The cursor was trying to provoke him, clearly. The obsessive blinking of black on white background highlighted the emptiness of the blank page and Piers could have sworn that his heart had started thrumming at the same accelerated, nerve-wrecking pace. Why was the writing of this report resulting so fucking hard? He had written tons of reports in the past, reports about longer interventions and more difficult assignments, and it had never been a problem.

Situation, Mission and Execution. Explain the intervention. State any new kind of virus and B.O.W. you encountered. Describe what went well and what went wrong. Note down where the samples had been taken to. Name. Position. Signature.

The last assignment had been easy. A short trip to Canada for him and a couple of ex-Bravo members who had been promoted after the fall of Alpha team in Edonia, to meet up with a reliable source for a lead on Ada Wong. It had concluded in the cleaning of an old lab full of B.O.W.s, including the reliable source—one of their best informants in the North American territory—who had been infected and killed before they had even arrived. Bad luck it was, but everyone agreed that the old man was the one to blame, as he could have perfectly chosen a more peaceful place for their meeting instead of luring them into the empty, dark underground lab.

Piers sighed and typed the current date into the editor— Monday, 4th of February, 2013 —before hitting the enter key and making the rude little cursor jump to the next line. Over a month had passed since Chris and he had been rescued from the dark City Hall of Edonia, since the mission had failed and concluded officially and since he had written his last report on the subject. Over a month since he was the last man standing—or at least it felt like he was the last one. He still remembered every awful detail about that fateful day in the City Hall, how they had found the people turned, the awful sound the cocoons made when they cracked open and the stretched arm of Finn Macauley trying to reach the supporting hand of his Captain as his skin began to burn. Everything.

However, he barely remembered the recent assignment.

"Nivans!"

The door flew open unannounced and interrupted his musings. Piers's steelern look drove to the source of the disturbance, B.S.A.A. Director Johnson.

"Sir."

He lifted himself from the seat as the older man stepped into the office.

"I see that you took my advice," he said and gestured to the desk. "You'll get more work done here, won't you?"

Piers swallowed, forcing himself to nod at the comment. Here was referring to Chris' office, which he had been suggested to occupy as long as his Captain was unavailable.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Johnson nodded in silence, his lips turning into a displeased pout that looked rather unfitting on a man in an established position like his.

"One question, Nivans," he eventually said, turning his head to the ground as if he didn't want to look his man into the eyes when he gave him the bad news. "I was expecting Captain Redfield back this week, but I just heard that he hasn't even come in to get the medical team to check on him." He frowned, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Can you tell me what he's waiting for?"

Piers cleared his throat, unsure of what information to give away. Was he even the right source to question?

"The Captain went through the first checks in Edonia. After the hospital there, two psychologists working with Rebecca Chambers examined him. I supposed they had sent their reports to the B.S.A.A."

Johnson grunted.

"Ah, right. Doctor Harrison and Doctor…"

"Zink," Piers finished his sentence and the older man nodded.

"Doctor Zink, yes," he muttered and scratched his bearded jaw. "Yeah, I prefer he gets examined by our own people, so please make sure he steps by as soon as possible. Their diagnosis was confusing."

Confusing was the fact that the B.S.A.A. was still standing with a good-for-nothing like Johnson as a director, Piers thought as he felt his head drop into a short nod against his will.

"Yes, sir," he said in a low voice. "I will take care of it."

A smirk of satisfaction grew on the director's face as he patted his shoulder and turned back to the door.

"Fine. The new recruits are starting today and you might want to meet them on the training ground at four. I also expect that report on my desk this afternoon," he said when he put one hand on the handle. Before turning it, though, he added, "Oh, Nivans?"

Piers, far from relaxing, looked back at the director.

"Yes, sir?"

"Any idea why Valentine hasn't returned yet? She practically lived here before her trip to Edonia and now it seems she's afraid of coming to work."

The young soldier sucked in a sharp breath and licked his lips before shrugging softly.

"As far as I know, she's helping the Captain get his memory back."

Johnson huffed out a short laugh before opening the door and leaving without another word. Piers exhaled, rolling his eyes as soon as the older man couldn't see him anymore. If the director had really read Dr. Zink's report on Chris' amnesia, he was probably aware of the huge gap the Captain had to fill, and that it would take some time to make a tiny progress. He turned back to the desk and sank into the chair, a little disappointed that the report hadn't typed itself in the meantime. The cursor was still happily flashing in the left corner of the document, waiting for him to decide its destiny, and Piers suddenly knew what was bothering him about it.

