Warning! I should probably warn that there will be a fair bit of swearing. When I say fair, I mean a lot. This is me after all guys. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Soap, Ghost, or any other part of Modern Warfare as they all belong to Infinity Ward. I'm just amateur writer who likes to borrow them a little. I do own Lara 'Bones' McCoy of course.

Note from Sassy: I'm pretty sure that the majority of my readers have probably given up on me since it has taken me so long to get this chapter out there, but for those that haven't, thank you! I've had a lot of messages recently about whether or not I intend to finish CITS and so just for the record, I'm going to say here that yes, I will finish CITS. Unfortunately I don't have half as much time for writing as I did when I started CITS and so granted, the process is a little slower than I would like it to be. But I will finish this beast of a fic and so I just ask everyone to hang in there with me and not give up on me, because your support truly means the world to me. :D On that note, as always huge love and admiration has to go to my long suffering beta MisMot for being the fantastic ass that she is and always been there when CITS needs her the most. Also massive love to my fellow leopard print loving sistah UrgentOrange for fangirling with me on tumblr and facebook chat. You girls rock my world. :D And finally a huge thank you to all my readers, who's love and patience is what keeps me writing at stupid o clock in the morning. :)

TheBeastThatLostItsPlaceToGo: Thank you so much! Bones certainly has a lot of love for Roach, which is hopefully shown in this chapter too. And as for MW1, well it wouldn't be CoD without a quick nod to it somewhere! :D

PotterxBreifsxUchihaxKiryuu:Oh wow, I am so honoured that CITS gave you the push you needed in terms of your career, that is huge! Thank you. And yay for York! I'm a big fan of the city myself. :)

Nabi Cresci: If it's any consolation I'm not looking forward to what Bones and the rest of the team are about to face in the upcoming chapters. But thank you so much for the compliment, although I still have to maintain that I'm just a science student and writer in my free time. :P

xGhostxStealth: Thank you! Realism in my characters is the biggest compliment that I could ever ask for. And as for Imagine Dragons, they've become quite a favourite of mine too. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!

Eiram87: Thank you so much! I hoped that people wouldn't mind my little twist of canon in terms of sending them to Site Hotel Bravo. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! :)

WHS72: Thank you, really. I put a lot of work into trying to make my characters relateable to non military folks like me, so that means a lot. I hope you enjoy where the story is going. :D

DevonF: Sorry to have been quiet for so long! But I will definitely get CITS finished, even with Uni breathing down my neck. Thank you! :)

MisMot: Yeah, yeah. :P But yes, the knife is definitely starting to turn and I'm not enjoying it all that much (well, not too much anyway… :P). But thank you so much as always. You always leave me such beautiful reviews, even when I'm pretty sure you're sick of the sight of CITS. ;)

UrgentOrange: As always, a gigantic thank you for the lovely review! Naturally, Soap reverts to thinking of Price when he feels under the most pressure, so I'm pretty sure he'll be looking for his approval more and more as the plot progresses. And I never stop smiling when you compliment Trojan because gah, he is still one of my favourite creations! :P Leopard print ftw!

Amblynh: Thank you so much! Knowing that I have impressed you is a fabulous compliment. :D

Ciriajacobs: Thank you for both your reviews, it's great to read your thoughts as you work through the chapters. I'm not too sure I understand everything that you were saying, but what I got from it was that you don't like how Lara switches from Riley to MacTavish knowing that it will mess everything up? To answer that, the whole love triangle situation was a design by me to show just how out of control Lara is. She's in a new place, under a whole weight of new pressure and stress and the man that she cares for rejects her advances and so she reaches out and starts something with the first man who shows her something that resembles affection. How Lara handles the situation is a complete mistake and bad idea, but for me it is a sign of her humanity and flaws as a character. So I hope that kind of explained my thinking there. But thank you! It's great to hear from you and I'm glad you're still enjoying the story. :D

The White Wolf Comanche: Thank you so much for the lovely compliment!

TheShadeOps: Thank you! I'm sorry that it's taken so long for me to update, I'm hoping over the summer I can write more. I hope you like this chapter just as much. :)

Guest: Thank you so much, your review really inspired me when I needed it the most with this chapter. I'm sorry that I made you worry that I wouldn't finish this chapter, but I just kept getting hit with pesky Uni exams. I hope this chapter is worth it though! And know that I will finish CITS, even if it takes a while. :)

Jamie552: So I may have printed this review off and stuck it on my wall for inspiration, just saying. :) But thank you so very much. Knowing that you've read CITS so many times is such a huge compliment in itself. Obviously as a writer, creating an engrossing story is my main aim and for you to say that was just absolutely fantastic. So thank you, and I hope you enjoy chapter 28! :)

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

There was a leak in the ceiling somewhere.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sometimes the rhythm would be off. Sometimes the resulting sound would be so quiet that his heart would skip a beat as he strained to hear it. It was a strange thing set against the silent room. At first it hadn't even been noticeable. Then it had become an annoyance. And now it was almost a comfort, an indicator of the passage of time in an otherwise timeless place. The distinct click of an endless countdown.

