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Sweat drips down his forehead, his eye trying to stay focused onto the dummy target through his scope. His grip on the rifle tightens and his finger is touching the trigger, but he does not push it. His body aches all over, dizziness making his vision shake and a string of nausea rising up. Even with the countdown echoing through his head, he doesn't know how long he's been like this. So close to shooting, yet not. Doubts creep onto his thoughts, and he thinks he should simply stop for today. But he hears the step of the companion along his side. Watching him, probably growing with worry. Knowing that, he swallows dryly. And before a voice can be raised voicing any kind of concern or question, he shots. Despite his condition it is not a missed shot - and the target's head is blown off effortlessly. He is still the ace. He would never miss a shot. He couldn't be allowed to. Yet it's not knowledge met with pride, it is met with weariness and bitterness.
He lowers the weapon that was far too heavy on his hand. A deep breath is taken, but he can't stop just yet. The guy comes right next to his side - no, the kid. If memory served right, he wasn't more than 21. It was a young age, far too young in truth, to be throwing himself on the battlefield shedding away life to become a soldier to fight for a cause. But it wasn't out of the ordinary - not in this kind of world. He would know, after all. He had served in the military alone from a young age from a choice he wasn't sure was his anymore, and employed in the BSAA later on. Looking at him, he wondered if he had been given a choice. But the eyes he looks into aren't filled with fear, but with excitement... happiness, even. He remembers when those were his own, and he has to resist to look away.
"T-That was amazing, sir!"
Instead, he offers the best smile he can give. He felt keeping up such an appearance was his duty. "I dunno how you keep being so impressed, kid." Even with those words, there's a light-hearted note. Maybe it was all a lie, but it was convincing enough and that's what mattered. The younger wasn't just any soldier. He was one of his soldiers, a member of Alpha Team - all trained under him. He didn't want to bring him down. He wanted to keep believing in what little he still had with hope, and to pass it down to his soldiers and family. Just like they were all passed down to him, once. No matter how he hurt, no matter how bitter it was, no matter how much he still hated being called something like Captain. How he was praised by everyone, how everyone revered him as a sort of hero and believed in the future he would create. But it wasn't that he hated this world. All it was is that he had never been cut out for this. He had believed with his full heart that the future rested on someone else.
How long has it been?
It had been a long time since he was left behind, and not too long before he was officially declared as the Captain in the face of the tragedy that struck. It all happened too fast for his shock and grief to pass. He couldn't think, couldn't sleep, but he went through the motions even as he was struck by pure despair. The news would break everywhere, and even he would have to mouth it on his own to loved ones like Claire and Jill. There were many reactions like his own. He could see his own cracks in the grief and disbelief that fell upon Jill, or how Claire took the shock like it was all a cruel joke. Sometimes he would believe that too. He would think that it was all a dream. He would go in one day, and his pain would be stopped by a strong hand coming to rest atop his shoulder. As he would look around with widened eyes, he would see the face of Chris. But the reality was that such a thing never happened.
Piers was here. He was alive. And sometimes he struggled to find the reason as to why.
"...So," He breaks the silence that had fallen between the two, finally setting down his rifle and reaching a hand up to wipe his forehead. He curses his wandering mind for not being enough, letting their conversations end so coldly. Even now, he knew he couldn't live up to what Chris, or anyone, believed him to be. "Excited for your first mission? It's not gonna take too much before you're out there in the battlefield."
"I am, sir!" Despite the awkward moment, he brims with enthusiasm with only a tiny hint of hesitation. "Though, uh... I wanted to talk with you about that, Captain, if-- if it's okay, because--"
"Calm down, soldier." Piers' tone is firm, but he makes sure it remains warm. "We can talk about it."
"It's just that-- You, you look busy often-- I don't like, want to bother you with something... stupid--"
"I am busy with my job, and my job is making sure you're all safe. That includes you as much as anyone else. Just tell me what's on your mind."
