a/n: this was my entry for the 2017 edition of the oq advent calendar.
my best wishes to all of you, with the hope you'll spend a lovely christmas, full of light and warmth. i wish i could hug everyone for real, but have my gift for the season, that should do the trick ;)
oh, and I'd like to thank nina, laura, sarah, susanne and jen; for your encouragement when i wanted to give up on this. without you, milady would still be asleep in my folders.
merry christmas, humans!
love and some more love,
dee

My name is Milady.

I know, it's a very silly name – mind you, it's not my real name. That one is ancient, sacred, and I haven't said it in a very long time. Milady is the name my current human gave me. But if she likes it, I'm alright – I've had worse names, in my lives.

I've been with her since some years now, since my mother abandoned me, and she found me. I'm lucky she saved my life – I would have died hadn't it been for her. You see, white is not the most appropriate of colors when it's snowing as hard as it did that night. I was a little fur ball, all bones and hunger, when she has cradled me into her wool scarf and brought me home.

I love to live with her. I might be the one who knows her best. Sometimes I wish I could talk, to tell her what I think, sometimes I'm quite happy I can't, for example when she's particularly stubborn.

After she has saved me, I became particularly protective of my human. She's my family. And to my species, protective means jealous. But in time, I learned how to share her affections. I learned I could love – and let her love – others.

In time, my Christmases got better and better. Well, my first one – the one where I was about to die – was easy to top. But my family has gotten larger, in time. And my heart too. Not bad, for an ex-alley cat, is it?

…

I don't remember much, of my first Christmas in this world. You see, I'm already down to five lives left, now, so I was somehow deeply amused that I was just about to die – hours after being born. Way to waste one of my precious lives, I thought. There was three or four of us, when my mother had the kittens. I don't know where my brothers and sisters are, right now. My human saved only me, there was no one else around, I'm certain of it. I don't know where my mother left the others. Of course, she had to leave us. It was a matter of survival, of giving herself the best chance she could.

She found me in a park. It was November.

She was beautiful, my Regina. I remember her eyes, when she has discovered me. The sadness went away, replaced by worry. I was just about to give up with all the wailing, but – luckily! – I persisted, and kept making whiny noises. I was in the snow – it was so cold. That cold has stayed in my mind ever since. Sometimes the memory of it – it hits me, and I shiver, curling up tighter near the fireplace.

She lifted me, and said, "Well, who do we have here? Oh, aren't you a little darling!" – I purred, immediately, to make her understand that I was so happy someone had found me. I mean, she could have been a psychopath, but in that moment I didn't care so much. My only goal was to get out of the cold. So she took me in her arms and I curled up against her warmth. She was bundled up in a comfy jacket, too big for her, a violet wool scarf dangling down her neck for my claws to play with, but I kept it quiet. I didn't want to risk and maybe anger her. Her gloved hands were warm as well, and she has looked around, as if she was searching for another cat or other humans.

"Well we can't leave you here, can we?" she reasoned, and swiftly unzipped her jacket. I could have cried of relief when she has placed me inside. A hot nestle, between her sweater and her jacket, my eyes still able to look outside.

"I hope you're okay with coming home with me, milady," she whispered against my fur. I purred some more, to express my happiness in a way she could feel. "Now we're going to take a cab, alright? I wanted to go for the metro but I want to get you inside," she told me. Fine by me, I thought. As long as I can stay here…

Sometimes I think of the way I immediately trusted her. Of course, in a normal situation a cat is scared by strangers, but – you have to understand me, I was a little desperate in that moment. And I sense this kind of things. I know when someone is a good person or not, when they want to hurt me. And she has saved me.

That night I decided that she was my human.

Humans often believe they can say "This is my cat," you know? "My pet, my kitten," as if they owned us. They don't understand that my kind always chooses to stay with a family, because they want to, not because we're some property. We are free. We choose our own humans, and Regina was – is – mine. But truth be told, she's cute when she calls me her kitten, so I let it slide.

After finding me, she brought me to that place straight away. The vet. I hate going there, with the same passion with which Regina's boyfriend speaks about the dentist. I hate it. But at least – my vet is a nice lady, and she was gentle, that first night.

"You are lucky, I was just about to go home and close up for a week," she told Regina. "What were you doing around at this time of the night, anyway?" She didn't answer, and the vet shook her head, while poking me around with delicate fingers. "She's fine – a beautiful white lady," she cooed, "a bit thin, but she's extremely strong and resilient, this one."

I purred against her hand in appreciation, enjoying the compliment. Hell, I'd survived in the snow, alone, of course I already was a badass.

"Oh, I know," laughed Regina. She cradled me again, while the doctor talked of food and toys and stuff like that, and I yawned against her jacket. I wished nothing more than to go sleep and be warm. The doctor had given her a little cage to put me in, along with a small bag with the essentials, but she'd insisted to keep me next to her heart. "She'll get warm sooner like this, poor dear," she said.

"How will you name her?" the doctor asked, curious. I tensed a little – this was a very important moment, the choice of a name, and I was a little nervous about it. My eyes darted up at Regina, who was smiling fondly.

"Well, Snow Ball would be fun, wouldn't it, darling? or Snow White, maybe?"

I meowed loudly, hoping to show my disappointment. Regina's body shaken in a silent laugh. "Oh she doesn't like it," she said, "someone has high standards, right, milady?"

I purred, amused, but she must have interpreted it as a yes, because her eyes were suddenly bright of a new idea. "That's it! Milady. It's perfect."

And so Milady it was.

…

I loved my life with Regina right from the start, but that doesn't mean we didn't have our fair share of bumps on the road. See, I was just a kitty, and – oh – I liked to play, and I'm afraid she's found herself a willing victim of my enthusiasm too often. It has ended with a lot of little cuts on her hands and arms, with an armchair I didn't like which has been… ruined. Just a bit. She has gotten angry, sometimes. But I always try to make up for whatever I do that she doesn't like – I mean who knew I wasn't supposed to step into that delightful blue paint and to stroll around? (It has been a funny day, that one):

So I love her and she loves me, continuing to forgive me even when I don't deserve it. There were some details I couldn't bear, thought. Like her mother.

