone resembling me in any of this news coverage."

Connor sounded so fucking smug, Erik really wished he could reach through the phone and punch him out personally. Instead, Erik's free hand only formed into a fist at his side.

"I didn't do anything!" Erik screamed, his voice beginning to shake with pent-up emotion. "You're the one that tried to bash his head in! Not me!"

"Maybe Tozier doesn't even remember that I was there," Connor said calmly, like he was only talking about the weather. "Who knows? But I told you, there's only one way to shut him up for sure and you know it."

"NO!" This time, Erik was yelling so loudly, his voice cracked on the word. It took him a moment to catch his breath and calm down enough to speak again. "Oh my god, are you even listening to me?! I helped you get his damn red notebook, and you promised me that was all you wanted! It was never supposed to turn into this…attempted murder investigation."

"Huh," Connor said after a brief pause. "I left said notebook there the other night, didn't I?"

Again, Connor was speaking so calmly, they could have just been discussing simple plans to get together and not…stolen merchandise and the fact that Richie Tozier had almost died. The press was trying to keep what had happened to Richie fairly quiet, but it had been disclosed that following an "accident", he'd spent some time in the hospital. Apparently, he was home and doing okay now (as per Connor's little spy mission the previous night), but Erik's mind kept going back to the night of the attack in particular.

Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing. Connor had just wanted Richie's little red notebook or some shit, and no one was supposed to even be home. In and out, Connor had told him, and it would be over. They wore gloves, so they had been careful about leaving any sort of fingerprints behind, and Connor had sworn no one would ever know it was them. And then everything went to hell in a handbasket.

As it turned out, Richie had indeed been home, and in order to shut him up, Connor had tried to kill him. Or at least hoped to hit him hard enough over the head that he wouldn't remember what had happened. But even that had snowballed beyond epic proportions. Not only had Richie survived, but he sure as fucking hell remembered seeing Erik. Maybe he had suffered amnesia and couldn't recall exactly what had happened, couldn't recall Connor, but he sure as hell remembered that Erik had been inside his home.

Even so, Erik couldn't help but feel like complete and total shit. He wasn't even sure why in god's name he had let Connor talk him into this in the first place, but Erik had never wanted anyone to get hurt. He certainly hadn't wanted Richie to end up in the hospital. Erik had seen more than a few of Richie's acts over the last few years, and he thought the guy was pretty funny. Maybe not the best comic in the world – that title was reserved for the late and great Robin Williams in Erik's humble opinion – but he was entertaining nonetheless.

Richie definitely didn't deserve to be almost killed just because he seemed to be having a little explosion in success and popularity recently. And because Connor was a jealous little shit. For some reason that was beyond Erik, Connor apparently couldn't handle Richie being the main headliner at their manager's office.

Richie Tozier's comedy didn't appeal to everyone, but sometimes, certain things just landed with an audience. Despite Connor being with the same manager as Richie, Connor's career just wasn't advancing like he had hoped it would. Connor had said he just wanted a little peek into the material that Richie was finding so much success with, and it had all spiraled from there.

Erik sighed heavily into the phone, his eyes going to that bright red notebook that sat on his coffee table. The bright red that made him think about Richie's blood beginning to pool out onto his hardwood floor after Connor had struck him. The color that simply made his skin crawl whenever he looked at it now, because none of this was supposed to happen!

"Yeah, and you better come and get it, because I don't want it here anymore," Erik muttered. "You're the one that wanted it, not me."

Connor huffed before he said, "Calm down."

Erik could tell Connor was rolling his eyes, and that pissed Erik off even more. None of this was a matter to be rolling eyes over, but Connor could always be counted on to downplay this shit. Hell, they could have been convicted for attempted murder, and Connor would still be rolling his eyes like this was some minor inconvenience.

"I will not calm down!" Erik snapped. "You almost killed him and now you're talking about going back and finishing the job. This is not the time to be calm!"

"So what are you going to do when the police come knocking? You're the one they're looking for, and they will catch up to you sooner or later."

"I told you, when they come knocking, I'm taking you down with me," Erik said, letting his voice drop and trying to sound as threatening as possible. "I am not taking the fall for this shit – not when this was your idea and not when you're the attempted murderer."

Connor actually had the nerve to laugh at that, and it was a sound that chilled Erik to the bone.

"Oh, Erik," Connor finally said once his laughs had petered out. "Make no mistake – you're obviously the one that he remembers and you're the one who has a certain notebook in your possession. Not me."

Erik's heart hammered in his chest before something occurred to him – something that he knew Connor would remember even if things went from bad to worse.

