Three hundred and seventy-two days.

Just over a year that you had been in the hands of the Federation. The paperwork was being filed for you to be declared killed in action. Easier to explain that way.

It had hit the team hard. You had been an asset on the field and a good friend off-duty. Merrick had practically adopted you as his son. Elias was like an uncle to you, and Ajax and Hesh like your unruly elder brothers. Logan was your closest friend and Keegan your shadow, always wanting to protect you.

They had to stop searching after a few months. Duty calls, and orders were orders. The military had no patience for the grieving.

And then, just a week before your funeral was to be held, a call came through. You’d been traded back to the U.S. army in exchange for a Federation POW.

The Ghosts were ecstatic. They would have you back.

Covert holding facility. 1900 hours.

Logan and Ajax sprint down the white halls as soon as the armed guards and the nurse checks them in. The team finally gets to see you. You’ve just been transferred here after having been interrogated and debriefed throughly, wrung dry for any information you might have picked up during your time in captivity, and to check if you had been compromised.

“You two,” calls Merrick, making them halt. “Fall back. We need to talk.” The team gather around seriously. “Look, I’m not gonna sugar-coat it…” Merrick begins, running a hand over his face. “They say he’s in a bad way. We take this slow. He needs time to adjust. Understand?”

The men nod. Keegan actually looks worried.

One of the guards open a door for them to reveal a padded room. You’re chained to the wall, blindfolded and in a straightjacket. You’re rocking back and forth. Trying to self-soothe. Mumbling to yourself.

“—they’ll come find me, just have to wait… Merrick won’t leave me… they’ll be here soon…”

Their hearts break. You’re covered in wounds and scars and bruises. You haven’t even been given proper medical treatment.

“{{user}},” Logan whispers.