Chris had grown fairly accustomed to shock and awe in his years in the B.S.A.A., there was nothing that could truly shock him any more. The death of an agent, wasn't surprising, even the death of one that had meant the complete salvation of Chris' character. In the line of work he seemed drawn to, it seemed that keeping people alive was not a requisite. He'd prepared himself, hardened himself for Piers' death. He'd stared into those beautiful hazel eyes, full of sadness and despair and pleaded for a chance to get his partner out; even passed that accepting small smile trapped on full lips that read as plain as day as the young man not intending on making it out. He'd known even then, reassuring his partner, that everything would all be infinitely alright, even though he knew pounding in his heart that there was no coming back from that transfiguration. His heart had wanted to believe it; wholeheartedly he wanted to believe it, but death had crawled deep inside the young man's soul the moment he injected himself with the C-virus. The needle punctured the torn and severed muscles in his skin had been the end of the end, transforming that magnificent man into nothing more of a husk that was capable of saving a man not worth saving. No shock was not something that still lived inside of the empty heart of Chris Redfield. At least that's what he'd thought until he'd set eyes on the young man opposite of him in the hospital quarantine of B.S.A.A. medical bunkers.
It was at that moment, that he had discovered that perhaps shock had left him, but awe had found a way to slowly creep itself back in little tiny increments, deep into Chris' soul. Piers Nivans had lived. They had recovered him, brought him back from the dead, resurrected there before him and Chris could hardly have believed his delusional yet sober eyes. Shock was still gone, so gone that it didn't register when Piers had come back to the B.S.A.A. He was too happy, too pleased to have his partner back, in one piece. In all the right pieces. The scars had faded, his body was still a mess of lines and dark marks that would never leave him. The amazing color of his right eye, silver and gold. Piers had always had golden flecks in those hazel eyes, but losing color in the other just fit him more perfectly. He was like a gift from God. The scars that ran along under his eyes, across his forehead and neck; most people saw scars that were incapable of healing, but Chris thought they became him. They were fitting for his person, like a beautiful canvas of the sea and someone spilled the sun across the corner in a brilliant understated color. There were times that Chris couldn't turn his eyes away from Piers, just remembering him for who he was. He'd never expected him to return to the man he had once been. But then, Piers was the unexpected. And then there was his arm. The thing he'd lost in the battle, the thing that had assured Chris there was no going back, that he couldn't return home. He was a B.O.W., they could never had accepted him back into the human race. And then there, there was no evidence. His flesh was darker, mottled tan in places, but no scarring, and it worked perfectly. Chris hadn't been shocked, God only knew what he could do with those fingers. They retained electric pulses from time to time, that seemed to discern the other men, but Chris never doubted him, not from the second he returned until now.
No Piers, though different physically than he'd ever been, was perfectly the same. At least in the field. Perhaps that's when Chris started to refeel shock. His partner was so like himself that it was amazing. That resolute, unyielding will to be the man at Chris' side. Broken and battered, and still so right. They fit together perfectly, at least that's what he'd thought until he saw the bruising. It wasn't a surprise, wasn't a shock, to see Piers out of sorts because once he was off the field he transformed into a quiet person who was fully conscious of the stares and wandering eyes that searched his face. Piers was almost like two different personalities. The first was his leadership, capable, strong, and persistent self that never thought twice on an order and was precise and built for this job. Who never considered himself on a mission or looked anything less than confident. He was worthy of a captain's title, even if he'd never take it. But then there was Piers once he stepped off the field. Once the pretense of battle was gone. He was almost shy. Of course it was obvious since they'd been partners before that that was a side effect of the scarring. Maybe that's why he hadn't wanted to say anything. Because Piers seemed so timid about himself while changing out of his uniform and into regulars. Other people wouldn't have thought those resolute eyes boring into the back of their locker, transfixed and refusing to meet any stares, or his perfectly knit brows would have meant shy, but Chris knew the sniper. He lived to observe people, not to be observed, and his refusal to look at people and meet their eyes was almost an admission of being self conscious of how he appeared.
