Jurassic Park 3 Fic - The Cost Was So Much More (1/2)
Title: The Cost Was So Much More
Author: kaly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 15,075
Characters/Pairing: Alan/Billy
Category: angst
Warnings: none
Spoilers: yes, major
Summary: Fear can have unexpected consequences.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: I actually did some of the groundwork on this story back in 2001. Better late than never, I guess.
Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
Two weeks had passed since their rescue from Isla Sorna. A little over a week since Billy had been able to stay conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. Only three days since their return to Montana.
But it had been six days since Alan had spoken - almost literally - a single word to Billy, and about as long since he had looked him in the eye. Billy knew, down almost to the minute.
They had been six very long, very lonely days.
He had no family to speak of; his parents had been gone for several years, and he had been an only child. His friends - his real friends - were spread out across the four winds, and unable to visit, though they regretted it. There had been a few phone calls, several worried emails the few times he had been able to check for them, but that was it.
After his parents had been killed, Billy thought he had learned how utterly alone a person could feel. But waking to an empty room - beaten, battered and broken, in pain even with the medication - Billy had learned that he could still be surprised. It was ironic, really, that someone who loved to push the envelope as he did, could come to hate surprises quite so much.
With no one else, he had needed Alan more than ever. He needed his once-unwavering friend, the man he had come to love. Instead, Billy had been left to fend for himself. Though in Alan's defense, Billy had never told the older man what had happened to his parents. And if Alan wondered why they had been absent once they had come back to the states, he hadn't asked.
Given how things had gone between them, both on the island and since, Billy couldn't even pretend to be surprised Alan was avoiding him. Yet, it didn't mean he wished otherwise.
Billy fidgeted, fighting the urge to stretch his free arm up over his head. His back was tight, had been hurting ever since... Well, it was best not to go there. He had found out the hard way that stretching would only add to the pain, more stitches than he could count pulling uncomfortably - especially those in his shoulder and stomach - whenever he moved too far, or too quickly.
After hours of surgery to control bleeding the doctors had feared might not stop and having his spleen removed entirely, or so they said later, Billy supposed he really shouldn't complain about aches and pains. He was alive, when by all rights he shouldn't be. If he was, for the most part, a little worse for wear, well, he was young.
Then again, he was young. It seemed like he should be able to bounce back faster, he thought humorlessly. Alan should be the one who...
Sighing, Billy let his head fall back against the couch. He hadn't gotten up to turn on the light, even though it was late and his small apartment gone dark, but found he didn't care. There didn't seem to be much point, if all he was allowed to do was eat and sleep, anyway. And think. He had far too much time to think about how screwed up things had become in such a short time.
To think about Alan.
Alan. Alan certainly seemed to be returning to normal fast enough. Although maybe normal wasn't quite the right word for him anymore. To look at the other man, the few opportunities that Billy had managed, it was like nothing had happened, while at the same time everything had changed.
He had gone to campus, after one of his seemingly endless doctor's appointments, under the pretense of checking up on things that in reality didn't need looking after. And although he had seen Alan there, before the other man had left to return to Fort Peck Lake, Billy hadn't approached him.
Surrounded by familiar faces, Billy had found himself surprised - he had never felt so alone.
Billy rubbed his free hand over his face and fought the urge to sigh in frustration. Two more days. Two more days and the doctors said he could go back to the dig if he was very, very careful and stayed off the ground entirely.
It would be another two weeks before they would even consider signing off on him working in the dirt - going so far as to coordinate Billy's remaining care with a doctor closer to the dig. Just as importantly, he was to keep his arm in its sling at all times and walk slowly and carefully.
Just two more days until he could return to his life, at least in a limited way. Though at least in the meantime, he had been allowed to return to the tiny apartment he had rented for the dig season in Fort Peck.
The drive up from Bozeman had been a very careful one (if painful - he had refused to take any pain medication until he had arrived), but one Billy had been happy to make, all the same. He had never been more grateful to own an automatic, than during that drive.
Renting the apartment had felt like a frivolous expense when he had made the decision - after all, he was more than able to stay on-site at the dig. However, Billy had been wary of being around Alan twenty four-seven for months on end, and had opted for discretion rather than risk making a total fool out of himself.
Whatever the reasons, Billy was absurdly grateful for it at the moment - if only because it allowed him a place to hide from prying eyes. A place where he didn't have to face Alan for a little while longer, to admit he was scared of Alan's reaction, even if all he wanted was to see the other man.
Groaning, Billy rubbed his good hand over his eyes. He hated the painkillers - they made his thoughts chase round in circles. Billy was looking forward to losing the cloudy feeling, but a twinge in his upper arm reminded him why he hadn't just yet.
It would be some time still, before the PT on his arm and leg, much less the tenderness in his stomach, were far enough along to allow him to escape the medication entirely. However, even more than he wanted to be painkiller free, he wanted to dig, to get his hands dirty again.
While his stomach making a full recovery wasn't in doubt, the damage to his shoulder arm had wrought more uncertainty. But it didn't matter what the doctors said; his arm would be one hundred percent again sooner rather than later. No amount of therapy - however painful - was going to deter him.
Billy was determined it would happen, no matter what doubt he saw in the doctors' eyes. Then he could return to the dig in his rightful place. Return to Alan.
Only, it begged the question: Did Alan really want him back? Could Alan forgive him his transgressions?
On the helicopter, Billy had seen something in Alan's eyes. Besides the obvious shock and relief, for the briefest of moments, Billy had seen joy and love shining there. He was certain it wasn't simply a drug-induced hallucination of his hopes. Mostly.
But lurking behind those emotions had been something else that Billy couldn't name, buffered by empty words about his hat being the important thing. And in the space between, whatever else it was seemed to have won the war within Alan. Because the next time Billy was awake, groggy from anesthesia, in so much pain even breathing hurt, he had been alone.
When Alan had finally visited, Billy looked into the familiar blue depths, only to see an unfamiliar, closed expression. There was a shuttered stranger staring back at him from the beloved face, and Billy knew he only had himself to blame, and feared ever mending the rift between them.
They had travelled home together, separating from the Kirbys in LAX, before continuing on to Montana. Although quiet, Alan had stayed close to Billy's side until they had arrived, catching him whenever he stumbled courtesy of his twisted hip. However, the touches were cool, impersonal, and made Billy's chest hurt in an entirely different way. And while Alan had made sure Billy arrived at his small apartment in one piece, if not completely well, he quickly disappeared.
During the days since, Billy had been left alone. Except for the doctors and therapists he was required to visit, and some well wishes on campus, Billy could only wonder and worry what - if anything - would happen next.
He rubbed at his shoulder absently, careful around bandages covering the healing, but jagged, puncture wound. Having his arm bound to his chest in the sling was slowly driving him mad, even more so than the lingering ache from stomach surgery. Billy wasn't sure how not to be active, and the forced inactivity was killing him.
Killing him.
Bah-dum-dum, Billy thought, with a groan. Thank you, I'll be here all week. Dropping his hand, Billy sighed as he let his head fall back on the couch and to stare at the ceiling.
He had been in love with Alan for months. Billy had been like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of Alan Grant from the earliest days he had known him. However, he knew better than press too quickly, there were far too many stories about Alan to ignore, and Billy had been willing to bide his time. It would happen if it was meant to, and it would serve nothing to spook him.
That patience had helped Billy discover if you got a few too many drinks into Alan - difficult, but not impossible - you would be surprised how much you might learn. So Billy had been willing to wait, worming his way under Alan's radar, cherishing every fond, if inevitably exasperated look, until he thought Alan was ready. In the meantime he loved Alan from not so afar.
It was working, his not so subtle plan, until Paul Kirby came along. Until Billy helped things along a little too well. Until the island. Until the eggs.
Love had been known to make fools of many men, sending almost as many to their deaths in its supposedly valiant cause. Billy's chest was tight at the thought - he had done one, and so very nearly the other, for the sake of a man he had come to realize that he couldn't imagine the world without.
They had escaped with their lives, if only just. No thanks, Billy couldn't help but note, to him. It was Billy who had put them in danger in the first place by pushing Alan to agree to the Kirby's request. And the second place, by an act of reckless stupidity, if he were being picky. Udesky, having died because of those eggs, would no doubt prefer Billy be picky.
