Author's Note:

When Billy yells "WAUGH!" it makes me laugh SO hard. I don't know if he does it in Umbrella Chronicles, but if you play RE0, and Rebecca gets hurt, you'll hear her cry out or go "Ouch!" all perkily. She can get hit like 3 times and she's done. But Billy the Human Tank can get hit ten times, but if he's "Fine" and he gets hit once, he goes "WAUGH!" and it's SO funny because he's such a macho, manly guy, and he FREAKS OUT whenever he gets hit.

Feel free to correct any abnormalities you noticed like "When the hell did they get this/see this/say that?" Because since it's kinda AU, it's hard to get everything exact, so if they do something that seems totally random, let me know so I can fix it! Please:D

Thanks so much for all the reviews guys, you're the best!

Hole in the wall

Rebecca watched as Billy lead the way down the dark corridor, his enormous shotgun cradled in his hands, ready to face anything. Rebecca watched the rear, making sure nothing snuck up behind them. It was silent, except for their footsteps, the light pitter-patter of Rebecca shoes, and the heavy clomp-clomp of Billy's larger ones.

Soon, their steps were in sync. She was wary: you could never guess what might be down here. Her gun trembled in her hands. She thought back to her training with Barry and Joseph, the newest Alpha member. Barry had trained her for months on how to walk with her gun in a dangerous situation. She kept it elevated and stepped forward carefully but steadily. Ahead of her, Billy ignored any protocol he might've learned in the Marines and just walked, holding the gun out in front of him, ready to shoot anything.

The corridor ended when they reached an enormous room: it looked like the main room of a mansion, with winding staircases and dozens of doors. Ahead of them was an old, torn apart looking picture. Drawn to it, Rebecca walked up to it and stared at the picture.

"Billy," she said hesitantly. "Doesn't this look like—"

"That leech zombie?" he finished. "Yeah. Fucking creepy if you ask me." He looked away from the portrait and sucked in a breath. "The Umbrella research center?" he demanded angrily.

Rebecca read the dusty name at the top of the portrait. "This says—Doctor… something." She reached up to try and dust it off, but couldn't reach the top.

Billy stood over her and read it to her. "James Marcus. The first general manager…"

Rebecca turned away and was shocked out of her wits when an intercom voice spoke out suddenly, imperiously:

"This is Dr. James Marcus!" the voice proclaimed, its tone unforgiving. "Please be silent as we reflect upon our company motto; Obedience breeds discipline; discipline breeds unity; unity breeds power…

"Power, is life."

Rebecca fought a shiver of dread. Who had set off that announcement?

"They're really into breeding superiority," Billy's disgusted voice broke through her chills.

She shook her head. "We've got to keep going. Maybe we can find information about all this."

Billy picked up a piece of paper shoved into the corner of the portrait. "These are… notes?"

Rebecca grabbed them and read it, reading aloud to Billy.

The paper explained everything. "The things here… they were researchers. This is a training facility for Umbrella, where they used something called the mother virus, to create the T-Virus. It can infect any living thing…" she was horrified. "This means they did this on purpose!"

She would need to tell her team about all of this. She couldn't even imagine what this kind of information could do. If all of these creatures had once been people, then that meant dozens after dozens of people had been killed.

By what?

By… Umbrella?

The same place that had taken care of her? The orphanage that had raised her, the company that had sponsored her?

The company that had been training her to work for them since the very beginning?

Who had adopted Kyle and Lindsey, all those years ago? They had disappeared without a trace, without a goodbye, within months of each other…

Around the same time as Johnson's depression.

She remembered clearly how nihilistic he had become in the weeks before Lindsey's adoption. How he had moped around and talked to himself, and been under so much stress. She had attributed it to his working all the time… and maybe she was more correct than she thought.

If Johnson worked for Umbrella… what if he had done something to upset them? What if he had disobeyed them: would they punish him so viciously as to take his students?

Her friends?

