Work Text:
All I wanted for Christmas would have been you
The pleasantly hearty smell of roast goose wafted through the estate as Henry was hanging the last stars on the Christmas tree in the living room. From the radio came the slow, festive sounds of 'O holy Night' and breathed at least a little Christmas spirit into the house. After he had finally put the top of the tree in place, he took a few steps back to examine his work. With his arms crossed, the teenager stared at the tree, not really taking note of whether he had evenly distributed the ornaments and how they looked in the room. Instead, he simply looked through it and hung on to his thoughts.
It wasn't until the timer's shrill beeping that he was startled out of his daydreams and headed for the kitchen. He turned off the annoying noise and then opened the oven door to check if everything was okay with the roast. The liquid had almost completely evaporated, so he added a little water and then closed the door again. Sure, his mom had given him some tips on cooking and baking over the years, but he had never made a roast on his own before. Half the time, he didn't even know what he was actually doing.
Now that he had everything done for now, Henry slid into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and pulled out his sketchpad and the pencils he'd had lying there for a while. He had gotten into the habit of drawing while he waited for the food to be ready. Usually, he just ventured into the comic book heroes of his childhood, but this afternoon he felt more like doing something Christmassy.
He quickly slid the tip of his pencil across the paper and was soon completely absorbed in his work. When he had begun his picture, he had not yet been aware of what it was to become, which is why, when he was finished an hour later, he himself stared in surprise at the result. A barefoot angel with a candle in its hand stood in the snow, staring out at him from large, expressive eyes. Henry fixed the image for a while before he screwed up his face and pushed it away from him, only to hastily get up immediately afterwards and check on the goose again.
While he was still checking the meat with the meat fork, the front doorbell rang. His gaze shot to the clock on the wall and he was surprised to see how late it had already become. Because of the time of year, it had been dark for many hours and so he had no clue when he looked out the window. But he was aware that he liked to forget the time once in a while over his drawings and was washing his hands when the bell rang again. Nervously, his gaze shot towards the ceiling before he hurried to open the door before the third ring could follow.
A gush of ice-cold air and a few thick snowflakes poured into the hallway as Zelena entered, Robin pressed tightly against her. The baby was wrapped so thickly that it couldn't even move its arms and legs in the snowsuit, and additionally wrapped with in its mother's dark green coat.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to open the door at all today," came a shiver from the red-haired witch, under whom a steadily growing puddle of melt water was collecting. "Hello, Henry."
"Hello, Aunt Zelena. Hey, Robin." Gently, Henry patted his cousin's head. "Want me to take her off for you for a minute?" he then offered so Zelena could slip out of her wet clothes.
Gratefully, she nodded and carefully placed her baby in Henry's arms.
Immediately he began to remove Robin's snowsuit as well and then eyed her pink and white ringed bodysuit with delight. "She looks like a cream candy," he observed, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Or like a candy cane."
Zelena rolled her eyes and didn't let on that she naturally liked it when people admired her daughter and thought she was cute. A brief smirk nevertheless twisted her lips before she became serious again. "It smells like roast," she observed.
Henry nodded. "I've done my best. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee anything." He didn't want to brag that it was he who had cooked; it was more that Zelena's statement was so full of hope and he didn't want her to get too comfortable too quickly with the idea that her sister might have prepared the meal.
"All right, where is she?"
Henry pressed his lips together. "Upstairs."
She groaned. "Has she been drinking again?"
"Well, she's...drinking all the time lately, actually, isn't she?" it came cautiously from Henry, before his gaze dropped to Robin in his arms, dozing peacefully.
"I guess I'd better specify the question: is she drunk?"
"She's asleep. And it took long enough, so please don't wake her up!" it immediately came from Henry in a slightly raised voice, as his aunt was already making her way towards the staircase.
Zelena paused, turned to him and eyed him from top to bottom. Standing in front of her in his jeans and dark blue hoodie with tousled hair, holding her daughter, he looked way too grown up and on the other hand still like the kid he was himself. "Henry, you're 16!" it came from her, shaking her head, "You're underage, we can't go on like this."
