Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A safe house was supposed to be safe. Backup after backup safehouse, yet Phillip was anything but safe. Under normal circumstances, he would have been safe. Being searched for by the 141 meant he wasn’t safe at all. There was no security each time he jumped from safehouse to safehouse, it simply left a trail. Opened and empty food containers on counters, messy blankets on the beds, still damp bathtub from showers. It left signs that he didn’t think to clean up before he was onto the next place.

The 141 had their reasons, just like Graves had his for running. Every second of his time had been plagued with a strong headache, it made things fuzzy in a way that was far too familiar. He abandoned his shadows, knowing some were dead, lost, or hopefully somewhere actually safe. Maybe even with their families, though Phillip knew not to hope too strong for that. Men like them hardly got their happy ending. With the 141 and Los vaqueros searching for all of them, it was a death sentence. Searching for Graves like their lives depended on it. No rock left unturned.

It was only a matter of time before they found him. In a shitty little apartment next to a main road, it was the only place he could find on such sort notice. Somewhere that wouldn’t be expected of him. Graves was on his own, that’s all he had to worry about. But he worried, and the headache only grew.

He should have ran further, as far as he could go without leaving a paper trail. It was dangerous. Fucking careless. His head was cloudy, almost a static to his vision as he moved. Sleep was restless, his appetite was gone. All he thought to do was run, but his weary body wouldn’t make it under those conditions. He needed to go, find anywhere else. It just wasn’t an option as his body begged him for sustenance, for sleep.

The bed was so welcoming… If he just laid down for a few minutes, it would be okay. He’d just rest his eyes, he told himself that was all he would do. The longer he laid there, the less control he had. His eyes closed, and his body finally went lax into the mattress. A crappy old thing, but it felt heavenly to him.

Thirty minutes, and he swore he set an alarm. But in a dream like state, it was hard to tell what was real. He let himself drift, believing an alarm had been set that would keep him safe.

Dull voices flooded through his ears as he began to wake.

He counted as he listened, british, british, british, scottish…

Fuck, he was a dead man. His breathing slowed until he managed to force himself to hold his breath. Phil clutched at the pillow under his head, laid on his side, curled up just a bit. Pain sputtered like an engine as it engulfed his body in quick surges until it settled back in his head. Silent. Stay silent, he told himself, as if that would get him out of any of this. He didn’t even have a weapon on him. Foolish mistake.

Terror set deep in his bones, along with the burning of his tense muscles/

“Grab him, we’re leaving.” John Price, Graves noted. He was torn between wanting to shove his fist in his face, and wanting to cower… His eyes shut so tight it dazed him, or maybe it was the lack of oxygen. But he’d held his breath for longer.

Orders changed quickly.

“Stop.” He heard as steps approached his bedside. The fucking scot talking. “He’s awake.”

Silence followed, Phillip assuming they were watching him. He kept holding his breath, even though his lips were probably going blue at that rate. Dizziness settled in.

“Open your bloody eyes.” Ghost. The one he was unreasonably scared of. Something in him felt like it died, perhaps his pride. It was so far from what he had wanted when he had met them all. To end up a dead man at their hands… they’d kill him once he lost his usefulness. And to think he had thought that maybe, just maybe, they could have been okay. His orders fucked it all up.

As much as he wanted it all to be over, and to just be home again. A knot formed in his throat as his eyes flickered open. Blue eyes taking in the surroundings, specifically where each man stood.

Price blocked the door. Ghost blocked the window, and the sargeants stood near the end of the bed. Chances of getting out with a pure adrenaline run plummeted to zero. He was completely fucked. If he hadn’t napped, he could have defended himself.

“Up, Graves.” The captain spoke harshly, arms crossed over his chest.

By some miracle, Phil complied. There was no choice but to surrender. No shadows backed him, he was alone without a weapon on his hip. Fear forced him into agreeing with their wishes, he could only hope he’d be allowed out… All his things were in his car, they never made it to the apartment. He didn’t even need it all! Maybe just a blanket, his favorite one. He could cuddle up with it. A few minutes was all he needed. But he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t have to be told.

The men seemed equally surprised that Graves did as told. No bullshit, no snapping back.

A big fist grabbed him by the back of his neck, as if he was scruffing him. A gloved hand, thinning on the trigger finger. Ghost. A breath forced it’s way into his lungs, and the dizziness slightly subsided. Gaz stood almost silent, glaring daggers his way. Hateful, like he should be. Yet it still hurt, buried deep into his chest, tightening the knot in his throat.

His rigid arms were forced behind his back, held by another forceful hand. It promised quick injury if Phil even attempted to get away.

There was a silent exchange between the four of them, before Ghost pushed Phil out of the apartment. Walking and walking. Every hall looked the same way, he hardly bothered to pay attention to the numbers on the wall. It all blurred together, like he was stuck in fog. Nothing was clear, just the end destination. Wherever the 141 wanted him, really.

None of it was kind, he didn’t deserve kind.

In a blink of an eye, Graves was put into the back of the 141’s transport. A black military transport van. Phil made no effort to buckle in, and just sat there instead, eyes glued to the floor. His blanket, he wanted his blanket. He ignored the orders spat at him from Ghost, something about buckling up and cooperating. Phil’s mind was elsewhere, if anywhere at all. He felt like fog was in his vision, in his head. Drowning things out, making it all fuzzy. This was the worst possible place to feel like that.

The others loaded up and the car began to move. Price took the seat closer to the front of the vehicle, Soap took a seat by Ghost, and Gaz took one closer to the rear view window. It all felt cramped, even though there was plenty of space. No one was touching him, but he could hear them talking, could feel them glaring. Or at least Soap and Gaz.

While Graves felt genuine fear and guilt. He’d hurt these men, but they hadn’t actually hurt him yet. The other shoe was bound to drop soon. Each glance around that he took, he tucked himself further and further back, resorting to staring out a window.

Ghost watched him, hardly taking his eyes off. Phillip Graves being scared was a new thing completely. He was the fearless leader of the shadows, never taking no for an answer. Always fighting back. But there he was, trying to shrivel himself up like a depressed plant. Or shrinking back on himself like a scared kid. That’s how he felt. A scared kid. He had no defenses, just his neglected body that could only take a hit or two before it fell apart.

Phil’s lip was tugged into his mouth, teething working one spot till it was bare and bloody. His shoulders shook, but he had kept his hands at his sides. Once his legs were pulled up to his chest, he seemed to lose all the rest of his fight. His eyes wondered back to Ghost for just a moment, lingering on the mask then looking at his tac gear. The guns at his sides.

“You scared of a Ghost, Graves?” The deeper voice spoke, boring a hole into the side of Graves’ head with his gaze.

His shoulders tensed before they shook harder, gaze immediately averted. The dim sky had his attention next, but just barely. Graves did what he could to square away, though half his face was still visible. Hot tears poured from his eyes within a few seconds. Yes, he was scared. Terrified. The mask only added to the fear.

A small dribble of blood mixed with spit leaked down his chin. Phil gnawed at his lip, until something in it popped. He swallowed his own blood, while one hand covered his lips and chin.

Graves attempted to shake his head. Weakness. They were only tolerating him now, the crying would only make it worse. But the tears kept falling, dampening his face. He was tired, hungry, sore, and scared. It was a mix that would make any little one sick. His legs worked quickly, forcing himself away from the group. Not buckled up, despite being told to minutes ago.

The tone in the van shifted as the others looked towards Price. It could all be a play to get them to lower their guard, they all were thinking the same thing.

But Price’s eyes were soft as he got up. A little one in distress, how could he not? With gentle steps, he came to Phil’s side, kneeling down next to him.

“Graves,” The captain began, a hand resting on one of his knee, “I know you’re scared… But this is important.” He was firm, but still gentle. That mix of captain and father-like tones adding a bit of warmth to the air, but Graves only shivered.

His eyes squeezed closed after looking at Ghost one more time. Phil fearfully pushed his leg out in an effort to make more space between him and Price. A small nudge, he swore that's all it was. Then his leg was grabbed and put down forcefully, his cries only getting louder.

“We don’t kick, Phillip.” Price spoke in a much more stern tone, scolding him like he was a child.

Graves whimpered at the tone. He’d been bad again. He didn’t mean to kick! His eyes opened, just to look apologetically at Price before he saw Ghost in the background and closed them again. The mask- he was terrified of it- Ghost’s mask scared him when he was already terrified enough.

“Phil, we’re not going to hurt you, we just need to talk.. You’re in trouble right now, but we won’t hurt you. You have our word.” Price softened at that reaction, his hand resting back on Phil’s knees as he rubbed small circles. It didn’t work the way he wanted it to, the boy just wouldn’t even take a breath.

The reassurances felt like nothing more than empty promises. He was far too aware of the reasons he shouldn’t be allowed such comfort. He had been running so long while fully convinced they would hurt him, like he had done… Though not exactly willingly.

“N-no.. wanna go home!” Graves sniffled, his bloody lip poking out from his mouth as he spoke. Just more blood dripping down his cheek as he tried to pull himself away from all the contact.

“I know, kid. I know.” The captain stood, simply patting Graves on the back. He took a look around, silently checking in on his boys. The sobs grew louder when Price finally turned his back, as if he felt even worse now.

The skeptical glances turned to ones that seemed genuinely concerned, confused even. The attempts Price made, no matter how half hearted it was, didn’t work enough to get Graves a single gasp of air. The tears fell harder, soaking the collar of his shirt as they fell down his face and neck. The bloody lip even making a mark as it dripped.

The movement shifted, all fuzzy to Phil when he attempted to decipher the different people moving. He managed to figure that one was Ghost, but the others were lost on him. The heavy steps told him that Ghost was getting closer though. His own sobs drowned out a lot of it.

Ghost saw himself in Graves as the sobbing continued. Though he had no idea how small the boy had regressed, he knew that he was small enough to not be able to rationalize this at all. Taken away from somewhere safe, just to be taunted or asked far too many questions, and maybe not even let go at all. He recognized the fear.

With hesitation, the mask was removed. Ghost set it away from Phil, as it was what he believed Phil was scared of most. A small item was taken from his pocket as he knelt down where Price had been. Scars lined his face, however, he looked.. kind.

“Phil?” Simon asked, not pushing for an answer, nor any contact.

“This is scary, huh?” The man began. He kept a close eye on Graves’ every movement, like he was a ticking time bomb, but not treating him like such. Regressing wasn’t always pure… Sometimes it was screaming, crying, kicking, tantrums, and even self harm in some cases. Ghost was familiar with it all.

Just the change in tone, and the simple removal of the mask had Graves at least looking at Ghost. His eyes wandered to the scars, but always made it back to Ghost’s eyes. Deep brown, with gold-ish flecks in the light.

“That’s it, mate..” Ghost approvingly nodded to him. “Do you want something soft?” He offered, a hand already on something in his hand that he held in his pocket.

Graves sniffled as he watched Ghost, blinking as the tears kept blurring his vision. He wasn’t as scary without the mask.. But was still big, towering over him with ease if he wanted to. Right now though, he remained kneeled down at Phil’s side. He slowly nodded.

“Okay, but you gotta be gentle, okay?” A little smile made an appearance on Simon’s face. He pulled out a small object. A very tiny blanket, with a lamb head on the top corner. It showed its age, old, a little rough around the ages. But it was soft, well maintained. Ghost gently set it Phil’s knee, but didn’t let his hand linger for more than a second.

Phil was careful. His hands shook as he reached for it, holding the small baby blanket in his hands. It was softer than he though it would be. His fingers traced along the smooth fabric at the edges, then he rubbed the soft, plush fabric at the center. The tears stopped flowing as hard, he hiccuped and finally took a deep breath. The little toy was nice, it even had a silly face stitched on. Clearly a hand done job.

“It’s okay… We won’t hurt you.” That time it sounded like a promise. Like Simon wasn’t going to even let the other’s hurt him.

It coaxed a full breath into the little one’s lungs.

“See? Deep breaths…” Ghost encouraged, taking a deep breath of his own as he began again, “It’s okay.. I get scared too. Price is my.. Baba… He takes good care of me… An’ if you let him, he’ll take good care of you too.” He remained just as encouraging as he shared his secret.

Graves had to take a second to process. His bloodied lip back in his mouth as he visibly chewed it, not as hard as before, thankfully. He blinked at Ghost, then up at Price. He was a traitor, yet they were helping him like family. It was wrong, but he wanted it. Needed it. God knows he needs food, and actual sleep. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a prisoner as he thought.

“P’ice is scary…” Graves whispered, his eyes looking back to Simon, who chuckled a little at that.

“He’s just a big bear. They can be scary too, but you know what?” Simon waited until Phil made a curious sound. Ghost leaned in a tad to whisper, “Bears protect their young, and they help them. But, between you and me, he’s a big teddy bear.”

It got Phil to giggle a little rather than sniffle. The tears still dripped, but they slowed to almost being gone. Graves actually grinned a little bit, holding the little blanket lamb closer to his chest.

“He’ll protect you, bub. Don’t sweat it, aye? We’ll let you fixed up, and comfy before anything. Couldn’t let a little one walk around with a busted lip, hm?” Ghost assured him, his hand, now ungloved, rested on Phil’s leg. There were no kicks, no sobs, no whimpers.

“Uh-huh.. Ghos’ fix me up?” Phil asked in the smallest voice, stumbling over his words easily.

“‘course, bud. I’ll fix you up, and we might even be able to put on some cartoons for you while I do. How’s that sound?” Ghost responded, the smile reaching his eyes. Though he didn’t have much experience taking care of little ones, he’d do his best.

Phil softly nodded. With that, they continued to a 141 safehouse without any more cries. He had Price on his left, and Ghost on his right. His mask stayed off, tucked into one pocket. Despite it all not being perfect, or near okay, he leaned his head onto Ghost’s shoulder.

Sleep was inevitable. After his last few days of restlessness, it only made sense when Phil fell asleep on Simon's shoulder, the little lamb blanket never leaving his hands.

