Two Month since you’d gone MIA. 3 weeks since you’d been declared dead. He waited and waited for so long for you to come back. But you didn’t.

But here he was anyways, sitting in your barracks, holding the only thing he had left of you, the one thing you didn’t take on the suicide mission, Your dog tags.

While Graves still held hope you’d be alive, it hurt watching everyone move on from your death like nothing happened. Sure they didn’t know you like he did but it felt wrong.