Author's Note:

I'm so happy they're finally meeting. It's gonna be a bumpy road from here on out, though...


1998

Fucking sentenced.

Samuel Regan, Charlene's dear old daddy, sentenced him to death. After everyone decided that no, Billy was not insane, they decided to kill him. He was a fucking murderer after all.

Billy had spent over a year in that padded room. It had been hell.

Now, he was in the fucking car, handcuffed, while two idiots drove him to his execution site.

Billy didn't know where the hell he was and he didn't particularly care. Why did he need to know? Apparently his whole life had been screwed from the beginning: putting up with Charlene as a kid, hell in itself, losing Anna, losing his grandparents, losing his mother, losing his mind, losing his fucking job, and now losing his life.

Billy was a loser.

He'd tried to be a giver: he'd spoiled Anna, helped his grandparents, fucking served the United States of America, he fucked Charlene, he tried to save the lives of all those twenty-three people.

And it just didn't work out for him.

The trees and rocks and grass all seemed to be a dull shade of gray outside his tinted window. Billy was dressed in plain jeans and a wife beater: luckily for him, they decided an orange jumpsuit was overboard.

He looked like a normal person: his hair had long since grown back from Africa's buzz cut, his clothing was normal. But the tattoo sliding up his arm and the handcuffs around his wrists sort of ruined the image.

Billy had been in the car for god-knew how long. The cops up front chattered on about stupid shit, as if Billy couldn't hear them, wouldn't get annoyed by them. He sighed and looked out the window.

It felt unreal, his death. As if being told meant it was just a joke, a phony prediction from a fortune teller, maybe. As if knowing made it somehow dreamlike, an illusion. He was still crazy, locked up in the padded room, screaming out his nightmares, being fucking sedated and letting a fucking shrink yabber on for hours at a time.

Christ, he was sick of that shit. This was a relief: at least it was a change of scenery from white on white on white.

He watched the trees roll by as they drove on, until it became dark. And of course, they were lost.

"Jesus Christ, can't do you do anything right?" Billy burst out in frustration.

One officer turned to face him with a scowl. "Shut up, convict. Why don't you read the map and tell us where the hell we are." He sneered sarcastically.

He held the map in front of Billy's face tauntingly, but Billy read it seriously. "We're in the fucking Arklay mountains, dumbfuck, about twenty miles east of where you're supposed to be driving."

The officer looked a little dumbstruck and quickly read the map himself. "He's right," he told his partner, a little sheepish. "Call in and say Billy Coen's gonna be late for his little party."

Billy sucked his teeth in irritation.

"Calm down, Billy," Anna scolded him weakly.

He immediately did. "Don't waste your energy!" he told her immediately. When Billy had begun to accept his death, Anna had started to fade again. Fucking hell.

The officers gave their location and tried to turn around. Billy heard barking, or growling or something and wondered who the hell would have hunting dogs out at this time of night.

"What the hell is that?" he demanded as the sound got closer. The officers began to drive, putting on their lights.

The officers seemed as puzzled as he. "Not sure,"

The one riding shotgun rolled down his window and looked out the window. "Dogs!" he exclaimed the obvious. "But they look all weird. I guess these are hunting dogs. They're covered in blood."

Billy was uncomfortable enough with the handcuffs restricting him. He didn't need to hear about grumpy dogs covered in blood. He was really not in the fucking mood.

He felt the car swerve violently. "What the fuck!" he yelled, beyond irritated at this point.

"The fucking dogs are attacking the tires!" the driver yelled in panic. "What the hell is this?" he sped up, and Billy saw the dogs following. He tried to get a better look at the dog, and noticed with dawning horror that the dog had ripped patches of skin where blood flowed freely.

"They're crazy! They have fucking rabies or some shit!" Billy shouted in disgust.

"How-"

The driver's exclamation was cut off by his swerve, which knocked the car onto its side, crashing it as Billy added this to his fucking list of car accidents.

The truck was skewed to its side, and Billy felt his face for cuts.

Then he realized that his cuffs had broken.

The side of the van was open and he climbed out. "Are you guys alive?" he demanded, just before he saw the dogs eating the throats of the two officers.