The best intentions.
Billy snorted. Oh, the road to Hell was well paved...
The longer Alan was cold and distant, the more convinced Billy became. Whatever love he might or might not have seen in Alan's eyes in that moment... It obviously wasn't enough. However much it hurt, it was clear that Billy wasn't enough.
But even knowing that Alan might likely never forgive him, would never love him, Billy would return to the dig. He would go back to the remains of his life. He loved his job, his studies - he wanted his doctorate even still. It was too much a part of him to give up.
If he loved Alan just as much, or more... Surely the older man couldn't ignore him forever. And that little contact with Alan - however strained - had to be better than no contact at all.
Wouldn't it?
~<>~<>~
Alan was up and about at the dig that morning before any of the others had even stirred. Which, admittedly, wasn't entirely unusual if he were being honest. However, this particular day he was rattled, not that anyone would be able to tell that by looking at him. Almost no one. Ellie no doubt would be able to, as would Billy.
Billy.
Billy was the reason Alan was rattled in the first place. He wasn't exactly proud of how he had treated the younger man since their escape from the island. The nearly-overwhelming relief Alan had felt on the helicopter had been chipped at and worried away by doubt and guilt. So much so, that even though he hadn't left Billy's side while he slept in the hospital, Alan couldn't bring himself to be there when Billy woke.
The doctors on the ship had kept him apprised of Billy's status throughout, thankfully ignoring that he wasn't family, as had Eric, who had become rather attached to the other man. Eric's parents, when Alan had seen them, still seemed rather dazed by the whole thing. That said, even they had gone to speak with Billy, both before and during their trip back to the States.
But Alan, the one among the group who knew Billy best, had stayed away. Even when they were travelling together, Alan remained a silent, removed guardian. He would have died himself before letting Billy - far too fragile and slow - come to further harm. He stubbornly took the coward's way out and refused to admit that it was entirely possible he was the one inflicting the most harm at the moment, by ignoring the pain in Billy's dark eyes.
It had been hard, being back and not seeing Billy at all. Many times he had picked up the phone, or his keys, and made to reach out. Just as many, he had put the phone or the keys back in their place and remained. No doubt Billy had countless friends and family members calling in on him - he was always a popular face around the digs. Alan mollified himself with the thought that at least Billy wasn't alone.
So instead of reaching out, Alan kept himself busy - with the bones, with the students, even with the paperwork. It needed to be done, even though he hated it, and at least it would be one less worry for Billy when he returned.
And Alan refused to believe Billy wouldn't return, no matter how shaky things were between them at the moment. He wasn't sure he could cope with that outcome, so he refused to consider it.
He still couldn't quite shake the memories of how Billy looked - laying unconscious in the hospital bed, limping slowly through crowded airports - and it drove the guilt Alan couldn't escape. More so, he felt ashamed.
Had Billy died while saving Eric, as he had thought, Alan wasn't certain he could have forgiven himself. He had coped on the island - focusing on their escape - but after... After would have been a different story he couldn't bear to think about, even still.
Not that he forced Billy out of that window. Alan knew better - Billy was as stubborn and determined as they came. But the thought that practically the last words Billy would have heard from him were full of hate and disgust, well, that hurt. No, Alan wasn't sure he was ready to face Billy, or when he would be. Only, ready or not, he was out of time.
A glance at his watch revealed it was nearly seven, and it was Billy's first day cleared to be back at the dig. Technically, being Billy's employer did grant him access to some helpful information once they were back in the States. The rest of the workers would be appearing soon, and without doubt, Billy would be driving up at any time, although he wasn't due until nine.
Alan knew what the doctor's restrictions were for Billy's return - he had made sure to find out - and he was going to damn well make sure Billy followed them to the letter. Billy wasn't getting hurt again, by Alan's fault, or his own. He had spoken briefly to a couple of the older students, giving no details but hoping to smooth the way for Billy on his return. If it meant there were additional eyes that knew what to watch for regarding Billy's health, it was all the better.
As if on cue, the camp started to come to life. The students and volunteers slowly appeared from their tents, heading toward the larger central dining tent. A quick glance ensured that those on mess duty for the week were in the front of the group. If coffee, at the very least, wasn't quickly laid out it would be a bad day, indeed.
Content that the early morning routine was well on its way without supervision, Alan went back to watching the road. It was ridiculous how quickly it warmed up in the Badlands, and he rubbed a sleeve over his forehead. As he did so, Alan glanced at his watch once more - ten minutes later than the last time - before forcing himself to stop.
Standing and worrying weren't going to accomplish anything but to give him an ulcer. And he hadn't survived two trips into Hell without those to start now. Grunting, Alan pushed away from the side of his trailer and made for the mess tent; food was probably asking too much, but he needed coffee.
The tent was large, and open, the morning noises carrying beyond its canvas walls. Alan nodded to one of the younger students as he entered. There was a line by the coffee pot, but one of the volunteers on mess duty called out "Dr. Grant!" with a smile, and handed him a chipped cup of the strong, bitter brew.
Nodding his thanks, Alan ignored any jealous looks he might have received for breaking in line. Rank should have some privileges, after all. He sat at a corner table, isolated, and dropped his hat onto the dusty surface. Groaning, he rubbed a hand over tired eyes and drank half the cup in one go.
Slowly, the workers left the tent, dispersing to their assigned sections of the grid. Alan paid them little mind. Soon enough, he would be walking among the bones, answering questions and noting finds as they came about. But for the moment, he simply wanted to enjoy the quiet while it lasted.
However, it was only moments later that he heard a car door slam outside. His back going tense, Alan's head whipped around to stare at the doorway. Swallowing nervously, he drained the last of his coffee and forced himself to stand. He didn't like to think of himself as a coward, anything but; although in some things...
Well, Alan didn't like to think of himself as a liar, either.
Alan took a deep breath, returned his hat to its place - a hat he would never be able to wear without thinking of Billy. His cup was easily dropped off at the washing station, and he exited the tent. Momentarily blinded by the brilliant morning sun, Alan squinted, seeing a familiar car parked beside his truck.
Scanning the hillside, he finally saw Billy, standing there with his satchel grasped loosely in his free hand. One arm still in a sling, favoring his left leg slightly, bandages sticking out from under his tee-shirt, Alan noted he looked far too thin. Almost worse, Billy looked old.
Something clenched inside at the realization. It had only been days since he had helped Billy into his apartment, leaving as soon as he made sure it was stocked with food. Days which felt like much, much longer, and he could only guess as to how Billy felt about them.
For his part, Billy remained silent, but stared at Alan, dark eyes wide and full of so much trepidation it hurt Alan to witness. Billy was always so... alive, full of humor and joy in the littlest things, and Alan knew he was largely responsible for taking that away.
"Dr. Grant," Billy finally called out, formally, the salutation a long-running joke between them which fell flat. As he did, he took a hesitant, limping step toward Alan.
Alan nodded, holding Billy's gaze, but didn't - couldn't - move. He, too, hid behind semi-serious formalities he hadn't felt truly applicable in quiet some time. "Mr. Brennan."
Billy blinked quickly, opening his mouth but closing it, words unsaid, when Alan shook his head quickly.
No. He couldn't risk getting hurt again, no matter the intentions. Of hurting Billy again, no matter the reasons. With a sigh, and another short nod, Alan turned and walked away. He didn't look back to see Billy's expression. A coward wouldn't want to know.
~<> ~<>~
As he watched Alan hurry away, Billy's heart felt lodged in his throat. He swallowed nervously, staring at Alan's back, and hating the sight. It was too much like before. Too much like Alan walking down the stairs, unknowingly into the aviary, and seemingly out of Billy's life permanently.
Steeling himself, Billy took a deep breath and held it as long as he could before his chest ached, and he sighed. Watching Alan walk away hurt like hell every time, but damn it, this was his life, too. The dig was a requirement for his degree - one, more importantly, that he loved dearly. And he could tough it out, even endure Alan's neglect, if it meant he had his doctorate at the end of it.
