Ink
It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.
Piers had this worn beaten old copy of 'A Tale of Two Cities' the spine was littered with tiny little bumps and cracks from years of turning pages, of folding the cover back on itself, the cover itself was beginning to peel, little flecks of picture falling apart in his hands. Chris had read it during that first heartbreaking night back at HQ, moments after sorting the younger's belongings into categorized piles. He had been hoping he would find something in those pages, that it would connect him to the soldier he had lost, that it would somehow ease the pain that was swelling within him. His hands touched the pages as though touching delicate skin, fingertips traced words, he had imagined Piers sat upon his bed, back against the wall, left knee raised just slightly, book perched in his hand atop the knee as he studied the words, a wistful smile touching the very corner of his lips.
He wanted to ask that ghost what the book means to him, beyond the words and the binding, it's more than paper and ink, this formed a place in the other's heart. Chris can tell this with ease, there are other books of course, Piers had liked to read, but none like this one, none so dog-eared, pages just barely hanging on, some stuck back in lovingly with tape on either side, only slightly obscuring the words. The ghost doesn't answer, just turns a page with a gentle touch, he watches the turning page, the changing of the scene in the younger's mind. He knows he should have asked on that long dark night just before China, he should have swallowed his pride and listened to Piers as he explained what the words meant to him, how the syllables related, which quotes were forever etched into his mind.
Chris had wished to find redemption in that book, he selfishly had hoped he could alleviate some of the guilt he felt by immersing himself in the few possessions the kid had deemed worthwhile to keep with him through all the missions, all the heartache. In the end he had only caused himself more pain, his hands fixed tightly to the book as he makes a conscious effort to not allow too much pressure to his grip, to not tear the pages from the spine and rip them to shreds. Beneath the guilt and pain there is anger at his partner, anger at the self sacrifice, it's petty and silly but it fills him as surely as the emptiness that began in that oil field.
"Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule."
Piers had said similar words to him not so long ago, whilst he had traced the elders shadow, keeping him in line, out of trouble, the words echo inside his head as if spoken through Piers' lips. The whole book is read from inside his head in that voice, when he can finally take no more, only when he's thoroughly haunted and feels well versed in the art of suffering does he place that bloodied BSAA patch against the page he has given up on, he allows the pages to kiss against it, pushes the cover closed. He sits in the empty room, his hands gripping the book like a lifeline, he presses it to his lips, as though a bible to a priest, he inhales the scent, closes his eyes against the reality that threatens to drive him mad. He has failed so many times, failed to keep his soldiers safe, this failure echoes so deep within his bones. He sees those eyes staring at him through the glass, the gentle smile tugging at pained lips.
"Live," Piers had whispered and condemned him to a fate of twisted memories, of hushed words and of always longing for what could have been.
He tries to give the book to Piers' mother, when he stands in the doorway in his military best, he studies the way her eyes shimmer with a wall of tears and her dark blonde hair is neatly pulled back into a bun, struggles with guilt, when she's choking back sobs and trying so hard to stay strong. The sight of it makes her smile, a choked sob of a laugh steels from her lips and a tear tumbles across her skin, Chris thinks she looks too young to be the kids mother, she's pretty like him, he has her eyes, too green, too loving. He will find out much later that she lost her husband to a different war, a different time, and he thinks of her sat at home with her last remaining child, a teenage girl who had wept into a pink rabbit as the weight of the world had crashed onto her. She hadn't taken the book of course, had pushed it back to Chris with an aching sort of smile, she had held it against his chest, folded his hands around the bent and worn pages.
"There is prodigious strength in sorrow and despair."
He doesn't think that's true of himself, he feels like he drowns in his sorrow, or at least he would like to, he doesn't of course, because a friend had once dragged him away from that fate with too much determination for him to throw it all away. It's true for Piers' mother though with her full pretty lips and trembling hands, she places a kiss to her daughters bright blonde hair and offers Chris tea that he has to decline. He realises that he's breaking, he didn't think there was any heart left to bleed but he's in the small hallway in a lovely suburban home and to his right there's a picture of Piers with the family dog and his little sister, they're smiling and for a moment Chris thinks he can feel the warmth of the sun on that day, there's one of the kid enrolling for the military beside the first and Chris almost reaches out to it, almost turns and runs as fast and as far as he can.
