"Chris is down! We need a chopper!" Command were quick to come back, asking about the status of the rest of the team but Piers' mind was focussed on only one thing. "Didn't you hear me? Captain Redfield is down – send a chopper now!" Leaning back against the wall of the derelict alley in which he'd sought refuge for them, Piers cradled Chris' head on his lap. There was very little blood but Chris was out cold and Piers was no medic but he knew enough to understand the seriousness of a head injury. In an ideal world, he'd have left Chris where he was until trained help arrived, but it wasn't an ideal world and Piers was well aware that in dragging Chris to safety, he may well have caused the man further damage

Distantly, he could hear the braying of more creatures. The crash of timber and stone as they tore through buildings, rampaged along streets, no doubt hunting for the two that got away. Piers checked his rifle and ammo. If the worst came to the worst, he had enough left that he could make a stand and, if he had to, he'd run and lead the beasts away from the fallen captain. His blood felt like ice in his veins, cold dread seizing his heart. If Chris died…

No, he couldn't afford to think like that. The captain was made of sterner stuff than that. He'd received a blow to the head and had been knocked out. That didn't mean he was in any immediate danger of shuffling off this mortal coil. Keeping one hand on his rifle, Piers used the other to wipe some dirt from the other man's face, his thumb gliding over Chris' cheek.

"Stay with me, Captain," he murmured even though he knew Chris wouldn't hear him. "The world needs you." Unspoken, but underlying Piers' statement: I need you. To him, Chris was the ultimate hero. Though he and Chris had locked horns during the course of their mission in this shitty little country, Piers had the utmost respect and admiration for the man. Familiar with his work up to current date, Piers was well aware of who Chris was, and all that he'd achieved, before ever setting eyes on him. Meeting the great man and seeing for himself Chris' flaws and frailties had done nothing to diminish Piers' admiration. If anything, it enhanced his reverence. He saw Chris as a man who had been through so much, so many losses and perceived failures yet battled on for the good of the world. For him to be lost now would be a true tragedy.

The unconscious man stirred, a small frown furrowing his brow and Piers held his breath. When Chris opened his eyes, just a fraction, his lids fluttering as he tried to focus, Piers let out that breath slowly. He'd never been a religious man, neither of his parents were church-goers and he'd always thought himself too pragmatic to believe in a higher power, but in those few seconds as Chris came around, Piers offered up a small prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening. His relief was short-lived, however. With a soft groan, Chris' eyes fell closed again and he once more slipped into unconsciousness. It was something, though. Proof that he was still there.

"Come on…" Turning his head skywards, Piers looked up past the high walls of the buildings lining the alley at the snatch of grey up above. The streets had fallen silent but for the constant drip-drip of a leaking drainpipe. No sound of rotors or the hum of an engine in the air. It was as if they'd been forgotten about. The two sole survivors of a mission that could only be counted as half-successful. Granted, they'd exterminated the giant BOWs and had taken out a great many other enemies, but the rest of their team was lost. Piers could only imagine how Chris must have felt watching his squadron fall victim to mutation. It was a commander's worst nightmare, to lose those for whom he had a duty of care. Bad enough for Piers to watch the painful transformation of his colleagues and friends into the chrysalids, but worse for Chris.

"When we get home, we should go out for a beer or two." Look to the future. That was Piers' rationale. Be optimistic and believe that everything would be okay. "You can regale me with some of your stories. I'm sure you have plenty."

The light of day was beginning to fade and with the setting sun came the raw, creeping chill of night. Heaving a sigh, his breath coming out in plumes in the cold air, Piers checked it watch to see how long it had been since putting in his call for aid. Fifteen minutes, but it felt like more. His legs were beginning to go numb with the weight of Chris upon them, but he didn't move. He didn't want to disturb the captain and so he would just put up with it and wait for however long it took for rescue to arrive. As if his thoughts had been heard by someone, somewhere, Piers heard the faint crackle of static on his radio that preceded a voice.

