Author's Note:
Well, the plot slowly but surely is going to start coming alive! We're in 1993 guys! That means there's only a few chapters left until the meeting and the incidents and the rest of the story! Just bear with me for now! It's gonna be a long fic so I don't just wanna rush into shit and make the story not worth reading.
Thanks to yingangirl and pinkalmonds, you guys are lovely.
To everyone who's alerted me and subscribed - Thanks! I hope you're enjoying this :)
1993
Billy had been promoted. Fucking lucky him. He was a Second Lieutenant now. Woohoo.
It had happened weeks ago, just off the coast of Mexico. Some idiots had bombed their fucking ship, and Billy had repeated gone through every hold and room as the ship sank, rescuing twenty men who were too dumb to do it themselves. Their 'leaders' had immediately jumped ship and swam to a safe distance.
Billy swore that he'd be a better leader than any of the selfish officers the government had given lofty ranks too. He was more than a foot soldier now. He still was a nobody, but that didn't matter to him. He now had a semblance of authority and power. And he'd use it to help dictate what he wanted to get done.
Billy was far from an idiot, and as much of an asshole he was, the cowardly behavior of his comrades had disgusted him beyond fucking belief. He swore to himself that he'd prevent that.
Anna agreed with him. Not only had she been horrified, and worried for him, she had shouted at him to get to safety the entire time he was searching the ship. But now that it was over and he was safe, she decided it had been the right thing to do. She was proud of him, she had told him.
"Despite the fact that you treat girls like shit and ignore your own mother, you're not half bad." She had teased.
He shrugged. "I have you, so I don't need anybody else," he reminded her of the promise he'd made to her, the first time he had sat at the piano with her in his arms, teaching him.
"You really should play again. You were a lot better than I was," she admitted.
"Does this mean you want me to buy a piano?" he asked dryly.
Billy didn't need alcohol to sleep anymore. He'd come to terms with Anna, and himself. He understood his circumstances were different. Maybe this happened to other people too, and they just refused to admit it.
More than that, he was grateful for whatever—or whoever—had returned Anna to him.
He'd been sober now, for six months. He treated the girls he slept with better as well. He did ignore his mother, but he loved her anyway, and they both knew it, so it didn't matter anyway. Yet Anna still claimed he was more jaded than he'd been.
"What the hell are you blathering about now, Anna?" he asked in exasperation one day as she harangued him about life in general.
"You!" she had cried out, continuing her rant. "You're so cynical now, Billy! You say you've found peace and that shit, but you just don't care about anything now! You aren't angry, or sad. You're just there!"
He rolled his eyes. "I care about you?" he asked, hoping it was the right answer, preoccupied with tying his shoe laces. He was fucking hungry: maybe he'd go to a restaurant. Or maybe he'd go grocery shopping. Anna always had fits of delight when he bothered to cook, although his skill didn't progress much beyond frozen pizzas and bland cooked chicken.
He could practically feel her wriggling around in bouts of frustration. He kept becoming more and more aware of her moods and 'movements'.
"Wrong!" she crowed, loving to correct him. "Billy, I'm the voice in your head. You need to care about stuff you can see and touch. Why don't you get a girlfriend or something?"
He froze. "No," he snarled out, the words coming out more harshly than he'd intended.
He knew that if she'd been standing in front of him, she'd roll her eyes, with that stupid exaggerated gesture, rolling her neck in the same movement. "Billy! Help me out here!" she complained.
Billy decided what he'd do, something to make her shut up about him for the rest of the day. He ignored her as he jogged down the road, until he reached the shoddy little cabin that served as a church. He opened the double doors, the most extravagant feature in the whole building, and awkwardly blessed himself at the little font next to the door.
Billy had never been particularly religious, although Anna had been devoutly adamant that God existed and all that crap.
It was in the middle of a sermon. The small church was crowded with people, so Billy stayed in the back, a bystander. He watched in fascination as people sang in unison to piano music, and children in matching outfits sang the choir, and as the bald priest at the front, behind the altar, lifted a fancy gold glass and a piece of round, flat bread, blessing it and feeding everyone.
