Author's Note: A short story whilst I keep building up ideas for DoU. Alright, this is going to be a three-shot, based on some real-life experiences that I thought would help put down; not the first part though, we weren't in the outbreak (and by that 'we', you can expect me to address you, KT xDDD) First chapter came out a bit long, but I guess you don't mind; oh, and by the way, this first chapter is AR, some things have been changed for the story's sake.

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or any of its characters.
Note: This took me ages to write due to time issues. I hope you can forgive me, me friend (*glares at KT*).

Resident Evil: Time and One's Mind

I

Evolution

'Yesterday I dared to struggle. Today I dare to win.' Bernardette Devlin

"Come on, come on! Move it!"

She couldn't stop running, Chris' commands pounding in her ears without relent. Rebecca had only one purpose in mind: to get to safety, and she was determined to find haven in whatever place she and her companions could find. She was on the brink of exhaustion, legs pumping with adrenaline, heart racing in her chest. The crack of fire in front and behind her, the moans and groans of the hungry zombies, the emissaries of death, carnage and bloodlust: it was all of a too great magnitude than the mansion had been in itself that fear was the only guide she clung to, hoping it would lead her out of the light-less, burning hell that now was Raccoon City. The gun in her hand, though almost full, gave her no reassurance, no consolation: it was on herself she had to rely.

"Reload!" she heard Jill exclaim as she stole a glance backwards. Chris kept firing, his accuracy the best one, covering the entrance to the apartment block that they'd chosen to take shelter in, and Rebecca finally found herself at a bit of easiness: they had made it. But it wasn't until a strong current of wind went past her and something hard bumped into her that she banished those thoughts from her mind: when she looked up from the asphalt, feeling how blood was seeping from her cuts again, Rebecca found a furious Cerberus baring its teeth at her, jaws drooling and ready to kill. Out of instinct she moved away from it, guided by fear, no rationality left in that hellish place, and she couldn't raise her handgun in time before the ferocious dog leaped at her.

She would've thought many times that she was going to die: now, it was the true one, the final one.

That's what she kept thinking until a loud gunshot cracked from behind her, the Cerberus whimpered and this time, Rebecca sidestepped to avoid being knocked down by the dog's weight. All of a sudden, cold hands reached to touch her face from behind her, the scent of decay and death powerful in the air, and Rebecca swivelled around, gun trained on hungry zombies that wanted her as prey. And now, she fired, putting all her skills to use; not only her skills with guns and accuracy, but skills of the mind, psychological skills: keep calm, cool head, focus, concentrate... All of those synonyms seemed alien to her now but they were her only solution to get out of there, her only escape. As well as she could, Rebecca disposed of the zombies, hitting as many as she could in the head, stepping back as she fired.

"Dry!" Chris stated atop the wave of moans. "I'm out!" Without thinking, Rebecca reached for her utility belt, taking a magazine from the strap, half-spun around and tossed the magazine to Chris, who took it ipso facto. With the quickness that she expected from him, he slammed it home and kept firing, this time aiming more carefully to save ammunition. "Go on, get inside!"

Finally!

Rebecca didn't hesitate: she followed Jill inside, going in as fast as she could but almost tripping over a pile of debris and scattered pieces of furniture. Regaining her composure in seconds, Rebecca turned once again, gun trained on the entrance, and Chris made his way inside, stopping at midway to hold the door in place, a task to which Rebecca had gotten to the same moment Chris had stepped inside the building. It wasn't difficult to fight the zombies and keep them at bay but, for Rebecca, it proved to be otherwise. It wasn't because of the strength the zombies had (Really?), but because of the memories it brought back.

It all reminded her of how long she and Richard had stayed at the mansion, fending off zombies and holding closed a door the same way she was doing it now. Richard was almost bitten by a pair of zombies and Rebecca's stomach had wretched when she'd smelt the scent of decay and death... just like it wretched right then, that day, September 28th, 1998. Pushing as hard as she could, she allowed her mind to drift away so that she didn't focus voluntarily on her obligations, so that she could do it without being aware of what she was doing, until a voice broke her silence.

"Rebecca, move!" When she wanted to notice, Chris had stuck a chair under the door's handle, keeping it from opening. Rebecca couldn't believe it: they had made it, not without exhausting efforts. The drums of death, the bangs of the zombies against the door, kept resonating throughout the building, warning them of the Emissary's coming to reap their lives with its scythe. That was the worst of it all.

"Hey, Rebecca!"

