Chapter Text
Graves sat in a dark room when he woke up.
The bed was soft, the air was cold, the lights were off, he could hear the occasional footsteps and chatter down the hall.
He wasn't sure where he was, but he was ready.
He reached around and pricked his finger on a sharp tool before picking it up.
Grabbing what he has to assume was a scalpel by the hilt, he got up and looked around, eyes adjusted to the dark around, a standard for him now.
His cell didn't ever have a light in it. Only the sole window was too high for him to reach and the light from the ventilation that sat in the corner, too small to crawl through.
His legs were less covered than usual, though he could feel the material of what he had to assume were shorts brushing his legs.
Gym shorts to be exact. Material was too soft to be jean shorts or cargo or khaki or any pant like material. Gym shorts.
His shirt was loose fitting and sagged to create an involuntary low cut that didn't reveal much of anything but the loss of cover felt off.
He gripped the scalpel with vigor and waited, listening.
He hid behind the door and watched it open slowly. And the light flicked on.
"Phillip?"
Graves gave halt before he glanced at the searching eyes and brown, almost black bearded man with that stupid fucking fisher's hat.
Graves dropped the scalpel with a clear, ringing ting and a thud and Price turned around and smiled at the tool on the ground and disheveled commander.
"Hey, there, kid."
Graves felt tears burn at his eyes but he just smiled and hugged Price close, a small mercy that Price didn't mention it and hugged him back.
"How are you doing"
Graves opened his mouth and frowned. He couldn't speak. That wasn't something he could do.
In the early days, he noticed he only got a shower and food if he stayed quiet so he'd restricted himself from talking, leading to a throat full of unripe and unused vocal chords.
Too fragile to even try speaking with.
Graves held up his hands with a frown and signed.
He had learned the silent language in high school. The expertise he'd gained had never left him due to his time in the military. Speaking was often unadvised and it was easy to sign quickly for him.
So he spoke without words.
"Do you know sign?"
"I know BSL and ASL."
Price used his words, reading the hand movements with ease.
"Then you should know I can't speak"
"Understandable, Phillip."
"I'm sorry"
Price frowned at the genuine display of self doubt and sadness without a touch of pity, only sympathy for a man broken through neglect.
"It's not your fault."
"He wanted you all gone. We fucked up and he wanted it buried through blood and fire."
"Shepherd? We know, bud. We don't care about what you did. You did right by us"
"Price, I'm not a good person"
"And neither am I. Neither is Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro or Rodolfo. But we make up for that by fighting. Putting our bad nature to good use. Helping the world and rinsing away corruption "
Graves blinked slowly and frowned.
"Sir, I don't think I can handle being alone"
"Then I'll stay right here until you can and even after that. The boys and I have been looking for you for the last 5 and a half years, Phillip. We won't let you go again, promise."
Graves nodded and smiled weakly before making his way back to the bed and laying down with broken groans, cracked and marred by his vocal chords.
"Are you hungry?"
"No"
"Let me know when you are, alright?"
"Yes, Captain."
Price smiled small and nodded, relaxing into a chair at Graves' bedside and watched the former prisoner of half a decade float to sleep.
Aside his famine, poor hygiene and vocals, Graves was in better shape than the other prisoners they'd found in that compound.
The walls of those people's cells were coated in layers of blood, vomit and fecal matter. But Graves' cell wasn't. There were patches of blood in various spots but not layered. Vomit and fecal matter was absent, no doubt in the toilet.
Which, though didn't flush, as it was a hole in the ground, still was better than the nothing the others had. The Shadows obviously still either respected Graves or cared about him. Maybe it was a level of spite that triggered these small mercies.
Mercies that Graves no doubt recognized and appreciated.
Price watched the commander, now Sergeant as he was before he started his contractor group of PMCs, sleep. A few fingers on his right hand twitched, possibly nerve damage that didn't affect his effect with a trigger and some bullets.
His brow furrowed and unfurrowed in a repeated action that caught Price's attention as the older of the two sat forward and pressed his hand over the top of Graves' as a means of grounding.
Something warmed in Price's gut when the brow of the sergeant stilled and he drifted peacefully.
"Don't tell me you've got the adoption papers in your mind already"
Price turned around, eyebrow quirked and smiled.
"Have since I met him. Phillip is a very hurt man. Requires some form of a family."
"He has one. In America"
"That never gave a shit about him. He was missing for 5 and a half years, Kate. And they never once cared. Only his nephew, Jack, and his brother Will cared. Those boys cried for weeks on the phone with me because the rest of the their family didn't give enough of a shit"
"Have you called them yet?"
"No.. they'll be on the first flight here and I want Phillip to be well enough to go to them instead. A surprise."
"Got it. Ghost wants to see him"
"He asked?"
"You know that man, John. And I do too. He won't ask but he wants to."
"Tell him I request his presence.. Soap too"
"Alright, John. I'll let them know their dad needs them"
"Not their dad, Laswell"
"Sure you aren't, Price"
She left the room as she entered it, silently. Not 5 minutes later, Ghost and Soap arrived together. No doubt having been lounging somewhere, Soap avoiding work and Ghost 'practicing' his stealth in the corner of the room.