"I haven't even touched said notebook," Erik said coolly. "Yes, it's in my house, but are you forgetting that you were flipping through that thing the other night with no gloves? I'm not the only one that has something to fear here. Believe me, if I go down, I'm taking you with me."

A moment of silence passed, and when Connor spoke again, his voice was nothing but a whisper. "I almost killed one man. Don't think I won't do it again."

Erik swallowed hard, trying desperately to think of a comeback, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Listen to me," Erik said, desperately trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Just come and get your fucking notebook and quit calling me, because I am done helping you!"

Without waiting for any sort of response from Connor, Erik ended the call before setting his phone down on the table by the door. Whoever was there knocked one more time before Erik wrenched the door open. He only expected to be greeted by neighborhood child selling cookies or something, but that wasn't what he got at all.

Rather, two men in suits stood on his front porch. Erik would have made a joke about aliens or Will Smith if it hadn't felt like his heart exploded in his chest. Almost immediately, he could feel beads of sweat standing out on his forehead and he tried like hell to keep his breathing under control.

"Erik Copeland?" the taller of the two men asked.

"Um. Yes." Erik hoped his voiced hadn't just squeaked like he thought it did.

"Detective Bannerman, LAPD," the same man said. He held up a small wallet and flipped it open, displaying a badge and ID. As he replaced it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he gestured to his partner and said, "This is Detective Schulman. I was wondering if we might be able to come in and ask you a few questions."

"Um," Erik mumbled around a nervous laugh. "Yeah, sure, I guess so." He tightened his fingers around the door, feeling his fingernails digging into the white pain over the wood. He willed himself to remain calm, to try to seem as casual as possible as he stepped aside to let the detectives in. He took a deep breath before he asked, "What is this in regards to?"

"We're investigating a break-in in the LA area," Bannerman said, stepping into the living room. His partner followed him before Bannerman said, "It's been on the news for the past week or so – we've released a sketch to the public of someone we think may have been involved."

"Oh," Erik said, trying his best to sound surprised. "I don't really…keep with the news. It's…you know, it's depressing."

Bannerman's soft blue eyes suddenly felt like they were boring into Erik and he didn't like it. Not one bit. Again, Erik reminded himself to remain calm, because there was absolutely no telling how much the detectives knew. Erik suspected that someone had turned him in because he resembled the man in the sketch, but that didn't mean anything; a lot of people might resemble a police sketch.

A moment later, Detective Bannerman reached into the inside of his suit jacket, withdrawing a piece of paper. He unfolded it and said, "We had an anonymous tip this morning informing us that you resembled the man we're looking for." He held the piece of paper out for Erik to look at.

Erik blinked at it, trying his best to react with a modicum of surprise. "I, um…suppose it does resemble me." Erik pressed his hand over his nose and joked, "So there's someone else out there that was blessed with big ass nose like mine. Poor guy."

The detectives only stared at him like he hadn't spoken at all, and it made Erik want to joke again. He didn't, however, because he didn't want to appear nervous or desperate.

"Um…yeah," Erik said instead before gesturing towards his couch. "Please sit down." Once the detectives were seated, Erik took his own place in one of the armchairs off to the side. "I'm not sure how I can help you though," Erik said next, "because that isn't me. I didn't…break into anyone's house."

Erik grimaced, because fuck; he wasn't sure if his voice had wavered on his last words or not.

"Where were you on the evening of March twenty-seventh?" Bannerman asked.

"Um…March twenty-seventh?" Erik asked. When the detectives nodded, Erik added, "I'm not sure." He laughed quietly, still attempting to inject some humor and casualness into the situation. "That was…quite a few weeks ago, you know? I barely remember what I did yesterday."

All at once, Erik's eyes happened to fall upon the red notebook still sitting on his coffee table. The fucking notebook that had belonged to Richie Tozier and that Connor was supposed to take home with him. Oh fuck. It hadn't even occurred to him until that moment that he had left it out. That he had left it in plain sight for anyone to see.

Even worse, Detective Schulman's eyes had settled upon it too. His eyes were going back and forth over the cover, his eyes narrowed in thought.

Erik tried not to care. There was absolutely no reason to believe that the detective would think anything of the notebook. After all, a lot of people had things like notebooks laying around their houses. It was certainly nothing to panic over. Had Richie even noticed the notebook was gone and reported it as missing? Because Connor had insisted that Richie would never miss it.

