Hey guys! This is my first adventure into the SwanQueen pairing. This is going to be a military AU, but will definitely be taking some creative license, as I have never served in the military myself. I am however, big into military history and documentaries and such, so I have a pretty good base knowledge about how the different branches work. For the sake of the story, men and women train together in boot camp, with integrated barracks. Please don't torch me if I get the details wrong...this is my story, just go with it :)
Please enjoy, and feel free to comment/review with things you liked as well as constructive criticism. As always, thanks so much for reading!
Even though it is well into the early morning hours, my body is buzzing as I shift on the leather of the bus seat. Looking out the window, it is dark and foggy, and the bus makes a wide turn through the gates of the military base. I've been awake since the early hours of yesterday, first reporting to my recruiter who drove me down to Logan Airport to catch a flight that would bring me to South Carolina. After meeting up with a couple dozen other guys and girls from all around the US, we were corralled by a handful of personnel in crisp camouflage uniforms and told to sit down and wait for some unknown reason. Several mind-numbing hours later we finally piled aboard a drab green bus and started our journey toward the military base.
As the bus pauses briefly at a security checkpoint, I take a minute and glance around the bus. Thankfully, there isn't anyone beside me, but as I look around the dimly lit interior of the bus, I can sense a distinct air of unease from the other men and women. One girl sitting across the aisle looks like she's about to either shit herself or break down in tears. On second glance, possibly both. She looks like she can't be much older than eighteen, and for once I am grateful to be twenty-four with some life under my belt. I focus my gaze back out the window as the bus begins to move again, chewing on my lower lip distractedly as I gather my thoughts in these last few quiet moments.
I'm about to start my training to become a Marine. Holy shit. If all goes according to plan, in a little over twelve weeks I will graduate basic training as a capable soldier. A far cry from the many years I have spent waitressing and bartending just to barely make ends meet. Enlisting had been a decision that I hadn't taken lightly, but I knew that it was a way out of small-town America and a way to make something of myself. For my son.
Reaching into my jeans pocket I pull out the slightly rumpled picture of Henry, wanting some last-minute motivation as the bus pulls to a shuddering stop. I know I am smiling as I run my finger over the glossy picture, his handsome grinning face smiling back at me, but I don't care. He's only three years old and leaving him behind in Maine was easily the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I give the picture a quick kiss and tuck it back into my pocket, sending up a silent prayer to whatever gods are up there to keep him safe and happy with his grandparents while I am away and starting my career in the military. No sooner have I finished the little prayer when my head snaps up at the sound of the bus doors hissing open. I reach over and wrap my hand around one of the straps of my backpack and wait for the inevitable.
Not three seconds later there is a very angry drill instructor clad in his camouflage uniform screaming his damn head off at the entire bus.
"You fuckers have precisely one minute to get your scrawny asses off my bus and get into formation!"
There's a flurry of activity as some of the other guys and girls on the bus have literally just been woken up by the screaming DI, but I'm thankful for my seat close to the front of the bus as I scramble out of the seat and toward the front of the bus. As I do so, I get a quick glimpse of the girl who was sitting across the aisle from me and confirm that she is now crying. Gritting my teeth, I easily descend the few stairs and out of the bus into the cool but humid coastal outdoors. There are several other drill instructors immediately outside and all of them seem to be as angry and loud as the first one, creating a feeling of chaos as we all start to assemble in formation on sets of yellow footprints outside the receiving depot. I quickly slide the straps of my backpack over my shoulders and fall into formation, ending up at the front of one of the lines but immediately placing my feet on the designated area and standing tall as my new squad mates also fall into place. My heart is hammering in my throat, not from fear but adrenaline, and I set my jaw and look forward as I wait for whatever may be coming next.
After what seems like way longer than a minute, we are all finally off the bus and into position. A door opens, and my eyes stray from the fixed gaze they had been in for a brief time as I see another drill instructor exiting the receiving depot.
"Attention on deck!" One of the drill instructors calls out. The handful of drill instructors snap to attention, offering crisp salutes as the new arrival strides smoothly forward. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I suddenly realize that this impeccably uniformed individual is a woman. Her boots are shined to where the moonlight is gleaming off them, with her uniform trousers tucked into the tops of the boots just so. The sleeves of her uniform jacket are rolled above the elbow in perfect folds, exposing toned forearms despite the cool early morning hour. Everything about the way this woman carries herself is military, and based on the insignia on her uniform, she is to be respected. I try not to stare for too long but am thankful for my lucky (or unlucky) position at the front of the formation so I steal a few more glances at this woman.