Chapter Text

Ghost remained still as a statue as Phillip rested against him. The entire ride to the 141 safehouse, hours away, Simon didn’t move. Only small huffs of breath whenever Soap would make a horrible joke about something stupid and irrelevant.

Somehow, sleeping like this felt like the easiest thing in the world after his last few days. Phil occasionally shifted from leaning on Ghost, to leaning on Price. Neither of them minded, but Price was more sweet with him in that sense. An arm wrapped around the little one so he wouldn’t hit his head on the van wall. There was no padding, and the boy didn’t need to hurt more than he already was. At least emotionally.

When he woke, Phil found himself to be in Ghost’s arms while the taller was walking. The mask still gone off the brit’s face, though the eye black remained messily on there. Graves sleepily blinked up at him, his hold on the little lamb blankie tightened as he began to wake. The sun now completely set, stars illuminating the dark sky they were walking under.

“G’morning, lad.” He heard from Ghost’s side. It was far from morning, yet it made him feel a little giggly for someone to say that so late. Undoubtedly Soap talking, a smile audible in his voice. The threat of them all being there felt dull, still there, but dull. Prodding at him like a butterknife that could do no real harm. They proved he was safe… Graves believed them. For as long as he was little, especially, he would be safe.

One of his hands found its way to his mouth, chewing on his fingers lightly while the other hand held the lamb. Phil giggled quietly from behind the fingers, a derpy grin on his face.

“Get ‘im inside, L.T., Capt’n’s takin’ food duty for tonight.” Johnny told Ghost, a firm pat on the shoulder audible from where Phil had his head laid.

“So mac n cheese then, Johnny?” Ghost returned jokingly, but the squeal Phil let out showed pure excitement over that.

The little one wiggled in Ghost’s arms, blue eyes sparkling at even the idea of that tasty dinner. His belly was empty, after so little food and so much running. He hardly even noticed.

“Mac n cheese it is.” It sounded like Soap decided for all of them as he walked to the front door and inside of their safehouse. Ghost followed, not once setting Phil down even as he wiggled in excitement.

Phillip tugged gently at Ghost’s shirt as they entered, the warm light of lamps spilling over his and Simon’s faces. Audible chatting came from the left side of the entry way, where Phil guessed the kitchen was since it was Price and Soap talking in that direction.

“Hmm?” Came a gentle reply to his tugs, Simon glancing down at Phil. It was almost soft, but more so gentle. They were so gentle wit him, and did as he asked. The mask being off, the shared contact, but also none if he desired, the mac n cheese. And not once had he been hurt while he was little. It was only comfort, almost an uncomfortable amount of it.

“Down..” Graves grumbled, though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to lose all that warmth yet. Did he even actually want down or did he think he didn’t deserve the comfort? It twisted a knot into his stomach, punching a small whine from his throat.

“Not yet, kiddo. ‘m takin’ you to the couch, then you can be down all you want.” Ghost’s voice tugged at his ears, urging Phil to listen.

He whined again. An empty belly was already difficult, now there was a knot in it too. Phil wanted to either curl up or find a nice place to hide… A pillow fort, even. He had his own back at home, one he never took down. In his own personal regressing space. It was a transformed guest bedroom, it was a small room, perfect for what he needed.

“Phil, wait a second.” Ghost cooed to him, bouncing him just a tad. It placated him enough to stop the whines and gave Simon just enough time to get Phil to the couch.

He was laid on an old, yet plush couch. A brown sofa with a blanket over the back, pillows at either arm of the couch. A cozy spot, if he wasn’t feeling incredibly small. It just felt plush, rather than visibly comforting. Phil laid on his back, while huffing out a pout. Now he missed being held, legs kicking out weakly in displeasure.

“Phil…” Simon sighed with a small shake of his head.

“Up!” The little one then whined in complaint.

“You asked for down, why do you want back up?” Simon asked as if he’d get a sensible response.

“Don’t like down…” Phil muttered, averting his gaze for a brief second. Was he making him upset? A burn-like sensation spread from his chest down to his thumbs, tugging at the knot in his stomach.

“How about we get Garrick? It won’t be comfortable for either of us if I’m in my gear, bud.” Ghost attempted to explain, but only got a whimper in response. “I know… You want me.” He sighed once again, but slid onto the couch next to Phil and offered his side to cuddle into. Almost reluctant about it.

But it made Graves happy, so Simon didn’t mention it. Trying to take Phil in for questioning turning into caring for him was an odd turn of events, even if Ghost could have anticipated it. The holding his breath when scared, the big eyes, the lack of fight. It added up, he should’ve seen it and readjusted. It was too late for that though, now he had a little one curled into his side. Holding his comfort item.

The vest wasn’t all too comfortable to cuddle against, but Phil didn’t care. He got the cuddles he wanted and got to tuck himself into a smaller space at the same time. It made this less scary. He trusted them to an extent.

“There. Rest.” Ghost told him with a soft voice, but not really looking to him. His eyes scanned the room instead. Two windows with curtains drawn, a sliding back door, also with curtains over it. Then a hallway to their left from where the couch was pressed against the back wall.

Phil was a little huffy the entire time he was curled up, even though he was mostly comfortable. Something was just wrong, maybe it was how hungry he was. But he didn’t say it, mac n cheese was on the way. He had to be quiet, no complaining anymore… They wouldn’t hurt him, but he had to worry still. At least he thought he had to worry.

Dinner wasn’t far out, the smell of the mac n cheese becoming quickly apparent as the pasta began to boil and then again when the cheese was added. There wasn’t another sighting of any of the others for a while, Phil assumed they wanted to be in the kitchen, but that thought didn’t come without a following thought that they didn’t want to be around him at all.

The new tenseness didn’t go unnoticed it seemed. Ghost’s hand found his hair and gently began to thread through it with gentle touch. Phil tucked his head against Simon’s vest. Deep breaths coming and going as he forced the air in and out of his lungs.

A new weight shifted on the couch next to them, a hand finding his back, just under his shoulder blade. Smaller than Simon’s and Price’s. One of the sargeants, he deducted.

“You alright, mate?” A more gentle british voice. Unlike Ghost, he was out of his gear.

Phil found himself hesitantly nodding, shuddering out a breath as he sunk further into Simon’s side.

“It’s just Garrick, Phil… Deep doing those breaths, eh?” Ghost prompted, his hand smoothing threading through his hair with the occasional light scratch that did more to ease him than much else.

Gentle circles were rubbed into his back, circles of alternating sizes. Some big and some small. Phil forced his attention there. Circles and deep breaths. They were helping him, not hurting him… He had to tell himself they weren’t going to hurt someone regressing… but he’d been hurt while small before. He curled in on himself, tucked firmly into Ghost’s side and unwilling to leave it. Gaz helped too, softly encouraging him to breathe and that he’d be okay. It was a privilege to be okay, one he thought he didn’t deserve. But they were there, telling him it would be okay. And not leaving when he got fussy or annoying..

“Yeah.. That’s good, lay against Si. He’ll support ya.” Kyle promised him. Promised. It felt odd in his mind still. Promises… Then the lies he told all that time ago. He didn't keep his own promises, but he hoped they would anyway. He hoped they'd look past how horrible he was.

“You’re too small, hm? I bet you’re scared too.” Ghost murmured. The hand in Phil’s hair never ceasing the gentle caresses,

“I-I wan’ my blankie…” Phil fussed, fisting at his tired eyes. His blanket, his special one, was so far away. It back at the apartment they had removed him from. Too far to go back to get it, he knew that. It didn’t stop him from getting teary-eyed without it. The thought of his blankie, and all of his things, being so far away tugged at his chest. He became acutely aware of the fact that he didn’t have anything except the clothes on his back.

“Oh. Phil.. we- we didn’t think to grab anything. We can go back tomorrow?” Gaz offered as a solution. It merely felt like a crap attempt at a quick fix to stop the inevitable tears. He was meant to be their ‘prisoner’, of course they hadn’t thought to make him comfortable.

His body burned from his chest to fingertips, Phil tugged his arms further underneath himself. The little lamb disappeared from his arms, feeling for it. He grasped Simon’s vest, fingers pulling at a pocket.

“We’ll have someone get it, let go, bud.” Simon looked down at him, an eyebrow raised as he watched Phil scramble for an unseen item. Unseen item… no little blankie in his hand. Ghost nearly froze.

“...Baba!” Simon called, surprising both himself and Gaz. His lamb was gone, he couldn’t see it anywhere.

Phil jolted at the sudden shout. His hands flew over his ears, recoiling from the sound so far that his back made contact with Kyle’s shoulder, who let Phil fall against him. Gentle arms wrapped around Phil’s frame.

It took but a second for Price to get into the room, with a small echo of him telling Soap to very carefully watch the mac n cheese. The empty space on Simon’s other side was quickly taken up by Price.

“Simon? What’s wrong?” The captain questioned quickly, but Simon was fearfully looking around. Eyes jumping from one thing to another quickly without even being able to register what had been there.

“My- my lamb…” Ghost visibly forced out, chest heaving with breaths as he desperately scanned the room. Agitation increasing by the second.

Graves’ gaze was abruptly pulled away from Simon, a soft hand redirecting his view by turning his head a different direction. He couldn’t believe he lost Simon’s lamb, he tried to look back towards him to asses the damage he’d done. Fuck, he really couldn’t just be good, could he? The little lamb blankie clearly meant so much, and he’d lost it.

“Shh, lets give Si some space, lad.” Kyle spoke with warmth, as if he sensed Phil’s fear.

With a gentle guide, and soft spoken praise, Phil was carefully helped off the couch. A small gasp came from behind them, but Gaz didn’t let him look back to see why. Though, a little smile formed on Kyle’s lips.

“It’s okay, little dude, pinky promise.” Kyle leaned down a tad, giving Phil the child-like illusion that he was much smaller. He held out his hand, pinky extended from it. Still smiling, Graves noted.

Hesitantly, Phil reached out and connected their fingers, nodding slowly to Kyle’s promise. In times like this, he wished he could blindly trust like that. Wished he could trust that it was okay. He lost Ghost’s comfort item, he couldn’t think it was okay. He’d never been able to regress and he able to relax at just promises. It all would cloud up with uncertainties each time anyone promised anything… Past carers had only reinforced his idea that he should be on edge. Blind trust was not something he had anymore.

“No one breaks a pinky promise in this house, bub.” Kyle removed his hand, using it to ruffle Phil’s hair instead. “Now, lets get that belly full.” He directed Phil to the table.

Just a room away from the living area, not far at all. He could keep an ear out, incase anything were to happen in the other room… It was his mistake, he lost the toy. That’s all his mind was on, not food anymore. He made Simon regress from being scared about his toy. Phil looked down at the table as he was helped to a seat.

Any words spoken didn’t register to him as he leaned his head down against the sturdy wood. Once again, he pulled his legs up close and just closed his eyes.

The gentle hand pressed against his back once again.

“Phil, kid, I know you’re scared.. But its okay, Simon is okay. I swear.” Gaz spoke to him, crouching down at the side of his chair. His hand rubbed circles into his shirt.

It coaxed the tears back to his eyes. Of relief or fear, he wasn’t sure.

“I-I lost his blankie…!” Phil’s shoulders trembled. He wrapped his arms around his knees, holding them securely against his chest. There was no reason for him to believe they’d be irreparably angry with him, yet he caught himself thinking they’d shout at him for an accident. It was his fault Simon was so distressed. He didn’t want to hurt them, not at all.

“Oh, lad…” Gaz sighed, a sad but sympathetic smile on his face. He stood, an arm gently wrapping around Graves’ back. “Lamb’s been rescued, Price got it all figured out.”

“Y-you don’ know dat!” Phil squeezed his eyes shut, big tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

“I do, Price found him when you and me got up! It’s okay, buddy.” Kyle was quick to say, brushing the hair from Phil’s face as he looked at the little one.

“I made h-him- i made him sad!” Graves rocked in the creaky dining chair. Back and forth, but with no real pattern. His words came out slurred and unsteady.

“Buddy… Si is strong, he’ll be perfectly fine.” Convincing Phil it was okay was more of a challenge than Gaz originally assumed.

The little one just kept coming up with reasons they woul be upset with him, any of them. He seemed to have it all in the back of his mind, simmering there and just causing him more pain. Anything from being bad in the car on the way, to wanting Simon to carry him in, to being fussy about being put down… More and more, every little interaction was so easily strung into something huge.

All Gaz could do was sit there and let him cry it out. No amount of comforting got Phil to relax. It had worked well enough for Ghost, but just not at all for him. He couldn’t blame the boy, so many changes and none he had control over. It was especially hard on him.

The tears poured and poured until the smell of food hit the air of the dining room, the door opening with a small creak of the hinges.

“I know the wee lad must be hungry by now… Thought I’d bring some food and water. Those tears have gotta be dehydratin’.” Soap said as he entered. A small, but weary grin on his face, also out of his gear. A bowl of mac n cheese was put in front of Phil. Still warm since it had been on the stove so long.

The tears paused, Phil sniffled as he tilted his head up to Soap.

“There he is.” Soap gave a light chuckle, reaching out to dot away the tears on Phil’s cheeks. He easily took that risk. Happily, even. A little Ghostie could be just as difficult to settle down. “Gotta fill that belly, kiddo, doesn’t look like ye have eaten in a while.” He leaned against the wooden table.

Graves turned his head down towards the bowl after he let Soap wipe away the tears. It was all done with a gentle hand and a soft voice, he didn’t understand. They should be mad, he thought. They weren’t, even if they should have been.

But the food looked so good. His stomach stirred back to life, though the knot remained. Phil looked between the bowl and Soap. He hesitated, for just a moment, then reached for a spoon. A baby spoon made of plastic, smooth against his fingers. He went for a bite, but the spoon trembled and dropped back into the bowl. Tears immediately returned to his eyes.

