There are things about us we can never change. Things we can't hide from or cover up. Things that make everything shatter inside us in mere seconds like a thin sheet of ice in the first frost of winter. What is it you ask yourself? Fears. But you know what they say? People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones...So who are we to judge for what others fear? Or what you fear yourself for that matter.

You have been in Task Force 141 for a few years now. Seen the nightmares of war, heard and done things that would make anyone in civilian life fear you, and even seen others do things in similar manners. So not a lot scared you. Or rather, not a lot of people knew what you were actually afraid of. It was a weakness you could not afford getting out and having an enemy use against you. So you kept the knowledge of your fear close to your chest. Only John, your Captain was aware of it. Besides. It was and easy fear to avoid. Nyctophobia or rather, the fear of the dark. One many people deem as a childish fear. Just one you never seemed to grow out of.

A storm raged on outside the base with thunder echoing like cannon fodder that shook the base's windows, threatening to break to let the rain pour inside in heavy sheets that fell to blanket the ground. You, John, Soap, and Ghost sat in the common room laughing and cutting up, playing cards as you all sat awake to keep an eye on the weather. Just to make sure it didn't take a turn for the worse. In moments like these, even when you were having fun, there was an underline anxiety that the power might go out.

John folded his hand as he took a puff of his cigar and breathed out the smoke with a heavy sigh. His blue eyes glancing over to you, knowing how you get from the storms like tonight's. "Why don't you go get my scotch from my office, love." John said with a smile as he pats your shoulder. With a nod you head off to get it. After a few minutes though, a loud crash of thunder rattles the base and the power goes out before you could return to the others.