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A twinkling clump of snowflake lands on Emma's nose.
She wrinkles her face, rubbing it off. Maine has hit a record low for temperature in December — and as it climbs a little, so does the opportunity for a winter storm. Emma has checked the local weather radar before she left, and so far it's nothing.
Her knitted, maroon-colored gloves grip around the handrail to Castle Playground. Emma heaves herself up the massive wooden structure, finding a glum-looking Henry in his Storybrooke Elementary School uniform. His little tie hangs loose. "What's the matter, Henry?" Emma asks, plopping down beside him. Her legs dangle off the wood-platform next to him. "Hmm?"
Emma doesn't like how Henry doesn't speak up. He twists his fingers together in his lap, rocking his legs nervously.
"Is it Regina?"
He immediately shakes his head, looking down.
"No?" Emma repeats quietly, and she's given another one of his head-shakes. Her chest feels a little less tight. That's good. Regina has promised to not use her Storybrooke-powered magic to hurt anyone living here, or to use it on Henry,
She wants to believe in Regina. She does.
There's something… different… about her now. Emma looks at her, across the table at Granny's dinner or in the park, and there's an incredible amount of vulnerability surrounding Regina. She's wounded. It doesn't help everyone's still distrustful.
"Hey, I got an idea," Emma announces, nudging her shoulder against Henry's shoulder to get his attention. "I wanna get something for your Mom on the weekend. I think she deserves it and I think you think so too, but I don't know where to start… so I think I'm gonna call it: Operation Santa." Henry's brows furrow in thought. Emma looks over him. "How about it? You in?"
"You… you want me to sneak around Mom's office to find her Christmas list?"
"No," Emma laughs. What an imagination on him. "No, Henry. I've already taken a look at Regina's office yesterday. She doesn't keep a list for herself." It took two of Neal's steel key-pins and lots of patience, but Emma did get in. "That's why I really need your help. What does someone like your Mom want for Christmas? Is it a new glass cooking pan? Her favorite perfume?"
"For me to finish my green peas?" Henry suggests with a tiny, boyish smile, finally looking at Emma.
She smiles back.
"Hilarious," Emma mutters, ruffling his hair.
"Did you know there's a Christmas party at the hospital tomorrow?" Henry asks curiously. Emma supposes that whatever was wrong and troubling Henry has decided to take a backseat right now. "Mom told Dr. Whale she needed help with it."
"She did?"
"Yeah, they can't find a Santa Claus to replace Archie. He caught Geppetto's flu."
Emma's mouth flattens.
"Operation Santa…" she murmurs as if coming to a decision.
"Emma?"
Henry frowns in confusion as a grinning, windswept Emma leaps down from Castle Playground.
"Thanks, kid!" she calls out. "I mean it! Let's head out — I'll get you a hot chocolate with cinnamon topping!"
.
.
A number of children, of all ages, reside in Storybrooke's General Hospital. They are sectioned them off by their medical history and ongoing conditions. Regina orchestrates decorating the pediatrics unit along with the nurses and Dr. Whale himself.
They hire workers to carry in the number of plastic pine trees, and Regina arranges them by their height. The pediatric nurses encourages the children to help with the decorating. Strings of dried, old popcorn covered in red and gold and green glitter. Multicolored paper stars and hearts cut out, scribbled in black marker with all of their names along with a Christmas wish.
Nobody told her what to do.
Nobody can.
Regina taps on her phone, triple-checking the last calls. Sean Herman hasn't tried to reach her. He volunteered to come in during the party as a surprise to the kids, while wearing a full Santa Claus costume. She'll have his head for this.
Mary Margaret soothes the brow of an adolescent girl with a huge IV bag taped to her arm, reading to her and to two other little boys. One with stitches protruding on his temple, and the other holding his arm-cast with his opposite hand. Doc blows up a variety of white and red and green balloon animals, doing his best to make anything else but a serpent.
Henry draws with a six-year-old girl, explaining how Cinderella tricked Rumpelstiltskin, watching with utmost patience as the child wheezes for air and coughs. Regina's heart squeezes into a hard clench. He's so good — without trying, Henry is so, so good.
A double set of glass entrance-doors burst open.
Santa Claus marches inside with their arms swinging. All of the kids bellow out excitedly for Santa. They all crowd, hopping on tiptoes or whispering or staring with childish, hopeful eagerness. Regina and Henry's eyebrows quirk at the exact same time.
"Ho-ho-ho!" Santa exaggerates a deep belly-laugh. One of the kids leaps onto Santa with a hug. "Whoah-ho-ho! Ho-ho!"
Damn it—
Regina sighs, lowering her head and pinching her nose with her fingertips. She ignores one of the nurses laughing joyously.
.
.
"Miss Swan!"
Cramped in one of the utility closets, ripping off the curly, silvery wig and hat, Emma pants. She glances to Regina staring from the corridor, arms folded. Regina's upper lip curls. She's beautiful — devastatingly beautiful — even when irritated.
"What the hell were you doing?"
"Hey, you needed a Santa for this Christmas party," Emma says coolly, pulling a hospital pillow out from under the red velvet costume-top. "You got a Santa. The kids loved it, so what's the matter — Henry said that you needed help — I was just—"
"Henry," Regina mumbles, narrowing her eyes. She sounds less mad.
Emma huffs a little, but relaxes under the other woman's gaze roaming her. It can't be a pretty sight. All of Emma's skin has gone a reddish-pink flush including in her cheeks. There's heat lingering under the Santa Claus costume, as she pulls off the fur-trimmed jacket and bright red suspenders. Perspiration slicks under Emma's armpits and down the back of her thin white tee.
Strands of Emma's yellow hair flutter to her mouth. "Did you really not want my help?" she asks softly.
"I never said that," Regina monotones. There's the wounded look again beneath her cold, classy exterior. Emma wonders if Regina is even aware of it lurking in plain sight. "You did… an adequate performance. For what we were left with."
Emma rolls her eyes good-naturedly, removing the Santa Claus silver-rimmed spectacles.
"Gee… what a relief to hear…."
"Miss Swan..."
"I was just trying to spread the holiday cheer, alright? So sue me."
"Emma," Regina murmurs like a gentle reprimanding, and she's much closer to Emma than before. Emma can smell cinnamon and sugary apples and a hint of floral fragrance off Regina's expensive, black dress. Regina pulls on the silvery beard, dragging it under Emma's chin. Her scarlet-dark, creamy lipstick smears lightly to Emma's mouth, left behind from the kiss.
"Thank you."
Her heart pounds and thunders against Emma's ribs.
"Sure…" Emma breathes. Her face reddens further and turns warmer as a smirking Regina eyes her. "Yeah, that's…"
"Henry's asking for you," Regina informs her. She tuts and rubs her thumb over Emma's bottom lip while cradling the side of the her face one-handed, removing the lipstick smear as best she can. Emma's heart pounds quicker.
"Okay…"
Emma numbly wipes off her mouth with the back of her wrist. She escapes Regina's hold, but wants it back almost immediately.
That was different.
.
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