Author's Note: Thank you for the comments, dears! Hope you like this chapter, too :)

Disclaimer: I do not own RE.

Chapter 2: Riptide

Piers Nivans struggled for his breath as he slowly crawled under a mossy, rock overhang.

Rain pitter-pattered against the forest floor as he dragged himself and his filthy, diseased arm and painfully leaned against the dry earth, his muscles twitching every now and then as he tried to calm down. Then again—he just tore across the California landscape, traveling clear from San Diego to north of Sacramento without stopping. It was a miracle he was still alive—

Well, he was supposed to be dead, like...forever ago.

He should've been fish food at the bottom of the Tatchi harbor right now, but where was he? Lumping around Jackson State Forest, pathetically trying to avoid being caught by the BSAA (which was a joke, considering they were the best in the world at catching terrorists). But, while it was nighttime and he had a chance to catch his breath, he just needed to stop and mope for a few minutes.

After all...the only person who he...the one other person in this whole world he could hope to trust...was…

Hey, you're the one who threw a fit and ran away.

Jerking upright, Piers gasped as he shoved himself further under the overhang, wondering where the voice materialized from. Panting, desperately searching the environment with partial vision, he snarled, "Who's there!"

It's me, dumbass.

"That's not much to go off of!" he yelled back, grunting when his right arm convulsed unnaturally. Pinning the mangled thing to his side with his one good hand, he looked around again. He didn't see anything, but then again—

You know, you.

Glancing to his right, Piers jolted with surprise when—of all the things in the world to hallucinate—he saw himself. Taking a second to gather himself again, Nivans swallowed the lump in his dry throat and said, "I take it the virus got to my head. Literally."

The "other" Piers shrugged, offering a slanted smirk. Well, does it matter? You're alive and still gunning for the good ol' Captain, I see.

Okay, he was definitely losing his mind. He wouldn't be surprised if the c-virus was eating straight through whatever sanity he had left, which meant it would probably be too late for the vaccine anyways.

The Captain doesn't have to know that, answered the hallucination pointedly, wiggling his own mutated arm in emphasis. Think about it. Sweet death. It's the last thing we can ask for.

"Wh...what? Sweet death?" repeated the sniper as he struggled to keep his right arm from twitching out of control. With a tight jaw, he sunk his fingernails into the red flesh, hoping the pain would be enough to cut the power, so to speak. "Why does that sound familiar?"

Cause it is. Remember? It was a little thing going around the troops for awhile. Sweet death. The best kind of death to have, laughed not-Piers as he relaxed against the rock wall.

Nivans couldn't help but be a little annoyed by the fact that his own delusion was more calm and under control than he was—but he supposed that was to be expected. The very thing he wanted was out of reach.

"Sweet death…" mumbled the young sniper, then his eye widened and he stared at the other. "You mean...death while having sex?"

That's the one, answered the hallucination, pointing a finger at the sky.

"What...with who?" he asked, before the dawning realization hit him hard. "No way, not the Captain! He's the only one trying to help me!"

Hey, he's your fantasy, just as I'm your delusion, chuckled not-Piers as he glanced over, I'm just that petty thing called a subconscious telling you before it's too late. Get room service, then check out. You know, it's the one thing they can give you after the time and service you put in. Especially since...you saved the Captain's life.

"That's besides the point," scoffed Nivans, despite the heat that was rising to his cheeks. "I didn't do it for any of those reasons! That, and I highly doubt he'll get turned on by the squiggly arm!"

Hey, that squiggly arm saved his life and stopped a certain impending doom from ending all life as we know it! And, if you didn't notice, he wasn't all that concerned about the infection anyways. He's gotten vaccinated by this point—remember that merc with the mouth on him? Jake What's-His-Face? His antibodies probably have put the damper on the big c-virus scare, as it is. When the "real" Piers didn't answer, his hallucination continued, And anyways, this isn't fresh news. That first time, after the whole Marhawa thing, the first real mission you had with the Captain?

"What about it?" asked the sniper gruffly.

Well, after you were back on base and snug in your bed, you weren't exactly denying your fantasy then—

Nivans gasped. "Shut up!"

—I mean, you came a lot for just wanking off to the thought of sucking his nipples—

"Dammit, I said shut up!"

Piers' voice rang through the forest, causing a wave of birds to leap from their homes. Panting again, Nivans clutched his infected arm tighter against his stomach. The rain was still coming down in torrents, but that didn't keep his thoughts from lingering on what not-Piers had pointed out. Okay, yes...he did have his little go-to fantasy when he needed it, and yes, instead of just a handsome, faceless body it was the Captain, but...he'd never intended to get that close. After all, Chris Redfield wasn't exactly known for being dateable. He'd spent time with some of the most beautiful women Piers had laid eyes on (especially that African chick, Sheva), and Chris hadn't slept with any of them. The Redfields were all about business, anyways, and he doubted the Captain would reciprocate any feelings.