At the moment, it felt like that would be all he would have at the end of it, but that was beside the point. And if the unthinkable happened, and worse came to worse, he could find another dig. Staring at Alan, who was already on the far side of the grid, Billy sighed again. He wasn't sure which would be worse - working a dig with a man he loved who couldn't even look at him, or working one without him at all.
Deciding that wasn't something he would be able to figure out in a day, Billy knew - no matter how much he wished otherwise. And it might not matter in the end; the dig would likely only last another few weeks due to funding, anyway. A last minute grant had come through while they had been gone. Billy had been thrilled when he found out during one of his trips by campus, but it was small as dig funds went.
Carefully, his hip mostly healed but wary of aggravating it, Billy made his way down the hillside to the mess tent, hoping against hope there would be some coffee left. He might be on limited duties yet, but there was plenty of work to be done, and he needed fuel even if he hadn't been hungry for days.
As he entered, Billy was greeted enthusiastically by the few people who remained in the tent. Somehow, he managed a smile for each, nodding in turn, but avoiding any chance for actual conversation. He didn't know what was common knowledge and he wasn't interested in feeding the gossip.
Taking a cup of coffee, but turning down the offer of food, Billy shook his head in the hopes of clearing away the cobwebs. Absentmindedly, he added sugar and milk to the coffee before taking a sip as he stepped back outside. He squinted briefly, his eyes tracking to Alan as though drawn there.
He watched the other man as he quietly, surely, instructed one of the first-years. By their movements, Billy could imagine the words: rough, smooth. Billy winced, remembering his own last day on the dig - those same motions, those same words. It hadn't been that long, and yet somehow it felt like an entire lifetime at the same time.
Turning away, Billy headed toward the main trailer. He couldn't "play in the dirt" as his doctor in Bozeman had so tactfully put it, but there were other requirements on a dig. First and foremost was making sure the accounting, such as it was, was up to date. Alan hated dealing with it, and often delegated it to Billy.
More importantly, it meant he was needed, and it was something he could do even with a bum arm and slow, limping gait. After days of doing little more than sleeping and screaming (he feared the nightmares might never stop) and staring at the walls, more than anything Billy needed to do something that mattered.
Entering the trailer, Billy flipped on the light switch and dropped his bag onto the table. He ran his good hand through his hair, wistful for the familiar feeling of dust between his fingers. There weren't words for how much Billy longed to be back in the dirt, ever-so-slowly unearthing the long-forgotten bones.
In the meantime, he pushed the longing away once more and sat, pulling the ledger out of the desk. Flipping it open, Billy felt something cinch inside when he found up-to-date notations in familiar handwriting, everything complete. Slamming the book closed, Billy shoved it back into its place and sagged in the chair.
Annoyed, but undeterred, Billy walked out of the trailer and over to the cataloging tent. There were always finds in various stages of being prepped for transit to the museum, several of which he could even manage one handed.
Another round of greetings was had at the tent, and Billy found himself oddly warmed at the fact he had been missed. Obviously some story had been shared - no one questioned his extended absence or injuries - but neither was anyone bothered to see him, though he was receiving subtle stares from a couple of them. It was a relief, even if Billy didn't want to admit that the others reaction to his return had been a concern the past few days.
Of more concern, he was slowly discovering, was Alan having left him any work to do at all. After he had checked and found no outstanding items to process, even after asking the student assigned to the tent for confirmation, Billy growled under his breath. Once again, Alan had beaten him to the task, leaving every 'I' dotted and 'T' crossed.
Damn the man.
Forcing a calm he didn't feel, Billy smiled and nodded at the now-wary student and left the tent. He wasn't going to give up, not even when it was beginning to feel as though Alan was going out of his way to drive home the point Billy wasn't needed - wasn't welcome.
No matter what Alan thought, Billy wasn't a quitter. A small voice whispering in the back of his mind - that quitting was exactly what he was doing where any possible relationship was concerned - was told to shut up. He would see this day through, and he would return tomorrow, and the next.
For the moment, he might not be able to dig in the dirt himself, but there was rarely a dearth of questions to be answered. Even Alan couldn't take care of all of those by himself, and Billy could be useful. He needed to be useful, damn it.
Walking around, nodding to greetings and forcing smiles he didn't feel, Billy bit back on the urge to sigh. Even without looking, he knew exactly where Alan was at any given time - and it was never nearby.
It was going to be a very long day.
~<>~<>~
Billy had been back at the dig for about a week, and Alan was determined to keep his distance. Oh, he kept an eye on the younger man. He would be damned if he let Billy overwork, or worse, reinjure himself on his watch. His helpers in that regard updated him somewhat regularly, one of them noting Billy's growing frustration. Alan had bit back a sigh at the observation - it was impossible to miss the frustration Billy was feeling. However, Alan wrote that off as an energetic personality limited by injuries.
He had noted that Billy had returned to the grid, not just pointing and instructing. Rather, he was laying on the ground, curled a bit on his side - no doubt in deference to his stomach. He had claimed a section no one was working currently, and was methodically uncovering a ribcage. It was also the first day Billy had arrived without the sling holding his arm.
Alan was heartened to see the obvious sign of recovery, though he doubted the therapy was completely over, and wondered what the young man's doctor might say if he knew. On top of that, Alan couldn't help but think Billy still looked too thin, too tired. Part of him wanted to reach out, to remark on the bags under Billy's eyes, but knew he had forfeited that right. Besides, Billy was going out of his way to act normal, a painfully obvious act to those who knew him well, so who was Alan to deny him that?
As he watched, Billy reached for a tool that was just out of reach, wincing when he overextended the healing shoulder. Alan wanted to tell him to rest, to take it easy as the bones would still be there tomorrow. Stubbornness kept him mute. Billy was healing fine, and he was a grown man. It wasn't Alan's place to mollycoddle him.
More importantly, Billy was better off without Alan's meddling and judgment. It was Billy's acting without thinking in the hopes of pleasing Alan, combined with Alan's rash judgment, that had helped get them into this mess to begin with.
He was just about to turn away, and get back to work, when he heard the screech of a hawk flying overhead. It sounded nothing like the monsters on the island, but Alan would have had to have been blind to miss the way Billy reacted to the sound. One hand going over his head, eyes going to the sky, there was panic in Billy's eyes.
Without thinking, Alan took a step forward, wanting to help, only to see Billy lower his arm and close his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. He stilled, watching the internal battle being waged before Billy's eyes opened once more and he determinedly returned to the fossils in front of him.
Alan smiled, though it was bittersweet. Billy truly was resilient, and it was captivating. Biting his lip, he turned away from the tempting sight and forced himself to walk back toward the center of the dig. He had work to do.
The day passed agonizingly slowly, as they had persisted in doing since his return, and Alan felt nothing but relief when the sun finally began to set. The dig was mostly quiet, a hush that typically fell after dinner and just before lights out. He had just turned toward his trailer, when he spotted Billy walking toward his car.
One stipulation Alan had made prior to Billy's returning to work - made through his doctor - was that Billy not stay at the dig site at night. There was no hard and fast rule for those with accommodation nearby to stay at home or the dig, though the students typically did for financial reasons. In Alan's case, he just preferred to be near the bones most nights.
However, with Billy's injuries still healing, Alan wanted him at home every night, where he could rest and get better as quickly as possible. Sleeping in one of the tents, or the couch in Alan's trailer, would do little good for Billy's recovery. And though Alan had thought it odd when Billy had announced his intention of renting a place in town for the dig season, after everything that had happened, Alan was just grateful for it.
It was impossible to forget how much it hurt believing Billy was gone. Even while they were fighting for their own lives, Billy's loss nearly killed him and the memory refused to give up its hold. Watching Billy walk away, Alan couldn't help but think the younger man looked as lonely as Alan felt. And yet, even admitting that, Alan found he couldn't reach out to him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The memories and the guilt still hurt too much.
As Alan watched, there were few waves, a nod of acknowledgement or two between Billy and the others. Soon, though, Billy was in his car and tearing off down the dirt road, dust flying in his wake.
Sighing, Alan retreated into his trailer. Alone.
~<>~<>~
As he left, Billy had felt Alan watching him. They still hadn't spoken, but Billy knew when Alan was looking his direction. Oddly enough, it happened quiet often, but Billy had learned after the first couple of times it was best not to acknowledge it. Once or twice, he had turned toward Alan, hoping that maybe this was the chance they needed to open up once more. Each time, Alan had turned and walked away without a word.
