I said WWI, but honestly I should've said WWII. World War I I is one of my favorite ties in US history. It always has been for whatever reason. I'm intrigued by every aspect- the war itself and the homefront.

I hope I'm clear when I say I do not like war much, but WWII is just flat out interesting to me, just as the Frontier and Colonial times interest me.

It seems that everyone always talks about the baby boo, after the Second World War and the men who left almost grown children behind, but there had to little ones who saw their fathers off to war, right?

"There's a letter for you on the shelf." Astrid nodded towards the little wooden kitchen shelf where a single envelope lay in the middle.

"From who?" Henry questioned, glancing at the shelf.

Astrid didn't answer him, only continued to put the dishes away.

He hadn't moved from leaning against the doorframe. "Did you open it?"

"No," she said shortly. "It's addressed to you."

"Is it...?"

"I don't know. I've never seen one before."

"So why didn't you open it?"

"If it is one and we don't open it, it never happened, right?" she hadn't looked at him once, like pretending it couldn't be a draft letter really would make the whole thing go away.

"I'm afraid the world doesn't work that way, sweetheart."

"I know it doesn't. I'm just... Scared, I guess. I can't loose you."

"Hey now, who said anything about you loosing me? We don't even know if that's what it is."

"Open it then. Get it over with." she said, shutting the cabinet and turning to face him, leaning back on the counter, supporting herself with her hands.

She watched him move towards the shelf and pick up and inspect the envelope carefully before he opened it. He read the enclosed paper with a blank expression, before he threw it down on the table next to him.

"I have until the fifteenth." he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair, the anxious habit he had since he was a boy.

That wasn't even two weeks away. She didn't even have fourteen days left before he was sent away from her. She might never see him again.

Her stomach twisted in knots. She tried to think of something, anything that could get him out of having to leave.

"You have asthma." she whispered lamely after a moment.

"I haven't had it since I was a kid." he replied, as equally softly, looking away from her and at the clock in the living room that was cheerily ticking away what very well might be his last moments in that house.

Their house was perfect. It was everything they could have ever wanted. It had a nice kitchen, plenty of room for a family, a beautiful yard...

That house was their house. The very first decision together after their wedding they had made was buying that house. It was special because it was theirs. Their boys had been brought home to that house. He never wanted to leave it. Leaving that house meant leaving his family. His family was his world.

Astrid tried again. "You have kids."

"They're sending kids, Astrid. They aren't going to let me stay home just because I happen to be the father of two children." Oh, good Lord, the boys. How were they going to tell them?

"...Three."

He looked back to her like she was crazy. "I'm fairly certain we tucked only two into bed just a bit ago."

She met his eyes, almost timidly, squeezing the edge of the counter. There were tears glinting in her blue eyes. "I'm pregnant."

"What?"

"You heard me." She had been so happy just that morning, hoping to tell him as soon as the boys were in bed. But when the mail came in the early afternoon and that letter showed up, everything was dulled.

Henry was shocked. He felt numb. "Oh, Astrid..."

She sniffled and squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't going to cry. She absolutely was not going to cry.

Henry crossed the room and pulled her into an embrace and her walls crumbled. She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in desperation, and he just held her as she cried, whispering into her hair that everything was going to be alright somehow. That he would come home to her and their children. That he was going to be fine. He also kept repeating over and over again how much he loved her.

A handful of days later, they said their goodbyes. And her Henry was gone.

Joshua was six, so he understood some. Michael was barely three, he couldn't understand. He cried for hours.

Astrid had tucked both of her sons into bed that night with goodnight kisses and 'I love yous' and promises that their daddy would come home safe and sound soon.

As soon as she was alone, she cried too.

A/N: Well, there's that. Now I'm sad. I will absolutely be revisiting this setting. WWII has so much potential to set stories around. I know the only real obviously WWII thing was the draft letter, but the more I write about it, the more history I'll drag into it.

Coming up I have: Pioneer Kids meeting some Native Americans, The Revolutionary War, and WWI. If you have any requests, don't be shy and let me know! I'll be happy to write it for you.

Please let me know what you thought about this chapter! See you next time!

~Pink