If he'd had the heart left, John Price would have allowed himself a small laugh.

He'd lost all recollection of time itself in that place. The thick, stone walls had stripped him of a great many things. First, they took his freedom. Then they took his dignity. Now they had all but swallowed up time itself. There was only that distant dripping, proof that somewhere the seconds were still passing.

None of this had come as any real surprise. He'd known that it was over the second that blinding black bag had been forced over his head. A hard blow to the back of his skull was the last thing he remembered.

To the few civilian friends he'd been drinking in the pub with that evening, his disappearance would be a mystery. There'd be no trail for anyone to follow, not that anyone would notice for a good few weeks even so. He'd be another missing person, a fleeting trace across one street's CCTV feed.

He could count the number of people who would miss him on one hand. It was a perk of the job after all. The legacy of a man who gave everything to the Army and never once asked for anything in return.

Soap. The last time they'd spoken they hadn't parted on the best of terms. After Zakhaev, Soap had been handed everything; a promotion and command of a new task force. Price himself had received his marching orders and was politely informed that his time with the SAS had come to an end. They'd remained friends and yet at the same time Price had always resented the regret that he felt whenever he spoke to Soap. He wanted to rise above it, to just be proud of him like he knew he was. But the reality that MacTavish possessed what Price felt he needed, that he was still the young man that Price ached to be seemed to be one that they could never really escape. The last time they'd spoken, the day that he had returned from yet another dull as dishwater security detail had not been one of Price's finest moments. He'd been deliberately distant and petty, a regret that now served to haunt him the most during his waking hours in the gulag.

The distinct smell of cigarettes assaulted his nostrils, cheap ones at that. He glanced up from his position on the fold away chair in the centre of the room. There was only one guard now. He looked unperturbed, his eyes still focused on Price whilst he smoked. John tilted his head away in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Meeting his captors gaze usually lead to a good couple of punches to his face, a mistake he had made too many times judging by the dried blood that still clotted his nostrils. Hanging his head, Price's eyes fell to the chains that held his wrists together. He flexed his hands ever so slightly. There was just enough length to wrap around a man's neck…

An attempt at escape would be useless. There were too many walls, gates and doors and never once had he ever been allowed to see anything more of the gulag than the confines of his cell or the interrogation room. He had literally nowhere to run and even fewer places to hide. And after his incarceration even Price was forced to admit that he was in no state to try and tackle the number of guards that he would have to in order to fight his way out.

But that chain. He flexed his hands again softly, careful for the chink of metal not to draw the guard's attention. By now he was well aware that the guards all had strict orders to keep him alive, no matter what. The order had been dangled in front of his face repeatedly, his captors forever taunting him with the prospect of a release that he would never actually receive. Like everything else in this place, the mind games Price was forced to undertake were perfectly orchestrated, each one designed to tear down mental walls that had taken years of training and hard service to build.

But maybe, just maybe he could throw a spanner into the works. Choose the right moment, the opportune time to strike. Maybe take a couple down with him, although that wasn't really his aim. All he had to do was push them hard enough, provoke them just so that they'd lose control for a split second and forget their orders…

He looked up, his eyes skimming across the elevated ceiling of the room. Yes. Maybe today was that day.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

"Hornet Two-Two touching down on target. Team Two is deployed."

The second McCoy's boots hit the tarmac of the gulag's courtyard her body was almost completely reliant on muscle memory.

A rattle of gunfire seemed to shoot straight past her helmet and Bones ducked her head, her feet pushing off from ground with force as she launched herself towards the nearest cover, in this case the hood of a burnt out truck. Crouched behind the scorched metal she leant out of cover just another to lay down a burst of covering fire, her efforts at least keeping the two men directly occupying her field of vision pinned down. Beside her she became aware of Toad doing the same, his body curled up behind the other end of the truck. They both fire in unison until a rally of bullets sprayed across the forward facing expanse of the vehicle, shaking its metal shell and forcing them back into cover.

"Hotel Six, they've got us pinned! Where the hell's that air support?!" She yelled into her comms, her head ducking down further when another bout of gunfire hit the side of the truck.

"Keep it steady, Bones," MacTavish replied, his voice loud yet calm over the radio. "Hornet Two-One, lasing target on the second floor!"

"Two-One copies, got a tally on six tangos, inbound hot."

"Copy that Two-One."

Seconds later, a loud beating sound filled the air and signalled the arrival of their air support. The machine guns on the front of the helicopter burst into action, the thunderous rattle of fire forcing McCoy to wince, her body still firmly plastered to the burnt out truck. Behind her, the screams and cries of the men were barely audible over the sound of the guns, hot bullet casings raining down and chiming off the tarmac. Steadily, the cries grew quieter and Lara peered out of cover, her rifle ready to lay down more fire in case there were any stragglers that their air support had missed.

"Teams one and two, move up!" MacTavish called out through their comms, Lara just catching sight of him and Ghost as they ran to take cover behind a low wall further ahead. In front of them soldiers were already beginning to pour out of the buildings, panicked voices yelling out in barrages of Russian. The SEAL teams were advancing too, splitting up into groups to cover their flanks, ready to proceed with their half of the bargain and breach and clear the compound's buildings. In the briefing, McCoy had realised that it was a tall order but only now, surrounded by what felt like a labyrinth of buildings could she truly appreciate the scale of the distraction these men had been asked to stage.

