#(( tbh i always feel like ben's development was a little too Quiet? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

majorxbennyxboy · 6 years

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S1 - Ben’s so fixated on the idea of traitors in the Continental Army that he makes a futile effort to gain information from someone who could not possibly provide it. He never verbally considers potential consequences, and it comes back to bite him both short-term (Scott) and long-term (Simcoe’s continued, you know, life, in general. Caleb. Everything, really.)

S1 - After Andre’s codebook clues everyone in to enemy schemes, Ben’s so fixated on the information right in front of him that he doesn’t realize Washington’s made the appropriate plans until Washington explains that he’s planning a counter-feint.

S1 - Ben’s so concerned with rescuing family and friends in Setauket that he goes against orders and potentially risks major consequences (loss of life, disrupting Abe and Anna’s work as spies) to do what he believes is right. Technically it does save lives, his father’s included, but there are casualties.

S2 - Ben’s so fixated on the disrespect toward Washington that he picks a fight with an Officer who outranks him, an action which could have brought serious repercussions for everyone involved in the fight if anyone had chosen to acknowledge it.

S2 - Ben’s so fixated on the disrespect toward Washington and on Lee’s treachery that he never considers the potential consequences of exposing Lee, even after Washington touches on the subject (telling him it would lower the army’s morale, nevermind the issues with the French), and proceeds to commit a string of crimes to obtain evidence despite Washington’s directions to the contrary.

S2 - The Sutherland-Shanks debacle has Ben doing his utmost to consider all angles, but it’s an impossible position; he isn’t completely wrong, and Washington is far from completely right, but Ben’s earlier errors contribute to Washington taking the matter out of Ben’s hands.

S2 - With the arrests of Hickey and Bradford, Ben lays out a case for how they should be dealt with, his commentary on the matter showing direct contrast to his thoughts and actions regarding Lee. This time, he’s accounted for everything.

S3 - There is a deleted scene which doesn’t appear to be entirely canon, having been broken up and the pieces moved throughout the season, in which Ben takes a step backward in his pragmatism and refuses to carry out the very plan he’d proposed of writing Bradford and Hickey off as mere Counterfeiters, leaving Washington to write up the final reports instead as Ben can’t reconcile the necessary measures with his conscience.

S3 - Ben’s so fixated on Reverend Worthington’s betrayal...he accounts for the fact that they can’t formally execute him without arousing suspicion, but again he’s so wrapped up in his emotions on the matter that he ignores (and admittedly, so does Washington) Caleb’s suggestion of at least holding back and finding out the logistics of Worthington’s operation, such as who’s his contact. Ben’s first and main thought is that he has to kill this man. This is Ben’s first experience with this type of killing; he isn’t in a battlefield setting, he’s not killing in direct self-defense. Reverend Worthington is unarmed. Further, it’s in another moment of heated emotion that Ben actually pulls the trigger- a knee-jerk reaction to a slight against Washington. He’s noticeably unsettled as he disposes of the body, and too distracted to consider any threat until Gamble has him at gunpoint.

S3 - It’s suggested off and on, and is touched on during the Sarah Livingston Debacle, that Ben’s so wrapped up in his belief of The Cause that he kind of...hasn’t considered that his side can be every bit as capable of horrible things as the enemy. He’s genuinely shocked as Sarah tells him it was Continental soldiers who killed her husband, all but on Washington’s orders.

S3 - Ben’s so focused on the Counterfeiting Fiasco it doesn’t occur to him, or anyone really, to think of what the counterfeiters will be doing with the money until Anna points it out. I have Other Issues with this particular plot point but it does fit with Ben’s tendency to miss the bigger picture at times.

S3 - Obviously also, Ben walks in on the aftermath of Sarah’s murder, he sees the scratches on Randall’s face and never once considers proper protocol...he’s all emotion and attacks Randall without any regard for potential consequences. For some reason the series touches on it enough in S4 to say things went in Randall’s favor, but not enough to point out that, in reality, Ben could have lost his position over this.

S3 - He just, exhibits, throughout, this black-and-white thinking that Patriots are Good, Loyalists are Bad. He holds Nathan to one standard and the enemy’s operatives to another, and doesn’t really seem to reconsider that belief at all until around the time of Andre’s execution while Arnold’s defection is still weighing on him. But he does start to wrestle with it.

