Author's Note:
Poor Rebecca. Between puberty and school and life and Umbrella and the orphanage, she's gonna have a rough time of it.
Billy's such an asshole! It even shocks me. But he's trying, I promise! He's just a little fucked up. He's REALLY having a rough time of it.
They're tortured souls, what can I say? It sucks that after all their normal hell, they have to go through the events in RE0. But hey, maybe normal people wouldn't be tough enough to deal with zombies and leeches and Spencer and the T-virus.
Another year, my friends! We've gone through the July 24 of 1988, 1989, 1990, 1991, and now for the events of July 24, 1992! Woooo what's happening.
Thanks to my lovely reviews, yingyangirl, and especially pinkalmonds, for her detail and kindness, and helpful tips.:D
1992
Billy smashed his fist into the wall. He was a fucking idiot. He'd tried therapy, ignoring it, throwing himself into work, hoping for something, anything to distract him.
He couldn't stand hearing her voice in his head, all the fucking time. He'd been sent out to handle crisis with Mexico, Japan, and even China, as a fucking foot soldier, useless. But he still couldn't drop it. He couldn't forget her. Christ, he tried. He couldn't understand why.
He was fucking sick of this shit, unable to forget about her.
God, she haunted him.
He hadn't gone to her funeral. He regretted it, now that he wasn't insane with grief. He'd never even met her fucking parents. He'd loved her more than anyone and he'd never met her mother, never been subtly threatened by her father. Nothing had been normal about their relationship, fucking ever.
Billy hadn't been on his best behavior. He'd fucked girls, any who'd have him. He'd honed his skills in the bedroom with plenty of practice and willing girls. He'd picked up smoking, drinking, and basically hiding in his fucking room like a pansy. Whenever he wasn't on duty, he was home, with a bottle of cheap vodka and her voice running through his head, lecturing him as she would've done in life.
She fucking spoke to him. She reprimanded him, argued with his decisions, warned him about shit. Christ it was like having a talking conscience, a psychic one.
He was psychotic. He thought about her every day, every fucking day. Whenever he had sex, when he came it was all he could do to keep from moaning her name when he finished. She was dead, goddamnit. She wasn't coming back, no matter how hard he wished it.
It was maybe a good thing, then. He was a changed man. His former arrogance and assholery had changed into something more intense. He was an angry guy, intimidating, frightening. He had been moving up in the ranks of the Marines quickly, because he was dedicated, devoted, single minded. Because anything was better than the bittersweet torture of listening to her speak.
Jesus Christ, he needed her to be his conscience, the way he acted. He fucked women and left. He hadn't slept in a woman's arms since she died. He was a bastard. A cold hearted bastard.
He had girls almost every night. He never bothered to do it himself anymore. He hadn't whacked it since she died. For the first year, he'd been celibate. Then after fucking Charlene, he decided he could use women, easily. They could do his job for him.
Doing it alone would feel unbearably lonely.
"You're such a jerk, Billy." He heard a voice in his head sigh. "I suppose it's my fault."
He ignored the ramblings in his head. Maybe then they'd go away. He took a gulp from the bottle, hoping it'd act as an anesthetic.
While ignoring it, he secretly hoped the voice would start bitching again. Anything to hear her voice. Even if it meant he was crazy. God, what did he want? He was contradicting himself.
He finished the bottle, disappointed by the silence.
When he was the loneliest, he slept in his grandparent's bed, like a little kid scared of a storm. He didn't cry. He hadn't in years. He just felt dull, empty, but heavy. His whole fucking life was a contradiction now. He couldn't make his mind up about anything.
He cuddled up in the bed, waiting for the voice to coo him to sleep. He forced himself to stay awake until she gave in.
"Alright, Billy," Anna sighed in his head. He rolled over with contentment, waiting patiently for more. He was a sick asshole. "You always do get what you want, you spoiled bastard. You know I love you, Billy. So much. Please stop hurting, Billy, I hate to see you like this."
He thought back: "No, talk about happy things," he commanded her. He didn't need her to be as fucked up as he was. He never wished to cause her distress, in any way.
He could almost see her rolling her eyes. God, he missed her. "It's not healthy, Billy."
"You're the one in my head. If it's not healthy, get out." he bluffed.
