Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful support through this fanfiction. At one point I had no intention of actually posting it, but I'm glad I did. Thank you again so much for reading. (bows)

Disclaimer: I do not own RE.

Chapter 6: Storm

I'm sorry, Captain...I did it for the BSAA...for the future!

"Please, God, no..."

I know...you did a real good thing.

"Please don't take him away from me..."

Darkness swirled around Chris as though it were alive, writhing with pain and anger and exhaustion as the Captain slowly marched forward.

Piers, open the goddamn door! That's an order!

Weakened metal walls creaked under the strain of water pressure as thin trails of liquid seeped inside. As much as Chris strained and pushed forward, gravity seemed to fight him from reaching his objective.

I don't think I'm ready for that.

Ahead, the agony-filled memory of the Captain dragging Piers to the escape pod was displayed like two people performing a play. Chris stared with giant brown eyes, watching himself heave the infected sniper onto the bench, then dive for the controls.

You've made it this far, haven't you?

Arches of blue electricity crackled around the trembling man, with a cold, dim light pooling over two figures before him. Little blips of previous memories drained in like the dark waters pushing at him on all sides; but there was no mistaking what was happening.

Piers, don't do this!

In the memory, Chris assisted Piers to his feet and, together, they stood in front of the pod. Just as the Captain was prepared to jump, Nivans jerked himself from his superior's hold. Stunned, Chris sensed something in his hand...before he slowly returned his solemn gaze to Piers.

I'm going to get you through this, Piers, do you understand me?

Drawing in a haggard, quaking gulp of air, Chris swung his hand forward. Not again. He couldn't go through this again, dream or not. "No…!"

You see that, we'll be out of here in no time.

"Piers, stop!" Chris yelled as he reached out in slow motion, his heart pounding a million miles a minute. Centimeters away from grabbing Piers' shoulder and the sniper shoved the "other" Chris in the pod and the doors sealed shut. The Captain in the memory begged and demanded, screamed and whispered, but Nivans turned away and set the pod in motion.

Here we go, Piers, we're getting out of here.

"No! Piers!"

The hole in Chris' heart that he'd been working for months to patch was mercilessly torn open again. The metal sphere discharged from the port, leaving Piers behind again. This can't be happening.

No...Piers!

The groaning of metal and the rafters was all that was here now; Chris watched with tear-filled eyes as Piers stood, alone, his legs trembling with pain. For the past three months, that's all the Captain could dream of—watching this scene over and over again like some Biohazard hell. And, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop it.

"Goddamit Piers..." croaked Chris as he stepped next to his infected lieutenant. "Do you know what that did to me?!"

Like every dream before, Piers didn't answer. He couldn't hear his Captain.

"Answer me! Dammit, answer me..." Shaking his head, the older male's jaw clenched like a vice as he grabbed the young sniper's shoulder.

Wait...he could touch him?!

Black water exploded from every crack and bent panel, dousing him in freezing liquid. But he kept his grip on Piers' shoulder, knowing if he let go he would lose his lover forever.

That's right...

"You came back to me!" He gasped, shaking his head as a cold spray covered his whole upper body. "I don't understand, why—?"

Beneath them, the creaking floor shuddered, but Piers didn't seem to notice. Water rapidly filled up whatever space was left, a heavy current slowly pulling the ace from Chris' grip. Fumbling, the older man took the ace's hand into his own. He wouldn't let go, not this time! Not while he was in Chris' arms...!

"Piers!" cried the Captain, battling the consuming seawater with all his might. "Piers!"

"It's alright..."

Blinking, Chris strained against the rising water, which was already up to his chest, to look at Piers' face. That same damn smile. The confident, haunting, calm, beautiful smile that Chris wouldn't be able to wring from his memories no matter how long he lived.

"It's alright, Chris."

"No, Piers! Don't leave me!" begged the Captain, using every ounce of his strength to stay connected. "Piers!"

Gloved fingers slipped through Chris' hand, the unrelinquishing darkness consuming Piers faster than the blink of an eye.

Jerking into consciousness, Chris gasped in a terrified breath of air as the nightmare relinquished its neck-breaking hold on him. A silver, dark morning pooled into the bleak room; a cold and unforgiving light which didn't offer him any kind of comfort. That dream—that nightmare, more accurately, always did a superb job in shaking Chris' reality to the core. With quaking hands, the Captain shuffled around to make sure Piers was safe...that he was alive and okay...but he soon realized he was there, alone, in the silent cot.

