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just-another-siimp · 1 year

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Prison Break

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Graves bein Graves, Inaccurate Medical Practice, Injury descriptions, blood, torture? kinda, death threats, reader has brief ptsd moment. as always if I missed anything let me know <3

Authors Note: Holy shit you guys we've almost made it to the end! I originally planned for this to be a 3 part series but a 4th chapter will be posted in the coming days.

There are so many people that have helped me get to this point, especially @komorebiiiiiiii, @mauveserpent and @mydogeatscoffeecups who hype me up every time I say something about what i'm writing. As always likes, reblogs and comments fuel my serotonin, so if you enjoyed this please make sure to do so!

Word Count: 5k

Enemy at the Gate || Alone || Prison Break || Epilogue

The person looking back at you in the mirror was unrecognisable, a fresh bruise bloomed along your cheekbone from where Graves had hit you. Running water was all that kept you grounded, stopping you from diving deep into your thoughts. The soft scuff of shoes against concrete flooring reminded you that you weren’t alone, despite the fact that Graves had given you the opportunity to treat your wounds you were still at the mercy of his Shadows. An impatient sigh left the young Shadow who had been assigned to watch you, from the mirror you watched him impatiently adjust his stance again. Hand gripping his gun a fraction tighter.

Taking a clean cloth you ran it under the warm water, movements purposely slow as you cleaned the dried blood from your face. The equipment you’d been given was minimal; riodine, gauze, bandages, basic suture kit and steri strips. Just enough to stabilising your wounds and nothing for the pain, probably for the best. If you were going to make it out of here alive you had to be at your best, use the training that the 141st had drilled into you. A plan was already formulating in your mind, all you needed to do was play the long game. For now.

“Why are you taking so long? It shouldn’t be taking this long.” The Shadow’s tone was frustrated, he took a step towards you, gun gesturing to the sink. “Hurry up.”

“Are you a medic, Private?” They’d called him that when he came to collect you, from the way he acted he was fresh to the mercenary game. An easy target if you really thought about it. Dropping the cloth into the sink you looked back at him, uncapping a bottle of Riodine as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“No.” He spoke through gritted teeth, watching as you dabbed the Riodine directly to the graze on your forehead, biting back a hiss at the soft sting.

“Why don’t you let me focus then? Or would you like me to take longer?” Your eyes met his through the mirror, lips curling as he stepped back to his original position. Under his breath he grumbled something about being a glorified babysitter, you were just glad that he didn’t have the gun trained on you anymore. With each Steri Strip you applied to your forehead the pain in your arm grew worse, from under your makeshift bandage the wound throbbed uncomfortably dread filled your chest at the thought of it being infected.

“Hurry it up will you?”

“I’m taking my shirt off now, Private. If you wouldn’t mind-”

Fingering the hem of your shirt you pulled it up and over your head, you could’ve sworn the Privates cheeks heated up under the balaclava he wore as he turned away from you. Taking a chance you swiped the stitch cutter off of the sink, slipping it into the pocket of your jeans and continuing as though nothing had happened. It was easy to look at a bullet wound on anyone other than yourself, something in your stomach flipped and you felt like you were going to throw up. Gripping the sink you closed your eyes, waiting for the faint feeling to pass you thought of Soap and Ghost hoping that they weren’t injured and trying to do their own stitches.

“You’re dismissed, Private.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, throat constricting as panic set in. Standing too quickly you whirled around to face the Shadow that had stalked you in Las Almas. He smirked at you. You glared back. The idea of refusing to go further in treating yourself came to mind, just to spite the man in front of you. Make his evening just that bit harder. Except Graves’ voice echoed in your mind, reminding you of the deal you had made.

“Do we have a deal, Chip?” He was watching you intensely, it was as though he saw right through you. You could pretend to weigh up your options all you wanted but you’d already made up your mind, he knew that too. Nodding reluctantly you looked away from him, wincing as the restraints were cut from your wrists allowing blood flow back to your fingers.

“I’ll tell Price to call off Soap and Ghost, any retaliation plans against the Shadows will cease and the 141st will allow you and your men to continue with your mission.” Graves looked satisfied as you repeated his demands, remaining seated you glared up at him as he approached.

“And if you fail?” You wanted to spit in his face, anything to wipe that smug shit eating grin off of his face,

“The Los Vaqueros will die.”

“Liking what you see lil’ dove? Keep starin’ and I’ll have ta let ya take a photo.” His voice bought you back to the present, shooting him an icy glare you returned to facing the mirror. The necklace of bruises on your neck ached more, they seemed to grow a darker shade at his presence alone. Shaking your head you focused on unwrapping the makeshift bandage you’d created. From the corner of your eye you could see him leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he watched you work.