My first Christmas was only with Regina, thankfully. We spent beautiful hours on the couch, hours of her and me, watching movies – then she's read a bit and sipped some wine, and I was content, that day, to just stay there and enjoy the cackling fire from the fireplace.

But some days later I met her mother and boy, it has been an experience. I'd spent the day sleeping in Regina's room, on the little reading nest in the window's alcove. So I thought I could introduce myself when she was about to leave, just to avoid being completely rude. I sensed something from her, that I didn't like. Not in the slightest. Rage, and disgust. So I backed away, to bump onto Regina's leg. I hissed angrily at her.

"What… what is that, Regina?"

"It's a cat, mother," Regina said, defensively. "I'm sure you're familiar with her species."

"Oh yes," she answered, faking a smile. "Do you really think it's wise to host such a… creature in your home?"

"I had to save her." Regina scratched me behind my ears. "She would have died otherwise."

"Darling, I strongly advise you to reconsider…"

"No," she said, firmly. "I think it's time for you to go, mother."

Cora said nothing else, but she looked at me, then at Regina, with an expression I've never seen anywhere else but on her face. She didn't like to be challenged. Or contradicted. Then she exited, slamming the door.

Regina's shoulders slumped down, she let out a breath. I wanted to comfort her, or apologize, because I didn't mean for her to fight with her mother. But she didn't let me do anything. Instead, she took me up against her chest, and told me, "I'm sorry you had to witness that."

She was smiling, but her eyes were glistening, and I found it heartbreaking. Did she really have to grow up with such a mother?

I would have loved to tell her to let her mother go, that she wasn't good for her. But it wasn't time yet. Regina's heart was broken, and unknowingly, my presence had put the first band-aid to heal it.

…

We changed our home, the next month, in January.

"It's time for me to go," she told me, on New Years' Eve, surrounded by half-closed boxes, clutching a framed picture, with tears in her eyes. "I have to let him go."

She meant her fiancé, Daniel, who had died some time before she'd saved me. And this house, their house, was too big for just the both of us, without him, but with the unmerciful ghost of what could have been their future together.

Our new home was an old flat in a palace. I immediately liked it, more than I liked the previous one. There was a fireplace, and of course a little reading alcove in near a window. The kitchen was cozy, and there was just one room with a big bed, another one with a smaller one, but also a sofa near the fireplace, that I chose right away as my rightful place to sleep.

Regina seemed happier, that year. She'd started going to a grief counseling group, she was spending hours at work, and without her the place looked a bit lonely. I'd learned how to switch the TV on, however, and I could easily flip her books open.

During the summer, she'd gone away for a week, and left me with a neighbor, Mrs. Lucas. The old lady had an old dog, Ronnie, and he was very old. I was nothing more than a little white fur ball, to him. To him, I had lived as long as a blink of an eye lasts. But he was kind, and he liked to tell me stories before dozing off to sleep – he slept a lot.

Regina came home tanned and smiling, and then autumn came along again. Our relationship bloomed. I was starting to love the neighborhood, I knew all the other cats and dogs who lived in our palace and nearby. They used to call me the Queen, because during the first days I'd won a fight against another cat – older, but his claws were less sharp. Regina had to take me to the vet, afterwards. She wasn't happy.

She kept going to the grief counseling sessions, and actually got better. She was drinking less, smiling more, and Daniel's picture sat proudly on the mantle. She spoke with him, sometimes.

.

Emma lived downstairs with her son, Henry. She had a cat – Leia, but Leia wasn't always with them. She lived in their house, most of the time, but there were times when she was not home, when she liked to wander the streets. Emma and Henry didn't mind.

I liked them. Regina was happier when she was with them, she was actually opening a crack of her heart to Emma, after quite some time of knowing her, she felt like she could trust her – they got closer again, that autumn, after a period where Regina had closed off her heart to everyone.

That's how I discovered an important missing piece of the puzzle that was Regina, that summer. They were having tea, one afternoon. (Well, Regina was having tea, Emma lived on coffee). Henry was in the living room, with Leia, watching cartoons. And I was perched on a chair, in the kitchen, half-sleeping, half-listening.

"I sent the application a long time ago," Regina said at some point. "But I don't think they'll ever consider me. I mean, why should they?"

"That's your mother speaking," Emma informed her. "They should consider you. You have a great job that you love, a nice house with a spare room, and you instantly love any kid you see. Just imagine how lucky a son or daughter of yours would be."

"Yeah," she hummed, her eyes trailing down. I could tell she wasn't convinced. "That's never going to happen anyway. It's been a long time already. I just have to accept it's gonna be Milady and me, for the time being."

"I feel your optimism like a balm on my soul," Emma said, sarcastic. "Come on, let's go with Henry to the park for a while, shall we?"

…

There wasn't any baby talk for a while, after that.

Autumn came along. Regina traded sandals for boots, and we soldiered on through the colder days. She got a letter, once, but I paid it no mind – I was happy it was good news, but she accepted them with the brittle calm of someone who doesn't dare to hope.

(Emma bought her a book of baby names. She never opened it.)

With autumn, we had a small yet important change in our lives.

I'd finally decided to stop scratching my nails on the chair in Regina's room – much to her satisfaction, I traded it for a new shiny scratching post. I guess I had to let her win some battles, after all.

Henry often came for lunch and then stayed all afternoon. I could see her growing fond of the boy, and I rather liked it. I'd noticed she was in good spirits, when he was around.

But the biggest change was something that we couldn't have foreseen in any way.

Regina had always been happy to have found a rather quiet apartment. We had another one, in front of our door, but it was empty – not anyone could afford the ridiculous amount of money they ask to live in this side of the city. Humans are crazy, if you ask me. Always fighting to have the best place to sleep in, and then they're never at home because they're working to pay the rent.

So autumn came along, and I met our new neighbors first.

…

It was on the first days of October. We'd all seen the trucks and the men bringing in boxes and stuff and books and whatever, but my attention was there once I realized they were bringing in a small pet carrier.

I waited – Regina was at work, bless her, didn't have to bear those insufferable men's screams and shouts. I waited until they were gone, and in the afternoon I had my answer. I was perched on a step of the stairs which led to the apartments.

There was a man – tall, blue eyes, a shadow of scruff – and a cat in his arms. This cat was a bit older than me, for sure. Orange-brown. Green eyes. The man has opened the door, leaving him jump on the ground, and told him, "Here we are, buddy," he said. "I hope you like your new home."

