A/N: No real big surprise here, but I'm extending this out to five chapters so as to fully explore the many emotional issues. Enjoy!

Much to her chagrin, Regina finds that she has to extend herself out on the bathroom floor after a few minutes, and if her head wasn't swimming and there weren't so many weird and colorful things happening in front of her eyes, she thinks that she would actually be humiliated by the fact that she's sprawled across the cool tiled ground with her arms pretty much lifted over her head (a voice in the very far back of her mind compares her posture to something out of one of those magazines she found in Henry's room, and good Lord that's a horrifying thought). She thinks she would find this entire situation something to shade her face with shame if she wasn't so bust trying to keep the room from spinning around and her lunch from making an unfortunate reappearance.

All of this caused by spray of magical dust inside of a stupid little cut behind her ear.

An insignificant little gash (it's a bit bigger than it was thanks to the corrosive magic, but still small) and nothing more (she's realizing now that the placement of it, perhaps just a bit too close to her neck and therefore close to her brain is somewhat more problematic than she'd first realized, but she's trying not to think about that).

She'd told Emma – promised her – that this was nothing to worry about, and even though this is far more dramatic an effect than she'd anticipated, she believes that it still isn't anything to be concerned about, but that doesn't make it any more enjoyable; she feels like she's going through what one would very generously describe as a very bad acid trip and right now, she'd absolutely like to get off the ride. What this actually is is fairy dust magic poisoning and it's toxic and potentially even deadly when unchecked. It's checked here, though; the potion she'd treated the wound with is working through her and she can feel it fighting against the effects of the dust.

But it will take time and meanwhile...meanwhile, there are colors and shapes and the kind of vertigo that they make movies about.

"Are you sure that you're really okay, Mom?" she hears from somewhere above her, and oh there's the other reason to be humiliated – Henry is in here with her. Because she'd asked him to stay. And for a few minutes, everything had been fine. He had been telling her about a girl he liked (in that shrugging trying to be cool way a teenager does it) and she'd been smiling at him and thinking about how quickly he's growing up and then…and then everything had been flipping upside down and his face had been contorting into something out of one of those weird twisting phone apps and well…now she's here on the floor and he's bent over her with a hand rested against her warm forehead. A cool cloth is pressed against her temple a moment later, and she can't help herself from groaning in protest even as she moves into it.

Because even though she's horrified by the fact that her son is now taking care of her, she has to admit (at least to herself) that doesn't feel particularly well right now. Still, that said. she'll be damned if she lets a little bit of fairy crack in her blood ruin this evening for either her or Henry. But most especially not Emma.

A year ago, she and Henry had been standing beside Emma when the blonde Savior-turned-Dark One-turned Savior Once Again had traveled into literal Hell to try to save the life of a man who she'd fallen for. The mission had failed (mostly because Hook had once again begged her to finally let him go, and this time, she had chosen to listen to him) and they'd all come back empty-handed, but worse than that, they'd come back with a woman whose spirit had been shattered. Not necessarily just by losing Hook but by the futility of every gamble that she'd taken. She'd put everything on the line, justified every bad choice and in the end, it had led her to open arms and a heart that was once again broken. She'd crumbled to her knees, sobbing, shattered, apologizing and unable to stop shaking. Snow had held her, and then David.

And she and Henry had watched. And waited.

Knowing that their time and place would come. Knowing that this moment needed to belong to Emma and her parents, and that eventually, Emma would turn to her son and his other mother. Knowing that eventually, Emma would seek the comfort of the two people who have been her stalwarts when everything else has gone to hell.

Sometimes literal hell.

And she had; one typically cold Maine evening, she'd arrived with frozen tears on her cheeks, and asked if she could stay the night. It'd been a strange request, but Regina had understood it for Emma needing to not be alone. To be allowed to want to have people in her life even after all that she'd done…and her desperate hope that those people would want her there as well.

Regina had heated up milk and made three mugs of hot cocoa, and Henry had set up a Monopoly board and the three of them had just gathered around the little board, not talking about their painful pasts but only the things that could make them smile and laugh easily.

Not all of the conversations had been so easy – especially between Regina and Emma – but that hadn't stopped Emma from coming back. She'd asked for the truth – always that – and Regina and Henry had given her a place where she knew she would always be welcomed and wanted.

