You wake up slowly, stirring for a few minutes and regaining full consciousness little by little, in a constant progression. That's how you know you woke up on your own, naturally, without an alarm clock that makes you jolt from your bed at once, heart beating fast until you look around and remember that there aren't really horns being played next to you summoning you to battle, and the noise is actually coming from your phone. That is how most days are for you; the times when you get to sleep for as long as your body demands are rare... so you make sure to enjoy them.

That is why it takes you a while to realize you are actually not in your bed: you only open your eyes several minutes after you wake up, after stretching in every way you could possibly come up with, even the ones that would look just plain uncomfortable for anyone watching. Then you rub one eye, then the other, blink a few times slowly, trying to get used to the sunlight that hurts your pupils... and then, finally, you look around.

Your brain is not exactly functioning yet, so for a moment you just furrow your brow and try to take in your surroundings. Because, while you are certain that that is not your room in the apartment you share with your friend (roommate.. mother... whatever, you are definitely not awake enough to go there), you cannot place exactly where the room around you is at first. But then it hits you. The thought, the answer comes to you in only one word, that you can't help but whisper.

"Regina..."

And, for some reason, that word alone makes perfect sense: suddenly, all your confusion is gone. That name on itself makes it all fall back into place. It makes you fall back into place. You allow yourself to relax muscles you didn't even know you had been tensing – your forehead, to start with -, knowing that you are exactly where you're supposed to be.

You let that thought sink in for a moment, reveling in the flood of warm feelings it brings you. But after a couple of minutes, there's a nagging sensation in the back of your mind, telling you that something is wrong... something is missing. Funny enough, the answer to that is the very same as before.

"Regina!"

You look to your right and realize that, sure enough, the person that goes by that name is not where she was supposed to be; and that, of course, is by your side.

You stretch your neck to try to take a peek into the bathroom, but the fact that the lights are off and there is absolutely no movement around you let you know that she is not there either. Your brow is furrowed again, and you decide to finally get up and find out where the other woman is. You get dressed and, before going downstairs, grab your phone... and that's when you see the time and date. It's 1pm on December 24th. That is why you are not working and could sleep late... and damn if that isn't late indeed.

Being the naturally early riser that she is, Regina has probably already been up for hours, you muse. You only hope she will not be too angry at you for sleeping so much... and consequently leaving her to take care of the last-minute errands for the next day on her own.

Thinking about it, though, you figure she might actually be glad about that. Your cooking skills are possibly the worst ever, and every time you go into the kitchen with her, there are only two possible outcomes: you making a huge mess and ruining whatever it is you are trying to make; or you simply not working at all (to avoid accidents) and instead just staying there for company... and by "company", you mean "food", since you always find a way to grab some of whatever Regina is cooking before it actually makes it to the table.

You have become a professional at resisting the glares and daggers she shoots at you every time you do that. Being the first one to taste the unbelievably delicious products of her culinary abilities is certainly worth it. If it depended on you... there would be no necessity to take things to the table, after all. Actually, if it depended solely on you, there wouldn't be enough food to take to the table, because it would all be over as soon as it was ready.

You wrinkle your nose at the realization that perhaps it's a good thing that it does not depend only on you; otherwise there would never be enough food left for Regina herself, or for Henry. So, on further thought, you reckon the brunette might actually be relieved to have a few hours in the kitchen without you around. It should be enough to make sure that there will be a meal indeed.

You have only been together for a few months... in fact, you have only been in town for roughly a year (fourteen months and two days, to be exact), and this will be your first proper Christmas in Storybrooke. "Proper", because in the last one, you did not have strong ties to anyone in that town, except for Henry – who was, of course, with his mother – and, in a much smaller degree, Mary Margaret – who happened to be in a very depressed state because of David at the time.

So you all but ran away during those two days. That was your automatic response in uncomfortable situations, wasn't it? And Christmas had always been such for you. What does an orphan do, in a day that is all about family? Where does a loner, a girl who's always been on her own, go on a day when she does not feel like there is a single place in the world where she can fit in and feel part of something?