The cat purred against his hand, and went in, then the man closed the door after them both. I had my ways, though, because I went through a window in the stairs outside, then I peeked through the window of their apartment.

It was a mess. The man didn't seem to be in such an hurry to tidy his house, anyway, because he went to open a window, uncaring of the freezing air, and then went to take a beer from the fridge and plopped down to a mattress which, I think, was the temporary sofa. I frowned. I meowed once, to get their attention, but the man didn't notice me. The cat did.

"Who are you?" he asked me, suspicious, nearing the window, jumping on some boxes to reach my eye-level. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," I answered, haughty. "I see my courtesy in coming to meet my new neighbors hasn't been appreciated. Foolish me to think it could."

"No, wait, I'm sorry," he said, bowing his head to give a little lick to his pawn. "What's your name?"

"My human calls me Milady," I told him. "You?"

"Richard," he said with ease. "We moved here from a little town where he was part of the forestry service," he explained, motioning at his human. He was reading a book, while sipping on his beer. "He took a new job here, but he was… not so happy."

"Tell me about it," I said, with a roll of my eyes. "My human was a mess, when I met her. Now she's a bit better…"

"Richard?"

His human's voice came from the corner, and he got up. I instinctively retreated, my senses on alert. Sure, he had a cat, so he probably wasn't going to hurt me, but still. He neared the window, and scratched Richard behind his ears. "You've already found a friend, bud? What a troublemaker," he smiled. "And who would you be, little one?"

I decided I was going to trust him. I could sense he was a good person, same way I trusted Regina one year earlier. I went in the apartment, jumping on a box, and he scratched me too.

"Are you guys hungry? I'm sorry, I forgot to bring food for you, buddy. But I still have some salmon from yesterday, I think. Don't get used to it, though."

Salmon!

I meowed out loud at that, purring against his hand. He laughed, feeling our happiness, and went to give us dinner.

He got a bowl for the both of us, watching as we ate. "Do you think it's going to snow any time soon?" he asked, staring through the window. I rolled my eyes – of course it wasn't, and if only humans could actually perfect their senses like we do, he'd have noticed.

I stayed with them for the evening – I talked with Richard, promising to show him around in the next days. And then, the doorbell made me jump.

Robin went to open, with long, relaxed strides. And on the other side, was Regina.

"Good evening," he greeted politely, but she peeked around his shoulder, her eyes wide and worried. I met her eyes from behind Robin's legs.

"Milady!" she exclaimed, paying the man no attention as she entered his home and crouched down next to me. I leaned against her hand on my head, letting her scratch behind my ears. "I was so worried, darling. When I came home and couldn't find you…"

"Ahem," the man coughed from the door. "I… I admit I'm rather confused, at the moment."

Her head snapped up to him. "I'm – I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I… I'm sorry, I'll take her and… we can just go, and…" she cradled me into her arms, standing up. She was flushed, her cheeks red. She took two steps, before the man stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. In the meanwhile, Richard was watching, amazed.

"Wait, please," he said, kind. "I don't even know your name. I'm Robin, by the way," he told her. "Robin Locksley. And you must be my neighbor."

She carefully moved me to nest me with her left arm, and extended her hand to the man. "Regina Mills," she answered. "Sorry I barged in," she said, sheepish. "Well, I wouldn't have, if you weren't a thief of cats." Her voice was stern, but her eyes were smiling.

"Hey, I didn't steal her," he said, raising one hand. "She was at the window, and… I gave them dinner, it seems she's made a friend. That's Richard," he pointed at him, who was happily cleaning his fur.

"I… see," Regina said. She held me closer. "I'm so sorry. She's… very important to me," she told him. I could feel her heartbeat, thumping furiously. "I couldn't bear the thought of losing her. And this is a big city, and… animals die, I suppose I was just worried," she sighed. "Can we pretend you never saw me and forget this all happened?"

"Oh, I doubt I could forget meeting you," he smiled. "Why don't you both stay for a bit? We can pop a bottle open, and inaugurate the new home," he proposed.

Regina smiled, but I could feel she was still embarrassed. "Maybe another time," she said. "But thank you. I appreciate it. Even if you almost stole my cat," she tried to joke. "Now we'll… just go, and… I'll see you soon," she told him, squeezing his hand. Then we were gone – I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to Richard – and she was slamming the door behind her, muttering, as soon as I forget all this.

…

Regina liked to avoid Robin, on those first days. She always looked around when she had to take the elevator. She was going a bit mental, if you ask me. Thing is, they were not straightforward as Richard and I. After that first meeting, we'd already decided we were going to be partners. Our humans, however, were already pining on each other, Richard had told me. He was more expert than me about human love affairs, but I could see it myself. Those hidden touches and blushing cheeks when they came for dinner, those smiles she made when she read something from him on her phone.

Richard was funny – witty, if you want, and polite. He was not a cat of that kind, you know, the alley cats who always want to fight, who always say something to make you angry. He was tranquil, and you could see he'd been raised by humans.

As I showed him around – while Regina and Robin were both at work – I had him meet my friends. There was Puff, a ball of black fur and claws, always up for trouble. There was Hedgehog, an old grey cat, who was like the grandpa of everyone around. There was Elis, an annoying idiot who'd tried to win my affections more than once. And of course, Leia, my best friend, a proper alley cat, with a golden fur that enchanted all the kids.

"This is Richard," I introduced him, simply. "He's my neighbor's cat, used to live in a little town near Boston," I told the others. "So let's be nice and show him all the great perks of the city, alright?"

"All good, Queenie," said Puff, curled on a snow-free spot on the ground. "We can bring him to Bella Notte tonight. Tony will love him, come on. He'll give him all the best herrings."

"Not if there are those stupid Siamese twins," Leia complained. "I can't stand them."

"Okay well," I said, looking at Richard, who was watching, deeply amused. "Guess it's a date then."

"So you two are like… a thing?" Elis growled.

"Not my fault if the ladies don't find you interesting, mate," Richard told him. "And Milady told me she sent you away with your tail between your legs more than once."

"Well I wouldn't say we are a thing," I sneered. "I'd like to think of my affection as a slightly more precious affair."

