You lot are going to give me a nervous breakdown soon enough, I swear! :P However, I aim to please, and so I have dedicated my evening to writing this despite Desperate Housewives being on and me being totally knackered – fingers crossed you enjoy it. And you lot need to make accounts – I want to reply to your reviews, but unless I make author's notes a mile long; I can't!

But just quickly; Wooppwooop – I hope you have a nice holiday and that you actually get to read this – I've been working to get it finished before 2am!

She woke at 2am from a restless few hours of sleep, to the sounds of thunder outside the hotel. She swallowed, biting her lip as she rolled out of bed and padded quietly towards the window, hardly daring to look out.

She'd never admit it to anyone, but she was absolutely terrified of thunderstorms. She'd survived three tours of duty in horrendous places, been shot in the stomach and watched one of her best friends die before her eyes, but the thought of a thunderstorm scared the living daylights out of her.

There was a loud clap of thunder and a simultaneous flash of lightening, and she instinctively screamed, clasping her hand over her mouth. She began pacing the length of her room, breathing heavily and trying in vain to remain calm. She could feel her heart racing as if she were about to jump off a cliff; pounding against her ribcage so hard she was convinced that Tom would probably hear it in his room next door.

Now there was a thought. Tom.

She didn't like to admit that she was scared. She usually thought it better to face her fear than to show her vulnerability, but when he was just next door, she was internally debating waking him. He wouldn't be angry – he wouldn't tease her, unlike most men she knew.

Coward.

That's what they'd called her. One night – the last on what would be her final tour of duty, there had been a terrific thunderstorm, illuminating the desert climate in which their camp sat. She'd shook with terror all the way through it – and all her colleagues had done was tease her.

"Scared of thunderstorms? C'mon, love, you're meant to be a soldier, are you? You've been shot; you've run through machine guns firing. Don't be such a bloody wimp."

She'd been more terrified than she'd ever imagined was possible. You couldn't shoot the weather, kill it stone dead. When someone fired a gun at you, all you had to do was fire straight back at them. They didn't understand.

Another flash of lightening, an even louder clap of thunder. She screamed inherently; louder than she thought she could without intending to.

There was a knocking on the wall, and she spun round, dizzy at the feelings she was experiencing. Her eyesight was making the room spin wildly – she felt as though she'd just stepped off a roller coaster which had cycled round seven times, and then done a couple of cartwheels to add to the madness.

"Nicki, are you alright?" Tom's voice came through the wall, and she breathed a sigh, comforted by the sound of his voice.

You soppy cow, Boston.

"Yeah, I..." she replied, realising that her voice had risen in pitch and it was blindingly obvious to anyone that she was terrified, "I'm fine."

She could almost see him frowning and shaking his head; but he chose not to push it, falling silent and allowing her space to think for a moment or so. As there was another blinding flash of lightning, she choked on her own breath, curling up on her bed and breathing erratically, pressing her lips together as she hugged her long legs.

She may well have felt like a coward, and if it were anything else, she would have sorted it out herself – she took great pride in the fact that she could be fiercely independent, and not rely on anyone – but in the face of a thunderstorm which she knew would keep them up half the night anyway, she banished her pride and walked over to the door, opening it as quietly as she possibly could, taking the key card and tiptoeing down the corridor.

There were two knocks on the door, and he knew instantly that it was her.

He'd heard her scream; certainly once, perhaps twice in the past five minutes, and he could tell that she was terrified.

This being Nicki; he somewhat doubted that it was anything as petty as a spider or a rat – in fact, he imagined that Nicki Boston, even when unarmed at 2am wearing a pair of pyjamas, could quite easily be a match for a hungry lion, should the need arise.

He'd never admit it to anyone, but her screams made his blood run ice cold through his veins. As a proud woman, he knew full well that she didn't scream unless something had well and truly paralyzed her with fear – this was the woman who had rugby tackled a drug dealer who was well known to carry knives. He stopped his train of thought short as he walked almost silently to the door, fumbling with the key card as he unlocked it.

