Author's Note:
Woo! Sorry the update was so slow. I had prewritten most of the story, but no longer! I'm caught up on all my chapters. So from now on, I have to write them out fully, so it'll take longer for chapters to get posted, especially with school.
Lemme tell you how HARD IT IS to write as Rebecca. That makes me sound like a manly girl or something, but it's so much easier to write as Billy. I don't know why, but I literally have to force myself to be Rebecca. Ugh, lol.
Sunrise
Billy groaned in pain as Rebecca rewrapped his wound with bandages she had found earlier. It fucking hurt.
Although he had been half-joking about her being shirtless, he sure as hell didn't mind it. Although it gave him a full view of her bruise.
She was small, and the flying debris had been almost as big as her. She hadn't broken any ribs, but the vivid bruising went from the bottom of her stomach to above her chest, black and blue. "Does it hurt?" he asked her abruptly as her fingers gently wrapped his own injury.
She looked up at him for a second. "No… that herb I took is extremely powerful. It'll probably wear off in a few hours thought, and I'll be in agony." She confessed, giving him a wry smile.
He pulled on his still-damp jeans and let her sit there, in plain black cotton boyshorts and her black sports bra. She had been steadily red at first, but now she didn't seem to mind. He watched as the sun rose up over the cliff side, and he didn't know what the hell to do now.
"I can't believe we made it out," his voice was whisper soft. He sat back down on the grass next to the stream and listened. They were free.
But he was still goddamn trapped. What could he do now, besides keep on running? Where could he go too?
He looked at Rebecca's tiny frame, covered in nicks and bruises, and knew he looked just as bad as she did. He felt horrible that she'd even had to put up with him in the first place. She'd done so goddamn much for him. He only wished he could find a way to repay her.
She put her clothes back on, with her bra and underwear still wet. He pulled on his shirt in return.
For once, Billy Coen was at a loss for words. He had no idea how to give this moment closure, how to comfort her, how to anything to make this situation okay.
She'd go to her team, lie and say he was dead. He'd run to god knows where. Maybe he'd beg: in the fucking streets like a goddamn bum. Maybe he'd… he didn't know what the hell he'd do.
Rebecca walked over to the cliff side, and he followed her, not knowing what else to do. He was relieved when she spoke. "There's the mansion we're supposed to rendezvous at." She told him, her voice distant and small.
Billy instantly remembered the kiss he'd jokingly planted on her face, overcome with relief. The way she had been too shocked to move, how she'd ignored it, attributing it to his worry and panic. But he remembered the taste of her small lips, dry and chapped, but warm and full.
He realized he wanted to do it again.
He was a fucking bastard to even think of it. Not with her boyfriend, not with Anna, not with their fucking age differences. She was eighteen years old. She was just a kid.
No, that was wrong. Maybe before tonight, she had been a kid. But now she was a full fledged woman in her own right, strong and valiant as a warrior. She'd survived horror-movie terrors, and with minimal injury. It was a miracle they were still alive.
If they hadn't teamed up, both of them would be dead.
Or worse. They'd be one of the walking dead, with their wounds displayed brightly, their skin wasted and dull, pasty and white, with only splotches of red and rot marring them. They'd be unthinking, unfeeling monsters.
Would Anna still be with him if he became a monster?
He didn't even want to think about it.
He looked at Rebecca, relieved that her skin was warm and pink, that her breath was fresh of the stench of the rotting undead, that her smile wasn't a twisted broken jaw, coated in blood and the flesh of a comrade.
But Billy had never been one to deny himself.
Impulsively, he reached out and grabbed her hand. He squeezed it, hoping he could convey everything he felt about her, and this night, into a single, insignificant gesture.
But she seemed to understand.
Her eyes, free of tears but filled with emotion, locked with his, and he understood everything.
But really, he understood nothing at all.
Subconsciously maybe, he grasped what she was silently telling him. The gaze held much more than eye contact: it spoke of the past, the future: and the present.