"Of course they are a thing," Puff moaned. "Can we go? I'm freezing my ears off."

…

Regina fell ill in November.

The house was no longer smelling of comfort and warmth, but of a stale odor of pain. I didn't know what to do – Emma and Henry were away for Thanksgiving, something related to the boy's father, that I'd never met. I didn't know how to help her, basically, and I got in the streets to clear my mind.

The air was chilly and annoyingly windy. There was almost no one in sight – no animals, no humans, everyone was safe in their houses. Except…

I spied a movement out of the corner of my eye. There was someone, hiding in the shadows behind a car.

"Richard?"

He recoiled, but I persisted. "Come on, what's wrong?"

After a moment, he finally got out. He was bleeding from an ear, and droplets of blood were splashing on the ground. "Hi, Milady."

"What happened?" I asked him, appalled. "Who did this?"

"Some boys… they threw me a rock," he said, voice emotionless. "There really isn't anything to see. It's done. They're gone."

I got closer. He smelled like smoke and dirt. "We should go inside," I proposed. "Robin can –"

"I don't want to see him," he interrupted. "I don't want his pity. And for sure I don't want yours."

"I don't pity you!" I protested. "God, you're insufferable. I'm trying to help you, you moron. Thing is, we should treat that wound, or you want it to get infected?"

He threw me a glare, but sighed, and started walking towards the stairs to our building. "Sorry," he said, sheepish. "I guess I'm pissed. They will always win in the end… they're bigger and nastier, and it makes me mad."

"They're bullies," I reasoned. We started mounting the stairs. "One day, they'll find someone who will make them see their mistakes. Hopefully."

Robin let us in, and he tended to Richard's wound with a lot of care and concern. I stood in a corner, waiting. I was, obviously, happy to see Richard was feeling better, but I had another purpose for my trip there. I wanted Robin to check on Regina.

"There you go, buddy," he said. "Wasn't deep, you should get better in no time. What is it with you two that you always get in some trouble of sorts?"

I meowed, offended. I wasn't the one to have gotten in trouble. Well, not today. He looked at me, amused. "Don't you have to go home, Milady? My reputation with your Regina is already worthy of a black list, I'd rather not have her thinking I stole you again."

I got up hastily, and got to the door. I scratched, waited for him to open it, and crossed the corridor. There, I scratched Regina's door too.

"What's up, Milady? Why aren't you using the cat door?"

He neared me, closed his apartment, with Richard in tow, as I sat beside the door and meowed loudly. Sometimes, making humans understand things was really frustrating. He stopped, looking puzzled. "Well I guess I will knock for you," he sighed, resigned. He knocked twice, then hit the doorbell.

Regina wasn't answering.

"Maybe she's busy," he said, logical. "Do you want to have dinner with Richard?"

I got up, scratched the door again, and only then he realized I really wanted for him to press further. He came closer, and finally got the hint. "Regina?" he said, his voice higher. "Are you there?"

I rounded his legs swiftly, and reached the flower pot that was on the ground near the door. There, behind it, Regina had hidden the spare keys to her house. I scratched until I found them, then pushed them in plain sight.

"Milady!" Robin exclaimed. "What…"

I pushed them again, against his feet. "Okay, fine," he sighed. "I really hope you're right and there's something serious at the other end of this door."

I watched, relieved, as he brought the keys to the lock and turned them. The door opened, and Richard and I rushed inside, whereas he stayed on the doorstep. "Regina?" he called softly.

"The bedroom," a faint voice came.

He gently closed the door and padded to the bedroom. "Regina? What's wrong? Oh, honey," he said, as he switched on the light on the bedside table.

"What –what are you doing here," she coughed. I couldn't see her face, she was almost hidden by the blankets.

"Milady forced me to come," he answered. "Very smart one, your cat. She even found the keys." He neared the bed, and crouched down to be at her eye level. He brought a hand to her forehead. "You're burning up."

"I'm cold," she whispered back. "I… please, I don't want you to see me like this," she said, her voice a painful scratch, almost in tears. "I can stay alone, you… you don't have to worry about me."

I jumped on the bed at that. Robin glanced at me, brought out a hand to caress me. "I'd rather be here for you," he told her, grave. "It seems Milady really wants someone to be with you. I daresay she's worried for you," he said, gentle. "Have you taken something as a medicine yet?"

"N-no," she murmured. "Thank you, Robin."

"You're welcome," he said warmly. "Now let's take care of this, hmm?"

I purred, satisfied, and rubbed against Regina's arm, then jumped off the bed. She was in good hands now, which meant I could easily go and take a nap with Richard.

(I heard them talking in hushed whispers, that evening. The house smelled like candles and pine.)

…

"Why is it that you're always out and about, lately, Milady?" Regina asked me one evening. She'd came back from work early, and she was doing a great job with her Christmas tree. I mewed from my place near the fire. "I almost don't see you at home anymore. Your dating life is going well?"

She crouched for a moment to scratch my ears, then got up. "Well it's surely going better than mine."

I noticed the passing glance she gave to Daniel's picture. She stood in front of the mantle, her finger brushing the picture. "I wonder what he would think of this," she whispered. "Maybe I shouldn't hope for love. Maybe it will always go poorly."

I hissed, my tail wiggling. That was a time when I'd wished I could talk some sense into her stubborn head. If only humans' love affairs could go as smoothly as the cats' ones.

I admit I wasn't home as much as I used to. But going out with Richard had opened a whole new world for me. It was the first time I liked someone – really liked someone. It was weird. I'd been in heat, of course, twice already, but never allowed anyone near me.

Regina interrupted my thoughts about my partner with a deep sigh. "Sometimes I wish you could talk," she smiled at me, sadly. "I'd like to have an input, darling. Some advice for your favorite mess of a human?"

I stretched my body in a yawn. If only you weren't so blind, I thought. She laughed lowly, as she went to the kitchen – I knew she was going to grab a glass of wine. Thinking of Daniel always made her sad. I jumped on, where she'd left the Christmas lights, still tangled in a ball on the carpet. I couldn't resist, and went inside the nest of glassy colors, my paws toying with them.

The doorbell rang.

That was a common occurrence, I thought, stretching into the lights to settle down comfortably. And as I'd foreseen, it was Robin. With Richard. And a picnic basket.