"Piers?" Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stumbled around the room, wide brown eyes scouring every inch—including the bathroom—and found nothing.

Piers is gone.

Lunging from the empty latrine, Chris buttoned up his pants as he dashed into the silent hallway, nearly colliding into a little blonde nurse on his way out.

"He's gone!" exclaimed the Captain, grabbing her narrow shoulders.

"Lieutenant Nivans—?"

"Who do you think?! Yes, Nivans!" he cried, fury boiling over in an instant.

Jerking to the right, he sprinted down the corridor to the stairwell, throwing himself against the door. Stumbling down as fast as his well-endowed legs would take him, he was at the bottom floor in a matter of seconds. Then he was dashing down the cluttered hallway, trying to avoid plowing into doctors and nurses and civilians as his dog tags jangled helplessly around his straining neck.

Please, no...

All he could think of was Piers—his Piers, dying cold and alone. Chris would literally put a bullet in his brain if he found his lover like that, without the warmth of his Captain's arms to keep him safe.

Winding through the bleak, shadowed hallways of the hospital, Chris' bare feet padded softly against the white tiles. Brown eyes scanned over every office and hospital room, his heart stampeding against his chest with more dread as each second passed. In the early hours of the morning, everything was still slow-moving and whisper quiet, but his thoughts were loud and frantic.

Adrenaline soaked every muscle and nerve, leaving Redfield twitchy as he found himself peering into meetings and janitor closets without a second thought. Stomach knotted up, the Captain scoured every inch of the first floor, half tempted to return upstairs.

Through his panicked thoughts, however, Chris retained a moment of clarity. I have to think. Stopping briefly, his dropped wide eyes to his feet. Why would Piers get out of bed? The bathroom was right there. Then...food?

Chris scurried down the hall, sprinting to the closest stairwell to the basement where the cafeteria was located. Slamming through the door and down the muggy, concrete steps, he spilled out into the corridor and nearly collided into another nurse. Without time to spare, he offered a frantic Sorry! before scrambling towards the smell of breakfast.

Oh, please, please...

Around another corner, and then another—

Empty.

Swearing under his breath, Chris spun away from unforgiving silence and back up stairs. He has to be outside, then. It's the only explanation.

Bursting out of the emergency room doors, the California sky muddled with grey, oppressive clouds, he snapped his warrior-trained gaze over parked cars, unsuspecting BSAA personnel, and the cold landscape. Morning was barely cresting over the horizon, but the overcast skies kept everything dark and morbid.

"PIERS!" he barked, making still-droopy-eyed paramedics jump in terror. "PIERS!"

Spinning about, he jogged to the parking lot, looking for any signs of a group of people or whatever seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing, there was nothing. A couple nurses tagged behind him, obviously fearing losing a high-priority patient. They circled the perimeter of the quiet building, through the empty courtyard filled with browning bushes and around the overflow parking area. Redfield continued to shout his partner's name until his voice was hoarse and croaking, his hands shaking by his thighs.

Chris was close to full-blown breakdown. They traversed the entire area of the hospital again, but clearly he wasn't anywhere to be found. Heart ready to beat right out his chest, Chris stopped and fell silent, the two panting nurses behind him doing the same. Head hung low, a terrifying thought entered in the Captain's mind, one that swallowed any sense of hope left in his panicked thoughts—

Suddenly, one of the green-clad nurses said, "What about the beach?"

"The…" The seasoned Captain glanced back at the blonde, who in turn flicked her worried blue eyes at her male cohort.

Turning to the ridge dotted with prickly bushes and towering, lanky palm trees, Chris launched into a sprint, jumping clear over the vegetation and into soft sands. He nearly took a nose dive, too, catching himself at the last second only to straighten and tumble closer to the empty shore.

"PIERS!"

Blood rushing in his ears, his heart was ready to explode as his mind spun with thoughts that couldn't connect. What if he walked out into the ocean, delirious with exhaustion? What if someone grabbed him? He was going mad at the images flicking through his speeding thoughts, his temples pounding without relief.

Please...

A salty wind breathed over him in a cooling whisper, the cerulean waves polishing the sands as Chris' bare feet pattered against the seaweed-littered tide. Glancing in either direction, his sharp brown eyes scanned the never-ending beach for miles. Couples and families clad in autumn clothing dotted the flesh-colored horizon with no sign of the ace. With a slump, the Captain collapsed to his knees as a threatening ambush of burning tears assaulted his eyes. This can't be happening.

