A/N: This takes place in a world which includes Emma's Dark One stint and the Underworld so yes, Hook was there (until his permanent death) and was relevant in Emma's life...but that time is in the past. Some of the scars of their lost loves remain, and this story is about getting past them. And all about Charming-Mills family love!
"Hey, Kid, I need your help with something," Emma says as she comes behind him in the kitchen, observing him with the same sometimes almost suffocating wistfulness that she often sees shining brightly almost fearfully (if still a bit proudly) in Regina's brown eyes. The same understanding of how time marches on, and never seems to stop no matter how much you might want it to.
At least not without an active curse in place.
She's not thinking about such depressing things tonight (she refuses to, she tells herself, even though she more than anyone else besides perhaps Regina knows how impossible it is to stop those terrible thoughts when they start up). But no, tonight is Christmas Eve, and being that it's the first quiet one she's ever gotten to spend with her family, she means to make the best of it in every way possible. Which means she has a plan; one which she needs help with.
So she grins at her fourteen-year-old son and when he rolls her eyes at her and turns away to reach for his bowl of cereal (he's up earlier than usual, owing to the fact that he's been walking a "friend" of his to school as of late, and oh she thinks that will eventually be a really interesting conversation). With a soft if slightly nervous chuckle, she nudges him with her shoulder. "I know you have more interesting plans, but I could super use your help today; it's my first Christmas as part of this family and –"
He turns towards her suddenly, and if she'd been joking around and trying to charm him before, she quickly grows somber when what she sees him from him is surprising seriousness. "It's not your first Christmas with us," Henry insists, his voice cracking just slightly. "You've been part of this family for four years now, Mom; this is just the first year that we get to actually celebrate it."
"Without random trips to different world and crazy dimensions, I know," she laughs, a wry but not exactly humorous smile on her pale lips. "I know. But, I want this one to be special. Your mom is going out of her way to make it memorable and I want to do my part, too. But I need your help for that."
He sighs. "Will this get me 'oh Henry'd' at?"
"No," she says quickly. Too quickly.
"Mom."
"Maybe. But I promise it'll be worth it."
He narrows his eyes. "Will I end up traumatized?"
"Kid, when have I –"
"Two weeks ago when I came home for lunch and found you and Mom. On the kitchen table. On my kitchen table. Where I wanted to have my lunch."
She winces. "Yeah, that was unfortunate."
"Horrifying," he corrects. "You two were both supposed to be at work, and all I wanted was a nice turkey and cranberry sandwich with some chips and a glass of orange juice and after seeing that, all I wanted was really strong bleach."
"It was pretty mortifying for us, too."
"You didn't have a friend with you."
"Technically –"
"If you want my help, you won't finish that sentence."
She smirks. "So you'll help me?"
"Of course. What do you want?"
"Something that is super hard to find in Storybrooke: a Santa Claus costume."
His eyebrow lifts. "Why?"
"Because neither you nor your mother have ever gotten to experience it. I know you guys have always done Christmas and all that, but she told me Santa Claus was never part of any of your rituals because she didn't know how and –"
He smiles warmly at her, almost indulgently. "You know I'm fourteen, right?"
"I know." She drops her head. "I mean, of course I know, and if you don't –"
"I think it's cool," he tells her. "You already checked around?"
"With me working a full shift today, there's no time to head out of Storybrooke to get one, and people here still aren't all that willing to take non-official calls from me," Emma answers. She forces a smile onto her lips, but he knows better; it's been almost a year since she was the Dark One and so very much has changed since then, but much hasn't as well and even now, Emma is still struggling with finding forgiveness from many of the righteous citizens of the town that she is the unwanted sheriff of.
She's tried to quit a dozen times, and only the steely will of his other mother has kept her from it; only Regina's determination that the person who has done so much for these people should not be refused the chance for redemption (especially if a former Evil Queen can find it and even be called a "hero" and a leader by those whom she had so horribly injured for so long) has kept Emma from throwing down her badge and gun and walking away from the office.
Still, he knows – and sees with the eyes of a boy who is rapidly becoming a man (much to the obvious chagrin of both of his ever watchful and wistful mothers) instead of the wide-eyed child that he'd once been – that Emma is still at war with herself, still fighting against the many dark doubts that she has.
The fear that maybe she doesn't deserve the forgiveness that her family so freely offered her. The forgiveness that they'd given her in their arms when she'd finally crumbled, her knees cracking against the ground, her breath leaving her chest as she'd sobbed until she hadn't been able to do anything but shake.
They'd been there - her parents and Regina and Henry.
They'd been there, and they've been there.
And they're still here.
"I'll find one," Henry promises her, pulling her from her darkening thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." His lips turn upwards and his green eyes sparkle with mischief. "We need a name of course; I'm thinking Operation Ho Ho Ho."