"She'll be fine. She just needs...time," it escaped him as he sensed what she was getting at.
"And you don't? Henry, if she can't take care of you, then you have to tell me, then you can't stay here. We'll figure something out, but this isn't a permanent situation."
Bravely, Henry swallowed his tears and held her baby out to Zelena. He hoped that she would then at least wait a little longer to burst into the bedroom upstairs while she held her child in her arms. "Will you take her, please? I need to check on dinner." Once Zelena had Robin securely in her grasp, he headed for the kitchen, taking deep breaths as he went. The footsteps behind him told him she was following.
"She's your mother, you don't have to be strong for her. The other way around would be normal," she continued talking at him, taking a seat at the table as she watched him ladle some of the sauce from the pan and pour it over the roast goose. Finally, her eyes fell on his drawing, which he had just pushed aside a bit earlier. With trembling fingers, she lifted it from the table and eyed it with tears in her eyes. "Henry, are these...?"
"Yes, they are. Put that down, please," it now came more forcefully than intended from Henry, who snatched the drawing from her hand. "I'm doing fine here. And Mom will be better soon, too. So stop trying to save me all the time. I thought you were here today to celebrate Christmas with us!"
As if to shield her from the argument, Zelena hugged her daughter tightly to her chest. "Celebrate Christmas? Do you really feel like celebrating Christmas today? Your mom is drunk in her bed and after you're so desperate for me not to wake her, you probably spent hours fighting down another one of her panic attacks before she fell asleep, am I right?"
Henry fell silent and looked down at the floor.
"Am I right?" Zelena repeated, over-emphasizing each word.
"Yes, you are right! Satisfied? That doesn't change what I said before," Henry said stubbornly, carelessly stuffing his drawing, which he still held in his hand, back into his pad. "You think I'm going to abandon her? Now, when she needs me the most?"
"I'm not asking you to." Zelena's voice became calmer and more compassionate again. "But you could accept my help more often. For example, you could have just called today to see if I could come early."
Henry nodded and snorted briefly in disbelief. "You have a baby and enough to deal with. We'll be fine."
Zelena knew his stubbornness was just a defense mechanism. Sure, he had always had a mind of his own, but he had never been this bitter about it. "Well, I respect your decision, of course. I just want you to know that you can always change it if it gets too much for you."
Henry took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks," he nodded, but didn't look at his aunt as he did so. "Do you want something to drink?"
"How about you sit down now and I'll make us something to drink?" Zelena suggested instead, setting Robin on the floor, who then began crawling to explore the new surroundings.
Henry rolled his eyes and turned on the kettle. "Do you want some tea? I can just manage that," he said, opening the cupboard with the different kinds.
Zelena stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't bother. I'm going upstairs to your mom now. Keep an eye on Robin, please." And with that, she left the kitchen and climbed the stairs.
"Zelena, no! Just leave her!" Henry shouted after her, but stopped at the foot of the stairs. He knew that when she set her mind on something, there was no stopping her.
Quietly, Zelena walked down the corridor, past all the closed doors to her sister's bedroom. The house was clean, Henry had made sure of that, but it wasn't as fastidiously neat as usual. Carefully, she pushed open the door and stepped into the room; although it was dark outside anyway, the drawn curtains further shrouded the windows. Clothes were scattered on the floor and Regina lay asleep in bed in her underwear. Zelena didn't even want to imagine how Henry had had to undress her. As she closed the door behind her, the smell of roasting and the soft Christmas music were shut out and she found herself in oppressive silence and the heavy smell of stale alcohol lingering in the air.
Boldly, she stepped up to the bed and lowered herself onto the edge. Regina lay half on her stomach, her face obscured by a curtain of her dark hair, and yet she could make out the smeared mascara that trailed down her cheeks in the form of old tear tracks.
"Regina!" it came from her, softly at first, but later a lot louder, while she grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her.
Regina made an angry noise and struck at her, but missed due to drowsiness and drunkenness. "What do you want? Let me fucking sleep!" she mumbled.
"Do you actually have any idea what day it is, Your Majesty?" the redhead asked her gruffly.
