All Resident Evil Characters Belong to Capcom
Feeding off the idea of 'Becoming Insane'
Posttraumatic stress disorder, that's what they diagnosed him with. He didn't want to believe it, so he left- slammed the door shut behind him, and ignored his doctor's shouts to return. He knew he shouldn't have come here. He knew they would tell him about some mental bullshit! He is not mentally ill, he's fine! They are the one with the mental bullshit!
You have a drinking problem. You need to know the root of it.
Chris hears Piers' voice echo in his head as he slows down and stops in his tracks. His shoulder trembles slightly as he curls his fingers tightly into a fist.
It started in Edonia, after his team passed away because of Carla… no, because of himself. Chris was the one to lead them, he was the one who allowed Carla to come with them, and he was the one who let them die. He spent six months, six fucking months drinking, smoking, fighting and wasting away. He had a similar episode when he was discharged from the Air Force, and ended up wandering around aimlessly and sleeping drunk on the side of the street. If it weren't for Claire who offered him a place to stay, and Barry, a close friend who took on a fatherly role even when he didn't have to and recommended him to S.T.A.R.S, who knows where he would be.
Not here. The BSAA captain isn't sure if joining S.T.A.R.S was a blessing or a curse.
Yet, that time after his discharge from the Air Force was not as bad as it is now. Now he drinks to get drunk, not caring what he has to do to get the alcohol in his system. He thought he left the smoking, but he finds himself picking up the white stick more and more often, Piers giving him worried glances which time he catches Chris taking a much-needed drag. Now Chris finds himself finishing a pack in the span of four days. Not as bad as he used to smoke, but he knows he's getting there once again.
Chris lowers his head, his dark blue eyes squinting at his brown boots, to then look up when he hears footsteps scurry behind him. He knows it's him, he came with him, the one who told him to come to this dreadful place in the first place.
Who can blame the young boy when Chris wakes up from his sleep drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe, body shaking so much anyone would think the temperature is zero below. In that waking moment, when he looks to his side- he sees Piers regarding him with worried hazel eyes, frightened, not like Chris' blue eyes which are full of panic and pain, but for his condition- his mental state. He can't help but look away as he sinks onto the bed again and curl into himself, large arms holding his own shaking body. The young ace moves until pressed firmly against his back, and wraps his arms around his large frame. Chris doesn't cry, no, he doesn't cry. Not even when his parents passed away. Not when he thought Jill sacrificed herself when she tackled Wesker out the window to save his life. He didn't cry when Alpha team was killed under his command, he didn't cry then, so he won't cry now.
It's almost laughable, Chris thinks, body ready to flee away from Piers' gentle loving touch- how he killed Wesker, only to be haunted repeatedly, night, after night, after night- with horrid dreams, each coming with its own horrific images. He just wants to laugh…
He doesn't run, not like he wants to- fingers twitching. When Piers' thin cold fingers touches his arm and pulls him close into a hug- a hug he doesn't ask for, but he greatly appreciates, he can't help but close his eyes and lean on Piers. It's all he can do to hold himself together. For Piers to help hold him together.
Piers doesn't ask him how things went with his appointment, maybe because he already knows, but only coax him towards the car, telling him that he wants to be home before the storm hits. He nods, and walks after the Ace silently.
It started with migraines. Strong one, that would leave him tumbling over onto one knee and clutching his head. The pain was unbearable, like the left side of his head was being stabbed by one of his combat knives. All those times the strong migraines occurred, he was lucky Piers was not home, or not in the same room as he. The BSAA captain didn't think much of the increasing migraines, so he ignored them as best he could. Piers being the observant sniper he is, did catch a few pained winces that would take over his features when the migraines came unexpected and at full force, but he would wave Piers off dismissively.
That… that was only the beginning. He soon started seeing things… blood on walls, shadows following his every step… monsters… Chris would flinch each time someone placed their hand on him, with a look of concern taking their features- asking if he was ok. Claire, he remembers her the best, her blue eyes full of worry for his wellbeing… Leon, Jill, Piers, and Barry watching him from a distance with analyzing, but pitted eyes. And like always, he nodded, made a stupid excuse, "I haven't slept." "I'm hungry." "Tired- had a long day at work…" It was always something, and though he knew they didn't believe him, because he can see it in their eyes, they left him alone.
Each time he woke from his restless-constant nightmares, he felt like his world was torn in two. Piers would be sleeping soundly, and all he could do was wrap his arms around the Ace in hopes he could fall asleep again. The BSAA captain didn't want Piers to see him like this- visibly shaking and tormented. The man who killed Wesker falling from grace at this rate, it's almost laughable...
Sound, that was another thing that came and left. Though it was sounds that triggered his migraines, his vision to alter, to see things, and to see creatures that were not there. So slowly, he started staying home- where it was silent…
He felt like he was going mad. Everything reminded him of his dreadful missions… sounds would trigger unwanted… uncontrollable emotions- reactions. Soon, he just couldn't fight it anymore. It was just too much, he needed relief, to get away from this…
When Piers first found him drunk on the dining table, the ace only frowned. But gently, as if he would break, Piers guided him towards their shared room, undressed him and allowed him to sleep the night. It's been awhile since he slept like that… at least four hours, that was more than what he was getting any other night. When he woke that night, he saw Piers, sitting beside him, reading. He didn't say anything, but he knew Piers didn't sleep that night, because he too stayed awake- eyes closed so Piers wouldn't know. He continued to drink after that night, and Piers… was always there to help him to his room when he couldn't even keep his eyes open.
