A/N: Whoo, here's part two! Again, the ideas were all from siberian74 - I just wrote them up. c: I had some issues when making this one, and actually lost about two hours worth of progress because it didn't save properly. :c Oy, but I was determined and did my best to rewrite what got erased, so hopefully it's still okay! I plan to do at least one other chapter after this to wrap everything up. c: Oh, also; I'm not too great with the medical stuff, so please do forgive me if a lot of this isn't logical and bear with it for story purposes. :x
This one is definitely the longest fic (by fic, I mean chapter/part) I've written so far! Thanks for the reviews and/or favorite/follows, guys! c:
Things never got any easier. Day after day and night after night, Chris hadn't showed any signs of improvement and it played hell with his lover's emotions. Piers had taken time away from the B.S.A.A. to spend it with his Captain, always there; always by his bedside. He'd talk at times to fill the void of silence, but more often than not he'd find himself having to stop at the cracks that aligned themselves along the ridges of his voice. It was hard on the both of them. Chris was forced to endure, and Piers... Piers was ridden with guilt and anger combined. He'd let it happen when he could have done more; and Wesker was the reason behind all of it. He'd hurt Chris in such a way that he may never be able to recover and live the rest of his life normally.
That thought alone hurt Piers more than anything he'd ever faced.
It was why he refused to work while his lover sat trapped in the confines of his own body, unable to move or be himself. He was glued to the mattress, and Piers was the only one who stayed with him for so long. Jill and Alpha had come by to check in and talk... But Piers...
Piers was always there.
Chris wanted to tell him that he shouldn't worry so much, that he could go home to a warm bed and food that wasn't garbage. But, it would have went against everything he felt. He'd never been so helpless, and it frightened him so much more than anything else ever had. Piers helped to keep him sane, and he didn't want to lose that even if it was selfish. In the end, he only had the silence to speak for him, and it couldn't translate the hurt he felt.
Every day, Piers would clasp a hold over his hand, all the while he silently hoped that his Captain would eventually be able to feel it. Chris wanted to, he so desperately needed the warmth in his world of ice and frozen stillness. He wished the heat of the younger man's emotions would burn through his barriers and set him free; but such were the things of dreams, never meant to come true.
Piers seemed more and more defeated each day, barely dwindling at the edge of hope, but so determined to hold on and never let go. His conversations began to die down sooner each day, and the silence was becoming more and more unwelcome.
Until one night in particular, when it only seemed to get worse.
Chris had woken up with barely three hours worth of sleep, and he found that Piers was still at his side as he always was, but the sniper had yet to try and get his own rest. There was a furrow to his brow, thoughtful. It took him several minutes before he'd even realized his Captain was awake - but once he did, he'd actually spoken. "There's something I want to do tomorrow. It won't be for long, and I promise I'll be back. I just... Need to grab something." That was all he'd said, and it wasn't long before brown eyes fluttered closed again.
True to his word, Piers had left early in the morning. He hadn't taken long at all, just over an hour, before he was already back. He had his laptop with him, and an entire suitcase filled with papers that Chris couldn't hope to read from his position. Despite his curious gaze, Piers offered little in the ways of explaining outside of, "It's just some work that I need to finish." Chris wasn't satisfied with that, but he had no ability to argue.
From there, Piers had become even less vocal than before. More and more it felt like Chris was alone, and it tore holes in his heart a dozen times over. All he could do was listen to the beeps from the heart monitor, the soft plunge of the ventilator as it filled his lungs with oxygen, and the light tapping of skilled fingers on a keyboard.
Chris missed the earlier days they'd spent together.
Yet, it continued on like that for a long time. A few weeks had gone by, and as much as Chris was happy to have Piers there as company, he missed the sound of his voice that seemed to have completely died off by now.
That was, until he heard the laptop shut closed with a click. Piers sighed from his position, frustrated. Everything was turning up in a dead end, and he didn't have the proper Intel from there. He couldn't find what he was looking for without going back to base...
Hazel eyes drifted over to meet brown, and immediately Piers felt his heart sink. He wanted to do more, wanted to help... But he was running out of options. What more could he give than his own presence and concern? The entire situation was killing him, and his search was going no where. He'd gotten tired of sitting around doing nothing. Chris had lost his life in a worse way than any death, and Piers wouldn't risk damaging him further. Wesker was still out there... And there was no way that he was going to get a chance to finish the job. Piers would see to that. After everything he did... The longer Piers looked into that brown gaze, the more he wanted to kill the tyrant responsible for it. He wanted his lover back; safe, happy, normal. He didn't want him to be stuck between life and death, in a body he couldn't even control or feel with. That was no way to live.
Piers leaned forward, hands searching out his Captain's like so many times before. He knew he'd been spending so much time trying to track down the blond, and he realized it might have seemed as though work was coming first but that was far from true. Piers wanted to stay there with Chris for as long as he could, but he also wanted to make sure he would be kept safe from further harm. He sighed, "I'm sorry I've been so busy." It was only fair that he apologized. "But this thing... I need you to trust me that it's important." Piers paused, "It involves you, and right now that's what matters most." He gave a gentle squeeze to the hand he held, even though it couldn't be felt. "I promise... As soon as it's done, I'll spend every night here with you, talking if it makes you feel better. But..." He frowned, clearly unhappy about what he was going to say. "I'm going to need to go back to base. I won't let it take all my time, I'll be here as often as I can be."
Brown eyes averted to the ceiling where they slid closed. He didn't want to be alone, not like this...