Regina had meant it when she'd told Emma that there was nothing that she couldn't come back from, and over the weeks and months that they'd spent talking on the back porch together, Emma had come to understand the honesty of those words; Regina really had forgiven her.

Long before Emma had even been able to think about doing the same for herself, Regina had been willing to see past the mistakes and the bad choices, and had seen the friend there. The person that she'd always been able to see and recognize just a little bit better than anyone else.

Two months after that first monopoly game, Emma had kissed her; they'd been sitting together on the porch like always and the conversation had been about about Henry or something like that and Regina had been smiling and then…and then Emma had just leaned in. It'd been a soft and quite tentative thing, and it'd taken every bit of strength, but Regina had pushed her away.

"I need you to be sure," Regina had told her, a palm rested on Emma's cheek. "You mean far too much to me for this to be just some kind of emotional rebound." It'd been exposing herself entirely, alluding to far too much of the thoughts within her own head for her own comfort.

But Emma had been wrapped up in her own mind, in her own self-loathing and fear, and had missed the words entirely. She'd blushed, apologized and before Regina could stop her, she'd stop up and excused herself (apologizing once more) and then turned and rushed quickly away.

A week had passed, and then two and just as Regina's patience had been snapping (and her anxiety had been flaring because dammit how could Emma not understand how much this relationship meant to not just the blonde but also to the woman who had been someone else entirely before the prophesied Savior had swept like a bulldozer into her house and though her well-order life), Emma had reappeared. On the front porch of the house, shuffling and shifting.

"If I want something to happen between the two of us, is that wrong? Is it too soon?" Her hands had been jammed in her pockets and her cheeks had been red, her eyes large and worried, but her words had been forward and sure. An honest question. Finally that again.

So Regina had answered in kind. She'd stepped forward, closing the space between them. "I want you to heal, Emma. I want you to be whole." She'd stepped even closer. "The Emma Swan that I want to choose me –"she'd taken a breath, throwing it all out there. "Is the one that I know would fight be tooth and nail…and also fight beside me with the same strength. I want the Emma who knows who she is and stood up against a Queen…and fought her to a draw."

Emma had laughed loudly then, a wonderful sound. "A draw? I kicked your ass, Your Majesty."

"It's a start," Regina had replied, the words strange but right. "And I'm not going anywhere."

That had been her own kind of promise to Emma – an assurance that she would be there down the line if Emma still wanted to pursue something…more between them - and six months later, Emma had made another move; after dinner one evening, she'd caught Regina's hand while they'd been putting away dishes and said, "You were right to stop something happening before because it would have been building on the whole mess that is my life, but…I know I want this."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

She'd made the move, then.

She'd pushed forward and she'd kissed Regina, and this time, Regina hadn't pushed her away. This time, Regina had pulled her close and kissed her back as hard as she'd been able to manage, letting Emma know definitively what the blonde had been too full of self-loathing before to recognize: she is very much wanted.

Henry had walked in on them a few minutes later, the two of them pressed up against the refrigerator door, Emma's hand just under the hem of Regina's blouse.

Unfortunately for him, walking in on them would become something of a theme for him.

In any case, it's been four months that they've been together and four months where they've been discovering new things while using the old knowledge to heal each others' many wounds.

One of Emma's wounds is Christmas – the lack of it, the lack of simple perfect family moments.

Considering the role that she'd played in Emma not having those moments (Emma is quick to insist that many people played a part in the awfulness of her childhood, and she doesn't and will never blame Regina for what had occurred there, but Regina isn't nearly as quick to let herself off the proverbial hook when she sees the wistful way Emma looks at Christmas trees) she will be damned if she'll allow anything to take Christmas away from Emma ever again.

So even if her head is swimming and her vision is spotty, this evening is going to happen.

Which is why she forces herself to meet Henry's eyes, forcing her own bleary eyes to focus on him (it hurts to do this, stings more than she will tell him, but she does it, anyway, because she doesn't want him to worry unnecessarily - not tonight) and replies, "I'm fine, sweetheart; I feel better already. But I could really use a cup of tea."

She doesn't need to see her son's face to know that he's skeptical of her words. So she reaches out and takes his hand and squeezes, and then he sighs and says, "Sure." He stands up and brushes off his pants and then adds, "If you're not feeling okay, Emma would understand."

"No, honey, she wouldn't," Regina replies, thinking about the cut on Hook's neck and how it hadn't been there until it had. About how all of Emma's hope had bled out because of a scratch.

