A/N: So I just made an adjustment to the fic's timeline, drawing it more in line with the book and giving IT a few more days to.. well, you'll see. The story itself has not changed any.

OOOOOO

Day Three
April 3, 1906

Bob dragged himself to his feet as daylight crept into the wagon through the open door. His body ached in protest over sitting in the same position all night, and he felt the urge to reach above his head, to stretch to his full height.

He repressed it; it would mean taking his eyes off of the doorway opposite of him. There was nothing there – nothing had appeared after that thing had vanished – but he still wasn't looking away. He edged over to the door, slipped out, and went down the steps backwards. Once his boots hit the grass, he spun around, and ran right into Frank.

A strangled scream escaped from his mouth as he stumbled backwards. He tripped over the wagon steps and fell down to land on them as Frank stared at him in confusion.

"You okay, Bob?"

Bob stared at him with wide eyes, heart hammering, for several seconds. Then he managed to nod.

"You sure?"

Bob pulled himself to his feet – his legs were still shaking. He nodded again. "I'm fine."

"If you're sure..." Frank gave him an appraising look, "Shrine wants everyone in the mess tent for a meeting."

Mess tent. Meeting. Right, he could do that. He walked up to Frank as the other clown began to walk towards the mess tent. "What's it about?"

"Dunno. The local police came by last night and talked to him. That's all I know. Maybe some kid smashed a window and they're blaming us. It wouldn't be the first time..."

Frank's voice droned on as they walked across the field, and Bob found his attention pulled back in the direction of his wagon. He paused in his steps and looked over his shoulder as Frank carried on towards the tent.

His wagon door was closed, and laughter drifted up from the nearby drain.

Bob felt cold all over, and he turned away from the drain and ran to catch up with Frank.

"There's something killing children in Derry." Joseph Shrine minced no words, and a gasp ran through the tent as everyone stared at him. The ringmaster grimaced. "Why they didn't tell us this when we arrived... I couldn't guess. What's more, apparently these murders have been going on for two years, and no one has any idea of who or what is responsible. The local police are looking into it, but they haven't gotten anywhere." Here he lowered his head and mumbled something that sounded to Bob like ".. not really trying..." before he looked back up at the troupe and their families.

Bob felt Wilhelmina inch closer to him, and he squeezed her shoulder.

"From here on out, until we leave this damned town behind us," Mr. Shrine continued, "no children are to go off alone." He looked through the crowd, his eyes finding each child in the troupe, including Wilhelmina. "You hear me? You are to stay within sight of adults at all times. We've never lost a child in this circus, and we will not be starting now. Once the week is up, we will all get on our train and leave here. ALL of us."

"Two years?" Mary stood up. "They said these murders have been going on for two years? Why in God's name did they not tell us this the last two times we were here!"

Mr. Shrine shook his head, and Bob felt cold again. How many times during their last two visits to Derry had Wilhelmina been off doing her own thing? How many times had he not known exactly where she was?

A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd, and Mr. Shrine held his hands up for silence.

"I'm beginning to believe that Bob has the right idea about Derry." he said. "But after the cancellations we've already had, we cannot afford to leave early. We need the money the shows here are bringing in, and we all know it. If we don't run successfully here, we'll be sending the children to bed hungry, while not having the coal to get the train down the track to the next stop. None of us want that, so we have to stay the entire week if we can.

"I promise you though, the instant our last show ends, we will start the breakdown. No waiting until the following morning. As soon as the big top is cleared of patrons, we'll start taking it all down. I want us out of here as soon as humanly possible."

He looked over the crowd and nodded once. "Remember, no children off by themselves, and make sure that an adult knows where you are at all times. Now, let's have breakfast and get started for the day. We have a lot to do."

OOOOOO

Pennywise rubbed the sand out of his eyes as he gathered up the coins collected during his dance. He carried the money to the lock box and yawned as he put it away. He cast a longing glance at his bed, but no, there were still hours to go in the day. Two shows, one in the late morning, one in the early evening, clean up, and then he could sleep.

He felt Wilhelmina's hand slip into his as they made their way to the big top. She had been quiet all day and had refused to leave his side for an instant. She joined him and the other clowns in their small dressing room off the main tent and parked herself in a chair close to him as he touched up his makeup and discussed the upcoming act.

"You alright, Wills?" Toby, who was in the process of putting on the face paint that would turn him into the clown known as Dazzle, asked. Wilhelmina didn't answer, and Toby turned to Pennywise. "She okay?"

Pennywise shrugged and turned to beckon his daughter to him, and she climbed up onto his lap and laid her head on his ruffles. "Wills?"

"Clowns up in five!" came the call from one of the stagehands, and the rest of the clowns began to head out.

"What's wrong, Wills?" Pennywise asked as he wrapped his daughter in his arms.

"Why can't we leave, Papa?" she asked in a small voice that made his chest ache.

He gently ran his gloved fingers through her hair. "You know why. We need the money."

"I don't care about the money!" she wailed as she hid her face in his collar. "I want to leave! I hate this place!"

"Wills..."

"You hate it here too, so let's just go! Let's leave while we can!"

"Wills," He wound his arms around her again and squeezed, "We can't leave. You know that."

"I know why you hate it here now." She closed her eyes and hid her face in his ruffles. "I don't want to stay here anymore!"

"Wills, what -"

"Pennywise!" came a shout from outside the tent flap, "We're on in two minutes!"

Pennywise set his daughter down on her feet, so he could stand up. She grabbed onto his hand and held onto it tight as they stepped into the big top.

"Do you have to go out there, Papa?"