"Chris... I'm sorry." Piers was apologizing again, "Just trust me on this. Give me the okay to go, and I'll be back. I don't want to have to do this, believe me."
Chris reopened his lids and returned his gaze to the ace, observing every pained curve over his features. Piers was clearly torn between something he felt so compelled to do and staying there with his Captain... If it was important as Piers believed, Chris couldn't hold it against him. That didn't mean he wanted him to go. But, he knew that Piers wouldn't abandon him. Not after everything that they've already gone through together. Chris had to believe that, and a look of understanding showed over his features and in his eyes. He didn't want Piers to leave, but he wouldn't stop him. Not that he technically could.
Piers seemed a bit relieved at the sight, although still apologetic as well as regretful, and he rose to his feet to bend forward at the waist. Plump lips came to a rest over his lover's forehead and Chris felt his eyes close again at the touch. He missed it; he missed feeling the contact over his own mouth, he missed their soft caresses and gentle teasing. He wouldn't even lie about missing their lovemaking, too. It hurt, more than words alone could ever describe, and it killed him agonizingly slow from the inside out.
Wesker... The man had finally taken everything he had. Piers never deserved to get caught up in the middle of their feud, and Chris would willingly give away his soul a second time just to keep the younger man safe. But now... Chris could do little more than watch as Piers retracted, then turned without another word to leave.
Watching him go, Chris found that he already missed him.
Over three whole months, and the time within it had gone by painfully slow. Piers would always make a return for hours at a time each day, but he'd always leave during the night after Chris fell asleep. The Captain would wake up to an empty room with a pounding heart that ached for his lover.
Elsewhere, Piers would feel his own pump a rhythm to his ears that pleaded him to go back.
One day, however, had seemed as though a miracle had occurred. Piers had spent some extra time at the base, nearly two days straight, and he'd received a call that instantly had him on the move. Somehow, his Captain's lungs had started to function on their own, enough for the mechanical ventilator to be replaced by a respirator. That meant his condition was slowly improving, and he had a good chance of being able to talk.
The timing couldn't have been better.
Piers had made a discovery shortly before the call had come through - he managed to find the whereabouts of that damnable tyrant. He had every intention of paying the man a visit... But Chris came first. He needed to see him, needed to hear his voice...
It hardly took ten minutes before Piers was rushing through the halls of the hospital, where he practically barged into the room Chris was located in. "Captain," He greeted as he took his place in the chair by the bedside.
Chris was awake, and clearly pleased to see him. "Piers. Hey," The voice was hoarse from the length of time it was left unused, but damn it if the sound wasn't good to hear. If Piers could have smiled through the hell they've been through, he would have.
Instead, all he could muster was a heavy exhale in relief. "It's been so long, I wasn't sure if..." Through all the pain, all the frustration at the helplessness, the dulled glimmer of hope that Piers had stored away flickered and grew a size larger. If Chris had improved at least a little... The rest of his body could get better with time too, couldn't it?
"You've been gone a while..." Piers had never heard his Captain sound so weak, and it set his guilt aflame with a freshened fire. "Find what you were after?"
Piers swallowed, "I did, not long before I got the call about you." His voice started to tremble near the end, a mixture of the emotions that had sprung to life at the news; both good and bad. "I'm glad I got to hear you again."
Brown eyes watched hazel lazily, still tired. He hadn't slept very well without Piers nearby. Any other time, the ace had stayed at least until he'd fallen asleep; for two days, he hadn't even come to visit. "Piers... What are you planning?" He'd wanted to ask, for so long now.
Piers averted his gaze down to the floor beneath his feet, "You shouldn't worry about that. Have you been able to feel anything since you're breathing evened itself out?" He was intentionally changing the conversation into a different direction.
Chris wasn't stupid enough to buy it, "You're avoiding the question, Piers." He coughed slightly, his throat wasn't used to talking after such a long time of silence. The sound had Piers returning his gaze to the older man, concerned. "You've been busy for a long time trying to sort something out, and I remember you saying it was about me."
Piers should have known better; of course Chris would keep the small details in mind when it came to something as important as the current subject. "Just let it go, Chris. Please."
"Piers, that thing has been sucking up all your attention. I want to know what's so important." Chris was insistent, now that he could actually speak. Maybe coming was a bad idea... No, Piers had wanted this. He wanted to see Chris and wanted to hear him talk, even if all he did was ask questions that Piers didn't want to give the answers to. "I've been waiting for you to finish, you know. It gets lonely without you." Quiet, hurt. Even through the gruffness of his voice, Piers could hear it.
The ace raised a hand to comb it through his own hair, jostling those perfect spikes slightly out of place without the smallest care as another jolt of guilt washed over him at the admission. "I wanted to be here," He explained, "But after everything... Chris, I couldn't stop what happened. I'm responsible for that, and I have to make up for it."
If Chris could have sat up to eye the younger man more thoroughly, he would have. "I locked you out of that room to keep you safe. I chose this, and I'd do it again. What do you mean you have to make up for it? Piers... No more secrets, please."
Piers stood up to reposition himself, and instead he took a seat at the side of the bed next to Chris where he reached for the respirator mask, "Think you'll be okay without this? Just for a minute?" He was avoiding him again, but he needed this. If things happened to fail... No. They wouldn't, but Piers had to do this. He needed to.
Chris eyed him suspiciously, "I don't know... Piers, what are you doing?"
