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It had been very, very difficult.
For everyone.
After China, Piers had gone through every stage of grief and pain imaginable.
Leon had been on furlough, of course, which meant he had watched it all unfold firsthand.
Their relationship had barely begun. After months of circling around each other, a handful of dates squeezed between missions had turned into something much bigger than either of them had expected. They had been officially together for a mere six months.
Long enough to have both realized they were deeply in love. Had been for a while.
Long enough to have whispered the words beneath a sky full of stars, on the rooftop of an abandoned building during a memorable joint operation.
Not long enough for Leon to be considered family, and be able to enter his room in the hospital.
Those first few days had been agonizing. Every morning, he had shown up at the BSAA medical wing, only to be told the same thing.
“I’m sorry. You’re not a next-of-kin. I can’t tell you anything, Agent Kennedy.”
Leon had waited in front of the doors anyway.
Piers was in pain.
An unimaginable amount of it.
Piers was still undergoing surgery every other day. Still being monitored. The doctors ran test after test, making sure the mutation had been completely eradicated and posed no danger to anyone else.
They removed what remained of his right arm. Excised the last traces of the mutation. Tried to save his eye (and failed). Removed more tumors. Changed dressings. Managed infections. Kept him sedated as often as they could.
Leon learned all of this from hurried medical updates from Chris, whenever the captain could grab some info.
There was nothing he could do.
So he waited.
Eventually, a single sheet of paper signed by Captain Chris Redfield had found its way onto the right person’s desk.
After that, nobody had questioned Leon’s presence anymore.
When he was finally allowed inside, Piers barely seemed aware of his surroundings. Between the painkillers and the surgeries, he drifted in and out of sleep, exhausted before he could even keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes. He looked so young, without the army uniform, the attitude, the scowl, the self-assurance. He looked like a wounded kid, lost in his hospital bed.
As the days passed, the medication eased.
The pain didn’t.
When Piers finally regained enough consciousness to be aware of his presence, relief had hit him so hard it almost hurt.
Piers was alive.
Pale. Exhausted. Covered in bandages. Missing an arm.
But alive.
Leon had wanted nothing more than to wrap him in his arms and never let go.
Instead, Piers had barely looked at him.
And he had not smiled once.
The medication kept pulling him under, but even during the brief moments he was awake, he seemed… distant. As if there was an invisible wall between them that Leon couldn’t quite reach through.
Leon had told himself it was the pain.
Then the exhaustion.
Then the drugs.
Days passed.
The wall stayed.
Every morning, Leon walked into that room hoping to see even the smallest glimpse of the man he’d fallen in love with.
Every evening, he left wondering if he had somehow done something wrong.
Leon did everything he could think of.
He brought decent coffee to replace the hospital’s. Brought takeout when Piers was finally allowed real food.
Books. Games. Music.
Anything that might remind him there was still a world outside those four white walls.
“Do you need anything?”
“…No. I’m okay.”
It was always the same answer.
The worst part wasn’t the silence.
It was that, when Piers was asleep, he would instinctively curl his fingers around Leon’s hand whenever Leon reached for him. Would whisper his name. Would sigh, and sometimes even smile, when Leon squeezed his hand back.
But when he was awake…
He only stared out the window. And said almost nothing. Sometimes he would seem appeased, then… think about something? And obviously try everything he could to prevent tears from falling.
Usually Leon pretended to check something with the nurses so that Piers could have some privacy. He would come back after half an hour, finding Piers, eyes red, looking exhausted, and still oozing absolute sadness.
Days turned into weeks.
Leon had walked into the room as he always did, making sure to approach from Piers’ left so he wouldn’t startle him.
Piers was sitting up in bed, his gaze fixed on the window.
Leon didn’t say anything at first.
He simply pulled up a chair beside him and sat in silence for a while.
Then he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Piers’ cheek.
Piers was startled out of his reverie, and had looked at him with curiosity, holding his hand out to his cheek. Touching it where he had been kissed.
“I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” Leon said quietly. “But I’m here whenever you’re ready to tell me. I still love you.”
He smiled.
“This changes nothing.”
For the first time in days, Piers actually looked at him.
