Pairing: Bill x Zoey with a smattering of Louis x Francis

Warnings: This fan fiction contains coarse language and references to violence not suitable for younger readers.

Other Warnings: This fan fiction and the following chapters may contain strong adult themes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead or any of the characters. My story also does not follow directly with the game (for those of you that are aware of the Crash Course campaign).

Sorry for being so lame with updating this story. I've been working on other ones simultaneously and trying to get some paintings done, too. *wipes brow*

Just as a forewarning, this chapter is a bit Louis/Francis-centric. I know, I know. It's a Bill/Zoey fic but this was an issue I needed to resolve before I could move forward with the story. *shrug*

Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter! Let me know what you think! :)

Zoey sat idly on the couch, picking at the hem of her tank top, and stared off into space. The room was markedly darker than it had been earlier in the day when Lieutenant Bedford had visited; much of the sunlight was blocked by the thick clouds overhead. With a sigh she settled further into the arm of the couch and leaned her head against her palm. Man, I didn't wanna deal with all this at once, she considered, biting at her lip. Her pale cheeks flushed hotly as she recalled the moment she shared with Bill. The way he looked into my eyes... I thought for sure he was gonna kiss me... The brunette shook her head to try to rid herself of those thoughts, deeming them as delusions of her anxiety, and rolled over onto her back. She stared at the tiled ceiling, her eyes following the movement of the slow-moving fan.

"This is too much," Zoey complained to herself and shut her eyes. Instead of the speckled reddish tint of the inside of her eyelids, she was greeted by the image of the disfigured Infected she once thought were her own. Her eyes shot open once more, a frown marring her features. There's no point in crying over that anymore, she thought with a sigh and before she could think further on the matter, the analyst walked into the room.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, motioning to the cushion not occupied by her feet.

The college girl sat up, flashing the black man a smile as he sat down at the opposite end of the couch. She pulled her legs into a crisscross and eyed him intently.

Louis glanced at her nervously. "Yes?"

"I think I know what's bothering you," she replied, leaning forward on her elbows.

He raised a brow and turned his body toward hers. "Oh, you do, do you?"

The brunette moved over to the cushion closest to Louis's and got back into her cross-legged stance. "Yeah and I'd like to know if I'm right," she replied, grinning at the analyst's intrigue. "You'll tell me if I'm right, won't you?"

Louis's lips straightened into a line as he considered her words and reluctantly nodded his head. "If you're right though, you can't tell anyone. Ya got that?"

Zoey nodded her head as well, pretending to zip up her lips, but quickly broke her serious facade with a wicked grin. She sat up slightly to look around the room, making sure the other two were nowhere in sight, and eagerly looked back to Louis. "You like Francis, don't you?"

The blush on the black man's face gave away the answer far sooner than his mouth did as he barely answered back, "I-I think so." He hung his head and held his face in his hands. "I can't believe this is happening to me, Zoey."

"You're not the only one," the girl murmured and reached out to touch his knee, "but it's okay. We've all seen some fucked-up shit these past few weeks and honestly...I kinda saw it coming."

Louis looked up at her words, his eyebrows dipped lowly into his lashes. "What do you mean you saw it coming?" he asked, watching her fidget under his gaze.

She laughed nervously. "Well you guys already acted like an old married couple," she replied and looked down at the couch cushion as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "I mean, the stress was getting to everyone and we've been through so much together. It doesn't really surprise me that we've, well...paired off."

Louis breathed a sigh out of his nostrils. "So just because we argue, automatically we're supposed to get together? Is that how it works?"

"No!" Zoey glared at the analyst through her bangs and turned her eyes off to the side. "All I'm saying is that it kinda makes sense to me," she said, the tone of her voice indignant.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you," the black man tried, shaking his head as he smiled bitterly. "This is just hard for me and I shouldn't be mad at you, especially since you're trying to help." He caught sight of a trace of a smile on the girl's face, causing his features to relax and soften.

"It's okay. We're all still majorly on edge after everything that's happened," she conceded with a smirk. "So... Are you ever gonna tell him? Y'know, how you feel and everything?"