"At ease."
Oh fuck. The woman's voice is deep and almost sultry. This was going to be interesting. Snapping my gaze back up to stare at nothing in particular, I see the other drill instructors relaxing at ease, following the command of the woman who was clearly their superior.
"Evening, Senior Drill Instructor." One of the drill instructors steps forward and gives the woman's hand a shake. With a quick nod towards where all of us were assembled he gives her a smirk. "They're all yours."
"Thank you, Sgt. Jones." Nodding her head in response, the Senior Drill Instructor pulls off her cap, revealing dark hair pulled back into a precise bun. I can suddenly feel her intense scrutiny as she paces slowly along the front of us, and I swallow a gulp as I realize she has stopped in front of me. She matches my height squaring off her shoulders, and suddenly I realize intense dark eyes are boring into mine. Without meaning to, I hold my breath, trying not to be intimidated by this severe woman in front of me.
Don't look her in the eye…don't look her in the eye…don't look her in the eye…
My new mantra seems to do the trick, and in another moment the dark-haired drill instructor has moved to stand in front of the group, hands on her hips authoritatively as her feet settle firmly a shoulder's width apart.
"My name is Captain Mills," the woman begins, "And I am the senior drill instructor on this base."
My gaze flicks over to the woman as she continues to speak, her voice commanding as she does so.
"The next several weeks will likely be the hardest you have ever experienced. The Marines are not for everyone. We are an elite fighting force, and we demand your utmost effort in every aspect of your training. We will not tolerate anything less than perfection. If you cannot handle this, you will be dropped from training and sent back to whatever pathetic life you lived before you enlisted." She pauses to place her uniform cap back on her head. "Welcome to basic training, recruits."
Captain Mills turns neatly on the heel of her boots and strides back into the building. A soldier holds the door open for her, then remains there, propping the door open. The drill instructors begin to yell again, attempting to evoke more panic from us. Sgt. Jones appears in front of me once again, with a sick grin on his face.
"What's your name, Recruit?"
I square my shoulders and steel myself for what is apparently going to be a very long day.
"Swan. Emma Swan." I yell back, hoping to assert some semblance of confidence as I did so.
Sgt. Jones continues to leer as he raises his arm to point at the now open door to the nondescript military building in front of us.
"Welcome to hell, Recruit Swan. Now get your ass inside that building!" He shoves me roughly toward the building, and I follow orders, running full speed and hearing the heavy footsteps of the other recruits behind me as I did so.
The lights are blinding as I enter the large gymnasium area and my eyes blink several times to adjust as I realize that several more drill instructors are waiting for us. They immediately swarm us, yelling at us to get down and begin doing pushups.
My jaw is set in determination as I assume the position. It's going to be a long day.
After the initial shock of the numerous pushups and sit-ups we had done, the rest of the day turned out to be a lot of standing in line and paperwork. I had been given a few vaccinations, filled out numerous forms, had a brief medical and dental exam, and now found myself in line to collect my gear and uniforms for the rest of basic training. The guys had also been given haircuts, and I couldn't help but grin sympathetically at the guy behind me who was rubbing his now nearly-bald head with a stunned expression on his face.
"Nice haircut Cueball." I tossed casually over my shoulder. "You'll be picking up the chicks in no time."
He looks momentarily offended but moves his hand from where it had been rubbing his head and jams it in one of his pockets. "Fuck you."
Laughing at his response, I turn around. "Emma Swan." I extend my hand toward him and he grips it, giving it a firm shake.
"August Booth."
He releases my hand and I turn to pass my new military identification to the clerk behind a desk. He glances at it and retrieves a stack of tan t-shirts and hands them to me. I toss them in the large green canvas duffle bag that I have been issued and wait for August to complete the same task. Once he is done, we follow the rest of the line, picking up various uniform items and stuffing them into our now bulging canvas bags and making small talk as we do so.
"Where you from Swan?"
"Maine. What about you?"
August stuffs the last of his uniform into his bag and hefts it onto his shoulder. "Virginia."