"You'll tell me of course," her voice is smooth and soft and she rings the towel in her hands over and over, "if you find anything," there's hope in her voice, she's not asking for a body, she's asking for her son walking through the door and Chris was told once not to make promises he couldn't keep. He nods and insists he would, the term they have used of course is missing in action, there's still hope for Florence, but Chris was there and what he saw will stay with him forever.
He leaves with that book tucked under his arm, he drives two miles, before he pulls over and hits out at the steering wheel. He thrashes and screams and curses a God that he has never truly believed in, he's had his fill of turning up on the doorsteps of loving families and tearing their worlds apart. He finds himself starting to wonder when it will be his turn, when will someone be knocking on Claire's door and who will be left to do it.
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Chris feels haunted by Piers Nivans, everything he sees reminds him of the kid, it takes him back to that day in China when they had argued and Chris had slammed him against the wall, Piers had pushed back just enough to make his point. The sniper had found his way under the Captain's skin, becoming this constant welcomed presence. He knew he owed Piers more than he had ever given him, it was a regret that followed him through every day.
He still thinks he could have saved the boy, he could have brought him home, it had been his turn to sacrifice, too many had lost their lives over him.
"You need to stop this self loathing," Jill states as she sits opposite him at his desk, her still blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. "We can see you're grieving Chris, that's fine, but it's been months, you need to let this go, just a little, just for now. " He can read between the lines, the soldiers need a Captain not a shell, Piers had taught him how to be himself again but he couldn't quite remember the stories of the legendary Chris Redfield without the younger's guidance, he couldn't remember what he was supposed to be without the conviction in those too green eyes. "This isn't what he wanted for you," she couldn't have dug the knife any deeper. "Don't make the sacrifice be for nothing." He thinks of that battered book in his drawer, the pages fragile to the touch, the words harsh to his heart.
"I can't keep doing this," he whispers his admission, not just to Jill but the ghost of Piers that stands behind her, leaning against the wall his arms folded across his chest.
"Of course you can, you've come this far." The statement echoes his own almost word for word, almost as if she were there when they had first been spoken. "The BSAA need you Chris, as more than just a veteran stuck behind his desk." She turns on her heel and leaves the door slamming behind her and that apparition is behind him now, watching as he opens the door and rests a hand atop that battered cover of the one last thing that connects him to his former partner, a shadow of a hand folds over his own and he allows himself to believe he can feel the touch, the mind is a wonderful thing.
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He hasn't slept for months, just lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, at the way the cracks in the plaster stay fixed in place, at the spider webs that come and go. He decides to read a little more, the BSAA patch slips from the page he had stopped on all those months ago, his thumb swipes across the embroidery, he imagines the feel of Piers' arm beneath it, allows himself to study the words of the book once again. He falls asleep with the book held against him, the pages resting gently across his skin. He dreams for the first time in so long, not of nightmares and regrets but of Piers sitting in a little bar in some far corner of the world, alive and well, he's cutting into a steak, pressing the fork to his lips. Chris studies him from afar but doesn't dare to move over to him.
"Nothing that we do, is done in vain. I believe with all my soul that we shall see triumph." The soft tone of Piers' voice washes over him. The younger is stood at Chris' own table now, staring at him with those bright green eyes. "My father loved that book," he gestures at the open pages before Chris and the elder glances from the papers to the soldier before him, staring at him as though they were two strangers just passing through. "I've had mine since I was a child,"
"I can't know that," Chris states as Piers takes a seat opposite from him, the kid smiles and shrugs.
