A/N: This'll be a fairly gritty one, it was a tough one to write. I wanted to portray Chris, in the way he was, in RE6, and how I thought he would be, after Piers' death. He really is struggling, all throughout that game, and it was hard to watch at some points...
It's Okay, I'm Okay
It's okay, I'm okay.
A lie he tells himself...
Chris sat, on the edge of his bed, and stared at his phone. It had been a year to the day, that he had lost Piers, and since that day, he hated to admit it, but he'd become a shell of his former self. He loathed everything, and anyone, who attempted to try and help him, received a torrent of verbal abuse, before being hounded out, of his life.
Even Barry, once the elder Redfield's most trusted confidant, and good friend, was pushed away, time and time again.
Claire still visited, though, after the incident with yet another Wesker, (who if Chris had got his hands on her, he'd have strangled) his sister no longer felt as confident, with going out. After all, she'd only attended the Terra Save event, to mingle. She hadn't known that Neil had betrayed the organization, and was working with Alex, on another, fucked up plan, to take over the world.
Chris sighed, and scratched his several day old beard. He didn't trust himself, with a razor anymore, or anything sharp, for that matter. The last time he'd shaved, his thoughts had turned dark, and in the slight drunken haze he had, it clouded his rational judgment.
A nick, on his Adam's apple, had him swearing, dropping the offending item, into the sink, and grabbing some toilet paper, to stem the trickling stream of blood.
Every time, every damn time, he tried, to save the world, the world said 'fuck you' back. First, the Arklay Mansion. When he thought that was over, he received word, from Claire, months later, from an email address he didn't recognize. She'd been kidnapped, after traipsing through Umbrella labs, and taken to Rockfort Island. It took him hours, to find where she was, the island was practically in the arse end of nowhere.
Which happened again, with Alex, only, this time, that tiny village, in the middle of nowhere was surrounded by the Baltic Sea, in Russia. The was nothing he could do about that, he was training, with the latest batch, of BSAA's bio-hazard soldiers:
Finn, the newbie, with his cross, and Bible bashing. Chris knew it was harmless though. He didn't believe in God himself, but wasn't about to tell Finn that. or bully him. The man was scared of his own shadow almost, how he passed the grueling training regime baffled the captain. But, he was a decent, kind man, albeit nervous, and mousy.
Ben, with his caustic humor, and sarcastic wit. Whilst Chris did appreciate the sarcasm, the caustic part did get to him quite a bit. Chris couldn't deny though, Ben was loyal, and a damn good soldier.
Carl, with his carefree demeanor, and lax behavior. Chris related to him, when he was young, back in his S.T.A.R.S days, he was the same way. It was only a clip around the ear, from Jill, or Wesker, raising his voice at him, that he'd get up, sigh, and fill out yet more paperwork. Still, Carl was reliable, and excellent with close combat, and his knife-work was the best the elder Redfield had ever seen.
Andy? Andy was a tech nerd. His hacking skills were legendary, he could hack a system in seconds. He wasn't much of a fighter, much preferring to be alone, and with a laptop. However, he was a huge man, and if he needed to fight, he would. He was a lover, not a fighter, despite his size, and people assuming he would be.
And Piers? The sharp witted, excellent sniper? He was like a little brother to Chris, and Claire. She had met him, and really liked him. He became the third Redfield. A kind, honest man, like Finn. Piers aced knife throwing, and sharp-shooting. His aim was impeccable.
Losing Piers destroyed him. Losing any man did, and it always took him a while, to drag himself out, of his depressive daze. But, Piers' death in particular, had felt like someone had gone, into his gut, and squeezed it, as hard as they could. It made him feel nauseous, and frightened. Fear was something Chris thought he had all but conquered, after the shit he had waded through, in his life.
But, this type of fear was unknown him to him.
This paralyzed him. After he'd gotten, into the capsule, to leave the underwater base, he felt sick, not just a little, but his gut flip-flopped, bringing bile, up his throat. He tried desperately, to keep it in, as the capsule moved away, from the partially mutated Piers, who was smiling, despite knowing his death was inevitable
That bloody smile...Piers could use that, to his distinct advantage.
And he did.
Despite himself, it made Chris smile. But, it was a bitter one. He'd never see the man again. He had lost yet another friend, a woman had lost her boyfriend, and a family had lost their son...
Chris' stomach roiled, and he shot up, from his drab thoughts, and into the bathroom, to throw up. Lately, he hadn't wanted to eat, and when he had, it felt like a lead weight in his stomach, like someone had poured cement in there, and it had hardened, taking up all room. He rapidly lost weight, and had taken to wearing baggy clothes, to hide his ever thinning frame, from his sister.
