A/N: Apologies for the delays - trying to write down the holidays are always dangerous as far as timelines go. In any case, we're close to the end now.

And well, I think there's a lot of love and family to be shared...and some fun coming up...but first...the crash ;)

"Regina?" she calls out as she steps into the master bedroom, her eyes flickering around a couple of times and taking in both the tasteful décor as well as the signs of her daughter that are throughout the room; it's neat and orderly in here, but there's a faded hoodie on the dresser and a dog-eared crime novel on the nightstand. After living with Emma for several years, Snow knows her not-quite-a-little-girl-anymore's things and knows that what she's seeing is the evidence of just how serious things have gotten between she and Regina.

Not that this is news to Snow; she's had front row seats to the evolution of their relationship and has seen it change from enemies and to friends and then grow into something more. She has seen the way they watch each other, observed the way they stand next to each other and witnessed the many different ways that they have held each other up and pushed for strength.

She'd been worried about Emma after Hook's death, but even more worried after they had returned from the Underworld without him and Emma had had this horrified look on her face, like she'd been wondering if she could justify anything that she'd done if her arms were empty.

Her knees had buckled and she's fallen and oh, Snow would give anything not to remember the sound of Emma's sobbing as she had clutched at her mothers' shirt (she recalls looking up and into David's stormy blue eyes, seeing her own heartbreak echoed back at her there – both of them shredding in sympathy for their daughter). But she does remember, and though she hates that Emma had been so very hurt, she also realizes that they've become stronger for all of that.

Of course, strength doesn't mean immunity from the pain of loss. Or fear of heartbreak.

And Snow has a feeling that so much of what is happening right now between these two women is based on both of those things; they love each other and are committed to each other if not yet the idea of being able to be together. And that means missing the forest for the trees.

She sighs and calls out for Regina once again, clocking the sound of water coming from the bathroom. Which is a good thing; Henry had said that his mother was already in the shower, but in her drugged up state, absolutely anything would have been possible. And knowing just how much this evening means to everyone involved (even if Snow thinks that perhaps too much pressure and emphasis is being put on one night), well that would have been –

"Oh Regina," Snow sighs as she steps into the bathroom, her hopeful gaze immediately shifting to one of exasperation as she takes in the surreal sight of her former enemy sprawled across the tiled floor, her hands flickering helplessly against the buttons of her shirt as she gazes almost drunkenly up at the lights shining down on her. Steam is filing the room, covering every corner of it, but there's no chance Regina is making her way into the shower stall on her own.

"Snow, why are you in my bathroom?" Regina queries, her voice unnaturally high.

"Because it's Christmas Eve, Regina and my husband and daughter – and your girlfriend –" she allows herself a small chuckle of amazement at that. "Are on their way here. And you –"

"Aren't dressed yet!" Regina says suddenly before she abruptly lurches forward like she she's going to grab at the stack of clothes that Henry had left behind for her (Snow notes them: beige slacks and a red sweater, a very mom kind of outfit; she also notes with more than a little bit of bemusement that neither any underwear nor a bra are anywhere to be found in the pile). She doesn't get too far before her knees buckle and she's tumbling forward; thankfully, she's still on the ground and all she manages to do is collide with Snow's knees, pulling the younger woman down. This would all be very funny, Snow thinks, if not for how incredibly absurd this all is.

That and she hadn't been lying to Henry when she'd told him she's no stranger to fairy dust poisoning; she's aware of exactly how warped and weird everything is for Regina right now.

And also aware of how entirely possible this evening is going to be for Regina because of it.

But she knows – knows – that Regina would want to try, anyway. Needs to try.

For Emma. For this family that is hers.

Theirs.

So Snow sighs softly and leans over. "You feel awful, don't you?"

"You look like the Queen of Hearts from that awful Johnny Depp movie. By the way, my mother would have been insulted by that. Especially by the huge head. And the crazy. I mean, Mother was crazy. We both know that, but I would say that her heard was fairly proportional overall."

