To her right, Chloe was engrossed with her iPod, the volume turned up so loud Morgan could hear the faint words echoing in the air. Chloe was a grown-up seven-almost-eight year old now, with a sassy, know-it-all attitude. All Chloe wanted to do was listen to music, play on the computer, and hang out with her newfound friends in the complex. Morgan now knew what her Mom meant when she'd said, "I hope you grow up to have a daughter just like you." A year ago Morgan and Princess Bell had been Chloe's best friends, now, it was embarrassing even to get a kiss on the cheek while being dropped off at school.

On the other side of Chloe, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair sat perched on a cement block. He wore black pants and a tucked in blue and white plaid shirt. Justin's Father had called out of the blue one afternoon months ago and asked to meet them for dinner. Morgan had been insanely nervous. It was hard enough to meet the parents, let alone do it without the person you're dating actually being there. She worried that he wouldn't like them, wouldn't approve of her past, or would be upset at the fact that they were different ethnicities. But, he and his wife had welcomed them with open arms. They occupied a table at the back of the local Applebee's for hours; them telling Morgan stories of Justin as a kid, and Morgan talking about how they'd met and fallen in love over the short summer months. Chloe chimed in every once in awhile, just long enough to scold her Mom when she mentioned the notorious princess dances she used to subject her parents too.

The only times Chloe wasn't being a brat at home were when Justin called, showed his face on Skype, or Grandpop Timberlake came by for a visit. The marine had been gone for a year, sending heartfelt letters and signing on for the occasional video chat. Because of the terrain and the secrecy of their missions, internet connections were few and hard to come by. Their conversations never last more than a half an hour, but to a deprived military girlfriend it seemed like mere seconds. Letters -an out dated and old fashioned way of communication- had managed to become her lifeline and only true connection to him. The first letter had arrived nearly two weeks after he'd left them, in a plain white envelope smudged with dirt.

Justin sat at the front of the plane, his feet propped up on the seat opposite of him. He was in his usual spot, the first row of seats closest to the cockpit. Behind him, scattered between plastic containers of equipment, were his men. Some were still sitting in their poorly cushioned seats, and others had plopped down on the floor. In the back, Wilson was blasting a homemade CD his wife had secretly shoved into his duffel.

The atmosphere was bittersweet. They were all leaving someone behind, and it was a hard pill to swallow knowing it would be months until you saw them again. What kind of trials would they have to face without you? Would the spark still be burning when you returned, or will some boring, suit-and-tie guy have taken your place?

But, on the bright side of things they were excited for future adventures. The marines enjoyed their job - the traveling, the equipment, the adrenaline. In addition, they also enjoyed spending time together. They were a band of brothers, in every sense of the word, and they needed time to do all the 'brotherly' things that kept them such a close-knit group.

The plane jostled sharply, tossing everything and everyone aboard from side to side. The pad of paper in Justin's lap went flying, the black pen leaving a long slash across the page. The Staff Sergeant grumbled as he leaned down to pick it up.

"Fuckin' rookie pilots," he said to himself.

Justin was writing a letter to his girls back home - or trying to anyway. Writing them wasn't the problem, the honesty was. He wanted to start things off on the right foot. Following Wilson's advice, he wanted to be honest about everything. He wanted to be honest about the PTSD, missing them, what he was experiencing while away - everything.

His goodbyes with Morgan and Chloe had only been a matter of hours ago, but it already felt like too long. Before, he would have considered a man who was homesick after less than a day to be a punk - not cut out for the Corps. But, now he understood the internal battle that came with his line of work. You loved your job, but in order to do it you had to sacrifice something - your life, your well-being, your relationship, your finances.

"Sup Serge?"

Justin heard the deep voice, and looked up to see one of his newer team mates, SSgt. Ellington. He would be replacing Chad's spot in the unit. Ellington was tall, and dark skinned with bright white teeth and large muscles that seemed to jut out of his shoulders and wrap around his neck. He appeared to be a nice enough guy judging from the few weeks Justin had spent with him, but he was definitely no Chad.

