Touch
Title: Touch
Fandom: IT.
Pairing: Billwise.
Table and prompt: 40_loves #03 Touch
Summary: In which IT is a cyborg.
Word count: -
Rating: Teens and up.
Warnings: canon horror.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Status: WIP.
“D-Does it hurt?” He asked in a low voice, fingers ghosting over the scar that marked the union of flesh and metal.
It was unpleasant, not only to the eye, but probably to touch and especially to its owner, who was throughout tied to a cold, made of a special kind of steel bed, the only operating table strong enough to hold It in place.
It, for that being had no form, or rather, it had endless shapes, and from time to time It decided to assume gruesome and horrifying appearances only to mess with the doctors and scientists that dared to approach.
William had been warned, he had even seen some footage of the freshly captured monster struggling to escape and eating someone’s head. A maw filled with sharp and jagged teeth had done the job, leaving the lifeless body as a sign that It wasn’t going to bend nor be docile, quite the contrary.
As disturbing as those things were, Will couldn’t leave; he had a job to do and everyone’s lives were in his hands.
The creature let an ugly laugh split through their lips, groggily looking up to the redhead and morphing, slowly breaking the skin and bones in its own face until it assumed the looks of a man, his blue eyes and thin nose being immediately recognized and sending shivers up William’s spine.
“What do you think, B-B-Billy?” It, he, asked, showing a smile so big that it seemed maniac, another laugh echoing through the sterile room as William took a step back.
There, looking directly to him, was the man who had almost killed him as a child. Robert Gray, responsible for his stutter and lingering pains, his fading scars and occasional nightmares.
Somehow, that being, that thing, had seen right through his head and pulled one of his biggest traumas to life.
“Oh, but wasn’t it what you most wanted? Revenge, to see me in a hospital bed, bleeding and dying like a fucking pig?” He, it, snarled.
“Not such a great person you are, eh, little buddy? Not the nice, strong, big Bill! That’s why everyone abandoned you!” He seemed to grow in size, thrashing against the straps holding his limbs in place, his voice booming and darkening, sounding unnatural, inhuman.
William took a while to find his own voice, telling him to shut up, but his attempt paled when suddenly he wasn’t seeing Robert anymore, but his childhood friends: Richie, Beverly, Ben, Mike, Eddie and Stan, each screaming how they hated him, their voices mixing at some point and driving William to a corner, where he helplessly pressed himself against the tiles, scared and alone.
.
“It’s a fascinating species,” the redhead heard, watching his superior talk excitedly, “They can shapeshift and travel across universes, they read minds and eat fear; can you imagine the potential they’d hold as a guardian? With our technology, they could fight off any type of enemy!”
The 3D images glowing in the middle of the room showed curious creatures that were made of pure light.
Orbs of varied sizes danced in front of their curious eyes, some blue in color, while others resembled a pale orange.
Deadlights, they were called, for even though they looked like little suns, they radiated cold energy, sucking the life and essence of anything nearby, like black holes.
Fascinating they were, indeed, and rare, indomables. Wild creatures that inhabited the cold and merciless space between realities.
Endless were the stories about adventurers who got stuck in such spaces, never to be seen again, but as his superior kept talking, designing a plan to capture a deadlight, the redhead felt uneasiness grip his insides.
William knew that the project Guardian was ambitious, but only then he was beginning to understand the lengths they were willing to go.
.
His shaking hands gripped the warm cup of tea.
The warm sensation helped, if only a little.
His mind was still plagued by all the harsh things the creature had thrown in his face, and as much as his rational side tried to say that everything was merely a taunt, the rest of him was set that the monster had only said truths.
He truly was abandoned by everyone, he wasn’t as good or courageous as he wanted to be. He was a fraud. And he hated that nickname with all his strength, but maybe it was what he deserved…
Stuttering Bill, big Bill, not big in any sense of the word, just a poor excuse of a scientist who instead wanted to be a writer.
In a totalitarian society, though, his aspirations and dreams were kept on a leash, and his fears of returning to that room, to It, were completely ignored.
.
"It hurts," It, with Robert's face, mumbled.