"Very proportional," Snow agrees. "Now how about I help you up and into the shower?"

"You think I can't shower on my own?"

"I think you can't stand on your own because you are stoned out of your mind on fairy dust right now and me having an overly large head isn't the only strange thing you're seeing."

"The faucet is singing to me," Regina agrees. Then scowls. "That's a weird word, isn't it?"

"Very weird. I'm putting an arm around you now, and then we're going to stand up."

"I can do it on my own," Regina insists.

"Not unless I want to have to explain to Emma why we're spending Christmas Eve in an ER."

Regina cocks her head to the side, an absurd look for such a typically proud woman.

"An Emergency Room," Snow explains as she loops an arm around Regina's waist. "Whatever you got hit with earlier seems to have been pretty extreme; this is way worse than last time."

"Last time –"

"Last time was when I was all of fifteen years old, and if I recall right, you ended up getting exposed to fairy dust poisoning thanks to an initiation ceremony gone wrong –"

"That wasn't the last time," Regina smirks. "And it wasn't an initiation ceremony; Rumple made them all think if they didn't spray dust everywhere, they'd be killed. He was having fun."

"Well that's…disturbing. But even if my memory of why isn't quite right, everything else is. You were so out of it that you were just about scandalizing the entire court; they'd never seen you dancing around and singing and shouting. And then, while everyone was staring wide-eyed, you almost bankrupted the entire kingdom in one night because you tried to put on the party of the century and give away the entire treasury; my father was not very amused. I was, though."

"Snow," Regina whispers, leaning inwards. She shakes her head gravely, like she's telling a great secret, one that could change the fate of entire worlds and possibly damage relationships.

"What?"

"Your father was a giant douche," the older woman whispers, seeming almost sad. "I know you think otherwise because he brought you back those hideously ugly dolls, but he was –"

"I know who he was, Regina," Snow says gently. "Again, my memory of how and why might not be exactly on-key, but I see things better now and I know who my father was. To you and to me. I know what I didn't see then. And I'm sorry for that. More than you know." She smiles somewhat sadly. Then adds, "I would, however, prefer to never hear you say that word again. It doesn't sound right coming from you. Now on three, we're standing up so take a breath."

"Why?"

"Because the whole world is about to sway for you." She smiles kindly and then says in a tone that is far less so as she jerks the wobbly Queen to her feet, "Three." Immediately, Regina pitches forward again, only Snow's grip keeping her upright. And then before Regina can say or do anything else, Snow turns and pushes them both towards the shower, shoving Regina in.

She hears sputtering and knows that she's not going to get out of this so easy; no, she's going to end up in the shower with Regina, and good Lord her life just keeps getting weirder.

She thinks that maybe when this is all over and everyone is calm and okay and not so worried about every step they take being something terrible and scary, then maybe she'll thank Emma for the practice that her daughter had given her during the year that they'd lived together as best friends. Because Emma had been quite the hard drinker during those days, moving fast and hard and doing everything she could not to allow her feet to stop moving. She's changed so much since then, and she wants to stay still in a way she hadn't before, but the fear is there.

Still, those nights of helping Emma through the shower are helping right now with Regina.

"Hang on," Snow sighs as she pulls her cell phone out of her pocket.

"I'm drowning."

"You're not. And later tonight you'll probably make me swear this never happened," Snow says with an exasperated groan.

"Too much water."

"That's what happens when you're in a shower." She dials a number quickly. "Hi, it's me. I need a favor. Is Emma with you?" She pauses and listens. "Yeah. Tell her I got sauce on myself and need a change." A pause and she chuckles. "I'll explain everything later. I just need some time."

She hears another sputter, and tries to pretend she doesn't see Regina shaking her head..

She also sees the vibrant shimmering glitter of the anti-toxin that Regina had slathered on the open wound just behind her ear; Snow presumes that the antidote is working its way through her bloodstream slowly and eventually the poisoning will fade out, but for now at least, Regina remains completely susceptible to the bizarre reality altering effects of the fairy dust.