He let Richard down, and he immediately went to greet me. "Hello, beautiful," he said, nuzzling his wet nose against mine.

"You're all wet," I protested. "What the hell, go dry near the fireplace."

"Sorry, darling," he sighed, and went to curl up on the carpet, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Regina was standing in front of Robin, a confused expression on her face. "I brought refreshments," he told her, lifting the picnic basket. "Thought I could help with decorations, and then have a bit of a picnic near the fire, perhaps?"

She blushed – and it was, damn, frustrating to see her so reluctant still, when I knew he was as smitten as a little kitten. "Well, uh, I – okay, come in," she told him, and took the basket. "I guess – I wasn't expecting you today."

"The meeting finished early," he said easily, shrugging off his coat. "Can I help you with something?"

Regina smiled, and gestured vaguely at the tree. "I was almost finished, actually," she said. "It still misses the… lights," she looked down, and I met her gaze – she furrowed her brow. "Milady!" she lowered down the basket and slid a hand under my stomach to lift me. "Paws off, you little rascal."

I lifted my tail in disdain and went to join Richard near the fireplace. Leave them to the Christmas decorations, I thought. I curled up next to him, and fell asleep in minutes, his comforting warmth like my own personal fire.

Humans are so slow with love, was my final thought before dozing off.

…

When I woke, I heard voices. Hushed tones from behind me – Regina and Robin sitting on the carpeted floor, their backs against the sofa.

They were whispering. I didn't even open my eyes, my senses focused on listening.

"… so are you still… going to that grief counseling group?"

"Yes," Regina answered, her voice somehow muffled. "They… help. You should come, if… if you want." I realized her voice wasn't muffled – she'd been crying.

"Well it could help. But it has been more than two years, I don't know if I'd still need it…"

"But grieving never stops, Robin," she interrupted. "It will always be there. The pain. Eventually, you realize you just have it… it's like an amputee limb. Some days you're used to it not being there… some days you wake up and pain hits you all over again, when you see it's gone. But it never stops."

There was silence for a moment, and I debated with myself – if I should have gone to them, or leave them be without distractions.

"Thank you," he said eventually. "For listening."

I heard her chuckle lightly. "I admit I expected something… different, out of this picnic. You're welcome, though. It was no hardship. And I've added some of my troubles for sure."

"I'm sorry I dampened the mood," he said, worry in his voice. "If you want me to…"

"Stay," she murmured. "I can tell when someone needs a friend. Or a shoulder to cry on. Which I… needed too."

"Regina, I…" he cleared his voice. "I don't… I'd like us to be more than friends, to be completely honest. I find I… I'm more and more taken with you, every day."

Another silence, longer now. I perked up my ears. Finally, she let out a shaky laugh. "You… you are?"

"Yes, darling," he whispered. "I hoped…"

"I hoped too," Regina confessed in a breath. I turned my head to watch them – and they were kissing, in that weird way humans have to express their feelings. I watched for a moment, feeling slightly disgusted but also immensely relieved to feel their happiness radiate in tidal waves.

I glanced at Richard. He was still asleep, bless him. Always missing on the good stuff, I thought fondly.

…

Regina's mother visited three days before Christmas.

I was busy with a ball of thread, that Robin had got me because Regina was so tired of me getting inside the Christmas tree – but it was so cozy in there, between the branches, the delicate balls of crystal and shining slivers hung around to create patterns of dancing lights – and honestly, Robin, I know Milady is smarter than that, at this point she just does it to annoy me. But I'd managed to bring the ball inside the tree.

So I was hidden, you see, but my body tensed when I heard Cora's voice.

"Regina, darling," she said, all fake-sweetness and candy smiles. I could see her, from my hideout. "It's been a long time."

"Mother."

Her voice was ice, it brought a shiver to my bones.

"Yes, it's been a long time." She was on the door, facing Cora, arms crossed. "A long time I thoroughly enjoyed."

"You horrible girl," her mother spat, all sweetness gone in a blink. "Is that you way to speak to your mother? At Christmas?"

"It is," she answered, poised. I was going to jump off the tree to offer moral support, but I hesitated. "We really don't have much to talk about, aside from listing all my flaws."

Cora lowered her voice, her tone angry, poisonous. "You will come to regret this, Regina," she promised. "I really wish you hadn't defied me like that."

"Merry Christmas, Mother," Regina smiled candidly, and slammed the door. Then she turned, slumping down and sitting on the ground. She took her head in her hands, muttering, What have I done.

I finally jumped down, the ball rolling away towards the kitchen, and I neared her legs, I went to purr against her ankle. She lifted her head, and smiled weakly. "Oh, darling," she murmured. "At least there is you, with me. I don't know what I would do without you," she added, her eyes full of tears. I purred louder, circled her legs to be picked up. She cradled me in her arms, scratching my ears. I hoped that feeling me close could bring her some comfort.

Her phone vibrated against my paw in her pocket, and she moved me a little to answer.

"Hello? Oh, hi there," she answered, with a voice that would have seemed normal, but I could still hear tears in there. "No, yes, I'm… I'm okay. I'd like that… but really, I'd like to be alone for a while right now. I'm sorry… Yes, I will. Thank you, though. I… no, I promise. Yes… yes. Thank you, Robin," she sighed. She ended the call, lowered the phone, and got up swiftly.

I knew she was going to get a drink – or to bed, or both. So I jumped down her arms, and scratched to the door to be let out.

.

Richard was napping near the window when I got there. He immediately got out, though, when he saw my face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern filling his expression. "What happened?"

"Regina's mother happened," I hissed, starting to walk towards the street. He followed me, confused, but I didn't let him enough time to start making questions. "She came by and… she threatened her, I don't even know… but now she's upset, Robin called and she won't even see him, I don't know…"

"Calm down, love," he intervened. "Let's think about what we know, first."

"I only know I wanted a nice, quiet Christmas!" I exploded. "With… you and… the others… maybe a couple of salmon cuts from Tony… and now that… woman… ruined it!"

"It happens, Milady," he told me, calm as ever. "Robin's father is horrible too, you know. And he's used to it. She'll be fine in no time."

"You haven't met her mother," I mumbled. "We have to do something!"

