Author's Note:
I'm assuming not too many people enjoyed the whole Ada/Billy thing... the lack of reviews tells me that. Well, what do you expect from Ada?
Personally, I love her as a character. She's so interesting and enigmatic. And Billy is a virile, angry young man lol. It fits my story.
Like I said, the Rebecca bits are kinda skewed, since I'm gonna put some of Jill's in there, since I want Barry to live! He's canon and lives so they all live, woohoo.
Sorry I've been so long to update: my internet's been down, I just got it up right now, as well as school totally eating my life. I'm tired all the time, between school and work and everything. All I do is sleep, it's horrible.
Updates will probably be slower): unfortunately. I'm honestly too exhausted to do this. But I'm still continuing it! I still have miles to go before I finish xD
Soul Searching
Rebecca looked at Richard as he slept, his unconscious plagued with nightmares. She took a shaky breath and checked the door again nervously, out of habit and anxiety.
Chris had brought them the serum and she had treated Richard. Being the all-around good guy he was, Chris carried Richard to a safe room, which miraculously had a bed.
The door creaked open and Rebecca's heart dropped to her stomach. She almost threw up. Her frayed nerves were getting to her, she realized. Zombies didn't turn knobs. They broke down doors.
Chris staggered in, holding a wound to his shoulder. Rebecca stood automatically. "Chris!" she hissed, superstitious to the point where speaking was taboo. The walls had ears.
He looked at her, clutching the bleeding arm. "Hey," he blinked at her.
She nearly toppled over in her worry. She half-ran, half-staggered to him and pried his fingers away. "It doesn't look bad," she mused. "I can bandage this easily. It's a clean wound, which is good… do you want me to heal your wounds?"
He nodded at her gratefully. "Thanks, Rebecca. I'm counting on you."
A glow of pride surged through Rebecca. That phrase had never been directed at her. Chris Redfield, superman, American dream, adult, was looking at her with gratitude as she helped him with something he couldn't do on his own. She was useful, helpful. She was taking care of her ally, of her superior, of her friend.
At this moment, this second, this heartbeat, she was indispensible. She was necessary. She wasn't a waste of space, a nuisance, a child.
She busily got to work helping Chris, keeping an ear out for Richard. Feeling helpful was absolutely heavenly. It was also alien.
All her life, Rebecca had been tolerated. She'd been one of many children in the orphanage, then she'd been the genius who required her own room and monopolized the time of one of the only teachers. Then she'd been the child in college, always needing special treatment, never connecting with anyone.
But not anymore.
She had Chris, and Claire, and even Billy. Johnson was like a father to her, but she needed friends, like Jacob, like her STARS teammates.
But now, she was losing them, one by one. Jacob and Claire in college, getting the experience she could never have: parties and friends. Chris and Richard stuck in a hell-hole with her. Billy on the run for his life, and even more importantly, his freedom.
Absently, she wondered about him. Where he'd go, what he'd do. He was smart, she knew, but so was she, and in all honesty she couldn't think of a single place to go. Mexico? Canada? Europe?
No… maybe Billy wasn't as smart as her, but he was definitely cleverer. He would think of something. She trusted him with her life: of course she could trust him with his own.
"Better?" she asked Chris softly, looking at her young friend.
The man looked at her with affection. "Thanks, Rebecca."
Although the exchange was short, it spoke volumes. Chris Redfield was a man to be counted on. The fact that he was giving her his gratitude was close to humbling.
He left, and Rebecca dozed a little, daydreaming off and on, caught aware and ready at any sound, any second's notice.
But when she did wake up next, she was curled on the bed Richard had been sleeping in, with a note on the chair.
Rebecca,
Going to go help Chris. Left you extra ammo,
Richard
"Where on earth did he get a pen?" Rebecca wondered exasperatedly. It was just like Richard to let her rest. She noticed that her gun was strategically placed on the chair so she could grip it in a heartbeat if anything tried to break through the door.
The rest had her feeling much better. She wondered how long she'd been out.
Grabbing her gun, she decided to try and look for them. The mansion was big, but it wasn't a maze, she could figure out her way through.
She checked her gun and grabbed a first-aid spray. She was being paranoid, probably, but better safe than dead. Much better.
But the second she stepped out the door, an eerie moan echoed through the hallway.
