Kate

"Can you help me zip my dress up?" You shout into the bedroom as you check yourself out in the mirror, making sure your makeup looks right. You're leaning against the countertop in the bathroom, reaching for the box that contains your new earrings. Carlos had graciously gifted them to you on your birthday, a few weeks ago. A lovely gold hoop with a pearl hanging just below, an elegant touch to any outfit.

You're still looking in the mirror, putting the earrings on when you spot Carlos leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as he studies you. His arms are on full display in the shirt you had picked out for him, a simple dark blue button up with short sleeves. "You called?" He grins as he makes his way towards you, taking his time as he admires you.

You smile back, still focused on putting the second earring in. It goes in smoothly before you click the back in place, making sure it will stay secure throughout your evening. "Yes, my dress, can you zip it for me? I only got halfway."

Carlos smiles as he takes the final step behind you. His hands start at your waist, sliding along the fabric before they settle on your back, fingers grasping the small hidden zipper. His lips settle on the side of your neck at the same time, just above the collarbone to place a single kiss there. He lingers there, nibbling at the skin in a ticklish manner as he starts to move the zipper.

"Up Carlos!" You exclaim, feeling the way he slides the zip down, the fabric moving apart, revealing more of your bare back to him. He starts trailing his kisses towards the back of your neck before he stops just above your shoulder blade. You can feel how he's smiling against your skin. "My mistake," he whispers, his breath fanning over your back, causing you to shiver.

"Mhm," you muse, knowing it was anything but a misunderstanding. You let him pepper a few more kisses to your skin before you whisper his name, prompting him to do as you've asked. He does so without complaint, this time pulling the zipper up to the top before making sure it all looks good. 

"You look gorgeous," he states once he spins you around, getting a proper look at the front of your dress. It's a lovely shade of yellow, emphasising the slight tan you've already achieved in the three days of being on holiday. When you had bought it you thought the corset like top would be restrictive or too hot, but in combination with the flowing a-lined skirt and the light material, it truly makes for the perfect summer dress.

"So you like it?" You grin as you sway from foot to foot, showing off how the material swooshes around your legs.

"Oh...," he groans, almost in a dramatic way as he steps near you once again, his hands returning to their usual place around your waist and his face burying into your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume. "I wish I could take it off you right now." 

"Carlos." You scold once more, in a teasing manner really. It's only day three of your week-long holiday, but he's acted like this with every single outfit you've worn. With absolute certainty you could put a garbage bag on and he would still have the same reaction. 

He suckles gently at a particular spot on your neck and a small whimper leaves your mouth, too late for you to cover it up as anything else. "Cmon, we can be a bit late to the reservation?" He asks politely, a tone you have a hard time denying.

"Are we good?" He shouts over the gunfire, staring at you intently. His rifle hangs from its holster as he sits ready to jump over the cover, ready to enter the battlefield.

"Just go!" You shout back, finger ready on the trigger as you pull, hitting an enemy soldier right in the head.

"Are we good?!" Piers repeats, louder this time. He glances from left to right rapidly, making sure it's clear. He could have left a million times already, no one's in his way, but he makes no move to do so, seemingly waiting for the answer he needs to hear.

You take a breath, pulling your face away from the scope as you take a proper look at him. He looks desperate, almost pleading as he stands there, frustrated with himself after the argument. "We're good." You reply, nodding your head in case he hadn't heard.

His shoulder sink in relief before he makes his move, jumping over the large crate and making his first move on an unsuspecting B.O.W.

Smiling to yourself softly, you return your gaze to the scope, firing another shot to clear his path.

"You are such a stubborn, self entitled, weak and selfish bitch!" He snarls, spitting the words out, each once laced with venom.

Your expression falters. No longer do you carry a face of anger and bravery, now you're just upset. You blink twice in disbelief, eyes softening with unmistakable hurt. Stepping back you let your gaze fall down, not wanting Zeno to see you like this.

Despite your futile attempt at hiding he notices the way your face falls, the way you seem to shrink further into yourself, he's gone too far. Instantly he regrets his choice of words. It's a common occurrence for the two of you to banter back and forth, but the last words sting a particular amount, especially coming from him.

He knows you the best out of anyone. You had told him once before how your parents had called you weak and selfish at just five years old, continuing to do so every day, reminding you how useless you were to them. At 18 years old you had moved out and broken contact. Those words had stuck with you, carving out a wound you carried in your mind. Since then you strived to become the opposite, even though their words had never been true.

You had worked yourself to the bone, earning everything you got, without anyone's help. You had proven you weren't weak, showing them you could manage things on your own, but never on this path had you been selfish, and that was something you took pride in.

So he knew better than anyone, he knows exactly why it hurts you so, why it brings back those painful memories.

He clears his throat, eyes softening, you think at least. It's not the easiest to tell through those dark lenses, or while your eyes are focused on the floor.

"I didn't mean..."

"Yeah well you did." You snap back, voice wavering while you cross your arms, as if to protect yourself from more harm.

The voice in the back of your head is telling you it was a mistake, that the words just slipped out and that he is sorry, you can see he is. He just wants to apologise, to make it all okay again.

The other voice tells you that if he really did care, he wouldn't have said it, even in the heat of the moment.

Not knowing what to believe you decide that you need a moment to yourself. To take a breath and a moment away from Zeno.

Taking another step back you reach the door, turning the doorknob around so the door clicks open. "I need a moment," you whisper, the frown still evident on your face.

He hesitates for a moment, taking half a step towards you before taking it back, standing still now, unsure of what he should do. Instead of answering he just nods, accepting your words.

You walk to the courtyard, deciding that some air will do you good. Once you step outside the cool night air nips at your skin,it’s a drastic change from the heat earlier in the day. It's peaceful out now, the moon shining down on the fountain in the middle, almost making the water sparkle. Around you on all sides of the courtyard stands the building of Rhodes Hill, looming impossibly tall. You feel like a miniscule detail in the scheme of things as you walk around the grounds, following the path.

Occasionally you can feel small hot tears slipping down your cheeks, the sound of them hitting the gravel masked by your own crunching steps. Your tongue sticks out, tasting the saltiness. It's pathetic really, how much his words affect you. You're a grown woman, you’ve worked past it, this shouldn't affect you anymore.

Stopping by a bench you focus on the sound of the fountain, the water trickling in a steady rhythm. It's accompanied by a cricket that seems to play its own tune, fading into the night.

Making your way around the fountain again you can hear the sound of gravel moving from behind you, a familiar gait you would recognise anywhere.

Before he can reach you, you wipe at your face with the sleeve of your shirt, careful not to smudge your mascara.

You can feel his presence behind you, like a shadow you cannot rid yourself of. His words break through the night, a warmer tone that makes your shoulders sink. "I want to apologise properly."

"It's fine," you reply, your back still turned to him as you focus intently on a sculpture in front of you. You've seen this statue a million times, but never really stopped to look more closely.

"Medusa," Zeno states as he gazes upon the statue. "The way she is depicted here is right before her transformation, it's supposed to represent betrayal and hurt. Probably Athena's betrayal, but that depends on which version of the myth you're thinking about."

"It's beautiful really," you mutter, admiring the way someone has spent so long carving each detail by hand. You can't imagine how long it must have taken.

From your peripheral you can see him take a step closer, the sound of his shoes on the gravel telling you the same, still you don't spare him a single glance.

"Certainly," he says after a moment. You have to think back to what you had even said to realise what statement he was answering.

After that it goes silent again, the only thing that can be heard now is the fountain. The cricket must have fallen asleep or disappeared elsewhere.

"Walk with me," Zeno says as he takes a step back. He doesn't bother to wait, instead he simply starts his path along the gravel, waiting to see if you will join.

You let him get a few steps away before you decide to follow along. It only takes a second to catch up as he slows down, realising you are following. Once you step beside him, he pauses, offering his arm for you to take.

