"So, I heard after grandma left, you ran straight for Emma?" Henry proudly questions, inquisitive as always for more information.

"I panicked. I had just seen a ghost of my enemy, whisking me away through some horrible times in my life," she grumbles as they land just outside the sheriff's station.

Regina's head tilts back as she takes in the peacefully atmosphere before she is forced inside to listen to more of Hook and Emma's bickering. For a moment, she's somewhat relieved that they are not back in the Enchanted Forest. She will call it a win if she doesn't see her mother's face again this evening.

"Friend."

"I beg your pardon?" She snaps her attention back toward the ghostly version of her son.

"You said, enemy. Snow's not your enemy anymore, she's your friend," he shrugs casually as if his statement is common knowledge and no big deal before he snaps his fingers again.

"I don't think I approve of you having magic," she slyly replies as she watches the world around them change once again.

Old brick walls pile high around them, along with rickety desks and chairs. Soon the green bars of the jail cell come into view, followed by a worn out Emma and a furious Hook.

"If you would have stayed and listened a little while longer, maybe you would have learned something new," Henry scolds her and nods his head in the direction of Storybrooke's, 'it couple'.

"Henry, we shouldn't be eavesdropping on your other mother's private conversation with her boyfriend," she rolls her eyes even though she is intrigued to discover what they were discussing after she had left.

"He's not her boyfriend," Henry annoyingly grumbles at the exact same time Emma exasperates, "you're not my boyfriend!"

Regina's head whips around so fast, she panics internally thinking she may have just strained her neck.

"Look, I'm sorry Killian, but I don't think we will ever work," Emma sighs heavily, flopping into her chair and still rubbing her neck furiously from the stress induced ache.

"What are you talking about, love? Didn't we have a lovely date? If I recall, you kissed me goodnight," he conceitedly replies while wiggling his thick black brows.

"Yes, I did and I thought that maybe I could really like you, but it...it just..."

"Just what?"

"Just felt like work. You are always following me around and begging for attention when I am clearly busy. I like attention, don't get me wrong, but you hardly give me room to breathe. You're always there!"

"I'm just trying to win your affection. I want you to see that I'm a changed man, Swan."

"I know you have changed, but...I just don't think this is what I want. If it was, this wouldn't be so hard and I wouldn't feel guilty every time I see you. I should feel excited, not dread from having to bicker about me working or not showing you enough attention."

"Is this about, Regina? Because her happy ending walked off?"

"I can't keep doing this with you, Killian. I'm done. We are done."

A swarm of anxious butterflies wake from hibernation and stretch their wings deep inside Regina's abdomen. She fights back the swelling sensation of pride and turns toward her son, who has magicked himself a bag of popcorn while he watches this drama unfold before him. He smirks, popping a kernel into his mouth.

"Henry, why would you bring me here? Why, of all the places we could be right now, are you showing me your mother dumping the pirate?" She softly inquires.

"Popcorn?" He offers, stretching the bag into her personal space, but she doesn't make a move for the snack, she just stares sternly into his cheerful eyes. "Alright," he waves his hand making the bag vanish before their very eyes. "You don't see it?" He gestures toward the couple once more, forcing Regina's eyes to wander back toward Emma.

Again, all she sees is how exhausted she looks in the moment. Her shoulders are slumped while she shifts uncomfortably between her two feet. Her hand is still rubbing the excruciating tension building up in her neck and never has she ever looked so frail.

"No Henry, I don't see what you are expecting me to see," she sighs. "Emma just looks tired. Is this your way of saying I need to back off Operation Mongoose, because the savior is wearing thin?"

Henry winces for a second before his head is vigorously shaking, rejecting her assumption. "No, mom."

"Then no, honey, I don't see it. So, can we please just go home? All of this is just outrageous and I'm fairly certain it's all just a dream anyways," she tries to convince him, but her words are lacking the strong authority she usually possess.

Henry growls under his breath and snaps his fingers once more. She closes her eyes and tries to fight back the overbearing emotions that are bubbling their way to the surface because she's just so tired of it all. She's still unsure what is actually occurring around her right now and if it wasn't her son's presence, snapping them from here to there, she would probably be lashing out and raining hell upon this ghost.

