After the War Chapter 1, a shazam! fanfic

Hello everyone, we are here with another fic, this time about Shazam! which I absolutely loved. This fic is going to be more like a collection of one-shots rather than a cohesive narrative and will focus on events that occur after the movie because the ending left some stuff hanging. Read on and enjoy!

Shazam! Is the property of DC

There's a hand on the back of his neck cold, cold as the icy water dripping from his face over his eyes, through his nose, and clogging his throat tasting like water but worse like something too sanitary. He opens his mouth around the word, the important word that can stop it. The water rushes over him again, filling his mouth before he can close it and Billy can't breathe can only flail and plead in his mind for it to stop. Have you ever drowned?

The water fills your mouth even when you've closed it and it's in your lungs and you can't breathe and it burns. You can get your head above water for a moment, and you can only gasp, spit out the taste of stale water before being submerged again. And again.

Billy tries to twist out of the bad guy's grasp, Doctor Sivana but he can't, can only taste the surge of water. Except there is no air this time and Billy wonders if the man has finally decided to kill him. To kill a kid before he can even graduate. There's darkness surrounding his vision filtering in like the tide and the sound of battle filters through the water like someone dropped a phone in the tub, blurry and distorted. His family is fighting and no one notices that he is drowning, that he is always drowning and they are inexperienced and they could all die. His chest is tight and oh god he can't breathe, he can't breathe.

He jerks awake to a cover of darkness, thick and heavy with the sound of his breathing loud and raspy in his chest. Billy can't see, can't feel it's like he's floating and the only thing to ground him is the sound of his breath ripping through the air, too loud, too fast, and not enough.

Slowly, Billy's fingers tighten and feel the comforter (something hand-knitted) beneath his fingers, his shaking fingers, he hears the sound of a passing car outside the window, the sounds of the city humming like a beating heart or the pounding of the waves… Billy's fingers tighten in the sheets and he draws in a ragged breath as he carefully sits up, the ceilings low at the top of the bunk and he can't count how many times already he's hit his head.

Billy is pretty certain it's the first time he's had the top bunk. Usually, whatever foster parent had (unwisely) decided to take him already had a few children crammed into the nooks and crannies of their house. Or they didn't have a bunk bed or a bed.

"Billy?"

A disembodied voice calls from below, all Billy can see in the darkness of the room is the outline of the desk and Freddy's Wonder Woman poster which he secretly likes but won't admit to because Superman is way cooler alright. Billy realises in the same vein that his breathing is still struggling from his chest and that his hands are still shaking. A part of him, a large part of him doesn't want to respond to Freddy, he's been on his own so long, he doesn't need help, he'll get through it like everything else. But he has to trust his family, right? Isn't that something families do?

"Yeah?"

Billy responds and his voice is hoarse, croaking from his throat like the frogs by that pond in that one house with the red siding that Billy had almost liked but for the constant smell of tobacco. There's silence for a long moment before the sound of covers shifting fills the small space, a horn blares in the distance and lights flash by the window illuminating everything in halftones as Freddy's voice drifts through the room.

"I'd come up and sit with you, but you know… darkness and a disabled kid and all. So, wanna come down?"

It's casual and so Freddy (and he likes already knowing Freddy) that Billy can't help but snort and huff a laugh that doesn't quite sit right in his chest. Billy tenderly peels back the covers but the house is warm, warmer than it probably should be and he plants his hands on the ladder and for a long moment stares at the darkness below him. He can feel the phantom sensation of a hand on the back of his head, water sliding down his throat and filling his lungs like a ship with a breach in its hall in those war movies that one foster parent absolutely loved.

The first step is always the worst, you have to shift and lean for a moment over the edge until your toe finds the next peg, and the one after that, and the one after that with only the loud rasp of his breath and the feel of Freddy's eyes to fill that moment. Billy's feet touch on the floor solid one moment and swaying the next cold beneath his thin socks. There's a sound like Freddy's patting the bed and Billy tumbles into the bunk squishing against Freddy who squawks and shuffles Billy until they can both lean comfortably against the wall plastered with even more posters.

Freddy's breathing is light, barely audible and he's a line of warmth pressed against Billy's side grounding him just a little bit so that the next car that passes by isn't quite as jarring. For a long moment, there's nothing but silence between the two of them, thoughts drifting through his mind like the gentle current of a river. Suddenly, it's not so calm.

"Do you want to talk about it? Cause like they always say talking about it makes it feel better and I don't know the truth of that like if there's scientific research but I am totally open to be the support person right now."

Billy can't help the small smile as Freddy rambles fitting the words into a single breath with an ease that Darcy must have learned from him. But no, he doesn't want to talk about the nightmare of being drowned, or the one about watching his family die before he could save them, or the old wizard crumbling to dust in front of him, or the ones about his mom. He's good thanks (that's a lie).