"Unless you can't convince Robin to get there and help her through it, I don't see what else…"

"Better than nothing," I answered, still unhappy about the whole evening.

I stayed at Robin's with Richard that night. Robin was at Regina's – we'd got him there with a heavy dose of meowing and pleading, of pushing against his leg and wiggling our tails towards the door. He'd got it, in the end – that he needed to go there, that sometimes Regina asked for space but loneliness was her greatest enemy. Because then, she'd start thinking and… ugly things could happen.

"We did great," Richard tried to comfort me, later that night. I was lying on Robin's bed, sleepy, curled against him.

"Maybe," I muttered. "I'm still angry about her mother. It seems mine wasn't so bad in comparison."

"I'm sorry, Milady," he whispered. "Now sleep, darling. I've got you."

…

Christmas Eve came with a snow storm.

I was at the window, watching the first flurry and its fat white flakes. I sighed. Regina was unhappy, and I really didn't know what to do to help her. Her night with Robin had helped. I had met him at the door, the following morning, and he'd let me go home, as she was holding the door open for me. Regina was in a shirt that barely covered her legs, and she had a sleepy smile on.

Still, I could see that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

I wished for the man whom human kids prayed for at Christmas, Santa, I wish he existed. I wished he could bring her peace and make her stop with pain. That Daniel on the fireplace mantle could become just a picture – or a dear memory, no more stabs of grief, just a Hello, dear, whenever she passed nearby.

I wished that Robin could really help her.

He came by at noon – hugged her tight, and it was weird. He kissed her then. Just a peck on her lips, but at least she smiled, of that warm smile I'd seen so little of, lately.

"How are you doing today, love?"

"I'm… fine," she said, bowing her head. He brought up her chin slowly, he wanted to see her eyes. "I'm nervous."

"It will be fine, Regina," he said. "I know it."

"How come you have so much hope? I almost don't have any left," she murmured, so low that I almost missed it.

"I have enough for the both of us."

.

The call came at five, and they left in a hurry, Regina fidgeting with her sweater's edge – she was a ball of nerves and tension – Robin clutching nervously the keys to his car. I was left alone, and wondered. Richard was probably sleeping – as always, I thought, now that he could help me figuring out what was happening.

I strolled around the house.

There was nothing in Regina's bedroom, nothing in the bathroom.

I entered Regina's study and – maybe? Maybe there was something there. I jumped on her desk – her usual tidiness, perfectly straightened piles of paper, post-its, pens and pencils. There just was one thing out of place. A letter, half folded, with its envelope just above.

Neverland Adoption Agency – URGENT it said. I moved the envelope to read the letter.

Dear Miss Mills,
we have reconsidered your request and application, and after an attentive analysis of your situation, we have thereby decided to reconsider…

Underneath, words that made my skin crawl in anger.

We talked with previous acquaintances of yours to have a better picture of the environment and we came across some serious allegations from your mother…

I hissed at the letter, and jumped off the desk. I didn't even need to read it in its entirety. I knew what had happened – Cora had lied about her daughter, telling who knows what kind of lies, and now they were reconsidering. For a second, I thought about Regina looking for expanding her family, and it made me warm and happy.

But now, she was about to lose it all, because her mother was lying.

"Richard!" I called for him, in the living room, where Robin had left him before going. "Wake up, Richard!"

"Mmm… what the hell, Milady? What happened?"

I walked past him, sliding out, resigning myself to face the snow and the cold. There was no delicate way to put it.

"We have to talk to Henry."

…

Talking to humans was dangerous. Forbidden. We could, technically. Sometimes I did, when Regina was sleeping. But purposefully searching for a human to talk to, was probably the worst and most desperate idea I'd ever had.

"Tell me you're joking," he pleaded, following me down the stairs. "You know we can't!"

"Oh please," I huffed. "You never follow the rules, dear. What's the matter, if for once I don't either?"

"This isn't a stupid rule about curfew or stealing herrings, you know that!" Richard exclaimed, worried. "This is forbidden! And you could scare that child for life!"

"He's a believer," I cut in, trying not to let concern filter through my voice. "He's the only one who can help."

Henry was a smart human, I knew it. Still, he was ten, and I was not entirely sure of how he could help. I didn't confess it to Richard, though.

We were at Leia's in minutes – it wasn't far, really. Richard was still angry and worried, but he accepted to come with me. Leia was… not happy.

"You are both crazy," she sentenced, licking her fur. "Really, Milady, this is fucked up. Goes too far, even for me. I'm sorry for Regina but… come on, this is too much."

"I think we should let her try," Richard said, supportive, even though I knew he still disapproved.

Leia glared at the both of us, and sighed. "Fine," she said, moving aside. "But hurry. Emma's gone to the shop and you have to do this before she comes back."

I stopped to meet her eyes. "Thank you, Leia," I said, trying to convey all of my gratitude.

"Yeah, yeah," she nodded, but I could see she was touched. "Go!"

.

Henry was home – sitting on the sofa, reading a comic book. He glanced up when he saw me walk in. "Milady?" he smiled, getting up and crouching down to pet me. "What are you doing here? Where's Regina?"

I took a breath, and closed my eyes for a moment. Here it goes.

"Hi, Henry," I said, and he immediately widened his eyes, his mouth opening in surprise. A smile crept up his face.

"You… you can… talk?"

"Yes," I said, relieved by his reaction. "But Henry, it's a secret. It's the most important secret of my species and I broke the law because I really, really need your help."

"Wait a second," he furrowed his brow, confused. "All cats can talk? Leia can talk?"

"Yes," I answered, patiently. It was normal for him to have questions, I thought. "But she won't, I'm sorry. This is an exceptional moment, and must not be repeated. Can you help me, then?"

"Oh, uh, okay," he stuttered. "How can I help? What do you want me to do?"

"We need to help Regina," I started, and he nodded, a grave expression on his still so young face. Sometimes, it looked like he was more mature than his actual age. "And I really can't do it alone. She needs your mother, and you're the only one who can convince her."

"I can do that," he nodded, confident.

"But Henry, you have to keep our secret. I'm risking everything by talking to you, and I wouldn't if this weren't really, really important."

"Of course," he promised. "Now tell me what to do, please. I wanna help."

