Disclaimer- Don't own Resident Evil.

Oh, look, a Resident Evil fic! Probably something like this has been done before, but oh well. I thought of this after I drew a picture. It'll be on my DA soon, so check soon via the link in my profile if you like.

Sorry for any typos. It's 2:37 in the morning and I'm tired.

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He was limping heavily, the shotgun hanging loosely in his right hand, the left hand with it's dangling handcuff clutching at his side. The purple material there was stained with blood, barely visible between his fingers. His skin was wet with a thin sheen of sweat, his lips pressed tightly together and his breaths coming out quick and deep from his nostrils.

Goddamn lizard things...

He glanced down at his left arm, where a large and extremely deep gash could be seen dripping crimson down to the cool metal floor. He didn't know what the hell those things were or what they had originally been, nor did he want to find out. All he knew was that he was weak and losing strength by the minute, and he was in desperate need of Rebecca.

I knew we shouldn't have split up, he thought bitterly, wincing as the open wound gave a painful throb. Fear coursed through him briefly as he began to wonder if he had been infected. What if he was going to become one of those things? Then he would just have to have Rebecca shoot him, for her own sake as well as his.

But then she would be alone, and god only knows what else is hiding down here...

No, he would be fine. All he needed was to find some place to rest and treat his wounds, then he would be ready to continue their trek through this nightmarish hell. He couldn't leave the poor kid down here all by herself, it was simply not an option.

He rounded a corner slowly, one hand on the icy brick wall for support, and a spasm of movement in the dark hall ahead cause him to remove his bloody hand from his side and hoist the shotgun up, ready to shoot at whatever was the cause.

"Don't shoot!"

With a deep sigh of relief he dropped the weapon back down, aware that the barrel was now covered with his own blood.

"Rebecca." he said weakly as she made her way over to him, handgun pointed down toward the ground now that they were both sure there was no one there besides themselves. 'God, this place has made me so paranoid I'll be peaking around corners for the rest of my life.'

"Billy!" she said breathlessly when she reached him, but then the center of her forehead crinkled with worry when she saw all the blood that coated him."What happened?" she cried,"We need to get somewhere safe and check you out...".

"It's nothing-" he insisted, but before he could say more she had squeezed her way underneath his tattooed arm and draped it across her neck for support. He was aware that the blood from his slashed side was getting all over her uniform, but she appeared oblivious as she aided him down the hall.

"I think there's a place down here..." she murmured to him absently, trying to remember the rooms from the map they had found. Billy was occupying himself with trying not to truly lean on her for support; after all, he was about a head taller than her and certainly he weighed much more. He appreciated her effort though.

"I don't think we should split up anymore. Too risky." he commented, the only other sound besides the clanking of their feet on the metal and his heavy breathing.

"Unless we have to." she agreed, nodding."Wait here.".

She moved out from under his arm and left him leaning against the wall for support. He watched as she cocked her handgun and moved forward, gently pushing the door open with her gun before poking her head in. He tensed and watched, his grip on the shotgun increasing with tension.

"It's empty" she informed, though her face was troubled.

"But?" he prodded.

"Dead body. Really dead, I'm sure, not one of those things" she told him, coming back over to help him walk."A few bunkbeds and an old typewriter. Looks pretty innocent."

"Good enough"

They walked in and purposely averted their gazes from the dead male lying on the second bed down, and settled for the first bed, which was the only one that wasn't covered with smatterings of blood. Rebecca helped Billy to the bunk, then turned and with a slight mixture of pity and disgust, covered the corpse with a dirty white sheet, blocking him from view.

"Poor bastard..." Billy remarked as Rebecca took a seat beside him and began rummaging through her pack of supplies. She nodded agreement, then reached for his arm, the one that was now covered with partially dried streaks of blood and grim.

"It's not as bad as it looks" he told her grimly, and it was the truth. If anything was worrying him it was the one on his side, which made the grisly gash on his arm look like a tiny scratch.