He was grateful that the physical therapist had agreed that - while he might not be completely healed - he could excavate again. It had taken a little more convincing for his regular doctor to agree - it was still a week ahead of schedule - but he had, grudgingly. Though only after Billy had agreed upon penalty of large needles to stop and come in, should anything start to feel 'off'.
Being back on the ground gave Billy a feeling of purpose he had been painfully missing, even if the actual act of getting down and up were tedious and embarassing. There were even times, alone in the dirt, ever so slowly uncovering the bones, that Billy almost felt happy. Or less empty, at the very least, which was something. However, these feelings faded along with the work, leaving him no more sure about his life than he had been since their rescue.
Billy hated to admit it - almost couldn't admit it - but he was floundering.
The drive to his apartment wasn't a very long one, not nearly long enough to allow Billy to clear his head. Pulling into the parking spot, Billy sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel. He sat there for a long moment, just concentrating on breathing.
Shaking himself, hating how pathetic he had become, Billy moved from the car and slowly made his way up the stairs to his apartment. Once upon a time, he never took the stairs at anything slower than a jog, but he wasn't quite back to that yet. On his way up, he smiled and nodded at a neighbor he didn't really know except in passing.
Even at his slower pace, it wasn't a bit before Billy was in his apartment, the door locked behind him and the world stowed away. He leaned against the solid surface for the shortest of moments before tossing his keys on the coffee table and toeing off his shoes.
He debated momentarily between food and a shower, only for the shower to win. While Billy might have missed the familiar dust, he was covered in it and, after pausing to sniff cautiously, he stunk thanks to the long hours in the sun. It didn't hurt that he wasn't overly hungry, anyway.
Walking down the short hallway gave him time to carefully pull off his worn t-shirt, dropping it in the full-to-bursting hamper just inside the bathroom. The rest of his clothes followed shortly, though he did err on the side of caution and sit to take off his socks.
As he stood, pausing long enough to start the water, Billy groaned. He was looking forward to being able to move without thinking, and not causing pain. Although most of the stitches and bandages were gone, the aches remained. Pushing it out of his mind, as best he was able, Billy paused long enough to cover the remaining bandages with plastic before climbing into the shower.
Closing his eyes, Billy stood there - the water pulsing on his face and chest - and tried to relax. Eventually, just before the hot water would have run out, Billy finally felt the knots in his back begin to loosen. The tension of the past weeks never truly left him, anymore, but at least the tightness from the dig had begun to abate.
Knowing his time was limited before the water turned ice cold, Billy scrubbed off quickly and shut off the water. He winced as he stepped out too quickly, foot slipping on the floor and sending a pain lancing up his leg. Cursing under his breath, Billy grabbed a towel and ruffled it through his hair, before wrapping it around his waist.
Only once the pain had dulled somewhat did he risk moving forward, very carefully. The doctors swore the faint limp would go away in time - that he shouldn't be discouraged just yet - but it was hard. Billy had always been active, and being kept from that by his own body was hard to take.
Absentmindedly, he pulled the plastic away from the bandages, checked that they remained dry, and rubbed his hip. He might have overdone it, but Billy refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he grabbed the bottle of painkillers - which he had mostly ignored since returning to the dig - from their spot in the medicine cabinet. Tossing a couple in his mouth, he ran the tap long enough to cup some water and swallow them.
Standing up straight, he wiped the mirror clean and stared at his reflection. He hadn't made a habit of doing that since he had returned home, and for a second it shocked him. There had been a couple of comments at work about how thin he looked, but Billy had brushed them off as the girls being overly worried.
However, looking at himself in the mirror, Billy felt a fissure of concern, but quickly brushed it off. He was injured, healing, it happened. No big deal.
Turning away, he shivered and moved as quickly as he could into his bedroom, finding a beat up pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to change into. It wasn't as though he had any plans for the evening.
A moment later, he walked across his small apartment to the kitchen, moving carefully due to his sore leg. For several minutes he stared into the empty cabinets, as though food might magically appear. Shaking his head, though it accomplished little toward clearing away the cobwebs lodged there, Billy turned his attention to the refrigerator.
While it was mostly empty, there were a couple of pieces of bread and some cheese that didn't look too old. Billy sighed. He really was going to have to get by the store soon even if he didn't want to bother.
Then again, he thought as his stomach turned at the sight, what was the point?
Resigned, Billy pulled out the bread and cheese, dropping them on the counter. He tried to blank out his mind, mechanically digging a plate out of the cupboard and slapping the meal together.
Once done, he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and carried both into the living room. Billy gave a passing thought to the medication he had just taken, but shrugged. One beer wouldn't kill him - not if a flock of dinosaurs couldn't.
He had just sat down, placing the plate on the table as he took a long drink, when there was a knock at the door. Confused - he'd had very little company since coming home - Billy put the bottle down beside the plate, giving it a longing look.
Glancing through the peephole, Billy saw an unfamiliar man in a suit standing in the hallway. He threw the deadbolt and unlocked the handle. The door was opened only far enough so that Billy could lean against the jamb, and stare at his visitor.
"Yeah?"
The man lowered his hand, and a moment too late Billy saw a notepad in the other. "Billy Brennan?"
Instantly wary, Billy narrowed his eyes. "Maybe. What do you want?"
"Robert Ellison, Great Falls Tribune." The man - tall, thin, ratty suit Billy noted absently - held out a hand which Billy glanced at, but refused to take. Ellison's overly-bright smile faltered for a second, before he dropped his hand and grinned. "Can I come in?" he asked, undeterred.
Billy gawked for a moment, before glaring at the man. "No."
He began to shut the door, when Ellison's free hand shot out and slapped against it. "Just a moment, Mr. Brennan! I've only got a few questions!" he spoke in a rush.
"No." Billy pushed more firmly on the door, wincing when it pulled on his abused shoulder. Ellison opened his mouth, and Billy added, "Go to hell."
"But is it not true you were recently on Isla Sorna?" As Billy managed to shut the door, locking it as quickly as he could manage, he heard the man yell, no doubt clearly audible from the first floor. "Isn't it true you knowingly endangered the lives of Dr. Grant and a family from..." There was a pause. "Enid, Oklahoma?" Another pause. "Mr. Brennan?"
Leaning against the door, shaking, Billy sagged against it. "No comment!" he yelled, slamming his fist against the wood.
There was no immediate reply, and Billy hoped that the persistent reporter had given up, only to see a card to slide under his door, just beside his foot. "My card, Mr. Brennan. Call me."
He spared a hateful glance over his shoulder, before staring at the card, which was mocking him from the carpet. Billy let his head fall back against the door, and closed his eyes. "Yeah, right."
Drained, Billy couldn't move for several minutes. All he could hear were the reporter's words echoing, on a loop.
knowingly endangered the lives of Dr. Grant and a family
Billy took an unsteady breath, holding it before exhaling loudly. Pushing away from the door, he rubbed hand over his face and staggered back to the couch. As he dropped onto the threadbare cushions, he grabbed the bottle of beer and downed it in one long drink. Once done, gasping for air, Billy pressed the cool bottle to his forehead, eyes closed.
knowingly endangered the lives of Dr. Grant and a family
Suddenly furious, Billy threw the bottle across the room as hard as he could, relishing the sound as it crashed against the wall. Billy dropped his head into his hands, ignoring the pull in his shoulder, digging the heels of his hands against his eyes as he struggled for breath.
He stood quickly, wobbling slightly from the sudden movement. Closing his eyes briefly, Billy waited until the world calmed - mostly - before crossing the room and throwing open a cabinet. A quick glance at the handful of bottles hidden there, and Billy grabbed one at random.
Twisting the cap off, he momentarily debated finding a glass before shrugging and bringing the bottle to his lips. Pausing for air, Billy wiped his wrist over his lips, the liquor settling heavy in his stomach.
The reporter's weedy voice played in his mind again. Wanting to forget, wanting everything to just stop for a while, Billy saluted the empty air with the bottle before bringing it to his lips once more.