Blood trickled down your forearm, dipping down to your fingertips leaving dark crimson drops by your feet as you discarded the scraps of your shirt into the waste bin by your feet. The Skin around the bullet wound was raised, redness visible even under all of the dried blood. It was a miracle that the wound wasn’t infected, yet. This time you didn’t take your time treating the wound, nor did you rush. A through and through was easy to treat, no having to waste time trying to find a bullet if it wasn’t there. You’d done this hundreds of times before, it was easy. Right? Cleaning away the last of the dried blood you almost passed out, a shaky breath slipping past your lips as you glared at the suture kit.

You were a medic, you’d treated wounds in the middle of a war zone, you were trained to mend the wounds of the people who served alongside you. Yet you couldn’t treat your own. Tears stung at your eyes, breathing becoming uneven as the frustration set in. Alongside the exhaustion it threatened to leave you a blubbering mess. If Gaz were here he would’ve steadied you, forced you to sit until the Captain could come and treat your wounds for you. If it were Soap he’d brush your tears away, say something in Scottish to make you laugh while Ghost told you both to shut up and let him focus. It made you realise just how important they all were to you, the 141st was your family and you missed them dearly.

“‘Aight i’ve had enough of watching ya stare at that suture kit like it’s gonna kill ya.” He’s approaching you before you can stop him, not that you think you could. It didn’t stop you from backing up slightly, hand reaching up to protect yourself out of reflex. “Now now, darlin. If I wanted you dead I’d have killed ya already, I’m just gonna help ya. S’all.”

“Riveting speech.” The Shadows hand was on your shoulder now, guiding you to sit by the basin propping your injured arm up on the sink. For someone who had his hands wrapped around your throat less than 24 hours ago, he was oddly gentle. “Forgive me for not trusting you.”

“Could bring the Private back in? Pretty sure he was going to lose his lunch if he kept watchin ya. Don’t think he’d be that nice to you either, probably never met a medic that could never treat their wounds.” That wouldn’t be the brightest idea, he’d probably faint himself if he so much as looked at the wound let alone treat it. You glared at the man in front of you instead of responding, a last ditch effort to act tough. “I’ll take that as a no.”

He was putting on sterile gloves, hand reaching for the needle and thread. You looked away. Silently wishing that you weren’t squeamish to treat your own injuries.

“Do you have a name?” A distraction, that would help.

“I do, but that’s somethin’ for first dates sweets.” You rolled your eyes, knee bouncing slightly as he took a seat gaze focused on your arm. “Everyone calls me Komorebi, it means-”

“Sunlight that filters through trees.” You cut him off, rather proud you’d remembered the Japanese word. The pinch of the needle dug into your skin, you swore under your breath trying not to flinch away from the pain. He chuckled.

“Surprised ya know. Not everyone does.”

“Where are you from?”

“Earth.”

It went on like this for a while, you asked questions and he gave you half hearted answers. Despite the company it was a welcome distraction, before you knew it the stitches were complete and Komorebi even gave you the chance to inspect his work. For someone who wasn’t a medic it was good, better than good really. The stitches were so neat they almost outdid Ghosts.

“These are really good- who taught you?”

“My husband.” That’s right, despite all of the messed up things the Shadows had done they were still human. Some of them had a life outside all of this, someone to go home to at the end of a tough mission. Komorebi had finished wrapping the bandage around your arm, it was rather tight but not uncomfortable at the same time. Before you could continue the conversation he silenced you. “Communications is ready for you now, I’ll escort you down.”

There was no chance to protest, you didn’t even have the chance to thank him before you were plunged into darkness. Another set of footsteps approached, hand tilting your head to the side baring your neck to the unknown Shadow. A sharp pinch, a muffled apology and everything stopped.

“I don’t understand why you drugged them, what’s a combat medic gonna do-” The Private had returned, staring at your barely conscious body.

“They’re not just a combat medic, they’re a part of the 141st. That makes them a threat.”

When the bag was ripped from your head loose strands of hair were tugged at, the roughness of the action leaving a sharp sting that brought you back to reality. The drugs were still working their way through your system, time and space seeming to move differently in the dark place that you found yourself in. It was hard to keep your head up, stopping it from dipping to your chest. Your stomach churned at the putrid smell of cheap cigarettes, bile rising in your throat as the smoke was blown directly into your face. A door opened and closed, you were left alone. It took an effort to open your eyes, when you did you were only met with more darkness.