“Lemme feed ye.” Soap quickly suggested.

Phil simply couldn’t deny it. His stomach growled in hunger, loud enough to be heard. A different hand wiped the tears away that time, Gaz’s hand. The man still stayed next to him with an encouraging smile.

“P’ease..” The little one sniffled. He nervously looked up at Soap, chewing on his lip. Still red and a little swollen.

Soap was quick to pull a chair over and sit next to Phil, looking surprisingly happy to be doing this. Graves just couldn’t understand why, but every soft interaction made him feel more safe. Genuinely safe. A sliver of hope embedded itself in Phil’s brain, saying that maybe it would all be okay.

“Opeeen!” Soap enthusiastically said, the small spoon held in his hand with the mac n cheese on it.

For a moment, Graves smiled. Soft care, gentle words.. He could get used to it. Maybe there wasn’t a gotcha. It wasn’t a trap… It would be okay. He opened his mouth as asked, uncurling slightly from his position in the chair.

“Good job, bud!” Johnny praised as he fed Phil the food on the spoon.

It repeated like that until the bowl as empty and Phil was giggling. No longer curled into himself, happily kicking his feet. Both Gaz and Soap telling him they were proud of him for eating, even getting him to drink some water as well. They didn’t push when he was finished either. Instead, they simply helped him up and cleaned off his messy chin.

That came with its own set of giggles, his smile finally reaching his eyes. It was okay. No matter how vigilant he was, he didn’t see any sort of sign that either of them would be upset with anything he did. Relaxation was in sight.

“Let’s get ye cozy, eh?” Johnny prompted.

“Mmmh.. P’ease.” The boy grinned, reaching up a bit towards Soap. He was lifted into the air after a second, then situated on Soap’s hip. An arm rested under him, while one supported his back.

There was hardly any hesitation where Graves expected. Instead, Johnny gladly picked him up and held him against himself. Another hand softly ruffled his hair. Warmth in the air, promising safety in much more than words

“We’ll find some clothes for you.” Gaz hummed to him, pulling his hand back from Phil’s hair.

“I’ve got ‘im, go find clothes.” Soap whispered to Kyle as if Graves couldn’t hear him. Not that the little one minded.

Phil found a nice place to rest his head on Johnny’s shoulder, he wasn’t really paying attention. His alertness faded quickly while he had been eating, just as he figured he didn’t have to be so scared about every little thing. They wouldn’t hurt him… He believed it, at least a lot of it. Enough to let a lot of fear wash away.

Him and Johnny were left alone once Gaz left to find clothes. Soft stepping had his attention, light movement as well. He just barely paid attention, but he knew they were walking. It soothed him, he gently sucked his thumb rather than chewing his lip.

“Ye’re so small, huh, little guy?” Soap asked him as they stopped walking, slowly sinking down onto the couch Phil had been sitting on before. Phillip was easily placed in Soap’s lap.

“Uh-huh…” Phil whispered, blinking. With a full belly, and much more hydrated, sleepiness crept it’s way in. Sleepy, not tired. More floaty and fuzzy than tired. It coated everything in a warm glow.

“It’s not very often I get to hold a wee one. Ghostie is too heavy, ye’re perfect to hold.” Johnny chuckled softly, even his voice sounded so comforting.

“‘m not dat small.” Graves couldn’t help but giggle. He pressed his head firmly against Soap’s chest, the rumbles of his voice in his chest were pleasing to feel against his ear.

“Ye are! Absolutely teeny tiny!” Soap chuckled, patting the boy on his shoulder. A wide grin spread across his face just at looking at Phil.

In a way, it felt like reinforcement of the promises. He made him happy… Not angry. Not angry now, maybe he could do good like that.

“Behhh!” Phil stuck his tongue out lazily, sleepy eyes having a hard time staying open.

“Awwh, a sleepy lad too. Good thing Kyle’s getting pjs for ye.”

Just as he said that, Gaz entered with cozy looking sweats. Gray sweatpants, and a deep blue sweatshirt with a 141 logo on it’s chest. Something in him stirred excitement over being allowed to wear such an article of clothing. He’d never be good like them, but he could be okay. He would be.

“Pjs!” Kyle exclaimed, though softer than a shout. He walked up next to them both and set the sweats on the couch right next to them. “Heard a little one is tired, thought I’d take the task of find something useful…” Gaz added, pulling a small item in a box out of his back pocket. He then handed it to Graves, who curiously tilted his head.

He hesitated, but took it. Inside the box was a small, black and white pacifier. One of the mini shield ones for adults. The back was damp, freshly washed so he didn’t accidentally share germs with anyone else. But it was so clearly one of Ghost’s spares, it made sense that it needed clean.

Phil raised his brows and looked up, silently asking if he really could use it. He was met with a gentle nod. A smile returned to his face and he quickly put it in his mouth. It worked perfectly to soothe that extra edge to his frame.

“That’s it, Phil.. How about you change now? Or do you need help?” There was no judgment at all as Soap spoke to him, offering sincerely.

Still, Graves hesitated. That would mean letting the others see him incredibly vulnerable, but it also meant that he’d feel cared for if everything went perfectly.

“Help…” He muttered after a moments consideration. The windows were all covered and the others weren’t around.. He’d be okay, he reasoned with himself, but he didn’t expect them to actually want to help.

As if he was one of their own, they helped him with the task without any sort of hesitance or embarrassment. It just a couple minutes, he was undressed then redressed in the comfiest pair of sweats he’d had the enjoyment of wearing. Or maybe it was simply how content he felt that was bleeding off onto everything else.

He wasn’t so scared anymore. Gentle hands helped him with his clothes, then helped him back onto the couch right against Johnny’s side. It was all warm. The knot in his stomach untied around the two of them.

“Where do you wanna sleep, bud? You can sleep on the couch, or in me or Soap’s beds?” Kyle offered as he took up the spot on the couch right next to Graves. The kindness felt welcoming as the time progressed, it stopped feeling like a terrifying trap. Though sleeping with someone next to him was an offer Graves really wanted to take, he just couldn’t.

“Couch..” Phil murmured behind his pacifier, poking at the soft fabric of the couch. There were enough blankets to keep warm, he was sure. Then he also wouldn’t be invading anyone’s space in the morning. He dreaded the morning time that felt like it was rapidly approaching. So close and so far. It meant it would all change soon enough and he’d merely be a prisoner again, but those worries didn’t linger as Gaz gave him a pat on the back.

“Let’s get ye all cozy, lad.” Soap prompted, flashing a gentle grin to Phil as he shifted them. He lifted Phil back into his arms and looked around for more cozy things to add to the couch.

Both Gaz and Soap seemed to be on the same train of thought. Blankets and pillows were added to the couch, even fluffed up for him to get extra comfortable. The small TV was turned onto something safe for a young one, little cartoons. Nothing with substance, but enough to fall asleep to. How they knew Graves needed something to play while falling asleep, he had no idea, but it made it feel a little more comfortable for his needs to be anticipated.

The couch was quickly lined with comfy things. Two pillows rested against the arm of the couch, then 3 fluffy blankets laid on it. It looked just right.

“Aaand plop!” Johnny exclaimed as he plopped Graves down on the couch.

The little one immediately giggled, his legs swinging for a second.

“There’s that cuteness.” Soap hummed to him. He pat Phil gently on the head. “Lemme tuck ye in.” He smiled.

There was no complaints as he was helped under the blankets, Gaz and Soap gently tucking all those warm blankets around him. They certainly were cozy. Phil easily relaxed into the warmth.

“I’ll stay till you fall asleep, bud, okay?” Kyle spoke quietly. The environment much more delicate now that Graves was sleepy and ready for bedtime.

Graves hardly comprehended that he was being spoken to. He softly nodded, a fist coming up to gently rub his tired eyes.

“Goodnight, Phil, be good for Kyle.” Soap crouched down to Phil’s level while the boy laid on the couch. “You’ve been so sweet for us, now you need rest.” He praised his behavior, to soothe over any fear Phil might have had. He softly stroked his cheek with his thumb before he pulled back.

“I’ll be good…” Graves sleepily agreed, yawning a little. Soap just barely managed to grab the pacifier before it fell, he popped it back in Phil’s mouth just before he finished his yawn.

With one last goodnight, Johnny left the living room. Gaz settled down on the end of the couch, a hand rested on Phil’s calf though, to make sure he knew he was still there without talking much. The contact felt like an extra blanket, one to protect him, not just keep him warm.

“Sleep, buddy, I’ll be here. You’re safe.”

And he did. Much faster than he had in a long while. The show eased his focus away from everything else and helped make his eyes finally slip shut. Safe and warm.

Chapter Text

Graves cursed himself as he woke. Morning light peeking through the old curtains. Nothing about it felt easy. He wished the blankets would pull him under and never let him out. There wasn't the safety of a smaller headspace. It was unusual for him to remain regressed after sleeping, especially after sleeping well enough to feel mostly okay again.

His pacifier fell out overnight, but he noticed it was now placed on the arm of the couch. Certainly not by own doing, he didn’t see a reason the others would be kind like that.

He sleepily blinked. The weight at the other end of the couch was gone, there was distant chatter from down the hall where the kitchen was. Dread filled him once again knowing they were so close and he was unfortunately aware of what that could mean.

He’d be interrogated, used for information then released if he was lucky. Phil didn’t want to think of any other possibilities. They promised not to hurt him… but information was information. All he had to do was talk, he was good at that.

Very hesitantly, Graves sat up on the couch. The warm atmosphere seemed to fade, despite nothing changing. Phil did everything in his power to stay as quiet as possible. Silent, if he could. Every breath he took was shallow and slow, he even tried to make sure the couch didn’t creak. The old thing betrayed him by doing just that.

The chatter in the other room paused. Phil winced. They knew he was up now, he just had to be good. He remained seated, not making another effort to move.

Light steps pattered into the room, stopping at the doorway. Graves turned his head enough to see a tall shadow, then looked away.

“Phillip, how are you feeling?” A gruff voice, sounding like he’d just finished a cigar, but it wasn’t cruel. He would even describe it as soft. Price. Of course it was the captain.

Still, he was caught off guard. That was not what he expected to be asked.

“Fine. What time is it?” Phil attempted to brush it off, looking towards the sliding door that lead outside. Everything in him told him he should run again. But his stomach hurt with hunger, his chest burned with fear, and all his joints ached from all his running already.

“Around 0900.” Came a more gentle reply. Price looked over Phil like he was an injured animal.

“Great.” Graves muttered, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyes until he could see stars in the back of his eyelids.

“We’re making food. You’re joining us.”

The captain left no room for argument, even though Phil clearly wanted anything but that. Especially joining them for a meal. Soap and Gaz weren’t so bad. But all of them? After losing Ghost’s comfort item? After being a difficult on the way there? He hardly believed he deserved a home cooked meal.

“Understood.” Graves nodded, finally pulling his hands back from his face. He timidly looked up to where Price was standing.

“You’ll clean yourself up, we’ll eat, then we need to talk.” Price leaned against the door frame, a cup of tea in his hands that he delicately sipped on.

None of it sounded anywhere near welcoming. That dumb, tired smile on Price’s face didn’t help at all either. Without much of a response, Phil stood to begin the tasks. Clean himself up, as told. He could take orders, no matter how unfavorable. None of them had been for a long while.

Cleaning up was easier said than done. He had to wander around for a moment to even find a bathroom. When he managed to, he didn’t know what he was allowed to touch. He washed his face with crappy hand soap. Everything else looked.. fancy. Too much so. He refused to use the shower, because he had no change of clothes, but he used an unopened, old looking deodorant from under the sink. Old enough to have dust on it and the last used logo by the company. But it would work.

Graves leaned against the back wall of the bathroom, slowly sinking down till his butt hit the cold tiles. Even through the sweatpants it felt freezing. His arms wrapped around the back of his head. Each step to even sitting down had his muscles tensing further and his eyes getting heavier once again, as if he hadn’t slept a wink.

Bathrooms were safe.

His throat tightened with each breath he took. Counting back and forth from ten as he tried to get a full breath in his lungs. He tugged at the hair on the back of his head.

The 141 weren’t enemies, he had to remind himself. They didn’t hurt him while he was regressed, they didn’t hurt him while he was sleeping. They didn’t hurt him, verbally or physically. They weren’t like a lot of men he had worked with, and certainly not like their enemies.

Still, full breaths didn’t come in time before sobs did.

He wanted to go home.

The fear and guilt reined over him like an illness infecting every part of him. Nowhere felt like home anymore yet he yearned for it. Regression lurked at the back of his mind, waiting to take over. To help, even though often didn’t. He pushed it back. He just needed to cry, he thought. It would help…

A firm knock at the door made him freeze.

His sounds stifled, body going rigid.

“Phil?” He heard Soap speak behind the door.

“I’ll- I’ll be out soon.” Graves attempted to steady his voice. The air felt too thick to gather into his lungs, each attempt like a punch to the gut.

“Ye sound like ye need help, mate, just offerin’.” He was too kind in Graves’ opinion. Soap made the perfect carer for things like cuddles and destressing. It would be so easy to let him in…

Phil blinked away the thought.

“Go, Soap, I-.. I’m fine.” God was he a bad liar.

“Well.. breakfast’s in five.” Soap told him gently before steps padded away from the bathroom.

Five minutes, really? He’d been there that long that the food was already almost done, if not finished?

The muscles in his legs burned as he uncurled them from his position on the floor. Getting up was even harder. Fatigue set in his bones, but he straightened out. He filled the sink with freezing water and plunged his face in until he absolutely had to gasp for air. The air filled his lungs, face pink at the coldness of the water.

Graves leaned over the side of the sink, deep but shuddering breaths shook his shoulders. The cold water left his face pink as he patted it down with a washcloth from a drawer. He shivered at the reflection of himself in the mirror. The blue eyes, to the scar on his cheek, to where the logo sat on his sweatshirt. The 141 embedded on it. He took it as a small sign of trust to even be allowed such a garment, Soap must have believed he was good enough to wear the shirt.

