A/N: This little Christmas story was written for beatthe0dds Christmas Fic Exchange. Since I have no shame and am not above begging, I'd really appreciate it if you have a tumblr and like or (even better) reblog this fic from beatthe0dds, as there is a prize for the fic with the largest number of notes. But only if you truly feel it's worthy, as I'm sure there will be many wonderful entries. Thank you.

"Henry, you're going to be late for lunch with David." Regina's voice was tentative now in a way it had never been before, so Henry took advantage of the few extra moments to run the envelope over his tongue, sealing it messily.

"Okay Mom, I'm ready now."

"I can walk you there-"

"Mo-om, I'll be fine. I promise I'll come straight home." Henry was half-way out the door anyway, because time was of the essence and today he was a man with a plan. His sneakers squeaked on the pavement as he took off running down the street. He did have lunch scheduled with his grandfather, actually, but he had exaggerated a little about the time. There was an errand he had to run first, and he only had about thirty minutes to do it in. Hopes for the next few days fueled his muscles, and he managed to make it all the way to Archie's house, just off the square, before stopping to pant for breath. Pongo was out in the yard and the big dog bounded through the snow toward the boy, yapping loudly enough that Dr. Hopper came out to investigate.

"Hi Archie!" Henry gasped between breathes, his hands on his knees and the cold winter air stinging the back of his throat.

"Hello Henry. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I'm meeting David for lunch – actually-" Henry glanced down at the letter in his hand. The envelope had crushed slightly while he ran and he halfheartedly tried to smooth it out. "I'm looking for the Blue Fairy, is she at the convent?"

Archie wrinkled his brow. "I think she's supervising the decorations on the square, but why-"

"No time! Thanks Archie!" Henry sped off again, leaving a very confused Conscience in his wake. Archie whistled at Pongo, urging him inside and hoping that whatever the boy had planned, it wasn't going to involve him. After all, there was no space on the therapist's couch for the therapist himself.

XxXx

The Blue Fairy was having a very trying day. Despite the current, ah, political situation that the town was experiencing, David and Snow had decided that it would be good for morale to continue this world's winter traditions. It was rather belated, yes, but the celebrations weren't so far removed from their own, and it gave people something to work on together. 'Idle hands were the Devil's playground,' as she used to say, and the Fairy rather agreed with her former self on that point.

That didn't make it any easier to corral a group of dwarfs into clearing snow and setting up decorations, although in a fit of inspiration she had set Alexander to the task of untangling Christmas lights.

She raised her head as she heard a shout and saw small, bundled-up, non-dwarf figure hurtling towards her.

"How are you, Henry?" She asked, not unkindly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Put on the spot, Henry shifted his weight slightly, but in a startling echo of his mother his eyes gave away nothing. "I need you to deliver a letter for me."

"I'm a little busy at the moment but the post is up and running again -"

"No, this is important." The boy insisted. "I need to get this to Santa. I'm already late this year, but Emma just got back and...I just have to let him know. I haven't found out who he is, but you both grant wishes, so you know him, right? Can you give it to him?"

"I – of course, Henry. I'll take it to him today when we're done here, alright?"

Henry cocked his head slightly, trying to decide if he should push her for an earlier time, but seemed to think better of it. Today would work. Santa was used to working with a rushed schedule, after all, and he had to have accumulated points with the helping to break the curse thing.

"Okay. Thanks!" The boy took off again, but was at least walking this time. Blue really didn't want to have to call Regina if he managed to slip and hurt himself. Even the thought made her shudder a bit, until she turned to see a dwarf making rather lewd gestures with an inflatable elf and all thoughts of mothers, evil or otherwise, were put right out of her head.

XxXx

Emma was just heating herself up some ramen – about the only cooking she was able to do, and besides, Snow wasn't here to berate her about her eating habits anyway – when she heard the doorbell ring. Pausing to throw on some sweat pants – one couldn't be too careful in Storybrooke – she opened the door and was surprised to see the Blue Fairy on the other side of it, holding a neatly folded piece of paper in one hand.

"Blue! What are you – I mean, come in. I'm just getting dinner."

"Thank you. Is Snow at home?"

"No, she and David are out somewhere. Do you need to talk to her?"