Billy didn't go up to eat. But he watched as everyone else did, their faces pictures of boredom, exaltation, and relief. He didn't quite understand it. But it was new and interesting. He left after a few minutes and questioned Anna: "So what was all that about?"
Eagerly she began explaining. "That was a Roman Catholic church that you went to. The body and the blood of Christ were transformed from the bread and wine, and a piece of the bread and sip of the wine is called Communion. It relieves us of sins."
Billy was fascinated. Transformations?
He abruptly turned around in his tracks, forgetting his hunger. Cars were leaving the tiny parking lot, kids riding bicycles home, and adults were walking and talking. He opened the doors and began his search for the priest.
"Ah, hello son. What can I do for you?" the man asked, his elderly face lined with kindness. Billy was a little in awe of this man.
"I was just wondering—" he felt somewhat self conscious, in all honestly. "Your church—it believes in Jesus coming back from the dead?"
The man nodded, pleased to have a possible convert. "In a way, dear boy. We believe he rose from the dead to open the gates of Heaven for all of us mortals."
Billy nodded. "Do you really believe that? Literally?"
The man nodded. "Indeed we do. It's a major part of our doctrine."
Billy pursed his lips, unable to think of a way to couch his question. So he just blurted it out. "Can other people return from the dead?" he asked out in a rush.
The man looked curious, and led him to a back room with two dusty couches and dozens of holy things Billy didn't recognize. "Tell me of your questions," the priest asked quietly.
Billy immediately began, the words spilling from his mouth. "My girlfriend—a girl I would've loved to marry, died a few years ago… and now I hear her voice. I know it's real. I thought I was crazy. But she's there, really there in my head." He didn't feel any hurt any longer, because she was there with him, encouraging him. "Is it an act of God?" he felt strange, saying those words. As if they confirmed his belief in the unknown, the possibly imaginary.
The priest eyed him carefully. Was he judging Billy's plight? But his answer was filled with kindness. "I do believe, if someone is loved enough, then God will not tear them away."
It was all the reassurance Billy needed. Ecstatic, he jumped up. "Thank you, sir." He shook the man's hand gratefully.
The old priest smiled as Billy Coen, a formidable figure, walked away, bouncing on his heel, an enormous grin on his face.
Billy went out for Chinese food. He grabbed the takeout, leaving a twenty dollar tip for the tiny little hostess and when he got home, he tore into the meal, elation tempting his hunger even more. He taught himself to eat with the chopsticks, although Anna scolded him for spilling noodles all over the kitchen floor, accidentally knocking over his rice all over his clothes, until he cleaned it up and refrigerated the leftovers.
Filled with energy, Billy decided to go running.
It was still hot, although noon had long passed. Billy couldn't contain himself as he sped forward, letting Anna talk, just feeling refreshed and happy, more euphoric than he'd felt in months. He ran until the sun set, and as darkness crept over the sky, the eastern stars twinkling and the western sky an explosion of color. God, the scenery felt like something out of a corny movie, but it only added to Billy's joy of this moment, of every moment.
Billy kept running until thirst completely overcame him. He collapsed in the grass of the park, several miles from his house. He sucked in a breath, his chest rising and falling deeply and rapidly.
And for the first time, Billy began to laugh. It was a gasping, rasping, terrible sound, which completely carried his absolute pleasure. He was not scoffing at something, or snorting, or chuckling darkly, his humor unappeased. He was laughing, with complete peace, gasping for air, his throat dry.
God had given him Anna back, and he was sure as hell gonna keep her.
Rebecca was extremely uncomfortable.
Jacob had called her two days ago, at Claire's house, and asked her out on a real live date.
She had several classes right now, but he'd been insistent. She finally agreed, with Claire squealing in her ear.