Realizing that she wasn't going to get rid of her just like that, Regina did feel compelled to open her eyes. "Whichever one it is, I don't care!" Her glazed eyes sparkled angrily before the emotion turned to sadness from one moment to the next and fresh tears spilled from her eyes.
"It's Christmas Eve. Your son has put up a tree and cooked and the least you can do is get out of that damn bed and eat with him, how's that?" she asked her angrily.
An indefinable expression flickered across Regina's face before disappearing again. "You're here, aren't you? I don't think my presence will enhance the meal," it came somberly from her before she brushed her hair back from her eyes and sat up.
From the way she closed her eyes again in response, Zelena could tell the room must be spinning around her. "And, great feeling?" she asked wryly.
Regina weakly pushed her aside and swung her legs out of the bed, then rushed out of the room stumbling and bumping everywhere. Shortly after, gagging noises were heard coming from the adjacent bathroom.
Sighing, Zelena followed her and leaned into the doorway as she coughed. "Bravo, very good. That must feel really good, the number of times you've pulled that stunt lately."
"Shut the fuck up!", Regina yelled at her, new tears mixed in with her anger. "You have absolutely no idea what this feels like!"
"All I know is that you're a disgrace to your son! It's time to pull yourself together," Zelena snapped.
"You want me to pull myself together?" Regina rumbled and her look would have been more menacing if her dull eyes didn't keep losing focus.
"Okay, that's enough." Zelena came over to the pile of misery that was her sister and dragged her up off the floor by the arm. "You're coming with me now, move!"
Regina protested, but could do nothing against her sister's firm grip, so of necessity she had to follow her down the stairs, stumbling more than walking. "What the hell are you doing?" she shouted at her, but by then they had reached the front door.
Zelena yanked it open and pushed her sister outside, where she shoved her into the nearest pile of snow and pushed her face into it for a few seconds.
"Have you completely lost your mind now?!" Regina yelled at her as she regained her breath. The next moment her teeth started chattering uncontrollably and her body was shaken by the unbearable cold.
Zelena was almost heartbroken at the sight of her half-naked sister in the snow, but from the way she looked at her, the action had had the desired effect. Her look was a lot more sober than before and that was all she had intended. Again, she grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back into the house.
Regina's shuddering didn't stop there, however, and angrily she clutched her arms around herself. "I'll...never...f...forgive you," it came from her, teeth chattering.
"I can live with that." Zelena shrugged and pushed her back up the stairs, past Henry, who was leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes widening, unnoticed by his mother. "Come on, get undressed," she demanded when they were back in the bathroom.
Regina really tried, but she was shaking so badly that she couldn't manage to undo her bra, let alone slip out of her panties standing on one leg.
"I'll help you," a softer response came from Zelena, who carefully helped her sister undress while warm water ran into the tub. A pleasant smell of baked apple and cinnamon spread through the room after she added the bath additive to the water.
Regina's crying became all the more intense as Zelena helped her into the tub like a child. As soon as she was seated, she pulled her knees to her body and buried her face in them.
Zelena eyed her sister, who was only a shadow of her former self. The skin stretched over her emaciated body and she could see each of her twelve pairs of ribs. "Regina, you have to admit it can't go on like this," she whispered.
"The water smells like her," it only came back expressionlessly from her sister without lifting her eyes. Slowly the shivering subsided and her body slipped into a languid lethargy.
"If you can't get better on your own or with our help, then you need psychiatric treatment. I'm certainly not going to watch you fall into that hole any longer."
Regina raised her eyes and looked at her angrily again. "What do you care? You didn't even like her, you don't even care that Emma is dead!" she yelled at her.
"First of all, that's not true, and second of all, even if it were, I still care about you and Henry. Have you ever thought about him, too? She was just as much his mother as you are and you just leave him abandoned and alone with his pain. Even worse, he has to take care of you! That's sick, Regina!" Zelena retorted.
"I'm mad, I'm so mad at her!" it suddenly came from Regina, before her head sank to her knees again. "She had Henry and me, she had this family! And what does she do? Sacrifices her life for other people's children! People who can't manage to teach their brats that you don't play on frozen lakes! Why does she always have to save everyone?"