"Actually, I'm here to talk to you, Emma, and I think it's best if Snow White isn't around for it. Your son brought this to me today." She held the letter out to Emma, who took it rather gingerly and began reading. "He wanted me to deliver it to 'Santa', but I think it's better that you see it instead."

"Isn't Henry a little old to be believing in Santa Claus?"

The Blue Fairy smiled. "I suppose when you've just revealed that an entire town is populated by cursed people from another world, Kris Kringle doesn't seem so far-fetched."

"If the Blue Fairy if real, why not Santa?" Emma nodded, then seemed to think of something. "He doesn't actually exist, right?" The idea was a bit unsettling.

"If he does, I've never met him, and I've been around a very, very long time. I think the more important thing is what your son is asking for for Christmas. He wants his family together."

"Oh sure, I'll just stop over there right now and ask what Regina wants to bring for dinner. That'll go over well."

"Emma, I know Regina can be...trying at times." Emma snorted at that, and even the Blue Fairy had trouble keeping a straight face. "But think about Henry. If there's anything he needs right now, it's stability, and seeing both of his mothers getting along will go a long way toward establishing that."

"Alright, I'll think about it. But I'm not making any promises."

The Fairy got up to leave, her duty carried out. "I know you'll do the right thing, Emma."

Emma sat on the couch for a long time after the Fairy had gone, her ramen cold and ignored in the kitchen. It was December 20th – Henry really had been cutting it close – and she had four days to figure out how to give her son the most perfect and impossible wish after ten years of missed Christmases. Sometimes, doing the right thing really sucked.

XxXx

In many ways, Emma Swan was like a shotgun. She wasn't all that accurate or elegant, but she did have a special knack for doing a lot of things not very well and getting effective results.

It due to this particular trait that she showed up at the Mills residence at two in the afternoon on December 24th, arms laden with bags, attempting to knock the door with her foot. She nearly fell through it when Regina opened the door with a condescending smile.

"Are you lost, Miss Swan?"

It soon became clear that Regina wasn't going to help her or invite her inside, so Emma barreled her way across the threshold and dumped the bags unceremoniously on the floor.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Making sure Henry's Christmas doesn't look like something out of Better Homes and Gardens. Is that Perry Como?"

"At least I have a home to decorate, and I will not have my musical taste insulted in it."

"Emma!" The blonde was saved from further cutting comments when Henry's grinning face appeared at the top of the stairs. She realized, rather belatedly, that she probably shouldn't be provoking Regina when Henry's Christmas wish was for them all to get along.

"Hey kid. I thought you and your Mom might want a little help getting everything set up for tomorrow."

"Great! We were going to do the tree today. Mom, can Emma help? Please?"

Henry turned big brown puppy eyes on his mother and Emma hid a private smile at the way the other woman visibly melted. She'd heard – bits and pieces – of what had happened between the two while she and Snow were in the other world, and it was kind of nice to see that some things hadn't changed.

"May Emma help." Regina corrected, her eyes never leaving her son though her next words were directed at Emma. "Ms. Swan, please put your coat in the closet and bring your things into the living room. We'd normally have this done much sooner but situations have been...different...this year."

As it turned out, Emma really needn't have bothered moving the bags anywhere. After watching Emma unpack and neatly sort the hastily-bought decorations – probably out of pure spite – Regina rejected all of them. Almost.

"What are these?" Henry held up a shoebox full of carefully wrapped ornaments.

"Oh, those are mine, kid. Whenever I was moving to a new place, I'd always buy an ornament with the town name or something on it. So I'd remember where I'd been." She picked up a square tile with the words 'Greetings from sunny Tallahassee' printed on it. "Otherwise how do you know where you're going?"

Regina sniffed but took the ornament from her hand, holding it by the attached ribbon to inspect it. "I suppose these aren't completely hopeless."

"Gee, thanks."

"Henry, why don't you go get our decorations down from the closet." Henry glanced at Emma uncertainly, but she nodded slightly and he disappeared up the stairs.

"What are you doing here, Ms. Swan?"

"I told you. I'm here to spend time with Henry for Christmas."

"Surely your mother has a tree that needs decorating too."

Emma realized suddenly that Regina was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Emma or Snow or Charming to burst in and take Henry away from her. Again. She felt herself soften slightly but tried not to let it show. Even with her claws clipped, Regina was perfectly capable of exploiting any perceived weakness.

