December 18th
"You're late, Miss Swan," Regina coolly said when Emma entered Granny's diner and approached the booth her son and his mother were occupying.
"By like thirty seconds," Emma volleyed, ready to unload on the brunette before she saw her son's expression and decided to hold back. Seeing the empty mugs on the table, Emma added warmly, "Ready to go, Kid?"
"I will determine when we leave," Regina said after standing and drilling her dominance directly into Emma's eyes. Both women quelled the desire for their hormones to dictate their actions, regardless of the public nature of their current predicament.
"I thought we agreed to be civil. For the Kid. Having us both there is what we arranged," Emma uttered quietly enough so that only Regina could hear. Instinctively they turned and saw the despair creep into Henry's eyes as he witnessed his mothers verbally spar over him once more.
"Time to see Santa?" Regina said with fake enthusiasm that almost passed as the real thing.
"Yes. Though let's not pretend it's actually Santa or one of his helpers that I'm meeting this year. I know I am going to see whatever overweight man you found in the town that was willing to dress up in a red suit. Just like we did last year, and the year before that, and the year before that," Henry said as he rose from the booth, and showed his disdain that his simple gesture to let Emma take him had backfired tremendously. Regina had been jealous and highly reluctant to part with this tradition and had therefore invited herself to join them.
"Come on, it'll be fun!" Emma said trying to infuse the Christmas spirit as she followed him out of the door. "Besides, what gives? You believe in fairy tales, but not Santa Claus?"
"I believe enough so that Santa, AKA, Mom, still brings me gifts," Henry whispered wryly to only Emma before his other mother caught up with them.
"Then, why did you ask me to take you?" Emma asked confused.
"You never got the chance to. After this year, going to see Santa will just be sad." Henry may have intended for the words to be only for his blonde mother, but both heard. Emma felt unable to process the sweetness of Henry's gesture, which had hurt Regina in equal measure.
"Well, if this is to be the last time, then we shall make the most of it. All of us, together," Regina said through gritted teeth. She was seething that not only was Emma impinging, but her son was slipping from her grasp as he matured.
"We'll walk there," Henry called as he saw both of the adults naturally walk towards their vehicles. He would do anything to avoid conflict, even walking in the bitter cold and listening to his parents complain about it.
"Good to see you, young man," the Santa declared with a sense of chipperness that only the perpetually jolly could successfully portray without being irritating.
"Hi, fake Santa," Henry replied, his solemnness on full display. The man in the red suit debated correcting the boy but saw the futility of doing so immediately.
"So," he began, hoping his latest customer would fill in the gap.
"Henry." He may have obliged, but he wasn't feeling any of the excitement meeting Santa had previously brought him.
"So, Henry. What would you like for Christmas this year?"
Henry was about to spout off his prepared answer about toys and games, until, his attention was broken by hearing Emma loudly say, 'hey' from behind him. He turned and looked at his mothers, who both ceased their conversation immediately and greeted his stare with a forced smile. Henry sighed and returned his focus to the expectant man who gave him an understanding smile. The action made Henry forget social normality and state exactly what he had silently wished for.
"I want a proper Christmas. One that's full of love and laughter. I want to feel like I am part of a family." Henry was thoroughly dejected, and everything from his tone to his slumped shoulders conveyed this easily. Knowing that his extended family was here in Storybrooke, but their cursed personas didn't know their connection to him, secretly tore his heart apart. It wasn't that Regina hadn't made him the center of her world, but laughter wasn't something he associated with her.
"It seems like your, Moms?" Santa said with uncertainty, feeling pleased when Henry nodded, "Love you," he added.
"They do. In their own way. There's a lot of tension there though." Henry was now thinking about the fairy tale world that he was working with Emma to expose at his other mother's expense. Complicated didn't appropriate cover the dysfunctional nature of his relationships with his parents.
"Well, love is the strongest magic of all. Believe a little, and amazing things can happen." Henry nodded dubiously and examined his moms, who were continuing to smile in his direction while bouncing in the cold to keep warm. He was certain that both women would move the earth for him and that it was because of this, they fought each other with such conviction. After absorbing Santa's words, a trickle of hope entered Henry's heart that tomorrow could be a Merry Christmas. Minimally, it would certainly be different as Emma was invited to dinner; it wouldn't just be him and his mom for the first time in his life. All he had to do was keep them from killing each other over the roast potatoes.
"Thanks, Santa!" Henry called gleefully, hugging him, already feeling the warmth of optimism. As he held Santa a little longer than was perhaps necessary, and the focus of the crowd was on the pair. Therefore, no one saw the air around them twinkle slightly as a little Christmas magic found its way to Storybrooke and covered the boy.
"Just believe," he said with a wink before they posed for their photograph. Henry's beaming grin brought warmth and joy to his mothers whose expressions mirrored his. Both relished and appreciated their son had participated in giving them this memory.
Christmas Day
Henry yawned and sleepily turned onto his side, only to realize he wasn't alone in his bed. Before he could open his eyes, he felt his cheek being licked and his nose being simultaneously tickled by fur. He felt relief when he discovered the source of both sensations was a golden retriever that had nuzzled into his side.
