"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.

From,

Pr. Emma Swan

It was dated a few days after she had sent her own letter, and the gnawing unsettled feeling in her stomach only grew more as realization set in. She wasn't particularly fond of this pen pal assignment when Sidney had brought it up, but knowing that this soldier, this Emma Swan had received her first piece of mail from Regina, and Regina had gone two months without answering made the brunette feel uncharacteristically guilty. What must Private Swan think of her? Probably what the rest of the town thought of her. Uptight. Indifferent. Cold. If it weren't for Henry, the citizens of Storybrooke would have been convinced Regina Mills could care for no one.

But apparently this soldier was an exception to that rule.

A thought sprung to mind as she watched Henry play with a wooden toy car, alternating between driving it and placing it in his mouth. "Henry?" She called as she folded the letter carefully, mindful of the wet spot on it before tucking it under her arm. "Would you like to help Mommy write a letter?"

His single-toothed grin was her only confirmation, so picking her son up under his arms, she carried him into her office and pulled out her best stationary.


"Private," August greeted as Emma entered the bunk area after returning from rifle practise.

"Sergeant." Emma saluted him and stood at attention.

He said nothing for a long while and just allowed Emma to stand stock still. With a knowing smirk, he pulled a letter out from his pocket and tucked it into the crook of Emma's elbow. "At ease, soldier."

She glanced down when he left abruptly, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw a letter from Regina Mills. She didn't want to get excited at seeing the perfectly crafted penmanship inked onto the envelope, but she couldn't stop the pleased smirk from seeing another letter addressed to her. Holding it tightly between her hands, she cleared past the rest of the bunks where the rest of her squad were relaxing.

In the corner, August had started up a game of cards with a couple of other men. A few others were heading out of the room to make quick phone calls back home, while others still had already turned in for the night. Emma, however, eagerly reached her cot and sat cross-legged, barely waiting to situate herself before she tore into the envelope as if it were a Christmas present.

The past two months may have left her lonely, but all that was swept away by this new letter her eyes devoured.

December 15 2001

Private Swan,

I am so sorry for an incredibly long delay in replying to you. Your letter fell behind my table, but it seemed my son took it for food and found it. Perhaps his mischievous side has its benefits, after all.

I admit, I am shocked to hear that mine is the first letter you've received. To make up for such a delay and perhaps to further brighten up your day, how about allowing my son the honour of sending you your second? He's quite talented, don't you think?

Emma furrowed her brow at the short letter, a little disappointed at its length, but what was she expecting, really? A novel? She barely knew the woman. She turned the page in her investigation to find a plethora of colourful crayon scribbles with no rhyme or reason to them, and a grin instantly filled Emma's face. The scribbles took up nearly the entirety of the page except for a small space in the corner where Regina's handwriting boasted From Henry and Regina.

She soaked up every coloured line, tilting her head in different direction as if studying an abstract painting. To be honest, it was one of the best works of art she had ever seen, though that may have been because it was meant specifically for her. Gone was the image of some grey-haired mayor with some out of control teen. The writer behind the letter became more and more tangible in Emma's mind. No, she didn't have any visual to work off from, but she felt the concern in the mysterious woman's letter from being MIA, and the familial bond between her and her son. Emma had once thought that just having the first letter from Regina was all she could ask for, but even at this second one, she could feel herself already getting addicted to the feeling of waiting for a letter from Maine.

It kick start her pulse and made Emma feel lighter. Where she once went through her every day routine with no qualms, now she couldn't want wait to write back to Regina.

Giving the letter another thorough read, Emma leaped off her bed, letter in hand, and borrowed paper and a pen from a neighbouring bunk mate before she set off for a quiet place to reply.


December 19 2001

Hi Regina,

You've got a little Picasso on your hands there. I should save his letter for when he becomes a famous artist one day. I'll be one of the lucky few to have a Henry-original. How old is he anyway?

And it's okay about the letter getting misplaced. I get it. There's no rush or obligation or anything. It was really nice to hear from you again though. It's also a good thing you've also got a detective there too. Or a food critic as it appears.