The Realities of Stockholm syndrome

Soap was angry about the attempted murder. He left Gary strung up. Price was worried.

"Soap, you can't ignore the facts. He's your son." Price said. "You've been looking for the boy for eleven years."

"He's not my son."

"DNA doesn't lie, Soap. He's your son. Why don't you see why he's done what he's done? You need to talk to him and then figure out what we're going to do with him."

Gary was unharmed still; Ghost was leaning against the wall.

"Good, I'm going to grab some chow, a shower and then sleep. He's been good all this time. He hasn't made a sound."

"I need to talk to the boy."

"He's deceptive for someone so young."

"I know but I need some information."

Price approached Gary.

"I'm not going to hurt you lad." He said. He unlocked the cuffs keeping Gary hanging from the ceiling. When Gary's legs refused to hold him, he eased the teen to the floor. "Gary, I know that you don't believe me. But whatever Makarov told you is a lie."

"He's my father."

"No Gary, he isn't. The man you tried to kill is your father."

Gary paled.

"No… that's not true…" Gary whispered. "He said he loved me that I was his son even if I wasn't tied to him by blood,"

"Gary, he used you. I looked into what happened the day you were snatched."

Gary turned as white as a sheet. "The man who took you Gary, what did he look like?"

"Don't." Gary whispered. It was such a shocking contrast to the strong sixteen-year-old that had tried to kill his own father. He was sitting on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, as if he was trying to make himself into a smaller target. To an experience soldier and a former POW like Price, this told him that Gary had been badly abused throughout the years.

It made him angry but the anger was directed at Makarov, who took an already wounded child and stole what was left of his innocence, making the boy train to be an assassin. He was angry with the man who'd stolen Gary from his friend who'd loved the boy. He was angry at the authorities for not doing more to find Gary before it was too late to help him. He was angry at Soap, for turning his back on his son when he needed him the most. But he wasn't angry at Gary. Gary's actions were appalling, it was true.

He knew what he needed to do and it wouldn't be pleasant for either of them.

"Gary, he didn't love you. If he loved you, why would you have to prove yourself to him? Why would you be so afraid of people? What did he do to you? If he made you hurt, then it wasn't love Gary. A parent who loves you wants to protect you for as long as they can. How old were you when the training began?"

Gary's eyes flooded with tears. Price felt like an ass but he continued.

"How old were you when the beatings started under the guise to make you stronger?" He asked gently. It seemed to be the final push Gary needed. He broke down and began sobbing.

"Eight. I was eight when he let them start hitting me." Gary said hollowly. Price sat on the floor before Gary, and reached for his hand. "But I needed it, I needed to be strong."

Price knew that it would take a long time for Gary to recover, and the most important factor in his recovery would be Soap. Gary was suffering.

"No, Gary you were a child! You didn't need to be beaten, or be forced to give up your childhood."

"Stop it! He was trying to make me strong, make me better!"

"Gary, it's not your fault. He hurt you. If really loved you, he'd keep you safe."

It took three days to convince Soap to talk to Gary. By then Gary hadn't said a word to anyone since his conversation with Price. He refused to look at anyone.

"Gary?" Price asked. Gary only moved when he needed to. "I've brought your father to see you." Gary looked up quickly, expecting to see Makarov. But upon seeing Soap, he looked at his feet. Soap knelt beside Gary.

"Gary, I wanted to talk to you." Soap said. "I remember the day you were born. My god, you were tiny. You have my eyes, Gary. Will you look at me?"

Gary looked up at Soap. His face showed just how confused he was. Gary shook his head. He was in denial. "You were 45.72 centimeters long and weighed a little over 3 kilograms. I loved you from the moment I held you. You were five months old when you began crawling; I knew you'd be doing things sooner than most children then. Once you learned to walk, we couldn't keep you in your highchair, you'd find ways to escape it and your playpen. You were just under a year old when you said your first word. When you were three, you got hurt. It's the injury that gave you that scar just here." Soap traced the scar with his fingertip. "Your mum made me sleep on the couch for not keeping a better eye on you."

Gary looked more confused.

"I don't believe you."

"I thought you might not." Price said. He handed Gary the DNA results. Gary's eyes widened.

"You really are my father." He said. "I don't understand. Why would he… he couldn't have…"

"I'm so sorry Gary. We'll do everything we can to help you."

"Can I go back?"

Soap shook his head.

"No son, you can't. He's hurt you."

"I don't know what to do."

"First thing you need to do is eat, then get to sleep."

AN: Gary was eighteen inches long and five pounds six ounces. Since Soap is from Scotland, he uses the metric system for weight and length, the beauties of online conversions. Though I couldn't figure out what ounces translate to. Stockholm Syndrome is the irrational attachment of a person who was held captive to their captor, it may take years to recover from, but some people never recover from it. It's most often seen in children who were kidnapped and prisoners of war. Most of the time, the victims try to return to the person who abused them and don't view what they did as abuse, rather they view it as acts of kindness. So Gary is going to need some intense therapy before he starts to get better.