A/N: Eeek, the delay on this one was longer than planned. Apologies! D:

Piers had gotten used to the fact that he would never sleep normally while in the arms of the enemy, and the only state of rest that was given was when he lost consciousness. He wasn't sure how long it'd taken him to black out, but once he had it was a temporary reprieve from all that he'd just endured. Not that waking up made things any better, he could still feel the gashes across his skin with every intake of breath and subtle movement. His hand throbbed against the pillar, always hurting no matter what he did, but he didn't have the strength to try and pry it free himself with only one arm; there was no way he could reach far enough in the restraints to use his other one. He was trapped with no where to go and nothing there to lessen the pain.

Yet, all of his thoughts went to Chris. He knew what his Captain would do, knew that he wouldn't stop searching for him even after their argument. Piers wished that he'd just forget him; he wished that Chris would keep his distance and stay out of harm's way. Even if it cost Piers his own life or further agony, if it meant Chris would be safe... He could endure. That's what he kept telling himself.

Piers didn't know how long it took before the door to the room opened itself again, and this time it was more than one set of footsteps heading towards him, it was closer to... Three?

A hand curled itself in his hair again and tilted his head back with a sharp yank that had him groan in reply, eyes fluttering under the rays of light from above. The two figures that had followed in behind Wesker moved to either side of him, and one coiled their fingers around the tyrant's claw, cruelly twisting it before he carelessly plucked it loose and tore a scream from the sniper. His world was a blinding barrier of pain, Piers could hardly focus his mind on anything but that as the guards undid the chains after one of them had first bandaged his hand in a sloppy manner, just enough to still the bleeding.

Wesker released his fingers from short strands as the men tugged Piers to his feet, only for him to collapse instantly to his knees in front of them. Another sharp pull forced him into a stagger, giving him little choice but to try and walk along with them, or be dragged across the way instead. Their hold was tight, too much for him to slip away in his weakened state, and even if he could have mustered it, the blond was never far behind. Hazel eyes blinked as he was led toward a small table, shorter than the length of his own figure and covered over with a layer of salt. He swallowed at the sight, body already aching. His muscles tensed and he tried to twist back or pull away - to do something to prevent it - but he was in no condition to fight. The men swung him around and practically tossed him down onto the surface, flat on his back where a large majority of flesh wounds were located. The result was an instant scream, loud and lengthy as Piers tried to move only to be held down where his arms were forced into new restraints that had his hands pulled above his head toward the corners of the table. Each of his struggles only made the salt grind itself deeper into his already tender wounds, inflicting further pain into open gashes.

Piers was on fire, body a burning mass that had him yelling long past the time his throat had grown sore. His legs were next to be tied down, bent in upward curls and spread wide open to encase him in a greater state of vulnerability. His cries never stopped, never waned or died off as he thrashed in the chain bindings, desperate for a way out until a hand was under his chin, holding his head still as Wesker leaned in to eye him. Hazel pricked with tears at their corners, leaking down the sides of his face to openly humiliate him. There was a chuckle from the blond, and a thumb dipped itself forward over his parted lips to hush him until his sounds lowered to soft whimpers and his struggles were dimmed down to light tugs. Wesker flashed a sinister smirk that had the sniper shuddering as a result. "It only gets worse, I assure you."

Piers fought to control his ragged breathing and the noises that slipped through between them, "You're a sadistic bastard." He managed to croak under the thumb at his mouth, and the hand soon left him.

Wesker hummed thoughtfully, "I believe Christopher once said the same while previously in my clutches. Do say hello to him," A gloved finger positioned itself to aim toward the sniper's right, and Piers furrowed his brow in confusion before he took the chance of looking. There - not too far away. A camera was set up and focused directly onto him, capturing every inflicted wound, every whine that the pain had tugged from his vocal cords. Piers swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in place as gloved fingers curled under his chin to direct his gaze back to Wesker with a sharp tug. "I believe it's only fair to keep him updated on your current state of being."

Hazel eyes narrowed as they met with concealed orange that flashed from behind tinted lenses. Despite the constant pain, Piers held firm, resolve unbroken. He wouldn't let Wesker ruin him; not there, not now. Especially not in front of a damn camera that recorded footage the tyrant intended to send to Chris. In the end, Piers wasn't sure if it would matter to Wesker if his sanity crumbled to pieces, just as long as his Captain's did. Piers... Piers fully expected to die down there. Wherever 'there' was. It was the impact that it would have on Chris that worried him - would he mourn for him, would he cry and long to be with him? Or would he move on to something new, something better that awaited him?

Piers couldn't stand the idea of either one.

He was torn from his thoughts by a sudden pop and sizzle off to the side. Hazel eyes drifted past the blond's shoulder where one of the guards had disappeared to. He reemerged with a rod in hand, the tip was flattened into the form of a star and it flared from the heat of a fire. Each step had the man edging closer until he was positioned between the sniper's legs where the rod was held up. Piers tugged at the restraints in a renewed effort, and Wesker forced the sniper's head toward the opposite side so his face was in clear view of the camera as the metal was lowered. Piers couldn't clearly see it from the new position, it was a dim view in his peripheral vision that was partially blocked by the hand that held his head in place. Seeing wasn't necessary as he felt the approaching heat the closer it came to him.