There was no more time for reflection as McCoy ran forwards herself, taking advantage of the fire that MacTavish and the others were laying down in front of her. She kept her body low, her legs moving so quickly that she felt as though she might stumble at any second. Cold air forced its way down her throat and into her lungs, her teeth aching as she sucked in each fresh breath. There was no time to be fearful, her mind focused on little more than the next patch of cover and the next targets to line themselves up in her sights.

The push towards the Gulag's control room proved to be the most intense fighting the 141 had faced in months. The SEALs hung back as much as they could, their much larger force proving to keep many of the soldiers occupied and yet as the 141's assault moved up fresh soldiers would leak out from the buildings, bullets fired in haste effective in forcing them all back into cover. It didn't take long for them to stop and methodically take down each target one by one, and yet with every delay, McCoy felt as though they were wasting time that they simply didn't have. After all, the assault couldn't last forever.

An M203 grenade exploded up ahead, throwing three rag doll bodies that had been running for cover at the wrong time with the blast. Rifle's drawn, the 141 men approached slowly with Worm and his team bringing up the rear and watching their backs. As they got closer, it was blatantly obvious that two of the men were dead, their bodies thrown into distorted shapes, their skin charred and burnt. The last man was helpless on the ground, coughing and spluttering in an attempt to drag his torn body to safety. In a movement free from hesitation, MacTavish lifted his rifle and fired a single bullet into the neck of the fallen soldier, his body instantly stopping in its tracks.

"This is it; the entrance is just up ahead," The Captain commented quickly, cocking his head towards the stairs that lead down into the main body of the Gulag. "We go in, get 627 and then get the hell out of there. No unnecessary risks, no heroics."

"Sir."

"Okay," He nodded, checking his rifle quickly. "Let's go. Watch your corners and let's keep this clean."

The majority of Worm's team stayed behind under the command of Toad and Archer, their main objective to clear the few remaining buildings and keep the entrance clear so that 627 could be extracted the same way they'd breached the gulag if necessary. The rest of the team, including Worm himself made their way into the gulag, the sudden dimness of their surroundings instantly setting them all on edge. McCoy moved purposefully alongside Roach, her finger hovering over the trigger of her rifle. Her heart was pounding at the back of her throat, her eyes squinting at every flicker of movement in the shadows.

They entered a long corridor, a stream of bullets firing wildly in their general direction. Behind the metal grates surrounding the doors were a cluster of guards, the lights from their muzzle fire immediately giving away their position. In an instant the 141 reacted, flattening themselves against the walls and to the floor in an attempt to make themselves smaller targets. Ghost advanced the furthest and managed to lay down some fire, one of the men crying out as a bullet caught him squarely in the chest. The brief respite allowed the rest of the team to move up and join him, their resulting bursts of fire taking down the remaining guards that stood between them and the control room.

They moved precisely, filing into the control room one by one, each man constantly watching any possible cover spots. Only when they were convinced that the room was clear did Riley move up, grabbing an upturned metal chair and dragging it over to one of the computers. He tapped experimentally at the keys with gloved hands.

"I should be able to tap into their systems from 'ere. It looks as if everything's still online."

"How long do you need?" MacTavish replied briskly.

"As long as you can give me. Right now 627's a needle in a gigantic fucking haystack."

"Can you do it?"

"Yes, it's just gonna take some time. I'll need someone up here watching my arse too."

"You've got it, mate." The Captain looked up, his eyes meeting with McCoy's deliberately. "Bones, stay here and cover Ghost. If things get too hot you both exfil out with the SEALs, got it?"

"Sir." Her whole body might have been screaming against the order keeping her away from the fight but McCoy knew better than to start questioning him.

"Good. Roach, Worm, we're on cell duty. We'll push on, try and buy Ghost the time he needs."

McCoy met the captain's gaze head on, if only for a split second. Deep down, she wanted to convey so much with her eyes, to give him that one last you come back to me alive look. But there was a time and a place for that, and their time to say their goodbyes and wish each other luck had already been and gone back at Site Hotel Bravo. Now, they were no longer Lara and John but rather Bones and Soap, subordinate and commanding officer. When they were on operations it was always going to have to be that way and so when his eyes locked onto hers, McCoy could only respond with a fleeting, determined nod.

They headed off down a set of narrow, steel stairs in single file, quickly disappearing out of clear view as they began to make their rounds of the cells. Lara looked away and focused her gaze back down the deserted corridor that they had cleared only moments before, her rifle held firmly in both hands. The control room smelled faintly of phosphorous and iron. The bodies of the guards were strewn across the floor in a variety of contorted positions, their limp limbs bent at unnatural angles. One of the men was surrounded by a particularly large pool of blood where one of their rounds had caught him squarely in the throat. McCoy flinched and looked away, images of Royce and Brazil suddenly flooding her mind's eye.

