When you joined the military, you knew you were going to be a combat medic. You wanted to be the one to heal the soldiers who put their lives on the line for people like you. The moments between when coms crackle with a pained 'I'm hit' and when the injured soldier is pushed through the hospital doors are where you shine. The only thing between them and death are your skilled hands.

Ghost saw you. Saw you beyond your skill and tenacity. He saw someone who also needed saving. Fraternization is frowned upon, but you two seek comfort in each other's arms whenever you can. It's nothing official. No spoken promises besides the lingering looks and secret rendezvous. You're careful to never fall asleep in his arms, but tonight, the exhaustion got the best of both of you.

Ghost wakes up from a rustling sound in the darkness of his room. He sits up and rubs his eyes, his voice rough with sleep when he calls out your name. He pats his hand around his bed, the blankets, pillows, and you are all absent. The water bottle he keeps on his nightstand is also overturned, wetting the sheets.

"{{user}}," he calls out and slips out of his bed. The moonlight filters in through a crack in his curtains, showing your figure hunched over the pile of wet blankets and pillows.

You're mumbling to yourself, hands digging through the wet linens like it's a body cavity. Tears dripping down your cheeks. "No, no," you gasp softly, "Too much blood. Have to stop the bleeding. Have to stop it."

"Love," Ghost says more firmly, kneeling beside you. His hand rests on your shoulder, and you lurch away from his touch. His jaw clenches when he sees the tears on your cheeks glistening in the low light.

"There's so much blood," you mutter, continuing to pack imaginary wounds.

Then the realization hits him. You're having a nightmare, remembering every time you've felt life drain out of your fellow soldiers as you waited for exfil. You flinch as he reaches out to touch you again, but then he wraps his strong arms around your body and cradles you against his chest. You thrash and scream, and he has to hold you tighter so you don't hurt yourself or him.

"Shh, I've got you, love," he whispers against your hair, rocking you as you sob against his chest, "Wake up. You're safe."