She was the best friend he'd ever had, and he didn't know her at all.
"Rebecca?" he asked suddenly, not relinquishing her hand. "What's your favorite color?"
Surprised, Rebecca answered him immediately. "Green. Bright like grass and leaves. Before tonight it had been red."
He understood.
"What's yours?"
He thought about it for a moment, then looked out at the sunrise. "Probably… pink," he admitted. It was a completely un-masculine thing to say, but he didn't care. Watching the sun rise slowly, the shades of orange and pink and peach and yellow puffing about was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Before tonight… I never really had one."
Everything had gone gray after Anna died. But this night had taught him to value life, and vibrancy. Christ, he was ready to live.
Rebecca felt his strong hand wrapped around hers and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his strong arms, and breathe the scent of musk and male and life. She felt she had been given a reprieve from death, all because of him.
She dug into her pocket with her free hand. "I should've done this hours ago, Billy." She told him, and unlocked his handcuff with her key.
Billy rubbed his wrist for a moment, as if in awe that it was gone. Then, eagerly, he let go of her hand and threw the thing away, down the cliff, reveling in the freedom. It might've been symbolic, or it might've just been terribly annoying to carry around. She felt stupid for not thinking of it earlier. But every moment had been so charged with energy, with emotion, that it hadn't occurred to either of them.
She remembered the way he had kissed her, the strong lines of his face relaxing once he realized she was awake and alright. He had bounded up so quickly she had barely any time to register it: until his lips found her bottom lip and kissed her, with joy and relief and utter happiness.
Jacob had never kissed her like that: not in the many hours she spent with him, the months, the years. She'd spent a single night with Billy Coen, and a kiss from the passion of the moment, the happiness rather than lust of his lips had enchanted her.
She never forget him.
"What now?" she asked, whisper soft. "Really… what now? I don't understand how we're supposed to move past this Billy. We won't be okay."
He was turned away from her when he answered. "I haven't been okay for a while, dollface, and I'm still around. It's not about being okay anymore, it's about survival. You have to go to your team and tell them about this: make them believe you.
"I would come with you, if I thought for a second I'd be able to live. I hate leaving you out here, Rebecca, but you have to go."
She swallowed a lump in her throat. "What about you, Billy? You're dead to the world now: what will you do?"
"Go to Mexico, maybe. Or Canada. There's nothing left for me here."
She knew it was true. But it hurt. He held her life in his hands, and vice versa. She'd never forget that. Or him.
She wanted to kiss him.
She was evil and selfish and terrible to even think about it.
She wondered if all kisses were the same, or if kissing someone like Billy would be different from Jacob. When Jacob kissed her, it was slow and loving and gentle. He always asked permission.
Billy looked at her, and in the morning light, she saw his face: strong and masculine, the slightest shadow across his face where a beard would grow in: his firm jaw and eyes lined like a man twice his age.
He was enormous.
Rebecca suddenly felt very small next to him. As the dawn's light fell upon him, she realized how truly broad his shoulders were, how thick his muscles were, and the strong dependability of his powerful body.
Her traitorous heart began to thud and that's when she knew she had to leave. She had to leave right now.
Billy gazed at Rebecca the woman and saw every thought cross her mind as if she was speaking out loud.
He noticed her throat became dry with desire she suppressed with the iron control of a soldier, the guilt running across her brow, the unsteady thump of her heart. She bit her lip, as if indecisive, then stood tall.
Christ, he'd have given anything to fuck her, right there and then. He had been celibate for too long, not even dreaming of desire while Anna was in his head. But somehow this woman, eight years his junior, had managed to arouse him with just her reaction to him.
He felt just as damned guilty as she did. Neither one of them were free: he couldn't do this too her. He couldn't love her and leave her, because he realized that he'd actually love her if he could.
He had to get out of there, fast.
He was searching for words of farewell when Rebecca did it for him.
She raised her hand and saluted him with the respect due to a Lieutenant. The gesture caught his heart and for a second, Billy felt complete gratitude in his heart for this brave young woman who did so much, who tried so hard.
