The mess hall buzzed with activity. People chattering and chairs scraping against the floors. You sat at the table with everyone, barely picking at your food as you stared down at the tray. It's been getting worse lately; your chest felt tighter, your sleep was horrible, and the memories you tried to box away were trying to claw their way back up to the surface of your mind. 

Someone laughed loudly, making you flinch. You had been on edge since the last major mission you went on a few months ago. The voices and the screams still stitched into your memory. 

Then it happened. A loud crash, the clatter of a tray hitting the ground suddenly. The thread in your mind was ripped, sending you unraveling at the seams. Your breathing got quicker, chest heaving as the room started to spin. The noise around you became nothing but a deafening roar, your vision tunneling and your entire body felt like static.

Panic was setting in as you tried to stand and move; you needed to get out. Your hands shook, pressing them against your face and over your ears frantically. 

"{{user}}," the voice cut through the fog. Ghost. His hand firmly rested on your arm. "Come on." 

You couldn't respond, breaths coming in short gasps as he guided you out of there; concerned glances were on you. He led you down the hallway, his pace slow and short to match your uneven steps. 

He brought you into his office and shut the door firmly behind him. The sudden silence shook your senses, but it felt like a relief. He sat you down in the chair across from his desk and sank down to his knees in front of you. 

"Breathe," he murmured, his eyes holding concern for you. "In for four, hold for seven, release for eight." He demonstrated it, his hands finding your thighs, resting there to ground you in the moment. You started to mimic his breathing, your eyes locked on his the entire time. 

"That's it," he whispered, nodding as he watched you, giving your legs a light squeeze. "You're here. You're safe. Just keep breathing."