"Alpha team, chopper is en route to your location. Please be ready for extraction." There was a pause before the voice came through again. "Medic is on board."

"You hear that, Captain?" Piers could hardly keep the glee out of his voice. "They're on their way. We'll be out of here in no time at all."

Piers set his rifle aside and then, very carefully, he lifted Chris' head, supporting it at the back as he slid himself out from under the man. It was hard to not jostle Chris, but unfortunately, moving was necessary. They'd been told to be ready and there was no way the helicopter would be landing in the alley. The streets were still fraught with danger, countless creatures roaming them. In and out. That was what the extraction team would expect and that was what they would get. Slipping off his jacket, he one-handedly rolled it into a makeshift pillow for Chris and put it on the ground before gently lowering the man onto it.

"Don't worry, Captain. I'm not going far." He didn't mean to do it, but as he spoke to Chris, offering reassurance that wouldn't be heard, Piers touched the other man's cheek with his fingertips. A light, fleeting, tender touch that was more suited to lovers than commander and subordinate. As soon as he realised what he was doing, Piers yanked back his hand as if scalded, cheeks colouring with mortification. Simmering beneath his worry, his dread, his admiration for his injured captain, feelings that Piers was neither ready to acknowledge or deal with. Not yet and certainly not while Chris' life hung in the balance.

Before he had a chance to dwell on or question what had just happened, Piers picked up the sound of the helicopter in the distance. Pushing all other thoughts to the back of his mind, Piers grabbed his rifle, straightened up and edged towards the opening of the alley. From what he could see, there were no creatures in sight; the way was clear for the helicopter to land. The sounds of its engine and the whump-whump of its rotor-blades slicing through the air grew louder. Turning to the direction from which the sound came, Piers squinted, trying to spot the craft, but it was still too far away.

From deep within the alley, a rumbling groan came and Piers whipped around to see Chris attempting to sit up. He was shaky, his arm buckling at the elbow and Piers rushed back to his side, crouching down to speak softly to him.

"Captain, you shouldn't-"

"Where is she?" Chris almost growled, then winced in pain and sank back down. "That woman. Where is she?"

"Gone. Escaped, sir." He could see the expression of anguish on Chris' face as he recalled the final few moments before he was knocked out. "There was nothing you could have done for them, Captain."

Piers' attempted words of comfort fell on deaf ears. The helicopter was close now and would be landing at any moment. The downdraft from its blades caused a light breeze to whip down the alley, scattering papers around them. Salvation and not a moment too soon. Chris' grief was almost too painful to bear. Piers glanced away and when he looked back, it appeared that the captain's tenuous grasp on consciousness was slipping once more.

The helicopter touched down on the street beyond the alley and suddenly, it was all action. The medic and another soldier bundled towards them, stretcher grasped in their hands. Piers was ordered aside and stumbled backwards to let the two men do their work. No longer needed, all he could do was watch as they hefted Chris onto the stretcher and carried him off. He might very well have continued standing there, looking, had the medic not called over his shoulder, "We have to get out of here, Nivans."

Grabbing his jacket and clutching it under his arm, Piers jogged down the length of the alley to the waiting chopper. Chris was already inside, the medic securing straps around him to keep him from moving around on their flight. This would be the end of their mission in Edonia. With Chris injured and their squad decimated, there was nothing more for Alpha Team to do. As the helicopter lifted into the sky, Piers cast one more gaze down at the broken city. There, in amongst the debris, he saw one of the napads, beating his chest in anger. Support troops were on their way, the pilot advised. They'd scour the city for any more of the creatures and put them to rest.

Turning away from the scene down below, Piers focussed his sight on Chris, glad that he had slipped back into unconsciousness, if only so he didn't have to hear about the extermination of his former soldiers. At least they'd survived, Chris and Piers. They'd escaped to fight another day. Everything was going to be just fine now.