You hesitate for a moment before deciding to take it, sliding your arm into his own and leaning onto him slightly, resting your head on his shoulder. Initially he seems surprised by the action, but doesn't comment on it. Instead, he starts walking again, now towards the fountain in the middle with you by his side.

You both pause in front of an area where the water is calmer, not disturbed by the splashing of droplets. The surface seems almost mirror-like, still enough to see the reflection of the two of you standing there. Occasionally a small wave passes by, distorting that image.

"I like when it's so calm out," you mutter, staring at the stars that can be seen in the mirror image.

"Do you come here often?" Zeno asks, turning to the side you rest on, gazing down at where your head is laying.

You don't look back, instead you keep looking into the water, spotting a dragonfly hovering near the far edge. "You know I do."

His reply is more of a mutter, a whisper that mimics your own words. "I know you do."

A heavy intake of breath follows his words and you can feel how his shoulders raise and fall. "You know I didn't mean it."

You nod against his shoulder and let out a sound of acknowledgement. "Mhm." It's his turn to look away as you crane your head to look at him. His expression has softened since you last looked at him, since he yelled at you.

Zeno continues to look ahead, watching a tree sway in the distance. "I like that you're stubborn and self centered." He says after a moment, his voice a mere rasp that you can feel as he talks.

Your brows furrow in confusion as your eyes settle back on the ground, watching the blades of grass dance through the soft breeze.

"It means you care, that you stand up for what you believe in. You know your self worth, you're confident in your own needs without stepping on others, and you can recognise when someone isn't worth your time."

A small frown makes itself known on your face, eyes softening with each word he says. You'd never thought about it like that.

"As for being weak and selfish..." Zeno pauses and you can feel your heart stop with anticipation. You're ready for him to tell you something you just don't want to hear. "Those words aren’t true and I am truly sorry for ever using them against you.”

You bite your lip when you start to feel your chin wobble.

He doesn't force you, but the hand on your back is a prompt. Turning to his side you step in front of him, letting your hands circle around his middle, placing your head on his chest. He reciprocates the embrace, letting his other hand linger near your nape, thumb moving in small absentminded circles.

Neither of you say anything while you continue to stand there in the dark. The occasional gust of wind blows around you as he continues to keep you pressed against him, softly swaying beneath the stars and the moon.

"I think we need to transfer the data about Elpis from the ARK over to Rhodes Hill, at least some of it. We need things to be easily accessible," you mutter through a yawn, shuffling the papers you hold into a neat stack before pinning the corner, making sure they all stay together.

It's late and frankly you feel exhausted, having worked way past your "bedtime". But things won't magically get themselves done, despite how technology has advanced, especially what the Connections are doing. With all the stuff they do, you're surprised they haven't created some self automated workhouse. Maybe they have and that's just above your paygrade?

"I fear that would be a security breach," Zeno muses before leaving the room. He's been coming and going all day, apparently very busy with meetings and searching for papers. Actually, very important papers as he had stated.

You had scoffed at his words knowing he was pulling your leg. "Looking for papers" was just something he used to avoid having to deal with Gideon whenever he popped by, which seemed to be too often for both of your likings. Zeno would say something along the lines of: "I'm a busy man Dr Gideon, now if you don't mind, I have some important papers to find." And that would be the end. You would laugh, trying to hide it as Victor disappeared back to his lab. It was a win for both of you.

However, he seems to be using it on you now.

When he comes back through the door you call him out on it. "Don't want to talk to me?" You muse, finding it more funny than anything really. You weren't offended, simply too tired to care.

He spares you a single glance before leaving the room again, his tone growing quiet as he walks down the hall. "I have better things to do."

Again, instead of being offended you just smile tiredly to yourself, knowing he gets like this when he's tired. You yawn again as your hands rest on the desk in front of you, the light seems dimmer and you decide you need a moment to rest your eyes. Resting your head on your hands you close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you relax. In all honesty you feel like you can fall asleep like this, even if the desk isn't the most comfortable thing.

The next thing you know you feel yourself drifting off, being lulled to sleep by the white noise of the fan and the quiet that accompanies it, nothing and no one to interrupt.

You wake up, a spot of drool pooling on the back of your hand from where your head was resting just a moment ago.

Wiping it away you sit up slowly, eyes blinking to get used to the bright sunlight coming in from the windows. Your neck feels all stiff and you already regret having fallen asleep at your desk.

"Good morning, how did you sleep?" Victor's voice interrupts, it's easily recognisable so you don't even have to see him to know.

Before you can reply you let out a yawn, apparently still feeling tired despite the long sleep. You grumble out your reply while slowly raising your neck, the pain really intense all of a sudden.

"Sleep was good, neck pain is not."

"I see, you kept warm at least, it tends to get cold here at night."

He's right about that. You distinctly remember an all nighter you had to pull a few months ago, it had been the middle of the summer, but during the night, you had almost frozen your fingers off.

You frown at his words thinking them over. He simply grins at you, turning to the side to do whatever it is he needs to do.

There was no blanket, and your clothes weren't particularly thick, so how had you stayed warm?

The sliding of something off your back answers your question. You grasp the material before it slides to the floor. It's smooth and silky, leather you realise. Turning it over you take a look, realising it's a jacket, Zeno's jacket to be particular.

You should have known, it smells like him, leather, smoke and something musky, his cologne you guess.

Folding the jacket up you place it on the back of the chair as you get up, your legs feeling slightly numb. Essentially sleeping at your desk was just the worst idea and you would pay for it today, the knots in your back already giving you a hard time.

As you rub at your eyes you make your way to the bathroom, wanting to at least make yourself seem a bit presentable, there is no time to go home, and just brushing through your hair shouldn't take too long.

You don't look as bad as you had thought. Sure you have a weird mark on your forehead from where you were pressed against your hand, but otherwise it's just your hair. It's knotted together at the back and you feel as though you might rip it out. Finally you manage to untangle it, combing your fingers through to tame some of the flyaways. That's as good as it's going to get.

Walking back through the hall you notice Zeno ahead, he isn't wearing his jacket like usual, having given it to you last night at some point.

You don't try to catch up, your legs not in a mood to even quicken the slow pace you are going at. Instead you take it easy, entering the office just a few moments after him.

He notices you enter, even with his back turned, his enhanced hearing you guess, you're not trying to be quiet anyway.

"Sleep well?" Zeno asks, still focusing on something else. You can see his hands moving back and forth, but the exact thing he is doing you can't tell.

"Sort of, I have about fifty knots in my back though, it hurts to even stand upright," you mutter, massaging at your neck for even the slightest relief.

He turns around at your words, focusing on how you touch your neck, the discomfort evident on your face.

Zeno motions to your chair where he can see the jacket, he makes no other comment other than telling you to sit down.

You do as he says, letting your hands drop to your sides as you stride over, leaning back in the chair.

"Lean forwards," he mutters, pushing you forwards softly.

Not sure what to expect, you wait, sitting there. The last thing you expect is his fingers starting to knead at your shoulders.

You can tell he's taken his gloves off, his touch more intense with just your top to separate his bare hands on your back. His thumbs dig into your shoulder blades, a particularly bad knot sitting right there. You let out a groan, it hurts a lot, but also feels so nice at the same time. It's like you can feel the knot melting away and you become putty in his hands, sinking further into his hold.

Clearing your throat you decide you should say something, the silence becoming too much for you.

"Thank you for the jacket."

He scoffs, digging into your shoulder again. This time you yelp out, the pain hitting when he touches that particular spot. "Don't mention it."

You persevere, the massage becoming painful as he works at the rest of your knots, but you appreciate it, especially at the end once you realise your back feels so much better.

Zeno pats your shoulders, letting you know the massage is complete. "Better?" He asks, evidently not in the mood for long conversations so early in the morning.

"Much," you let out, rolling your shoulders to test their mobility. There is just a faint ache left, the knots all gone.

