Seasons Die Off One by One
Chapter 06 - Past (1998)
Chris can feel the sweat rolling down the nape of his neck, soaking into the damp shirt sticking to his heated skin. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, exhaling through his nose as the sound of boots crunching on the gravel reach his ears, glancing back at the two catching up to him.
He's not the only one with red cheeks courtesy of the blazing sun high in the afternoon sky, Piers and their new trainee Rebecca Chambers are flushed from their cheeks down to their necks and shoulders.
Piers has barely been with them for three months before Wesker hired Rebecca, talented despite her young age of eighteen, her expertise in chemistry earned her a position in S.T.A.R.S. She's the first medic to join the unit and Chris idly wonders if it has anything to do with his track record for running head first into danger and coming out scathed more times than not.
Inexperienced and a little shy, Rebecca's nerves sometimes get the better of her, but her eagerness to learn and take on any task assigned to her is what has her out here in the training field in the first place. Once the young rookie heard that Chris had been training Piers in hand-to-hand combat, Rebecca had jumped at the chance to ask if she could accompany them. What had started out as standing in the sidelines observing quickly turned into Chris also teaching her the techniques he knew.
Training rookies hand-to-hand combat isn't in his job description, but he would make an exception for Piers and Rebecca any day, especially with the way they both seem to have admiration and respect in their eyes whenever they're around him. Chris can get used to that. Besides, just roughly two years ago give or take he had been the newest member in S.T.A.R.S. Though he had prior experience in combat thanks to his time on the Air Force, he still needed to adjust to the unit, Barry and Jill there to help him out. Chris has no problem doing the same for the rookies.
"Tired already?" Piers asks, hunched over with his hands on his knees as he tries to catch himself from the laps they had just completed.
It's important to build stamina and endurance, which is why after Chris shows them a technique he has them run a lap around the field. Then they practice the technique until they get the hang of it before running another lap. By the time they're done, even the marksman himself has to drag his feet back to his truck.
"Not even close," the marksman flashes him a small grin, but he can see that both he and Rebecca can use a little break. The sun is merciless today and he's feeling the effects himself. "Take five."
"Thank heaven," Rebecca sighs before she plops down on the ground, legs out in front of her as her hands run through her short red hair, bangs sticking to her temples.
Chris chuckles at that before he pulls his old Nokia from his back pocket. He doesn't usually keep his phone on him, but this time he has a very good reason. He's expecting a call from his sister any minute now. As if on cue, his phone rings and Chris answers it, greeted by a voice that he could identify anywhere.
"Claire, you in the state already?" Chris asks, turning away from the rookies glancing in his direction curiously.
"Yup. I'll be there in the next hour or so," Claire chirps back into the phone, a loud humming making it hard for the marksman to hear her.
"Are you calling me while on your bike?" the marksman frowns, easily identifying the revving of his sister's motorcycle. "I know I've told you not to do that."
"You're the one who told me to call you," the younger Redfield answers automatically as if she knew her brother would bring it up.
Chris fights the urge to hiss into the receiver. "Just get here," he tells her before he adds. "Safely, please."
"Ok, see you in a bit," Claire answers before she hangs up.
Chris tucks the phone back into his back pocket, shaking his head. He's convinced that Claire really has no idea how many mini heart-attacks she provokes in her brother. He runs a hand through his hair, telling himself Claire had been born to ride that bike before he turns back to the rookies.
Piers had sat down on the ground beside Rebecca, the two of them discussing the technique Chris had shown them earlier in the afternoon. He's sure he told them to take a break, but then again, the rookies are committed to putting in hard work, dedicated to their jobs. Piers never tires of practicing with his rifle, opting to even switch weapons in order to improve his skills with the other guns as well. Rebecca needs a lot of physical training, but even so, she keeps up with Chris and Piers, reminding the marksman of Jill in so many ways. That might also be the reason Jill has taken a shine to Rebecca as well, the two being the only females on the unit while also not taking 'no' for an answer.
Chris' gaze strays back from Rebecca to Piers, the hair he keeps immaculately styled sticking to his sweaty forehead. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, tracing his jaw before traversing the expanse of his neck down to his collarbone. The marksman can't help but follow it before he forces himself to turn away, light blue eyes landing on Richard and Forest, the two also having taken to the training field a little after he had with Piers and Rebecca.
"Cute together, aren't they?" Forest grins at the marksman before jutting his chin out at the direction of Piers and Rebecca. "The rookies."