Part of him wanted to say those silly self assurances he’d learned long ago. Little things he’d repeat to himself to remind himself that he would be okay. A lot of it was worthless now, the nonsense of self-help felt useless in this scenario.

His mind jumped to the interrogation. Or the “talk” as Price has said. The breakfast slipped his mind. How could he think about eating when he was scared about inevitably having to spill his guts. Confidentiality would go out the window the second they wanted it to. He was a weak man. Saving his own ass instead of keeping his loyalties in check… Those loyalties he didn’t want to have in the first place. The 141 was where he had his mind from the time they had tracked down Hassan. He had to keep it all straight.

Staring in the mirror wouldn’t help his story, nor his appetite.

Reluctantly, Phil reached for the door handle. Deep breath in, slow exhale. He twisted the door handle and opened it, stepping into the hall. Quiet as he possibly could be, he walked through the halls until he reached the kitchen. He held his shoulders back, and his head up, despite the everlasting gleam of fear in his eyes.

Confidence was a mask, one he desperately wanted to keep this time.

The dining room, just past the kitchen, was loud with chatter. It sounded simply like Gaz and Soap, with crappy jokes that Ghost provided from time to time. Somehow each darker than the last. His stomach twisted, feet unwilling to take the necessary steps to even enter the room.

His eyes closed. Deep breath. In and out. Not far, just a few steps more.

He forced his body to move, keeping up with the confident appearance. The door of the dining room opened with a small nudge, he stepped in and the chatter immediately stopped. All heads turned to him. For a moment, he debated turning back around. He couldn’t reasonable force himself to stay and eat.. Though a plate was kindly laid on the table for him. It was food he enjoyed, a nice breakfast, if his mind wasn’t preoccupied.

“Graves.” The captain was the first to talk, his fork hitting the edge of his plate as he set it down. The sound almost made Graves wince.

“I’m not eating. I want to get this over with so I can leave.” Phillip spoke firmly, though his eyes darted around the room to each of their faces. He didn’t remain looking at any of them for longer than a few seconds. He crossed his arms over his chest, absentmindedly toying with the seam on one side of his sweatshirt.

“You need to eat, we’re not talking until you do.” Price immediately responded, gesturing to the plate of food for Phil. He sounded almost like a father in the way he told him what was going to happen. Graves still fought back on it regardless.

“We’re talking now. I’m not waitin’ because you’re hungry.”

“Phillip.” Price brought out that stern tone. “Eat.” He demanded.

And as much as he didn’t want to, Phil found himself slipping into the seat where his food was placed in front of. A small sympathetic grin was tossed his way from Soap. Phil just wanted to scowl at it, but he didn’t. His stomach ached. Whether it was for the food, or to get out of there, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, the food filled his stomach. The chatter returned between Soap and Gaz, but Ghost’s eyes burned holes in the side of his head. Phil could hardly see him out of the corner of his eye, but he saw just enough. The mask was still off, but that didn’t remove his scary aura. Graves kept his focus anywhere but them, his plate empty even though he arrived at the table last.

“Graves, with me.” He heard Ghost tell him, then shuffling as the man stood.

As he glanced over, he noted the empty plate in front of Ghost as well. But like a defiant child, he remained sat in his chair.

“I said, with me, Graves.” Simon’s voice dropped lower, giving a silent threat if Graves didn’t follow. His eyes shooting a harsh glare Phil’s way.

Phil bit back an insult as he got up. He didn’t even bother to push in his chair as he began following Ghost out of the room. That knot in his stomach only tightened while they were walking. All the way down the halls, down past the bathroom, and even further.

“You want this over with? Go.” Ghost said once they hit a stop next to a door. Coldness crept out from the slight space between the door and the floor. Simon twisted the handle and pushed it open.

A garage, old and unused with a table and two chairs sat in the middle. A layer of dust over all of it. Unopened boxes sat on shelves, used a bit for storage, but a proper interrogation room. Dim light filtered in through the small windows in the garage door and a small light next to the interior door.

This was what Graves had been expecting the whole time. Something scary and cold. It was what he deserved.

“Go sit.” Simon gestured to the table and chairs.

There wasn’t much room for hesitation. Phillip sat on one of the cold chairs, freezing through the fabric of his clothes. He stared ahead of him. Clearly either him or Price would sit opposite of him. Phil had his fair share of interrogation knowledge.

The door closed as Ghost stepped in. He leaned against the wall, just by the door.

“Dead men are usually more secretive when they’re running.” Ghost remarked, arms crossed as he watched Phil’s every move.

He wanted the interrogation sooner, seemed like he’d be getting it.

“You weren’t secretive. Heard there were hundreds of bodies.” Graves scoffed in return, looking his direction. He dangerously leaned back in the chair, the front legs off the floor.

“That’s classified. How the hell do you know that?” Ghost scowled. He pushed off the wall to lean over the table next to Graves, a growl to his voice.

“I’m sure you wanna save the juicy stuff till your captain gets here, aye? No fun spilling my guts without an audience.” He responded almost carelessly, though his shoulders tensed. Maybe he really would spill his guts.

“You’re fucking lucky you’re answering to him right now.” The other glared. The table creaked as Ghost pressed his hands harshly against it, but it didn’t give.

“I don’t answer to any of you. I’m not your bitch.”

“But you were Shepherd’s, huh?” Ghost straighted his back, looking own at Graves with distaste.

“Save it. You’d rather humiliate me in front of the others.” Phil barked back. His gaze shifted down to the table, refusing to look up at all.

“Probably. But I want to hear it first. They’re done eating anyway… Just waiting for me to call them in.” Ghost said it like he knew it for sure, Phil was inclined to believe it too.

Rolling his eyes, he turned his head away only for his chin to be grabbed and forced to look back at Ghost.

“Should I grab my mask, commander?”

The threat made him pause. He wanted to avoid the creepy thing, but then again…

“Do it.” Graves hissed after a moment’s consideration, narrowing his eyes with forceful eye contact.

He wanted to be strong. Fearless. Confident. The persona he pulled on just the same way Ghost did with his mask.

Graves was released from Ghost’s hold, he jerked his head away the second he was let go. The touch left a cold, almost clammy feel to his skin. Lingering, stinging, tingling. He turned his head down, looking at the glossy finish of the table rather than towards the door.

Ghost left the garage while scowling. The door opened and feet entered before other steps left. Three different pairs entered, while Ghost’s steps were fading as he walked through the hall.

“Being difficult?” The captain asked with a low chuckle, simply amused.

Graves rolled his eyes, of course they could hear through the door.

“Waiting on you, captain. Been told I answer to you.” Phillip looked up at him, his chair now firmly planted on the floor and not dangerously playing with it.

“That you do. You need to cooperate.” Price sat down opposite of Phil, just as expected.

“I have so far, haven’t I?” Graves scoffed. He crossed his arms, leaned back as he watched the captain think.

“Surprisingly...” He heard murmured by one of the sargeants stood near the door.

As right as they were about it being shocking, Graves was trying to cooperate at least. After all the times his body screamed at him to run, he didn’t. He ate with them, he slept on the couch, hell, he cuddled with them too. Maybe not while in his fully right mind, regressed and all, but he did it happily at the time without fighting. In a way, it hurt.

“You have.” Price gave a glance to the boys near the corner, sufficiently shutting them up from gossiping in the corner like school girls. Reminding them this was work instead. He sighed, leaning back in the chair as he looked at Phil once more.

“Why’d you do it?” Gaz asked, tone straightened out. All business.

“Money, keeping my company stable, threats, manipulation, bribery.. You name it.” Graves responded to Gaz but kept his gaze straight ahead at Price. Almost glaring at him.

“Who threatened you?” It should be obvious but they needed their answers. At least Graves thought it was obvious.

“General Shepherd.” Phil responded, his breaths forced to remain even as he spoke. The mere mention of him from is own mouth left a sour taste, a sick taste. His eyes softened slightly, though his eyebrows scrunched up.

A silence fell over the room, though the gears turning in their heads seemed loud enough to fill the space.

“Don’t act so fucking surprised.” Graves snorted out a laugh. It felt fake, rough in his throat.

“Ye were his bloody lap dog! Licking at his fuckin’ hand for yer orders!” Soap piped up from the corner, accusing him, but it felt more like berating him if anything.

“I did what I had to! If I had wanted you dead in the first place, you would’ve been dead in an alley somewhere is Las Almas!” Graves finally looked in Soap’s direction. His voice almost quivered, almost broke- he couldn’t let it.

“Both of you, shut up!” Price growled, his head tilted down more like a disappointed family member than a captain holding Graves for questioning. As if Graves hadn’t done all the shit he did. But neither of them shut up.

“No! You weren’t fucking there, Price.” Graves snarled in reply. “I could’ve easily killed Soap when I took the los vaqueros base, but I didn’t.” He stood sharply, palms clapping against the cold tabletop.

“Because ye’re a coward.” Soap snapped back, a laugh low in his chest.

“Because I didn’t want to… Damnit!” Graves kicked his chair out from behind himself, simply pacing his side of the table. His arms crossed firmly over his chest, one hand rested against his neck, almost clawing. He deserved it, the cruel words, the hatred… He did, he reasoned with himself. Forcing everything down.

Thick silence fell over the room as the chair clattered and Phil began to pace. A look was tossed Soap’s way from the captain, and he swiftly left the room only to be replaced by Ghost seconds later. He didn’t speak. Simply stood behind Price as a threatening presence, even after seeing him maskless then masked again, it was still scary. Graves made an effort to keep his head down.

“Why’d you put up a show instead of following orders?” The captain didn’t want to fuck around, sending Soap out was a clear sign of that. They were here for answers, nothing more… They already failed that one when they took care of a little Phil, but the demeanor remained that way.

“To keep your team safe, mostly… The show was to save my ass.” Graves scoffed at himself, scratching his neck red before he settled his hand back against his chest. If he had that distraction, it would be easier… He needed it to be easier.

“Well, you did that.” Price sighed. A yellow folder was handed to him by Ghost, the man pulled it out from behind his back. He was quiet for a minute, letting Graves dwell in his mess.

“I made sure nothing was lethal! Kept your boys safe enough while making sure my men or I weren’t more bodies in the goddamn ditch.” Phil’s arms tightened around himself almost in a self hug. Compression to ease breathing trouble. To remind him he wasn’t a body in the ditch, and neither were the men in the 141.

“You still let your men fire on mine, lethal or not, that is a problem.” Price spoke to him firmly yet with a hint of something soft. As if he saw this as familiar somehow.

“I had to!” Graves insisted. “I know it was me saving my own ass, but he- fuck..” His voice cracked. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. “He took over the cash flow. He took my ability to pay my men, took my pay. He started signing the checks instead, making them follow his orders instead of mine. Not killing y’all was the compromise between us- me and the shadows. I had no power and no fucking choice!”

“You had a choice, you could’ve gotten out of the contract.” Price was so clearly grinding his teeth, staring Phil down as he set the file on the table in front of them.

“I couldn’t. He held it over my head, he could take everything and he would have. He’s.. a cosigner on shadow company. He can make choices I can't. He can deem me unfit for the first position- and it would all go to him. The paychecks, the- the benefits. My paychecks too.”

He could feel the men staring daggers at him.

“Shepherd lead me to believe that I-.. that the uniform was limiting me, took me out of it, ‘fixed’ me. Helped me make shadow company, then cosigned the forms and put us up with jobs by vouching for us.” His stomach twisted in knots as he looked up for the first time since he began pacing. The floor swayed under his feet.

The utter disbelief on their faces, aside from Ghost’s masked covered one, was almost sickening.

“You expect us to believe that?” The first words Ghost spoke since he reentered the room, paired with glaring.

“Why wouldn’t you?? You know he’s a bastard, you know he’s fucked me over several times. You know he’s fucked you over several times, hasn’t he, Ghost?” Graves spoke sharply specifically to Ghost, poking the bears that ultimately had control over what happened to him after this. His dignity was practically gone anyways, broken apart, scattered on the floor. He had nothing to lose.

Ghost glared, exhaling slowly as he scanned over Phil with his eyes. Looking at a man who knew he had no control, he was fighting tooth and nail for whatever leverage he could get.

“Shepherd fed me intel on you, all of you.. Nothing I should know.” Phillip looked back at Price. His arms unfolded and he rested his hands against the cool table surface. “He wants- wanted me to hurt you and take control over the 141.” As hard as he tried not to, tears pooled in his eyes. Rather than blinking them away, he let them sit, staring at Price. Silently begging him to believe him. He didn’t want any of this,

“What did he tell you?” Price spoke to him again, eyes dangerously serious.

Phil took a deep breath.

“Zaragoza cartel...” He pointed to Ghost. The man immediately froze, his eyes falling to Price’s shoulder.

“You weren’t allowed to engage with Al-Qatala in Piccadilly even though you had actionable intel.. You wanted the gloves off then struggled to go through with it.” He pointed to Gaz, who was still in the corner. Gaz simply looked frustrated.

“You’ve been captured, abandoned, blown up, locked up, tortured, and left for dead probably more times than I was told… Your dad taught you how to use a gun.” He pointed to Price. The captain narrowed his eyes at him, arms crossing over his chest.

“And Soap… Soap almost faced disciplinary action for punching a military officer, knocking him out and locking him in his own vehicle years ago.” Graves simply sighed as he finished and let his hand sit uselessly at his side. He hoped it was enough, it had to be, right? He pulled all this from memory, maybe some wasn’t classified, but it was close enough. He hoped.

The three remaining men in the room looked at him with the same level of distrust.

Graves’ head hung low. Down to the table. He didn’t bother to pull up his chair, he simply kneeled down and pressed his forehead against the cold material.

“Let me go home.. I’ll keep talking till y’all are done with me- but I wanna go home.” He sheepishly murmured. Those tears in his eyes remained. Regret pouring with each word.

