AN: This is anti-climactic and no where near on par with my usual plottyness. I was bored and still having problems concluding my other Chaos fic (In truth, I have six, yes SIX unfinished Chaos fanfictions in the works), so this came of that boredom. The last chapter is ALMOST done, it just needs a conclusive ending. In the mean time, enjoy some mild Billy abuse and horrible HETEROSEXUAL-ness with a bad plot. Spoilers for 1x13 Proof Of Life. And again, HETEROSEXUAL IMPLICATIONS. If Het bothers you, I suggest clicking the back button or 'x' on your tab. Yes, I will eventually post some yaoi-ness for those concerned souls.

CHAOS

Kill Billy

"We are the ODS, last of the old-school spies."

"Collins, fall back." It was the voice of Michael Dorset over the earwig.

"She'll be here." Billy Collins hissed back over the microphone sewn into his coat.

"It's been forty-five minutes. Just admit that you're losing your touch and return to the hotel." That time, it was Casey Malick's cynical voice over the earwig.

"The lass is jus' a wee bi' spooked, that's all. And standin' here talkin' t' myself is no' the way t' calm her nerves!"

"Billy, listen to me. You know as well as I do, that assets aren't always what they seem. There is the possibility that she set you up. You need to get out of there." No sooner did the words leave Michael's mouth, Billy heard a scream from across the street. He pinpointed it to an alleyway.

The Scotsman broke off at a run across the street, slipping into the shadows of the darkened alley. It didn't take him long to see two figures struggling. One was wielding a long, blunt weapon. Likely a pipe or pole, even a bat judging by the shape. It was a taller figure, striking the smaller framed one repeatedly. The smaller body went down. Billy lunged when he was close enough, knocking the taller figure away from the fallen one. In the mild starlight, he could tell the body on the ground was his asset. She was still and covered in blood. The second figure was a male assailant, who took the moment Billy was distracted by the woman to swing that bat of his.

Billy's vision swam with stars and blotches as hot pain overcame his head. He was on his back when the temporary stun of the strike cleared, about to take another one. The Scot rolled to the side and kicked his legs out, sweeping the man off his feet. He rolled atop the man and pinned the bat to the ground, trying to wrench it out of the assailant's grip. He jerked the bat out of the man's hand and landed a hard punch, knocking the man out. Billy pushed up to his feet, leaning on the bat for a moment. His ears were still ringing and his head was spinning, but it was a mild blow, even if it was with a heavy wooden bat.

The sound of movement behind him caught Billy's attention. He turned and saw the woman standing, using the wall to brace herself. She teetered and fell, but Billy caught her by the elbow, pulling her up, using the bat to brace against the wall so they both didn't go down. He didn't see it coming in the dark until it was already done. A small knife slid into his side, between his ribs. She shoved him away and kicked, screaming for help. Billy caught himself against the wall behind him and watched her turn, trying to run, but she went down again. He saw Carson catch her in his arms, carefully lowering them both to the ground. Casey was on the assailant quickly, making sure he was secured while Michael inspected Billy.

"Bugger tha' hur's…" Billy slurred through the pain, gritting his teeth, holding onto Michael for balance. The bat hit the ground and it occurred to Billy as he let out a dry laugh. "She though' I was the attacker when she came to… I' was an acciden'." He motioned to the bleeding puncture wound.

"Carson," Michael's voice sounded commanding.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Carson Simms pulled out his cell phone after settling the woman on the ground carefully propping her head up. She was unconscious again. He dialed Fay. "We need a secured hospital room. Collins and the asset are both injured."

OoOoO

"He's waking up." Billy heard Simms say, cracking open his blue eyes, blinking them rapidly against the bright light of the hospital fluorescents.

"You had a mild concussion and a stab wound." Michael spoke and Casey leaned over from the other side of his bed.

"State your name." His tone was dry and compassionless as usual.

"Your bedside manner is atrocious." Billy mumbled to Casey.

"Your name." The Human Weapon insisted, ignoring the comment.

"Billy Collins." Billy then pointed at each member of his team, starting with Michael. "Michael Dorset, Carson Simms, and Gregory House." Casey didn't seem amused by the allusion to how terrible his bedside manner was, simply glaring at Billy despite the grins on Michael's and Carson's faces.

"Good to see your sense of humor survived." Michael replied, returning to his chair against the window.

"How's Cassandra?" Billy asked, trying to sit up, but was immediately shoved back down by Casey.