You crane your head back, smile on your face as you thank Zeno. "Thank you, I really needed that."

You've been in a constant state of distress since yesterday, but you've promised yourself that you would go to the hospital every day.

Everything just feels so overwhelming and you just want it all to be over. You want Wesker to wake up, to wake up so you can apologise. He can either yell at you or accept, either way your plan is to move on, pretend nothing is going on between the two of you because you know you won't be able to stand it if something else were to happen again.

The whole day has gone by and not a single member of staff has come in to check on him. Not a single doctor to let you know how he is doing, not a single nurse to check his vitals, nothing. On one hand you're appalled, and you should go and get someone. On the other hand, you don't want to, you don't feel the need to. Why you feel like this is unknown to even yourself.

It's nearing the fifth hour you've been here. You can hear murmurs from down the hall, visiting hours are over and it will be dark soon. Despite this you have no intentions of leaving, instead you try and get comfortable while still holding his hand.

You can't sit back, so you place your head on the side of his bed, leaning forwards. Your back will probably suffer for it, but it truly makes no difference to you, it's not like you'll be going to work. You only have about three days left to take off, after that you aren't sure what you will do. It's a thought for future you, right now you just want to sleep.

It was eluding you at this point, a distant hope you had every time you closed your eyes. Your eyes prick with tears when you can feel how he breathes so close to you. It feels almost cruel how you can lay here and wake up whenever, when he is stuck like this.

Your eyes blink open when you feel someone's finger running along the back of your hand. The sensation feels comforting, almost lulling you back to sleep, but you want to know who it is, which nurse is trying to wake you up in the kindest way possible. You look at your hand and realise it isn't the hand of a nurse, the fingers are too long and masculine looking to be any of the nurses you have encountered.

The sight that meets you when you look up makes you stop. Your eyes are wide as they meet Wesker's own, that beautiful shade of blue looking down at you.

Your legs feel weak as you stumble out of the chair, kneeling by his bedside as you begin to cry into the bed. You feel stupid for doing so, it seems to be the only thing you can do as of late, but you really can't help yourself as the sobs keep bubbling up from your throat.

Breathing feels like a myth as you try to catch your breath. "You're okay, I'm okay, I'm awake, you don't have to cry, you've done enough of that," he says, tone filled with sympathy and kindness as his hand strokes through your hair.

His words make you cry harder as you let your hand find his wrist, holding it close to you as you attempt to calm yourself. It takes a moment and some patience from Wesker, but you eventually get to a state where your words are coherent.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Albert, I shouldn't have made you come with me, I should have just listened and gone upstairs like everyone else, you should have just let me..." You aren't able to finish your sentence with the tears starting up again.

Wesker dries your tears as he shushes you. "Shhhh, calm down, calm down." He leans over the bed slightly, wrapping you in a hug from where you sit, still kneeling by the bedside. You instantly reciprocate, fearing its your last. His actions feel like a final goodbye, like that was your apology and that is all that you get.

As you cling to the back of his top, fingers curling into the material, you're tucked into his neck, his chin resting on the top of your head as he continues to comfort you. If only things could be different.

"I'm not mad," he whispers into the top of your head. The words almost go unheard, almost.

It feels almost cruel, he has no idea what he is talking about, how could he not be mad, how could he not be furious. The amount of work and life he has missed out on because of you. "Don't lie, please don't lie." You plead, shaking your head from beneath his hold.

His fingers stop in your hair, as if he is taken aback by your words. "I've never lied to you."

"But..."

"And I'm not lying now."

This has to be some sick and twisted joke. "How can you not hate me now?"

He pulls you away, wanting to see your face, a face he hasn't seen in so long. "Because I went after you knowing what the outcome could be, I couldn't just stand there knowing I could lose you." It's like it pains him to say the words, to admit that he could have lost you.

Instead of answering, you remain silent, not really comprehending the situation, and not knowing what you should say. The silence drags on before he reaches for your hand.

"I heard what you said," Wesker says, looking up from your hand.

You're like a deer caught in headlights as he gazes at you, a warm look in his eyes that you don't understand. "When?"

"Yesterday."

Time seems to stop and so do all of your thoughts. Your hand falls from his own as you inch backwards, the movement difficult as you're still kneeling on the hard linoleum floor. He doesn't let you get far before he reaches for your hand again. His hold isn't restraining, not harsh, simply there, to hold you afloat.

"I won't scream, or yell at you." He lets a moment pass before continuing. "I want to hear you say it again."

The silence returns once more as you shake your head in disbelief, chin wobbling as the lump in your throat returns. "I can't," you whisper, too scared to make your thoughts a reality again, you had promised yourself that nothing would come out of it.

"Then I will."

You shake your head in disagreement as you sniffle, the sound of your small cries returning to the room. He pulls you closer to the bed and you let him this time.

"When we were down there, and you had Sherry in your arms, and I had to leave, I knew, I knew what I had known for a while. that I loved you, that I love you."

His words are so pure, so true that you can't even make yourself push yourself away. Another sob breaks through you and you let it this time, his arms already waiting for you to fall into. "I almost lost you," Through your muffled cries you can hear that his words come out shaky, you can feel it as well, the way his hand trembles through your hair. Pulling away you can see a faint line of glistening tears in his eyes. It pains you to see him like this, but you don't want to cry anymore. "I almost lost you." You counter with a watery smile, the last of your tears rolling down your cheeks. He laughs as well, letting his thumbs brush them away.

Wesker stares at you for a while, taking in every detail of your face as his hands trace your cheeks. The way your hair looks all messy, your nose that has a small pink dusting, your eyes that are red rimmed and glossy, looking up at him with love and adoration. To anyone else you probably look like a mess you think, but the way he is looking at you... it's like you are his sun.

Finally he glances down at your lips, your former pout now replaced with a faint smile that seems to grow with every second he looks at you. "I should get the doctor, or a nurse." You whisper, your hand slipping from where they hold onto his arm as you try to get up.

He moves at lightning pace, placing his hands on your shoulders to stop you. "Wait, just..."

You don't move, instead you sink back closer, letting the moment envelop you. He moves closer and on instinct you do to, mirroring his movements. "I love you." He murmurs and the words feel unreal to hear. The feeling of his breath hits your lips and it makes you inch closer. It would only take a small movement from either of you to make your lips touch. "I love you too." You whisper so quietly you aren't certain you've even said it. 

It seems like those words are all it takes for Wesker to finally snap. His hands return to the sides of your face as he pulls you into a kiss. It's full of longing, and hurt and it makes you feel breathless but at the same time so incredibly happy. You can't remember the last time you felt quite like this, and you quickly realise you can't wait for what's to come next.

This is the end of the story unfortunately. I absolutely loved writing this so much (Even though some parts were a headache to write) Despite this series ending I still plan on writing, so I hope you stick around for some of that.

The feeling of something touching your neck wakes you up. It's a featherlight touch, making you shiver.

"Morning," Wesker whispers into your neck, placing another soft kiss beneath your ear, his fingers trailing along your hip, toying with the hem of your top.

Well, technically it's his top, a plain navy blue t-shirt you had claimed for yourself. It was softer than anything of your own, and he hadn't complained, loving to see you in his clothes.

"Mhm, morning," you mumble back, twisting to face him. He makes space for you, letting you tuck yourself into his chest before you start craning your neck up to place a small kiss to his skin, just below his jaw. You can tell he is smiling when you do, loving how affectionate you are in the morning.

It's not often he gets to have a slow start to his day. Most days he is up before the sun, placing a soft kiss to your forehead before he leaves in a rush.

Now he can take his time, fall asleep again if he wants, not that he will, but he has the option. Instead, he wants to spend the morning with you, holding close jus like this.

"How did you sleep?"

You can feel the rasp in his voice, the vibrations felt from where you have your cheek pressed to his chest, just above his heart. If you listen closely you can hear that too, the calm and steady rhythm making you feel calm.