Blinking a few times you adjusted to your new surroundings, gaze landing on the blinking red light in front of you. It was an intimidation tactic, an attempt to amp up your anxiety by leaving you in the dark wondering what horrors were to come. For a long time you hadn’t been afraid of the dark, more so what hid in the shadows. Straining your ears you tried to listen for something, anything that would give you a hint of what was behind that door.

You were met with nothing.

Alejandro’s Safe House - Las Almas

Since they’d arrived at the safe house he hadn’t stopped pacing, betrayal was one thing but taking one of their own, their medic, their Chip? As much as he’d wanted to Ghost, knew that he couldn’t go in there guns blazing he had to be smart, ensure the safety of Alejandro and the Los Vaqueros as well as yourself. Johnny’s anger left him almost unrecognisable, he swore under his breath muttering something about how kidnapping Chip was crossing a line no man should cross. Clapping a hand on the man's shoulder he did his best to offer reassurance.

“We’ll get them back, Johnny.”

“We better or I’m going to kill that so-”

A few hours had passed since you’d woken, the drugs had worn off fog finally clearing from your mind allowing you to formulate a rough plan. At first Price had been adverse to the idea of a medic joining the 141st in the field, he knew that eventually one would be needed but he’d planned on digging his heels in until Laswell forced one on him. That was until Russia, you’d proved your worth as both a medic and a soldier that day. He forced Laswell’s hand, pulling you from your current assignment just to have you on his team. He’d sat you down the moment you entered the base, joking that if he was going to have a medic he wanted it to be you. You were flattered, thinking about it made you miss him more.

That’s why it was important for you to keep it together. Price thought that you were good enough for the 141st and you didn’t want to disappoint him. The Shadows were right, you were 141st and that alone made you a threat, medic or not.

In your back pocket you could feel the sharp pinch of the stitch cutters digging into your flesh, it wasn’t a weapon but it was sharp enough to cut through the plastic of the zip ties that bound your hands together. Leaning back against the chair you lifted your hips, fingers slipping into your pocket pulling the object out and securing it between your fingers. You weren’t sure how much time you had left alone, so you got to work careful not to cut through the whole way just enough to snap the ties the minute you had a chance to escape.

The door swung open, slamming against the wall. The sound was so loud that you flinched, bright lights pointed directly at you as two Shadows entered the room. In the corner of your eye you caught the red blinking light stop, a solid red staring directly at you. It belonged to a camera, this was proof of life.

“State your name for the record.”

“It’s Chip.”

“Not your callsign, your full name.”

“Potato Chip.”

The Shadow’s fist connected with your cheek, head falling to the side as pain radiated across your the side of your face. Your name was something precious a secret that could never be spilt not even to save your life, it was worth any amount of pain they threw at you to protect it. Taking a deep breath you picked your head back up, staring directly at the camera.

“This is a direct message to Captain John Price of the 141st from Commander Graves of Shadow Company.” You started, voice firm as the Shadow behind you cocked his weapon. A silent warning for you not to say something stupid. Looking into the camera you hoped that Price understood what you were asking of him “I am sure by now that you are aware of what has happened in Las Almas, in order to ensure that Shadow company can continue their mission with no further distractions he has asked that the 141st does not retaliate in anyway.”

“Once our mission is completed we will release your Medic into your custody.” The Shadow behind you interrupted, gun pointed at your head as he continued with his threat. “Any form of retaliation will result in immediate execution.”

“Captain, listen to me. I know it’s hard to understand what is going on, I’m sure that you’re just as confused as I am.” The Shadows were watching you intently, trying to figure out what you were trying to say. “It’s not worth it. Please don’t disregard what I say and do it anyway.”

Again the bag was put over your head, injured arm grabbed roughly as you were pulled upwards and out of the room. All you could do was hope that Price could understand the words you spoke with extra emphasis. Not that the message would get out to him anyway.

They were moving you to another building, the cool bite of evening air chilling your exposed skin. A helicopter flew overhead, you were pulled along roughly struggling to keep up with the Shadow. Silence loomed once the helicopter was gone, coming to a sudden halt you strained your ears, expecting to hear a knock or a car drive by. Except there was nothing, only the familiar feeling of eyes watching you. Continuing the surface under your feet changed, gravel crunching under your feet. As far as you could tell you and the Shadow were alone, so why could you hear a third pair of footsteps amongst your own?