…

One hour later, I was nestled into Henry's jacket and we were in Emma's car. Emma was on the phone with Robin, whispering in hushed tones.

"And I don't understand why didn't she call me… yes, but she needs to realize it isn't imposing if someone cares about her! Don't tell her that, I will tell her myself when this mess is over. They had no right… absolutely no right to do this, and I still have to figure out how my son knew about this before I did… no… yes, we're almost there."

She dropped the headphone, and glanced in the mirror to Henry and me – we were sitting on the backseat.

"How did you know, Henry? And you'll better tell me quickly, because we're almost there."

"Uh," Henry looked down at me, and fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. "I… I did a bad thing."

Emma sighed. "Tell me anyway. I promise, you're not in trouble… not for now anyway." We stopped at a red light, and she turned back to look at him. "So?"

"I was… playing," he started, uncertain. "Like Sherlock Holmes. Robin lent me his book about Sherlock Holmes and I wanted to try… And there was this letter on Regina's doormat, and I lifted it to see the name because I wanted to investigate."

"Investigate… on what?" Emma turned again, and she sighed again. "Kid… why would you want to investigate on Regina?"

"I was trying to find a mystery!" he said, and I curled up against his chest. I appreciated that he was getting in trouble for us, but it still was unfair to him. "So I lifted it and read it against the light and I had a suspicion… I'm sorry!"

Emma hummed, her eyes narrowed. "My lie detector is ringing like crazy, mister. But we're here, so let's go inside and see what I can do. God knows why I let you come anyway," she lifted her eyes. "Come on, get out the car."

.

We found Regina sitting on a chair, Robin next to her, outside of a very serious wooden door. She had her head down, cradled in her hands. She looked up when she heard footsteps, and I realized she'd been crying.

"Regina, why didn't you call me? This is part of my job, goddammit. I could have helped," Emma said, almost angrily.

"Because it's no use," she answered. "You don't know my mother. She wants to make me pay and she will. I can't beat her. No one can."

I saw both Emma and Robin open their mouths to reply, but Henry beat them to it. "Of course you can, Regina!"

Regina widened her eyes in seeing him, as I lifted my head to watch her reaction.

"Henry? What are you doing here? And… Milady?"

I tensed, but her gaze shifted from me to Henry. I looked up. His eyes were wide and hopeful as he spoke. "You can beat her. She's a bully because no one stands up against her, but you can't let her win now! Not when you're this close to be happy!"

Regina shook her head, Robin put a hand on her arm. "Listen to the lad, love," he said. "I know you can beat that witch. We'll all speak for you, you know it. We'll tell them you will be the most amazing mom ever."

"But – I don't…" I saw her freeze, her eyes full of uncertainty. "Okay," she whispered. "One last try."

.

I was waiting with Henry, outside of the room. He'd gone inside first with Regina and Emma, and I'd stayed out with Robin, then the two men had switched places, and Robin went inside as Henry was telling me about what happened. He'd spoken with a nice lady and a man, he said, and they asked him questions about Regina and if she was a good person and stuff like that.

Now he was fidgeting, restless, waiting for a verdict, when we heard high-heeled steps coming from the corridor. Henry didn't react, but I flashed my claws from inside his jacket, because I recognized Cora. She walked down to the door like she owned the place, and barged in without knocking. The voices from inside, which were calm until then, increased in their volume.

"Absolutely no right… uncivilized… this is just the proof…"

"Mrs. Gold, please, calm down…"

"I will not tolerate this behavior…"

"Mother!"

"You see? She's a child herself, how do you think she could care for one?"

"Enough!" a scream, higher than the others, interrupted the voices. "Everyone except for Miss Mills, out!"

They rushed in the corridor, Emma, Robin and Cora. The fight was not ending – I could see them speak in lower tones, but Cora was literally fuming. "Don't suppose they will actually consider her application. Not after what I told them about her. I don't care if it was a done deal – my husband has some connections," she hissed. "We won't stand down on this."

Emma crossed her arms, with a satisfied smirk. "I think you should go, lady," she said. "Go bully someone else, we're done here."

Cora didn't say another word, but turned and went away, her heels echoing on the ground.

Robin slumped down next to Henry. He looked spent, tired, as if the fight had drained his energy. "I wish we could have stayed inside with Regina," he said.

"Regina has got this," Emma said, confident. "She will win in the end. Give it some time."

We waited for a while. Henry was the most calm of the three. I found it weird, but then I thought that he was a believer, after all, he was going to believe until the end.

"This is the most exciting Christmas Eve ever," Henry whispered.

.

When the door opened, after an exceptionally long time, we all turned our heads. Regina was finally exiting, and she had an unreadable expression on her face. She looked at us.

"Well, I…" she started, then paused. "I'd like you to meet my daughter."

Henry erupted in a burst of laughter, as Emma muttered Holy shit, thank God, and Robin immediately stood up and enveloped her in a hug. I could see her eyes from above his shoulder, and they were glistening, a smile on her face as she pressed her hands on Robin's back.

"I knew you could do it," he whispered to her shoulder. "Congratulations, Regina."

"Thank you," she said, in a shaky breath. "Wanna come inside?"

I burrowed against Henry's chest as he got up and followed Emma. The people who had questioned Regina were still there. A man introduced himself as Archie Hopper, and went to squeeze Robin's hand. "Pleasure to meet you all," he said. "And thank you for being here. Our decision was already made, but your presence helped against the fake allegations her mother told us. Now, everyone, meet the protagonist of this rocky story, who luckily met a happy ending."

He turned – there was another lady, blonde and petite, bringing in a baby. I knew Regina had already met her, but it was the first time for me and everyone else, so I leaned on from my nest to look at her. She was so tiny – so pink, bundled in a lilac blanket, a little hat to cover her head.

"Oh, she's beautiful," Robin murmured. I watched as the lady placed the baby in Regina's arms – she cradled her with all the ease of mother, cupping her head, and got closer to us so we could watch her daughter. The baby was asleep, and so tiny I thought she could break. Humans are, most certainly, not so independent when they're newborns.

There was a reverent silence, around Regina and the baby, but it was broken by Doctor Hopper, who said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'd very much like to close this place now, it's getting late. Go, bring her home. And merry Christmas."

"Of course," Emma whispered. "Come on guys, let's go. Do you have a spare child seat, by chance?"