Does it matter? the voice temptingly whispered, sending a cold shiver down Piers' back. You'll be dead soon. He could be the last taste of pleasure you'll be able to have before the virus really starts killing you.

"I…" mumbled Nivans, shaking his head. "I...can't…"

Why not? murmured his own voice. Just a kiss, even. To finally be able to breathe him in. Taste him.

Piers' eye flickered closed, still hugging himself as he depicted that same image he'd done so many times before. Nivans would tug at the Captain's tight BSAA uniform shirt, pulling it up right above his nipples. His fingers would find the buttons of his cargo pants, undressing each one at a time as Chris' bulge pressed lovingly against the fabric.

Just one time.

The sniper's mouth would then go for the left nipple first, his tongue dancing across the rosy circle as his Captain would release a thick moan in response, unable to stop himself…then, Piers would press his knee in between the larger male's thighs as he would bring his lips to settle on Redfield's.

A sweet death.

That kiss would be drugging—he would pry open Chris' mouth with his teeth, delving in for the real gold as his hot breath exhaled against the other's. So good. Their tongues would fold together, their saliva mixing and he would feel his own member hardening with anticipation. Chris would release another soft moan, and a lustful coil of heat would spiral into Nivans' groin from the sweet noise.

Take him.

Using his free hand, Piers' would grab that same, enticing nipple and pinch it in between his fingers, rewarding him with a small gasp and Chris's chiseled stomach arching against him. Then, while his Captain was still suspended, the sniper would smooth his palm down Chris' back, beneath his pants and beneath his boxer briefs, cupping one ass cheek in his hand.

Take what you know is yours.

Pressing his throbbing penis against Chris', he would roll his hips forward oh-so-perfectly. The sniper would then smile at the feeling of his Captain's muscles clenching in suspense, his sole attention on the two fingers which were steadily crawling to his entrance. And then...

Taking a deep breath, Piers snapped himself from the daydream which had sucked him in so easily. Alright, so maybe he was going mad and losing his head, but at least his groin was still human and, as much as the goody-two-shoes lieutenant who once existed would never think of crossing that line...

Maybe, just maybe, his delusion was right...

—

"You have got to give me a chance," insisted an ever-growing frustrated Redfield as he leaned against the oak desk. "I had him and I could easily administered the dose until he got spooked and took off! Just let me go to him and do this."

The Head of the Department, Amanda Caio (a.k.a. General Hardass) across the desk stared up at him with a pointed glare over her thick-rimmed glasses, her scowl as deadly as ever. "And I suppose you're just going to waltz right up to him and he's going to faint into your arms, am I right?"

Chris thought for a brief moment before he nodded vigorously. "Yeah, right after I give him the dose!"

"And you're not worried at all that he might fry you like a chicken egg before you can even get twenty feet close?" She went on, crossing her legs.

With a locked jaw, the Captain took in a deep breath. He was trying to avoid pulling I-made-this-organization-try-and-tell-me-what-to-do card, especially because he wanted to go at this alone. "You don't understand, ma'am, I had his hand in my hand and I would've been able to safely escort him to base if Anders hadn't burst in—"

"—And probably saved your life," she snapped, tugging off her glasses and tossing them on the desk. "Captain Redfield, you might not think your life is worth much, but for the BSAA, it is worth quite a lot—"

"—I couldn't have guessed in Africa—"

"—And as much as I understand your concern," she stressed as Chris whirled about in aggravation, "Piers Nivans was labeled deceased 3 months ago. After he became a B.O.W.—"

"He's not a B.O.W.!" cried the Captain as he swung back around, two hands slamming against the desk. "He's a damn hero! He's sacrificed everything so Haos couldn't get to the surface! He injected himself with a virus we can cure!"

Silence descended on the pair again, the afternoon San Diego sun filtering through the partially closed blinds. Director Ciao stared straight into Chris' dark brown eyes for a long, drawn-out moment as she pressed her cherry red lips together in thought.

"I started the BSAA with the sole purpose of keeping people alive. Both Piers and I have given much more than anyone would've ask for. We did what needed to get done," he said firmly in the quiet office. "Is it so much to ask for to give me the chance to get him back?"

Another tense moment passed, and then Ciao sighed.

"I can't..." she started, her blue eyes becoming soft, "make any promises to give you adequate protection."

The Captain breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you—"

"This is entirely your operation," stated the woman as she stabbed a knife of a finger at him. "Outside of the lines. One vial of the antidote. No report. No briefing. No support."

Chris straightened, his sense of determination that she'd only seen since Piers was still here shine through. Loyalty. "Don't worry, ma'am, I'll get him back. I'm made of tougher stuff than you think."

Ciao sighed. "I certainly hope so, Captain."

—

A/N: Hopefully no-one was weirded out by not-Piers XD Thank you for reading!