Really looked at him.
His expression crumbled.
Almost without thinking, he lifted both arms to cradle Leon’s face.
His left hand reached its destination.
His right hand didn’t.
The movement stopped halfway.
Piers froze.
His eyes dropped to the empty space where his arm should have been, then to the single hand resting awkwardly against Leon’s cheek.
He pulled it back immediately.
“…I can’t even hug you properly.”
Leon frowned.
“…What?”
Piers shook his head.
“I can’t hug you anymore.”
Piers looked away again, his eyes drifting back to the window.
Leon didn’t let the silence intimidate him this time.
There was something else.
Something much bigger than a hug.
He quietly sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough that their knees almost brushed.
“What do you mean?”
Piers let out a slow breath.
“…I only have one arm.”
Leon glanced at the bandaged stump before looking back at him.
“I noticed.”
“…I can’t hug you properly.”
“Then you’ll hug me with your left arm.”
Piers didn’t answer.
Leon waited.
“…What else?”
Another long silence.
“…I’ll never hold a sniper rifle again.” Piers’ voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m useless in combat.”
Leon shook his head immediately.
“That’s not true. You could teach. Coordinate missions. Work intelligence. Become a sort of FOS? Hell, Hunnigan’s one of the most capable people I know, and she doesn’t snipe.”
He tilted his head.
“Are you seriously trying to tell me she’s useless?”
“…No.”
“Then what is this really about?”
Piers opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Leon could almost see him fighting with himself.
Whatever he was carrying, it had been eating away at him ever since China.
So Leon did the only thing he could.
He stayed quiet.
And he waited.
“…I can’t marry you.”
Leon blinked.
“… you what?”
Of all the things he had expected Piers to say, that hadn’t even crossed his mind.
They had only been together for six months. Well, a little more, since China, but they hadn’t done more than holding hands since Piers had woken up, and…
They’d never talked about marriage.
Never talked about rings.
Never even joked about it.
Piers immediately looked away, a faint flush creeping across his face as if he regretted letting the words escape.
Leon reached up and gently cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze back toward him.
“Hey.”
His voice was soft.
“Talk to me.”
“…It’s stupid.”
Leon smiled, just enough to ease the tension.
“Good.”
Piers frowned.
“So am I,” Leon said. “Spit it out.”
Piers hesitated for what felt like forever.
“…I know it hasn’t been that long.”
Leon stayed silent.
“…But I thought… You know, I thought we were good for each other.”
“… We are!”
He swallowed.
“…I thought maybe one day…”
Another pause.
“…I’d ask you.”
Leon’s eyes widened just a fraction.
Piers gave a small, embarrassed laugh that sounded far too close to breaking.
“I’d imagined it.”
He stared past Leon again, seeing something that wasn’t there.
“Getting down on one knee. Holding out a ring box to you. Watching you smile.”
His voice cracked.
“I can’t picture it anymore.”
He glanced down toward the empty space beside him.
“I’d look ridiculous.”
Another shaky breath.
“I’d probably lose my balance.”
Silence settled between them.
“…And I’m…”
The last words barely made it out.
“…I’m missing an arm.”
He couldn’t bring himself to say anything harsher.
“…Why would you ever marry someone like me? It’s like… I’m mourning a future that we haven’t ever talked about. I’m sorry.”
His gaze drifted back toward the window.
As though the answer might be waiting somewhere beyond the glass.
But there was nothing out there.
The only person who could answer that question was sitting right beside him.
Leon simply stared at him.
For a long moment, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
Not because he didn’t have an answer.
But because, somehow, in the middle of all this pain, Piers had just admitted he’d been imagining a future with him.
Marriage.
Rings.
Growing old together.
Leon needed a minute to recover from that.
Maybe two.
He was only human.
Then he smiled.
A small, impossibly gentle smile.
“You don’t have to love what’s happened to you,” he said quietly. “You just… have to embrace that it’s who you are now.”
His thumb stroked Piers’ cheek.
“And personally?”
He shrugged.
“You’re more than enough for me. Even with only one arm.”
He let the words settle before adding, almost casually:
“…If it helps…”
Another smile.