Smoking, that's something else he fell back on. The constant struggle Piers had to go through for him to stop smoking, hiding his lighter, wetting his cigarettes, and putting up with his mood swings when his body craved for a smoke, all that wasted as he fell back into the same routine.
Normal. That was a word he was trying to be. But lately, it seems to be slipping from his conscious. More and more the peoples around him asked if he was ok, when he would stare in shock at some horrid image only he could see. And like always, he waved them off with a smile that felt too fake.
In a desperate attempt to keep himself sane, he tried to isolate himself. Didn't want to talk, see anyone, or leave his house. Depression, he guessed was another word for it, but he wasn't depressed… Piers once used the word 'numb' to describe him… The ace insisting for him to get help... But he was fine. Nothing is wrong… everything is how it should be…
I'm ok…
That was it… he couldn't anymore. Seeing those bloody, gory images, flashes, sounds that were not there, he just couldn't anymore. One night it got really bad. While Jill had visited Piers and Chris, and he was trying to act normal, drinking and laughing- another migraine hit him hard, the hardest yet, and everything looked indescribably horrid, and terror really seeped into his veins. Blood, body parts, screams, Creatures, dead bodies, the aches, his loved one in the room rotting flesh, everything….
By the time he opened his eyes, he noticed he was on his knees, curled into himself, uncomfortably tight, clutching his chest painfully hard, bottle of alcohol dropped and forgotten on the floor. Piers, that was the voice he heard first, calling him by his name, something he doesn't normally do, only when he is scared, or needs to keep Chris in track. This time Piers called him by name because he was scared. Scared of losing his captain in one of the worse possible ways.
To insanity.
With the help of Jill, he was moved to his room. They laid him down. Piers nor Jill moved him from his side that night, and he was secretly grateful they stayed. It helped, even if just a little.
Everything around him was failing- it just wasn't the same anymore. Everything hurt. Chris didn't know what was real and what was fake.
The rain had started by the time they reached home- the clouds are covering the skies, both residents knowing it will be dark long before 7. The sound of thunder can be heard at a distance and if any of the two BSAA captain were looking at the skies, they would see the light of thunder flashing afar.
Chris is the fist in bed, just wanting to forget what his doctor diagnosed him with. He should have never gone. It's ironic, he thinks darkly, he trained his body to the point where he was strong enough to punch a boulder, but what's affecting him is his mind.
He just wants to laugh…
His thoughts are interrupted when he feels Piers lay beside him. The young ace doesn't say anything, only lays there for a few minutes before he drifts to sleep. Their relationship is taking a strain, and he knows it. They both know it… and it's all his fault…
He doesn't remember when he fell asleep, but he is startled into wakefulness when a loud thunder crackles through the skies. It's not the first time thunder has woken him, the light normally provoking a series of flashbacks. His heart is pounding so hard he believes it would jump out his throat. The sound of thunder triggers another migraine, and a bright light assaults his eyes and when his eyes adjust after the bright flash, the room is a bloody mess. Chris waits, his heart pounding loudly and his skin sweating profoundly. This time it's different… his flashback normally takes a few minutes before returning to reality, but this time, it's taking longer.
This is the first time he can smell the blood, and feel it on his hands. The sheets are bloody, and the walls coated in them. There is a knife next to him, by his leg, bloodier than anything else. When he looks to where Piers is to be laying peacefully, unaware of his torment, he sees that Piers is bloody, and his heart skips a beat when he sees knife wounds decorating his body… Piers' body is still, his back not moving with the rise and full of a person who is alive and breathing… dead. The ace's skin is a light blue, as if he were dead for a few hours, and the steady rise and fall of his chest is still non-existent.
He reaches slowly towards the unmoving body, hands shaking uncontrollably as he touches soft cold skin. It can't be… he… killed Piers! He stabbed his beloved in the back. Chris' breath hitches in his throat, limbs trembling uncontrollably. It can't be! He… A panic scream starts to fill his lungs…. it… it can't be… he...
Piers is-
"Captain!"
Chris' dark blue eyes snaps open, blinking repeatedly as he takes a lung full of breath. Piers, with his hazel beautiful eyes is watching him with a worried expression. His plump lips in a thin line as he studies his captain's shaking form.
"You woke me from my sleep with all your movement,… you're shaking. Did the thunder scare you?" It wouldn't be the first time Chris has reacted negatively to the sound of thunder. Even the Ace has to admit that at times he feels like he's in the battlefield again. It can get really bad with Chris, the man physically reacting to the sound and flashing light.
Chris can't hold it any longer, as he shaking hands reach for Piers. Yanking Piers into a hug, Chris holds him tight against his shaking body, as he bury's his face into Piers' shoulder. He can smell Piers' scent, feel his smooth, but warm skin, and he feels dry, not sticky with dried blood.
It takes seeing Piers bloody, and lifeless body for him to know something is wrong with him. It's not normal. This what is happening to him is not normal. He wants to get better, for Piers… for himself.
Piers doesn't back away, or say anything. The younger man hugs him back tight, nose burying into Chris' tan warm skin… He doesn't have to say anything, Piers was always good at reading him like an open book.
"Everything will be ok. We'll go next week to your doctor again. You will be ok…"
He just wants to laugh at his own stupidity… but no… this time he breaks down on Piers and cries, body shaking uncontrollably, overwhelming tears streaming down his cheeks as he almost bawls at the top of his lungs.
But it's ok, because Piers is always there.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed!