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xxavengingangelxx · 6 months

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Somewhere Only We Know 2/?

Alright, ya'll, second part! We start getting angsty. ;) There will be smut in future chapters ;) It's continuation of Long Way From Home. The link below includes the link to the previous series as well. Ummm HUGE twist and feel really insecure so let me know what ya'll think :)

Trigger warnings for: Mentions of torture, dubious consent, brainwashing, mentions of noncon but no actual noncon, mentions of suicide. More will be added as the story develops.

Taglist! @bellgraves @unicorngirly1 @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl

@unicorngirly1 and I bounced ideas back and forth again and so I have to give her credit. Thank you, love!

Totally insulting the shitty-ass healthcare system we have. I'm an American and love my country! but FUCK I hate the healthcare system.

Graves had taught you how to bust zipties easily, even for someone of your small stature. He’d even taught you to keep paperclips or bobby pins in your uniform pants pocket to pick handcuffs, too.

The only problem with your plan was that the SUV wasn’t moving when the zipties finally gave way and snapped. Ghost’s eyes met yours in the review mirror. Gaz, in the front passenger seat, glanced back at you.

“Really, Val?” Gaz sighed when he caught sight of the busted zipties.

SHIT.

“Johnny,” Ghost said with his accent from up front. “Take care of it.”

Soap, sitting next you in the back, glanced down and he noticed the plastic zipties were broken right down the middle. “Serious’ly?” he said in his own accent. Soap handled you rougher than you expected when he shoved you forward, this time enclosing zipties around your wrists after pulling your arms behind you. You pulled but it was harder to break the ties with your hands being behind your back.

“Stop, lass” Soap almost chided. “Just relax,”

You remember Graves teaching you how to break zipties when your hands were tied behind you.

“It’s trickier when your hands are behind you but just do what I told you,” Graves prompted.

You waited for the SUV to be moving this time. You broke the zipties again but kept your arms behind you to fool them. No one noticed.

When you saw they were taking you to a hospital, you sighed in annoyance.

“Policy, Val,” Ghost said as he pulled into the parking lot. “Policy when a soldier is recovered from a pris’ner of war situ’ation.”

You wanted to saw that you had never been a prison of war. The US was not and is not at war with Shadow Company. You weren’t too worried. You and Graves had agreed on a story you’d stick to in just such a situation. You were sure he was working with Shepherd to get you back. Shepherd had friends in high places and tens of millions in bankroll. There was nothing he couldn’t do.

The police being outside the hospital entrance as Ghost pulled up into the parking lot riled you up even more because why?

The back door opened and when an unknown male, a police officer, armed with a gun and a taser on his duty belt, reached for you to yank you out of the backseat, you punched him in the face. The officer recovered quickly and grabbed your vest before dragging you from the car.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you yelled at the officer.

No use because he hauled you from SUV so harshly you fell onto the pavement, the front of your thick vest being the only thing saving you from your face slamming into cement. It still wasn’t enough to prevent you from scraping your face onto cold asphalt. When you felt your face scrape the frigid floor, you snapped, “Motherfucker!”

Handcuffs enclosed your wrists after your arms were again pulled behind you. You were then yanked up to your feet so roughly you felt bruises forming on your arm and your already fucked up wrists.

“Easy, lad,” Ghost approached the frustrated police officer. “She’s prolly been through ‘ell.”

Ghost then approached you. The way he approached you was…somewhat aggressive and it triggered red flags and warning alarms in your head. Ever since you’d been through what you’d been through with Graves, you were hyperaware to body language. You could read people…especially men. You’d been around nothing but men for the last 3 months and you’d learned to read them without really trying to learn. You could tell when they were frustrated with you. And Ghost looked embarrassed and frustrated. Despite the fact that you couldn’t see his face.

“Knock it off,” Ghost said softly in your ear. “That’s an order.”

“I’m not yours to order,” you snapped back before the police officer shoved you in front of him, keeping a tight grasp on your vest as he then pulled you.

