"Middle…"

Day: 1463 7:52 A.M

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Unknown

He was staring at the ceiling contemplating the inevitability of death when MacTavish came in with a bottle of water and a notepad.

Roach didn't bother to look at the man, deciding to study the cracks with his cloudy blue eyes, a sudden curiosity growing. He slouched down in his chair, allowing the cold metal of the chair to dig into the back of his neck. His long arms draped over his legs as if he had no muscles in them anymore. He made no move to fix his disheveled hair or lick his chapped lips moist. His throat ached, and his eyes burned but he just sat there, unmoving.

MacTavish tossed the notepad on the table, breaking the silence. Roach flinched as he pulled the chair from the table, allowing its long screech to penetrate his ears. MacTavish set the water down with a soft thud, causing Roach's left hand to twitch.

"Aye, Roach," MacTavish began, soft as the chair creaked under his muscle. "Are you ready to talk now?"

"Hm?" Roach twitched thoughtfully, suddenly becoming too aware of his dry lips.

"Roach are you with me buddy?" MacTavish spoke, his Scottish accent thick as he swallowed down a lump in his throat. "Can you look at me, Roach?"

Roach swung his head up, feeling the ache in his neck letting his head fall to the side a bit. His eyes were wide, staring MacTavish down as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Y-yeah." He mumbled, trying his best to moisten his lips with an equally dry tongue, eyes darting to the bottle on the table.

MacTavish smiled, untwisting the cap off the bottle and scooting the bottle over to him. "Here. I brought it for you. You must be thirsty."

Roach didn't hesitate to grab the bottle from the table, downing the contents in a matter of seconds, not carrying that some of its contents trailed down his chin. He gasped for air, spilling some of the water on the floor.

"Roach, slow down mate. It's not going anywhere." MacTavish spoke reassuringly, arms placed on either side of him.

Roach chugged the rest of the bottle, letting it crinkle in his hand as he finished it.

"Okay, Roach. How are you feeling?" He spoke watching Roach set the bottle on the table.

"Better," Roach responded, eyes less cloudy than before. "A lot better."

"Good." MacTavish smiled, pulling a pen from the top of his notepad as Roach stared off to the side. "Roach, do you know where you are?"

"One of the interrogation rooms." He spoke, eyes blinking over to MacTavish. "Where's Simon?"

"He's in med-bay." MacTavish scribbled down some notes before meeting Roach's gaze. He smiled, trying to put the other man at ease. "He's fine. Just a few bumps and scrapes."

Roach seemed distant again as if recalling something MacTavish couldn't see before blinking again. "You… You want to know what happened?" He spoke quietly, unable to look at MacTavish, finger fidgeting together.

MacTavish sighed, leaning forward once more, elbows resting on the table. "Yes, Roach. That would be best. I've got five dead men, an injured lieutenant, one missing soldier and you didn't return in good shape either. For Christ sakes, they had to sedate you, Gary."

"Mm," Roach spoke, pulling his legs to his chest, wiggling in his chair. "I… I don't know."

"Start from the beginning Roach." MacTavish urged his chin resting on his hands. "You've got to give me something Roach."

Roach remained quiet, contemplating his options. "Can I see Simon?" He spoke softly, pressing his face into his knees.

"If you tell me what happened. I'll make sure you see him." MacTavish assured, gripping his pen tighter. "Just tell me what happened."

Roach peered up at him, dried lips pressed to his sweatpants. "It started with the mission. We- I didn't know that he was- Oh God." He choked, a tear streaming down his face.

"Easy Roach. Start from the beginning." MacTavish spoke, eyes examining the man.

"It started with the first mission…"