Chapter Text
Chapter One
“Billy!”
Billy Brennan looked up so fast his neck popped. “Yeah?”
Alan Grant stood on a rock ledge above him. He shook his head. His hat—a new one, since he’d lost his back on Isla Sorna—hung from his neck by its strings. “You look a mile away. I’ve been calling you for five minutes now.”
“Sorry. Guess I was lost in thought.” He tried to grin but failed miserably. “What’d you need?”
Alan’s blue eyes drifted over him. “Alright. You wanna tell me why I find you in this crevice?”
“Uh…” Billy licked his lips and glanced around. He’d been working on the dig, uncovering the latest fossil. He’d been happily brushing away the layers of dirt, explaining to the onlookers how they did things, when he’d uncovered a large beak.
Razor sharp claws sank into his back and lifted him out of the creek. He thrashed and twisted, freeing himself to crash into the water.
“Billy!”
“Billy!”
Billy jumped back. His head smacked against the rock wall behind him and he blinked past stars to stare at Alan.
“I get it.” Alan crouched in front of him. He blocked the sun, casting a shadow over Billy. The dark should be comforting, a break from the burning sun. But all it did was send the panic spiking inside Billy’s stomach. “I saw the fossil.”
Billy shifted. Pressed harder against the back of the crevice. His leg bounced nervously with the need to move. Run. Find another hiding spot.
“I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered. “Every time I think I’m getting better something else happens and I—” He snapped his mouth shut. Alan had his own troubles to deal with. A limp from the Spinosaurus’ claw impaling his leg. His own nightmares. Nightmares that Billy had only fueled by stealing those raptor eggs. He didn’t need Billy’s trauma added to his own.
“You freak out. I get it, Billy.” He reached out to squeeze his ankle, the only part of Billy he could reach without getting closer. “I can help you.”
“No,” he said quickly. “No. I’m, I’ll be fine. Just a low spot. I just need a drink and a burger. You know how I get on an empty stomach.” He managed a nervous laugh.
Alan clearly didn’t buy his lie, but he didn’t press. He stood. “Well, the tour’ll be done in a half hour. Clean up, we’ll go grab a bite. I could go for a burger too.”
Billy grinned. “Sounds good. I’ll go do that.”
Alan waved and headed back towards the dig site.
Billy let out a breath and rubbed the back of his head. He didn’t want to go back to the site. Didn’t want to move from this crevice he’d found that shielded him from the sky.
But he had to. He took a deep breath and forced himself to crawl out.
The sun sizzled against his skin the moment he was out of the shade. Sweat dripped down his neck as he climbed over the rocks.
Hot, dry rocks. Not slick rocks surrounded by fog. These are brown, not gray. And dusty. There’s nothing out here. The pterodactyls were all locked in a cage. They can’t get out.
Those facts didn’t bring him much comfort.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept his eyes trained on Alan’s tent. If he acted as if he was on a mission, then nobody would stop him and try to find out what had happened. Why he’d run off in the middle of a lecture.
Unfortunately, his luck had run out…six months ago when he’d accepted Alan’s offer to go with him to Isla Nublar.
“Hey, Billy!” One of the new workers—a young man named Joseph, with too much facial hair than someone his age should be able to grow—jogged up. “Where ya been?”
“Oh, I had to check on something—”
“All the way outside of the dig site?” Joseph eyed him. “You sure?”
Billy inwardly sighed. “Pretty sure I know what I was doing, Joseph. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do—”
“In Dr. Grant’s tent?”
Billy closed his eyes. He was getting really annoyed with the constant interruptions.
“—nobody’s allowed in that tent ‘cept him.”
Billy could feel Joseph’s eyes boring into the side of his head. He refused to look at him. Refused to even hesitate. Just get to the tent and you’ll be rid of him.
“Is there something going on the rest of us don’t know about?” Joseph tucked his hands in his vest pockets, eyebrows raised.
Billy paused at that, and turned to stare at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, nothing, really. It’s not my business. Just…Dr. Grant’s been weirdly protective of you since y’all got back six months ago. And you’ve been off, man. Everyone’s wondering if something bad happened to you.”
Billy looked away, stared out over the dig site. Carefully avoided looking in the pit he’d been working in earlier. “Nah, nothing happened,” he said with as much carelessness as he could muster.
“Uh-huh.” Joseph didn’t sound convinced.
Nobody sounded convinced when Billy said he was okay. Not even himself. But he wasn’t that messed up! He could still work a job—as long as he didn’t see it—and he could still function like a normal person.
Well, a normal person that panicked out in the open. That only felt safe burrowed under something. That had a heart attack whenever a large bird cried out.
“Either way.” Joseph stretched. “Shift’s over. I’m gonna grab a bite to eat. Be seein’ you.” He slapped Billy’s back before moving on.
Billy flinched, curling in to try and dodge the hit. His heart lodged itself in his throat, a cold sweat beading along his forehead.
He was fine. He was good.
He wanted to scream.
He started walking again, as fast as he could go without drawing too much attention to himself. He needed to get out of the open. Away from people. Hide somewhere before Alan found him and dragged him along for burgers.