No, she was overreacting. This was her being slowly driven insane by monsters. Kyle and Lindsey were adopted, she didn't notice because she was young, yes, it had nothing to do with Johnson, it wasn't anything she did, Umbrella—

But if Umbrella had a hand in this, who knew what they were capable of?

"Rebecca!" Billy shook her, a worried look on his face. "I said, are you feeling alright? Not going catatonic on me, are you?"

She shook herself, trying to clear her head. She noticed that the gun in her hands was shaking. She was trembling like a child in a thunderstorm.

"Of course I'm fine!" she rejoined, her voice too high, too cheery. "Don't be silly!"

Billy looked at her with an unreadable expression. He probably thought she was crazy. She probably was.

"If you're sure…" was all he said. He turned away from her and began to walk up a flight of stairs. Rebecca quickly followed him, her mind preoccupied.

As they wandered about, they eventually came to another promising-looking door. Billy shook the handle and swore. "Fucking locked."

Rebecca looked up at the door, and noticed it didn't extend to the ceiling. "Push me over, I can unlock the door from inside."

He nodded at her idea. "Alright. Ready?" he asked. At her nod, Billy took her hips and lifted her.

Awkwardly, she struggled to get her feet on his shoulders. Once she managed, she growled. "Billy, I'm still not tall enough!"

"Here, step on my hands." He offered her his palms and she stepped on them, trying to keep her balance while he effortlessly hoisted her.

"Almost there," she grunted, pulling herself up.

"Glad I could be of service," he answered sarcastically. "Don't break a leg jumping down."

"Didn't know you cared," she teased, looking over towards the other side. She couldn't see properly from this angle, and readying herself, jumped down from the ledge.

"Ouch!" she cried. She heard Billy's mocking laughter and rolled her eyes in irritation. What a jerk!

She opened the door and scowled at him. "Don't laugh at me! I'd like to see you jump down from up there."

"I'd like to see you lift me up," he replied, rolling his eyes.

Then he froze.

"Do you hear that?"

Rebecca couldn't hear anything, but as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she gasped, grabbing Billy's arm. "Look!" she exclaimed in horror.

Chains and weapons littered the walls, as well as strange torture devices she thought were only from the imagination of directors in movies. This couldn't be a torture chamber: but the proof in front of her eyes was undeniable. She was dismayed. It was horrible! She couldn't even imagine what they used this for.

She saw dried blood caked everywhere and felt nauseous. How many people had sat in this room? How many people had died here? Revulsion pooled in her mouth as she stifled a scream. She distantly saw Billy fall to the floor. An enemy?

She whipped her gun ahead of her but saw nothing. Looking down, Billy was on the floor.

"Are you all right, Billy?" she asked him. He didn't answer: his eyes flashed wildly and he rolled on the floor as if avoiding fire. "Billy!" she begged. "What's wrong?" had he gone insane?

He didn't seem to see or hear her. He almost tumbled into one of the terrible machines and Rebecca screamed at him, pulling at him, chasing after him, begging him to stop before he hurt himself.

But Billy was in another world. He felt the oppressive African heat, the bloodied faces of his comrades from years and years past. He clutched his head, driving to drive out the images and let out a roar. He was blind, he couldn't see. Why couldn't he fucking see?

The blood covered his eyes, and he felt something warm in his arms. Anna?

Anna! His mind screamed, already knowing the ending to this story. He panicked, thrashing about, clutching her face, trying to revive her, trying to seep some of the blood back into her.

"…Billy…' her voice called distantly. He struggled to find the voice. "Where are you?" he begged, needing an answer, needing her voice.

"Billy…" her voice was stronger, trying to call him back from wherever he was lost. He reached out blindly, unfeeling, ignoring pain, needing that voice.

But suddenly it changed: the pitch went softer, filled with panic. "Don't panic!" he yelled out. "I'm here, where are you!" he shouted desperately, writhing around and looking for it.

"Billy!"

The voice was right next to him. He reached for it, clutching it. "Keep talking," he begged pitifully. He couldn't bear to be alone, no, he needed the voice.

