Chapter two
Amelia Simmons, it turns out, is very compliant, she gives them the information that they need, she explains that she was only in charge of one division and that there are others who are still trying to use the virus for Bioterrorism. She doesn't have much knowledge of the others, they all report to members of the family that are far higher than she, in the end she had been trying to cure herself, her trials with the C-Virus had led to some mutation around her arms and neck, very subtle but noticeable, she tries to conceal it as best she can. She had been looking into reversing the mutations but hadn't had much success, she mentions a patient that was almost completely healed by the cocooning process, only a few adjustments needed but they had never been able to recreate the success. To Chris she seems almost relieved to be away from it all, he leaves her to the people best qualified to deal with her.
He finds himself frequently thinking of Piers, wondering what he is doing now that he isn't having to follow Amelia around. He has had no further contact with the younger since that night and it plays heavily on his mind, he knows the kid is starting to remember, at least has some inclination of his life before serving as a guard to the Simmons family, but he doesn't know how much detail or how accurate these memories are. He wants to be there for the younger, to guide him as he had through his amnesia, to support him, repay the favour.
xxxxx
It's a month later, during one of the rainiest weeks they've known in years, Chris heads home late, the rain is heavy and drenches him in the few minutes it takes to get from the car to the front door and unlock it. The first thing he notices is that the fire is on in the small living room, it crackles as the wood heats, the next is that the book is missing from the table. He immediately reaches for his gun, moving slowly, keeping his back to the wall, he focuses on the figure stood beside the fire, gun steady, finger poised on the trigger ready to fire.
"I'm unarmed you can check if you'd like." The figure turns to face him, mismatched eyes shimmering in the light cast out by the fire. There's a gentle smile to the younger's face and that well loved book is supported by his left hand as he moves his arms away from his body to show his statement is correct. He's dressed in a plain long sleeved black top, he's wearing gloves but his coat is draped over one of the chairs next to the fire, the jeans are dark and relatively tight against his legs and he's wearing standard edition military boots. Chris lowers his gun, turning the safety on and placing it back on the table.
"What are you doing here Piers?" He moves into the living room, closer to the fire, well aware of the chill in the room.
"I don't really know, I tracked you using the signal from your phone. I don't remember a lot, little bits and pieces, I have this feeling that I can trust you and if I'm honest I don't have anyone else to turn to or more aptly not that I can remember, if there is." The younger seems nervous as he speaks, his face is flushed slightly and he tries to hide it by staring at the fire, Chris smiles slightly.
"So you remember me?"
"Not everything, little pieces and nothing in order but it seems to be more everyday." He places the book down and bites his lip, moves to grab his coat, "look I'm sorry this is stupid I should go," he moves to leave but Chris grabs his left arm, stopping him from moving any further.
"It's fine, how about I make us both a drink and we can sit down and talk." He watches the conflict play over the younger's face as his hand clenches around his coat.
"I'd like that, I think," Chris chuckles slightly and slips the coat from the others grip.
"Great, then sit, I'll be back in a minute, coffee ok? Still with sugar and cream right?" Piers nods and does as he's told, he sits in front of the fire, wraps his arms around his legs and Chris thinks he looks ridiculously young like that. When Chris returns with the coffee he sits opposite Piers on the floor, the kid is flicking through the book again.
"This is mine, you kept it?" Chris hands him his coffee, he nods once, "why?" he looks genuinely intrigued as he places the book back on the table, his hands folding around the coffee cup.
"I guess there was always a part of me that felt I would be giving it back one day." He still aches to reach out and touch the other, to prove to himself that he is really there, he looks beautiful with the light of the fire dancing across sun kissed skin, the gold of the flames shimmering in the mismatched eyes.
"I'm sorry about your men and for... you know, everything, Amelia is not a bad woman, she is misguided but she helped me with her experiments so in a way I owe her my life." There's a far off look in his gaze at that moment, a pain that lingers in the back of his mind. "She was always trying to recreate this apparent success she felt she had with me, but it never worked out the same." He seems to backtrack for a moment, stares directly at Chris, straight into his eyes, "why are you allowing me to stay here, in your home, why do you trust me?"
"Should I not?" it's almost like he hadn't been expecting the question, "the way I see it is that you gave your life to save me once, you tried to shoot me and you couldn't, you shot that guard to keep me safe, if you wanted me dead, you've had more than enough chances. You were my right hand man not too long ago, one of the best soldiers I have ever worked with. You're supposed to be on my team, so yeah I trust you."
"I remember China, most of it, that BOW, being infected, I remember that very well, some of it blurs, it's not very clear after that for the most part. Sometimes I think it's best that I don't remember a lot of it." He takes a sip of his coffee and smiles into the cup, savouring the taste as it dances across his tongue, "do you think I could ever come back to the BSAA?"
"They would need to do checks, tests, but I don't see why not." Chris doesn't say what he really wants to, that neither of them should be going back, that they should just stay here, in this moment for the rest of their lives, that they've done more than enough for this world and it's people. He finds himself staring at Piers more than he should, studying that small line of a scar that crosses past his right eye, just about touching the tip of a pronounced cheekbone, then up just below his hair line. He watches as his mouth forms around words as he speaks, when his tongue swipes across them when they become a little dry or when he's a little nervous, he's lost track of what's being said as he studies the other's mouth, there's a slight smile there and for a moment Chris remembers that smile being offered to him through glass and locking metal doors.
"You think too much," Piers all but whispers and he's closer to Chris than the elder can remember him being, "I should go." He states and stands in one fluid motion, moves to his coat and slips it on over his shirt, it's another military jacket, the BSAA patches aren't there and Chris can't help thinking it doesn't look quite right without them. He stands, moves closer to Piers, making sure to keep an acceptable distance.
"You could always stay, there's a spare room upstairs. If you're thinking of coming back to the BSAA you're going to need somewhere stable. Not some little room in a hotel," Piers studies him with those unmatched eyes, there's this hint of a smile to his lips as he slips his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
"You should think on that offer a little more Captain," he loves the way that word forms on those lips, the way that voice says it, honey deep tones.
"The offer stands, feel free to take me up on it any time, considering I owe you one, this might go some way to making us even." It's a selfish request, deep down the offer is more for Chris himself, he wants Piers around, wants to keep an eye on him, wants to help him, earn a forgiveness from that part of himself that broke when he lost Piers.
"I'm still going to let you think on it." Piers makes his way towards the door and the captain follows him with this burden of a feeling that the soldier is slipping away from him again. They stand in the open doorway like lovestruck teenagers loathsome to say goodbye.
"You took care of me once Piers, even if you don't remember it, I would like the chance to repay the favour."
"Who said I need looking after?" He probably doesn't, he's strong, he's always been so strong, so unbreakable, unflinching in the face of danger, unrelenting, yet there's this broken look in his eyes sometimes, the flicker of a lost little boy who is trying to trace back his memories. "There's a lot you don't know,"
"I'm willing to listen,"
"Why? Why are you so accepting, I was shooting at you a few months ago, I killed members of your team, how can you trust me, I don't even trust me." there's a pool of tears forming against his lash line, the rain is catching across his shoulders, drenching the back of his jacket.
"Because I know you better than you know yourself at the moment, I know you're the son of Florence and Connor Nivans, I know your favourite colour is blue, that you're favourite book is sitting on my coffee table, that you were willing to give your life for something more than either of us. I know you came through when we needed you, that you trusted that doubt, that feeling in your gut, you're still BSAA Piers, through it all that doesn't go away."
"Some would think you foolish."
"Some would have said the same of you not too long ago."
"I don't remember that person,"
"Of course you do, I don't see any change," maybe he is foolish for trusting Piers so readily, maybe he's too desperate to have him back and that's clouding his vision, he knows he wouldn't change any of his decisions this night. He can see his soldier in the doorway, not a guard working for Amelia Simmons, this is the Piers Nivans he knows, the best sniper in the BSAA, the best soldier Chris has ever know, this is his partner, Chris trusted him with his life more than once and he never let his Captain down even when his Captain was less a leader and more a burden.
"So I guess, I might see you sometime, maybe you can help me with these jumbled memories." It's the longest goodbye he's had in years and eventually Piers pulls himself away from the door frame, he tugs on his collar, covering his neck from the cold and Chris remembers his scarf, remembers it torn and bloody as his partner battled the infection ravaging his body and begged him to go on without him. Piers looks beautiful in the rain and the dim street lighting, he turns down Chris' offer to drop him off insisting he likes the rain and the elder watches him walk away into the night.
xxxxxxxxxx
It takes Piers a few weeks to come round to the idea of leaving the hotel room, he has sessions with the psychologist at the BSAA every few days, there's a hint of PTSD in him, along with the amnesia and the torment caused by the virus and the experiments that followed. He has tests done by one of the doctors, blood samples that confirm he's not contagious or a health risk to any of the soldiers. Chris usually finds him in the shooting range, honing those renowned sniper skills, some of the other soldiers avoid him, uncertain of the eye and the scars across his neck, Piers doesn't seem to mind too much.
"Why do you always wear the gloves?" His finger trembles on the trigger at the unexpected question and he misses his shot as a result. He doesn't move his gaze from the scope.
"Amelia hasn't mentioned any of that then." He hits the next target dead on, "I find that surprising," Chris wants to see his eyes, to try and read his expression but Piers continues to conceal his gaze in the scope. "You usually can't stop her once she starts talking about her experiments."
"You haven't asked to see her."
"I don't want to, we weren't friends Chris, we were employer and employee, occasionally lab rat on my part, I did my job because I owed her. They kept a lot of what they did under cover, used medications to keep us pliant, I said she wasn't a bad person but that doesn't make her a good one by default." He shoots again, the bullet tearing through the centre of the target.
"What did they do to you Piers, you don't talk about it, to me, to anyone." He finally pulls away from the gun, back still to the Captain. "You can't keep this bottled up, you can't keep it hidden forever or it will eat away at you, trust me."
"I don't know what you want me to say, I remember breaking out of a cocoon, that thing on my right arm was smaller but not salvageable, not normal." His hands grip the table top and he's still not looking at Chris, "it healed my face, some of my neck and side, not all. I don't remember all of it, I was in and out, I don't know how I ended up in Amelia's lab. There were injections, cures, they helped with the healing," there's pain in his voice and Chris thinks he should stop him, ease his discomfort but he's stuck in a tangent and the elder wants to hear what he has to say. "They did a lot of surgeries, on my side, skin grafts, they took that thing off my arm, replaced it." He turns to face Chris, not meeting his eyes he pulls the glove off his right hand, "Amelia specialised in high end prosthetics, this is made from lightweight metals and some form of synthetic muscle, it's wired into my nerves, I can move it, use it like a regular limb." The hand beneath that glove is black and grey almost metal in look, it has such human qualities to it and moves like a regular appendage. "I don't know the exact terminology, she worked on getting the human body to accept it for years, all subjects have rejected it, all except me, my body accepted it, adapted to it, it's part of me. It doesn't heal like flesh and blood would, it's mechanic for the most part, but it's stronger, more resilient to damage."
"Why do you hide it?" Piers looks at him like he's grown an extra head.
"It's not normal Chris, I don't want people looking at me like I'm a monster or someone to be pitied. I want to be normal, like everyone else." The younger looks so uncomfortable speaking about it, he pulls the glove back on almost immediately ripping the advanced cybernetic limb from view.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."
"It's fine, I should have told you, I just, I guess I'm a little self conscious about it is all." he's back to focusing through the sniper scope again, body steady, Chris places a hand on the right shoulder, Piers glances at the way the grip folds around the top of the cybernetic limb, he studies the hand, his head starting to ache. He remembers more around Chris and he can't explain why, the memories are confusing and out of sync and sometimes he thinks a dream or two get caught up amongst the reality and he's finding it difficult to distinguish actual events from fantasy.
"You know where I am if you need to talk," Piers nods, still studying that hand lying against his shirt, he stares at the space Chris had filled long after the elder has left. He spends the rest of his day in the range, he doesn't miss a single target.
xxxxxxxxx
It's two days later when Chris opens his front door to see Piers stood in the darkness, there is a chill to the air, a rosy tint to the younger's cheeks, a small bag hooked over his arm. There is a pain in those mismatched eyes, a worry at the soldiers lips.
"Does your offer still stand?" The captain smiles and nods, steps aside and allows the younger to enter, Piers' arm brushes against him as he walks in, the chill of the younger's skin seeping through to Chris' own flesh. Piers takes a seat in the living room at Chris insistence, dropping his bag beside him, the Captain brings them both a beer and sits beside him, he studies the profile of the younger's face, watching the expressions as they flicker across his features. "I remember Edonia, all of it in painful clarity, I remember how you went missing after, searching for you for six months." He can tell there is something the younger wants to ask, a question on the tip of his tongue that he struggles to keep behind his lips.
"That's good, it was a difficult mission, you did well." Piers turns to face him with those mismatched eyes, there is a conviction that steels him for a moment as he holds his Captain's gaze.
"Did we ever..." the conviction drops away, he bites his bottom lip and turns his gaze away from the elders, studying the beer bottle in his grasp.
"Did we what?" Piers chuckles at that and runs a hand through his hair,
"Nevermind, that answers my question." Chris finds himself wondering what goes on inside Piers' head, how these memories play out and how they affect him, he seems more and more like himself everyday, it's as though they're turning back the clock, leaving the chaos caused by Haos and Amelia Simmons behind. "Why do you always look at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're worried about me, waiting for me to fall apart."
"Of course I'm worried about you, I worry about all my soldiers." Piers smiles, a genuine smile that reaches up to his eyes, it causes Chris' heart to still for a moment.
"You always did care too much, that's why it burdens you so to loose your men." Their eyes lock for a moment, there should be words that fill the silence but neither is entirely ready to let their guard down completely. "I uh... I'm quite tired, it's been a long day, would you mind if I went to bed?" it sounds strange to Chris' ears and he smiles at the gentle pink flush that crosses his companions cheeks.
"Of course not, I'll show you to your room," Piers picks up his bag from the floor and follows Chris to the guest bedroom. The captain leans against the door frame as the younger sets his stuff on the floor by the bed. "If you need anything I'm just next door, the bathroom's across the hall. Help yourself to anything you want." He turns to leave, Piers' voice stops him but he doesn't turn back.
"Captain, thank you," he smiles and nods, heading to his own room.
xxxxxxxxx
Piers has terrible night terrors, some nights Chris waits for them to pass, on occasion he may go and sit beside his soldier, he doesn't always wake the younger, sometimes merely places a hand on a covered shoulder, the small gesture seems to chase the ghosts away. Some nights, when he can't bear to hear the screams he wakes the younger, he doesn't need to ask the other in those moments what he dreams, the pain, the pleas, Chris knows it's to do with the infection, the experiments. Piers is apologetic, he doesn't want to look weak to his Captain, but it eases his suffering to have Chris there, to have someone, when he had been alone he felt as though the dreams were going to drive him mad, feared he may not wake up and be trapped in a continuing loop for the rest of his life. He hasn't told Chris about that, about how tired it makes him, the psychiatrist gave him sleeping pills that he doesn't take due to that very fear.
Not all the dreams are bad of course, some involve Chris, heated touches and stolen kisses, desperate hands across soft flesh, his body slammed against a wall, covered entirely by the Captain's own. He doesn't speak of these, at some point he thought they may have been real events, they had felt so lifelike, now though he knew they were nothing more than his deepest desires, ones he had kept concealed long before China, before the infection and the spiralling events that had brought them to this moment. Once he may have let himself believe there was a chance between him and his Captain, now though, as the cybernetic arm remains hidden beneath his clothing he can't help thinking that no one would want him now.
There is a slight distance that grows between them, Chris feels that it comes mostly from Piers' self consciousness in regards to his injuries and fear of looking weak in front of his commanding officer. He tries to discuss it but Piers always brushes the conversation aside, it's obvious to Chris though in the little things the younger does that he isn't comfortable in his own skin. He always wears his gloves and full length sleeves, even to sleep, even when he leaves the bathroom after a shower. The elder doesn't understand it in the slightest.
xxxxxxxxx
It's weeks later, after a long meeting with Jill, when Chris returns home the shower is running, Piers would have got home hours ago. He makes his way up the staircase as the water stops, reaches the landing as the door opens, Piers steps out into the hallway, a pair of jogging bottoms slung low on his hips, feet bare, his hair is still slightly damp from the shower, he is wearing a hoody but it's unzipped and there's no shirt underneath, merely an expanse of toned chest. Chris stares and Piers shifts nervously under his gaze, he tries to conceal his right hand in his sleeve, tugs the right hand side of the hoody across his chest. Chris has had just about enough, he steps forward, pushes the younger's hand away, Piers looks away from him as the Captains hand pushes the hoody down from his right shoulder, his hand ghosting across a collarbone as he does so.