Gunfire. She jumped as soon as she heard it, although the sound was muffled and distant, obviously from below them in the cell block. There was a distinct cry out in Russian, followed by a scream and what sounded like MacTavish rattling off a series of orders. Lara tried to blot out the noise. She needed to focus on her own orders and not on her friends. In theory, it was a sound idea, but in practice all she wanted to do was run down after them and be back in the thick of the action.

"All right, I'm patched in. I'm tracking your progress on the security cameras…" The monitor in front of Riley lit up and over his shoulder Lara could see the outlines of what she assumed was MacTavish and the others. The image was grainy and green but at least it was better than nothing.

"Copy that. Do you have the location of prisoner 627?"

"Negative." Riley's fingers moved across the computer keys again. In the cell block below them a beam of light shot out and shone down onto the closest cluster of cells. "But I've got a searchlight tracking hostiles on your floor. That should make your job easier at least."

"Roger that!" A rattle of fire punctuated the radio chatter. "Ghost, we're approaching a security door. Can you get it open on your end?"

"Working on it…" Riley's gaze never once left the monitor. The cool tone of his voice suggested a man in complete control, but the way he quickly threw off his sunglasses and edged that little bit closer to the screen spoke volumes to Lara. "Just give me one more second… There!"

"You opened the wrong door! We're sitting here with our arses out, mate!"

"Roger, standby…" The urgency in MacTavish's voice had been nothing if not clear and yet Riley remained calm, shifting his in his seat ever so slightly. The screen in front of him flickered with information that would have made McCoy's head spin and yet he never once seemed to lose his focus. "Got it!"

"Copy that. Let's move." The sounds of gunfire seemed to fall away as the team progressed further, the voices turning from angry yells to calm orders. They were methodically working their way through the cells now, each one as empty as the last judging by the radio chatter being continually fed into both McCoy and Riley's ears. "Talk to me Ghost, these cells are deserted!"

"System's putting up a fight, sir." Riley shook his head in irritation, his left fist clenched as he scrolled through a meaningless wall of text. He paused all of a sudden, his posture straightening as his fist bounced victoriously off of the desk. "Fucking got it. He was transferred a few days ago. He's in solitary confinement, west wing." A tap of his fingers brought up a map of the gulag on the screen. "That armoury up ahead. You can cut through there; it's the fastest way down." He brought up the camera screen again to monitor their position. "Bad news though, mate. There's got to be three, no four hostile squads converging on your position."

"I can hear them. The door's locked… we're too exposed out here!"

"Not a problem." Ghost replied coolly, his fingers mirroring their movements of just moments before.

"Ghost, the door's still down. All I'm seeing is red lights down here!"

"Bloody hell! They're locked it from the hardline. I'll have to run a bypass… Hang on…"

Any previous overconfidence was suddenly lost in seconds as Riley fought with the computer. He tore off his mask as though it would make all the difference in the world, irritation clearly written across his features. McCoy grasped her rifle tightly in her hands, her body suddenly swaying slightly in indecision, caught between wanting to go and give them back up and staying at her post.

"Ghost!" MacTavish's voice was almost desperate. "Open the door! NOW!"

The gunfire grew louder and McCoy faltered, her feet carrying her to the exit from the control room. She looked down, but all she could see were the flashes bouncing off the gulag walls as both sides continued to fire.

"Don't even fucking think about it…" Riley warned, although his eyes never once moved away from the computer monitor.

"They need backup!"

"And I don't?!" There it was. With what had only been a fleeting, angered glare in her direction Riley managed to send McCoy's gut lurching. She took a step away from the edge and back into the control room. Ghost was right, no matter how fraught the fight below her became, Riley needed someone, needed her to stand by him and watch his back. The realisation made her sick. How could she so casually forget that?

"Ghost?!"

"I'm routing through the auxiliary circuit… 20 seconds!"

"Copy that!"

Her mind back on task, McCoy returned to Riley's side, her eyes ever watchful of the Gulag's entrance. The speed at which Riley worked was astonishing. McCoy had always been aware of how good a soldier he was from their operations, but she'd never seen him work like this, never known that he was so capable when it came to the more technical obstacles of their work. The barrage of Russian lettering that continued to assault him from the monitor did little to faze him and McCoy was suddenly hit by a wave of guilt at the realisation that she had managed to underestimate him so completely. After all, everything Riley did and said spoke volumes about his intelligence, even if in person he would always try to hide it.

"You're clear, Hotel Six." Riley relaxed in his seat, if only a little. He brought the security camera feeds back up onto the screen. "I'm tracking ten hostiles in front of your position. You've got 'em spooked, they're pulling back."

"Roger that."

From then on, the control room descended into silence. They tracked MacTavish and his team as they picked their way through the cell blocks, pushing the remaining guards back methodically. Through the grainy security footage they saw the team reach the end of their current floor, Roach and Worm stopping to dead check and search the fallen guards. Just in shot, Lara could see MacTavish, busily clipping something to his belt.

"Ghost, be advised, we're rappelling down to the ground floor."

