This is my SWEN Secret Santa gift for the-queen-and-her-soldier.
Christmastime with the Charmings is almost exactly as Emma had expected it to be. For the past few weeks their entire apartment has been decked out in Christmas decorations of the most extravagant sort. There is a wreath on the door, lights strung up throughout the apartment, and mistletoe hangs in the doorways so Emma finds herself rushing through them in an effort to avoid being smooched by either her parents or Henry. To top it all off, there is a massive Christmas tree standing in the corner. It's far too large for the apartment and all the lights are only giving Mr. Gold an excuse to wring them dry in extra fees for utilities. In the Christmas spirit Snow and David choose to turn a blind eye, but Emma knows that the tension is rising between her parents and her son's new found grandfather.
But despite the potential family feud, the joy and holiday cheer turn the air into something almost tangible as it hovers around the apartment. It's like a cloud of dandelion fuzz on a sunny summer day. It's light and airy and almost beautiful.
And suffocating.
Emma knows that she should be happy that she is finally spending Christmas with a real family that loves her. She should feel nothing but happiness. After all, how many years had she wished for a family of her own for the holidays? Or any day for that matter. Sure, she spent several Christmases with foster families, and while one or two of them had actually been rather nice, they had never actually felt like a real family. She had always felt like an outsider because that's what she was. She had never had a real family to compare, but there was something deep down inside her that just knew. She knew that it wasn't real.
And so she admonishes herself internally for feeling the same thing when she knows that this is her real family. Her mother and father are there and isn't that what she had wished for her entire life up until this point? And she has Henry, which is more than she could have ever wished for. Giving him up had been the hardest decision of her life and she had never dreamed that she would be spending any Christmas with him.
And yet something still feels wrong. Something is missing and she can't put her finger on it.
It takes her a while to realize what it is, and when she finally does it hits her like a ton of bricks and takes her breath away. She has to step into the other room to avoid awkward questions. She slumps against the wall and breathes hard, trying to fight the tears that prick behind her eyes so she won't turn them red.
This family still isn't entirely hers.
Sure, technically they're her family. Deep down she knows that and outwardly she tries to convince herself that it's true. And after everything she should be happy with any kind of family that wants and accepts her as their own.
But she can't, and with a resigned and slightly tearful sigh she acknowledges that if anyone knows what a true family feels like it's a foster kid. Because that's all they want for Christmas every year and in the absence of it they develop an acute awareness of what it truly is.
And this is not it.
In a way, this feels stolen. Snow and David include her in everything of course, from decorating the apartment to cooking (though she mainly has the job of passing things to Snow so the apartment doesn't end up burned down for the holidays) to singing Christmas carols in a voice so off-key that it makes her blush. But Snow insists anyway because they're family, and that's what family does together for the holidays.
But Emma also catches her parents stealing moments of their own when they think they aren't being seen. This is their first Christmas together, too, and somehow Emma feels as though she is depriving them of their time. And the knowledge that they want another child hangs dark and ominous over her head.
So she tries not to think about it. She pushes the feeling to the background, determined to enjoy the experience that she never dreamed she would get. She ignores the little nagging voice in the back of her mind for the sake of Christmas.
She does, however, begin to take notice of Henry's mood. If she wasn't trying to hard to hide her own feelings she would wonder if he was picking up on her own mood and reflecting it. She is torn between saying something and not calling attention to it in case she is imagining it.
But it only gets worse and the parenting thing isn't doing itself despite how much she wishes it would. She doesn't understand how Regina is so good at it. It comes naturally to her and Emma has never been able to successfully pick it up with the ease that Regina has. But that thought just makes her gloomier and she decides to finally ask Henry what's wrong.
"Hey kid, don't look so down in the dumps! Santa is coming tonight!"
Emma nudges Henry with her shoulder and wipes some flour on his nose, earning herself a grumbled "Momma," and a withering glare that is so akin to the one she receives from Regina on a regular basis that she has to blink a few times to clear her vision.
"You do know I don't believe in Santa anymore, right?" Henry says, turning his attention back to the task at hand. The two of them are making a pumpkin pie for the festivities the next day. Neither of them are good for much more than not lighting the apartment on fire and so have resigned themselves to the fact that it won't be the prettiest pie in the world. But Emma's pretty sure it will taste good and it gives her a chance to talk to Henry without prying ears.
