Prompt (From Anon): Whenever I think of the Edonia incident right after Carla turned the B.S.A.A. team into B.O.W.s, I wonder how Piers managed to bring Chris back home in one piece. What if Piers did get seriously injured in the process and got scars all over his body, yet tried to hide them from Chris just so that he wouldn't be worried about him?
A/N: Well! More Piers abuse with this one. He's just so dedicated to his Captain. ;-; Also, I don't really have much medical knowledge, so apologies if some stuff doesn't add up the way it would in reality. AU for obvious reasons, and since Chris doesn't suffer from amnesia in this.
They should have known the woman was trouble the moment she opened her mouth. The sultry words that left her lips, weaving down the webbing of a lie that Alpha had gotten themselves stuck inside. Well, the spider caught her prey the moment the metal dropped down and sealed in around the rest of their unit. Piers wasn't sure why he and the Captain were left separated from the group, or how they'd managed to avoid the flying needles that slipped near the bars that blocked the way... But the simple truth was that they had, and he didn't care to question it.
Chris had been desperate, refusing to turn his back on the agonized wails of his own men that he couldn't save. Piers was there, tugging at him; insistent. It was already finished, already too late - they couldn't stop to mourn over it, not when the cocoons of their comrades started to crack. It was done, they were gone. But Chris hadn't been so willing to accept that, he didn't want to believe the sight that set itself before him even as the mutated monster that had once been the innocent little rookie he'd taken under his wing and sought to look after broke through the metal that divided them.
Everything was a blur after that. The pressure of being knocked into the body standing behind him, then picked up to be thrown against the wall where he was beaten, abused, and tossed aside like some sort of oversized rag doll. Chris hardly registered any of it as he hit the floor; as he heard the screaming of his name somewhere from behind before an arm was grabbing him, pulling him away from Finn - young, naive little Finn who'd only been at the start of his life. There was gunfire, bullets that resounded as though they were in slow motion while the pounding of his own heart had beat a tune in his ears, a soft melody that lulled him into the approaching darkness as his eyes fluttered closed.
The abominations that used to be their companions didn't relent so easily. The farther away Piers would drag his unconscious Captain, the Napads would be right on them. Finn in particular remained hot on their tail, despite the spurts of bullet fire Piers would lay down on him. On it.
In a rush, it made a charge towards them faster than they could avoid.
There was no smart way out, no easy way. Not without putting the Captain's life on the line. The bullets weren't enough to stop the Napad in its tracks, so that only left Piers with one other option. On instinct and the drive to protect Chris, Piers released his hold on the older man to throw himself in front of the limp body and into the path of the abomination. He'd get Chris out of there or die trying to do it. It was reckless and stupid to do, but his Captain was injured and he'd be damned if he let anything stop him from getting the man to safety.
Looking down the sights of his weapon as the beast came closer, he opened fire; even if it didn't so much as stumble the Napad, even if it hardly scratched him. Piers wanted to make sure it kept its focus on him - then he could take Chris and get the hell out of there.
That's when the impact came.
It was like being hit by a freight train. One bash had the sniper flying through the air where he collided into a door that shattered on impact. Broken splinters stabbed at his vest and fatigues as he forced himself to sit up with an audible groan. The sound of steam being pumped into the air and heavy, ragged breaths with pounding footsteps headed in his direction. There were only two now - and both of them were focused on him. Piers pushed himself to his feet, almost staggering as he stepped farther back into the room. It was just them, and he needed to lure them as far away from Chris as he could.
He still had a few remote bombs, maybe he could put those to use-
The Napads weren't always as slow as they looked, and after the recent blow Piers had just taken, it'd be a bit of a challenge to get in and out fast enough while keeping the things within range of the blast.
Unless...
If he could attach it to one, maybe that would work. Stick it right under the armor plating through those small slits and blow it once he was clear. Problem was, getting close enough to do it.
Chris was still unconscious, still in need of help. Piers wouldn't let him down. He had no choice.