He seemed less aggressive than a few hours ago, probably because a new, more powerful sedative had been applied to his body, but William wasn't expecting that, whatever that was; an attempt of conversation, a single, simple complaint or a way of letting Will know that It remembered him.
The redhead looked back from the machines that monitored the creature and saw Robert there.
It was no less scary or strange as the first time, seeing the man that had deeply changed his life lying there.
William had to remember himself that he wasn't truly talking to Robert. The tubes and strange pieces of metal attached to different parts of his body helped, but added to the creepiness that was seeing someone being literally remade, having limbs extracted and replaced by wires and steel.
The other guardians had undergone the same process, though they had been way less sophisticated; most were animals that simply had an AI installed in their modified bodies, It, however, already had a personality and powers, they were only amplifying its capabilities and trying to find a way to make It obey their commands.
As William watched, he recognized a part of himself in that monster. He had also been broken to pieces and forced to follow orders.
A strange sensation overcame the redhead then, a dull pain that squeezed his heart, a pity that gave him the courage to approach Robert.
They locked gazes, silence reigning while William raised his hand, letting his fingers delicately touch Robert's cheek.
It was cold, but not excessively. It was soft in a way that made him want to caress the skin, but he couldn't possibly--
"Do it…" Robert whispered, eyes glistening and voice so soft that he indeed looked human, fragile even.
William was still taken aback by the fact that his mind seemed like an open book to It, but strangely, for some reason he couldn't understand, it was comforting.
He no longer felt fear nor aversion, his mind blank as he ran his fingers over Robert's face, going down the stitched throat, then opening his hand to gently press where the heart should be.
The machinery showed that It indeed had a pulsating organ beating there, its strange pace helping making William even more comfortable.
The magic was broken, however, when the door opened with a soft click, letting a doctor in and forcing the redhead to step back.
His hand tingled, his cheeks felt warm and he felt Robert's eyes on his back even when he was rushed out of the operation room.
.
William went to his designated house in the determined hour as he always did, joining the silent mass of people clad in white vests, ghosts that walked through the majestic city of Lud.
Being careful to keep his face as blank as possible, he guarded the memories of the creature, of Robert, to unwrap them later, in the relative safety of his room.
He couldn't stand out while in public, risking some questions from an attentive guard. He had to blend in if he intended to keep his freedom, as finite as it was.
.
Doors locked and windows closed, William Denbrough fished from the shelf of his bedroom a notebook.
It was squeezed between titles that weren't banned by the government, books that had been carefully crafted to create and keep a certain mentality, so the leaders could conduct them to a glorious path. Like sheeps that needed guidance.
The redhead had a privilege for being a scientist, knowledge about other worlds and dimensions had been handed to him, but in return he had to surrender everything else.
His house, for it wasn't truly home, was almost constantly under surveillance.
He was a property. His value measured by his work, but also by his appearance; if one day his scientific career were to end, he'd be quickly handed to some rich people interested in hairs the color of strawberries and eyes as blue as the sky.
This knowledge scared him, seating heavily in his shoulders, but it kept him grounded enough to not rebel and lose his little privileges.
And maybe it was faith, the universe working in mysterious ways, for William was sure that the deadlight was important to himself in some deep level. Maybe he had endured years of forced work and misery only for that one moment, for Robert.
He scribbled in an old page of his notebook, trying to convey in words what had happened, what he felt, the strange connection that surged between himself and the monster.
It had been real and William wanted, needed, to register it. Proof of his experiences, a way of reassuring himself that he was alive, a small scream of protest against the gray lives that everyone was forced to have, a form of keeping his past alive even if his memories were wiped off.
William Denbrough was alive.
The deadlight, with horrible chunks of metal attached to its body and wearing Robert's face was alive.
Something happened when they touched and that sensation, it reminded William that he wanted a purpose to his life.
.
"Why his f-face…?" William whispered while he checked the creature, taking his time and keeping his back to the camera.
"I can read your mind," Robert's voice sounded directly in his brain, a clear and sweet murmur that immediately relaxed the tense redhead.
He didn't know why nor how such a simple act had affected him so much, but his hands diminished their trembling.
They exchanged a glance, William feeling like he could be lost in those orange eyes that seemed to faintly glow if he kept staring.