Besides, as far as Erik knew, these detectives didn't have a search warrant. Erik knew enough about police investigations to know that without a warrant, their hands were tied when it came to anything in his house. They could have found Richie's ID and wallet sitting open on the table, but without a warrant, they couldn't take it nor could they use it as evidence.

That, at least, was somewhat reassuring, but Detective Schulman was still staring at that notebook like it might hold all sorts of secrets. A moment later, the detective pulled a tiny notebook out of his own jacket pocket along with a pen. He flipped the cover open, scribbling something down.

At first, Erik had no idea what he could have written down, but then it slowly dawned on him. In the very corner of the notebook, written in black Sharpie, were the following letters and symbols:

R(+E)T#1

Erik hadn't paid it any mind before. It had only looked like nonsense to him, perhaps one of Richie's weird "systems" for cataloguing things that Connor always claimed he had. The #1 could have denoted his most prized possession among his notebooks of ideas. Maybe the R and T on it could have possibly stood for Richie's name, but neither of them could figure out what the symbols and letter in between it meant or why they were there at all.

Detective Schulman, however, didn't stop looking at that notebook, at those letters and symbols. Did he know something Erik didn't know?

When Eddie awoke the next morning, it was to find Richie's head cradled on his chest, which was quickly becoming their new normal again. It was nice. What he didn't think he would ever get used to, however, was the big giant dog wedged in between his legs and Richie's. Even though Eddie knew it was impossible, it seriously felt like the animal was taking up nearly half the bed, pressing uncomfortably into Eddie's knee.

Eddie didn't even know if Richie was awake yet, but he still mumbled, "Why in god's name did you have to pick the biggest dog in existence?"

"I didn't," Richie answered without missing a beat. "He picked me. Didn't you, boy?"

Grayson let out a soft yip, lifting his head off the mattress proudly.

Richie only scratched at Grayson's chin and ears before cuddling even more tightly into Eddie's side. "I'm good at that apparently," Richie said almost like it was a second thought. "Getting picked."

In an attempt to hide his smile, Eddie buried his nose in Richie's curls, hugging his husband to him tightly. Eddie paused for a very long time, wondering if his next actions would be welcome or not, but in the end, he pushed forward anyway. Considering the events of the previous night, perhaps Richie was ready for a lot more than Eddie was giving him credit for.

Eddie placed the tip of his index finger along the underside of Richie's chin. He pressed slightly, directing Richie's gaze up towards him. When Richie lifted his head and met his eyes, Eddie let his hand trail to the back of Richie's neck. Eddie swallowed audibly and didn't move farther, but in the end, he didn't need to.

A smile exploded across Richie's features, but he seemed to know exactly what Eddie was thinking. "If you want to kiss me, it's okay," Richie whispered. "You don't need to…wait for me to initiate it or…ask permission for it. I mean…we never did that before, did we? And if I don't want to kiss you, I'll just tell you to get the fuck off me."

Eddie's hand tightened around the back of Richie's neck. "We never did that before," he agreed. "I just…I'm afraid of coming on too strong after…everything. I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for."

Richie let out a soft breath, his smile fading only the tiniest bit. "And I appreciate that. I know you would never do anything to purposely hurt me, but…I'm ready. I'm ready to start exploring our physical relationship again. I'm not…quite ready for the whole nine yards yet, but I want more. I want more than we have been doing, and you don't need to be afraid of doing little things like touching me, or holding my hand, or kissing me. I'm ready for all of that."

His hand drifting down towards Richie's bicep, Eddie let his fingers find the hem of the sleeve of Richie's t-shirt. Eddie's fingers snuck under the fabric, his fingernails gently rubbing along the length of Richie's upper arm. "And you'll tell me if I do something you don't like?" Eddie asked before doing anything more. "Because that's the last thing I want. I promise I won't be mad if there's something you don't want to do. Whatever you want right now is okay."

Nodding his head softly, Richie leaned down over Eddie, closing the distance between them. "I'll tell you. And can you tell me if I do something you don't like too?"

"Yeah." Eddie's voice was breathless, and he closed his eyes as Richie continued to dip down towards him.

A moment later, Richie tilted his head to the side, sealing his lips against Eddie's. Almost immediately, Eddie reciprocated, allowing his mouth to fall open, meeting Richie's tongue with his own. It was so much deeper than the kiss they had shared the night before, and it drew a groan from Richie that Eddie could feel rumbling around between them. Eddie ran his hand up to Richie's shoulder, pulling his husband down against him.