"Hey Ellington," Justin said, flipping the note pad over in his lap and shielding the words from Ellington's view.

He had to be honest with Morgan, but it wasn't anyone else's business what was going on in his head. The other Sergeant noticed the smooth move, but didn't mention it. Instead he sat down in the empty seat across from Justin and pointed toward the back of the plane.

"How long is Wilson going to keep this up?"

Justin leaned forward and looked at Wilson. Bruno Mars was playing, and Wilson was slow dancing with Perri.

"Uhh," Justin started, "basically until we're on our way back home."

"Seriously?" Ellington asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," Justin said grimly.

Ellington's face sank, and he leaned back in the chair.

"No way," he said. "I'll break that stupid CD player."

Justin didn't respond, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. Ellington was quiet for a moment, then, with a jut of his chin he motioned to the notepad in Justin's lap.

"Getting a head start on the letters back home?"

Justin nodded, twirling the pen between his fingers.

"May as well," he said. "We've got a 13-hour flight, and you know how slow the mail system is around here."

Ellington smiled, "truth."

Justin nodded back and diverted his eyes to the window ahead of him. The sky was clear blue, and dotted with puffy white clouds that looked like cotton balls. Justin watched as they passed, waiting for the other Sergeant to leave. He didn't. Instead, Ellington reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph.

"Did you see my wife, Amanda?"

Justin looked at the picture, then back at Ellington. Amanda was a pretty young girl, with light skin and a big, round afro. The two must have made quite the pair in person, Ellington big and muscular and Amanda thin and petite. Justin smirked and Ellington laughed out loud.

"Don't let her fool you. She looks all sweet and innocent, but she's a firecracker when she wants to be."

Justin reached into his own pocket and pulled out his cell phone, opening a photo of Morgan and Chloe. They'd been at the park, the afternoon of the day they'd told Chloe he was leaving. The girls were smiling on a blue slide; Chloe in Morgan's lap, their dark curls blending together in a stream down to their waists.

"Morgan and Chloe," he said, turning the screen to Ellington.

A look of surprise passed over Ellington's face.

"She yours?"

Justin outright laughed.

"No. Well, not biologically. That guy is a dick. Pretty much her whole life she's only had her Mom."

Ellington gave a shrug, and reached out to pat Justin on the arm.

"But, she's got a Daddy now, right? That's what counts."

Justin smiled warmly, nodding and looking down at the photo. His mind went back to the day before, as he and Chloe walked down the hall when he picked her up from school. She'd call him Dad in front of all her friends, and later, in front of her Mom. His heart had melted and swelled at the same time.

"Beautiful family, man."

Justin nodded in appreciation, breaking out of his trans and looking up at Ellington.

"Thanks."

Maybe Ellington was a tad cooler than he'd thought.

"I had a feeling you were sitting over here thinking about someone back home. You just had that look on your face."

"It's a little harder than I thought it'd be."

Ellington nodded in understanding.

"We just started. It'll get better."

With that, the burly man finally got up and walked away, leaving Justin to his thoughts. He looked down at his lap, flipping the notepad back over and going back to his letter. He read over his words, trying to drown out the melody softly floating over from Wilson's small boom box.

"Wilson and his wife have this obnoxious tradition where she sends him CDs full of love songs, and he in-turn uses it to spend every free waking moment torturing us. Right now I'm being serenaded by the jet engines and the sweet sounds of 'Shrek' and Wilson's best impersonation of Donkey. But, I have to admit - and I know this will sound cheesy - for the first time I can sorta understand what these lame romcom love songs are about. Feeling all bubbly and happy for no reason.... Maybe I'll make this your ringtone when I'm back home - and then keep my phone on silent so no one will ever know.