Snow hangs up the phone and then puts it down on the sink. "Okay, I'm coming in."

"No, save yourself!" Regina calls out; apparently the hot water isn't helping – time to go cold.

Which…well.

Snow takes a breath and then steps into the shower.

"Did you get it?" Henry asks when he sees his mother and grandfather walking toward the kitchen. Emma has a gym bag slung over her shoulder, but he can't imagine that the suit would fit in that so he frowns and regards both of them with curiosity. They're both covered in flecks and flicks of snow, each of them shivering from the rapid chilling of the December night.

"I did," Emma assures him. "It's in the car; if it's going to be a surprise, I don't want your mom seeing it before morning." She gestures towards the gym bag. "Where's your grandmother?"

"Upstairs with Mom."

"Everything okay?" Emma presses, noticing the cautious way her son is speaking. Like he doesn't know how much he's allowed to say without potentially saying too much. She glances over at her father, checking for the same curiosity there, but he's just watching. Like he knows.

At the very least knows more than she does.

"Yeah," Henry nods. "Everything's good."

"How's your Mom feeling?"

"Uh –"

"We should probably get those clothes up to Snow," David cuts in. "She told me she got grease or sauce or something all over her –" he looks pointedly at Henry, as if for back up on this.

Henry almost sighs and wonders – not for the first time – how any of these people had managed to beat the Evil Queen at her worst. When he'd been only ten years old, Henry had assumed that basic heroism and nobility were enough, but now as a teenager he recognizes that to win most battles, you need more than bit of savvy and wit and a little duplicity, too.

His family – save his mothers who both know how to work angles when necessary – isn't exactly at the top of the list of people he would look to when planning any kind of surprise party.

And tonight isn't even that.

Still, he does what any fourteen-year-old kid knows how to do just a little bit too well, and he smiles at his mother and lies, "Yeah. Turns out being a klutz is something biological." His expression widens into a full on grin when he says this, and yeah, he might be manipulating her.

Because Emma is good at this kind of stuff, and even if her super-power really isn't anything close to a power at all, she's skilled at reading people and everyone is acting just a little bit weird right now so Henry figures if he can distract her, that should be enough to keep her from thinking too much about what's happening upstairs – or more importantly, about his mother.

Sure, it'd all be easier if they tried that whole truth thing, but in fairness, in his mom's current state, Henry isn't all that sure that she knows the truth from a fanciful story about singing pigs.

"Nice, Kid," Emma laughs and then shoves his shoulder. "Okay, I'll take these up –"

"I'll take them up," David corrects. "If your mom is naked –"

"She and I were roommates," Emma reminds her. "I've probably seen her naked more times than you have." She wags her eyebrows when she says this…and then quickly thinks better of it.

"Exactly," Henry groans. "Emma, help me cut the ham up. Dinner is supposed to be on the table in ten minutes and you know how Mom gets if we go off-schedule. And we're already way off."

"I'll get your mom dressed and your girlfriend downstairs," David assures Emma.

"Okay," Emma agrees, but she's frowning just a bit. Because why would Regina need help…

Before she can think too much on that, though, Henry has her arm and he's pulling her towards the massive honey-baked ham, and it smells so goddamned good, and it's Christmas Eve.

It's Christmas Eve, and she's here with her family.

Everything is okay.

She takes the electric knife from Henry and leans in.

"So what's the plan?" he asks. "With the suit."

She grins and then lowers her voice as she tells him all about how Operation Ho-Ho-Ho will go down.

What David sees when he steps into Regina's room is a bit of a surprise.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting, but Regina standing up (kind of, she's leaning slightly against the end of the bed, her knees supported by the mattress) and dressed in beige slacks and a bright red sweater with her hair not exactly perfect, but not out of control isn't at all it. But it's good.

It's good and he exhales when he she looks up at him and smiles.