He didn't want to decide anything.

He wanted to follow orders and not care about new recruits or leading teams.

He wanted things to be the way they had been before Edonia.

And he desperately wanted his Captain to return.


"So, what are we gonna do today?"

Jill laughed softly as the question she'd been asked every single morning since they'd returned from Europe rang her awake once more as soon as she entered the kitchen. Chris had started the habit of getting up early and going for a run, which reminded her somehow of the man he'd been before Edonia—only that he didn't grunt that much and laughed a lot more.

"I don't know," she said and shrugged, dragging herself towards the coffee maker. "I've honestly run out of options and you probably know more about the past and present than I do."

Yes, she had done quite a good job keeping Chris busy. She had taken him on walks and trips through the whole city and surroundings. They had watched all important movies and TV shows he had never seen and she had given him a complete update about the political situation of their own country and many more. Now, though, after several weeks with stuffed schedules, she was running out of ideas.

Chris laughed at her comment and, with his elbows resting on the counter, he propped his head up as his eyes rolled from one side to the other, indicating an intense exercise of thought.

"How about a trip to Raccoon City?" he suggested and caused Jill to clink her empty coffee mug against the marble surface in shock. "You mentioned that all of our friends and colleagues left the city, but I'd really like to see how damaged the place is thanks to Irons' management."

Jill swallowed, taking the time she poured herself some coffee to gather her thoughts. She somehow needed to dissuade Chris from the visit to Raccoon.

"Oh!" She turned around and smiled widely. "I would love that, but I don't think we can make it to Raccoon and back in just one day."

Chris returned the laugh and nodded.

"Well, back in the nineties there were several motels in town. We'll surely find a place to stay the night."

Damn, how could he be so convincing with a couple of crumbling suppositions while she, with very good reasons to stay away from whatever desertous flatland Racoon City was now, couldn't find arguments to talk him out of it? Jill, who was already toying with the thought of cutting the brake fluid hose of her car to have a reason for them to stay home, sighed in relief as someone rang the doorbell.

"I'll open!" Chris said and jogged towards the door, cheering loudly at the redhead that came in and at the paper bags full of donuts in her arms.

"Morning! Breakfast is here!" Claire said and walked into the living room, unloading both arms as she threw the bags onto the table. "I hope you're hungry."

Jill smirked relaxedly as she saw that Chris had turned his attention fully to his sister.

"Hey Claire," he said as he helped himself to a sugar-coated donut. "You want to come with us to Raccoon City?"

Jill's eyes shot to the redhead, curious about how she was going to respond to her brother's petition. Surprisingly, Claire nodded in cheerful agreement.

"Raccoon City? Today? Well, that's a great idea!" She exclaimed and left Jill stunned. "But I'd suggest you wait until next month when they organize the Raccoon festival to honor their mascot, and all people gather there to celebrate. It's just the third edition, but it's quite popular and you might even meet some of your old colleagues at the event."

Jill's eyes fluttered open in shock as she heard Claire's story, astonished by how easily the younger woman convinced her brother to postpone his trip to their old hometown to later. She hadn't even blinked nor hesitated when she'd blurted out the story about the festival, as naturally as if she'd actually planned on visiting the destroyed city someday, and Chris seemed to be satisfied with the explanation.

"How do you do this?" Jill ungently tugged on Claire's elbow when Chris had absented himself for a moment. "How can you lie to him that easily?"

The redhead smirked, pushing her hand into the paper bag again.

"Chris used to keep the rules at home very strict. He might have believed that being home at ten was gonna keep me from taking drugs and prostituting myself, but as a teenager I ignored all his well-willed attempts to turn me into a responsible adult and got pretty good at coming up with all kinds of excuses." She bit the donut and chewed as she shrugged. "Also, this is still part of my revenge for keeping the truth about Raccoon City from me."

Jill quirked an eyebrow at the redhead's reasoning, but eventually laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Oh, Claire," she sighed, forcing down the laughter. "I wish I could be as easy-going as you about all this. I'm not sure if I'm going to withstand the need to tell him."

Claire rolled her eyes and accusingly pointed the donut at the blonde.

"Yes you are," she said. "You have to be, Jill. Look at how happy he is now. Isn't this worth all the lies in the world?"

The blonde hesitated, wondering for how much longer Chris' carefree attitude would effectively serve as reason for Claire to be selfishly irresponsible.

