Author's Note:
Once again, if you see any errors or discrepancies, lemme know! This chapter is about adding depth to their relationship so the goodbye is even more poignant than the game shows. I hope I'm doing my idea justice.
Thanks to my reviewerss, pinkalmonds and yingyanggirl, and to all the people who favorite me and subscribe me :D
Rebecca retraced her steps, running past the moaning creatures, shooting them as she went past. She mostly ignored them, except for a few who got too close for comfort.
She made it back to the torture chamber, blocking it out as she jogged down the hallway that Billy had done down. She made it to the air platform and got on, slamming on the buttons in her panic, to go down, go down now.
The slow, bulky machine traveled more slowly than she could run. She wanted to scream, tear her hair out: there was nothing she could do to make it go faster.
"Come on, Billy," she whispered to herself. "Hold on, for just a little longer… I'm coming!"
She bit her lip in her impatience and frustration, drawing blood. Did the creatures smell the scent of blood and come after them?
She didn't care right now.
Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy.
She chanted the name over and over in her head, as if the rhythm would help settle her patience, as if saying his name would help him stay alert. As if he could hear her.
The machine had barely finished its slow descent before Rebecca was off and running. Billy had been washed up on the grate, alive.
"Oh my god, Billy!" she choked a sob. He wasn't breathing. She panicked for a second, her heart thudding louder than the currents rush, but then remembered her training.
A situation like this required mouth to mouth or he'd drown. Suffocate. Whatever. She was beyond thinking.
She plugged his nose and sat her lips upon his, exhaling deeply until his chest rose. She pumped his chest for a moment, then repeated the process, covering his nose with her hand and resting her lips on his, blowing him air.
The third time she pumped his chest, he coughed, water spilling from his mouth as he turned and coughed out the liquid caught in his lungs.
"Oh, god, Billy!" she cried, throwing herself at him. He wrapped an arm around her, patting her awkwardly.
Rebecca felt Billy's cold, wet arms around her, strong like a vise, holding her too him. She didn't care that she was getting her shirt soaked: she cried into his shoulder. His hand rubbed her back, and she knew he probably felt horribly awkward about the whole thing, but she was beyond caring. "I thought you were dead!" she hiccupped. She pulled away from him, wiping her face. "My heart's still thudding," she gave a choked laugh and sat down next to him.
When Billy had first felt soft, dry lips on his, he had believed it was Anna. Hope had blossomed through him, and as the warm lips touched his again, his hope had continued to rise until he had opened his eyes and seen Rebecca's terrified face.
Although he was happy enough to see his partner. Her chest heaved with exertion and he could see her heart pounding the base of her throat. Her wet shirt clung to her chest, and he had to admit, she was pretty damn alluring.
But she wasn't Anna. She was his partner, and he wouldn't take advantage of the adrenaline-inducing situation. For all he knew, she had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was gonna make sure she got there.
"Thank you, Rebecca." He told her softly. She had done so much for him tonight: not shooting him at their first meeting, lying to her superior, saving his life, and just agreeing to be his partner.
"We should probably find you some dry clothes," she stood up, opening her mouth to add something when she froze.
Billy agreed and stood as well, until his gaze followed hers. His jaw dropped.
Across the way, dozens of skulls and skeletons lay abandoned, some crushed, some dirty, all in various states of decay.
"Umbrella must've been torturing them," Rebecca's shaky voice broke through his stupor. "They created all this—on purpose!" her voice cracked and she ran to the waterline, vomiting.
Billy wasn't speechless for long. "They must've been test subjects in Marcus' research. He must've been fucking toying around with the mother virus!" he spat.
Rebecca looked horrified. "Billy…" was all she said, looking at him sadly.
It was a disquieting moment.
He shook his head. "You're right, I do need clothes. But where are we gonna get any here? Borrow some from the zombies?"
Rebecca bit her lip. "At least take your shirt off until it tries. We can't survive zombies and have you die of pneumonia."