The scent of fresh pine invades her nostrils before her eyes take in the atmosphere. Something feels warm and cozy just before she notices her surroundings. A small, rundown apartment filled with joyous Christmas music. Then there's a tiny little voice that shatters her heart like a glass ornament falling from the very top of a tree.

"Papa? Can I hang the star on the tree?" Roland beams with excitement while he holds up the silver star for his father to see.

"No, Henry! I can't, we can't be here. Take us back," she begs to the point where she almost drops down on her hands and knees.

Her transparent son presses his index finger to his lips and nods in the direction where the adorable voice just came from.

"Please, Henry, please take me home. I can't sit by and watch this," she pleads once again with more agony clenching at her heart, but the ghost just stares blankly at the scene in front of them.

"Of course, my son," Robin merrily swoops down and lifts Roland easily into the air to sit him upon his shoulders.

Father and son share the same grin that threatens to split their faces in half as Roland reaches for the very top of the tree.

"Hurry momma," Roland calls out for his mother who quickly makes her appearance next to Robin.

"I'm ready when you are," she laughs lightly, her arms slithering around Robin's torso.

Robin holds onto Roland's legs with one hand, while his other arm drapes over Marian's shoulders. He presses a firm kiss to her temple and she smiles back at him like he's her everything.

"Please, I see how happy they are. Please, just please take me home," she implores, yet again, while thick tears well up in her eyes. This was suppose to be her dream, she was suppose to be right there beside Robin.

"Papa look!"

"It's beautiful, lad," Robin gleefully replies as the small family gazes up at the star in awe.

Her heart seizes in her chest the moment she spots Marian's hand drifting away from Robin's stomach and falls toward her own. Her face glows as she gazes up at Robin, catching his attention. He then places his hand over hers and smiles right back with adoration.

"This time next year, our little one will be here," he states with all the pride one man can hold.

"She-she's pregnant? Already?" Regina shrieks just as a few tears tumble down her cheeks.

"Someone that supposedly loved you, wouldn't have started a family so quickly," Henry sadly replies with a frown tugging around his mouth.

"I-no, this can't be. There must be some sort of mistake," she cries, cringing as she watches the happy couple share an intimate kiss.

"I'm sorry, mom, but you needed to see the truth if you ever want to move on."

"Please honey, I don't want to see anymore. I just want to go home," she sniffles through her tears and hopes that this version of her son will take pity on her.

"Don't you want to see me, mom? Don't you want to know where your son is? What happened after you left Granny's with only a text goodbye?" He angrily spits as he leans forward and snaps his fingers once more. "This is where I'm really at right now," Henry informs her as they land inside of Mary Margaret's apartment.

She spots her actual son, sitting at the counter in the kitchen, reading over his storybook that she left behind at Granny's after her temper exploded on an innocent little boy.

"Oh Henry," she sadly replies, taking a few steps forward, so she can touch her real son. Of course, just like all the times before, her fingers swiftly glide right through his body. She actually pouts from not being able to feel the warmth of her child. "Why aren't you at Granny's?" She regretfully inquires, knowing damn well it's all her fault. "You should be celebrating with your friends and family."

"How could I be happy and enjoy myself when my mom is so miserable? It's Christmas and you should be spending this evening with me," he explains through a deep frown creasing around his mouth.

"I know and I'm so sorry, I just felt so embarrassed and emotional after everything that happened with the book and Pinocchio. I know it's no excuse and I am so sorry. If it helps, I would much rather be with the real you, then floating around with pesky spirits all night."

"Maybe that's how you feel, but it's not what you chose."

The front door creeks open, reminding her just how old this building really is and could probably use a little refresher.

"Hey kid!" Emma breezes right in, appearing much lighter than moments ago at the station. "How's about some hot chocolate while we attack that book?"

"Sounds perfect," Henry hums absentmindedly as he turns a thick page, already interested in what's to come. "Did you do it?"

