Chapter Text
It was still dark when he woke up. His eyes were glued shut as he drifted back into consciousness, the gears of his brain slowly beginning to turn with purpose. Richie shifted in his bed, groaning, before his eyes shot open.
Eddie.
He immediately snatched phone, which laid beside him, and to his disappointment (but not to his surprise) there was nothing there—or more specifically, nobody there, just his own reflection staring back at him from the blank screen.
As his brain began catching up to the moment, a thought crossed his mind. Had it all been a dream?
No. It couldn’t have been. Right?
Unlocking his phone, he hesitantly opened up the Call App. He squinted, scanning through all his recent calls until he saw the name he was looking for—Eddie’s contact, “Spaghetti Man”—next to the time Eddie had picked up.
Richie let out a sigh of relief. Last night was real.
Then, his eyes shifted down, and he cringed seeing all the unanswered calls and hoards of voicemails he left Eddie. He quickly shut off his phone, concluding that he’d have to tell him to not listen to those as soon as he can.
Before lingering on it a moment longer, he shook the thought from his head. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that, he needed to get ready for his departure to Derry. He checked the nearest clock he could see—it was a few minutes into 4 in the morning. That meant that he had 2 hours until his flight would be leaving. It also meant that he had only gotten 2 hours of sleep.
He groaned. The exhaustion wouldn’t be hitting him just yet, but he hoped it wouldn’t hit him before he could find Eddie. Begrudgingly, he grabbed his glasses and dragged himself out of bed to start a pot of coffee, beginning to plan on what to do.
He’d need supplies, right? A flashlight, a first aid kit, probably? And towels—Eddie would probably be filthy. Not that Richie minded at all, but Eddie 100% would. He’d complain their entire trip back that he was grimy and how disgusting he smelled and ‘I probably have like, fifty fucking diseases,’ and shit like that—especially after wafting back and forth through the sewer water.
He smiled. He hadn’t changed a bit since when they were younger. The cranky short kid that used to scuffle with Richie constantly had grow into a still cranky older guy that was exactly the same as he’d always been. The same old Eddie that somehow aged into the most beautiful man Richie had ever seen, still with that cute face that he’d loved all those years ago.
Richie shook his head, embarrassed. He was getting sidetracked, but he always did. Recently, he’d always been thinking about Eddie, even when he didn’t realize it. Even when it hurt to. But now was his chance to get him back.
He grabbed a small suitcase and started grabbing some of the items he’d thought of earlier. Flashlight, towel, first aid kit—clothes. It would probably be smart to bring Eddie a change of clothes, too. And hand sanitizer, and wipes.
Richie scurried around his apartment, grabbing anything he could think of and shoving it into the suitcase. After he’d packed it to the brim, he checked the time again. The clock read 4:32. Shit, he’d have to get going soon.
Richie zipped the suitcase closed and rushed back to the coffee he’d started. It was already cold, but he didn’t really care. He chugged what he could from the pot, and then discarded it into his sink, grabbed his suitcase and ran out the door. He sped down two flights of stairs and rushed out the nearest exit, out onto the street. He then waved a cab down, giving the man the location of the airport.
Richie sighed, finally letting himself relax for the first time that morning. He opened his phone, staring at Eddie’s contact.
“I’m on my way, Eds.”
———
The rest of the trip felt like a blur. He got dropped off at the airport, got himself checked in, and got boarded. The flight was long and tedious, and Richie tried to catch some rest, but to no avail. His thoughts (and probably the coffee he hastily chugged) kept him twitchy and awake, unable to sleep the entire flight.
Once he’d landed and grabbed his luggage, he called over another cab and gave them the location. He nervously waited the entire ride, unable to relax. His thoughts were all of Eddie.
‘I’m going to see him again. He’s not dead. This is real.’
The cab pulled up to the gates where the old Neibolt house used to stand, where the beige, dried out weeds with the contrasting golden sunflowers resided; Richie stared at the lot, feeling his breath begin to grow shaky. As he stepped out of the car, memories flooded his head; how he watched the house crumble in on itself, how he screamed as the other Losers held him back from running back in to grab Eddie.
He stared at the empty lot, chest tight. This was the last place he’d ever want to be, but Eddie was here, and now was the chance that he always wanted to save him, to bring him back.
Richie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He felt his head pounding, and closed his eyes tightly, trying to manage his breathing. Without waiting another second, he suddenly stepped through the rickety gate of the house, suitcase in hand.
After a moment of silence, he hesitantly opened an eye. He didn’t know what he expected to happen by walking into the lot, but then again, he needed to be ready for anything. What if Pennywise suddenly came back to life and jumped out of a bush or something and snapped his neck?
He shuddered at the thought, forcing it away as he took another step closer to the pit, and then another. Eventually, he was waiting at the edge of the giant hole.
The massive pit seemed so much smaller than he’d always remembered it to be. He always imagined it deep and looming, but to his surprise, it was easy to see the bottom of it, where all the rubble resided. Old, moldy wood and countless piles of bricks and tile laid calmly, contrasting the chaos of when everything had come crashing down around them. It was.. peaceful, in a way. Something that he never expected to feel here, of all places.
Richie pulled his suitcase close to him, crouching down to take out his supplies. A flashlight, gloves he’d brought for himself, and rope. He didn’t know what he’d need rope for, but it seemed like something that might be beneficial later on, so it wouldn’t hurt to bring it.
After gathering the items, holding them tightly in his hands, he stared down at the hole. He felt like he needed to vomit—this was all so much. So many emotions were stirring throughout his body, and all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry.
He shook his head, ignoring all the thoughts that were screaming at him to stop, to just give up without risking himself. After taking a deep breath, he finally mumbled out, “Here goes nothing.”
He suddenly jumped into the hole, flashlight in hand, as he felt his feet slam against the rough terrain of the floor. He felt the earth crack under his weight, shifting from its place below his feet.
Okay. Step 1, done.
Richie’s eyes roamed his surroundings. All the rubble and old wood seemed much bigger than when he was looking down into it, but it hopefully wouldnt be too hard to navigate. All he had to do was find the well that lead to the sewers, which Richie was hoping wouldn’t be too hard under all the wreckage of the house.
After what felt like hours of searching through countless piles of wood and tile, he spotted the well’s stony texture under a heap of wooden planks. Quickly running over to it, he pushed all of the debris off, revealing the well.
Step 2, check.
Richie pulled his rope out, tying it to a nearby stake in the ground. He gave it a harsh tug, concluding that it could probably hold his weight. Well, there was only one way to find out.
He hesitantly approached the well, the trailing rope in his hands. As he stared down its length, he felt heart beating out of his chest. He watched the length of the rope fall in, practically disappearing as it went. Fuck, it was deep, a long drop if he slipped up. Shit, should he really be doing this? He couldn’t possibly… fuck it. He suddenly swung a leg over the ledge of the well, then another, and gripping the rope tightly, he began to lower himself in.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he nervously babbled under his breath, as he slowly crept lower and lower inside. The walls seemed to be pressing in on him, tight and claustrophobic against his body. His face was practically smashed against the stony interior of the well, he could feel his hot breath against it. His muscles spasmed every foot he went down, burning at the effort.
Finally, he felt the next opening along the wall with his foot. He let out a relieved laugh, inching down the rope low enough to let himself into the hole. As he settled himself in and let go of the rope, he bitterly remembered how far he’d have to crawl until he reached the sewers. Richie flinched, already feeling a twinge of pain in his knees, but he reminded himself that he had to keep going.
He crawled through the tight interior, feeling the stone against his palms and knees as he shuffled himself through. Before long, he could hear sloshing coming from the other end of the tunnel. He was almost to the sewers. Eagerly, he crawled faster, and soon enough, he had finally reached the end of the tunnel.
Step 3, done.
Richie lowered himself from the hole into the dark water of the sewers. Richie sighed in relief, glad to be in a bigger space than the two other tunnels before. He looked around the darkness of the cesspit, wafting around in the greywater. He tried not to gag at the pungent smell, covering his nose with his arm. All he had to do is get through the maze of the sewers—which he could probably remember—and then he’d be, what, halfway there? Farther than he ever thought he’d get, so he just had to keep pushing.
As he trudged through the shit-smelling water, he started to recall moments in his childhood. Well, specifically, the time that he’d spent down here, with the rest of the Losers, searching for Georgie and It. They were fucking crazy for going down there by themselves and somehow ending up alive, both times. Even Eddie, who had somehow miraculously survived getting stabbed in the chest, was going to make it out of here. Pennywise would be rolling in it’s grave if it knew that it failed at killing even a single one of them.
Once again, he lumbered through the slog, and made it to the chamber where It had first kept its victims, floating and revolving in a pile.
Step 4, check.
All the bodies that used to reside there were washed away, but still a few spare body parts remained untouched, floating in the water. The water was dark with the blood of the countless children It had murdered, staying still despite the years that had passed. Richie couldn’t help but retch at the sight; he never processed that he’d been marching through water filled with the blood of Pennywise’s victims.