So she said what's the problem baby
What's the problem?
I don't know well maybe I'm in love
Think about it every time
I think about it
Can't stop thinking 'bout it
How much longer will it take to cure this?
Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it if it's love
Makes me wanna turn around and face me but I don't know nothing 'bout love

Come on, come on
Jump a little higher
Come on, come on
If you feel a little lighter
Come on, come on
We were Once Upon A Time in love

We're accidentally in love
Accidentally in love

His letters always arrived on an infrequent basis. Sometimes they were delivered in perfect condition, once a week. Other times she'd go weeks without a word from him, only to find a bundle of backlogged envelopes in the mailbox. Sometimes the papers were crinkled and worn on the edges, other times they were covered in dirt and dust. Various stamps decorated the outside, and Morgan guessed his unit was moving around from base to base.

Justin kept his promise to the Corps, he never told her where he was. But, he'd give clues, like the difference in time zones, the weather, and a word or food popular in the local culture. At night Morgan would pass the time by researching maps on the computer and using the clues to try and pinpoint his location. Sometimes it seemed like South America or the Caribbean - maybe Barbados. Other times the clues lead her to South-East Europe or North Africa. In the beginning it was a game with Chloe, but after her birthday had passed and a new group of friends came along she didn't have the time to be bothered with "silly kid games" like that. Morgan knew that deep down it was just Chloe's way of dealing with feelings she didn't understand. A deployment was hard on everyone - young, old, mother, child, girlfriend. Some people assumed the idea of "out of sight, out of mind" would kick in. But in reality, absence made the heart grow fonder, and fonder, and fonder until it was just a hollow empty space in your chest.

The missing him never got easier to handle. Her heart always ached a little more when their Skype sessions ended and his icon turned gray, or when his letters - so honest and poignant - came to a close. For those few special moments, it was almost like he was back home. Reading his letters, she could hear his voice in her mind, feel his fingers on her skin, see his blue orbs staring at her from the other pillow. If she closed her eyes and focused, she could feel his long arms wrap around her and squeeze her in the most protective embrace. But, then her lids would open, and she'd still be in bed alone.

Raindrops splattered against the thin windows, rattling the panes. Morgan laid in the middle of her queen sized bed, her pen abandoned in the center of her notebook. Justin's latest letter was unfolded on the comforter beside her, silently reminding her of just how alone she was during this storm. Mascara-tainted tear streaks stained her round cheeks, leaving black smudges in their wake. It was January, the holidays had come and gone without Justin around. Oddly enough, despite the fact that Justin had never been with them for any holidays before, it still felt strange not having him there. Instead of getting to kiss him at midnight or agonize over what Christmas gift to get him, she received a letter dated December 1st on January 3rd.

She wished he was there to keep her warm during rain storms, drive around with her looking at lights on Christmas Eve, watch sappy romantic movies and drink eggnog, and join in on Chloe's 'Is Santa Real?' conversations. Chloe's faith in the big white man draped in a thick, red coat was starting to waiver. Just yesterday she was a happy, clueless little girl, and now she was starting to figure out how the world works. Morgan worried that any day now Chloe would be coming home all starry eyed and drooling over a cute little boy of her own. Maybe she and Chloe could sit at the dinner table and doodle their guys' names and hearts in notebooks together.

Watching so many months pass without him around was making deployment and the life of a marine family all too real. The side of the bed he usually claimed had been drenched in his scent before. Now, it smelled of cotton and Tide. There were times when Morgan could imagine the feeling of Justin's arms around her so vividly, that it was almost like he was really with her. She could feel his chest against her back and his long arm on her waist. Her body would relax into him and a wave of warmth would envelope her like she'd been draped with an extra blanket. However, lately, the bed stayed cold and empty no matter how hard she tried to focus. His laugh and smile - once regular features in her life- were becoming fading memories. The man who had become so present in her life was becoming a phantom, and each day she wondered a little more how much longer she could hold onto him.

