A/N: I don't. She does. How depressing.

This is a one shot short that is completed. I have no plans to continue it. It is loosely based on the song "Middle American Saturday Night" by Christian Kane. I heard the song and decided I had to write this.

Thanks to everyone who has read and commented on my work. I greatly appreciate it. Now I'm off to work on finishing my research paper due tonight. Oops. --Sare

Middle American Saturday Night

The air was oppressive and I could feel the sweat roll down my back like small rivers. The jungle was silent around me, the only sound was the beating of my heart—a heart I often forgot was there. I'd been in position high in the canopy for hours. The passing of time only noticeable by the changing of the light that trickled through the lush foliage that surrounded me.

I figured it was Saturday, but days meant nothing in this Hell. Saturday was the same as any other day. I did my job, I took care of my responsibilities, and I protected what was mine. Regardless of if that was my country or a long legged brunette with vivid blue eyes. I protected her by staying away. Not letting her close. Not letting her know more about me. There were times I would forget and let her in. Let her know a part that didn't fit with the image I've carefully cultivated for years. The image of a badass. The image of a man without weakness.

Weakness. When did weakness become so important? What happened to those middle American Saturday nights? I relaxed my body against the trunk and branches that made up my vantage point. My eyes focused on the compound in front of me. They never wavered, even when my mind went back to before my life changed. Before my dreams became dark and the image of being a badass was a way of life. Like a cloak I pulled around myself.

Fifteen years earlier...somewhere in middle America....

"Thank God it's Saturday night!" Tank hollered as we unloaded the truck down by the river. Lester came strolling over with a cheerleader under each arm. They were giggling and looking up at him from under their lashes. I lowered the tailgate on the bed of my truck and the girls jumped inside and stripped down to their bikinis.

The bonfire was burning bright and I could hear Tank and Lester arguing over one of the long legged blonde girls. By tomorrow they'd forget the girl and be fine so I didn't bother getting involved. Instead I leaned back and listened to the music coming from the speakers. It didn't matter to us who was singing. Country music mixed seamlessly with rock and roll. A beautiful redhead was leaning against my bare chest. Her soft hair tickling my skin in the breeze. I knew without having to ask that she'd end up naked with me tonight. She'd also end up with a broken heart. I wasn't looking for someday with her. Just right now.

I noticed Bobby's girlfriend Tammy painting a heart with the words "Bobby Brown 'til the day I die." I found it amusing that she thought he was going to settle down. Not Bobby. He had plans and they didn't include her. Too bad she didn't know how wrong she was.

Bobby looked out of the nearby shed. He was sitting high on the top of the dairy and he yelled, "I ain't coming down until they play my favorite song!"

"Shit, Brown! You dumbass!" I yelled back. Jumping down from the bed of my truck I found the song he was talking about and cranked it up. When the music started I was standing on the hood of my truck and I began playing my air guitar. Brown was whooping and laughing from his perch on the dairy. Tank and Lester joined in. Tank wailing away on his air drums, Lester belting out the lyrics while he banged his head. No one could tell me I wasn't meant to be a star.

Current day....jungle of Columbia....

My second in command's voice filtered through the transmitter in my ear. "All clear."

"Head out." I said as I slipped silently from my perch. I only had a moment to reflect that life had been simpler that night. The moon filtering through the trees reminded me again of the long legged blonde Tank and Lester had been arguing over. About the red head who had lost herself in passion with me that night, then I put the memory away and focused on my job. When this was over, maybe I'd take time to enjoy a middle American Saturday night again. This time, maybe the red head would be a curly haired brunette.