"Time to wake up, sleepy head!" Dear lord. Was she in a kindergarten classroom all of a sudden? That chipper voice certainly seemed to indicate so. She opened her eyes and glanced balefully at the speaker.

Of all the things she'd ever expected to see, Mary Margaret seated cross legged at the foot of her bed, smiling beatifically down at her was certainly not one of them. This was most assuredly the stuff of nightmares.

"Less than thrilled to see me, I can tell!" The eternal woman-child beamed. "It doesn't actually matter. I don't really need you to be excited about it, I just need you to cooperate. Ghost of Christmas Present, at your service!"

Regina had a lot of complicated emotions that were difficult to convey in a scowl, but she tried. "I'm fairly certain your services will not be required. I know how I'm spending my present Christmas."

Faux Mary Margaret smiled that shit-eating, know-it-all smile of hers. "Ah, that you do… But do you know how your son is spending his?" She reached out her hand, then. "You don't have to come, if you don't want to. The choice has always been yours… It's up to you."

Regina really didn't want to. But she did, anyhow. She reached out her hand, and with a swirl of Christmas magic, or something doubtlessly equally as treacly, they were… somewhere else. Somewhere she knew. They were in Mary Margaret's little apartment, and she was watching as Emma Swan walked in the front door.

"Did you ask her?" Henry asked from the sofa. Little Henry. Her son. She felt it then, felt it as something truly unchangeable, no matter what the world came up with.

Emma looked down at the boy, with those same tired and sad eyes she'd looked at Regina with earlier in the evening. "I sure did, kid… Not sure she totally thought I meant it, though."

Henry looked back at Emma, expression hopeless. Regina could only watch, helpless in this moment to make things alright for him. "Maybe, if I call her in the morning? Or maybe…" At this, he hesitated.

Emma parked herself next to him on the couch. "Or maybe we'll just invite ourselves over there after the show. It's Christmas. No one gets to be alone." At the sound of approaching footsteps, she grinned at Henry ruefully. "Case in point."

Snow and James appeared from the upstairs then; Snow, cradling a box that she handed down to Henry. She beamed at the boy. "I found them!"

He smiled back at her, and opened up the box, Regina moved a little nearer to examine its contents. It was filled with ornaments – camels and stars and sleighs, and every other ridiculous holiday thing Regina had been forced to let into this little haven of hers. With a gentleness surprising in one so young, he picked an ornament out of the box. "I'm glad we're putting these up… I never had a tree at home. Mom never wanted one." He dropped the ornament – a little wooden drummer boy - back into the box, almost guiltily – as though he could feel his mother's disapproving eyes on him.

In truth, though, they were not so disapproving. It would be fairer to say that she looked abashed that, given all the ways she'd deceived Henry over the years, she hadn't given him this one little thing. A tree. Maybe a tree would have made the difference.

It was Mary Margaret – Snow - who dropped to her knees then, to comfort him. Oh didn't that just take all? She put a hand softly on Henry's arm, and she smiled up at him. "Henry, once upon a time, your mom was the best person I knew… It's really important to me that you know that." Henry gazed down at her, solemn and sweet, and she simply smiled back at him, before passing the box of ornaments to her husband, and pulling the boy to his feet. "Come on, this tree's not going to decorate itself! Emma, you too! I've waited a long time for this!"

They set to work then, pulling ornaments out from tissue paper layers, and hanging them on the boughs of the gently glowing tree. Regina just leaned against the edge of the sofa, only a few feet away, and still, as ever, so far outside. She looked over her shoulder at the Ghost of Christmas Present, watching the scene with a saccharine smile that was a fair tribute to her real-world counterpart. "There's a reason I've always hated Christmas, you know…" She started, but was interrupted by the Ghost's insistent tap on her shoulder, directing her back to the Charmings.

Henry held an ornament close to his face for inspection, Regina had to lean closer to see it. It was a round disc with a little winter scene painted on it, a woman riding the horse in the snow. He held it up for Mary Margaret to see. "This kinda reminds me of my mom… You said she always liked horses, right?"

"You know," Snow said as she looked at the little scene, "it reminds me of her, too." With that, she wrapped Henry's hand closed around it. "I think you should give it to her tomorrow."

Henry looked at his grandmother with disbelief. "Snow White can't give the Evil Queen Christmas presents!" He proclaimed, as though the very thought flew in the face of everything he'd been trying to accomplish in the past year.

Snow smiled at that. "Henry, Snow White's not giving the Evil Queen a Christmas present. Regina's son is giving his mom one." She ran a hand gently across his hair.

James placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's okay to love your mom kid."

Regina was surprised that she, even she, had the grace to feel ashamed at kindness offered that she'd done very little to deserve.

Finally Emma spoke up. Absurd Emma Swan, with her apparent child-of-true-love-wisdom. "You know what, Henry? You said I was a hero, back when I didn't believe it… Back when I didn't even know what it looked like." She smiled at him, then. "But I broke your curse, didn't I? So I think tonight, I get to know. A hero's just someone who holds on. Holds on even when it would be easier to let go. You came looking for me, remember? Cause I didn't know how to look for you. Maybe that's all Regina needs, too. Nobody here's giving up on your mom."

With that, James pulled a big silver star out of the box, and pressed it into Henry's hands. "Come on, kiddo, time to perfect our masterpiece." He hoisted the boy high in the air. Henry was laughing as he placed the star atop the tree.

"Sweet, isn't it?" The voice, so close at her shoulder, jarred Regina away from the scene in front of her. "You were saying that there's a reason you've always hated Christmas?"

Regina's voice was thick as she tried to find words to explain. "I don't… I've never had – this-" She gestured at the family, at their easy warmth, at their joy, at their love "-to give. "

The ghost looked back at Regina, and shook her head pityingly. "You don't have to give this." She responded, waving her hand dismissively at the scene. "You just give what you have. That's what Christmas is, it's a chance to give lavishly. But you, Regina… You just determinedly stand out in the cold, all alone, letting every good thing you have freeze up inside you, because you don't believe that what you have is enough."

The ghost turned back to the family gathered around the tree. "A door is open, Regina. A light's on, burning just for you. But doors don't stay open forever. And if all you're willing to offer is anger and resentment, sooner than you think the light is going to flicker out."

Regina frowned at that. "And then what?"

The ghost shook her head, looking tired. "My time is short… But you, will find out soon enough. There is one more spirit coming for you tonight, and it is coming like a mist along the ground…" She reached out then, and wrapped Regina's hand tightly in her own. Abruptly, the room and its inhabitants dimmed and faded, and Regina scarcely had time to process the whispered "Good luck…" from the Spirit before she was back at home, fast asleep in a silent room.