.

Regina had a little breakdown, when we got out. She'd been so desperate over the chance of never getting to hold her daughter, that she'd completely overlooked those things a baby needs – and her house was not ready to host a baby, not yet. "God, maybe my mother was right – I'm already starting off on the wrong foot…"

"We can help with that," the blonde lady said. "I'm Isabelle," she held her hand to Robin and Emma. "I'm so happy this little one found a house. We were really starting to lose all hopes – there was someone, in the system, just fighting for her to stay an orphan. But then I think the little incident from this evening cleared that out, right? Anyway we have some things for the baby, waiting for you to go shopping," she said with ease. "It happens. And it certainly doesn't mean you're going to be a bad mother," she told Regina.

"Thank you," she answered, her voice still full of emotion.

"Oh! I forgot the real reason I was here. I still need a name for the baby," Isabelle said with a warm smile. "I have to put it in her dossier, and then we really can go home."

"Oh – she doesn't have one?" Regina faltered. "I thought –"

"Usually, they do, but she doesn't," Isabelle said. "Any ideas?"

She was at a loss for words. She looked at everyone around her, holding on to the baby, and then her eyes glanced down. She spent a long moment looking at the baby, a smile cracking open on her face.

"Sophie," she decided. "Sophie Danielle Mills," she whispered.

I watched the others – Emma's eyes were glistening, Robin had that proud smile I saw often when he was with Regina, and Henry's heart was thumping against his chest, I could feel it.

"It's wonderful," smiled Isabelle. Her eyes were teary too. I purred a little against Henry, and he brought up a hand to caress my head.

…

We ended up in Emma's car, Henry and I. "We're gonna stop to get some food," Emma said. "Who knows if we'll manage to have a real Christmas Eve dinner tonight."

When we arrived home, the lights were on in Regina's apartment, and someone had lit the Christmas tree. We found more people than expected inside. Apparently, Robin had warned his band of merry friends, and they were all in, summoned last minute to switch places from Robin's house to Regina's. There was Will, his fiancée Ana, John, his wife, Alan, and other men. There was Mrs. Lucas, her niece Ruby, and a couple of friends of Ruby's. Emma brought the food to Robin and they got to work, even though it was almost nine, and Henry finally let me down. I stretched my limbs, yawning. Richard came immediately to see me.

"Hi," I greeted him. "I missed you."

"I was worried, Milady," he admitted. He brushed his nose against mine. I felt my heart soften at that, and a wave of affection for him filled me all of a sudden.

"I was with Henry," I murmured, going to lie on the carpet. "He wouldn't have let anything happen to me."

"I know," he said, simply, and went to sit next to me. Regina was on the couch, rocking the baby, and they were both surrounded by esthetic young women. Her smile was happy and tired. Henry was sitting next to them, in awe.

"I can hold her for a moment, if you want to stretch your arms," the boy offered. "I know how to, I promise."

"Oh, I… don't know," Regina hesitated. "Just for a moment, alright?"

"I'll stay with them," Robin joined them, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Go. Change into something that isn't heels and pantsuits, we'll stay with Henry." He bowed down to place a kiss on her forehead.

Regina then lifted her head, a question in her eyes, and he nodded. She finally seemed to let go of something inside of her, and carefully slid the baby into Henry's arms. "Thank you," she said. I could feel the happiness in her words.

"Eggnog?" Emma asked from the kitchen.

"Can't you just start with dinner?" Regina said from her room. "I certainly don't need you to get me drunk this early."

"Can't believe anyone has ever had doubts on you. You've always been a mom," Emma muttered, so low that the others couldn't have heard her.

.

Henry, Emma and the others went home around midnight. "We'll be here to show you my gifts tomorrow!" promised Henry, excited. I was on the sofa, curled on Robin's lap, and we watched the baby asleep in Regina's arms.

"She is beautiful," said Robin, voice thick of emotion. "Like her mother."

A sigh escaped Regina's lips, I saw a smile on her face. "She's my most precious gift and I don't think I've seen anyone this beautiful in my life," she murmured. "But thank you. I hope you don't regret… what happened between us, until now. I wouldn't hold it against you," she turned to look at him, a veil of anxiety in her voice. "I know that my life has become more difficult, even thought I would never walk away from her. But I… wouldn't hold it against you if you don't want to be with me. I know it's a lot to ask, especially with a newborn, and…"

"Don't be ridiculous," he told her. He lifted a hand to cradle her cheek and looked in her eyes. "I think you are so brave, my darling," he said. "And you will always have my help with this little one, no matter how it goes between us."

She looked at him, her eyes full of mist. "I… wanted to tell you something," she started. "I don't really know – remember how to… love very well. I've been hurt… but I think I finally put it in the past. Daniel… will always be a part of me," she said, her eyes trailing to the fireplace for a moment. "But he's my past, and… you're my present, and I hope, my future," she told him. "So… I'm happy I get to spend this Christmas with you. And Sophie," she added, looking down. "I can't believe you'd be so crazy to like me, but I'm so grateful for that. And… I guess you're kinda alright too," she said with a smirk.

"Oh thank you," he smiled, warm. "You're wonderful yourself, you know. And if it's crazy? It will be even better. Even though," he added with a glint in his eyes, "I think it's Milady who won me over, in the end."

I meowed to show my appreciation, and burrowed closer to Richard. That was indeed a wonderful Christmas, I thought. Before closing my eyes, I noticed a branch of mistletoe above them.

Sneaky, Henry, I thought fondly.

…

So this is my Christmas with my new family. My family – it's all messy and a bit patched up, but it works. I love coming home to my Richard, to a Christmas tree and a couple of humans and a baby. I love when we all spend the evenings near the fireplace, because it's were it all started.

I even love snow, now. Without it, I'd never have found my Regina. And I'd be a common alley cat. But there is nothing common about me, right?

They call me the cat who fixes hearts.

And my magic works better when Christmas is here – when there's happiness, belief, hope. I helped them save themselves, and have trust in each other again.

Look for me in the flame of a candle.
Can you feel that your heart is already warmer?

p.s. i've decided to keep this an open verse; so if you wish to hear from milady again, hit up my ask box on tumblr.
and if you liked it, let me know your thoughts!