The frown on Richard's face deepens, Chris only then noticing it before he turns back to the two in question, animatedly chatting away over something as tedious as hand-to-hand combat, but then again it is Piers and Rebecca and they're both eager to learn anything and everything they can. That's another thing they have in common, the marksman supposes, other than being new to S.T.A.R.S. Piers is the youngest in Alpha at just twenty, Rebecca on Bravo at eighteen.
Chris shakes his head, deciding to nip this line of thinking at the bud. He doesn't like it and the marksman doesn't bother trying to figure out why.
"Alright, I think we can call it a day," Chris speaks up, stepping over to his trainees. Yes, his trainees. The marksman has taken the liberty of calling them that even if just in his head because Wesker can get pretty bitchy when he's ready. He has first-hand experience of that.
Piers glances up at him, "Already?" He glances down at his watch before shaking his head. "But we've still got like forty minutes."
"Yeah, I know, but I've gotta leave early today, remember?"
"Oh," the Sniper deflates, Chris able to read his expression and deduce that he had wanted to train some more. He wants to stay, teach him some more, but he needs to be home for when Claire arrives.
Rebecca nods in understanding, "Ok, thank you for taking time out for us again." She climbs to her feet, soft smile on her lips as she dusts her pants.
"Sure, same time tomorrow, alright?" Chris offers her a smile in return.
"Ok," she smiles, waving at Chris and Piers in turn. "Bye."
"You done for today, Rebecca?" Richard speaks up, jogging over to her.
"Yup," Rebecca nods at him and Chris watches as Richard walks with her back to the building, Forest trailing behind them before the marksman turns to Piers.
"You gonna stay there on the ground?" Chris asks, raising an eyebrow at the Sniper still sitting on the dirt.
"No," he answers before pushing himself up to his feet, dusting his fatigues. "I think I'm gonna stay out here a little longer."
"Nah, just go home. Take a break," Chris grins, patting the Sniper on the shoulder and guiding him off the field and back towards the station where Rebecca, Richard, and Forest have disappeared into. "I promise we'll work on that technique tomorrow."
Piers glances at him before he nods, looking a little lighter, "Ok."
They walk into the locker room, Chris easily locating his and opening it. "My sister is coming down from university today. She's staying with me for the summer," Chris explains as he grabs his bag, pausing before he glances over his shoulder at Piers. "Wanna come? Meet her I mean."
"Huh?" the Sniper blinks at him, pausing mid-motion at opening his own locker.
"If you're not busy or anything," the marksman adds, pulling the straps of his bag over one shoulder.
"Uh, yeah, sure," Piers shrugs after a moment of contemplating. "I'm not doing anything. Just give me a minute to hit the showers."
"Nah, it's fine. Just shower at my place," Chris offers, grabbing Piers' bag and trailing past the Ace, not noticing the crimson blush that surfaces on Piers' cheeks at his suggestion.
The Sniper fidgets for a moment before trailing after the marksman out of the station and into the parking lot. He jumps into the passenger seat of Chris' truck, trying to act as normal as possible even though he feels like if his skin is alight with fire.
Chris tosses a small grin his way before starting the truck and pulling out of the parking lot, joining the traffic on the main road. It's a short drive, the marksman only living a few blocks down from the station. Chris pulls into the driveway, Piers leaning forward to take a look at the small building. It's two stories, Chris' apartment on the second floor and a garage big enough to fit two cars on the bottom.
"This is me," the marksman states, hopping out of his truck and leading the Sniper up the steps to the side of the building to the second floor before fishing for his keys and fitting it into the lock, pushing the door open. Chris steps in, leaving the door open for his guest.
Piers lingers at the doorway, daring to peek his head in. It's just as small as it looks on the outside and yet spacious at the same time. The doorway opens into a small hall, the kitchen to the left while the living room lies straight ahead.
This is Chris' apartment.
Piers finally steps in, closing the door behind himself as he steps into the living room. There is only one couch, pillows tossed across it and on the floor. There are soda bottles and cans of beer on the coffee table, crumbs littering the surface. A few articles of clothing are scattered across the back of the couch and the floor. The Sniper can count on one hand how many photographs there are in the room, most of them of a young girl with fiery red hair.
Chris pops out of what the Ace assumes to be the bedroom, a towel in hand. "You can take the shower first. I'm gonna clean up here," the marksman says, wincing when he notices how much of a mess his place is actually in. "Excuse the mess."
"Is this Claire?" Piers offers instead, pointing at one of the photos.
"Yup, that's my baby sister all right," Chris nods, the Ace not missing the fond smile that finds its way on the marksman's features as he glances at the picture.