You picked your handcuffs in the emergency room. It had been difficult but you’d managed to get them off. You handed them back to the officer when he was handing you over to emergency room staff. His face went red and you knew you’d pissed him off and embarrassed him. It was the closest you’d come to some kind of smile in 3 months.

You were in a room when you saw Price walking in with a phone held to his ear. He was angry. His body language screamed his emotions. He was on the phone…

With Graves.

Graves’s voice on the other side of the phone was mad…from what you could hear. You didn’t hear the whole conversation but some of it involved you. You heard a few phrases from Graves, all with a more pronounced Southern accent. His accent got more pronounced when he was emotional whether he be feeling angry or sadistic. Where the hell is she? You had no right. She’s my prisoner. You planned this shit and kept us separated us on purpose. I want her back. NOW.

Price put the call on speaker.

“You tell ‘im that you’re safe and that you’re done with ‘im,”

“Val?” Graves’s voice his voice saying your name.

You reached for the phone.

“Nah’uh,” Price pulled the phone away. “Tell him,” Price demanded. “That’s an order.”

You looked at the phone.

And then at Price.

And then at the phone.

“Val,” Graves’s voice told you he was uptight, upset, and on the verge of throwing the phone in his hand through the fucking wall.

When it was clear you weren’t going to tell Graves what Price had ordered, Price took the phone back into his hands.

“She’s ours, Graves, like she’s always been,” Price taunted.

“No, you abandoned her!” Graves roared. “I’m comin’ for her, Price.”

You asked to talk to Graves and were denied. “No,” Price said firmly.

You briefly heard Graves say something about Shepherd.

Price hung up.

3 days in the hospital. 3 fucking days of being taken for the endless tests they were requiring you do. One of them was a skeletal survey and it involved endless x-rays. You’d cooperated through most of the exams.

But then they brought a trauma OBGYN and you immediately said no.

“Why?” that cop that you’d punched in the face earlier in the day sneered at you. “Were you raped, traitor?”

The doctor’s jaw dropped at the inappropriate question from the officer.

You saw red.

So you lunged at the offending officer and swung on him again, this time catching him in the nose. The doctor screamed for security and you focused your rage on the aggravating man. You shoved him and he hit the wall behind him in the corridor. He tried to fight back but his skills were no match for yours: Shadow Company trained. A quick punch to the solar plexus left him doubled over and gasping for breath. His diaphragm was momentarily paralyzed and he could do nothing to defend himself.

So you punched him in the face repeatedly and then you grabbed his gun.

A familiar arm easily wrapped its way around your waist and pulled you away.

“Wut the ‘ell?!”

Soap.

“Would ya have shot ‘im?” Soap asked, horrified.

Soap paused before asking, “Who are you?”

“Drop it!” came the shout from another police officer in the doorway. He had you and Soap at gunpoint.

“Give ‘er a chance,” Soap stated. “Don’t shoot. Jezus.”

You dropped the gun and it clattered to the hard floor.

So then you flipped the tables.

“Soap, they’ll hurt me, don’t let ‘em hurt me,” you whined, fake tears in your eyes.

“No, she’s being sedated,” an orderly snapped.

“I told you,” you whimpered.

“Hold on,” Soap attempted to speak to the two police officers, and several hospital staff approaching you.

It was no use. The last thing you saw before falling unconscious was Soap’s concerned face. You still had him wrapped around your finger though, didn’t you? And you could use that. When did you start developing such nefarious intent?

They sedated you after that. You woke up after sleeping fitfully. Your brain was woozy and it was hard to think clearly.

“The only reason you’re not in restraints right now,” Price’s voice got your attention and your tired gaze tried to focus on him from across the room, “is because I figured Graves put you through enough of that when he had you. Am I right?”

You didn’t say a word.

Besides, you passed out again.

That same doctor was back in your room again. You were alone with her this time.

“Don’t you understand ‘no’?” you groggily asked.

“Sorry but unlike you Americans, we care about healthcare.”

Price was in your room again.

