"I really miss you guys. You, and Uncle August, and your mom. Regina." Emma whispered her name, and Regina didn't even realize she had been grinning so widely it surely must have hurt.

"When I get back, kid, we've got a date, okay? Chuck-E-Cheese, laser tag, bowling, you name it. We're gonna eat so much junk your mom is gonna ground both of us, but don't tell her, okay?"

Henry tried hard not to smile and glanced up at his mother where she cocked a knowing eyebrow at him. He simply kissed her cheek and kept watching.

"Okay, you can tell her. She'll probably find out anyway. Regina, you come too. When I get back, we'll make a day out of it. Just us three." Emma tilted her head in thought. "And probably August."

A murmuring sounded off camera, and Emma nodded, running fingers through her scalp hard enough to free a few strands of blonde hair from her bun. "I gotta go soon. But I just want to say, I love you all. And I think about you guys all the time. Take care of each other."

The message ended with Emma's smile frozen on screen. The living room was quiet as if he party collectively decided to give the Mills the privacy they wanted to view the video. Then suddenly Henry shot up from Regina's lap and began pressing at the keyboard, staring expectantly at his mother. "Again?"


Though it was Henry's birthday, Regina found herself with a gift as she inhaled the single red rose and played with the lip of a card as she stood in the front foyer, her back pressed against the closed door.

The house was blessedly quiet by mid-afternoon when the knock came, interrupting Regina and Henry's time as they watched Emma's video message for what felt like the twentieth time once the party goers had departed. Though they had the bounce house until the following evening, all Henry wanted to do once the party was over was to crawl into his mother's lap with Rexy in tow and replay Emma's video.

An hour into re-watching with Regina answering every and all questions Henry had asked before: where was Emma? When is she coming home? Does she miss us? August interrupted to say there was someone at the door.

She left Henry and August in her office and briskly walked to the front door. Perhaps a child had left their loot bag or Tina had lost her cell phone in the bounce house and only just realized. It wouldn't have been the first time all afternoon since she and Ruby made a mad dash for it once the kids began their lunch. Henry's friends loved watching Ms. Tina race Ruby through the obstacle course. Ruby had the speed, but Tina flew up the rope wall and down the slide like it was nobody's business. But when Regina opened the door, the visitor was someone she would have never expected.

Felix, hair cut and out of his usual baggy sweaters and jeans was dressed in khakis and a deep green polo. The strangest part about his presence was the single red rose he held in his grasp. "Good evening Mayor Mills."

"Felix," she said surprised.

"This is for you." He handed the rose to her and nodded happily.

Her eyebrows shot up even further than before as she inspected the flower curiously. "Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, dear, but what's all this about?"

"Oh." He pointed to a logo on his polo, one that Regina had missed during her initial inspection of him and could see roses and vines stitched onto his breast. The Game of Thorns insignia. "Mr. French and Ms. Bell sat me down, and we all had a long talk about how I can take control of my life and show my brothers the same, even if Peter's a dick." He mumbled that last part with unrestrained resentment but shrugged. "Mr. French won't press charges if I work off the damages to his shop and I keep my nose clean." He grinned, proud of himself in that moment. "I might even have a job once the expenses are paid off."

"Congratulations, Felix," Regina said sincerely and held out her hand. The teen shook it determinedly. "But the rose?"

"Oh, shit," he muttered then immediately flushed. "I mean, shoot." Rummaging through his khaki pockets, he pulled out a small envelope and handed it to her. "I always forget that part."

She took it, finding her name printed delicately on the front in Moe French's handwriting.

"I still don't quite understand."

He shrugged and stepped backwards off the porch. "I just deliver the orders, ma'am."

With that he turned down the pathway toward the Game of Thorns van parked outside the mansion, but before he could get very far, Regina called his name. She held up a finger telling him to wait, and within seconds she was stepping out of the mansion. She shook his hand again, a crisp twenty dollar bill sliding into his palm as she smiled. "You're doing a great job, Felix. Your parents would be proud."

Turning briskly she returned to her home and eyed the rose and the card she had left on the side table curiously. The last time she had gotten flowers from Mr. French's shop was last Valentine's Day when Henry had secretly concocted a plan with Sheriff Graham to pick up his mother the 'most beautifulest flowers in the whole wide world.'

She sniffed the rose and smiled softly despite herself before turning her attention to the card and leaned against the closed front door. Perhaps it was from Felix and the teen was too embarrassed to stay and watch her open it? Though it would make more sense for him to dote on Tina. The preschool teacher took such an active role in his and his brothers' lives. Or maybe Henry had planned another flower sending, this time with Uncle August. Though the excitement of his birthday had the boy thinking little of anything else other than the party and sweets he'd be allowed to intake. Out of guesses, Regina ran a nail under the lip of the card, unsurprised to find the 'Courtesy of the Game of Thorns' embossed on the back. Flipping it open, she held her breath seeing not Moe French's elegant handwriting, but Emma's progressively legible chicken scratch written on a piece of lined paper and glued to the inside of the card.

March 3, 2005

Surprise =)

Some guy at dinner was talking about how he was able to call flower shops and jewelry stores and all these things to send gifts to his family back home, and I figured, why not? I don't know when this is gonna get to you, but Moe said that as soon as I send this letter and he gets it, he'll send your flowers on its way. Well, one flower. Hand picked, I may add. Or verbally well-described. If it's anything other than a single rose, then this mission has gone awry.