Richie pressed his hips against Eddie's leg, and it was only a moment before Eddie realized that he could feel Richie's growing erection. It was the first time Eddie had felt it in weeks – not since before Richie's attack – and it made Eddie want for Richie in ways that he hadn't let himself think about since. Eddie gasped, thrusting his hips upward and digging his fingertips into Richie's shoulder.

Richie pulled away, but he was smiling; not at all appearing uncomfortable like Eddie thought he might. "Too much?" Richie asked, looking like he wanted to dip down for another kiss.

"No," Eddie immediately replied, shaking his head. "Just…surprising. And…I've missed this. God, I've missed you. So much."

"I love you," Richie said then, reaching up to run his fingertips over Eddie's cheek. To look at the way the early morning sunlight shone off his platinum and diamond wedding ring. To revel in the fact that he was married to the man of his dreams, which was something he had never even imagined he'd achieve in his life.

"I love you," Eddie said. He could see Richie swallowing, like he was considering his next words.

"I know you've had some doubts about that since this all happened," Richie finally said, "but…I want you to know that I could never stop loving you. You're…the love of my life."

Eddie gasped out a beath and a moment later, he had to close his eyes against the flood of emotions that swept through him. His bottom lip quivered before he tried to blink the building tears from his eyes. Eddie brought his hand up to Richie's cheek, grazing the backs of his fingers against the stubble there. The stubble that he always loved to press his fingers against, to feel the way it dug lightly into his skin.

"When you were in the hospital," Eddie whispered, "I was scared to death that I would never hear you say those words again."

"I told you," Richie replied firmly. "Nothing anyone can do can make me stop loving you. And only you. It's only ever been you."

"Still?" Eddie asked, his voice breaking slightly. "Even after everything…?"

"Always." Richie closed the distance between them again, capturing Eddie's lips in a kiss once more. He shifted then, lifting his hip up from the mattress and more fully covering Eddie's hips with his own.

Richie's erection suddenly dipped against the edge of Eddie's thigh before he moved his hips again, fully pressing it against Eddie's own this time. This drew a moan from Eddie and he lifted his hips from the bed, enthusiastically thrusting up against Richie.

"Richie," Eddie gasped out, his hands immediately reaching for their usual and comfortable place where they threaded through Richie's locks at the back of his head.

"Told you," Richie bit out as he rained kisses along Eddie's cheek towards his jawbone. "If I cut my hair, what would you grab onto when we have sex?"

Eddie couldn't even bring himself to tease Richie, for fear of derailing whatever was happening between them. Eddie knew that Richie was nowhere near ready for sex, but to even have his husband initiate any form of sexual contact like this was way more than Eddie had even hoped for at this point. Especially when they hadn't even kissed yet at this time yesterday.

Taking care not to tug, Eddie squeezed Richie's hair in between his fingers, letting his head fall to the side. Richie took this as an invitation, trailing kisses down toward the neckline of Eddie's t-shirt. Richie found Eddie's collar bone peeking out of the fabric and gently sucked there, eliciting a soft groan from Eddie.

Dipping his head down, Eddie met Richie's lips with his. He let his mouth fall open again, allowing Richie to explore it with his tongue. A moment later, Richie cupped Eddie's thigh with his hand before slowly slipping his fingers up underneath Eddie's shirt, exploring the skin of Eddie's stomach and hip with his fingertips.

Eddie couldn't help but thrust up against Richie again, and it was Richie's turn to moan into Eddie's mouth. Richie broke the kiss a moment later, breath coming fast and hard against Eddie's lips.

"Too much?" Eddie asked, afraid that he might have been getting a little too swept up in the moment. A little too carried away at finally being able to touch Richie in such an intimate way again.

Richie shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "Just…I only found out we were married the other day. This is…not too much, but holy shit. A lot. It's a lot to comprehend. This is all happening so fast."

"Shh," Eddie hissed quietly, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to Richie's forehead. There was sweat there, standing out against Richie's skin, owing to the fact that Richie was already beyond worked up for the little bit of kissing and touching they had done.

His hands still on the back of Richie's neck, Eddie guided his head down, letting Richie cradle it on Eddie's chest. Richie was still breathing hard, and Eddie softly combed his fingers through Richie's hair in an effort to calm him.

When Richie had quieted down, it was then that Eddie noticed that Grayson was watching them closely. Eddie side-eyed the dog and said, "Isn't it a little bit weird to be making out in front of the dog anyway?"

"Huh?" Richie asked, lifting his head from Eddie's chest. Richie blinked at the dog before he said, "Amazing. He was the reason we kissed last night, and now he's cockblocking me."