He heard resignation in her voice when she began. "The day I realized I was in love with you was April… an April morning. You stopped by before work and woke me up, just because. I remember how great it felt to wake up in your arms, even though I pretended to be annoyed. I felt this sort of swelling feeling in my heart, just looking at you, Billy, and I realized that I loved you more than any words could describe…" she trailed off as Billy fell asleep gently, his masculinity and mass belying the feelings beneath the surface.
"I love you Billy… I'm so sorry I'm doing this to you…"
Billy, fast asleep, wrapped in his grandparents sheets, unknowingly dripped tears onto the pillow. One, two, three, dripping down his cheeks, as his memories reshaped into his dreams, where he could pretend that everything was as it once had been.
Rebecca had spent the night at the Redfield house with Claire and Chris. Like he had predicted, Chris had indeed dropped out of school, joining the Air Force, which had done a lot to ease their finances.
Claire and Rebecca often spent time together. They had become nearly inseparable, doing everything together, except school.
At thirteen, Claire was in middle school. Although Rebecca was the genius, Claire was the adventurous one that often got them into trouble, and allowed them to have more fun. At school, nobody chastised Rebecca, or worried about her. Her grades were excellent, so she continued to get her checks from Umbrella, and phone calls from Mr. Johnson. Chris was the main authority figure in her life. He scolded her when she stayed up late, made her eat vegetables, and kept an eye on her in general, treating her like his own sister. She was incredibly grateful for his hospitality, his kindness, and his friendship. The two Redfields were the most important people in her life.
Since she had lost Lindsey and Kyle, she cherished these two more than anything.
Claire even spent time at Rebecca's dorm, although whenever she didn't have courses, she spent all her time at the Redfield's house, taking blessed breaks from studying. She had never been able to do that before.
"Guys, get up!" Chris yelled to them. "I'm going to work, so you better get your asses up!"
Rebecca groaned and padded downstairs for her coffee. Chris rolled his eyes. "You're stunting your growth," he commented.
"So I've heard," she answered wryly. Claire stumbled down the steps and rubbed her eyes. "Did you get milk?"
"No, eat oatmeal."
"Chriiiss…."
"It's better for you, kiddo. I'll get some tonight, okay? Rebecca, you staying the night?"
She swallowed quickly, burning her throat. "Probably. Me and Claire might go back to my dorm so I can pick up some stuff."
He nodded. "Be careful. See you later, you two." And with that, Chris was gone.
Rebecca looked at the door that had just closed. "You're so lucky to have a big brother like him."
"What makes you say that? Got a crush on him?" Claire teased her.
Rebecca went red. "No!" she denied. "I just mean he's always here for us. I like that about him. I'm not even his sister and he's so nice to me."
Claire looked thoughtful. "Well, he's kind of annoying and bossy, but you're right. He was always there when our parents died. He was mean to me before that. Now we're really close."
Rebecca nodded. "When I met him, he was so nice to me. Nobody's ever been so kind to me, just because. People always have motives around me. Except you guys."
"Hey, best friends don't need motives," Claire shrugged with a grin. "What do you need to get at your dorm?"
"A change of clothes." Rebecca answered. She currently had no courses. One had ended last week, and the next would start in two more weeks. She felt more relaxed than ever before. She had never had a whole three weeks to do nothing before, and it was wonderful.
Claire shrugged. "Just wear mine. Hey, do you wanna go to the park?"
Rebecca nodded. "Sure," she answered, going upstairs to change. Claire was taller than her, but not thicker than her, so all of her clothes fit her frame, but then her shirt went past her butt and the shorts went to her knees. It was so odd looking. Rebecca gained endless amusement from it.
Claire grinned as Rebecca came back down.
Rebecca looked at herself in the mirror hopelessly. She was ninety pounds, five feet tall, and her curves were near nonexistent. She was a 32A, and although she had a tiny waist, it was due to her naturally slender body, not any gifts of womanliness.
Claire however, wore a B cup, and had the biggest butt Rebecca had ever seen. It made her incredibly envious of her friend. Claire was beautiful, and Rebecca knew it. She had enormous blue eyes and her brown hair glowed red with light. She was slender and strong, and as Chris progressed in his career with the Air Force, he taught them cool tricks: like how to punch and kick and flip. Claire and Rebecca practiced on each other, although Claire was definitely better at it.