Deft hands moved to pull the device free from a pouch at his belt. They were running out of time and had no way to tell if more B.O.W.s were nearby. He had to do it. As long as he stayed in one piece long enough to get Chris out, that was all that mattered.
The Napads were coming closer, and Piers didn't back away. One slow trudge after the next until the first was within range to swing. Piers narrowly ducked under the massive limb and dived behind the thing, stuffing the explosive into its intended position. All he'd need to do was put some distance between himself and those things, then-
An oversized hand gripped a hold on his shoulder as he went to move away, stopping him in his tracks to spin him around where the second fist found its way toward his side. Armored layer released an audible crack as it collided, catching a few of the ribs. With a shout, Piers found himself knocked off his feet for the second time in a matter of minutes, only it was the other Napad he found himself being pushed into. It clutched at him, lifting him up by the fabric of his vest. On instinct, his hands sought to undo the front of the protecting barrier despite better judgement but he had no choice. A few clicks and a pulled zipper had him shimmying out of it and back to the floor, gun clattering off to the side out of reach.
Piers staggered, one arm wrapped itself around his midsection as he scrambled to get away. A single step forward and a heavy backhand from one of the Napads sent him stumbling to the floor where he slid a few feet over its surface. Of course. They were infected, they had no reason to hold anything back. Piers rolled onto his side with a grunt, nostrils flaring to steady his breathing as he glanced back toward the heavy footsteps edging their way closer. Damn it, they were still too close for him to be out of range, he had to keep moving before he could detonate the explosive.
There was a sound farther off in the distance, unfamiliar voices that gave away commands. J'avo. That was the last thing he needed. More risks. The Captain wouldn't be happy with him for taking them, but he had to rush, had to hurry. The exit was on the other side of the room, behind the Napads. If he could just get by them one way or another to reach the hall, he could blow the device and then worry about the approaching J'avo. Chris was still out there, alone, unconscious and exposed. It was all or nothing.
Piers pushed himself back to his feet again, body throbbing in every place he'd been hit. He coughed, a small sputter of something wet scaled up the back of his throat and into his hand. Dark, crimson.
Blood.
Piers inhaled, teeth clenched tight against each other as he forced himself to move. He knew the chances of getting through those things had just grown even more slim, but he was still breathing. For as long as it stayed that way, he wouldn't stop until Chris was safe. He threw himself forward, acting on what adrenaline he had left to slip around a blow that would have sent him right back to the floor. Another thrust of a heavy limb nearly caught him, but he managed to evade by sliding under it, causing his body to scream in protest at his actions but it was life or death. He could sort the damage out later, if he made it.
Before he could rise back to his feet, a heavy fist was aimed in a downward punch that hit the ace's abdomen directly. Thick, armored covering shredded through fabric at the force of it, scraping across the toned flesh underneath to make it bleed.
Fuck, he was getting torn up! The contact had his lungs spilling up more liquid of thickened red, and he could hear them shuffling around to prepare for another assault. He willed himself to roll onto all fours where he started to crawl away toward the open door. Distance, he just needed distance... Every limb ached and throbbed, each taken breath was forced through heaving lungs. He could hear their footsteps padding behind him, he needed to hurry but it was so damn hard to keep moving. He was working on adrenaline and willpower, it kept him going. One of the Napads stopped to pound armored fists against the plain of its chest. Piers knew that sound and knew what it meant - it planned to charge again. If it did, it would be separated from the blast and still pose a threat. He was still within range, if he blew the bomb now...
Piers chanced a look over a shoulder. Just as he thought, it was preparing itself. Arms lowered and it bent down, ready to throw itself into a run.
Piers made his choice, damn it to hell.
Holding the detonator in an iron grip, he pressed down and not a moment later the explosive resounded alongside pained shrills from the Napads. He turned himself away, hands over his head to protect it as the blast washed over him in a heated embrace that had his back on fire. The pressure threw him forward where he collided with the floor, bashing his face against the surface to add a nosebleed to his list of injuries. He gasped and sputtered, screaming at the way he could feel his own back sizzling with burnt marks, never mind the sound of popping flesh or the smell as it was melted by the blast. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know the extent of damage, and judging by the pain - it was pretty fucking bad.