He shrugged and complied, wringing out the wife beater and shoving it into his back pocket. He was loathe to throw it away. He might need it later. "We probably shouldn't separate again. We don't need a rerun of this."
She nodded, feeling guilty. It had been her brilliant idea to split up. "I'm sorry, Billy." She looked at him contritely. "For all of this."
He looked surprised. "None of this is your fault, Rebecca."
"You shouldn't even be here," she said bitterly.
"What do you mean?" he asked warily. Was she referring to his execution?
She rounded on him. "You're innocent, aren't you Billy?" she asked him seriously. No tears in her eyes, no silly proud gestures. Just… Rebecca. His face became shuttered. "Don't play dumb! You know what I'm talking about. You've never killed anyone, have you?"
"I've killed about a hundred zombies tonight," he pointed out icily. "Why grill me now? You've ignored it all night. Is your trust in me wavering?"
His tone was wounding, but Rebecca persisted. She grabbed his hand, and he turned towards her. She released her grip but continued earnestly. "You didn't kill those twenty-three people. Or the policemen at the van, either!"
"Does it matter? That was then, this is now." he replied brusquely. "It's over."
"It's not! It does matter, if you're under arrest for a crime you didn't commit! Billy," she implored, looking into his dark eyes. "How did you get involved in that mess?"
When he spoke, his voice wasn't laced with bitterness or anger. But his confusion permeated every word of his story. "Our mission was to uncover some guerilla hideouts in Africa. It promised to be a long mission, and only those who volunteered had to go. I… I volunteered. It was brutal, and dangerous. The drop off point was in enemy territory, nearly a hundred miles from the site. Some died from the heat… others were killed by the enemy," his voice seemed distant as he recounted Dick's story, and the flash of red in the trees, proof he was hallucinating.
"In the end, Chet and Joe and Robert shot them down while I watched, like a useless goddamn idiot." He hissed furiously. "I watched them slaughter innocents, and when I woke up, Chet told me about his brilliant fucking plan to blame me."
"Why would he do that?" Rebecca asked sadly. "Kill all those people… then blame you?"
Billy shrugged. "Madness. Anger. He saw it as a punching bag. I disobeyed orders and didn't shoot: I was the scapegoat. Then they institutionalized me, which bought me time… and ultimately, brought me here."
She fell silent, absorbing what he told her. Not one for self-pity, Billy continued.
"So what brought a kid to S.T.A.R.S.?" he drawled.
"Haven't I proved what an ace I am already?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Why S.T.A.R.S. instead of the regular police? Or college student? Or teacher?"
"If you want to know the whole pitiful story, I lived in an orphanage. When I was eight, they figured out I was a genius. By the time I was eleven, I was sent to school. I graduated at fifteen, did absolutely nothing for two years… and since I was a biochemistry major, I figured I could be a medic… as my career before my career."
She hesitated to explain the rest.
"Because Umbrella owned the orphanage I was raised in, sponsored me, and wants to hire me when I turn twenty-one. I would be an employee there now if I hadn't declined their offer."
"Good thing you decided to be lazy and turn down the job."
"Good thing you went crazy and are still alive," she retorted, the both of them referring to their current predicament.
He shuddered. "Imagine if I had been here, and you hadn't, or the other way around. Shit that's a scary thought. We're only both here out of sheer fucking luck."
"I think I'd be dead without you," she confessed bleakly. "You've saved my life more than once."
He nodded soberly. "I'm glad it was you who found me on the train," he told her sincerely.
She grinned at him cheekily. "Me too."
"We should probably get going. Will you be all right with a wet shirt?" he asked her.
"Your bandages! Billy, I forgot about your bandages! Do you think they're okay?" she asked worriedly.
Billy smirked at the memory. "I asked you first."
"Billy, I'll be fine. What do you want me to do, walk around in my bra?" she asked sarcastically, as if the suggestion were utterly ridiculous.
