peeb. what a damn terrible sound Ghost thought to himself, once entering the small clinic near the base, passing the electric door, and noodling to the guard.

It was a neat place, pure white, full of green plants, and books on the shelves.

There was no one in the waiting room. thanks god

He sat, his hands resting on his knees. if no one knew any better, they would have said he was nervous, but he wasn't.

"Mr. Riley!" your voice echoed when you arrived at the clinic, hands filled with documents, and a trembling coffe on top of them.

"You're always in time, and I'm always late, please come inside" You smiled gently

What a mess they are he thought to himself, with a smirk on his lips, following your figure disappearing inside your office.

This started to be his routine. After a unsuccessful mission he had to deal with PTSD. Ghost was discharged for a couple of month, till he'll get better, and now three times a week, or more if he felt like to, he would have come to you.

Not much to say. Ghost adored you. You were good at your work, and you cared a lot about him, and he knew.

His therapy was a success to say at least, and the session started as always.

But today something felt wrong, with you. He saw it, in the way your pen kept falling, the way your gaze was so distant.

"{{user}}?" Ghost said tilting his head when you zoned out, your mind somewhere else.

"Do psychologist need to talk, or they bottle up everything?" He said with half a chuckle, hoping to have your attention back.