“I’m gonna say yes.”
That finally tore Piers’ eyes away from the window.
They landed on Leon and didn’t leave.
“…What?”
“When you ask me.”
Leon’s smile widened.
“I’m going to say yes.”
Piers just stared.
“…Why?”
Leon looked almost offended by the question.
“Because I love you, for starters.”
He leaned a little closer.
“And because you’re the first person who’s ever looked at me, really looked at me, and decided I was worth loving anyway.”
His smile softened.
“You know all my flaws. You know exactly who I am… So why wouldn’t I be allowed to love you the same way?”
Piers’ lips parted, but no sound came out.
After a long silence, he tried one last time.
“…But… I can’t fight? Are you sure?”
Leon glanced at the bandaged stump for barely a second before looking back into Piers’ eyes.
“I really don’t care.”
Then, with the tiniest grin:
“…Lucky for you, you’ve still got your ring finger, correct?”
Piers instinctively looked down at his left hand.
He slowly curled his fingers.
Then nodded.
Leon couldn’t help smiling.
“…So wedding rings are not even an issue. Are you asking me right now?”
“No!”
The answer came so fast they both laughed.
Piers rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking so young. And hopeful.
“…I don’t even have a ring.”
Leon leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
He brushed their noses together before stealing one kiss.
Then another.
“Well,” he murmured, “let’s solve one problem at a time.”
Another kiss.
“You get out of this hospital.”
Another.
“Get your shit together.”
Another.
“Then we’ll go shopping.”
He smiled against Piers’ lips.
“Deal?”
Piers nodded, tears gathering in his eyes.
Leon kissed them away without a word.
Then, because he couldn’t resist lightening the mood just a little, he whispered against his ear:
“…Besides…”
He grinned.
“We both know you don’t even need two hands to get me off properly.”
From that day on, Piers made himself a promise.
He would be worth it.
Worth Leon’s faith. Worth his love. Worth the future Leon still seemed so certain they had together.
It wasn’t easy.
Acceptance didn’t come overnight.
There were good days, and there were awful ones.
Days where he refused to leave his room.
Days where he snapped at physical therapists who were only trying to help.
Days where getting dressed with one hand felt like an impossible task.
But little by little, he stopped fighting reality quite so hard.
He learned how to button a shirt with one hand.
How to pour himself a cup of coffee.
How to eat with only one utensil.
How to let Leon hug him without instinctively apologizing for only having one arm to hug him back.
It wasn’t happiness.
But it was a beginning.
Two weeks later, Leon arrived at the hospital with his usual bag of takeout, determined once again to rescue Piers from another evening of hospital food.
A doctor with a BSAA uniform was already inside the room.
Leon waited outside, not wanting to interrupt.
The conversation went on much longer than usual.
When the doctor finally left, Piers was still sitting on the bed.
Smiling.
Leon nearly dropped the bag in surprise.
“Well, look at that…” he said as he stepped inside. “There’s my favourite smile. What happened?”
Piers looked as though he still couldn’t quite believe it himself.
“They think I might be eligible for a prosthetic.”
Leon froze.
“…What?”
“It’s experimental,” Piers hurried to explain. “They’ve been developing military prosthetics for wounded operatives. If I regain enough control in my shoulder and chest… they think I could qualify.”
He laughed softly, almost breathlessly.
“It wouldn’t just replace my arm.”
He looked down at the empty sleeve pinned to his hospital gown.
“It’d be… better. More precise.”
He tried to remember all of the promises.
“Integrated communications. Vitals monitoring.”
Then, almost in a whisper:
“…I might be able to hold a sniper rifle again.”
He looked back at Leon, completely overwhelmed.
“I… I don’t even know what to say.”
Leon crossed the room in three strides, cupped his face, and kissed him before he could say another word.
“Say thank you when they come back.”
Another kiss.
“And then…”
A mischievous smile spread across his face.
“…Ask me.”
Piers laughed. A real laugh this time.
“…Not yet.”
He ducked his head, suddenly shy again.
“I’m not ready yet. But… that doesn’t mean…”
Leon’s grin widened, and he couldn’t red teasing him a little bit.