At least they’d allowed you to get dressed in street clothes. You expected to be released. You wanted out. And your plans were to call Graves on a phone number you had memorized and have him come get you. You weren’t even sure he’d want you anymore but…it was worth a try. The drugs they’d use to sedate you a day ago had worn off and you were sitting on the bed.

Price told you a few minutes later that because you’d made a ‘suicidal gesture’ when you raised a gun to your head 3 days ago they were transferring you to a ‘secure facility.’

“Where?” you asked heatedly.

“Listen,” Price said softly. He looked tired, like he he’d gotten little to no sleep in the last few days. “I need you to be honest with me. You told me I’m like a father figure to you,”

“You were,” your sharp words cut into your former superior and you could see he was almost holding back tears.

“I need you to tell me what happened.” Price said. “Tell me something.”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been missing for 3 months,” Price countered.

“I was arrested,” you shrugged. You began rehearsing the story Graves had told you, conditioned you to say in the event 141 ever got their hands on you again.

“Why pu’t it like that?” Price asked, his accent growing thicker. “He had no right.”

Price always knew how to get others talking and you were no exception. “Graves thought I was with Hassan since we got separated.”

“But you weren’t,” Price added.

You again shrugged.

“He took you prisoner,” Price corrected.

Price paused before adding, “Tell me about the scars on your face.”

“I got them when I fell,”

“Graves had no right to detain you. You weren’t arrested, you were kidnapped.” Price then asked, “Who inflicted the injuries that caused those scars on your face?”

“They happened when I fell.”

“Domestic violence treatment team says you were hit. On purpose.”

“That’s not accurate,” you stated simply. You’d wanted to say, yeah well they don’t fucking know shit! but you held back.

“Domestic violence treatment team says they’re sure you were hit. Purposely. With a blunt object. In the fohcking face, Val. They said it probably ruptured your eardrum.”

So that’s why you had trouble hearing in your first weeks with Shadow Company…“That’s not accurate,” you repeated the rehearsed response. “And it’s not domestic violence, what the fuck?”

Price sighed hopelessly. He had training. He probably knew your responses were rehearsed and coached but there wasn’t much he could do about it, not now at least.

“Your ribs have been broken,” Price added, his voice almost breaking.

“Happened when I fell,” you repeated.

“Fell where?”

“It happened when I fell down the fucking hill, Price,” You hated how he always got you to talk. Always. In the past and now apparently. Like he was your damn dad or something…

“Ok, well your ribs have been broken repeatedly,”

You stayed quiet because what could you say?

“Jesus Christ, Val. Help me here. You sound like a domestic violence victim,” Price pleaded. “How were your ribs broken repeatedly over the last 3 months?”

You tried to redirect away from the question. “But I’m not a victim.”

“You were beaten, Val,” Price cleared his throat. “Tortured,”

“That’s not accurate,”

Price scoffed running a heavy hand down his face.

“D’ya love ‘im?”

“Fuck no.”

“Why’d you try to kill yourself?”

“Back then? 3 days ago?” You scoffed. “That was a ‘suicidal gesture’ or whatever the fuck they wanna call it. I just did that to get your boys to back off.”

“No, but the scars on your arm were from more than gestures,”

You stayed quiet. But you didn’t dare break eye contact. Graves had taught you that. One way to unnerve someone was to refuse to break eye contact.

Price sighed, glancing away before focusing on you again.

“All the fohcked up things he did to you made you want to take yourself out, ey?”

You left your captain in stone-cold silence for a few minutes.

“He said you’d put me in prison,” you finally said.

Price looked surprised. He looked surprised. It was an act. You could read body language, especially men’s, like a book.

“He’s right isn’t he?”

“I won’t lie to ya, Val,” Price started, “you’re in trouble. You went from KIA to AWOL. UK is pissed you gave up our homing beacons.”

“Under torture!” you yelled.

“Ah,” Price interrupted. “So he did torture you.”

“Fuck you,” you shot back.

“You’re going’ta respect me when I talk to ya, understand?” Price demanded. He paused before adding, “You’re probably going ‘ta be court martialed.”

