Author's Note:
So, Rebecca is a genius, and poor Billy had his girlfriend die in his arms. I've been trying to explain where his character comes from. In the beginning of RE0, he's rude and cynical, and very flirtatious, but as the story goes on, he really comes to care for Rebecca. I've been thinking, and WHY would Billy want to fight his way through, and repeatedly save Rebecca, if he thought he was going to die? So I've come up with my own explanations for it, as well as his past. With Rebecca, I took the fact that she's eighteen and graduated early from her university, and turned it into a story.
Other characters will be making an appearance later, as well as major plot points from the games. Just be patient and read on :D
Reviews are appreciated, good and bad. Thanks to my lovely reviewers, you guys are too nice :)
1991
Billy had finished his basic training. He, however, wasn't needed quite yet apparently, and was on an extended vacation in his own goddamn house, the very place he had been trying to escape.
His mother was gone on another business trip. Billy had all the time and money in the world. John had invited him to a fucking party.
Billy felt so isolated, so far away from the world of college parties and drunken antics. The only reason he was fucking here was because he had nothing better to do. And he was regretting the decision more and more every minute that the music throbbed against his ears and drunken girls waved their tits around like it was some kind of show. He was pissed, he was tired, and he wanted a bottle and a shot glass, in the comfort of his own fucking home.
He remembered the last party like this. It had been Charlene Regan's sixteenth birthday. She had been on his dick then and he'd be damned if she didn't end up trying to hunt him down tonight.
This time around, he couldn't make an escape with Anna. He couldn't relive the flush of meeting her for the first time, or realizing that she was so much more than just another teenage girl.
Billy was used to be chased after by girls. He attracted them with his quietness, his sarcasm, his stature. But he could scare them away just as easily.
Anna hadn't been scared of him. But she'd never gotten on his nerves, tried to tease him and mock him and show off to him.
Christ, thinking about her, in any way, nearly killed him. It was so fucking hard to just go on with life. He knew he sounded like an idiot, a depressed and love struck one at that, but he couldn't let go.
It was unhealthy, it was wrong, it was too late, and it was his whole goddamn fault for inviting her on the fucking picnic. If he hadn't been such a little shithead, constantly needing her, she'd be alive and at this piece of shit party with him right now. He frowned, his expression black, and any partygoers nearby immediately left his vicinity. He didn't realize how frightening he looked, with his brows furrowed and his eyes dark with anger.
He massaged his temples and fought the urge to punch a wall. The noise was worse than the quiet of his thoughts. He just wanted to fucking sleep. If he was asleep, he could dream of her. Sleeping was his favorite thing to do, although it was rarely accomplished. It usually took a fifth of whiskey to manage it.
Billy lost himself in his thoughts, not paying attention to anything in particular, and had just decided to leave, when as he had fucking predicted, Charlene came prancing over to him, in a skimpy outfit with the stench of cheap beer on her.
She was braver than she'd been three years ago. She strode up and rubbed herself right up against him, her tight little body shown off artfully in her tissue-thin blouse and shorts that showed off her ass crack
She was everything Anna hadn't been. He felt another dull pang in his stomach.
Pissed, annoyed, irritated, and fucking sick of her shit, Billy dragged Charlene up to her room. Why the fuck had John invited him if it was at Charlene's house. Shit. He hadn't realized she was still set on bothering him. All he fucking wanted was to not be alone, but he hadn't counted on this shit.
"So finally gonna take up on my offer?" she flirted drunkenly. Billy was not amused. He crossed his arms in irritation.
"What the hell do you want with me?" he demanded of her, hoping for a straight answer out of her, for fucking once.
"I love that tattoo, where'd you get it," she tried to distract him. He felt another pang of fury as he thought of Anna.
He gazed at her with something akin to hatred. "Answer the question."
She was short, and thin, with an ass barely covered by shorts. She was a shallow, annoying bitch. She was hot by any standards, and by every standard she was a slut. "Billly," she elongated his name with her whiny voice. "Don't you wanna play with me?" She winked sloppily.
Christ, was she six? Billy was not amused, not aroused, and not in the mood for her drunken bullshit.
She leaned up, using his crossed arms as leverage, and planted an alcohol-reeking kiss on his bottom lip, while the other hand sank below and grabbed onto his junk.
Anger exploded in Billy's eyes. She wanted him? Well he'd show that bitch what she was asking for. She was going to get what she wanted like the spoiled rotten little brat she was.
In one fluid movement, Billy shoved her down onto the bed. She bounced backwards with a happy squeal. That almost killed any arousal he had, right then. It was difficult to stay hard when a woman acted like a twelve year old.
He took off his pants. Billy didn't usually wear boxers, and he supposed in times like these it was more convenient anyway. She looked at him, her eyes widening, mistaking his roughness with her for barely controlled lust. Victory was in her eyes, and she mistook the disgust in his eyes for his desire for her.
He kept his shirt on as he tore off her skimpy clothing. Matching bra and panty set. So she'd figured she was getting laid tonight. Bitch. He'd bet if he wasn't with her right now, she'd find someone else to mind fuck and irritate.