He saluted her back, hoping his thoughts were as easy for her to read as hers had been for him. But he knew they weren't. Billy had become closed off. Years of practice had cultivated skills at keeping his face stoic and expressionless. If he couldn't show her, his words would be damned inadequate.
She swallowed again, and it was as if he could hear the thudding of her young heart, her brave, true heart as she turned and walked away. She left him the shotgun and his pistol, taking only his tags to remind her of him.
He only hoped to God they'd be enough.
Rebecca made her way to the mansion without incident. When she was able to open the doors and no dogs, no people, and no creatures had attacked her, she relaxed for perhaps the first time since she had been told of the mission.
Wandering around the eerily silent mansion, she wondered where the others were. She found a room with a bed, miraculously enough, and lay down. Where were Richard and Enrico? Kenny and Forrest?
She suddenly was terrified. What if they had all met the same fate as Edward?
She shook the thought away. She had survived against the odds, and was relatively unharmed. She and Billy had managed to live, had managed to escape that place. The curse was gone now, and all she had to do was wait.
She drifted off, her hand tightly clutching her gun, and the door open, so she could hear anything coming.
It felt like seconds later when a kind voice, a familiar voice, spoke her name with surprise, delight, and complete relief. "Rebecca?" Richard Aiken breathed.
She stood, rubbing her eyes. She was exhausted. She was used to coffee for her all-nighters, not strenuous exercise. "R-Richard…" she answered. "Where are the others?"
His easy smile faded the second she finished. "I… I don't know." His cheerful young face seemed to fall utterly. "I… I don't know. I'd guess they're either hiding or dead." His voice was flat.
She felt sick to her stomach, ready to throw up. "It's here too?" she asked quietly, terror and dread filling her up to the brim. She felt waves of nausea hit her, bam, bam, bam.
He nodded. "We were attacked... Forrest went completely missing."
She felt tears gather in her eyes. She took a deep breath and stood. She realized that it wasn't Billy who was huge: it was she who was small, too small and young for this job, too inexperienced and afraid. Richard's height dwarfed her, and it wasn't a reassuring feeling.
His frizzled Mohawk seemed too bright and cheerful for this gloomy décor. Everything here was dark, was a shade of gray or green or brown or blue. Dull, faded colors abounded.
She checked the room quickly, hoping for ammo and was overjoyed when she found a magazine of bullets. She reloaded her gun and looked at Richard, shoving away her every fear and giving him a calm smile. "I'm ready," she lied.
Billy didn't know what the hell to do now. He'd wanted to give Rebecca a sense of closure: to give off the confidence that he lacked. But in all honesty, he didn't know where the hell he was gonna go from here.
He picked up the shotgun and sighed. He waited about an hour, until she was safely far away from him: until he could no longer see her slender little body moving bravely towards her team, her small brown-red head bobbing with her footsteps.
He turned the opposite direction from her and started walking, hoping no creatures had managed to survive the explosion. Like the fucking dogs.
But instead of a dog, his peripheral vision caught something moving swiftly through the trees: a flash of red, exactly as the vision he'd seen in Africa. Christ, he was nuts. His sanity had run away with Anna, and the remains of it had escaped from him with Rebecca.
But instead of disappearing, the red flash jumped down in front of him.
Holy fucking shit, he wasn't crazy.
A woman stood before him, with hair shorn similarly to Rebecca's: her dark and narrow eyes showed her ethnicity. She was small, with powerful-looking muscles revealed in a slim-cut red dress, giving him a good view of her legs.
He was so goddamn dumbfounded that he didn't say anything. The woman smirked: she seemed to be his age, but with lines around her eyes that belied her youth. Her sultry movement immediately triggered a reaction in him. Shit, he needed to get fucking laid sometime. Sometime soon. His celibacy was suddenly starting to get to him.
"Hey there, Billy." Her smooth voice purred, her lips caressing his name as if it were an aphrodisiac.