A police officer, the same police officer who joked about you getting raped, the same police officer you’d beaten within an inch of unconsciousness stepped into the room after hearing you yell. “She need to be put down again?”

Price turned in his direction and simply said, “You or anyone else here so much as touch her again, I’ll kill ya,” and that was all it took for that police officer to go wide-eyed and leave.

“Wow, so fuck me, right?” you snapped.

“Val—”

“I’ll keep quiet for my protection, then,” you added before you stopped talking entirely. “I want a lawyer.”

The police told you that when the transfer paperwork was ready you’d be transferred in chains. They were planning on filing assault on a police officer charges. Price was doing everything he could to get them not to. That was a surefire way to end up in jail.

Price had told you that you were safe, to talk, say anything, but you refused to believe it and refused to talk.

You didn’t answer him. They were fucking court-martialing you. And it wasn’t the US but the UK. Because under torture you’d given up 141’s homing beacon codes. Graves has been right. They were waiting for any fucking excuse to lock you up. Well, you did answer him. Only to tell him, “I want a lawyer.”

All of them came by and tried to talk to you at least once over those three days. More than once. Price, the father figure you never had growing up was getting on-edge. He’d asked you where the bubbly, talkative soldier in you had gone. Tried to ask you about why you’d assaulted a police officer so viciously. You were looking at jail time he’d told you. You’d wanted to tell him that the bastard had made a joke about rape, which was so not fucking okay.

But you had determined you hadn’t been raped. Hell, you’d approached Graves more than a few times and basically asked him to fuck you. There was no way that had all been rape. You’d lose your mind if someone ever convinced you it was. Being repeatedly raped was not something someone could survive, especially not for 3 months straight. You weren’t sure why that ‘joke’ had pissed you off but it did.

“Val,” Price called your name one rainy afternoon. He had to call your name more than once because your had spaced out. You spent almost all your time now in your head and away from reality.

“What?”

“What do the 15 tally marks on your vest mean?”

“War has casualties, Captain,” you responded in a daze. If you’d been fully present in the moment you would’ve kept your damn mouth shut because you just admitted to killing 15 people.

Soap, your friend, sometimes with benefits way, way in the past, didn’t get you talking either. He’d tried his best. You’d been spacing out and didn’t realize he’d been talking to you. So when he raised a gentle hand to place on your arm, you jumped almost a mile high. You flinched so badly Soap retreated, almost expecting you to hit him. But while you couldn’t hit Soap or any other of 141’s members, you still couldn’t stand to be touched. Not by anyone besides one person. Besides, you were sure Graves would kill them and you if you let another man touch you. And while you weren’t as close to 141 as you used to be, you sure as hell didn’t want them dead or hurt.

“Don’t touch me,” you muttered.

Gaz, being one of the most expressive of the group sat and stared. “You don’t want me to—”

Hug me, hold me, tell me it’s all gonna be okay? Your mind asked in a mocking tone.

“No, don’t touch me,” you’d repeated.

Ghost was brief. He didn’t have much to say. You knew he had been taken hostage himself.

“You know what it’s like then,” You said to him.

“Oh, I know,” Ghost replied calmly.

You met his gaze. You wondered what he looked like under that mask. Not ugly, apparently.

“But what scares me the most?” Ghost’s voice brought you back to the present.

“Hmm?”

“The look in your eyes, mate,”

“Why?”

“B’cuz there’s nothin’ there,”

It was another long, restless night. You were exhausted but scared to sleep. At least they hadn’t sedated you since you taught that misogynistic cop a lesson. You were dozing on and off, every little noise making you jump. You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t sleep without Graves. The hospital had taken everything from you. Your vest, the clothes you had on the day you were admitted, your watch, everything.

Plus one of the doctors you’d spoken to had told you something about yourself that you in no way were expecting. It gnawed at the back of your mind. And while there was a lot not letting you sleep, that was the main thing keeping you up. At least it was your secret.

You happened to hear Price’s voice and you wondered if you dreamt this or if it really happened.