Chris had heard about it, and promised Rebecca to kick the kid's ass if he bothered her. She had smiled at him gratefully. Chris had a temper, and was very protective, but she knew he was only joking to help her feel better. Or at least, she hoped so.
Chris Redfield had shown himself to be a wonderful guardian. Rebecca was a junior in college now, but Chris still insisted on her coming over as often as possible, spending time with the girls, making their dinners, playing games with them, and bought the kind of pads that Rebecca and Claire liked to use, no questions asked.
Claire had grown into a gorgeous girl, fourteen years old and vivacious, with her very own boyfriend named Shaun. Chris hated him.
Once, Rebecca had gone over to eat dinner with Chris while Claire was on a date with Shaun, and Chris had spotted them kissing. It made Rebecca laugh until her stomach hurt to see the three of their faces: Chris', the picture of ultimate betrayal, Claire's, a portrait of embarrassment and fury, and Shaun's face held total terror of Chris.
It was the funniest thing Rebecca had ever seen.
But now, it didn't seem so funny. She had picked her prettiest clothes and gone over to Claire's. Jacob didn't really know much about Rebecca. She always avoided the subject when he asked her what school she went to, or where she lived. She just told him to call her or pick her up at Claire's since she was always there.
The only time she was at her own dorm was when she needed to study without any distractions, or when she wanted to call Mr. Johnson.
She missed him still. Even with Claire and Chris, she still missed him beyond belief. Claire had other friends, and Chris had a whole life besides her and Claire, but Rebecca only had them and Mr. Johnson. Her professors were impartial. Aside from the first shock at seeing a little girl walk into their classrooms, and understanding the material immediately, even already knowing some of it, they mostly ignored her, to avoid favoritism. Her classmates and peers mostly did the same. Besides one or two people who had been friendly, Rebecca was whispered about, the child prodigy, the freak.
She told him all about her life, every detail, including the date she was about to go on. He was supportive, protective, and in every aspect her guardian. Truthfully, she rarely saw him: but the reunions were always joyful.
He spoke often of retiring, of going off to live in peace, but Rebecca never believed him. He couldn't retire on her, she needed him.
But she was interrupted from her thoughts by Claire poking her in the eye with the stick of eyeliner. "Ouch!" Rebecca nearly toppled over, trying to get away from the evil torture device. "Why do I even need to wear that? Jacob thinks I'm pretty, if he wanted to ask me on a date. He won't recognize me with all the clown makeup caked on me!" Rebecca grumbled, looking in the mirror.
Claire scoffed. "You don't always have to wear it, just on fancy dates. He's taking you to dinner. That's fancy."
"McDonalds isn't fancy," Rebecca answered drily.
Claire smacked her. "Shut up, you're going to have a wonderful time and you know it, so stop being such a party pooper," she teased, pulling Rebecca forward to curl her eyelashes.
Although Rebecca doubted that McDonalds was her destination, she really wasn't looking forward to tonight. She'd rather study for her courses. She really needed too. This distraction wasn't going to help her grades. And honestly, she didn't really want to spend time with a boy who didn't know anything about her. He'd probably make assumptions, do something stupid to annoy her, or try to kiss her. She was beyond nervous, worried, and somewhat irritated at herself for agreeing to this. He'd probably expect a second date, and she'd be wasting more time with someone she wanted as a friend, not a boyfriend. She wast ready: she was too busy.
And this makeup was giving her a headache. Her face felt weird and different, like it was made of plastic. The eyeliner coated around her eyes was done expertly, although Rebecca had no idea how, since Claire herself rarely wore the stuff. But the ring of brown-black around her eyes, topped off with curly eyelashes covered in an inky mascara, made blinking a foreign process.
And how was she going to eat with the Chap Stick Claire had put on her lips to tint them? She'd end up getting the greasy stuff all over her food and make it taste awful. And blush, foundation, eye shadow: she felt like a clown.