"I understand why you're gone," Morgan wrote on the lined paper. "But I still wish you were back already. I miss talking to you - face to face talking to you. I miss laying with you, arguing with you. I need you to tell me if I'm planning things the right way. Am I being harsh if I tell Chloe she can't play with her friends who were caught playing dice in the back lot last week? It is so difficult for her to make friends. Did I spend too much on pay-per-view movies last month? Should I try looking for a new job, some place Devon won't be able to find me if he decides to start up again? You're so good at 'giving it to me straight'. Sometimes I wish you'd sugarcoat it a little more, but I appreciate that you've always got my best interest at heart. I just wish that you were here with us. Wait until you see Chloe. She's changing so much, so fast. She misses you too.

I love the way you are
It's who I am
Don't have to try hard
We always say
Say it like it is
And the truth
Is that I really miss
All those crazy things you said
You left them running through my head
You're always there, you're everywhere
But right now I wish you were here
All those crazy things we did
Didn't think about it, just went with it
You're always there, you're everywhere
But right now I wish you were here

Damn, Damn, Damn
What I'd do to have you
Here, here, here
I wish you were here
Damn, Damn, Damn
What I'd do to have you
Near, near, near
I wish you were here

A small village of green tents sat in the middle of the desert, a lone tree next to the brilliant camp fire in the middle. Off in the distance, a group of marines clad in only green shorts were wrestling in the dirt, each trying to retrieve the soccer ball and score a goal for their team. In the middle of camp, Pvt. Perri was overseeing the cooking of a large wild boar they'd killed while on patrol early that morning. Billingsley and Combs had built a makeshift pig roaster out of sticks, and Perri -the youngest of the group- had drawn the short straw in having to spend hours supervising it. Justin could see all of them from his cot, his trained eyes scanning the horizons behind them more so than enjoying their antics. SSgt. Ellington was asleep in the cot next to him, and Justin was scribbling on the yellow notepad that the boys joked seemed to always be attached to his hip.

A slight smirk played across his lips as he looked over her last letter. It was scribbled in red ink on plain white paper. She'd told him that all things were quiet on the home front. Chloe was staying out of trouble, she hadn't seen hide nor hare of Devon, and her boss had finally gotten off her back about the drama going on in her personal life. The last few lines were from a song she'd set as his ringtone the day he left.

"I don’t know where you’re going
Or when you’re coming home
I left the keys under the mat to our front door
For one more chance to hold you close
I don’t know where you’re going
Just get your ass back home"

It was one of those moments
When everything changes
She was climbing out of a Chevrolet
On the passenger's side
I must've been staring
'Cause when I caught her eye
It seemed like
I had been looking at her for all of my life
So I said
Why don't you come and go with me
Somehow I know I've waited my whole life to see
You standing there with the wind in your hair
I'm as sure as a boy could be
You are the girl that's been running around in my dreams

Ending their letters with lyrics had indeed become a nice tradition for them. Morgan used the verses at the end of each letter to come up with her own personalized 'Justin' playlist. At night it would bring her comfort to play the songs and remember his words. Sometimes she'd imagine what he was doing and where he had been when he wrote them. In her dreams, she'd stand over his shoulder and watch as his pen moved across the paper. She imagined Wilson and Billingsley asking questions, trying to pry into the Serge's private life and find out what he was writing about. Morgan imagined him throwing a flat, worn out pillow at them both and ordering them to give him some peace and quiet to finish. Sometimes in her dreams she'd lay her head on his chest while he wrote, soaking in the soft thumping sound of his heartbeat, and he'd twirl her curls around one of his fingers while continuing to scribble with the other hand.

A half an hour had passed since Morgan had arrived on base, and the space in front of her was slowly starting to fill. The busses wouldn't pull in until sunset, but already other families were gathering, relaxing in mesh lawn chairs and playing flag football on the field. Some came with signs saying "Welcome Home" and "My Hero Wears Dogtags". Other more brazen Milso's brought signs saying, "You think the Middle East was hot? Wait for tonight" and ""Welcome back! Are you ready to be DEBRIEFED?"

