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December 31th 2012, Edonia
Beep beep. Beep. Beep.
Beep beep. Beep. Beep.
Piers had been listening to the white noise from the instruments for hours on end now, trying to match his heartbeat to the other man in the room. It was futile. The sounds remained a cacophony, like the wedge driven between their partnership ever since his Captain had woken up with a vacant look in his eyes.
He had about zero recollection of who he was, who Piers was, and how they got there.
Chris Redfield is a formidable veteran. Resilient in body and spirit through 14 years of exemplary service, and a survivor of countless incidents on the frontlines of counter bioterrorism. A saviour to many, a legend and a father to his men. Never in his tenure would Piers think that his Captain was going to crumble and fall this way.
Heroes just don’t do that. Chris just doesn’t do that.
He’s not naïve enough to believe missions would be casualty free, or that either of them would be invincible, especially in the light of the Marhawa tragedy, but he considers Alpha Team the best of the best. Losing four of their brightest so… easily, so helplessly… it wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair to Andy, to Carl, to Ben, to Finn. Their journey had scarcely begun, and one little dart changed it all. All things considered, it could easily have been him and Chris in that room too. There is no defence against cunning and cruelty.
He let silent tears fall in a moment of solitude after the BSAA confirmed they had terminated the four BOWs. He should have been the one- he considered it his duty, but it had already took all he could to extract his injured captain, who was shell shocked, unable to even raise a hand in self-defence against his own men.
They are family.
Still, he believed if Chris could make it through this, things would be OK again. Both their injuries are serious, but not disabling. Half of his ribs were cracked and bruised, and he’d taken a beating shielding Chris, but with strength he didn’t know he had, they made it out from the City Hall.
Chris however, fell unconscious in a coma from his traumatic brain injury. His back was heavily bruised, and doctors initially feared spine damage, but further evaluation soothed the fears. There was a hairline crack in his collarbone, and heavy bruising all over. Thankfully, his fitness, body armour and musculature all provided solid buffer against serious injury.
The real scars, as usual, are on the inside.
“Who am I?”
The look of confusion and panic when the man opened his eyes was painful to bear. He could see the lost brown eyes of his captain searching his face intently for answers and clues, straining for a sliver of anything he could anchor onto. There was disappointment and fury in his eyes when Chris couldn’t put a name to his face. Each time Piers recalled the scene his chest tightened a little. Though shattered on the inside, he kept up a supportive front.
He’d hoped he was someone Chris would remember. Somebody important.
“I’m your partner, Chris. I’m Piers? Piers Nivans?”
Chris’ jaw hung slack, eyes glazed over. His heartrate surged along with the adrenaline.
Piers showed a photo on his PDA of the three of them when Claire visited. Chris had even forgotten he had a sister.
News of Chris’ injury quickly became top secret within the BSAA. Besides, Piers didn’t have the heart to tell her.
Doctors moved in and sedated him again. Piers sighed, settling on his bed, watching the troubled man fall unconscious again in confusion.
There was a snorting noise. A gasp from the bed next to his that immediately pulled him from his thoughts.
“Chris?” Piers turned, feeling the bandage on his chin press on his face. Maybe as he healed Chris may remember what Piers looked like. Who he was, what they did. Where to from here.
That’s all he wanted. Just for his old Captain back. Not a nameless, lost soul with hurt in his heart. Chris Redfield- the mighty pillar of the BSAA. Nothing more.
There could always be more, but he bargained it with fate. It’s OK if Chris never knew, or even if he never remembered Piers. He just needs to be OK.
I’d give anything to bring Chris back.
The wounded Captain let out a howl of pain. The haunts of nightmares, latent fragments of his past battles few had known about.
“It’s OK Chris. I’m here.” Piers removed his monitor and struggled out of bed, climbing into the chair next to Chris’ bed.
Brown eyes opened wide. A hand found his and gripped firmly.
“Richard! You’ve gotta get out of here!”
“Chris, it’s going to be OK.” Piers forced himself to stay calm. If Chris remembered something, he’ll run with that.
“No, listen to me Richard, I’m not worth it. Just leave me and go…” The hand attempted to push him away with surprising force. The man blinked hard, and almost seemed surprised that Piers was still there when his eyes refocused.
“God I’m fucking sorry… you didn’t deserve to die, kiddo. Two months shy of your wedding. It should have been me.” The hand gripped Piers’, the warm, intense touch sending ripples across his heart.
Piers closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think through the list of everyone Chris had known.
Richard Aiken, 23, communications officer on Bravo Team, S.T.A.R.S. Raccoon City. He was killed in action in an act of self-sacrifice to save Chris from a shark attack at the Arklay Mansion.
“Chris, you’re Alpha Team’s finest. You made a difference. You made it all worthwhile.” Piers said, with as much warmth as he could muster under the circumstances.
The hand stroked the bandages on Piers’ chin, cradling his face gently.
“I’ll always remember the way Bridgette spoke of you. Young, loyal, unwavering. You’re a good man, Aiken. You deserved the best.”
“Captain. Any of us would be willing to put ourselves on the line for you.”
Chris closed his eyes wearily. “I don’t deserve that.”
“The world still needs you Captain. You’ll get through this.”
Chris’ recollections seemed to falter as horror crept in his face. He shook his head lightly, pressing a hand to his forehead.
“No. No. No. No. Finn!!”
“Captain!!” Piers placed his arms around Chris’ shoulders, forcing his own emotions aside as Chris relieved the horrors from last week.
Tears streamed from Chris’ face, and Piers’ too. One wounded man clutched another, sharing the tragedy and solidarity of a shared loss.
“It’s going to be OK…” He sniffed, holding Chris tighter in his arms. “They’ll watch over you now.”
“I see you in my dreams too sometimes, Richard.” Chris sighed. “I know you watched over me too.”
That much was true.
“I’ll always be with you Captain. Always.” Piers said. He didn’t know what else to say. He was ashamed he didn’t know more about Richard, but he considered it an honour to be remembered as his Captain’s sacrificial saviour.
He held Chris’ palm.
“I’ll do anything for you. No harm will befall you. You’re going to be OK. Things look pretty bad now, but they will get better. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. One day at a time.” He said soothingly, as Chris’ breathing slowed, and his eyes started to lose focus again and he drifted away.
“My Captain.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Chris will not remember this. He had not remembered any of the other episodes they shared, but a part of the warmth, the support, the gentleness, and the forgiveness the hazel eyed, bandaged soldier always somehow stayed with him. There shall always be comfort and refuge wherever he goes.
Piers, or Richard. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter.
Not every hero needs a name.
Every name needs a hero.
