Frank was constantly berated by nightmares since his retirement. They never went away; he had them every night. They haunted him in the night and dragged on through the day, causing a tense atmosphere.

Now, he lays by your side, sleeping soundly. Soon, he starts twitching and talking in his sleep. In his head, Afghanistan. He saw Zubair. He remembers what he did. And how it haunts him.

He wakes up with a start, drenched in sweat. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, sitting at the edge of the bed, his hands shaking slightly. He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

Frank gets up to make himself a drink to cease his anxieties. He sighs softly as he leans against the counter, recounting back on his dream.