Disclaimer: I do not own Terra Nova. I wish I did, but I don't.
This was inspired by Letters From Home by John Micheal Montgomery.
Please excuse any and all mistakes. I hope you enjoy reading it.
She'd just returned from sparring practice with Payton when mail came. Her hair was messy, little curls forming among the pony tail as her hair soaked up the sweat she had worked up. Her boots were a bit muddy, and she really would've liked to gone straight to a shower, but mail came first. Always first.
Wash pictured it sometimes when she down in the trenches, imagined the feel of paper against her fingers. Sometimes, messages were sent on a plex, but old-fashioned paper was preferred. No one could explain it, not the families, not the soldiers. But there was a sense of comfort that paper letters carried with them.
And so Wash waited with her unit, preparing herself. It wasn't often that she received mail, all that was waiting for her at home in the United States was her grandfather, and he rarely ever wrote.
Taylor was the first to receive his letter. She watched with a small twinge of jealousy as he unashamedly ripped open the letter and begun to read.
Martinez, Ashley, and Payton were the next three names called out.
"Corporal Washington." the carrier called out.
Wash kept her composure as she took her letter, not showing her eagerness or surprise. She waited until she was leaning up against a back wall before opening her letter. She glared at the envelope when it sliced her finger, drawing forth a small bead of blood. She sucked on her finger for a moment, ridding it of the sting, before pulling out the letter inside.
She read it it twice, hardly believing her eyes. Eyes that were becoming increasingly blurry. Her grip on the letter tightened, crinkling the paper.
Faintly, she could hear the others talking about their letters ("Mama sends her best y'all," Payton said, causing others to laugh. His southern accent was charming at times.), people bragging about their children, or sighing about their siblings or parents.
"Wash?" Taylor called. "You okay, Sargent?"
Wash tore her gaze from the letter in her hands and blinked hard, forcing the blurriness away. She met the eyes of her Commander, her, dare she say it, friend (she usually just thought of it as comradeship, to make friends in a war zone was just asking for a world of hurt). The ghostly blue eyes rendered her speechless for a moment, piercing her in a way that brought back the blurriness.
"Yes, sir." She answered.
"Did somethin' happen at home?" Payton asked.
Wash shook her head.
"What's your letter say? Whose it from, your grandfather?" Ashley asked.
Wash nodded. Hesitantly, she read the letter out loud, much like how Taylor had been reading a letter from his son moments before or like how Martinez had read a letter from his pregnant wife.
"'Dear Alicia, I know I haven't written, and I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. I've been sitting in the kitchen all night trying to figure out what to write, and something has occurred to me. I might not have said it, so I'll say it now. Alicia, you make me proud. Keep fighting, soldier, you give an old man hope.'" Wash finished.
For a minute, all was quiet. Wash didn't give away a lot of details about her life, but she had let slip that her grandfather was hard to please. But more surprising than that, was the redness in the battle-hardened woman's cheeks, the slight waver in her voice, and shiny-ness in her eyes.
No one laughed at her, and she was thankful for that. To have her moment of weakness exploited would have been humiliating (the moment was embarrassing enough).
It was gone as soon as it had come, though. She flicked a hand over her face, erasing all evidence of the emotion.
She huffed out a breath, folding the letter and putting in a pocket in her shirt.
"Well, I'm going to go take a shower. Anyone up for shooting practice in a half hour?" she asked.
"Martinez and I will join you." Taylor said. "We were planning on going down to the range, anyways."
Wash nodded. "I'll meet you there." she said, heading for the door.
She was halfway down the hall when she heard footsteps behind her. She stopped and turned on her heel to meet the person, recognizing the rhythm of the footsteps.
Taylor gave her a warm smile before stopped before her. "Are you alright, Wash?"
Wash returned the smile with one of her own.
"Yes, sir."
And for the first time in a long time, she meant it.