I don't eat
I don't sleep
I do nothing but think of you
You keep me under your spell

Under Your Skin- Desire

The Art of Avoiding Bears: a Saviour's Guide

Running off into the wilderness with no real idea of where you're heading probably isn't the best idea and is likely to end in injury, physical or otherwise.

7. If needs must and you simply have to escape for a few hours, DO NOT run off without warning your fellow campers.

-By Emma Swan

The 24th of December, Christmas Eve, came in the blink of an eye.

And yet, instead of being sat around the campfire with her family, Emma Swan saw the day in alone, downing ale in a quaint pub called 'The Wayside Inn', well on her way to becoming absolutely slaughtered.

She had known this holiday might not be easy; taking a woman like Regina camping was never going to be a recipe for fun, but she'd never expected things to get fucked up so royally. It was all her fault, as usual. If only she'd kept her stupid, big mouth shut. As if Regina could possibly like someone like her? Regina was well mannered and perfect right down to her manicured nails. Emma was loud, uncouth and and didn't always bother to cover her mouth when she burped. It was no wonder Regina had pushed her away so violently- deep down, Emma knew she still resembled that shabby, unlovable orphan who no one wanted.

It had been two days since their- their whatever the hell had happened- since their intense snog turned sour type thing. At first, Emma had been furious. She'd charged back to their camp site and tore down Regina's tent and was all set for walking to the airport rather than spend another second in her company. But she couldn't do that to Henry. He'd be gutted if she left for Christmas. The kid had already dealt with enough disappointments in having Emma for a mother.

Not that what she had done was much better. She'd taken off without a word, walking miles and miles in the snow until she found this place, booked a room and had spent the last two days drinking herself stupid until the ache in her heart wasn't so strong.

Now, she wasn't furious anymore. Only sad and heart broken. She missed Regina like hell and hated herself for it.

The woman had taken her feelings and crushed them in her palm, and yet, here was Emma, longing for her in the same way you yearn for summer after a difficult winter. Hell, the woman was her summer. Without her, the world seemed so lonely and dark, feelings Emma hadn't truly experienced in a long time.

She checked her wristwatch.

12.45am.

Fuck.

It had been Christmas Eve for almost an hour and she hadn't even noticed. She grabbed her pint of cidre (apple cidre, because apparently everything felt the need to remind her of Regina) and down the remainder in three long gulps.

"You ok, lady?" The barman ambled over. He had a face which was as wrinkled as corrugated card board and kind eyes. He'd given Emma a lot of drinks on the house over the past few days and kept bringing her hot meals, even when she didn't ask for them. "You've been lookin' mighty blue these past two days and no one should be sad the night before Christmas."

"Mind your own business and get me another drink." She snapped.

He dipped his head. "Sure thing, lady." He began to walk away and Emma put her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."

He considered that. "Whoever he is and whatever he's done-"

"She," Emma croaked, tears springing from her eyes. "It's she."

He nodded. "She. Whatever your lady's done, don't think on it now. Not tonight. I can see you're a good sort and you oughta be happy."

He handed her a tissue and she blew her nose, snuffling loudly.

The barman clapped her on the shoulders, which only made Emma cry harder. "Things will sort 'emselves out. They always do."

But they wouldn't. Not this time. Emma couldn't go back to being friends with Regina, not after this. She didn't tell him that, though. She flashed him a watery smile. "You're right, I guess."

"In your case they might be sortin' themselves out sooner rather than later." The barman chuckled, his eyes turning towards the door, which had just banged open, cold air rushing into the warm inn. Emma followed his gaze and froze.

Regina.

She was here, in the inn, her hair messy and damp with snow, dark shadows under her chocolate eyes. Her brown eyes searched the room desperately until they fell on Emma, where they widened with a thousand different emotions. And then she was storming over and dragging Emma from her seat and back out of the door until they were alone, snow flurrying around them.

Regina invaded her personal space and for a moment Emma thought she might kiss her, but then she was falling, landing in the powdery snow with a soft thud.

"Where the hell you been?" Regina screamed, her voice chilling Emma far more than the arctic wind. "It's been two days. Two days!" She towered over the blonde, her eyes flashing purple with suppressed magic. "Henry has been-"

"No!" Emma exploded, all the rage, all the sorrow of the last two days pouring out as slammed her fist into the snow. "Fuck you, Regina. You don't get to use Henry as a guilt trip. You did this!"

Not heeding her warning, or perhaps so lost in her anger she didn't notice, Regina ploughed on. "-worried sick. What sort of mother are you?"

The words slapped Emma in the face. She flushed a bright, angry crimson. "No!" She spat. "No! You don't get to yell at me! You don't get to say anything at all! I'll be there for Christmas day then I'm out of this fucking place and you Henry can enjoy the rest of this bullshit holiday!"

"No, fuck you, Emma Swan." Regina bellowed, the snow framing her hair like some bizarre halo. "The search and rescue team have been looking for you. Henry thought you were dead! I thought you were dead, but here you are, getting drunk off your face on beer!"

Her heart panged at the thought of Henry being worried about her, but her anger at Regina clouded it almost immediately. "Like you'd care if I was dead in some ditch at the bottom of some mountain," She sneered. "You feel nothing, remember? Nothing at all?"

In front of her, Regina froze mid tirade, her face paling until it was as white as the snow. Her hands were trembling violently and Emma's stomach gave a satisfactory lurch of glee as she watched the guilty look wash over Regina's face. Her words had struck home and for once Emma was in the lead, was one step ahead in their twisted game.