"She's in a coma." Malick replied.

"She had a severe concussion, broken ribs, internal bleeding… She's in surgery right now. They don't know if she'll make it, though." Carson informed, looking away.

"As soon as you're travel-ready, we've orders from Higgins to head back home. Without her intel, we don't have a mission here. They're sending a team to look after her and protect her for now."

Billy nodded and rested back against his pillows. "They found out she had somethin' t' tell and decided t' do away with her before she could."

OoOoO

Four months passed with the team receiving gradual updates on the asset's condition. The mission was eventually scrubbed with the news that their contact, Cassandra Stockwell, woke with Retrograde Amnesia. She could recall blurry events up to her fourteenth birthday, everything after that seemed blank apart from brief flashes of images of faces and places, but nothing profound. Cassandra Stockwell was given the new identity Jennifer Glades and moved into Witness Protection after a few strings were pulled. She was now an American citizen, living out her life without a clue as to what had happened to her to cause the accident that wiped her memory clean. With no living relatives, it wasn't difficult to pull off. Years had passed since the incident.

Billy was kicked back in his desk, feet crossed at the ankles, propped up onto the edge of his desk next to his keyboard. His arms were folded behind his head, virtually in the perfect position to relax and fall asleep. He hated slow days. There was no thing to do and no reason to be in the office. That was, until Casey stepped in, pushed his feet off his desk and took over his computer.

"Oi!" Billy yelped when his feet hit the ground and he was shoved carelessly out of the way. "Ya've go' your own desk, y'know!"

"You need to see this." Casey replied, stepping to the side. He brought up a current live stream video on a local news website. Billy didn't need to see the titles or hear the sound to realize what was going on. There was a burning building in the video. He jumped out of his seat to get a closer look at the screen.

"That's my apartment!"

"Yes, it is." Casey replied dryly.

"It's on fire!" He added dumbly.

"Yes, it is." Again, Casey agreed just as calm and disinterested as before. "I just thought you should know." He added.

OoOoO

It was Billy's turn to drive Michael home. The other operative would be on his way soon, so he figured he could at least warm the car up for the blonde. He slid the key into the lock and paused as he turned the lock. Something was off. After so many years working with the CIA and the British Intelligence, you develop a sense of useful paranoia, like a sixth sense. And right now, his sixth sense was screaming at him. This sense often determined whether one would live or die in a dangerous situation. He examined the details of his surroundings. There was a small scratch in the paint of his car along the seam of the door. On the concrete, he spotted a few copper threads just under his car door. The Scot pulled his key out of the car and stepped back with a sigh just as Michael was approaching.

"Something wrong?" Dorset asked, stopping just behind Billy as the man appraised his car.

"Aye."

"I told you, if you need a place to stay for a while, I've got plenty of room back at the house." Michael normally wouldn't make such a generous offer to anyone, but he knew if the roles were reversed, Billy would do the same for him. He'd be more likely to make it with any member of his team than anyone else, excluding Fay Carson.

"I's no' tha'." Billy walked around to the passenger side of his car, looking through the window carefully at the driver's side door. He saw a small gouge in his door where the stereo speaker had been pried off. There was also something closed in the door. "I'm beginnin' t' wonder if my apartmen' burnin' down wasn' such an accident. Back up."

Without questioning him, Michael backed up. He watched Billy open the passenger door and flinch away, but nothing happened. He leaned across the seat and pried the speaker open, noting that the actual speaker was missing inside, replaced with a small homemade bomb.

"Right!" He chirped, slamming the passenger side door closed and locked the car with the key fob. "Go' money for a taxi?"

OoOoO

The Scotsman towel-dried his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist. He brushed his teeth then stepped out of the bathroom. He pulled on a pair of boxers and flannel tartan pants for the night. He found Michael sitting in his living room, nursing a cup of coffee and reading the official reports from both the fire and the bomb squad. The Scot dropped into a chair next to him, putting a hand against the cup of coffee.

"Coffee's cold, mate."

Michael merely hummed in response, engrossed in his reading. But Billy wasn't going to have that. He put a hand on the top of the folder, gently pushing it down against the table until Michael looked up through his black rimmed glasses.

"Le' me worry about my problems and you worry about yours, aye?"

"If it's your problem, it's mine too. You're a member of my team." Michael informed him, sipping from his cold coffee. This time, he made a face when he drank it. "It is cold." He muttered, putting it down.

