Author's Note:
I've gotten beautiful reviews for this story, and I'd like to thank the people that have written them. You guys are the best!
Okay, some more content is revealed in this story. This content is important for later in the story, so make sure you remember! This fanfiction is going to span a large amount of time, as well as many events. So there's going to be lots of stuff going on, and I hope you enjoy it!
Read and Review! :D
1989
Billy knew he wanted Anna. The only thing in his way, preventing him from getting what he wanted was Anna herself.
Anna played off any of his words or moves, joking about her weight or her inexperience or that they were supposed to be friends. Billy didn't see things the way she did. She was smaller than him, he could, and would willingly teach her anything she needed to know about kissing, sex, and the dynamics between two people attracted to each other, and the reason he wanted her was because she was so goddamn elusive.
Billy was used to getting what he wanted with girls. He wasn't a virgin, or even close to it. But since he didn't talk about his experiences with the girls he slept with, most people believed he hadn't even kissed a girl. This was due to Billy's lack of dating history.
But he'd sure as hell take Anna on a date or twenty.
More than lust for her, Billy felt a genuine respect for her that he'd never had in any of his other sexual encounters. While she refused to be with him, he felt free to explore other routes, with other girls, but he always returned to her.
She was his best friend. Every free moment he had, he was with her. His grandparents loved her: his mother approved. And Billy knew how deeply she cared about him.
He had gotten into a fight a few months ago, ended up bloodied and bruised. Anna had nearly cried when she saw him. He regretted worrying her, but was secretly glad she had revealed how she felt about him.
The night before, Billy had kissed her, surprising her. He had felt the way she felt, the way she had hesitated, then clutched to him returning his kiss with desperate fervor. He groaned and couldn't stop himself from running his hands up and down her curves, the welcoming chest that he could drown in, soft smooth skin, her round bottom, the mound between her legs that was already wet. She moaned at his touch and clung onto him, and he knew how badly she wanted him. He understood right then that her passion matched his perfectly, and he was ready to drown in her when she pulled away, pushing him away from her with strength fueled by anger and fury.
He had been panting with the effort. No other girl had ever inspired such an incredibly powerful desire within him. It was all he could to do keep from fucking her right then and there.
"Goddamnit, Billy!" she had shouted at him, frustrated. "Why do you have to do this to me?"
Billy was furious, the way he'd lost control and allowed her to lose hers. He slammed his fist into the wall of her living room. "Fucking shit!" he'd hissed, pissed at his actions. But he was fed up with this shit. "Because I want you!" he yelled right back at her, forgetting that his stature usually frightened girls, his anger taking over his control.
"I know you're used to getting what you want, Billy, but I'm not one of those girls!" she blazed at him, not intimidated in the least. "I'm not going to let you sleep with me and then watch you leave! I know you by now Billy, you're the love them, then leave them type. I'm not going to let you do that to me!" the hurt in her voice threw him off, but only for a moment.
"I know you aren't! Christ, Anna, don't you see that's why I want you? I don't want to leave you!" he ran a hand through his arm and slammed his fist at the doorframe. She still wasn't intimidated. She had marched up to him and punched him in the stomach. He was too distracted to even pretend he felt it.
"Goddamn you, Billy Coen," she had started to cry, pounding on his chest with her small fists. "Goddamn…" He felt the rhythmic pounding on his chest and lust overcame him again, when he remembered how quickly he had gotten her wet, how full and heavy her breasts were, the welcoming curve of her waist—
He had just reacted, pulling her close to him and just basking in how it felt to hold her, when she had really started to cry. "Don't you see how you make me feel, Billy?" she had asked imploringly. "I care too much. I can't watch you leave, like how you do to every other girl." He felt tears wet his shirt, and he felt guilty for his actions: but Billy wasn't one to deny himself what he wanted, and Christ, did he want Anna.
"I won't leave you," he had promised into her ear. "Just think about it, Anna. Think about us." he whispered his words into her ear, realizing the effect it'd have on her, to have him so close.
He was waiting now. But he wouldn't wait forever. Not with the way she made him feel just with her warm presence.
He walked through her front door, confident of his welcome. He wandered around her enormous home, until he spied the piano. He sat down at the seat and cracked his knuckles professionally.
Then he banged on the keys as loud as he could to get her attention.
She came running down the stairs, and he was struck by how beautiful she didn't know she was. She had slimmed down somewhat in the past year, and her hair was longer. It looked gilded in the light of her fancy chandelier, and her face seemed pinched with annoyance at him. Billy grinned to himself. She knew it was him the second she heard him bashing on the instrument.
What he loved about her is the ease they had with each other. He could tease her and push her around, feeling without restraint. He'd never been able to do that with a girl before. She scolded him and bitched at him and mocked him, not afraid of him, not worried about irritating him, and felt free to touch him. He loved that.