Everything was moving far too quickly, the hand that had been holding you was now gone. A strangled cry was followed by a thud to your right, shuffle of feet to your left throwing you off. This could be your only chance to escape, taking a risk you snapped the zip ties. Instinct told you to pull off the hood and run, fate had other plans. The hood was pulled off, gloved hand covering your mouth and an arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back behind a car. They weren’t rough with you, not like the Shadows had been. It was as if they were being careful not to injure you further, once behind cover you were turned around. You were met with gentle brown eyes and a concerned smile.

“Rudy..” Your voice was barely above a whisper, there were a thousand questions running through your mind. Had he been captured as well? Was he escaping and just so happened to stumble across you? Those questions could wait. He’d pulled you into a hug, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders. It was grounding, easing the wild beating of your heart as he rubbed soothing circles on your shoulder. He only released you once Ghost and Soap began their approach.

Soap was the first to reach you, hands cupping your cheeks before checking over you. It was a tender moment, he’d held you at arms length, eyes staring into yours before pulling you into a bone crushing hug. Ghost was quick to remind you both that this wasn’t friendly territory. Even once the Scot pulled away you smiled at Ghost, shuffling over to him. His large hand cupped your cheek before patting you on the shoulder. Always the professional he was, wasting no time to arm you with a battle rifle and medical kit. He grumbled at you to stick to Soap’s six, the four of you making your way through the prison's main complex. You tried not to think that you would’ve been taken here if the Shadow had well.. made it.

A short trip up the stairs later and you were at Alejandro’s cell, Soap entering first followed by Rudy while you remained outside the cell with Ghost. You checked the stairwell one last time, checking the Shadows for Komorebi not wanting to be caught up with him again. Even if you had the others to fall back on. Hearing a commotion behind you there was no choice but to turn back, tension bled from your shoulders when you saw the Colonel alive and well, with only a bruise blooming on his cheek. He passed Ghost clapping him on the shoulder, approaching you with what could only be described as a proud smile.

“Ah! Papa’s Fritas, you made it out of Las Almas alive.” You laughed at the nickname, shaking your head as he wrapped you up in a hug, lips pressing to your cheek before letting you go. It was hard to ignore the way your cheeks burnt, and how Soap looked like he was about to piss himself laughing at your reaction.

“Almost made it out, got caught and ended up here.” He gave you a sympathetic look, patting your shoulder before getting back to the task at hand. Freeing the Los Vaqueros was the main priority, you could all regroup and exchange stories.

There was barely a chance to register what was going on in your surroundings, the concrete pillar you’d taken cover behind cracked at the onslaught of bullets that were fired directly into it. Soap was ground next to you, returning fire as guns were reloaded on both sides. You both pushed forward, hand resting on the back of his tac vest reminding him that you were directly behind him. Helicopter blades thundered overhead, forcing you both to a screaming halt behind a divider. That was one thing that could potentially ruin escape for all of you.

If you’d blinked you would’ve missed the RPG striking the tail of the Helo, it spun out of control and hurtled towards the ground in a ball of fire. Except no one was paying attention to the crash, instead their focus was on the green glow stick that had been thrown to the base of the wall. You suspected that the familiar figure standing atop the wall was none other than Captain Price, thoughts confirmed when the shadow of his bucket hat was caught in your sights. You and Soap were the first to reach the wall.

“On ya go Hen, I’ll be right behind you.” This was the fun part, clinging to the ascender you were up the wall in seconds, Price was quick to grab you by the wrist pulling you the rest of the way up.

There was little time for reunions with Soap and the others close behind you, catching sight of Gaz you swore your heart skipped a beat. The distance between you both was closed in seconds, you were wrapped in his embrace as though there wasn’t a battle going on behind you. Letting go of him your fingers slipped through his before fist bumping him. A handshake months in the making, you were both uncoordinated and it sure needed a hell of a lot of work but tradition was tradition. It would be bad luck if you didn’t do it.

“My men need cover.” Alejandro’s voice held authority, concern for his men's wellbeing something you’d always respected him for. He’d always put their safety over his own. Price nodded barking out orders to Soap, Ghost and Gaz before turning to you.

“Chip. We’ll see you at the bottom of the wall. Go!”

“Yes, Sir.” It was hard to leave their side but you didn’t need to be told twice, moving to the edge of the wall and allowing one of the Los Vaqueros down before you. Taking one last look at the prison complex you notice Komorebi, standing amongst the dead Shadows. You couldn’t see his eyes but it felt as though he was staring directly at you. As you began your descent to the bottom of the wall guilt crept upwards, settling in your throat.

Was it such a bad thing to hope that he would make it out of there alive? Go back home to his husband, learn how to do stupidly good stitches. To return to a sense of normalcy even if it wasn’t deserved? Who were you to judge what he did and did not deserve? As your feet hit solid ground you shook your head, pushing the thought to the back of your mind.