This caused Eddie to giggle, thoroughly relieved that Richie was still okay with what they were doing. Now that Eddie had mentioned it, however, he couldn't quite get the thought of the dog watching them make out out of his mind; it suddenly felt overwhelmingly embarrassing. Like a little kid had caught them doing something elicit.

"Thanks, man," Richie told Grayson, his voice hovering somewhere between joking and playfully scolding. "I rescued you from the dog shelter, and this is how you repay me."

Grayson whined quietly, his own tone mostly questioning, but venturing into the territory of sadness.

"You're lucky you're cute," Richie said then, reaching out to scratch at Grayson's ears. "So is Spagheds, considering all the shit I put up with from him too."

Eddie knitted his eyebrows together, although he couldn't quite keep himself from smiling. "Shut up."

Richie leaned in for one more quick kiss from Eddie before he said, "I'm gonna go take a shower, since making out in front of the dog is too risqué." Richie paused before he added, "Besides, I need something to cool me down." He winked at Eddie before he threw the covers aside. Getting up from the bed, Richie made his way over to the dresser, pulling the top drawer open.

Sighing contentedly, Eddie watched Richie. There was a spring present in his husband's steps, one that hadn't been there before. Not even last night when they had gone on their "date". Eddie found himself smiling.

Eddie only hoped that things would stay this way, in this perfect little bubble they had recreated for themselves. It wasn't quite what they had had before, but they were slowly rebuilding their relationship into something new and exciting, Eddie was more than excited to see how it would play out. To see how their physical relationship would progress from this point on.

Rooting around in the dresser drawer for a minute, Richie withdrew clean socks, underwear, and a t-shirt before turning around to blow a kiss at Eddie. Eddie's heart felt like it was swelling in his chest as he watched Richie make his way into the bathroom. He probably looked like an idiot with that goofy grin still plastered across his face, but he didn't quite care.

When he heard the door to the bathroom close, Eddie reached out to scratch Grayson behind the ears. "Thanks, boy," Eddie whispered, staring up at the ceiling contentedly.

Grayson let out a little mewling sound before he laid his head across Eddie's stomach. Grayson's eyes settled in the direction of the bathroom, like he was waiting for any sign from Richie that something might be wrong.

It was strange. Eddie had never had a pet before, but he'd heard more than a few stories about how intuitive they were. About how they could sometimes tell what was going on without needing any sort of explanation and the way they responded in kind. Just like the way Grayson had more or less led Eddie and Richie into kissing last night.

Grayson fucking knew shit, even after only being with them for less than twenty-four hours, and Eddie was fascinated by it. Like the way Grayson had made a beeline for that spot on the floor when they had brought him home yesterday. That spot where Richie had laid bleeding out and on the verge of death before Eddie had discovered him. Grayson's eyes also often went in Richie's direction when they weren't in the same room, like the dog knew that Richie may need an extra hand – or paw – at some point.

He knew, and all at once, Eddie wondered why in god's name it had taken them this long to get a dog in the first place.

Eddie's phone rang a moment later, and at first, he didn't think twice about it. He blindly reached out for the bedside table, letting his hand brush across the smooth surface until his fingers closed around his phone. It was probably just Bill or one of the other Losers calling to check in, and Eddie was almost bursting to tell someone that for the first time in a long time, things were really, really good again.

Things almost felt normal, but as soon as Eddie heard the voice on the other end of the line, that bubble burst. That bubble burst and Eddie found himself crashing back down to earth like a meteor exploding through the atmosphere and plummeting to the ground.

"Hello?" Eddie asked after he accepted the call, paying no mind to the name that had been displayed on the screen.

"Mr. Kaspbrak?"

Eddie blinked, the voice immediately registering in his mind. He didn't need to know who it was, because even just the sound of it forced his heart into overdrive. Eddie sat up, displacing Grayson from his sleeping spot. Eddie gripped at the sheets with is free hand, Grayson staring at him quizzically.

"Yes," Eddie answered almost mechanically.

"This is Detective Bannerman with the LAPD."

"Yes." Eddie contained the urge to roll his eyes. He fucking knew who it was, and he only wanted him to get to the point of this call, but Eddie knew he was only going through the same procedure that he always used when he called.

Given that Richie was still recovering and prone to panic attacks, the detective had been directing all his calls to Eddie. Besides, Richie hadn't even seemed interested in using his phone at all, entirely too overwhelmed at the thought of all the calls he had missed since his attack. Everyone, including Richie's manager, was going through Eddie, and Eddie would happily take care of any phone calls he could for as long as Richie needed him to.

