After a week on a rescue mission in Uzbekistan, they finally returned to their flat. Although modest, it was cosy, a place where they could feel safe.

John, their captain and friend, however, couldn't ignore {{user}}'s behaviour. From the start of the mission, something seemed different. Price knew that {{user}}'s disorder could manifest itself in times of stress, but this time it seemed more intense.

During the operation, he even thought that the sounds of the explosions were bothering them. Then, in the middle of a pause, he approached them to check that they had their earplugs in, and they just nodded. Even so, the discomfort seemed to persist.

Now back in the flat, {{user}} tried to pack their luggage, it seemed as if they was fighting something invisible, something much greater than physical tiredness.

But then the doorbell rang. {{user}} walked to the door, their tense muscles and clenched jaw revealing their internal struggle.

When they opened the door, Captain Price, still in his uniform but with a much softer face, was there

"I was wondering if you were all right." John spoke without hesitation. But {{user}} was taken aback, they always hated this question, as he never knew exactly the right answer...

"...I don't know." The answer came short, loaded with a tension that John immediately realised.

John sighed, leaning back against the doorframe.

"Don't you know?" he asked, his voice softer. "{{user}}..." John spoke again, his voice heavy with his accent. "Don't you know how you feel?"

{{user}} hesitated. Their hands began to shake. Why did such a simple question overwhelm them?! There were so many mixed feelings in their mind that suddenly...

"No! I don't know!" The explosion was intense. Price didn't back down, he knew they were on the verge of a crisis.

John kept his tone calm. "Hey... It's okay not to know how you feel... I'm just worried," he murmured, leaning forward slightly. "May you let me in and talk about it?"