That cybernetic limb is bolted to him beneath the collarbone, there are plates that join it to flesh, the metal fused to him, it's not harsh or hideous against the skin, it's subtle in the way it joins to the rest of the younger's body. There are scars that runs up onto his neck, a few that run down the right side of his chest, nothing horrific, not what he had expected given the extent of the mutation on the younger. Chris searches out those mismatched eyes,
"Why do you feel the need to hide this? Why does it concern you so much?" The younger sighs, runs his good hand through his hair and shifts the hoody back up on his shoulder.
"I can't stand that look you give me when you remember the infection, this look of anger, betrayal and pity all mixed into one. This," he lifts the arm as if to make a point, "it reminds you of that day and you stare at me differently in those moments, I hate that look. I just want it to be normal, I want to be normal again, this keeps me from that, it's bad enough I can't conceal my eye and the scars very well, but I don't have to keep this on display, they're not war wounds Chris, they're pain, they're horror."
"I don't mean to look at you like that, I have a lot of memories that I struggle with, they're not all linked to China." He finds it difficult to explain what he means, tripping over his words, "you shouldn't feel uncomfortable here, I just, I worry about you sometimes is all."
"Well you don't need to, I'm fine."
"Are you?" Chris has moved a little bit closer, Piers nods, places his right hand on the elders arm, those cybernetic fingers closing around the elders forearm.
"I'm getting there," He smiles, it's a gentle look and those mismatched eyes sparkle slightly, "I'm gonna get changed," he moves, slipping by Chris and heading into his room. He leaves the door open just enough that Chris can see as he allows the hoody to slide off his shoulders, the muscle well defined across his back. He tears his gaze away and disappears into the bathroom, takes a much needed cold shower, leans his head against the tiles and tries not to let his mind slip to Piers being stood in the same place moments before.
Piers becomes a lot more open after that, he's not as concerned with hiding the replacement limb when he's in the house or in Chris' presence, yet when he goes out he still wears the sleeves and gloves. Piers doesn't want to be seen as an injured war hero, he just wants to be a soldier, sometimes when they're out Chris notices the glances from people, looking at the eye, the scars, the pity is there, the look the younger must have seen in his own eyes reflected in the gaze of strangers. Chris tries not to think on that too much and if Piers notices the not so subtle looks from bystanders he doesn't show it.
xxxxxxxxxx
There is a mission set up to one of the labs owned by the Simmons family, the team will be led by Jill, Chris has already decided that he and Piers are staying behind, he's needed at HQ, as for Piers, Chris isn't quite ready to send him back to the front line. The soldier drops not so subtle hints that he's ready to be deployed, the Captain doesn't entertain the ideas, Jill who can see the motives behind his insistence tends to side with Chris, all smiles and knowing looks that the elder male does his best to ignore.
It's a few hours after Jill's team have been dispatched that Piers all but storms into his office, the door slams open only to be slammed closed with a force that causes it to rattle on it's hinges. The anger seems to radiate off the younger in almost visible waves, he stands with his back to Chris, his gloved hands poised on either side of the closed door, the elder can tell he's trying to compose himself, the captain merely closes his laptop and waits to hear what the soldier has to stay.
"You told them not to take me, you said I wasn't ready." Piers turns to face him, eyes narrowed and deadly, "that's a lie and you know it, I've been nothing but complacent, I've done everything you and the BSAA have asked of me. I've more than earned the right to be part of that team." The younger is so angry he's shaking, his hands trembling at his sides, his mismatched eyes fixed to Chris' own.
"It's not the right time, we need people here, I need to be here and we need someone to run the drills for the recruits?"