This was not fucking real. This was something out of a fucking horror movie. There was no way rabid dogs attacked people like this. This was a fucking joke.

Billy accidentally kicked something hard: a handgun. He picked it up, silently as he could. He needed that thing.

He checked the ammo. It was full, good thing.

He turned around and booked ass, getting as far away as he could until the dogs noticed his scent leading away. Fucking hell.

He raced through the trees. This was nothing compared to Africa. He could handle this. As long as the dogs gave him a little headstart he'd be fine.

Billy almost ran right smack into the hunk of shit. A train? A fucking train in the middle of the forest?

Billy ignored the ridiculous nature of it and climbed in. What he saw brought back a flashback so strong, Anna came back full force, coaxing him.

"Come on, Billy, get up, get up and get out, you're not in Africa, you have a chance to live now, but you have to get up, come on sweetheart," she coaxed him gently.

But Billy couldn't hear. He was reliving it again: the blood splattering on the dirt, the child crying as her mother's intestines spilled onto her face, the horrible pain of watching but not being able to move, but he had to move, he had to move now.

With effort, Billy forced himself up, panting and sweating, his heart pounding a mile a minute. But as his sweat permeated the air, a man got up.

"Oh thank god," Billy was relieved. "A rabid dog just attacked—"

But the man wasn't a man. The skin on his face was mere fleshy ribbons: his eyes were dull and brown. Blood covered his brown suit, and there were gaping holes where limbs and skin should've been.

The creature let out an unearthly moan and started for Billy clumsily, fixtated on nothing else as it tripped and stumbled over to him.

Billy stood and backed away, aiming carefully with his gun until the creature got too close—

and fell, a bullet hole between his eyes.

Billy breathed a sigh of relief as he realized none of the other people were getting up.

He ran to a room that was free of creatures and breathed a sigh of relief. What the hell had that been? A fucking dead man started walking. Rabid dogs, zombie men, what the hell was next?

He heard a rustling noise and raised his gun, stepping forward slowly, carefully. Only one, he listened.

He turned around the corner and instead of another creature, there was a young girl, rifling through papers.

She stood when she heard his arrival and noticed the gun, a calculating look in her eyes.

She was small, with pixie hair and weapons in her belt. She looked strong, with small muscles in her arms. She was obviously fit, and her green eyes assessed him.

"Billy," she tried the name out in her mouth. He raised the gun higher. "Lieutenant Coen…"

She knew who he was. Fuck. His mind raced for something, anything to latch onto. "So…" he said slowly. "You seem to know me. Been fantasizing about me, have you?"

A flush of pink tinged her cheeks. He lowered his gun and noticed the emblem on her shirt. "You're with S.T.A.R.S…" he realized. "Well, your kind doesn't seem to want me around, honey. So I'd better go."

The last thing he fucking needed was a cop on his dick, not with everything else going on. What if he had another attack?

"Wait!" the girl followed him, and seeing her face more clearly, he realized she was young. She didn't look old enough to drink in a bar. "You're under arrest!"

He almost laughed at the image of this tiny little girl taking him into custody. Had she seen that fucking thing? "Sorry, dollface," he replied, walking away, preparing himself to face any more creatures that'd come his way. "But I've already worn handcuffs."

He showed her his arm, still decorated with the fucking things, and walked away.

"I could shoot you know!" her voice lacked conviction. She knew as well as he did that she wouldn't be able to bring him down.

He realized the instant that he walked into the room that it was a mistake. Four creatures launched up at him, slowly reaching for him with their curling, cold fingers, and he fired four neat shots. He did not want to waste his ammo at a time like this.

He searched around, hoping for ammo. Why would there be ammo here? There shouldn't. But this looked like a richie train, and rich people carried guns. They liked feeling as if their property was protected.

Somehow Billy managed to find a half-empty case of bullets in the overhead, where luggage was kept. Hell of a lot better than nothing.

He strode into the room and saw the girl there, looking tired and terrified.

"Help her, Billy!" Anna's voice in his head implored. "Look at her! She's just my age. You have to help her out. She'll probably die without it!"