He was supposed to strong, be Clairebear's rock. He should have saved her, from Sushestvovanie Island, gotten her, and Moira away, from Alex's messed up grasp.
What did he expect? She was a Wesker, royally fucking up, and screwing people over ran, in their DNA.
When Chris met Jake, and found out that a woman had actually gone near Albert, long enough, to get knocked up, with his kid made Chris struggle not to headbutt the wall. He knew women liked the blond, hair gel and black clothing obsessed freak, but he never imagined that they'd actually put out for him. He was a borderline sociopath, vainer than Narcissus himself. He just had yet to drown...
But, when he did? It wasn't in water, but lava...
Part of him wanted to kill the kid. His mind reminded him that Jake was not a child, he was a man. He'd made a career for himself, albeit as a mercenary, but, he seemed a fair man, if a little brash, and uncaring.
Definitely got that from his Dad...
He looked a little like Albert too. He had his razor sharp cheekbones, and jawline, and his eyes were a similar blue, prior to his Dad's 'transformation' into a tyrant.
It wasn't Jake's fault, that his Dad was a prick, who wanted the world, to bow down to him, kneeling in the blood, of their comrades, families. His grandiose plans, for it's domination. What, did he really think that would work? Murdering six billion people?
'Separate the wheat, from the chaff', is what he had said, like it was that simple.
That easy.
How would he know who Uroboros would kill? Did he just assume, that his idea of 'wheat' meant that doctors, nurses, agriculturists, scientists and botanists would survive?
That his idea of 'chaff' meant everyone else, who wasn't considered 'useful' to him would perish?
How the hell could he know that?!
He couldn't!
You fucking asshole! You utter bastard!
Chris shook, as he emptied the contents of his stomach. When it stopped, he flushed the toilet, and swilled his mouth out, with water. He then used mouthwash, which only really took the edge off the acid burn, in his mouth.
He turned and walked into his living room, looking at the clock.
7.46 am
The date was under the hands of the clock, and he swore. Claire was due in five hours, to take him out, for lunch. And he hadn't slept in four days, looked like shit, felt like shit, and wanted to cancel...
...He didn't have the heart too.
He crawled back into bed, and closed his eyes, wishing he wouldn't wake up, but he knew he would...
Claire, bless her, tried her best, to cheer Chris up. She'd wanted to go to town, and do some shopping, before grabbing a bite to eat. Those plans changed, the moment she saw her brother, and the state he was in. She didn't want to tear up, but she did, she couldn't control it.
Chris had been slim once, twenty odd years ago. Now, he was skeletal. He thought she wouldn't notice. But she wasn't stupid, he couldn't fool her. Chris hit the gym hard, after Jill 'died'. He didn't stop, and ended up huge, and there was no way she could help him up.
She could lift him easily now, and his clothes draped, awkwardly on his body. He could pass as a classroom skeleton, and god, it stung her inside. He'd never admit that he was struggling though. It was obvious, but, he'd plaster on the fake smile, and pretend everything was okay.
The auburn haired woman wanted to help, needed to.
Getting him, to accept that however? Different story.
Hell, a completely different book. Chris was complex. He did the 'machismo' thing of 'I don't have any emotions, they are for weak guys' thing. When in reality, the only people, that abused men that had emotions, in Claire's opinion, were weak themselves, and couldn't handle their own feelings, so, they lashed out, at any man, that did get emotional.
She loved Chris, adored him. He was her brother, and became like a Father figure to her, after their parents died, in a car accident, when he was fourteen, and she was eight. The had to keep moving, from state to state, to avoid being caught, by authorities, and being placed into foster care.
Chris worked his ass off, to provide for her, and felt she owed him that much. She wanted to work equally as hard as he did, to provide for him.
He needed care and attention, and being alone, day after day wasn't good for his health.
Not eating, sleeping, and looking like a Halloween prop certainly wasn't either...
And so, Claire took him to a nearby cafe, and ordered a platter, of sandwiches, and cakes, but didn't try to force Chris, to eat any.
If he wanted too, he would.
She wouldn't aggravate him, she wanted to have a nice day out, with her big brother...
That's all she wanted...
When Chris smelt coffee, he perked up, and looked at the sandwiches. His stomach rumbled, so he took one. Ham and cheese, his favourite growing up. Claire smiled, and sipped some of her tea.
She got him a coffee, and noted he had more colour, in his face.
"How's Barry and the family?"
Claire laughed, as he spoke, with a mouthful of food.