"And that's me is it? I'm not a teacher Chris I'm a soldier, I belong in the field, I can't just sit here shooting targets all day."
"You haven't got the clearance, you shot some of our men Piers, we can't just move on from that." Chris keeps his tone steady, even when he rises from his seat moving to the other side of the desk and leaning against it.
"Bullshit," Piers is closer now, there is a heat to him that Chris assumes is born from the anger, "I've been signed off by your own psych team. This was no one's decision but yours, so pull all the cards you want but I know what this is about." Chris chuckles and rolls his eyes at that, studying Piers as the younger paces before him.
"Really? Why don't you explain it to me Piers?"
"You don't trust me," Chris doesn't speak for a moment as the younger looks at him with such conviction, he smirks and runs a hand through his hair.
"You live in my house, of course I trust you,"
"Then why Chris?" he steps forward, close now, he's waiting for an answer trying to read it from the expressions on the elders face.
"We're not discussing this here, wait until later."
"I deserve an answer, this is my life, I'm a good soldier, a great sniper, I can handle these missions, I was working them before I came back here."
"Piers, I am not arguing with you, leave it now, we will talk at home." The younger seems reluctant to leave it at that but Chris doesn't offer him much choice, he won't change his mind. Piers leaves with an extra slam of the door for good measure, the captain smirks to himself slightly, he likes an angry Piers, the way his voice rises but he doesn't shout, the way his body is constantly moving, the adrenaline quick and fast beneath his skin.
He waits for the younger soldier when he's finished his meetings and paperwork, waits in the car just outside the shooting range. There is no readable emotion to Piers' face when he steps out into the light night rain to see the Captain waiting for him, he slides into the passengers seat, doesn't speak, stares out of his window like an aggravated teen.
"You're mad at me."
"Of course I am, I told you I wanted on that mission," he's trying so hard to keep his tone even, staring at the side of his captain's face as he drives, he awaits a response. Chris' hands grip the steering wheel slightly tighter at the hint of pain that flickers in and out of the younger's words.
"Why are you so desperate to get back out there?" the younger is caught off guard with that question, his gaze turns to where his gloved hands are poised in his lap, Chris glances over, watches how the other moves the cybernetic limb, studying it's movements beneath the fabric. He turns his attention back to the road a heartbeat later, awaiting his soldiers response.
"It's what I know, I feel like I'm doing good when I'm out there, keeping people safe."
"Don't you think we've done enough of that?" Chris tries to keep the bitterness from his voice, doesn't succeed very well, he doesn't look at Piers, doesn't want to see the expression that waits for him there. "Do you know what waits for us in the field, death, I've lost countless men to those missions, had to watch you infect yourself and die, I'm not prepared to witness that again."
"You don't know that I'm going to die out there,"
"We always lose someone, it could be me one day, my luck has to be running out."
"That's ridiculous you're the legendary Chris Redfield, the best soldier the BSAA has ever had." there's admiration in the voice, Chris pulls up on the drive, kills the engine, he sits for a moment studying the dark house before him.
"I'm no legend Piers, I'm flesh and blood like everyone else. If we go on those missions, one of us, both of us, might die, are you prepared for that." He watches as the words sink through Piers' skin, the conflict in those mismatched eyes, he hasn't thought about it like that before.
"You know I wouldn't let that happen, I will make sure you get home."
"I'm not letting any more soldiers give their lives for me, I'm not letting you give your life for me, not again." He holds Piers' gaze for a moment, studying the reaction before he leaves the car, slamming the door behind him with enough force to shake the car. Piers follows him, a handful of steps behind, the younger catches up to him inside, grabs his shoulder as the door slams, there's an anger to Piers as Chris turns to face him, harsh and unexpected, Chris notes the grip of that right hand is strong, clenching tightly around the captain's shoulder.
"Those men felt honoured to lay down their lives for yours," it's hissed close to his face, the voice low in tone and accusatory, as though he feels Chris isn't grateful for that sacrifice.
"I don't expect anyone to die for me," Chris is pushing back now, his hand splayed across Piers' chest, the younger uses the unnatural strength in that cybernetic limb to slam the elder against the wall and keep him pinned there, it's echoes in their memories as a reflection of China.