Now, disclaimer that I still haven’t actually seen S4 and so don’t pretend to know what the hell I’m actually talking about, but from what bits and pieces...it seems to me that there comes a point, including with dealing with Caleb, however horrible it was to watch, that Ben reaches a point where he goes from overlooking the bigger picture, to looking pretty much only at the bigger picture. He might still fall into his same patterns from S1-S3 at times (and probably does. Such as when he doesn’t want to risk asking Caleb to do something and so intends to do it himself, despite that being a horrible idea and despite Anna’s warning) but there’s a shift. That shift includes choosing between being a good friend or trying to be a good soldier. He chooses the latter. That shift includes tolerating rumors of his involvement with a married woman. (a very minor issue, yes, considering we’ve never seen him concerned with his own reputation as much as Washington’s) That shift includes presenting, at times, as overly, and aggressively pragmatic, and it includes a shouting match with Washington in a near-reversal from S2.

Ben got character-development, between these examples and, of course, other things over the course of the series. It didn’t show up prettily and it wasn’t always necessarily obvious, but it was there and I think a lot of what didn’t make sense actually did, however hard it was to watch play out at times.

#Turn: Washington's Spies #thoughts of a free mun #...do i use || headcanons or || observations or || AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH like #here have a ramble that nobody asked for #(( tbh i always feel like ben's development was a little too Quiet?#as evidenced by the fact that it seems in S4 (and parts of S3 really) a LOT of the fandom myself included #was like ''what the HELL is up with Ben who IS HE?''#and it's partly because just he as a person doesn't talk about things #he marches on until things just kind of explode and then ten seconds later he repeats the cycle #so idk what could've been done differently but i find his development interesting in that #in Almost every case where i've tried to be mad at him or think what he did was unreasonable #it either turns out that he had a point or that it actually does make sense for him as a character

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trash-the-tozier · 6 years

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The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough (5/10)

Title: The Disappearance of Georgie Denbrough

Length ~60.8k (~6.1k for this part)

Summary: The summer between junior and senior year of high school, Bill’s little brother Georgie goes missing.

Warnings: It’s relatively canon-typical in terms of content. For this part there’s explicit language, mentions of death, violence,

Pairings: eventual Richie/Eddie and Ben/Beverly

A/N: ugh benverly are so cute I love them also posted to my ao3 here (much more readable tbh) Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Bill and Mike were already there by the time Ben arrived at the sewers. They weren't looking around like Ben expected but talking to each other instead, and there was a smile on Bill's face. Ben had only seen Bill smile a handful of times, but the expression looked good on him.

“Oh, no.” Mike was saying. He was laughing a little. “I cannot let you say that The Cure are cooler than Michael Jackson. I just can’t. He’s the King of Pop!”

“I d-didn’t say they were cooler. I s-s-said they were better.” Bill grinned as Mike shook his head, seemingly ashamed on Bill’s behalf. He spotted Ben approaching, calling out to him.

“Hey! The Cure or Michael Jackson?”

Ben thought for a moment.

“Is Prince not on the table?” He asked back, and Mike gave his answer consideration before declaring that an argument for a different day. He couldn’t stay ashamed of Bill for very long though, Richie and Eddie coming up quickly, seemingly right behind Ben. They were bickering about something like always, but Richie didn’t seem to be putting up as much of a fight as usual, just looking down at Eddie with a grin as the shorter one spoke fast and fervidly.

“No Richie, you cannot just ‘live in my closet’. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It would save me a lot of trips up and down that trellis, Eds. Those are more dangerous than you know. One day, I’ll fall and break my neck and then you’ll regret it. You’ll hold me in your lap and cry over my dead body.”

“Don’t call me Eds! I can’t believe we’re arguing about this. My mother would find you. And I keep stuff in there! Like… Clothes.”

“So you could keep me in there too! C’mon, it’s not like I haven’t seen your underwear before.” Richie’s expression was less suggestive and more affectionately dopey, but Eddie still shoved his shoulder so hard that he stumbled away a few paces. Eddie came to a huffy stop in front of the rest of them.

“Hi.” He said, the heat still in his voice. When Richie tried to walk up, he shoved him again without even looking. This time Richie fell into the grass, laughing. “Can someone tell Richie that he can’t move in with me?”

Nobody spoke. Bill simply looked amused, helping Richie to his feet. Mike’s eyebrows were raised, and Ben was hesitant to say anything. He couldn’t tell what Richie and Eddie had going on, but quite frankly, he was too afraid to ask. Eddie sighed, mumbling something about “have to do everything myself”.

Stan walked up next. He looked like he hadn’t slept much, but he greeted the group with a little smile anyways. When Beverly approached, she looked sort of the same way. Ben couldn’t help the smile on his face when he saw her though, his heart soaring when she met his eyes and smiled back.