Rebecca wasn't as fast, or strong, or as willing to fight as Claire. But Chris had let them use a gun in the backyard to shot at targets. Rebecca had great aim, so she excelled at this.
The two set off, basking in the summer sun on their way to the park. But the second they got there, Claire pulled on Rebecca's arm. "Look, I know those two!" she said excitedly. "That's Eric and Jacob, I know them from school." She dragged Rebecca over.
One of them, the taller one, smiled. "Claire!" he grinned at her. The other one smiled at Rebecca shyly, and she returned his smile.
"Who's your friend?" he asked.
Claire introduced her with a friendly ease Rebecca wished she had. "This is Rebecca. Rebecca, this is Eric," she gestured at the taller boy. "And Jacob."
Eric grinned at her, but seemed more preoccupied with talking to Claire. Jacob smiled at her awkwardly. "Nice to meet you," he said briefly.
She nodded gratefully at him: she was cripplingly shy. "You too." She answered quietly.
Trying to make conversation, he desperately latched on to anything. "So… nice weather, right?" he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.
Rebecca eyed him before she burst into laughter. "The weather?" she questioned incredulously, giggling. "Couldn't you think of anything else but the weather?" What a cliché.
He shook his head, grinning shamefully. "No… I really couldn't." he laughed. "You try to think of something!"
She searched her mind. "Uh, your hair is longer than mine," she pointed out.
Jacob reached up and felt his long, curly mane of dark hair with a self conscious laugh. "I guess I look like a poodle."
"You guess?" Rebecca teased. It was nice speaking to someone shyer than she. It was rare to meet someone like that, and refreshing to be able to be the instigator in a situation. She felt her confidence boost immediately.
He grinned. "Hey, don't talk to me about hair. You're close to bald," he teased back.
She pretended offense. "That's rude. What if I cried right here. That's insulting. How would you handle a crying girl?"
He smiled, and Rebecca thought he looked cute like that, a smirk plastered across his face. "You wouldn't dare cry," he predicted.
"And why not?" she mocked, hands on her hips. "Do I look too tough for that?"
He snorted. "Definitely not."
"Then why?" she teased, not at all offended. She knew she wasn't tough looking by any standards.
"Because you know you don't look tough. You can't act like a baby, too!" he said knowledgably.
She opened her mouth, unable to think of a response. "That's so rude!" she protested.
He nodded. "But it's true," he answered, preoccupied.
Jacob was all too aware of how not babyish Rebecca looked. Growing up, although she was small, she was pretty, with a gentle smile and kind disposition.
Rebecca had her first admirer.
Billy woke up, feeling strangely peaceful. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. He stretched out luxuriously, smiling to himself.
"Were you giving me those dreams?" he asked aloud, thinking of the wonder montage of memories that had been his dream. Things he had begun to forget, like the shadows her lashes cast upon her cheeks in the midday sun, had been vividly painted in his dreams, so he fully remembered everything. God, he loved her. It was the little things.
"Well, I knew you wouldn't be able to do it yourself," Anna replied primly, and he smothered a laugh of happiness at her words. He'd been honing his ability to actually speak to her, instead of just listening.
"God, I love you. I always did." Billy replied. Right now, he didn't feel upset, or sad, or even angry. It was like having her with him. He didn't mind if he was insane. Speaking to her was a gift.
The voice was sad when she replied. "I know, Billy. I know you're guilty for never saying it. But I knew."
At her words, a small measure of guilt was assuaged from his chest. He remembered her, and the way she blinked at him when he surprised her, or raised both her eyebrows when he was being an ass. He remembered how long and soft her hair had felt, spread across his chest, shining like gold.
"Billy, go out and do something. I'm sick of you moping around the house."
He snorted. "And what do you want me to do, sweetheart?" he asked dryly.
"I don't care. Anything. Go grocery shopping if you're desperate. Which you are. There's nothing but alcohol in your fridge. I doubt your mother would approve."
"She's long gone. She won't be back until I'm gone." Billy scoffed, having no desire to move from the bed.
"You're not even twenty one. I have no idea how you manage to get all of your drinks." Anna scolded him.
He rolled his eyes. "You know I always get my way, Anna," he grinned, reminding her.
