she all but crashed into the warm circle of his arms, unaware of when exactly it was she’d moved to meet him, but loathe to find herself caring. not now. not with him here. her fingers gripped tight, desperate, and white-knuckled to the back of his jacket as though, at any moment, he would be ripped from her all over again, or disappear into the air like some intangible smoke. “ben,” she breathed on a choked mix of a relieved laugh and a sob. just so happy to say his name again and again. “you’re here. i thought … i thought it was like before.” her words were jumbled and didn’t make much sense, and yet, somehow, she knew ben would understand. he always had.
bev’s heart thudded a harsh, wild beat against her ribcage as she just drank in everything about ben hanscom that she could, now that they were together once more: the deep, comforting sandalwood scent of him, his warmth, his gentle, protective presence. her mind, unbidden, then shot to their other reunion at derry, that felt a lifetime ago. how he’d come up behind her and looked so, so different, and yet not. he was still her ben – ben with that perfect, sweet smile and those ernest, innocent eyes and a heart of gold that never failed to be the wonderful light in her dark, ugly childhood.
it was you, she’d said in back neibolt house, and now, now her mind repeated it reverently all the more.
it’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you.
it was in the cherished postcard she’d kept safe with his poem from when they were kids – january embers. how he’d called out to her when pennywise had cruelly ripped them apart in the hall. how he’d said he loved her. how, as always, he’d saved her. kept her safe and made her feel loved unlike anything she’d ever known. she’d been promised the losers after neibolt had collapsed, and yet, hadn’t seen any of them since she’d gotten to woodshore and her memories returned. feared it was nothing more than just a cruel joke. that pennywise really wasn’t dead, and it was going to torture them over and over until there was nothing left but the fear and loneliness that it so craved. but now, now she had ben. she had ben, and that meant something. everything. that meant this was real, and if he was here, maybe the rest of their friends were too – their family.
leaning back just a barest bit, she slowly brought her hands up to cup at ben’s face, her fingers tracing gently along his cheekbones. “i thought i’d never see you again.”
he could feel the way she tightened her hold on him; the way her delicate fingers clung onto his jacket, digging into the material without leaving marks. not like the marks he’d seen on her when they’d met again as adults. ben knew why she was terrified; the losers club never did well without each other. not as well as they did when they were together. when beverly and him were together. ben could protect her that way; he could fight all the horrors of the world and make them disappear for her, or die trying. he would, too. hell, he’d do anything for her. “i’ve got you,” he reassured her, knowing nothing else summed it up better. he squeezed her a little tighter, proving it. “we’re gonna be okay. i promise.”
were they, though? he couldn’t really tell. they had both been thrown into a new life, with false memories and false lives. and if pennywise was behind it... that meant the fucking clown lived. but how? hadn’t they killed it? they had, hadn’t they? so what else could have done this? and was it worse than pennywise? more powerful? all questions that swarmed his head, and no doubt bev’s, too. so he didn’t voice them. they didn’t need to voice them. when bev leaned back, ben caught himself staring into her eyes. of course, he was lost in them. how could he not be? but he was searching for something too. how much did she remember, exactly? was this more of a friendly hug, or a... well, what they were. after the neibolt house. but the way she held his face. the way she looked at him like that, promised him hope. his own hands were warm against her sides, fitting perfectly in the curves of her waist.
“yeah, i was starting to get a little worried there, myself. i’ve been all over this damn city, twice.” soft humor, easing any other tension there was left in the air. he smiled against her fingertips, wanting so badly to kiss her. to feel part of something, again. to feel whole. he didn’t feel whole without her. as terrifying as it was to admit, when they were so often apart. but he needed to know first. “bev,” he paused, brows knitting as he skimmed her face for clues, “how much do you remember? this place - whatever it is, it gave me new memories too. fake ones. it’s not like before. when we all just forgot derry.” he silently prayed whatever new memories didn’t erase some of her old ones, overlap them, replace them. “what’s the last thing you remember?”