“‘Sup Bevvy?” Richie greeted, an easy smile on his face as he waved. Her expression changed so quickly that Ben barely had time to register it, and before any of them realized what was happening she wound her arm back and slapped Richie across the face, his glasses flying off into the grass. He stumbled away from her, ducking his head, Eddie holding his arm to steady him. All of them looked at her, Stan taking a step back. Ben had seen her lobbing rocks during their fight against Bowers, and could tell that she hadn’t put her full force behind the blow--and it would have hurt infinitely more if she’d decided to punch him instead.

“Call me that again and I swear to god I will strangle you.” She said. Ben saw her swallow after she’d gotten the threat out, and she didn’t look angry. She looked… Scared. Her gaze flicked to the rest of the Losers. “That goes for the rest of you too, understand?”

Their bobble-headed nods seemed to make her realize the spectacle she was causing, casting her gaze to her feet.

“Good.” She finished. Then she stooped down, handing Richie back his glasses. “Sorry.”

With Richie trying to recalibrate his head on his shoulders, there wasn’t anyone to break the silence. Finally, Bill spoke up.

“N-no, you h-h-hit Richie in the face. You’re our hero.” He said. The remark got a few chuckles, Beverly offering him a small smile.

“We get it, we get it, no Bevvy. No need to try and kill me.” Richie said, stumbling back behind Ben and raising his hands placatingly to his chest when his brain had caught up with his mouth, seeing the twist in Beverly’s expression. Stan rolled his eyes and punched Richie on the shoulder. “Fuck! Sorry, sorry. Jesus.”

“So… The sewers?” Ben offered, and they made their way to the pipes.

It wasn’t the most fun way to spend the morning. It was dark and stuffy and didn’t smell the best, with a reluctant Stan and protesting Eddie trailing behind the group every step of the way. They found a couple of things as they stumbled around in the water (grey water, as Eddie was insisting, telling Stan the different ways they would all be contracting staph infections) most of it garbage that Richie flung around with a large stick he'd picked up. Bill found a small shoe with Tania McGowan's name written on the tongue, all of them solemn for a silent moment.

It was weird when Beverly found Patrick Hockstetter’s lighter. They all recognized it, even before Mike pointed out the initials that had been scratched into the bottom. Ben knew he should feel badly, that he should be sorry that Patrick was most likely dead, but all he could identify was a vague sympathy. He wasn't happy about it, he didn't wish death upon anyone, but…

“I don't know what to do with this.” Beverly confessed. She held her hand out palm up, offering the lighter to the group, asking someone else to decide its fate. Richie took it from her, examining it with a furrowed brow before pocketing it.

They reemerged, blinking in the sun, and it took Ben a couple of minutes to realize that he knew where they were. He pointed down the street.

“Hey, that's my house.” He said.

“No kidding!” Richie said with a laugh. He'd gone more or less quiet while climbing through the tunnels, but the sunlight seemed to revive him a little. He began crossing the street, as though forgetting that their mission for the day was to explore the tunnels, not pay Ben’s place a visit.

“H-hey, Richie--” Bill began, but then Mike let out a loud curse, and Eddie’s hands were on Ben’s back, pushing him to get him moving.

“What--?” Ben began, his question drowned out by the loud and menacing revving of an engine. He could guess what car that was--just their luck, of course this would happen--chancing a glance over his shoulder.

Bowers was all the way down the street, Vic and Huggins with him in his car. A look at his expression almost made Ben miss the days that Bowers spit in his face with a smile; this new ‘angry and murderous’ thing made him so much more terrifying. He was a good ways away, but his car was coming at them fast, and Ben scrambled to get his legs moving.

“Which house is yours?” Richie shouted, already in front of them. Ben gave him the house number, realizing as he got closer that his mother’s car was in the driveway. His mom was home. That didn’t seem to deter Richie though, because as soon as he reached the right house he dove inside, Stan fast on his heels.

Bowers’s car was almost on them. Ben could hear the engine roaring in his ears as he ran up onto the sidewalk, up onto his front lawn, hoping that he was safe now that he was out of the road. That wasn’t the case. He heard the bump behind him as the car went up over the curb, and simply kept running for his front door.

“Henry, fuck--” Huggins’s voice, and suddenly the car swerved, kicking up grass and dirt and skidding away from its collision course for Ben’s front porch. He looked back and saw the two bullies grappling for the wheel, Huggins steering the car back onto the street and Henry shouting curses at him.

“I almost had the fat fucker--”

And then Ben was inside, slamming and locking the door behind him. He half expected the gang to try coming in his house, the mad glint developing in Bowers’s eyes making him feel that nearly anything was possible, but they didn’t. Maybe the ‘veteran’ bumper sticker on the back of his mother’s car was dissuading them; if that were the case, Ben would be willing to wear it across his forehead.