The doorbell rang and Rebecca forgot to look in the mirror. She didn't know if she looked pretty or ridiculous, but with Chris and Jacob gazing at her when she and Claire walked into the room made her sense ridiculous. She privately reminded herself to ream Claire out for the makeup ideas, when Chris cleared his throat. "Very pretty, Becca, now uh, you guys have a good time. Are you coming back here tonight, Rebecca?"
She shook her head. "Tomorrow. I need to study, and I have a class first thing in the morning that I have to make."
She wondered belatedly if Jacob was going to insist on walking her 'home'. How would she refuse?
Actually, it might be a good way to scare him off so she wouldn't have to worry about him.
"So," Rebecca asked nervously. "Where are we going?"
He smiled at her. She realized that he had grown taller. He topped her by a good four inches. His hair was still dark and curly, in a mop on the top of his head. He was wearing pressed jeans, clean sneakers, and a striped collared shirt, white and blue. "We're going to Café Gray," he said, referring to the somewhat classier than a diner restaurant about a fifteen minute walk away. She nodded.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, with Rebecca feeling awkward and ridiculous. Her jeans fit snugly and she wore a pair of sandals and a V-neck shirt that Claire insisted she wear. Rebecca thought the choice was ridiculous. The green-gray shirt was supposed to stretch over her breasts, but since Rebecca lacked a large amount of cleavage – or any, for that matter—, the gesture was lost.
"So, why did you finally agree to come on a date with me?" Jacob asked with a lopsided smile.
Rebecca shrugged, feeling as if any efforts at a conversation would fail miserably. Yet she tried anyway.
"I guess to get you to shut up," she tried to tease, hoping she didn't sound too deadpan- or honest.
He smiled. "It won't work. If this goes great, I plan on several more dates," he answered her joke with a statement that not only showed her his intentions, but made her internally groan. "But tell me about yourself, Becca. I don't know anything about you. You always change the subject."
Rebecca had been skirting the subject on purpose, obviously, but apparently he didn't realize it. Rebecca was used to people around her being extremely intelligent, perceptive, and mature. Jacob was in high school. She wasn't used to any boys her age, besides Kyle.
The thought came with a reminiscent twang. She rarely thought of him, trying to get past the memories, and into a new life, one where she could forge her own path. But Kyle… the little shit. He had been a liar, a prankster, and a tattle tale, and was the only boy even remotely close to her age that she had ever been friends with.
Where had he even gone off to? He and Lindsey had both disappeared without a trace. At the time, Rebecca had accepted it, but now, it really was somewhat suspicious…
"Rebecca? Does the quiet mean you're not gonna tell me?" Jacob joked.
Rebecca sensed suddenly that he was just as nervous as she. "I'm sorry, K—Jacob," she apologized, pasting on a smile. "I just was thinking. Uh, it's kind of a long story to tell," she confessed.
He grinned. "We have plenty of time. At least we won't run out of conversation."
Rebecca wasn't used to talking about herself, and it was a strange experience, sharing it with someone. She wasn't one for self pity either, yet as she began her tale she realized how pitiful she had once been.
"Well, I'm an orphan," she confessed right off the bat. "It's really the thing you need to know about. I don't know who my dad is, or anything about him. My mom was sixteen, and apparently was going to keep me, until she died… in childbirth."
Rebecca felt a wash of guilt at the admission, remembering how she had felt when Johnson had first told her. She had and still did blame herself.
Jacob nodded understandingly. "So how do you know Claire?" he asked, fascinated by her story.
Rebecca had never felt so interesting in her life. "Well, I suppose because, when I was eight, I had to go through a series of tests. I didn't know why at the time, but later, I found out that they were testing my intelligence. I'm a genius." She felt conceited saying that, as if she were bragging instead of stating a fact of her life, one that had driven her to where she was now.
He looked surprised. "Continue," he said.
As they walked into the café, the hostess seated them. Rebecca ordered water, whereas Jacob ordered a 7Up. The glasses were cold and perspiring, and the lights were dim, with music playing, and plenty of others in the restaurant.