"Michael, I'm fine. This amateur will slip up and we'll catch them. Life will go back t' normal." Billy shrugged and picked up Michael's cup as he stood. "Sleep." He carried it to the kitchen and dumped it out.

"Yeah…" Michael didn't move, even when Billy went to bed. He was concerned that, when they checked the security cameras, there was no sign of anyone tampering with Billy's car, but the proof was right there. And the fire at his apartment complex was deemed arson. It was very unlikely that the incidents were unconnected. Michael studied the files a few more hours before he finally turned in for the night.

OoOoO

The next few days went without incident. Billy's car was fixed up and the apartment complex was undergoing reconstruction. For now, he was looking for another place to call his own, not wanting to be a bother to Michael for much longer. It was after hours and the team hit the local bar to wind down for the weekend. Adele popped in to pick Rick up shortly after that Casey called it a night leaving Michael and Billy to drink alone until someone sat next to the Scot at the bar. Billy noted Michael raise his eyebrows before he stood. He patted Billy on the shoulder.

"I'll leave the light on for you. But, if you don't need it, leave me a message." Michael paid his bill and left the somewhat confused Scot at the bar.

"Mm, so you're not gay, then?" A female voice asked from his left. Billy's head whipped to the side, coming face to face with a stunning blonde. Her long hair was pulled up into a high braided bun on her crown. Light bangs parted in the middle. Her eyes were bright and clear blue.

"Nope. Work colleague." He replied, nodding to the door to indicate Michael.

"Oh, and an accent." She shifted in her seat and faced him, putting down her glass. "I love a man with an accent." She was wearing a low cut, deep red blouse and a short, tight black skirt in deep red heeled sandals. "I've been watching you all night." She admitted with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, have you now?" Billy smiled, propping his head on his fist, looking at her almost sidelong. "Wo' on earth for, might I ask? You certainly aren' the shy type."

She brought her glass to her lips again and then swirled it, looking into the liquid. "I didn't want to anger your boyfriend. But if he's just a friend…" She chewed on the corner of her lip, looking up and meeting his gaze. She ran the top of her foot up the in side of Billy's leg, making him raise an eyebrow. "It's getting a little crowded in here. Why don't we head back to your place?"

Billy couldn't help but compliment the vixen on her forwardness. "Ah, unfortunately, that apartment that burned down…" He left that hang in the air, raising his glass and knocking back the last of the whisky.

"Oh." She didn't look fazed. Instead, she smiled and toyed with his tie. "Well, I happen to have a hotel room next door." She gave the tie a tug.

"Absolutely." He flipped out his wallet and paid for their drinks. "Le' me inform my mate no' t' leave the light on." He winked then pulled out his phone.

They frisked eachother throughout the walk to the hotel and in the elevator. She unlocked her door with the keycard and pushed it open, tugging him inside. The blonde pushed him down to the bed with a long, drawn out kiss, before she pulled away and chewed on her lip again.

"Let me go freshen up a bit." She turned away from him and moved to the bathroom. Billy watched her go then pulled his cell out of his pocket, setting it on the nightstand next to the bed, putting his tie over it carefully. He pulled off his jacket and waited. When she returned, she straddled his lap and kissed him again. He suddenly felt the cold feeling of something pressed against the base of his skull. A gun.

"You Americans and your kinks." Billy teased with a wicked grin, but she was no longer smiling or seductive. She shoved him down onto his back and pressed the gun to his temple.

"Before I kill you, I want to know what you did to me!" She seethed.

"Lass, I don' even know you."

"You're lying! I know you're lying! I have… memories of you! Your face! When I found out they were lying to me, I've dedicated my entire life to finding and killing you! But before I do, I want to know why you took everything away from me!" She was nearly in tears, her body trembling with unbridled rage.

Billy tried not to move. He kept his breathing steady, his hands out to show he wasn't a threat. He studied her face, but he would remember such a beautiful woman if he'd met one before, and he sure as hell wouldn't have ruined her life unless she was a criminal.

"You really don't recognize me, do you? You tried to kill me! I was in a coma for months! When I woke up in the hospital bed, I was a fourteen year old girl in a grown woman's body. I lost seventeen years of my life because of you! They said my attacker was still out there, so I had to cut all ties with my old life and had to live a new one in a new country."

