hunnyfresh - Letters from War

October 17, 2004 – Iraq – Undisclosed Location

Two things were guaranteed to happen while touring Iraq: dirt and boredom, and Emma was experiencing both. She sat with her back against boxes with equipment inside a weakly fortified tent in the middle of the desert that housed satellite equipment and a small medical team. Emma's squad had arrived less than twelve hours prior to escape an impending sandstorm. It was her birthday, and for the first time in three years, Regina hadn't sent anything. It wasn't the brunette's fault since Emma needed to make first contact to let Regina know the exact address to send any letters or packages to, but even with the logical rationality behind it, it still kind of stung just a little bit.

Truth be told, she didn't need a birthday gift or any form of reminder than she was another year older. Finally legal, Regina would say, perhaps handing her a glass of cider without reluctance. Maybe even with a devilish smirk.

It'd be even harder for mail to reach Emma now since they had left camp in order to navigate what many of the younger soldiers liked to call 'enemy territory'. She had sent Regina a letter over two weeks ago and expected the brunette to be receiving it soon. Add in the fact that Emma was in the middle of nowhere, she wouldn't hear from Regina for at least another month. Jesus, that's a long time.

So Emma sat against a crate of supplies and rifled through her bag pulling out all her letters and pictures. Another year older, and all Emma could think was that she should be having that birthday party now. She should be scraping frosting off Regina's chin and trying hard not to look embarrassed yet pleased as her friends and family sang to her.

Her head fell back against the box as she sighed longingly, her finger stroking over the picture of herself, Regina, and Henry in front of the birthday cake sporting wide, matching grins. God, she couldn't believe that was already six months ago. Where did the time go? She wondered what were Regina and Henry doing right now. She'd give anything just to call them for a minute, but even after buying her calling card, she had been too busy. Even Neal's phone was suffering to the reception and could only get through at certain spots in the camp, but out in the middle of nowhere, they were basically nonexistent to the world.

"Hey." The man in question dropped down next to her, nudging her shoulder in greeting. "Homesick?"

Emma tilted the picture for him to see. "They threw me a birthday slash going away party before I left."

"That's really sweet," he said smiling at the picture. "When's your birthday?"

"Today."

"What?" Neal straightened to face her. "Ems, why am I finding out about this just now."

"You're finding out a lot of things just now," she reasoned.

"But your birthday?" He hunched forward to swing his backpack to his front and dug through it. He finally produced a granola bar for her with a sheepish grin. "Happy birthday."

She eyed the granola bar incredulously, shaking her head. "I'm good, thanks."

"It's s'mores." He waved it enticingly.

She smirked but accepted it. "Thanks, big spender."

"Only the best for you."

Showing her gratitude, she opened up the snack and took a bite, munching loudly to make a point of eating her birthday present.

"Hey," Neal asked quietly so his voice traveled only to Emma. "Can I ask about you and the family?"

She took the last bite and crumpled up the wrapper before shoving it into her pocket, rolling her eyes at the man beside her. "Like who's on top?" She assumed dryly.

"Woah," he guffawed, putting his hands up to halt her words. "No, I had real questions, but if you want to talk about that. . ."

She backhanded his shoulder though he still grinned boyishly. "What do you want to know?"

"Have you been dating this entire time?"

She shook her head and squinted at the memory of how she technically met Regina. A booted car and a collision at a diner seemed like a lifetime ago. "August signed me up for that pen pal thing. She got me."

"In more ways than one," the man smirked.

"Shut up." She nudged him again, but the grin on her face sprouted nonetheless.

"So what, did the letters slowly become less about friendship and more about boasting about how big and brave you are?"

Emma shook her head as the voiceover of some of Regina's more notable letters replayed in her mind. Her lips twitched happily at the thought as they eased the anxiety of waiting. "No. She just, I don't know, but she cared about me for some reason. Whether I was okay, whether I was hurt, whenever I did something good, she wanted to know about it. When August lost his leg, she talked me through it when she was halfway across the world."

"So you're grateful to her?" He asked skeptically.

She shook her head then conceded. "I am in a way, but that's not all of it. Back in her town she's this elusive mayoral queen with an ice cold heart that only softens up for her kid, obviously."

"Bitch is a very attractive quality," Neal teased earning him a death glare that actually took him down a notch.

After he was sufficiently sobered, Emma continued. "She was never like that to me. Well, on purpose," she qualified. "She let her guard down and she let me into her house to meet her son and into her life."

A beat of silence passed before Neal smirked. "Wow. You've got it bad, Swan. Are those wedding bells, I hear?"

This time Emma laughed with him. "No, but yeah, I do," she said with no hesitation or embarrassment.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Neal asked cryptically.

"What?"

"Not hiding it. Having someone to talk to about your girl things."

Emma scoffed affectionately but arched a challenging eyebrow. "Well if you want to talk about girl things–"

"No!" He shoved a hand in her face pushing her away.

The blonde laughed and pushed back at him, and though she didn't vocalize it, it did feel good not to hide a huge part of herself from at least one other person. Neal was one of thousands of people in the army, and though she had lucked out to have met an open-minded man, she knew others weren't as lucky.

Holt came jogging up toward, another of the lucky soldiers sent to infiltrate Al Qaida whereabouts. He nodded in greeting. "Storm's over."

That was all that needed to be said for Neal and Emma to understand. Standing silently, and Neal donning his helmet, they followed Holt out of the tent to join the rest of the units.

"Jesus Christ, it's hot," Neal gruffed for the millionth time. After three days of his grumbling about the weather in this desert heat where the nights were hot and the days were hotter, Emma and their combined squad of twenty people were ready to show him the back end of their gun.

"We get it, Cassidy," Fred called from the rear. "You New Yorkers can't take the heat."

"Those sound like fighting words, Alabama," Neal yelled back.

"Anytime, Cassidy."

"My money's on Holt," Emma added with a sly grin.

"Traitor," Neal glared.

They had been travelling for nearly three days straight now, only stopping when sleep was essential, and even then that was taken in shifts. They had walked along a near desert plane where the closest thing to civilization was the tent they had left behind. The exact coordinates recon had given had forced the units to a small part of _ where confirmed sightings and activity of the Al Qaida were residing. The kicker: it was right smack dab in the middle of a village where no doubt civilians would be going about their daily lives, most likely fearful of the corruption controlling them but just as wary as the Americans claiming peace. To say this mission was sensitive would have been an understatement. Innocent local lives were at risk, but Emma was willing to bet Brigade General Spencer had more of a Manhattan Project mentality. Kill a hundred to save a thousand and the fact that they were foreigners, well all the better.