"Oh, Billy," the voice cooed with a heartbreakingly tearful tone. "I'm right here, Billy."

Billy tried to wipe the blood from his eyes. This wasn't Anna. Who was this? Who was there?

"Anna?" he asked, wondering where she had gone.

A small hand touched his cheek, and Billy felt himself being transported, jolting back to reality with a painful crash. "Billy, it's Rebecca."

The face in front of him wasn't Anna's. The small body cradled him and watched him carefully, worriedly. Her brow was light brown, furrowed with an emotion Billy would be hard pressed to decipher. Beneath them, large green eyes dominated a small face, with soft pink cheeks and lips half-opened, revealing white teeth. Her auburn hair was short: her skin was soft and paler than his. She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. He looked at the tiny hand that was swallowed up by his larger, darker one.

If he hadn't known better, he would've called this woman delicate.

"Rebecca?" he asked weakly, feeling a flood of embarrassment wash over him as he realized what she had just seen.

"I'm right here, Billy. Are you all right now?" she asked kindly, no judgment in her tone. For that, he silently thanked her. If she had given any emotion, pity or disgust, he wouldn't have been able to handle it.

"Yeah," he grunted, unable to express his gratitude to her. Where had Anna been during that episode? He silently searched for her within his head, and woke her. He felt her weakness, her fatigue.

"Billy, I only come when you need…" she trailed off tiredly. Knowing him well, she explained before he even asked: "You have her here… you don't need me…"

Because Anna couldn't relate to these creatures: he had Rebecca right now. She had just helped him through a fucking episode the way nobody but Anna had ever been able to. Not those fucking idiots in the white jackets, holding syringes.

"Billy, what was that?" she asked him quietly. "Who's Anna?"

He owed it to her to explain. If creatures had found them while he'd been rolling around, acting like an idiot, they both could've died.

He'd never need to see her again after this night. He could explain and let it all wash off, let the weight on his shoulders slip away, even just for tonight. Didn't he fucking deserve to remove his shackles, even just for a little? He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle all this weight while fighting monsters.

So he took a deep breath. "Anna is my girlfriend. Was, I guess. She died in a car accident, along with my grandparents a few years ago."

She eyed him, as if she understood there was much more to the story. He sighed at her intelligence and continued on. "I've heard her voice in my head ever since." He finished, unwilling to explain more. Even in his confessions, he was closed off.

Then Billy realized she had read his file. She had known who he was when she first saw him, and knew he had been institutionalized up until a fucking week ago.

What else did the rookie know about him? Did she know anything about Africa? He hoped not. He didn't want her to be afraid of him.

"PTSD." She said it so softly, Billy almost didn't catch what she said.

He shook his head. "Yeah, but not from the accident. That was over eight years ago." He shrugged. "She just helps me get through the episodes. From Africa and India and Mexico, from China and pretty much every fucking place you can think of."

Billy realized belatedly that he was still in the medic's arms. She kept a hand on his forehead, and he noted that her hands were rough and callused. He really didn't want to sit up, he realized. He just wanted to bask in the moment.

It had been so fucking long since someone had touched him caringly. But he forced himself to stand, dusting himself off when a fucking monkey came flying around the corner.

The white creature latched itself onto Billy and Rebecca, with her wits ever about her, shot it in the foot.

Squealing, the thing, glowing in the dim light, flew at her. She managed to shoot it in the chest an instant before it could grab her.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed, looking at Rebecca.

"We should probably split up. There are two ways to go here. We have the walkie talkies. Fifteen minutes down each way, and we regroup," Rebecca decided.

Billy nodded. "Okay." He watched Rebecca reload her gun and began to walk down the hall.

"Billy!" her voice called behind him. "Be careful!"

He was grinning as she went through the door. "Didn't know you cared," he said to himself, continuing down the hall.

Rebecca watched the heavy door close behind her and gulped. It was the right thing to do: for now. But without Billy striding ahead of her or bringing up the rear, she felt awful. She realized how much she had come to rely on him.