"Because he's important to you…"
Fandom: IT.
Pairing: Billwise.
Table and prompt: 40_loves #03 Touch
Summary: In which IT is a cyborg.
Word count: -
Rating: Teens and up.
Warnings: canon horror.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Status: WIP.
“D-Does it hurt?” He asked in a low voice, fingers ghosting over the scar that marked the union of flesh and metal.
It was unpleasant, not only to the eye, but probably to touch and especially to its owner, who was throughout tied to a cold, made of a special kind of steel bed, the only operating table strong enough to hold It in place.
It, for that being had no form, or rather, it had endless shapes, and from time to time It decided to assume gruesome and horrifying appearances only to mess with the doctors and scientists that dared to approach.
William had been warned, he had even seen some footage of the freshly captured monster struggling to escape and eating someone’s head. A maw filled with sharp and jagged teeth had done the job, leaving the lifeless body as a sign that It wasn’t going to bend nor be docile, quite the contrary.
As disturbing as those things were, Will couldn’t leave; he had a job to do and everyone’s lives were in his hands.
The creature let an ugly laugh split through their lips, groggily looking up to the redhead and morphing, slowly breaking the skin and bones in its own face until it assumed the looks of a man, his blue eyes and thin nose being immediately recognized and sending shivers up William’s spine.
“What do you think, B-B-Billy?” It, he, asked, showing a smile so big that it seemed maniac, another laugh echoing through the sterile room as William took a step back.
There, looking directly to him, was the man who had almost killed him as a child. Robert Gray, responsible for his stutter and lingering pains, his fading scars and occasional nightmares.
Somehow, that being, that thing, had seen right through his head and pulled one of his biggest traumas to life.
“Oh, but wasn’t it what you most wanted? Revenge, to see me in a hospital bed, bleeding and dying like a fucking pig?” He, it, snarled.
“Not such a great person you are, eh, little buddy? Not the nice, strong, big Bill! That’s why everyone abandoned you!” He seemed to grow in size, thrashing against the straps holding his limbs in place, his voice booming and darkening, sounding unnatural, inhuman.
William took a while to find his own voice, telling him to shut up, but his attempt paled when suddenly he wasn’t seeing Robert anymore, but his childhood friends: Richie, Beverly, Ben, Mike, Eddie and Stan, each screaming how they hated him, their voices mixing at some point and driving William to a corner, where he helplessly pressed himself against the tiles, scared and alone.
.
“It’s a fascinating species,” the redhead heard, watching his superior talk excitedly, “They can shapeshift and travel across universes, they read minds and eat fear; can you imagine the potential they’d hold as a guardian? With our technology, they could fight off any type of enemy!”
The 3D images glowing in the middle of the room showed curious creatures that were made of pure light.
Orbs of varied sizes danced in front of their curious eyes, some blue in color, while others resembled a pale orange.
Deadlights, they were called, for even though they looked like little suns, they radiated cold energy, sucking the life and essence of anything nearby, like black holes.
Fascinating they were, indeed, and rare, indomables. Wild creatures that inhabited the cold and merciless space between realities.
Endless were the stories about adventurers who got stuck in such spaces, never to be seen again, but as his superior kept talking, designing a plan to capture a deadlight, the redhead felt uneasiness grip his insides.
William knew that the project Guardian was ambitious, but only then he was beginning to understand the lengths they were willing to go.
.
His shaking hands gripped the warm cup of tea.
The warm sensation helped, if only a little.
His mind was still plagued by all the harsh things the creature had thrown in his face, and as much as his rational side tried to say that everything was merely a taunt, the rest of him was set that the monster had only said truths.
He truly was abandoned by everyone, he wasn’t as good or courageous as he wanted to be. He was a fraud. And he hated that nickname with all his strength, but maybe it was what he deserved…
Stuttering Bill, big Bill, not big in any sense of the word, just a poor excuse of a scientist who instead wanted to be a writer.
In a totalitarian society, though, his aspirations and dreams were kept on a leash, and his fears of returning to that room, to It, were completely ignored.
.
"It hurts," It, with Robert's face, mumbled.