Piers grunted, arms still twisting and turning in their binds under the false hope that he could wiggle free. It was quick to die down when a searing heat placed itself tight to his exposed thigh, tearing a pained cry from the depths of his throat as he thrashed to no avail, body trapped firmly in place to be thoroughly abused. "There is a lesson I'm afraid you've come to learn too late," Wesker taunted from his side, hand still in place over his jaw while Piers tried to squirm under the unrelenting burning sensation that had his skin sizzling under the heat. "Christopher has tendencies to lose those who get too attached to him." Piers had barely heard him through the sound of his own screams, thigh aching as the flesh was melted away. He could feel it boil under the pressure as the heated surface seared at him and left an intense throb that ate at his sanity.

The rod withdrew, a temporary reprieve until it placed itself to the inner side of the opposite leg, causing the sniper's struggles to renew as he openly cried under the agonizing burn. Any tears that had yet to fall slid from the corners of closed hazel, salty rivulets painted a wet trail over olive skin that cringed, even as the metal was pulled away a second time. The burning was still present, an overpowering thrum that ached and throbbed. As the screams died down into whimpers and heaving breaths, the hand under the sniper's chin forced his head to angle back toward the blond where his eyes fluttered, wet and blurry from the fallen tears.

Wesker hummed thoughtfully, "Do you believe he'll still desire you, should you survive?" He queried as older features hovered only inches away. "After your body becomes so torn, so mangled that he won't be able to recognize it?"

Hazel eyes turned toward the ceiling, avoiding the blond the best they could as Piers struggled to stifle his sounds and slow his breathing, his body trembling in his restraints. Was that what Wesker intended for him? Ruin him, disfigure him beyond recognition so that he would become too grotesque for anyone to enjoy? Piers couldn't contain the shudder at the thought, his mind processing the idea that Wesker had laid out for him. What would Chris do? Would he abandon him like he intended to the moment he told Piers about his planned retirement?

The sniper didn't want to think about it.

Wesker withdrew his hand to motion toward the soldiers. In a patter of footsteps, they retracted out through the door they'd come through. The blond stepped back, feet guided him to the fire that burnt away at several metal shards, each of a different size and shape. A gloved hand gripped over one, unconcerned about the heat coursing through the metal that burnt at the leather of his palm as it was pulled free. Wesker turned to stride back over toward the bound sniper, the rod in hand was pointed at its tip and he held it upward, clear within view of both Piers and the camera. "Shall we find out?" The tip was raised inches above abdominal muscles. It lifted, edged toward the heaving chest cavity that glistened with sweat.

Piers tensed, pearly whites clenched tight against each other as hazel glared at the older man. He was a soldier; he could take it, he could take it... "You want to know the best part of this?" Piers choked out, voice hoarse and barely his own. "One way or another, he'll find you. Maybe I can't kill you like this..." He swallowed, his breathing finally managed to slow just slightly. "But he sure as hell will." Piers lifted his head up from the table, putting their faces closer together. "You know why?" He was digging his own grave, "Because just like the last time you fought, he'll find a way to ruin everything you think you've built. If you were the god you claim to be, you'd have succeeded a long time ago." Gloved fingers visibly tightened over metal, and the ace forced a curve to the corners of his lips. "Instead, you were humiliated by someone you consider insignificant. Tell me how that one works."

A hand closed itself over the span of his throat, squeezing while it forced his head back against the table. Wesker craned forward, teeth bared as he hovered near the ace. "What does a sniper cherish the most?" The rod hovered just above hazel in an instant, causing sharp eyes to water further from the sudden heat so close to Piers' vision. The metal was stabbed downward, centimeters from his cheekbone as gloved fingers urged the sniper's left eyelid to stay open, "Would you have any worth without your sight?" The blond hissed, observing the tension from the younger man. "I could tear your eyes from their sockets with only my fingers. What do you believe Christopher would think of that if I had them sent to him?"

Piers tugged against the chains binding him at the wrists, "Go ahead," He goaded, trying to strengthen his resolve as the words were forced out from behind the tightened hold over his wind pipe. "I'm already dead anyway, right? That's all another part of your plan," He could feel the intensity of heat from the rod embedded into the table such a small distance away, burning at his cheek uncomfortably.

Wesker was tense, bordering at the edge and ready to take away those pretty hazel gems. He had to stop himself moments from actually doing so, and retracted the hand held near the sniper's eye. "Not quite yet," He spat, pulling away from Piers completely to retrieve the burning rod. Piers opened his mouth to form a reply, but all words were replaced by the ensuing scream that followed after the contact of the rod against his chest muscles. The sharp tip nudged open his flesh, digging in deep where the wounds were molded shut from the heat as the rod trailed down to his stomach, leaving a burning mark behind that steamed and sizzled.

Wesker wasn't finished. There was still plenty in store for the ace, and he wanted him to be able to witness it as the pain was inflicted. Then at the end of it all, he would return the body to Chris in broken pieces.