There's a pause between them, and the younger looks down. As Piers came to know, he seemed like a nervous guy. Found it hard to talk to people, especially his superiors. That made it all the more important to make sure he was included and that he felt it was okay to come talk to him. He still didn't know if he was even accomplishing anything resembling that, no matter how he tried. All he knew was what he saw in front of him - the soldier perking up with a sharp exhale before he would speak again, and Piers would listen closely to the worries.
"...It's... kinda scary. It's not like I'm going to run out on everyone or something, but I wonder if... I can really make it."
His lips pursue with the last words said. For the moment, he realizes he doesn't know what words to offer. Even after going through this process for a while, he continues to fail and beat himself up for it. His hand balling into a fist, all he has to fall back on - once more - is the repeating flashes of his Captain-- Chris, comforting him, offering kind words to the other soldiers, reassuring Finn. With a gut-wrenching feeling, he knows the one before him makes him think of Finn, and perhaps that was why he had also taken such a note on the anxiety displayed which the deceased soldier also suffered from. Irony, he thought of that word as if it was anything comforting and not doom. how ironic.
His hand falls onto the shoulder of his soldier.
"Huh...?"
"Shape up. What we're going to face is not easy, and it's never going to be. But you can pull through it. I've got your back and I'll make damn sure you get out alive... as your Captain."
He says that with a strong voice with the pain of the title cutting him down to the bone. Did he ever really believe that? How many people had he lost by now, how many had he failed to protect? How much did he tell himself that he would keep someone safe only to fall? He thinks of Merah dying in his arms with a promise that he couldn't keep, or yet again the last sight of Chris that he tried to desperately reach and call out to as they were chased down at the end of the facility.
It was all just pretending.
The only response he gets is a quiet nod. Seeing that, Piers nods back reassuringly and pulls away. Finally, he allows himself to turn away. His eyes take a quick glance at the guns left on the table before settling on the targets ahead of them one more time, focusing on the bullet marks spread across all of them. His mind is becoming so distant, that he can barely hear the soft signal of gratitude.
"...thank... thank you, sir."
"...don't mention it." He decides that, after all, he has done what he can for the day. "Go and get some rest now, you're gonna need it if we do get called."
Nothing more is said, and like at the end of any day - the soldier reluctantly leaves, having taken a last peek before completely stepping out. Piers should be taking his own advice, he knows. But he also knows that he can't make it yet another day, that thought eating him away more and more with every week, and instead he only sits down and stares at nothing when he knows he's completely alone. Running a hand through his hair slowly, he shuts his eyes so tight it could hurt. Exhaustion overtakes his being and he just lets it, wanting all these moments - even his own existence as it was now - to end right in that instant. With that thought in mind, he's brought back on his memories. Growing up, his parents and siblings, the tunes of how his family was compromised of heroes and he had to continue that line, working in the military, becoming lost with the views of his superiors - being found by Chris...
( Passing by Merah's side and exchanging smiles with the topic of food, his view would still fall to his Captain walking ahead of them. He would stop when Chris did, a fading smile giving way to a concerned frown. He felt like there was something wrong today. Merah would look between them - before she lightly pushed Piers and shook her head with a light smile, the sniper trying to give it back again with a protest and rolling his eyes with the same playfulness - but he kept looking on to Chris with worry. Thankfully, Chris would turn around with an apology for being so tense today and the usual warm, but tired, smile. Piers was grateful to at least hear something from him, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. But he wanted to say something, in spite of when he didn't know what it was. )
He had always struggled with that feeling.
"I... want to help you, Captain."
"I'm always going to be here for you. Just... count on me."
He could never tell him about how he felt, not completely.
I...
Continuing to fall deep into slumber, he has that dream once more. He sees him again, before saying goodbye.
The lingering pain spreading across his rib-cage and going down his arm, the sound of water and Chris screaming his name...
If I could go back...
...I would die.
For you, for the BSAA, for a better future.
He drowns with a smile.