He seemed less aggressive than a few hours ago, probably because a new, more powerful sedative had been applied to his body, but William wasn't expecting that, whatever that was; an attempt of conversation, a single, simple complaint or a way of letting Will know that It remembered him.
The redhead looked back from the machines that monitored the creature and saw Robert there.
It was no less scary or strange as the first time, seeing the man that had deeply changed his life lying there.
William had to remember himself that he wasn't truly talking to Robert. The tubes and strange pieces of metal attached to different parts of his body helped, but added to the creepiness that was seeing someone being literally remade, having limbs extracted and replaced by wires and steel.
The other guardians had undergone the same process, though they had been way less sophisticated; most were animals that simply had an AI installed in their modified bodies, It, however, already had a personality and powers, they were only amplifying its capabilities and trying to find a way to make It obey their commands.
As William watched, he recognized a part of himself in that monster. He had also been broken to pieces and forced to follow orders.
A strange sensation overcame the redhead then, a dull pain that squeezed his heart, a pity that gave him the courage to approach Robert.
They locked gazes, silence reigning while William raised his hand, letting his fingers delicately touch Robert's cheek.
It was cold, but not excessively. It was soft in a way that made him want to caress the skin, but he couldn't possibly--
"Do it…" Robert whispered, eyes glistening and voice so soft that he indeed looked human, fragile even.
William was still taken aback by the fact that his mind seemed like an open book to It, but strangely, for some reason he couldn't understand, it was comforting.
He no longer felt fear nor aversion, his mind blank as he ran his fingers over Robert's face, going down the stitched throat, then opening his hand to gently press where the heart should be.
The machinery showed that It indeed had a pulsating organ beating there, its strange pace helping making William even more comfortable.
The magic was broken, however, when the door opened with a soft click, letting a doctor in and forcing the redhead to step back.
His hand tingled, his cheeks felt warm and he felt Robert's eyes on his back even when he was rushed out of the operation room.
.
William went to his designated house in the determined hour as he always did, joining the silent mass of people clad in white vests, ghosts that walked through the majestic city of Lud.
Being careful to keep his face as blank as possible, he guarded the memories of the creature, of Robert, to unwrap them later, in the relative safety of his room.
He couldn't stand out while in public, risking some questions from an attentive guard. He had to blend in if he intended to keep his freedom, as finite as it was.
.
Doors locked and windows closed, William Denbrough fished from the shelf of his bedroom a notebook.
It was squeezed between titles that weren't banned by the government, books that had been carefully crafted to create and keep a certain mentality, so the leaders could conduct them to a glorious path. Like sheeps that needed guidance.
The redhead had a privilege for being a scientist, knowledge about other worlds and dimensions had been handed to him, but in return he had to surrender everything else.
His house, for it wasn't truly home, was almost constantly under surveillance.
He was a property. His value measured by his work, but also by his appearance; if one day his scientific career were to end, he'd be quickly handed to some rich people interested in hairs the color of strawberries and eyes as blue as the sky.
This knowledge scared him, seating heavily in his shoulders, but it kept him grounded enough to not rebel and lose his little privileges.
And maybe it was faith, the universe working in mysterious ways, for William was sure that the deadlight was important to himself in some deep level. Maybe he had endured years of forced work and misery only for that one moment, for Robert.
He scribbled in an old page of his notebook, trying to convey in words what had happened, what he felt, the strange connection that surged between himself and the monster.
It had been real and William wanted, needed, to register it. Proof of his experiences, a way of reassuring himself that he was alive, a small scream of protest against the gray lives that everyone was forced to have, a form of keeping his past alive even if his memories were wiped off.
William Denbrough was alive.
The deadlight, with horrible chunks of metal attached to its body and wearing Robert's face was alive.
Something happened when they touched and that sensation, it reminded William that he wanted a purpose to his life.
.
"Why his f-face…?" William whispered while he checked the creature, taking his time and keeping his back to the camera.
"I can read your mind," Robert's voice sounded directly in his brain, a clear and sweet murmur that immediately relaxed the tense redhead.
He didn't know why nor how such a simple act had affected him so much, but his hands diminished their trembling.
They exchanged a glance, William feeling like he could be lost in those orange eyes that seemed to faintly glow if he kept staring.
"Because he's important to you…"