She was brought back to reality by a voice, only it wasn't neither Forrest's or Richard's, but Chris'. She blinked rapidly, catching a glimpse of him looking at her, hands on her shoulders in a comforting but persistent way. "Rebecca, are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, sorry," she apologized, nodding, and Chris did the same.

"It's alright: just keep your guard up," he replied, shaking his head, and both of them looked at the door to check it. It was still closed, though it vibrated and almost menaced to give in with every bang of the dozen of zombies on the other side of it. A knot caught in Rebecca's stomach: she prayed for them not to get in. "Come on, let's meet up with Jill. She's on the first floor."

They found Jill, as Chris had said, in the first floor, two rooms past the door to the staircase. The room they entered in was still well lit, all seemingly in a good state, and Jill was setting up a place to rest with a few mattresses and cushions she had apparently found there. Rebecca examined the room well: nothing was out of place save for what Jill had worked with, leading her to think no zombies had been there and the people had been able to evacuate the building safely. Where they were... that was a question to which she had no answer.

"Hey," Jill greeted, straightening herself. Rebecca frowned at how pale Jill was, all high-lighted by the patches of caked blood and dirt on her legs and arms, only a few smears of the crimson substance on her face. She looked weary, ready to welcome slumber, but she was holding on to stay awake.

"Everything okay?"

Jill shrugged, nodding weakly. "Yeah, no problems here. The zombies didn't make it inside this building; the people were evacuated to Raccoon University, and the virus hasn't spread to this part of the city... too much, save for the ones we encountered down there. I've checked the entire floor, all the rooms, and I've found nothing and nobody here. We can thank the distance between the center of the city and this area; the zombies weren't smart enough to get inside."

"And since the virus isn't airborne, I'd bet all of this isn't infected," Rebecca piped up, "though be careful. You don't know what you can find."

"Appearances tend to deceive," Jill agreed, and how well they knew it was like that. After taking one last look around her, Rebecca asked,

"Is anyone injured?"

"Mine are just a few scratches," Jill replied, nodding in reassurance. Rebecca could see there was nothing of importance -not of too much importance- but those scratches had to be cleaned as soon as possible. She looked at Chris, who had his forearm flipped around so that she could see it: there was a long but shallow gash on his skin, from his wrist to almost his elbow, still bleeding profusely.

"Mine's that one. Got it with... yes, the chair I used downstairs. Rusty piece of iron," he explained, succinct. Rebecca's senses heightened, a condition that was expected in every medic.

"Hell, that could get infected at any moment!" she exclaimed, almost gasping. "I'm tending to you to right now; let me get- Jill, have you checked if there were more supplies around here?"

"In the cabinet, the bathroom," she replied with a nod, and Rebecca proceeded inside said room. Once with the supplies in hand, she returned to the main room, where she found Chris and Jill having picked a place on one of the mattresses, waiting for her in silence.

"Okay, let's get down to it," stated Rebecca. "Jill, I'll tend to Chris' wound first; it's got a bigger risk of infection. In the meantime, clean your wounds as best as you can and I'll check them out once I'm done." Before Rebecca looked down to his wound, she saw Chris smile slightly.

"What happened to the 'ladies first' thing?" he piped up, and she noticed a tinge of complaint in his voice.

"Don't give me that," she chastised, good-natured, but then she fell silent, hesitant, as she prepared a clean cloth and alcohol. Whilst she cleaned the wound, Rebecca felt her expression changing, sudden sorrow clenching as a knot in her stomach as a familiar sentence came with a familiar voice.

"What's that about 'ladies first'?"

"Rebecca?" Chris called, making her return to reality. Once more she'd been about to mistake Chris' voice for Edward's voice, even Richard's, but that hadn't happened even though they were still ringing in her ears.

When she met her companion's gaze, she saw a serious gleam in his eyes. "Don't be like that."

"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked, slightly taken aback by that statement -almost an order.

Chris hesitated at first, but then said, "Unfortunately, we're not S.T.A.R.S. anymore, so we're equals now. Even in the beginning, when you joined our team temporarily, there was no hierarchy between us, not even..." His voice faltered, but he continued talking, "not even with Wesker many times. Despite he was our captain once, you know we kept a very informal tone between us. Neither Jill or I are your superiors now, and we never were."

"We can take jokes, you know that," Jill intervened, not smiling, but there was still something reassuring in her countenance. Rebecca turned her attention to Chris again, frowning.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

Chris, this time, snorted a laugh. "And she apolo-ow!-gizes! You're a handful, let me tell you that."

