Chapter Text
Billy wakes up slowly, mind and body unhurried to leave the slumber he was in. It takes a while for his senses to catch up with the world around him.
He’s lying on something soft, secured tightly by something warm and solid on his chest.
He forces his eyes open, feeling like his eyelids are weighing hundreds of pounds with how hard the simple task is. The harsh glare of fluorescent light that burns all the way through his skull immediately makes him regret the move. But, he blinks a few times and his eyes adjust quickly, letting him take in his surroundings.
It takes Billy a few confused seconds to come to the embarrassing realization that what he’s lying on is Clark’s lap, the man’s arm across his chest keeping him firmly in place as the plane shakes from the occasional turbulence. His long and gangly teenage legs sprawled on the seat to Clark’s left. Martha is sitting on the seat to the right, delicate fingers gently combing through his still wet hair, carefully avoiding the sore spot at the back of his head.
“Wha-” Billy tries to get up but doesn’t make it very far, Clark’s arm not even budging when he tries to push it off of him with both hands.
Martha shushes him, easily coaxing him back down with a single look. “Took a nasty tumble there, sweetheart. Scared me half to death.”
Billy wants to apologize for making her worry, but the words get stuck in his throat, so he settles for nodding vaguely instead.
“Don’t worry Billy, nothing’s broken.” Clark reassures him with confidence, an immovable force warmly holding onto him. “But you’ll have a nasty bruise for a while.”
He won’t even ask how Clark can know this with such certainty. Billy shakes his head, trying to get rid of the sleepy fuzziness still clinging onto him.
He catches a glimpse of something dark and looming standing still in the space between the cockpit and the cargo hold. It makes his heart stop for a second, a shiver of fear running down his spine.
Bruce is leaning against the metal wall, eyes dark as night boring into him.
“What the hell was that?” His voice is as neutral as his expression, but it somehow still sounds like he’s barely containing his anger.
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen that guy before, but his magic was strong.” Clark answers, thinking Bruce is talking to him, but Billy knows better.
“What the hell was that?” Bruce asks more intently, and this time there’s no mistaking who he’s talking to.
Billy tries to sit up as he answers, feeling vulnerable laying down, but Clark won’t let him. “I don’t know.”
Bruce doesn’t scoff, but it’s a near thing, his shoulders rising minutely. “That’s obviously a lie.”
“Bruce!” Clark sounds indignant, looking at the man like he'd gone crazy. He finally lets Billy go as he gets up, pointing an accusing finger towards Bruce. “You’re out of line.”
This time, Bruce does scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m out of line? Did you forget we don’t know anything about this kid? For all we know, he could be working with the man who just shot you out of the sky.”
“Bruce!” This time it’s Martha who reacts first, sounding livid. “You can’t be serious right now.”
“Just think about it for a damned second.” Bruce argues, gesturing vaguely towards Billy, his eyes having never left him for a second despite the movements around them. “He knew something was wrong when the storm came. And whoever that man was, he was looking for him. Looking for his magic.” He spits out the last word like it’s a curse, the most emotions Billy has heard him express.
The silence that follows Bruce’s words is deafening, all eyes turning on him. Martha looks beyond worried, looking between Bruce and Billy. Clark keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, looking divided and worrying his bottom lips between his teeth.
“Who was that and who are you?” Bruce’s words cut through the silence like a knife, impassive yet cold as ice. “What are you?”
“I don’t know!” Billy defends himself, anxiety making his heartbeat race in his chest. He gets up from the seats he’d been lying on, needing to get out of the vulnerable position as he’s practically being threatened by the man in front of him. “I swear, I really don’t!”
“Stop lying!”
“I’m not! I don’t remember-”
“Of course you don’t.” Bruce snarls as he interrupts him. “Don’t test my patience.”
“It’s the truth! Please, you have to believe me.” Billy pleads, feeling frantic. He doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make Bruce believe him, to make the fear in the eyes of the people around him disappear.
He looks around. Clark is frowning at him, Martha is holding a hand against her mouth, looking at the ground with a pinched expression. Bruce is looking at him like he’s a monster. “If you want me to believe you, then stop lying.”
Bruce takes a step toward him, and Billy sees it in his mind, the angry eyes, the raised fist that’s only been waiting for him to mess up for a chance to finally come crashing down on him.
It’s a scenario he’s all too familiar with.
He curls in on himself, unable to fight the whimper that pushes past his throat as he tries his best to shield himself with his arms. He feels warm tears run down his cheeks as he waits for the blow to come.
