You know it's what you want. I know it's what you want. I know all your secrets, your deepest innermost desires. I am-

Piers jolted up in his bed, panting and covered in a cold sweat. The ceiling fan was on above him, squeaking every now and then as it rotated at a medium-high setting. His skin chilled with the moving air being drafted in the room, causing him to pull his hands up to rub at his arms.

'Wait I don't have-'

But nothing was there. His eyes focused on his right side but there was nothing there. He swore he even felt it move just now, felt the sense of touch whenever he shivered or touched his other arm. He must still be drowsy. That had to be it.

He lowered his left hand, his only hand, and stared at it in contrast to his white sheets. 'I should get another color...' The white only reminded him of the hospital. Thankfully his blanket was a dark gray with a stitched pattern throughout it. Something different.

Sighing aloud to himself, Piers ran his hand down his face. As he did so he felt the sweat sliding as his palm moved over his skin, but something didn't seem quite right about it. It felt like it was too much to be from a cold sweat. In fact, it felt fresh and like he was still sweating. He moved his hand down to stare at it, the moonlight coming from the window allowing him to see, and saw a dark substance covering it.

He quickly realized what it was and scrambled back against his head board, eyes darting about even though he could only see out of his left one. What had happened? He wiped his hand across his sheets, the bright red of the blood staining the pristine white. His breath was heavy as it became more erratic with each passing second. He brought his hand up to his face again, noting that he was shaking something terrible as he moved, and touched around his right eye. Bringing his hand away from it to look, he saw strings of what appeared to be gooey flesh attached to the tips of his fingers.

A pained scream filled the air, echoing off of the walls and resonating through the house.

Piers nearly fell out of the bed as the sheets wouldn't unwrap from his feet as he hurried to the bathroom. He stumbled forward once he reached the doorway, feeling around the light switch as he stared straight at the mirror across from the door. He saw what he hadn't seen in a long time. His face was marred and covered in blood, cracks in the skin connecting to blackened veins which spread down the right side of his neck. But as soon as he found the switch and flicked the light on, the mirror showed him as normal. He looked as he did every day.

"What's going on? What's happening to me?" He kept the light on as he stumbled back into his room. Luckily he kept it tidy so he didn't trip over anything laying on the floor.

"Piers? Piers what's wrong?" A rougher, deeper voice found its way to his ears. Piers turned his head toward his door and quickly ran to it, pressing his body against it as someone tried to open his door. His weight prevented the man from opening the door, only a few inches budging as Chris slammed his shoulder into the wood. "Piers! Open the door!"

'Oh God he sounds angry.' He didn't want him to see him this way. He didn't want to disobey Chris. Even though his body was still fairly weak from his time spent in the hospital and recuperating, his Captain wouldn't push the door too hard in case he hit him with it.

"Piers!" He sounded desperate. Of course Chris would have come to check on him. He screamed without thinking about it, and now he's woken him up and caused him to worry.

"D-Don't worry about it. I just had a... night... mare..." His voice slowly tapered off as he looked down at the ground. The shadows coming from under the door seemed to come alive and swim in his vision. He didn't know what was going on anymore. He vaguely heard Chris call for him again but it sounded as though he were at the end of a very long corridor or perhaps underwater. His head lolled back onto the wooden door as he felt lightheaded. Brief visions of his infected form flashed in his mind, swearing he could feel it every time he saw it in his head.

His left arm was pressed against the wall, still trying to hold the door closed as Chris pounded his fist against it. He felt the door shake with every hit, causing his body to feel as though it was enduring an earthquake. He could feel something of a right arm, he felt the blood and deformed flesh on his face, and he swore he flexed his right fingers and could feel something. Something... What was it?

I am going to make you mine.

The visions came and hit him with such a force he had to hold his head with his hand[s]. His body lurched forward as he fell to his knees, tears streaming only because of the overflow of emotions running through him. He felt hurt, alienated, pain, dishonor, disappointment, hate, rage, and so much more. His eyes shut tightly, trying to block the voice whispering in such a sultry tone in his ear. Coaxing him, goading him, taunting him. It spoke of things he didn't want to hear.

He never wanted to save you. You were a monster! You are a monster! How dare he sympathize with you and show you false compassion. You are nothing to him.

"That's... not... true..!" Piers grit his teeth, jaw aching terribly from the pressure. He couldn't tell if he had both hands or not anymore. He couldn't tell if Chris was still behind him at the door. He couldn't tell if he was relapsing in his memory or was still dreaming. He saw the time he injected himself. Saw the things he remembered seeing in the underwater facility. He remembered killing the other chrysalids and ultimately the Haos which had been after them.