Chris hadn't slept all night, not after everything that happened. He was overwhelmed by guilt and regret, with helplessness not far behind. They hadn't found any further news or evidence that could lead them to wherever Wesker had taken Piers, no one had seen a thing the night before outside of the sound of gun shots, and they already covered that.

Jill had gathered up her laptop from her car and insisted on staying to help, given how stressed Chris was over the current situation. They ran over the little bit of info they had; which wasn't much at all. Jill even went to the lengths of searching different traffic cams in the nearby area, but none of them were useful. They were too far out from the sniper's home to be of any real aid. The tyrant could have taken Piers anywhere.

Eventually, Chris relented to showing Jill the images Wesker had sent. The brunette copied them to her laptop to analyze the background in hopes that there would be something that could give them an indication of where Piers was being held. But to her dismay, there was little beyond a room lit only by a single light and minimal devices laying around in the back. No windows, which suggested that they could have been in a basement or something of the like. The walls were smooth and clean, the building was in good shape at least on the inside. No furniture or posters, nothing that could be of any real help.

Wesker was toying with them.

Jill sighed and closed her laptop, "Chris, I'm sorry but I don't think there's much else we can do from here. I've tried what I can, but... Chris?" The brunette straightened in her position on the couch. Chris was at the other end, staring in a far off corner. He looked utterly exhausted. "Chris, hey." Jill reached out a palm to rest it against his back.

Chris didn't bother to turn towards her. "We've got nothing, Jill, and Wesker knows it. Right now, he can do whatever he wants and-" He cut himself off, unable to continue the train of thought.

"It's not over yet," Jill insisted next to him, "It's still early. I can go back to base again and see if I can't find something from there. You... Chris, you're dead on your feet. You can't tear yourself up like this, it's not your fault."

Brown eyes swung around to meet blue at that, with a sudden narrow to them. "Isn't it?" Chris stood up, causing Jill's hand to fall away as he stepped toward the center of the room and avoided the ruined table he'd tossed over the night prior. "That son of a bitch targets anyone I get close to. If Piers and I never... Wesker would have just came for me. He's hitting every nerve that he can find, and damn it, it's working!"

Jill moved her computer from it's position at her lap and rested it down on the cushion by her side so she could rise to her feet as well. "You didn't know. We all thought he was dead after Africa."

Chris started to pace, suddenly feeling overly confined. He had to move, had to do something to keep him from losing his mind. "I broke things off the night he went missing." The need to confess plagued him after his recent loss. "We argued... And Piers stormed out of my office. I should have stopped him, Jill. I could have done something." He slowed to a halt, practically panting in place as the air around him suddenly felt too thin. "If I didn't do that, we'd have gone home together. Wesker never would have..." His body shook, nerves aching far beyond what he could control. Chris tightened his jaw as his hand closed into a fist. He turned with an outcry and swung, where his knuckles met the frame of the wall and left a dented imprint. "I could have prevented it from happening." Chris spun around to place his back to the same surface he'd just abused and slid down it into a sit at the floor.

Jill stepped over to her old friend and crouched beside him, features curved in a sad but understanding look. "We'll get him back, Chris." Perhaps it wasn't a promise she could keep, but damn it if she wouldn't try. Chris had done everything he could to find her when she needed it, the least she could do was return the favor by helping him search for the missing sniper. "We don't give up, remember?"

Chris eyed her with a half lidded gaze, "Africa was different. There were clues and places I knew I had to get to, but right now, we don't have anything and I don't... I don't know what to do." Currently, there was nothing he could do.

"We'll figure it out, we just need more time-"

"Piers doesn't have time, Jill!" Chris snapped, "You saw what Wesker did to him!"

"Then I don't know what to tell you!" Jill paused to lower her voice after it momentarily increased to match the Captain's. "I'm sorry, Chris. But right now, all we can do is wait it out until we find more Intel. I said I could go back to base and see if I can't come up with something. I will. In the meantime, you need to stay here. Keep that phone close in case Wesker tries to contact you again." She reached out to pat her old partner on the knee in a poor attempt to reassure him. "Chris, you're exhausted, you should try to rest for a while. Let me do some digging."

Brown eyes turned away from blue, "How am I suppose to rest when he's still out there?"

"Because he needs you," The reply was instantaneous, "You can't help him if you're too burnt out." Jill lifted herself back into a stand. "Call me if you need me, Chris. You can pull through this, and so will he." She hesitated to go, feeling uncomfortable with leaving Chris alone in such a state, but time was being wasted. If she could help find the missing ace, everything would be back to normal again. Chris would be okay. She stepped aside to head back toward the entrance, and the Captain did little to stop her as the door slid closed behind her.

Chris reached a hand into his pocket to retrieve the cell, and he eyed the blank screen for a lengthened period of time as though he could will it to ring. He needed to hear something, to know what was going on. He hated being left in the dark, and he had no idea what was happening to Piers; he just wanted his lover back so he could apologize for everything and whisper sweet nothings into those short strands that would tuck themselves beneath his chin. Chris would help to soothe away all the pain and all the aches, so that they could rebuild themselves together and return to their lives; normal and whole. But life wasn't so forgiving, and Chris was stuck in a dead end.