Piers tugged the mask loose enough so it hung around his Captain's neck. He didn't waste any time before he leaned in to join them at the lips; tender, longing. Chris didn't resist. He parted his mouth open to allow it to deepen, and Piers slipped his tongue inside instantly. It had been so long for the both of them... It felt so good, the soft mesh of dueling muscles and slick saliva, it was so wonderful to finally taste one another again. They held their caress of tongues for as long as they could, and Piers didn't push Chris into handling more than he was able to given his condition. After he pulled away, Piers set the mask back in place.
Brown orbs had yet to reopen, basking in the feeling that still tickled over his lips. He missed that, missed Piers. "I love you," The sniper whispered, and Chris did open his eyes then. "Even after this, and no matter what happens in the future. Remember that."
Chris felt something strange curl inside, and a horrible feeling washed over him. What did Piers intend to do...? "Piers... What aren't you telling me?"
"I won't let something like this happen to you again. You're going to find a way to get over this, and live the life you deserve."
Chris would be lying if he said the way Piers spoke didn't terrify him. "Piers, please."
The ace paused, and the look that Chris received from hazel eyes nearly broke his heart to pieces. "I found him, Chris." The Captain furrowed his brow, but Piers continued. "Wesker. I know where he is."
That was it. That explained everything. The heart rate monitor skipped at a slightly faster rhythm. "You aren't planning to..."
"He won't hurt you again," Piers stated, matter-of-factly. "I'm going to make sure of that."
Another increase in the pace of beeps coming from the machine, "Piers... You saw what he can do! You can't just... Don't do this. He hasn't bothered us after what happened. If I get better, we can go after him together, but not... You can't go alone."
Piers returned to his feet, hazel eyes sad but determined. "I'm sorry, Chris. But I have to do this. I need to know he won't show up when we least expect it again." He took a step back and turned around. He couldn't bear to look Chris in the eye any longer as he made a move towards the door.
"Piers, no!" Chris was in a panic now, his heart beat flew right off the charts. He was desperate, damn it, he wanted to stop Piers but he couldn't move... "Please! He'll hurt you! He might even..." Chris didn't even want to think of the other possibility. "Please don't go. We've been through enough, I can't lose you to this!" He tried to force his body into action, to twitch or spasm, but his muscles remained dead and inactive. Useless. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.
Piers paused at the door way, one hand balanced against the frame as it opened, sniffling to hush down his desire to turn around and comfort his lover; to stay. "Goodbye, Chris." The cracks returned to his voice, and he didn't bother to try and hide them.
"Piers! Don't do this!" Every inch of the Captain's being wanted to stand, to rush over to the ace and hold him tight where he could never escape or run off into the night to fight his old enemies. Now more than ever, Chris felt helpless. A worthless sack of meat and bone that wouldn't move like it should. He wanted to do something, anything, so desperately... Piers could die, and all Chris could do was sit and watch him go. "Please! Piers, come back!"
Piers forced himself to go the rest of the way out and shut the door behind him, where he could still hear the feint shouts from his Captain in the hall as he blinked the water from his own eyes. He had to stay strong, he had to do this. It hurt to hear Chris speak like that, to plead so openly for him to go back and be with him... It took everything Piers had to keep moving forward, despite the desire to turn around.
Several nurses rushed by, no doubt in a hurry to check on Chris after the rise in his heart rhythm. Piers hoped that he would be okay, whatever the outcome would be.
But the ace had a mission, and he also had every intention of seeing it through... No matter what the cost would be.
Standard BDU was set perfectly in place with the matching protective vest and riggings, all strapped in their proper locations. Nimble fingers danced over the curves of the deeply loved Anti-Materiel rifle; from there out, it was just the two of them. Wesker had already proved his ability to dodge, but Piers would find a way to stop the tyrant in his tracks. For Chris. To ensure that he'd be kept safe and allowed to get better.
If he survived, Piers had every intention to dedicate all his time to the older man. He owed it to him... And Chris needed him, as much as Piers needed Chris.
It had been painful to leave as he did, but Piers couldn't let Wesker walk. It had taken days before he'd even considered going after the man, as Chris had been top priority, but the longer he watched him lay there on that bed... A piece of him broke each and every day. Wesker had to pay for what he did.
Piers left without notification using the movements of a shadow; swift, silent. No one had even seen him go, and no one but Chris knew what he had planned.
Infiltrating would be simple enough. He'd been bred for it; he was a sniper for a reason and a damn good one. When he'd arrived at the coordinates, scouting out the area hadn't taken long to do; find enemy patrols, mark their positions and numbers to mind, then stay on the look out for potential reinforcements. The sun was already setting, and Piers forced himself to wait long enough until it was out of view before he made his move.
In the middle of the night, all the enemies heard was a resounding bang before their heads began to splatter one by one. The outside of the building was painted in crimson by the time he was finished.
Things went by fast. Piers had one goal in mind, and that was all that matters. The guards were nothing more than a minor nuisance, and they didn't stand the slightest chance. Piers was always on alert, always observing just as a sniper should be. The slightest movement, the tiniest sound, he saw and heard all of them. There was no hiding the further in he went. Storage rooms, kitchens, barracks; they'd all been filled upon his arrival, and by the time he passed by them, nothing but limp bodies remained in place of once lively soldiers. Piers hadn't been made an ATL for no reason; Chris had chosen him for a good reason. He knew how to get the job done, once his mind was set on something; that was the end of the line, and there would be no going back. He lost count of how many men he killed through the scope of his rifle, but it didn't matter.
