I only own the Plot and Adrian. That's it.

I think that's obvious by now...


MacTavish was having a hard time sleeping. He had been asleep when Price had left, but he had woken up every half hour from frayed nerves or nightmares of his team's fates, both SAS and 141. He wasn't enjoying it at all, and each time he awoke, he would shot up, only to crash back down with each rise from a wave of pain from his chest.

Sure, it was almost healed; it didn't mean that the stitches couldn't reopen, as it had the third time he awoke quickly.

It was aggravating, to say the least, on how guilty he felt. It wasn't his fault, it was Shepherd's, but it was his team, his responsibility, and he let them down.

At least, that's what he felt and kept telling himself.

After several hours of interrupted sleep, he decided to get up, noticing the lack of sunlight outside from the window. Passing the living room, he realized no one was there.

"...where is everyone?" he muttered to himself as he walked into an empty kitchen. He snatched an apple from the counter and headed out onto the porch. He rarely got to relax as often as he did, and the interrupted sleep was somewhat relaxing. Something he never got in the Task Force even with a full night's sleep. Which got him nervous.

John MacTavish wasn't a tense or nervous person by nature, quite the opposite. He could relax as much as a person sitting comfortably at home on the computer, but after he joined the SAS, that started to change rapidly, and grew even more drastic as soon as he joined Task Force 141. Any time he got any feeling of relaxation to some certain level, he started to tense up and worry.

And John MacTavish was worrying now more than usual.

Ten minutes had passed and at this point his nerves and soldier-trained mind were screaming that something was wrong. Instincts took over as he went back to before he went to sleep in his mind.

When Price came in, MacTavish had pushed the lock on the door, so when Price closed it, it would be locked and he wouldn't have interruptions. He had assumed that if they wanted to come in they would knock anyway, and it would probably be Adrian to check on his recovery. But he forgot he was a heavy sleeper at times, so he probably didn't hear a knock if it happened while he was asleep.

Something happened in the few precious hours of any amount of sleep he got that made him think something happened to the others. They wouldn't have left him alone without warning.

He tossed his apple core to the ground heading back inside to search for his comrades.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was being pistol whipped across the face and being knock to the floor as soon as he entered the kitchen.

"Sonuva-" He couldn't finish as he felt the butt of an extremely heavy assault rifle made contact with his head with a resolute crack, making him see stars before everything faded to black.


"I told you everything you wanker!"

"Obviously, you did not! You said it was just you three! My patrol found him outside!"

MacTavish was roughly awaken as he was slammed onto the ground on his chest, causing a sharp intake of breath as his wound threatened to reopen with a fresh wave of pain. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and threw him against a wall, and he felt cold steel pressed against his throat. He opened his eyes slowly to see Price, Adrian and Nikolai tied to chairs (a feat in itself to tie Price down with a cast), evidence of beatings on their faces. Along with two tall Russian men, one of which was holding him down and the other held an AK-47.

"Who are you?" the man with the gun asked, a thick Russian accent with a beard to match. MacTavish had a hard time focusing to reply. The man got impatient and punched him in the stomach, making MacTavish double over in pain and breathlessness.

"Take it easy on him you bastard!" Price yelled, which was met with an uppercut to the jaw.

"Don't say anything." Nikolai cautioned quietly. MacTavish's mind started to process at somewhat normal levels, letting him analyze the situation they found themselves in.

"Why are you here in our country?" the bearded Russian asked, directing the question to Price and MacTavish.

"That, quite frankly, is none of your business." Price shot at him, which was responded with a punch on the nose, evoking a nice nose bleed.

"Tell us! Or he-" the man pointed at MacTavish and the man holding the knife up to his throat. "-took his last breath." MacTavish, now fully aware, saw Price start to respond.

"W-"

"Don't do anything stupid, we don't need to tell these muppets anything." MacTavish said quickly.

"Yeah, I know. Bu-"

"But nothing."

Nikolai and Adrian looked at each other nervously. Nikolai had assured everyone, more Adrian than Price, that they wouldn't be found. Obviously, this situation proved false.

"You four are in Makarov's hideout, you must know him!" the bearded Russian yelled.

"I wouldn't say know, more like acquainted through war. We had a common acquaintance, Zakhaev, you know. And Makarov just happened to be part of the deal." Price replied casually.

"...cheeky bastard." MacTavish muttered jokingly. The two captains laughed silently as they remembered the situation that had Price say that in the first place five years ago. Both were quickly silenced, however, with two sharp blows to the stomach.

"Why are you here? Where are the others?" the man asked forcefully, grabbing the front of Price's shirt.

"There. Are. No. Others." Price said slowly. Before anyone could blink, the man shoved Price back, his chair tipping back and his head met the wall with a loud crack, knocking him out cold.

Nikolai yelled something in Russian as MacTavish glared at their captor.

"You bastard." he spit out, his fists clenching. A push of steel against his throat made him stop.

"I wouldn't." the other man threatened.

"You! Why are you here?" the bearded man asked, getting close to MacTavish's face.

"We found this place abandoned."

"And you didn't realize it was Makarov's hideout?"

"No."

"Lies! That man said you knew it was Makarov's hideout!" the man pointed to the still unconscience Price.

"Yeah, well, who said we were the smartest bunch?" Adrian stared at MacTavish.

"Please, Soap, d-"

"Soap?" the bearded man asked, a confused look on his face. He turned to MacTavish.

"As in, Soap MacTavish?" MacTavish didn't know what to do, so he nodded slowly in confusion.

"My friend! It is good to see you!" the bearded man shouted joyfully. MacTavish, Nikolai and Adrian all shared the same look of "What the hell?"

"It is me, Kamarov!" MacTavish blinked, then recalled the Russian man that saved him and helped rescue Nikolai five years ago.

"Kamarov? What in God's name are you doing out here?"

Nikolai seemed to recognize the man, as he greeted him in Russian, which turned into a rapid conversation, at which at one point were orders to untie them. Adrian and MacTavish worked on reviving Price, which involved a water bottle mysteriously obtained from Kamarov's possession. After a few minutes, they succeeded in awakening Price and explaining what had happened. Kamarov, when he saw Price awake, started to apologize for what he had done.

"Would've happened to anyone if you didn't see them for five years. Or if they assumed you were dead." Price waved it off as Adrian gave him a towel to wipe away the blood.

"Speaking of, I thought you did not survive! How are you still among the living?" Kamarov asked. They had at this point moved to the living room. Kamarov had sent out the two men that came with him (the one left out was searching the house for any stragglers before the situation was ironed out) as patrols to make sure no one else was nearby.

"Erm...my answer of being magical won't help much...will it?" Price half joked, quickly adverting his eyes as MacTavish glared at him.

"I don't think that would at all." Kamarov laughed, also getting a glare from MacTavish but not looking at him. Price crossed his arms to the best of his ability as he leaned back in his seat, trying to recall any memories that he could.

"...I really don't remember much, honestly." He started.


Yes, cliffhanger. Because I'm that mean.

A shortened version of a theory I have with how Price ended up in the Gulag...somewhat...well...you have to read it.

(And this is my longest chapter, just so you know...if you care)