Snow and David know nothing of the endeavor, having chosen that evening to sneak out and do who knows what before Christmas. Emma doesn't want to know what is going on, but there had been a lot of giggling on Snow's part as she tried to explain to Emma that they wouldn't be there for Christmas Eve.
"Aw, come on kid, where's your holiday spirit?" she smirks, thinking of Snow's incessantly cheerful attitude of the past few days. Or rather, weeks.
Emma had figured that Henry's less than chipper demeanor was a result of him being "too old" for holiday cheer with his mom and grandparents. He had been rather sullen, and while Snow and David seemed not to notice, Emma did.
And now, with his grandparents gone for the evening, Emma had figured that he would lighten up. When he proved to be continually down in the dumps, she began to worry.
"Hey, what's wrong?" She asks, putting down her rolling pin and frowning at him, deciding that serious talk would maybe be the better strategy. "Is there something you wanna talk about? It's not like you to be so blue."
Henry sighs, also putting down what he is doing. Emma smiles slightly at the interestingly pathetic pie they are slowly putting together. She knows that Snow will gush and tell them that it's wonderful and that David will smile and indulge in eating part of a slice before claiming to be full.
'Regina would tell it like it is,' Emma thinks. Before she can ponder that thought running through her head so unexpectedly, Henry finally pipes up.
"Do you think my mom's ok?" he asks, looking up at Emma in that childish way she hadn't realized she missed.
"Of course she's ok Henry!" she exclaims, not expecting that to come out of the boy's mouth. "Why wouldn't she be ok?"
Henry drops his head again and pokes at some of the pie crust before answering. "This is the first Christmas I've ever spent away from her," he sighs. "It...the mansion's big. It gets lonely sometimes."
Emma's brow furrows as she tries to follow the points Henry is laying out for her. "Henry," she begins cautiously, waiting a moment for him to raise his head and look at her again before continuing to speak. "Henry, who did you and your mom used to spend Christmas with? Before I came along?"
Henry looks confused by the question. "It was just us," he replies, his furrowed brow matching hers and the flour still on his nose. "I'm the only family she has here. And no one would want to spend Christmas with the Evil Queen anyway."
"Don't call her that," Emma corrects, almost without thinking about the statement. She is lost in other thoughts. She cringes as images of a huge empty mansion cross her vision. These lead to unsettling flashbacks of a childhood spent alone and she hesitates before she asks, "So you're telling me that she is all alone in that obscenely large house for the holidays?"
Henry lowers his head again. "Yeah."
Emma smiles as a thought comes to her. It quickly turns into a grin. She claps a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Don't worry kid," she says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "We're gonna make sure your mom isn't alone for Christmas." Henry's face breaks into a grin that mirrors her own and for a moment she marvels at how he can look so much like both herself and Regina. "Now get back to work. We gotta finish this pie so your mom can make fun of us."
Informing her parents that she is planning to spend Christmas evening with their archnemesis wasn't exactly the first thing on Emma's list of fun things to do for the holidays. David takes the news surprisingly well, which she had not been expecting. It's Snow's reaction that is much closer to how Emma had imagined things going.
Her initial reaction is anger. Emma finds herself prepared for this because she knew that Snow would probably be upset that she wasn't getting the entire day with her daughter and grandson. What she hadn't expected was the bargaining. And the guilt tripping. By the time they finally leave the apartment Emma feels as though Snow has made her way through all five stages of grief plus a few more that she came up with on her own.
"But Emma," Snow whines for the thousandth time (oh good God, she is actually whining now). "It's Christmas. You're supposed to spend Christmas with your family!"
Emma rolls her eyes, wishing that Regina had gotten around to teaching her that teleporting trick. They had made it as far as creating fire (and moving planets, though she doesn't think she could manage that one on her own) before leaving Neverland, and while that is a useful enough trick Emma thinks that burning the apartment building down is probably not the best idea. "Henry, come on, we need to go," she calls. "Grab that pie we made last night." She turns to her mother, who wears an expression of mixed anger and weepiness. "Regina is Henry's family, too. She raised him alone for eleven years for goodness sake. She deserves to see him, too."
Snow's expression turns into a glare that Emma acknowledges as slightly intimidating. "You're his mother Emma. We all know that, including Henry and Regina!"
"I most certainly do not, and neither does she!" Emma shoots back, getting very sick of the conversation very fast and wishing that Henry would hurry up. "She is just as much his mother as I am."
Henry takes that very moment to come scurrying down the stairs tucking something into the pocket of his coat. He grabs the pie from the kitchen table and joins his mother at the front door, looking slightly alarmed and confused at Snow, who has taken to clutching the sleeve of Emma's jacket.