"Hey, where did you come from?" Henry asked as he began to pet the dog lightly before looking at his tag that was hanging from a bright red seasonally-appropriate collar. "Biscuit," he said, reading the name. The dog tilted his head in affirmation. "Oh my God. She got me a dog for Christmas!" Henry practically squealed with excitement.
Henry sprinted out of bed with Biscuit in tow, almost slipping on the landing, before careening down the stairs toward the smell of coffee and pancakes. His motion was suddenly halted when he saw his blonde mother, in winter pajamas, sipping coffee at the kitchen island.
"Emma?" He asked thoroughly confused, for she had said goodnight after the Christmas Eve service and wasn't supposed to be coming over until later that afternoon.
"Emma? Kid, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, why?"
"You haven't called me Emma in years," she said looking hurt at the use of her Christian name; her wide smile that greeted him had now disappeared.
"Huh?" Years? Henry wondered. He'd only met Emma a few months ago.
"Merry Christmas my little Prince," Regina exclaimed with excessive brightness as she entered the room, having been preoccupied with setting the dining room table for their traditional grand Christmas. He was shocked to see that not only was his mother wearing pajamas, but the whimsical penguin pattern they adorned matched Emma's. She ruffled his hair as she passed before placing a swift kiss on Emma's lips on her way to the stove to start heating the eggs. Her actions were so distracting that Henry hadn't noticed that Biscuit had sat next to him.
"Wait, what?" Henry's confused expression turned into one of awe when Emma rose to approach him, and her diamond engagement ring twinkled as it refracted the rays from the overhead lights. The back of her right hand now rested on his forehead, seemingly searching for a medical ailment.
"He doesn't have a fever," she said to a now perplexed Regina, her voice full of concern.
"Of course not. I'm fine!" Henry declared. His brain was in overdrive trying to understand the scene before him. Were his parents performing a ridiculous skit? Was he still dreaming?
"You think he's ill?" Regina asked coming to his other side.
"He called me Emma, and he looks pale," Regina's expression changed from curiosity to one of terrified intrigue. She lifted her hand and rested on the side of her son's face, finally seeing what had caused her wife such concern. Their son looked lost, ashen, his breathing rapid.
"Henry, do you need to sit down?" Regina asked softly, starting to rub his back, hoping it would calm him. The canine at his feet felt his distress and started to whimper.
"You guys are married? And we have a dog?" He asked with a tremble in his voice, backing away from them.
"Maybe he hit his head? We should take him to the hospital," Emma suggested, her voice demonstrating her alarmed state.
"Guys, no. I'm not hurt, I'm..." Henry stammered while begging the lightbulb to come on in his brain to explain this scenario. Could this be a dream or had he awoken in an alternative reality? A different realm? It was certainly possible, he had read about such things in his storybook. He looked at his parents planning his next move when he appreciated that love was the dominant force between them. His parent's being a couple, together like this wasn't something that had ever occurred to him, but he immediately liked the notion of it.
"Then what's wrong, Henry?" Regina asked, maintaining distance but closing their physical gap with gentle, soothing words.
"I, I was still dreaming I think. Biscuit woke me from it. I'm fine. I promise. I'm sorry for scaring you both." The boy's voice gained strength as he spoke. His stammered explanation seemed to calm his parents, for the furrowed lines of their brows softened. It was then that he noticed Regina looked a little older, with a few more lines around her eyes. As far as he could tell, Emma looked as she had yesterday.
"So, you're okay?" Regina inquired, slowly approaching him.
"Yes! I'm great. Morning Moms! Merry Christmas!" He said rushing forward to hug them both simultaneously to cease their staring. As foreign as this was, to be held by them as a family, he wanted to prolong this experience for a long as he could. In this moment he didn't care why he was experiencing an alternate reality, he just wanted to enjoy it.
"Merry Christmas Kid," Emma said as she checked his head for bumps to be sure they weren't dealing with a concussion. She couldn't refrain from doing so.
"I think I heard Santa last night," Regina teased, hoping to get their Christmas morning back on track.
Henry's eyes lit up with anticipation before he turned and ran toward their mantle in the living room. He became stoic with wonderment after entering, for he had never seen their living room decorated this way. The tree was incredibly similar, however, many of the ornaments were unknown to him and appeared to be homemade. There was plush blankets on a different, less formal couch. Snowman decorations were plentiful and had created a winter wonderland.
What drew his attention to most though was the mantlepiece and the picture that hung above it. The tasteful artwork the hung there was replaced by a family portrait of the three of them. He suspected he was around five years old when it was taken. Resting on the mantle's surface were pictures of what he could only presume was his mother's wedding day. In another frame was him in his school uniform, both his moms by his side, smiling, and radiating happiness. His wished he had the memories these pictures implied should exist. He lifted each, in turn, analyzing them for clues before he finally turned to the door, where he sensed his mother's standing gazing at him and sharing a fretful look.