Piers takes the towel from Chris, thanking him before finding the bathroom easily enough. He lets his bag slip from his shoulder before attempting to close the door, the door refusing to shut all the way as it grinds against the frame.
"Oh, right. The locks jammed or something and the door won't close," Chris calls out from the living room. "It's fine. Not gonna open the door or anything."
A small frown graces Piers' face and he tries not to take note at the heat settling in his cheeks of having to shower with the door simply pushed against the frame and Chris right in the other room, but he shakes it off in favor of stripping his shirt before he toes off his boots.
The Sniper glances around, taking in the plain looking bathroom, idly wondering if bathrooms can even be personalized before he unbuttons his fatigues and lets his clothes drop to the floor. He steps out of them and pushes the shower curtain aside, turning on the water before the impulse to glance back over to the door proves too much and he does, seeing it still propped against the door frame. He hears Chris pushing around the couch in the living room and he shrugs, trying to make the bubbling in his stomach stop.
Piers steps under the spray of water, letting it wash the dirt of his body and watching as it disappears down the drain. He runs his hand through his hair, the cold feeling good against his heated scalp. He grabs Chris' shampoo, idly noticing that it's pine scented and placing why the marksman always smells like pine. The Sniper scrubs his short hair with it before washing the soap of his body, not wanting to waste too much of Chris' water. He turns off the water before reaching out and grabbing the towel from where he had left it on the sink, pressing the soft material to his face as the sound of a distant humming grows louder and louder.
Piers pauses, the rev of the engine sounding as if it's just outside before it cuts off. He towels off before pulling his spare clothes from his bag, putting them on before he pulls the door open. The Ace steps out of the bathroom, his bare feet padding down the hall.
"Chris?" the Sniper calls out before he notices that the front door is open. So it looks like Claire's here.
The Ace pauses in the hall, running his fingers through his hair in attempt to get the wet strands at the top of his head to style in their usual flip. When he decides it's as good as it will ever be with how damp it is, Piers pokes his head out the door, seeing Chris with his arms wrapped around the younger Redfield. She's much smaller than him, but what ends up stealing the Sniper's attention is the gorgeous motorcycle parked just behind the girl.
Claire glances up Piers and smiles at him, waving at him. The Ace waves back, deciding now is as good as time as any to get his ass down there.
"Claire, this is Piers. He's the one I told you about that joined S.T.A.R.S a few months ago. Piers, this is Claire," Chris introduces the two as the Sniper makes his way down the stairs to where the siblings are standing.
"It's nice to meet you," Claire smiles, her red hair making her cheeks and lips look rosy. She offers the Ace her hand in which he takes.
"Likewise," the Sniper smiles, shaking her hand in greeting before his hazel eyes land on the bike. "Is she yours?"
"Yup," Claire beams as if Piers had just asked the perfect question.
"Sweet," the Ace nods appreciatively. He never imagined the younger Redfield would drive a motorcycle, but now that he sees it, it seems to fit her, like if it's wrong to even consider Claire driving an SUV or something. "I can imagine she draws a lot of attention at your school."
"Oh yeah," Claire nods. "But it kinda goes with my look, don't you think?" she smiles as she turns to show her back to the Sniper, Piers reading the imprint on the back of her red vest. Let Me Live.
"Huh, you're right," the Sniper nods, glancing between the younger Redfield and the motorcycle.
"It's my brother's. Well, it's made to look like his," Claire explains, turning back around. At Piers' questioning look, the redhead elaborates. "His Air Force jacket."
"You were in the Air Force?" is the Ace's response to Claire's explanation, hazel turning to the marksman almost forgotten.
"A little while ago. Air Force pilot for six years of my life," Chris states, stepping around his sister to grab her bike, moving it towards the garage.
"Why'd you leave?" Piers asks, following the marksman as he opens the garage, not noticing the way Claire glances from her brother to him and then back to Chris.
Chris is silent for a moment, Claire's bike leaning on his side before he speaks, "Wasn't my thing."
Piers barely hears Chris' response, his hazel resting on the muscle car propped up in the marksman's garage. It's old, probably from the 1950s or 60s, the blue paint chipping off and making it look worse than what it probably is.
"It's a project," Chris speaks up, light blue eyes following Piers' gaze to the car. "They were gonna scrap it, but I think it's salvageable."
"He's an aspiring mechanic," Claire adds in, leaning against the garage wall.
"You race?" Piers asks, turning to the marksman.
"Nah, not really," Chris shrugs, carefully parking Claire's bike to the side.