The second footsteps began to beat down the staircase in front of her, Rebecca tore off and ran. She had never felt herself go faster than she did now. She didn't even see her enemy until she turned around and slammed the door behind her, making sure that it couldn't follow her.
Forest.
She bit her lip to keep from vomiting, and the blood welled up in her mouth instantly. She swallowed the bitter, rusty mouthful and ran through the hall.
Forest.
She kept on going, hyperaware of her surroundings, yet at the same time, almost oblivious to them.
Which is why she almost screamed when she barreled full-force into Chris.
He looked down at her, grabbed her, and pulled her into a room.
The room was large and dusty, with a large piano the center of attention. Eager for a sense of normalcy, and remembering Billy's skill, Rebecca read the sheet in front of her, and sloppily rendered the Moonlight Sonata.
Chris covered his ears for the final few notes. "What was that?" he demanded, halfway between laughter and exasperation.
She shot him a rueful grin, thinking of Billy. "My version?"
He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you… practice for a while. I think I'm close to finding Jill."
She nodded and played the song again. Chris listened, more appreciative. Her progress was quick: she could play, she just needed to familiarize herself with the notes. But then, as he was leaving, a thought struck her.
"Hey, where's Richard?" she queried, hoping he hadn't returned to the safe room. Not with Forest there, and her not.
Even thinking about it made her ill, but she was quickly learning to block it out, as if it were a horror movie. Every second of peace that she had was used to help herself cope.
Chris' face immediately fell. Rebecca knew the news almost before he told her. "Richard was killed." He told her abruptly.
Out of all the things she had gone through, that one sentence nearly brought her to her knees. She could handle the uncertainty of Billy's fate, the terror of seeing Forest, the guilt of lying to Enrico, seeing Edward become a creature. But Richard was the closest to her age, kindly and self-sacrificing to the point where it was almost unrealistic.
"He died saving me."
Rebecca understood it immediately. Richard acted to save two lives: Chris', and her own. By saving Chris, he was effectively giving Rebecca a stronger chance of survival as well. She was twice as likely to survive with Chris than himself, and he knew it.
Rebecca threw herself into playing, not noticing when Chris left, or even when he returned.
She finished the song flawlessly, and heard a rough noise behind her. Warily turning, she saw a hole in the wall grow, an exact replica of the one Billy had unlocked.
She knew she had to come clean to Chris now, before they got themselves burrowed any deeper into this cesspool.
"Chris," she hesitated. Would he be upset with her?
He looked at her, his eyes filled with guilt, compassion, and determination.
The confession flowed out of her. "Chris, Umbrella is behind the whole thing. Before Alpha came, I—" she didn't want to tell him about Billy. He wouldn't understand. "I found an abandoned facility, and it was owned by Umbrella. The virus, the thing that makes the zombies, it was created by a man named Marcus. Umbrella is behind this whole thing."
Chris' face didn't look surprised, as much as resigned. "Thank you," he told Rebecca tiredly.
The news seemed to have taken ten years of his life. He suddenly seemed older, wearier.
She immediately decided that she couldn't possibly tell him about Billy. Chris had enough to worry about.
She'd help him out. "We'll scour this place," she promised him, referring to Barry, Wesker, and Jill.
He nodded, gratitude filling his features, expanding them from the tight, pinched expression. "Let's do it," he clapped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
She gulped and nodded bravely, pasting on a smile.
Billy stared with his arms crossed at Ada.
She stared back. "You're going to be my partner. But first, you have to do your homework."
"Homework?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
"I'm the boss. I tell you what to do, where we're going, and if we finish successfully, why." She snapped at him. "That's all you need to know."
Billy tried to keep his cool. But she was fucking annoying. "Right. What happens when I disobey your orders," he sneered at her, curling his fists.
"I kill you." She answered simply, her eyes cool and level, meeting his with a challenge.
The fucking bitch. "Then why bother to save me?"
She looked at him. Clearly, she wasn't relishing the idea of actually having a conversation with him. "I wasn't supposed to. But since I have, we play by the rules now, every step of the way. I did this for your mother: if you cross me, I'll kill you in a second. I put my life on the line for you."
It was the most he'd get out of her. This was clearly a woman of few words, who enjoyed silence and solitude and mystery. Fucking stubborn bitch.