"Well, after about three years of nonstop studying and working and testing, this company gave me a grant, and I gained a scholarship…" she hesitated to continue, knowing he'd brand her a freak if she continued.
He looked avidly interested. As the waitress came, she paused her story to read the menu.
"I'll get the hamburger," Jacob said plainly.
Rebecca scanned the menu. She hated eating unhealthily, although vegetables weren't on her list of favorite things. "I'll get the salmon please?" she asked the waitress shyly. "No sauce, thanks."
The bodacious, redheaded waitress smiled. "Sure thing. That'll just be a few minutes you two."
As soon as she walked always, Jacob leaned on his elbows across the table and requested for Rebecca to continue.
She felt awkward. "With the grant and the scholarship, I got my own room at Racoon University," she held her breath, waiting for him to scoff.
But he didn't. Surprised, he counted years, slowly. "So you're a junior in college?" he asked her, eyes wide.
She nodded tightly, waiting for his condemnation. But it never came. "Then what?" he asked eagerly.
She explained Mr. Johnson, and her feelings of fright, the coffeemaker, meeting Chris, then Claire, and how they both befriended her. "They're my best friends in the world, the both of them. I don't know where I'd be right now, without either of them. My studying habits were always bad, but now I have friends and a home cooked meal whenever I want it. I only pull about two all-nighters a week. Whenever I'm at Claire's, Chris makes us go to bed early. But then we wake up early, so it doesn't matter."
He looked at her strangely. "Is it hard? Being in college I mean. I know I'm worried about it, and I'm in highschool."
She nodded. "My major is biochemistry, so there's a lot of math and sciences. I hate math, honestly. I guess I'm good at it, but it's not my favorite thing."
He laughed. "I'm a math whiz. You're probably much better than me, but the math I know now, I like. I'm taking two algebra classes this year."
"It must be nice having summers off," Rebecca commented enviously. "I just go whenever my classes start. I've had the same dorm room since the beginning. I'm not in a sorority, obviously, being the school freak, but it'd be nice to have a whole three months to do nothing."
"You're different, Becca." Jacob said suddenly, thanking the waitress as she brought their food out. He immediately dug in. But Rebecca appreciated him not speaking with his mouth filled with food. It was disgusting.
"What do you mean?" she asked, wondering what he meant. She knew she was, but it wasn't always a good thing. She cut up her fish before taking small bites. The plate was decorated with little pieces of lettuce.
He swallowed and sipped his soda before answering. "I mean, you're different. You know you are too, I guess. You're a lot smarter than me. But I guess I mean that you're… other girls like to be cute, or loud, I guess. You… I don't even know how to describe it. You're tough, Bec. You've gone through so much, you're a junior in college, but… I guess I mean that I like you. A lot."
Rebecca felt a tremor run through her, and didn't know if it was nervousness or excitement. She really couldn't tell.
As they finished, he paid the bill, and Rebecca realized how short their time together had been. He walked her slowly. "Do you want me to walk through your dorm?"
She smiled. "No, you'd probably get beat up by some drunk frat boys. They know me, so I'll be fine. But… I wasn't expecting to have a good time tonight, Jake." She admitted with a small smile.
Jacob looked at Rebecca, watching her little mannerisms and her facial expressions. He thought she was beautiful and tiny, like a doll, with perfect peachy cheeks and wide, enormous eyes, dominating her face.
He answered: "I'm really glad… I'd like to see you again sometime?" he asked, his heart in his throat.
Rebecca smiled at him. "Sure… just call me at Claire's."
Jacob placed a hand on her shoulder, and wrapped the other one around her waist, pulling her close to him. He kissed her.
Her first kiss wasn't that bad, Rebecca reasoned. Kind of slippery and too close, but the softness of his lips and shyness of his action made her feel better.
He released her, and Rebecca smiled at him. In unison, they both wiped their mouths with the back of their hands and laughed together.
"I guess we need more practice," Jacob shrugged abashedly. "I'll call you sometime, Rebecca."
She nodded at him, smiling, not so afraid of the future anymore.