"I am happy to report that we have a suspect in custody."

"Wait, what?" It felt like the bed had dropped out from underneath Eddie, leaving a big, gaping hole that Eddie was now freefalling through. The fingers of his free hand curled up into a fist, bunching up the hem of the blankets underneath them. Like that would do anything to slow his fall if he actually was hurtling towards the ground somewhere below.

This was the very last thing he had expected to hear, especially considering the fact that a week had passed since Richie had worked with the sketch artist. They had known that it might take some time for the picture to circulate and for any leads to begin coming in, and Eddie had almost begun to forget about it. Almost. Like he could entirely forget that Richie had been attacked and that those assholes were still out there.

"Yes. A call came in early this morning from someone who thought they recognized the person in the sketch," Bannerman told him. "We were able to question him, and he's agreed to participate in a line-up."

"What?" Eddie asked again, his voice nothing more than a whisper. He was pretty sure that the detective hadn't heard him, and for that, he was grateful; this felt like a lot all of a sudden, and Eddie felt like he was floundering in an effort to process it all. Eddie could barely think about how on earth he was going to tell Richie about this latest turn of events or what his husband's reaction might be.

"If Richie is able, we'd like him to come down to the station to see if he can identify him."

"Um…now?"

"As soon as possible, yes."

"Shit," Eddie mumbled under his breath, again hoping that the detective didn't hear him. Not only was this a lot, but he and Richie had had such a nice morning together. Eddie's mind had been wandering and racing, thinking about what else they could possibly get up to by the end of the day, and this had most definitely not been a part of the plan.

Of course, Eddie wanted Richie to be able to identify this suspect if he could. Those assholes were never going to be caught if they didn't take this kind of action, but Eddie wondered if Richie was ready for this. It had already taken so much out of Richie to meet with the sketch artist to begin with, and Eddie wasn't sure what Richie might do if he had to see that man face to face again. Even the thought of it made Eddie's heart feel like it was throbbing in pain at what that might do to Richie.

"Richie's in the shower right now," Eddie said stiltedly, because fuck. This wasn't at all what he'd wanted to do today, especially after their brief exploration of each other this morning. "I'll talk to him as soon as he comes out."

"Understand that we have no reason or cause to hold this suspect at this time," Bannerman told him. "It's purely circumstantial. But if Richie can identify him…it still won't lead to an open and shut case by any means, but it will at least give us probable cause to investigate him further."

Covering his eyes with his hand, Eddie rubbed at them harshly before he huffed out, "I understand." He wasn't a fucking idiot. He had watched more than enough episodes of Dateline and 20/20 to know that someone couldn't be arrested on their resemblance to a police sketch alone. "Let me talk to him, okay? I'll get back to you once Richie decides what he wants to do."

Once Eddie hung up from his phone call with the detective, he ambled out into the kitchen. Grayson, meanwhile, made his way to the bathroom door, sitting squarely in the doorway like he was waiting for something. Perhaps waiting for Richie to emerge from his shower so he could comfort him. Just another sign that Grayson knew exactly what the fuck was going on.

Eddie set his phone down on the island counter, his eyes going between it and the toaster on the other side of the room. He briefly wondered if he should go about making their customary bagels and coffee, but he decided against it. Once Richie found out what had transpired since he had had retreated into the shower, it was unlikely that he would want to eat or drink at all. Besides, Richie was still relegated to drinking decaf coffee until his skull fracture was completely healed, but he could probably do without even the little bit of caffeine that was still present in the drink; he'd be anxious enough without the extra stimulation.

Eddie had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized that Richie had come out of the bathroom. In fact, Richie was standing pressed up behind Eddie, his nose brushing against Eddie's hair and his arms wrapping around Eddie's waist. It would have been almost like a dream come true if everything was normal, but things were far from it. Their lives had been entirely turned upside-down, and Eddie wasn't even sure he remembered what "normal" was anymore.

"Did you feed Grayson?" Richie asked, hugging Eddie's middle tightly. "He was sitting in the bathroom doorway and looking at me like he was starving."

Shaking his head, Eddie fought the urge to melt into Richie's embrace and try to forget the phone call that he had received a little while ago. Eddie stood still, his heart racing and his eyes locked on his cell phone still sitting on the counter, like it might jump up and bite him.

When Eddie didn't reply further to Richie's question, Richie stepped away. He came around to Eddie's side, watching him closely.

"What's wrong?" Richie asked. His eyes darted towards the hallway leading to the bedroom before they snapped back to Eddie. His brow furrowed a moment later. "Was it…something I did? Did…did I do something wrong? When we were…?" Richie didn't finish his question, but only gestured in the direction of their room.

