hunnyfresh - Letters from War

Emma had always been the problem child, and whenever those problems became too much, the solution was simple: pawn her off to another family, put her in jail, send her to fucking Iraq.

She felt hot tears sting her eyes from the unbidden emotion swirling inside her like a contained tornado, and she fought to push them down because she should have been used to it by now. But the ache in her heart throbbed harder than the past twenty years combined, and though Emma didn't want to admit it, she hated that it hurt this much for the sole reason it had come from Regina.

Wiping her face on the scratchy underside of the pillowcase, she evened her breathing and pushed away her thoughts. Now wasn't a time to be seething, but apparently it was a time to be annoyed since she felt Neal shift from his cot across from her to the one beside her. He just waited. She could feel his eyes on her, and that made her all the more pissed off because the stupid guy with his stupid perfect life couldn't take a goddamn hint.

Finally his presence grew to be too much, and she whipped off her pillow and glared. "What?"

"You look like you could use a talk," he offered lightly with a shrug of his hands.

"Then you're really bad at body language."

"Ems," he pleaded.

"My name isn't Ems," she snapped, chucking the pillow at him and sitting up. "I'm not 'man' or 'bro' or 'chick.' Just 'cause August isn't here anymore doesn't mean you have to take me under your wing like some little sister you never had. I've been alone my entire life and I can take care of myself."

He put aside the pillow and cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong!" She yelled extending her arms out to make her point. "It's fucking peachy."

"Hey, look, it sounds like you got a little cabin fever going on."

"Stop trying to pretend like you know what's best for me, Neal. You couldn't even tell your wife that you got hurt."

His eyes darkened and he shook his head, a forewarning to the blonde to stop, but with the mood she was in, she was itching for a fight from any and everyone. "I pick my battles."

"You're scared," she stated simply with a defiant chin. "You're scared she's gonna realize, just like you do, that your life here doesn't mean shit, and when you go home all your battle wounds that you killed to get are gonna chase her away."

Neal scoffed and stood, tossing the pillow back onto her stomach. "I know what I'm scared of, but don't try to push your insecurities onto me."

He turned to enter the aisle of cots when Emma stood.

"My insecurities?" She questioned with a dry laugh.

He turned abruptly and poked a finger into her chest. "Yes. Your insecurities. How you're so freaking terrified of being outed that you can't even function right."

"Have you ever been fucked straight?" Her words sobered him, but she continued with a pitying laugh at his silence. "Thought so. Because that is a hard reality for me, and it's not like I can escape it here. And what do I have left when I go home? I don't even have a fucking home. I'm just a nobody there and I'm a nobody with a gun over here."

Neal squinted as Emma pushed passed him, holding down the wince when she brushed a little too hard against his left side. All the emotion Emma kept bottled up over the past hour, even the past few months, hell, probably all her life came pouring out as she passed the aisle between the cots, tugging the severe bun she wore loose as she clutched at her scalp.

"When you're a girl in a boys' club, everyone automatically looks at you funny, but god forbid you're gay too because you're just making that target on your back even bigger, and it's not like I can just whip out a picture of Regina and tell everyone that she chose me out of all these big, macho men who constantly play the my-dick-is-bigger-than-yours game because no, I'm a jarhead, so I freak her out and scare her, and I don't ever fucking win." She paused her pacing to look squarely upon Neal, a mixture of resentment and confusion fighting for dominance over her facial features. "But you, you get the wife and the kid and when you go home Tamara's gonna kiss your burns away and you're gonna be a happy family and all the generals love you because you're still fighting here even when you should have gone home."

"Em–"

She jumped back when he took a step forward, ripping her arm away from his grasp. "No, god , how? How do you do it? We both had asshole parents. Why the hell did I get the short end of the stick? Is it 'cause I'm a girl?"

"Ems–"

"I said don't call me that!" She shrieked, stamping her foot as she held her ground, but Neal pushed forward, holding her arms still as he wrestled her stiff body to sit back down on her bed.

She resisted and tried to yank herself free, but his strength overpowered hers and soon all the tension left her body and his arms were wrapped around her in a hug, her cheek pressed against his chest as she sobbed dry tears.

"Emma," he amended quietly a long minute later when her breath stopped hitching and she was able to breathe out of her nose.

"I'm tired," she whispered hoarsely, pulling back from his chest and averting her gaze. She wouldn't allow another show to her vulnerability if she could help it, but Neal kept a comforting hand on her shoulder that was too much to resist before finally turning to look into the puppy dog face of the older man. "I'm so tired," she said again, more desperate than the last as she sniffled.

"We're gonna go home soon," he comforted, gently urging her head to rest on his good shoulder.

"I don't know where that is."

"Maine," he provided easily for her, but Emma sniffed and shook her head.

"I don't think she wants to see me again," she admitted quietly.

"I picked up on that," Neal said. "But what did she say?"

"She got mad that I got hurt."

Neal let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, your loved ones will do that."

"She's not–"

"She is," he reassured. "That just means that they care about you. They're mad they almost lost you."

Emma bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't think that's what she meant."

"What did she mean then?"

"She said she couldn't deal with me. She's tired of worrying about me. She's really only supposed to be my penpal. It's not like she's obligated to do anything by me."

Neal shook his head again and nudged Emma's shoulder for her to look up. "I'm not gonna say anything or promise anything, but if this lady is who you've been dreaming about for years and whose kid you adore, then I think she's just as scared as you are. She might be tired of worrying about you, but she's always gonna want to worry about you than mourn you."

Emma was beginning to shake her head again when Neal smacked her upside the head. "Ow," she groaned, rubbing the back of her head with a glare.

"You may have confidence with a gun, but you're gonna need more confidence here." He pointed to her heart and nodded affirmatively before standing and rustling up her already messy hair. "Don't forget the bigger picture."

"And what's that?" Emma turned on the cot as he reached the entrance of the tent.

"Go home alive."

December 14, 2004 – Storybrooke, Maine

"Mommy, too tight." Henry squirmed as he sat on the bench in a locker room as Regina knelt in front of him and tightened up the Velcro on his learner ice skates.

"I'm sorry, dear." She loosened the Velcro and adjusted his boots again before strapping on his skates properly, focusing on her son and his field trip to the Storybrooke Recreation Centre where Tina had organized an ice skating session for the toddlers. When she finished adjusting the blade, she gave his knee a pat. "Better?"

He nodded and tugged on the ends of his winter jacket. "It's hot."