She laughs at that, the sound loud and real. "That's the worst."
"But it made you laugh," he notes, and then with sincerity (too much and it aches that he's using it on her right now), "And I like it when you laugh."
"I laugh a lot," she insists.
"Less than you did when I met you, more than you did a year ago."
She swallows. "Kid –"
"I'm fine," he promises. "You're not."
"I'm…better. Being here, having all of you…"
"Having Mom."
"Having you," she says softly.
"I'm here." He steps forward and hugs her, and even though she knows she should be strong enough to not need comfort from her teenage son, she accepts it all the same. Because being so tough and trying to always go at everything alone is what had led to…what had almost been.
The end of her family.
The end of hope.
But she has both of those things again – her parents, her son and…Regina.
Love.
Actual real and passionate love. The kind that invades every part of your soul, and makes you feel like you're flying; this is different, though, because both of them have been indulgent and selfish before, both of them have let love and the idea of it consume them and burns them all the way to the ground. There's a maturity about them both now, a wariness that makes them cautious even as it allows them to see and understand each other in a way few else could.
They have always understood each other better than just about anyone else, but now, now after suffering so much losses and having spent so many times watching the shadows close around the few chances that they'd thought they'd finally earned a right to, now they're both just trying to find a way to live.
Live and love and hope for the best.
Because even if they'd never believed that they would have another chance at love, here they are and they do have it, and she means to make the most of it. Even if she can't ever completely believe that it will last (too many times, too much pain), for however long she has this, Emma Swan intends to ensure that every moment with these people is something special.
Something that she will be able to hold close to her heart no matter what else happens.
And for now, that starts with…Operation Ho Ho Ho.
Which is pretty much the worst name ever; it totally has to go.
She laughs once again as she thinks this, lets Henry out of her arms (reluctantly, and only because she knows she can't use her son to keep her afloat; she has to find the strength within herself and God is she trying to) and asks, "What's your plan?"
Regina Mills' meticulously constructed game-plan for this coming Christmas Eve is supposed to start with having the Charmings over for a nice cozy family dinner. Snow and David and fifteen month old Neal who never stops moving or babbling and who has an apparent magnetic affinity for his godmother.
The plan is honey-baked ham and the best wine that she has in her cellar.
A nice meal, some family time (she still chuckles when she thinks about how strange it is to consider Snow and David her family, and to actually be happy that they are such), and then after they leave and Henry is in bed, she'll put down the presents and maybe she can sneak some time with Emma if the sheriff isn't too tired or hassled from a full day of dealing with people (she's working until almost six even though it's Christmas Eve, and she'll be on-call).
Anyway, that's the plan that she'd made for the night, and she's always been rather fond of sticking to her plans as much as she possibly can.
But then her phone rings and Mother Superior is pissing and whining and good God (no pun intended, not really, anyway) does she despise the woman; she's certain that the former infinitely powerful fairy is up to no good, but well Snow is insistent that she's just the nicest and most trustworthy once omnipotent creature ever born so they should all definitely believe in her…and dammit.
In any case, there's a plan that had involved dinner on the table by six-thirty at the latest and unless she can make move quickly, it's shattering everywhere because suddenly fairy magic is going haywire, and even though the still bizarrely chaste nuns continue to loathe her like they think she eats their kind as party snacks, they need her help to stop this absurd little crisis of theirs.
Which apparently since she's one of the good guys now, she actually has to.
She groans and mutters and slams the over door closed.
And then calls out for Henry.
He comes down the stairs, his hair wet from a shower, his clothes wrinkled in a way that reminds her of his age. "What's up?" he asks, and there's something in his tone – something different, but she doesn't quite know what – that tells her he's up to something, but she doesn't have time to worry about that right now.
"Ham," she sighs. "I need you to keep an eye on it while I try not to bug-swat some fairies." A strange almost sadistic look overtakes her face for a moment.
"Mom," he says with a smirk. "We've talked about this."
"Yes, and if I happen to step on one or two wings and they just happen to cause some strange side-effect, I promise it'll be a complete accident."
He laughs. "Go on, I got this."
"Okay. If I'm lucky, I can get this dealt with quickly –"
"Are you meeting Emma?"
"Yes; she's on her way there already."
He nods. Then, "She's really looking forward to tonight."
"I know." A small frown creases her brow.
"What?" he asks.
"It's nothing."
"Mom."
She sighs. "I worry that it – that all of this - won't live up to her expectations."
"Does she have anything to compare it to?" Henry asks.
"Dreams and daydreams are a powerful thing," Regina replies, stepping forward and placing a hand on each of his shoulders. "I grew up…with a difficult mother –" she pauses for a moment after she says this, knowing how much she is underselling the torment of her youth, but even though Henry knows of Cora and has even been face to face with her thanks to their brief journey through the Underworld, he still doesn't really understand, and Regina desperately hopes that he never will. "But even then, I got to celebrate the holidays and festivals of our land. Even with my mother being relentlessly strict, I still had moments when I was allowed to feel for a moment or two like a child. Emma's memories of Christmas are all tainted by the things going on around her, and the belief that none of what she had was hers. The best of what she knows comes from the stories of others; I just want us to be able to live up to that."