“I heard a song once,” Price’s soft voice emanated from the hallway. In the past his voice could be rough, demanding.

“Yeah?” Gaz asked.

“It was ‘bout a man who brings a ‘package full of wishes’.”

“What abou’ it?” Soap asked.

“One of those wishes was a time machine.” Price paused. “Can we go back to before all this shit happ’nd?” he sighed heavily. “She might be goin’ to prison.”

You finally fell asleep that night at 3 in the morning. But when you dreamt, you didn’t dream of 141. You didn’t dream of Graves. You didn’t dream of Las Almas or the torture you’d suffered in your first week at Shadow Company.

No.

You dreamt of Makarov.

You woke with a start at 4 in the morning. Now why in the hell was Makarov in your dreams? And worst of all, why was he taking you when you were only supposed to be baiting him?

“Pretty little princess. I can see why Graves likes you so much. What’s your name? Don’t make me ask twice.”

In the dream you begged him not to hurt you. Not only because you were terrified of him but because you were--

His voice echoed in your head after waking up and you stopped reflecting on the dream. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the sound of his voice, that accent. About how if he did take you, you’d have no clue what was going on because you just knew he would speak Russian to everyone around him. You hoped and prayed Graves got you back. But if you did, you knew Graves wanted to use you to bait Makarov. But you had such a horrible feeling about it. Yet there was no way you could tell Graves no.

You refused a psychological evaluation the next day. You’d said no. That was it. When they continued insisting you just stayed quiet.

“Don’t make us get a court order, Ms. Valdez.”

You scoffed. That still wasn’t going to make you talk. You’d eventually broken under questioning, yes, but you wouldn’t break this time. Of that you were sure of. You wanted to yell at them to get the FUCK out of your face but you knew it was only going to be used against you. And you’d be sedated again. That and anything in that report if you cooperated.

So they decided that because you weren’t communicating they were indeed going to transfer you to a more secure facility. They took Graves’s threat of him coming to get you seriously.

It was revealed to you later that the more secure facility they’d been talking about was a detention facility.

“So you’re really gonna let them lock me up?” you asked Price when he walked into your room. There were more people behind him but you couldn’t see who they were. Police radios told you exactly what you needed to know.

“I can’t help you, lass,” Price responded softly.

“I should’ve fucking offed myself,”

“Don’t say that,”

“When’d he start tryin’ ta brainwash you?” Price signaled to the waiting group outside. He wanted a few minutes with you before they chained you up and locked you away. Possibly forever.

“He didn’t brainwash me,”

Price laughed but it was a noise void of humor. “When’d he start fuckin’ you?”

You snapped to look at Price. He looked angry. Time was running out. The cavalry was here to get you and if he didn’t get you to talk now he might never see you again except inside of a courtroom. Testifying against you.

“None of your business,” you shot back.

“Val I’m this close ta losin’ my shite,” Price stated heatedly. “You two had all kindsa inappropriate shite goin’ on from the moment ya met and they’re gonna use all that against ya.”

“Captain,” you almost growled. You couldn’t yell because the last thing you wanted was to be drugged. Again. “Respectfully, sir, it is none of your business who I sleep with.”

“You were messin’ around with Soap when you were assigned a year or two ago. You want what happened then ta happen again?”

“Graves and I hung out. I’ve never slept with him. I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year.”

“Now thas’ a fuckin’ lie,” Price shot back.

“What do you know?” you heatedly asked. “You lost me, abandoned me for 3 fucking months.”

“Because I know you’re fuckin’ pregnant!” Price yelled.

And with that…you were done. You knew about the pregnancy. Hell, you’d made the decision to keep it and they’d made the decision then to remove your IUD to prevent complications. So not only had you lost your freedom…you’d apparently lost your privacy, too.

So you cried. And you didn’t protest or move away when Price sat next to you and held you.

So NERVOUS! Please let me know what ya'll thought of that twist ;)

#phillip graves #cod mw3 #john soap mactavish #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #mw2 141 #ghost cod #gaz mw2 #call of duty mw3 #general shepherd #longwayfromhome

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