"Captain, you needed us?"
"I want you both in here when he wakes up. He asked about you two"
"Us and not Gaz?"
"Gaz isn't here unfortunately, on a mission trying the gather Intel on Shepherd."
"Right"
Soap sat down next to Graves on the opposite side of the bed, watching the former Commander's breathing. Ghost stayed silent and in the corner, watching.
"Simon"
"Yes, sir?"
"Bloody shit down, son. It'll be a while"
"No need sir."
"That's an order, Lieutenant "
Ghost let out a quiet sigh, heard just over the monitors on the desk in the corner of the room as he trudged over and sat down next to Soap, hunched over and eyes closed. He looked as dead as his name sake.
"Has he slept, MacTavish?"
"I'm right here"
"I asked Soap, Simon, so shut your trap"
Soap smiled and shook his head.
"No, not much sir. He'll enter his room for an estimated hour and then leave. I know because I'll hear him open and shut his door at 6-7 at night."
"I sleep just fine."
Price looked at Simon with what they called a father's disapproval and shook his head.
"You see that empty bed over there? Go sleep, now"
"Captain, I'm -"
"Now"
Ghost and Price stared at each other with looks of different states of stone-cold and drifting sleep.
Finally, Ghost gave in.
"Fine. But only for a few hours"
"Good. Off with the gear"
A new staring match approached them and they stared each other down with new forms of stone-cold resolve. And again, Ghost gave in.
Soap stood up and pulled the tac-vest off and the boots, the knives except one, Ghost's favorite and the hoodie, leaving Ghost in his cargo pants, a long sleeve shirt, his balaclava, gloves and socks.
He laid down and soap pulled the sheet up to Ghost's torso but not further and Ghost went out like a light.
Soap frowned and sat back down, careful to place the equipment down softly next to the bed.
"Alright there, Sergeant?"
"I'm alright sir, just worried. Ghost is like a brother to me I'm a way, and I've never had a brother before so.. I don't know. Gaz, Graves, Ghost, Alejandro, Rodolfo, they're all my brothers. I don't know what I'd do if I lost them, you know?"
"I understand you, son. It'd hurt like a bitch for a long time if I lost any of you for good. The worst feeling, getting attached and then losing that object of attachment. It hurts like hell"
Soap nodded, looking over at Graves, who was watching them with drooped eyes.
"Hey there, Phillip."
"Hey Soap"
Graves' hands formed words his mouth couldn't and Soap frowned.
"You can't speak?"
"No, sorry"
"Naw, that's al'ight"
Graves smiled and looked over at Price who smiled back.
"That was a short nap, Phillip"
"Sorry, sir, can't sleep. Been doing nothing but sleeping since I was taken"
"That's just fine. You'll have to take it slow though. Stay in here one more day, alright? Even if you don't need sleep, Simon does."
Graves looked over at the cot that Simon laid down on, deep in sleep and one hand clenched on his chest, the other under his head, no doubt hiding a knife.
He nodded and relaxed into the mattress, grateful it was there instead of the wood he had. Thin or not.
Soap laughed and tapped Graves' thigh to get his attention.
"Wanna hear a joke, Phillip?"
"Sure"
Soap smiled.
"What has two legs and bleeds."
Graves frowned and shrugged.
"Half a dog"
Graves stared at the Scot and smiled.
"That was one of Ghost's wasn't it?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"His humour is absolutely fucked"
Soap laughed and covered his mouth to not disturb Simon and Graves looked over at Price, who's eyes drooped heavily.
"You can sleep, sir, it's fine"
"I know that son. Just give me a moment. Sleep has never been easy"
"We're military, sir. It never will be after the first loss"
Price smiled sadly and nodded, leaning back and falling fast asleep, fishing hat pulled over his eyes. Soap looked between the sleeping captain and the sleeping lieutenant before turning to Graves, who was now a Sergeant.
"So.. you skipped every pther rank and just became commander of your own PMCs?"
"Yes. I don't regret it either"
"Why not?"
"Probably never would have met you all if I hadn't"
Soap nodded and laid his head next to Graves' leg on the mattress.
"I feel like a sack of bricks, so I'ma take a nap, Phillip, if you'll be alright with it?"
"No problem, Soap. Just don't pass away in your dreams."
"Understandable Sergeant, have a nice day"
Graves laughed quietly in the already quiet room and watched Soap rest his head on his arms, laid next to Graves' leg again and fell asleep easily.
Maybe sleep truly was easier for some rather than others.
3 hours later the forst of the woke up.
Simon Riley pushed himself onto his elbows and looked over at green eyes that looked well rested and had dark bags underneath, which contradicted each other.
He stared back before squinting and sitting up all the way, still staring.
And then the amused smile clicked.
After Operation Dark Water, Commander Graves had tried to remove them from the assignment on Shepherd's orders. They later found out it was purely an act of following orders because Shepherd wanted the missiles back to cover up that he and Graves had lost them.
But Graves had tried to defy orders. Which led him where he was now.
In a medical wing of the personalized 141 base.