Billy couldn't bear the thought of another life being lost. Not while he was around to fucking stop it. "Look," he said, thinking quickly. "It's gonna be dangerous from here on in. We've got no chance of doing this alone. If we want to get out of this hell-hole, then we're gonna have to work together."

Despite her delicate appearance, the girl immediately rejoined: "You? You're a wanted criminal! I don't need your help!"

He snorted. "Yeah right, little girl—"

"I can handle this on my own. And don't call me little girl!" she snapped at him. He climbed the steps and leaned over to her, reaching out to fluff her hair, mockingly. She pulled away and glared up at him.

"Alright then, what should I call you?" he asked impatiently.

"My name is Rebecca Chambers. So you can call me Officer Chambers." She insisted.

He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. "All right… Rebecca. Here, why don't you go out there and fight some creatures, while I stay right here."

He'd count to sixty then go out and save her ass.

"Better do thirty," Anna advised him distantly.

She walked out the door and damned if he made it to twenty before her scream broke out.

A creature stood in front of her, reaching down for her. She had dropped her gun and was scooting away from the creature, keeping her eyes on him while feeling around for her weapon.

Billy ran up and grabbed onto the railing, kicking the creature away from her, and hopped down, turning around to help her up when suddenly, the zombie fell apart, disintegrating into thousands of leeches, leaping off the body frame, moving more quickly than Billy could see.

Rebecca and Billy backed away, but they swarmed, until suddenly they were crawling up Rebecca's body, their fat little bodies covered with strange patches of skin that looked like eyes, glaring at them.

Panicking, Billy didn't know what else to do and he aimed a shot at one of the leeches at her side.

As his bullet grazed her waist, the creatures leapt off and away, except for two, who flew towards Billy.

Billy focused and aimed at them, jumping to get a better shot. He sighed. "Are you all right, Rebecca?" he asked her, leaning down and checking her side, to see if he had hit her.

She turned away, looking tired, and shot him the thumbs up.

Who the hell was this kid?

"What's that?" she asked.

"What?"

"Listen," she told him quietly, and looked out the window at the storm that was beginning.

A high pitched sound was coming from outside, sounds that were almost… singing.

He followed Rebecca's gaze out the window and searched for an explanation, until he felt a jolt.

"Who the hell was that?" he demanded.

Rebecca looked as confused as he was. "What's going on with the train?"

"Go check out the first engine car," he instructed her, deciding what to do. "See if anything funny is up. Listen!" he called as she ran away, obeying orders. "We've got to cooperate with each other from now on."

She hesitated. "Well-" she began smartly.

"Clue in, girl!" Billy rolled his eyes with frustration. "Or maybe you like being worm bait!"

She conceded, but had to add: "Fine… but remember, I will shoot you if you try anything funny." She warned him, planting her hands on her hips."

"Yeah yeah, now lemme take this. Call me if anything funny is up," he took a walkie-talkie from her waist and she nodded.

He was starting to like this girl. She took fucking orders.

Rebecca fiddled with the cart. It had taken a lot of effort to make her way up here, and she knelt down, the wind whipping at her, connecting the wires when suddenly she was forced backwards, breaking into a hole.

She groaned as her head pounded from the ungraceful landing. She pulled herself up, rubbing her head. No zombies, no leeches here. She breathed a sigh of relief.

The stress of tonight had been close to overwhelming. This was her first mission since she finished training with Barry and the rest of Bravo team, and she was excited. At least, until she had read Billy's file, until she had encountered the creatures…

Until she had watched Edward die, and been attacked by the very same dogs that had killed him.

Rebecca tried to open the door, but it was locked. She shoved it with all her weight, but it was useless. It was locked from the outside.

Frustrated beyond belief, terrified, exhausted, and miserable, Rebecca slumped down against the door and began to sob. She was so tired. Why did this have to happen? This couldn't be real. This was insanity. This was a stupid horror movie that Claire liked to watch.

She should be at home with Johnson right now, or spending time with Jacob: precious little time, since he had opted to go far off to college. He and Claire both…

She should be calling them, or training with Chris, or learning a technique from Barry, or doing paper work with Jill. Right now, she should be with Richard, laughing at his stupid jokes or listening to Edward and Enrico talk about strategies. She should be hiding from Wesker, whose office was right next to Rebecca's desk.