That had been when he'd first noticed them. The marks on his shoulder when he'd pulled away the uniform and quickly went to replace the scarf around his neck. They'd looked like a dog had worried at the muscle for a long while and in places his skin was torn up. But then they were gone. That had shocked him. The idea of Piers being with hurt and not saying anything about it. But Chris knew the signs. Those marks weren't from battle, those were marks from a person. So for the first time in years Chris had felt the overwhelming surge of shock, and it left him reeling with the impulse to find whoever had done it and knock their teeth in. That was his partner's business though wasn't it? If he wanted to be involved in a relationship that left him that bruised then it was his business, not his captain's. Of course it had left him questioning how a guy like Piers had managed into a relationship with a girl who could do that kind of damage. Sure there was a lot of talk about how pretty Piers was. It was hard to ignore. It was a present to the rest of his company that the man was scarred now, otherwise he would outshine every one of them. There were a lot of implications that went around that his partner was switch hitting, but they hadn't seen Piers with girls. He knew how to work women without having to even say a word. Sure Chris had hoped at one point he'd had a chance, and he was still overly protective of him. But he had every reason to. Still it had to have been a girl, someone in the department maybe... It had been months though since the first time that he'd seen the marks, and they'd faded and gone again just like the scars on his arm tended to come and go whenever electricity would jump down the muscle and surge over him. They'd been on so many missions together it was like a well oiled machine. A beautiful perfect machine, and Chris enjoyed every second of it. Working in tandem with Piers, and he wouldn't lie that the doting fashion of the younger man was so endearing he almost forgot for a time that they weren't together, just partners. But of course, every few weeks there would be the return of those marks, and with them came those admonished and disgraced glances when anyone would stare, as though he'd been struck. He had, and quite literally so, but why should he be so self-conscious of them if they were a reoccurring and not completely unwanted thing, unless Piers didn't want them...
"Piers?" Chris was still in full military dress. Full tactical gear apart from his vest; everything else was still maintained and presented in its usual fashion, just simply put there, to observe his partner's end of the day rituals. He watched him every night when they finished, and every morning. Others might have thought it strange, but in all actuality it was a matter of survival. Yes, Chris liked his ace partner more than he should have had a right to, but it was his job to take care of him. It might have seemed like over kill, but it was just them. Chris leaned against the opposing lockers, rough fingers drumming heavily on empty metal, watching in the same silence they observed every night. He wasn't sure it was right to start saying anything now, but it was hard to keep quiet at all watching Piers and his under glorified perfection of a person without speaking.
"Hn."
Younger limbs were again fixated on removing and replacing that clothing as efficiently as time allowed, perfectly aware of his captain's roaming mahogany eyes. They never seemed to bother him, Chris had a tendency to watch over Piers ever since he'd returned to him from China. Piers liked feeling important about as much as Chris liked doting on him, so it seemed only natural the two of them talked about this finally anyway, not just out of pure jealousy of seeing the revealed skin that someone else had been given liberty to touch, and taken advantage. "I know we don't talk about it, but are you seeing someone?" He never wanted to ask that question, and as soon as he'd said it his was regretting his stupidity. Chris liked living in his personal fantasy land where it was just the captain and his partner,a dn sometimes he was certain that Piers shared that want too. They'd dropped using a team for the last few missions, it had merely required their sets of rather specialized skills, so it left him to be alone with the younger man for a time. He admired Piers' abilities with a rifle, and his observation was completely necessary in the field. Still he also enjoyed just having someone he trusted fully to have his back, someone he didn't just trust, but in fact someone he thought he would sooner give himself over to than see with anyone else. "We've known each other for five years and you've been my partner for four of those years. I don't think I've ever heard you talk about seeing someone." It was odd, but it was evident he had been. Everyone had needs, maybe it was just a want to be more involved with his partner outside of work. They couldn't be involved, they were partners, but that didn't mean Chris couldn't be involved with him in other areas of life. There was a quiet shifting of clothing, and Piers stopped moving, his arms pretzaled over the top of his head, holding a shirt that was about to be yanked down to claim him before dropping into his lap, humming silently which the shirt still bunched against his forearms. "I mean... if there is anyone waiting for you back home?" The question kind of hung in the air between them while Chris examined the staining on his skin of dark bruising fingertips that spread across the blade of his shoulder. It didn't appear to off-put him, or make him uncomfortable, didn't shift of get scared in his skin like when others spoke to him off the field, which made Chris pleased. Just seemed to contemplate it as though there were a complicated answer, canting his head to the side and considering the back wall of the steel box holding his few personal effects. Whilst the silence hushed over them, Chris stopped his drumming, slipping them quickly into his deep fatigue pockets, nervous for the answer.