Never in a million years would he have thought that he would ever answer a hotel door at 2am to Nicki Boston, clad in a pair of pyjamas, quaking and with salty tears running down her pale face – whether she was aware of their presence or not. Her long, toned arms were wrapped around her body; and despite the heat and humidity, she was shivering as if she was in the Arctic.

She didn't need to say anything – he stepped out into the corridor, put an arm around her shoulder and guided her into his room, gently shutting the door behind them as she sat down on the messy bed, eyes darting all over the room, illuminated by two flickering bedside lamps, as her breathing finally began to slow.

"Thunder?" he asked, and she nodded, eyes wide and finally focusing on him, matted curls bouncing on her bare shoulders as she swallowed.

"I've been scared of it all my life," she stated, as if trying to justify her turning up at such an unsociable hour, biting her bottom lip, "Stupid really, isn't it? I mean, I've done three tours of duty as a soldier, and the only time I was scared was when we had a thunderstorm on the last night I was there. Bloody coward I am, aren't I?" she added in a stream of words, entirely without taking a breath, looking away from him and to the cream carpet, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world as she awaited his response.

"Nicki, listen to me." He instructed her, lifting her gaze by brushing her jaw line, "You're not a coward. Let's face it; anyone who volunteers willingly to take Waterloo Road on a school trip is doing the equivalent of jumping out of a plane."

She smiled, although it didn't quite reach her eyes, still filled with fear and uncertainty over whether or not she should be here – whether or not she was welcome. She didn't know just how welcome her prescience was, he mused silently.

"It's such a stupid fear, though, and I woke you up, and..." she continued, knowing that she was mumbling her words and probably not making much sense, however, it was an improvement on the alternative – silence, interrupted by thunder and her screams. At least this way she could distract herself from the storm, and remain relatively calm, despite still shaking.

She noticed tears sliding down her face, and wiped them away furiously, unwilling to show her vulnerability which few knew existed to a man who had known her all of four and a half months. God knew; he had enough problems as it was.

Instead of answering with words, he simply drew the bedcovers over her as if she was a child, crouching down to her eye level as he got off the bed. His fingers glided down her lightly tanned arms; soothing her as she finally closed her eyes.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning light up the room, she grasped his hand as tightly as was humanly possible as the clap of thunder followed, taking the power supply of the area with it. All of the lights went out, and Tom was left stumbling around in an attempt to regain the balance he had lost – and failing miserably.

Firstly, he tripped over his suitcase handle as he attempted to get round to the other side of the bed – causing him to go flying into the mirrored doors on the wardrobe, causing a loud bang, and consequently making him land on the bed in what could be labelled a compromising position – involving his lips and Nicki's ending up just a few centimetres away from each other, and her body wholly underneath his.

Fortunately for him (and, he thought, his manhood), she found the whole thing infinitely amusing – and as she squealed at his touch unintentionally, the fear she had felt a mere few seconds ago vanished, replaced by laughter as he rolled over, attempting to regain some form of dignity.

"That went well." He observed; both of them totally distracted from the storm still raging outside as they lay next to each other, her still laughing almost silently.

He wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time in a long time – possibly ever, in a thunderstorm, - she felt safe. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace; content with the sound of his breathing and the rise and fall of his chest as he stroked her hair.

For tonight; she could pretend that he cared enough to do this for her; not purely because he wanted a decent night's sleep without her screaming every couple of minutes. She smiled to herself – she liked that thought.

As they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, they were both smiling at much the same thoughts – how it would feel to stay here, like this, forever. Neither had ever been that close to someone having known them for that shorter length of time – unless, of course, they were in a relationship – perhaps a topic worth avoiding, for now.

Careless, careless love.

Hope you enjoyed – I expect this chapter will end up being edited at some point as I'm not entirely happy with it... but hey, it'll do for now, I suppose. Reviews are so, so, so valued! :D