“You’re not going home yet, son. There’s more to discuss.” Price muttered, audibly shaking his head. Dog tags clanking under his shirt. He quietly said something to Gaz and Ghost, then there was shuffling to the door. Not that Graves was paying attention.

“Cut the shit!” Phil snapped accidentally, his head pressing against the edge of the table. “Stop treating me like an ally, damnit! I almost killed them- I almost killed all of you..” He drew in a sharp breath, tugging at his throat and releasing a silent scream that simply deprived himself of air.

“If you were forced into it… Then you deserve to share the story.” Price somehow remained stoic, watching as Graves hurt.

“I don’t deserve anything! Not after that.. I’m bad like him- I’m his dog, I do what he says b-because there’ll be consequences if I don’t…” Phil blubbered. The tears finally fell from his eyes, hiding his face under the metal of the table. Once then twice, he lightly hit his head against it.

“Phillip.” Price sighed, his voice softening ever so slightly. “He’s not here.” He attempted to assure him.

“But he knows, he’ll know- I’m runnin’ to get away from all of you! I just want to settle down… I wanna go home!” Phil broke easier than a thin twig. That pain, dread and regret flowed out of him, a raging river of agony.

“He won’t know, and we won’t tell him. If you know so much classified stuff, then you know that we hide things very well… You’ll be safe.” The captain was suddenly too soft to him.

Graves plummeted like a boulder in a lake.

“Be mean to me! I’m- ‘m bad, I’m just like him!” It hurt his throat the way the sentences dragged through sore vocal cords, along his dry throat.

A whistle from the other side of the room, by the door, made him shut up. Just a low, quiet whistle, but something to get Price’s attention. But Graves froze like it was a command, a rule he could not break, a line he couldn’t cross. Like a whistle to get a dog’s attention, and he was a trained mutt.

“Shut up-” Phillip heard Price grumble nearly silently to the men in the doorway. The metal chair opposite him scraped against the concrete floor, and footsteps circled to his side. A hand pressed against his back as Price crouched down right next to him.

“Go away.. Go away-” Phil breathed out desperately. He didn’t attempt to move though, remaining on his knees with his forehead pressed to the edge of the table.

“Are you regressing?” The question was far too gentle for his liking.

Graves hesitated until he felt like he couldn’t breathe with the touch on his back. Only then did he nod. He felt horrible. All that guilt burned in his fingertips.

“Okay, then we’ve got what we need for now.” Price assured him. Slow and steady circles were rubbed on his back, matching his breathing cycle.

And Graves found himself leaning against the touch. His mind screamed at him all sorts of things. Traitor, bad dog, bastard… That he was taking advantage of the help, even though it was literally offered to him.

“That’s it. You told us a lot, its going to help a lot. We’re going to hide you from him, okay? And we’ll keep you safe.” Price promised, gentle and soft. That angriness gone, with the gruff remaining. It was almost like a warm fire to him. Of course they’d have to check it all, at least the stuff they could, but Graves was going to break himself apart if they didn’t intervene and get him feeling safe soon.

“‘m sorry ‘m bad!” Phil apologized profusely until his chest strained and he couldn’t breathe.

Rather than being slow with him, Price pulled him into his arms.

The shock forced him to gasp until air filled his lungs. The sudden warmth felt fire, until he noticed the heartbeat and the quiet humming. Graves allowed himself to lean into it.

“We’ve got this now… Just breathe. Let us take over for you.” Price murmured, holding Graves gently against his chest. There was enough space that he could leave if he wanted, but Phil simply settled instead.

Heartbreaking wails fell from his lips, and he occasionally still mumbled that he was sorry. Especially that he was sorry to Soap, for everything. He babbled how he ‘wanted to be friends so so bad’, but it just couldn’t happen. Nothing ever happened the way he wanted anymore, even more so these days. He fully believed he was horrible for falling for tricks, and being vulnerable.

“I know, I know.” Price whispered to him. He rocked him in a slow back and forth movement, still rubbing his back. Big circles into small ones, then back to big circles. A consistent touch that Graves could focus on.

“I-i wan’ my blankie…” Graves sniffled against Price's chest, which was undoubtedly covered in tears, snot and spit. It could be worse… Besides Ghost, Graves was the first he'd seen that broke when they regressed. A sad familiarity.

“We'll find your blankie, is it at your old place? In the car, kiddo?” The captain looked down at him, forcing a light smile on his face to ease the little one.

“Uh-huh…” Phil pitifully whimpered, tucking his face into Price's chest once more. Hiccups and sobs, rather than full on wailing. It hurt. Everything felt like it was covered in a layer of static, even textile things.

“Okay, we'll get someone to get it for you.” Price slowly and steadily eased Graves off his knees and into his lap. He could only imagine how sore he was from that position.

But of course he didn't mention it, a lot made sense after their talk and the breakdown… It made sense now. A lot did, there was still more to learn but it could hopefully be done better next time.

“My box- nee’ my box, p’ice!” The fabric muffled his speech, though it wasn't too hard to understand. Overtime, Price learned the skill of understanding baby talk and muffled words. All his important things, from little gear to his blankie, were in that box. The things he needed to at least feel the bare minimum of okay.

“We’ll get it, we’ll have someone get it.” The captain told him, then softly hushed him. He rocked slowly with Phillip in his lap.

“M-my s’uff..” Graves whimpered loudly.

“Shh, it’s okay…” Price soothed.

Graves couldn’t quite believe that, even though they had kept their promise not to hurt him. It wasn’t okay, no matter how many times he heard that it was okay, it never felt like it actually was. He shook his head, biting on his lip once again. Picking the skin over and over till it was tender.

“Hey, Phil?” Price began, looking down at him. “Can you look up at me, kiddo?”

He hesitated again, scared to do anything at all. If he looked up, he thought he’d see something scary. Like Ghost with his mask behind Price again, or dark shadow-y figures like the ones he saw in nightmares. His failures, his losses.

Slowly, Phil tilted his head upwards, teary eyes meeting Price’s gaze.

The captain sympathetically smiled down at him. His hand brushed through the hair on the back of Phil’s head.

“That’s it, good… Me and Kyle were talking last night while he was getting you your pjs, did you know that we picked out that shirt for you special?” Price brushed a thumb over the 141 logo on it, before he wrapped his arms back around Graves.

“Nuh-uh…” Graves mumbled, blinking up at Price. Tears slowly dripped down his cheeks, reddened from the crying. He used his sleeve to wipe them away, hiccuping slightly.

“We did, we picked it out special because we want you to feel comfy and safe.” The captain cooed to him.

Phillip blinked up at him, his head tilted to the side. He made a soft sound of confusion.

“We want you to trust us, and we want you to feel safe with us. So… we gave you something that would make you feel more.. Comfy cozy.” Price explained again, smiling softly down at Graves. His hand gently brushed through the hair on the back of the little one’s head again.

“Bu’ ‘m not good..” Graves whimpered. The tears quickly filled his eyes again, daring to flow down his cheeks. In his eyes, he didn’t deserve it. That guilt buried itself so far that he couldn’t reason why they would want to keep him safe. He convinced himself that he wasn’t worth being treated in a good way. Much less being protected. A lot of things, and people, taught him over the years that he didn’t deserve it. To fight bare knuckled if offered, told that protection was a lie. Something saved for better men.

“You don’t have to be good to deserve it, kid. We’ve all done bad stuff, do we deserve less because of that?” Price asked, looking down at him with that same smile. It didn’t fade, but grew more encouraging. Warm, even. The garage didn’t feel so scary and cold anymore with Price looking over him.

“Nuh-uh…” Phil murmured. He used his sleeve to wipe his tears away again, hiding his hands in the sleeves.

All that he’d been told popped up like bubbles in his head. And Price seemed to be able to pop all of those pesky bubbles with just gentle soothing. There was no being evil for wanting to live, no being bad for being vulnerable.

Warm hands pulled him back in close. Tears flowed slowly, being soaked up by the fabric of Price’s shirt. He was allowed and encouraged to cry it out. He pressed his face firmly into his shoulder, breaths shuddered as he cried.

Coaxed slowly and softly into weeping as much as he needed. Phil truly had years to make up for in that department, not hydrated enough to keep the tears flowing all day. His eyes were dry by the time he finished. Price never moved, never made him feel bad.

“You let it all out.. Good job, bud. ‘m proud of you.” The captain praised. With his sleeve, he gently dotted away the wetness off Phil's cheeks.

Graves weakly grinned, lopsided and tired. The fear lingered in the back of his head, but maybe, just maybe, he'd let it settle. Not feed into the fear. It was.. easier.

Careful hands picked him up each time he fell apart. The night before, Ghost helped, then Gaz and Soap.. now Price. It felt almost fake to have that kind of support without having to ask for help. For it to just be recognized and understood without asking was a blessing. One he desperately needed.

“Now let's get you up, yeah? Then we'll get you a sippy cup and some water, maybe even some chocolate milk since you've been good for us.” Captain Price hummed, hoisting Graves off his lap before he stood and immediately scooped him up.

That earned him a small squeal, and a little Phil latching onto him like a scared cat. He whined loudly at the lack of warning before he was picked up. The tears threatened to fall again, but Price’s immediate cooing and rocking helped him ease.

“Awh, I’m sorry, didn’t know it would spook you.” Price apologized amongst the coos. He swayed with him, rocking side to side.

Any more complaints died on his tongue. Graves blinked away the tears in his eyes in favor of giggling quietly at being rocked. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was progress.

The next step was to carry him out of the garage, which Price did flawlessly. He hardly even noticed he was being carried elsewhere, a simply distraction of Price doing funny faces at him and telling him bad dad jokes was enough to keep his full attention. The change of temperature and light didn’t bother him whatsoever. Graves hadn’t ever wanted to rely on carers, but it was hard not to with the 141. Somehow they could tell what he needed, what he wanted, and what made him comfortable without so much as asking.

Phil only realized the complete difference if environment as he was gently sat on the couch. Two warm bodies sat next to him. With a simple glance, he could tell it was Soap and.. Ghost? Ghost was sitting next to him and was, somehow, relaxed. His head tilted up to look at him with slight hesitance.

No mask.

He took a deep breath in. Not scary, just Simon. And Simon was kind to him, he remembered. Of course the interrogation was still on his mind, fresh like a cut, but it didn’t sting, didn’t bleed. Soothed over like a wound, except gentle care was the remedy.

Simon didn’t look at him with hatred, didn’t look at him with rage nor fear. Something softer reflected in his eyes. A sort of understanding, maybe even a little pity. If he was big, he’d be furious that anyone dared to pity him, but.. He wasn’t. It didn’t feel mean whatsoever.

Graves, once again, tucked himself into Simon’s side. He found a nice cozy spot there.

A warm arm rested around him, Simon’s undoubtedly.

It felt safe, without dread etched into his bones. Price promised safety, warmth, protection and a place to stay. And maybe, he could trust that he could sit by the fire without being burned.

His eyes closed as a hand brushed through his hair. Soap’s. Smaller than Ghost’s, but somehow a much warmer touch. He didn’t flinch away, simply melted into the contact. The cold garage able to slip his mind as the others simply held him. Everything faded into manageable thoughts. His fears reasoned away easily, the tension in his body gone by the third time Soap brushed through his hair.

Tininess fought it’s way to the front of his head, clouding everything and leaving a fuzzy, yet welcoming, sensation. The last time he felt so small and safe was many years ago, just before Shepherd. It was good. Nothing like the relief.

“Phil?” A voice called, cutting through the cloud in his head for just a moment. Ghost. It sounded distant, despite being cuddled up to his side.

Instead of tensing, he simply hummed and looked up. Soft blue eyes peered up towards him.

“Price is talking, bud. Pay attention to Baba, okay?” Simon murmured to him, the little on tucked himself comfortably closer. He took that as a good thing.

Graves babbled an answer, looking over to see Price kneeling off to the side close to him. He hummed a little as if to say he was listening.

“Me and Kyle are going to get your stuff. Can you tell me what stuff you need other than your blankie and box?” Price asked, slow to let the little one process it.

“Tha’s all..” Phil quietly replied, blinking at him. A small smile on his lips. Finally, he’d get his things. His treasured items. Even better, he’d be able to use his little gear safely knowing there was at least one more regressor.

“Okay, Simon and ‘tavish will stay with you and get you whatever you need. Got it, kiddo?” Price told him, giving him encouraging looks the whole way. The glances he flashed to Johnny and Simon went unnoticed, but it was certainly to make sure they’d listen. Of course there were instances where they came first, like if Simon began to regress. Otherwise, the attention would be on him for at least a few hours.

“Paci?” Graves timidly asked, though he showed no other sign of being scared. He looked up towards Simon, testing the waters to see if they actually would help.

“I've got it right here.” Simon told him, showing the small pacifier.

It was immediately swiped from his hand and popped into Phil's mouth in a blink of an eye. The little one turned his attention back to Price, who was smiling softly.

“See? They’ve got it.” The captain gently pat Phil’s leg. “We’ll be back by tonight with all your stuff. Promise.”

“S’ay safe?” Phil asked, words muffled by the pacifier. He reached his hand out, holding his pinky out to make Price promise that he and Gaz would be safe. He even huffed a little when Price hadn’t moved.

“Of course we’ll be safe, and yes I pinky promise.” He laughed softly as he locked their pinkies.

They certainly kept their promise too, even updating Soap on where they were. Over time, Phil was shown pictures of where they were. The sunset, road signs, animals they drove by (horses, or usually cows), anything that would keep the little one’s mind at ease.

Graves was hardly aware of how much time had passed. Toys had been placed on the rug, something to stack, building blocks, tinker toys. A bunch of little things. Phil had eagerly settled on the ground by all the options. First, he played with the tinker toys. Building large structures until they collapsed with the weight he had added to the top. He giggled and laughed as the tower crashed on the ground.

