This is a sequel to my other fanfic, "Ghost Light". While it's not absolutely necessary to have read the other fic to understand what this one is about, I'm sure it will help, and it can't hurt either.

1. Death

"It... hurts."

I can hardly speak anymore. The virus is like venom flowing through my body. It's supposed to make me stronger, but it paralyzes me. Paralyzes me because my legs hurt so much I can no longer walk by myself.

"Come on, it's not far anymore! You've almost made it!"

The sarcastic undertone has almost completely disappeared from her voice by now. When she started limping around arm in arm with me, she still had some cool stuff to say, like it's in her nature. But it's been some time – I could say how much if I hadn't completely lost track of time – and in the meantime I must look really horrible if even Ada Wong loses interest in joking around.

"Pull yourself together!" she urges me. "Just a little bit... You can do it... Think about the BSAA, Piers!"

BSAA... Piers. Yes, I remember. One is the organization I work for, the other is my name. And about one and a half years ago I swore to myself that I'd do anything to stop bioterrorism, just like every monster it may spawn.

The thought of that gives my current situation a certain irony, I could almost laugh. If only laughing was not so painful.

Fortunately I was barely conscious during the flight from Asia to America. I was asleep for most of the time and didn't feel much thanks to the anesthetics Ada gave me. Unfortunately, the effects have worn off by now and Ada doesn't have any more. Which means I'll have to bear it for the rest of the journey.

But can it actually be worse than what happened to me under the sea? Does it hurt more? I shake my head although it makes me feel dizzy. I don't want to remember. My injuries are enough to remind me without effort on my part. Even worse than the injuries, however, is this horrible mutation...

Since when have we been underway? I don't know. It could be five minutes since we got out of the chopper – or five hours. I'm out of it, the pain obscures my senses. If I had just stayed there... Then it would be over now. I would have drowned, or the explosion would have killed me... Doesn't matter. Anything would have been better than the hell I have to go through now. The price of survival.

My surroundings are starting to blur in front of my eyes. It feels like I'm fainting now and then, because every time my sight becomes clearer again, I'm suddenly in a different place. A big door... a long bleak corridor... the horrified face of a young doctor whose name won't come to my mind thanks to my condition. She stares at what's left of my right arm. Or more precisely, what's become of it.

I'm moving along the edge of a deep black abyss I could fall into any second. Into the inviting darkness, into nothingness... It hurts so much that unconsciousness tears at me like crazy, but it's that same pain that cruelly keeps me awake at the same time.

I can hear Ada and the young doctor talk to each other, but I don't understand what they are saying. Their voices are warped by too many echoes, all sounding different, making it impossible to pick out the original tone... But at least I'm in the hospital now, and not just in a random one. Everything is going to be fine.

Or not? I still wish I was dead. Or for someone to dose me with an anesthetic that really knocks me out. But I feel that, gradually, the attraction of the yawning void of the abyss becomes stronger than what keeps me in this world. My body and spirit finally agree that I must sleep. The last thing I see before everything turns black is the outlines of a room unknown to me. I think someone is leading me in there, but I can't say for sure. Everything feels so heavy, my body so lazy, the pain ceases... and then it's over.

They say that shortly before you die, you see your whole life pass right in front of you like a film. Does that also work when you don't remember that life at the time of your death? When you experience what I have – when you get infected with that special virus –, you usually forget very quickly what was good or bad in the old days. You become a zombie, a limp and soulless servant good enough to execute commands, but not to think about them. Or to remember. And there's usually nothing you can do about it.

During the entire journey to the hospital Ada repeatedly told me not to give up, to try to remain in control. So I've been clinging to a memory, a part of my life, that helped me to get as far as I have: my memory of last year. My time with Chris.

Chris Redfield also works for the BSAA. More precisely, he's my captain, and not only that. He made a major contribution to me getting the job in the first place and I helped him keep his when he wanted to quit. Actually, it's him that I owe my present situation for the most part... but I would never blame him for allowing me to fight by his side. Who knows where I would be if things had turned out differently...