Her gentle and slim fingers moved carefully around the wound, her green eyes examining it studiously. He had a brief memory of the rough hands of a field medic on the battlefield, and thought that this was much better.

"It doesn't seem to have gone too deep..." she said so softly that he wasn't sure she had even meant to say it out loud. She dropped his arm and reached for something to clean it, and he grit his teeth when she sprayed it with some sort of medicine that burned like hell. She had it wrapped up in no time at all, and he flexed his arm and smirked a little smugly.

"How lucky of me to get stuck with a medic."

"And how lucky of me to get stuck with an ex-marine." she replied, smiling lightly in response. Then her face became serious once more and she ordered him to lift his shirt.

"Well, alright." he said, grabbing the edges of his worn tank top."And I didn't even have to buy you dinner..." he added, shaking his head.

She ignored the remark as he peeled the material away, wincing because it had become encrusted with blood and stuck to him. He heard her suck in breath between her teeth as she observed it, and he flinched when her fingers touched the tender flesh around the deep slashes. He reached down an caught her wrist, causing part of his shirt to fall back down.

"Don't touch it." he told her with clenched teeth, eyes locking to her surprised emeralds as he attempted to convey just how the hell much it hurt.

"Sorry." she breathed hastily."But that looks...bad. It might need stitches."

"The hell with that."

"Not now." she informed him,"but once we're...out of this, you might consider stitches."

He only let out a puff of air and lapsed into silence as she picked up the spray again, and this time he braced himself for the pain. It was ten times worse than before, almost like someone stabbing him with knives repeatedly.

"Christ, that hurts!" he moaned, gripping the mattress as the pain slowly ebbed away. She looked sympathetic and a little guilty.

"Sorry, but I need to do it again. That's a bad wound."

"Oh, god no!" he begged, but nontheless readied himself, though this time the pain was almost non-existent, the knives-pain replaced by a dull pins-and-needles effect that wasn't nearly as excruciating.

"Done. Here, hold this." she said, holding the bandage against the middle of his abdomen with a finger. He did as she requested and held it there as she brought the material around his waist several times before tearing it off and tucking the end into it tightly.

"There."

Billy let his shirt fall back into place, and stared blankly at the floor as she repacked her things. His eyes unwittingly moved up to the bed in front of them and landed on the dark lump that marked the corpse they had covered earlier.

"You think I'll change?"

She frowned and looked up at him in confusion. He jerked his head in the direction of the door they had entered through, indicating all the hellish creatures that dwelled behind it.

"Into one of them." he elaborated. Her eyes widened with fear and something else. Maybe sadness.

"Oh, please don't say that Billy!"

He gave a grim sort of laugh.

"Afraid of being alone?" he asked, now leaning against the wall the bunk was pressed against. He was already beginning to doubt his assumption of turning into a zombie, as he was already feeling much better just sitting here in the semi-dark with her.

"No. Well, yes, partly that." she admitted, staring absently at the dark spot on his purple shirt. She lifted her eyes up to his and went on."But also because, well, I don't think I could bring myself to shoot you, Billy."

He gave her a surprised look, but her eyes were sincere. Funny how mere hours before she'd been threatening to shoot him if he tried anything funny, but now she was confessing that she couldn't shoot him even if it meant saving her life. He suspected that maybe she'd change her mind if she actually saw him as a mindless, drooling zombie with his flesh hanging off...but that was besides the point.

"You wouldn't say that if I did become infected..." he said quietly.

They both turned and caught each others eyes, and for a long time they just sat there in the eerily quiet room, content with only each others company in this hellish nightmare which they had been thrust into.

There was a clatter.

They snapped their heads around to look at the door at the other end of the room, the door from which the noise had come from. Rebecca stood and pulled her handgun out and Billy joined her, his muscles stiff but otherwise okay as he pumped the shotgun.

"Ladies first." he said slyly when they reached the door.

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Nothing special. Just a little experiment. Please RxR.