The other toys weren’t much different. Block stacks were made big enough that he could sit and they would be taller than him. Simon was a big help with it, keeping it all stable as Phillip played, then helped him clean up once he knocked it down.

While Simon supervised (played) with Graves, Soap took care of food. Surprisingly, the kitchen didn’t get burned down either. The first thing he took care of was a late lunch of chicken nuggets. Johnny had gotten used to preparing that for Simon’s lunch when he was little, it was pretty much habit to make it for Graves too. Phil was ecstatic over it, and being allowed to eat on the floor where all the toys were made it even better. A chocolate milk as well. Price had promised it. He wasn’t told off for playing and eating, not told off for not finishing when he was full either. Much like a childhood he didn’t have, it made this feel much more homey.

It got later and later Phil simply played until he got too sleepy. His eyes slowly got heavier as the toys became a little less interesting. He laid down on the rug, using his arms as pillows as he curled up right there in a little ball. Before Johnny or Simon could even notice, he was out like a light.

The pacifier bobbed in his mouth as he napped. It was warm enough that he didn’t really need a blanket either, looking surprisingly comfortable despite being on the floor. Little hums occasionally came from him, but he never moved.

This was the most comfortable that he had been in a long time. A perfect nap time.

Chapter Text

Waking up, Phil found himself cuddled up in someone’s lap. His arms were tucked under himself in a cozy resting position, his head resting on their chest. A beard scratched at his forehead, though he truly didn’t care. Everything in him screamed pure comfort. Like he was actually little, actually just a small kid again. It was exactly what he needed after not having that kind of comfort for so long.

Blankets tucked around him, a pacifier still in his mouth but it didn’t feel like the one he fell asleep with. He chewed at it for a moment, light and small chews. It only took him a few seconds to realize it was one of his own. A dark blue pacifier with slight decoration on it, gems and pearls, he knew from the weight and texture. Everything relaxed in him another tenfold now he knew all his stuff was with him. His eyes hadn’t even opened yet, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to open them for now. It was all just too comfortable.

He didn’t need to move, everything was set up perfectly.

A gentle hand rubbed his back in slow up and down motions, quiet chatter in the room. Quiet enough that it was clear they were so hushed just to help him remain asleep.

Sleep almost had him in his grasp again, but he heard a voice mention his name.

“Phil- he’s just.. He’s just a wee lad, he needs our protection… Like our ghostie when he’s little, aye?” Ah, Soap. Ever affectionately speaking about Simon. It registered in Graves’ head as being very comforting. After all the words tossed, and the undoubtable stress of taking care of him for an evening, Soap wanted him there. To protect him, maybe even to help care for him.

His eyes fluttered open as he heard a small huff with a scolding of Johnny’s name. It was all in good fun, he’d heard that light teasing before.

“You do, Simon, and you know it.” The man holding him spoke, Price’s chest rumbling with each word. He almost closed his eyes again at that soothing rumble.

“If I didn’t know better I’d argue.” Simon audibly complained under his breath, much like an annoyed teenager. The old couch creaked as the weight shifted slightly.

“Glad you know better by now.” Price teased him in return for that pouty behavior. He began to trace light shapes on Graves’ back. “But we were talking about Phil… We’ve gotta sort out stuff. Is he coming back to base with us? Are we flying back with him?”

The mention of his name again had Phil whining softly. He pressed his forehead firmly against Price’s chest. They wouldn’t just leave him, no, he should know that… but it didn’t stop him from thinking it. They promised protection, the 141 wouldn’t go back on it. At least, he hoped they wouldn’t. He’d ran so far already just to crash in his captor’s arms.

Price tilted his head down to look at the source of the whine, first expecting Simon then looking down to the little one in his lap. He softly stroked his hair for just a moment.

“You up, son?” Price so delicately asked, as if he was holding a piece of fine china he was scared to drop. His hand cupped the back of Phil’s head. Since he’d gotten back to the safehouse, he was wearing comfortable clothes. In a t-shirt with the same 141 logo on the chest, matching with Graves.

Phil tilted his head up, blinking sleepily at Price. His eyes struggled to adjust to the light, immediately ducking his face back down against his chest. The gentle touch on his head was grounding, letting him feel safe with his head tucked into the captain’s chest. He didn’t pull, didn’t force him still, he was simply there to support. There was no pain to his comfort, just mild fear.

“Too bright?” The man chuckled when he got a small nod in return. Price gently stroked Phil’s hair again, filling Graves with that gentle thrum of warmth throughout his body.

Just as Phil settled back down and let it all fade into background noise, he heard the rumbling of Price’s chest again. He so desperately wanted to listen, to actually hear what was being said. Maybe it was more about him, about what they were going to do with him now they had him. Would they take him back to base? Or leave him here? His lungs squeezed in his chest, a breath coming in as a wheeze.

“Phil?” Words cut through the fog in his head, soft contact on his face as a hand tilted his head up.

His eyes opened, a small whimper slipped from his mouth as he looked up.

The lights felt blinding. A small throb in the back of his head made him clutch the fabric of Price’s shirt in his hands. He tried not to think, to just listen to everything around but it didn’t help that they all went quiet as they realized something was wrong with him. Just to his right, Simon and Soap were sitting together squished at the end of the couch, Gaz had found a comfortable spot on the ground against a wall. Phil could hardly focus on them as another whimper forced it’s way through his throat.

“What’s wrong, kid?” A voice spoke from his side, Ghost speaking with more concern than Phil thought he’d ever hear from the man.

Phil pressed his hands against Price’s shirt, but not in an attempt to push away or get up. He simply whined and fisted at the fabric. He opened his mouth but the words didn’t come out right, and his pacifier fell out of his mouth, adding to his frustration.

“It’s okay to not have your words straight. You’re too small, aren’t you?” Price asked him in the gentlest way.

It still came off as patronizing to the little one’s ears. Yes, he was too small, but he wanted to talk! He needed to!

Tears filled his eyes as he tried to whine and grumble his way into getting his point across. He had questions! He needed them answered before the tears began to pour.

“F-fly-!” Graves stumbled through his word, trying the next while still complaining he couldn’t do it right. “Fly- fly home?” He attempted, sucking his lip into his mouth to chew.

“We’re not flying anywhere right now, son…” Slowly, Price spoke. His head turned to look towards the others. He seemed to make a last minute choice. “But, if we were, you’d come home with us. Okay?” Price added carefully.

“H-home..” The little one mumbled, once again pressing his head down against Price’s chest. He chewed roughly on his lip, grumbling quietly. Graves’ grip loosened on Price’s shirt, leaving wrinkles in his hands’ place. It wasn’t his home, but it was a place to stay with the people that had helped him so far. It wouldn’t ever compare to his home, way too far away for his liking, but he’d settle in time.

“Yeah.. Home. We’ll stay at my place, yeah? Instead of the base, a big house, lots of space, and plenty of room for you to be comfy too.” The captain hummed to him, returning the hand to his hair and gently brushing through it. For now, his pacifier was forgotten about, in favor of comforting Phil.

There was a bit of sound from his right, almost flustered sounds. As if they were all surprised at the offer, it didn’t sound like it was previously discussed.

“He’s got the perfect room for you, Phil. It’ll be much better than any base.” Simon said from his side, his hand reaching to rest on his back, light and gentle pressure. Of course the four of them knew what he was talking about, but Phil only whimpered nervously at that.

“How do you feel about a playroom? Lots of toys, and a comfy bed! Si loves it.” Graves heard from further behind, Gaz speaking with a smile that was audible in his voice.

And that did sound perfect. Like a dream, even. Something he didn’t think he deserved but desperately wanted anyways. A playroom and a carer, maybe more if the others wanted to take turns like they had throughout the whole time they had Phil. The off comment about Simon made him feel just a bit more at ease. If the Ghost liked it, Graves would too… The man had high standards, unlike Phil.

“Yeah, a room fit for a kid like you.” Price emphasized with a gentle pat to Graves’ back.

Phillip blinked up at the captain, then to his side where Simon was sitting. It was so close, so gentle… He was so gentle with him. While looking at Simon, he found himself nodding, slow and timid.

“We’ll keep you comfy, you’ve got all your gear…and your blankie. As promised.” Price grinned down at him, ruffling the blanket on Phil’s back and gently pulling it closer around his shoulders.

It was all there, all his stuff. He knew that, but it being reinforced and reminded of the promise. They followed through. Graves eased under the touch. That frustration pulled off his body by gentle hands. The familiar scent of his blanket covering him. Not one that had been untouched for weeks at a time in an old safehouse. His trust grew as the 141 fulfilled their promise. It was his blanket, his pacifier that fell earlier… They got his stuff.

How they even got into the box didn’t even cross his mind, not the lock. Easily pickable.

“I know its a little scary, I was a little scared too when I was offered it… But it’s really nice. There’s a crib and everything.” Simon spoke to him soothingly, keeping smooth and gentle tone with the little one.

Phil very quietly babbled in response. All nonsense but cute nonetheless.

“Yeah, I know. But you’re way too small to be worrying. Let us take care of that, hm?” Simon responded as if he understood anything that Phil said. Entertaining little one’s babbling was always a fun activity, he even enjoyed it when he himself was small.

It was a little surprising how easily Graves gave in. He raised his brows slightly and babbled back with a little nod. Nothing had felt so easy to let go. The boy pulled his blanket closer under his chin, his head leaned back on Price’s chest while looking at Simon.

“Exactly, we’ve got it all under control.” Simon replied enthusiastically, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Little hums and babbles Phil kept mumbling out were all given responses. Either from Price, or Simon. He looked quite happy at the replies as well. The weariness and sleepy look faded away quickly as the ‘conversation’ continued. His chatter got louder and louder the longer he was entertained.

Phil sat up in Price’s lap purely to keep talking with more enthusiasm. Stimming with hand flaps and making popping sounds. His eyes crinkled at the corner as he practically bounced in Price’s lap from his excitement.

“There’s a happy boy.” Price cooed, holding the little one stable in his lap so he didn’t fall. He couldn’t help but smile. Simon slid into the seat next to them both, giving gentle encouragement to Phil’s joy while he leaned comfortably into the captain’s side.

The looks he received were ever so soft, treating him as if he was actually small too. It was exactly what he needed to feel just right. He could feel little with them, regardless of why he was there in the first place. He could regress and be taken care of, instead of damaged further. The ever so stoic Ghost even smiling at him. Not even in his own home did he feel so safe.

They were so gentle.

It wasn’t hard to keep Phil happy. Little snacks, juice, a few toys and regular attention was enough. With the comfort of being promised that they wouldn’t leave him, he was able to feel good enough to get back down to play on he rug with those toys there. A few new additions of toy cars that had captivated Kyle’s attention. Dull conversation played as background noise as Graves found a toy he enjoyed. In that time, Kyle scooted closer and picked a car to play with. Quietly, he could hear Kyle murmur ‘vroom’ as he played.

Graves couldn’t help but be intrigued. He moved a bit closer to Kyle, looking at the toy cars that interested him so much. One was offered to him and he just couldn’t say no. He was a little bit more on the chaotic side with those toys, happily making the car crash against whatever he could then giggling when Gaz would make a small explosion sound for his enjoyment.

While they played, the three who remained in their adult headspace discussed how to get Graves back home with them. There was room for all of them in Price’s house, too big for just one person. There was already a spare bedroom when the four of them stayed there, Laswell and her wife usually took that room, and now it was Graves’ turn. If he didn’t want to stay in the playroom and nursery space, that is.

A plan was formed quite easily, actually. Graves just seemed happy about going with, so any questions were answered simply and without any stress. Did he want to fly with them? Yes. Did he want to sit next someone specifically? Yes, in between Simon and Johnny. Did he have anything else he wanted to bring? Aside from his little gear, no. He could buy clothes wherever they were going, that wasn’t a problem. A few more questions were asked and answered while Kyle and him played with the cars on the rug.

Knowing glances were shared between the three adults at the two of the boys on the ground. They didn’t doubt that Kyle was also feeling a little small from playing with his favorite cars and having a friend to play with. No one disturbed their play.

A late dinner was prepared after they had figured things out. Something that would be good for all of them, while still being childish enough that Phil would happily eat it. Graves was beginning to get a little fussy with hunger as he kept playing, his head occasionally turning to Price to whine up at him. And he would be comforted each time and reminded that there would be food soon. Graves was happy to trust that.

Simple soup with some garlic bread that had been in the freezer, freezer texas toast style. Food was dished out and they ate in the living space rather than the kitchen due to Kyle’s insistence about staying by his toys. No one cared to tell him otherwise, so they stayed in the living room.

The food was a little hard for Phil to eat without a mess, his hands shaking when he tried to hold the fork with all the noodles. The more he tried, the harder it got. Tears had quickly filled his eyes the longer he had to wait for his soup.

“Oh, lad, let me help.” Soap sounded rushed to get to his side. He plopped himself next to Graves on the carpet and gently took the fork from his hands.

Graves whimpered up at him as his tummy rumbled for food. He didn’t even have to be told to open his mouth for the food. But he did have to be told to stay still, squirming at his uncomfortably empty belly.

Then Soap gently began to feed Phil the food from his bowl. It only took a minute or two for that distress to fade away. Somehow they knew what he needed, and it helped Graves relax more with the knowledge that he didn’t always need his words with them.

“There ye go, bub, just needed a wee bit of food in that tummy, aye?” Johnny cooed softly. His own food forgotten for now as he helped Graves. It was an easy job, really. Now that Graves was sitting still, at least.

He didn’t waste time verbally responding, in favor of eating his food. But he blinked up at Soap with bright eyes.

Soap returned a happy smile then kept on with feeding him his soup. As patient as ever if Graves paused for any reason, the little one occasionally took a bite of his garlic bread too. Not letting really any of it get wasted.

And when he was finished, he quietly thanked Soap and went back to his toys. Which made Johnny chuckle a little as he gathered his dish and went to go finish his own food, that was likely cold by then.