"Maybe I mentioned it when you weren't paying attention, seeping into your subconscious, maybe you saw it in my mothers eyes. Maybe it's all just fabricated, you're loosing sight of what's real Chris, why should this be any different?" Chris holds those green eyes,
"I was always paying attention Piers,"
"You're not now," he pulls the book towards him, his fingertips ghosting across the pages, "You should wake up now."
He bolts upright, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the book is closed beside him, an eerie echo of a dream that holds fast in his memory. His phone rings, it's Jill, he fumbles for the phone in the darkness, answers with a curt hello.
"Morning Sunshine, time to haul yourself into HQ, I've got something you might want to see." She hangs up to stop him from arguing, she knows him far too well. By the time he arrives at HQ the sunlight is kissing the horizon goodbye, beginning it's long ascent. When he steps into his office Jill is sat at his desk, she moves the chair from left to right and taps her fingertips against the desk, she doesn't speak, doesn't even acknowledge him.
"Jill why have you called me here?" he finally asks, too tired to stand and play mind games with her, she usually wins anyway so he figures he may as well skip straight to the end.
"Neo Umbrella," she states as if that clears everything up, "not as disbanded as we though, Amelia Simmons," she slides a picture across the desk, a dark haired woman in her mid thirties, she's dressed from head to toe in black, a briefcase in her left hand. Chris goes to interrupt, Jill waves the idea of the question away. "No questions just listen, they have been developing a new virus," she passes him a picture of a vial, he's seen it before, studies the picture in great length. "It's similar to the one the J'avo use, only the cocoon feature has been vastly improved, Chris they're trying to create the perfect soldier, the perfect controllable army."
"How do we know this?"
"I had a friend on the inside, I haven't heard from him in a few days, since this," she slips the USB drive into the computer, it downloads in a matter of moments and files begin to open, DNA structures, tests on infected, files and files of experiments with varying ranges of success."
"They're trying to reverse the mutations," Chris states, moving closer to the screen and studying the pictures flashing across the screen.
"Trying being the operative word, the cocooning process helps but is far from perfected, they want to keep the strength elements, but return the human appearance, they want silent assassins."
"Amelia, what did she used to do?" there's a few files that seem out of place, mechanical looking designs, sample tissues.
"She worked for the military, prosthetics, weapon manufacturing, she has a history in biology, our records don't go back far enough to build a full profile. She's trying to pass this off as a cure, saying they're working to reverse the infection, to heal people."
"You don't buy it." It's a statement not a question, she meets his eyes stops tapping her fingers and taps the USB drive.
"If they're so good, why are they trying to hide this, they killed to stop this getting to us Chris, to prevent us from seeing this." she gestures at the experiments, "They haven't all been failures," she taps the screen, there's a man stood behind Amelia in the first picture, dressed entirely in black military attire, a helmet concealing his face.
"A bodyguard?"
"The best," a clip plays out of a horde of infected running towards the mystery male, the room looks similar to a training room, they study the screen as he dodges the first few, slamming into the next with his arm, the creature crumples like a broken doll. He moves quickly, almost dancing around the creatures, taking one out after the other with sheer ease, one is sliced clean in half with a sword, others shot directly in the head whilst dodging another's grapple and vaulting off a previous kill. In the end he stands amidst the carnage, breathing steady and even. "If you're going to start creating super soldiers I guess it's best to begin with your own protection."
"We need to look into this, I don't care what loopholes we have to jump through, no one in Umbrella is creating anything, we're shutting that lab down." Jill stands and nods, moving over to her former partner and squeezing his shoulder.
"Good to have you back on board Captain, I've cleared it with HQ we're moving out tomorrow, you lead Alpha team I'll be heading Beta team." She leaves on that note and he's not sure how he feels about heading into hostile territory with a new team again, considering they are completely unprepared for what they might find, the mission is dangerous, probably deadly. Still he made a promise all that time ago, he can't go back on that now or Jill is right, the sacrifice would have been for nothing, the best gift he can give to Piers is to protect as many lives as he can.