His friends were all standing very awkwardly in his kitchen. It took him a few moments to catch his breath, then he gestured around vaguely with his hands.

“Uh… This is my house.”

It was Beverly that began laughing first, but soon they were a hopelessly giggling mess, Ben’s legs shaking slightly as the adrenaline faded from his limbs. He offered them drinks and snacks, trying to be a good host, and everyone had a cup of water in their hands by the time his mother came down the stairs.

“Well hello.” She sounded happy but hesitant, giving Ben a quick look. How she hadn’t known about other people in the house until now, Ben had no idea. They had been rather loud upon entering. “Benjamin, what’s all this?”

“These are my friends.” Ben supplied. He named them all in turn, each giving her a small wave.

“Oh, friends!” She exclaimed the word as though until now, she’d forgotten how to pronounce it. Ben wished she’d said it any other way than that.

“I know, we might just be the first ones.” Richie said, walking over and slinging an arm across Ben’s shoulders. “Your Benny’s a special boy.”

Mrs. Hanscom beamed at him. “I like this one.” She said, gesturing to Richie. Then Richie winked, and Ben shoved him.

“Okay, I’m going grocery shopping so I’ll be out for a little while.” She said, moving towards the door. She paused for a second at Beverly, who looked nervously back, but Mrs. Hanscom only complimented her on her dress before continuing on her way out. When she opened the door, she stopped.

“Oh, what happened here?”

Ben looked out. There were very clear tire tracks ripping through the grass.

“Looks like some kind of accident.” He said innocently. He glanced down, seeing Bowers’s car parked a few houses away, and pulled his head back inside. “Don’t know.”

“I do hope the driver is alright.” She remarked absently, and Ben bit the inside of his cheek. She turned and ruffled his hair affectionately. “If you go out again, just make sure to be home in time for dinner.”

“I will.”

She was out the door, Ben turning to the group.

“Bowers is just waiting down the street.” He said. “We probably shouldn’t go out there until he leaves.”

“Party at Ben’s!” Richie said happily.

“Don’t wink at my mom.” Ben responded. “It’s weird.”

Eddie hit Richie in the arm. “I told you it’s weird.”

Richie just shrugged in a hopeless sort of way.

“What can I say? Moms love me.”

Bill looked incredibly frustrated, and Ben felt bad for him.

“W-w-what are we s-supposed to do now?” He asked. Aside from a shrug from Stan, nobody else had an answer, and they sat themselves around Ben’s kitchen table, someone getting up every once and awhile and peeking through the windows to check on the status of the Bowers threat. Mike brought back the Cure vs. Michael Jackson debate, and after an hour and a round of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, they were all still stuck at Ben’s.

“Sorry about this.” Ben felt he had to say, but his apology was quickly waved off.

“Not your fault that Bowers is a dick.” Eddie said. “Plus, you’re keeping us out of the hepatitis breeding ground. We should be thanking you.”

“But--” Bill began, Ben remembering something so suddenly that he cut him off.

“That book!”

“What book?” Mike asked. Ben apologized to Bill, but turned to him as well, knowing that at least him, Stan, and Beverly would know what he was talking about.

“That book we looked at in the library, with the sewer system mapped out. Remember? I went back and checked it out. There are a few maps in it, too. We could see what places--”

“What p-places are ab-bandoned.” Bill finished. “We m-m-might be able to f-find out where he lives.”

He nodded and they all rose from their seats, Ben not realizing at first that everyone walking out of the kitchen meant everyone going into his room. He rushed ahead of them, trying desperately to clean up as much as he could before they got there, picking things up as he scurried around. It only half worked, his bed unmade and papers strewn all over the place, but at least all his dirty clothes were now shoved in his closet.

They walked in one by one, Ben standing back and watching their expressions, feeling strangely nervous. Everyone's eyes went first to the various things he had pinned up. Ben didn’t like having bare bedroom walls, and as a result he'd hung up every noteworthy thing he could. Flyers from events he’d attended and movie tickets were in the majority, with a few family photos and achievements from summer camps. Most of it was stuff he and his dad had done together and almost none of it was from Derry, but he liked having it all up there nonetheless.

Ben crossed to his desk, picking the book up. It was out of his hands as soon as he turned back to the group, Bill opening it, Stan and Mike on either side of him to get a good look as Eddie and Richie continued to flit around his room. Ben hovered behind them awkwardly, unsure of what it was they were doing. Beverly let out a little cough, and when Ben looked over the bottom dropped out of his stomach. She had her hand on the knob of his bedroom door, the door almost completely closed, all five members of New Kids On The Block staring back at him.