"He hasn't stopped asking about Carlos Oliveira," she replied, showering Claire with all kinds of blaming looks, at which the redhead laughed half-heartedly.

"You tell him about your hot Brazilian ex boyfriend and expect him to keep cool?" She giggled and accepted Jill's judging glance with a challenging smirk.

"First," the blond countered lifting a finger. "He was and will never be my boyfriend. Second, I didn't tell him about him; Barry did. And third." Another two fingers followed. "This is not the only thing that is making this situation insufferable."

With those words, her look dropped to her phone on the table in front of them, which was casually starting to buzz wildly, showing the name of Piers Nivans flashing up on the screen.

Jill sighed.

"That's the other one. He calls me every day and asks when we are going to come back."

Claire's eyebrows rose slowly, her finger driving to the touch screen to press the red reject-call button.

"That's how it's done," she said and put the phone into flight mode afterwards. "Easy!"

Jill rolled her eyes in anger.

"You know he's soon gonna start calling you if I don't respond, don't you?"

Claire laughed.

"Yes," she said with a shrug. "But once I tell him that you and Chris are a couple now and that you need some privacy, he'll stop bothering."

Jill's eyes narrowed in response to the bold comment Claire had just rewarded her with, but before she could come up with an equally aggressive reply, the bathroom door opened and Chris walked back into the living room.

"So," he said after taking a long sip from his coffee. "If we don't go to Raccoon, what else can we do today?"

His lip twitched so deliciously that it made Claire's heart jump in delight. With a suggestive smile on her face, she pulled out a set of keys and let it dangle playfully in front of Chris' eyes.

"You could have a look at your apartment," she said and waved the fingers of her free hand next to her head. "Maybe you remember something about your earlier life."

Jill, still annoyed with Claire's attitude, turned to face the redhead in bafflement.

"What?" she mouthed silently and waited until Chris excused himself and walked away to get dressed, the keys tight in his hands. "Now you want him to remember?"

"He won't," the redhead said, shaking her head. "It's all gone."

Jill let out a dark sigh and turned to the kitchen, willing to grab another mug of coffee before going out.


Valentine had turned her phone off in the early morning after ignoring his first call. The Redfield woman had barely responded to his questions about his Captain's whereabouts, giving some unrealistic excuses about a trip to nature to regain his memory, when all his Captain needed was to get back to the B.S.A.A. and meet up with his old comrades — those who were still alive. Maybe the pictures of those who had fallen would help him recover whatever his mind had locked away deep between the folds of his brain. Whatever it was that would finally bring his memory back, he wasn't going to find it unless he wasn't confronted with images of the reality of bioterrorism.

Piers was skipping lunch that day, willing to check himself how their plans to make Chris remember were working. The fact that his Captain didn't know shit about B.O.W.s and that he wasn't in HQ to work on it was slowly gnawing on his sanity and his reputation in the B.S.A.A., and Piers couldn't get rid of the feeling that something wasn't going as planned. The sensation increased with every step he took towards the door of Jill Valentine's apartment, reaching its climax when he rang the doorbell and nothing happened.

"Fuck," he hissed and rang again, softly knocking on the door afterwards. "Officer Valentine?"

He gave up after another minute. His head dropped against the door right where his knuckles had impacted for the last time, and he gave in to all kinds of nasty thoughts. Why was he the only one who seemed truly worried about Chris' recovery?

He pulled out his phone and dialed Valentine's number for the tenth time that day. At least, she had turned the device back on, but the fact that she still wasn't answering his calls caused the bile to rise into his throat.

Piers punched the door and pushed himself away from it before he disappeared into the staircase again. Someone was going to give him the answers he needed and deserved. And they were going to give him those answers very soon.


Jill had led the way up to Chris' apartment door, but it was her old partner who eventually pushed the key into the lock.

"Are you still as skilled with the lockpick as you used to be?" he asked as he turned the key and pushed the door open. "Barry used to call you Master of Unlocking, remember?"

As if she could ever forget that title, after hearing Barry say it even in the Arklay Mansion. So, she nodded and laughed.

"Yes, of course," she said and laughed, tilting her head to the right. "And I'm still amazing at lockpicking, but I'd rather not make myself guilty of breaking into your apartment. Especially when you have the key."

