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English
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Part 8 of Nivanfield stories inspired by art
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Published:
2016-01-19
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2,204
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1/1
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14
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52
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If I die young

Summary:

July 1st, 2013.

Notes:

Inspired by Art by Pain-art's If I die young and also the song which shares the name (listed at end notes).
Please consider leaving a message to the artist if you enjoyed their work. Used with permission.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

 

They’ve made it out. It’s gonna be OK.

He dragged the pale, shivering form of his Lieutenant onto a long, sandy beach at the first light of dawn. At any other time, it would have been a picturesque scene right out of paradise; the perfect place he and Piers could heal and recoup. Paradoxically, the fresh air and idyllic scenery this moment only served to conceal the panic and despair as Chris tried desperately to save the last man on his team.

“Piers. Stay with me. Please.”

He squeezed the sniper’s lone hand strongly in his, interlocking their fingers, moving away from the foam on the edge of the soft white sand. He bore his weight on his lap and torso, vowing never to let go. Piers was as pale as the sandy beach. His ghostly features marred with a web of veins spreading from his injury. He was losing his colour fast. He was losing his strength.

Piers gasped lightly each time he tried to take a breath, laying his head on Chris’ chest.

“Captain. . . I’ve done all that I needed. . . This war. This war is over. I’ve brought you back. . . Edonia. My final mission. . . accomplished.”

Chris locked eyes with the fractured hazel, his chest tightening with pain from within. He didn’t like the look of defeat, of silent acceptance in Piers’ eyes.

“Piers! No! It isn’t over! Listen to me: you’re going to stay with me in Alpha Team. The BSAA still have so much to clean up. We need every man we can. . . ”

He broke the gaze, looking up at the circling sea birds, almost choking as he willed the tears away. He had to be in control, for Piers’ sake.

“Fuck it. I need you! I can’t do this alone! We’d lost all the boys. . . we lost Marco and Bravo Team, I. . . I can’t. I won’t lose you!” Chris was breaking down, holding Piers tightly to his own body. He was trying to warm the frail soldier with his own body heat, even as he felt Piers tremble and convulse from weakness and exhaustion.

Piers shifted his head lightly, making an effort to look up into Chris’ eyes, feeling his grip loosening on every precious last second. The cloudiness from his eyes had finally cleared, and he saw his Captain’s face in fine lucid detail. Chris was never good at hiding emotions. His own smile must have looked hideous on his disfigured face, so all he could do was smile with his eyes.

“Chris. . . you. . . you are going to be alright.” The voice was a mere whisper. “I’ll watch over you from the other side. I’ll be with Merah, with Finn and every single one of the guys. I’ll look after them. We’ll all watch out for you.”

He gave a weak squeeze on the interlocked palms, his golden hazel eye swimming in moisture, knowing it was time to say goodbye. He closed his eyes for a moment, hearing the calming song of the sea, then he mustered a last courageous smile, looking into the eyes of the man he had loved since the beginning, and through all these years. All things being considered, of all the ways he had to go, to pass on an island paradise, in the warm clutches of his Captain with all his attention. It must have been one of the better options.

He has no regrets.

“Captain. You must go on. Remember my badge, Captain. I’ll be with you. Always. I’m so proud. . . honoured- to have served with you, Captain. . . Redfield.” Gentle fingers squeezed the back of Chris’ hand, giving one last caress to the strength of the man who had always been in his heart.

“Chris…”

He tried his best to give a warm parting smile, and the haunting image burned into Chris’ heart forever.

The hand relaxed gently on Chris’, and the young, valiant soldier breathed his last.

“PIERS! NOOOO!”

It was like the bellow of a mortally wounded animal. Overhead the frightened birds quarrelled in response.

“Piers! Don’t leave me! Stay with me, please! Piers!”

All the pretence of strength faded away. Tears streamed from one broken man to the other. The man who never had a chance to grief for both his teams howled with heartache on the secluded beach. He squeezed the body in his arms, rocking him, willing him back to life.

“Piers wait! Come back! I . . . there’s so much I have to tell you!” Three years, and still so much that remained unsaid because neither dared risking their fine partnership.

Now it was too late.

Or not. Deep down, Chris knew that Piers knew his affection was returned. The boy was always good at reading between the lines. He just wished he had the courage to confess. Piers deserved that happiness, even if he never thought he deserved him. He never thought he deserved someone so pure, so dedicated, and persuaded himself Piers will inevitably find someone better and move on.

Piers gave him his all anyway.

The tears continued flowing freely, and Chris made no effort to stop. He hadn’t cried for years, but here, with his partner dead in his grasp, his bruised heart had broken in two. It was so painful, so real that he felt the gush of warmth, the intensity of pain explode in his chest. He choked, squeezing Piers’ hand firmly; crying the desperate, soul searing agony of a man who had been in the centre of far too much loss and parting. A man who had barely made it back from the threshold of despair and self-abandonment, who had finally been restored to honour by his most loyal partner. Piers had come so far for his sake, his redemption. But now the one man he wanted to save and share it with was gone.

Piers had paid in blood for his second chance at life.

“Piers!!!” Tears of love and tears of sadness fell onto the handsome, still face. Even the horrors of the mutation did not lessen the charisma that radiated from his faithful lieutenant. He held the body up and over his own, sitting Piers on his lap and holding him firmly with both arms across his chest, as if by keeping the body warm Piers could wake up any second and call him Captain once more.

“Piers!! Come back!!” He bawled alone on the quiet waterfront, with the golden rays of sunrise reached out to the beach. Slowly, the steady rhythm of the waves calmed him like a reassuring song; a gentle hymn to lost heroes.