"You'll find out more as you go along," she answered firmly. "For now, you can review these," she handed him a stack of thick papers. "Missions that could be assigned to you in the next three months. Then you're mine… partner."
Her smooth voice was malicious, and Billy couldn't help but wonder at her intentions. With every word she spoke, he only thought of more questions. She was an enigma, shrouded in secrets.
"I won't put up with your shit," he told her, icicles dripping from his words. "You have the upper hand right now, but you won't for long."
"I have seniority," she smirked at him.
Why did she hate giving information? Would he become like her?
Billy accepted his fate. It didn't seem like too bad of a life: pretty similar to what he had in the military. He had Ada to fuck, Anna to wait for; Rebecca to worry about, and apparently he had a job to do.
He could do this.
The files he read seemed to be in another language. They spoke of people he'd never heard of, and there were more X's and O's than his high school algebra textbook. He could hardly make sense of the long-winded rambling papers. He managed to grasp the gist of the first, and decided to skim the rest.
What Ada had told him wasn't necessarily true. Although the organization had been created to combat Umbrella, it served its own purposes just as well. Which apparently included aiding Umbrella.
He wondered if it had been like this before his mother's death.
One file caught his eye: to spy on, then to assassinate a pair of Umbrella's researchers: a couple by the name of Richmond.
This file, he absorbed. He read every word, every letter, even the details that completely eluded him. They'd been party to several plots against the lives of organization members, and were highly respected within Umbrella.
Billy, morbidly interested, opened the packet that was paper clipped to the information. Out slid photos and more detailed information.
Height. Approximate weight. Hair color, eye color. Skin tone. Family history of diseases. History of education and career.
Family.
There was a daughter who had been killed, at the age of eighteen. She had been killed in a car crash, and it was suspected that the car which had killed her was sent by her own parents, to assassinate a member of the organization.
Every word, every pristine black letter, printed neatly like marching ants across the white page, slammed into him. He went numb for a second: he wasn't angry, or upset. Billy felt no emotion. A wave, a river, a sea of calm had come over him as he realized his entire life had been spun in a web of deceit and betrayals. He was twenty-six goddamn years old and he had next no control over his life.
He lost a father before he had one. He lost Anna, his grandparents, his mother. He lost his normal life as he joined the Marines.
Becoming paranoid, Billy wondered if Regan, the father of the same girl he fucked and left so many years ago, had purposely sentenced him. Not out of any thirst for justice, but out of revenge for the daughter he spoiled.
Billy had been hungry earlier, but now the rumbling in his stomach ceased. Now he hungered for answers.
Where could he get information?
Ada knew more, much more than she'd even hinted at knowing. If Billy wanted to learn the truth, he'd need to learn secrets.
He'd chosen his mission.
He'd chosen his path.
And from now on, nobody else would decide for him. Not even the bitch in the red dress.
Rebecca wasn't afraid anymore. All of the horrors in this place, she'd seen with Billy. She was comforted by the fact that Chris would stop everything that had happened.
Chris had found the truth: he'd found out more than she. Albert Wesker, the cool, calculating captain had become a traitor.
For Umbrella.
No, not even for Umbrella: he betrayed them too. He was a triple crosser, a master of lies, a weaver of deceit.
He had shot her.
She lay on the ground, in agony, close to unconsciousness. She heard gunshots: moans of pain.
The vest she wore protected her. There was plenty of blood, as the bullet had gone through her skin: but she would not die, unless she continued to lay here, immobilized. Blood loss would kill her, with enough time: but she'd faced worse, even before these past two nights.
Maybe her spleen had ruptured. Maybe she had bruised her liver. She couldn't even think, couldn't analyze the situation. Maybe she had bronchitis.
She was in a haze of pain. Memories flashed before her eyes: pleasant ones. She remembered the curve of Lindsey's smile, the snarky remarks Kyle made. She remembered the scholarly attitude Mr. Johnson always oozed. She dreamt of the crinkles around Jacob's eyes when he frowned, or worried. She saw Claire's big blue eyes wink at her, her body poised, laughing. She saw Chris helping her with her bag, the day they met.
It was nice to think about good things, she decided hazily. She needed to get up though. No more sleeping.
When she stood, Wesker's body lay, mutilated. An enormous hole in his stomach revealed the bloody décor behind him. It was fascinating. She'd taken an anatomy class, but she'd never seen any dissection as unprofessional as this.