Chris laughed in reply as they walked into the apartment and looked around in awe. Jill admitted that Claire had done quite a good job cleaning the place— although it had taken her long enough to do so— and nothing was left there to remind them of anything related to bioterror. Chris blew out a breath of admiration.

"Wow! Is this really my place?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "It's so clean."

Jill snickered at his comment, clearly remembering that the last time she'd stood in his apartment it had still looked like it belonged to the walking mess her partner had always been. Before she could reply, though, her phone began to buzz in her pocket again.

"Shit," she hissed inaudibly as she saw that Piers was calling again, soon regretting having turned the device back on after keeping it in flight mode for several hours. She rejected the call once more and turned back to Chris.

"Do you remember anything?" she asked and watched him inspect the shelves closely. A couple of pictures of himself was all Claire had left from the time he had lost. All those photographs that documented his career in the B.S.A.A. had vanished.

Chris grunted.

"No," he said and laughed.

He laughed.

He laughed and stole Jill's breath, because in the middle of the emptiness that was his life, there was nothing that seemed to indicate that he hadn't actually missed out on anything.

"Want us to have a look at your wardrobe?" she asked and pointed at the door to his bedroom. "This way."


As breakfast had been caloric enough, Claire had chosen a green salad for lunch. It wasn't only the healthiest option the diner had available, it was also the quickest one, which would allow her return to the office within the expected twenty minutes. Too bad that the dressing had that woody pieces of dried parsley in it, that settled down between the teeth and refused to ever leave if they weren't threatened with the bristles of the toothbrush. And so, Claire found herself engaged in the frantic rubbing of her tongue over her teeth, in hope she would, at least, loosen the ugly green stuff, hoping nobody would bother her before she hadn't gotten to brush her teeth. When the elevator doors slid shut, closing only herself in the cabin, she let out a sigh of relief. A sigh that got stuck in the middle of her throat as the doors stopped closing and moved back open, unveiling the figure that had so boldly decided to disturb her ride up to the floor where Terra Save had their headquarters.

"Fuck," she hissed under her breath, not only because of the unexpected company on her way up, but because of who had just stepped into the elevator with her.

"Claire. Great I just came to speak to you."

She gave Piers a displeased look and pushed the button to her floor once more.

"Hey," she eventually replied, trying not to show him her teeth. "How can I help you?"

The cabin began to rise again and the young soldier smiled a little perplexedly, with his eyebrows lifted.

"You know how you can help me," he said and leaned against the wall. "Your brother was expected to come back two weeks ago. People are asking questions, Claire, and I really don't understand Valentine's role in all this. She's not taking my calls anymore."

The redhead sighed, excusing herself with a gesture of uncertainty.

"I can't tell you what Jill's plans are, Piers," she said smiling softly. "But I can assure you that she's preparing his return. Maybe she took him to the ruins of Raccoon City. That's hard to say. I haven't spoken to either of them for days now, but I know that Jill wants him back in the B.S.A.A. as much as you do."

Piers licked his lips and took a deep breath.

"I don't doubt that," he said as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "But I need to know when I can expect my Captain to get back. We need to know when we can start the training again."

Claire blinked coldly, untouched by Piers' wish to send her brother back to work and the dangers of the field. The man sighed at her lack of reaction.

"Are you at least trying to bring his memory back?" he asked. "Showing him stuff from his past?"

Eyes wide-open, she nodded slowly.

"Yes, of course," she muttered and smiled. "You can trust us, Piers. We are just making a slow approach."

The elevator reached the target floor and Claire pushed out of the cabin as soon as the doors opened, Piers following the annoyed redhead closely as she walked past the front desk and toward her office.

"That's great," Piers said as he stomped after her. "I really want the Captain to recover as comfortably as possible."

When they reached the office door and Claire stopped to pull out her keys, Piers took the chance to stand beside her.

"Have you made any advances so far?"

Claire held her breath when the lock clicked open. Before giving herself and Piers access to her office, she looked at him with a grin.

"Yes," she said and nodded eagerly. "He recognizes faces in pictures we've shown him. People from the B.S.A.A., like Sheva Alomar, Quint Cetcham and your Director Johnson."

She couldn't remember where exactly she had heard Quint's name, but she was absolutely sure that Sheva Alomar was the West-African S.O.A who had been Chris' partner when they'd saved Jill in Africa three years before. Piers seemed to believe the news, as a happy grin full of hope spread over his face.

"Really?" He asked as he followed her into her office. "That's great."

