I come to the garden alone.
While the dew is still on the roses.
And the voice I hear falling on my ear,
the son of God discloses.
Billy closes his eyes, sighing tiredly and sadly into the cool air of his "home". It had been a while since his parents died, leaving him to be abandoned by his uncle. Homelessness is a struggle, even without the addition of grief. While the death of his parents set an ache in his heart, Billy still strived to optimistic about the world. Perhaps he was wise in this, or perhaps he was foolish,with his lack of knowledge lending to the problem. While the the later may be true, his knowledge about the world, especially about the streets, had grown greatly. Still on cooler, silent nights, when papers sold less, and when he felt the most alone, the pain in his heart rose to the forefront of his mind. Silently he traced his finger over the grain of one of the floorboards, mind swirling down in a depressed spiral. Deciding to try and sleep off the sadness, Billy lies down on his tattered cot. He does not even bother trying to keep the tears held in.
And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
and he tells me I am his own.
And the joy we share as we tarry there;
None other has ever known.
When Billy was given these powers by the Wizard, he knew they would take a large degree of responsibility and control. He understood that, in fact he was somewhat prepared for that. What he had neither realized nor prepared for was the soul crushing sadness that failure created. Losing any civilians lives in a battle brought him deep grief. Billy blamed himself for the death of many, something few eleven year olds go through. He strove to be faster, better, but only to find that a few still were lost in the chaos. He had no one to turn to and share his the thoughts of his very young mind, so no one corrected his faulty thinking for a long time.
I'd stay with the garden with Him;
Though night around me is falling.
But He bids me go,
through the voice of woe,
His voice to me is calling.
Billy often wondered at his lowest points, whether having an almost always healthy, optimistic, and helpful Captain Marvel was better than having a sickly, weak, and unnecessary Billy Batson. More people could be saved, sleeping arrangements would cease to be a problem if he just stayed at the Watch Tower, and he would be able to block out most of the feeling of doubt and sadness. The arguments against Billy existing were numerous, but for some strange reason the Wisdom of Solomon would always convince him to change back one more time. While Billy was not important to the world, shoot he was barely important to Fawcett city, he was important to Captain Marvel, helping make up the stronger, more recognized being. The fact that he knew this made it no easier to be Billy Batson.
And He walks with me,
and He talks with me,
and he tells me I am his own.
And the joy we share as we tarry there;
None other has ever known.
Billy stares blindly at the wall, tired, disheartened, and stressed. He was in a group of superheroes that did not know of his youth (except for Batman; Batman knows everything). And if they were to find out about it, how would they react? Try to stop him from doing his duty given to him by the Wizard? Perhaps they would insist he needed to be protected while on missions. No. It would not do for Billy to tell them. But on the other hand, lying, even through omission, never sat well with Billy. And if they knew his real age maybe they would not so harshly call him on his immaturity. He was very mature for an eleven year old, but not for a twenty plus.
The league judged him based on the notion he had been alive for over two decades, which is not true. They thought he knew how to deal with all the crazy situations with a level of maturity that he simply was unable to attain at his age. Joking around helped to deal with the despair brought by the wrecked world he was trying to help keep together. Just this afternoon (or was it morning, shifting time zones are confusing), Billy had over heard a few members wondering why he was allowed to stay than his strength, some leaguers thought he had no business being there. It hurt to be judged so harshly for an aspect of himself that would a difficult, no, a near impossible to rid himself of. Billy Batson shakes his head, breathing deeply. He could overcome this doubt and sadness. Billy Batson has the courage of Billy Batson.
And the joy we share as we tarry there;
None other has ever known.