The night went by slowly as Justin walked around the perimeter one last time. The activity in the complex never stopped. Some people were outside: sitting around the doors of their home, or leaning up against their cars in the parking lot. He watched as cars came and went, mostly men. They were probably leaving the house of some random hook-up after a little night cap.

As he walked most of them would follow him with their eyes, growing quiet as he approached. You could sense his presence; the strong, silent intimidation that seemed to radiate out of him. Most people would just nod in his direction and go on about their business after he passed.

He made his way back to the matchbox office that sat in the first building of the complex. As he approached, he could see a half asleep Dale through the window.

He shook his head.

"Pathetic."

Dale was slouched back in his chair, his mouth half open. Justin opened the screen door, stepped into the small room, and let it slam behind himself. Dale jolted upright, murmuring something in his groggy state.

"The perimeter is quiet for the most part. I'm getting ready to go," Justin mentioned.

He'd already begun to gather his bags. Dale nodded, running his hands over his face.

"Look, Timberlake, about earlier-."

"Save it," Justin replied.

It was alright for him to interrupt people, but not for them to interrupt him - unless if the offender outranked him, of course.

Justin threw his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed back out the door, pulling his keys from his pocket. He'd already had a talk with Dale earlier about tonight's incident, and he didn't want to hear the excuses again. He wasn't the one for excuses in general. It was either you got the job done or you didn't.

Hitting the unlock button on his remote key the headlights flashed, and the engine of the Black Audi S4 started. He opened up the back door, placing his bag and gun case inside, and then got into the front seat. He'd just bought this car before his previous deployment and had only driven it a handful of times. It still had the scent of a new car. He'd added some custom upgrades: all black interior with white stitching, windows tinted as dark as legally possible, and chrome rims for just a bit of style. In this city you weren't really cool if you were cruisin' the streets on stock rims.

Justin pulled out of the parking spot, passed through the exit of the apartment complex, and headed home toward his own apartment about twenty minutes away. It didn't seem far, but it was amazing what going a couple of exits down the freeway did for neighborhoods.

It didn't take him the full 20-minutes to get back to his own place. At 3am there wasn't any traffic to get in his way. He lived in a nice one bedroom apartment. Nothing especially upscale or fancy, but definitely a couple of steps up from the complex where he worked. Most people probably expected him to live in a big, fancy loft or new, tricked out condo, but that simply wasn't the case.

He'd never understood where the assumption that servicemen and women made a lot of money came from. Reality was all of them were grossly underpaid. The only opportunities to make any real money were by taking long, combat deployments to known hostile environments like Afghanistan and Mogadishu. It was a damn shame when you considered the physical, mental, and emotional requirements of the job regardless of whether you're deployed or not.

Justin walked into his bedroom and placed his duffel bag in the closet. His room wasn't the neatest, but not exactly spotless either. The walls were all white expect for framed diplomas, awards, and commendations from his time throughout the service. The USMC had taught them that everything had its place and that's where it should be unless you currently needed it. There were serious consequences for a wrinkled uniform or unmade bunk. But, here, at home, there was no drill instructor or CO telling him what to do. Here, he could leave his boxers on the floor for as long as he wanted too and no one was going to bitch about it. Still, the rules had been drilled into him to deep, and when things got to messy he'd start to feel anxious until it was clean again.

He stood at the foot of the bed, taking off his articles of clothing layer by layer. First, the black uniform shirt was tossed into the hamper hidden in the closet. Then, he undid the velcro on his bulletproof vest. He let out a deep breath when it finally came off. The vest was thick and heavy, and didn't breathe at all. Next he took off his under shirt, then set to work removing his utility belt, boots, pants, and boxers. When he was done all that remained were a pair of silver dog tags around his neck.

Minutes later, in the shower, Justin let the events of the night replay in his mind. His thoughts drifted back to the young lady in green. There was something about her that he couldn't shake from his head. Was it the glistening of her smooth mocha colored skin? Or, maybe the way she had her long hair in lazy curls? It also could have been the way her flip flop dangled so delicately from her foot.