"Of course," Emma exuberantly agrees while sweeping passed him, ruffling his long chestnut tresses.

"Emma seems like she's in a better mood," she comments while the phantom Henry hops onto the counter next to where the blonde is preparing hot chocolates.

He eyes her intently, raking in her cheerful disposition prompting a broad grin to spread across his cheeks.

"She does, doesn't she?" The ghost sing-songs and leans back against the cupboard, watching his other mother with great interest. "Do you think it's because she dumped that loser pirate's ass?"

"Henry!"

"What? I'm a spirit, it's not like it's really me saying it. Besides, we were all thinking it," he confidently replies.

Emma stops what she's doing, appearing lost in thought for a moment while the spirit keeps a close eye on her. Finally, he slowly pries open his long fingers, producing cinnamon sticks in the process. Gently, he lays them down in front of Emma with a warm, ecstatic grin.

"Looks like Mary Margaret left us some cinnamon sticks for our cocoas," Emma comments as she picks up the sticks and drops them into the steaming beverages.

"Nice," their real son smiles up at his blonde mother before they both clink their mugs together. "I wish mom were here."

"I know, kid, but I tried. I really tried."

"I know you did, I'm not blaming you," he mutters under his breath as he turns another page.

"Tried, what? What did Emma do?" Regina rushes out, not wanting to miss one single exchange during this conversation.

The ghost of Christmas Present just frowns and shrugs his shoulders, but there's a glint of knowing sparkling in his eye. He nods toward the mother and son, encouraging her to listen carefully.

"I don't even think she noticed," Emma disapprovingly acknowledges before she sips her rich drink, seeming lost in thought.

"How could she not notice?"

"I don't know. First off, I spilled the first surprise which only pissed her off in the end, so I don't think she truly appreciated the sentiment. Then, she never once said thank you for the chocolates, even though she inhaled the entire box in like ten minutes..."

"I did not!" She protests, but the spirit just glares at her with an expression she knows too well by her son, he doesn't believe a word she is saying. So, she rolls her eyes like a child and continues listening.

"...and I don't think she really cared that I surprised her with lunch either."

"Maybe you were too subtle? Maybe we should have gone with grand gestures."

Emma laughs, rising from her hunched position over the counter and stands tall. "Grand gestures aren't really my thing, kid. I thought she would appreciate the little things, but...I don't know, she's too hung up on Robin Hood."

"Hold on," Regina turns toward Henry who's relaxing on top of the counter, smiling wickedly. "Why would Emma plan these little surprises? Just because it's Christmas? Is it because I told her I never received any true Christmas presents?"

Before she can even bat an eye, Henry snaps his finger, sending them right back into her depressing bedroom. This grand room has never seemed so small until now. The air is bone chillingly frigid and she swears the walls are closing in on them.

"Henry, please," she implores, "just tell me why Emma would go out of her way for me today."

"Mom, you need to start living in the now. Stop worrying about your past life and everything you once did. That's not important anymore. Everyone in this town has forgiven you and it's about time you forgive yourself."

"Henry I-"

"What's in the past is done, it's gone. Worry about now. Pay attention to the wonderful little surprises life has in store for you. You were so caught up in your happy ending with Robin Hood, you didn't even notice all the kind gestures happening around you."

"I don't think a happy ending is in the cards for me."

"Maybe your happy ending is happening right now, but you're too focused on the past to even see it. Mary Margaret decorated the whole town today, knowing deep down you would secretly love it. Emma spent the whole day arranging little gifts for you and you didn't even see them...or her."

Regina's eyes flick toward the intelligent little phantom with great curiosity. "Henry..."

"Happy ending aren't always what they seem."

Her eyes expand to their fullest potential, her hand already reaching for this version of her son. "Henry, where did you-"

"Merry Christmas, mom," her son begins floating away just as Snow did no more than an hour ago.

"No, honey, please..." she's stumbling forward, trying to grasp onto anything, but her fingers are sliding through the thin air, touching nothing.

Her son floats away, drifting through the thick glass window and turning into nothing more than golden specks of dust, shimmering against the midnight sky until they vanish completely.