Author's Note:

I know it has been a ridiculously long time since I last updated. And it took me forever to write this fucking chapter, and I am not at all pleased with it. But I haven't updated in probably over a month, so I figure just shove it on up. It's the end anyway. Oh well. Read and Review! Be brutal, I know this one sucks and I need tips.

BTW, lemon alert. Shitty lemon. This is why the chapter took so long for me to write, lol.

It's an abrupt ass ending, and I plan on continuing this at a later date: another story, featuring other Resident Evil characters. Most likely it will be Jill/Chris centric. I'm not sure yet, but enjoy.

Lips Touched

Lips met.

Billy gauged the situation. Christ, had she been a virgin when Irons had fucking snatched her? How could that've happened? Even the image of the enormous monster hadn't terrified her as much. Those creatures, they were acting on instinct. They weren't human. Irons' actions had been done out of cruelty, selfishness. He was a monster, more than any virus, any experimentation could be.

This was about her. He promised himself to take it slow. Delicately, deliberately, he laid her on the bed. She shut her eyes, waiting for the imminent. But instead of stripping himself, Billy lay next to her, and tenderly traced the shell of her ear with his lips, trailing hot breath down to the crook where her shoulders and neck met. He kissed the hollow of her neck, the rapidly racing pulse. "Just… relax," he urged her.

Her eyes were framed by dark lashes. She had a smudge of a bruise near her jaw. He lightly kissed it.

Now that he had the utmost freedom with her, he was unsure what to do with his newfound power. Earlier, when emotion had overcome him and he kissed her, there had been the forbidden thoughts racing through his head, until he couldn't catch his own breath. But, he reminded himself. This was about helping her. Not about seeking his own release.

When he deemed her ready, he rested a hand on her breast. Not moving, barely daring to breathe, he waited. After a tense moment, she relaxed, then fidgeted.

With experienced eyes, Billy could tell that she was slowly simmering beneath him, partially from his kisses, and from his sudden shift in gears.

Sliding a hand lower, he stopped when he reached the bottom of her shirt. His warm hands met her skin, and he splayed his hand on her stomach. Her languid repose began to tighten, and he felt her stomach clench and unclench beneath his fingers.

Tuned into her body's reactions, Billy changed his mind. This wasn't just about helping her forget. She deserved pleasure beyond what she knew existed.

Stripping down to his boxers, he waited a moment, until she realized he didn't intend for her to undress as well. Her body was stiff.

Billy ran his fingers down her body, lightly, exploring the contours of her body through her clothing. When he reached her hip, he left his hand resting there, suggestively. Heat seeped from his palm to her hipbone, and she shifted restlessly again.

He carefully peeled off her socks, her feet tiny in his much-larger palm. His fingers wrapped tightly around her feet, warming them.

Turning to face her again, and fighting his tenderness towards her fragile repose, lust suddenly swarmed up, nearly blinding him. He choked on a breath for a moment, and tried to calm himself. Fucking Christ.

He lay back next to her, trying to slow his thudding heart, when she reached for his face. The simple touch sent his heart careening. Her expression unsure, she lifted her face to meet his, and kissed him.

He rolled on top of her, pulling himself on his knees so he couldn't crush her. She was a phenomenal kisser.

Kissing her desperately, Billy felt his lust rush through his veins like fire. Cupping her face in his hands as lightly as possible, he teased her lips swollen. He released her, coming up for air.

Rebecca opened her eyes languidly. "Billy?" she asked timidly. He met her shy gaze. Splaying her fingers across his chest, she looked at him, as if for acceptance, permission. He moaned at the touch.

Jesus. He couldn't fucking do this.

He slid away from her, panting heavily.

"Rebecca," he sighed her name. Looking up, confused, Rebecca caught her breath. "It's not right… I can't do this to you."

Tears welled up in her eyes and her shame caught her throat. "I'm sorry…" she choked. "I just… I'm scared."

He pulled her as closely as possible, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her tightly. "Jesus Christ, don't apologize to me," he kissed her forehead gently. "You don't need to apologize to anyone."

Looking down into her eyes, he didn't see Anna. Billy saw Rebecca, the feisty, shy, smart, young, tough and fragile girl who'd saved his ass dozens of times.