It was for Chris. Piers had to remind himself of that to stay strong and force himself to move. He was more than positive now that if the J'avo hadn't overheard the explosion, they sure as hell heard his screaming. Piers practically dragged himself across the floor with his arms to reach the hall, every movement sent an agonizing throb throughout his shoulder blades and down his spine. It would only get worse from there with the padding of footsteps coming closer, not to mention he'd have to drag Chris with him and out of the building.
When he'd finally reached Chris, Piers grabbed for the sidearm holstered to his hip and tugged it loose. He closed his eyes briefly to prepare himself before he pushed his body up from the floor with a cry, staggering into a stand on shaky legs that could barely hold his own weight. The burning sensation never waned, always in place over the span of his back where he'd rather not see. The marks over his chest dulled in comparison, but delt their own amount of pain. His entire body was screaming against him, begging for a break however small it may be but they didn't have the time and Piers couldn't risk it. Not with everything that happened, and not with the Captain still in his current state.
Piers leaned down with an outstretched arm that gripped a hold of Chris. Slowly, he started to move toward another doorway farther down the hall in hopes that it led to an exit. He paused for a moment to reach down with his other hand and swipe the ear piece from Chris. He'd lost his own somewhere amidst the fighting. He no longer heard the tapping footsteps of J'avo trailing behind them, so now was as good of a chance as any.
Piers slipped the device on, and it sprung to life. "HQ, this is Alpha. We need an evac, the Captain is wounded and the rest of our unit is dead." A few moments passed and there was nothing but static. "HQ, do you-"
"Copy that, Alpha. We're sending a support team to your coordinates now. Get of out the building and prepare for a pick up."
"Rog-" The statement was cut off by a scream from the ace as a machete cut through his right arm, pinning it to the wall. Hands were on his back, pushing him against the surface and hurting the already tender skin further. There was an uttered comment, some other language and he knew it was another damn J'avo. He winced under the pressure, of all the things they'd faced, if he was going to die then it wouldn't be because of one of those things. He used his left arm and jerked his elbow backward, colliding against the form behind him to make it stumble. The J'avo whined, slow to recover as Piers gripped his fingers around the sidearm he'd taken from Chris and turned around to fire. The positioning was odd, but his aim was just as flawless as ever. The J'avo collapsed to the floor where it melted into ash.
Piers breathed in, harsh and raspy before he turned back around, right arm still impaled perfectly against the wall. He put away the sidearm to tug at one of the riggings near his thigh and pulled it loose. He'd be needing it, and for now he slipped part of it between his teeth to give him something to bite down on as he reached forward to grasp a hold over the hilt of the machete with a shaking hand. He was a soldier. He could endure, he had no choice but to. The B.S.A.A. were on their way, they just needed to get outside...
Piers exhaled, and with one fluid motion, pulled the machete free in a single jerk that had him choking on another shout. The weapon skittered to the floor as he took the riggings from between his teeth to tie them over the span of his arm as a jury rigged tourniquet that would hopefully slow the bleeding long enough for them to leave. He was already feeling light headed, and glancing down at himself did nothing to help. Red splotches stained over the front of his jacket where an armored fist scraped holes into his skin, and his arm was already dampening its sleeve with crimson. He clutched at Chris with the last remnants of his strength and pulled. "We're getting out of here." He repeated it with every three steps like a mantra to keep him going. By some miracle, they had been able to make it to the exit and slip outside before more J'avo rounded the corner. Piers slammed the door closed and managed to pull a dumpster in the way of it to block them in. It might not last, but it would have to suffice long enough for them to move again.
The cold chill in the air seemed to numb his body, and Piers felt his limbs grow heavier. Each step was more difficult, and he could only barely keep a hold on Chris as they moved away. Finally around the corner of the next building, Piers collapsed against the wall from the overexertion. He clutched at Chris like a lifeline, holding the unconscious man against his chest, ignoring the injuries there. Piers didn't care, he just wanted Chris nearby. He needed to reassure himself that they'd done it, that they'd be okay. He shivered, body freezing from the loss of blood. The sniper never had done well with the cold to begin with.