"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she asks, beginning to sound slightly hysterical. "Come on, let's build a snowman!" Emma glances desperately at David, silently asking him to save her from his hysterical wife.
"But it's not even snowing! It's like forty degrees outside!" Henry chips in, not fully understanding what is happening between his mother and grandparents. David steps in, taking Snow by the shoulders and gently pulling her against him. He nods at Emma, who smiles at him gratefully.
"Thanks for lunch," Emma says with a slightly sad smile. She is secretly glad that the Charmings do a Christmas lunch instead of dinner. That way Snow can't layer on the extra guilt of them having skipped the Christmas meal with them (not that she won't try). "We'll be home later. And then we can sit around the Christmas tree and drink as much wassail or whatever that you want." She gives her mother a weak smile and hurriedly shoos Henry out the door, reminding him needlessly to be careful with the pie.
"Wanna walk?" she asks him with a smile as they head down the stairs. She can't explain it, but somehow she feels so much lighter now that they are outside of the apartment. "It is pretty nice outside for December. No telling how long that'll last." He gives her a toothy grin and nods. She can tell that he is happy to get the chance to see his other mother for Christmas, and though she would never admit it even to herself, she is glad for the chance to see her as well.
The walk to the mayor's mansion is a cheerful one. She and Henry talk about whatever pops into their heads, namely what they had gotten for Christmas that morning. Henry had gotten some new video games that she knows he is dying to try out. But in the light of seeing his other mother the games are lying abandoned on the floor back at the Charming's apartment still in their plastic wrapping. Emma finds herself unexpectedly proud that he is willing to set aside his much-anticipated Christmas presents for the sake of spending time with his family.
The easy chatting dies down a little as they approach the mansion. It isn't far from the Charming's apartment, and so the time they spent walking had been much shorter than Emma had anticipated. As they walk up the front steps she realizes that she didn't call first. She hasn't even come up with something to say when Regina opens the door. Assuming, that is, that she is even home. Emma doesn't know if Regina decided to spend Christmas somewhere else since she wouldn't have her son there like usual.
She is worrying so much about what she is going to say to avoid getting her head bitten off that she almost doesn't notice that Henry has already climbed up the steps and rung the doorbell. It only takes a moment for the door to swing open. Emma takes in the sight in mild surprise.
Regina looks about as casual as Emma has ever seen her, which isn't saying much. She is wearing a pair of jeans (albeit very fancy jeans), and a comfy looking yet still stylish sweater. Her feet are bare of shoes and she is wearing a pair of fuzzy socks. There is an absence of jewelry but there is a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose and a book clutched in her hand. Emma meets her eyes and realizes with a start that she looks as though she has been crying. Even so, she looks more beautiful than Emma ever remembers her looking. All thoughts of what to say have left her brain as she stands on the woman's porch staring.
Instead, Henry pipes up. "Merry Christmas Mom," he says, holding the pie out to the stunned looking woman.
Once inside, Henry takes no time at all in making himself at home. Which, Emma has to remind herself, makes sense because this is his home. As much as she likes to pretend that the little apartment they currently share with the Charmings is home, to Henry it never truly will be. His home is here. Here is his room, most of his clothes, his books and toys. It is her that is the outcast here.
She leans against the island in the kitchen, watching Regina help Henry get a glass for some eggnog, which he had demanded almost as soon as they got inside the door. Apparently this is some kind of holiday tradition that she is unaware of, because Henry knew exactly where Regina kept the eggnog in the refrigerator. Emma smiles a little at the idea that Regina keeps her kitchen so meticulously that Henry knows exactly where the eggnog is from year to year.
"I'm sorry we didn't call first," she says, finally finding her voice. Regina turns around, looking almost as though she had forgotten the other woman was there. "We were a little distracted trying to get out of the house."
"Yeah, Mrs. Blanchard didn't want us to come," Henry says. He realizes his slip after the fact and looks at Emma quizzically with an eggnog mustache. "I mean...grandma?" Emma shrugs as Regina passes him a napkin, looking as though she is struggling with the urge to wipe his face herself. The little gesture makes Emma want to smile again, but she doesn't because the tension in the air has gotten thick at the mention of Snow. She herself doesn't know any better than Henry what to call the woman. She is still getting used to this strange family tree and is honestly about ready to give it up. It gives her a headache.