You had started that tradition when you were a teenager. In your 14th Christmas, you ran away. You were in one of the worst foster homes you ever had, there were just so may kids, pretty much stacked on top of each other, four or five sharing each bedroom, you did not have a single moment of privacy in that house and you felt more suffocated with every single day you spent there. Everyone hated each other and was constantly on each other's throats.

But suddenly the end of December came around, and your foster parents expected you to be the picture-perfect kids, because they had to send "family portraits" to social services every now and then, and Christmas was the perfect opportunity to prove that they certainly could handle having so many foster children. That outraged you more than you could say, because those people were not, those people would never be your family, and you wanted absolutely no part with them.

So, on the afternoon of December 24th, you ran away. Grabbed clothes for two days, a few supplies, a sleeping bag (which was actually the only bed you had in that house), threw them inside a backpack and sneaked out. Sure, you went back two days later... but that was besides the point. You knew they wouldn't even notice your absence anyway.

You saved yourself the trouble of pretending to be happy when you were miserable; you saved yourself the heartbreak of pretending to be part of a mock-family, with a lame excuse for parents, when by then you had already figured out that you would never have the real deal.

You made that day all about you. Took a walk around, sat down at a park for a few hours and watched people come and go (you had always loved people-watching, after all), ate a snack... Then, as the sun was starting to go down, you walked over to the woods near the edge of the park and went in, like you had done countless times before. You knew exactly the trail you wanted to take, the one that would lead to the clearing that you considered your place. That was where you could have some moments alone, not surrounded by a dozen people all the time. And that was where you spent the night, in your own company... because that was the only family you had, the only one you had always had and would always have, and you were finally learning to accept that, in a way – even though you knew you would never feel completely painless about that.

From then on, that was what you did on almost every single Christmas, the exception being the one when you were 17 and you actually had a decent foster family for once. They tried their best to make it a nice evening for the kids... even though every single one of them, you included, was painfully aware that something was not right and that was still way too far from what a real Christmas with a real family should feel like.

On every other year, though... you ran. And that was what you did last year too, ran away and spent two days camping out in the woods by yourself, no phone, no contact with anyone, just some books and music and fishing and silence and actually having time to be alone with yourself.

But this year... this year is going to be different, and you know it. To start with, for the first time in your life, you actually have parents... your real ones, even if they look like they could be your siblings or something. It's still hard to wrap your mind around it most times... and none of it seems fair if you think too much about it, and it makes you so damn angry... but it's definitely the best you've ever had, and you don't want to lose it, so you simply don't think.

And then, besides that... there's Henry. And Regina. And they give you a completely different sense of family than you feel with David and Mary Margaret. Because this one also doesn't seem fair... but in the exact opposite way. It seems a lot more than you could ever deserve, and infinitely more than you ever believed you could have. And it's just so much that it gets overwhelming at times, you feel like you are constantly on the verge of losing them, and it makes your flight instinct kick in if you think too much about it, and you start to panic... but it's definitely the best you've ever had, and you don't want to lose it, so you simply don't think.

Of course, there is the slight problem that your girlfriend – it feels weird using that word, considering neither of you is a teenage girl anymore, and considering you actually do share a son, but you're not sure how else to call her... so in the end you just settle with "Regina", because that seems to be the answer to all your doubts anyway – and your mother – it also feels weird using that word, considering you are basically the same age and she certainly did not raise you... so in the end you also settle with "Mary Margaret", because giving labels really does make everything so much more complicated than it already is... And at that point, you feel the need to reconstruct your whole sentence, because the way you started doesn't feel anywhere close to appropriate.

The fact is that Regina and Mary Margaret still have not found a way to be on good terms with each other. It takes Regina a great amount of mental effort to forget that you are technically her rival's child, and whenever she is reminded of that fact, her face still contorts into a grimace, even though she does not make comments about it anymore. And Mary Margaret does try her hardest to keep herself from saying anything or going on a rant about how absurd that is, but every time Regina is mentioned, her face makes it look as if she feels personally attacked by the fact that her daughter would be in a relationship with her former step-mother. "Former", you remind her, time and time again. "Here, she is just Regina." It doesn't seem to have much effect, however.