Christ, she didn't understand what her little hands touching his shoulder could do to him. His ever-present lust for her was more powerful than any he'd ever had for any girl.
"Don't you know how to play?" she sighed at him, their tension from yesterday forgotten. He knew she was annoyed. She didn't bother to hide it. He loved that she lacked pretention or coyness.
He grinned. "Teach me?" he got up and let her sit at the stool.
She sat delicately and set her fingers at their proper positions, and opened her mouth preparing to explain everything to him. But before she could, he sat right behind her, meeting her thigh to thigh, his dick pressed right against her luscious bottom. He entwined his fingers with hers and waited, pretending innocence.
He could feel her heart beat, heard her swallow. She led his much larger hand to their proper positions and started to explain, her voice shaky.
"There are certain keys, and each of them makes a different sound," she said, and Billy smirked, knowing perfectly well how flustered she was. He could feel her heartbeat pounding, heard the way her voice trembled.
She began rambling about something and he leaned into her.
"Have you thought about it?" he whispered into her ear, softly.
She stiffened her back, unknowingly shoving more of her beautiful body into him. God he wanted to fuck her. And kiss her, and cherish her. "I have…"
"And?"
"Billy, don't even pretend you don't know how much I love you. It's you I'm worried about."
He heard the catch in her voice and wrapped his arms around her artlessly. She leaned against him comfortably. He answered honestly. "As long as I'm with you, Anna, I promise I won't need any other girls."
He heard a sniff. "Then I guess I better keep you around." she relaxed against and he grabbed her chin, turning her face towards him and kissed her, feeling joy bubble inside him. Christ. Billy Coen was on top of the fucking world, where the wind smelled like strawberries and every breath he took tasted like mint and apple.
Rebecca sat with Kyle and Lindsey in the corner. "See, for biology, there's biotic and abiotic…" she explained to them, trying to help them understand.
The three had become inseparable. Rebecca knew they had to band together, lest they'd be alone. Most children older than ten were sent to foster homes rather than an orphanage, and neither of the three had any chance of adoption anymore. The last people who visited Rebecca had decided she was freaky. Lindsey was too old. Kyle was a little shit. Rebecca wasn't supposed to use that word, but it was true.
They were her best friends now. She could say whatever she wanted to them. Even Kyle. They had banded together from necessity, and they wouldn't be separated easily.
They always studied together. Lindsey and Rebecca slept in the same room now. The three ate together, argued, talked. Rebecca learned so much about them, from them.
And Mr. Johnson.
He was the first grownup to treat her like the genius she understood she was. In fact, he was the reason she was so interested in biology and anatomy.
"Rebecca," he had called her name one day after class. "Come here for a moment… there's something I'd like to speak with you about."
Rebecca immediately joined him. He was a father figure to her, she'd never disobey him.
"Yes, Mr. Johnson?" she asked, wondering if she had done something to displease him.
"Do… do you know the circumstances of your origins?" he asked.
Rebecca was confused for a moment by his wording, but when she understood, she answered truthfully. "Not really."
"Would you like too?" His face seemed in an agony of discomfort, as if he didn't know what he was doing, how to share a tender moment with her. In all honesty, he truly didn't know what he was doing. He was a single man, without children. He didn't know how to give comfort, or impart earth shattering information such as this.
For Rebecca, the answer was obvious. She eagerly sat with him, waiting for him to continue.
He cleared his throat, likely feeling somewhat awkward. "I shouldn't be telling you this, Rebecca. It must remain between the two of us. But I feel you have the level of maturity, and by far the level of intelligence to be able to handle this type of information."
She nodded affirmatively. She didn't care. She just wanted—needed to know.
"Your mother was sixteen years old. She lived in Raccoon City, Montana and was sixteen years old. She did not disclose the name of your father. She had not expressed any desire to abort or to give you up to an adoption agency. In short, she wanted you. However, due to her small stature and the way you were situated within the womb, the birth had fatal complications."
Rebecca didn't miss a beat. "It's my fault she died, then?"
"Not so much yours, as her own genetic faults. She seems to have passed on these traits to you. According to her file, you seem to resemble her almost exactly, besides the fact that her eyes were brown, and yours are green."
"So I'll probably have problems conceiving?" Rebecca always marveled at how intelligent she sounded. In the past year, she knew she had come far. It came along with her constant studying, tutoring sessions, and spending so much time with the intelligent man before her.
"In all likelihood, yes. You'll probably reach a maximum of five feet, two inches, and you are a small girl, so I doubt you'll ever weigh much, which should be a relief to your future vanity."
Rebecca felt relief at finally being told, but a sudden melancholy took over her. She had killed her mother. It was more complicated than that, she supposed, but she couldn't help feel that it was her fault. Her entire life was of her own making.