"Well, there's no surprise there," Regina states in a low voice. Emma almost doesn't hear her, but Henry catches on immediately.
"She'll be ok," he says, taking a pensive sip of his eggnog, careful this time not to get any on his face. "She's not alone. You were. Emma and I didn't want you to be alone on Christmas."
He goes back to his eggnog, content just to be in his house with his two moms for Christmas. Over the island, Regina and Emma's eyes meet. Regina's hold a question that Emma isn't yet prepared to answer.
But there's also a certain kind of strange sadness in her eyes. It's a kind of sadness that Emma knows all too well. It's the sadness of being beaten down over and over again until there is no hope left at all. It's a black kind of despair that shuts out any silver sense of hope.
It's the kind of sadness that she used to see in her own eyes back when she was in the foster system. It lived there right up until Henry came and found her and brought her back to Storybrooke. That was the moment when she remembers things beginning to change. It was that point when the blackness began to leave her own eyes and that silver hope began to creep in.
It's something Emma notices in the mirror, taking her by surprise in the wee hours of the morning before anyone else has woken up yet and the soft light coming from the window bathes her new found secret in a white glow. There's a hope that she never thought would appear reflected there. And she knows that it's growing.
It's fed and watered by a small boy with a book and a heart full of hope. Emma looks at Henry, who is completely engrossed in his eggnog again, and she can feel Regina's eyes following her. And Emma realizes that her new found hope is also cultivated, though she may deny it aloud, by a petite raven-haired woman who pretends to be larger than life but in reality can be oh so small.
Emma suddenly has the urge to share some of the light with her. The urge to reach out becomes unbearable until she almost does. But Regina has slipped away, back into the darkness. Henry follows her without a question in his heart. Only hope.
Emma wishes she could be as sure as he.
After a moment Emma follows Regina and Henry out into the living room where there is a fire burning in the hearth and a large Christmas tree in the corner. It is flawlessly decorated and Emma smiles at how even the Christmas tree is just so Regina.
But Henry gets up and looks at it, circling it so he can see from all angles. "It looks so sad without all the presents underneath it," he says, not noticing the way Regina's shoulders visibly sag at the seemingly innocent comment. Emma knows that she did Christmas with Henry early, knowing that she wouldn't see her son on Christmas day. Emma wishes now that she had made the decision to come over here early enough that Regina could have given Henry his presents on the holiday itself. She wishes that she had given Henry the opportunity to see the Christmas tree with presents underneath it like when he was a child.
Henry doesn't seem fazed, however. He turns around with a big grin on his face like he has a secret that is just wait to burst from his tiny body. "It's ok," he says. He is fidgeting on the spot now, and Emma is getting a little concerned.
"What's going on kid?" she asks. Regina sits silently, looking like she is afraid to say anything for fear of her son vanishing in a puff of smoke and the whole thing turning out to be some nasty prank. Emma can't blame her. She knows that something of the sort actually did happen when Cora found her way to Storybrooke, and feels a pang of guilt for not believing in Regina quicker at the time.
"I'll be right back," Henry says, and races off to where their coats all hang in the hallway.
Emma tries to avoid Regina's eye as the tension fills the air again. But it's impossible when the woman clears her throat in a way that sounds vaguely tearful. Emma looks up and their gaze meets again.
"Thank you for bringing him over," she says quietly. Emma nods and offers a small smile which Regina returns uncertainly. Emma can tell that she is still waiting for this to be a trick and her heart twists. She doesn't know what she could do to convince her otherwise, but before she can think about it too hard she hears Henry come barreling back into the living room.
"Don't run," Regina says, more out of habit than anything else and Henry rolls his eyes because he knows it. He walks over to them with his hands behind his back and a grin on his face.
"Merry Christmas moms," he says, handing them each what appears to be a small jewelry box. They are both taken aback at the unexpected gesture and Henry laughs at the identical expressions of surprise on their faces. "Open them! You can't leave me in suspense!"
Emma is the first to take hers and Regina follows suit a moment later. Henry bounces on his toes in excitement as the wrapping paper comes off and his moms both open their boxes.
Inside each box is an identical gold colored locket. There are designs engraved on the fronts and Emma finds her breath taken away. "Oh Henry, how did you ever find something like this?" she asks, glancing up at Regina who also looks as though she has stopped breathing.
"Mr. Gold helped me," he replies, and backtracks quickly when two sets of eyes snap to him in alarm. "No, no. Nothing weird. I saved up my allowance and he let me slide." Henry says it as though he has accomplished some impossible feat and Emma can't help but agree silently.
