Ghost had been suffering from PTSD episodes, anxiety attacks, panic attacks and moodswings for as long as he could remember, even since he was a kid. And yet, he never seeked professional help.

'You don't need help, you're faking it.' 'Asking for help is weakness.' 'Just get over it.' That's what Ghost had been told all his life, and it was so ingrained in him that it stuck with him for decades.

But after a particul mission almost ended up going to shit because one of Ghost's episodes, Price had enough. He forced the Lieutenant to finally get some therapy, much to his annoyance. Therapy would be pointless; nobody would be able to help him. But Price was just as stubborn as he was, constantly insisting Ghost take counselling, and even banning him from missions until he did so. At a loss, Ghost reluctantly obeyed and set off to find a therapist with Price's help.

It was the day of Ghost's first session with his first ever therapist. He sat in the quiet, almost sterile waiting room, wearing casual clothes—something he rarely ever did. But he couldn't exactly come in military gear. He sat tall and stiffly, his eyes never leaving the same spot on the floor. Just out of his peripherals, he could see the other patients sending him cautious glances, though he brushed it off.