And waits…
The silence around him is deafening, and Billy hazards a look up, peeking through his arms.
Bruce is standing incredibly still in front of him, angry scowl turned into a look of pure surprise. And then Bruce frowns and follows Billy's eyes down to his clenched fists. Instantaneously, the man deflates, like the air had been punched out of him.
“... Billy.” Bruce’s voice is barely above a whisper, more unsteady than he’s ever heard it.
He sees Martha behind him, her eyes wide and her skin pale. Clark is standing right beside her, his usual bright blue eyes clouded with unshed tears.
The stillness and tension are unbearable, so Billy takes the silence as his chance to apologize.
“I’m sorry!”
Once the words are out of his lips, it’s like he can’t stop saying them, repeating the three syllables over and over, in time with the frantic beating of his heart. He’s distantly aware that he’s sobbing, heaving in breaths that rattle in his chest and make his lungs burn.
He can barely see anything through the tears in his eyes and can’t hear much besides the loud ringing in his ears, but he knows people are moving and talking around him.
Someone touches his shoulder and Billy recoils, stepping back until his back hits the metal wall of the jet. Wobbly legs give up on him, and Billy lets himself slide down to the floor. He hugs his legs against his chest and hides his face behind his knees, trying his best to shield himself from the world around him. Dark spots swim across his vision as his head starts to spin, the position he’s in not allowing him to breathe properly.
He's aware he's hyperventilating, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it.
Someone grabs his arm, and Billy is too weak to stop it, only able to curl in tighter on himself as whoever is holding him unfurls his arm and gently grabs his hand, placing it on something warm and solid.
There’s a steady thump, thump, thump underneath his palm and Billy latches onto the rhythm, the only thing around him that feels real.
He tries to match his breathing to the beat, clumsily at first, hiccups and sobs making his breath catch in his throat, until finally he can breathe again. It’s still a bit too fast, but he’s not close to passing out anymore, and the ringing in his ear has dimmed down enough that he can make out the sounds of the world around him.
The first thing he’s able to make out is the distant rumble of jet engines, the metal floor he’s sitting on shaking almost imperceptibly from the strain of flight. The second thing he hears is a deep voice, warm and all-encompassing, like a thick blanket on a winter day.
“That’s it Billy, you’re doing so good. Keep following my rhythm. Deep breath in, long breath out. That’s it kiddo, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
The words sound like they’re coming from far away, but they glow like embers in Billy’s darkened mind, and he tries his best to listen to them, chasing the warm feeling they bring him.
He doesn’t know how long it takes him to force his eyes open, blinking away a few stray tears that stubbornly cling to his eyelashes.
He’s met with a solid chest clad in flannel, his own hand resting in the middle of it, feeling a steady heartbeat under his palm.
Billy looks up to find gentle blue eyes looking down at him, Clark’s large body completely blocking his view from the rest of the plane. He’s like an unbreakable wall, shielding Billy from the rest of the world better than he ever could on his own.
It makes it easier to breathe like this, not trapped but shielded, secure in the fact that nothing could possibly hurt him with Clark there to protect him.
“You back with me, Billy?”
Billy can only nod, throat too tight for words. He moves to get up and Clark seems to guess his intention, the big man unfurling from his position and standing up to his full height, effectively popping the little bubble of safety they’d been in. Billy rises on wobbly legs, one of Clark’s hand a steady presence at his back keeping him from tumbling over.
“Thanks.” Billy manages to rasp, eyes glued to the metal floor of the plane.
The tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Billy wishes he could turn invisible just to get away from it.
The only one brave enough to cut the tension is Bruce, still standing stiffly in the doorway to the cockpit. “Billy, I-”
“Oh shut it you!” Martha snaps, cutting Bruce off abruptly. “You’ve done enough talking for now.”
“It’s okay.” Billy says just loud enough to be heard above the rumble of the engine. He looks up to find the eyes of everyone on him, Bruce’s skin seeming ever paler than usual. “You’re scared and it made you lash out. I get it, and I’m sorry I can’t be of more help with… whatever is going on with that man. I really am. If only I could just remember.”
With a frustrated sigh, Billy closes his eyes and tries to scour his brain for any memory of the man who had attacked them but, predictably, he comes up blank.
“It’s okay Billy.” Clark’s warm voice makes him open his eyes, blue meeting blue. “Whatever happened to you, we'll figure it out. Together.”
Billy smiles, determined. “We will.”