Blue eyes snapped open, and Justin lowered his head into the water to clear his mind. It had been a long time since he noticed a woman in that much detail. Usually he was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice anyone. But, he just couldn't imagine a woman like that being in place like Polo Apartments. She was beautiful, and a sharp contrast from her friend who seemed a little less - sophisticated? He was trying to think of a polite way to describe her, but hood rat was all that seemed to come to mind.

Trying to rid the girl in green from his mind, Justin focused on making use of the shower. He started to scrub at his arms and chest, getting off the dirt, grass, and sweat from the day's work. Once he was done he hopped out, pulled on a fresh pair of boxers, and climbed into his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, his arm cradling his head, and fell asleep still trying to avoid the constant image of her in his mind....

The night was abnormally dark as a squad of soldiers moved quietly through the village. Well, it was abnormally dark to the average American. In America people were used to street lamps and passing headlights. Here, when night came, all you had was the moon to guide you. Thank God, and the USMC, for night vision.

Justin squatted down next to a wall. In front of him was Chad, squatted a few feet away with a doorway between them. They were on a mission to capture a family suspected of aiding Al Qaeda members -and if possible- apprehend any present Al Qaeda operatives.

Most families in the countryside resided in compounds, or houses with tall, thick, walls around the outer perimeters. It provided protection for the family and dwelling structure, as well as serving as a pen for any animals or pets.

Chad, sensing that things were all clear, motioned for the first team to breach the perimeter. Corporal Billingsley hoisted himself up onto the wall, looking for signs of a dog. Haji's, the Marines' nickname for the indigenous population, usually kept guard dogs around since they didn't have access to things like alarm systems. Seeing no sign of a dog, Billingsley climbed over the wall, and opened the door for the rest of the Marines. Kicking down the door would have been noisy, and would have alerted the occupants to the Marines' arrival, allowing Al Qaeda members precious time to either escape or arm themselves.

Once inside the walls Justin moved right while Chad flanked left, each signaling to their respective teams to split up and surround the house. It was beige, probably made from a wood frame with dirt and clay packed together to form the walls and roof. Slowly making way to the house, they could see people moving through the windows. The families here were often large, and usually included extended family members or multiple families.

The plan was for Chad's team to take the front, while Justin and his men came in through the back. They broke off as planned, and Justin's team quickly headed for the back of the house. A few chickens clucked and balked at them as they passed, but no one inside seemed to pay them any attention. Once positioned, Justin radioed to Chad.

"Op two, in position."

After a moment he heard Chad's whispered, static-filled voice.

"Op one, in position. Breach in three... two... one."

In perfect synchronization they kicked both doors down, rushing into the small home with guns drawn. They shouted 'get down' in the Dari taught to them during downtime with translators. The Corps didn't typically offer language classes to the basic Marine; they recruited foreign language majors out of Universities for matters that required non-English skills.

The squad moved quickly, filling the house as they cleared empty rooms and hiding places. Chad's team had a handful of people, five or six, on the ground in the living room. They held their hands behind their heads. An older man and young boy were shouting, while a woman and a few small children cried.

Justin's team was clearing the back of the house, room by room. They were approaching the last room, a closed door at the end of the hall, when suddenly, guns began to go off. The dark space was illuminated with flashes of light as rounds fired through the wooden door and snapped off the clay wall just inches from Sgt Timberlake's head. The team of Marines ducked, scrambling to take cover in the empty rooms...

Justin began to toss and turn as the dream continued to play. He grunted in pain when his shoulder slammed into a doorframe, as though the dream was real. It felt real to him, as if he were back in combat all over again. He watched as bullets flew, ricocheting off of picture frames. His men were shouting to each other, ordering each other to return fire and to get out of the way.

With a gasp Justin shot straight up in bed, his face dripping with sweat. His heart was racing and pounding so hard it echoed in his ears.

"Shit," he whispered, throwing back the covers.

He swung his legs over the bed and ran a hand over his face before turning on the bedside lamp. Those dreams were happening too often for comfort.