Ben’s eyes went wide, glancing momentarily to the unaware Eddie and Richie and shaking his head desperately. He’d been incredibly into the boy band a couple of years ago, and while they’d faded from his enthusiasm, he still knew most of their songs by heart. He’d put the poster up when he’d moved to Derry, and found he still had a soft spot for the group every time he tried to take it down. Bev looked completely delighted by her discovery, and as happy as Ben was to see her smile, he didn’t know what the rest of the Losers would do with that information and didn’t want to find out.

Thankfully, after a few more moments of teasing, Beverly reopened the door so that the poster was hidden safely against the wall, and Ben breathed a sigh of relief.

“The wellhouse.” Mike remarked. He sounded surprised, pointing to the book in Bill’s hands. “All of the sewer lines end up running to the old wellhouse. That thing isn’t there anymore, though; it was torn down or something.”

“W-what’s there now?” Bill asked, and Mike took the book from him, flipping through a few different pages of maps. Nobody else could see what it was they were looking at, but everyone watched them, a feeling of foreboding settling in Ben's stomach as Mike's eyes fixed on a place on the page. He swallowed, pointing.

“Well?” Beverly asked, visibly nervous. “What is it?”

“The Neibolt house.” Stan answered. His voice was slow, and he sounded slightly hoarse.

“Hey!” Richie gave Eddie a nudge, breaking the ominous silence that had settled around them. “You were right, Eds.”

Eddie didn’t look at all pleased at being right. Ben watched the courage muster up on Bill's face, taking a step towards the door.

“Woah, where are you going?” Mike asked, gripping Bill's shoulder. Bill turned back to them, his eyes bright, his mouth a thin line.

“L-l-let’s go. We know where h-he is, so let's go.”

“Go?” Stan echoed, his voice cracking slightly. “Go to the Neibolt house? Are you insane?”

Bill didn't wait to debate him, turning back to the exit, but Stan jumped forwards and grabbed his arm.

“Bill--”

“I'm going!” Bill shook him off, but Stan just grabbed him again. “I'm g-going. Every second we w-w-waste here is j-just--”

“Georgie. I get it.” Stan said empathetically. “But Bill, you have to think about this! It's crazy! If we really have a psycho clown on our hands then we are so damn far over our heads that it's unreal. We have to take this to the police. It's their job. We're just kids.”

“B-b-but--”

“You--we--are the only people doing something. I know that. But if this gets you killed, you'll be no use to Georgie at all. Please go to the police station.”

They held each other's gaze, Ben afraid even to breathe. Then, finally, Bill's eyes dropped to his feet.

“Fine.”

Stan visibly relaxed but Bill wasn't finished, looking up again.

“But i-if they d-d-don't do anything useful, w-we’re going in ourselves.”

Stan's fingers tightened on Bill's shirtsleeve.

“Fine.” He said. “Fine.”

Then he let him go, the group following Bill out of Ben's bedroom. Eddie ran forward and looked out the window.

“Coast is clear.” He reported. “Bowers left.”

Nodding dutifully, Bill was out the door without another word. The others left soon after that, first Eddie, then Mike and Stan. Richie asked to use his bathroom, Ben pointing him in the right direction, and after a strangely disconcerting promise to not do anything weird to the soap, Richie retreated into the house.

That left him with Beverly, and he smiled at her. Just being next to her was nice, despite the fact that she seemed a little different than usual today. Maybe she hadn't slept well; she had bags under her eyes that he'd noticed as soon as she'd greeted them, smiling a little less, and her walk was slightly stiff. All the same, his stomach did a little somersault when she smiled back. He wanted to tell her she smelled good, but thought that might be a bit much.

She misread his silence, laughing a little and looking out over the torn-up lawn.

“Don't worry. I won't tell anyone about your crush.”

“W-what?” Ben choked out. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“New Kids On The Block?” She said. “You know, that you're their biggest fan.”

“Oh.” He laughed a little. “Yeah. I mean, it was a couple years ago, I…”

“Is it because you were the new kid?” She asked. “I remember when you first came to class. You and I were in Social Studies together.”

“You remember that?” He couldn't hide how stunned he was.

“Yeah. You wrote the best paper in the class about the Civil War, so the teacher made you stand up and read the entire thing in front of everyone. Your face was bright red.”

“Of course that's what you remember.” Ben remarked, and Beverly laughed. She took a step out onto his front lawn.

“I'm going to go ahead.” She said. “I want to meet up with Bill, actually. He shouldn't do this alone. See you later.” She winked, and Ben had a near death experience right there in his doorway. “Hang tough.”