"Moms, I'm fine," Henry said giddily. He still couldn't quite fathom this life he was being presented with. They were a family and had been for a long time. He knew he had to act as they expected or he was going to be spending his day around doctors and having a long conversation with Archie. Desperate to conform, he wondered if the routine would be the same as it was when it was just him and Regina. "I get to open Santa's gifts before breakfast, right?"
"Yes," Regina answered hesitantly. "Henry are you quite sure you are okay? Your acting, well, differently."
"Mom, I'm great. I'm really happy. How about you guys sit and tell me again how you met while I get tangled in tape and ribbon?" Henry was rather pleased with his plan, not only would the attention not be on him, be he could also gather background information about his new life might help him understand what was happening.
"You want to hear about how you brought us together? Shocking," Emma teased, nudging Regina's elbow. They smiled at each other, and Henry continued to observe them as Regina lightly stroked Emma's arm. The action was tender and natural.
"Always. Tell it like I've never heard it before. Don't skip over any of the details." He used his cheeky grin to convince them he was fine and settled with his stocking next to the tree. He concluded this was a curse of some kind, for he pinched himself to conclude he was conscious.
"Let me just turn off the stove and grab our coffees," Regina said leaving Emma behind.
"You can call me Emma if you want to," Emma delicately said from the doorway. Her rising emotions destroyed any the evenness in her voice.
"Ma, Mom, no." Henry suddenly realized he had no idea what name he called Emma by in this reality and hoped the speed of his speech covered up any errors he had made. "I was dreaming that we were cursed, and we'd just met a few months ago. In it, I wanted to call you Mom, but you weren't ready for that yet. You were, a bit, reluctant."
"I'm here. I've been here for a long time, and I'm not going anywhere," Emma said quietly, before kneeling before him, so he could look directly at her and appreciate the depth of her sincerity.
"I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." Henry and Emma hadn't shared sentiment like this before, and it tore through him. He'd liked Emma from the night they met, but he hadn't realized how much until now, that what he felt was undeniably love.
"And we haven't been cursed in years. All that is in the past," Emma added trying to reassure him.
"I was right," he muttered.
"About what?" Henry pulled Emma into a hug so she couldn't see the astonished look on his face or have to answer the question. Fairy tales were real. Emma believed. It had all worked out, and we were happy. Emma was desperate to hold her son and feel that their love was unaltered, and they held their position until Regina reentered breaking their concentration from one another.
"Everything alright?" She asked as she placed the cups on the table.
"Everything's great, it's Christmas! Time for presents and the story!" Henry proclaimed finally turning his attention to his over-stuffed stocking.
Emma and Regina obliged to Henry's desires and sat curled into one another on the couch while Henry opened an assortment of games, stationery, and festive clothing. His planned tactic, while he listened, was to keep his eyes on the parcels and Biscuit when he could, so he wouldn't show he was surprised as the next element of the story was revealed. What excited him most was for hearing how his moms fell in love, not the wrapped presents that were waiting for him.
"Where do you want us to start from?" Regina wondered as she looked at Emma, pleased to see her smile had returned.
"The very beginning, literally. Before I was even born. And remember, tell it like I've never heard it before," Henry replied enthusiastically. Regina gestured to Emma that she had the floor, knowing that she needed to be the one to start the tale.
"Well, as you know, when I was pregnant with you, I was in prison. So, I put you up for adoption, so that you could have your best chance in life. I didn't have anything to offer you. I was young and penniless, I hadn't even completed high school. I wanted you to have a better childhood than I did."
"At the same time, I was looking to adopt, but I wasn't having much success as I was a single parent. Back then the process was a little more rigid than it is now," Regina interjected, squeezing Emma's hand as she knew thinking about these moments before they met were difficult. "I had signed up with a few agencies all over the country, looking for that one mother that would take a chance on me."
"Your mom's file made its way to me, and it stuck out," Emma continued, comforted by remembering that all the pain she had suffered had brought her here. "All I knew about her was that she was a Mayor of a small seaside town and her words which expressed how she wanted to be a mother and couldn't conceive."
"I remember visiting you in prison," Regina said starting to laugh.
"You did not fit in there at all," Emma retorted while chuckling too at the memory.
"No. Wearing a skirt and heels to a woman's prison was an oversight on my part."
"Your Mom was so stuck up, and she thought a lot of herself. While I was this," Emma trailed off, trying to find words that didn't fall into her old patterns of self-deprecation.
"A person experiencing unfortunate circumstances," Regina clarified.
"Thanks." Emma leaned in reflexively, to share a tender kiss. The pause in narration prompted Henry to look up briefly, and after witnessing this action, he appreciated how they were a perfect match. "I guess you could say my mind was made up instantly. You were uptight, but your written words were laced with love. I felt like you had the right balance to raise him." Subconsciously, Emma used the pad of her thumb from her free hand to rub circles into her wife's as she gazed into Regina's soulful eyes, showing her opinion hadn't changed over the years.