"Of course I do. You're a bastard, Billy. Now get up and make a home cooked meal. I'll help you."
Billy groaned. "Is this part of your plan to civilize me?"
"Yes. I taught you piano, now I'm teaching you to cook. Next on my list will be cleaning and getting you to quit smoking."
He shrugged. "I'll quit for you. Cleaning, I can handle. But I have no luck with the kitchen."
"I know! Go get a haircut. You look like a criminal."
Billy smirked. "I'll just grab a pair of scissors and do it myself," he shrugged and got up.
"Just kidding, don't do it!" Anna shouted. He laughed out loud at that.
Then he realized he really was insane. He was talking to Anna. How could this be real? How was this anything beyond his imagination? Maybe the accident had really pushed him off the deep end.
He couldn't bear it that was true. Despite his rough exterior, he was a crazy, sappy man on the inside and he couldn't stand it. He needed to be strong.
He ignored Anna and took the pair of scissors in the bathroom, slicing his hair. He'd probably have to shave it before going back to the Marines anyway. She groaned and whined inside of his head.
She had to be real. Her opinions were the same as they had ever been, disagreeing with him and arguing with him and bossing him around. How could it not be real?
Had he simply memorized every pattern of her personality? Or was something else, more mysterious, enigmatic occurring within his mind?
Or again, maybe he was insane.
Most people wouldn't be surprised. Maybe he should get himself checked out, go to some shrink or something.
It wouldn't hurt. Anna hadn't left yet, and he doubted she would if he went to a doctor. She'd probably get offended though. He shrugged. He'd pissed her off before. But he needed to know if he was clinging to her or if she was to him.
All he wanted to know was the truth.
Claire and Rebecca waved goodbye to the two boys, walking back towards Claire's house. As soon as they were out of earshot, she rounded on Rebecca, a delighted smirk on her face. "He totally likes you!" Claire announced gleefully.
Rebecca went red. "No, we were just talking Claire!" she blushed.
Claire shook her head knowingly. "He thinks you're cute!"
Her face felt flaming hot. She turned away from Claire, flushing all over her face. Claire laughed at her discomfort. "He's cute!" she teased.
Rebecca shook her head, with an embarrassed laugh. "What does that have to do with me?"
Claire sighed. "So! He's cute!"
"Have you ever kissed a boy?" Rebecca asked curiously, wondering why Claire was so set on her idea.
Claire shrugged. "Once."
"What was it like?" Rebecca asked, eyes wide.
"It was kind of slobbery," Claire admitted with a mischievous grin. "It's not like when I kiss Chris good night, that's for sure. It was kind of gross."
"I've never kissed anyone," Rebecca confessed. "Mr. Johnson, my tutor, wasn't real overly affectionate all the time."
"You've never even kissed anybody good night?" Claire asked, surprised. She once had parents to love her and tell her stories at night.
Rebecca had always been tucked in by an impartial staff member, until she was about nine, when she started doing her all nighters. She shrugged, a little sadly. "Nobody."
Claire looked decisive. "Then I guess you can kiss Jacob!" she was gleeful.
Rebecca shrugged again. "I don't think I'd know how."
Claire looked thoughtful. "When I kiss Chris, I make my lips all hard and puckered and when I stop, his cheek makes a smacking noise. When I kissed a boy, my lips stayed soft. So I don't know, really." She confessed.
"If you don't like it, why do you want me to do it?" Rebecca demanded indignantly.
Claire rolled her eyes. "You can't knock it before you try it," she insisted.
Rebecca groaned. "No way!"
Rebecca was frightened. She had never kissed anyone before. She didn't know how to do it properly, and how embarrassing would it be if she tried to kiss someone and she did it wrong? She was used to knowing things, to being the smart one or wise one. Being wrong scared her. The unknown scared her.
She was frightened to try new things because she was terrified of messing up, of making a mistake, of being wrong and embarrassing herself. She was reserved by nature, and risk taking was not one of her most prominent personality traits.
She listened to Claire, nodding and 'mhm'ing at appropriate points, but in reality, she was thinking, feeling a pit of dread in her stomach. She wasn't ready to grow up. She was scared already, even in the comfort of Claire's presence.
She wasn't used to feeling scared, and hated the feeling of it.