"Understood. I'll try to tap into the security feeds, see what you're dealing with." MacTavish was lost from the screen in an instant as Ghost opened another window, his left hand moving upwards and running through his hair, frustrated when the screen remained blank. "It's a no go, mate. The camera feed in solitary confinement is dead. The power must be down in that section."

"Shit," Soap's angered hiss across their comms said it all. "Ok, we're going in blind. Keep your eyes on those blueprints. If things go tits up down there I don't want to get boxed in."

"Yes, sir. I'll keep going through the system, see if I can dig up anything else on 627."

"Copy that. Let me know if you find anything."

The comms fell ominously silent. MacTavish's team were too far away for Lara to hear their movements below them and so the control room became quiet and tense. Outside, she could hear the tell-tale bangs and explosions of their air support, the hiss of returning RPG fire becoming less and less as the SEALs slowly progressed through the rest of the gulag. A particularly loud explosion sounded as though it had gone off right next to them, the walls juddering and spewing out small clouds of dust.

"Shit," Lara hissed, wincing slightly. "I thought the Navy was supposed to hold off until after the exfil?"

"It's like Shepherd said, the Yanks are getting trigger happy." Riley turned to her, his eyes deliberately harsh. "Can't blame them, can you? Five minutes ago you were ready to charge in there all guns blazing yourself."

"I thought-" McCoy tailed off, quickly recognising that she had no real rebuttal. She shook her head. "I guess I didn't think…"

"Well I could do without the white knight bollocks, alright?" He paused, his gaze firmly back on the screen ahead. "We've got enough shit to deal with without you acting like a bloody liability."

"What do you want from me, Ghost?"

"I want you to fucking wake up." He paused, still focusing on the screen rather than her. "You're a better soldier than that shit and you know it."

"Oh yeah?" Lara rolled her eyes. "Try telling that to Shadow Company then."

"Shadow Company know fuck all, they always have done," The words left his mouth rehearsed, almost as though they were a knee jerk response. Silence hung between them again until Riley hesitated, a soft sigh that was halfway to being more of a hiss escaping his lips. He turned to her slowly. "… What have you heard?"

What hadn't she heard? Lara was no stranger to sexist remarks and through her career she was pretty sure that she'd heard them all. Sure, the military had begrudgingly progressed in terms of equality, but like most things that didn't mean that sexism was magically a thing of the past. Now any unsavoury remarks were hushed whispers rather than outright statements, something that McCoy had always found far more hurtful. After all, you could never challenge a whisper head on.

With every advance in her career, Lara had hit new opposition. In the Paras there had been many snide comments and amused jibes, ones that she had fought to ignore whilst she trained and trained to try and gain some recognition. In the 141, Ghost himself had been her main obstacle, along with Meat and some of the other men who didn't think her worthy of holding such a badge of honour. At least with the men of the 141, she'd known where she stood. There'd been no false attempts at friendship because in the task force no one could afford them. And over time, she'd established herself. Doubting comments turned into praising ones and even though she didn't forget that there were still men who would never truly accept her, McCoy felt like an equal, that the dogtags that hung around her neck truly belonged there. Maybe that was why the dismissal she'd received from the majority of Shadow Company had hit her so hard. After all, she'd gone months working as part of a close knit, trusting team only to be thrown back into a world where many still felt as though she had something to prove.

"Plenty…" She couldn't quite look at him and so Lara instead faced forwards, her eyes firmly fixed on the control room's entrance. "General consensus seems to be that I'm a liability. I heard one bloke say that he thought I was only here to satisfy someone's political agenda." A dark laugh tumbled from her lips. "And oh yeah… I'm the token barracks whore. That seems to be a favourite. I suppose I should be flattered. Some of them even seemed a little jealous."

"You've almost got to feel sorry for them. Out here they've got fuck all chance of getting laid. You'd think some of 'em would play nicer with you."

"Funny." Lara rolled her eyes.

"It's all a load of bull though." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Riley watching her. "They say this shit because they can. Because they don't know any better. Hell, I should know, I used to say the same myself."

"Don't remind me."

"But I meant what I said, Bones. You've become a damn good soldier. There's not a bloke on this task force who wouldn't trust you with his life." He turned back to the monitor. "Hell, half of us have already one way or another."

"You were never given all that much choice," Lara shrugged, her combat armour rubbing awkwardly against her body from the action.

"You know that's not how it works. Sure, we were forced to accept you as our medic but even Shepherd doesn't have the power to make us trust just anyone. You earned your place with us, Bones. Don't let any of those SC shits tell you different."

"I won't."

"Good. And for the record, if anyone has the bollocks to say that shit in earshot of me or one of the lads… well, I'm pretty sure they'd have to spend the next few days picking their teeth up off of the floor. Most of us are just waiting for the chance to give those boys a bollocking anyway."

"Cheers…" The word left her lips a little hesitant, but in truth the entire exchange had only served to catch McCoy off guard. Riley seemed to have a gift with that.

"Please, you don't need to thank me," he shook his head, a rough smirk flashing across his overconfident features. "You're in the 141 now, love. Fucking man up, will you?"

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

"This one's empty too."