Graves went back to, somewhat quietly, playing with Gaz and the cars. All fun and games until a time they deemed bedtime. Quiet shows played on the TV that Phil didn’t care to watch, but the soft chatter and light music had his vision unfocusing and his eyelids getting heavy. He got huffy as he tried to keep playing but would be interrupted by a yawn or his eyes closing when he didn’t want them to.

“Phil, son, you gettin’ sleepy?” He heard Price ask from behind him, two strong hands reaching around him and pulling him off the rug. The captain settled Graves on his lap once again and put a blanket over him. He didn’t even wait for Phil’s answer, which was just a little bit of whining and huffing.

“Yeah, that looks like a sleepy kid if I know one.” The captain softly cooed.

Phil blinked tiredly, letting that fight leave him as warmth surrounded him. He nodded, even.

There was some gentle shifting in the room, by the couch then feet shuffling away towards the middle of the rug where Gaz was still sitting. He lost track when Price started talking to him again.

“Do you wanna get padded up, kiddo? Then we can lay you down for bedtime.” He spoke to him in a sweet, comforting tone. Perfect to get him sleepier.

In his box with his little gear, there were some protective pull-ups along with other stuff to help him sleep. Like his pacifiers, and blankets.

Graves nodded tiredly, fisting at his eyes. He nudged his head against Price’s shoulder. That sleepiness began to get harder to fight the more he relaxed in his arms. Which Price noticed almost immediately, and stood with his arms closely around him. He didn’t let Phil fall, or slip at all. Simply humming along like he had always taken care of him, like this wasn’t new at all.

“Yeah, let’s get you padded up. Do you want me to do it for you, bud, or can you do it yourself?” Price asked, though he knew Phil was just absolutely too small to manage himself. Even Simon got fussy with it, and that happens very often.

“Help…” Phil murmured, yawning as he was gently bounced in Price’s arms. It was comforting… Having the help was a luxury to him, he didn’t have to do everything himself. It wasn’t up to what-ifs with them, the fact that they kept helping even after breakdowns, and being generally unpleasant. His mind wasn’t full of anxious thoughts for once.

“Gotcha, lets get you comfy cozy then.” Price cooed back to him with a light bounce.

It was simple and easy, treated just like a wee baby. He was laid down comfortably on a bed, that he assumed was Price’s by the items around. An ashtray on the bedside table, a tea cup, and some chapstick. It didn’t quite keep his attention. Instead, he happily looked up at Price. He was distracted by his cooing and gentle tickles to his side from time to time. Getting him into a pull-up wasn’t so hard, getting him back into pants was the problem.

He started squirming and whining, in complaint that he was too warm, and that he just wanted picked up again. There were attempts at negotiating, before Price gave up and picked Graves back up. The little one rested his head on his shoulder again, a small bit of bouncing on his hip got Phil quieted down and cozy.

Slow and steady, he was carried back out to the living room where the captain simply grabbed Phil’s blankie and his pacifier before going back to the bedroom. They sat on the bed, against the headboard with Phil sat comfortably in Price’s lap. At first a little confused by being welcomed to be comfy in a bed with him, but a gentle hand putting his pacifier in his mouth and the blanket around him got him to relax into Price’s chest.

Price continuously spoke to the little one as he held him, giving him gentle praise and telling him he’s proud of him. For everything from being honest, to letting them help him, to trusting them to help. He was told that all of them were happy to help him if he was feeling small, and for a minute, he wanted to whine for assurance, but didn’t even have to. Price’s hand stroked his hair slow and smooth, perfect to quiet his head.

“That’s a good lad… Sleep, I’ll be right here.” The captain promised him. A very light kiss was pressed to the top of his head, sealing away his stresses and allowing his mind to blank. No more worries, nothing in there in his head that could hurt him even a little.

Price murmured something intelligible, then closed his eyes. His blanket was tucked expertly around him to keep him comfy and warm. Never once was he moved, other than for some slight shifts.

Sleep came to him easily without his overbearing mind clawing at him for attention.

The rest of the time in the safehouse went about the same, a lot of time was spent looking after Phil. There were a few times that he was big, but it didn’t really last long the more comfortable he got. It wasn’t hard to deal with the same way it could be to get Simon to regress, Graves gradually slipped rather than crashing (most of the time). Plans were solidified in the time Phil was big, everything up to his standards and even better. He got what he wanted, and the 141 got what they needed.

Which lead to the airport, which lead to the plane, which lead to here.

The five of them standing outside a large house, Phil half asleep on Simon’s shoulder as he peered up at a warm-looking house. Bricks aged with time and some light blue paint on any siding there may be. A big house, as he was told.

It wasn’t like the majority of houses in the US, but it felt welcoming all the same. But maybe that was Price’s smile from the porch that made it feel that way.

Chapter Text

The house was positively gorgeous inside. Decorated more than expected for how long Price is usually away. A fine layer of dust settled over everything in the house. The hardwood floors dulling slightly with age, as well as the wallpaper that decorated the walls. Something blue, soft and with minimal design, deep brown wood trimming and a chair rail the same shade as the flooring. 

It felt soft and safe.

The deep hardwood flooring reminded Graves of his momma’s place, running around with his cousins and tracking mud everywhere… Something finally that didn’t bring back anything negative. Right here, he truly knew he found a place that he felt right at home in. Similar to his momma’s place, but with the safety that the 141 promised. 

He couldn’t stop himself from slipping that instant, comfortably going over the edge he was teetering on when they got there. His eyes wandered the throughout the foyer, then the kitchen to his left, and finally to the open living space in front of them. 

A shoulder nudged him, very slightly while other things had his attention. Phil couldn’t help but whine and huff, just like a pouty toddler. This was so much like home, what little him connected to home. 

“I know you’re admirin’ the view, bub, but there’s even better places in the house.” Graves heard distantly Price talking to him, but only made out a few words. Something about the view, and something being better than it. But the house was already perfect to him, much better than where they had been before. That safehouse gave him chills, especially the garage. But he didn’t want to think about that.

With very hazy eyes, he looked up towards the captain. His hand outstretched to the captain as it seemed the others were already off and getting their stuff in their spaces. Well, he could see the tall form of Ghost making something in the kitchen behind Price, tea, most likely. 

“Let’s get you up to the nursery, eh?” Price suggested, happily connecting his and Phil’s hand, who looked like he was absolutely tiny now. 

The nursery. Phil nodded, leaning slightly against Price. He hadn’t slept the whole nine hour flight, only played with his minimal toys and Ghost’s phone. He was so sleepy, he had been the most of the flight, and it finally hit him the more comfortable he got in that space. Home.

“Long flight for a little guy, huh?” The captain softly cooed. Rather than leading him there, Price simply lifted him up into his arms. 

“P’ice…” Graves yawned, resting his head on his shoulder once he was comfy. 

“Price is here, I’m going to help you get settled...” The captain was so soft to him. He felt safe here with him, with all of them. Like it was home, immediately. The start was rocky, of course, and though he wasn’t as trusting when big, he felt perfectly at home when small. Trust was still a hard thing for him, after being on the run and all. But Price’s arms supporting him kept his mind at ease. 

Phil fisted at his tired eyes as he peered up at Price. He couldn’t help the quiet whine that escaped his throat. Sleep was getting harder and harder to fight, he wanted to be awake to get comfy! He wanted to see the nursery and experience it, not just sleep immediately. 

“I know, bub, but you’ll have all day to play tomorrow. It’s wayyy too late for a little one to be up.” Price lightly bounced him for emphasis. He gave Graves a very light kiss on his head, successfully cutting off any other whine he was about to give.

Stairs were to their left down a short hall that had a bathroom. Getting up the stairs was a little difficult, but Price never voiced that. Instead, he just chuckled when Phil squirmed in his arms to get comfortable again. Gentle hands helped get him more comfortable, adjusting the position he was holding Graves in. As soon as he was cozy again, he yawned and huffed in complaint about being sleepy.

“I know you’re sleepy, close those eyes for me, hm?” The captain softly prompted with a pat to his back. Just as he did it, a door opened and Price walked them inside. Phil immediately wanted to open them again. The room smelled faintly of vanilla, like a candle had been lit the last time someone was in there. 

Very slowly, Phil was laid on a bed. More accurately, in a crib. He couldn’t help but open his eyes as he was rested on such a comfy surface. Light yellow walls were around him, with a crown molding up about one third of the wall’s height. A soft blue tent was on the opposite side of the room, the perfect size for him and maybe one of the others. There was a rug on the floor made to play cars on, with roads, trees and houses printed on the rug. Just like one he remembered having as a kid. Soft black curtains blocked out any blinding lights, white stars embroidered on them in scattered formations. A rocking chair was to his left right by the crib, visible between the raised bars. A spinning mobile hung just over the crib, and just like that, all his attention to everything else was gone.

The mobile spun slowly and played a quiet tune, Phil babbled softly and reached up to it. Too far to reach, but there was no complaint. The soft colored animals spinning had him captivated. That gave Price the needed time to get Phil’s stuff in the room and settled into a dresser between the windows on the right side of the room. His box of regression gear was sat on top of the dresser for easy access, while his single change of clothes were set in a drawer among some other clothes, basic sweats.  

Phil was half asleep by the time Price came back to him. While he was distracted, Price slipped off his shoes and popped one of his pacifiers in his mouth. His sleepy eyes glanced at Price when he moved close, blinking up at him.

“There you go, sweetheart… Do you want me to change you into something more comfy to sleep in?” Price asked quietly, reaching over Graves to turn on a nightlight on a shelf. Though the little one wasn’t very aware, the clothes sticking to his back after the plane ride wasn’t comfy at all, he could recognize that. 

“Uh-huh…” Graves mumbled. He rubbed his sleepy eyes as he tried to relax in the bed. The mobile stopped for just a second, but Price immediately turned it back on to let Phil watch again. He settled once it began to make the quiet music. His eyes grew heavier every minute that passed.

It took a couple minutes to get the sleepy boy padded up and into a onesie. There was a bit of complaining when the pullup was pulled on, soft hushing was all he needed to be quiet again though. Really, he was just too tired to fight back on it. The onesie had short sleeves and no pants, which made it a lot more comfortable for bed to him. Nothing to overheat him, or overstimulate him. He hated the feeling of onesies against the hair on his legs. 

His special blankie was pulled over him as soon as Price got him fully cozy, as well as a pacifier clip put on his paci and connected to the collar of the onesie. Graves snuggled up under his blanket as the lights got flicked off. The night light helped to illuminate the room enough to see all of the corners. 

Price remained close for a few minutes, he sat down at the edge of the crib with a kid’s book in his hands. His hand gently brushed through Phil’s hair. He couldn’t quite see what book it was, if he could even make out the words in the dark anyways.

“Would you like a story, bud?” He heard Price ask, though not comprehending it much. Being talked to sleep would be so very nice. The privilege of all these different comforts were overwhelming, in the best way. None of them were angry at all with how he needed the care, they embraced it, especially Price. If he could stay with them forever, he would… They were kind, more than anyone he’d had the displeasure of interacting with when he was feeling this sort of way. 

“S’ory…” Graves repeated, babbling in reply. His blinks slowed until his eyes simply closed. Little yawns came and went as he laid comfortably in the bed.

“That’s right, a story…” Price couldn’t help but smile. His hand continued to brush through Phil’s hair as he flipped open the book. Something short but hopefully long enough to lull Graves to sleep. A story about a prince and a knight. There were so many princess books with the same plot, but it was something Johnny adored when it wasn’t princesses. As per his request, Price had found a book where it’s the same but about princes instead, it was still the scot’s favorite book before bed months after it had been bought.

Within the first five minutes of reading, Price could hear Phil’s breaths settle further and the yawns subside. For a few more minutes, he stayed next to the crib, carefully observing the little one to make sure he slept okay. He did take one picture of Graves so comfortably cuddled up, he was too cute not to. A baby monitor was carefully turned on and the crib rail raised, then one more kiss was pressed to his forehead before he left the room, the door clicked once it was closed.

In the morning when Phil began waking up, the monitor picked his little whines and grunts up. It was later than usual, Price had already been up with the others. And a little Ghost toddling around behind him wherever he went. So when the monitor picked up Graves’ shuffling and Price got up to go check on him, Ghost quickly followed suit. 

Price quietly hushed him as he cracked the door open to the nursery. Light from the hallway flooded the room, the curtains allowing a little light in as well. Sleepy eyes peeked out from under a blanket in the door’s direction.

“Hi, buddy… Good mornin’.” The captain said quietly, walking in and up to the crib. He folded the blanket down a little to see Graves’ sleepy, flushed face. His eyes struggling to keep open, whining at the light in his face. Phil huffed a little and tried to hide his face back into the blanket. He didn’t want to be awake yet, it was too early, he believed.

A little Ghost peeked out from behind Price’s shoulder, a pacifier between his lips as he looked down at Graves. His pacifier had fallen out some point in the night. Seeing Simon, Phil whined and rubbed his eyes. He was a little scary still, with how tall he felt when Phil was laying down, but he looked so soft too. Smiling a little, it was hard to feel intimidated by Ghost when the corners of his eyes wrinkled up and a little bit of his lip poked out from behind the pacifier.

“Ghos’...” Phil babbled sleepily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He squirmed a little and pulled himself into a sitting position with a little struggle. Being still regressed, he really took it as a win. He was comfortable with them, he took it as a sign of that comfort.

“Yeah, Simon’s here, he wanted to come see you.” Not the full truth, but with the way Simon was watching him with intrigue, it may as well be true. Price chuckled softly when Ghost accidentally nudged him when he walked past to grab at the bars on the crib. Sometimes he forgot he was so much bigger than he felt.

“Ghos’...” Graves drew out, reaching to touch where Simon’s fingers poked through the bars. Giggling when Simon huffed at him for it and withdrew his hands. 

“Baba?” Simon pointed to the sleepy boy then lightly pat the railing on the bed, wanting it down.

