Regeneration
Chapter 10: Struggle Through
No Author's notes
Chris Redfield
Piers continued to have occasional electrical attacks. Each time he had one, it was...well, not pretty. It was torture to see, really, and probably worse to bear through. Each time, he would go back to the infirmary, and they would have more tests. His skin would get singes or burns, occasionally, but they would always fix him up and send him back into his normal life, trying to get him to push through it. I could see his resolve failing, though.
Eventually, one of our talks came around to Christmas. The BSAA, and most of the United States branches of government and security, don't have time nor face to spare for Christmas parties exactly, but Jill and I usually invited a few people over for the holiday, have some food and talk, that kind of thing.
"She's canceling it."
"But I'm just one person."
"You're a very important person. Come on, Piers, it's not a big deal. We're the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance. It's not like we need to have Christmas celebrations."
"But you were going to, and—"
"Piers, enough." I said firmly. "We're all much more concerned with you beating this virus."
I could see strain in Piers' eyes. I gave him a hug, which he returned. "I wish you wouldn't go to all this trouble for me."
"No you don't." I smirked. "You got a free shirt out of it."
"Which I can't wear anymore." Piers reminded me.
"Oh." I remembered. "Well, still. You're glad we're doing this, right?"
"Yes!" Piers said. "It means the world to me, Captain."
"And you're okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine." he said.
"Okay. You wanna go eat lunch?" I asked.
Chris Redfield
I pocketed my phone. "Sorry about that."
Jill had just come in with a suggestion about Piers' arm's state. Apparently, Leon and Helena, when fighting Simmons, had noticed that he reportedly had some measure of control over his mutations, and could even willingly transform back into a semi-human form. Wishful thinking, but I'd had to tell her I didn't think that was going to work.
"It's not a problem, the doctors will figure it out." Piers said. We were at a restaurant, different than the bar we'd been at a few times, chowing on fish and lobster. I think it was the first time either of us had eaten any seafood since October. It was delicious.
I chewed my lobster slowly. Piers had been really gnawing down on his fish earlier, but now he was sort of just moving it around with his fork and staring at it. "You okay? I'm sorry about that call." I said.
"I'm fine."
"No you're not."
"How do you know?"
"Because you were starving a second ago." I said.
"I still am!" Piers said, putting a piece of fried fish in his mouth to prove it.
"Piers...You're gonna get better—"
"I wasn't even thinking about that!" he protested.
"So what were you thinking about?" I challenged. Piers opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and looked down at his plate again. "Spill it."
"It's really not that important, Chris." Piers said quietly.
"I wanna know what's bugging you." I insisted. Piers sighed.
"I don't want your Christmas ruined."
"My Christmas isn't ruined."
"Maybe ruined is a strong word..." I admitted. "But this is a strong condition. And it's her fault."
"It's Simmons' fault. And he's dead now." Piers said. "My Christmas...is going to be perfect."
"How can you think that?" I asked him under my breath. I didn't want to be pushy, but I was genuinely curious. Optimism can only go so far. "You...you could be here for a much longer time. And you keep having these attacks. How the fuck could you have a perfect Christmas? I'm not trying to be a downer or anything, but jeez, Piers." I said.
Piers just looked down. He took a few bites of his fish before saying "It just will be. I know it." He looked back up at me. "So you can tell Jill the Christmas get-together's back on. I'm not having it any other way."
He stared me down for what seemed like an eternity. I was confused as hell, but I eventually conceded. "Alright, I will. And Ada Wong?" I asked, opening my phone. "I'll write a letter." Piers said, nodding. I texted Jill.
No Author's notes