Emma, however, took her emotions out in combat training. She had always been a little more quick to anger than most, and though she knew she'd get deployed eventually, she thought with the tiniest bit of hope that it wouldn't happen to her. But it did, and it pissed her off no matter how irrational her logic was. So aiding in some good ol' BCT, Emma whooped a handful of freshly recruited Privates' asses, both exhausting herself out and shutting down any of their misogynist assumptions that "a girl can't throw a punch."
She went directly to bed that night, but even the dreamless sleep didn't make her forget that she was supposed to be getting on a plane next week and heading back to Iraq. So the first thing she had done when she got up that morning was call Regina.
She almost didn't do it. If she didn't tell Regina it wouldn't be as real. But she wanted to. Needed to hear Regina's reassuring voice that she'd still write to her overseas, still fill her in on Henry's adventures, and still be there when Emma returned.
She caught Regina just as she got into work, and though Emma had never called the office except for the very first time, she was more than a little desperate to hear Regina's voice.
Patched through to a private line, Emma was relieved when a breathy "Emma?" sounded.
"Hey."
"Hi, yourself. How have you been, soldier?"
Emma sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
"Emma?" Regina repeated, more concern in her voice than pleasant relief.
"I'm getting deployed." Announcing the news quickly didn't make it any easier to say, and with three simple words, the Mayor of Storybrooke was stricken dumb.
Though both women were quiet the incessant thudding of a heartbeat rang through Emma's ears. Whether it was her own, or Regina's, or some synchronized combination of both, Emma wasn't sure, but it was almost soothing, a comforting sound that seemed to halt time.
"When?" Regina's voice was strained.
"Next Tuesday."
"Tuesday?" Regina nearly gasped. "That's less than a week's notice."
"I know."
"Where are you going?"
"Back to Iraq."
Regina's groan was only half restrained as she spoke her thoughts. "Is that absolutely necessary?" She asked moreso to herself. "It's like we send more soldiers over there than we bring them back. Do we have a revolving door policy?"
Emma smirked at the last comment, missing the rough edge of the short-tempered Mayor she rarely got to see.
"If only you were president," Emma whispered dryly.
"Believe me, if my mother was alive, I would be."
"It's a toss-up whether there'd be world-peace or total anarchy."
"I am not a tyrant," Regina huffed. "And if I was even I know proper cause for war."
"Hey," Emma said at the disgruntled huff from the brunette. "I'll be back before you know it."
Regina went silent, and the soldier could hear the slow and deep breaths as Regina tried to hold her tongue from arguing. "Promise," Regina finally said, though the small inflection at the end made the word sound more like a hesitant question.
"Yes. I promise."
That had been the last Emma had spoken to Regina since she got deployed, and hearing stories from other veterans, the phone lines were pretty terrible here. Even if she found the time to wait in what could very well be an hour line up for a ten-minute phone call (the unspoken rule that one phone was the best one was out the door), the reception here was shitty. Back to snail mail, Emma thought to herself as she neatly placed her rucksack at the foot of her bed.
As soon as her unit landed, they were given time to settle into their barracks. Settling Rex onto their new cot, her favourite picture of her and Regina hidden deep in a pouch of her jacket not even risking leaving it in her pillow after her conversation with Neal, and a select few pictures currently in her bag waiting to be pinned, Emma removed her cap and waited to be debriefed.
Her mind ran wildly as she mentally counted approximately how many months she'd be away. Anywhere from a few months to a year. In time for Christmas? Definitely not, but the thought made her stomach flutter. She bit her lip fighting the pleased grin that wanted to form on her face. Having people to spend Christmas with, now that was something to be commended for.
She nodded at Neal who claimed the cot beside hers. The first thing he did was put the sonogram up on his wall next to a picture of him and Tamara on what looked to be a ferry with the Statue of Liberty in the background.
"Home sweet home," he muttered to her as he pushed a trunk full of some spare clothes under his bed.
Emma gave a tight lipped smile just as Brigade General Spencer walked into their barracks. The team stood by the foot of their beds as he walked briskly down the aisle, nodding his satisfaction at their prompt submission to his authority. He paused at Emma and gave her a once over that was borderline lecherous yet certainly disdain. The man would be directing their orders, telling them where to go, what to do, and how to do it, and Emma hated it. Not for the instructions, no, Emma was used to that. But because she didn't trust him, never really did, and now he had taken over their unit, and she was forced to follow orders from a man who did little to hide his sexism and just barely concealed his racism. He was every kind of –ist Emma could think of, and he was her leader.
"Fix your jacket, Swan," Spencer said with every air of superiority he could muster, and Emma had no choice but to adjust her already straightened collar before he deemed it good enough to move on.
"We've got a long few months ahead of us, men," he said reaching the end of the aisle and doubling back. "The local government is slowly civilizing with the help of our influential democracy, but that hasn't stopped the Al Qaida from being threatening. Raping, pillaging, killing. Killing our men. Your brothers. We've located several hideouts and over the course of the next year, we will be putting an end to their terrorist activity. We will let them know that is unacceptable in our country." He paused and glared at the entire room. "By any means necessary."
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.