Wesker waits patiently for you to answer, still trailing his hands along your hip, but they move up slowly, warm hands now splayed on your lower back.

"Good, I slept very well," you answer finally, practically purring at his touch. "What about you?" You add, looking up at him again.

You can't help but admire him like this. A faint ray of sun shining through the curtain, basking him in a faint golden glow. He looks radiant, his eyes an almost crystal blue as he watches you, expressing pure love and adoration for you.

"I always sleep well with you by my side." He places a kiss on your forehead this time, then your nose, followed by your cheeks.

You giggle with each peck, trying to get away. It doesn't end up working so well unfortunately, not with his hands grasping you by the waist and pulling you closer, making sure you stick by his side for as long as he wants.

"Stay here, I don't want you going anywhere."

A grin appears on your face as you think of a great idea. "You'll have to make me." You realise you have no upper hand, your in no place to demand such requests when he already has you pinned to him, but its fun, just to see what he will do.

You can tell he is trying to think of something, but it doesn't take long before you find yourself flipped over, pinned to the mattress as he hovers above you. "I think I've already arranged that." He has that usual smirk of his plastered on his face, the one where he knows he is right or has gotten his way.

"You win," you surrender, smiling widely at him.

"I always win," he retorts, leaning down so he can place a sweet kiss to your lips, a proper good morning.

"Piers?" Your voice is a mere whisper through the phone and in his half awake state he can hardly hear his own name being said.

"Yeah?" He responds, mostly a rasp as he attempts to clear his throat.

Upon hearing his voice you let out a shaky exhale, a weight falling off your shoulders.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" He sounds more alert all of a sudden, like he's sat up, wondering why you've called him at this hour.

You don't want him to worry, so you settle for half of the truth. "I needed to hear your voice."

A faint chuckle can be heard before he answers, humour lacing his tone. "It's that nice to listen to huh?" 

Attempting your own little laugh you fail miserably, instead a wet cry emerges from your chest. You attempt to cover your mouth, but it's too late, he's already heard it.

"Are you crying?"

There's no point in lying anymore, he can hear the way you try and take in short breaths, trying to stop yourself from crying.

You're able to compose yourself for a moment, long enough to let him know why you had called. "I had a nightmare."

From his side you can hear the sound of a blanket being tossed about, a faint rustling as he talks. "Are you okay?" His voice is soft, calming to listen to and exactly what you need right now. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," you reply honestly, not knowing whether you should bother him further. 

"I'm here to listen if you do want to."

You take a moment to think, revisit the terrifying nightmare before you say anything. "It was about you."

Piers remains quiet, all you can hear is his steady breathing from the phone as he lets you continue. 

"That night in China, when..." It feels impossible to continue as the tears start forming again, your throat getting that lump in it that makes it hard to speak. 

"Hey, it's okay, deep breaths." He says softly in an attempt to calm you. You really wish he could be here right now, so you could touch him, feel that he's real.

Your fingers clutch around the phone harder as your shoulders shake, reminded by the whole incident. "Piers, you almost died."

It takes a moment for an answer to come through, the silence stretching on, making you think there won't be a response. "I know, but I didn't, I'm here." 

Your brain doesn't seem to register his words, it's only focused on what could have been. "I should have..." your words break off into another sob, your chest hurting as your heart beats at an insane pace.

His response is stern, not mean, but he wants to make sure you're hearing him clearly. "Don't," he warns. "Don't do that, because no good comes from blaming yourself. If you're going to start like that I can start blaming a million different people. I can blame myself for not being more careful, I could blame Chris for sending me on that mission in the first place."

Piers takes a breath before continuing, his tone softer and less harsh now. "The point is, anything could have happened and I don't want you blaming yourself for it, that's an order."

You stop up, your tears have dried, leaving behind the tightened skin from where that salt has been left behind. "But.." 

"No," his word is final, but you can hear the smile that accompanies it. "I'll hang up if you continue like this." You know he is joking, trying to make you smile, and unfortunately it's working.

This time when you want to let out a small laugh you don't burst into tears. He can hear the soft exhale that sounds like a familiar laugh and instantly he feels his shoulders drop.

"Thank you Piers."

"Don't mention it, now if you wouldn't mind, open the door, it's freezing out here."

His words confuse you, making your eyebrows furrow in questioning. You sit up, trying to blink away the sudden tiredness you are feeling. Had you misheard him somehow? "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering you he knocks. You can hear it on both the phone and from across your apartment, the sound echoing in the silence of your hallway. "You didn't," you remark, pulling the covers away from your legs as you get up, walking at a brisk pace to the front door. 

You don't bother checking that it's actually him, instead you unlock the deadbolt and unlock the door. There he stands, leaning against the doorframe as his phone is held up to his ear. He hangs up, shooting you a grin as he holds his arms open. 

There is no hesitation as you hug him back, careful so he doesn't drop his phone. "Why are you here?" You ask, even though you know the answer. 

"You never sleep after a nightmare, I thought I would keep you company." He knows you too well.

Pulling away from the hug you take notice of what he is wearing, a simple t-shirt and pyjama pants. Dragging him in by the arm you can feel how cold he is. "Did you walk here in that? In the cold?" He steps behind you, allowing you to have some space to lock the door.

Piers simply shrugs, like it’s no big deal. "I did, it's just a ten minute walk from my place, you know that."

You shake your head as you walk further into your apartment, not back to your room, but to the living room, and he follows as you sit on the sofa.

"Do you want something to drink?" You ask, once you settle into the cushions. He turns his head to you, looking at how your eyes seem so tired. "No, I'm fine."

You yawn as you reply, settling your head on his shoulder, "Okay." He adjusts his posture, making sure you're comfortable as his hand finds your back, running his thumb up and down in a soft pattern. His touch is accompanied by soft murmurs from him, nothing special, but it keeps your mind off things. 

Soon enough you find your eyes drooping, then closing, lulled to sleep by his voice. Piers simply looks down at your sleeping face, smiling at the way you look so peaceful. His hand slides down behind your knees, the other remains on your back as he picks you up effortlessly, making his way to your bedroom to tuck you into bed. 

Your head hits the pillow softly as he lifts the blanket up, making sure you're comfortable. Before leaving he places a soft kiss to your forehead and tucks away a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The movement rouses you, making your eyes flutter open long enough to ask him to stay. 

It's a soft whisper, hardly audible, but in the silence he hears it. "I'll stay." He responds before making his way to the other side of the bed, lifting the blanket and settling behind you, keeping you safe for the rest of the night.

Your legs start working before your mind can come up with a logical explanation. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

“Piers!” You scream, spotting him emerging from the flames.

The air is knocked out from his lungs as you fling your arms around him, your body knocking right into his. He stumbles back, trying to keep steady as you tuck your face into his neck, your body shaking with each sob you let out.

He tries to calm you, not stifle your cries. Offering words of reassurance and comfort, letting you know he is there, and when your legs give out he holds you up. “I’m here, it’s okay.”

You’re still shaking and it breaks his heart to see you like this, but he had done what was right in the moment. He wouldn’t have been able to die peacefully knowing you hadn’t made it out when he could have done something. He can still remember your face so clearly, the panic once you realised what he had done. Your screams had followed close by, demanding him to open the door, that there was still time for the both of you to get out. In the end Chris had been there to drag you out, crying out as he did. 

You sound so broken when you speak, your voice cracking as you ask in the saddest voice possible. “Why would you do that Piers, we’re a team, I thought we were a team?”

He has nothing to say except for an apology that honestly feels pathetic compared to what you deserve. “I’m sorry okay, I’m so so sorry.” HIs whispers find your ear, followed by a soft kiss placed to your head.

“Don’t be sorry, just please, don’t ever do that again, okay?” Piers can feel how wet his neck is, your tears dripping down and slowly soaking the collar of his jacket too.