"I've told him to just get a bike like I did," the younger Redfield chimes in. "To quench his need for speed," she says, bursting into chuckles at the look her brother sends her.
Piers' eyes return to Claire's motorcycle. It really is a work of art, powerful yet beautiful.
"You wanna ride?" Claire asks, pushing off the wall and walking up to the Sniper.
"Huh?"
"You're staring at my bike," the redhead shrugs. "Wanna ride? I can give you one."
Chris snorts at that, "Claire, he doesn't want a ride on your back."
"What's wrong with my back?" Claire frowns at her brother, her brows knitting together.
"You're a girl. If he wants a ride, I'll give him one," Chris offers nonchalantly before turning to Piers. "Right?"
"Can you even ride?" Piers asks the marksman, earning a triumphant snort from Claire in turn. Chris' jaw drops comically, the Ace raising up his hands in mock offense before Chris is grabbing Claire's motorcycle again and leading it out of the garage.
"Who do you think taught her in the first place?" Chris asks the Sniper before he throws a leg over the bike, patting the space on the seat behind him. "Come on, Nivans."
Piers glances back at Claire, the mirth in her blue eyes reassuring the Ace that he's not climbing onto the back of his death. The Sniper walks over to the motorcycle, lifting his leg over the seat and getting on, making sure there are a few inches between him and the marksman. It's only when the Piers is on the bike that he realizes how close he is to Chris and any further distance will land him on the back wheel.
"Hold on," Chris instructs, the Ace glancing around for somewhere to grab before one of the marksman's hands find his wrist, pulling it forward and around his waist. "To me," Chris adds. "Hold on to me or you'll fall off."
"Oh, ok," Piers breathes, out, feeling his cheeks heat up as he wraps his other arm around Chris' waist, still not daring to rest them against the marksman's stomach.
"We'll be back," Chris tells his sister, getting a nod from her before she waves them off.
All of the Sniper's careful gripping goes out the window the moment Chris cranks up the motorcycle and takes off, the Ace tightening his hold on the marksman in an attempt to not be sent sprawling on the concrete, nose pressed to his back. The wind whips past them, Piers' heart threatening to fly away as well as it beats hard in his chest.
Chris chuckles at Piers' response, knowing sooner or later the Ace would have to hold on to him in earnest if he wanted to stay on the seat, but now the Sniper is just squeezing the air out of his lungs, whole body pressed up against Chris' back.
At the feel of Piers' face pressed into his shirt, the marksman becomes highly aware of how he definitely had not taken a shower after spending most of the day on the training field and probably smells like dirt and sweat. At the same time, he picks up on the familiar scent of pine, also aware that Piers had showered and that he must have used his shampoo. Hell, why does the image of Piers in his bathroom, his shower, completely naked and using his shampoo make his stomach flip despite how hard the Sniper's arms are wrapped around his waist? The flips in his stomach only get worse as Piers shifts behind him, trying to get comfortable and pressing even closer, chest down to his crotch flush against Chris.
"Am I going too fast?" Chris calls out over the roar of the engine, opting to slow down before the Sniper shakes his head.
"No, faster!" Piers shouts back, lifting his head to look over Chris' shoulder, a chuckle escaping his lips into the marksman's ear, too absorbed in the moment to notice the shiver running down Chris' spine in response.
It had been scary at first the Ace has to admit to himself, never having been on a motorcycle before, but after the initial burst of speed it's enthralling. It makes his heart beat faster, the wind whipping his face as the world flies by in a blur. More than that, Chris is warm, his natural scent not having been washed from his body and clothes yet as the Sniper lets himself hold on tight, as close as he can get more out of a desire to not fall off by accident than anything else. It's comforting in a way, making Piers feel safe.
He trusts Chris. It's just him and the marksman, rushing by and Piers can't even begin to describe the feeling. He knows that he likes it. He knows that he never wants to let it go, subconsciously pressing up into the marksman as he imprints this moment into his memory, not wanting to forget a single detail of it. Not the way the buildings zoom by, or the roar of the engine drowning out his surroundings. Not the vibrations of the powerful bike under him or the feeling of the warm body in front of him, the scent of earth and pine mixing in the wind as it flies past him.
Piers doesn't want to forget any of it.
Disclaimer: Resident Evil no belong to me.
Author's Note: I don't know much about motorcycles or muscle cars and the research I did didn't help much, but I hope it's not too bad. I tried! Chris with his car and Claire with her bike. They're siblings all right. And as mentioned before, here is Rebecca with an extra helping of Claire.
Please let me know how I'm doing so far! Also, the next chapter is going to be set in the present (2012).