Gently, Zelena put a hand on Regina's shoulder. "Would you have let the kids drown then?" she asked her softly.
Regina's shoulders shook, and this time it was not due to the cold, but to the sobs that escaped her throat.
Zelena kept silent and let her cry and when her tears slowly dried up and the water started to get cold, she gently washed her hair and then helped her out of the tub again. Carefully, she wrapped her robe around her and led her back to her bedroom, where she sat her on the bed and looked in the closet for fresh clothes.
"This is Emma's," Regina whispered, her gaze digging into the hoodie her sister was holding.
Zelena looked from her to the sweater and back again. "Would you like to wear it?"
Regina stared at it for a while longer before hesitantly nodding and brushing another tear from her face.
A few minutes later, Regina was fully dressed, her hair blow-dried and all old traces of makeup removed from her face. Like a heap of misery, she sat slumped on the edge of her bed while her sister cleaned up the bathroom. She would have liked to drink again; when it was enough, the pain stopped for a moment, but often she felt that it was just never enough.
"Can we?"
Torn from her thoughts, Regina lifted her head and looked at Zelena, who had reappeared in the doorway. "What can we?" Her voice was rough and brittle, and she barely sounded like herself. She cleared her throat, but didn't feel it made much difference.
"As I said, it's Christmas Eve. It won't be long now and dinner will be ready."
"I'm not hungry."
"It doesn't matter. Henry cooked, so you're going to eat, even if it's just a few bites," she insisted.
Regina gave her a withering look from her seated position.
"You can scowl all you want. I don't want you to do this for me, but for yourself and your son. Because surprise surprise, he's still there and he cares about you. Aren't you embarrassed that he has to undress you and put you to bed?" she asked, shaking her head.
Firmly, Regina gritted her teeth so that her jaw tightened and looked away from her. Of course she was embarrassed, of course she hated herself for it, and if she had known how, she would have stopped it.
"Now come on." Invitingly, Zelena held out a hand to her and waited patiently.
It took a few moments, but finally Regina took hold of it and let her sister's arm go around her waist. By now she was so weakened from the refusal of food that she could hardly take a step without help. And she had no desire to fall down the stairs again, as it had happened to her barely a week before. She could well do without another night in the hospital. "I feel sick," came a groan from her when they had managed half the stairs.
"Are you going to throw up?", Zelena wanted to know straightforwardly.
But Regina just shook her head and leaned against her. It was just so exhausting, climbing the stairs, running, breathing, existing. Everything was torture and made the nausea rise up inside her.
"We'll be right down," Zelena assured her, almost carrying her the last bit. A sideways glance at her sister told her that she had her eyes closed and was probably fighting against passing out. Realizing this, she changed her plan and led Regina into the living room to the sofa, not the kitchen as she had first intended.
Henry was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace playing with Robin and straightened up when the two entered and he registered his mother's condition. "You're doing great, Robin. Come on, put the building block on top," he praised the little girl and pressed the large wooden cube into her hand, the only one not yet serving as a castle wall. Since the girl would now be busy for a few more minutes, Henry got up from the floor and hurried to the other side of his mom to help his aunt support her and lay her on the sofa as unharmed as possible.
Zelena placed a pillow under her legs and covered her while Henry took a seat on the edge next to her.
Fluttering, Regina's eyelids opened and she fixed her son. "Hello, Henry," she whispered.
"Feeling better, Mom?" he wanted to know, stroking her hair back the way she had always done when he was little and caught a cold.
She nodded before tears welled up in her eyes again. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, gripping his hand as tightly as she could.
"I know, it's okay," Henry replied, stroking her skinny forearm with his free hand.
Zelena, meanwhile, had left the room with Robin to give them both their privacy.
"It isn't. I'm behaving impossibly. But I can't... I've tried, I've really tried, you've got to believe me!" Regina couldn't manage to look at him and new tears kept spilling out of her eyes. She had no idea where they all came from, she felt like eventually they would have to dry up.
"I believe you," Henry nodded, squeezing her trembling hand. "Mom, I only have one wish for Christmas. Do you think you can grant it to me?" he finally asked slowly.