Piers started to allow himself to relax upon hearing the sound of a helicopter somewhere in the far distance. They were on their way, it was only a matter of time before Chris was finally safe and they could both rest properly. Despite his wounds, he forced a smile after the hell they'd just been through, normally pearly white teeth were drenched in crimson, a mixture of blood and saliva stained the inside of his mouth. But it was almost over, so close...
"We made it, Captain." Piers murmured as he combed his fingers through the short locks of darkened hair on his Captain's head. "We can get out of here. Take some time to recover and relax..." He had to stop himself when the sudden urge to cough arose. More crimson made its way up from the back of his throat to stain the ground and drizzle over his chin. He winced, feeling a wave of nausea sweep over him as he rested his head against the wall behind him, each breath came out heavy and ragged, unstable with a catch in it.
"Just a little longer..."
The words died on his lips, fading into a soft, exhausted whisper as his eyelids fluttered shut and the world around him faded into a shade of black...
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Steady, calm.
Hazel eyes reopened to a white ceiling with a blink before they averted to the side, where they stopped at the heart rate monitor nearby. Piers sighed. They'd made it after all. He leaned forward to force himself into a sit, wincing at the pain still left over from the events. How long had he been out?
Piers glanced down to see layers of gauze pulled taut over his mid section, and he didn't need a clear view of what was under them to know that some of the wounds at his chest had required stitches, he could feel them nudge against the fabric if he turned a certain way. His back still throbbed the worst, and he wasn't sure laying on it would have helped much. Of course, neither would resting on broken ribs. He ached all over, but it was dulled by whatever meds they must have pumped into him. His arm was in a similar state as his chest with gauze woven around the length of it to shield away the stitched skin and seep up the blood. He tried to move his fingers, but only his thumb, pointer, and pinky could rotate relatively okay, while the other two couldn't even fully bend themselves forward. Damn it, he hoped the feeling would return and he'd regain control over the digits.
The door creaked open enough for a nurse to slip through. She offered a gentle smile upon seeing him awake, then proceeded to make sure everything was in order and that he was doing all right. Piers watched her silently for a time, up until she was about to leave.
"Where's Captain Redfield?" It was the first thing that came to his mind. He went through hell and back to look after the older man, he wanted to know how he was holding up. "Is he-"
"He was pretty banged up, but most of the damage was minimal compared to what you came in with. There was some heavy trauma to the back of his head that had him lapse into a coma, I'm afraid. Other than that, his body is starting a slow recovery." She frowned, "I'm not sure which one of you will be out of here quicker. With your wounds and his coma state, I imagine you'll both be spending a lot of time here."
Hazel eyes found themselves lowering to the floor. Chris was in a coma?
"Can I see him?"
"I'm not sure either of you are in any condition to-"
"Please! I just-" Piers sighed, "I want to see for myself that he's okay."
The nurse paused to watch him for a few short moments before she relented. "Fine, but only for a little while and then I'm bringing you back here to get some more rest."
Piers nodded, and she helped him out of the bed. His feet were unsteady and he was still light headed even after a blood transfusion, so she insisted that if he planned to go through with seeing his Captain, he'd be better off in a wheel chair until he felt better. He agreed, reluctantly, and after unhooking him from the machines, the nurse led him down the hall to a different room. She opened the door and motioned inside, "Here's the room. I'll give you thirty minutes, you hear? You shouldn't even be out and about. You can visit more after you're healed." With that said, she was already on her way.
Piers rolled himself inside without hesitation once she was gone, listening to the beating of the monitor as he slowed to a stop next to the bed. Chris may not have been in the best condition... But at least he looked peaceful in his sleep. Piers reached out to grasp a hold of the Captain's hand inside the clutches of his own with a small squeeze. "We're safe again, Captain... Now all you have to do is wake up." Hazel eyes skimmed across masculine features, the closed lids of strong and determined brown eyes, the growing stubble marked over his jawline, then last, they paused at his lips, wishing they'd part with a sound or curve into a smile.