"Bottoms up."
~<>~<>~
( Part Two )
Author: kaly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 15,075
Characters/Pairing: Alan/Billy
Category: angst
Warnings: none
Spoilers: yes, major
Summary: Fear can have unexpected consequences.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: I actually did some of the groundwork on this story back in 2001. Better late than never, I guess.
Thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
Two weeks had passed since their rescue from Isla Sorna. A little over a week since Billy had been able to stay conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. Only three days since their return to Montana.
But it had been six days since Alan had spoken - almost literally - a single word to Billy, and about as long since he had looked him in the eye. Billy knew, down almost to the minute.
They had been six very long, very lonely days.
He had no family to speak of; his parents had been gone for several years, and he had been an only child. His friends - his real friends - were spread out across the four winds, and unable to visit, though they regretted it. There had been a few phone calls, several worried emails the few times he had been able to check for them, but that was it.
After his parents had been killed, Billy thought he had learned how utterly alone a person could feel. But waking to an empty room - beaten, battered and broken, in pain even with the medication - Billy had learned that he could still be surprised. It was ironic, really, that someone who loved to push the envelope as he did, could come to hate surprises quite so much.
With no one else, he had needed Alan more than ever. He needed his once-unwavering friend, the man he had come to love. Instead, Billy had been left to fend for himself. Though in Alan's defense, Billy had never told the older man what had happened to his parents. And if Alan wondered why they had been absent once they had come back to the states, he hadn't asked.
Given how things had gone between them, both on the island and since, Billy couldn't even pretend to be surprised Alan was avoiding him. Yet, it didn't mean he wished otherwise.
Billy fidgeted, fighting the urge to stretch his free arm up over his head. His back was tight, had been hurting ever since... Well, it was best not to go there. He had found out the hard way that stretching would only add to the pain, more stitches than he could count pulling uncomfortably - especially those in his shoulder and stomach - whenever he moved too far, or too quickly.
After hours of surgery to control bleeding the doctors had feared might not stop and having his spleen removed entirely, or so they said later, Billy supposed he really shouldn't complain about aches and pains. He was alive, when by all rights he shouldn't be. If he was, for the most part, a little worse for wear, well, he was young.
Then again, he was young. It seemed like he should be able to bounce back faster, he thought humorlessly. Alan should be the one who...
Sighing, Billy let his head fall back against the couch. He hadn't gotten up to turn on the light, even though it was late and his small apartment gone dark, but found he didn't care. There didn't seem to be much point, if all he was allowed to do was eat and sleep, anyway. And think. He had far too much time to think about how screwed up things had become in such a short time.
To think about Alan.
Alan. Alan certainly seemed to be returning to normal fast enough. Although maybe normal wasn't quite the right word for him anymore. To look at the other man, the few opportunities that Billy had managed, it was like nothing had happened, while at the same time everything had changed.
He had gone to campus, after one of his seemingly endless doctor's appointments, under the pretense of checking up on things that in reality didn't need looking after. And although he had seen Alan there, before the other man had left to return to Fort Peck Lake, Billy hadn't approached him.
Surrounded by familiar faces, Billy had found himself surprised - he had never felt so alone.
Billy rubbed his free hand over his face and fought the urge to sigh in frustration. Two more days. Two more days and the doctors said he could go back to the dig if he was very, very careful and stayed off the ground entirely.
It would be another two weeks before they would even consider signing off on him working in the dirt - going so far as to coordinate Billy's remaining care with a doctor closer to the dig. Just as importantly, he was to keep his arm in its sling at all times and walk slowly and carefully.
Just two more days until he could return to his life, at least in a limited way. Though at least in the meantime, he had been allowed to return to the tiny apartment he had rented for the dig season in Fort Peck.
The drive up from Bozeman had been a very careful one (if painful - he had refused to take any pain medication until he had arrived), but one Billy had been happy to make, all the same. He had never been more grateful to own an automatic, than during that drive.
Renting the apartment had felt like a frivolous expense when he had made the decision - after all, he was more than able to stay on-site at the dig. However, Billy had been wary of being around Alan twenty four-seven for months on end, and had opted for discretion rather than risk making a total fool out of himself.
Whatever the reasons, Billy was absurdly grateful for it at the moment - if only because it allowed him a place to hide from prying eyes. A place where he didn't have to face Alan for a little while longer, to admit he was scared of Alan's reaction, even if all he wanted was to see the other man.
Groaning, Billy rubbed his good hand over his eyes. He hated the painkillers - they made his thoughts chase round in circles. Billy was looking forward to losing the cloudy feeling, but a twinge in his upper arm reminded him why he hadn't just yet.
It would be some time still, before the PT on his arm and leg, much less the tenderness in his stomach, were far enough along to allow him to escape the medication entirely. However, even more than he wanted to be painkiller free, he wanted to dig, to get his hands dirty again.
While his stomach making a full recovery wasn't in doubt, the damage to his shoulder arm had wrought more uncertainty. But it didn't matter what the doctors said; his arm would be one hundred percent again sooner rather than later. No amount of therapy - however painful - was going to deter him.
Billy was determined it would happen, no matter what doubt he saw in the doctors' eyes. Then he could return to the dig in his rightful place. Return to Alan.
Only, it begged the question: Did Alan really want him back? Could Alan forgive him his transgressions?
On the helicopter, Billy had seen something in Alan's eyes. Besides the obvious shock and relief, for the briefest of moments, Billy had seen joy and love shining there. He was certain it wasn't simply a drug-induced hallucination of his hopes. Mostly.
But lurking behind those emotions had been something else that Billy couldn't name, buffered by empty words about his hat being the important thing. And in the space between, whatever else it was seemed to have won the war within Alan. Because the next time Billy was awake, groggy from anesthesia, in so much pain even breathing hurt, he had been alone.
When Alan had finally visited, Billy looked into the familiar blue depths, only to see an unfamiliar, closed expression. There was a shuttered stranger staring back at him from the beloved face, and Billy knew he only had himself to blame, and feared ever mending the rift between them.
They had travelled home together, separating from the Kirbys in LAX, before continuing on to Montana. Although quiet, Alan had stayed close to Billy's side until they had arrived, catching him whenever he stumbled courtesy of his twisted hip. However, the touches were cool, impersonal, and made Billy's chest hurt in an entirely different way. And while Alan had made sure Billy arrived at his small apartment in one piece, if not completely well, he quickly disappeared.
During the days since, Billy had been left alone. Except for the doctors and therapists he was required to visit, and some well wishes on campus, Billy could only wonder and worry what - if anything - would happen next.
He rubbed at his shoulder absently, careful around bandages covering the healing, but jagged, puncture wound. Having his arm bound to his chest in the sling was slowly driving him mad, even more so than the lingering ache from stomach surgery. Billy wasn't sure how not to be active, and the forced inactivity was killing him.
Killing him.
Bah-dum-dum, Billy thought, with a groan. Thank you, I'll be here all week. Dropping his hand, Billy sighed as he let his head fall back on the couch and to stare at the ceiling.
He had been in love with Alan for months. Billy had been like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the pull of Alan Grant from the earliest days he had known him. However, he knew better than press too quickly, there were far too many stories about Alan to ignore, and Billy had been willing to bide his time. It would happen if it was meant to, and it would serve nothing to spook him.
That patience had helped Billy discover if you got a few too many drinks into Alan - difficult, but not impossible - you would be surprised how much you might learn. So Billy had been willing to wait, worming his way under Alan's radar, cherishing every fond, if inevitably exasperated look, until he thought Alan was ready. In the meantime he loved Alan from not so afar.
It was working, his not so subtle plan, until Paul Kirby came along. Until Billy helped things along a little too well. Until the island. Until the eggs.
Love had been known to make fools of many men, sending almost as many to their deaths in its supposedly valiant cause. Billy's chest was tight at the thought - he had done one, and so very nearly the other, for the sake of a man he had come to realize that he couldn't imagine the world without.
They had escaped with their lives, if only just. No thanks, Billy couldn't help but note, to him. It was Billy who had put them in danger in the first place by pushing Alan to agree to the Kirby's request. And the second place, by an act of reckless stupidity, if he were being picky. Udesky, having died because of those eggs, would no doubt prefer Billy be picky.