Only one death in particular would.
It wasn't until Piers was in the heart of the facility that he'd found him; leather coat in place, blond hair slicked with his back turned towards him. He was in front of a monitor, glass vials scattered over several table tops nearby. Some sort of mixture between an office and a lab, just as run down as the rest of the place. The floor boards were unsteady and often creaked, though Piers had learned how to avoid that. The walls had shattered surfaces, some curved inward with missing pieces while others tilted outward, unsafe. Metal from several counters and a variety of tables poked up in threatening positions, sure to harm any that weren't careful. Piers edged forward, every move just as silent as the last. His gun was held poised and ready to fire... It would be too simple had he pulled the trigger.
Yet, Wesker knew.
The tyrant knew the sniper was there, watching. He hummed, "So, it is true that the collapse didn't kill you after all. Pity." Wesker stated, not even bothering to turn himself around as though the ace hadn't been worth the trouble.
Piers found himself lowering his weapon. "I would have thought you'd prefer it this way. It's more personal."
That comment gained a soft chuckle, "It would be fitting, don't you think? To send your body to Christopher in pieces..." Wesker drawled, considering the results of his own line of thought. "My, it could be just enough to break him completely... And without you, who do you think he would return to?" The tyrant spun himself around after that to eye the ace from behind dark shades, and the all too cocky smirk was quick to fall back into place over older features.
Hazel eyes narrowed, "You're going with the assumption that you'd win." It was a challenge out in the open, waiting to be accepted. "You won't." Not after everything he did.
"So sure, are we?" The blond raised a curious eyebrow. "And what of Christopher?" He took several casual steps forward, and Piers felt himself straighten on the defense. Wesker was quick, and there was no telling what he might do in the time it took to blink. "I heard his injuries were quite... Extensive."
Piers clutched a tighter hold on his rifle at that, and his teeth clenched in on each other. "I won't let you touch him again."
"Is that so? I've already claimed him as my own." Like all the times prior, in a fraction of a second the blond was gone. But it was different now, Piers was prepared for what to expect and acted on instinct as he dived into a roll in just enough time to avoid the powerful strike. With inhuman strength at his fingertips, the blond had no reason to play fair. His attacks were fast paced and dirty, but the ace knew what he was getting himself into the day he had begun his search. He wanted this, he came all the way for it. He had no intention of allowing the tyrant to slip away again.
The moment his feet touched the floor in a recovering crouch, Piers had swung around with his rifle poised. As expected, the older man dodged it with exceptional reflexes and sprinted forward with an arm outstretched.
Piers knew that he couldn't risk faltering even once, not with Wesker's inhuman nature waiting to take full advantage. He'd prepared for this, three months in the making. On the other hand, Chris had years to ready himself against the blond, but he also withheld an unwanted attachment. As much as Piers hated to think about it, he was still aware of the situation. It was part of why he'd come, to free his Captain from the shackles that hindered him.
Determined, Piers twisted on his legs to avoid the blow and made a move to counter with the butt of his weapon raised as he steadied himself. Surprisingly, there was a collision against the taller frame that had Wesker nearly stumble a single step with an annoyed grunt. Unimpressed, the blond moved again in a flash, one gloved hand clutched around the rifle in the sniper's arms while the other formed into a fist that slammed once directly into the younger man's abdomen. The same hand retracted to place itself near the barrel of the weapon, using it as leverage to rotate it so the butt was thrusted upward to repay Piers in kind with an impact to the face that knocked him off his feet.
Piers hit the floor with a resounding thud, flat on his back and hazel eyes risked a chance at blinking. Wesker tossed aside the Anti-Materiel rifle, letting it clutter to the ground somewhere out of reach. He was going to toy with him - just like he'd done to Chris!
A powerful leg lifted itself and began a sudden descent downward, leaving Piers with just barely enough time to push himself into a sideways roll to get out of the way as a heavy boot dropped to the floor in the place he'd been in.
Aside from the occasional lucky hit, more and more it seemed like their dance was reduced to dodging one another in a never ending rhythm; a perfectly formed circled that was forever stuck on repeat. Both men fought with the knowledge that the victor would have claim on the single most important thing to either of them; Chris. Piers was loyal and protective of his Captain, always seeking to watch over him like some sort of a guardian angel. Wesker was very much the opposite, twisted only with desire and sadism mingled with the urge to take what he considered to be his own, making the blond nothing but possessive in nature. Piers was determined, and Wesker was cocky; Piers wanted revenge, and Wesker wanted control. Two conflicting personalities warring over one thing. Neither of them had any plans to fail at eliminating the other.
Piers kicked out with his own foot as soon as he was clear, and it collided against the side of the blond's leg and caused it to bend, dropping him to one knee. It seemed fairly strange that it had hurt the tyrant at all, never mind the fact that it had been in any way enough to cause him to falter. However, in the heat of battle, the ace didn't have a lot of time to dwell on it as he pushed himself to a stand. Wesker was still quick on his feet and his posture didn't take long to compose itself. In an instant, his arm was thrusted forward with his fingers straightened as his palm struck against the ace's chest in a hard blow that sent him flying into the wall with an audible groan. Just as his boots hit the floor, the blond was already back in front of him with an enclosed fist that swung itself directly into the side of his face, nearly enough to topple him over. A hand on his vest kept Piers steady as a knee was lifted into his stomach.