He saw the dusky shadows under her eyes and the lines of stress between her brows. He saw the tears clinging to her lashes and the way her lower lip was full and swollen.

"Rebecca," he whispered in her ear, soothingly. "I want you to do something for me."

She nodded, her eyes locked on his.

"I want you to take off your clothes."

Rebecca's heart plummeted, but she couldn't resist the hypnotically tender look in Billy's navy gaze. She slid from his arms and stood up, feeling nauseous. Biting her lip, she took a shaky breath and pulled off her clothing, piece by piece, until she was completely naked.

The chill in the room gave her goosebumps, and she self consciously tried to cover her chest with her arms.

"Don't be ashamed." Billy told her gently, holding back the anger in his voice. Jesus, she looked awful.

Purple-black bruises, red cuts, and blue veins stood from her body, splattering her as if it were a canvas portrait. He felt fury flood him as hot and powerful as his lust.

Despite everything, she was beautiful.

Slender and muscular, the countours of her body were strong and visible. The dip of her waist was deep, her bottom muscular, her legs sculpted. Her arms were strong, her full, small breasts partially hidden by her arms.

"What now?" she quavered.

"Come here," he invited, opening his arms. Rebecca nearly leapt into them, wanting to hide her body.

Billy's body and mind were warring. It was wrong, she was too young, too innocent, too scared… but his body reminded him that she was willing, she was beautiful, and, feeling her heartbeat thump on his shoulder, that she wanted him too.

She shifted, and his body won.

Billy couldn't even honor his inner promise to go slowly. He gripped her waist, massaging her stomach, and bit down on her lip, caressing her mouth with his tongue, forcing her hips to grind gently down on his.

She gasped, then moaned, hanging her head back, shivering, and Billy deliberately took one hand and, firmly cupped her with his hands.

He felt warm liquid falling onto his hand, and smiled to himself, moving his lips down to her vulnerable neck and gently tracing butterfly kisses until he reached the crook of her shoulder. Golden, auburn-brown hair rustled as she breathed heavily, sighing. The pink shading on her shell-like ear captivated him. The smooth transition of her forehead to hairline mesmerized him. Her lips were chapped and red, swollen from her lip biting and his kisses.

He could wrap his hands around her tiny waist with ease, moving his hands upwards to warm her breasts, the smooth, silky skin of her torso at odds to his rough palms and callused fingers. She gasped at the touch and looked at him intently, studying him. He paused his ministrations, meeting her intense gaze.

Rebecca watched Billy closely. His eyes were dark: navy blue. The strong structure of his face made her feel safe: protected. She moved her stare to his mouth. She kissed him, hard, shivering at his response, trying to memorize the strong muscles of his chest and back. He tasted so good, so alive.

He moved away, kissing her breasts, massaging them with his tongue and mouth, nibbling, biting, caressing them. She moaned at his touch. But while his mouth distracted her, a hand slid down to the place where her legs met the rest of her body, at the junction between them. A warm, wet head melted from between her limbs and he pressed a strong finger against her, eliciting a soft cry. Her breathing became erratic as she waited for him to continue, impatiently, desperately. He moved away, taking away his warm skin. As cool air hit her, she recovered slightly, but when his tongue replaced his finger, shock and pleasure collided. She scooted away from him, but he coaxingly moved closer,

"Billy,"

Her voice was shaking. She heard it, as if it were from a distance. This wasn't her. This couldn't be her, could it?

It seemed surreal, lying here with Billy. She thought of the dog tags. She thought of Jacob. Of Johnson.

Lindsey.

Kyle.

She wasn't the pitiful orphan any longer. She had been granted a curse: she had been given a fate.

Billy's roving mouth distracted her thoughts, scattering them. She forgot, in that moment. She forgot about Irons.

She forgot about pain.

All she could think of was Billy, his mouth, his lips, the pleasure coursing through her. His eyes penetrating her.

She writhed in his grasp, waiting for elusive fulfillment as he kissed her, rubbing her with his tongue, nibbling. She grasped the sheets, her stomach churning, her need almost painful.