"Wow, Lego Batman! Thanks, Santa!" Henry called gleefully, thinking he had to appear enthusiastic about his gifts to not raise suspicion that he hadn't heard this tale previously.
"Santa obviously got your letter," Regina said teasingly. Everyone in the room knew Henry's Santa was the pair sitting on the couch.
"Anyway, I didn't want to meet anyone else, I was decisive," Emma continued when Henry moved onto opening the next gift. "We signed the papers the next day, and I didn't see your mother again until you were born."
"Yes, I was there. Not that I was much of a birthing partner."
"No. That was awkward."
"To say the least," Regina agreed, her head shaking with slight horror at the memory. Henry was practically convulsing with laughter at this notion considering how they had behaved around each other the day before.
"You were born, and at Regina's request, I met you. I didn't want to, I thought it would be too hard to hold you, to gaze into your eyes and then never see you again. In those years where we weren't in each other's lives, I regretted it." Regina saw the agony of that moment resurface in her wife's eyes and lovingly ran the back of her fingers down her cheek in support.
"I'm sorry. I thought it would have been for the best, so you were sure you wanted what we agreed." Henry couldn't look at his parents. Their reflection in the silver bauble in front of him and the honest delivery of their words was enough to bring tears to his eyes. His adoption was not something they had properly discussed and by their demeanor he sensed it wasn't something his mothers talked about often either.
"It's okay. With hindsight, I'm glad I have that memory of you. Your little hand reached out of the blanket and grabbed my pinky. I knew then that I wasn't ready to raise you, even though I loved you." Regina wiped away Emma's developing tears before the blonde shook herself back to happier thoughts. "I handed you back to the nurse and you and your mom were gone. Forever out of my life." Emma looked at Regina expectantly, conveying she wanted the story to move on to their reconnection rather than their separation.
"I brought you here to Storybrooke, and we went about or days. I named you after my father and a man I once loved. You'd cry all the time, more than I thought a child should. I loved being your mother." Regina paused, to consider how to phrase what her motives had been. "There was something unexpected that happened every time I looked at you though; I saw Emma too. I eventually realized that even though I barely knew her, I wanted her to be part of your life. That, perhaps it might hurt more long-term if you didn't know each other. By the time I reached out, she was out of prison and traversing the country in that ridiculous yellow bug of hers."
"Hey!" Emma cried.
"It fluoresces, Emma," Regina noted. "I used my resources to track her down, which was challenging due to your lack of-"
"Employment, address, and desire to pay any taxes," Emma supplied happily. Regina nodded approvingly at this summary.
"We finally met in Boston just before your third birthday."
"Yeah, I was living in my car, and she knocked on the window I was using as a pillow. Scared the crap out of me. I hadn't quite got my life together yet." Emma tried to hide it, but she was ashamed of how little direction her life had following her incarceration.
"Perhaps not, but when you saw each other, there was an instant connection. It was like you recognized your mom, Henry."
"Sounds super cute," he added, playing with Biscuit's ears.
"That's one term for it," Emma acknowledged chuckling lightly. "I agreed to come and stay for the weekend, and, well, I've never left."
Henry gazed at his parents as Emma rested her head on her wife's shoulder as Regina kissed the top of her head softly. He tried to absorb how idyllic this moment was, how overwhelmingly happy this version of his life made him. How deliriously euphoric his moms were. It was a dream he'd never had come true.
Henry was sitting at the Christmas table in the late afternoon surrounded by family. The snow-covered Charmings had arrived two hours earlier with their four-year-old twin boys and their three-month-year-old daughter. Emma called them Mom and Dad, and they each hugged Regina warmly with no trace of animosity between the guests and host apparent.
Prior to their arrival, Henry had been in detective mode, trying to ascertain as much as he could as to how his entire life had changed overnight. His analysis of their behavior had determined that his moms were essentially the same people that had bickered over him yesterday, but softer. It was apparent that they were a unit and had evolved to complement each other perfectly. Although it made him uneasy, he noticed his parents were inclined to physically connect whenever they could, stealing kisses when they passed or touching each other's arms if nothing else was possible.
While the parentals prepared an enormous feast and he was supposedly playing with his new toys in his room, Henry had deduced he didn't, nor ever had a storybook in this reality. By reading a scrapbook of the local paper, he learned the curse had been broken early years ago by his parents and all the craziness that ensued once people learned of Regina's betrayal had long since passed. The town was peaceful, there was no mention of magic, Regina had been re-elected Mayor, and Emma was a deputy sheriff to Graham, who was still alive and well.
What he didn't understand was why his memories weren't altered like everyone else's. Why he didn't remember camping with Emma in the backyard or learning how to ride horses with Regina as the pictures around the house depicted. Instead, he recalled being given the book by Snow White, going to Boston to find Emma, and feeling scared at the prospect of meeting the Evil Queen. He'd ultimately settled on this being another curse, one he was immune from, but it's origin, and ultimate goal still eluded him.
"Are you okay, Henry? You're rather quiet today," Snow observed as she watched her grandson's focus continuously move between each person at the table.