"Henry," Regina breathes. "You shouldn't have done this. It's far too much." She looks up and locks eyes with her son. "How can I ever accept something like this? You should have used your allowance money on something that would make you happy."
"But this does make me happy," Henry replies. "Open them."
Emma pops her locket open and gasps. Before she has the chance to think twice about her actions she scoots over to Regina's side of the couch and peers over her shoulder at the contents of her locket. Emma's contains pictures of Regina and Henry and Regina's contains pictures of Henry and Emma. They both look at their son in amazement at his gift and he grins and pulls a matching one from where it has been hanging around his neck and tucked down his shirt out of sight all evening. They don't have to guess whose pictures are inside of it, but he flips it open anyway, revealing tiny pictures of both his moms.
"I wanted us to be together no matter what happened. I know we're separate a lot, and I thought that it would be good for us to have a reminder of our family wherever we go. Do you guys like them?"
"They're beautiful Henry," Regina breathes, not able to tear her eyes away from the pictures inside her locket. "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough." Emma reaches out and pulls him into a bear hug which Regina quickly joins.
"Can we spend more time together?" Henry asks, his voice muffled in between his two moms. "Some more time as a family?"
"Of course kid," Emma says without thinking. Her breath catches as she realizes the depth of what she has just agreed to. All her want of a real family, all of her discontent at a family that still feels wrong to her has just been solved in a simple request from her son. She looks up at Regina, scared that she will receive an admonishment. All she sees are brown eyes filled with tears and she begins to wonder if the body snatchers got the Regina she knows and replaced her with a more amiable and weepy version.
"Hey," Henry exclaims, pulling out of the hug and looking out the window in true distractible kid form. "It's snowing! Look how hard it's coming down!"
Emma looks to the window in surprise. She allows herself to be pulled from the couch by Henry. "Wow, how are we gonna walk home in that?" she wonders aloud, thinking of her promise to Snow that they would be back for the evening.
"You walked?" she hears Regina ask from behind them and turns at the the sound of her disapproving voice. Now that's more like the Regina she knows. "Why on earth did you walk in this cold?"
"It wasn't that cold when we left," Emma answers defensively, putting her hands up. "It wasn't bad at all, right kid?" He shakes his head and Regina rolls her eyes.
"You should stay here until it clears up," she says, getting up off of the couch and straightening her sweater unnecessarily. The locket is still clutched tightly in her hand. "It would be dangerous to walk back in that, not to mention cold." Emma nods her agreement, not looking forward to the phone call she knew she was going to have to make to Snow. Maybe David would pick up...
"Can we watch our Christmas movie?" Henry asks, turning away from the window and looking to Regina for a confirmation. She nods.
"There are still several pairs of your pajamas in your room," she says as he makes a bee line for the stairs. "It's getting late, you may have to stay the night." She looks at Emma and Emma thinks she may detect a small amount of pleading in the other woman's eyes before it's gone. 'Please don't leave me alone.'
"Alright," she replies. She saunters over with a smirk. "Do you have anything for me to wear Madam Mayor?" Regina's eyes flash at the veiled challenge and for just a moment it feels like old times.
If Emma thought Henry was the cutest person in the house in his pajamas that were getting a little too short in the arms and legs, she was wrong. She wasn't prepared at all for the sight of both Henry and Regina in their soft, comfy sleeping clothes. While Henry was cute because he was a little boy who was quickly outgrowing his childhood pajamas, Regina was cute for an entirely different reason. Emma had thought she looked casual earlier in her jeans and sweater, but that was nothing compared to the purple sweat pants and oversized T-shirt she now sported. Emma began to laugh but was cut off as a similar pair was shoved underneath her nose. Before long she felt more sympathy toward Henry as Regina was noticeably shorter than her, resulting in she herself looking like Henry in his too small pajamas.
After what turned out to be an unexpectedly calm phone call to David (Snow was busy baking something, relieving Emma of the discomfort of explaining the situation to her slightly hysterical mother), popcorn was popped and hot chocolate was made. Emma and Henry even convinced Regina to try some cinnamon on hers and after much eye rolling and snarking they were actually able to make her admit that she rather enjoyed the spice. After some hectic moving of snacks from the kitchen to the living room and a little bit of spilling (which was much more Emma's fault than Henry's though both of them were heartily reprimanded by Regina), they finally made it to the living room to start their movie.