"No. I guess not. I haven't really thought about it to tell you the truth. How about you captain?"
"No one at home but my sister, and that's when we aren't at ends. We don't get along as much as we use to since I started working again. I haven't seen her in a month, I think she's staying with Leon now. That aside, no one waits up for me. But what on earth do you mean by you guess not? Piers its not like a trick question, how can you guess not?" What had he meant by no? How could it have been no with the prolonged existence of those bruises that riddled his ribs, it wasn't like he was doing it himself. Still, dodging the answer had made one thing obvious, Piers didn't wasn't proud of those purpling blotches.
"I don't know... you asked if there's someone waiting up for me. There isn't. I guess it all depends on what you mean by relationship." He tipped his head over his shoulder, looking back at Chris who was studying the planes of his back with thick furrowed brows; analyzing the lash mark of raw red flesh that yawned across his lower back, diving below the fatigues that hugged his waist. Rough fingers were stroking the stubble growing on his jawline again, scratching sounds the only noise between them while he examined them. Piers tone suggested that he was calm, the soothing tenor, washing over Chris no matter the words being said. "Those aren't really your business, are they captain?" Those words weren't malicious about it, or condescending, but still it was a bit obvious the younger man was more curious about why Chris should care now, or it was something else hidden there. A silver full moon eye met Chris' chocolate brown orbs and held him there a few long minutes before a lopsided smile greeted older worn features, shaking briefly back and forth before nodding in direction to the marks that seemed to have faded during their last mission, pressing the matter of if there was no one, where had all those come from. There was no need to talk between them honestly, not to ask the question. Military men like these had spent their lives learning each others mannerisms, and with that level of comfort with one another, it made ease come without difficulty in the field of communication. Shockingly though the moment he pressed the matter it had tan calm features twist almost flush at his insistence. Fortitude had not withstood the scrutiny of his mottled skin; scars at the juncture of his shoulder and the spidering scarring that stretched over his back at the place where Haos had ruined his arm, up and along his muscled neck. At least it had been ruined until C-Virus had done its one good thing and replaced the arm. His sudden self consciousness caused Chris' bulk to tense, flexing his arms reflexively across his chest and twitching in defense before admiring a taut beige shirt quickly replaced over that once smooth torso along with the looseness of his scarf that hid his marks from prying eyes, and the locker was shut over with a loud pang. Was he afraid of answering him, or afraid of the answer itself? "I don't want to talk about it Captain." The quickness of his response echoed his command within the unit, and yet there was that little tinge of something hidden there, a fear he'd remembered from their days in China. Chris whole body ached hearing that defeated fear, quickly fleeting him and finding the door. "I'll see you in the morning captain."
Was his partner actually hiding a relationship from him just because he was embarrassed about a little rough housing? I mean Chris had done his fair share in the past, it wasn't like it was uncommon with military men to seek out that kind of behavior. No it had seemed like more than that. He wasn't just hiding a relationship, Piers never lied. Was he uncomfortable with himself? Or was Chris just pushing the enevelope when it came to their professionalism? Still he hadn't balked until Chris had pushed the matter pertaining to his marks. Maybe he wasn't in a relationship, maybe it was less than that but more physical. Whatever the case was, Piers wasn't afraid of much of anything, talking to Chris shouldn't have made him that uncomfortable. No... They were going to have to talk about this later. Telling yourself that it was just normal for the sniper had worked for the last few weeks was one thing, but that welt raised on his back hadn't been the first, and certainly wasn't the least painful looking. That was disregarding the ones across his thighs that he hadn't failed to notice while the ace slipped out of fatigues and into his street clothes. No one had a right to cause Piers that level of worry, least of all one he didn't even consider himself in a relationship with. No, he could fix this, and he could help his partner. Even if meant just getting him to open up about those marks. He hadn't said it before hand, it hadn't been his business, but they just seemed to get worse and more frequent. It wasn't in Chris' nature to back down, particularly... if someone was hurting the man he considered his own.
Sorry I haven't updated as quickly as usual. I've had a lot of home stuff and this was a suggestion that actually made my mind move. Have no fear everything else is still on track an I still have every intention of writing. Nivanfield is my unhealthy little outlet.
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy. You never know what could happen. And in the words of my reviewer. Piers, why you such a masochist! I love it too much. Wonder who it could be...