His promise is followed by another kiss, this one to your hairline. “I promise, I promise, I promise.” Each promise is followed by a soft kiss to your hair, each one lingering for just a moment as he takes in the way you feel in his arms, the way your hair smells. 

It takes a while for you to calm down, your breathing slowing as he continues to rub your back in a slow familiar rhythm. You let out a single sob, taking a deep breath before pulling your face away from where it was hidden.

“I thought I lost you Piers.” It’s only now he gets to see your beautiful face. Even while crying, eyes red and nose running you look beautiful to him, like an angel standing before him. He slides his hands from your back to your face, cupping your cheeks softly, mindful of a small cut on right cheekbone as he dries the tears with the pad of his thumb. His brows are furrowed, like in pain, a small smile adorning his face as if he trying to be strong for you. “I’m here,” he repeats, his tone softer now. 

You let out a small whimper, lip trembling as more tears fall from your eyes. “I thought you were gone forever.” You try to shake your head, but his hold limits your movement. “It felt like my heart was ripped out knowing I would never see you again.”

Those words make him realise exactly what you both would have lost had he died in that building.

You were his other half, just like he was yours. The person that knew him the best, that could make him laugh, that could make him feel things he had never felt with or about anyone before, and he had almost lost you, just like you would have lost him.

His own vision starts going blurry, the lights in the distance going fuzzy, but your face remains in focus, even when the tears slide down his cheeks. Piers lets out a broken cry before whispering to you again. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, I know Piers.”

Your own hands guide him to the ground so you can wrap him in a hug this time, neither of you caring that the concrete is rough, or that it’s unbearably hot with the nearby flames, you know you're safe now.

“Clear,” you shout out after exiting the larger of the two bathrooms, having made sure it was completely empty, no one hiding behind the pulled shower curtain. Making sure the safety is back on, you place your handgun back in its holster before returning to the group that waits for you. Yours was the last room that needed clearing. 

“Good work,” Chris praises as you take another step closer. He’s sitting in a wider armchair, Jill resting on the armrest as they both peer at the blueprints of the house, along with some other papers. To the left of the chair sits a small striped sofa, Finn and Carlos occupying it currently, looking quite tired if you’re honest.

And finally, Piers who sits on the carpet, rifle perched at an angle while he inspects it, making sure everything is in working order, despite the mission being completed.

It had been a tiring day, well week. You had all been called to the Edonian mountains, a new B.O.W having recently been discovered by locals who had stumbled upon it. Chris had expected it to only take a day or two, but the weather had turned for the worse. The wind and the snow had made tracking the creature a real issue. In the end the team had been successful, Jill having landed the final blow to its head, killing it instantly. After that there was unfortunately more bad news. The chopper was unable to get to the extraction point. No one was happy with that update, but there was nothing you or they could do, and that’s why you were all here in this house. A safe house used by the B.S.A.A for missions like these. It made sense since Edonia was a frequent destination as of recently.

“The perimeter has been secured, and the team back at HQ has been notified of our arrival here.” Chris starts back up as he shuffles the papers, making sure they stay together in a neat stack before he hands it to Jill, her hand hovering in the air, waiting. As Chris continues, you make your way around the coffee table in the centre, taking a seat on the edge of the carpet, opposite of Piers. It isn’t a particularly nice carpet, the edges are worn due to frequent use and the fibres stick out in all directions, but you can’t really complain. “The winds have been getting stronger, but we can expect to be out of here by tomorrow afternoon, in the meantime, get comfy.”

You can hear Carlos groan in annoyance, not very happy with the situation. None of you are. The house is cold, damp and you can feel a draft coming from somewhere. In all honesty, it sucks. You could have been on your way home by now, able to have a long warm shower, have a nice meal and have a long sleep, instead you are here. The only shower you can expect will last less than three minutes, and it will not be warm. The food, well whatever rations are stocked in the miniature kitchen will have to tide you over. 

“I want no complaining,” Chris scolds pointedly at Carlos as soon as the sound leaves his chest. “I know this is less than ideal, but we’re alive and that’s important right now.”

You glance up at Carlos, seeing how Chris’ words make him think, making him realise what the other outcome of the mission could have been. He nods in response and Chris accepts the silent apology. 

“I’ll get started on the food,” Jill announces as she gets up, leaving her tactical vest behind, not needing it to simply boil some water. Chris nods as she leaves, watching her until she is out of sight. You find yourself smiling softly at the two of them, how obvious and yet oblivious the two of them act. At this point the whole B.S.A.A has bets going around on who will admit their feelings first. 

You're about to get up and leave the room, make yourself useful in some way or another. Maybe ask Jill if she needs a hand, or possibly find a stash of firewood for the empty fireplace in the corner. Chris beats you to it, already announcing what he wants you all to do next. “Finn and Carlos, you two will take the smaller room with the bunks.”

They both nod, already pulling themselves up from the sofa. Their movements sluggish and tired as they slowly make their way to the stairs, a perfect embodiment of how you feel at the moment. Maybe you can just stay on the carpet? Not moving sounds like a great idea, and the carpet can’t be that bad. You think again once you pick at the material beneath you, remembering just how thinly worn it is. Honestly, it would be worse than sleeping on a rock, and you’ve done that once.

“You and Piers will share the bigger room to the right of the stairs,” Chris resumes, pointing to the door of the room of which he is talking about before getting up himself, making his way to the kitchen. He leaves no time for you to ask where he or Jill will be spending the night. You already suspect they will sleep in shifts, like they usually do on these shorter missions. No one knows why they never let anyone else do it, but you’ve learned not to question it. 

Once Chris has left, it leaves the room empty, just you and Piers sitting on the floor, each of you in your own worlds.

“Do you want to shower first?” You ask as you look up at Piers. He looks just as tired as you feel, the darkened shadows beneath his eyes a telltale sign, as well as the yawn he lets out just a second later. 

He replies kindly, setting his rifle to the side as he uses the sofa to help himself up. “Nah, you go ahead, I’ll make sure the bed is made.” Once he stands, he reaches out his hand, waiting for you to grab it. You stare at him for a moment before placing your hand in his. Despite the both of you wearing gloves you can feel the warmth from his skin seeping into your own cold hand. He pulls you up, making sure you’re stable before he lets go, the warmth leaving you as he does. 

You smile before side stepping him, thanking him before you pass by. “Thank you.” You really mean it, you both know that whoever goes first will have the warmer water, if there is any at all that is. Passing by on his left side you make your way to the bathroom, pressing the door handle down with a creak before opening the door and stepping through.

You close the door behind yourself and make sure you lock it, twice. You’ve made that mistake before and you are not about to make it again. 

The bathroom is on the small side, a small cubicle shower, toilet and sink, it’s all you need really, but heating is something you would love. Even just standing there with your boots on you can tell the floor is freezing, the ceramic tiles not helping. The miniature window has also been left open, that’s probably where the draft was coming from. You’re quick to close it, wanting the room to heat up as much as possible before you start getting undressed.

A knock interrupts you just as you’ve shut the window. “Yes?” You ask, turning towards the door, hands already on the lock, about to click it open. 

“I have a toothbrush and some pyjamas for you here, nothing fancy I promise.” It’s Piers, his voice clear and recognisable from the other side of the thin wooden door. You open it, letting your foot hold it open as you reach for the pile of clothes, toothbrush on top. “Thank you Piers.” You thank as he nods, turning back towards the bedroom you will be sharing. You watch the door close behind him and you do the same, once again making sure it’s locked.

Placing the bundle of cotton on a small chair in the corner you decide it’s not going to get any warmer. You start by clipping off your tactical vest, carefully taking it off to make sure nothing falls out or gets damaged. It’s all custom made to fit you, so replacing it isn’t a cheap feat. The rest of your clothes come off haphazardly in layers, first your waterproofs, then your thermals, peeling the last layer off from your cold and clammy skin. 

