The rest of the team laughed at his assumption. "Got somewhere to be, Ken?" Khali, a 6'8 monster of a man asked gruffly.

"I'm just saying, we can blast some terrorist ass and be home in time for turkey dinner."

A collection of men laughed along Kennedy, egging him on and encouraging the smug jerk of his lips, though Emma, and the rest of the squad, shook her head at what had come to be known as an ignorant Kennedy-comment.

"When I get through with them, those Pakis won't even know what hit them," he continued.

"What?" Frederick asked nearly stopping his march at the remark.

"You're in Iraq, man," Neal jumped in hoping to warn the freshman to shut his mouth.

"Same thing."

"It's not." Fred's tone was laced with finality that made the already humid and uncomfortable air even more awkward. Fred was one of the nicest guys Emma had met, but even nice guys had their limits, especially when it came to ignorance.

"You're about two countries away," Emma chimed in.

Before he could respond, Neal spoke up again. "But hey if we do get back for Christmas, I wouldn't mind drowning myself in a few bottles of eggnog and getting Tamara under the mistletoe."

Sometimes Neal provided a great distraction and was good to diffuse problems, but sometimes his distraction of choice made Emma fight to restrain her eye roll.

"Who needs mistletoe? I wouldn't leave the bedroom," Khali joined in.

This time Emma did roll her eyes; it sucked being in a boys' club. She managed to close one ear to their conversation as they boasted about the women back home though she inwardly smirked. She was sure they were nice and pretty ladies, but Regina would totally give them a run for their money.

The few stolen kisses they had during what Emma thought of as the best week of her life, though the previous three weeks were fighting for a close second, was the most truly intimate thing she had ever done with someone. No, Emma was no stranger to brief moments in a bed, or rather the backseat of someone's car or a side alley, and even that brief fling at boot camp in the woods, but that was simply curiosity or scratching an itch. How good would Stephanie Cobalt's lips feel against hers? Jackson Moore was flirting her so who cared if his hands were a little too rough when they draped up and down her arms?

But with Regina, Regina was soft and warm, and though Emma also wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, after she found out, that's all she wanted to do. Their week hadn't gotten past anything more physical than over the clothes groping, and some nights Emma couldn't believe how she had managed to resist Regina Mills who oozed seduction with her perfectly painted smirk and smokey brown eyes.

With Regina, Emma wanted to give her more than just one night or one blissful week. That night of her birthday party she had meant what she said. She wanted to take Regina out on dates and show her and Henry around Boston. She wanted to give her flowers on her birthday and wake up next to her on Christmas morning with Henry agitating them to come down for presents. She wanted to give Regina the relationship she deserved. A relationship. Emma grinned at the thought. She wanted, has, a relationship with Regina, and as unorthodox as their beginning was, she wanted to do things right.

"What about you, Swan?" Emma looked up when Neal called her, a knowing smirk on his face. "You gonna get some Christmas cock?"

"Oh my god." She scrunched up her face in a mixture of annoyance and nausea. Once just to make sure and never again, she had promised herself. The men laughed at Emma's displeasure as the blonde rolled her eyes with a groan, punching the man beside her on the arm hard enough so that he felt it. Though he toppled over, he gave an unapologetic shrug. The boys' club strikes again.


That night wouldn't go down in the history books as the end of the war nor was it big enough to make national news. Hell, a lot of things were hush-hush around here especially when local lives were lost. But to Emma, that night would be second in one of the scariest nights of her life. She hadn't experienced the chart topper yet, so for now, the night they attacked the hideout set her emotions on high and nearly killed her.

It had been late when they spotted the beginnings of a small community. So late it may as well have been early. Despite the three days of near-constant walking with little sleep and even less food, the team of twenty had followed orders just two miles shy of the exact coordinates.

Then they waited.