Freddy takes his silence for the answer it is and presses his shoulder just a bit closer to Billy's. Freddy takes a breath and pauses as the sound of footsteps slips pass their door, Billy wonders if it's Rosa going down to the kitchen for a cup of tea, or Darcy needing to use the washroom, or Eugene realising he's been gaming all night and finally going to bed. The footsteps pass, a door opens and then closes and the house settles with that weird shift that Billy never understood, like how does a house do that?

"You know a lot of Supers have secret identities and I think that's a good thing but at the same time it provides this front of invincibility, or at least you know emotional invincibility. Cause like we see Supers fighting and yeah, they get hurt but we never know what happens behind the scenes. Do you remember that one fight Batman had where he like broke his back or something with the Bane villain? We didn't see what happened afterwards, he was gone and then bam he was back and totally fine. It's just they expect Supers to be that Superheroes they have to be invincible and they're expected to act like adults. But we're not like adults you know? I mean like we're better at using the internet than most adults but it's okay to hurt because other heroes hurt too you know. Like I bet Batman has a family or something that he goes home to every day after a night of crimefighting he probably has like a job you know like in all those conspiracy theories."

"What you believe Batman is Bruce Wayne too?"

Billy responds cutting in just to feel the words, to hear his own voice as he tries to process what Freddy is saying beneath a paragraph of rambling. It's a good thing Freddy isn't subtle. Freddy turns his head, in the darkness of the bunk Billy can't see anything but he gets the feeling Freddy is raising his brow as if to suggest why not? Who else is as tall as Batman? Platforms in the boots. Has the same skin colour? Literally hundreds of people. Is a man? Also, literally hundreds of people. Can afford the money necessary to have a Batmobile? A slightly fair point.

"Anyways we're not debating over Batman's secret identity we're talking about how it's totally okay to be emotionally open okay Billy?"

Freddy's earnest now, staring at Billy through the darkness, as if there's a light on and he can still see straight through Billy, like in that light experiment, like he's translucent. Billy is silent because he gets that it's good to be emotionally open or whatever but he's not used to that, he doesn't want to talk about it. Some part of him still remembers being a kid, being too open and people taking advantage of that. Some part of him is used to being out for number one.

The covers shift and then Freddy leans his head against Billy's shoulder, he stiffens surprised at the sudden contact and glances down into the darkness as if it might allow him to see something. There's nothing just the heavy weight on his shoulder and Billy forces himself to relax. He's in their room, he's safe and he is in control of what's happening at the moment.

"I-I was dreaming of the fight in the carnival and… I wasn't in you know my Super form and the bad guy was drowning me in this pool of water and I couldn't… I couldn't say it."

The words feel heavy as they drop from his mouth like they're stones sinking to the bottom of a lake bringing with it the crushing weight of admittance as if saying it out loud has made the whole experience real, all of it. The fight, the feeling of being punched, the constant fear of watching his family about to die. He can't help the way his eyes burn and hurt and his throat is suddenly clogged and he's drowning all over again.

Freddy makes a sound but it's indistinct as Billy reaches up and roughly brushes the tears on his cheeks away, the liquid is cool against his hand and Billy pauses uncertainty and confusion piling onto all the other emotions swirling inside him. Freddy's head isn't on his shoulder and before Billy can try and see what he's doing two arms wrap around his chest, one hand strokes over his back in a gentle motion that pulls at his shirt.

Without thinking, Billy's hand tighten around Freddy, dig into the old Superman pajamas that are mostly faded, his chest heaves and he grasps for breath in the same way you grasp for a falling coin, his eyes sting and Billy feels wound too tight and stripped open so that everything from the past week is suddenly out on his skin. Freddy's hand on his shoulder is a comforting motion, half-forgotten memories of his mom doing the same thing, or the times he was sick and they genuinely cared even when they shouldn't have.

He could have died; they all could have died. It's terrifying to even consider, to think of the Seven Deadly Sins holding his family and a moment away from killing Darcy. But they're okay now, they're all asleep in their beds and they're safe.

Slowly, through hiccups and the ugly feeling of drying tears Billy catches his breath and relaxes the grip he has on Freddy's shirt, he wonders if it'll leave permanent creases in the material. He pulls his head back as a car passes by, the light moving through the windows and over their room in an arc so that Billy can see Freddy's face. His expression is soft and when he notices Billy he whispers, "We're here okay."

It's enough.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, I really wanted to explore the aftermath of the battle because something like that is seriously going to affect a child. Also, this isn't a shipfic, Billy and Freddy are brothers if you want to read it as something else that's your purview but this fic is strictly platonic. Reviews/comments are always appreciated till next time!