He stared at her naked body intrusively, not intending to take off his shirt at any point. She could reveal her whole body to him, but he sure as hell wasn't going to extend the fucking courtesy to her.
He knew she was probably intimidated by now. He was a big guy and it showed. He knew his stature was frightening, at least in his arousal. And he was more ripped than ever, with training for the Marines. His hair was growing long, and although he didn't know it, his dark blue eyes were filled with savagery.
He didn't bother to tenderly explore her body, as he had with Anna, or to gently arouse her, too slowly drive her close to the edge before he finished her. Instead, he jammed a finger inside her, testing the wetness, and when he wasn't enough, spent a moment playing with her roughly, just enough to make his entrance easier. She moaned and moved about in pleasure, but Billy was pissed, and not in the mood to hear her rutting like a dog in heat. She tried to grab his face, but he pushed her away.
Billy grabbed her wrists and held them together, and with the other hand, spread her legs as wide as they would go before viciously entering her with a force that made her buck and beg for more of him. He listened to her pleas and slammed himself in and out of her in savage rhythm, his force arousing her unintentionally, and his dark power startling her.
She moaned and writhed and bucked until finally, she came, relaxing completely.
But Billy, ever the master of self-control, wasn't done. He continued until she had come once more, before finding his own release.
He exited her, an instant before her finished, his seed spraying across her body in a final gesture of contempt. He wasn't about to risk knocking her up. God, he couldn't imagine anything worse than being stuck with her, having a kid with her.
He put on his pants and heard Charlene's surprised protest. "Where are you going?" she asked, insecurity tinting her voice. Had she assumed he'd fucking stay with her?
Billy turned to her again, feebly trying to cover herself with the blanket. "Home." He answered curtly.
"Then why—"
He smiled bitterly. "Figured you'd deserved it after waiting for so long." he knew it was cruel. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have touched her, would've been kind while rejecting her with finality. But fuck that. He was sick of being a fucking nice guy. It got him nowhere.
He walked out the door to his car, and turned on the radio, relieved. He'd been celibate since the incident, and he figured Charlene had been useful for at least one thing before he finished with her.
"Billy, that's horrible!" someone reprimanded him.
He jumped, in hope and terror. He turned about, shifting in his seat, hoping for another sound, for the person around him to say something else, anything else.
He sincerely hoped someone was there.
Because if not, Anna's voice had just spoken to him.
Rebecca was on full scholarship. She was a college girl now. Free to party and meet boys.
She snorted. She had her own dorm room because of her horrible studying habits. She'd be here for the next four years, and then onto whatever was next in the world. Career? Normal life? More school?
Mr. Johnson walked her to her dorm, carrying her baggage. Rebecca had come the day before as well to bring all of her books and studying utensils. Most importantly, she had her coffee maker.
Mr. Johnson said she was stunting her growth. She figured she'd be short anyway, so what did it matter? She needed it for her habits. It was her baby, her love, and the one thing she could count on definitely.
Rebecca was wearing her favorite outfit. It was pink shorts and a white tank top, with her favorite pink cardigan and her brand new training bra. Mr. Johnson said that Umbrella had paid for everything. She had lots of new clothes, new books, new supplies, sheets for her bed, and a regular check from them for miscellaneous. The only thing she refused to replace was her trusty coffee maker. This little guy had seen her through too much for her to want a new, fancier one. She trusted her coffee maker with her education. It was very important to her, and she wouldn't tempt fate by getting rid of a lucky item.
Every professor had received a phone call from Mr. Johnson or Miss Lily, explaining the situation. This way, embarrassment could be avoided for her when she started her classes. It was bad enough that she was young, but she was also small. She knew she'd probably get a lot of crap from other students. But Rebecca didn't care. Mr. Johnson said this was a good decision and she believed him.
On her way back to the car to grab her last bag, Rebecca accidentally crashed into a tall boy with reddish brown hair and a charming smile. "You okay sweetie?" he asked her kindly.
Rebecca remembered that nobody knew who she was here. She wasn't a genius; she was probably someone's kid sister. "I'm fine, thank you," she said shyly.
He smiled at her. "Are you someone's little sister?"
She felt a smirk cross her face. She was proud. "No."
He looked surprised. "Are you someone's cousin?"
"No. This is my new school," she answered simply.
The boy burst into laughter. "Really?" he asked her condescendingly.
Rebecca decided right then she'd rather be considered a freak than a kid.
"Rebecca!" Mr. Johnson called. "Do you have your entire luggage?"
"I'm getting the last bag now!" she called back, deciding to ignore the boy. "Can you plug in the coffee maker?"
"Rebecca, you're not going to pull another all nighter on your first day. You should get some sleep tonight." He scolded, mumbling about how she stunted her growth. "I am not going to aide your obsessive studying."
"I have to! Please?"
Rebecca didn't see the young man's jaws drop. He followed her as she walked down the hall, looking as out of place as a penguin in the jungle. "So you're a whiz kid?" he asked curiously.
She looked at the tall boy and shrugged. "I guess." He was interested in her, she figured. She guessed she was interesting enough. But interesting was often synonymous with weird. She didn't really like being interesting.