When Emma had heard 'Christmas movie' she was expecting something like Elf or A Christmas Story. What she was not expecting was an old version of A Christmas Carol from 1984. The movie was a little dark and a little eerie with plenty of scenes that would have scared her as a child.
But Henry is engrossed in the movie. He started out on the couch between his two moms but soon ended up on the floor in front of the couch. Emma figured he could only take so much mom coddling in one evening. He was a teenage boy after all, and she is surprised that he put up with it for as long as he did.
She isn't exactly complaining however. While she enjoyed watching the movie snuggled up next to her son, as soon as he moved Regina snuck her fuzzy-clad feet underneath Emma's legs. She jumped a little at how cold they were even through the socks but put out a hand to stop her when she started to pull away. She doesn't look at her but she thinks that she catches a small smile out of the corner of her eye.
Soon enough Henry falls asleep on the floor at their feet. Emma knows that she should move him, but the serenity on his face makes her think again. The red and blue lights from the tree in the corner cast a soft glow around the room, coloring his face in holiday. In the hearth, the fire crackles away cheerfully. The whole scene is so cozy that she almost falls asleep herself.
On the movie, Ebeneezer Scrooge is slumped over, sobbing on his own grave. This part of the story has always made Emma a little uncomfortable as she watches the man begging for a second chance. A chance to change and live his life as has missed out on living it all along. At the other end of the couch, Regina silently and unintentionally begs the same.
Emma watches the progression of each tear as though it tells a story to her and her alone. She watches Regina's regrets one by one until she can't stand it any more and finally, finally she reaches out in the same way she wanted to so badly back in the kitchen.
For a moment Emma thinks that she will just keep moving, the momentum of unspoken words and unfulfilled touches carrying her forward until she falls right through a woman who has faded away piece by piece. Emma is so sure that the years of regret and anger have chiseled Regina away until all that remains is a wisp of raven colored smoke that no broken Savior could ever hope to grasp in trembling fingers or in eyes that have so recently been released from the grip of this grief themselves.
But Regina is solid. She is so solid and for a moment Emma's breath is stolen away from the realness of it all. Their eyes meet again and Emma realizes that once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a hope that resided in those wet brown eyes. It was reflected in stolen kisses and the smell of hay until fate stole both the kisses and the hope and turned them into something dark and festering.
But it's been there once and Emma is sure that it can be there again. She doesn't think that she is the ideal one to put it there, being just as broken and dark as the former Evil Queen.
But the brokenness fits the brokenness and Emma begins to realize that the jagged pieces come together in a way that whole pieces never could. And despite the brokenness they do have a whole piece, sleeping soundly and innocently at their feet. He is fixing both of his moms one crooked, toothy smile at a time.
Regina needs both kinds of love, the broken and the whole. Emma can feel it in the way Regina's head fits so perfectly underneath her chin. It's in the tears that slowly stop falling and the breathing that stops hitching. It's in the hand that balls itself up in Emma's shirt and clings as though to let go would be to float away and never return. Emma remembers that Regina once said that about her anger and she hopes that she can replace it with a silver glimmer and a slightly redder heart.
The man on the movie is no longer crying over his wasted life. He rejoices in the love and family that a change of heart has brought him. Emma smiles and sheds a few tears of her own that she doesn't bother to wipe away. She knows that Regina is also watching the scene intently from her position tucked into Emma's arms and under her chin as though she has always been meant to fit there. She runs her fingers over the gold locket around her neck and Emma can see the gears turning in her head as she recalls the matching ones that hang around the necks of both her whole and broken pieces.
Emma takes the plunge and kisses the top of her head, breathing in the smell of apple shampoo.
"Merry Christmas, Your Majesty," she whispers into Regina's hair.
"Bah, humbug," she whispers back in a voice stuffy and broken from crying, one hand still around the necklace and the other still clutching Emma's shirt like a lifeline.
Emma laughs her first genuine laugh of the evening and pulls her even closer, marveling at how small and strangely vulnerable she truly is beneath all the smoke and mirrors. She finds herself wanting to drown in the scent of apple and never emerge again.
Regina smiles a real smile in return and there's a tiny silver shine in her eyes.
And I hope there aren't too many glaring mistakes, and if there are I'm sorry. I finished this at 3 in the morning and my eyes were beginning to cross! Also please forgive issues with tenses. I had some trouble with this one. I plan to go back over it again, but I wanted to get it posted by Christmas. =]