Well, now wasn’t the time to think of that. He remembered vaguely the pothole that had led to the Depths, where the Losers—older than the last time they’d been there—had gathered their tokens for the the Ritual of Chüd. The Depths; that’s his next checkpoint.
His head swiveled for a moment, as he spotted the hole that had led to the Depths. He quickly spotted it, and began to go towards it as he wafted through the thick, dark water. He slowly walked deeper and deeper, the water rising to his chest, before he reached the platform that the hole had been in.
Richie hauled himself out of the water and onto the soft dirt, and stared down the pit. He was a lot less hesitant, remembering how he had conquered the last hole (ha), and found himself feeling a lot more confident. He was almost there.
He lowered himself into the ditch, the dirt contrasting the stone surface of the last hole he was in. He carefully climbed down, feeling a hell of a lot more claustrophobic than before, and slowly but surely, he made his way down. After a while, he felt his feet scrape against a solid surface. He let his feet steady himself onto the floor, and he let go of the walls beside him.
Step 5, finally done. He was here.
The Depths were a lot more rubble-ey than he had remembered them to be; where solid spikes used to jut out, there was now piles of earth, covering much of the surroundings. Richie felt somewhat relieved; if he had to see the full horror of where It used to reside, he’d probably pass out.
“Eddie?” He called out, as he heard his voice echo off the vast walls. He waited for a moment, but nothing.
Richie continued to walk, observing his surroundings, keeping his head on a swivel for Eddie. He called out again.
“Eds? You here?”
It was obvious that he was. Where else could he be? It’s not like he could’ve escaped by himself, or that someone could’ve possibly found themselves wandering over here as they come across Eddie, so where the fuck was he?
“Eds?” He yelled out once more.
Silence.
Richie felt his eyes begin to burn. He had to be down here. This was all real, he couldn’t have been imagining this. He simply couldn’t.
Before he started to frantically look around the entire interior of the Depths, he heard a noise.
“The fuck?” He whispered, walking towards it. He then remembered he had a flashlight and clicked it on, as he pointed it all around the cave.
“Richie?”
The unmistakeable voice of Edward fucking Kasprak himself echoed off the cavern’s walls. Holy fuck.
“Eddie! Hello?” Richie screamed out, voice cracking.
“Rich!” Eddie’s voice responded back. “Where the fuck are you, dipshit?”
“Where the fuck are you ?” Richie snapped back.
“I don’t fucking know! It’s dark in here!” Eddie shouted in response. “Hold on..”
Richie then heard a noise behind him, his head shooting towards the sound. “Was that you?” He called out.
“No shit it was me, asshat,” Eddie’s voice called out with a laugh, partially annoyed.
“Well excuse me, I’ve had enough fucking clowns and jumpscares for a lifetime, so sorry if I thought it might’ve been something else.”
Eddie scoffed, but he could tell there was no heat behind the action. “Just get over here, man.”
Richie complied, racing over to where he could hear Eddie. He pointed his flashlight at where he heard his voice coming from, and he felt his heart swell when he saw Eddie, sitting under a pile of rubble, with an eyebrow arched and his lips pressed into a smile.
“Eddie! Holy fuck!” Richie cried out, running to his side. “How the hell did you get under here, man?”
“I dunno. I kinda blacked out for a few..” Eddie paused, thinking. “Hours..? Days..? I don’t fucking know. Just please get me out of here.”
“Aye aye, cap’n,” Richie replied, carefully shoving the debris off of Eddie. He stood there for a moment, staring at him, unable to comprehend that he was actually there. That he wouldn’t disappear if he blinked.
Mindlessly, Richie shot to hug Eddie, holding him tightly, how he’d been imagining for weeks. He didn’t want to let go.
He felt Eddie hesitantly hug him back, arms limp around him. Limp? That’s fucking weird. Richie pulled away from Eddie to examine him—more specifically, where It had stabbed him with its massive claw.
Obviously, there was a hole in his clothing, but to his surprise all that resided under them was just a massive scar along his stomach, appearing fully healed.
“My eyes are up here, dickwad,” Eddie snorted.
Richie’s eyes shot up to his face, as he felt himself turn red with embarrassment. “How the fuck is it like.. healed?” He asked shakily.
“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself, dude,” Eddie shrugged, reaching a hand to the scar.
“Can you walk?” Richie asked, worried.
Eddie replied simply, “Haven’t tried.”
Richie grabbed Eddie’s free hand and hauled him up, earning a hiss from the other man.
“Look, let me help you,” he said softly, reaching a hand around his shoulder. Eddie mimicked his action, wrapping his own arm around Richie, standing up shakily.
“Thanks,” Eddie quietly mumbled.
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, both in disbelief.
“Let’s get out of here.”