Price smiled softly at how the boys wanted to interact. When both of their hands were out of the way, Price lowered the bars and scooped Graves into his arms. Thankfully much less heavy then Ghostie, he swayed him a little. A hand softly patted his bum to make sure he was dry before he pulled the blanket around him like he did for Ghost.

A little squeal escaped Phil as he was lifted up and into the warmth of Price’s arms. The cold air brushed over the uncovered skin, whining at how it was cold but Price had already covered him enough to get him cozy again. Simon stood up close to them, looking at Graves from Price’s shoulder again. 

“You know you can talk to him, love, he won’t hurt you.” The captain softly said, and Simon reached out gently to pet his hair like he was a dog. But Graves melted into it regardless. Not talking, exactly, he didn’t much anyways when he was regressed.

Graves giggled very quietly. The sleepiness lingered, this interaction helped him wake up in the most pleasant way. Not loud, not scary… Sweet and gentle. They were so sweet and gentle with him… He scrunched his nose up like a bunny, making Simon giggle as well.

“Bunny…” Simon mumbled behind his pacifier, lightly patting Graves on the head. That encouraged him to do it again, just to make Simon giggle. It worked, of course, he simply liked the way Simon smiled when he did. There was really no place that felt quite like home than right here. 

Scrunching his nose like that landed him the name of ‘bunny’. It quickly became all Simon addressed him by, not that it ever bothered him. He quite liked it actually, making his sweet face flush at being called something cute. Gaz and Johnny caught onto how happy it made him too, they sprinkled in the name ever so often when talking to him, but it was mostly Simon calling for him like that. The two were practically inseparable the entire day.

Toys were played with together, small naps taken in the same vicinity. Simon way more clingy than he ever expected. If he had toddled off somewhere Simon couldn’t see, he’d start calling out for ‘bunny’ and whining. To which Price would comfort him, while one of the others found where he made his way to, which was usually just the hallway or the kitchen. 

Any time he could, Phil would lean in against Ghost’s side and giggle quietly about nothing in particular. That would make Simon then giggle too. Many, many pictures were taken of them together when they weren’t paying attention. Maybe a few when Graves was, but he would smile for the camera unlike how Simon would shy away. 

After lunch time and their food had settled in their bellies, the pair were helped up into the nursery, where a couple toys had been set out for them. Now he wasn’t so tired, Phil could see all the options. A kids dollhouse was next to the dresser, the tent had pillows and stuffies inside, toy trucks, stacking toys, set out… Mostly just a lot of things that Graves hadn’t gotten the privilege to play with since he was an actual kid.

Simon had immediately gone for the stacking toy, plopping himself down on the map rug to get the rings on the toy off to restack. Though that also caught Graves’ attention, he didn’t stop Simon from playing with it. He’d add one stack, then look up at Phil. It took a minute before he understood what Ghost wanted. He wanted to take turns. It entertained them a long while, at least four times of stacking and unstacking before they found blocks to build with. 

The first thing they did was build a castle, then (with Simon’s permission), Graves rammed one of the toy trucks into it and they both watched it fall with loud giggles. Unknown to them, Price sat in the rocking chair in the corner to supervise, but was definitely taking videos and pictures of the precious activities. How could he not? They were too cute. All of the videos and pictures were sent to a group chat with Soap and Kyle. Both of whom came upstairs to look in the doorway at how their Ghostie was playing with Graves so happily.

They didn’t stop playing until the toys were all (mostly) played with. Only then did they both crawl into the tent to hide away for a little. Phil leaned up against Ghost again, who wrapped his arm around him and cuddled up to him too. The tent was actually quite big inside, able to fit him and Simon laying down as long as they curled up a little. The pillows perfectly cushioned them as they cuddled up. Graves laid against Simon’s chest. No pictures could be taken of them cuddled up, the tent obscured them too much. But with what Price could tell, it was absolutely heart melting to see them happy and getting along.

The tent was occupied for a long while, and when Price went to check, both of them were curled up and cuddled up, completely asleep. He took just one picture and left them to be for now. Their sleep schedules were already a mess, what was another hour of naps? He couldn’t break their peace, not when they were so cozy. 

Chapter Text

It was cold. That's the first thing he noticed.

Mere moments ago, he could've sworn he was cuddled up safe and sound. Somewhere he'd be safe. He thought he was safe…

His body moved without permission, trembling hands move from the door handle into his pockets. Wherever he was, his surroundings didn't ring a bell in his head. Dim lights just barely illuminated the place, red curtains over the ice cold windowpanes that appeared frosted over. The place was all wrong.

Warmth rushed over his hands in a single second. A gasp fell from his lips as his eyes caught up with his body. The sink in the poorly maintained kitchen poured water over his hands, soaking his skin and pulling water up his sleeves. He couldn't move away, eyes stuck staring.

His chest heaved.

That wasn't right. This isn't right. The last place he remembered was Price's house, the softly decorated rooms meant for him and the other boys. Matched exactly to each of their preferences, while he still had plenty of room to grow into the space offered to him. It was nice, it was home.

This… This wasn't home.

None of this was right.

Despite the chill in the air, sweat beaded at his forehead, wetting the blond strands falling in his face. His eyes didn't leave the sink, he couldn't pull his hands away as the water got hotter and hotter. Steam rose from the tap. He couldn't move to pull away from it.

He coughed, heart pounding in his chest, gaze blurring.

The scolding water pouring over his hands slowly tinted. Clear, to a soft brown, to a dark pink, to red until it no longer looked like water. Burning him, sending pain over him while he felt his body relax into it no matter how much he wanted—needed—to pull back.

No, no, it was all wrong. It was all wrong and he couldn't move.

He couldn't breathe. Blinking and blinking but his eyes refused to focus on what was coating his hands. He was supposed to be at home. It was supposed to be okay. Where was Ghost? Soap? Price? Gaz? Dammit, why was he alone?

Red deepening and deepening the longer he stared without a way to move back. He scrunched his face in pain, breaths desperate and uneven. Tears filled his eyes. The hurt was supposed to stop. All of it was supposed to stop.

The pain didn't make his body recoil, even as it send shocks through his frame begging for him to move. The ground held his feet still, demanding his presence as the liquid seeped over his hands, crawling up his sleeves as it saturated the fabric.

There's blood on his hands.

Viscous and crimson red pouring over his hands, melting away at his fragile hands as it burns him.

What did he do wrong? He felt every ounce of agony, every last bit. Frozen there, only his eyes moving as his chest sputtered. Air came in thin, as if he wasn't standing there at all, stuck in a vacuum, taking from him, stealing his oxygen with every inhale. Why him? Why wasn't anyone there? Did they not know where he was?

His mouth didn't move as he choked. There wasn't any air for him to breathe, was there? No amount of pleas got past his lips, stuck on his tongue. His begging for someone to save him never entered the space around him, his cries never echoed off the walls.

This wasn't home. Home didn't hurt.

The longer he stood there, the fuzzier his head got. Or was that the pain? Could he even be sure it's one or the other? Was this a punishment for being small? Did he run again? Why didn't someone stop him?

Despite feeling tears run down his cheek and drip off his chin, it didn't hit the sink. The tears never fell all the way down. Little hiccups forced their way past his bitten lip, gnawing his skin raw. It was icky, his hands are gross, red and not just with the substance coating them, with damaged skin that he couldn't pull from the source of the hurt.

He couldn't escape it.

He couldn't move.

And then it was silent. The tap stopped. His eyes teared up passed what he could see. Darkness creeped into his vision. The ground wasn't beneath him anymore.

No… No, instead his back was pressed against something warm. It was quiet, it wasn't.. It wasn't cold anymore. He could breathe, just barely between hiccups, he could breathe. Tears wet his face, sliding down his cheeks before something gentle wiped them away before they could drip down his neck.

He didn't open his eyes, in fear of what he'd see. If he'd be home, or if he'd been sent off somewhere he didn't want to be… It wasn't fair he had to worry about that. His hands shook violently where he had them balled up against his chest—not wet, not standing over a sink, there's no blood soaking through his clothes.

His regression took over more every second, pulling him down further. Easing him out of the cold, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders… Or maybe that was someone else.

Slowly, ever so slowly, hands brushed over his shoulders, pulling him close, taking him away from the terror radiating through him. It wasn't cold anymore. He wasn't cold anymore. He wasn't cold anymore.

"Shh, shh, I know…" A quiet voice spoke through the thrumming in his ears, cradling his shaking body.

He wasn't there anymore. He wasn't hurting anymore. He wasn't alone.

That was Price, it had to be.

Taking a shuddering breath, he let himself open his eyes. Baby blues shimmering with tears as he looks up at the captain holding him. It's just John. There's no icky monster, there's no one holding him still.

So why did that feel so real? Why did it hurt? Dreams weren't supposed to hurt, it's supposed to be safe. Why wasn't it safe?

His lip quivered as he tried to focus on Price. Anything but his dream. God, let him think about anything else.

"You're safe, love, you're safe…" John promised, calloused hand wiping away the tears still dripping down his cheeks, "It's scary, hm? I'm here, it's safe…" He whispered, pulling Phillip closer to himself. A hand settled over the back of Phil's neck to settle the little one into the crook of his neck, then slipping his hand into his hair.

When the captain stops talking, all he hears are his own cries echoing throughout the room. Quiet pleas on his lips that he thought over and over in that weird apartment. Pleas for someone to save him, to be held again, to go home.

John held him as if his sobs weren't ugly, as if he wasn't ruining his shirt with snot and tears.

"I've got you…" He whispered into the little one's hair, his own voice sounding choked up for a moment. Price brushed his fingers through Phillip's sleep mused hair.

How long had he been with them by now? Weeks? His head wasn't clear enough to tell. Why didn't he have dreams bad like this before?

The chill of the empty apartment didn't cling to him anymore. No more than a shiver of fear going down his spine at the thought of that place. The little red decorations he didn't think to note, his body moving on it's own accord. It felt so real, yet so wrong at the same time.

He could still feel the burning on his hands, tingling like the remnants of a sensation.

His heart squeezed in his chest as he gasped, burying his face into John's neck, only being encouraged to stay right where he wanted to be; nuzzled up somewhere safe. He knew they wouldn't hurt him, Price wouldn't hurt him.

"Tha's it… No icky dreams can get you here, promise." Price said it with such firmness that Phil didn't think to question it. Mind too hazy to believe anything but what he was told. It was warm and safe here. He didn't need to question it.

He just nodded with a broken cry, arms tucked under himself the closer he lets himself lay against John.

"'m always right here…" He rubbed his back. Up and down, up and down…

It didn't hurt. The touch didn't hurt him.

He got to be warm again. No questions asked, John cradled him as close as possible while holding a blanket over his shoulders to make sure he couldn't get cold. He had experience with this, after all. Not the way Phillip did, used to being left in the dust the moment things got iffy… John held him despite the slobber and tears he got all over his shirt.

John cared for him without thinking about the mess first, he looked and he saw Phil. The little one, regressed so small and in need of someone to love him. The task was perfect for him. He didn't want to do anything else but just be there.

"Get it all out, bub, 'm not leaving."

That forced a weak cry from him, something so small and desperate just to be held. Nothing more, just held. Held like he mattered, like the blood that stained his hands, that poured over them with agony seeped into every ounce, was never there to begin with.

"Get all those tears out… I know nightmares are scary, baby." He said quietly, keeping the environment as comfortable as possible for him. No loud sounds, no yelling, nothing cold.

Phillip sniffled pitifully, wet eyelashes blinking against the captain's neck. He pulled in as much air as he could through his clogged nose, little whimpers falling from his lips as he tried to slow the tears to no avail. He needed to cry. It needed to come out; he didn't have to hold it in anymore. It's safe.

"Oh, sweet boy…" Price smiled sadly, his head tilted on Phil's where it's tucked into his neck. He rubbed circles into his back. Slowly, with Phil adjusted into a better position in his lap, he rocks with him.

It helped. Far, far more than he ever thought it would. Cuddled up to a carer's chest with as much time in the world to cry it out. No one waiting for him to hush, no one glaring at him for simply being. It wasn't scary, Price wasn't scary. He helped him.

From across the hall, Price heard him tossing and turning. He heard his cries and his begging in his sleep. The words he needed to say in his nightmare came from him while sniffling and crying. He didn't wait to scoop him into his arms and try to make it better, he just did.

Phillip pulled back slightly from the crook of Price's neck. Tears stained his face, eyes puffy and lip bitten, rosy red cheeks wet with tears. Sometime in his sleep, he lost the pacifier he fell asleep with and his lip became the next best thing.

"Hm?" John raised his brows, brushing the hair out of the little one's eyes and wiping away the droplets falling from his blue eyes, "I'm right here, bub…" He said softly.

With a trembling lip, he just muttered: "S'ay…"

"I'll stay as long as you need me, pumpkin." The captain nodded, eyes soft as he continuously wiped away tears. He smiled, however sad, placing a kiss on his forehead. "I promise." He added.

His fragile gaze never left Price's face, watching for something that he didn't know of. Maybe it was just to make sure he was still there, that John wasn't going to leave. Multiple promises reassured him already, but he needed to see something other than the icky stuff in his mind.

For a brief moment, John pulled a hand away from Phil and the little one's eyes widen in fear before there's a little click and a little bit more light floods the space. Illuminating the carer's face, rather than Phillip having to look at him in the dark.

"Hi, love." He hummed, bringing both hands to cup Phillip's smaller face.

Phillip leaned into the gentle hands. So, so warm.

"That's it… I'm right here, huh, bub?" He cooed. Again, just for a little emphasis, he pressed a kiss to the same spot on his forehead.

However hesitant, Phillip nodded.

Price was there.

It was a nightmare. They didn't leave him, they didn't let him run again. No, Price saw one thing was off and came to the rescue. Dropping everything else to get to him… John wouldn't leave him. He was safe this time. He had to be.

"It's just a nightmare, 'm here, you're okay."

He's okay.