Surrounded by darkness and a distinct smell of must and mould, John MacTavish was beginning to feel all too uneasy within the gulag.

The cell block was deserted, with the majority of the cell doors thrown open as though they had been empty for years. Aside from the scattering of guards they'd encountered after first rappelling down onto this level, the gulag appeared stripped bare of anything living, the heavy stone walls surrounding them thick and imposing, threatening to suck the life out of them all too.

"Move up!" MacTavish called out, signalling with his right hand. He kept low, crouched as they drew closer to the end of the cell block. He could feel Roach behind him, with Worm and the other SEALs in turn watching their backs.

He wasn't sure if it was the loud bang or the shockwave that hit him first, but in an instant MacTavish felt his legs collapse beneath him, the room feeling as though it had all but jerked to one side. Mortar fell from the ceiling and bounced off his forehead in heavy raindrops and a bright flash of light dazzled his night vision and sent him blinded. Disorientated, his hands fumbled at the goggles on his face, clumsy fingers pushing them upwards away from his eyes so that he could see again. To his right, he heard Roach splutter. A quick look over his shoulder told him that the rest of his team were equally winded but otherwise unharmed.

"Shepherd, what the hell was that?" Dust was thick in his throat, his voice husky and dry as he yelled down his comms. "Get the navy to cease fire!"

"The Navy isn't in a talking mood right now. Standby," The General's tone was crisp and unfazed across the radio.

"Torn apart by friendly fire before we even reach 627, huh? Great…"

"Easy, Roach," Soap warned out of necessity, even if in reality he shared the sergeant's sentiments completely. He dragged himself to his feet, his hands automatically checking over his dropped rifle.

"Hotel Six - they've agreed to stop firing for now. Keep going, I'll keep you posted. Out." MacTavish was pretty sure that the General's cool demeanour was more for show than anything else, but that didn't make it any less infuriating. Trying his hardest to shrug off the feeling, he waved the other men forwards.

"You heard our orders. We keep pushing."

"And what happens when they start shelling us again?!"

"Let's try not to be around when that happens. Let's pick up the pace, lads. Ghost… do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, sir."

"Navy's getting anxious, we need a shortcut to 627's position. Any ideas?"

"The old shower room's about thirty feet ahead on your left, it's directly above an old tunnel system that should lead you to solitary. You'll have to breach the wall to get in."

"Got it. Keep your eyes on those blueprints, mate. It's a bloody maze down here."

"Roger that."

This time they were braced for the explosion. Roach planted the charge and counted down the timer. MacTavish's heart caught in his mouth as the wall beside him disintegrated into chunks of rock and dust, grey smoke filling the air around them. From then on there was only screaming from both sides, as the ambushed men in the shower room struggled to recover ground, whilst the 141 advanced forwards to secure it.

"UP HIGH!"

A flurry of fire sent up clouds of plaster by his feet and MacTavish dove into cover behind the nearby shower wall, his back pressed hard against the tiles. There were men on either walkway above them, the red lasers from their sights dancing across the walls and floor. Behind him he could hear the others following suit, each man throwing themselves into cover as fire rained down upon their heads. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Soap quickly reloaded his rifle, the action completely automatic as his ears focused on what was going on around him. All he needed was a break in fire so that he could lean out of cover, his brain hoping to whatever God might be listening that his back was sufficiently covered by the high wall behind him. If not, well, he'd be one hell of a sitting duck.

They worked as a cohesive unit, alternating between covering and effective fire. Clearing the walkways above them proved to be the easy part as they ventured further into the shower system they came face to face with men with riot shields, their advancement steady and decisive. It nearly cost them every hand grenade in their possession to fight their way past the barricade and to the other end of shower block, picking their way through debris and bodies along the way.

"You're above that tunnel system, Hotel Six." Ghost's voice rang out across the radio before Soap even had the chance to ask for further instructions.

"Copy that." Nodding to Roach, Soap and the others withdrew to a safe distance as the sergeant advanced, laying a charge on the floor in front of them. He set the timer and retreated back to their side, the floor crumbling and giving way in front of them in a burst of rock and debris.

Ghost was right. A long tunnel system stretched out beneath the shower block, the corridor half flooded and leaking. Icy spikes of pain jolted through John's entire body as he dropped down into the freezing water. Shudders ran up and down the length of his spine and MacTavish fought to push them away, inwardly wishing that he still had his dry suit. Instead he used the cold to force himself onwards harder, his movements through the water as quick as he could afford to make them.

"Ghost, we're in the old tunnel system heading south-southwest!" He turned a corner, his boots slipping on the wet floor from momentum.

"Keep going, you're almost there." There was a bar blocking them up ahead where the tunnel sloped away and fed into another larger one. Wet gloves squeaking against the metal, Soap hauled himself up, his boots clinking off the railings as he effortlessly vaulted over them.

"Keep talking to me, Ghost, I don't want to be down here when those ships start firing again."

"You should have entered a new tunnel system… It's a dead end, but the south west wall at the end of the system backs straight onto solitary…" Landing with a splash, Soap fought to stand, his entire body by now dripping wet. A small set of steps in front of him led him up and out of the iced waterway. "I'm registering two heat signatures. One of them must be 627."