That's how he finds himself arriving in Russia with a new team, he keeps in touch with Jill and her team, keeping tabs on each other's progress. They head to the airport, they have word that Ms Simmons is taking the next flight to Japan, requesting further funding for her experiments. Chris aims to intercept, take her back to HQ for questioning, he doesn't expect what he gets. She arrives with a surrounding of guards, her heels clicking against the floor, she has a briefcase in her hand and she smiles at Chris as she walks towards him, removing her sunglasses and holding out a gloved hand.
"Chris Redfield, I thought you had retired, what do I owe this pleasure boys?" Chris shakes her hand if only not to seem rude, it was never intended to be a hostile meeting.
"We're here to take you into questioning ma'am," she takes her hand back, folds it next to the other on the handle of her briefcase.
"I think you missed the memo Captain, we're working to fix the mess our sister company made. Now excuse me, I have a meeting to attend," She goes to move away Chris grabs her arm, pulling her back towards him.
"We would like to ask some questions," she turns her gaze to him, eyes deadly,
"Arrange an appointment like everyone else Captain Redfield, one of the gentleman will provide you with the details."
"I'm not asking, Ms Simmons." She tries to pull her arm back, the grip from the Captain not giving, the annoyance in her eyes is obvious.
"I assume no one told you, Ms Simmons has diplomatic immunity, she doesn't need to go anywhere with anyone, especially not the BSAA." It's the bodyguard from the videos, still with that helmet up, the black visor reflecting the image of the Captain straight back to himself. "Don't make this messy Captain," the voice is distorted slightly, but somewhat familiar, there's an ache in Chris' head and he releases his grip. Simmons walks away with a curt goodbye, the bodyguard moves to follow her, Chris grabs his right arm, hard enough to hurt, the guard doesn't flinch.
"What are you?" Chris asks studying the visor,
"A soldier, like you, if you have any more questions Captain I would refer them to your superiors, we have answered them once already." With that said the other pulls his arm back and follows the rest of the group towards the boarding gate.
"Captain?" one of the soldiers questions, requesting further orders.
"Stand down soldiers, we're heading back to HQ." He taps his ear piece, "Jill, Simmons has diplomatic immunity we can't touch her, she's boarding the next plane to Japan."
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He gets back to HQ in the dead of the night, sits at his desk long after the arguments with the highest ranking officers are over. He finds solace in a book that doesn't belong to him, turning the pages with care, his fingertips lingering against each fold, his heart aches with each word. It's Jill that interrupts his moment of reprieve, standing in the doorway.
"I've spoken to Reynolds, he doesn't want us to give up on this Chris, but we need proof before we can bring her in, proof that this new front is a cover for something far worse."
"How are we supposed to get that?"
"I don't have all the answers, but I'm working on it, I'm heading home for now." She stops and then picks up again as if the rest of the conversation is an afterthought. "That's a good book is it yours?" his hands splays across the cover outlining the picture.
"No, an old friends."
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He dreams again that night, same bar, the Piers' that meets him there is slightly different, there's the faintest of scars across his eye, almost unnoticeable in the light, the right eye itself is paler that the other, the pupil slightly slit, there's blue and green in the iris and the rest a gentle white, Chris studies the colours within it. He traces the slight scar with his thumb, soft eyelashes brushing against his skin.
"You're still not seeing the whole picture Chris, it should be so obvious." He follows the movements of the younger's lips, the way he runs his tongue across them. "I thought you were always paying attention." He studies the lines of the younger's body in the dim lighting, the way the sleeves are rolled down on his arms, the gloves covering his hands. Chris' hand moves out to the others right, his fingertips brushing against Piers' own. "I'm not what I was, I don't think I'll ever be that person again."
"You haven't changed from where I'm sitting," Piers smiles, pulls his hand away, folding his fingers into a fist.
"But you're not seeing the full picture, not yet," He flickers for a moment, from the Piers in front of him, to the infected Piers crippled with pain, to that kid on his first day, back to the infected version. "How can you fix a monster Chris."
"And yet I have had the weakness, and still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you have kindled me, heap of ashes that I am into fire."