The soft pattering of rain against the tinted windows of the van kept you awake, the revelation of what Shadow Company and Shepard had done left you lost for words. Silence had fallen over the van like a blanket, it threatened to suffocate all of you. As adrenaline seeped out of your tired bones it left a wave of pain and nausea, the events of the last few days starting to catch up. You leaned forward elbows digging into your thighs, fingers locking behind your neck as you closed your eyes trying to force the feeling away. You could feel Gaz watching you through the rear view mirror, Price had turned around adding to the concerned looks that were thrown your way.

“Scoot over, Bonnie.” Soap was the first to break the silence, you did as he’d asked only stopping when your hip bumped against Ghosts’. He didn’t seem to mind. Exhaustion had overtaken you, fighting sleep was hard especially when Soap closed the space between you pulling you back to rest your head against his shoulder. It was warm, the presence of both Soap and Ghost comforting until all three of you were startled by a sudden pot hole. Gaz’s voice sounded far away when he apologised, Price making a comment about revoking his driving privileges. In the commotion Ghost’s hand had ‘accidentally’ fell to rest on your arm, index and middle finger resting above the pulse point on your wrist.

“You did good in there, Kid.” He gave you a gentle nudge, keeping his hand there. You didn’t say a word, only leeching off of the warmth that Soap radiated. The hum of the engine and the rock of the van lulling you to sleep, Soaps arm eventually wrapping around you keeping you safe.

Keeping away the feeling of being.

Alone.

There were no showers at Alejandro’s safe house, that didn’t really matter to you as much. Soap had bought you a cup of coffee, the first one in three days and suddenly you were reminded why Coffee was no good on an empty stomach. The bathroom was small, three cubicle’s and a metal sink that lined the wall. You were grateful that it was empty, taking a small moment to steal yourself away and focus on the silence. The water was cool as it ran over your hands, bringing it to your face you were able to soothe the warmth that seemed to cover your face and neck.

Since returning to the safehouse you’d been smothered by Soap, he watched over you like a mother hen would a chook. He’d held your hand while Ghost fixed up the stitches on your arm, made you laugh when you thought you were about to cry. Staring at yourself in the mirror you tried to ignore the bruises that were left behind, the purple-blue hue that formed along your cheekbone. The reddish-purple ring around your neck that no one wanted to acknowledge. No one had spoken about what happened in Las Almas that fateful night, secretly you hoped it would stay that way but from both a clinical perspective and for your report. The details would eventually have to be discussed.

It was an overwhelming thought, having to recount what you had seen in Las Almas. Explain how you had watched people murdered in their own homes, how the Shadows had taken no mercy on the innocent few mixed amongst the cartel. There was so much blood that coated that town, suddenly the cool water on your face was no longer comforting. You felt too warm, too crowded in such a small space.

Behind you the door swung open looking through the mirror you saw him, Komorebi stood at the entrance staring at you with emotionless eyes. Fear overwhelmed you, hand reaching to your hip where your gun had been waiting for you. By the time you’d turned around the Shadow had disappeared, instead replaced with Price, whose hands were raised but no real look of concern on his face. Not one that screamed ‘don’t shoot me’ at least.

You swallowed thickly, blinking back tears as your hand fell to your side. He lowered his hands, keeping them visible showing that he was not a threat to you. Opening your mouth to apologise nothing came out, all you could do was look away ashamed at your actions. It was your job to protect these men, yet here you were about to point a gun at your own Captain.

“Sorry I startled you.” He started out softly, footsteps slow to approach eventually stopping leaning against the sink next to you. There was silence as you calmed down, he waited for you to speak to him not forcing you into anything. It gave you the chance to even out your breathing again, though it didn’t change the way your heart hammered in your chest.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I thought-”

“You went through hell in Las Almas, Chip. I’m not mad at you for being on guard.” Satisfied that you were calm enough now he shifted his position, coming to stand in front of you arms folded over his chest as he leaned all of his weight into his left leg. He wasn’t mad at you for almost shooting him, that news alone was enough for the tears to start streaming down your cheeks. “We would’ve come anyway, regardless of whether or not you thought you were worth it.”

Deep down you weren’t crying because Price didn’t care that you’d almost gone and shot him, the emotions you’d tried so hard to push down were flooding your senses. A choked sob was all that left you as Price pulled you to him, hand resting on the back of your head as he held you close. Swaying gently while your hands clung to the back of his jacket, soft sobs filling the bathroom as he let you cry.

“It’s alright, love. You’re not alone anymore.”

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