"I hear you, mate. Roach, get another charge on that wall. The rest of you, stack up."

He may have been a demolitions expert back in the SAS, but that didn't mean that being near charges and explosions didn't still give Soap the same jolt of adrenaline as they had when he'd first started to learn. The instant the breaching charge detonated and the wall in front of them erupted into fragments, Soap's mind was that little bit more focused, his heart thundering against the walls of his rib cage. He watched as Roach advanced, saw one man, no, two men locked in a fight for control advance towards him. He drew his pistol and felt the familiar weight in his palm. Roach fell backwards, defenceless whilst 627 held a rifle in front of his face. Without a second thought Soap moved up, painfully aware that if he were just a second too late, he'd lose his friend forever.

"Drop it!" The smoke and dust was beginning to clear. Soap's fingers curled around his pistol, the barrel firmly pointed at the prisoner's temple. He edged that little bit nearer, close enough to see the rise and fall of the man's shoulders as 627 fought to catch his breath. "I said drop it!"

"… Soap?" Familiar grey eyes framed by paper bag creases were suddenly looking back at him. The face they belonged to was aged and gaunt but still undeniably his. Soap's grip on the M1911 in his hand tightened but the muscles of his arm faltered and he lowered his weapon, feeling so lost and yet relieved all at once. Beneath his body armour, his stomach flipped.

"Price?!"

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

This time the walls shook hard enough to make McCoy stagger.

"Shit!" The monitor in front of Ghost flickered and he smacked at it with his palm. The screen remained completely unresponsive. "Hotel six?! Do you read me, over?"

"All units - be advised, they've started the bombardment early! Get the hell out of there now!" Shepherd's voice rather than MacTavish's rang out across their comms, the urgency in his voice throwing Lara more than explosion that shortly followed. Grabbing his rifle, Riley clambered to his feet, knocking his chair over backwards in the process.

"Hotel Six?! Do you have 627, over?"

"… We do." Lara's heart thudded with relief when John's voice finally crackled over the radio. It was faint and distant but at least he was alive. "But our exfil was cut off… - place is coming down around us."

"The systems down up 'ere, there's no way I can get back on the blueprints."

"You know your orders. Just get Bones and get the hell out of there!" There was a hiss across the radio, another explosion that seemed to distort the Captain's voice further. "Shit! Roach is down! Roach?!" The radio crackled again and then went silent.

"We can't just leave them…" Mortar and cement were already pattering down onto both of their heads and yet they both hesitated, Riley looking as torn as she felt. For once, the cool, calm exterior of his logic had dissipated, leaving behind a man battling duty and self-preservation in equal measure. He shook his head quickly as if to convince himself, his left hand making a quick grab for her forearm.

"We can't help them either. They're ripping the gulag to shreds, we'd never even make it down there!"

"… I know." In that one instance, McCoy and Riley understood each other perfectly. To anyone else their reluctance to leave would have been madness as the walls around them continued to crumble and vibrate. But right then, leaving their friends behind felt wrong, selfish, and against everything that they all stood for. In the 141, courage and bravery were one thing, but the truly strong soldiers were those who were able to accept the truly alien concept of helplessness.

As Riley and McCoy ran for their lives through what remained of the gulag, that pill felt like one of the bitterest they had ever had to swallow.

On board their exfil helicopter, the gulag falling away beneath her as they ascended, Bones should have felt calm, safely tucked away from the flames that had begun to lick at the ancient stone of the building. Her lungs burned for air, her skin was slick with sweat and yet her thoughts couldn't have been further from the present. Instead they were focused on her possessions back at base, on the letter that Roach had forced into her hand before they had left Site Hotel Bravo. A letter to his family saying the goodbyes that he would never be able to say in person. A letter that Lara had prayed she'd never have to send. And yet now, with MacTavish's last words on the radio still ringing in her ears, Lara was suddenly faced with the realisation that she might have to.

Beside her, Riley was panting just as hard, his face smudged with brown and black streaks of dust and ash. Their eyes met for a split second and Lara could almost feel him reading her, his features set in that familiar, stern expression that she used to hate. Instead of staying silent like her, he pressed his comms unit further into his ear with his right hand, leaning forwards further into the helicopter in an attempt to shield himself from the rhythmic beating of the rotor blades.

"Gold Eagle, this is Ghost. Bones and I had to exfil out with team two. We're with Transformer two six, headed for rendezvous site alpha."

"Understood. Any casualties?"

"No, sir." He faltered with a split second hesitation. "But we lost radio contact with Hotel Six and the infiltration team. Do you know their status, over?"

"They exfiled out with Transformer two seven. All four men along with the HVI." Lara's pulse thundered at her temples. She caught Riley's gaze and for one rare moment, every emotion she was feeling was mirrored back in his eyes. A small smile slipped unchecked across her features, a single solitary face caught in her mind's eye. Gary.