“…What? You want me to propose instead?”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Why not?”
“I’ll say no. Don’t rob me of this.”
Leon burst out laughing.
“Liar. Alright then. I promise I’ll let you do it.”
They kissed until the takeout had long since gone cold.
It took time.
A lot of time.
And a lot of painful therapy sessions.
Piers was eventually cleared to return to the BSAA base, where he continued his rehabilitation surrounded by people who understood what he had been through.
Chris came often.
So did the rest of the team.
But the biggest change was much simpler.
Leon moved in.
He was still on furlough, unable to return to active missions while the government sorted out the aftermath of China.
And, at some point, they had both realized something almost ridiculous.
Leon hadn’t slept at his own apartment in months.
The place was a bit small for two people, but neither of them cared. They were almost constantly glued together anyway.
It was home. They had time to look for a bigger place whenever they felt like it.
Leon was there for every step of the recovery.
The moment Piers set himself a goal, he threw everything he had into reaching it: regaining enough control and strength to qualify for the prosthetic program.
Every day was scheduled around therapy.
Physical therapy.
Mental therapy.
Training sessions to learn how to move through the world differently.
Hours at the gym.
Time on the running track.
Every training module the BSAA would allow him to attend.
And Leon was there whenever he could be.
Cheering him on.
Training beside him.
Eating together in the mess hall.
Stealing kisses in empty hallways whenever they had the chance.
And every evening, they went back home together.
Not to talk about what Piers had lost.
But to enjoy what they still had.
They learned each other all over again.
How to hug with only one arm.
How to adjust their positions when something hurt.
How to find new ways to pleasure each other.
How to prove, again and again, that two hands each had never been the thing that made them whole.
Then, one day, the answer finally came.
Piers had been approved.
The prototype was ready.
It was unlike anything he had imagined. The BSAA had been developing a new generation of military prosthetics, not just to help wounded operatives regain what they had lost, but to give them the possibility of returning stronger than before.
Piers had become the first soldier selected for the program.
Not because they saw him as broken.
But because they believed he could be the beginning of something new.
The first fitting took place early in the morning.
For hours, Piers was surrounded by doctors, engineers, physical therapists, and BSAA personnel, all carefully adjusting the prototype, monitoring his reactions, and teaching him how to begin communicating with it.
It was painful.
It was frustrating.
It was nothing like having his old arm back.
But that had never been the promise.
It was a beginning.
When he finally left the medical wing, the prototype was still attached to his shoulder. He had been given one simple instruction:
Go live.
Walk around the base.
Get used to the weight.
Let his body adjust.
Then come back in an hour so they could make more adjustments and remove the prosthetic until the next session.
The first thing Piers did when he left the medical wing was call Leon.
He didn’t even let him ask questions.
“Stay there. Don’t move.”
Then he hung up and almost ran all the way back to the apartment.
For the first time in months, the future didn’t feel like something he had to mourn.
It felt possible again.
Holding a rifle.
Going on missions.
Holding Leon’s hand.
Hugging him.
Maybe, someday…
Holding out a ring box with both hands.
He unlocked the door with his left hand, still the one he trusted most, and practically burst into the living room.
Leon was waiting for him on the couch.
He immediately stood up when he heard the door open.
And then he saw it.
His expression changed instantly.
Not pity.
Not hesitation.
Just pure excitement.
“Hey,” Leon said, grinning. “It looks amazing! How did it go?”
Piers looked down at the unfamiliar piece of technology attached to him.
“Painful. At first.”
He flexed his fingers carefully.
“But I’ll get used to it.”
Leon stepped closer, looking at it with the same fascination Piers had seen in the doctors’ eyes, except warmer.
“I love it.”
Then he looked back at him.
“Are you happy?”
Piers hesitated.
“…Yeah.”
A small smile appeared.
“Yeah, I am.”
Leon’s own smile grew.
“Can you move it yet?”
Piers let out a small laugh. Tried moving it, but he was tired, and had been working at it for hours. The fingers didn’t move right away.
“Yeah. I mean… technically.”
He tried again, concentrating.
“It’s not exactly easy yet. But the doctors are really hopeful.”