He stopped. "Well, I don't live on campus, but you'll probably be seeing me pretty often. I'm Chris Redfield."
Rebecca stopped. "I'm Rebecca Chambers. Nice to meet you." She stuck out her small hand, which he shook, his gigantic hand enveloping hers. "Where do you live?"
"With my sister, Claire, about ten minutes away from here."
Rebecca's eyes widened. "You have a sister?"
He smiled. "Yes, she's twelve years old. How old are you?"
"I'm eleven," she admitted shyly.
He looked stunned. "That's pretty phenomenal." He said as he followed her to Mr. Johnson's car. She struggled to pull the last bag, and Chris picked it up for her, asking her all sorts of questions. "So, was that your dad?"
She stiffened. "I don't have a dad." She replied curtly. "Thank you for helping me."
Changing the subject: "What's your major, Rebecca?" he asked self consciously, as if feeling awkward asking a child about such a serious decision.
"Biochemistry," she answered. "You?"
He looked stunned. "Uh, undecided," he confessed, feeling somewhat inadequate. "I might just join the Air Force before I finish school."
Rebecca laughed at him. "I'd be too scared to fly a plane," she admitted. "So high up, completely in your own control."
"You sound like the exact opposite of Claire," He smiled kindly at her. "Maybe you'd like to meet my sister sometime?" he asked in a friendly tone.
Rebecca looked about, wide eyed. Then, hesitantly: "I'd like that, Chris." She confessed. "I don't have any friends."
He mussed her short hair with his free hand. "I'll be your friend, Rebecca. And I bet Claire will be too." He assured her with a confidence belonging to a man who fully understood who he was. Rebecca felt a twinge of envy.
She led him into her dorm room. "Mr. Johnson, this is my new friend Chris!" she announced. "He says me and his sister can be friends. She's twelve."
Johnson shot a grateful look at the tall boy. "Very nice to meet you, Chris, I'm Mr. Johnson, Rebecca's tutor."
Chris set down Rebecca's bag and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Rebecca rushed over to the coffee maker and drank the beautiful ambrosia she loved so much. "You're the best, Mr. Johnson." She wrapped her arms around his waist.
Johnson patted Rebecca's head with a fondness he never showed anyone else. "I'll miss you, Rebecca," he murmured to his surrogate daughter. "So much…"
After assuring him that Rebecca was in capable hands, Chris watched Johnson leave through the window. He turned to help the girl put her sheets on her bed, feeling very much like he did with Claire.
"So tell me about yourself, Rebecca." He invited, watching her put away her things with a sense for organization that he himself lacked. She was a neat little girl, and very independent, he noticed, as she put all of her textbooks in the tiny bookcase the school provided. He read their titles and admitted to himself that he'd probably never understand half of what those texts read.
She shrugged, her little pink shoulder moving up. He smiled. She was a cute kid. "I lived in an orphanage. Mr. Johnson was my tutor. Besides being smart, I don't have anything fascinating to tell."
Chris empathized with her. "You know, me and Claire are too. Our parents a while ago."
Rebecca stopped and looked at him, surprised that something as normal seeming as Chris could have something so terrible happen to him. He had known and loved his parents: she had never met hers. His loss was far more complete than hers, for he had mourned and taken care of a sister just her age.
"I guess tragedy is everywhere." She mused quietly, putting her clothes away in drawers.
Chris noticed how plain all of her clothes were. Aside from the pink outfit she was wearing now, most of her clothes were just plain shirts and jeans, with sweatshirts and jackets hung up in the closet. It was nothing like Claire, who, up until recently, insisted on girly clothing with logos decorating them.
As Claire grew older, he found he had more in common with his young sister. She was becoming interested in motorcycles and other outdoorsy things, rather than her pre-pubescent obsession with being a princess or a fairy.
Rebecca seemed more reserved than his sister, who attacked both sides of the spectrum with eagerness. She owned blue jeans, at least twenty pairs of the same one, pajamas, and plain gray, green and light pink shirts. It seemed her interest really was in her studies. He'd never come across a kid like her.
"So, how are you gonna be eating?"
She paused. "Eating?"
He laughed at her. "Can you cook? Or will you be living off whatever stays good in the mini fridge?"
"I guess I thought I'd be eating at the cafeteria." She said slowly.
He nodded. "It can be noisy in there. Here, tell you what. If you ever get sick of eating here, give me a call and you can have dinner with me and Claire sometime." He grinned at her, friendly as ever.
She paused. She could tell his offer was genuine. But she still felt shy. "You sure I wouldn't be intruding?" she asked him quietly, wondering if she'd be imposing on him with her picky eating.
He laughed. "You don't look like you'd be hard to feed," he joked. "You're tiny!"
She snorted. "Blame the coffee. That way I can pretend it's not my fault I'm short."
He laughed at her openly, and shook her head. "It was nice to meet you, Rebecca. I've got to go get home to see Claire, but here, take my number. Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night?" he wrote the number down on a napkin and placed it on her desk. "I'd offer you tonight but I should probably clean and go grocery shopping first."
She smiled at him, big and genuine, and agreed eagerly.
Rebecca had made a friend.