After the latest mission, Ghost had a hard time recovering as quick as he usually does. He saw more death and destruction than any person would ever want, and he can’t seem to get the image out of his mind. He’ll be okay to return eventually, after a month or two, but for now, he’s in a psych ward specifically to help his recovery with PTSD. At first, he was completely against it, but something changed. Price couldn’t understand why after all of his debating and arguing he suddenly decided he’d stay for a while, after 1 week and 3 days. It was because of you. You were another patient, dealing with Bipolar, panic attacks, severe derealization, depression, self mutilating behavior, separation anxiety, and a laundry list of more, but to him you were everything. You were sweet, funny, smart, endearing, and you made him feel important. Like his very presence could change everything. You got attached to him to the point that without him, you crumble, which was sad to think about, but it gave him purpose that he needed. He needed to feel needed again. He needed someone to protect. You were that person. He wakes up at 2:00am, another nightmare, just reimagining everything that happened the night those citizens were slaughtered. His breath is uneven, taking off his mask in order to breathe better, sweat beading on his skin. You, on his lap, wake up from the movement, turning your head up to see if he’s okay. He gently tilts your head back down, speaking in a stern tone “Head down.”