That is until Regina Mills – the once feared and loathed Evil Queen – giggles like a pre-school girl who's just mainlined a glass full of sugar.

"Crap," David says.

"Yep," Snow sighs, stepping out of the bathroom and looking like a drowned cat. "This –" she gestures to Regina. "Has taken me most of the last hour to make happen. And I have been groped, cuddled, babbled at and I think climbed more times than I would care to ever remember."

"That bad?"

"Worse. What exactly did Regina get hit with?" Snow asks as she comes around behind Regina, glancing at the wound there again; it keeps leaking which isn't all that surprising, but thankfully hasn't seemed to swell or show any signs of infection or physical worsening. Just...lots of temporary mental deterioration.

"The fairy dust that they cooked up to try to super-charge themselves again. I'm guessing her reactions are even more extreme than usual?" he asks, his eyes flickering back over to Regina who – despite looking put together – is gazing at the wall in mouth-half-open amazement.

"Well, I remember she was pretty bad after what happened when I was a teenager, but this is…she was acting back then like someone who was seriously drunk with no inhibitions. This isn't no inhibitions, David, this is someone is who legitimately stoned out of their mind and seeing an entire dancing carnival in her head. I doubt that she has seen a single thing that's real in front of her eyes for the last few hours."

"Is she in any kind of danger?" he asks, glancing over at Regina who is as anxious and un-still as he has ever seen her be. He wonders if they should be whispering here, but Regina seems completely unaware of their conversation, instead moving over to intently study the wallpaper.

"I don't think so. She knows this stuff and knows how to treat it. We can give Belle a call just to be safe, but I think it's probably okay; we just need to get through tonight and she should feel somewhat better in the morning. The problem is –"

"Tonight," David sighs. "We could just tell Emma. She'd understand."

"I agree," Snow concurs. "But we both know that –"

"No," Regina says suddenly, swinging around. "We're not telling Emma anything."

"And there she is," David murmurs. "Don't mean to the bearer of bad news - Your Majesty - but you look like hell right now."

"I'm fine," the Queen snarls in response, but it's not at all imposing or dangerous sounding. She looks down at herself and pats her chest, perhaps just a more aggressively than is necessary. "I look fine and tonight is going to be fine. Because Emma deserves it after everyone dying on her and her never getting to have a Christmas. I owe her that much. I owe her fine and that's damn well what all of us are going to give her. Do I make myself clear?"

"I doubt you make yourself clear," David mutters.

Snow throws him a look, but quickly returns her attention to the Queen. "Regina–"

"It's my fault, Snow," Regina cuts in sharply, shaking her head dramatically. "All of this is my fault. She wouldn't have grown up without family if not for me and that stupid curse and she wouldn't have lost Neal or Hook if it weren't for me. Neal died trying to let everyone know who my sister was and Hook died because we were in Camelot thanks to Emma stupidly saving me from the Darkness. If it weren't for me, she could have been happy in three different ways –"

"She loves you," Snow says gently.

"I owe her happiness."

"I think just being with you is what makes her happy," David insists. "You don't need to force yourself -"

"Oh for God's sake, be her parents," Regina replies, her voice slurring even its vehemence. "Want more for her."

"We want more for you, too, Regina," Snow reminds her, refusing to rise to the bait. "Emma is my daughter and I love her more than anything in this world, but you matter to me as well – I want you happy as well. You can't be happy if you're not doing this for the right reasons. If you're not doing it for each other."

Regina flips her hand dismissively, looking entirely like she's drunk and sloppy and heading towards a monstrous meltdown. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about; you never do. If I can't make things right for Emma, if I can't make her happy on a night like this one, then how can I ever be enough for her?" She frowns, then. "By the way, did you know you're blue?"

"We should tell Emma," David says, looking at his decidedly not-blue wife. Who is wearing an expression of extreme sadness on her face. To Regina, he says, "We can do this tomorrow."

"No! We're doing…we're doing it tonight. Christmas Eve. We are!"