"You've pretty much seen me naked," he teased. "Isn't it my turn?"
"No!" she yelled at him, her cheeks staining pink. "I didn't see anything! I was just tending your wound." The implication embarrassed her beyond belief. Even with Jacob, she still was shy.
"Are you sure? It hurts my ego a little that you're allowed to get fresh and all I've seen are your abs." he mocked, trying to see how dark her cheeks could get. He was a bastard and he knew it, but it was pretty goddamn funny to see how changeable her personality was.
"Okay, you walk around with a wet bandage if you're so modest," she answered, her cheeks getting hotter by the second.
"Bra for bandages," He was an asshole for doing this to her, but they could be fucking dead by morning. He might as well get in a couple jokes and a nice view. "Anyway, what was it that you said to me? Something about pneumonia?"
"My shirt isn't even that wet!" she protested, looking down. "Would you shut up if I had a big, beefy boyfriend?"
"No, because you don't."
"You're right. Jacob's really skinny." Rebecca mentally compared him to Billy.
While Jacob topped six feet and then some, his frame was gangly and wiry. He was serious and studious and, although it felt traitorous to admit, a boy. He was a boy in his first year of college, still young and earnest.
Billy was maybe six feet tall, and twice as thick as Jacob. Billy was a hulking giant, a human tank, and his masculinity was an ever present aura around him. Billy was definitely a man. A macho idiot, at that.
But the thoughts swirling around in Rebecca's head feel traitorous. She shook her head, regretting her flirting. It's just a way to remind myself that I'm still alive and whole, she told herself, suddenly feeling nauseous. It means nothing. I barely know him. I've been with Jacob for years: but how can I tell him about this? How could I ever relate to him again, after this?
She turned, away from Billy, averting her eyes from the horrors. "Let's go, Billy." She said quietly, padding softly onto the platform, her tread somehow heavier than before, yet softer, with a subdued tone.
Billy felt the amiability they'd had a few moments ago slip away and cursed himself. He'd gone too far. And in a place like this, perhaps the damage that had been done was irreparable.
They rode along in silence, and once they landed, shot open a few monstrous heads, watching as the creatures fell over, their heads cracking on the floor, blood leaking from their decrepit, rotting bodies.
"Billy, in here!" Rebecca pointed at a door. Billy admitted that they were fucking lost. He was soaking wet and starting to shiver. Christ, this couldn't get any worse.
She climbed through a tiny little cupboard and let out an excited yell. Why the hell had she done that? For all she knew, more creatures could be in there. There had to be something wrong with her, to find excitement in the midst of this hell. He shot a stray zombie that encroached and waited for her to explain.
When she came out of the closet, she grinned at him, her face a little dusty. "Look!" she showed him eagerly.
Clothes. Thank fucking god. "What the hell outfit is this?" he asked, taking it anyway. It was a suit, but unlike one he'd ever seen. The shirt was gold, for Christ's sake. It looked like it belonged to a fucking gangster, but it'd do until his real clothing dried.
He pulled on the shirt. His soaking wet bandage could use changing, he noticed when he turned to pull on the clean pair of pants. The medic went red and turned away. He rolled his eyes, amused at her shyness. "You can turn around, princess," he told her dryly.
They started down the hall, Billy feeling ridiculous, but dry, and Rebecca's cheeks still red. The décor was eerie, and the lighting dim.
Billy wasn't fucking surprised when the giant scorpion from earlier broke through the ceiling.