"Fuck. Get it together, Timberlake," he told himself.

He got up and made his way into the kitchen where he retrieved a bottle of Budweiser before heading back into the bedroom. From there, he moved to the dresser where three bottles of pills sat. They'd been prescribed to him for PTSD, a disorder he'd been diagnosed with upon his most recent return from combat. He picked up a short, orange bottle. These were the ones that helped him sleep at night. He popped two into his mouth, and washed them down with the beer.

Above the dresser was a mirror, and he took a long look at himself. His blue eyes were blood shot, and the veins on the sides of his head were pulsing as the impending migraine started to form. He took a few more swigs of beer, and then sat the bottle on the dresser. It wasn't the best idea to drink along with medicine, but the pills were necessary for his dreams and the beer was necessary for his headaches.

The following day Justin woke up in the middle of the afternoon, just a few hours before his shift. Now he knew the beer wasn't a bright idea. He'd been practically unconscious because of the pills, thereby wasting most of the day. The only upside was that he'd actually slept through the night. He rose from the bed and walked into the kitchen in search of breakfast. In the fridge there was only beer, a gallon of water, and a carton of eggs.

"I guess I need to go grocery shopping."

He decided on scrambled eggs - as if there was much of a choice. While retrieving the salt and pepper from the cabinet his phone vibrated on the countertop. He looked down at the caller ID, seeing 'Pop'.

"Hello?"

"Hey Marine!"

His father's voice was cheerful on the other end. The elder Timberlake was a proud Marine father, and his wife a proud Marine stepmom. They had bumper stickers, t-shirts, and a flag in the front yard to prove it.

"Hey Pop! How are you, sir?" Justin asked.

"Good, good; just calling to see how you been settling back into civilian life."

"It's an adjustment as always."

It was true. He was never home long enough to be able to fully enjoy life. He just adjusted long enough to function like a normal person, and then he was sent back into the field.

"I understand, son. Have you found you a job yet?"

"Yeah, actually I have."

"What is it?"

"I'm doing security over at the Polo Apartment complex."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"I understand the security part, but why Polo Apartments? You'd make more money working for the city or a bank."

"It's not about the money, Dad."

"What is it about? I know you're probably the only one over there with any kind of skill or training. Probably the only white man over there too."

"Basically, but that's not the point. It's a high crime area, and it will put my training to good use; keep me fine tuned until my next deployment."

"I understand. I just hope you understand that the people over there don't want help. They're fine living off of the tax payers. They're fine being handed things by the government. People like them don't want a hero or a way out. They are comfortable exactly where they are at, and I say to hell with it, leave them there."

Justin let out a deep, silent sigh as his father continued to ramble. He was starting to sound like the cop.

"You know what I mean, son?" His dad finally asked.

"Yep, I know."

Justin had no clue what he meant. He wasn't even sure if they were still talking about his job or if they'd somehow segued onto another subject.

"But in the meantime," he said. "I have to go; it's almost time for work."

"Alright, son. Stay safe."

"Always."

Justin's shift was scheduled to start at 6pm, just two hours before sundown. He'd managed to salvage what was left of his afternoon by working out. It was something he tried to do at least once -if not twice- a day. Exercise was essential to keeping up his strength and endurance for the job, as well as to be ready to pass the combat fitness test or any other pre-deployment tests or training.

After checking in with the afternoon guards and saying goodbye to them for the day Justin set off on his own. He preferred to wander the perimeter while Dale napped in the office. When other officers like Sam and Tim were on with them he didn't mind hanging out with the group. He enjoyed being a fly on the wall during their conversations, and watching them pull pranks on Dale was interesting; like the time they put super glue on the cap to his half-empty bottle of Coke so he couldn't open it to drink anymore. But, the Sergeant had quickly learned that on the nights it was just he and Dale, he was better off working alone.

He'd just come around the side of Building C, towards one of the back parking lots, when he saw her. Her top half was leaning into the open hatch back of a Jeep, but he knew it was her. He'd recognize those legs anywhere.