Billy didn’t want to go anywhere. Crowds made him nervous. He used to thrive in crowded places. He could easily get lost there. Now they made him feel exposed. Crowds made too much noise. Attacked too much danger. Were harder to get out of.
Which was stupid because there were no dinosaurs here.
Logic didn’t always stop the panic, though. The mind-numbing fear that always seemed to be lurking under the surface.
Others called out to him. Asked if he was okay. Asked where he’d been. What he was thinking.
Billy ignored them, focused on the tent. Just a few more yards.
“Hey, Billy! Just look at this discovery!” Another one of his co-workers slung an arm around his shoulders and shoved his phone in his face, a picture of a perfectly fossilized pterodactyl head and beak.
He screamed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alan Grant was all the way across the dig site from his tent, going over tomorrow’s tour schedule, when he heard the scream.
His heart stopped. The hot, dry dessert vanished. Replaced by a foggy river and starving pterodactyls. Listening to Billy’s agonized screams as the devils ate him alive.
Just as quickly, he was back in the present.
But the screams didn’t leave.
“Hang on a second,” he told his assistant before sprinting around the digs.
One of Billy’s partners was standing in front of his tent with a confused expression. “Dr. Grant! All I did was show him a picture—”
Alan didn’t stop. He raced right into his tent. His table was knocked over, instruments, papers, books, and cups strewn everywhere.
Billy wasn’t there.
For one awful moment, he was back on Isla Sorna. Covered in blood and rotting meat from the carcass. Listening to the t-rex walking away. Staring at the bloody tree where Billy had been.
He shook away the memory, swore, and ran back outside and around the tent. “Billy? Billy, where are you?”
There were so many crevices and deep pits here at the dig site. If Billy was running in a blind panic, he risked falling in one. Risking breaking something. Hopefully not his neck.
Alan moved on instinct, running around the tent and into the wasteland beyond. Billy would probably go in a straight line. Probably stop at the nearest hiding place he could find.
His theory proved correct a half hour later, he finally spied a figure huddled underneath a narrow overhang. Blue t-shirt, tan cargo pants, short hair plastered against his skull with sweat and darkened from dirt.
Definitely Billy.
Alan slowed down to a walk and cleared his throat. “Billy?”
The kid flinched, arms going up to protect his head and neck.
Alan eased closer. “Billy, listen to me, okay? It’s me. Alan.”
This hadn’t been the first time Alan had had to calm him down. There’d been many episodes in the hospital. And the following months. Alan had been the only one able to calm him—even if he was the source of many nightmares.
It should make him feel better. That Billy still trusted him deep down. That he hadn't ruined their friendship with his careless words back on Isla Sorna. But it didn't. Not when so many times he'd heard Billy mumbling in his sleep, begging for forgiveness. Saying "I'm sorry." over and over and over.
He pushed those thoughts aside. He could ponder everything later. Right now, Billy needed to be calmed down.
“I promise you, you’re safe.”
How many times had he told Billy that as he held him during a panic attack? How many times had he whispered that in the kid’s ear while restraining him, so he didn’t tear stitches, or agitate his broken ribs?
“There’s nothing out here but me and you.” He was almost close enough to touch his shoulder. Close enough to see the tears streaming down his eyes, cutting trails through the dust.
Alan’s knees and ankles popped and his scarred calf ached as he knelt in front of Billy. In front of his kid. He stretched out a hand, but didn’t touch him yet. “Look at me. You’re safe. I promise.”
Blue-gray eyes tracked up to his. Alan smiled softly. Let his hand rest on Billy’s trembling shoulder. Careful not to touch any of the scarred ridges that pressed against the drenched material.
Billy exhaled shakily and wiped his eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Alan grinned sideways. “You know how many times Ellie knocked me out of a panic attack?”
Billy didn’t grin, but at least his shaking was slowing down.
“Come on. You need a shower and a burger.” Alan slid his hand down to grip Billy’s arm and pulled him to his feet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour later, they were pulled up to a bar. Billy hadn’t said a word the entire time, and it was unnerving Alan. Usually, after a panic attack, the kid would crack jokes and laugh at the dumbest things. Or go off on an overly excited spiel about whatever it was he was researching at the time. Usually some form of herbivore dinosaur. Just anything to try and forget the episode. Cover up the fact that he'd been caught scared--and, more often than not, crying. No matter how many times Alan told him it was okay to cry, the kid hung fast to the belief that he shouldn't. All because someone in his past had said so.
Billy had never said who, but Alan was pretty adept at reading people. At reading his kid. He had a pretty good idea of who it'd been.
The silence was beyond nerve wracking and downright worrying.
Alan parked and turned off the ignition. “You okay?”
The answer was obvious. But Billy just nodded—they both knew he was lying—and got out.
Alan sighed and got out as well.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re no better than the men who built this place.”
Before Isla Nublar, Billy would tell him what was bothering him. Had trusted Alan. Trusted him enough to tell him about his family life, about the issues he’d had to work through to become the man he was.
Now, Billy never talked. Not like he had. Sure, he still acted like he was just a carefree college kid. And most people didn’t know any better.
Alan did.
Alan knew.
And he knew the reason Billy no longer confided in him was because of the words he’d said to Billy while on that hell. And he didn’t know how to fix that.