"Regina, Henry gave the Blue Fairy a letter yesterday and asked her to give it to Santa. She brought it to me instead. Do you know what he said?" It was a rhetorical question, but Regina shook her head anyway. "He said he wanted his family to be together for Christmas. That means both of us, hopefully not yelling or punching each other. So can we be civil to each other, just for a few days? I mean, other people do it. It can't be that hard."

"I...I can do that. For Henry."

Emma smiled, relieved that Regina had given in so easily.

"Oh, and you have to start calling me Emma. I've saved your life how many times now? I think we're past last names at this point."

"Very well. Emma."

Regina might have agreed to a Christmas detente, but she was obviously going to make Emma work for it. First she had sent Emma to get the step-ladder out of the garage with a pointed "I'm sure you know where it is" and now Emma was fairly certain Regina had cursed it to be the wobbliest ladder in existence.

"If you don't want to spend Christmas in the hospital I'm going to need a little help here Regina." Emma was perched precariously on the top step, trying to place the gold star on top of the tree without collapsing the whole damn thing.

"Honestly, Emma, all you have to do is stand on it. It's not that hard."

"I bet if I get on Emma's shoulders I can reach it."

Henry looked a bit too thrilled at the prospect, so Regina stepped closer to Emma and placed a steadying hand on her hip. "Better?"

"Yeah, I think I can reach it now. Thanks."

Emma stretched out her arm and nearly fell over anyway when the movement caused her shirt to shift underneath Regina's hand, warm skin meeting for a moment before the brunette's fingers fluttered away to safer purchase over her jeans. Emma resolutely focused on righting the star, ignoring any and all feelings the fleeting touch might have caused. Damn fairy tales and damn magic, doing things to her body that had absolutely no business happening.

Apparently, Regina was as much a perfectionist about tree-decorating as she was about everything else. Large ornaments on the bottom and towards the trunk, smaller ones spaced in between, and Regina circling the tree to make sure that they were evenly grouped. She really shouldn't have been surprised – Regina did everything with the sort of relentless enthusiasm of a bulldog. Emma wondered if she'd ever get used to it, then pushed that thought aside when she realized that it implied other Christmases spent with the Mills family. She concentrated instead on proper placement of tinsel.

"Where did you get this stuff, anyway?"

"That's tinsel. I know you might not have had too much experience decorating but I thought even you would recognize it."

Emma held her breath and counted down from ten. Then up by twos, just for good measure.

"It's different."

"It's vintage." Regina took a strand almost lovingly, draping it over a prickly branch. "Made from aluminum, not plastic. It's a bit heavier so it hangs better on the tree, and instead of throwing it out we re-use it each year."

"Yeah." Henry piped up from the floor, where he was attaching tinsel to the lower branches. "I threw some away one year by accident and Mom got really mad. I couldn't play with my presents for a whole day!"

"That's terrible." Emma dead-panned, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I know. Totally not fair, Mom."

"I seem to remember you sneaking your Gameboy underneath the covers to play anyway."

"You knew?"

Henry's voice was so incredulous that Emma laughed in spite of herself. It was so unexpected, so far from the correct reaction that – apparently – she entered a parallel universe where even Regina was smiling.

"Never bet against your mom, kid. She always knows."

XxXx

"I think he's asleep." Emma was draped against one side of the sofa, Regina sitting on the other, with Henry between them, in pajamas now, wrapped in a deep red blanket and snoring as 'A Christmas Story' credits rolled.

"I'm so glad you're the Sheriff."

"It's those observational skills. They come in handy." Emma winked at Regina, gathering their son in her arms to carry him up to bed. The house was dark and silent now except for the crackle of the fireplace. Regina led the way to Henry's room and turned the covers down for him, helping Emma arrange him in a fairly comfortable position. He frowned a bit at being fussed over, but seemed more interested in sleep than protecting his boyhood pride.

"Sweet dreams, mijo." Regina whispered into his hair. "I love you."

"luyutomom" Henry muttered, turning away from them and bringing his covers to his chin.

Emma hesitated, but Regina made no move to stop her as she pressed a quick kiss to Henry's cheek, then followed the other woman out of the room and into the living room once more.

Without Henry as a buffer, the air around them seemed more charged, somehow. Emma shifted uneasily and lingered in the door of the kitchen as Regina brought her a glass of wine.