"I've always been modest; I can't help it!" Rebecca shot back, applying a fresh gauze and proceeding to bandage Chris' arm. If he said something else later, she didn't know: Rebecca was concentrated on the task at hand, remembering the standard procedures to follow and alongside that... the first time she had healed a teammate's wound: Billy's. It seemed like being there, trapped by death and decay, made her recall moments she had long thought forgotten. With one last knot, she finished applying the bandage and said,

"How does it feel?"

Chris stretched his forearm and, for a few seconds, he remained in silence. "It's great. Very slack but also strong; I don't have any problems moving it." Rebecca allowed herself a small smile, feeling a bit sheepish, but then snapped out of it and turned her attention to Jill. She worked fast, finding many wounds superficial and not too bad, and there were still enough supplies left for them to carry on. At last, Rebecca tended to her own wounds with Chris' help whilst Jill laid down to rest.

Every single moment that went by was like a flashback to Rebecca, déjà vu almost, and remembering everything didn't help her gain any courage to pull through her current situation. Everyone she thought about -Richard, Forrest, Joseph, Edward- was dead, hopefully somewhere better, but she couldn't help thinking about herself suffering the same fate as them. She didn't like to consider herself as inexperienced: she had already gone through an outbreak -of a smaller scale- and now, she was pulling through another one of them, this one of greater magnitude.

That in itself was what scared her, what made her think she would perish there.

Since she had no hunger to make disappear, Rebecca switched the lights off and laid down in silence next to Chris, who took the space between her and Jill, and she stayed staring at the ceiling, letting her mind wander off. Where it wondered to, though, wasn't Wonderland: more flashbacks assailed her, and she was very surprised to see how unstable her mind was right now. Wasn't it time she showed a bit more of strength and resistance? Uneasy, Rebecca laid slightly on her side and looked at Chris. For a moment, she envied him: how could he remain so calm, so composed without signs of...?

Trauma? I don't know the answer.

Rebecca turned her gaze away and sighed, her back to her companions. If it was time she showed some strength and resistance, then she would show it. What she sometimes didn't like to hear was that she'd do it for someone else, because of someone else: if something else happened, she wouldn't have anyone as her pretext or excuse.

This time, she would do it for herself, and only herself.

xx

When she woke up, she was alone.

She was alone once more, but something was different. There was still someone with her in the room, someone she didn't know of, not until she caught sight of a silhouette sitting casually on a chair behind her. There was barely light, just the faint one that filtered through the gap of the door, but that was enough to see a gleaming object in the person's hand. A knot caught in her stomach and her eyes went wide beyond their limit when she noticed the object was a knife, a dangerous gleam in its blade. Rebecca glanced to her right, then up front again, wondering where Chris was.

"Where is he to save you...? Doesn't he disappoint?"

Rebecca's head perked up, her body tensing to the extreme, and she gasped unintentionally. Wasn't that voice... Chris'? Rebecca felt herself shaking: what was Chris doing?

With adrenaline coursing through her system, she thought fast, thinking of a way to escape: her only chance was the door, but who seemed to be Chris was far nearer to it than she was. Slowly she rose to her feet, keeping a close eye on the silhouette in front of her. All of a sudden the lights were turned on and she was left blind, soon to be pinned against the nearest wall in a chokehold. Along with the blinding pain came the lack of oxygen, and struggling to free herself from his iron grip proved to be in vain.

Her vision swam in front of her eyes, no matter how much she tried to hold on to the life that was slipping away and free herself. In a desperate attempt to breathe, almost out of instinct, she looked at Chris... who was not Chris at all. A smirk adorned his features, a smirk that reminded Rebecca of someone she knew too well.

This can't be happening! It's a-

"A nightmare?" Chris' voice was close, too close, so much it sent powerful chills down Rebecca's spine and made her head spin. "This is no nightmare, hun: it's for real."

Her heart sped up. All of a sudden she could break free of his grasp, having lashed out her legs blindly at him but having hit no target. Regaining her breath at the same time as her balance, Rebecca dashed towards the door, heading down the staircase lightning-fast. A few steps down the set and she noticed something: it was her house, all like it used to be before she left. If that was the case, then Rebecca had the upper-hand: Chris had never been in her house and, as such, he didn't know the ways in and out. Though with the sound of her steps, it wasn't easy getting lost.

Steps behind her got closer by the minute, echoing through the whole building as she kept running, and Rebecca tried to escape through every door she found... and every single one was closed. She cursed out loud, rattling the handles of the doors she tried to open, and then finally turned to face Chris as he slowly went down the stairs, the knife still in hand. Words and screams didn't come out, only a half-emitted moan in disbelief that came from her own throat; Rebecca couldn't control the tremors in her hands and legs, fearing they would buckle under her and she wouldn't be able to move again. In fear, she rattled the door again, but it still didn't budge.