Instead, only the silence met him between the continuous beeps of the monitor. Piers held his breath until he couldn't any longer. "I'm sorry, Chris." It was soft, gentle around the edges. A rare tone to fall from the sniper's mouth. He didn't speak again after that, even when the nurse came to retrieve him. He just stared at the motionless body, until he was pushed away and taken back to his room.
The days from then seemed to be drawn out. Whenever it was allowed, Piers would stop by to see Chris and occasionally talk to him, even if he wasn't conscious to hear any of it. His own recovery rate was slow going, but there was progress. He just wished that Chris would have shown some as well.
A few days and Piers was okay to move around on his feet steadily. About two weeks, and the stitches were out. He wasn't fully recovered, but they were actually planning to let him go home. However, he was in no condition to return to active duty yet and thus he wouldn't be allowed to. Normally, Piers would have wanted to jump back onto the field as soon as he could, but considering the circumstances, he wasn't too concerned about it. Despite being given the okay to go home, Piers didn't. Instead, he stayed in his Captain's room.
Eventually, a time came when he was allowed back in the B.S.A.A. base, still restricted to desk work, and was already instructed to be the one to form a new team in the Captain's absence. They had no idea how long it would take Chris to heal or even wake up for that matter, and they couldn't wait around in the case that another outbreak took place. It was all work with them, and despite what they claim, soldiers could be replaced. They were there to fight a war, and that made them expendable. Piers didn't have much of a choice but to return to base then and rummage through files and folders, ever growing lists of new possible recruits. He wanted to be there for Chris, he wanted to be there when he finally woke up. More and more, that was all he could think about.
Piers had received a call half way through working hours, and the voice on the other end was what notified him that Chris had regained consciousness. He'd already been on his feet before the call finished and hurried out the door. Despite not being allowed on the field, he still kept his gear in place out of habit; riggings set around toned thighs and bulletproof vest all equipped. Piers never bothered to remove any of it as he exited through the front doors on a last minute notice.
The ace had been quick to arrive at the hospital, and practically sprinted down the hallway toward the room. He opened the door, nearly bumping into one of the nurses who was on her way out as he brushed by. With his heart racing in his ears, his legs carried him to the side of the bed. Chris didn't make a move, was he...?
"Captain?" Piers held his breath.
Brown eyes fluttered open in search of hazel at the sound. Piers felt his heart skip a beat as he exhaled. "I came as soon as they-"
"It's just us, now." Rough, hoarse.
The sound was painful to the sniper's ears. Hazel never left brown as he gave a single, short nod. "The B.S.A.A. wanted me to round up a new unit while you were out, but... It's going slow." He pulled a chair close to the side of the bed and seated himself in it. "We all know the risks, Captain. We almost didn't make it out of there either." Not that Piers had any intention of explaining what happened... Chris had too much on his mind now with the death of their squad, the last thing the ace wanted to do was worry him more.
"Heard about that," Small details, nothing too specific. But Chris knew that Piers had dragged him out, saved his life. Dark pools slid closed, blocking out the world from sight with the layer of skin from his eyelids. Finn, Andy, Carl, Ben. All of them, gone. Just like that. Their faces were there, flickering inside the darkness of his mind, haunting him. The screams were still fresh in his ears, and Chris had no way to block them out. He didn't say anything after that. He should have died with his men.
Hazel eyes fell to the floor.
More days went by, and Chris would never talk much. He was hurting, guilty and regretful. Nothing Piers said ever seemed to sway him. Eventually they stopped talking all together, even as the sniper took all the time he could spare to visit. The beeping sound of the monitor was the only noise to occupy the room, but Piers could hear his own heart beating in his ear drums, and every pump had his back throbbing. The skin hadn't grown back fully, and it was a reoccurring pain. But, he never mentioned that to anyone.