"He's good, decided to retire. Moira has a boyfriend, so, Barry is in full on 'protective Dad' mode. Natalia is doing well too, she's almost finished high school, and getting straight A's. She's really smart, it's amazing. She baffles us all the time".
Chris swallowed, and his stomach didn't wrench. He actually enjoyed the small sandwich. He smiled.
"Poor guy. If he so much as looks at Moira funny, Barry will have something to say about it". He grimaced a little. "I should apologise to him, I've given him nothing but grief".
Claire shook her head. "He knows, you've both been through a lot. He understands. He is there for you Chris, he always has been, and always will be. He doesn't hate you, or not want to talk to you, I promise. He, and, well, I, don't know what to say to you right now".
Chris stared, blankly at the floor. "Jill's met someone, in Toulouse. She's decided to stay there. She wanted to go away for a while, get away from all this. Away from me".
Claire shook her head again. "No, you and Jill are really close. She wouldn't just leave you in the lurch".
Chris took another sandwich, and shrugged. "Well, she did".
His sister sighed. "She has a life Chris, outside of killing undead hoards. I know it hurts, but, she is happy. Aren't you happy for her?"
Chris half-arsed a nod. "Yeah. I just, when I got that call, I just couldn't anymore".
"Couldn't what?" Claire tilted her head.
"Carry on. I lose everyone I care about, and I know it's my fault. I could have done something differently. Saved them. But I didn't. And then, I push the people away, who wish to be there for me. I don't mean too", he sighed, and put a hand through his hair, "I am getting good, at being a prick".
The woman shoved another sandwich into his mouth. "Stop it. Let yourself breathe at some point, okay? I am losing you, and I really don't want too", she looked him over, "God, you're so thin. I want to help, but you have to let me".
Chris ate the sandwich, and nodded after swallowing it. "I am a bit lean, aren't?"
He drank some lukewarm coffee, and grimaced. He never liked warm coffee, it had to be hot.
"Lean?! You're a walking, talking skeleton! I love you, you skinny idiot".
The siblings laughed together. "I love you too Claire-bear".
Claire groaned. "Chris, I am not a little kid anymore".
He pouted and smirked. "More like Claire-grizzly-bear. Grouchy, aren't you?"
Claire burst out laughing, uncaring that she'd attracted the attention, of the other cafe's patrons in the process.
A month later found Chris, in Claire's car, on their way, to Barry's house. He was understandably nervous. The last time he saw the older, veteran S.T.A.R.S member, over two years ago, he had thrown him, out of his flat. He tried to offer him help, in the way of counselling. Natalia had been to a psychologist, and had done considerably better since then. Barry knew the man wouldn't make Chris feel dumb, or blame him, for anything. Whatever he needed to talk about, get off his chest, he could.
Chris begged to differ. He didn't want to discuss anything, let alone with someone he didn't know, or trust.
He did know, and trust Barry, his instincts said the older man wasn't there, to harm him, but, he couldn't get anything out, other than rage, and anger. A torrent washed over him, and he bellowed, at the other man, to get out.
Barry was shocked, and upset, that his friend, his old pal had fallen, so far down, and hit the ground, with a sonorous thump.
However, he complied, holding his hands up, as he left the apartment, and the broken man inside it behind...
When they arrived, Chris, who no longer resembled a corpse, though, he hadn't put on much weight in the past month, took a heavy, shaky breath. He'd been in touch with Jill, smoothed things over with her. He apologized profusely, and told her he was pleased for her, that she'd found someone. Chris knew he must have been a good man, Jill was excellent, at knowing assholes when she saw them. They didn't even have to speak, she just knew, and avoided them, like the plague.
He looked at Claire, who has taken her keys, out of the ignition.
She looked at him, and squeezed his hand.
"It'll be okay Chris".
He looked at her, then Barry's front door, and nodded.
His faith in Claire was never misplaced. It wasn't with Barry either, he felt like crap, for treating him so badly. He'd been there, since the day he joined the S.T.A.R.S unit, of the RPD. He had mentored him, taken the young Redfield, under his wing, and taught him how to survive. It was because of his tutelage that he had known how to survive, in extreme, hostile situations. Keep his cool, maintain focus.
Chris got out of the car, and steeled himself, as he walked to the door. Claire joined him, at his side, and patted his back.
When Barry opened the door, Chris openly bawled.
"God, Barry. I'm so sorry".
Barry said nothing. He simply moved forward, and hugged the shaking Redfield.
"It's okay Chris, it's gonna be okay"...
It is okay. I will be okay.
A truth he tells himself...