So this very random rose is just a reminder that it's been six days since I last saw you (though probably even longer when you actually get it), and you're still locked in my brain, keeping me sane.

I can't wait to come home to you and Henry. Be nice to your colleagues, and tell Henry to eat his veggies.

I love you.

Emma

Happy tears welled up in brown eyes, and Regina just stared at those three words over and over again. When Emma had said them at the airport, a part of Regina rationalized that the high emotions and imminent departure prompted them to say such strong words, but their few weeks apart didn't make those feelings any less true.

Somewhere deep inside her, past the irrationality and the fear and the doubt of what the future may hold for them, she knew it was going to be okay.

Chapter 17

Chapter Notes

Disclaimer in Chapter One

TW: Attempted rape and harmful language

See the end of the chapter for more notes

May 18, 2005 — Undisclosed Location, Iraq

The sun beat down on Emma's neck as she sat by the lone water pump in the middle of an out-of-the-way village. Their latest assignment was to provide protection to some big shot American developer seeking ways to modernize third-worlds. In layman's terms: protect the rich man as he drilled for oil. That wasn't what they told the locals, though Emma knew they weren't stupid. Doing some researching; paying it forward; whatever they wanted to call it nowadays. It wasn't like either party had a choice in the matter, and if the locals did, what tiny village would fight against a bunch of strange men armed to the teeth with guns and ammunition?

The good part, though, was that in exchange for their forced hospitality, their team was scheduled to erect a mosque for them in the coming months. Some sort of hospital would have probably been more beneficial, but what was she gonna do except follow orders.

While she waited for instructions, she sat on some boulders by the pump and read through Regina's latest letters. She had received a bunch of them, both from Regina, August, and ones here and there from Ruby and Tina and even one from Mr. French saying the delivery was successful and that her next order would be on the house for her sacrifice serving for their country. She grinned at that one.

Getting in contact with Game of Thorns seemed nearly impossible when the idea sprouted in her mind. She'd asked August to handle the wire transaction while in Boston, but the fifteen minute phone call to the florist felt like asking a girl's dad for permission to date his daughter. It was nerve wracking explaining the delivery to Moe, and Emma wasn't sure if he was willing to do it or if it was going to work, but reading Regina's latest letter, she knew it had been worth it.

You never cease to amaze me, the letter had said. I absolutely had no idea what was happening when Felix showed up at my door — he's working the shop now, did you know? But it was lovely. I'm not sure if you planned it, but the flower arrived the same day as Henry's birthday party. We had been watching your video message over and over. Happy coincidences, perhaps, but it certainly felt like two Mills were celebrating their birthday that day.

I haven't stopped thinking about you either. Come home safe to us.

And I love you too.

Regina

The smile unconsciously broke out over the soldier's face. Those three words felt like energy coursing through her, backing her up and pumping her up, ready to take on anything. It amazed her that although that little rose and less than five-hundred word note had been the only thing Emma had managed to send since their stolen week in Boston, three months later she and Regina were still going strong.

A young woman dressed in an abayah and carrying a long pole with two buckets on either end approached the pump and bowed her head, averting her gaze from Emma. The blonde had been used to it by now and had long ago stopped taking offence to it. A woman could get stoned to death for just being polite to a soldier. In their eyes, she was the enemy. She was the alien coming into their land and destroying their livelihood. It made her wonder what peace she was really bringing about.

"She's kinda pretty, isn't she?" Kennedy sat down beside Emma and motioned to the young woman struggling to pump the lever. Every time she pushed down only a splash of water dropped out before having to do it all over again.

Emma glanced up briefly, noticing the tanned skin of her face, the only visible part of her body. She appreciated their dedication to their religion and culture, even if she couldn't understand most of it. After the Johnson's, Emma swore off religion of any kind, having seen too much bad to believe any god would allow the world to fall like this, but the good that she'd seen, in the beauty of landscapes, in her travels, in people, there had to be a greater force out there.

The girl glanced up under their gaze, and in an uncharacteristic move, smiled shyly at them before returning to her task of pumping water. And there, in that young woman's smile as strangers stepped onto her land, into her home, threatening and imposing, Emma believed in the good of the world.

"Yeah," she nodded. "She is."

"So," Ken drawled. Emma glanced at him only to be met with a shit-eating knowing smirk. "Would you do her?"

Emma rolled her eyes and moved to stand up, but the letter in her palm slid out of her hand and landed on the boulder beside Kennedy. He was too quick for her to snatch it, and Emma scowled as he blatantly read her letter with an impressed grin. "Woah oh oh, you love her?"

Emma snatched it from his grip, wincing when she heard a rip as he held on. Her own half was balled in her fist, and she didn't even want to think about the state his portion was. She wrestled the letter out of his grip, and it took a bony elbow to his ribs and a stomp on his boot to get him to let go. The letter was completely torn. The words were crumpled. Regina's elegant script looked like it had been nothing more than a hastily taken note on a napkin. The dirt on her name, the tear through the 'love', a written confirmation that another human being felt for Emma ripped and dirtied. She saw red.