"I'm great! So how about how you got engaged? Can I hear that story now?" Henry asked hopefully towards his parents before plopping a roast potato into his mouth.
"What's with the memory lane stuff, Kid?" Emma asked skeptically." You've been asking for stories all day."
"He did the same with us. He wanted to hear about us finding each other after the curse broke and all about the kids and the farm," David said.
"Yes, Henry, you have been a little odd today. Are you sure you're feeling okay, or are you working on an operation of some kind?" Regina queried. She and Emma had wondered if Henry was exploiting his new-found love for writing to capture their story. He'd always insisted that their narrative was a modern fairy tale that needed to be told.
Henry noticed everyone was staring at him and he had to navigate the next few sentences carefully or a head injury was going to be wrongfully diagnosed again. "No. I just like hearing about the happy times," he answered honestly.
"Aren't you happy now?" Emma asked, worried. Her fork was lowered, and anguish flickered across her features.
"I'm super-duper happy. It's Christmas day. We're all here and we're happy and healthy. The food is delicious, and I got everything I wanted in presents. I just love you guys and want to hear all about how we became a family." Henry may not have intended for his words to be as sentimental as they were, but they affected the adults at the table equally. Each was touched by the purity of the child's definition of happiness.
"It's not much of a story, I should have made it grander," Regina said drawing Emma's ringed hand in for a kiss.
"I think it's perfect," Snow said, gushing. She too loved hearing the retelling of events like these and winked at Henry. She was also grateful her daughter was sleeping, and her boys were eating quietly.
"It was perfect. We'd been dating for a couple of years?" Emma asked Regina, seeking confirmation.
"Two years, one month, four days, and approximately thirty-five minutes," Regina corrected.
"A little over two years," Emma continued. "And, I had recently moved in."
"You'd lived here for three months, one week, and two days," Regina inserted.
"Not that anyone is counting," David mocked.
"On this particular night, someone came home late," Regina said accusatory, "I had wanted to propose for weeks now that we'd established we could live together. This was to be the night, and I had made a romantic dinner for us. You were staying with Grandparents."
"You're welcome," David interjected.
"But I'd decided to run home from work through the woods. And, well, I tripped and fell," Emma paused, not wanting to be teased for what she was about to say next. Reluctantly, she added, "down the hill into a ditch." Her family rolled in laughter.
"Why is everyone laughing, weren't you hurt?" Henry asked.
"No, it was a soft landing. It had been raining, and I was basically covered head to toe in mud. I looked like I'd rolled around in it for a couple of hours."
"Meanwhile I am in a cute little black number waiting for you," Regina interrupted as she sipped her wine. Her smile was radiant as she recalled how Emma looked that night.
"Indeed," Emma said seductively. "I'd dropped my phone and house key in the fall, and despite searching for what felt like hours, I never found them. It started to rain heavily again so I gave up, came home and rang the bell."
"I opened the door and looked at your mother, not laughing at that moment was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," Regina explained.
"A drowned rat is how you described me," Emma added, her face blushing with embarrassment. Henry felt David vibrate with hilarity next to him. "She looked at me up and down with the most expressionless face I've ever seen from her."
"And then what happened?" Snow asked excitedly, loving seeing Emma squirm in her seat.
"What did you say to me exactly?" Emma inquired searching her brain.
"Miss Swan, if you plan on coming inside tonight, I suggest you strip," Regina said offhandedly.
"Yep. Let's remember it's October. She's leaning against the door, drinking wine while she watches me until I'm down to my underwear, freezing my butt off on the porch."
"I offered you a towel," Regina threw back.
"It was a hand towel from the restroom! What was that going to do?" Emma asked incredulously. "Anyway, once I was granted permission to enter, I run upstairs into the shower, having never seen the dining room or kitchen."
"Yes, I took a picture of it for prosperity, it was quite the table setting," Regina supplied dryly. "While she showered, I gathered up the wine and food into a picnic basket and brought it to the bedroom. You took forever, so, I," Regina started to stammer, realizing youthful ears were listening and it was undoubtedly inappropriate to elaborate.
"Joined her," Henry supplied.
"Um, yes, to help get the mud off her back," Regina said trying to protect her son's innocence.
"How many times do you think they went down on each other?" David whispered into Snow's ear.
"David! That's our daughter our talking about!" Snow said while smacking his arm with her hand. She then looked at Regina and Emma who were making 'must-have-you-now' eyes at one another. "At least twice," she guessed.
"Well, after my shower I was still freezing, so I curled under the duvet. Regina somehow produced this beautiful tray, and we ate our dinner of chicken soup and spaghetti carbonara cuddled in bed."
"It's her favorite foods that don't involve melting cheese between bread or an impending diabetic coma," Regina said matter-of-factly, defending her culinary choices.
"It was ideal, thank you, and the wine was a touch of class if that's important to anyone," Emma expressed before staring at Regina. Their affection for one another was bordering on nauseating. "It was the best carbonara I've ever had."