Her walkie-talkie buzzed, and assuming it was Billy, she answered immediately. "Yes?" she asked, wondering if he had found something.

"Rebecca, it's Enrico. Have you managed to locate Coen yet? Over." The voice broke through the fuzzy communication device with an odd ringing noise.

She felt an odd repetition of events. "Not yet sir, but I'm still looking. I haven't explored my entire area yet, over."

"All right, but I need you to be on your guard. Coen has killed as many as twenty-three people."

She blinked.

She couldn't reconcile the Billy she was coming to know with a murderer.

Had he killed two dozen people?

As if cued by her inner turmoil, the singing they had heard on the train earlier began again. She remembered the flash of a person: a man with long, dark hair. She shivered. Was he here?

If he hadn't shown himself already, was he an enemy? Was he even human? It was hard to tell what was what in this insane place.

She inched forward tentatively, cowed by the haunting melody that permeated the very air. She felt the soft pop of leeches as she stepped on them, and it only added to her distress.

How was she coping so well? Neither of them had been seriously injured, they had been making jokes and getting along like partners. How was it even possible in a place like this? Shouldn't they be snappy and terrified?

This bonding was new to Rebecca. With Claire or Jacob, and even Chris, she hadn't felt this kinship so quickly. Not with Johnson or Kyle or Lindsey. Not with any of the other S.T.A.R.S. either.

Only Billy.

But how could she come to rely on him so closely when he killed so many people?

Or maybe… maybe he hadn't.

In her tender heart, Rebecca didn't truly believe for a second that Billy had committed the crime. But he hadn't mentioned it thus far. Should she follow his example, or should she ask him about it?

And if he had, would he kill her for knowing?

She brushed away that thought before it even fully crossed her mind. Billy had made a comment earlier about the monsters: "I prefer to not think of them as people when I'm blowing their brains out," he had said.

Billy didn't have the heart of a killer. He had saved her more than once, even been the first one to offer his hand to help her. His left hand, dangling with cuffs that he hadn't removed…

How had he escaped the van? If he hadn't killed those people, she didn't believe he killed the policemen either. Enrico was wrong: justice wasn't black and white, right and wrong.

She resolved to ask Billy about it sometime.

Her absorbing thoughts successfully distracted her from the musical call of the strange man. She wondered if Billy could hear it—or if she was just getting close to him.

Billy heard the unnatural song from his position as well. He had encountered several creatures, and hoped Rebecca hadn't seen any. Although it was a bit much to hope for.

He shot a zombie down and swiftly checked around him to make sure there was nothing coming up behind him.

A little late though.

"WAGH!" Billy shouted, shoving the thing off of him and shooting it. He rubbed the mark on his shoulder where the thing fucking bit him. Thankfully, it hadn't broken the skin.

He was getting fucking ripped apart by these things.

He continued on slowly, stomping on leeches on the ground, their juicy little insides getting on his shoes.

He made it to a platform overlooking a river. Right on the platform was an airlift. He picked up the walkie-talkie. "Rebecca, I found something you might like. An—"

"I know, I can see it, and you. Look down."

He saw Rebecca waving at him, when suddenly her expression turned grim. He couldn't hear her over the rushing water, but she pointed, her mouth moving.

He turned around quickly and saw another fucking monkey running for him. He didn't have time to pull out his shotgun before it jumped on him.

The thing was heavy, and he tried to wrestle it off him: but then an idea came to him, and he tossed the thing over the railing, hoping it would go over and leave him alone.

But then he felt it fucking grab on to his hand, and as he let out a shout, he felt the iron rub against his back, and the instantaneous free-falling sensation, right before he hit the cold water, shooting up his nose and down into his lungs, weighing him down, choking him until he sank into oblivion…

"Billy!" Rebecca screamed at the top of her lungs, her throat burning from the effort. She reached out futilely, almost propelling herself over the edge. She watched him fall over and down, underground, following the terrible river downstream, to stranger tides.