So, to make sure the holiday remains a peaceful one... you had to reach a compromise. You'll spend Christmas Eve with David and Mary Margaret. "Family supper", they called it. Just the thought of it makes your stomach clench, and you don't know how on Earth you will survive it, and you wonder where the hell your sleeping bag is, and you vow to look for it as soon as you get to the apartment, because you need to be able to make a run for the door if it becomes more than you can handle. You are suddenly happy to have woken up so late, because you can use it an excuse for getting there later than expected. Hopefully, if it's not too many hours, you can make it through...

But the next morning... that one will be spent at the mayor's house. For the first time ever, you will get to see your son opening his presents (including the ones you got him yourself, and you know you went overboard, Regina told you so dozens of times, complaining about how spoiled he would be... but you couldn't help yourself. You had to try to make up for the previous 10 years... you'll probably never stop trying to make up for them.).

You will get to see Henry's face light up as he unwraps them, tearing the festive papers apart like a kid does... like a happy kid does.

You never got to have a Christmas like that growing up; a joyful one, with the magic you always heard people talking about, the carefree notion of being a child and opening your eyes on Christmas morning and knowing that the very first thought in your mind is about running to the tree to find the packages addressed to you. But your son gets that. Your son has been getting that traditional, perfect Christmas for his whole life; he has never known anything different – thanks to Regina.

Your heart is overwhelmed with gratitude to her, for how she raised him, how she gave him everything he could possibly need or want, and much more. For how, because of Regina, Henry never had to go through what you went through growing up. Christmas is such a happy day for him – and not a bordering traumatizing one like it is for you – and you know you only have Regina to thank for that. And this year... you will get to be a part of that.

And yes, in a way, this does scare you too, as much as being with David and Mary Margaret does. It scares you like freaking hell. What if you still feel like you have no place, no business being there? What if you ruin it for him, for both of them? But, differently from how it is with your parents, you don't feel the need to run away.

You want to be there, you want to see that and be a part of that moment, to share your son's joy, to get to watch him and Regina, their genuine smiles, the calm bliss you have always associated with Christmas mornings even though you have never had one like that yourself... you want it more than anything you have ever wanted in your lifetime before.

You want to be a part of that family. You want to be a mother to your son. You want to be not just a girlfriend, but a wife to his other mother... to the person who took him in and loved him when you couldn't... to the person to whom you owe more than could ever be repaid, exactly because you know, you painfully know, how bad it could have been for Henry if it wasn't for Regina. You want all of that so much, so strongly, so fiercely, that it makes you afraid, because you can't even remember the last time your heart was so set on something... and you figure that's because it most likely never was.

Maybe this is exactly what makes it so special: your heart is in it... fully, without restrictions. Like it never was in anything before. The walls you spent your whole life building around you seem to not have survived meeting that kid... and his mother.

You spent at least the latter half of your life convincing yourself that you did not want a family, and you sure as hell did not need one. But when you get to the kitchen and you see the most gorgeous woman you have ever met trying to finish mixing the ingredients to make gingerbread cookies, while the most perfectly naughty young boy picks a handful of flour and purposefully blows it on her face... when you look at them, and you see her mock-glare and hear the kid's laughter fill the room, shortly followed by the brunette's... when you feel the warmth overflowing from your heart before you can even try to stop it... then you just know. And for once, you finally feel ready to admit it: that is the family that you definitely, certainly, absolutely, without a single doubt, need.

And, wonder of wonders... that is the family you have.

Hey, everyone! How have you been doing? I hope everyone is well and enjoying the holidays. It's been a while since I last wrote anything, so I'm kinda rusty... but still, this popped into my mind and I wanted to get it written down on time. I hope you have enjoyed reading it! Let me know what you think. :)

Merry Christmas! I wish you all a wonderful time.