Behind closed eyes, Lara began mentally tearing up that goodbye letter.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

By the time they landed on the aircraft carrier, a soft, afternoon glow of sunlight had begun to settle on the water. The sun itself hung low in the sky, its rays feeling anaemic and cold as they hit what little of McCoy's skin was exposed to the wintery air. A world of water surrounded them, the ocean spanning for miles in every direction that she looked into. The rhythmic lapping of waves against the metal of the hull only served to make their isolation seem that little bit more acute.

Up until now, the biggest ship Lara had set foot on was a cruise ship in the Mediterranean with her parents when she'd been about ten. Her brother had spent the first day whining about missing his friends and Lara herself had eaten far too much ice cream and ended up throwing up over the railings. Ever since, being at sea had been one of her least favourite places to be.

They crossed the landing strip quickly, guided by a serviceman who spoke to Riley more than he spoke to her. He led them below, where the corridors became more claustrophobic and yet at least the absence of the sea could allow Lara to try and forget that they were still on board a gigantic ship. They moved through a maze of cramped, grey washed corridors until they were finally led into what looked to be a holding room that had been seemingly gutted out for their use.

"Gary…" It was unprofessional and yet she didn't care. Roach was sitting amongst the others, a bottle of water clasped in his still gloved hands. He looked up as soon as she called his name, his lips parting in an amused, if slightly pained smile. McCoy strode across the room as quickly as she could without making a complete fool of herself, throwing her arms around her friend as soon as she was close enough. Usually hugging Gary felt wrong, but right then Lara didn't even want to think about letting go. "Don't you ever fucking think about doing that to me again."

"Shit, Bones…" Roach spluttered, his hands tapping lightly at her back. "Not so loud, huh?"

"Are you hurt?" Lara pulled away from him, her eyes giving him a quick once over.

"I'm ok…"

"Ok?" Worm spluttered at his side, his elbow giving the sergeant a light nudge. "He was on the wrong side of a ceiling collapse. We had to dig his ass out of the rubble."

"Have you been checked out?"

"A medic on the chopper." Gary rolled his eyes, although his mouth gave his amusement at her concern away when the corners quirked up into a quick smile. "I hit my head. Light concussion. My back isn't feeling so hot, but I'm pretty sure I'll live."

"Gary-"

"Yes, you can give me a second check over later and no, you're not signing my name on anything that even looks like an injured roster." He gave her a soft nudge, his face cracking into a laugh. "Now quit crowding me, man. You're making me look bad."

"Roach is just scared that people are going to start thinking that there's two chicks on this task force," Toad teased, sidling up beside her. "Don't take it personally, Bones."

"I think I can just about handle it."

"Have you all finished your bitching?" Riley was suddenly stood behind Lara, his voice flat and focused. "Where's MacTavish and 627?"

"Shepherd pulled them into a debrief as soon as we landed. Turns out 627's not the guy we thought he'd be."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"He's British for a start. And he knows the Captain. I've never seen MacTavish so shaken up. Neither of them said much on the exfil out."

"He knows MacTavish? But that's…" Tailing off mid-sentence, Lara caught herself, her mind suddenly catching up. "… Do we know 627's name?"

"MacTavish called him 'Price'. That's all I heard."

Price. The name sent McCoy's mind reeling back, to months ago when John had first told her his nickname in the SAS. The night where he'd spoken about a man more affectionately than he ever spoke about his own biological father, sadness brimming up in his eyes at the mere thought of him. He'd disappeared and John had been so sure that he was dead. She tried to withhold a shudder. All that time Soap had been convinced he'd lost him and in reality Price had been rotting away in some godforsaken gulag…

"Shit." Riley seemed to recognise the name too. He shook his head, his right hand messing through his hair. "The old man just doesn't know when to quit."

"You know him?" Gary had never looked so confused.

"He's SAS. Or used to be. Was MacTavish's mentor and captain back in the day. If Price is back, chances are a shitstorm's going to follow."

"Do you think he's compromised?" The thought of what that would do to MacTavish threatened to form a lump at the back of McCoy's throat.

"I doubt it. I don't know Price well, but I know he'd rather swallow a bullet. Crazy bastard is more than capable of doing it too." Riley shrugged his shoulders, a dark smile creeping across his face and setting McCoy on edge. "Put it this way… Blokes like Price make me look like a fucking weekend warrior."

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

And so there we are, another chapter down. I'll keep it short and sweet for real this time; thank you so much for your support. Your love, reviews and messages have made writing CITS over the last two years a complete blast. And if you haven't already, feel free to follow me (sassysatsuma) on tumblr. I post drabbles, sneak peeks and updates on my blog in between chapters to try and make up for how long it takes me to post them!

-x-Sass-x-

-X-X-X-X-X-X-

The music that I was humming too whilst writing CITS 28 was:

Battle Beyond - Crunk Witch (Electronic)

On Top of the World – Imagine Dragons (Alternative?)

Empire – Alpines (Alternative?)

All is Lost (feat. Thomas Oliver and Youthstar) – Black Sun Empire (Drum and Bass)

Another Day (xkore remix) – Modestep & Popeska (Dubstep)

Stand Alone (feat. Jareth) – Chris Lake & Lazy Rich (Dance)

Language – Porter Robinson (Dance)