"It's true. I can always tell mine isn't up to scratch," Snow mentioned while cutting up her son's meat.
"Anyway, between the wine, food, and heat I started to doze off. You see, your mom here likes to write messages on my back when I'm settling to sleep, as I lie on my front. It's usually things like I love you, or take the trash out, depending on what mood she was going for."
"Your mother would mumble a reply back and this night was no different. At first, I asked things like, 'are you sleepy?', 'how was work?', before I asked if she liked my dress?" Emma rolled her eyes at Regina comment, knowing full well she should have asked why her girlfriend was dressed in formal attire on a Wednesday night.
"Yes, it wasn't my finest demonstration of my investigative skills," Emma admitted.
"Little miss deputy here didn't even click then, she just said, mmm." Regina was actively mocking her wife as she filled her, Emma and David's wine glasses.
"In my defense, I was nearly asleep," Emma began. "Anyway, so I'm barely conscious, and I'm trying to concentrate on what she's writing next, and my brain was certain that she wrote, 'will you marry me?'"
"She rolled over, and I saw the blank expression on your face, and I thought you were going to say no. You weren't playful like you had been all night. You were completely serious." Regina said, easily conveying the fear she had felt at that moment.
"I turned to her and in the calmest, most even voice possible, I said, 'ask me properly'." Emma looked at her son and winked at him. His broad smile and captivated expression showed how much he was enjoying himself.
"Indeed, you did. I remained calm and pulled out the ring from my dressing gown pocket. I kept it concise and asked, 'will you marry me?'. Nothing fancy, nothing overly romantic, I just wanted to cement that you'd be mine forever."
"Aww," David, Snow, and Henry said in unison.
With a nonchalant shrug, Emma concluded the tale, "I said yes."
"I can't hear the next part, can I?" Henry may be showing his boyish charm, but he knew precisely what they would have been doing. Adult gross stuff.
"I don't know what you mean. I put the ring on, we kissed and then we went to sleep. I was tired after all the running." Regina and Emma shared a look that communicated all the passion they had experienced that night. It was dawn before they slept, and both called out sick with the flu for the remainder of that week.
Henry wouldn't have been able to accurately define a perfect day until that Christmas night. After dinner, they all played games together, took family photographs, and had even managed to lure his parents outside for a rapid snowball fight when Biscuit needed his bedtime walk. He'd never felt such a sense of family, unity, and unconditional love. Never had he heard either of his mom's laugh unrestrained, yet that was the dominant soundtrack of the day. Henry knew in his heart his moms were made for each other. On reflection, it was obvious to him. He didn't care that he didn't remember the same past everyone else in his life did. He watched Biscuit sleep at his feet and all he wanted was for tomorrow to come, as his heavy eyes eventually closed.
Henry rolled over and looked at his clock to find it was 6 AM, which was far too early to be getting out of bed. He snuggled into his pillow after wondering where Biscuit was, before drifting back to sleep as he fondly recalled the best Christmas of his life. Eventually, the smell of pancakes overpowered his senses and made his stomach growl. He didn't understand why anyone else was up and making breakfast on December twenty-sixth. Unenthusiastically he pulled on his robe and matching Spiderman slippers and toddled sleepily down the stairs to find the washed and dressed Mayor flipping pancakes in an over-zealous manner.
"There's my sleepy Prince!" She said with glee before giving him a trademark awkward hug.
"Morning Mom," he replied rubbing his eyes and climbing onto a stool. "Where's Mom? Is she out with Biscuit?"
"Emma?" Regina asked confused.
"Yeah."
"In her apartment I assume. She won't be here until we eat like we arranged yesterday, and I don't think she's bringing biscuits. I can make some instead of rolls with dinner if you would like?"
"Wait, what? She's not here?" How was this happening again? He pinched himself like he did the day before to ensure he wasn't dreaming.
"No. Why would Miss Swan here before seven in the morning, Henry?" Regina was growing concerned as to her son's behavior. He looked confused, lost, and a little pale.
"What day is it?" The boy asked, resulting in a worried, affronted expression on Regina's face.
"It's Christmas Day." She put the frying pan to the side and moved to him, so she could feel his forehead and take his temperature. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine. I guess I had a weird dream. I dreamt we did Christmas already." Henry sounded convincing enough that Regina accepted his reply and moved back toward the stove. Compared to his affirmation that fairy tales were real, this momentary slip from reality was nothing to cause concern.
"I can assure you we didn't and it's today. Now let me put these in the oven to keep warm while we see what Santa brought? I know he came last night, I saw him!"
Henry dejectedly rose and laboriously trundled to the family room with the perfectly ornate tree he remembered seeing year after year. There were no pictures of him and his moms, none of Emma and him. All that decorated the mantle now were the familiar portraits of himself, with his mom occasionally occurring in a frame or two. Henry reached for the comforting feel of Biscuit before he stopped himself as he internally repeated that he wasn't real. None of it had been.