She laughs then.
"You're thinking you shouldn't have said any of that to me."
"I know that I shouldn't have; I forgot sometimes that you're only –
"I've been to Neverland, Camelot and the Underworld; I'm not a kid, Mom."
"I know." She leans in and kisses him on the top of the head, holding her lips against his forehead for a long emotional beat. "I should probably get going."
"Emma is going to love tonight," he tells her. "And…so are you."
"Oh honey, of course I am. I never thought I would be able to have any of this, but I do. I'm here," she answers quietly, meeting his eyes, and then again reaching out to touch his face, making sure that he's looking at her. "I have all of this around me. All of you. No matter what else happens; it's enough."
"It is for her, too."
She nods slowly, feeling the moisture on her eyelashes; damn these two and their ability to make that happen – as a former Evil Queen, she thinks that she should be immune to such frivolous things like easy simple emotion.
But no, and really, she never has been; the ones who get to her always have.
"I'll keep an eye on the ham," he assures her as he makes a shooing motion with his right hand. "Go take care of the fairies. And Mom –"
"I won't accidentally disintegrate any of them."
He gives her a cheeky thumbs up; she grunts in petulant annoyance and then leaves the kitchen, the front door shutting a few minutes later. Once she's gone, he reaches over and picks up the phone, dials a number and says in a hushed voice, "Hey, it's Henry; whenever you're ready, you can come over."
Emma's already waiting for her when she gets to the convent, standing next to the police cruiser, her hands shoved into the pockets of her too-tight indigo blue jeans; it's a fairly chilly late December afternoon in Maine, and so Emma is wearing one of her thicker jackets, the bulk of it hiding away the rest of her lean features. "Sheriff," Regina drawls as she approaches.
"You're in a skirt in this weather," Emma notes. When she'd left the bedroom that morning (not hers, not theirs; she technically has an apartment of her own that she visits once a day in order to insist that she and Regina aren't actually living together), her lover had still been dressed in her silk pajamas. Now, though, she's in a black pencil skirt, a red blouse and a dark overcoat.
She looks fantastic if a bit…domineering in appearance; she's definitely making a statement, and Emma doesn't think that it's one being made to her.
"It annoys the hell out of that Blue Fairy twit when I show off my legs," Regina states with a defiant smirk that is one hundred percent the Evil Queen. "She apparently thinks that only slutty fairies should be able to flaunt what they have even if what they have is...well, never mind that." She rolls her eyes in disgust.
Emma laughs. "Well, I can't say I'm complaining with what you have."
"I didn't think you would be." She steps closer to Emma, close enough that they're practically sharing the icy air in front of them. "How's your day been?"
"Irritating; I got a call about a missing snowman's head."
"Did you find it?"
"In a refrigerator."
"Morbid."
"Yeah," Emma laughs. "I suppose we should go take care of the fairies, huh?"
"If we must."
"Sooner we do this, sooner we can do Christmas Eve."
"You're nervous," Regina notes.
"A little."
"What are you expecting?"
"National Lampoon's?"
"I don't understand the reference."
"We'll correct that," Emma promises. Then, stepping closer, she slides her arms around Regina's waist and leans her head in, lightly kissing Regina's shoulder. "I have no expectations. I just know I want to spend tonight with my family."
"And you will be." She thinks about her conversation with Henry, thinks about the words that she'd said to him and him to her. "Will that be enough?"
Before Emma can answer the question, they hear David's voice calling out to them from the steps of the convent (Emma had sent David up ahead, knowing that the fairies have an almost even stronger aversion to her due to her time as the Dark One than even the one that they have to Regina). "Hey, need help!"
"We should…do that," Emma sighs, moving back.
"I love you," Regina tells her.
Emma tilts her head. "What was that for?"
"It's our first Christmas together," Regina tells her.
Which isn't at all an answer to the question asked, but it seems like the only one that Regina intends to give her because before Emma can push, Regina is leaning up and very lightly kissing her on the lips – chaste and gentle and so terribly tender that Emma almost thinks her heart will explode from the emotion of it all – and then she's sliding away from Emma, and moving towards David.
Saying loudly and with maximum snark as she struts up the steps, "We're here; tell me we were too late to save at least one or two of the fairy bitches."
And in spite of how entirely and absolutely not funny that is, Emma laughs. But it's her cell phone buzzing – and the words which read: OPERATION HO HO HO IS A GO; THE SUIT HAS BEEN OBTAINED – that makes her smile from ear to ear.
TBC...