Morgan could only giggle. She wished she'd thought ahead enough to make a sign. Truth be told she'd been so excited just at the idea that he was coming home that she hadn't had the wherewithal to do much else than run around in a flurry cleaning the apartment and go by the mall to grab a new outfit for herself. Besides, she had no idea what she would have written on a banner anyway. Maybe, "Drop your pack, it's time to hump!" It was hardly appropriate for a sign, but she'd be lying if she said it wasn't how she felt. Judging by some of Justin's more steamy letters, she wasn't the only one who missed having someone to stay up all night with.

"Nights are the loneliest times here. It's when things are quiet, and you have the chance to sit and reflect on the day, the month, life. I can't lie, being constantly surrounded by a bunch of men sucks. They're loud, they're gross, and someone always smells. We hardly even have the chance to see a woman walk down the street here, and I can tell it's making some of the boys antsy. I think they'll be starting up the R&R rotations soon - which is good. We could all use a little companionship, if you catch my drift ;-P"

Justin was laying on his cot in the dark. He had pulled the sheet up over his head, and wedged a small flashlight between his chin and his chest for some light. He was trying to keep the light from bothering the other men while they got a few hours sleep before getting back on the move. They'd been going for 19 hours, and this was the first chance he'd gotten to write home in days. He hadn't gotten a letter from her in awhile, but he was sure that it was just because the mail hadn't caught up to him yet. He'd always been able to feel Morgan. They were connected in an odd way that no one else could understand. He could feel when she was angry, afraid, ashamed. Now, he could feel that she was writing him, still waiting for him, even if he didn't have the proof in his hands.

"I can't wait to see you again. I'd give anything to be with you right now. I miss your hair, your lips, the way you moan, and your nails scratching down my back. Those are some of my favorite things to think about at night. Your wet lips brushing mine while you're kissing me. Your thighs spread over my hips and your hands on my chest while you ride me. My hands pulling off your clothes and holding your hair out of my way. When I think of you, my body aches for you. It starts in my chest, and washes over me. I've never felt this way about anyone before. Ever. This craving I have for you drives me crazy.

You gave me that look across the table
At dinnertime
Your toes caress my ankle
And I notice your breathing getting heavy
Your speech short of steady
It's obvious you're ready

Skip the elevator
Head straight toward the stairs
Lipstick shades on pillowcases
Love and lust together here
But you know
I don't have to tell you it's not just about that
Not just about that
And you know
We don't have to prove it was never about that
Never about that

"My body aches for you too," Morgan wrote back. "I miss the way you look at me, how I can tell that you want me without you having to say a word. I miss how you growl at me when I'm doing something you like, and the way you smell when you come in from the field. I never imagined that going this long without affection would be so difficult, but your touch was something I missed almost instantly. At night, I remember the way you used to pull me across the mattress by my hips and pin my wrists against the pillows above my head. I need you so bad."

And when we're done, I don’t wanna feel my legs
And when we're done, I just wanna feel your hands all over me, baby
But you can’t stop there
Music still playing in the background
And you're almost there
You can do it, I believe in you, baby
So close from here
Baby, Imma be your motivation

Justin had been right about the leave rotation. It was the end of February when she read in one of his letters that he was getting a week's time off. Her mind immediately filled with all the possibilities. A week meant six nights of sleeping next to him, seventeen or eighteen home cooked meals, and countless hours of kissing and laughing. Finally, there was an upside to this deployment! But, reading further into his letter, her excitement started to falter. Because of his current geographic position - information she still wasn't allowed to be given - his unit was being sent to Australia for R&R. Making the long trip to California and back would eat up more than half of his precious vacation time, and cost more money than he had.

Morgan felt tears begin to well in her eyes. This letter had started out so happy and promising. Now, the only bright side appeared to be that he would be near a steady internet connection and a landline for a week. It hardly made up for the months without him, but she supposed it was better than no good news at all. Continuing down the letter, her eyes finally ran over words that put a permanent smile on her face. There was a stateside base on the East coast: Cherry Point, North Carolina. Justin knew of a supply plane heading there, and could hitch a ride if she was willing to meet him. Three days in a cheap base motel room was the most he could offer, but it was more than enough to put a smile on Morgan's face. She jumped up and down with joy, barely holding in the shriek of joy bursting in her lungs. Then, she darted off to her laptop to look at ticket prices. She'd been setting a little bit of money aside from each check just in case of an emergency like a car repair, surprise bill, or very-necessary mini shopping spree. A quick getaway with Justin seemed like the perfect opportunity to dip into her funds.