"That part I don't know," Louis answered with a shrug. "I want to clear the air between us but I don't know if this is real or not. I mean—I like Francis but I don't know how he feels about me a-and I certainly don't know how things are gonna work out after the world goes back to normal." He ran a hand over his bald scalp. "What if—w-what if we pursue this...thing and it all just falls apart? Then what? Then I'll lose someone I care about." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly. "I'll lose my best friend..."

Zoey's lips pursed at his outlook, some of her own worries reflected through his. "I know. I know exactly what you mean," she spoke softly, "but the 'what ifs' don't matter. What matters is the here and now. We don't know if the world out there is really safe anymore and we've all seen Hell. We've already met the Devil. So why not embrace what we have?" She stared earnestly into Louis's brown eyes. "Is it really that bad, Louis? Is it? Is it that bad to love someone who knows your journey better than anyone else 'cause they were there beside you the whole time? Is it that bad to want them with you always 'cause it would hurt worse than anything else to lose them? Tell me, Louis—is it?"

"No... It's not," he replied after a moment, allowing her words to fully sink in before answering. "It's not a bad thing but it doesn't mean I'm any less worried."

"I understand," she said gently and leaned against the back of the couch. "I really don't blame you. I mean, if you say something to him about this, you're gonna alter your relationship with him forever."

Louis eyed her wearily. "Not helping."

"Sorry," she replied with a nervous laugh. Zoey let out a sigh and stared off into the couch cushions. "I can't believe how fast everything has changed in the last few months." Her eyes darted back up to the black man. "Y'know, almost four months ago, I was sitting in my dorm room, watching old slasher flicks and just about failing all my classes. I was on the verge of quitting school and all I could think about was how I couldn't 'cause my parents would be disappointed in me. Now look at me." She breathed out a resentful laugh. "I kicked zombie ass and made some killer new friends and I can't even brag about it to them. I-I can't even—" A sob caught in her throat as warm tears dropped from her eyes, her hand coming up to cover her mouth in surprise.

Louis reached his hand out to console her but she waved him away, laughing tensely as she wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me."

"Zoey, it's okay to cry. I won't think any less of you if you do," the black man said fretfully, his brows furrowed.

"No, I'm fine—really," she replied, shaking her head. "I think everything is just getting to me. I'm gonna go lie down." Zoey got to her feet and grabbed hold of Louis's hand, giving it a squeeze with a smile. "Do what you feel is right and everything will work out just fine." After earning a grin from her friend, she continued toward her bedroom.

Brown eyes watched the young girl leave the room and settled upon the back of the black man's head. Breathing out a sigh through his nostrils, Francis continued down the stairs, a wooden creak giving away his presence.

"F-Francis! How long have you been there?" Louis asked nervously, trying to gauge the gruff man's reaction carefully.

"Like two seconds. I just came downstairs," he replied with a roll of the eyes. "Hey listen, I wanted to talk to you about somethin'. Mind if we have this powwow in our room?"

The analyst swallowed hard and tried to play off his nerves to the best of his ability. "Yeah sure," he managed and got to his feet, barely looking at the white man. He trudged behind the biker solemnly, not entirely sure he wanted to know what Francis had to say. This can't be good, Louis thought, a grimace forming along his lips. I bet he heard our whole conversation and now he's gonna kick my ass. His eyes flitted back up as the two reached their shared bedroom, following behind his comrade. "So what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Sit down," Francis said with a sigh and motioned to the bed.

Louis gulped lightly as he took a seat on the end of the bed and prepared himself for the worst. This is it. He's gonna tell me off right here and that's just gonna be the end of it.

The biker sat down beside him and scratched at his beard. "We need to talk about what's goin' on between us," he began slowly and tentatively glanced over at the black man. "I think we need to get everything out in the open and then go on from there. Sound good?"

"I guess," Louis replied softly, staring down at his lap. Here it comes...

"Good. I'll go first." Francis cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles roughly. "I never told you what happened in my dreams and I think that if I tell you, they'll stop," he said hesitantly, his eyes not on the analyst. "Okay, so here goes... Pretty much what happens is that you—" The biker stopped himself, feeling a knot grow in his stomach. "Ugh, I dunno if I can do this."

"No; go on," the black man urged, his heart thumping wildly against his ribcage.

Francis gazed at his comrade for a moment before looking off once more. "Okay... Uh, so basically you...force yourself on me," he continued slowly, his face growing redder and redder with each syllable. "I try to fight back but I can't. And now every time I see you, I can't help but remember those stupid dreams." He shook his head, breathing out a sigh. "This is such a fuckin' nightmare."