What if...what if it all…

Jaw clenching, the poison seeped in faster than he could resist it. Was it all a dream…? It didn't seem to make any sense, but he made a point of keeping the trauma of Tatchi to himself. He would dream. He would remember Piers' face all over again. The little details, his intense sense of justice, the arch of his smooth eyebrows, even the way his thick lips would move. And those grey-brown eyes, how they reflected perfectly in the burning fires of Tatchi...

What if...what if he relapsed, what if he...what if Piers wasn't...

Squeezing dark-circled eyes shut, Chris hammered a punch into a mound of loose sand, spraying it everywhere around him.

"Captain Redfield—"

"Captain!"

Swiveling his head to the right, Chris' heart jumped into his throat. Suddenly he wasn't sitting on the beach anymore, but scrambling to his feet, his giant steps swallowing the ground beneath him. The broken shards of his heart melted back together again as he took a confused-looking Piers into his enormous shoulders, crushing the ace to his shaking form. Something was clutched in the sniper's hold, but the Captain barely noticed—one hand cupped the back of Piers' head, his lips planting kisses into soft, auburn hair. Another arm trapped Nivans' waist against his larger torso, aiming to feel as much of his lover as possible.

"C-Captain…?"

The tentative, worried voice broke Redfield's overwhelming trance and, as the older male sucked in a quivering breath, he jerked Piers away from him.

The death glare was enough to make Nivans hunker in his Captain's hold. Chris was not happy. "Did you just want me to have a heart attack?!"

Those giant, hazel eyes stared up with concern, cheeks red and hair frazzled. "Captain—"

"I thought I was losing my damn mind!"

"Chris, I—"

"You're never allowed to leave my sight again," commanded the Captain with every ounce of his being. "That's an order."

Dragging Piers back into his embrace and thrusting his lips hard onto his ace's with bruising force, the Captain demanded entrance that the young lieutenant submitted to easily. He had to reassure himself—now, more than ever—that this was real, that it wasn't some massive hallucination. As before, Nivans didn't try to fight back or deny the tortured man, allowing Chris to devour him on the spot. It could've been minutes or hours, but the Captain kept his mouth fully merged with the younger man's until he felt the fear seep from his veins, the dread burning up in the fire of hope. The heated moment simmered as the Captain rested a softer, kinder kiss on those bow-tie lips. Relaxing his hold on the ace, Chris finally broke the breathless kiss so he could bunch those narrow shoulders in his arms again.

"Captain, I'm sorry…" said Piers immediately, sliding one hand up the older man's bare back.

"You'll be paying for that little stunt later," murmured Chris begrudgingly and raked his fingers through tussles of brown hair. Finally out from under his initial panic, the Captain also realized Piers had stolen some of his clothes—the large pair of jeans Caio brought him were creeping steadily down the lieutenant's perfect backside, and the giant t-shirt wasn't helping much to mask Piers' healthy, olive skin.

Healthy. He's...healthy.

"What gave you the brilliant idea to leave at the break of dawn and give me a panic attack?" wondered the Captain. Cold palms caressed the hot surface of Piers' back, reveling in the smooth texture of his skin.

"I didn't expect you to wake up," protested the ace. Attempting to separate from the elder, Piers was promptly denied as Chris squeezed him into an embrace again. He was effectively trapped. "Captain…"

"I'm waiting for an answer, lieutenant."

"You should really look at yourself. You look like you got ran over by a freight train," he murmured gently, and then dipped his head into the crescent of Chris' powerful neck. "I thought, you know...it would be nice when you woke up…"

A shred of guilt twinged Chris' heart by the quelled tone. "What would be nice…?" he asked.

Piers shifted in the Captain's arms, glancing down at what was in his hand. A white paper bag? Together, they opened it and Redfield curiously peered inside.

"Donuts…?" Swinging his brown eyes up at the ace again, the young man blushed feverishly.

"You were saying...last night, you know...and I thought…well, I guessed..." Nivans' stammering was about the cutest thing Chris ever laid eyes on. "They're all squished now, though…"

"That's…" started the elder, the remorse quickly rising. Had it not been ruined by his massive freakout, it would've been a very sweet thing to do. Piers was only trying to do something kind for his anxiety-ridden Captain...and what did Chris do? Lose his shit. He was good at that. "That's...my bad. They still look good, though."