"Do you really believe you deserve him?" Wesker tightened his fist, forcing leather to stretch itself over the length of his knuckles as he poised himself for another blow. Upon impact, the punch had the ace's head slam backward into the wall, causing the world to momentarily spin in front of hazel eyes. Piers shook his head to clear his vision, one hand lowered itself to reach for a knife. He wasn't quite as adept at close quarter combat as Chris, but a little back up for just in case scenarios didn't do any harm. Wesker hadn't finished, perhaps too overcome in his narcissism to make note of all the sniper's movements as he leaned in too closely for any preferred amount of comfort. "I do hope you said your goodbyes," It was another form of mockery, as it almost always was from him.
Piers gave a half smirk, his bottom lip cracked down the middle. "I didn't have a reason to." It was a lie of course, the sniper had known the risks and his departure had been a sad one, but Wesker didn't need to know that. As quick as he could move, Piers extended his hand in an upward slash that had the blade tear across the blond's all too cocky features, where the unexpected assault had his glasses breaking under the contact. They fell from his face as his head was jerked to the side from the movement, and fiery orange suns flared with a sudden anger as they sought out hazel. Trails of crimson dripped just under his eye and across half of his cheekbone, ruining a normally flawless facial structure.
Something was wrong.
Piers remembered Chris telling him stories about the tyrant, about how he played hell just to muster any small form of damage against the blond that would actually break skin. Chris had even commented on how it felt like punching a wall of bricks, and that each blow nearly broke his knuckles on impact. There was also the fact that his body seemed to swallow any bullets that actually managed to hit him... Figuratively speaking. Chris had played hell to hurt the man in even the tiniest of ways. Wesker was known to be durable, and what he'd just witnessed... It seemed too easy from everything that Piers had heard about.
But then Piers also recalled the overdose on the injection the blond required to keep his virus stabilized. Could it have damaged him in some way that infecting himself with Uroboros couldn't protect him from? The other virus, if anything, had made him even more durable. Yet, the lava could have just as easily aided in destroying the part of him that blended itself with Uroboros, shattering the connection so he was left exposed to the effects of the serum.
Even if it wasn't fully accurate... Wesker still had his strength, his speed, but something hindered him into being able to get hurt. If he could be damaged, and his regeneration process was no longer as effective as it had been in previous years... Then perhaps it wasn't asking for the impossible to try and kill him. Although, whether or not it had been was not a concern for the sniper. He wasn't leaving until Wesker was gone, whether Piers was taken down with him or not.
Wesker could move at an amazing speed, his attacks were hard hitting - but if he could take damage easier now, then that alone told the sniper everything he needed to know.
Piers reached out with his free hand to grasp a fistful of leather in his palm, holding onto the blond in a similar way that Wesker had been doing to him. The ace flexed his jaw, still stinging from the abuse as a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his bottom lip. He could already feel the formation of a bruise starting under his skin, it'd give off a nasty look for the next few days at the very least. "You want to know what I think?" He queried with a lifted brow. Piers didn't wait for an answer before the knife was brought forward a second time and lodged itself into the span of the blond's shoulder. "You're not anything like you used to be." The ace spat, and Wesker seethed. A leather clad fist pounded itself into the sniper's rib cage, and in return caused the hand clutching the blade to jerk, widening the wound it was responsible for creating.
Wesker grabbed for the wrist of the hand holding the blade and squeezed until the grip loosened. The hand around the sniper's vest bent to draw Piers forward, only to shove his own weight back against the younger man and slam him into the surface of the wall a second time. The ace bit back a grunt as he tightened his own hold over the blond's coat in the best attempt he could at preventing him from being able to speed out of sight. Piers threw up a leg in a high kick that landed itself over the side of Wesker's face, adding a sudden pressure to the crimson line carved into his features. With a scowl, the tyrant brought an elbow down to smash into the bend of the ace's arm which forced his grip on leather to falter. Wesker didn't hesitate before using his strength to throw Piers across the span of the room. He hit a counter with an audible groan as he slid over the length of it from the force put behind the toss. He dropped off the edge and to the floor, where he rolled to his hands and knees so he could push himself into an unsteady standing position.
Wesker faded from view in a flash, and an arm was woven around the sniper's neck in a fashion not unlike what had been done to his Captain. "Perhaps you'd like to be introduced to a similar fate? Crippled and helpless..." The tyrant tightened his hold and Piers clenched his teeth, now stained in a layer of crimson. What did he plan to do? Throw him aside like some damn rag doll, too? Piers wouldn't end up like that, he couldn't let himself; not while there was still a threat toward his Captain's life.
But as long as Wesker died too... Piers would be okay with that. He was a sniper, trained to take in every sight there was out on the field. He remembered the collapsed walls and broken tables; the split metal that spiked into the air.
He could do this.
Piers lifted a boot against the edge of the counter in front of him and used it to throw his weight into Wesker until they were tumbling backwards. It all happened so quick that Piers wasn't even sure when he'd started screaming.
The single movement had knocked their combined weight over several shards of metal, and although Piers had successfully impaled the tyrant... One particular angle on one of the edges had been long enough to skewer him through the abdomen. Blood had instantly gurgled at the back of his throat, causing a thick taste of iron to drench itself over his tongue as droplets spilled out from the corners of his lips. He coughed, and a sputter of red liquid was released over his chin and onto the floor.
Wesker had loosened his hold, now in no better condition than the ace. "Ignorant fool," He seethed, tongue wet from his own traces of blood forming at the mouth. "As self-righteous as your Captain." Angry and pained was his tone in sound.
