Julia certainly appreciated that he wasn't vomiting everywhere.
There was already enough mess to clean up, what with the viscous black fluid coming out of him. Granted, she wasn't actually terribly concerned about that. She could clean everything up later. Her main concern was beating back the monster in his head and getting him through it in one piece. But it was still considerate of him to not just puke everywhere. She generally preferred not reenacting the worst bits of The Exorcist.
Richie was fighting, like she had asked him too, and Julia felt a sharp surge of relief. There was only so much she could do if he wasn't willing to do his part of it. He had to stand and fight. This was fear and he couldn't hide from it. He had to face it. He had to face those dark pieces of himself. He had to beat them. And she knew that he could. She was just glad that he seemed to know it too.
She had burned out and ripped apart so much of it, and only the heart of it was left. A heart that Richie seemed to tear apart. The blackness dissipated and burned up into so much ash, the last vestiges of the Deadlights destroyed, leaving behind a sort of quiet. But there was something else too, in the aftermath. Julia could feel it. Something small and almost insignificant, but it would grow into something.
She smiled to herself, remembering words she had been told once. Like planting a seed. She had been right. Richie was something different now. Something more. Only he would decide what he did with the seed of potential inside of him. If he nurtured it, it would grow. If he squashed it, well, maybe nothing would come of it. Maybe it would fester and they would be right back here eventually. She couldn't quite say.
Light faded from her and she swayed slightly in a moment of dizziness. She had pushed herself, that was for sure. But she didn't regret that. It had been worth it.
"You okay?" she asked. "You can rest if you need to. Or I can pour us both a drink."