And Chris was damnably close to her once more. Though feet away, his presence was overwhelming: she couldn't take it. In despair, she shook her head, trying to convince him of something else, repeating 'Don't' like a sickening mantra, 'Run' like a prayer and 'Escape' like an order. Before Chris could get any closer, Rebecca slipped past him and took the first corridor to her right, hoping it'd lead her to the door that itself lead to the back yard. Silence, though sometimes comforting, was like the song of death that played endlessly as she ran, giving her more energy in the form of fear to carry on.

Run, run, RUN for your LIFE! Her mind was screaming, but Rebecca could barely keep her thoughts straight. One moment she was aware, the next it seemed like her body was moving on its own: it was a constant transition between one state and another, with intermediate ones that left her more confused every second that went by. Rebecca was about to reach for the door's handle when she tripped and fell with a loud thud, knocking her head against a leg of the central table and almost knocking things down.

Run, run, KEEP RUNNING!

But she couldn't, and she didn't continue running. Rebecca looked back, stunned, saw Chris standing at the door but he didn't get any closer. He didn't even seem to be looking at her, but when she could see better, she noticed his eyes were covered by shadows, a powerful gleam in them, merciless and cold. In disbelief, Rebecca remained paralyzed, unable to make a move.

Then nothing happened. Nothing happened.

'Come on, Becca, wake up.'

Richard.

Nevertheless, she screamed.

XX

When she woke up, she wasn't alone.

Rebecca shot up from her position, beads of cold sweat trickling down her temples as her heart kept beating wildly in her chest. She remained panting in the dark, looking around in confusion in fear someone that wasn't Chris was there with her. Gradually, she calmed down; it took it her time, but she still did, and Rebecca buried her face in her hands. It had all been so real, so genuine, that it left her too shaken. For the first time in almost ages to her, she allowed tears to fall in silence. All of a sudden she felt someone beside her, felt warmth renewing hers and a long arm surrounding her shoulders. Rebecca didn't look up, kept curled up in a ball, but then sighed and nodded weakly in an attempt to convince herself, not the one who was beside her.

"Nightmares?" he asked, and Rebecca shook her head out of instinct. The last thing she needed was to worry him.

"Just... a restless sleep, that's all," she replied, dismissing his question, but then she heard Chris chuckling.

"And since when do restless sleeps show panic levels this high?" he asked her, shaking his head. "You don't lie well, just like me. Come on, I'm listening... unless you don't want to talk about it." Rebecca met Chris' gaze, hesitant, but then had to break contact.

"I... alright, I guess I can tell you," she agreed at last. "It was a nightmare, not just a simple restless sleep." She fell silent, waiting for some kind of comment coming from him. She got it, but not like the one she was expecting to hear.

"I knew it," he spoke with a light smile. "What happened in it?"

Rebecca took an inaudible deep breath, getting ready to relay the information. Just the thought of telling the nightmare and reliving it gave her the chills, but what about the promise she'd made before closing her eyes? No promises were in vain: they could be broken or kept. And she intended to keep it.

"Well, it all started as I woke up. I was alone, but I wasn't: I felt like... there was someone else with me. Jill wasn't in the room, you weren't there either, until I heard you... speaking to me in a tone that... that wasn't yours," Rebecca explained. "You talked of someone who was supposed to save me and that he was disappointing, and it was then that I noticed you-you were wielding a knife, your S.T.A.R.S. issue knife." A pause. "I panicked. I instantly knew you were going to kill me.

"I tried to run away, but you pinned me against the wall, strangling me. Just before I... was about to black out, you let me go. At this point I was panicking and ran as fast as I could. As I left this room, I found myself at my home's upper hall."

"Your home?"

Rebecca nodded. "That's the strange thing. Another one was that if it was supposed to be my home, I would be able to get away from you, but no door was open. I tried every single one of the doors available, but they were all locked or jammed. You were cornering me, I didn't... I didn't know what to do, and then I could give you the slip. I snuck into the kitchen, hoping I could take the door to the back yard, but then I tripped over my own foot and fell.

"I stayed on the ground, trembling, unable to move. What you did next somehow surprised me... well, the me in the dream: you stopped at the door, you didn't come in, but I had the feeling you were thinking of..."

Rebecca suddenly remembered her own scream and her hands trembled, her voice breaking. It was true that, for example, she feared being killed by a zombie or a BOW, but being killed by a teammate was something she didn't want to imagine. In that instant, she thought of her fallen Bravo teammates and friends, all indirectly killed by Alpha's captain Wesker; she thought of how they might possibly begged for one more chance.

