by baseballhockeywriter
Rating: R (violence which may be disturbing)
Disclaimer: Mine. The characters and plot, I mean. "At My Most Beautiful" belongs to R.E.M.
Summary: A Billy/Dame chapter, meaning you finally learn what happened to Billy.
Notes: I don't usually use songs, but I figured since Dame plagerized later, I'd give you the full lyrics. I love REM and Michael Stipe so much...and this is one of the best love songs they do.
I've found a way to make you
I've found a way
a way to make you smile
I read bad poetry
into your machine.
I save your messages
just to hear your voice.
You always listen carefully
to awkward rhymes.
You always say your name,
like I wouldn't know it's you,
at your most beautiful.
I've found a way to make you
I've found a way
a way to make you smile
At my most beautiful
I count your eyelashes, secretly.
With every one, whisper I love you.
I let you sleep.
I know you're closed eye watching me,
listening.
I thought I saw a smile.
I've found a way to make you
I've found a way
a way to make you smile.
"At My Most Beautiful," R.E.M.
Billy hadn't had the nightmares in months. It was, to my knowledge, his longest span without them, but it didn't last. It wasn't as bad as I'd seen them, but it was still bad enough. It's hard to see him like this, huddled in my arms, trying not to cry and not really succeeding when he's usually so upbeat. "Why can't you talk about it?"
"Makes it worse," he whispered into my chest.
"I just wish...I wish I could help you more, Billy."
"You help a lot. You and Park."
"But you still HAVE the dreams. Have you ever been to a psychologist?"
"Yeah," he sniffed. "When I was four. After it happened."
"After what happened?" I stroked his hair, damp with sweat.
"After they died," he whispered.
"Who?"
He shifted in my arms, so he was looking at me, his not-so-innocent blue eyes wet. "I can't. Not now."
"Ok," I told him, kissing the side of his mouth. "It's ok."
"Thanks."
I tightened my hold on him. He was still shaking. "You should get some more sleep."
"Can't. Sing, Dame."
"Sing?"
"Yeah. I like your voice. Sing."
I was quiet a moment, but I decided I may as well humor him. "I've found a way to make you...I've found a way...a way to make you smile..." He did smile at me, a small one, but a smile.
"Keep singing," he insisted.
I did. Somewhere in the middle, Billy closed his eyes, his occasional hitches in breathing the only sign that he wasn't asleep. "It was my mother and brother," he whispered, as I trailed off from the last word. "They were who died."
Jesus. I didn't even know he had a brother. "You never told me about your brother."
He shrugged. "I...it was hard to remember."
"What happened? Why is it so painful?" Billy took a deep breath. "It's ok, you don't have to-"
"No, no. I think...maybe it's time to tell someone." And then he started.
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Flashback
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It was a Special Night. The nights when Dad was out of town on business, and 4-year-old Billy and 2-year-old Justin were allowed to sleep in the big bed with their mother. And Mom was happy, because she'd closed a big case and sent a Really Bad Guy to jail. Billy had asked what the Really Bad Guy did, but Mom and Dad wouldn't tell him. He knew how to read though, and knew that the paper called him 'the animal killer.' Billy wondered if that meant he killed animals. People who killed animals were mean. Well, unless the animals were good to eat.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Billy woke up. He was thirsty, and padded down to the kitchen for a glass of water. Just as he was about to drink it, he heard a noise. Like a scream. Setting the water glass down, he ran upstairs. There was a man. In his mother's room. He could see a knife. It looked like the ones in the kitchen, except bigger.
Billy watched as the man used the knife. There was a lot of blood, and suddenly Justin woke up. He started crying, and Billy wanted to help him, but he was too scared of the knife. He watched, unable to move, while the man plunged the knife into his brother. He couldn't tune out the screams. Then, they stopped. The man stood up, and Billy still couldn't take his eyes off him as the man drew the flat of the knife across his tongue, breathing deeply. Then, suddenly, the man's eye's met his.
Billy ran. Down the stairs, he just made it to the front door, when a large hand closed on the back of his neck. "Where did you think you were going?" the man asked.
Slowly, he cut off Billy's pajama shirt, and placed the tip of his knife just under his left arm. Then he sliced downward.
Billy screamed, not understanding that pain the coursed through him, but knowing he was going to die, just like he knew his mom and Justin weren't coming back. But then the door burst open, and lots of people with flashlights were yelling things. Billy knew that they were the good guys, and he let his eyes close as the blood pooled beneath him.
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End flashback
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"As soon as I was out of the hospital and Dad came back, we moved. I was so...withdrawn, that he was trying anything to get me to open up, hence youth hockey. And then I met you and Parker, and...Jesus, Dame, I don't know how different my life would've been if I didn't have you guys. I don't know that I'd even be alive."
I was crying by this point. The idea that he'd held that in for 14 years was mind-boggling. No wonder he had nightmares. "Don't say that, Billy. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, too."
"Really?" He looked up at me, his eyes showing his exhaustion.
"Oh, yeah."
"Even with all this...baggage?"
I slipped my hand under his shirt, gently tracing that scar. "Even so."
"Love you, Dame."
"Go to sleep, Billy." He shut his eyes, and with my hand stroking his hair, his breathing evened soon. "I love you, too," I whispered. Then I proceeded to lay awake for the rest of the night.