This isn't like that – she understands fairy magic, and though this feels like hell right now, it will pass – but she knows Emma, and knows the way Emma will respond to any sign of danger.

Knows that Emma will feel like it's all just repeating once again for her.

"Mom –"

"This has to be her night," Regina says, sitting up and forcing her back against the toilet.

"Don't you think that we're enough for her, even if Christmas isn't perfect?" His head is tilted, and she thinks there's something deeper and more to his question, but she can't quite get to it. Not in the muddled mental state that she is in thanks to the fairy dust poisoning.

So she lets these thoughts pass, and she smiles up at her son (and hopes that her expression doesn't look too bizarre). "Emma will always think that anything is enough for her - perhaps more than she deserves, but we know better; after all she has been through, she deserves this night to be perfect and that, my little prince, is what we're going to give her." She tosses him another loopy smile and then says, "There's some orange-honey tea in the pantry."

"Got it," he sighs, understanding when he's been excused and that this isn't an argument that he's going to win. "Try not to move too much, okay? If you want us to actually pull off Emma not knowing that you're high as a kite and not loving it, it'd be best if you didn't bash your head in."

It's a not-at-all-gentle rebuke of this plan of hers, and he's a sassy little shit, and she supposes that that's her fault entirely (and perhaps some of Emma's too, but mostly hers, to be honest).

Regina laughs – and ignores his concerned expression – and then closes her weary bleary eyes.

Better than watching Henry suddenly grow three additional heads.

Snow arrives about a half hour later, a steaming dish of green bean casserole tucked under one arm, and little fifteen month old Neal slung over the other one. Dressed as always in a sweater bright and audacious enough to make Richard Simmons gasp in horror, she smiles widely at Henry as he yanks the door open. "You don't need to knock," he reminds her.

"Mm, considering the things that I've accidentally walked in –"

He makes a face. "Good point." Reaching over, he takes his uncle from her and then leads her into the kitchen. "Mom is taking a shower; she should be down in just a few minutes."

"How is she?" Snow asks as she puts the dish down and then leans over to inspect the ham which has just been removed from the oven. "I heard that she got hit with some fairy dust."

"You know what it does?"

"I'm aware. And aware what your mother is like on it. How out of it is she?"

"I don't think she feels good, but she won't admit it. She's dead set on tonight being –"

"Perfect for Emma. And Emma is dead-set on tonight being perfect for the rest of us."

"Why can't they just see that they make each other happy?"

"They know that they do, but they're both carrying around a lot of guilt and regret; for as much as Regina claims that she doesn't, the more she's come to terms with her past, the more she's realized that she has a lot of things that she's not proud of and can't just rationalize away."

"But she's done so much good –"

"She's not at peace with herself," Snow tells him. "And neither your nor I can help her get there." She shrugs. "I think your two moms might be the only ones who can help one another."

"Not if they keep thinking that they're not good enough for each other."

Snow offers him a thin smile. "Give them time," she says.

"I know," he admits. "I just want them happy."

"And today? They're happier than they were yesterday."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Snow assures him. Then, "You got Neal for a few minutes?"

"Gonna check on Mom?"

"Aside from when I saw Regina on it many years ago, I've seen the effects of fairy magic on others a time or two, and while your Mother might be the strongest woman that I've ever met, getting a shot of that right into the blood is…odd."

"You've been –"

"Unfortunately, yes. And it's best that I don't give you any of those details," Snow laughs.

"Yeah, thanks for that." Then, growing a bit more serious and a bit more like the worried son that he becomes whenever his mom is in any kind of jeopardy, "She's all right…right?"

"She is. If she treated the wound, the symptoms should pass within twenty-four hours."

"She did. And she said it was pass quicker than that."

"When has your mom ever been willing to admit weakness?" Snow asks gently. After Henry scowl, she says, "Don't worry; she'll be fine. Ideally, she should be sleeping this off –"

"But it's Christmas Eve," he finishes for her.

"And she wants to be here for you and for Emma. For all pf us but especially for you two." She points to Neal. "Keep an eye on him; he's getting into everything these days." And with that said, she turns and heads up the stairs, her footsteps typically soft, but still strong.

Like someone who has decided that it's her job to lead and protect her family.