Regina came into the room a minute later and as per tradition sat cross-legged in her chair sipping her coffee to watch Henry open his Santa parcels. Her son didn't turn to face her as he continued to stand and stare at the tree trying his best to hide the fact he wanted to cry. He found the emotional strength to behave as expected and he delved half-heartedly into his Christmas stocking. He found it contained the same items as the day before, an orange, chocolate pennies, and a travel-sized edition of Battleship. The same applied to the larger parcels Santa had left under the tree, they were almost identical to what he had received when Emma had been here.
Henry could no longer contain how empty he felt and cried as he opened his last gift - the Batman Lego game he had spent over a year asking for. Gifts had once made him happy. They had been able to ease the emptiness he'd felt throughout his life but had been unable to place or explain. However, they couldn't triage what he felt on this morning. Regina immediately relinquished her stifled demeanor and now sat next to him, perplexed as to why her son was distraught. If there were two things she knew about Henry Mills, it was that he loved Christmas and he loved video games. His reaction didn't make any sense.
"Did Santa get the wrong game?" Regina asked confused. She had got him version one and Emma had the sequel wrapped to give him later. It was the one thing they agreed to coordinate on.
"No, it's the right game. Thanks, Mom," Henry murmured, wiping his tears on his pajama sleeve.
"Well, it's Santa you need to thank. You haven't opened your gifts from me yet. You get those after breakfast, as always," Regina gently said hoping the anticipation of more presents would fix the problem.
"Thanks, Santa," he said barely above a whisper. It was now apparent to Regina that the present itself wasn't the issue. These weren't tears of gifting disappointment.
"Why are you crying, Henry?" Regina's voice was full of love like he had heard during what he thought was yesterday when his parents were married.
"I, just, it was different, and I liked it. Everyone was happy."
"What was different? Who was happy?" Regina pressed trying desperately to understand why overnight her son had changed. She knew things had been increasingly tense between them this past year, especially since Emma had entered their lives, but it was Christmas. She hoped they could spend the day recapturing the elation experienced in previous years.
"It was a dream, like I said," Henry reiterated, starting to gain control of his tears and accepting that what he had experienced wasn't real. "Did you make apple pancakes?" He asked, sounding brighter, bringing with it a little hope into Regina's heart.
"Of course I did. It's our little tradition." Regina smiled and conveyed all the love she had for him as she stroked his upper arm.
"Thanks, Mom," Henry said weakly before rising and making his way to the kitchen, leaving his presents and his perplexed brunette mother behind.
Henry had remained in a disenchanted stupor the entire morning. His expression barely lifted from the frown that framed his features. When Emma rang the bell, he sprinted from his self-inflicted isolation toward the sound, hoping that her arrival would recapture some of his Christmas spirit that had escaped him.
"Woah, Kid," Emma expressed as he ran into her, her balance almost lost as she stumbled backward.
"Mom! I mean Emma," he corrected seeing her fear when he had called her Mom. "Merry Christmas!," he added excitedly as an overcorrection as he ushered her indoors.
"Merry Christmas," Emma said to him and inadvertently to Regina who came from the kitchen to greet their guest. The tension between them was palpable and already made the air feel cooler.
"May I take your coat, Miss Swan?"
"Yes, thank you. This is for you, or us I suppose," Emma said as she awkwardly handed Regina a bottle of red wine.
"Are those for me?" Henry wondered, indicating the gifts in his hands.
"You bet," Emma said with a smile.
"Can I open them now?" Henry asked excitedly, staring at the Mayor for permission.
"Yes. Why don't you and Emma go into the living room, and I'll get our guest a drink. What can I get you?" She directed at Emma. If she intended for her words to make Emma feel a little unwelcome and uneasy, the delivery was successful.
"Some of your apple cider would be great, thank you. If you have any." Emma was purposeful in her speech, determined to act as a guest in this home should. As a consequence, Emma's tone wasn't warm, and her stance was slightly rigid. Regina didn't even dignify the request with a verbal response, but instead gave a terse nod and fake smile before turning on her heel. She'd analyzed the blonde with a single swift glance and processed how it would feel to rip the cute red sweater Emma was wearing off her body in one fluid motion as she walked away.
"How's your day been?" Emma asked her son as she glanced around the decorated room and the pile of opened presents Henry hadn't found homes for yet.
"It's been okay. Can I ask you something, secretive?"
"It's not part of the operation, is it? Today will be hard enough without-"
"No. It's something else. Have you ever lived a day, then re-lived it?"
"Since moving here? Frequently."
"No, like an alternate reality?"
"No, that's never happened to me. Are you saying you re-lived a day?"
"Yes, this day, yesterday."
"Yesterday it was Christmas Eve, I didn't come here," Emma clarified, thoroughly confused. "So, it's not the same as today." Henry was about to explain further but refrained from doing so when he heard his mother's clicking heels approach.
"Here you are, Miss Swan," Regina said curtly, handing Emma a warm mug of steaming cider.
"Can you call me Emma for today at least? If we are going to play moderately-happy families for Henry, we can at least go by our first names." Regina scowled before nodding her acceptance of Emma's suggestion. "Thanks, this is delicious," Emma added gesturing the mug in her hand.