"No!" Eddie cried, turning so that he could face Richie fully. He gripped Richie's hands tightly in his before repeating, "No, not at all. I…loved everything we did. Okay?" Eddie swallowed hard and tried to give Richie the best smile he could. "I really missed doing those sorts of things with you."

"Me too," Richie murmured even though his eyes were still fraught with worry. When Eddie still didn't answer his question, he said, "So what happened?" His eyes eventually fell on Eddie's cell phone and a moment of understanding flashed across Richie's face. "Did…did someone call? About…?"

Richie didn't say anything more, but Eddie knew what he had been about to ask. Eddie only nodded before he let out a very quiet, "Yeah." His hands still around Richie's, Eddie softly pulled at them. "Maybe we should sit down."

Eddie guided him to sit down at the island counter, and he suddenly wished that he had made coffee after all. Eddie desperately wanted something to do with his hands right now rather than hold Richie's tightly. Eddie's hands were sweaty and trembling, and the last thing he wanted was for Richie to know how upset he was. But Richie could already tell by the look in his eyes, he was sure.

"Did they catch someone?" Richie asked, the truth dawning on him all at once.

Nodding, Eddie tried to keep his hands steady. He squeezed Richie's in a show of support and said, "Well, they have someone in custody that they think may be the man from the sketch. Someone turned him in this morning."

Richie blinked several times, like he wasn't quite sure what was happening and he was trying to make sense out of all the madness. "Oh, fuck." Richie pulled one of his hands from Eddie's, running it through his still-damp hair from the shower. "I didn't…I mean, you know I was hoping to god that they'd catch someone, but…this is real." Richie shook his head as if realizing that he may not be making a ton of sense. He straightened his glasses on his nose before he said, "Fuck, of course it's real, but…I don't know." He hung his head and stared down at where his fingers were intertwined with Eddie's.

All of a sudden, Grayson appeared beside them, letting out a whine. He sat down on his back legs, letting his head come to rest on Richie's knee. His golden eyes stared up at Richie, like he was searching them for some sort of answer.

Richie smiled gratefully, just a small one almost entirely eaten up by the confusion and fear etching themselves into his features. Richie's free hand dropped down onto Grayson's head, scratching him behind the ears.

"As long as nothing was happening," Richie said, glancing back up at Eddie, "I could sort of…let myself forget about it, you know? Like I wouldn't have to face this shit again someday."

"I know." Eddie didn't need Richie to explain himself any further.

"I mean, I want these assholes caught," Richie muttered next. "Of course I do, but…" Lifting his hand from Grayson's head, Richie snaked his fingers underneath his glasses to rub at his eyes. "What am I going to have to do?" He stared at Eddie wearily.

"They want you to come down and see if you can pick him out of a line-up."

All at once, Richie's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. He shook his head furiously, like it might help him to wake up from this nightmare. His hand went to his head again, running his fingers through his hair before it stopped there. His fingers were entwined with his hair just like Eddie's had been that morning.

That morning that Eddie so desperately wanted to go back to now. That morning when he and Richie had been lying in bed, and kissing, and starting to explore each other all over again. That morning that now seemed so far away.

"I can't…" Richie gasped out before his voice was stifled by a sob. He pressed his hand against his mouth next and then said, "I don't want to see him. I…oh, fuck. I mean, I knew I was probably going to have to do something like this eventually, but…oh, fuck. I can't. I don't wanna…" Richie's words were coming fast, like he didn't even realize what he was saying anymore, but he just wanted something to do.

In one fluid movement, Richie tugged off his glasses, setting them down on the island counter. He sucked in a sharp breath and let it out shakily, rubbing at his eyes again. There were a few tears there, but Eddie suspected they simply might be from Richie rubbing them so harshly. His hand settled across his eyes next, like he was still trying to wake up from this nightmare their lives had become.

Eddie didn't say anything. While many words raced through his mind, he rather doubted that anything he could say would be the right thing. But he leaned forward, wrapping his free hand around Richie's shoulders and pulling his husband towards him.

At first, Richie didn't move. He sat stiff as an arrow like he was fighting himself on what he wanted to do – if he wanted Eddie's comfort right now or to try to stand on his own two feet. In the end, however, Richie caved and leaned into Eddie. He buried his head in Eddie's shoulder and a moment later, Eddie heard a sob escape him.