For two days sitting in a man-made trench they scoured the movements of the small village. Just like every other village Emma had seen, the buildings were made of mortar and big block stones, the height of the structures only big enough to just fit the tallest person of the family as thin black abayahs and white thawbs hung on the clothes lines outside the home. Emma had gotten used to the elevated design of the villages she had encountered where every row of houses and trading centers seemed to be on a stretch of land higher than the next. It was all hard lines, rough roads, and busy surroundings as children scattered the streets during the day, chasing after one another in a constant game of cops and robbers. Mothers and sisters visited merchant men to buy and exchange goods. Men led goats along the roads as chickens congregated in groups like city pigeons. It was all innocuous and pleasant and nonthreatening.

But she and the rest of her team knew that in one of those buildings – inside the school house, inside a mother's home, in the spare room of a store owner's shop even – was millions of dollars' worth of illegal arms and unsavoury rebels using them on a regular basis to get their message across.

Already they had noticed a bike and buggy with confirmed weaponry inside as it made its way to one particular site. No doubt it was the most well-kept house in the town and they all knew the reason why. The leader would bring in profit and protection for the people in exchange for a little harmless takeover.

It was their second night scouting when Emma's team made their move. In the dead of the night, they crept the two miles toward the village, mindful of the one or two late night wanderers making their way back to their homes. Divided into four groups of five, the smaller units surrounded the village from the north, east, south, and west entrances with Emma, Neal, Fred, Kennedy and Khali having the honours of having the southern and most concealed form of invasion.

The night air was cool, cooler than Emma remembered it ever being. Whether the drop in temperature was actually occurring or the cold sweat from the anticipated adrenaline racing through her veins was keeping the soldier alert, Emma wasn't sure. All she knew as she held up the middle of the group, her steps quiet and controlled as her gaze remained ever shifting, watching for any minute movements or signs that something was amiss, was that something was going to happen tonight. Good or bad, it was a toss up for who, but she knew without an ounce of uncertainty that this moment, this moment lurking in the shadows, catching just the hint of movement from the three other groups around her, this moment was what she had been training for. This would be what all those movies depicted. She knew it. And she was right.

For the past two nights they had noticed that the centermost house constantly had their lights on throughout the night. It also happened to be the house where the buggy and bike had dropped off their boxes of weapons. Frederick had spotted AK47s, grenades, and machine guns. No doubt the remaining boxes held ammunition and with the very real possibility that the entire population of the village could be coerced into attacking the allies, Emma was going in with the mentality they were outnumbered ten to one.

The northern crew had direct access to the main entrance into the town, and with that, they were the most exposed. With a combined total of sixty years in service, they were most experienced and equipped to deal with a full frontal assault should one occur. On paper they were supposed to infiltrate the hideout, bring in their leader, Hussein Al-Jamil who had a history of violent behaviour and a criminal record, and any aiding rebels for the local police to deal with while confiscating the arms. But with the order coming from Spencer, he would want to make sure they were out for good.

Just apprehend and confiscate, Emma told herself over and over as the five of them climbed up onto the roofs of several nearby houses overlooking the central spot. Apprehend and confiscate was all she had to do and then they could go home. No one had to get hurt.

A reflective light shown from the western and eastern teams as Khali responded with a similar sign signalling they were all in position.

They waited one last time. A slight draft picked up. The wind blew gently in Emma's ear as she looked through her eyepiece of her M16 and trained her gun at the back windows. Figures danced as shadows on the wall in the light of the room, and though they were nothing more than just reflections, Emma could already tell by both the graceful and haphazard movements that a woman and a child were inside.

Ramirez, the team leader of the northern crew, kicked down the wooden door as if it were nothing more than paper crumpling beneath his boot. The shadows on the wall twitched hurriedly and Emma watched as a small body came to the window before the woman pulled the child away. Arabic curses rang through the village and soon the surrounding houses, fortified inside their own stone homes, had husbands and fathers shutting their windows and locking them tight. Before the team leader could fully enter the house, a boom roared and a hiss sounded as gas and dust surrounded the northern team in the thick white smoke.