Louis swallowed dryly, nodding his head. "Yeah, no kidding," he murmured. He turned his eyes to look at the gruff man and his stomach churned out of anxiety. "So do you think that they...mean something?"

The biker looked back over at Louis and his lips pursed into a frown. "I really don't know," he replied, a sense of hopelessness washing over him. "I mean..." Francis sighed heavily, rubbing his face. "Maybe they do."

The black man patted him on the shoulder, feeling Francis's muscles tense under his fingertips, and he grimaced. "Francis, it's okay if they do. I'm not gonna hold it against you."

Francis laughed sullenly, shaking his head. "Sure, you're not."

"I'm not," Louis repeated firmly, his grip tightening on the white man's shoulder. "If I was gonna hold it against you, I wouldn't have bothered to talk to you about it." He let out a sigh and let go of the other man. "What do you take me for—some kind of fair weather friend?"

"Louis, if I were to tell you that I had some kind of feelings for you, you wouldn't turn your back on me? I mean, c'mon! That's fucking awkward as hell!" Francis spat out. He got up from the bed and walked over to the window, looking more at his reflection than what was on the other side of the glass. "You're my best friend. I don't want to lose you..." he murmured, his head sinking to rest against the cool windowpane.

The analyst scowled, a heat bubbling up inside his belly as he took in his comrade's response. With a low growl he got to his feet and walked over to where Francis stood, wrapping his arms around the biker's midsection. "You're so fucking stupid sometimes, Francis."

Francis snorted, gazing upon the arms holding him tightly, and he smiled. "Yeah, I know," he muttered as he trailed his hands up the chocolate colored limbs to hug him back. "I know."

"This shouldn't be that hard," Bill muttered under his breath as he sat at a desk in the corner of his bedroom. The only light in the room was provided by a small, metal desk lamp with the occasional flicker of lightning from behind his drawn curtains. The old man drummed his fingertips on the desk's wooden surface as he chewed the butt of his ink pen. His eyes rested upon a sheet of stationary that was partially filled with words. "Aww, fuck it," he grumbled as he crumpled up the paper and threw it against the wall.

Bill forced open his bedroom door and brushed past Zoey as she was walking back to her own room. He mumbled something about needing a smoke and continued on his way, earning a confused look from the girl.

Zoey glanced at the open door, and upon seeing the veteran walk outside onto the porch, she cautiously made her way into Bill's room. She looked around, noting how dim the room was, until her eyes came to lie on a wadded up piece of paper on the floor. The brunette looked over her shoulder to make sure the old man wasn't anywhere near and slowly approached the document. Maybe I shouldn't, she thought as her hand hesitated to snatch it up. It's probably nothing.

She turned on her heels and took a step toward the door before spinning back around and quickly grabbing the stationary. Her fingers fumbled as she uncurled it to the best of her ability and before long the words came into view. She brushed her bangs behind her ear as she started to read, her eyebrows lowering in comprehension and her eyes darting faster and faster across the page. "Oh my god..."

Dear Will,

Today was a hard day for me. I got your package finally and it was the most bittersweet gift I've ever been given. It was great to see all your medals and your pictures but the thing I loved most was reading your letter. I could hear your voice in my head as I read it and it brought you back to life. It was as if you were talking to me again. You have no idea how much I've missed that. All I could think, though, was that these were your last words to me. This would be the last time I'll ever hear from you again. It hurt, Will. It hurt so much to know that you really weren't coming back. I don't think I'll ever get over it.

I'm sorry that I can't be more positive right now but I really am glad that I could get your letter. It means more to me than anything else I own, which isn't much anymore. I'd give anything for you to be alive again but at least I know you didn't have to see what I have in these past few months. It's worse than war, that much I'm sure.

Despite how hellish it's been, I've come out of this thing with a few new friends. I think you'd like them. I wish I could introduce you to Zoey. She's a very special lady and next to you, she means the world to me. I didn't think I'd ever be able to love again after what happened with your mom, but being with her feels right. She kept me alive during the Infection and without her I know I wouldn't be able to go on. I just don't know how to tell her.

Another chapter down, more to go!

Thank you for reading!

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