"What, no apples this time?"

"I wouldn't want to become a cliché, dear." Regina returned wryly. "People might start to talk."

Emma chuckled lowly, not wanting to disrupt the...whatever was happening between them. So, naturally, she blurted out the first awkwardly personal question that popped into her head.

"What is it with you and all the old Christmas stuff anyway?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Fifties Christmas music, vintage decorations; I even took a look at your movie collection and more of them are in black and white than color. A town in Maine by way of 'Leave it to Beaver.' I guess I was just wondering why."

Rather than just throwing her out into the snow, which is what Emma expected to happen, Regina cocked her head slightly and considered the question.

"When I first arrived in this world it took quite awhile to learn about it. I...I suppose I just liked what I saw in the movies and television shows. It was everything I wanted Storybrooke to be; orderly, calm, no crime larger than a baseball smashing windows and no problems that couldn't be resolved in thirty minutes. It's an illusion, I know, but a beautiful one."

Of course, Emma thought. Of course. When she really considered it, it was perfectly Regina. Parents always loved their children, nothing ever hurt for long, and everyone was home for dinner.

A sigh and an exasperated "Henry" jerked Emma back to the conversation. Regina was glaring rather heatedly at a sprig of mistletoe that had been taped to the door frame at the highest point a ten year old could be expected to reach. Emma was starting to think that Henry didn't really believe in Santa at all and had somehow inherited his mother's penchant for elaborate – and evil – plots.

"I hardly think we need to stand on tradition this time." Regina offered, raising her hand to peel the offending plant from the frame.

Emma had no real reason for what she did next; her reflexes, born of long years on both sides of the law, were finely-tuned, and she trusted them. She did what she had always done; she reacted. She reacted to the flames from the fireplace throwing warm shadows over flushed skin. She reacted to magic that opened portals and crossed worlds. She reacted to the pulse of dark heat that demanded more and the flutter of a heart that has recognized its mirror.

She closed her hand around Regina's wrist and ghosted her lips over the other woman's, drawing in Regina's soft gasp. She pressed more firmly and her head buzzed, but she felt alive in a way she had never imagined. Her senses extended, she thought about every moment in every world that had led up to this, about pop physics and magical kingdoms, of true love and destiny.

Then Regina's tongue crossed her lips, and she didn't think about anything anymore.

A distinct noise from above caused the two women to break apart, and Emma's eyes widened as she saw a few pieces of soot fall down from the chimney into the dying fire.

"What the hell was that?"

Regina smirked rather evilly, her eyes never leaving Emma's as she pulled the savior down into another kiss.

"Magic."

On the stairs and out of sight, Henry let out a silent 'whoop' of triumph and promised Santa that he was going to be the best boy ever next year. But as every smart child knows, presents come faster when you're asleep in your bed, so Henry crept back into his room, secure in the knowledge that both of his mothers would be there when he woke up on Christmas morning.

XxXx

I wish I could tell you, dear reader, that Emma and Regina lived happily ever after. They did not. Holidays especially were complicated. Sometimes Emma cried. Sometimes Regina cried. Sometimes, when Henry had been packed off to bed, David got drunk and cried because he missed his sheep, which everyone knew was a lie because what he really missed was his mother, and his farm, and his simple, idyllic life, a childhood dream that he mourned nonetheless. No one corrected him. This was real life, not a fairy tale, and though the radio may tell you differently you can never truly go home for the holidays. There would be the first Christmas Regina and Emma would spend without Henry. Many, many years later, there would be the first Christmas Emma and Henry would spend without Regina.

But there was happiness, too. There was the time when a box appeared under the tree Christmas morning with Regina's name written on it in Snow's girlish script. Then the Christmas after, when a box appeared under the tree with no card, but contained a plain gold ring bearing a woman's name that made Snow's eyes glisten with tears. The Christmases when no one made jokes about Regina's apple pie and the Christmases when everyone did.

Christmas – happiness – isn't about beginnings or endings. It's about middles. It's about knowing, deeply and fully, that there has been good in the past and there will be good again in the future. It is about faith. Not religious faith, although that may be the experience of some people, but faith in humanity. Faith in the ability of ordinary people, flawed people, to strive for and reach something so powerful that it survives across millennia.

Like Santa Claus, it is not always real, but it does exist.

Merry Christmas.