But then she released.

The climax hit her until she almost sobbed with relief. She looked at Billy, noting sweat rolling down his forehead. Guilt consumed her.

What right had she to ask him for that? It was personal, it was private, she was in an emotional state…

She tried to look for reasons to regret it. Jacob's face. Anything.

But nothing came.

Billy carefully, tenderly lifted her, holding her in his arms like a bride, her slightly damp, sticky skin pressing against his. Blushing, she clamped her eyes shut. But Billy took her to the bathroom. He turned on the hose and let the water warm. Stepping inside, still holding Rebecca, he unwrapped the tiny gift soaps. Scentless and cheap, the tiny bar was square and stern, glaring at them. He rubbed the ivory bar between his much-larger fingers until they were pleasantly soapy, and began to wash Rebecca.

Flushing, she let him. He wrapped warm, soapy fingers around her neck and rubbed gently, careful of her bruises and marks. The water flowed over them, warmly. She felt hot tears well in her eyes, and was glad the shower hid them. She felt a lump grow in her throat and tried to swallow it.

Billy immediately stopped. "Rebecca, I can stop. I just—"

"No—" she managed to choke out, filled with gratitude. She began to cry, right there on the shower floor. "Don't stop, Billy. Please."

She didn't understand the look that passed shuttered his gaze for an instant. But she waited.

"I won't." he promised before continuing.

He washed her hair, her skin, rubbing her small feet between his palms.

To him, she was a priceless treasure.

Jesus Christ, he hoped for his sake that he didn't get any more involved with this girl.

Kyle returned to a pristinely neat motel room, troubled. Billy sat on the bed, Rebecca fast asleep beside him.

"What's going on?" Billy asked roughly, keeping his voice low.

"They're bombing Raccoon. Ada has no chance." Kyle told him soberly. "Then I met with a private contact. She gave me information on a Chris Redfield, who apparently is good friends with Rebecca."

Billy understood Kyle's abrupt, rough manner and ignored it. He felt a momentary pang of guilt at Ada's fate: but he shoved it down. He'd mourn her later. If it could be called mourning. "Where's Redfield?"

"Apparently he's somewhere in Europe. He was with STARS, and now he has a plan to take down Umbrella."

"I'm sure you were very interested to hear that," Billy answered snidely.

Kyle sighed. "I'm done, Billy. I've spent years of my fuckin' life doing this shit. I'm gonna pull in for the last wave, and then I'm done. I'm in my twenties and I feel like a fucking sixty year old."

Billy could relate. "Well what should Rebecca and I do? She's nothing, eighteen and abandoned. And I'm not exactly a fucking celebrity."

"Change your name. She's fine."

"You gonna stick around any longer?"

"Rebecca and I go back farther than I thought anyone could. She knew me before all this shit. Look where we both ended up. It looks like Umbrella made its own fucking bed with this."

"There's still so much I don't know."

Kyle looked at him tiredly. "You'll know everything soon enough."

Billy glared. "That's not fucking good enough. You know it."

"Yeah."

The silence that followed was filled with exhaustion.

"So what'd you and Rebecca do while I was gone?" Kyle questioned, feeling the need for small talk.

"Fucked around."

Kyle nodded, oblivious. Christ he was tired. He met with Hunnigan after, waiting for her in an alley way. She was a priceless informant: he wouldn't give her up for anything.

"So whaddya mean by the last wave?"

"I'm gonna go back in and look for survivors." Kyle told him truthfully.

Billy studied Kyle for a minute. "You're more of a man than you look." Kyle merely nodded. "Why? You could die." What he did not say was Kyle's unique combat and intelligence skills gave him a deft advantage. Anyone could get killed in that situation.

"Maybe I'll find something interesting. But from now on," Kyle changed his accent so that it was unrecognizable. "My name is Carlos."

Kyle slept, woke up, and proceeded to transform himself. He went from a mediocre looking man of average—well, everything—to a muscular, Spanish man.

"So why do you need a new identity for this?"

Kyle answered with softly accented Spanish: "I'm a mercenary working for Umbrella. We've been sent to rescue any survivors. They have a helicopter to and from."

"Where'd you find this out?"

