I do not own Resident Evil, all content pertaining to Resident Evil is copywrite to Capcom

Breathe Today

Trace of the Past
-Chapter One-

I've got to get out of here…she told herself as the office unfolded before her. Rebecca Chambers watched the office around her as though it might do a trick. Bright green eyes focused on nothing in particular, other than the maple wood top of her desk. How long had it been since she had done anything? Surely just a month ago…and Rebecca was already extremely bored. In her mind her emergence from the thick wood she had been traveling for days seemed just like yesterday. Torn and tattered, she had been one of the few members of the S.T.A.R.S. team to survive and the only one from the Bravo team. The loss of her fellow members had hurt her and she felt odd when she had been transferred to work with the remnants of the Alpha team.

Not shortly after her return she had filed the report, keeping her word to Billy Coen. Words of her fake report were still alive within her mind, as though she had just written it. According to the information from military authorities, the unidentified body was identified as former ensign Billy [Coen, who was sentenced the death penalty following a court-martial on July 22nd. It was probably one of the first times she'd ever lied in her life, especially on something so important. But Rebecca couldn't bring herself to mark Billy as a hunted man, it seemed almost unfair to the brown-haired ex-marine. He wasn't a bad man rather they had misunderstood him. She was beginning to doubt that there was justice in the world, especially after Umbrella had gotten away with the mansion incident.

Her eyes swept around the police office, catching a glimpse of the few remaining S.T.A.R.S. members. Jill Valentine. Barry Burton. Chris Redfield. And Rebecca Chambers. A team of four, five if you counted the Alpha team pilot Brad Vickers. For some odd reason both Barry and Chris had left the compound on vacation (something related to the mansion?), leaving Jill humbly filing papers at her desk. After zombie hunting in what felt like the mansion from the depths of hell, it was hard to go back to filing papers and smiling at people who came in looking for a lost cat. Jill seemed to be having the same problem as Rebecca, though she hadn't said a thing about it. She, much like Rebecca, looked as though this were the last place she wanted to be but when she caught her brown-haired co-worker looking at her, she gave a small smile.

Rebecca felt chilled. While the Alpha team had tried to make her feel at home with them, she still felt out of place. None of them had mentioned the mansion after that first day back; nobody would have believed them. In the end the entire incident had been blamed on wild animals, the mansion incinerated so all proof had been blown away. She knew that when she had come back the other members of S.T.A.R.S. had all but caused a riot among the station, telling tales of zombies. Nobody had believed them. They were just stressed, tired, needed a break…a 'vacation'. Now they sat among the office as though nothing had happened, pretending everything was alright.

But Rebecca was sure they were planning something, she just wished that she could be a part of it. Then again, who wanted a rookie member of S.T.A.R.S. touching top secret Umbrella documents? She looked away from Jill's friendly gaze after a quick wave. So many questions roamed around her mind, unanswered for what may be forever. The papers that lay before her sat unread, not a part of Rebecca's interests at the moment. She couldn't get that dark mansion out of her head and she could never forget the man that had helped her through it. What was he doing now? Was he alright? At least Billy was free from the grips of injustice. Around her neck dangled the chain, Billy's dog tags.

Rebecca had showed them the tag as proof that she had met the man, and then shortly after taken it back while nobody had been looking. She felt silly wearing it all the time as she was now but it served as the only remembrance of the horror experience that she had endeavored, the only proof that Billy existed and she wasn't going crazy. Besides, it was Billy's and she should give it back…if they ever met again.

The scrape of her chair against the wooden floor of the office echoed through the tiny space. Rebecca stood up, stretching her arms and legs shortly after she did so. Dismissing her work, the small papers on her desk, her green eyes watched the office around her. She scanned the hoards of empty desks where co-workers had once sat. How many had they lost? Rebecca sighed and turned to Jill, her expression tired. Outside it was getting dark, nearly sunset.

"I'll see you tomorrow Jill, I'm going home," she paused, only Jill was in the office, "I just need to get some rest. Take care."

Miss Valentine placed the paper that was in front of her down, eyes watching Rebecca with a sort of curiosity. There was something familiar in the woman's eyes, calling out to Rebecca. It looked as though she wanted to say something to the young woman regarding previous events but instead she settled for a simple departure. Jill would be fine taking care of the office, S.T.A.R.S. hadn't had a mission since the mansion and paper work wasn't exactly important. Still…Jill seemed to have a lot of work to do all the time.

"Take care Rebecca," Jill waved and watched as the rookie member headed out the door, the same element glowing in her eyes as she watched the remaining member of the Bravo team leave the office.

As she walked out, Rebecca couldn't help but think that it would be very appropriate to depart after saying Watch out for zombies. Of course if Jill was feeling the least bit like her, she didn't ever want to hear the word zombies and here put together in the same sentence…ever again. It was sad how she had come to accept the reality of what had happened at the dark mansion. Sliding her jacket on, Rebecca padded down the street towards her apartment. It was going to be a long night, she could tell.

- - -

Military authorities have requested that we turn over [Coen's body as proof of his death…Darkness stretched across the horizon as she walked the edges of the train's dark room. Propped up against a chair was the body of a man, unmoving. She crept forwards, her hands tightening around the semi-automatic handgun. The air that she breathed seemed trapped in her lungs, as though afraid to come out. Continuing forwards, the girl relaxed against the view of the dead man. Death had taken him already; leaving nothing but a rotting corpse for her to gaze upon…it will be a difficult task to recover…resting her aching muscles, the girl reached out to touch the dead man's shoulder.

Perhaps there was a chance that he still clung to life, that he could tell them why everything on the train had become like a ghost town. Her fingertips met cold, rotting flesh and with a sick wet sound, the man's head fell to the ground. The sucking sounds from creatures within the corpse filled her ears and they emerged, much like a thousand little leeches lusting after her blood...I am requesting that this case be temporarily closed until further notice…they swarmed her, covered her skin like a thousand spiders ready to destroy her.