One particular night had started like the rest. Piers was back in the chair next to the bed, eyes looking anywhere but at Chris. His body was fully covered, the only bits of visible skin was that of the layer over his face. He'd gotten into the habit of wanting to keep his injuries a secret, and Chris was the last person he planned to tell.
"Why do you keep coming back, Piers?" It was hardly a whisper, and the sniper had just barely heard it.
Hazel eyes did move then, roaming up the length of the blankets to the head of the bed where they met brown. "Because we still need you."
I need you.
"Someone has to keep checking in to make sure you're doing okay."
Please be okay. I need you to be okay.
Piers remained as stern as ever, holding his ground as Chris eyed him suspiciously for a few drawn out seconds until he turned away, dark eyes cast to the ceiling. "Right." The older man snorted, hardly believing a word.
"Captain-"
"Piers, don't."
"Damn it, Chris!" Piers shot to his feet, nearly toppling his chair over in the process. "Things like this happen! It's part of being with the B.S.A.A. and we were always trained to expect the worst! I'm not pretending that it should be easy on you, because it won't always be. That doesn't mean you should mope around in self-pity when we still need you!" He didn't care that he was practically yelling now. After listening to Chris continuously berate himself on the matter for something he couldn't control, Piers was running out of patience with the older man. Especially when he'd gone through hell and back just to bring him home.
Chris sat up at the outburst, probably the last thing he should have done with his head still pounding up a storm, not to mention the aches in the rest of his body. "You weren't in charge of that mission, Piers. Don't pretend to understand it! Those were my men!" He was pushing aside the covers now, tearing at the IV and everything else he shouldn't be.
"Captain! You can't just-"
"Do you know how many of them had siblings? Wives, kids? You never talked to them on a personal level, Piers. The rest of us - we weren't just another team, we were a goddamn family and now all of that is gone!" Chris was edging closer now, forcing Piers to step back.
"You're going to hurt yourself, Captain! Lay back down and we can talk about this-"
"How many more are going to end up like that? Does the B.S.A.A. really want me to kill more of their men?"
Piers scoffed and turned on a heel to reach for the button at the wall. "I'm calling the nurse. You're going to end up-"
"Piers, don't even-" Chris strode forward with an outstretched arm that clutched a handful of fabric at the back of the sniper's jacket, and without realizing it, he'd twisted a hold of the bandages underneath and scraped at the burnt skin Piers had tried so hard to keep hidden away. The result was an immediate scream that had the ace arching his back to try and pull away, feet collapsing under him as he curled in on himself, arms wrapping around his sides to try and comfort the area around his back out of reflex.
Chris had let go the moment Piers had cried out at the contact, anger dissipated into guilt. Brown eyes were wide with worry and surprise, "Piers! What-"
"Don't... Ngh, worry about it." The comment was a forced hiss through clenched teeth, and Piers didn't dare to look up at the older man, even as he heard him crouching down at his side.
"God, Piers... I'm sorry! I didn't mean- I didn't know! What's wrong? What the hell happened to you?" Everything from earlier faded away into concern, but Chris didn't place a hand over the ace to try and comfort him as he would have liked, out of fear that he'd only hurt him more.
"Argh, it's nothing. Just lay back down. Please, you need your-"
"Piers, stop it! What did you do? Let me see it." Chris was insistent, but he couldn't be forceful when there was a risk of causing more damage.
"No! It's okay... I'm okay." Piers didn't want to show him, didn't want to make things worse than they were. He winced, suddenly the pain he'd tried so hard to conceal grew to an extreme that he could no longer hide behind stern features.
"It wasn't a question. Damn it, Piers, work with me. If you were okay, you wouldn't have collapsed like that. This is serious, you could need help!" The sniper was too stubborn for his own good. Chris had to chance it, but he was gentle this time as he reached for the fabric, tugging softly to notify the other man he needed to remove it, and Chris wouldn't stop until he did.
"Captain, please. Just let it go and forget about it." Deft hands moved to rest over the ones gripping the front of his jacket, trying to pry them loose as the sniper forced his breathing to steady itself.