“Look there. The sun is out! We’ve made it! You’re gonna go home with me!!”

Home. He finally remembered he had a home. Edonia was a wasteland he wandered in. Lanshiang… He wanted to leave all that behind rebuild a home back in America, a home with Piers. A new beginning for them both.

“Piers, please, come home with me! I remember!” He rocked the body back and forth. “Wake up! I need you. . .”

“I love you…” he finally choked out the words, admitted which he dared not. Piers was irreplaceable. Piers had done everything he could for him even since being part of Alpha Team. Their three years of partnership had been his golden years. He was the only man who reached down to his drunken abyss and pulled him out. The one who got him out of harm’s way again and again. The one who spilled his blood and sacrificed his humanity for the sake of the world, for the sake of his Captain.

He didn’t want to leave any of this behind. He had finally gotten his memories back. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his days looking back. . . he wanted to build more, spend even more time with Piers, write a new chapter together. . . create a new Alpha Team and proudly watch Piers take over as Captain. . .

“I love you Piers. I do. Come back to me. Please?” He closed his eyes, lowered his head and kissed Piers tenderly on the lips; half hoping that perhaps it might be like the tale of old, that a true love’s kiss might be strong enough to bring back the departed. He dared not open his eyes.

“Piers. Wake up.” He whispered gently, shaking Piers.

“Wake up Piers. We’re going home.”

He felt the body growing warm, and he opened his eyes in hope.

“Piers!! No!!”

His fragile, battered heart broke and shattered into pieces as he saw Piers’ form glow with a golden radiance at it was touched by the morning light.

He shook his head in disbelief. “No. Gods please. Please don’t. . . Please!!” He wailed in despair. He tried to clutch Piers with his hands but his palms only caught the glowing air. The body of his lover was dematerialising. Blending in with the golden morning light and fading into the July air.

“PIERSSSSSSS!” He screamed in pain until his voice was hoarse. He couldn’t believe that it would come to this. That it was truly over.

He stood up, stretching his hands out, struggling to capture the fleeting golden specks. He looked up into the morning rays, and for a moment he saw the particles of light reassemble into his Lieutenant’s fine radiant form. The proud figure was smiling and holding one last salute with carefree grace. He returned the salute with tears running down his cheeks, then the form gave a wave, and he was no more.

“Piersssss?” Chris sank to his knees in the white sand. Trying to find any speck, any part of Piers that might have remained.

Blue sky. Golden rays. White sand. A broken man.

He was alone again, shattered in pieces on the secluded island.

Piers had gone.

He gasped for air in-between his sobs. He felt his tears leave their mark on his face as they started to dry; salty as the treacherous sea. His body crumpled in total despair; facing the most significant lost he had been forced to endure. It was worse than the day he lost his parents. Worse than the day he lost Jill. Worse than the day he remembered losing Alpha Team.

Losing Piers was worse than losing himself. He felt as if a part of him was gone forever, gone with his Lieutenant, his love. Piers was his heart and soul. Piers was supposed to be his future. The BSAA’s future. Piers carried his hopes and dreams. He was supposed to fight on in his stead. He didn’t know how to face the lonely days without him. How to keep soldiering on this heartless war that had taken everything he had to give.

He held his palm over his heart and felt the fabric in his front pocket. He pulled out Piers’ blood soaked badge and the tears poured forth again.

“Take my badge. . . Captain.”

“I did it- for the B.S.A.A.”

“For the future.”

He clasped the badge over his heart as the sound of a rescue chopper finally thundered from a distance.

He was not forgotten.

It would never be the same again. Yet he must go on.

For the BSAA.

For the future.

For you, my love.

He released his last signalling flare. Watching silently as the crimson smoke rose to the skies in a trail of blood and sparkles. Watching it consume all of itself to become a final beacon of hope to one man.

Its meteoric ascendency was cut shot. Shy of its zenith, the flare snuffed and failed, falling back towards the earth. Once again Chris felt his heart sank. His jaw went slack and his mouth opened. He could feel the scream welling up from his chest.

Then suddenly a marvellous thing happened. A golden cloud surrounded the dying flare like fireflies, lifting it up and towards the receding helicopter. Six golden blooms burst and hung in the air, forming a trail from the craft to Chris’ position. All the while a larger bloom hovered over his position. The chopper turned and headed straight for him. . .


 

The winchman put a foil blanket around Chris' shoulders and gave him a hot drink. He put a set of headphones on the shivering Captain.

"Just you Sir? We were told there might be two survivors?"

Chris was silent for a long moment. "It’s just me now."

"Oh, I'm sorry Sir . . ." The man was embarrassed, and he fumbled for something innocuous to say.

"Are they standard BSAA issue? Those mini-flares you used? Of course we use green lasers now, fantastic range, but that sure was some light-show."

". . . What?"

"Your mini-flares Sir. Like golden faces, leading us right to you. Pilot swears the last one smiled when we spotted you." The Pilot turned round in his seat and gave Chris a thumbs-up. "What are they called?"

Chris clenched his fist, pressing it firmly against his mouth as he stared at the brightening sky. So it was true. They were looking after him, Piers and the others.

"Sir . . . are you OK?"

"Uh . . . Guardian Angels . . . they're called Guardian Angels. I'll tell you about them sometime . . ." He kept his eyes shut to hide the tears, and to whisper a silent prayer.

Godspeed, Piers.

Welcome home.

 

 


 

Please listen: If I die young

Notes:

Special thank you to Nimrod262 for the beta and contribution towards the ending, and for shedding copious tears over this piece as I had.

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