Ben recognized her parting words as a New Kids song reference, but by the time he'd thought of a response she was already halfway down the street. He said it anyway, calling after her.

“Please don't go girl!”

She turned at the sound of his voice, confused for just a moment before understanding what he said. When she realized it was another song title she threw her head back in a loud laugh, her shoulders relaxing, releasing a tension in them that Ben hadn't noticed until it was gone. It felt good to make her laugh like that.

“So. Bev.”

Ben spun around so fast he nearly fell down. It was Richie. Ben had completely forgotten he was there. Richie was staring at the back of Beverly's head as though she'd just told him a rather complicated math problem, though Ben knew for a fact that Richie was extremely good at math.

“Yeah?” He asked after a moment. “What?”

“She's great, don't get me wrong.” Richie said. “I mean, she's one of us now, so we'd all die for her. It's just… Why do you love her so much?”

“Love?” Ben squeaked. “I… It's…”

“Benny.” Richie raised his eyebrows. “Come on man.”

“Please don't try to get that nickname to catch on.”

“Fine, Benji.”

Benji wasn't much better, but Ben took it. He shrugged.

“I like being around her. She makes me nervous, but in a good way, and happy too. I want to make her laugh. I want to protect her, even though she really doesn't need it. I don't know.” It was hard to put his feelings into words. “She's fearless, and she's funny, and I can't wait to see her every day. Plus, she's… You know…”

“Cute.” Richie finished. Ben nodded but Richie didn't notice, looking preoccupied with his own thoughts. “Really, really cute.”

“Yeah.” Ben raised his eyebrows, confused by Richie's change in attitude, but he didn't end up needing to ask about it. Richie scuffed the bottom of his right shoe against the floor.

“I feel that way about someone too.” Then he caught the look in Ben's eye. “It's not Beverly, don't get your dick in a twist.”

“Oh.” When Richie didn't elaborate, Ben figured it wasn't his business. “Well, good luck.”

“You too, Benito.” Richie clapped him hard on the back, trying to break the mood with his terrible British accent as he jumped down all of Ben’s front steps at once. “I'm rooting for you, old sport!”

“Thanks.” Ben gave him a smile, and after a clumsy salute, Richie was gone.

“The Neibolt house?” The police officer gave him a disbelieving look. His dark hair was cropped short and his face was incredibly pockmarked from old acne scars that never properly healed. He seemed pretty sure that Bill and Beverly were playing some sort of joke on him. “What on God’s green Earth are you talking about, Denbrough?”

Bill swallowed, glancing at Beverly, who gave him an encouraging nod. She’d run after him, finally catching up in town, and Bill was glad now for her company. He hadn’t considered what to do if the police didn’t believe him. He hadn’t even thought that would be a possibility.

Taking a deep breath, he explained again about the sewers, and the clown Mike had seen. He left out the name Robert Gray, remembering what Mike had said about his father getting laughed out of the precinct. To his credit, the officer genuinely seemed to be listening. He turned to his partner when Bill had finished for the second time, a man with light brown hair and an exceptionally bushy mustache under his long nose.

“Are you hearing this?”

“Sounds like bullshit to me, but why not?” The cop with the mustache asked back. “You told me ten minutes ago that you were bored. We could go.”

“P-please.” Bill said. He was beginning to feel angry, trying to keep it out of his voice. His brother was missing, and the police were bored. He was frustrated with Stan, too; if not for him, Bill would be in the house by now. He might have even found Georgie already. “I-i-i-it w-won’t take long, j-j-j-just--”

“Alright, alright. Don’t hurt yourself.” Pockmark got to his feet, grabbing his hat and putting it on. “You two wanna ride in a cop car?”

Bill hadn’t expected to be invited along. He’d expected to be taken seriously, for this to be seen as the significant, dangerous lead that it was. All the same though, he did want to go, and a few minutes later the two of them found themselves in the back of the police vehicle, Mustache behind the wheel and Pockmark sitting shotgun. Nerves twisted themselves in his stomach, a negative type of anticipation, and a strange part of Bill wanted to cry. It must have shown on his face because Beverly reached over, rubbing his arm. He tried to smile in gratitude, but he felt his lips stretch weirdly and he quickly gave up.

“Hey, where's the chief?” Pockmark asked. “He didn’t ever come in.”

Mustache glanced over at him.

“Chief Bowers? Day off.” He answered. “He called in earlier though; can't find his damn gun. Thinks his kid stole it.”

Pockmark let out a breath. “Wouldn't surprise me. He hits that boy, you know.”

“Yeah?” Mustache’s mustache furrowed as he frowned, turning onto Neibolt street. “Sounds like he doesn't hit him hard enough.”