Morgan's hands were shaking like a leaf throughout the entire taxi ride. She tried to calm her nerves by taking in the lush greenery whizzing by outside the window. North Carolina sure was healthy, with thick grass and dark green trees that stretched high into the sky. But as relaxing as the scenery was, she couldn't calm her heart. Her stomach was jerky and lurching as if it were filled with a thousand butterflies. She'd been on a plane for the last six hours, fantasizing and stressing about seeing Justin face-to-face. She felt like a teenage girl going on her first date.

Chloe had stayed behind with Morgan's grandmother. Morgan didn't want her to miss any school, since it had taken a few days to work through her tantrums when Justin first left. Plus, the money in Morgan's savings account had only been enough for one ticket, and it wasn't as if Chloe could travel alone the way Morgan could.

The taxi pulled into the parking lot of the motel, and Morgan stepped out to look at the worn building. The paint had faded in the harsh sun, making it look more gray than white. She grabbed her bag from the outstretched hand of the driver, and gave him a few bills to cover the fare and tip. When she stepped into the building, a gust of cool air from the AC blew her bangs back.

"Hi, checking-in. Lauren Bacall."

"Yes," the woman behind the counter said in a slow drawl. "Your partner, Humphrey Bogart, is already here."

The woman raised a knowing eyebrow at Morgan, and slid a silver key across the counter. Morgan shrugged and turned away. It had been Justin's not-so-clever idea to use the codenames, not hers.

Picking up her bag again, Morgan headed for the elevators, and then down the hall of the second floor. Green carpet lined the pathway under her feet. The tag on the key read 203, which was all the way at the end on the right. The numbers were painted in gold on a clear, plastic plaque under the peephole. She raised a fist to knock on the door, and had barely connected when it flew open before her. There he was, all six-foot-three-inches of him, clad in green camo pants and a loose white tee-shirt. Neither of them spoke, or moved. They just stood there, looking at each other, trying to find the words that made up for a thousand missed 'hello's, 'goodnights', 'how are you?'s and 'I miss you's. There wasn't a word in existence - no way to vocalize all of the dozens of things they wanted to say. Morgan wasn't sure where to even begin, or how much longer she could keep from throwing herself at him and wrapping her limbs around him. She hadn't touched him -hadn't been touched by him- in so, so long. She wanted to feel him.

"Hi," he said finally.

"Hi," she whispered.

Then Justin reached out, his hand crossing the barrier into the hall, and grabbed Morgan's arm. He pulled her into the room, into his chest. Her bag fell to the floor with a thump, and her arms snaked around his waist. It seemed like their lips were connected instantly. His tongue found its way past her lips, exploring her mouth and dueling with her own. Hands were sliding all over her, pulling her shirt over her head and unfastening the hooks on her bra in a flash. The fabric fell in a puddle by the door, quickly joined by the white shirt once stretched across Justin's chest. The Carolina air was chilly, cooled by the ever-running air conditioner, but his hands were warm and strong as they lifted her body into the air and carried her to king-sized bed.

He laid her on the crisp white sheets, kissing his way down her chin, past her collarbone, and between her breasts. Justin found himself basking in her soft, mocha-colored skin. Months spent imagining how she'd feel did absolutely no justice to the real thing. Morgan felt large hands smooth up the sides of her thighs as he worked his way back up her body, stopping to look at her face. He spent a long time staring down into her eyes, getting lost in her dark orbs. Growing anxious, Morgan sat up on her elbows, pushing Justin over onto his back so she could climb into his lap. Once again his gentle lips met her skin, as hands ran down her back.