He found words. "How the hell do you know me?" he demanded coolly. "And why have you been watching me?"
He knew it was true. She had been watching him, maybe for years.
"Not 'Who are you?'" her teeth glinted dangerously at him. "I'm an ally- maybe. It all depends. I think that answers both of your questions."
He was pissed enough to fucking grab her, but something about her told him it was a dangerous decision. "It doesn't really answer anything." He bit out, containing his temper with a remarkable show of self-control.
But she did something surprising.
She walked up to him, set her slim hands on his chest and kissed him.
His face was dirty and his clothes were still damp, but she pressed herself against him seductively, running her hands down his body and biting his lip.
He was seconds from giving into his lust, with this strange woman in the middle of the fucking forest, but she pulled away.
Her eyes were dreamy with desire, but then an iron control clamped over them like shutters: and when she spoke, her voice was the same. "Ada Wong." She told him, whispering in his ear in a controlled, but lust-filled whisper. "And you, Coen, will find out everything else later."
And wouldn't you know, the bitch in the red dress fucking shot him with the same shit that they used on him in the crazy house.
Rebecca smiled reassuringly at Richard as they entered a room: at some points, he seemed more nervous than she. But she realized he was just as incapable to handle a situation like this as she was: and she had already had an adventure with Billy: he'd just been hiding. For once, she was the one who had confidence, who knew what she was doing.
Richard was in his early twenties, with a stupid haircut and the unlined face given to him by a happy life and youth. He was responsible, dedicated to his job, and one of the nicest people Rebecca had ever met.
She had pitied herself for being too young, too small, and too inexperienced for the job. But Richard equally unprepared for this.
She let off a shot at a creature and realized how instinctive the action had become. God forbid someone human sneak up on her. She'd probably end up shooting them. Richard gave her a strange look. "Something's different about you, Rebecca. But it's a good thing…" he concentrated for a second. "You're stronger."
Rebecca let out a laugh that was actually a sob. "You're right," she replied, scanning the room for more creatures. "But I couldn't be the same timid rookie after a night like last night." She felt the warm metal on her chest. She hoped Billy was all right.
It was an arduous journey, exploring this house, looking for survivors. The mansion had cramped hallways, small, tight rooms, and had a maze of directions. There were at least three ways to get to every room. The grim décor cast haunting shadows, and they'd encountered dozens of zombies, crashing through rooms, lying on floors, playing dead. It was terrifying.
"This room is eerily quiet," Richard whispered to Rebecca. A single body lay on the floor, several yards ahead of them. The hallway they were in was reasonably well-lit, but the body made it twice as scary as any other places they'd explored.
"It could either be dead… or it could be playing dead," Rebecca answered apprehensively. This wasn't an arcade game. This was life or death.
"Stay here," Richard ordered her, and he stepped forward tentatively.
He inched forward carefully, and as the body lay dormant, his tension was relieved somewhat.
Then he sighed in relief.
The creature stood with a speed she'd never seen in the creatures, Richard wheeled around and Rebecca opened the door behind her, running. The second Richard made it through the door, she slammed it shut, letting the monster bang against the door hauntingly.
"It's gonna break down the door!" Rebecca cried desperately. "What do we do?"
"I don't know," Richard panicked, his eyes huge. "If we shoot it point blank in the head, we're good. You open the door and the second it opens I'll shoot!"
Rebecca braced herself and turned the knob, throwing the door open as fast as she could.
Even more quickly, Richard threw three shots into the head of the creature.
It fell at his feet, its face human. But instead of gray and rotting, it was red and the fingernails extended grotesquely into claws, the teeth unusually sharp and pointed.
"Rebecca," Richard said suddenly, looking at it. "We were in that room before. We killed that creature before… and it changed."
She froze, a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Well, we've been going in circles, since half the rooms are locked… can zombies be revived?" she demanded.
He shook his head in confusion. "I don't know anything…"
She'd explain everything else to him when they escaped. She couldn't explain everything to him yet.
She needed to find Wesker.