He's the regular Piers now, with that slightly distorted eye, he smiles at the quote, as though it brings to life some far off memory. Chris reaches out to him, hand tangling into ever so slightly longer brown hair.
"There is no monster in you Piers."
"They will send me to kill you," there is pain in those eyes and he stares deep into Chris' soul, through everything that stands as a front to the Captain and straight into his core, the younger had always been able to read him too well.
"What are you talking about?"
"Make me remember..." he all but begs and Chris wakes with the words still echoing in his mind as though moments before they had been whispered into his ear. He's starting to think that he's going mad, that maybe he should mention this to someone, to Jill or Claire. He decides to keep it to himself, to seal the doubts in between the pages of that well loved book, the one he clings to like a lifeline, barely holding together any longer.
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They spend months tracking Neo Umbrella, studying their movements, studying Amelia Simmons for any slip up, any mistake. It's Leon that links the patterns first, a small series of controlled infections in each city she had visited in the past several months, quickly contained by her own agents and nothing mentioned further. They keep the information confidential, only a handful of people who have access to discuss the findings, they encrypt their files with the most advanced technology. Chris thinks about his dreams, about what they mean, ignores the slight thought in his mind that they could be more than mere dreams.
He works as hard as he can, late into the nights, he heads out with the teams for surveillance missions, all the while that book travels with him, a constant reminder of what he once was, of what he needs to work towards. It becomes apparent that the net is closing again on the Umbrella corporation, Amelia has avoided several assassination attempts, her own agents working as cannon fodder. Her appearances become less and less, spending most of her time hidden away working with her scientists on experiments that are top secret.
They manage to earn the clearance to move in, an inside source provides them with information on the experiments, on the truth about the test subjects, innocent people infected, taken away and experimented on, creating things far worse than before, trying to make them better, stronger. She becomes careless in her desperation, missing the way they are following her every step.
It takes them too long to convince the powers that be that these experiments pose a greater risk to public health than they offer help. They are instructed to close the labs down, quietly, to bring Simmons into custody for questioning. Chris and Jill once again step forward to lead the teams, the HQ for Amelia is in Japan and they make their way to Kyoto, the journey longer than Chris had been expecting, he doesn't so much read on the way there as study the BSAA patch hidden in the too loved book.
They're dropped into action twenty miles from the lab, Jill's team are moving in from the other side and they flood out around the building, keeping low to the ground. They get close, but not close enough, they assume there's been a tip off and Chris studies as Amelia is rushed to an awaiting helicopter, he steadies his sniper, focusing in the view, his breathing slows, fixes her image in the scope, his finger is poised over the trigger. He's a heartbeat away from pulling the trigger, from watching the body crumple in his scope when the weapon is shot out of his hand, the bullet grazing his fingertips. It takes him a moment to catch up, watches several men hit the floor, he demands for everyone to hit the ground as he tries to find the enemy sniper.
He reaches for his handgun, removes the safety with a practised ease as he studies the field with a steady heartbeat. He notices the bodyguard from before, fires twice and hits the helmet, the visor cracks, the glass like structure buckling slightly yet it holds. Chris shoots again, the guard is before him a moment later, Chris dodges a punch, meets the other blow for blow. A shot is fired at the guard and he readies his weapon, using a well timed kick from Chris to propel him up and over, he moves to shoot the younger but the Captain pulls the targeted soldier out of the way and behind cover just as the bullet breezes past them.