The best intentions.
Billy snorted. Oh, the road to Hell was well paved...
The longer Alan was cold and distant, the more convinced Billy became. Whatever love he might or might not have seen in Alan's eyes in that moment... It obviously wasn't enough. However much it hurt, it was clear that Billy wasn't enough.
But even knowing that Alan might likely never forgive him, would never love him, Billy would return to the dig. He would go back to the remains of his life. He loved his job, his studies - he wanted his doctorate even still. It was too much a part of him to give up.
If he loved Alan just as much, or more... Surely the older man couldn't ignore him forever. And that little contact with Alan - however strained - had to be better than no contact at all.
Wouldn't it?
~<>~<>~
Alan was up and about at the dig that morning before any of the others had even stirred. Which, admittedly, wasn't entirely unusual if he were being honest. However, this particular day he was rattled, not that anyone would be able to tell that by looking at him. Almost no one. Ellie no doubt would be able to, as would Billy.
Billy.
Billy was the reason Alan was rattled in the first place. He wasn't exactly proud of how he had treated the younger man since their escape from the island. The nearly-overwhelming relief Alan had felt on the helicopter had been chipped at and worried away by doubt and guilt. So much so, that even though he hadn't left Billy's side while he slept in the hospital, Alan couldn't bring himself to be there when Billy woke.
The doctors on the ship had kept him apprised of Billy's status throughout, thankfully ignoring that he wasn't family, as had Eric, who had become rather attached to the other man. Eric's parents, when Alan had seen them, still seemed rather dazed by the whole thing. That said, even they had gone to speak with Billy, both before and during their trip back to the States.
But Alan, the one among the group who knew Billy best, had stayed away. Even when they were travelling together, Alan remained a silent, removed guardian. He would have died himself before letting Billy - far too fragile and slow - come to further harm. He stubbornly took the coward's way out and refused to admit that it was entirely possible he was the one inflicting the most harm at the moment, by ignoring the pain in Billy's dark eyes.
It had been hard, being back and not seeing Billy at all. Many times he had picked up the phone, or his keys, and made to reach out. Just as many, he had put the phone or the keys back in their place and remained. No doubt Billy had countless friends and family members calling in on him - he was always a popular face around the digs. Alan mollified himself with the thought that at least Billy wasn't alone.
So instead of reaching out, Alan kept himself busy - with the bones, with the students, even with the paperwork. It needed to be done, even though he hated it, and at least it would be one less worry for Billy when he returned.
And Alan refused to believe Billy wouldn't return, no matter how shaky things were between them at the moment. He wasn't sure he could cope with that outcome, so he refused to consider it.
He still couldn't quite shake the memories of how Billy looked - laying unconscious in the hospital bed, limping slowly through crowded airports - and it drove the guilt Alan couldn't escape. More so, he felt ashamed.
Had Billy died while saving Eric, as he had thought, Alan wasn't certain he could have forgiven himself. He had coped on the island - focusing on their escape - but after... After would have been a different story he couldn't bear to think about, even still.
Not that he forced Billy out of that window. Alan knew better - Billy was as stubborn and determined as they came. But the thought that practically the last words Billy would have heard from him were full of hate and disgust, well, that hurt. No, Alan wasn't sure he was ready to face Billy, or when he would be. Only, ready or not, he was out of time.
A glance at his watch revealed it was nearly seven, and it was Billy's first day cleared to be back at the dig. Technically, being Billy's employer did grant him access to some helpful information once they were back in the States. The rest of the workers would be appearing soon, and without doubt, Billy would be driving up at any time, although he wasn't due until nine.
Alan knew what the doctor's restrictions were for Billy's return - he had made sure to find out - and he was going to damn well make sure Billy followed them to the letter. Billy wasn't getting hurt again, by Alan's fault, or his own. He had spoken briefly to a couple of the older students, giving no details but hoping to smooth the way for Billy on his return. If it meant there were additional eyes that knew what to watch for regarding Billy's health, it was all the better.
As if on cue, the camp started to come to life. The students and volunteers slowly appeared from their tents, heading toward the larger central dining tent. A quick glance ensured that those on mess duty for the week were in the front of the group. If coffee, at the very least, wasn't quickly laid out it would be a bad day, indeed.
Content that the early morning routine was well on its way without supervision, Alan went back to watching the road. It was ridiculous how quickly it warmed up in the Badlands, and he rubbed a sleeve over his forehead. As he did so, Alan glanced at his watch once more - ten minutes later than the last time - before forcing himself to stop.
Standing and worrying weren't going to accomplish anything but to give him an ulcer. And he hadn't survived two trips into Hell without those to start now. Grunting, Alan pushed away from the side of his trailer and made for the mess tent; food was probably asking too much, but he needed coffee.
The tent was large, and open, the morning noises carrying beyond its canvas walls. Alan nodded to one of the younger students as he entered. There was a line by the coffee pot, but one of the volunteers on mess duty called out "Dr. Grant!" with a smile, and handed him a chipped cup of the strong, bitter brew.
Nodding his thanks, Alan ignored any jealous looks he might have received for breaking in line. Rank should have some privileges, after all. He sat at a corner table, isolated, and dropped his hat onto the dusty surface. Groaning, he rubbed a hand over tired eyes and drank half the cup in one go.
Slowly, the workers left the tent, dispersing to their assigned sections of the grid. Alan paid them little mind. Soon enough, he would be walking among the bones, answering questions and noting finds as they came about. But for the moment, he simply wanted to enjoy the quiet while it lasted.
However, it was only moments later that he heard a car door slam outside. His back going tense, Alan's head whipped around to stare at the doorway. Swallowing nervously, he drained the last of his coffee and forced himself to stand. He didn't like to think of himself as a coward, anything but; although in some things...
Well, Alan didn't like to think of himself as a liar, either.
Alan took a deep breath, returned his hat to its place - a hat he would never be able to wear without thinking of Billy. His cup was easily dropped off at the washing station, and he exited the tent. Momentarily blinded by the brilliant morning sun, Alan squinted, seeing a familiar car parked beside his truck.
Scanning the hillside, he finally saw Billy, standing there with his satchel grasped loosely in his free hand. One arm still in a sling, favoring his left leg slightly, bandages sticking out from under his tee-shirt, Alan noted he looked far too thin. Almost worse, Billy looked old.
Something clenched inside at the realization. It had only been days since he had helped Billy into his apartment, leaving as soon as he made sure it was stocked with food. Days which felt like much, much longer, and he could only guess as to how Billy felt about them.
For his part, Billy remained silent, but stared at Alan, dark eyes wide and full of so much trepidation it hurt Alan to witness. Billy was always so... alive, full of humor and joy in the littlest things, and Alan knew he was largely responsible for taking that away.
"Dr. Grant," Billy finally called out, formally, the salutation a long-running joke between them which fell flat. As he did, he took a hesitant, limping step toward Alan.
Alan nodded, holding Billy's gaze, but didn't - couldn't - move. He, too, hid behind semi-serious formalities he hadn't felt truly applicable in quiet some time. "Mr. Brennan."
Billy blinked quickly, opening his mouth but closing it, words unsaid, when Alan shook his head quickly.
No. He couldn't risk getting hurt again, no matter the intentions. Of hurting Billy again, no matter the reasons. With a sigh, and another short nod, Alan turned and walked away. He didn't look back to see Billy's expression. A coward wouldn't want to know.
~<> ~<>~
As he watched Alan hurry away, Billy's heart felt lodged in his throat. He swallowed nervously, staring at Alan's back, and hating the sight. It was too much like before. Too much like Alan walking down the stairs, unknowingly into the aviary, and seemingly out of Billy's life permanently.
Steeling himself, Billy took a deep breath and held it as long as he could before his chest ached, and he sighed. Watching Alan walk away hurt like hell every time, but damn it, this was his life, too. The dig was a requirement for his degree - one, more importantly, that he loved dearly. And he could tough it out, even endure Alan's neglect, if it meant he had his doctorate at the end of it.
