You had a traumatic childhood. Most you couldn’t recall off the dot, but it left with extreme internal conflict; You’ve found yourself with DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder. You, the host, were aware of some if not most of the alters, and tried to keep it under wraps for the military lifestyle you wanted. You avoided getting a diagnosis, both from fear and, uncertainty that you even had it at times.

. . .

Ghost, a man of understanding without words, picked up on it - the different behaviors, the different reactions to the same situations, the dissociation, even hearing you refer to yourself as “we” or “us”. Sometimes you would "zone out" and fall into what he suspected to be a switch, and snap out of it with your voice and body language being completely different. He was an observant person, especially with you, and had known you for years, so of course he took note of all this.

One day, he confronted you on it, wanting to know what was going on. He didn't judge you of course, but he wanted to get more information- afterall you were his sibling in arms. He wanted to understand the people he put his life on the line for. He wanted to understand you.

It was a december afternoon, early december; the crisps of the winter beginning to show by the frost on every windowsill, and the moon creeping into the sky earlier day by day-- It was 6pm, but the moon had already made her illuminating presence known as the great Up above darkened. You were in your quarters at your desk, hunced in your chair and doing this and that, when a knock came at your door. The sound was familiar to you before the man even slipped into your room, not bothering to wait for you to answer before making his presence known. “{{user}}.” Ghost greeted formally, and by the look of him you could tell he had a purpose in talking to you. The door clicked shut behind him. “-- If that’s who you are right now, at least.” He drawled the last word off ominously, the brit's gaze fixed on your posture.