"Can I give you your gift now?" Henry said excitedly.
"Sure thing, Kid," Emma said as she scanned the room assessing where she should sit. The first time she had been in this house, she hadn't felt the need to conform and simply sat where and how she wanted. Now though, to make this day run smoothly for Henry, she didn't want to irritate Regina and hoped to take the hostess lead on acceptable social behavior. What she wanted to do was pin Regina against the wall and taste her forbidden fruit, but assume such actions would lack an element of class.
"It's upstairs, I'll be right back," Henry called, already running frantically to his room.
"Is he okay?" Emma asked once the women were alone.
"He's perfectly fine," Regina said dismissively.
"He hasn't been acting strangely at all today?" Emma pressed, convinced that if Henry thought he was reliving a day, there would be signs. Regina averted her eyes momentarily, and that was enough to inform Emma that their son hadn't been normal this morning.
"Not at all. He's happy."
"Sure he is." Emma took a large gulp of her cider, hoping to feel its effects quickly to make this situation tolerable.
Henry regretted demanding Emma came for Christmas dinner about halfway through their meal. This experience was everything the previous day's hadn't been. Not only did laughter not bounce off the walls, but the conversation was also so stifled it was verging on painful. Each had tried to ease the suffering by cycling through common points of discussion, from presents, to school, to the brilliance of the food presented. Nothing had instigated an atmosphere that could charitably be called relaxed. He believed Emma's presence would make this the best Christmas possible, but the reality was the inverse. Christmas's with Regina had always been far superior to this one.
"So, Kid, would you like to play some Xbox after dinner?" Emma asked trying to raise Henry from what seemed to be a depressed state that both women were becoming acutely aware of. "If that's okay, of course," Emma directed at Regina.
"I think that would be great, don't you, Henry?" Regina offered. In truth, she hated seeing her son like this, and despite their differences, if Emma could help, then she would accept it on this occasion.
"Okay," Henry said so quietly it was barely audible as he played with his vegetables. His mothers exchanged a worried look, silently agreeing on an immediate truce and would band together do whatever was needed to save this day. After all, it was for Henry's benefit that Emma was here at all.
"Do you want to talk to us?" Regina asked, lowering her fork and looking at him with empathetic eyes.
"There's no point," Henry began. "You hate each other," he concluded solemnly.
"We don't hate each other," Emma said quickly. "We just disagree on certain things."
Henry didn't want to fight with his parents. In fact, he wanted this nightmare to end rapidly. "Can we play now? I'm not hungry." Henry directed his question at Regina, who failed to cover up the hurt she felt that the food she had been preparing for days hadn't improved the boy's mood.
"Certainly. You can heat some up later when you are," his brunette mother answered, the inflicted pain obvious in her wavering voice.
"Go ahead, Kid. I'll be there in a minute." Following Emma's words, Henry slumped out of his seat and disappeared up the stairs. Emma felt as though she was meeting the real Regina for the first time, as her façade ripped off, as she downed her glass of wine and before refilling it.
"Another?" She asked indicating Emma's glass.
"Sure. So, is it always like this between you two?" It might have been forward, but Emma sensed this was her opportunity to get to the truth. One that didn't involve Regina being the Evil Queen.
"No. Henry was perfectly fine when he went to bed yesterday. Excited about Christmas, Santa, the chocolate log cake, everything."
"And this morning he was acting as he is now?"
"Yes."
"We both want the same thing here. So, if you know something, please share it with me."
The Mayor sighed heavily before giving the piece of information she had garnered. "He said he'd had a dream, that things were different, that people were happy."
"Well that sounds nice," Emma quipped. "Do you think it has something to do with his book?"
"I've never heard him talk about a dream before, but it's possible," Regina said candidly. "Go play with him. I'll take care of the dishes."
Regina rose immediately, and Emma knew the conversation was over. Regina had no desire to continue such a personal dialogue with someone she viewed as the competition. She feared that she had perhaps shared too much.
Henry went to bed early that night and stared at the ceiling as he tried to understand why he had experienced the same day twice. Why the versions had been in sharp contrast to each other. In one, every participant was happy and had a better life. In the other, everyone was miserable even if they didn't show it. Everything was back to how it had been two days ago. Except Henry now had the desire to get his parents together.
"The Evil Queen and the Savior," Henry kept muttering into his empty room. "It's poetic. Symbolic. Light brightening the dark!"
Suddenly, he grabbed his notepad by his bed and started writing everything he remembered from his alternative Christmas. He pondered on the stories that he'd heard. His moms were brought together through him, he was the force that ignited them to connect. Their romance was not some grand fairy tale, it was human, real, of this world. It was possible. It inspired him to write for hours, detailing every reason his parents should be together. It was a long list. He'd concluded that his happy Christmas had been a gift, a glimpse of what life could be.
Henry slept peacefully hugging his notebook that now contained hope, excitement, and best Christmas present he'd ever received: Operation Moms.