You shiver from the cold and take a step closer to the shower, reaching out for the shower handle and turning it clockwise. The first spray hits your arm and you flinch back, the water a freezing cold temperature. While you wait for a moment in hopes of the water turning warm, you look for a towel under the sink. You take one of the larger ones and wrap it around yourself, hoping to keep a bit warmer. 

The shower runs for another moment before you decide it’s time to get in, not wanting to waste any more water. It’s not like you had hoped, the water remains the freezing cold it was when you first turned it on. You brace yourself before fully stepping in, your whole body covering itself in goosebumps as you do. Picking up the bar of soap in the corner you lather it hurriedly, just wanting to clean off as quickly as possible.

It feels like the water is getting colder by the second and you really feel bad for Piers as you turn the shower off. Your whole body is shaking as you step out, wrapping the towel around yourself again. Standing in front of the mirror you dry yourself off in rushed motions. As you do you stare at yourself in the mirror, the skin on your cheeks is red and irritated, probably from the wind. Your lips are blue as well, that’s probably from the shower.

You’re clean and dry, but really cold. Still shivering you put your pajamas on, the cotton feeling soft against your skin. The top doesn’t do much for the cold as it’s a simple camisole, the trousers however are long, pooling around your feet. You step back to your clothes, crouching down to pick them up into a pile before you stand up again, ready to leave the room. The lock clicks open as you turn the latch, padding over to the bedroom. 

Opening the door with your elbow you push it open with your back, stepping into the room. You turn and spot Piers sitting on the edge of the bed as he removes his tactical gear.

“Good shower?” He asks with a smile once he spots you, continuing to work on a stuck buckle around his waist. 

You exhale humorously as you walk to a simple shelving unit, placing your jumble of clothes and gear into it. “Freezing unfortunately.” You reply, breaking the news to him as you look around for some sort of a throw or blanket you can cover yourself with. There's one on the top shelf, your fingers catch the spiky fabric as you pull it down and wrap it around your shoulders. 

He snorts at your remark, continuing to mess with the buckle that still seems to be stuck. It’s funny to watch him struggle so much with it, so you let him for just a moment longer before deciding to help. You step closer, reaching out for the buckle. “Let me,” you mutter as your fingers pinch around the side, releasing the locking mechanism easily. You smile down at him as he watches you dumbfoundedly. 

You're about to tell him the bathroom is free for him, but a shout from the kitchen interrupts you.

“Dinner!” 

Following Jill's shout you can hear Carlos and Finn shout back, replying they will be right down. You look at Piers, waiting to see if he wants to shower now or after. 

“I’ll shower later.” He says as he stands up, passing you as he makes his way for the door. You nod, pulling up the slipping blanket around your shoulders once again. 

The dining room is small, just big enough for the six of you to squeeze in. Jill’s done the best with what she was given, it’s quite impressive actually, there is a reason she’s always in charge of the meals. Carlos does help sometimes though. None of you complain, eating away in silence, happy to have something warm in your stomachs.

“Tired?” Carlos asks from across the table, noticing Finn is practically falling asleep at the table, his head dipping down every few seconds. You poke him with your shoulder, jolting him awake. He startles, but pretends it’s nothing. “Aren’t you?” He asks Carlos back, trying to shift the focus away from him. Carlos just shrugs, making you laugh. 

The conversation continues for a while as you all finish up eating, but it slowly dies down as you all feel your eyes drooping. Chris and Piers do the dishes while the rest of you sit back in the living room. 

“Are you sure you and Chris are fine with watch?” You ask Jill as you snuggle into the corner of the sofa, tucking your legs beneath yourself. You’re currently sharing the blanket with Carlos, his head leaning on your shoulder as you both try and keep warm. 

“It’s fine, but thank you for asking.” Jill’s found her own blanket, cuddled up into the armchair Chris was sitting in when you first got in the house, her eyes closing as she rests for a moment.

Once Chris and Piers return, Carlos pushes himself up, pulling the blanket off himself before tucking it around you. You open your eyes, wondering what he is doing. “I’m heading to bed.” He announces, stretching his arms above his head, making himself seem taller than he is. You look up at him tiredly, yawning before speaking. “Have a nice sleep.”

Finn follows close by, getting up from the floor, picking up his glass of water from the table as he does. “I’m going too.”

Turning to Finn you bid him goodnight, followed by the goodnights of everyone else, watching as they both go upstairs once again. You can hear Chris chuckle as Finn trips over the last step, almost falling on top of Carlos. Shaking your head you turn to Piers, watching him as he approaches the sofa. He sits down beside you, leaving a small gap between the two of you. 

The four of you sit in silence for a while, keeping your eyes closed, simply listening to the wind howling outside. You're glad the mission ended when it did, you're not sure how things would have gone if you were still out in this weather. 

“I’m going for a shower now.” Piers declares as he pats his thighs, getting up as he does, his steps heavy as he walks to the bedroom. 

“Hey Piers?” You shout after him, making him stop in the doorway. He turns back, hand holding onto the doorway as he awaits your question. “Yeah?”

You sit up from where you were tucked in the corner, letting your legs hang freely off the side as you fold the blanket up. “Would you mind if I just quickly brushed my teeth, then the bathroom is all yours?” 

He shakes his head, a small smile tugging on his mouth as he turns back into the room, disappearing in the dark. You take it as an obvious yes, so you pad over to the bathroom, ready to be as quick as possible. You take the toothbrush from where you left it, finding some toothpaste in a drawer and squirting out a pea sized amount on the bristles. It’s one of those cheaper brushes, so the bristles are harsh on your gums. Once it foams up you spit, rinsing your mouth after. 

You’re about to leave when the door opens, Piers standing there with his own pajamas in hand. “Done?” He asks, stepping inside like you’ve already confirmed it.

“Sure am, enjoy the ice bath.” You reply, patting his shoulder as you leave the room, the door closing after you and the lock clicking just after.

The living room is still occupied by Jill and Chris, but it seems like Jill has fallen asleep, her eyes closed and her breathing deep. Chris confirms your thoughts when he places a single finger to his lips, signalling for you to be quiet. Nodding you bid him goodnight, quietly before going to the bedroom, ready to fall asleep after such a long day. 

It’s a larger room, a double bed occupying the middle of it with a few pieces of simple furniture dotted around it, the shelving unit among them. The floor is as cold as the bathroom had been, the chill seeping through your socks. Hurriedly you make your way to the bed, the neater side. It seems like Piers has already claimed the left for himself, the blanket slightly lifted from the edges. 

Upon getting into the bed you quickly realise that the state of the blanket is similar to that of the carpet. It’s thinned out from repeated use, making it a lot less functional than it would have been as new. Still it’s better than nothing.

Your head sinks into the pillow as you try to get comfortable, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself as you try to keep warm. Thankfully the mattress is in good shape, perfectly soft so you won’t have a knot in your back when you wake. 

From the outside of the room you can hear a door opening, followed by a soft murmur of voices. You can’t make out what they are saying, but you can tell that it’s Piers and Chris speaking, their voices quiet so they don’t wake Jill. Not able to hear much you try to sleep, your eyes closing as you rest, letting your breathing slow as you’ve been taught. 

It’s just a moment later and your breathing is interrupted by footsteps approaching the door, the familiar gait telling you it’s Piers approaching. The door opens and the soft light from the living room illuminates his outline, his shivering outline. 

You know it’s mean, but you have to let out a small laugh, stifling it with your hand. 

“Not funny.” He grumbles, half seriously as he hurries over to the shelf to put his clothes away. He practically throws them on the shelf before throwing himself towards the bed, lifting the blanket from the edge before burrowing beneath it. You can feel how he shakes, the cold really getting to him. “Come closer,” you whisper, lifting the blanket slightly so he can move over.