It wasn't true. Chris had given everything for people that he didn't even know to fight the threat of bioterrorists; even if he often questioned the worth, he'd done it constantly for years... Then nearly sacrificed himself for Piers in recent events. He'd risked everything, hell he lost everything just trying to keep him safe. Piers didn't think of himself as the hero Chris was; it wasn't mankind he was there fighting for, it was his Captain. The reason should have been well deserved justice, the take down of a monster threatening millions of lives; but it wasn't the case. After seeing Chris in the shape Wesker had put him in... Piers had every intention to kill the blond. Revenge was a bittersweet thing, and yet the sniper's blood boiled for it. Chris wasn't the only reason he'd come; he needed this. It was just as much for himself as it was for his Captain.
Piers felt two hands relocate to his shoulders, squeezing painfully over the fabric covering his skin. "What would he think of you like this? Throwing yourself on the sword while your enemy still stands," Even while hurt, the blond was goading him. Piers parted his lips to form a reply, but it was replaced by an ear shattering scream as he was pushed forward and off the metal where he collapsed to the floor. Deft hands immediately clutched at the exit wound in his abdomen, unable to reach the entry point located at his back. Blood was quick to seep from gaping hole, soaking through the fabric of his clothes as he rolled to his side with a mouthful of crimson.
Wesker started to slide himself free, pearly whites clenched tight as he pushed himself loose. His own resounding grunts of agony lifted through the room, hardly heard from beneath the sniper's wails. The blond nearly collapsed fully beside him, just barely catching himself on his knees. He hissed, "Such frailty stems from human nature."
The words had fallen on near deafened ears, thick with the pumping sound of Piers' own heart beginning to slow. There was a small puddle that started a formation underneath him, and Wesker clutched a handful of his vest to force him onto his back where he almost choked on his own blood. The blond was on him in an instant to do it for him, one leg on either side of him while a leather clad hand wrapped firmly over the ace's windpipe. "If only he could see you now... He'd be disappointed." Hazel narrowed under the pressure of fingers curled around his throat, threatening to tear it out.
Nimble digits reached for the blade still embedded into the blond's shoulder and curved themselves, squeezing as tightly as they could. Piers didn't have long and his head was already swimming in a blur, he had one shot to get it right. He withdrew his hand, knife clutched tight in his fist to pull it loose, and took it. A quick jab had the blade embedded directly through the tyrant's chest where his heart should have been. A glob of blood from Wesker's throat was enough indication to confirm the effectiveness of his actions.
Fiery orange instantaneously widened in disbelief; it wasn't possible! He was superior to the human race in every way, he couldn't be outdone by one of them... Not again, not in such a way. But the knife had dug itself in, pierced directly through his beating heart that was weakened from the events of Africa. Wesker found that his own grip had loosened. "It's almost funny..." Piers uttered between harsh breaths as he twisted the blade in deeper, "I didn't think you had anything there."
Wesker scowled with a raised arm, "You'll bleed out with me!" Came a menacing growl in reply as his hand started a plunge downward, seeking to impale the sniper a second time with his inhuman strength.
If it was possible for time to slow, Piers was sure it had just then. After the initial stab he'd taken, he fully expected to die with his enemy. But what he hadn't foreseen was the inevitable burst of the man over top of him as his hand neared its destination. Before the impact had ever come, the body above was reduced to black liquid mush that melted itself away right over the ace. Piers coughed as the thick coating stuck to his clothes, tinting them a dark shade. It left a heavy musk in the air that made his nostrils flare with every exhale. Hazel observed the sickly fluids in confusion as he painfully crawled a short distance backwards to seat himself upright against the counter, hands nearly slipping under his weight as he moved through the puddle of his own blood.
Things were beginning to blur, and rapidly. Although he had the satisfaction that the tyrant was surely dead, there was quite literally no probability that Piers could make it out in his current state either. A chill crept its way down his spine, and his skin had already gained an unhealthy pale tint to it. He accomplished everything he set out to do, but he had hoped...
Piers closed his eyes tightly. Chris would be alone. There would be no victor to leave the building and return to claim his affection, and both of them would have died there together. The run down place would become little more than a graveyard, for both the guards he killed and himself. But Wesker was gone, that was what mattered the most. There were no more worries for Chris, not unless he was able to return to the field one day. No more threats, and no more tragedies after this one last night. He'd be able to start fresh, live life anew.
Without Piers.
Because Piers was dying.
If a question had ever been made about the worth of the operation, Piers would have no regrets. But that hadn't meant he wanted things to end this way, and so soon... He wanted to see Chris again; simultaneously he wished he was there, yet was glad that he wasn't to see him in such a damaged state.
Thump... Thump... Thump...
It was a soothing rhythm, growing softer to his ears with each intake of breath. A quiet melody, lulling him toward a dreamless sleep. He should have been afraid; in some ways, he was. It wasn't for himself, however. It was for everything he'd leave behind. It was for Chris.
Piers could have sworn he'd heard a shuffling somewhere between the slowing beat. Until it happened a second time, and then a third, he hadn't believed it.
"He's in here! Hurry!"
The voice had hazel eyes flutter themselves open, curious. It was feminine, familiar, and upon registering the sight of the woman charging into the room with the well known faces of Alpha in tow behind her, the sound matched the face perfectly in his mind.
Jill.