"Slow down, slow down. I didn'—"

"Don't lie to me!" She pressed the gun harder into his temple. "You beat me with a baseball bat! I want to know why! I can't remember any of it. Any of my life! Was I married? Did I have kids? A family who loved me? You took that all away from me! I want to know why!" Tears finally spilled down her face.

"You burned down my apartment and put the bomb in my car…" He shook his head when realization dawned on him. "Cassandra? Cassandra Stockwell?"

"Yes! That's the name I was born with! The name you stole from me! Cassandra died when you beat her into a coma back in Chile! I'm Jennifer. The woman who dedicated her life to your destruction!" Jennifer screamed at him. She was in hysterics.

"Cassandra, I wan' you t' listen t' me, love. Your mind is only showing you half of the story. You're confused and angry. Probably a wee bi' frightened. Bu' I didn' attack you." Billy began, but she cut him off with another sharp press of the gun and jerked his shirt up. Her fingers traced over the scar on his side, between his ribs.

"I stabbed you there!"

"Yes, y'did. An' it hur' like a bugger, bu' you were confused. How d'you think you go' t' the clinic?" He asked, searching her eyes from any sign of sanity that he could latch onto.

"Whoever stopped you from killing me…" Jennifer replied weakly, trying to put together a feasible situation that would have ended well for her. She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memories back then. The only memories she had left of her adult life.

"You blacked ou' after you stabbed me. If I was tryin' t' kill you, we wouldn' be havin' this lovely conversation." Ah, there it was. The signs of sanity appearing in her eyes. Her rage was starting to lose strength to confusion and fear. Still a potentially deadly mix, but it was something he could work with. "You wan' t' know the truth? You had information on drug deals that were going down and wanted t' ge' everythin' off your chest. You were meetin' up with me t' confess, bu' someone found ou' and tried t' take you ou' before you could talk." Billy kept direct eye contact with her, watching her eyes dart back and forth, trying to remember.

"Then… why did I stab you…?" She asked, her voice wavered when she spoke. Her eyes were still unseeing as she tried to dig through memories that just weren't there anymore.

"I stopped your attacker. Took a right nasty bump t' the head. Bu' I think you saw me with tha' bat and though' I was the man attackin' you." He was searching her eyes again for any sign of recollection. "We go' the man who attacked you. Booked for attempted murder." He watched as she let go of the gun and pulled both hands to her face, covering it as she cried. Billy immediately sat up and pulled her head against his chest, shushing her softly. "I''ll be alrigh'." He crooned and just held her for a moment, glancing at his cell phone on the nightstand.

Outside the hotel door, Michael stood with a gun in one hand and his cell phone in the other. It was pressed against his ear as he listened. He heard Billy's cue that things were all safe and he lowered the gun, stuffing it into the holster under his coat. He knocked gently on the door, three times.

Jennifer jumped, but Billy calmed her.

"Tha's my partner. From the pub." He explained. "I'm a righ' paranoid bastard like my partner ou' there." Billy nodded to the door. "And when you didn' flinch when I disclosed the news abou' my apartment burnin' down… well, I told him where t' find me." He reached over and pushed the tie off his phone, picking it up. Revealed as it was now, she could tell it was logging the minutes of an open call. "I''s a wee bi' improvised, bu' it works as good as any wire in a desperate situation." Billy coaxed her to stand so he could let Michael in.

OoOoO

"Were you really almost killed by a hot blond?" Was the first thing Casey asked when Billy entered the office the next day with Michael.

"Aye. Bu' everythin's taken care of now." Billy dropped into the chair at his desk and leaned back. "D'you think she'll ever live a normal life after all tha' she's been through?" Billy asked, glancing at Michael who looked up from his paper.

"You never know. Now that this is all behind her, she might actually be able to move on with her life."

"Wait, what'd we miss? This sounds like there's a story behind it." Rick piped up from his chair behind a desk of milk crates. His desk still hadn't come in yet, so he was making due with stacked milk crates for the time being.

"Just a ghost from the past with a nasty vendetta based on false memories." Michael summarized for Billy and went back to his paper. He cleared his throat, and without looking up, continued on a random thought, "So, are you gonna look her up when she gets out after her arson sentence?"

Billy swiveled in his chair and stared at Michael, who still didn't look up. "She tried t' kill me." He stated, as if his answer should be obvious.

"So, that's a 'no', then?" Casey asked casually from his desk.

"Yes, tha's a 'no'." Billy confirmed and shook his head.

Fin

AN: Don't worry, the plots will get better, I promise.