Through the Pain
"Captain. We need to get out of here."
It wasn't as if Chris didn't know that. In fact, he only knew it too damn well.
They were sitting ducks.
He looked over to his top-sniper and nodded sharply.
"Alright." He motioned for Piers to take the lead.
His fingers touched his headset to issue his orders.
"Jeff and Marco, you take point. Piers and I will cover you. Dick, Will, provide backup."
"Understood, Captain", came the replies from his men. He shifted against the wall and tried to asses the situation.
"Go!"
He had already spotted two tangos on the roof across the street, but he left them for Piers to take out, because he knew his lieutenant had seen them as well.
Sure enough the second Chris had made his first kill, he could see one of the men falling, tipping over the edge of the building and dropping down onto the street below.
Jeff was half across the open ground when shots rained down from diagonally behind him, missing him only by a heartbeat.
Chris couldn't see the attacker from where he stood right now. But if they wanted to be safe, this position had to be taken out.
"Phil, cover me!"
Knowing he well was exposing himself to enemy fire but not hesitating even so, Chris swiftly moved out of cover and sprinted over to a position three yards away that was at least partly shielded from the front and side. Judging by the trajectory of the bullets the shooter had to be above him from there and since he had had a clear shot, Chris ought to have, too. Chris could only hope for a clean line of sight. Arriving at the spot he sharply turned and gladly realized he had the quite surprised target in sight. He lined up his shot with practiced ease before the shooter could let loose another salve on Marco this time, and felled him.
"Tango down."
Before he could turn again, he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. He almost dropped his assault rifle on the spot. Almost. He held onto it, gritting his teeth, and looked around. Another sniper had him in his crosshair. He needed to get out of there.
"Alpha, move up," he yelled over the com, before making a run for it himself. He had practically forgotten about the pain by the time he reached the apparent safety of the next building.
"Piers. Come on. I'll cover you."
The rest of his men were laying down cover fire as well, but Chris' eyes still searched for the sniper who had crippled him. Pulling himself together and trying to ignore the renewed biting sting of the wound, he lifted up the gun and peered through the scope frantically. He could see Piers running over as fast as he could. Then he moved up, scanning the roofs and windows.
He wasn't sure, because of the pain that numbed his sensations, but it seemed to him the shooter had to be sitting somewhere on higher ground – just not too high, maybe. If the bastard would get Piers he would get him good. He was wide open now.
"Come on..." He mumbled, more to himself than anything.
Then he saw him. He wasn't sitting, he was lying on a rooftop, his uniform making him almost invisible.
Apparently he had Piers in his sights and was only waiting for the right moment.
"Oh no, you son of bitch. Not today."
And with gusto he pulled the trigger.
The first bullet hit the target – it was a straight headshot.
Chris tried to see if anyone else was left, but the moment he felt Piers beside him, his arm dropped, his brow covered in sweat from the exertion. He got inside and leaned against the banister next to him while Piers closed the door.
He was panting heavily. Still, they needed to leave as soon as possible.
"Let's get out of here", he breathed, moving to a full-standing position again, but swayed and almost stumbled, hadn't Piers been there to hold his arm (thankfully his good one). Chris glanced up, only to find Piers looking at him hard.
"I agree. Let's get you out of here, Captain."
Chris tried to crack a smile, but failed and let out a pained grunt instead.
"I got you, Captain. Just lean on me."
Chris did as he was told. A bit reluctantly. But he knew that there was no point in arguing with Piers – especially not at a time like this.
Piers grabbed his left arm and slung it over his back while putting the other around his back. Then the two awkwardly shuffled out of the backdoor, where the rest of the team was waiting.
"Are you okay, Captain?", Marco asked as he saw his pale face.
"Been better", was Chris' reply, "But it's just a scratch..."
He could feel Piers stiffening at his side, but the sniper remained silent. While some men barricaded the door, Piers helped Chris sit down for a moment. His arm felt almost limp when Chris tried to move it and he let it sink down again.
Piers produced some bandages out of his backpack.
"We need to patch you up, Captain."
Chris wanted to stand to protest that they didn't have the time for that now, but Piers pushed him back down with ease.
"Sit still or it will take longer than necessary."
An exasperated sigh left Chris' lips, but he did as he was told.
He felt silly as he allowed Piers to roll up the sleeve of his shirt.
"Seems like the bullet ripped right through the flesh – you're lucky the sniper missed your head", Piers deducted as he quickly cleaned and disinfected the wound. He wasn't gentle and Chris hissed under the light pressure and the pain it caused running down the whole length of his arm.
Chris threw him an angry look. Just because he was a soldier didn't mean he liked getting shot at and the resulting painful experience.
But Piers just stared ahead, obviously focusing on the task at hand. He was taking the bandage, rolling it down a bit before putting a pad on the wound, placing the loose end underneath Chris' arm, before he started to roll the bandage around the upper arm and then switching to lay it around his shoulder blades and underneath his armpit to secure it in place.
Chris watched the whole procedure, fascinated in a way. After the initial stabilizing, Piers steadily continued to wrap his arm. Chris' eyes moved away from the scene, upwards to Piers' face which had the same stern and focused expression as before.
Still, Chris kept looking at him, studying his features. Grime and sweat clung to Piers' cheeks, forehead and nose, his hair looked mussed and damp from perspiration. His jaw was set in grim determination. When Chris looked at his eyes however, they seemed to flicker.
And was that a slight blush creeping into Piers' cheeks?
Chris kept staring, the pain in his arm suddenly forgotten.
He wanted to say something, but swallowed audibly instead.
Piers' eyes grew harder again and he leaned down, closing his backpack.
It shook Chris out of his stupor and he looked at his right arm which was now neatly wrapped in a white cotton bandage.
Piers stood up again, avoiding Chris' renewed curious glance.
Before he could turn away however, Chris grabbed his arm. The lieutenant looked down at him and although his gaze betrayed nothing, Chris could still see the faint blush on his face.
He wasn't just imagining it, was he?
Chris wanted to ask Piers about this odd behavior, but then he remembered that they were in the middle of a war zone, the whole team standing close by – and his hand fell away again, a slight blush of his own developing under his skin.
But he still felt like needed to say something. So he just kept looking straight at Piers and said what seemed the most appropriate right now:
"Thanks."
Piers' eyes lightened up and Chris wondered what meaning he could have conveyed in this short sentence other than the obvious one (which didn't explain the sudden change in Piers' expression). But when Piers carefully smiled at him in return, all of that was rendered unimportant.
Fascinating. He had never thought anything in particular at all, but this was certainly piquing his interest.
Chris stood up as well, and gave his orders to his men, but as they started moving he only focused on Piers' back.
Really fascinating. He would definitely have to find out more about his second in command and about these weird butterflies that were suddenly inhabiting his stomach.
( END )