"Regina, you're in no shape for this right now. You can barely stand up, and you're not thinking straight," Snow insists. "I know you have all these fears about whether or not you're enough or if you owe Emma, but you more than most people know that's not how love works. You know."

"Do I? And how would I? From the hundreds of times love has worked out for me?" the older woman snaps back, her words becoming angry and broken, the self-loathing pouring off of her.

"Regina –"

"No. We're going downstairs, Snow. I might be seeing seven of you, and your husband might look like Rumple after he's gotten too much son, but I can do this. I can make tonight…right."

"We're not stopping you, are we?" David asks.

"No way. So get your wife dressed and then let's go have Christmas Eve with our family."

The words sound right. And good. Normal and sane.

But Regina is breathing hard and her eyes are wild; there's no way that this works.

There's no way that this night goes off without a hitch.

Emma knows immediately.

She's known Regina for four years now, has been friends with her for three of those, and has been sharing a bed with her for the last several months. She's seen Regina hurt, angry, sad and everything in-between. She's seen her happy and flirting, victorious and triumphant. She's seen the Queen be quiet, wistful and thoughtful and has sat beside her when their whole world has been crumbling around them. She's broken apart in Regina's strong arms and felt herself come together in them as well, the sound of their exhausted breathing mixing with erratic heartbeats.

She knows this woman better than she knows herself, she sometimes thinks.

And right now, she knows that Regina is off.

Way off.

Maybe it's the fact that she looks like she'd fail every sobriety test known to man or the way a tendril on the left side of her hair is curling upwards like she's used gel to get it to do that, but whatever it is, it only takes Emma one look at her brunette lover to see something's wrong.

"Hey," she says, stepping forward and ignoring the looks that her parents pass between them.

"Is the ham ready?" Regina asks, a hand coming up to touch Emma's cheek. The contact is too strong, too firm and there's none of the typical tender delicacy Emma has come to expect.

But the careless rough touch isn't intentional; she rather doubts Regina is even aware of it.

Which says everything because Regina is always aware of her – as she is of Regina.

"It is. Are you okay?"

"Emma, my love, I am fine." She smiles at that, but it's off; too big, too wide. Too forced.

"You don't look fine; what's going on?" Emma prompts. She looks over at her parents and then back at Regina. "Tell me the truth. Please."

"The fairy dust," Snow says immediately, not willing to allow Regina's pride to damage things for them; she understands (not completely, but enough) why they need this evening together, but pretending that the Queen is better than she is purposeless because she's clearly off.

"I feel fine," Regina says immediately.

"Mom, how many heads do I have?"

"Irrelevant," Regina snaps back.

"Pretty sure how many heads our kid has is always relevant," Emma replies. She steps forward, then, reaching out for Regina's hands. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

"Because I feel fine. Like I said. Everything is just a little bit more colorful. But it's the season for color, right? And we are not letting a little bit of – do I smell pumpkin? Snow, did you bring over pumpkin? It's not the right night for pumpkin. That's a Thanksgiving thing. Red Velvet, Snow!"

"It's a sweet potato pie, Regina. And you told me it was okay when I asked yesterday."

"It's not. But we can make it okay. I'll grab some peppermint and cream and –"

"Ew," Henry puts in, wrinkling his noise.

"Yeah," Emma agrees, catching Regina's hands again just before the smaller woman escapes, presumably to find some peppermint to assault the sweet potato pie with.

"Regina, stop."

"This night is going to be perfect, Emma."

"It's okay," Emma insists.

"No, it's not. I'm not letting this be ruined for you. Not again." She pushes away hard.

And promptly stumbles, falling to her knees and then, as the world spins, curling into a ball.

"Guys," Emma says softly as she kneels down, a hand settled on Regina's back.

"We'll be in the other room," David tells her. "You need us to do anything?"

"Call Belle or Gold or whomever; make sure there's not something we don't know about this stuff."

"On it," Snow states as the two of them slip from the kitchen, moving into the Family Room instead.