"I can't do that Piers, and you know it."
Piers swallowed, eyes averting to the wall in the opposite direction of Chris as he released his hold and allowed the jacket to be slipped off his shoulders. Next was the scarf, which was quickly unwound from around his neck. Strong hands reached for the remaining shirt, and the Captain seemed to hesitate for a moment when the sniper shuddered. Determined to find the source of the problem, Chris lifted the clothing over the ace's head and inhaled sharply. Piers was covered in more bandages than he was, they literally wrapped over him like a damn blanket. There was a spot in the gauze at his back that appeared to stick to the injury underneath. Chris reached out, careful in the act as he let a finger roam over the spot. He withdrew as he heard a soft gasp from the contact. "How did...?"
"The last mission." Piers still refused to meet his gaze, "After you were knocked unconscious, I had to... I did what I could. We're both still here."
"Piers, I..." Chris lowered his head, feeling something churn in his stomach. "You didn't have to-"
"I needed you alive." It was a small slip, but the sniper couldn't bring himself to worry about it.
"It wasn't worth this! Piers, you should have told me!"
"You already had too much on your mind, I didn't want to bother you-" Calloused fingers slipped under the ace's chin and cut him off. His head was turned by the strong hand holding it to meet his Captain's eyes. "This was something important. You needed to let me know."
"You found out about it, didn't you?" Piers pulled at the older man's wrist to knock his hand away.
Chris furrowed his brow, "Yeah, but I shouldn't have had to like this. It could have been avoided, if I knew I wouldn't have-" He sighed, raising the same hand he'd used to hold the sniper's chin up to his own face where it paused to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm sorry. But you shouldn't have hid this." His fingers let go to glide over his forehead where they combed themselves into his hair. His head gave a dull throb, but it was the least of his worries.
"The last thing you needed were more problems," Piers looked away and tried to force himself to his feet, groaning in the process. A hand over his left arm eased the struggle and helped him recover into a stand. He pulled away from the contact and turned his back to the older man as he twisted the fabrics of his previously discarded clothing between his hands. He glanced down at himself, hazel roamed over the bandages that shielded away his injuries. "I should go. I need to change these tonight to keep out any infection, and now's probably the best time to do it."
"Wait!" Chris was at his side in an instant. "You could always have one of the doctors here help with it, or... Or you could let me do it." He wasn't exactly in the best shape either, but if those wounds were caused because of him... "Just don't leave."
That was enough to make Piers turn, hazel orbs met brown with visible confusion and perhaps something else that Chris couldn't place. "I can take care of it, Captain. You should be resting-"
"Don't give me that bullshit, Piers. Just once in your goddamn life willingly agree that you'll do it and stay." Although the words themselves would say otherwise, the tone used wasn't a harsh one.
Piers tensed his jaw as he observed his Captain, considering. "Fine." He brushed by the older man to retrieve the pack he'd brought with him, tossing the clothing in his arms onto a counter nearby. Always better to play things safely he surmised, as he pulled free the proper supplies. He made a move to go back to the chair he'd normally sit in, but Chris had other ideas and gently nudged him into a sit on the bed. "Captain, I don't need-"
"Soldier, I will sew your mouth shut if you keep talking like that." It wasn't true, of course.
Piers scoffed as Chris settled down beside him. "You wouldn't."
"You're right," Came the reply as the Captain reached for his arm, undoing the bandages there first. "But I would slip that scarf you love so much between your lips." Piers turned at that with a glare, those aforementioned full lips of his curved into that adorable pout that actually had Chris smiling. The sight seemed to ease the younger man, and the Captain felt the body under his palms relax a little. Considering what they'd been through, any bit of happiness was a rare thing.
Chris moved his hands to unwrap the gauze bit by bit, cringing as more skin was unveiled. The first thing that caught his attention was the hideous burns that marked over the flesh of the ace's back, still tender to the touch and what he'd accidentally abused earlier. "Piers... What caused all of this?"