At the moment, it felt like that would be all he would have at the end of it, but that was beside the point. And if the unthinkable happened, and worse came to worse, he could find another dig. Staring at Alan, who was already on the far side of the grid, Billy sighed again. He wasn't sure which would be worse - working a dig with a man he loved who couldn't even look at him, or working one without him at all.
Deciding that wasn't something he would be able to figure out in a day, Billy knew - no matter how much he wished otherwise. And it might not matter in the end; the dig would likely only last another few weeks due to funding, anyway. A last minute grant had come through while they had been gone. Billy had been thrilled when he found out during one of his trips by campus, but it was small as dig funds went.
Carefully, his hip mostly healed but wary of aggravating it, Billy made his way down the hillside to the mess tent, hoping against hope there would be some coffee left. He might be on limited duties yet, but there was plenty of work to be done, and he needed fuel even if he hadn't been hungry for days.
As he entered, Billy was greeted enthusiastically by the few people who remained in the tent. Somehow, he managed a smile for each, nodding in turn, but avoiding any chance for actual conversation. He didn't know what was common knowledge and he wasn't interested in feeding the gossip.
Taking a cup of coffee, but turning down the offer of food, Billy shook his head in the hopes of clearing away the cobwebs. Absentmindedly, he added sugar and milk to the coffee before taking a sip as he stepped back outside. He squinted briefly, his eyes tracking to Alan as though drawn there.
He watched the other man as he quietly, surely, instructed one of the first-years. By their movements, Billy could imagine the words: rough, smooth. Billy winced, remembering his own last day on the dig - those same motions, those same words. It hadn't been that long, and yet somehow it felt like an entire lifetime at the same time.
Turning away, Billy headed toward the main trailer. He couldn't "play in the dirt" as his doctor in Bozeman had so tactfully put it, but there were other requirements on a dig. First and foremost was making sure the accounting, such as it was, was up to date. Alan hated dealing with it, and often delegated it to Billy.
More importantly, it meant he was needed, and it was something he could do even with a bum arm and slow, limping gait. After days of doing little more than sleeping and screaming (he feared the nightmares might never stop) and staring at the walls, more than anything Billy needed to do something that mattered.
Entering the trailer, Billy flipped on the light switch and dropped his bag onto the table. He ran his good hand through his hair, wistful for the familiar feeling of dust between his fingers. There weren't words for how much Billy longed to be back in the dirt, ever-so-slowly unearthing the long-forgotten bones.
In the meantime, he pushed the longing away once more and sat, pulling the ledger out of the desk. Flipping it open, Billy felt something cinch inside when he found up-to-date notations in familiar handwriting, everything complete. Slamming the book closed, Billy shoved it back into its place and sagged in the chair.
Annoyed, but undeterred, Billy walked out of the trailer and over to the cataloging tent. There were always finds in various stages of being prepped for transit to the museum, several of which he could even manage one handed.
Another round of greetings was had at the tent, and Billy found himself oddly warmed at the fact he had been missed. Obviously some story had been shared - no one questioned his extended absence or injuries - but neither was anyone bothered to see him, though he was receiving subtle stares from a couple of them. It was a relief, even if Billy didn't want to admit that the others reaction to his return had been a concern the past few days.
Of more concern, he was slowly discovering, was Alan having left him any work to do at all. After he had checked and found no outstanding items to process, even after asking the student assigned to the tent for confirmation, Billy growled under his breath. Once again, Alan had beaten him to the task, leaving every 'I' dotted and 'T' crossed.
Damn the man.
Forcing a calm he didn't feel, Billy smiled and nodded at the now-wary student and left the tent. He wasn't going to give up, not even when it was beginning to feel as though Alan was going out of his way to drive home the point Billy wasn't needed - wasn't welcome.
No matter what Alan thought, Billy wasn't a quitter. A small voice whispering in the back of his mind - that quitting was exactly what he was doing where any possible relationship was concerned - was told to shut up. He would see this day through, and he would return tomorrow, and the next.
For the moment, he might not be able to dig in the dirt himself, but there was rarely a dearth of questions to be answered. Even Alan couldn't take care of all of those by himself, and Billy could be useful. He needed to be useful, damn it.
Walking around, nodding to greetings and forcing smiles he didn't feel, Billy bit back on the urge to sigh. Even without looking, he knew exactly where Alan was at any given time - and it was never nearby.
It was going to be a very long day.
~<>~<>~
Billy had been back at the dig for about a week, and Alan was determined to keep his distance. Oh, he kept an eye on the younger man. He would be damned if he let Billy overwork, or worse, reinjure himself on his watch. His helpers in that regard updated him somewhat regularly, one of them noting Billy's growing frustration. Alan had bit back a sigh at the observation - it was impossible to miss the frustration Billy was feeling. However, Alan wrote that off as an energetic personality limited by injuries.
He had noted that Billy had returned to the grid, not just pointing and instructing. Rather, he was laying on the ground, curled a bit on his side - no doubt in deference to his stomach. He had claimed a section no one was working currently, and was methodically uncovering a ribcage. It was also the first day Billy had arrived without the sling holding his arm.
Alan was heartened to see the obvious sign of recovery, though he doubted the therapy was completely over, and wondered what the young man's doctor might say if he knew. On top of that, Alan couldn't help but think Billy still looked too thin, too tired. Part of him wanted to reach out, to remark on the bags under Billy's eyes, but knew he had forfeited that right. Besides, Billy was going out of his way to act normal, a painfully obvious act to those who knew him well, so who was Alan to deny him that?
As he watched, Billy reached for a tool that was just out of reach, wincing when he overextended the healing shoulder. Alan wanted to tell him to rest, to take it easy as the bones would still be there tomorrow. Stubbornness kept him mute. Billy was healing fine, and he was a grown man. It wasn't Alan's place to mollycoddle him.
More importantly, Billy was better off without Alan's meddling and judgment. It was Billy's acting without thinking in the hopes of pleasing Alan, combined with Alan's rash judgment, that had helped get them into this mess to begin with.
He was just about to turn away, and get back to work, when he heard the screech of a hawk flying overhead. It sounded nothing like the monsters on the island, but Alan would have had to have been blind to miss the way Billy reacted to the sound. One hand going over his head, eyes going to the sky, there was panic in Billy's eyes.
Without thinking, Alan took a step forward, wanting to help, only to see Billy lower his arm and close his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. He stilled, watching the internal battle being waged before Billy's eyes opened once more and he determinedly returned to the fossils in front of him.
Alan smiled, though it was bittersweet. Billy truly was resilient, and it was captivating. Biting his lip, he turned away from the tempting sight and forced himself to walk back toward the center of the dig. He had work to do.
The day passed agonizingly slowly, as they had persisted in doing since his return, and Alan felt nothing but relief when the sun finally began to set. The dig was mostly quiet, a hush that typically fell after dinner and just before lights out. He had just turned toward his trailer, when he spotted Billy walking toward his car.
One stipulation Alan had made prior to Billy's returning to work - made through his doctor - was that Billy not stay at the dig site at night. There was no hard and fast rule for those with accommodation nearby to stay at home or the dig, though the students typically did for financial reasons. In Alan's case, he just preferred to be near the bones most nights.
However, with Billy's injuries still healing, Alan wanted him at home every night, where he could rest and get better as quickly as possible. Sleeping in one of the tents, or the couch in Alan's trailer, would do little good for Billy's recovery. And though Alan had thought it odd when Billy had announced his intention of renting a place in town for the dig season, after everything that had happened, Alan was just grateful for it.
It was impossible to forget how much it hurt believing Billy was gone. Even while they were fighting for their own lives, Billy's loss nearly killed him and the memory refused to give up its hold. Watching Billy walk away, Alan couldn't help but think the younger man looked as lonely as Alan felt. And yet, even admitting that, Alan found he couldn't reach out to him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The memories and the guilt still hurt too much.
As Alan watched, there were few waves, a nod of acknowledgement or two between Billy and the others. Soon, though, Billy was in his car and tearing off down the dirt road, dust flying in his wake.
Sighing, Alan retreated into his trailer. Alone.
~<>~<>~
As he left, Billy had felt Alan watching him. They still hadn't spoken, but Billy knew when Alan was looking his direction. Oddly enough, it happened quiet often, but Billy had learned after the first couple of times it was best not to acknowledge it. Once or twice, he had turned toward Alan, hoping that maybe this was the chance they needed to open up once more. Each time, Alan had turned and walked away without a word.