She was wearing shorts again. These were denim and frayed at the edges like she'd cut them from a pair of old Levi's. Her top was different this time too, it was blue. She wore one of those weird burnout tanks that was popular among civilians now; the ones where patches of the fabric were sheer. But, she'd layered it with a white tank, making it somewhat cute in Justin's opinion. Her hair was still in long curls and oversized black sunglasses were shielding half her face.

He leaned back against a wall and watched as she gathered all of her things and closed the trunk. She smiled down at a little girl standing next to her before they turned from the Jeep and headed across the lot. He wondered who the little girl was. She looked about 6 or 7 years old. She was thin and tall, and stayed close to the woman's side.

The woman carried a tan leather purse and pink Hello Kitty backpack on one shoulder, and a brown paper grocery bag in her arms. The little girl was carrying a plastic bag. It didn't look that heavy but she was carrying it with both hands as if it weighted 100lbs.

Justin's brow furrowed momentarily as he noted that it was a long walk from their parking spot to their apartment. They'd have to cut across the play area and over the knoll where Justin had tackled the car thief.

The pair continued on, chatting to themselves as they crossed the parking lot and started toward the grass. Justin watched from several feet away as they passed him. The woman barely paid him any mind. She said something to the little girl, and then looked up to watch where she was going. Her gaze stayed away from him as she looked around at the buildings, then up at the cloudless sky as she ran a hand over her hair. Her skin was glowing was the sun's rays, and she had a slight swing in her hips.

Justin glanced around at the parking lot behind her, seeing the wandering eyes of a few of the loitering men. They were watching her from the corners of their eyes -lingering way to long for their thoughts to be innocent- and cocking their eyebrows in appreciation.

It wasn't until just before they moved behind a building that Justin looked back, this time at the little girl. Her blank brown eyes were looking back at him. She'd been watching him curiously as they walked, wondering who was the strange new man in the black uniform. Justin averted his gaze to the watch on his wrist reading 17:08. When he looked up again, they were gone.

Circling around the building Justin watched them as they continued across the grass. The woman motioned with a jerk of her chin out toward the play structure. Some of the kids from the complex were playing on the swings. The little girl looked out at them, frowning in their direction for a long time before she turned back to the woman with a shake of her head. He guessed now that the young girl was her daughter. They shared the same thick, black hair and iridescent skin.

He figured the woman was about his age, so she must have had her daughter young. Justin hadn't immediately picked her out as a teen mom. For starters, it looked like she only had one child - though there could be more for all he knew. In this neighborhood, once a girl had one baby she usually kept going. Second, she seemed to be doing alright for herself. Granted, she was living at Polo Apartments so she couldn't have been making that much money, but she didn't blend like everyone else did. She didn't dress in the tacky, ghetto fashions that the other women did. She didn't have seven inch long talons for finger nails or wear pounds of fake gold jewelry. She looked... normal. So had the little girl in her jean capris and pink tank top. Hell, he was blending in better than they did, and he was wearing a uniform.

"Timberlake?"

Dale's voice came through the radio, calling Justin's attention from the woman and the little girl.

"Yeah?"

"We have a situation outside Building A."

Justin rolled his eyes. He already knew what was going on in Building A. The couple upstairs was fighting. The boyfriend was high, and the girlfriend was telling him he wasn't the father of their baby and had been daring him to hit her all day until he finally did. He knew this because that was the scene that played out with this couple every other week.

The 1st and the 15th were the worst days at work. That's when all the people on government aid got their checks, and they used chunks of the money to buy drugs and cheap liquor in bulk. Their daytime activities made for interesting events on the nightshift.

"Copy. On my way," Justin said.

After taking one last look at the two girls as they began to climb the small hill he turned and continued through the parking lot toward the front of the property.

Justin had been right about Building A, and the cops didn't seem surprised when they arrived to take the boyfriend to jail. But, aside from their stunt the property had been quiet for the most part. A lot of people associated sunset with mischief, but that was too early. The real weirdoes came out between 11pm and 2am. It was just after 9pm now, so he had a few hours of calm before the storm.