As Claire dropped into her chair, Piers stood in front of the desk, facing her.

"So, I assume you're soon gonna bring him back to headquarters," he said, giving her a shy look at which the redhead laughed.

"I told you I don't know what plans Jill has," she said and flipped her laptop open. "You will have to trust her."

The soldier huffed out a laugh and nodded, with his lip twitching in embarrassment.

"Thank you, Claire, and forgive the interruption," he said and was rewarded with another smile before he turned away.

He had taken only a couple of steps when Claire became aware of her mistake, because after stopping and watching the surroundings for a second, Piers walked straight to the shelf next to the door and pulled out the package he had brought over himself weeks before. The one that contained Chris' B.S.A.A. uniform.

"So, uhm, you're showing him stuff?"

Claire froze in her chair, her hands holding on to the armrest as if she was afraid she'd slip off of it.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with the weight of a guilt only a busted liar could fathom as Piers rubbed the upper side of the package with a dark smile on his lips.

"And I assume you were just keeping this here because…" his stare through narrowed eyes invited Claire to continue his words and tell him just why she hadn't even bothered to take the uniform home, evidently ready for her to equivocate again.

Claire cleared her throat.

"I was just gonna show him tonight," she said and met Piers incredulous eyes.

"Really? Tonight?" He laughed sarcastically. "I thought you hadn't spoken to them in days and that they were probably on a trip to Raccoon City."

Claire exhaled at how he was altering her version of the facts and wondered if she was the only one in this story who wasn't turning into a complete drama queen.

"I mean, I was gonna take it but-" she was interrupted by the sound of the package impacting against the shelf as Piers tossed it angrily through the room.

"Don't fuck with me, Claire," he yelled as his finger darted at her in a blaming gesture. "You never even tried to make him remember, did you?"

The redhead jumped onto her feet and hit the surface of her desk so hard with both palms that the laptop on it seemed to jump a little.

"How dare you?" She yelled and shook her head so wildly that her ponytail fluttered. "We are doing everything to help him."

Piers huffed out a laugh and collected the uniform from the ground before turning back to the door.

"If you're not taking care of this," he said and pulled the door open. "I am."

Claire watched as the young soldier left her office and dropped back into her chair. That stupid kid would destroy her plans for Chris' happiness if she didn't react immediately, and she was too stubborn and too proud to let someone like him achieve that. After sucking in a breath, she reached for the phone in her pocket.


"Claire should have brought over these clothes," Chris said stretching his arms in front of the mirror. "I like how they look on me."

Jill laughed loudly from her position on the edge of his bed, rubbing her already aching belly. Seeing a big guy like Chris try on all of his clothes and pose in front of the mirror like a skinny fashion model was the most hilarious thing she'd ever witness, and after a first session of animated giggles, she was now curling herself in laughter.

"She might have thought that the short sleeves were inappropriate for the cold winter mornings."

Chris made a face and began to pull the hem up again, and Jill found herself reacting in a very uncommon way.

She was staring at him.

Chris was easy to look at, admittedly. All pumped up muscle and tight skin were the reason why so many B.S.A.A. colleagues— male and female— were drooling whenever the Alpha-team Captain walked into the room, but she had always known that their friendship didn't need the complementary physical attraction and subsequent casual sex to work. Jill shook the thought off quickly. She herself was supposed to be more professional than the twenty-year olds who had just started their position at the B.S.A.A. reception front desk.

And even so, she was still staring.

Her phone began to buzz once more and she expected to read the same disturbing name that had been bothering her the whole morning long. However, this time, it wasn't Piers who was calling. She hit the answer button and pressed the device to her ear.

"Claire!"

"What did I tell you about turning your phone back on?" The high-pitched voice of the redhead told Jill that something was upsetting her friend.

"Claire," she said. "What's wrong?"

The redhead sighed through the line.

"Listen, Jill, I need you to disappear. Are you still at Chris' place?"

Jill frowned at the news, her look drifting to Chris as she assimilated what Claire was telling her.

"Yeah…?"

A cheerful laugh came from the other end.

"Thank god. Please, open the last drawer of Chris' nightstand."

The blonde turned to the bedside table behind her and did as she was told. The drawer was empty except for a set of keys with a plastic tag that said Cabin.

"Uhm, got it, I think."

Claire chuckled.

"Leave everything behind, Jill. I will send you the coordinates right now."


Thank you all for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing guys. I hope you are having as much fun as I have with this story :D