The sniper knew questions would be well on their way the moment Chris saw the full extent of damage. He released a heavy exhale, "When Finn and the others... They chased us. I had to draw them away somehow. I led them to a separate room, but they caught me. That's where these happened," Piers traced his fingers over the skin of his chest that had been torn open by the armored exterior of a Napad, now almost fully healed over with nasty scars left in their place. He also made sure to leave out the part about being thrown around the room like a human ping pong ball. "Firearms weren't enough, and we were already low on ammunition anyway. I had to use a bomb, but one of them started to charge before I was clear so I... I detonated it anyway."
Chris inhaled as something in his gut churned. All of it, everything Piers had done was just to save his sorry ass. "You should have just gotten yourself out of there, Piers."
"I couldn't leave you, Captain." For multiple reasons. "You'd have done it too if our roles were reversed."
Chris hesitated. Piers had a point, he wouldn't have been able to leave him to die like that... Like the rest of their unit. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah." It was a soft agreement, barely audible as he reached for the fresh bandages. "What about your arm?"
"J'avo," Piers gasped at the friction of cold hands over his bared skin. "Sorry." He heard the Captain mutter as the medical fabric was snaked across his damaged figure. Piers continued, "I let my guard down to call in for an evac. Caught me by surprise and pinned it to the wall with a machete."
Chris paused, eyeing the other man with surprise. "How the hell did you manage to get us both out of there like that?"
Piers didn't answer right away. He didn't tell him that he didn't care if he hadn't made it out himself, as long as Chris was still alive the sniper would have accomplished his mission. "Adrenaline."
"That only goes so far."
Piers rolled his eyes, "Fine. Determination. I needed to get you to safety."
"...You'd have made a good Captain." Piers shouldn't have had to endure what he did just to try and save Chris. The costs were too damn high, and a lesser man would have gotten himself killed.
But Piers was getting tired of fighting, "Not today." He had no desire to replace Chris, he wasn't ready for that and the B.S.A.A. needed their hero.
The two of them fell into a silence after that, as Chris fiddled with the gauze until it was firmly wrapped over each wound. He sighed, nostrils flared as the brush of air slipped free. Brown eyes skimmed over younger features that were turned away. Piers was willing to sacrifice so much, and for what? An old veteran who was dangerously close to retiring or getting himself killed out on the field? So he found himself asking a question that tore a hole through the air of silence. "Why'd you really do it?"
Hazel eyes were back on him as Piers turned. "Captain..."
"I want to know." Soft, but firm.
Piers hesitated, not sure if it was wise. But Chris stared at him, and a determined gleam sparkled within brown eyes. The ace gave him his answer, "I didn't want to lose you."
The Captain's features seemed to soften at the admission, and Piers went to turn away again only to be stopped when a hand was back under his chin to keep him in place. He didn't push it aside this time.
"You could have died, Piers."
"But you wouldn't have, because I couldn't let that happen." The hand lowered itself all on it's own, and Chris wasn't sure what to think.
"Why? Why do it? Why risk so much, and why for me?"
Why, why, why, why, why? Chris couldn't ask anything but that. A hand placed itself over one of his knees and gave a soft squeeze.
Piers didn't answer with words, there wasn't a single one that could describe his reasoning. It was his turn to move, to act, and he threw caution out the damn window like he should have long ago by leaning in.
Chris didn't pull back or move away, even as full, pouted lips danced over his own. Brown eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, mouth parting to greet the invading tongue with his own in an soft, curious dance. It should have felt strange and wrong, but instead it felt so right. A hand reached for the back of the sniper's neck to pull him in closer where their joining was deepened. There were fingers at his chest, tickling over the muscled contours in a gentle massage that lasted even after they parted for air.
"You didn't pull away."
Brown eyes reopened to find hazel already watching him, curious. Hopeful.
"I didn't want to." The fingers still in place at the back of the ace's neck traced smooth motions over the skin there.
For the first time that night, those perfectly full lips curved at their corners, and Chris was able to forget everything but that moment. It was better that way, to not remember. Especially after what he planned to do.