She would be sure to study up on this when she got back to her room. It was fascinating. Maybe if she learned more, she'd be able to have children. She wanted a baby someday.
"Tell me of the orphanage, Mr. Johnson." She requested him. "How do they locate people? How do we stay in business?"
He was utterly relieved at the change of subject.
"This orphanage is under control of the wonderful company, Umbrella. They are the pharmaceutical company, but often make way for charity."
Rebecca nodded. That was lovely. Without Umbrella, she'd never have met Kyle or Lindsey, or Mr. Johnson. "What about you? Where did you come from?" she asked him impertinently.
He laughed. "The beginning of time," he answered wryly.
Rebecca understood that meant she should shut up and mind her own business. So she did. She respected Mr. Johnson more than anyone.
"Another question… Do you think I'll ever be adopted?" Rebecca asked timidly, afraid of the answer.
"Of course you will, Rebecca," he promised. "You're wonderful, smart, and a beautiful girl. There's time for you yet.
"Will Lindsey or Kyle?"
Johnson froze, suddenly feeling a deep pity for the sweet, empathetic little girl. She sat in front of him, hands fisted together, her long auburn hair hiding her tiny face, which was dominated by curious green eyes. "Hey," he smiled at the young girl. "If you three don't, I'll adopt you myself." It was a lie, they were all lies, they were all in danger and under constant surveillance. Any wrong move could kill them all. God how he hated lying to her.
"Do you promise?" she asked in her small voice.
The trust in her voice was destroying him.
He realized how much everyone had been asking of this brilliant little girl. They were enforcing on her the maturity of a grown woman, along with the learning. He felt a wash of guilt flow over him. Umbrella had decided Rebecca should be schooled along with the older children, with harder courses and more studying time. They were robbing her of a childhood in the process. Rebecca had always been quiet by nature, and she was never a complainer.
She would allow them to do this to her, and at the thought, Johnson wanted to adopt the little girl, hold her closely and be her father, take care of her and buy her a puppy and take her to second grade. Instead he was her teacher, her tutor, her friend. He helped her through math problems, walked her through chemistry, took her beyond high school level at age nine.
Johnson felt fully and completely like a heartless bastard.
He saw this little girl as his protégé, his surrogate daughter. He felt her accomplishments as keenly as any parent. He wanted to tuck her into bed and tell her ridiculous stories from an obnoxiously colored hardback book. He didn't want to give her coffee so she could pull all nighters to study.
This little girl, nine years old, was stronger and more adaptable than he'd ever be.
God, he was a bastard.
He thought about all the lies he'd told her, how easily she believed him, how trustful she was of him. She saw the best in everyone, even himself.
She left, and he buried his face in his hands. Fucking Umbrella was going to kill them, one way or the other. Every aspect of their lives was controlled by Umbrella: they'd never be free of them.
He loved this little girl, and everything she had to face was his fault.
He was making her live her life as a bystander, he was robbing her of her childhood, of her carefree innocence. With every tome she devoured, everything she learned, her worldview was expanding, until it'd overcome his by far. Her potential was limitless.
And despite all he was putting this darling little girl through, she stubbornly believed in the best of people. She wasn't becoming cynical. She was the same sweet little girl.
He fervently hoped she'd never grow up.
Johnson stood up and walked towards the window. They were everywhere, constantly watching them. He felt a shiver of dread creep up his spine at the thought. If Johnson disobeyed a single order, it could mean death. For anyone close to either of them. Anyone was fair game.
He wanted to protect them all: Rebecca, Kyle, Lindsey, Lillian and all the other staff members. He wanted to protect everyone, but he was weak.
He was a pawn and he knew it. He couldn't bring himself to be a hero, because he was terrified of risking his own neck. He was a coward and a bastard, and he was causing so many to suffer for his selfishness. But did he truly have a choice, by anyone's standards? He was sick of making excuses.
He decided what he could do. He could get her into any university nearby, where she'd at least have somewhat of an escape. He could arrange testing for her, so she would be able to acquire a scholarship. Umbrella would approve, pay for everything she required, and she would have some kind of freedom. They'd still watch her, of course, but they'd stop watching him. He'd be able to help her.
She was intelligent enough to do this, and he knew with her help he could pull this off.
He knew they had designs for her, but time at a university could help her develop independence, and she could make her own decisions. She'd be able to choose her own lifestyle, how she wanted to live.
She would no longer need to be their pawn.
The question was, what would they do if she rejected them, after they spent so many years cultivating her? They forced her to do so much, in such a sly manner that nobody except he himself knew that anything was going on.
He knew he was probably being watched now, and, with years of practice, was able to seem tired, rather than suspicious. Her life depended on his acting, and he swore he'd protect her. Rebecca was like a daughter to him, and he wouldn't be able to bear it if anything happened to her. Especially if it'd become his fault.