He inches closer to the middle where your hands find his own. “Your hands are freezing.” He breathes and you can see the way it leaves his mouth, almost like a cloud of smoke. It really is colder than you had thought. You reply before blowing a warm breath of air on your intertwined hands, trying to get some heat back into them. “You aren’t the only cold one here.” Piers’s thumbs run along the back of your hand softly, a comforting gesture, then he replies with a smile. “I guess not.”

You try to sleep like that, your hands held together as you close your eyes and attempt to slow your breathing once again. Piers does the same, you can feel his grip losing strength as he starts falling asleep. You’ve always been jealous of how quickly he is able to drift off.

A shiver runs through you and it seems to jolt him awake, the sudden movement you imagine. “Sorry,” you whisper, apologising as you shift closer to him, your bare arms feeling like icicles. “You don’t happen to have an extra top?” You ask, even though you know what his answer will be. 

His reply is slow and quiet in the silence of the room, his words almost slurred together as he blinks his eyes open. You can see the way they glint in the dark, catching the light from outside. “No sorry.”

You nod, but realise he might not be able to see the movement, so you answer, that is before you are interrupted. “It’s okay I fig—“ His hand leaves your own and finds its way to your waist, a cold touch that makes you flinch, but when he pulls you flush against his chest you don’t protest. Instead you burrow closer, your head resting in the crook of his neck as your arms wrap around his own waist, pulling yourself impossibly closer. He seems to warm up as the seconds pass, the touch that was icy at first seems to melt into something you find particularly pleasant.

Piers lets out a tired laugh and you can feel how his chest moves, the vibration as he speaks, his breath tickling the hairs at the top of your head. “Take it easy, I’m not going anywhere.” His hands move from your waist to your back, your legs tangling together beneath the blanket. At this point you’ve become one person, merging together as you share the minuscule amount of warmth you both have. A good survival tactic if you do say so yourself. 

He pulls the blanket higher up, making sure that it covers the both of you properly. “Is this okay?” Piers asks softly, wanting to make sure you are comfortable.

You look up, stretching your neck so you can answer him. His eyes find your own in the dark, half closed with sleepiness. “More than, thank you Piers.” 

Instead of responding to your thanks he simply places a hand on the back of your head, tucking you back into his neck. He smells clean, with a hint of pine, possibly from the outdoors, but he always tends to smell a bit like pine you’ve realised. You like it, especially now.

“Sleep now, I’ll keep you warm.” 

You smile to yourself. “Okay, and I’ll keep you warm.”

After you were forced out of the hospital by the doctors, you had gone home. You hadn't even made it to your bedroom before you had collapsed on your living room floor, crying yourself to sleep as you clutched his glasses to your chest. It had been hours later before you had woken again, feeling all numb and shaky, as if you were sick with a high fever.

Instead of getting up like you should, you stay on the floor, curled up into a ball as you pick at a loose thread from the carpet. You swear you can hear the phone ringing, a constant sound almost echoing through the room. It continues ringing for a while and you contemplate getting up to answer, but end up deciding that the machine can take a message.

The ringing stops, letting the room fall into silence again, the beep of the answering machine follows. A vaguely familiar voice sounds out after the beep, but you can’t quite place it, not immediately at least.

"I understand you probably aren't doing so well now, anyways, you can have today off, but I expect you to be in the office bright and early tomorrow."

How considerate of your boss. You let out a scoff before pulling yourself up, first on all fours before dragging your body over to the sofa where you lie down again. You haven't really achieved anything, simply dragged yourself from one spot to another, but it’s more comfortable.

The whole day goes by as you lie there, sinking further into the worn out cushions as you fixate on the ceiling. Occasionally you glance at his glasses that are still in your hands, tears falling as you do, you can't help it.

You don't do anything for the rest of the day, simply lying there with your eyes open, focused on either the blank walls or the turned off TV. There is no strength in your arms to even pick the remote up. 

You want to leave, you want to get up and go back to the hospital, to visit him, to go and tell him how sorry you are once again, but you know they will turn you away especially with how you look right now.

Instead you stay where you are, for the rest of the night, the darkness enveloping you in a nightmare of silence.

"How is he today doctor?" You ask, your hand holding on tightly around the strap of your shoulder bag. You fiddle with it as you await his answer.

He smiles kindly at you, yet another sympathetic gaze you have received today. That's the reason you are here so early, the reason why you left work early. Everyone was offering their constant condolences and support. On one hand it's nice to know people actually care, on the other hand it bothers you, a lot. It bothers you because you can see right through their pathetic smiles, the same one on each person you encounter. They're acting like he's already died, like it was the end. You couldn't stand it, so you marched right out of the lab, throwing your lab coat to the floor before making your way upstairs and out of the building in a huff.

"He is still unconscious, in a coma, and I'm afraid I have to add that he has a slight infection around the wound on his side. We are monitoring it closely and believe it should clear up within two to three days." You nod in response, waiting for him to continue. "As for the coma, we still can't say."

It's not what you had hoped to hear, but what you were expecting. His words go through your mind as you nod, processing his evaluation of the situation. You thank him quickly before making your way past the visitors area, taking a left towards Wesker's room. He had been placed down the hall, a more quiet area of the hospital, you know he will appreciate that when he wakes. 

Like yesterday, you take a deep breath before pushing the door aside, stepping into the room slowly. 

There is no nurse with him this time, just the empty room and him. You take notice of how empty it is now, not having noticed much the first time. Honestly, it's just a copy of the room you had been in, just even more sparse, still plain white though. You know hospitals are meant to be clean, but this somehow feels too clean, wrong somehow. You're just focusing on the minor details now, stalling the difficult part.

Taking another breath you turn towards the middle of the room, placing your bag on the floor next to the chair. They hadn't moved it since yesterday, having left it in the exact spot you put it in. As you sit you let your eyes drift over his sleeping form. Comatose would be a more correct term to use, but you prefer to think of him as sleeping, it seems less serious like that.

Your hands clasp together in your lap as you think of what you should say. "I came by again, I hope that's okay." It feels odd to speak to him like this, you aren't sure if you should. You've heard that some people can hear, even when in a coma, but you aren't sure how true that is. In some way you don't want it to be true, you would rather talk to him when he can respond. 

Looking up from your hands you look at his face. He doesn't have a single scratch visible. His skin is perfectly clear, possibly a bit pale, but he always is, spending so long indoors. You'll have to take him outside somewhere at some point, a walk or something like that. If you hadn't known what had happened, you honestly would have thought he was sleeping. Shaking your head in disbelief you look back down at your hands. 

"It's odd that you aren't there, at the lab, I miss having you there." You sigh, but it comes out awfully shaky. You try to calm yourself, but find your eyes start to burn instead, sniffling you turn to the side, starting to dig through your bag.

Your finger finds the smooth material of his glasses that sit in the bottom. You probably should have put them in a case to protect them. Picking them up you inspect them, making sure there are no scratches before wiping the lens with the corner of your top. "I brought your glasses back, I thought you should have them." It comes out more like a mumble as you carefully place them on his nightstand. Obviously he has no use for them at the moment, but it didn't feel right keeping them with yourself. 

You try and think of something else to say, something that won't make you burst into tears. There is a lot you want to say, but you aren't sure if now is the time, or if you have the courage for it. Instead you settle for silence, letting it swallow you whole. The guilt eats at you, and you let it, feeling like you deserve it. 

In the end it becomes too much, your chest feeling tight and your hands going all shaky again. You spare one last glance at his face, then to the nightstand making sure the glasses are still where you placed them before standing up. You pick up your bag and walk out, no goodbye and no second look.

"The infection looks better today, a nurse cleaned the wound earlier."

"Thank you doctor" you respond before making your way to Wesker's room like the day before. 

"An early visit today?" The doctor questions as you pass him, not really sparing him a second glance.

It is early, too early honestly, but you aren’t going to work, you don’t have the energy to deal with anyone. Instead you called in sick.

