Somehow his grin grew wider. "I'm gonna be a father."

"What?"

"Yeah," he laughed sitting up to face Emma again. "Tamara's a little over three months." He dug through his pocket again to pull out a small rectangular picture. An ultrasound. "She sent that to me today, and I called her right after."

"Oh my god, Neal, congratulations!" Emma was never really a hugger, but he was her friend, that much he had proven, so she leaned over and wrapped her arms around the man briefly in support. "God, you a dad."

"I know," he nodded. "Christ, I hope I don't mess it up."

She smiled fondly at him. "You'll be a great dad."

"Swan. Cassidy." Officer Watson opened the door and called for them. They stood immediately and faced him, awaiting orders. "Meeting room. Now."

They didn't wait to march out of the room and follow him into the meeting room where the rest of their unit was waiting, standing at attention and facing a Commanding Officer who stood in front of a map. As soon as she walked in, Emma knew. She was going back.

Chapter 12

Chapter Summary

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Opinions stated by particular characters throughout the chapter are not reflective of my own views. There's quite a bit of military in this chapter so any inaccuracies or mistakes are entirely my fault.

TW: warfare

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

September 30, 2004 – Baghdad, Iraq – Camp Victory

It felt hotter than Emma remembered. The air was dry and so humid she felt like she was suffocating. Her gear wasn't helping her in the slightest, heavy and constricting, weighing her down, but she was at least used to the familiar weight. This heat took some getting used to, and all it served to do was remind Emma what it was like the last time she had been here.

The twenty-four hour flight in the jet was simultaneously the shortest and longest trip of her life. The first time she had flown to Iraq for service, there had been nervousness, yes, anxiety even. But as uncertain as she had been, there was a hint of what one might call excitement. She was finally doing what she had been training for. She was going to represent her country, her people. She was going to be one of those soldiers all those songs sang about, be a hero.

But not now. Now she wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but here. They could have sent her anywhere in the world, but apparently her expertise was what got her picked. If she was anyone else – Emma the traveller, Emma the criminal on the run even – anyone but Corporal Swan reporting for duty – she would have loved to visit Baghdad. The people, the culture-shock, the landscape. It was beautiful when she was able to go into the city and visit the markets. Of course, some people were wary of her especially since she was perpetually in her uniform and carried an automatic rifle, but they were good people. She'd feel the same if she had people in uniform marching down her streets acting like she was a convicted criminal. But most times, they made it work with the locals.

A lot of the times a few troops would give little toys and knick-knacks to the children there, and she swore she felt like Santa and could understand why the fabled old man continued to keep giving. Their smiles were contagious as they showed them how they kicked around a soccer ball with their friends. Sometimes Emma would even help rebuild school houses and buildings that fell under attack. Alongside the civilians, American and Iraqi would unite to progress toward the better as each brick of the foundation was laid upon the ground.

That part, that part of the job Emma loved. But the part she was more familiar with, the part that sometimes kept her up at night when she refused to close her eyes, the reason why she was here in the first place since it was expertise, that she could do without.

Recon had tracked areas where rebellion groups were located, and Emma was one of the lucky five thousand men picked to go find them and capture them. Her unit nodded obediently when they heard the news over a week ago back in Georgia, and like the other men and women as they filed out of the meeting room, faces impassive and staring straight ahead with the conflict in their heads rattling around with how they were going to tell their loved ones that they were off again, Emma felt her stomach drop and all she could think of was that heading back to Storybrooke would be happening later rather than sooner.

Neal was the most distraught Emma had ever seen the usually good-natured man. He had hidden away in a corner of their room speaking solemnly to Tamara on his phone.

He most likely wouldn't be there to see the birth of his kid.

He spent the night staring longingly at the ultrasound before stealing a couple pages of Emma's stationary and started to pen a letter to his unborn child. "The kid'll still hear from me, right?" He reasoned as he wrote.

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.