She crouched down next to him shortly upon entering, and the other soldiers followed behind until Piers was quite literally encircled by faces he knew well. "How did...?" He coughed, finding that it was starting to grow more and more difficult to speak.
"Chris."
Piers furrowed his brow slightly, skin visibly more pale as they rushed to try and still the bleeding. "But... He didn't know where I was going."
Jill offered a short explanation as they worked, "We got a hold of your computer and the files you had stored away. We were able analyze some of your research within a few hours, enough to get us a location. That's how we found you. I had all of Alpha helping, and it's a good thing too. Any later, and you might not have come back from this." She paused her dialogue to consider the situation. "Wesker...?"
So, Chris really had told her everything.
Piers let his eyes fall closed again, suddenly feeling tired. The silence was left to speak his answer for him, and it didn't offer any specifics.
There was another long pause, and Piers wasn't sure how much time had gone by before he heard Jill's voice again, "We need to get him out of here, fast!" That was the last thing he picked up before his mind shut itself into unconsciousness.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
It had become such a familiar sound within the span of three months. But this time, the monitor didn't beep in tune with Chris' heartbeat. No, the sound mimicked his own as heavy eyelids lifted to stare at the plain white ceiling above. Piers blinked slowly, willing his vision to clear. It was a basic hospital room, nothing at all fancy. He followed the wires that attached him to the machines, and found a nurse off to the side checking on the various screens. She perked up the moment she realized that he was awake, "Hello! How are you feeling?" She was lively and energetic, presumably new to the job judging by her apparent age.
Piers swallowed, his throat dry. "Sore. How long since...?"
"Four days. You were lucky! You lost a lot of blood by the time they brought you in." She whistled, still in awe at the situation and so utterly naive.
Four days. Chris had been alone without him for all that time, or certainly close to it; Piers assumed that Jill and Alpha would have stopped by on occasion whenever they were able to, but none of them could afford to stay for too long given the circumstances. Four days was a long time. Piers had hated leaving Chris for two as it was, and four went beyond the limit. He wondered how Chris was doing in his absence, or if he even knew about...?
The nurse seemed to understand his expression and piped up, "Oh! Your friends were worried about you. They stopped by every day to check in. One of our other patients... Um, Mister Redfield, He was asking about you a lot."
Piers tried to sit up at the news, only to cringe under the pressure inflicted on his abdomen. "Ngh... How is he?"
The woman widened her eyes for a moment and made a move to help, but she was quickly waved away. "Concerned. Other than that, he's been doing really well. His condition hasn't worsened any, and we've even been able to remove the respirator as his breathing seems to have improved." She smiled sweetly, though she still eyed him curiously in the case that he needed help.
"Can I-"
"Sure! As long as you feel well enough to move around." She chirped as she wrote down something on the board against the wall after confirming that everything was in place and checked out. "You also have to be careful not to overexert yourself, you're still in a pretty rough shape." She moved to his side to help with all the wires and machines. "Okay then. I'll let you get yourself ready. If you need any help, then you can just let me know." That said, she turned and slipped through the door without another word.
Piers didn't wait around. He lifted his legs over the side of the bed, one at a time and slowly so as to not jar his stomach too badly. He still found himself wincing under the movement, but he was fairly certain they'd given him some sort of medication to numb down the hurt as it should have easily felt more painful. He pushed himself to his feet, slightly wobbly at first, but it didn't take long for him to regain his sense of balance. One of the closet doors for patients was open, and he pulled loose a shirt from inside. Jill or someone from Alpha must have been generous enough to pick some of the clothes up from his locker at the base and bring it there for just in case purposes. He tugged the fabric over his shoulders, not even bothering to button up the front of it. It wasn't much of a necessity.
Piers knew he shouldn't have been up and moving around, even if he was given the okay to do so. His body still felt weaker than it was, and twisting in certain ways caused aches and pain. But nothing could have stopped him from leaving that room and heading down the halls toward his Captain's. He needed to check in, he needed to know that Chris was still okay.
He also needed to tell him... Well, everything.
Piers used a hand to nudge at the door until it opened itself enough for him to slip through. He closed it shut behind him, sealing them off from the rest of the hospital as he made his way over to his usual seat next to the bed side.
Brown eyes were open and settled onto him, observing every stretch of bandages and gauze wrapped over his midsection, as well as each bruise that marred his skin. He didn't say anything, not at first, and Piers felt oddly uncomfortable under the gaze. Their eyes finally met each other, and Piers tried to speak first.
"Captain, I-"
"Don't ever do something stupid like that again." Chris had interrupted him almost instantly, not wanting to hear any excuses after everything that happened. Brown irises flashed with a mixture of anger at Piers for leaving without him, along with the relief at having him back both safe and alive. Conflicted. Piers tightened his lips into a firm line, but held the accusing stare of his Captain under the scolding.
"Four days. I was stuck here for four days worrying about you. When Jill came back and told me the situation... I thought you were going to die on that operating table, and I wouldn't have even been able to see you again." Blame. It was always blame in the face of painful emotions, a need for a release. Chris was anything but pleased, and it was visible in the formation of the furrow over his brow. Underneath the anger, he was hurting. His heart was a beating mass of leaking blood from all the holes that had been spiked through them the moment Piers had walked out of that door.
"All I could do was sit here, while you went off like that to-"
"He won't bother you any more." It was Piers' turn to interrupt Chris, and hazel held strong to brown. The older man paused his train of thought entirely after that. "I made sure of it." The furrow lessened slightly as Chris observed the ace. Piers was confident, and the Captain would even go so far as to call him satisfied.