"Whatever you think Captain, you have to accept that those men gave their lives for something more than themselves, something they believed in, that was you, regardless of if you feel it's justified or not. You have to accept their decisions, our decisions." That grip doesn't loosen, Chris knows there will be bruises, he stares his younger companion down.
"I'm the one that has to live with the memories of it, of countless soldiers dying before me, do you think I don't remember them every single day? I remember the people they were, the way they died, for most it wasn't quick, it wasn't easy. I remember their parents when I tell them the news." There's a flicker of understanding, it cuts through the others anger quickly, still the grip doesn't let go, "I remember watching you struggling so hard against that virus, watching it tear you apart, the skin ripping away, the pain it caused you and you kept going, you held it back. It gave me this tiny splinter of hope, I thought I could save you, take you back and we could work it all out... but you just let go... the image of you, through the glass of that escape pod, that will stay with me until my dying day, you made me watch you die... I can't be put through that again."
"I couldn't go back, there was no way, from the moment I used that virus I knew I wasn't leaving that compound." There are tears in Piers' eyes, heavy against the lash line, he doesn't blink as he holds them back, his gaze locked to the Captains own. "But you wouldn't go without me, I couldn't let you die with me, we had come so far, so I went with you, I needed to make sure that you were safe, that you got out."
'I wish you to know, that you have been the last dream of my soul.' The quote echoes in Chris' head, becoming the only thing he can think of, it's said in Piers' voice but the younger hasn't spoken for a while, he's just staring at his Captain awaiting a response.
"You could have come with me..." he almost begs, like they're back in that moment and the pain of it all seems so fresh, so real.
"I was infected, I didn't know how bad it might become, the pain was overwhelming, mind numbing, I wanted it to stop. There was this part of me that wanted to rip you apart, I wasn't safe... it was my decision Chris and I don't regret a moment of it, I would make the same choices if faced with them again."
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of, why I can't send you out on those missions." They're close now, Chris can feels Piers' breath across his flesh, hear the beat of his heart. "How would you feel if our roles were reversed?" Piers has been trying not to think of it like that, he can't imagine Chris not being there, the hero the legend just flickering out of existence.
"Did you know I always looked up to you, wanted to be just like you, I wanted to become a hero soldiers would talk about, just like they talk about you. When it came down to it, in that oil field, all that mattered was that I made you proud." Piers moves, his lips brush against Chris' own, a ghost of a touch that the captain could have easily confused for a trick of his imagination. "I won't go, if you don't want me to, but know the same applies for you." Chris moves, uses his leverage on the younger's forearm to turn them, spinning them around and pinning Piers to the wall. He doesn't think his next actions through, just works on impulse and he forces his lips upon the younger's own. Those full lips are petal soft against his own, they part with a gasp and Chris takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping through the younger's parted teeth, sweeping across his mouth, the taste of Piers is tantalizing, coffee and vanilla and something purely Piers. After a few minutes the younger's tongue begins to move against his own, the kiss becoming desperate and harsh, lips crushing, teeth clashing.
His hand holds the back of Piers' head, tangling into soft dark hair, the other is still pinning the cybernetic limb to the wall, he slips his hand down, to where the sleeve meets the glove and he tugs on the sleeve pulling it down enough so his hand can wrap about the lightweight metal and prosthetic muscle that makes up the replacement of Piers' right arm. He feels the younger still at the touch, the kiss slowing but neither one willing to stop, eventually Chris pulls away, cups the younger's face with his left hand.
"And you say I think too much," Chris smiles, watches as the corners of Piers' lips turn up into a delicate half smirk. He's tracing that high cheekbone, sweeping his thumb across the flesh, he's always found Piers attractive, tried to rationalise the fact for months, tried to avoid it even longer. "Are you ok with this?" he's not sure how to phrase his question properly, it doesn't seem to completely ask his question and yet he can't think of a better way to place the words together.