You stop and glance back, asking a quick question about how Wesker is doing.

"He is doing as well as he can, but you need some rest."

The doctor's words are ignored as you turn back, walking down the hall, not bothering to answer.

"The infection has cleared up and the wound is healing well."

"That's good," you whisper, nodding slowly before you leave the hospital. You feel tired, exhausted, almost falling asleep as you stand, but you know you won’t be able to sleep when you get home. Your eyes are red, the tears dried long ago.

A nurse stops you on your way in, you hardly notice her, the sound of her voice going right through your head. "How are you doing Miss?" 

You stare at her for a moment before nodding, not bothering to actually say anything, the words take a moment to register. 

Six days have gone by. You try to go to work, but always end up leaving early, not able to stand the questions or the guilt. You've lost count of the amount of times you've almost burst into tears when someone has asked about him. 

Each time you've left work, you've gone to the hospital, driving there, except for one time when you had walked. It took a whole two hours, but you needed the air. Once you get there you sit anywhere from an hour to three, just sitting in silence as you watch him breathe, his chest raising up and down repeatedly.

When you return home you hardly eat, only having the energy to boil a small pot of pasta or slicing a piece of bread for yourself, just enough to satiate the hunger pains. It isn't healthy and you know it, but you can't make your body do something it feels like it doesn't deserve.

You sit in the same chair once again, the nurses still haven't moved it from where you placed it that first day, it's like a permanent fixture in the room now, waiting for you to return each day. His hand feels soft in your own, your thumb trailing over the back of his, a comforting rhythm to keep your mind at ease.

"I know you'll hate me when you wake up. It's my fault you're like this after all." You start muttering to him, the sniffles starting soon after that.

"I know you probably won't want to talk to me at all, and I get that, I do, but please, wake up so you can tell me yourself." Your shoulders shake with oncoming sobs, the exhaustion from the past week finally catching up to you. 

"Wake up and scream at me, yell how much you hate me. Just please, wake up, wake up you stubborn idiot."

Your lip is trembling, your nose is running and your eyes are so filled with tears everything around you is just a blur. "It can't end like this, I won't let it, not when I didn't even tell you that I love you."

You're shaking his arm now, willing him back to you, wanting him to wake. "Wake up and hate me. Just please, wake up, wake up, wake up." You continue like a mantra, each word sounding less coherent as you sob into his hand.

Final part

It’s been about a month since the whole incident at the ARK. It had been a tough month for Zeno, both personally and at work. The Connections wanted answers and he had to give them. 

The facility was destroyed, Gideon was dead and Elpis was gone, well partly. Grace was able to release a single vial, shattering it on the floor, the fumes healing Leon in an instant. The two had scrambled away, leaving Zeno to deal with the aftermath. He had not been close enough to lose his powers, but they had been altered. 

Essentially his powers were diminished. Wounds took longer to heal and his strength really took a hit, especially the first few days after the incident. Fatigue was also something he felt on occasion now, needing more sleep than he used to.

You didn’t care about the ARK or the material damages, what mattered to you was that Zeno was alive and well. You still remember when he had come home that night. It had been on the news, how there was an underground facility found in Raccoon City, still in operation before it was destroyed. According to that specific news outlet, the only survivors were Leon and Grace. Your heart had hammered as you watched, picking up your phone in hopes of any news from him.

It had been about two hours and nothing, no calls, no messages, nothing. You had already bawled your eyes out by the time he finally came home. The door hardly had time to shut before you flung yourself at him, sobbing into his arms. Only later did you find out what happened to him at the facility.

To be honest you were worried, worried that the Connections would come after him because of his “failure”, because of the monetary loss he had caused them. You had begged him not to go to work the next day, pleading that he should leave it all behind. He hadn’t listened, instead he had assured you that it would all be fine. 

And it was, in a way. He was pardoned, but you could still tell that things weren’t as they should be. 

“I’m home,” you shout from the front door, carrying in a bag of groceries as you shut the door with your foot. Truthfully you don’t expect him to be home, it’s more of a common courtesy in case he is. You place your shoes beside the door as you walk in, placing the bag in the kitchen before washing your hands. That’s when you notice the bedroom door, slightly cracked open. Usually you like to keep it closed, you must have forgotten in the morning when you left for work.

You pad over, about to shut it when you notice Zeno sitting on the edge of the bed. Tilting your head you try to get a better look without disturbing him. He seems to be in a trance, his eyes staring at the wall. 

Not wanting to startle him you open the door slowly, hand sliding along the wood to make your presence known. As soon as the door is more than halfway open he seems to snap out of it, looking at you.

You smile at him as you near the bed, taking your jacket off and placing it on a nearby chair. “You came home early, everything alright?” you ask, not wanting to jump to any accusations. It's just uncommon, you can’t remember the last time he was home before you. As you sit next to him you wait for his answer.

“Mhm,” he mutters softly, still not giving you his full attention. 

You find it odd how he is acting, so distant, so unlike him. Usually he is all over you, holding your hand, fingers through your hair or even a kiss. Now he sits there, like a stranger not recognising their own partner. He hasn’t been himself this past month. “Hey,” you whisper, reaching your hand out to his cheek, wanting to turn his head to look at you.

You're surprised when he flinches. He tries to hide it, but it’s obvious. “Did I hurt you?” You whisper, pulling your hand away like it burns. He shakes his head, turning it away from you.

It feels like your heart is breaking, seeing him like this. You don’t want to touch him again, he obviously isn’t responding well to that, so you opt for a comforting tone, trying to coax him back to you. “Zeno.” 

“I’m here to listen,” you add when he doesn’t respond. The silence is killing you, all you want is to help. “Please look at me.” 

You wait patiently for him to react, to turn around so you can talk, to find out what is bothering him. It takes a moment, a moment of him breathing in, to think about what he wants to say. Finally he turns, his eyes cast down as he looks at his lap, remaining silent. 

Following his gaze you realise he is looking at his hands, well his right hand. The one that has the black marks swirling around the back of it, disappearing into the cuff of his sleeve. You frown, eyes furrowing slightly as you observe, looking at his expression, then back to his hands.

“Does it hurt?” 

He just shakes his head again, eyes closing this time instead of turning away from you. 

“I’m not good enough.” He whispers into the silence. His voice shakes, like it pains him to admit it.

You're puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“For you, I’m not good enough for you.”

“Why not, what makes you say that?”

“Look at me!” He snaps, eyes boring into yours before he buries his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. 

You slide off the bed, kneeling in front of him. “I am,” you whisper, placing a soft hand around his ankle, not to restrain, but so he knows you're still there.

“I am weak, I failed, and these idiotic marks just remind me of that fact, the potential I had, but cannot fulfil anymore.”

“You are not weak,”

“I am,” he snaps, taking a deep shaky breath.

“You didn’t fail,”

“Stop,” he warns.

“No, you stop,” you say, pressing on his leg, wanting him to look at you. He finally does, his hands falling away from his face, revealing a red eyed, tear stricken face. 

It makes your heart twist, seeing him like this. You can count on one hand, in fact just hold up one finger to represent how many times he had fallen apart like this in front of you. You sit up, still kneeling, taking his face in your hands, cupping each side of it, thumb brushing away the salty tears. 

“Zeno, it makes no difference to me. You could have lost all of your powers and it wouldn’t have mattered, not to me. You are so much more than your powers and I hope you believe me when I say that.”

Another shaky exhale escapes him. 

“And those marks,” you say kissing the cheekbone that has the black scar on it. 

You continue to kiss all the marks that cover his face, trailing down his neck. You can taste the saltiness with each kiss, but you don’t stop.

When you finally reach the collar of his shirt you stop, burying your face into his neck as you pull him into a hug, arms rubbing up and down his back in a comforting manner. You can feel him shake, but you make no comments on it, simply staying there for as long as he needs.

“I love you, I hope you know that.”