"Jill, Amelia has taken the helicopter, we're under attack, do not loose her," after that he tells the kid to stay behind cover. He steps out from the cover of the tree, studying the dark figure before him. He ignores the way the bullet breezes past his head, lodging into the tree trunk behind him, the wood cracking and splintering with the force. The assailant studies his weapon for a moment, the kid seizes the moment and moves from behind the cover, shoots at the guard and the bullet catches the right arm, tearing the fabric of the jacket, the guard doesn't flinch, his finger moves to shoot, Chris can tell the bullet will hit his target dead on, he shoots first and the visor cracks further, a pattern of splinters, like shattering ice. He shoots again, again, unloads the whole clip into that visor, the pressure of the bullets enlarging the cracks, weakening the structure. The pieces begin to fleck away, like the cover of that book in his kit bag, he doesn't know what he expects to see beneath the black glass, steels himself for something unrecognisable as a human. As the pieces begin to break away the first thing Chris notices is the familiar green eye, the guard removes the helmet, the other eye is a pale white, the iris has flecks of pale blue and green and the pupil is slightly elongated, there is a small scar running across the eye in a diagonal thin line, barely noticeable in the dim light.
"Piers?" Time seems to stop in that moment, the helmet slips from the others hand, tumbles to the ground with a gentle thud, those mismatched eyes study him, there isn't a piece of recognition there, he hears the crackle from the younger's earpiece, a nod. Piers turns to leave, "Piers, Piers Nivans, stop," Chris demands, he reloads his gun in one swift move, holds it steady on the younger's form, he hears in his earpiece that the kid to his left has a clear shot at the enemy. He doesn't have time to think, to respond, he moves on autopilot, so that he's in front of his former partner, the bullet hits him in the shoulder, tearing into muscle, Piers' eyes meet his in that moment, he watches the Captain with obvious confusion as he drops to the floor, arm covering where the bullet has pierced. "Go," he hisses and watches the younger as he moves, disappearing into the darkness, the sounds of heavy boots against solid ground echoing in his head.
"I'm sorry Captain," the kid explains as he drops beside the elder male, his hands flail as if trying to decide what to do. "I thought... I didn't see you..."
"It's a good thing you're not a better shot kid," Chris states, he knows the makings of a good sniper, this soldier doesn't have it, he can't control his emotions, can't keep his hands steady in a moment of panic, he needs time, time they don't have in a combat situation. The other laughs slightly, the tension easing from his form, Chris is glad that the other didn't notice him step in front of Piers, didn't watch him take the bullet, didn't hear him telling him to go, Captain's shouldn't assist the enemy, Piers of course is different.
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Jill patches him up with all the bedside manner of a robot, she doesn't speak to him as she checks for bullet fragments, cleans out the wound and wraps a bandage around the injury. She slaps him across the shoulder as if to prove a point and watches as he bites his lip against the surge of pain.
"She got away, we were flanked, care to explain what happened to you?" she's angry he can tell this from her stance, the way her arms are folded tightly across her chest. He wants to ask her when she dyed her hair back to brown, doesn't think this is the time or the place, he's always thought the brunette suited her better. Of course he's always had a thing for brunettes, he clenches his hands into fists, trying to chase away memories that he doesn't want.
"Amelia's bodyguard, is Piers, he doesn't remember anything, they sent him to kill me." She smirks slightly, nods her head as if that explains everything and she takes a seat opposite her former partner.
"Piers Nivans, best sharp shooter the BSAA have had, better than me, better than you, how are you still alive Chris?"
"He missed," she raises an eyebrow, "missed me, hit all the other targets straight on," his fists clench even tighter, he doesn't want to think about the sound of the soldiers hitting that field, the sound of the bullets tearing through flesh and skull. There's a look in Jill's eyes that he can't quite read no matter how hard he tries.
"So Richards shot you, whilst aiming for Piers?"
"He's a terrible shot,"
"And you're a terrible liar." Her eyes are unreadable, "whatever you do Chris, try not to get yourself shot again, now get some rest, we'll talk about this in the morning." Her smile is warm as she rises from her chair, Chris watches her go, he leans his head back and tries not to drown in the knowledge that Piers is alive. There is no ghost here with him any longer, yet his fingertips yearn for the touch of the other, to feel his flesh, to feel the beat of his heart, know that he is there in flesh and blood and not some twisted torment created from his mind.