Rebecca screamed and the sounds of gunshots echoed through out the compartment. She fell to the ground underneath the weight of the monstrous leeches. The gunshots pierced the flesh of a few and they exploded into pus and blood. Suddenly they were gone, crawling underneath the wood work to go feast on the flesh of something else. Rebecca sat up, her faith and person shaken by the scenery before her. Green eyes gazed upwards, into the face of her savoir. In his hands rested the hand gun that had prevented her death. He had saved her life just now, despite being a criminal.

Billy Coen.

Something fell in the next room, an assortment of pans that had been collecting dust in her apartment. Rebecca awoke as though someone had just slapped her across the face. The pots and pans rolled along the floor as though someone were whacking them repeatedly with a stick. For a second she considered that the wrack might have finally broken. She rolled over in the queen-sized bed, sitting up and sliding her feet over the edge. Her fingers reached for the lamp besides her bed. Click. Nothing. Click. Click. Click. Still darkness met her gaze. Had someone cut the power?

Outside she could see the glimmer of the street lights from other houses. Apparently it was just her house that was in trouble. The young woman's heart skipped a beat, her hand sliding to the draw below it. Smoothly the wood opened to reveal a loaded handgun, the very same that she always wore. The noises of the city at night filled her ears, a piercing silence that one had to be used to.

Rebecca closed her hand among it, finding the trigger even though the darkness met her grips. Armed and dangerous, the girl crept towards the source of the noise. A pan still rolled along the floor, finally ending with a final thud. The curtains in her room fluttered with the breeze of night, beating up against the window and wall lightly enough to douse her room in moonlight. Rebecca stood at attention, garbed in her pajamas. She raised her gun and flattened up against the corner of the door leading into the kitchen. Silence met her ears…and then the sound of footsteps against the kitchen floor.

To someone who hadn't been trained, hadn't lived in this apartment for several years, it would have still been silence. The floor was made of hard wood that creaked in certain spots (spots which you could only discover having lived there several years). She had memorized the way that the wood behaved when addressing both weight and area. Rebecca knew just exactly where a person had to be standing to provoke such a noise from the tired wood.

She was armed with enough combat knowledge to make someone hurt for days, despite being the newest member of the dying S.T.A.R.S. There was no sense in trying to turn on the light and blowing her cover, she knew the apartment well enough without having to put on a light. Rebecca stayed flat against the trim of the wall as the footsteps approached closer, staying away from the light provided by the open window. Closer…Closer…she waited for a chance to strike. A part of the kitchen floor squeaked and Rebecca had her lead.

Like a snake from the shadows, she attacked, stepping out and slamming the butt of her gun against the back of the figure's head. A curse met her opponent's lips as she hit him. Victory, or so she thought. Only the person was better than Rebecca thought because a hand reached out and grabbed her left wrist. There was significant proof right there that whoever was attacking her had experienced combat before. Rebecca only hoped that they hadn't been sent by a higher up. She struggled against the hold, trying to save her bullets, just in case. All she needed was a report filed against her for shooting a robber in her apartment with a gun she had 'hanging around'. Then they'd really think she was paranoid.

"Let me go!" she yelled and, without warning did the first thing that she could think of, bit down on the hand that had grabbed her wrist. A copper taste filled her mouth as her pearly whites broke the skin. Bone met her resistance and Rebecca let go when the figure pulled away.

The man, for the voice was very masculine, yelled and pulled away from her grips. He said something that she didn't catch because her gun butt nailed the guy right in the stomach. She lashed out once more; hitting some parts of him with her other hand. The guy grunted in pain but wrapped his hand around her right wrist, forcing her back into the wall by placing a hand along her abdomen as well. She winced as her back hit the edge of her wall. His weight against her own kept Rebecca from moving, she was trapped. He was so close that she could feel his breath against her own, though her eyes hadn't adjusted enough to the darkness to know who was really there.

She didn't panic as any sensible woman would do when in this situation but rather tried to search for a way that just might save her life, or her pride…depending on whom this man was. Rebecca knew better than to accept defeat. There was something that her attacker had forgotten to put into perspective; she was ambidextrous when it came to her gun skills. She slid her gun to her left hand and clicked the safety off, a matter of seconds between each action. The end of her gun connected with the man's forehead and Rebecca found her voice stronger than it usually was.

"Don't move or I will shoot." She warned, "Put your hands where I can see them."

The hand holding her wrist let it go, hands up. Rebecca knew better than to just back away with from the man, she had to render him useless before she could even think about relaxing her guard. Though she felt bad for what she was about to do, the young woman wouldn't risk letting her guard down to be taken over again. With all of the strength in her arm, she brought the butt of her gun to the side of the guy's head and he fell with a thud. Who knew what her downstairs neighbor thought about the racket that the S.T.A.R.S. member was making.

She stared at the man for a split second, analyzing her situation as she had been taught to do. Though not down for the count, he was down enough for her to switch her gun to the other hand and reach for a lighter on the kitchen table. Nimble fingers grazed the counter top for some sign of the lighter she kept, finding candles and pens. Finally her grips closed around a rectangular-shaped box with a flip top. She thanked her love for candles at this moment and clicked the lighter on. Light filled the room, lighting up the face of her attacker.

Rebecca gasped at who she saw trying to sit up on the floor before.

"Billy?!" she cried.

Jill's Notes
Hello! Nice to see you made it through my first chapter of my first RE fic! Yay cheers!
After about 12 hours I finally got to post this, (I was having issues with but that's besides the point.)
Thank you for reading & Comments and opinions are welcome.
Much Love,
Jill Loituma