This was what I hopped onto the Nivanfield bandwagon with. It's a bit angsty, but then again, that's just a part of Nivanfield. Maybe my other stuff isn't. I posted these on my tumblr a bit ago, but I figured I'd post my Nivanfield stuff here because I'm an attention whore and I wanted to see what some more people thought. Please enjoy and if you'd like, comment and stuff. That would be much appreciated. Oneshot! Because nobody needs more angst.
It had been months since the incident in China, and Chris had gone through all the bullshit soldier protocol therapy. None of it ever helped.
The therapists had told his superiors that he was resolute after what happened to Piers, and that the BSAA captain was dealing with the young man's death better than he had dealt with his men in Edonia (which even he had to admit to himself was true). That had been good enough for them, and earned Chris a few honorary titles and medals for his strife. After a month of down time and recuperating, he was allowed back to his own personal office, or cave, he would call it, as often times, he would end up sleeping there due to paperwork.
Due to the report Chris had submitted about Piers' mutation, many of the higher-ups and sponsors of the BSAA gave little credence to Piers' sacrifice, even if it was well intended. Despite Chris' vehement protest, they declined Piers any honorable mention, feeling it inappropriate since the young sniper had become one of the unstable weapons the BSAA was founded to eliminate.
It had been a slap in the face for Chris. Almost made him leave the BSAA because of it.
Chris remembered everything. Piers retaining his sanity, even with the virus claiming his arm and pulsing through his veins. He remembered the resolve in his subordinate's eyes as they fought Haos.
But mostly, he remembered expectant eyes as he grasped Piers' neck, trying to assure the young sniper; their faces close enough that if he weren't an emotionally oblivious wreck, he might have acknowledged the feeling that he'd missed something whenever he remembered that detail.
His fingers picked at the small specks of flakey, dried blood on the BSAA patch, most of it soaked in. At times, thumbing the patch only managed to irritate Chris rather than console him as he stared at the BSAA emblem.
Fucking suits.
Chris studied it grimly as he sat in his office chair.
He'd held onto it and carried it with him everywhere. No one knew, and no one needed to know. He closed his eyes and put the patch to his forehead.
He couldn't do anything in the facility. Not with Piers' supercharged arm the way it was. Not with Piers staring at him the way he was. Piers would have probably forced him into the pod if he hadn't caught him by surprise. But then again, Chris never had an issue with dealing with virus-ed up men. There was something he could've done. There was always something, goddammit. He had always overcome the odds. It's why people had admired him, why Piers had.
He had wanted a drink. More than one time after that particular mission. The only thing that kept him sober, kept him from wandering into some shitty bar was stroking the patch. He didn't know why, and that's what made him angry.
Chris stayed in the BSAA for Piers. That was obvious. Piers was a damn good soldier, and he would stay to honor that, even if no one else would.
Piers was…he was just damn good at what he did. That was all.
Chris lowered the patch from his forehead and closed the lamp on his desk. The moment the blackness hit him, even with his eyes wide open, he could see the man. Strong cheeks and a smirk on his full lips.
His chest felt constricted, and he let out a silent sob in the darkness.
He had missed something.