Justin had noticed that a lot of pointless vandalism occurred when residents hung out in the parking lot and got drunk together. They tagged the buildings to mark their "turf", played pranks on the kids by breaking the playground equipment, got into fights that resulted in holes in the walls, and sometimes left their drug paraphernalia on the sidewalks to be stepped on. The latter really got Justin riled up.

To try to cut down on the senseless crime he made a habit of breaking up groups loitering on the property. If he could run them off before they had an opportunity to get drunk, they didn't have the chance to break anything, and hopefully they wouldn't fight him too much without the influence of liquid courage. He didn't care if they wanted to convene and relax after a long day, but do it inside where you can be held responsible for your actions.

Morgan was sitting on the porch, wearing white shorts with pink polka dots and a light blue t-shirt. She held a blue can of Bud light in her hand, and had been looking up at the sky while Charmaine rambled on beside her. She couldn't see many stars because of all the street lamps, but she liked to look at the few she could see, and imagine the ones she couldn't.

"Oh, girl, look. Look!"

Morgan's peace was broken with a rough shove from Char's elbow. The Bud sloshed in the can and Morgan jumped to keep it from spilling.

"What?!"

"Look," she said again.

Morgan followed Char's eyes and they landed on the new security guard, moving through the yard towards one of the parking lots. He was walking alone with a flashlight in hand. His stride was purposeful and mechanical, like it'd been taught to him rather than something acquired naturally. Before either of them could speak he glanced in their direction. Morgan's breathe hitched in her throat, and her heart started beating double time. He was too far away for her to make out the features of his face; but just knowing that he was looking, feeling the weight of his eyes on her, it made her more nervous than she'd ever been.

Tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear Morgan looked away, and Char let out a high pitched squeal.

"Giiiirl," she grinned. "He was looking at youuuu. Have you seen him? Girl, he's fiiiine. Nice butt too, from what I can tell."

"He's patrolling, he wasn't looking at me," Morgan argued.

When she looked back at the guard, he was turned away from them. He'd passed them now, and was approaching a small group of young men gathered around a bench. They'd been sitting outside for as long as Morgan and Charmaine had, but they'd been rolling dice and talking loudly. She appreciated someone asking them to quiet down, though she doubted they'd listen.

"Honey, don't tell Sabrina he was checking you out, she'll never speak to us again."

'Good,' thought Morgan.

She took a long swig of her beer, and then turned to look at Charmaine. The other woman's eyes were glued to the guard, and she clutched her beer as if she were watching the final battle scene in an action movie. Morgan followed her eyes again, watching the guard as he spoke to the men. They'd gathered around him in a semi-circle, and they seemed to be arguing.

"Get the fuck outta here!"

Morgan's eyebrows raised as the guard shouted at the men, and then she pulled out her phone to call the office. This was usually the part where the fight broke out, and with the guard outnumbered he was clearly going to be in need of backup - if Dale could be considered back up. Morgan felt bad for the new guard, but that's what management got for bringing a white boy to the ghetto.

The men grumbled, shifting their feet as if they were growing antsy. She could feel the hostility all the way from her porch, so she was sure the guard could feel it too. But, he didn't look afraid. He was standing with his back straight, feet apart, ready to hold his ground.

After a moment the men began to disperse, heading back to their apartments. Muttered obscenities filled the air, but the guard didn't budge and none of the men turned back to face him. When he was satisfied that they were all going to follow his orders, he turned and continued on his patrol.

"Whew!" Charmaine exclaimed.

She threw her head back and raised a hand to fan herself dramatically.

"Did you see the way he just punked those brothas? Lord, have mercy that was sexy."

Morgan smirked at Char, then looked back at the spot where the guard had been. She couldn't say if the guard was sexy or not, but he definitely wasn't like anyone she'd ever seen before.

Justin let out a sigh of relief as the men walked away. There'd been 5 of them and only one of him, he would have had a hard time taking them into custody had they put up a fight. He also knew the two girls were watching him, and it would have been seriously embarrassing to be the Marine who got his ass kicked in front of a bunch of girls.