"My contact."

"Figured."

Rebecca stirred. Turning to her, Kyle looked at Billy. "I'm a man of many secrets."

Raising a brow, Billy shot him a dry smirk.

"If I don't come back—" he hesitated. "Just tell Rebecca thanks for everything. And if I don't come back, you have to find Chris Redfield. Don't fucking make a joke out of it. This motel is paid for. You have a month here. Don't fuck up too badly."

Pausing, Billy looked at him seriously. "I'll take care of her."

Kyle felt something swell from his stomach to his throat. Now was not the time to cry. Especially not in front of Billy Coen.

He paused before leaving, looking at the scene. Curled up beneath the worn blankets was Rebecca: Billy stood over her, arms crossed, like a guard dog.

"Thanks," he answered gruffly, and left.

At the door's click, Rebecca woke. The instant she saw Billy, she blushed. He felt a grin spread across his face almost instantly, but it faded at the thought of Kyle.

"Where's Kyle?"

Billy wasn't sure how to put it delicately: he felt an odd urge to shield her from the news. But that was ridiculous, she was a grown woman. "He uh—he went back into Raccoon City."

Rebecca's eyes widened. "Everything I know about him, you've told me." She admitted soberly. "He was my best friend, and now he's a stranger."

"He probably thinks the same thing about you." Billy pointed out. He remembered his earlier opinion of her, that night on the train. How she had healed his wound, embarrassed the entire time. "The world is different than it was six months ago, doll face."

She almost smiled at the pet name. "At least you didn't call me little girl."

"I think that'd be a little inappropriate after last night."

Her face flamed. "Do you—want to talk about it?"

Billy wished he'd never brought it up. "Not particularly," he answered shortly. He'd fucked a lot of girls since Anna's death, but with Rebecca it had been different.

It was different because he cared about her so fucking much.

The thought of losing Rebecca physically sickened him. Christ, what the fuck was happening to him.

Billy had long ago stopped dwelling on things. It made everything seem so ridiculous. His life was so completely different from how he had ever imagined. Anna, Africa, zombies, Rebecca. Ada, Kyle.

"I guess there's a lot we should talk about." He changed his mind. "Can you contact a Chris Redfield? Kyle said it'd be important- in case he didn't come back. And honestly, I doubt he's gonna make it. There are some pretty freaked out things in that place."

"He's a walking miracle," Rebecca mused.

"I don't know shit about him, but he's pretty incredible," Billy grudgingly admitted. For some reason, he wanted Rebecca to feel that way about him, rather than Kyle.

"Billy?" she asked hesitantly.

He gave her his full attention.

"Just… thank you. For everything. What you've done for me—you don't even know me… but I wouldn't be alive right now without you. Not on the train, or in Raccoon, and last night—"

"Did it help?"

Red faced, she averted her eyes. "Yes," she whispered, barely audible. "I just needed—I didn't want to be afraid."

"Were you a virgin?"

A few days ago, he never would've asked her a question like that. Maybe as a joke, just to get a rise out of her, but right now, he was deadly serious.

She shook her head ashamedly. "No…"

His fingers stretched in the air before him. "No need to elaborate," he told her kindly. "But I'm not just gonna fuck you and leave you."

His declaration surprised himself more than it did her.

"I just feel so pathetic lately…" tears were in her eyes. "I keep telling myself to be stronger, but I feel like I'm falling apart. Especially after the train and the mansion, going back was awful. Then watching Johnson—he and Jacob killing each other. The infection is a curse. I want to stop it, but I'm so scared." She rushed out. "But I'd rather die fighting than just let it go."

"Then we're all on the same page, Rebecca," he answered.

"Chris will help us. I am- in contact with him, I mean. His sister- her name's Claire, she's in college right now, so she won't be in Raccoon. Thank goodness. I couldn't stand the thought of her dying."

"I can't believe we made it out, still. But you need to track down Chris."

"I'll e-mail him—he told me too, if there was ever a problem."

"I think this counts."

Alrighty, I hope everyone enjoyed this. I know the ending is ridiculously closure-less, but hey, isn't life like that? This is a series, so if you want more, put me on Author Alert!