"Ya won't see me doin' that, kiddo."

Those had been Joseph Frost's words whilst he'd been in her team. She'd just been admitted to Bravo when he would be promoted to Alpha team in three days' time. It had been a casual conversation, the one in which he'd said that, but it was something Rebecca didn't and wouldn't forget. All of a sudden, she felt something blooming in her chest; whether it was fear, anger or sorrow, she didn't know. What she knew was that it made her cry and mourn her lost friends for the umpteenth time.

"Hey, hey..."

Rebecca was tempted to shake her head and reject Chris' consoling gestures and words, but that would be unfair. He also knew what it meant to lose someone that way, so she wasn't anyone to push him away. She curled up into a ball, slightly rocking back and forth as she accepted everything Chris was doing for her.

"You know I wouldn't do that," she heard him say, "so don't let that get to you. This is also getting to me, you know, but I'm sure we'll make it." Though she found his words sincere, Rebecca couldn't get herself to believe them and, at her silence, he sighed. "Look, I'm not very good at analyzing things that involve this kind of but... See? I can't even find anything to say."

For once, Rebecca let out a chuckle. "Then there's no need to. I know what you want to say though, and I understand."

"I can't be a psychologist to save my life," Chris added, "but as much as it hurts me to say it, we have to try and forget about it. Not in the literal sense, you know that, but these memories will come and haunt us until... until we can't hold them off any longer and make our fears come to life." A pause. "Did I just say that?"

Rebecca lifted her head at his incredulous tone and smiled. "Not meant to be a psychologist, huh? I guess you understand more of other's minds-"

"Than your own," they said at the unison.

"That tends to happen," Chris agreed. "We're all in the same situation, so it's not uncommon to know more of the other than yourself. Rebecca, we're going to make it, I assure you."

"Never give up," she said, absentminded. "I just... I just think I can't make it. I'm not as experienced as you or Jill and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you getting where I think you're getting?" Chris suddenly piped up, half-teasing and half-serious. "Don't you dare say anything like that; besides, whilst we all have our merit, yours is very far from ours."

"You're kidding," Rebecca snapped, shaking her head hastily.

"I'm not; really, who do you take me for?" Chris looked indignant. "It's true: we all faced what Umbrella had unleashed. But whilst we were still in Raccoon City, you went through and fought everything that had caused that mess. Sometimes, and if you take it like this, the beginning of a tale is far worse than the climax or its end. To top it off, you went through most of it on your own, according to what you told us. We, on the other hand, encountered others along the way, just like I found you or I found Jill. Rebecca, don't underestimate yourself."

Rebecca considered his words. Aside from his tone, which was convincing and genuine, Rebecca had the feeling Chris had somehow humbled himself with those words; just by looking at him, one (like Rebecca had done) would notice he was a very proud man. Not willing to make any assumptions, Rebecca just accepted his message, finding solace in it and his company.

"I'll try not to," she said at last. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he replied, soothing his tone. "You weren't in the unit as long as Jill and I were, for example, and being so young doesn't... help much, if you allow me to say it."

"You're right about that, so I think I can be... proud of myself," she said, ginger. A comfortable silence ensued, one during which Rebecca allowed the weight to be lifted off her shoulders. Once more, Chris rubbed her left arm and nodded.

"You can," he agreed and what he said next helped Rebecca to gain more confidence than the one she already have. "Don't think that big leaps make us strong; it's step by little step that we gain that strength."

"And he's right."

Rebecca was shocked to hear that voice, but she didn't show it. A friendly kind voice, one so familiar to her that she would recognize it anywhere, even if it was inside her mind. It was so real though... that she even thought the owner of the voice was there with her. A comforting hand on her head was all she felt before she perked her head up... and saw no-one there. Even so, she knew who had talked.

"There was someone who once said 'What does not destroy me, makes me strong.' And like Chris said, you're still taking your steps. Take this as patronizing, but I would've said this had I been here with you. You're strong, whether you believe it or not."

Rebecca lowered her gaze to the dark floor, Richard's voice still ringing in her ears. He was one to read loads of books, a young man with vast literary knowledge, and that quote had been said by John Milton; oh, how she remembered. She knew what to do.

This time, she would do it for herself and all those that had helped her.

There still were debts to pay.

A/N: Here ends the first part. I hope you like it, kiddo, 'cause I put a lot of effort into this, LOL! Anyway, here you go, and I hope it does some good^^

Reviews are appreciated!^^