Another, huger body lay there too. But she stared at the face woozily. It had been human. This creature had once been a person.
She touched the face, her horror and disgust battling with her compassion, her sense of nostalgia. She wasn't frightened: it was dead.
She turned around and looked at the floating tanks of humans. It truly was terrible. Rebecca would he scarred for life, if she truly thought about it.
Rebecca looked at each person, wondering what their lives had been.
Until she saw a particular face, so dear, so familiar, even after all these years.
Lindsey.
Rebecca didn't believe it for a second. It couldn't be her, not at all. She had been adopted.
She completely and wholeheartedly believed it.
How much of her life had Umbrella controlled?
She touched the glass gently, tenderly. How long had Lindsey been tortured like this? Had she truly been adopted then sent here? Weeks? Months? Years?
Rebecca sensed that Lindsey had been here for years. her body, her face was the same human figure it had always been. She had probably been alive, at least until everyone in the mansion had died.
Rebecca, while wandering about, had heard moans and groans and screams, soul-rattling shrieks that were far more terrifying than anything she'd ever seen.
She had, at one point, caught a glimpse of it. She had seen the creature. She didn't believe it was real. A hideous mockery of womanhood, with bent and twisted limbs, gnarled like an old tree. Tattered robes covering the sallow skin, the pallid flesh contrasting gruesomely with the matted hair.
Rebecca was only relieved she didn't see the eyes of the monster. The chains, groaning and hitting the ground, scratching like nail on a chalkboard.
She stood straighter and turned away from her friend.
She wouldn't follow her fate.
She was going to escape.
As she left the room, Chris called her name. "Rebecca!" he yelled eagerly.
Jill was with him. She knew what she could do.
"I can probably find a bomb or set off a self destruct mechanism," Rebecca told him, her voice normal, despite her heart pounding. She felt sick. "A place like this… is bound to have one!" she finished, her voice oddly loud and cheery. She struggled for control.
She meandered off slowly and found it. It was amazing how simple it was, how obvious it was. Anyone could've shut it off in seconds, any employee. She wondered why they hadn't. Probably they'd been killed off by the giant monsters.
She would've, if it weren't for her prior experience and Chris' wonderful aim. He was the best shot in STARS. She was so proud of her friend. They could survive. They could get out. And if not: she'd blow the place up with them in it.
Rebecca struggled to find her way back to Chris.
Jill was with him.
Rebecca felt relief flood over her. Kind, calm Jill Valentine had been rescued. Chris had found her: Wesker was dead.
And even behind her, she heard a grunt. Barry!
She was nearly blinded from the pain, but she smiled at them as the self-destruct warning rang.
A clang echoed in the behind them as they ran to the elevator. Rebecca looked at the three. "You go," she panted. "I'll stay here and take care of it!"
Chris looked uncertain. Jill shook her head fiercely. "No! We're getting out together."
Barry gave her a look. "No, Jill! Rebecca and I can take care of it. We'll meet you up there!"
Rebecca felt an overflow of love and gratitude for the heavily muscled older man. He grinned at her as she aimed her gun.
The elevator bleeped behind them, signaling Chris and Jill's ascension.
A creature came bounding up, huge and ugly.
The enormous, ugly man creature. Tyrant.
It towered, and slowly, angrily came after them, as if its rage were palpable, icy cold, hindering its step. It was wounded: Chris had seen to that.
But it was very much alive.
Barry and Rebecca shot together, the continuous sound of bullets from his magnum and her weak handgun knocking it down.
The elevator bleeped again and Rebecca hit the button frantically, while Barry aimed warily. "Hurry, hurry!" she hissed, her stomach turning roiling in terror. They were cornered.
The doors opened and Rebecca hopped in, slamming the close button. Agonizingly slow, she and Barry began to climb up through the layers of earth.
She clenched her gun close to her. It wasn't much defense, and it was nothing to Barry's magnum, but it was 100 percent better than nothing.
They made it to the top and Rebecca hurled herself out, running for safe ground.
"Brad! It's us!" Jill shouted futilely into a walkie-talkie while Chris was setting up a flare.
The firework whistled into the air and Rebecca could've collapsed. The joy, the relief. Saved. Brad was coming. They had an escape route.
Saved. Free.
At least, until the Tyrant came barreling from beneath the earth, angrier than ever…