Then the police car was put into park, and they had arrived. The Neibolt house loomed over them, dark and desecrated, a sore thumb in an otherwise picturesque neighborhood. The lawn was brown and dead, a bare and mangled tree jutting from the earth like a gnarled hand. Vines had grown all around the first story of the house, creeping their way in between the cracks of the boarded up windows, but they too looked brown and wasted. The rusted fence boasted two “NO TRESPASSING” signs, but they were disregarded.

“It’s not trespassing if nobody lives here.” Mustache reasoned. “The owners of the house died, the kids didn’t want it, and they left it here to rot.”

It wasn’t until they got to the front door that Pockmark stopped them both.

“Just in case, you two stay out here.” He said. “There’s a working radio in the front if you need it. We should only be a moment, really. But we’ll take a look around.”

Bill bit back a retort. He wanted to go inside, especially since he’d already come all the way here. This had to be it, and if it was, that meant Georgie was in there. Georgie needed him. He couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. But he couldn’t defy a police officer to his face, especially not with Beverly holding tight to his arm. At her insistence they backed away from the porch, standing in the middle of the walkway to the house.

“God, I hate this place.” She said, and in spite of himself and his frustration Bill felt a shiver pass through him as he looked through the gaping front door. But still, his weight shifted forward, all the more ready to pull away from Beverly. She felt it, gripping him tighter.

“Bill, don’t.” She was looking at him, examining his face.

“What?”

“You want to play the hero.” She said. “You want to help, and I get it, but Stan’s right. If Pennywise is here, we need to let the cops take care of it.”

“I k-know.” Stan was right. Stan was usually right, but this wasn’t really a question of right or wrong; it was all about how much feeling useless he could bear.

It only took a few minutes before he was ready to disregard all of the warnings and go inside anyway, pulling his arm from Beverly’s grasp.

“Bill--” She started, and he turned to apologize, flinching horribly when something that felt like an explosion went off inside the house. Beverly cursed in surprise and confusion, Bill stepping instinctively closer to her. A metal rod flew from the open front door, landing only inches from their feet and cracking the pavement ahead of them as dust billowed from the windows like smoke. There were few moments of tense silence before the policemen emerged, Pockmark dragging Mustache down the steps. He looked like he’d survived a nuclear blast, his hair blown every which way, blood and dirt streaked across his face.

Mustache looked like he’d been through the nuclear blast too, but that he hadn’t been so lucky. It wasn’t until Beverly muffled a scream behind her hands that Bill noticed that the darkness on the clothes of the officers was actually blood, so much of it that it scared him, his eyes traveling up to see that Mustache had a rusted metal rod protruding through his neck. The ground seemed to sway under Bill’s feet, Pockmark’s frantic voice sounding like it was coming from miles away.

“Radio! Radio for help!”

Mustache--or Bruce Andeen, as Bill later learned--was dead before any help arrived. Bill tried to press the other officer for answers--Charles Avarino--but he didn’t talk much at all until they were back at the police station. Traps, he’d said. The place was full of them. Tripwires, bear traps, holes in the floor. Explosives. Something had launched steel rods through the living room, though in the moment he hadn’t been able to discern where they’d come from or how they’d been sprung. But despite all this, he said the house looked as though nothing had been in it for years. The dust was undisturbed. They didn’t see a single person.

“The place was empty.” He kept insisting. “We didn’t hear anyone. We didn’t see a soul. It was empty.”

Bill and Beverly were also questioned, and again Bill explained their reasoning for going to the Neibolt house, as well as what had happened, but they were marked off as unimportant. The Neibolt house was declared dangerous, the fence marked off with caution tape, the “NO TRESPASSING” signs now shiny and new and under police jurisdiction, and Bill and Beverly were sent home.

Beverly took him by the hand and began to walk. Bill felt numb, shellshocked; he didn’t even realize where they were going until Beverly came to a stop at his front door. When he didn’t move to go inside of his house she tugged him forward, stepping into the kitchen.

“You need to get some rest.” Her voice was quiet, but not in an attempt to be comforting. She was shaken. “Or eat something. We haven’t eaten since we were at Ben’s.”

Bill disregarded her suggestions, one thing on his mind as he left his kitchen. Her hand was still in his so he took her with him, walking together to Georgie’s bedroom. The door to the room was closed, and as soon as he saw it he choked on a gasp.

A dirty yellow raincoat was nailed to the wood of the door, arms of it splayed out and hood up as though it were being worn. It was Georgie’s and Bill knew it, running forward with a choked sob, pulling the coat down from the door and holding it close. Beverly was there with her hand on his shoulder but he barely noticed, his face a mess of tears as he pressed it into the raincoat. His world felt as though it were spinning and crumbling all at once and he couldn’t breathe, pain ripping itself from his throat in cries.