But worst of all... He remembered the urges he had to hurt Chris.

All those moments where Chris tried to convince him he was going to be alright. They were going to get out together, he would be okay. It didn't matter that he infected himself with the C-Virus. They were going to stay alive.

He recalled all of Chris' words and how he had given them those long stares while he'd consoled him. And he'd wanted to kill him...

He's a liar!

"No..." Piers shook his head, hand gripping at his hair as the headache overwhelmed him. Everything on his right side hurt. It hurt so bad. So fucking bad. The pain was indescribable, too scorching to place in words. The sort of pain that has you bordering on being knocked unconscious to save yourself the abuse.

"Open. This. Door!" Chris was beginning to sound more and more angry by the minute. He tried the door handle again and found that it wasn't being jammed anymore, pushing it open far enough so he could get inside without hitting Piers.

"Piers. Piers, what's wrong?" Concern was etched across his face, him kneeling next to the younger man and placing his hands upon his shoulders. He gave him a gentle shake to try and gain his attention.

"I..." Piers could barely speak with the pain coursing through him. He wanted to scream again but his vocal chords wouldn't let him. Chris' hands on his shoulders caused him to look up at him, tears still spilling from the corner of his left eye.

There he goes again. He doesn't care. You are only a nuisance to him. A liability.

"No!" The younger man shoved his superior away from him, moving to crawl away and put as much distance between them as possible. He managed to get away and curl up with his legs to his chest near the wall by his bed. "Stay... Stay away." His body was shaking nonstop, the pain having dissipated enough to allow him to think clearly again for now. With Chris there, it brought back his sense of reality.

Chris hadn't been expecting the sight he found. He had been wishing, hoping that it had been another one of his nightmares. If only it was just that. Piers looked so shaken as though he were going insane. It was the most pitiful sight he'd ever seen the soldier in. He approached him once more, kneeling before him despite his protests.

Kill him.

"No! No! No!" Piers kept repeating himself, voice raising with each word he exclaimed. Blood. It was everywhere. His eyes glazed over again with the surreal visions displayed before him. Him, a monster, and Chris, gore splattered across his features.

Kill him. Kill him...! Kill him!

A passing vehicle glared its lights through the window, lights highlighting the room for a few seconds before disappearing into darkness once more. His good eye's pupil constricting and then dilating once the light passed. The sudden change caused his mind to snap out of the hallucination. "Chris..." Brows furrows as he whispered his Captain's name. His voice sounded hoarse and pained, his left hand coming up to weakly grasp onto the front of the older man's shirt.

"Piers. Shh. It's going to be alright. Do you understand me?" Chris reached forward to grab the back of the man's neck and pull him forward, his other hand coming up to grab the one at his chest. "Come on." Slowly he helped Piers stand up, wrapping one of his arms around his back to steady him. The younger man was still shaking and could barely stand on his own two feet.

"Chris... I... I'm sorry." His voice was nothing more than a whisper at this point. His eyes seemed zoned out, almost as though he were trying to repress something.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for. Now come on." He helped him out the door, down the hall, and into his own room. He set the man down on his bed and turned the light on.

"I... It tried to make me..."

"What are you talking about?" Chris moved to sit next to him, though he gave him ample space just in case.

"The virus... it... I hear a voice sometimes... Like mine, but... different." He paused for a moment, teeth taking in his bottom lip to chew at it in a nervous habit. "And... every time I hear it... It wants me to... well, give in to the virus. And it wanted me to kill you." He looked up to his Captain, the most saddened expression on his face. "I mean- I wasn't going to! I would never-"

"I understand," Chris shook his head and held his hand up to quiet Piers. "Look, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. Stay in here tonight so I can keep an eye on you, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen. I won't let it." He placed a hand on the smaller man's back. "And in the morning we're going to go see someone. A friend of mine. Alright?"

Piers slowly nodded his head and swallowed hard. It wasn't long past midnight, was it? "Alright..." The night was going to last forever. But at least Chris would be there for him. He felt his eyes close in his exhaustion. Chris would be his hold on reality. Just like back then, when he fought so hard against the virus trying to take over his body. Even now, he would continue to believe Chris despite all of the voices telling him otherwise. He would not give in.

But the doubts were there. The virus was there. What if Chris wasn't around for the next episode? Why had it only started acting up like this now? Before it was only nightmares, and all of a sudden he was having hallucinations during his waking life. Hopefully they would get their answers the next day.

Until then he would continue to cling onto his only hope, his only reminder of reality.