"What's in the bag?" David asks when he looks into the back seat of the cruiser; she'd returned to the station on foot, but apparently had obtained a garment bag from whatever she'd been doing over at the station with Michael Tillman. David had meant to ask what the need to see the mechanic had been about before, but the need to finish up paperwork had been far more pressing. Now, though, he's curious and the slightly odd and uncharacteristic shyness which he sees from his not-quite-as-confident-as-she-used-to-be daughter is making him even more so.

Because try as he might, he can't think what Emma could possibly have in the bag.

"It's silly," Emma shrugs, shutting the door to the car.

"Okay –"

"It's a Santa Claus costume," she tells him. "Because I know none of us have ever really celebrated that way. I mean I sat on a few mall Santa's laps when I was a kid, and I got some socks and underwear and a few pink dresses to make me the perfect little girl, but it wasn't ever like it is in the movies. I don't think it's ever really been that way for any of us, right?"

"Well, we didn't celebrate Christmas in the Enchanted Forest."

"But you had holidays."

He nods. "My family was poor. Snow's father was rarely around and she celebrated mostly with her nanny's after her mother died. And Regina…well, I'm guessing it wasn't really Cora's thing."

"I know Regina and Henry celebrated Christmas, but…" she shakes her head. "It sounds kind of dumb when I say it out loud, actually. I just…they have all of these Christmas memories, and they mean something to them, and I'm not…" she shakes her head. "This is stupid; what was I thinking? How am I supposed to explain my intent to Regina if I can't even explain it to you?"

David pauses for a moment, and then gently asks, "What is it you want for them?"

"To get to celebrate Christmas like normal people do. Like a normal family does."

"And in this world –"

"People wear Santa hats and sometimes someone wears a costume to hand out presents."

"That sounds like fun," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Who's wearing the costume?"

"I was going to do it."

David smiles warmly at her. "Good. So about these Santa hats –"

"What about them?"

"What if someone else besides the one in the costume wanted to wear them?"

She looks over at her father for a moment, looking for any sign that he's humoring her – they aren't from this world, and though their minds have memory and knowledge from here, none of it is emotional or real – but he's not; he's grinning at her and seems genuinely excited.

Like he's happy to learn about this new way of celebrating a holiday with his family.

"Maybe I can get Regina to magic some up," Emma says. She knows she could probably do it herself (she likely could have done the same with the costume itself, but if she's wary about using magic for true acts of defense of the town, she's outright frightened about using it for anything as frivolous as reproduction of clothing). "I bet Little Dude would look great in one."

"I bet he would," David agrees, and starts up the car. He casts one more look over at Emma.

And she says softly, "Thank you."

He shakes his head. "You never owe me that. Never. I know we haven't always done a good job of showing it – or proving it to you – but I love you more than anything in this world, Emma." He reaches across and takes her hand, squeezing it tightly. "You're my little girl. Always that."

Her eyes close and she lets out a shaky breath, nodding several times, blinking back tears.

"Emma –"

"I'm okay. I just…it's been a weird last year and a half. A very weird last year." She shakes her head and chuckles, but there's no humor in the sound. "I killed someone, then took on the darkness and turned into the Dark One to protect Regina. Then fucked up when I had the chance to get rid of the darkness and threw away everything for the chance to keep love. I went to Hell to get someone back after they sacrificed themselves. Was asked to let them go again. Finally listened. Came back up here and had to look in to the eyes of people who once called me a friend and now see me as pure evil...and then I fell in love again with my former enemy."

"Your best friend," he says. Then shrugs. "I want to argue a whole lot of what you just said, but since I know you won't let me, then I'll fight you on the easy one. You falling for Regina...you loving her and her loving you...it's not that weird. I mean, Regina and me…we have a long and strange history, and even though we're good now, we will always be trying to irritate each other, I think, but that doesn't mean that I don't see what the two of you are to each other. You have been friends for a long time and I think you two have always understood each other in your own kind of way. I know this is weird for you and it probably should be super weird for your mom and I considering everything that's happened, but it's not. Not as much as it should be; you fell in love with your best friend. That makes total sense to me."

"And what if it all comes apart again? What if I lose Regina -"

"No more looking down the road," he says. "Just today. Just what's in front of us."

"And that's –"

"Our family. Christmas Eve. That suit there. And tomorrow morning." He smiles at her.

"Okay," she says. Then nods her head several times, getting herself under control. "Okay."

"You're okay?"

"Yeah. Let's…let's go do Christmas," she says with a nervous laugh.

TBC -

TBC -