#billywintergreen

@splinterwrites

Sara was drowning. Her skin was slick with the water from the Pit as mottled arms pulled her down into the water over and over again. But Laurel and Oliver and Constantine, they would come, right? They would come, and she would be freed. She searched for them as water invaded her lungs, as she fought back against the arms as hard as she could. But she was still alone. And every time she thought the torture had ended, that they would let her drown and simply cease to be, she was there again. Starting back at the beginning, the water slowly invading her lungs.

In the present, she continued to moan and groan. At the feeling of Billy’s hands on her arms, she lightly shook them off. And then she started to grow more frantic. Her limbs started to flail until her eyes suddenly flew open, and she was crouched on the couch, her hand wrapped around Billy’s throat.

@billy-wintergreen

“Oh, I see how it is. Complimenting me as a way of actually complimenting yourself. Real smooth, lightweight. Real smooth,” Sara replied, her smirk growing into a grin.

“How drunk are you right now, lightweight?” Sara teased, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

@billy-wintergreen

Sara narrowed her eyes, not because she was angry with her friend, but because they were wasting time. She quickly sidestepped around him as she responded, “I appreciate the concern, Billy. But this is a two-man job at best. And before you argue that we should swap out team members, there’s no time. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that we will lose the last of the firearms. And that’s not happening.”

Billy’s anger and defensive posture quickly gave way to an apologetic tone and words. “Sorry, Sara,” he mumbled, glancing down at the sword and body armor. “Thanks for checking it.”

Setting it back down on the table, Billy took a deep breath. “It’s just… all I’ve got left… of him. And sometimes… sometimes I’m afraid that it’ll be gone, too.”

Sara shrugged it off, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” She busied herself with her own gear, checking it piece by piece.

Smoke. The smell of jet fuel burning. The sudden stop as the plane hit the trees and then the ground. Fear. Agreeing to work for Fyers. Slade yelling, calling him a traitor. Billy stood and tried to grab ahold of his friend’s arm. To apologize. To tell him how sorry he was. That he was a coward. Scared. But when he came to his senses, it was the Canary, not Slade, standing in front of him. Stepping back, Billy tried to catch his breath, not looking at her. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Sara continued trying to draw Billy out of his nightmare, to convince him that he was in a safe place when he suddenly grabbed a hold of her arm. Instinct told her to grab onto his arm, to flip him over her, but she resisted it. This wasn’t a fight. Not for her, at least.

Billy mumbled about Slade, apologizing, calling himself a coward before realizing where he was and who he was with. He then apologized to her, and she shook her head, “Nothing to apologize for. We’ve all been there.”