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He spends most of his evenings in the following months chasing dead ends and red herrings, he struggles against a desperate selfish need to bring his sniper back. He pushes himself until he can't push any longer, until he falls asleep at his desk, until Jill sends him home with a look reserved only for him. He finished Piers' book some time ago but on some nights, he just brings the book to his lips, holds it in his hands, he tries to find a deeper understanding of his former partner in the hidden meanings of the pages.
For the first time in so many years, Chris finds himself praying to a God that he hasn't believed in since he was a child, it seems foolish in the light of all he has seen to entertain thoughts of a deity, all the twisted horrible things cannot be made by a loving being. Yet in the darkness, he begs that the very being whose existence he has denied returns his soldier to him, safe and well.
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Amelia Simmons has been off the radar for months, ever since Japan they haven't been able to pinpoint her location, they've managed to close off a few of the labs they knew that she used, clearing them out and keeping them under BSAA guard, all the information from those labs was heavily encrypted and the best hackers they have are still trying to make sense of the information. Chris paces the room as Jill speaks to the computer techs, she shakes her head in his direction, indicating that there is no new information and he slams the door behind him as he leaves. His frustration bubbles beneath his skin, his hands clenching into fists and lashing out at the nearest wall. He's so fed up of dead ends, he feels like a hunter who is loosing sight of his prey, in reality his greatest concern comes from the feeling of loosing Piers again.
It's weeks later when Jill comes to him, drops a file on his desk and waits expectantly for his questions. She looks tired and he gets the impression that she's working this hard for him, because she can't bare to see him suffer so much.
'Think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you.'
It's not completely accurate but he seems to relate so much to that book these days and then from that back to Piers. He reaches for the file, skips through the pages, he glances from the writing up to Jill.
"Amelia Simmons hasn't been well for some time, she has a degenerative disease, she's trying to use the C-Virus to prolong her own life, these experiments are trials for her and others like her with the money to fund them." There are endless names, endless conditions in the pages and most of them Chris won't pretend to understand, he closes the file, turning his full attention to his companion.
"She uses a private jet from this address to her specialist in England, monthly, to this date." she taps the information at the front of the file, "if we time this right, we can apprehend her here."
"If not, we have no authority in England,"
"We have contacts, but we would need more information for them to risk taking her in. Ideally we need to reach her before she boards that plane." There's determination in her eyes and Chris can see the promise within them, the insistence that she can do this for him, she can bring his soldier home, she can ease some of the pain this endless war has caused. Jill knows better than anyone what it is like to be controlled, made to do things against your own will.
It's weeks before the end of the month, before they can put their meticulous planning into action, they're working as one team, Chris and Jill working as partners once again. They stay out of sight, concealed around the private jet reserved for Amelia's flight to England, they lay in wait for what seems like hours before two groups move towards the plane, dressed entirely in black, there is a figure huddled amongst the main group but he can barely tell one person from another and though he has a suspicion that it's Amelia it's something he cannot guarantee. Jill is studying from the other side, poised and waiting to give the order to move in, guards fan out around the plane as three women dressed in black move up the stairs and into the awaiting plane, a doctor follows closely behind them. In that moment Jill gives the order and they begin to move in, several guards are taken out and although they are all dressed the same Chris can tell exactly which one is Piers.
The sniper doesn't flinch as those around him fall, several more flood in to take their place, all with the same black helmets covering their faces. He steadies his gun, takes out a soldier and Chris hears the bullet ripping skin apart, he hears the thud, he reaches Piers quickly, knocks the gun out of his hand, throws him to the ground, kicking the gun as far away as he can, he takes out two guards whilst the younger catches his bearings, one bullet pierces through a neck, the other hitting into a back. Piers hits him, across the face, hard enough to send the Captain stumbling, he catches his balance and manages to dodge the next blow, catching it with his hand.
"We have a warrant for her arrest Piers call these men off, no one else has to die here." The visor slides up, those mismatched eyes staring directly into Chris.