"You know I do. I'm the white clown." He gave her a small smile. "I have the keep the rest of them on task, you know."

She didn't return the smile, and she silently slipped her hand out of his and slinked over to join the members of the trapeze act that were beckoning to her.

Pennywise watched her walk away with them. She did not turn back to look at him, and something within him hurt at the realization.

"Thirty seconds, Pennywise!" came the call, and he forced himself to look away from Wilhelmina and pull his attention to the show he was about to do.

OOOOOO

Pennywise waved his hands in frustration as his "cast" completely ignored his direction. The crowd rolled with laughter as the clowns' attempt at a stage play went no better than their rodeo the previous day. Lines were misspoken, positions were completely wrong, and props kept doing things they shouldn't. The orchestra provided music and sound effects as Pennywise tried to get the "show" back on track.

He clutched at his head and stomped at his feet, before he raised his head to send a pleading look at the audience. Could they help him get the wayward actors back on task? He opened his mouth to speak to the crowd, but the words died in his throat before he could voice them.

A shadow flitted in and out of the crowd, moving in a blur that his one good eye struggled to track. It darted between the rows and up and down the stairs, and wherever it stilled, people seemed to lean away from it, while nearby children started to cry. Parents looked around for what was upsetting their children, with some looking directly at the shadowy figure. Pennywise waited for them to shout, to scream in horror, but that didn't happen. Instead, they only turned away and told their children to hush.

A hard jab in his side made Pennywise start and yelp in surprise, and he turned away from the crowd to see Snickers looking at him expectantly. Oh, yeah, the act he was supposed to be part of. He turned back to the other clowns -

- and froze as his next line vanished from his memory. He scrambled to recall it – he'd done this act countless times before – but it was just gone.

"Bob?" Dazzle hissed. "What's wrong?"

Pennywise felt his stomach twist – what was he supposed to do next? How did the act go? What was his next line? Laughter, sounding like no laughter that had ever come from a human voice, sounded close by. He whipped his head to his left, and it was there. The shadow was standing there, less than ten feet away.

"Pennywise! What are you doing?"

The shadow did not move, and those two burning points of orange light appeared again. Pennywise felt the world lurch to the side under his feet.

"Bob!"

"Pennywise!"

"Bob! Snap out of it!"

"Bob, what is wrong!"

Pennywise felt himself drawn towards those lights, and the sounds of the circus around him faded away.

why do they come to you? The whisper slithered across his mind, and his stomach clenched as sweat erupted across his face and head. Images flashed through his mind, of himself putting his makeup on, getting into costume, standing surrounded by children, their laughter and smiles, and the feel of his own joy and delight at entertaining them.

That laughter sounded in his head again, and the shadow vanished, with a pop! that seemed to echo inside his mind.

"Bob! C'mon, talk to me!" came Snickers' voice in his ear, along with the booing of the crowd. Pennywise swayed as the tent tilted in one direction and then the other, and he absently reached up to touch his face went he felt something trickling down it. His fingers touched just below his ear, and the tips of his white gloves came away bloody.

"Bob!"

Pennywise didn't answer. The lights and sounds were pulling away from him again as the tent rocked to the side, and everything went away.

OOOOOO

The sound of dripping water. The smell of sewage. The sense of something large and dangerous hovering over him.

wake up!

OOOOOO

Bob gasped as his eyes flew open. The ceiling of his wagon materialized in front of him just as he felt the mattress of his bunk below him. Orange light shone on the ceiling through the window, and his heart stuttered as he thought that it was the same light he had seen from that shadow, that he had seen in his nightmares. The sounds of a show in progress filtered in through the open window, just as the door clicked open and Mr. Shrine stepped into the small space.

Bob pulled himself upright as his boss came to stand in front of him. Neither said anything. The inside of the wagon seemed to be tilting and spinning just as the inside of the big top had earlier, and Bob had a horrible feeling that if he opened his mouth, then he would be sick.

The silence spiraled out between then, and then came a crack! that echoed through the small space, as Joseph Shrine's right hand connected with Bob's left cheek in a slap that rocked him to the side.

"All you had to do," the ringrmaster said in a low, furious tone, "was lead the clowns' act. That is all. Yet you somehow managed to fuck that up!" Mr. Shrine's voice began to rise, and Bob flinched back away from it. "You forgot your lines, you stared at the audience, and then you had the audacity to take a DAMNED NAP!" The last two words were shouted, and Bob scuttled back across his bunk and huddled in the corner. "I wonder why I even bother to keep you around, when you can't do the simplest tasks without wrecking everything! You ruined the show! I hope you are happy with yourself!"

Each word rained down on Bob like a physical blow, and he drew himself into the tightest ball possible as a frightened whimper escaped him. He couldn't recall Mr. Shrine ever yelling at him before.

"You stay in here, until I say you can come out." The man's voice was back to a angry hiss, and Bob felt tears trickle down his face. "I don't want to see your misshapen head out there until I personally come to get you. If I do, I will make the beating those boys gave you years ago look like a pillow fight in comparison. Am I understood?"

Bob nodded, eyes squeezed shut, face hidden in his arms. His scalp screeched fire as a hand seized his hair and pulled his head upright to meet Mr. Shrine's enraged visage.

"I said, am I understood!"

"Yes, sir!" Bob wailed as more tears ran out of his eyes.

Mr. Shrine shoved him away hard enough that his head thumped against the wall behind his bunk, and the ringmaster turned and strode out of the room. The slamming of the door rattled the walls, followed by the loud click of a lock. Bob stilled at the sound for a moment, and then curled up on his bunk again and started to cry.