Leon smiled and stepped closer, giving Piers a moment to recover before reaching out.
His fingertips hovered just above the prosthetic for a second, as though asking permission without words.
Piers gave a tiny nod.
Only then did Leon touch it.
His fingers traced the cool metal with quiet curiosity, following the smooth lines of the forearm, studying every joint and every plate with the same gentle attention he usually reserved for memorizing the freckles on Piers’s skin.
There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in the gesture.
Only fascination.
“It seems…” Leon tilted his head thoughtfully. “Smaller than I expected.”
Piers glanced down at it.
“Oh, yeah. It’s just the prototype. They only needed the core systems working for now.” He tapped lightly against the metallic forearm with his other hand. “Once everything’s stable, they’re adding more parts.”
Leon looked up.
“Parts?”
“Add-ons, basically. First the module that’ll monitor my vitals. Then the one that’ll broadcast my position if I’m ever in trouble.” He shrugged. “And then they’ll take proper measurements and build it out so it matches my other arm.”
Leon blinked.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Piers smiled. “Apparently it’s important for balance.”
Leon burst out laughing.
“For balance?”
He gestured vaguely toward the prosthetic.
“What are they going to do, give you little metal biceps? Seriously, have they seen your arms?”
Piers laughed too, shaking his head.
“Not biceps.” He looked back at the arm, trying to picture the finished version. “Just… I don’t know. Fill it out a bit.”
Leon continued examining it with open curiosity.
“I had no idea prosthetics came with cosmetic options.” He looked back at Piers, a mischievous grin slowly appearing. “… Think they take custom requests?”
Piers couldn’t help laughing again.
God…
It felt good.
So unbelievably good.
They weren’t tiptoeing around it.
They weren’t pretending it wasn’t there.
It was simply becoming part of their life.
Part of him. Maybe that’s what Leon had meant about embracing it.
“I didn’t know you had a prosthetic kink,” he teased.
Leon didn’t miss a beat.
“I have a you kink.”
His thumb brushed absentmindedly over the metal wrist.
“I can’t wait to figure out everything we can do with it. It’ll be so fun.”
The words hit Piers with surprising force.
His smile faltered.
Ever since losing his arm, he’d caught himself wondering, over and over, whether Leon would still see him the same way.
Whether he’d be repulsed by him and his missing arm.
Whether this piece of metal would always be the first thing people saw.
It had never once crossed his mind that Leon might look at it…
…and think it was beautiful simply because it belonged to him.
Leon frowned ever so slightly.
“Hey.”
Piers looked up.
“What?”
Leon smiled, impossibly soft.
“I mean it.”
He lifted Piers’ mechanical hand between both of his, the servos resisting a little before giving way, and kissed the metal knuckles as naturally as he would have kissed skin, then looked back into his eyes.
“I just think you’re ridiculously handsome.”
Piers stared at the prosthetic for a long moment.
The fingers were unfamiliar.
The movements weren’t natural yet.
He concentrated, willing them to respond.
Slowly, carefully, they curled.
It was awkward. Delayed. Imperfect.
But it moved.
Leon was already smiling before Piers even looked up.
“Hey,” he said softly. “That’s a good start.”
Piers swallowed.
He looked at Leon.
Then at the arm.
Then back at Leon.
For months, he had imagined all the things he wanted to do again with two hands.
Holding a rifle.
Going on missions.
Proving he was still useful.
But now that he finally had a chance to use it…
There was only one thing he wanted.
Slowly, uncertainly, he lifted his new arm.
“Can I try something?”
Leon didn’t hesitate.
“Anything.”
The movement was far from perfect.
The prosthetic reacted a fraction too late, and a sharp discomfort pulled through Piers’ shoulder as he reached around him.
But Leon didn’t wait for him to get it right.
He stepped closer.
He adjusted himself.
He made it easier.
Because this had never been about the arm.
It had always been about him.
Piers’ arm finally settled around Leon’s back.
Solid.
Real.
He closed his eyes, breathing him in like he was afraid the moment would disappear.
“… Never thought I’d be able to hug you again.”
Leon held him tighter.
“…And yet here we are.”