“Bill, Bill…” Beverly pulled him close to her, her hands threading through his hair, rubbing his back, trying to comfort him. “Bill, I’m so sorry…”

“Georgie…” The name was an explanation that Beverly didn’t need, but Bill felt as though it grounded him slightly, the coat feeling heavier and heavier in his hands until he let it fall to the floor. Bev took his hands in hers and it pulled him back to the present even more.

“Look at me. Look at me.” She reached up to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. “Breathe.”

It was difficult, but he did, the storm in his chest slowly subsiding. The tears came anew in the quiet but Beverly sat with him, and it was her again that kept him there, not allowing him to be swept away by his emotions, and he reigned himself in enough to speak.

“I-I-I…” Beverly met his eyes, and Bill realized he had no idea what it was he wanted to say. “Beverly…”

When he trailed off the second time she looked at him curiously for a moment, then leaned forwards and kissed him, giving their entwined fingers a squeeze.

Bill liked Beverly. She was fiercely strong and loyal, and anyone could tell how pretty she was. He had thought about kissing her once or twice. But this, while comforting… Something about it wasn't the way it should be.

Bill had kissed people before, and Beverly wasn't a bad kisser. It didn't feel wrong, exactly, but it didn't feel right, either. Beverly pulled away.

“There's something off about this, isn't there.” It was a question but it came out like a statement, and Bill tried to apologize.

“Bev, I-I-I…”

“No, I felt it too. It's okay.” She gave him a little smile. She wasn’t upset, and for that Bill was relieved. “I guess we're just meant to hold hands with other people, huh.”

“The h-hand holding was nice, actually.” Bill said, and Beverly smiled wider. Bill realized he truly felt better, safer and calmer. “Thank you, Beverly.”

“Of course. You're my best friend.” Beverly squeezed his hands again before letting him go.

“D-d-d… Do you really t-think he isn’t there?” Bill had to ask. Beverly frowned.

“I don’t know.” She confessed. “Officer Avarino did say he didn’t hear any…” Her voice died in her throat, looking up at the bedroom door they’d collapsed in front of. Bill followed her line of sight, clutching his stomach as though he’s just been punched in the gut, the wind completely knocked out of him.

There had been something on the door behind the raincoat, a message written in dark red. The door smelled of paint and not iron, but the small relief that the message wasn’t in blood barely helped.

“Leave my home alone or I’ll kill you.” Beverly read slowly, her voice shaking. “I’ll kill you and your sweet brother too.” Beverly gripped Bill’s shoulder, her fingers digging into him. “Bill, he was inside your house.”

That should have scared Bill, and he knew it, but that wasn’t the part of the message he was focusing on. He struggled to his feet, unsure if his legs would hold him. They did, just barely, and he swayed on the spot.

“He’s still alive.” He said. “Georgie’s still alive. We have to go to the Neibolt house.”

“Okay.” Beverly was willing, and he could see that, but she sent an anxious glance out the window down the hall. The sun was just starting to set, the beginnings of orange and pink streaking across the sky. “We will Bill, but tomorrow, okay? I have to go home.”

“Bev--”

“I have to go. Tomorrow we’ll call everyone, and we’ll go to Neibolt, and everything. But tonight I have to go home.”

Bill didn’t understand what had her suddenly so close to tears, but he could tell it was important, and he nodded.

“Okay.”

She gave him a small smile, and after a kiss on the cheek and an expression of farewell, she left. Bill grabbed a towel from the bathroom, hanging it over the door to cover the words, knowing full well that his parents wouldn’t try to move it. He didn’t want them to see the message. They were distraught enough as it was, and they wouldn’t believe him if he told them the truth. They would just be angry with him instead.

He took Georgie’s jacket with him into his bedroom. It smelled mostly of sewage and slightly of blood but Bill couldn’t bear to part with it, laying back on his bed and holding it in his hands. He wasn’t willing to admit it to anyone, most of all himself, but he’d begun to give up hope. Some part of him had just been waiting for a body to turn up, like Betty Ripsom had. Not anymore.

A tiny voice was nagging in the back of his mind, wondering if the whole thing was a trap, or some kind of red herring, Avarino’s words echoing in his mind. The place was empty.

He shook it away, determination settling in overtop of his uneasy fear. Georgie was in there, and Bill was going to get him out.

#it 2017 #reddie #reddie fic #benverly #benverly fic #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #stanley uris #mike hanlon #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #myfic #tdogd

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