Chapter Text
The Turtle gives them a chance.
It is Richie, a Turtle, and the wide expanse of the universe. Maturin. His brain fills out.
He won’t remember it, not really. He wouldn’t really know what he forgets. But right now, here they are: Richie floating in front of a not quite talking turtle, drunk enough to accept whatever this might be.
(He did not expect it to be a second chance.)
It—the Turtle, Maturin, Maturin, Maturin, not It, not Pennywise—catches his eyes, and Richie has never felt more unraveled.
Maturin’s eyes are wide and unblinking and steady. Its body, sturdy and vast and secure. Richie could almost get lost in how ethereal it makes him feel, his body subconsciously feeling at ease even though his mind is a constant thrumming of thoughts.
In all its calm and quiet, the turtle doesn’t need to speak to say I am the creator of the universe because somehow, Richie knows.
“Why?” he chokes.
He does not need to finish the question, the Turtle knows the end of it—rather, the endless stream of possibilities that it could end with.
Why am I here? Why are you talking to me? Why talk to me? Why do you know me? Why— Why Eddie?
This time, it blinks.
And Richie is bombarded with a steady stream of thoughts—thoughts that are not his, and thoughts that tell him things and thoughts that do not make sense— until they do.
Child, it starts. You who have protected the universe, a knight of the physical Earth, a mortal, a hero—you who are lost--
(Wide, unblinking eyes. Beseeching.)
I am here to guide you back home.
Richie sputters, flustered at how he is described but also suspicious because he doesn’t think he was ever praised so genuinely before. Not as a kid (Bucky Beaver—Trashmouth—faggo—) or even as an adult (sell-out comedian—tasteless—cheap—fake—). It definitely wasn’t about to start in space with a talking turtle.
That’s where you are wrong. It might not always be spoken words, but the praise is there in the bond with your friends. This bond that allowed you to protect the universe in a way I had not been able to. And as a result, you have lost everything.
A heavy sigh escapes.
Richie ages decades, if the way his soul falters is any indication.
His body drags down, even as he floats in the open space.
The turtle watches him in every moment, and Richie thinks it might be seeing more than it let on because the being continues.
I cannot change the way your life will unravel, not anymore. Not for you. You will live, and you will grow old, and you will even learn to smile again. You will not be able to make jokes anymore but. It will be for the better. Instead, you will become a storyteller, and the world will know the story of the Loser’s Club. They will not know it is real but it does not matter. For even if your motivations are borne of fear and need and sadness— Richie Tozier, you who have been wronged so much will only bring laughter in this world. And in that laugher, seven souls become immortal.
His hands become heavy as lead, his feet numb, unfeeling. His chest stops rising and he realizes he is not breathing anymore. A cold sweat runs down the knobs of his spine and he needs to adjust his glasses but he cannot move.
Richie is helpless.
He cannot stop from hearing whatever this is even though he so badly wants to. His soul thrashes around, his mind screaming and furious and desperate-- PLEASE STOP--
The Turtle does not stop.
One by one they will pass on. Beverly first. Then Bill. Mike. Ben. And then. You.
And when you pass on, your soul will transcend. And you will live again. And this is where you’ll find them.
This is where you’ll find him.
The Turtle blinks, slow and dragging, lazy.
(Regretful)
However, there are rules in the universe that even I cannot surpass. You will meet them, in every life you live—in every dimension and every universe. But the end breathes with you—nothing is set in stone. This is the best I can do.
As if sitting back, the turtle blinks at him one last time.
From this moment forth, the stage is yours.
--
When Richie Tozier wakes up that morning under the light of the Californian sun, he does not remember the dream he had the night before. What he does remember, though, is that Eddie Kaspbrak is dead and the ever so growing desire to quit comedy.
He will live his life exactly like the Turtle has said. And he will die the last of the Losers. By then, he would have made countless films, but nothing as beloved as his first one. It would be a story about endless summers and the seven kids who lived in it. The world would laugh, and cry, and remember. It would come out of nowhere—least of all from the washed-out comedian, but it would be beloved for decades after his own passing.
The world will wonder how it ever came to be, but they will never ever be close to guessing it. Instead, they will settle for remembering the film— rewatch it in the darkest moments. To gather strength. To relish in the warmth of something more than just themselves. To love.
It feels like this: the echo of laughter in a sunlit clubhouse, the smell of tire under the summer heated roads, and the word LoVer on the cast of a kid who looked like he could take on the world.
The world will mourn Richie Tozier and it is Bev and Ben’s kid who would talk about him like Richie was his own father. When Bev’s kid finally looks, seated in the park beside the old man, he would see the smile in Richie’s face and he would take it as peace.
The world will never know it as relief.
--
Somewhere, deep within the universe, a slumbering Turtle awakens.
Somewhere, in another version of their universe, a tall, loud boy meets a short, angry boy, and the settling that they feel deep in their hearts do not mean anything beyond that of instant annoyance, and a little bit of thrill. They will spend years dancing around each other, like they will always do, in every lifetime that eventually comes.
But in this one, Richie Tozier has just performed his hit single in front of international television and runs straight to budding child actor Eddie Kaspbrak. What he does next will subject him to the other boy’s ire, but what comes next is something that has never quite happened before.
Somewhere, a few universes after the first, Richie Tozier meets Eddie Kaspbrak for the first time, and he hugs him like it is the last.
(He remembers.)
“It’s you.”