"Yeah I am," Piers' smiles, it's genuine and reaches his eyes and Chris assumes that the expression is a direct result of his poorly phrased question. "I'm sorry, about how I spoke to you earlier Chris,"
There's a million things Chris could say in response to that, instead of words he allows his fingers to entwine with those of the cybernetic limb. He stares at those mismatched eyes, awaiting a response, a signal from the younger, in the end it's Piers that leads him upstairs. They stumble into Chris' bedroom, Piers deftly removing the elders jacket, his shirt following shortly, they kiss, desperate, harsh, hands grip at flesh and hair, tight and bruising and perfect in the dim light flooding in from the hallway. Piers removes the gloves, they fall silently to the floor, he brings his left hand to Chris' chest, maps the expanse of muscle with his fingertips, it's a few moments later when the cybernetic limb joins it's counterpart on the heated flesh, Chris expects it to be colder, harsher against his skin, he can barely tell the difference.
Piers stills at the grip on the bottom of his shirt, Chris slips his hands beneath the fabric, running his fingertips across the smooth skin, the soldier relaxes into the touch and a moment later allows his captain to slip the shirt up over his head. There is a flush to the younger's cheeks, his gaze drops slightly, the cybernetic hand clenches into a fist at his side, Chris places a kiss to the corner of his mouth, trails down to the slightly scarred neck, to where the metallic limb connects to flesh, he kisses the combination of skin and metal, watches the way the goosebumps flood across Piers' skin, the way the flush darkens and eyes become heavy. He shouldn't feel the need to tell Piers that he's beautiful, can't stop the words from tumbling past his lips onto heated gently tanned skin.
The soldier is impatient as all young soldiers are, he uses the extra strength in that cybernetic limb to force Chris to the bed, straddles him a moment later, moves his hips just enough to force a growl from his Captains lips before swallowing it in his own. He smirks and runs his tongue across plump, kiss bruised lips as he makes quick work of the elders belt, slides the trousers down across strong legs, even quicker work of the boxers beneath, his mouth finds his Captain's shaft a moment later and Chris almost looses his mind over the way those perfect lips engulf the flesh. Piers has a talented mouth, the elder struggles to bring him away from his task and back to his lips. He removes Piers' trousers, brings flesh against flesh and hisses into the younger neck at the contact.
Through the haze of lust he manages to find the lube in his side drawer, uses the leverage to force Piers onto his back beneath him. He watches Piers beneath him, until he's so close, biting those pretty lips and groaning, writhing, then he slowly pushes into the other, all the while he studies Piers' face, touches him, desperate to prove to himself over and over that the other is there, that this is happening and not merely a memory. They move together as one, as if they were created for the purpose of fitting together like this, the cybernetic limb grips at Chris' side, the strength to it leaves harsh scratches against his flesh, he doesn't mind at all, finds it strangely erotic.
It's much later when they're sated and silent, Chris' hand trailing lazily up and down the younger's side, mapping out the contours of his body, tracing the scars with delicate precision. It's then that it hits Chris, how much he lost when Piers had locked those doors between them. His hand stills and Piers turns his head to look back at his captain.
"You ok?" his body moves a moment later, his complete attention on the elder male.
"Yeah I am, for the first time in a long time," he places a chaste kiss to his companions lips, delicate and a ghost of a touch but there and real and oh so perfect.
"I would do anything for you," it's like an admission that slips out and surprises even Piers himself.
"I'm not letting you sacrifice anything else for me ever," and Chris means it, there's no more soldiers laying down their lives for him. That insanity ended with Piers, and as his fingers entwine with those cybernetic counterparts of the others, he marvels at how lucky he is to have a second chance. He allows himself to study his lover, everything about him, he wants to stay in this moment forever, let the world fade around them, he's leaving China in the past.
"What's wrong?" Piers is staring at him, those mismatched eyes watching intently, a slight frown of concern worrying his brow, a wistful smirk tugging at full lips.
"I wanted to ask, for some time now, that book downstairs that you've carried to hell and back, read a thousand times, the one where the pages just barely hold on, tell me what it means to you, deeper than the ink on the paper." The smirk turns into a smile and Piers kisses Chris again, a long lingering gesture that hums on the elders lips long after the other has pulled away.
Piers indulgences him of course, he tells him everything, from the very first day his father gave him the book, Chris hinges on every word, absorbs everything he is told and commits it to memory. He's not willing to loose another moment, another question.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Not sure how I feel about the ending but they so deserve all the happy endings in the world, so here is my take on their happy ending.