She shouldn't be here with a criminal, locked in a room, on a moving train infested with zombies. She shouldn't be obeying orders from a convict. Sniffing, she wiped her tears away and steadied her voice. "Billy!" she asked through the walkie talkie. "I'm stuck in a room near the engine. The door is locked from the outside. Can you come open the door?"

She imagined him smirking, or leaving her behind to die, escaping. But instead, an answer came. "On my way."

Relief came over her. But then, hesitation. How could she trust his word? He had killed two dozen people! She couldn't trust him!

The whole situation seemed so hopeless that she almost began to cry. If she called her teammates, what would happen? She was on a moving train! She'd be an incompetent idiot. She couldn't bear the thought of that.

She'd think of a way out of this. Eventually. She let the tears drip down her cheeks quietly until the door opened.

"Rebecca?" Billy looked down at her. She noticed with pleasure that he used her name, rather than a stupid, mocking endearment.

She stood up immediately and wiped away any tears. "Thanks," she said.

And she meant it.

He'd saved her life twice now, as if it were natural. With nothing expected in return. Her eyes shone again and her throat felt thick. "Let's go," she brushed past him quickly, not seeing the odd, concentrated look Billy gave her.

He followed her down the hall and into the engine room. She opened the door and immediately ran to the panel. "This train is either going to derail or crash," Billy scanned the information in front of them. "We have to stop this thing."

"Derailing is better than crashing," she agreed. "I'll go to the back deck and manipulate the control panel. You stay here and I'll call you when I tell you to apply the break, got it?" she was business-like and ready to face those creatures on her own now. She had to be strong now. She owed to Billy. He had already saved her life twice. She didn't want to be a terrible partner, after he'd done so much for her.

Even after she'd wanted to arrest him.

Feeling guilty, she opened the door to one of the compartments. A zombie lay there, and got up slowly. She aimed her gun and prepared to shoot it, steadying her nerves when she cried out.

"Edward!"

Rebecca watched Coen leave with a sigh. She had known he wouldn't shoot her, and he had known she wouldn't arrest him. Not now, not in the insanity. These creatures running around, men and women rising up from seeming death: it was horror.

She turned around when she heard a crash. If it was another creature, she was prepared to kill it. She swiveled and saw it wasn't a monster, it was Edward, Edward from her team, from work, from doing paperwork for Wesker and riding in the helicopter…

"Rebecca!" he croaked as she knelt down next to him. "These demons, monsters, you have to watch out!"

"Edward, please say you're okay," she begged, despite his wounds. She was the medic, it was her job to heal him, but she couldn't stitch his wounds right now. She was close to panicking.

But his pulse was gone. She fought the urge to cry with her confusion. What was going on? Who did this too him?

But her question was answered a moment later as two dogs leapt inside, breaking the windows in the process. Before they could attack, she fired, repeatedly. She just kept shooting until they stayed down. She didn't want to take any chances. Not now. Not after watching Edward die.

"Stop!" she ordered the creature coming towards her. "Stop or I'll shoot!"

Edward didn't halt as he reached out for her until finally, she fired.

Edward fell and Rebecca stifled her hysteria, having to kill her comrade after watching him die. She stepped over him, careful not to touch him. She didn't want to step on him. That'd be the ultimate disrespect. And he didn't deserve that after all he'd gone through.

She made her way to the back, her path surprisingly clear of creatures. She sighed in relief. "Alright Billy!" she yelled into her walkie talkie. "Pick up! I'm at the control panel as we speak, over!"

"Pulling the break now," he grunted back, and Rebecca felt the immediate grind of gears as Billy pulled the brake. She ran inside, fast as she could, trying to get to Billy before the train derailed. She calculated that she had about a minute, and ran as fast as she could.

Unfortunately, this time, three creatures rose in her way. Rebecca leapt back as the formerly immobile bodies suddenly stood and came for her. Falling backwards, she shot all three of them down. She didn't care if they were dead or alive as she ran past them, only caring that they were down and out of the way.

She almost made it too, when the train tipped over and Rebecca crashed into the window, glass cutting into her, the friction burning her as the train slowly ground to a halt…