The sniper didn't answer right away, making Chris want to kick himself all over again. Not the most glorious start to a relationship—

"If you don't mind making a mess," responded the lieutenant, offering his superior a cocked grin, "then I'm down."

Oh thank God. "I doubt our stomachs will know the difference."

"I'm sorry again…" murmured his lover quietly, smiling dropping as he peered up at his Captain with those spellbinding puppy eyes. "I didn't think about it, it was...irresponsible."

Lacing Piers' fingers in his own, Chris pulled the lieutenant along, a squad of nurses and Caio at its center forming on the entrance of the beach. Obviously the Captain's panic was heard clear to the administrative building of their headquarters. A howling, turbulent wind picked up over the ocean, a tell-tale sign of a storm brewing. Chris simply saw it as a perfect reason to stay indoors and discover just how loud he could make Piers cry out his name.

"Well," murmured the heavy-set male finally, "don't worry. I have the perfect punishment."

Piers' arched eyebrows jumped up his forehead. "What's that?"

"If everything goes according to plan," he responded with a certain grin, "you being sprawled out beneath me. Naked. And sweating. And yelling out my name."

The blush which took over Nivans' features defeated all those he had before. "Oh."

"Oh is right," retorted the Captain.

A thought struck Chris, however, that made him stop.

Naturally Piers stopped with him, asking his name, before his superior turned to face his young sniper. Brown eyes thoughtfully roved over Nivans' still-bandaged right arm clutching their bag of donuts. A lot of what happened the past three days was surreal—and even before, when forced to leave Piers behind, didn't seem like it could be possible. The one person he was supposed to protect...of all those he was supposed to protect, and they ended up protecting his sorry butt instead. For weeks—no, for months he spent convincing himself that he would wake up the next morning and Piers' text messages wouldn't be there, or he would arrive at work and Piers wouldn't be waiting for him in the locker room.

Right up until the very moment, that morning three days ago when Nivans literally dropped into his lap during that training mission...he tried to force himself to realize that he'd never see Piers again.

"Listen, Piers…" started the Captain, clasping his warmed fingers around his lover's left hand, "and this is important, okay?"

"Yes, Captain."

"When you...when I had to...leave you behind, I—"

"You didn't leave me behind, Captain, I pushed you into—"

"I was supposed to get you out of there," snapped Chris reflexively, then drew in a sharp breath. Even after three months, the situation was still too fresh to remember calmly. "The one thing I was supposed to do, I didn't do. There was a lot of things I didn't do that a half-decent Captain or friend would've, and a number of things I did that only some asshole drunkard would have the gall to do."

Befuddled, stormy grey-green eyes stared up at him, at a loss of how to respond. Dammit, this isn't coming out right, grumbled Chris to himself as Nivans stood rooted and confused. But the Captain had to get this out one way or another, even if it took all day of standing on that beach. Piers needed to know.

"What I'm trying to say is…" A breath; the young sniper kept eye contact as Chris tightened his hold. "I'm saying...when I was at my lowest, I did and said a lot things...I treated you so bad...and I've spent nights thinking if I only had one more talk with him...it was all I could think about last night. When I was lost, you looked for me, and when I was down and out and couldn't even tell my ass from elbow, you stuck with me...I want to make up for that. I want to be there for you like you were for me. I want to say I'm sorry a billion times, because I know it's not half of what you deserve, but if I can try…"

"Captain…" Hazel orbs glistened with tears, his usual confident voice wavering in emotion. "I didn't do anything of those things so you could owe me—"

"That isn't what I'm saying." Chris shook his head vigorously. "It's not that I feel the obligation to return some favor, it's not that at all." Releasing Piers' hand, the Captain cupped his young face with both of his large hands, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "I'm saying...I want to make you happy. I want to see your eyes light up...like I know they can. I know I hurt you before, but I want to make it up to you." Chris offered his ace a trembling smile, their noses millimeters apart. "If you'll let me."

"All of that to ask if I want to go with you?" Piers laughed, although his tone was shaking. He forgot the part about how while he'd been sitting at the bottom of Tatchi harbor, Chris woke up each morning with what happened. He looked at his current Alpha team and probably saw everyone he lost before—

"I want to take care of you," whispered the Captain as he brushed his lips over Nivans' flushed cheek. "And I want to love you...and eat ice cream at two in the morning...and sleep in till noon and...take really long, hot showers with you. Is that...okay…?"

"I'm down," replied the ace hoarsely. "Although I would just be okay to stay by your side…"

"This time, I'll be your side, too, my dear."

—