For hours they were in bed, wrapped around each other and moving in unison. Once she touched him -her fingertips grazing over his tough skin- she never wanted to stop. It had been far too long since the last time she'd felt his arms around her, since she'd felt his bare stomach against hers, and their legs intertwined. Justin obviously felt the same, because from the moment Morgan stepped into the room he was touching her; holding her, kissing her, cuddling her, tasting her. No matter how close he pulled her body, it wasn't close enough. Flying all day and all night had been worth it, because he needed this time with her. He needed to have her close, just for a little while, so he would have the heart to push through the final phase of the mission. He spent the entire day holding her captive between cotton sheets, drinking her in; trying to get his fill of her.

A local pizza parlor delivered dinner that night, and around eleven -exhausted and spent- they finally laid down to go to bed. Morgan slept deeply for the first time in over a month before feeling fingers grip the span of her hips and lips tickle the back of her shoulder. Her eyes opened, and straight ahead was a large window with parted curtains. It was the middle of the night. The full moon was high, peeking in on them from between gray clouds. The marine's firm erection was pressed against the back of her thigh, wide-awake and demanding attention. His hands already had a hold of her, lifting her leg to part her thighs.

They stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning, and then laid in bed talking all afternoon. The world passed by in a blur. Justin and Morgan had been apart for months, but in their little white room in North Carolina, it was like no time had passed at all. He was the same handsome man with broad shoulders and worry lines frowned into his face, and she was the same beautiful girl with deep eyes and full pink lips.

The couple went for dinner and drinks at a hole-in-the-wall near base; their very first date alone, without Chloe. Afterward, they walked to the air field so Morgan could look at the jets on the tarmac, and finally returned to their tiny slice of Heaven in room 203 to spend their last night together. The next day would see Justin hopping a cargo plane in the afternoon, and Morgan heading back to California in the evening.

Those three short days in that room with Justin had brought her more comfort than a thousand of his letters ever could. It wasn't that his words weren't comforting, there was just nothing like being able to see him in person; look into his eyes and run a hand over his chest. The quick seventy-two hour trip hadn't made up for the past nine months without him, but it was enough to hold her over for the remaining three months until he came home to stay.

But, even though they'd somehow managed to share beautiful intimate moments through letters and have a brief romantic interlude across thousands of miles, there had been a fair share of rough times too. Justin had promised to be open with Morgan about what he was feeling and experiencing. There would be no more secrets. Unfortunately, in war the bad times often outnumbered the good. More than once Morgan found herself at a loss for words to comfort Justin as he dealt with the haunting and tragic life that was War.

Morgan was struggling to unlock the front door, thanks to the multiple grocery bags dangling from her arms. Every time she reached out to put the key in the lock the unsteady weight of the swinging bags would jostle her hand. Morgan looked over her shoulder at Chloe, who was oblivious to her mother’s struggle. Instead, she was leaning against the wall, bobbing her head to the music playing in her ear.

“Chloe! Can you pull those things off your ears for a second and open the door for me?” Morgan asked.

For a moment she felt bad that her tone sounded so annoyed, but, come on.

Chloe looked up with a bit of attitude of her own, and stepped over to the door. In a second she had pushed open the door and made her way into the house. Morgan shook her head at the little diva who had been forming over the past few months. She knew that soon she would have to talk Chloe down off the high horse she was attempting to climb on, before things really got out of control.

Morgan followed Chloe inside and placed the bags on the kitchen counter. She began to pull things out and place them in their appropriate places, simultaneously leaving some things out to cook for dinner. Since she'd had such a good day at work Morgan thought she would cook some tacos and follow-up with some homemade chocolate chip cookies and a bowl of ice cream with Chloe. Mexican food had become a favorite of hers since the night she and Justin had taken Chloe to dinner, and Chloe had told them all about boyfriends and girlfriends. The smile on Chloe's little round face as Justin had whispered in her ear was one of Morgan's fondest memories of her new family.