We got to know each other last year in April. For some time I had been friends with his sister Claire who had always told me how proud she was of her brother, of what he was doing. The BSAA, which he had founded with his long-term partner, Jill Valentine, and nine other brave people, had been actively fighting bioterrorism for years, ergo being involved in every imaginable war in which biological weapons were used, be it viruses or the monsters that humans and animals transform into when exposed to said viruses.

My own career used to aimlessly go around in circles at that time. I'm the youngest male member of a family which has been in military service for four generations. In the beginning I didn't want to go there, but with three older brothers, one working for the CIA, one being a police officer and the third risking his life in the Middle East, nothing else was expected from me. I only joined the military to make my family proud. That's what I can still remember.

But my memories only become really clear at the point Chris entered my life. I refuse to forget that. I will take these memories to my grave if necessary, but by no means will I allow the virus to take them away from me.

I have to admit that the honorable occupation of the BSAA only ranked second when I applied for a position. First and foremost, it was my infatuation with Chris that led me to his house back then. It was basically nothing but a superficial fascination. I never dreamed that something could become of it – neither of my application nor of my desires concerning Chris. I had no idea that his sister had contrived it all to hook us up.

It wasn't the first time I met him. I had seen him briefly before on Claire's birthday party a month earlier, but I think it was the first time he saw me, noticed me. He had to cope with a personal trauma since his last assignment in Africa, caused by the death of the man he had equally loved and hated: Albert Wesker, a shining star on the sky of bioterrorism that has gone out by now. Their story is complicated and impossible to sum up in few words, but Chris told me about it when we barely knew each other.

Everything was right from the beginning. For me at least. The way he stood there, a forced smile on the bearded face while his distressed blue eyes betrayed the scars of his soul, with unkempt auburn hair and the work shirt he was wearing the wrong way round – he wasn't exactly on his best behavior. He tried, but didn't succeed. How could he? I can't imagine what he had to go through at that time.

Yet still – for me, everything was right. I just looked at him and knew I could help him, and he could help me. I knew that this first real meeting wouldn't be our last. And I was proved right. We spent (half) a night together, which was wonderful in every possible way. We got close to each other, physically as well as on a personal level, and the next day I had not only a new job, but also an important new person in my life.

If my brothers knew... I prefer not to think about that. If they ever got over the fact that the baby of their soldier family is into men, they would blame me for the rest of my life for "sleeping my way up"... Although it's not like I don't bring along the qualifications necessary for the job. Well, actually I don't care what they think.

A pleasant nostalgic warmth suffuses my heart when I think of the most beautiful time of my life which was just about to begin with my visit to the Redfields. During the day, at training, Chris was my superior. In the evening and at the weekends, he was more than that. We met on a regular basis. Sometimes we went out, to the cinema, the amusement park, swimming, hiking, and once – I'll never forget that – even skydiving. At other times we stayed at home, watching movies or playing video games, chilling or picking up from where we had left off in our first night. And I couldn't get enough of it. Our relationship was very physical, but it was also balm for my soul, and for his as well. I helped him continue his work for the BSAA, and thanks to him I gained new self-confidence, confidence in my skills. I could finally step out of the shadow of my brothers. All was well.

We experienced eight wonderful months together, until the one day came that changed everything: Christmas Eve. It must be irony of fate that out of all days, the day when people usually celebrate happily with their families was the one that our family was ripped apart. That's how Captain Redfield treated his team at work: not as a bunch of expendable soldiers, but as a big family in which every member counts. A bit like my biological family, but not as stern.

That's not a nice memory. They say that body and soul are inseparably connected during our lives on earth, which is exactly the experience I'm having right now. If I only think of the emotional pain I and especially Chris had to endure that day, the physical pain the virus in my blood is causing seems to return. But that's okay; it's the only way for me to know I'm still alive, as a human. The pain proves it's not too late yet, that I still haven't transformed into the monster I will become if I don't get help soon.

So I might actually be doing a good thing, remembering that part of my recent past. I might be able to buy myself some time with it, because as long as I'm able to feel something, I'm not lost.