He was grateful that the physical therapist had agreed that - while he might not be completely healed - he could excavate again. It had taken a little more convincing for his regular doctor to agree - it was still a week ahead of schedule - but he had, grudgingly. Though only after Billy had agreed upon penalty of large needles to stop and come in, should anything start to feel 'off'.
Being back on the ground gave Billy a feeling of purpose he had been painfully missing, even if the actual act of getting down and up were tedious and embarassing. There were even times, alone in the dirt, ever so slowly uncovering the bones, that Billy almost felt happy. Or less empty, at the very least, which was something. However, these feelings faded along with the work, leaving him no more sure about his life than he had been since their rescue.
Billy hated to admit it - almost couldn't admit it - but he was floundering.
The drive to his apartment wasn't a very long one, not nearly long enough to allow Billy to clear his head. Pulling into the parking spot, Billy sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel. He sat there for a long moment, just concentrating on breathing.
Shaking himself, hating how pathetic he had become, Billy moved from the car and slowly made his way up the stairs to his apartment. Once upon a time, he never took the stairs at anything slower than a jog, but he wasn't quite back to that yet. On his way up, he smiled and nodded at a neighbor he didn't really know except in passing.
Even at his slower pace, it wasn't a bit before Billy was in his apartment, the door locked behind him and the world stowed away. He leaned against the solid surface for the shortest of moments before tossing his keys on the coffee table and toeing off his shoes.
He debated momentarily between food and a shower, only for the shower to win. While Billy might have missed the familiar dust, he was covered in it and, after pausing to sniff cautiously, he stunk thanks to the long hours in the sun. It didn't hurt that he wasn't overly hungry, anyway.
Walking down the short hallway gave him time to carefully pull off his worn t-shirt, dropping it in the full-to-bursting hamper just inside the bathroom. The rest of his clothes followed shortly, though he did err on the side of caution and sit to take off his socks.
As he stood, pausing long enough to start the water, Billy groaned. He was looking forward to being able to move without thinking, and not causing pain. Although most of the stitches and bandages were gone, the aches remained. Pushing it out of his mind, as best he was able, Billy paused long enough to cover the remaining bandages with plastic before climbing into the shower.
Closing his eyes, Billy stood there - the water pulsing on his face and chest - and tried to relax. Eventually, just before the hot water would have run out, Billy finally felt the knots in his back begin to loosen. The tension of the past weeks never truly left him, anymore, but at least the tightness from the dig had begun to abate.
Knowing his time was limited before the water turned ice cold, Billy scrubbed off quickly and shut off the water. He winced as he stepped out too quickly, foot slipping on the floor and sending a pain lancing up his leg. Cursing under his breath, Billy grabbed a towel and ruffled it through his hair, before wrapping it around his waist.
Only once the pain had dulled somewhat did he risk moving forward, very carefully. The doctors swore the faint limp would go away in time - that he shouldn't be discouraged just yet - but it was hard. Billy had always been active, and being kept from that by his own body was hard to take.
Absentmindedly, he pulled the plastic away from the bandages, checked that they remained dry, and rubbed his hip. He might have overdone it, but Billy refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he grabbed the bottle of painkillers - which he had mostly ignored since returning to the dig - from their spot in the medicine cabinet. Tossing a couple in his mouth, he ran the tap long enough to cup some water and swallow them.
Standing up straight, he wiped the mirror clean and stared at his reflection. He hadn't made a habit of doing that since he had returned home, and for a second it shocked him. There had been a couple of comments at work about how thin he looked, but Billy had brushed them off as the girls being overly worried.
However, looking at himself in the mirror, Billy felt a fissure of concern, but quickly brushed it off. He was injured, healing, it happened. No big deal.
Turning away, he shivered and moved as quickly as he could into his bedroom, finding a beat up pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to change into. It wasn't as though he had any plans for the evening.
A moment later, he walked across his small apartment to the kitchen, moving carefully due to his sore leg. For several minutes he stared into the empty cabinets, as though food might magically appear. Shaking his head, though it accomplished little toward clearing away the cobwebs lodged there, Billy turned his attention to the refrigerator.
While it was mostly empty, there were a couple of pieces of bread and some cheese that didn't look too old. Billy sighed. He really was going to have to get by the store soon even if he didn't want to bother.
Then again, he thought as his stomach turned at the sight, what was the point?
Resigned, Billy pulled out the bread and cheese, dropping them on the counter. He tried to blank out his mind, mechanically digging a plate out of the cupboard and slapping the meal together.
Once done, he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and carried both into the living room. Billy gave a passing thought to the medication he had just taken, but shrugged. One beer wouldn't kill him - not if a flock of dinosaurs couldn't.
He had just sat down, placing the plate on the table as he took a long drink, when there was a knock at the door. Confused - he'd had very little company since coming home - Billy put the bottle down beside the plate, giving it a longing look.
Glancing through the peephole, Billy saw an unfamiliar man in a suit standing in the hallway. He threw the deadbolt and unlocked the handle. The door was opened only far enough so that Billy could lean against the jamb, and stare at his visitor.
"Yeah?"
The man lowered his hand, and a moment too late Billy saw a notepad in the other. "Billy Brennan?"
Instantly wary, Billy narrowed his eyes. "Maybe. What do you want?"
"Robert Ellison, Great Falls Tribune." The man - tall, thin, ratty suit Billy noted absently - held out a hand which Billy glanced at, but refused to take. Ellison's overly-bright smile faltered for a second, before he dropped his hand and grinned. "Can I come in?" he asked, undeterred.
Billy gawked for a moment, before glaring at the man. "No."
He began to shut the door, when Ellison's free hand shot out and slapped against it. "Just a moment, Mr. Brennan! I've only got a few questions!" he spoke in a rush.
"No." Billy pushed more firmly on the door, wincing when it pulled on his abused shoulder. Ellison opened his mouth, and Billy added, "Go to hell."
"But is it not true you were recently on Isla Sorna?" As Billy managed to shut the door, locking it as quickly as he could manage, he heard the man yell, no doubt clearly audible from the first floor. "Isn't it true you knowingly endangered the lives of Dr. Grant and a family from..." There was a pause. "Enid, Oklahoma?" Another pause. "Mr. Brennan?"
Leaning against the door, shaking, Billy sagged against it. "No comment!" he yelled, slamming his fist against the wood.
There was no immediate reply, and Billy hoped that the persistent reporter had given up, only to see a card to slide under his door, just beside his foot. "My card, Mr. Brennan. Call me."
He spared a hateful glance over his shoulder, before staring at the card, which was mocking him from the carpet. Billy let his head fall back against the door, and closed his eyes. "Yeah, right."
Drained, Billy couldn't move for several minutes. All he could hear were the reporter's words echoing, on a loop.
knowingly endangered the lives of Dr. Grant and a family
Billy took an unsteady breath, holding it before exhaling loudly. Pushing away from the door, he rubbed hand over his face and staggered back to the couch. As he dropped onto the threadbare cushions, he grabbed the bottle of beer and downed it in one long drink. Once done, gasping for air, Billy pressed the cool bottle to his forehead, eyes closed.
knowingly endangered the lives of Dr. Grant and a family
Suddenly furious, Billy threw the bottle across the room as hard as he could, relishing the sound as it crashed against the wall. Billy dropped his head into his hands, ignoring the pull in his shoulder, digging the heels of his hands against his eyes as he struggled for breath.
He stood quickly, wobbling slightly from the sudden movement. Closing his eyes briefly, Billy waited until the world calmed - mostly - before crossing the room and throwing open a cabinet. A quick glance at the handful of bottles hidden there, and Billy grabbed one at random.
Twisting the cap off, he momentarily debated finding a glass before shrugging and bringing the bottle to his lips. Pausing for air, Billy wiped his wrist over his lips, the liquor settling heavy in his stomach.
The reporter's weedy voice played in his mind again. Wanting to forget, wanting everything to just stop for a while, Billy saluted the empty air with the bottle before bringing it to his lips once more.
"Bottoms up."
~<>~<>~
( Part Two )