He'd seen them earlier, during his patrol. This time the pretty one with the legs was wearing light colored shorts, but she still appeared to be drinking a beer. That must have been her nightly ritual to unwind... It was better than what he saw a lot of other young mothers around here doing to unwind. He fought the urge to glance back at them, and continued on his patrol.

Morgan and Charmaine continued to sit outside, enjoying their beers and talking aimlessly as the night drug on. Eventually, the mosquitoes became too much for either of them to fight off. They folded up their chairs while saying good night to one another, and then went to their separate apartments.

Morgan walked in, closing and chaining the door behind her. The front door opened up to a decent sized living room, the back-half of which doubled as a dining room. To the right of that was a short hallway, with the guest/Chloe's bathroom on the left, a storage closet in the middle, and Chloe's bedroom on the right. To the left of the dining room was the kitchen and a doorway hiding the short hall to Morgan's master bed and bath. It wasn't much, but it was enough for the two of them.

Morgan made her way to the small hallway on the right, placing the chair in its proper place in the closet. Then she turned, twisting the door knob on her daughter's door and peeking in at Chloe's motionless body. She was breathing softly, curled up against her favorite stuff animal. Morgan couldn't help but smile at how peacefully Chloe was sleeping. If you would have told her six years ago that she would be parenting such a wonderful child -let alone parenting anyone period- she would have been shocked.

Being a single mother, however, was something that most girls -including Morgan- never thought to consider, but, that was a story for another day...

Morgan quietly closed the door and made her way to the kitchen to throw her empty beer can in the recycling. She discarded the offending piece of metal and pulled open the fridge to find something to snack on. As her eyes scanned she realized grocery shopping needed to be done after work tomorrow or they weren't going to have many options for dinner the next few evenings. She pulled out another beer and went to her pantry to grab a small bag of chips normally used for Chloe's school lunches. Then she headed into the living room and plopped down on the couch while turning on the TV.

This was the only time she had to sit quietly by herself and relax without interruption. She cracked open the beer and took a sip before lying back against the arm of the couch and flipping through the channels. The judge on TV was deciding who was at fault over a car accident in a parking lot. Both litigants were starting to look like bald face liars. As Morgan lay there her thoughts wandered from bills, to job hunting, to the mysterious new security guard.

It was embarrassing how she'd lost all thought when he'd looked at her. Even though she still hadn't been able to get a good look at his face she wasn't exactly turned off by what she did see: tall, fair skin, dark hair, solid and well-built. His stiff and erect posture when he walked was alert and dominating. The way he moved around the complex and took charge without too much of a backlash was amazing. She didn't know if the rumor about him being in the military was true, but from the aura he gave off she wouldn't put it past him. It was refreshing knowing that someone was walking around determined to keep the area quiet. It gave her a small sense of security, and a little peace of mind.

In the time that she'd lived at the Polo Apartments the security hadn't been up to par, and don't even get her started on the guards themselves. It was like they weren't even on duty half the time. She was grateful for the change. Since the new guy had started working the others on his shift and the shift before seemed to take things a little more seriously. The morning crew was still a laughing stock, but then again you can't have it all.

Her thoughts moved back to the new guard and the way he'd tackled the car thief. He hadn't hesitated in the slightest. His arms were thick with coiled muscles that flexed as the thief struggled. He was strong and forceful, pinning the man to the ground while he retrieved his handcuffs from a leather pouch on his belt. It was so exciting!

Morgan shook her head, chastising herself. He was a damn security guard, not an athlete for cryin' out loud. Calm down. He looked like he might have a nice body, but who could really tell under all that gear? Besides, he could still turn out to be every girl's worst nightmare - a butter face, where everything about him is hot except for his face. Morgan sighed, taking a gulp of her beer instead.

"I seriously need to get laid."

She focused her attention back onto the late night television, finishing off her beer and bag of chips a short time later before heading off to bed.