Nodding, I also heave my duffle onto my shoulder, following the crowd of new recruits as we jog briskly across the base, apparently heading to the barracks, where we will sleep for the next twelve weeks. The drill instructors occasionally harass us as we make our way over there, but now that we are heading into the early evening hours, I am too tired to care. I just want to stay off their radar, keep my head down, and finish my training. I've been assigned to Bravo Company, and I find myself breathing a sigh of relief to find August also is, and we stumble breathlessly into the large barracks together. One of the drill instructors yells at us to find a bunk and place our duffel on the bed, and I scramble to complete this task as quickly as possible, finding an open bunk right by the door. In the less than twenty-four hours I have been in basic training, I have already realized it pays to complete tasks before my peers. Being last or being late means receiving unwanted attention from the drill instructors, and so far, that has meant physical punishment in the form of pushups or a verbal beatdown in the form of a screaming DI. I notice that August has managed to toss his duffle on the top bunk and I grin as he appears beside me as we wait at attention at the end of our bunk for further instructions. Even though we just met, it feels good to have a familiar face already.
Even before one of the DI's calls out the command for attention on deck, I already notice another familiar face striding down the aisle in the center of the barracks. Straightening up, I watch as Captain Mills stops in the center of the room and assesses our group. She has ditched her uniform jacket and is clad in her military-issue tan undershirt with "MILLS" stamped in black ink on her chest, the shirt perfectly tucked into her combat uniform trousers. I try not to look, but my eyes seemingly betray me, making their way to appreciate the way in which the tight tan shirt is stretched over her chest as well as the short sleeves emphasizing more of her toned and tan arms. I can make out the outline of her dog tags that are sitting just underneath her shirt. Even though she is somewhat less formally dressed than the last time we had seen her, almost twenty-four hours ago, she still looks like a woman who commands attention and respect. She undoubtedly has the military bearing that we will all be striving to attain during basic training.
"At ease recruits." Captain Mills' voice echoes throughout the barracks, and I fix my gaze on the floor so my wandering gaze doesn't get me into trouble. "Welcome to Bravo Company. I have the pleasure of being your commanding officer. I have assembled a team of the toughest and most capable drill instructors, and under our instruction you will become a member of the most elite military branch." She paces slowly down the aisle, coming closer to where August and I are. "The rest of the evening is your own time. I expect that you will use it to square away your uniforms and prepare for immediate training in the morning."
Captain Mills stops in front of me and rests her arms behind her back as she assesses me. "What's your name Recruit?"
Internally, I will myself not to stammer. To do so in front of the commanding officer the first day would be a fate worse than death.
"Recruit Swan, ma'am."
Dark eyes travel up and down my body before returning to their starting position. "Well, Recruit Swan, you have the misfortune of picking the bunk beside the door. Do you know what that means?"
Raising my chin slightly I set my jaw. "No ma'am."
Captain Mills chuckles quietly, and the sound makes a shiver go down my spine. "You are now Bravo Company's Recruit Commander. I typically assign this position based on the unfortunate soul who picks this particular bunk."
I swallow thickly, hoping that the warmth I can feel spreading across my face because of the unwanted attention isn't easily noticed by this intimidating woman in front of me.
"Recruit Swan, you are now in charge of Bravo Company. Bravo Company will either succeed or fail under your leadership. I hope you will be up to the task." She turns and heads back down the aisle. "If you are not, you will be replaced." She strides confidently down between the rows of nervous recruits. "Get some rest recruits. Your training starts tomorrow."
With a motion for the other drill instructors to follow her, Captain Mills exits the barracks through one of the side doors, and I exhale the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. August claps a hand down on my shoulder sympathetically.
"Good luck Commander Swan."
"Fuck you Booth." I brush his hand away but give him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Lucky me, I guess."
We begin to put away our uniforms as an air of nervousness settles throughout the barracks. Although we are all exhausted and ready for bed, we feel unsettled about not knowing exactly what to expect when training starts tomorrow. I enjoy trading teasing insults with August as we ready our uniforms for the day tomorrow, and I already know that we are going to be good friends after only a few hours together. Eventually, lights go out around ten o'clock, and we settle into our bunks, most of us too wired to get any rest. I fall into a fitful sleep, being woken every so often by August rolling over restlessly in the bunk above me.
I'm rudely awoken the next morning at four o'clock, falling out of my bunk in surprise as the doors slam open and the bright lights burn our bleary eyes. It's only when the drill instructors begin to scream, and I pick myself off the cold floor to stand at attention in my undershirt and boxer briefs, that I wonder exactly what the fuck I've gotten myself into.