Then Regina was falling to her knees beside Emma and throwing her arms around her, pulling her flush against her body and breathing in the scent of her hair. "You idiot!" She sneered in a strangled voice. Then, more softly. "You idiot. Of course I'd care."

It was only then Emma noticed how cold she was, not having had time to layer up before being hauled outside and dumped in the snow. Her bare arms were soaked with melted snow and her tank top was clinging to her skin. Her teeth chattered and a tremble wracked through her body. Regina pulled her closer, her hands creating blazing trails across every inch of her bare skin, fingers tousling her hair softly, like they might a kitten. The brunette wouldn't take her hands off of her, as though making sure she really was there and it wasn't all some horrid dream.

Emma choked back a sob.

Regina made hushing sounds.

God, she was here. She was really here, holding her in the way her body had been aching for the past two days. But it was only because she felt guilty. Or because she didn't want Henry to hate her, most likely.

It was too much for Emma. She tried to unfold herself from the tangle of arms, but the other woman only gripped her tighter. "Let me go, Regina. Please."

She couldn't do this. She couldn't stand to be here, in her arms. Saviour or not, there was only so much a person could bear, and Emma had almost reached her limit. This Regina, hot one moment, icy the next, so damn tender as quick as she was downright cruel, was more than Emma could cope with right now.

"I won't let you go. No."

"No?"

"No." Regina rolled her eyes.

"I'm tired," Emma confessed quietly, glancing down at where Regina was clutching at her hand like a lifeline, the struggle draining out of her. "I don't want to fight anymore. You made it perfectly clear what you think of me. Please, just let me go."

"What exactly do I think of you?"

And Emma was an orphan again, watching as yet another car drove away with a beaming child in the back, a child that wasn't her. That was never her. "That I'm not good enough for you." She admitted brokenly.

Regina gaped at her, for once gracelessly, and tightened her hold on her hand. The pressure was almost painful now. "Is- is that really what you think?"

Her voice broke and, even in her anger, Emma's heart clenched for her. She shrugged non-nonchalantly, looking straight ahead at the colourful lights dotted about the village.

"Emma, look at me," Regina commands, grabbing her chin and carefully tilting her chin upwards. She pressed her lip against her forehead and Emma's soul ached with confusion of it all. Brown eyes pinned her green ones in place and silence stretched between them. After several beats, Regina's lips parted. "Emma, you are more than enough. If anything you are too much."

"Then why?" Emma asked hollowly, unable to prevent the whining note that had crept into her voice.

The brunette shivered and closed her eyes, giving a long sigh. "I'm afraid. Everyone I care about ends up hurt." She looked at Emma, her eyes for once open, glowing with worry. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You already have."

The brunette winced. "I- Emma I'm so sorry. Really. I- of course I feltsomething. I panicked, but I'm sick of fighting it."

A lightness which she hadn't felt in days swelled inside Emma's chest like a balloon, pushing away all the sadness and other crap she had been drowning in. It was a long way from ok and Emma still hurt, but she was sick of dealing with it all. Sometime soon, it would burst back into life and, knowing them, would manifest itself in an explosive argument, rich with brutal jibes and fire of both the literal and metaphorical kind. But, for now, maybe they could just be.

Because Regina had felt something. She was cared about; she was wanted. And that was everything.

"Then don't. Don't fight it anymore." And, unable to stop herself, Emma leaned in and brushed her lips against her, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the cold rush through her.

Regina pushed her away gently and placed a finger on Emma's lips. "We should talk first. But let's wait until after Christmas."

Wait.

Emma could do that. She could wait. She felt like she'd already spent her whole life just waiting for this woman to come into her life. If Emma was poetry, Regina was her meaning, the rhythm to her incomplete rhymes. What was one more day?

She trembled.

"You're cold." Regina murmured against her cheek, moving her lips to kiss it gently.

"So are you." Emma returned.

And Regina laughed, a joyous, throaty sound of the likes she hadn't in years. She laughed at the absurdity of it all- of herself, and her cursed, cruel tongue which had almost lost her someone she held dear; of Emma, running away like a scalded child and now this: the pair of them kissing on a snow covered ground, both drenched to the bone and shivering. It was so typically them. They certainly both had a flare for the dramatic.

Emma cocked her head quizzically and Regina cupped her cheek and kissed her, unable to stop herself now Emma was here, so warm and pliable in her arms.

The brunette only shook her head, clambering to her feet and pulling Emma up by the hand. Neither of them made a move to let go.

"Where's Henry?"

"Sleeping. He's in the other inn in the village, the one up the road."

"You must be tired." Emma said softly.

In a gesture so uncharacteristic of her, Regina shrugged, eliciting a smile from the blonde. "I couldn't sleep until I knew you were safe."

For the first time Emma felt a pang of guilt. She could only imagine how she'd have felt if Regina had gone wandering off into the wilderness with no word of where she'd gone.

"I'm sorry."

Regina looked at her and shrugged again with a shy smile: a smile of fresh starts. "It doesn't matter." She said, tucking a stray lock of drenched, blonde hair behind Emma's ear.

Emma nodded and then both fell silent as Regina lead her up the road, their footprints as close as possible in the snow. Emma swung their hands unconsciously in an almost childlike way, but Regina, of all people, didn't seem to mind. To the contrary, she squeezed Emma's hand tightly as a soft smile graced her face. The blonde grinned back like an idiot.

No, things weren't OK.

But they could be.

And for now that was enough.

The Art of Avoiding Bears: a Saviour's Guide

8. If you find yourself sat in the snow in the middle of a blizzard, DO persuade someone to sit alongside with you to give you snuggles. This preserves body heat. It's the only logical response, really.

-By Emma Swan