After pulling out the skillet and placing the ground beef on the pan Morgan walked over to her purse and pulled out the day's mail.

“Bill, bill, junk, bill, junk....” She repeated as she flipped through the envelopes.

Morgan continued muttering to herself, almost finishing the pile, before stopping short at a letter that was bit dingy, roughly handled, and dotted with stamps. She smiled as she ran her fingers over the name in the top left: SSgt. Timberlake. There was no return address, just his name.

The meat started sizzling on the stove, and Morgan tossed the mail onto the counter to tend to dinner. A letter from Justin was no reason to waste a pound of perfectly good ground beef. She turned the heat down and began to break up the meat, sprinkling it with seasonings. All the while her eyes were glancing back towards the letter. What had he written? Where had it come from? How many pages was it? How long would it be until the next one arrived? Finally, with dinner under control, Morgan walked back over to the letter and began to carefully remove its contents.

As she unfolded a three-page letter, Chloe came bouncing into the kitchen, bobbing her head animatedly to her music as she yanked open the fridge and pulled out a Capri Sun. Then, without so much as glancing in Morgan's direction, she made her way over to the cabinet and pulled out a chocolate Debbie snack cake. Finally, she exited the kitchen still off in her own world. Morgan watched her go, shaking her head with chuckle before going back to her letter and starting to read.

"Hey little girl, I hope this letter finds you well. I'm just sitting here, counting the days until I get to see you again. The mood here is black. No one wants to talk. I guess there isn’t much to say. There isn’t much to do either, but a lot to think about. All I can do is count the days and mark them off on the calendar. I wish I could write in a more upbeat way - you know, be more optimistic or whatever. But, being a marine isn't all fun. It isn't all blowing shit up and taking Facebook profile pics in the desert. It has shitty days. A lot of shitty days. Shitty days like today, that stop you in your tracks and make you turn hard. You grow cold and disconnected. Inside, I grow more and more desperate for you. We lost someone this morning."

If I never see your face
If wings take you away from me, and tomorrow never happens baby
If the world comes tumbling down and crumbles all around us
Fate turns cruel, you're on your knees
So desperate for one truth, know that I have loved you

His next letter didn't come until weeks later. Morgan had begun to worry. Had both their greatest fears come true? Had something happened to him? What if her letter hadn't reached him in time and he was gone without knowing that he would always be special to her? That was a worry that brought tears to her eyes, so she tried not to think about it and keep a positive smile. Chloe was watching her Mom for any signs of trouble or panic. Morgan had to be strong not only as a marine girlfriend, but as a Mother as well.

One day Morgan opened the mail slot looking for the PG &E bill, and found a battered letter, her address scribbled in Justin's chicken scratch writing. She'd never felt such relief as she held the folded papers against her chest. He wrote that her words were a great comfort to him, and that he was still counting down the minutes until he could be with them again. Before, he would have enjoyed all the traveling, the guns, the new people. He still did, but being with her and 'his daughter' were the only thing that really mattered to him anymore. The missions had a different level of risk attached to them, and he found himself being even more cautious than usual. At the end he thanked her for being so faithful, and for loving him enough to give him a chance to change.

Seeing the word 'daughter' scribbled with his black ink made her heart beat overtime. Morgan was starting to feel more and more like she really might have found 'the one' - the one who was going to be with her through thick and thin, the one who would put her happiness and well-being above all, the one she should have been in love with and had a family with from the start. Justin would be a good husband, and a good father. He was tall, handsome, smart, funny, compassionate, stable, dependable, mysterious. He was.... everything.

I don't wanna lose you now
I'm lookin' right at the other half of me
The vacancy that sat in my heart
Is a space that now you hold
Show me how to fight for now
And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy
Comin' back here to you once I figured it out
You were right here all along

It's like you're my mirror
My mirror staring back at me
I couldn't get any bigger
With anyone else beside of me
And now it's clear as this promise
That we're making two reflections into one
'Cause it's like you're my mirror
My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me