"What makes you think I haven't?"
"Because I haven't seen your name in the mail for two weeks."
"You know how long it takes to sort," Emma pointed out factually as if she had mulled over the same reason in her mind not for the first time. A whistle blew and as one, the troops stood and jogged their way over to the obstacle field course. "Plus, she's a Mayor," Emma reasoned as she lined up beside her sergeant, keeping up with his pace.
"Of some back-country town. How much can really go on there?"
The blonde mumbled a shrug and dove alongside with August to crawl under the barbed wire. She kept her head low and her body flat. Getting snagged while stuck in the mud ruined her momentum. Along with the sporadic very real gun shots sounding over her head, Emma refused to dawdle under the wire.
"Write her back again," August hissed beside her.
"No." Her cheeks tinted pink, but thankfully the mud caking her face hid the fact that she was mortified by the idea. Emma Swan did not beg for friendship. Sure, her parole officers may have said she caused trouble as a cry for attention, but she never went out of her way to make friends, and if this Regina Mills had felt she had done her duty, then so be it.
They emerged from the dirt and sprinted to the wall where they clung to a rope and began climbing their way up.
"Emma," August pressed. "You're going to go stir crazy."
"Bet you I won't." Emma grunted her teeth as the rope burned in her already calloused hands. Her foot slipped, but with a tightened gripped she managed to make her way to the top of the wall.
"I'm not taking that bet." August joined her at the top and the two made their way down.
"Thought you had your vices," Emma teased.
"I like to think I'm a smart guy." August released the rope halfway down the wall and tumbled on the ground before jogging to the next obstacle. Emma rolled her eyes at his extravagant behaviour, but that didn't stop her from releasing her own rope and land on her feet, her knees bending to absorb the shock.
"I know you keep reading it," August said once Emma caught up with him.
Her silence didn't deny the fact that for the last two weeks, Emma had been pulling the letter out from under her pillow and poured over Regina's words. She realized what was so addictive about it; a sense of being remembered and being wanted lingered deep within her and grew stronger with each read of the letter.
The blonde shrugged in reply as a whistle sounded, and without prompting, she and the rest of her squad fell to the ground where they stood for another round of push ups. "I got something," Emma pointed out before dropping the subject, intent on simply doing her training without a nosy sergeant barking in her ear.
She didn't know who Regina Mills was. She could be some old granny person or had a family of her own. She had a son, right? Maybe he wanted to enlist and she sought questions. Whoever she was, Emma had received her first letter from her, and that was more than what she could ask for.
Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, the editor of The Mirror talked incessantly into her ear as she cradled her phone between her ear and shoulder. She appreciated his enthusiasm when it came to investigating the ins and outs of her town, but when he insisted on calling during Henry's feeding time to drabble on about the type of pesticide Mr. French was using for his roses, her patience was wearing thin.
"Sidney," she hissed, wiping Henry's mouth free of homemade apple sauce before removing him from his high chair to allow him free reign of the house. She followed him as he crawled out of the kitchen, much too quickly for her liking, but the gates stationed at the base of the stairs set her mind at ease some. He was preoccupied with the miniature snowman lighting the corner of the hallway when Regina spoke again. "Why don't you file your inquisitions on paper, and I'll take a look at them when I get a free moment?"
"Of course, Madam Mayor," he eagerly confirmed. Even through the phone Regina could see his incessant head nod. "Oh! I was also planning on doing a human interest piece about you and your soldier."
While Regina loved every opportunity to get her picture in the paper, reminding the citizens of her town of her power, frankly, she was exhausted by the little man with the puppy dog crush on her. Plus, she hadn't even heard a reply back from Private Swan. She had done her part, and that was all she could vouch for. Though the idea that perhaps something had happened to the soldier before she could reply was unsettling, Regina simply pushed forward. She had a son to raise and a town to run after all. "That won't be necessary."
She paused when the sound of Henry's pitter-patter ceased. With a hasty goodbye to the reporter, Regina picked up her pace to look for her son. Her heart raced when a mess of brown curls weren't in her immediate eye sight, but as soon as she walked toward the front door, she let out a sigh of relief as her son was scurried under the side table, his back to Regina and clearly up to mischief. She should have known. Silence generally meant he was up to something.
"Sweetie," Regina called, placing her phone on the table and crouching down to his level. "What are you doing here?"
Henry turned his head, a corner of an envelope sodden in his mouth. His eyes were wide and curious, but that didn't stop the little munchkin from chomping away on his new treasure.
"Henry," Regina quietly scolded as she retrieved the letter from his mouth with some effort. "If you were still hungry, why didn't you say so?"
He babbled as he used his mother to pull himself up, reaching for the letter.
She shook her head lightly. "Can you say that, dear? Hungry? Hun-gry."
Her only response came from Henry blowing raspberries, spittle marring Regina's made up face. He was already distracted from the letter by his mother's necklace as he tugged on it and attempted to put it in his mouth. "We're getting there," Regina reassured, easing the necklace from his mouth.
She scooped him up in one arm and stood, bringing them into the living room where she sat him down on the puzzle-piece padding on the floor. Wincing at the wet letter in her grasp, her lips parted to see that it was from Private Swan.
She tore open the envelope quickly and winced again to see that it was dated nearly two months back. Oh dear god, had it been lost for that long? Her eyes scanned over the page, taking in the messy scrawl of Private Swan's print.
October 19 2001
Hi,
I gotta be honest, I don't really know what to say in these. No problem, I guess. I appreciate your thanks.
It's nice to meet you, Regina. Sort of. I mean, not that meeting you isn't nice, just that it's like an unofficial meeting via letters. I think by now you've realized that not only is my chicken scratch illegible, but I've also lost the handbook on Writing a Letter 101, so you'll have to excuse me on that.
Yours is actually the first letter I've ever gotten since I enlisted. Thank you for that.
I don't really have a family to write home to, and my sergeant who's like my brother, well, he's here with me, and he encouraged me to put my name on the pen pal list, so to speak, so here we are.
I haven't heard of Storybrooke, though it sounds like they've got themselves a fine mayor on their hands. I was born in Maine, coincidentally enough, but I've lived in so many different cities before I settled down in Boston and got my first taste of boot camp.
And to answer your question, though I'm sure you might have guessed already, I don't have kids. Remember, if your kid is as mischievous as you say, he's probably just an evil genius. Not that your kid is evil. I'm sure he's sweet.
Thank you for your letter. Seriously. It's probably one of the highlights of my day.