Releasing his grip on Richie's hand, Eddie wrapped both of his arms around Richie's shoulder, hugging him as tightly as he could. Richie was shaking underneath his grip, so Eddie let one of his hands go up to Richie's hair, softly rubbing at his curls there.

"I don't wanna…" came Richie's sobbed-choked voice, muffled by Eddie t-shirt.

"I know," Eddie replied, praying that he knew the right words to say to Richie right now. "I know you don't, but listen to me. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, okay? You don't."

Richie only gasped out a sob in response.

"But…you've seen those line-ups on TV, right?" Eddie asked. "He won't be able to see you, and he won't know that it's you who's picking him out…"

"It's not that," Richie replied, shaking his head against Eddie's shoulder and sniffling. "I…I don't want to see him." Richie pulled away slightly, only far enough to look up at Eddie, but not far enough to pull out of his grasp. Richie's eyes were wide and red-rimmed, his hair disheveled from where he had pulled at it. "I think the sketch was pretty fucking close to what he looks like – obviously if someone might have identified him from it – and I hated even looking at that. At a sketch. I don't want to see the real thing."

"I know," Eddie repeated, allowing Richie to rest his head against his shoulder again. Richie was shaking so badly, and Eddie wanted nothing more than to make it stop. All he could do, however, was hold Richie as he sobbed. As he tried to come to terms with what he would do. "You don't have to, okay?" Eddie said reassuringly.

"I can't," Richie choked out, shaking his head against Eddie's shoulder. "I can't."

Grayson whined. He was still sitting on the ground, his eyes now going back and forth between Richie and Eddie in concern.

Eddie bit at his bottom lip, feeling at a complete and utter loss. As concerned about Richie's reaction as he had been, Eddie had not been at all prepared for Richie's complete refusal to do this at all. A part of him had been certain that Richie would be hesitant of course, but he thought that Richie would at least have a little desire to do his part to put this asshole away. On the other hand, Eddie knew that the very last thing Richie needed or wanted was to be pressured into this. So Eddie would only support him.

"Listen to me, Rich," Eddie said, deciding to change his earlier tactic entirely. "You don't have to do this. No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do. I'm just going to be here for you regardless of what you choose. You just tell me what that is and it'll be good enough for me."

"I can't," Richie repeated around another sob. He pulled away, looking up at Eddie again. "It'll put me back there. What if I…what if it brings back too much…?" He shook his head, his tousled hair bouncing around his head. "I don't want to remember all of that. Remembering him is enough."

"And you don't need to explain it to me," Eddie said. He released his hold around Richie's shoulders, taking Richie's cheeks in his hands instead. He wiped at the tears there with his thumbs and said, "You don't. I just want you to answer something for me."

Sniffling, Richie rubbed at his eyes again. "What?"

"When we were down there in the sewer the first time," Eddie said, "Pennywise had Bill, and he told us to run and save ourselves. Do you remember that?"

Richie nodded.

"Who was the first person to step up and say, 'I'm going to have to kill this fucking clown'?"

Richie diverted his eyes away from Eddie, letting them drop down to his lap. "Me."

"Who came out publicly at one of his shows after hiding his sexuality for forty years?"

"Me. And I married the love of my life too. Nothing like putting your sexuality and love life on display for the entire world to see."

"Yeah. And who killed Bowers with an axe to the back of the head after he attacked Mike?"

Richie blinked. Eddie knew he was delving into territory that may not be at the forefront of Richie's mind, but he hoped that Richie would get the point anyway. Maybe it would even help to shake some of those memories free.

"I don't…entirely remember that," Richie said, "but…me." He frowned next and asked, "I killed a guy?"

Eddie nodded. "After he tried to stab Mike."

Richie tilted his head, frowning deeply. "Did I throw up after I did that?"

"Of course you did. It's what you do."

When Richie met Eddie's eyes, there was an understanding present on Richie's face that wasn't there a whole hell of a lot anymore. "That was…long overdue, wasn't it?" The very corner of his lips curled up into a smile.

"Yeah."

"If I…went to see this line-up and I threw up again, would you…think I was weak?"

"No."

"If I…got there and felt like I couldn't go through with it, would you think I was weak then?"

"Never," Eddie told him, still using the pads of his fingers to swipe them across Richie's cheeks. "You're braver than you think."

Grayson let out a little yip like he was echoing Eddie's sentiments.

Richie smiled down at Grayson before he met Eddie's eyes again. "Braver than I think," he whispered before burying his head into Eddie's shoulder again.

He didn't say anything more and neither did Eddie; Eddie thought he had gotten his point across. Now he just had to wait for Richie to decide.

To be continued…