Rebecca cried out in pain when a flying piece of debris hit her, knocking her away. Billy pulled out the shotgun and fired as many bullets as he could into the monstrous creature, its pincers waving and shaking in the air, its twitching body trying to creep closer. Billy paused for a moment as it let out a squeal: it was dying. He couldn't afford to waste anymore shotgun bullets. They were fucking precious. So he just paited
The thing eventually stopped moving completely and Billy remembered Rebecca. He turned towards her and pulled the piece of plaster off her small frame. She let out a groan. "Are you okay?" he demanded, his heart racing. She wasn't bleeding anywhere that he could see, but had she broken anything? Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
Rebecca felt a weight leave her stomach and the relief was as painful as the wound. She distantly heard Billy's question, but when she tried to answer, all she could do was moan. She felt herself being lifted and she wanted to scream with the pain in her chest and stomach, but held it in. Where was he taking her?
She heard a door open and felt Billy adjust his grip on her. She felt herself being lowered, and finally managed to open her eyes.
She was in a small room, with a bed and a typewriter in the corner. Billy looked panicked. She wanted to examine herself, but she knew it'd be impossible. At least they had gotten dry clothes for Billy before he'd caught his death, she consoled herself.
Now they just needed to get the hell out of this horrible place.
She felt Billy's large, warm hands on her stomach and chest. "Where does it hurt?" his faraway voice asked. She figured she should faint and get it over with, but the crippling pain kept her somewhat alert.
"Probably- bad bruising," she managed to get out. She wanted to throw up. The agony was dull, thudding in tune with her heartbeat, sore and painful. Her own voice sounded disconnected.
His fingers were splayed on her stomach and she noticed vaguely that her vest was unbuttoned. "Check—the room for… anything."
She felt his warm, comforting hands leave her and heard him rummage around. He gave a scoff. "Nothing but a fucking weed." He held the small, potted plant up for her examination.
She almost choked with happiness. She recognized it. "Give it to me," she demanded, and ripped it up, then chewed on the bitter leaves. It'd act as a painkiller, but the effects were slow. She was incredibly lucky that this particular herb was in this particular room.
"Will you be okay? That thing—is completely dead. Jesus, it scared the shit outta me," Billy confessed, trying to fill the silence. He was terrorized by the idea that she'd just fall asleep and not wake up. When she didn't answer, panic filled Billy's lungs and he sat on the floor and took a deep breath.
He leaned against the wall and curled into a ball, massaging his temples. She just needed a break. This room was safe, and there hadn't been any creatures around, so they had time to kill.
He winced at the phrase. Christ, he was getting fucking paranoid. If they got out of here, they'd both be batshit crazy.
He waited, holding in his stress. What would he do if that little girl got herself killed? The guilt'd eat at him.
All of his thoughts were morbid, so when Rebecca tentatively sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her legs not even reaching the floor, he leapt up, so happy and filled with goddamn relief that he could've kissed her.
Never one to deny himself, especially while repressing an episode, Billy grabbed her and lifted her, planting a kiss right on her lips before setting her down. "Thank fucking god!" he exclaimed, exhaling his relief. "You're alive!"
She grinned at him. "Billy, we've faced a lot worse than me getting a bruise," she reminded him, laughing a little, slightly embarrassed at his reaction. "And anyway, if you wanted to do the whole 'Sleeping Beauty' routine, you're supposed to wake me with a kiss, not kiss me for waking up."
He gave her an answering smile. "Forgot protocol, sorry." He answered sarcastically.
She began rummaging through the room. "Alright, time to go get eaten by zombies again."
"I don't know about you, but I've never been eaten by anything." Rebecca heard his sarcastic response and rolled her eyes. Of course he'd make a reference to sex while they were about to die.
"Omigod, Billy, look!" she said in delight. She was on a roll. They had the shotgun, the clothes for Billy, and now this? "A magnum! How did you not see this?"
Billy snatched it from her hands and examined it thoroughly, running his hands down it and checking for ammo. "Christ, this could save our lives in case we have to fight another gigantic thing like that lobster-scorpion thing. Or the bug." He ignored her last comment.
Four guns. Two pistols, a shotgun, and now this. For the first time, Rebecca felt a glimmer of hope.
But they still had what felt like miles to go before they escaped.