Chris frowned, "Wesker is...?"
"Dead. For good this time." Piers allowed the Captain a few moments to digest the information. The look in his eyes spoke volumes; at first an initial shock at the news, then a flicker of hurt. Piers averted his gaze to his hands, and hazel watched twining olive digits that mingled with one another, not wanting to witness the sight buried in that dark gaze. He was aware that Chris still withheld mixed emotions over Wesker that he hadn't come to terms with yet, even after the events of Africa. They were unwanted in more ways than one, and it more often than not brought great conflict to the Captain.
Yet, Chris had a greater concern. Wesker was a thing of the past; despite warring emotions, right then and there, he didn't care about the man. He only cared about Piers. "He could have killed you, Piers."
"I know." Quiet, defeated.
"Do you have any idea how it felt to watch you leave like that and not be able to do anything to stop it?"
"...Yeah." Piers didn't bother to argue, It had hurt him just as much to turn his back and walk away.
Chris eyed him carefully. "You shouldn't have gone in there like that. There was no way you could have known what you'd be facing. You could have waited it out, or at the very least gotten help with this! You don't know him the way I do, Piers - fighting him alone like that was suicide." Or, should have been, considering the ace was very much alive. How, Chris still couldn't understand. Better yet, he was still having trouble accepting that Wesker was gone for good; Piers hadn't been descriptive about it in any way.
Hazel eyes swung back up at those words with a narrow to them. "But it was okay to shut your partner behind a door so you could fight him alone?" Piers scoffed at the hypocrisy. "He hurt you a hell of a lot more than he did me!"
Chris felt a tightness in his jaw at the comeback. In a way, Piers was right. On the other hand, the ace shouldn't have been involved in the problems that weren't his own. "It wasn't your fight." Simple, but he believed it to be true.
However, the ace didn't take too kindly to that. "Really? Because he made it that way the moment he decided to turn you into a damn cripple!" Piers snapped, the tone harsh with a sharpened edge. The comment cut through the air like the crack of a whip against the tenderness of human flesh, both of them leaving a similar stinging sensation as a result. It was enough to make the Captain wince at the sound, and Piers immediately regretted it. The sniper sighed and leaned forward with his neck craned down to place his face in his hands. The words themselves had been barbed with wire, and Piers never meant for Chris to get caught in them. "I'm sorry," He uttered from under his palms before they retracted so he could lift his head back up. Nimble fingers reached outward to intertwine with his Captain's, the larger hand enveloped between both of his own like so many times before; a reoccurring thing that came with each day that Piers had spent there. "Not for going after that son of a bitch, but because I had to leave you to do it."
Piers traced his thumb over the back of Chris' hand in soothing motions, even if he couldn't feel it. "I didn't like the idea of going with you still being like this... But Chris, there was no way either of us could have known he wouldn't try something. I wasn't willing to take that risk. Not when you're..." He paused to consider his choice of words, "Not while you couldn't fight."
Chris rested his head back against the pillow and closed his lids momentarily. "We both messed up," He finally admitted and allowed his eyes to reopen in search for Piers.
The ace gave a small shrug with a single shoulder, and his gaze dropped to the hand held in his own, "I guess it happens when you're dealing with people you care about." His thumb stretched over the bumps of each knuckle, roaming across the skin there. "You always end up doing something stupid to try and protect them."
The Captain softly snorted at the words, "And we're both guilty of that."
"Yeah..." Piers looked and sounded faraway.
"Piers, what's wrong?" Chris was more serious now. Concerned.
"It's just..." Piers wasn't sure where to start. "Back when you were first hurt... I've never been that terrified before. I did what I could, but there was always the possibility..." He let the words trail off. "I don't know what I would have done if it came to that. Four days ago, I thought I was the one that would die. All I could think about was how our roles would have been completely reversed, and if something did happen, you'd have been the one left alone. That's what I was afraid of then, and I didn't want things to be left off the way they were. When I went after Wesker, I knew what I planned to do. But, by the end of it... I just wanted to see you again." He didn't mention how Wesker had been the opposite, how the only thing on that psychopath's mind had been the thought of taking Piers with him, undoubtedly just to hurt Chris. He couldn't find a way to understand the madman and his reasoning, his so called desires for Chris. Piers could never hurt Chris, but Wesker made it a point to at every given opportunity. Wesker was sick and his logic was twisted, but Piers couldn't help but wonder if the hurt he saw flash in his Captain's eyes had been deeper than he'd first thought. Could it have caused more damage than good to get rid of the tyrant? The sniper kept those thoughts to himself.
"I won't leave again until you're ready to walk out of here." To hell with the nurses. If they wanted to put Piers back in his bed, they could move the damn thing into the same room as his Captain's.
A heavy silence washed over them both thereafter, and Chris never took his eyes off the young ace who had clung to his hand like a lifeline. He wasn't sure if there were any words he could speak to voice his feelings, or to comfort Piers as those plump lips he loved so much were drooped at their corners in the formation of a frown. "Piers," The name had the ace finally turn to meet his gaze, "I'm glad you came home." He wished he could do more. Both of them had been through hell, partially together while the other half was alone.
Piers leaned forward, enough to hover over the older man so that every taken breath had them sharing the same air. "I'm glad we both did," With that, the younger man closed the gap between them by melding their lips together. What he hadn't expected as their tongues mingled, was the feeling of fingers squeezing lightly against his own.