Scarlett + Y/n

Chapter 9

Emily's pov

Dear Scarlett
We've made it to Afghanistan after 36days at sea. I hope you aren't missing me too much because I'm missing you.
We made a base and I'm currently sitting in my own tent, yes my own. I'm still lieutenant thankfully and I'm still expected to come home when we planned.
It's been a long time since we last saw eachother and sorry for not writing sooner but there wasn't much to write and I was on a ship so there was no way it was going to be sent. Tell Lizzie I love her and my family also.
I hope you've found something to do whilst I'm not there, hopefully your filming a new movie to show me when I get back. I won't phone you but phone me on the SAT phone whenever you want.

Signed Em xx

I put it in an envelope and write her address on the back as well as sticking a stamp on the back. I stick it in the postal bag and watch as the platoon set up their tents. The soldiers are last to set up since the tents are put up in order of authority. "I can't believe I'm finally here" I hear Scott tell another member of my team "I know write. Isn't it crazy? So different to the simulations' a small smile makes it's way onto my face but I quickly stiffen up and watch as they bang guyropes and rods into the ground. The sun is setting down below the horizon and lighting up America, my home, where my family are. I feel immense pride with my platoon and the authoriry I have over them to keep them safe and return them back home.

As I pulled my jacket tighter around me, the cool evening breeze whispered through the canyons, carrying with it the sounds of nature settling down for the night. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the silence wash over me. In those brief instances, I could almost hear the clink of glasses during family gatherings, and the soft murmur of my mother’s voice as she shared stories of our past.

But this was not home. I reminded myself of the mission, the reason we were here. Intelligence reports had indicated increased insurgent activity in the region, and our presence was critical to maintaining stability. My role as a lieutenant was to lead my team with strength and clarity, and I felt the weight of that duty pressing down on me.

As darkness fell, the first stars began to twinkle overhead, lighting up the vast canvas of the night sky. I found solace in their presence, a reminder of the countless souls looking up at the same stars, perhaps pondering their own lives. I glanced at my team, noting the exhaustion etched on their faces, yet also the determination that glimmered in their eyes.

Gathering around the fire, we settled into a familiar rhythm. The flames flickered, casting dancing shadows on our faces as we shared stories from home, moments of laughter punctuating the tension that always loomed. We talked about everything from favorite foods to funny mishaps during training, trying to reclaim a sense of normalcy in our surreal existence. “Remember that time during basic training when Harris tripped over his own feet during the obstacle course?” someone said, laughter erupting around the fire. “Yeah, he landed in that mud pit like a pro,” I added, chuckling at the memory. It felt good to laugh, even if just for a moment.

But beneath the laughter, I could sense the unspoken fears that lay hidden. Each of us carried our burdens—thoughts of loved ones, worries about the mission, and the weight of responsibility that came with leading a team in such uncertain times. I took a deep breath, trying to push those worries aside, if only temporarily. What if I never see Scarlett again? What if I made something with her and it's lost forever?

After we ate a simple meal of MREs—Meals Ready-to-Eat—conversations shifted to the tasks ahead. We reviewed our plan for the night, discussing the intel we had gathered and the approach we would take to ensure the safety of the nearby village. Each decision felt monumental, and I wanted to ensure that every voice was heard.

“Emily, what’s our primary focus for the patrol?” one of my sergeants asked, looking at me expectantly. “We need to establish a presence in the area, reassure the locals, and gather as much information as we can about any suspicious activity,” I replied, my voice steady. “Our goal is to keep them safe while building trust.” Nods of agreement rippled through the group. I could see the determination in their eyes, a fierce loyalty that made me proud to lead them. I reminded myself that we were all in this together, bound by a shared purpose and the unwavering commitment to protect those who could not protect themselves.

As the fire crackled, I felt a pang of nostalgia for the simpler days back home—the smell of freshly baked cookies from my mother’s kitchen, the warmth of a summer evening spent in my backyard and the smile on Scarletts face when I turn up at her door unexpectedly. Those memories felt so distant now, yet they fueled my resolve to make a difference here.

After the briefing, I stepped away from the fire, needing a moment to myself. The night sky was a breathtaking expanse, the stars twinkling like distant beacons. I found a quiet spot where I could gather my thoughts. The air was still, and for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a future beyond this war—a future where I could return to the life I had put on hold.

But that future was uncertain, and I couldn’t let my mind linger on what-ifs. I had a duty to my team and to the people we were sworn to protect. My thoughts shifted to the families in the villages, the children who deserved safety and stability. This was why I fought.

When I returned to the campfire, the camaraderie was palpable. We shared stories of dreams and aspirations, hopes for what lay ahead once our mission was complete. I spoke of my desire to return home, to reconnect with family, and to savor the small moments we often took for granted.

As the night wore on, the fire began to die down, and the chill in the air grew more pronounced. I could see fatigue settling in on my team, and I knew it was time to turn in. “Get some rest, everyone. We’ve got a long day ahead,” I said, my voice firm but reassuring.

As I crawled into my sleeping bag, the sounds of the night enveloped me—distant crickets, the soft rustle of wind through the trees, and the muffled voices of my team as they settled in. I closed my eyes, allowing the fatigue to wash over me. The cold breeze filters it's way through my sleeping bag causing me to shudder. This wasn't Scarletts house, her fancy pillows and her three season duvet. This was the marines, thin sleeping bag and the tiniest skinniest pillow the world has ever seen. My stomach growls from the lack of food, ready to eat meals aren't nutritional or filling, just bland and dull. I miss LA, I miss Scarlett, I miss and my siblings.