"Good." Then to Henry. "I got this; don't worry."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm just going to take her back up to bed."

"And what about, you know -" he makes a motion around his body, look he's showing her the shape of a suit.

"Still on," Emma tells him. "We just skip phase one and go right to phase two."

"No," Regina says even though she has no idea what they're talking about. "No skipping."

Emma winks at him and smiles and then jerks her head as if to tell him to follow after his grandparents.

"Okay." He casts one more look back at his mother, at the misery he sees on her face even as she curls herself tighter into a ball (that anyone is seeing this at all is more than enough proof of how out of it is she is; his mother is prideful and strong and even in her worst moments she has always tried to maintain her dignity). "We can still do dinner with just the four of us," he says.

"And we will," Emma promises. "Go on." She doesn't wait for him to reply this time, just turns her attention back to Regina, her hand again settling on her lovers' back, her fingers turning in circles as she tries to soothe and calm her down. "Hey, it's okay," she says as she hears Henry's footsteps disappear. "You're okay."

"I can do this," Regina mumbles, a hand flattening against the ground. "I just need to get back up..."

"Don't."

"Emma, I need to -"

"And we are. We're going to get up together like we always do, Regina, and then I'm getting you into bed. And you're going to sleep this off."

"I'm sorry," Regina tells her, the fight bleeding out of her.

"Don't be," Emma replies, and then slips an arm around her lovers' body and gently lifts her up; she's strong certainly, but not enough so to carry her all the way up to her bedroom and so instead she loops an arm around her and then guides her down the hallway, up the stairs and into the Master Suite. Regina's head is lolling by the time they get there, and she doesn't put up even a slight fight as she's lowered down onto the mattress that they'd woken up together on just that same morning. "You should have told me," Emma says again, brushing hair away from Regina's sweaty brow. "I would have understood. I do understand. I can handle…weird things."

"You shouldn't have to," Regina slurs, reaching for Emma's hand (it takes several times and Emma wonders just how insane things are in front of the Queen's distorted and drugged up vision right now). "You deserve so much better than nights like this one. Better than me."

"Well first, I get to decide what I deserve and I am perfectly happy with what I have...and with you. And second, what's wrong with this night?" Emma asks as she carefully inspects the wound behind Regina's ear, finally reassuring herself of the same thing that Snow previously had - it's kind of gross thanks to the poison and the anti-toxin merging, but it's not showing any signs of infection. "No, I don't get to eat Christmas Eve dinner with you, and I hate that, but our family is downstairs and ham is even better on the second day. And tomorrow morning, hopefully you'll feel better and we can all open our presents together. That sounds like perfect to me."

"Does it?" Regina asks, for a moment seeming completely lucid.

"Yes," Emma replies and then leans in and gently kisses Regina on the lips, holding it there for just a moment – cognizant of the distortions in Regina's mind but wanting so desperately to let her know that this night hasn't been ruined; that they haven't been ruined by toxic fairy dust.

She figures if wives back from the dead, alternate universes, the Dark One and a trip to hell couldn't tear them apart, then a little bit of poisonous glitter in the blood isn't going to do it.

"I'm sorry," Regina says quietly once the kiss breaks.

"The only thing I'm sorry about is that I won't get to watch my mother try to force you to sing Christmas carols with her," Emma replies as she pulls back and away from Regina.

"I can still sing."

Emma laughs at that. "I bet." Then, growing a bit more serious. "But for now, why you don't try closing your eyes and sleeping; I want you to rest, and get this crap out of you; I have a surprise for you for tomorrow morning and I'm nervous as hell about it so I'd really like you to be my Regina and not someone who thinks that the number of heads that I have is irrelevant."

"Your Regina." Her eyes close, but just before they do, the Queen asks quietly, her voice becoming a mumble near the end, "Does that make you 'my Emma'?"

"Yes," Emma answers without pause, a hand on Regina's cheek again, her fingers rubbing against soft olive skin that she's kissed a hundred times. "It does."

TBC...