"Do you really think she didn't know this would happen, that plane is leaving now, we can't stop it, you can't stop it." They grapple, it's a messy little fight and Chris thinks they could both try harder at this, Piers pushes the elder, takes a step back, he hits a soldier that gets too close and the blood pours from the others face as he collapses to the floor. Jill almost makes it to the plane, a guard tackles her from behind and they end up on the ground, a blade in the attackers throat, before she can regain her footing the plane begins to take off, the doors closing.
"Damn it!" Chris curses and hits a guard to the ground, shooting a clip into him as he falls, his anger is palpable as he makes his way through the guards that move to him, one makes to shoot him but a hand pulls him out of harms way before firing at the guard, the bullet killing instantly. He follows the gun and the hand back to Piers, a flicker of emotion in the others eyes as they clash with Chris' own. A moment later a fist makes contact with his solar plexus and he folds around Piers right arm, gripping the limb as he falls to his knees. Piers left hand brushes against his ribs, his face is close to the elders own, eyes locked.
"If you're going to London to get her, you're going to need evidence that's a little more concrete. I hope to see you soon, Captain." There's a slight smile to those full lips, then the visor moves down again and a fist connects with his face, he hits the floor, his vision swimming, Piers takes out another guard just in the corner of his vision, that's the last thing Chris sees before he passes out.
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He comes to on a helicopter facing Jill as she wipes blood from her lips, she looks angrier than he's ever seen her but she tries a smile for him as his eyes begin to refocus.
"Good to have you back with us sleeping beauty," she smirks for a moment then her face falls serious again. "I can't believe we missed that bitch again, I've got a team tracking her so we don't lose her this time and tech team are working on decrypting those files but at the moment we're back to square one." He has a memory that seems so out of place, the feel of Piers' hand against his side, gentle and warm, he pats down his vest, a small square item in the pocket, he pulls out the SD card, studying it for a moment. Jill is watching him with interest, "Where did you get that,"
"Piers," he all but whispers, slips the small card into his phone and watches the files that open on his screen as a result. He smirks and runs a hand through his hair, passing the phone to Jill.
"This is great, I'll forward it to Michaels, get him and his team to apprehend the plane when it lands they can make the arrest, this will definitely be enough to convince them." She presses a few buttons and makes a call to Michaels, once she has the confirmation she needs she passes the phone back to Chris. He allows his head to fall back against the seat, the journey is a long one and he finds himself drifting in and out of sleep, his phone buzzes in his lap and an extract flashes across the screen, he focuses on it for a moment.
'Not knowing how he lost himself, or how he recovered himself, he may never feel certain of not losing himself again.' His heart stops as he reads the extract, he knows the book is still in his kitbag and his very being aches as though he can feel exactly what this means to the younger, and maybe that book did give him some clarity on Piers, did bring them closer in some way, he feels like he knows a little more of the younger's mind when he knows what lies within those pages.
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They take Amelia Simmons into custody and head back to BSAA headquarters, the doctor from before comes with her, her illness has progressed and there are the signs that she has at some point trialled the C-Virus on herself. She doesn't speak through the journey and although tired and weak she puts all of her effort into maintaining her pride, ever the prim and proper young woman she was raised to be. She doesn't talk much but what she does say shows there is a regret to the things she has done but a desperation that fuelled the need to do them.
When they return home they hand Amelia to their supervisors, Jill insists she will stay to ensure the questioning goes smoothly and tells Chris to go home. He doesn't argue, he feels mentally drained and his body aches with a littering of bruises. He goes straight home and though he desires a shower to wash away the memories of the last few days he doesn't quite have the energy to make it there, as far as he gets is the bed and he's asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. His phone beeps from the side and he grabs for it blindly, mind slow with sleep, the light from the screen hurts his eyes and it takes him awhile before he can finally read the words, he expects it to be Jill but it's an unknown number.
'Congratulations on your mission, I suppose this means you owe me, Captain.' He's not sure what to think of that message but he falls asleep before he can analyse it much further.
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There will be two sections to this story, due to the fact it grew a life of it's own and became much longer than I originally intended, part two should be up in the next few days.
I hope this is ok and there are not too many mistakes.