"Anything, Henry!" She finally looked at him, and her gaze reflected pain, shame, and hope in equal measure. She was so confused she hardly knew what to feel.
"I want us to go to Emma," it came firmly from him.
Regina looked away from him and bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. "Anything but that. Please don't ask me to do that."
"You haven't been to see her once. You didn't even go to her funeral!"
"I can't do this! When I see it in front of me, it becomes real!" she almost screamed.
"It already is! You're not yourself anymore! You'll kill yourself if you keep this up! If the alcohol doesn't make it, you'll starve to death or break your neck in the next fall!" Henry stood up and snatched his hand from her. "I miss her too, I miss her every day, but I didn't just lose her. I've lost you too." With that, he ran out of the living room and up the stairs, where he disappeared into his room, door slamming.
Zelena hadn't found it hard to follow the conversation at the volume at which the two of them had been yelling at each other, even though she hadn't meant to. Her chest tightened uncomfortably when Henry got to the heart of what she'd been trying to get Regina to understand for what seemed like an eternity. With Robin sitting safely in her little chair, nibbling contentedly on a cookie, she grabbed Henry's sketch pad and walked into the living room with it.
"I don't need another lecture, so save it," Regina's immediate response came.
"Actually, I just wanted to show you what Henry drew earlier," she said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. "He's really talented, he should pursue this." She held the top sheet out to her, which Henry had crumpled in places in his rage a few hours earlier.
Powerless, Regina accepted it and eyed it.
The pain that appeared in her eyes was hardly bearable for Zelena.
"Are these..." she whispered, swallowing dryly past the lump in her throat.
Zelena nodded. "Yes. The angel has swan wings."
Regina fell silent, barely able to get enough of the gentle lines that came together to form a lifelike image. "I'm so selfish," she whispered.
"Yes, you are," Zelena agreed with her. "But it's not too late to go in a different direction."
"Henry wants to go to the cemetery," it came tonelessly from Regina.
Her sister nodded. "You know... I understand that you're afraid of it. But maybe it would help you, too. You couldn't say goodbye to her. You went to work in the morning and by the afternoon she just wasn't there anymore. If you don't say goodbye and let her go now either, I don't think you'll ever get better."
Regina let her words run through her mind for a while. For sure, Zelena was right in what she said. She just wished it didn't hurt so much. "I'm scared," she whispered, barely audible.
"I know. But we're with you. And remember, you're not the only one who lost her." Zelena stood up, but left her the picture. "I have to go check on Robin, and I think the goose is done," she excused herself and went into the kitchen.
Once she was gone, Regina took a deep breath and hugged her son's drawing to her chest. She finally had to start being strong for him. Gently, like a treasure, she put the sheet of paper aside, flipped back the covers, and sat up. Almost instantly, black spots appeared in her field of vision and she struggled to breathe calmly and evenly until they disappeared. Only then did she push herself up from the sofa and, supporting herself everywhere, walked shakily into the kitchen.
Zelena had her back to the door, as she was busy taking the roast out of the pan and putting it on a plate, and pouring the gravy into a small jug.
"Hello, Robin," Regina gently greeted her niece, who was already busy with the next cookie.
The little girl grinned mischievously at her and grabbed a strand of her hair as she leaned over her to press a kiss to her forehead.
The gesture made Regina smile before she turned to her sister. "Can I help you? Set the table, maybe?" Regret resonated in her voice, and she had the immediate feeling of rejection when Zelena shook her head.
"Just sit down and deal with Robin for a bit, she'll be happy. Glad you came over." She turned and met her sister's gaze with a genuine smile.
"I should talk to Henry," it came contritely from her.
"You're not going up the stairs alone, please. I'll go get him as soon as I get the dumplings out," it came from her immediately.
Regina took a deep breath and lowered herself onto the chair next to Robin. They didn't even trust her to do that. But a quiet voice in her head suggested that it was her own fault that she couldn't even climb the stairs to her son's room without help, so she kept quiet and stroked Robin's red curls.
Zelena wasn't gone long before she entered the kitchen with Henry.
The teenager's face was closed up as he stiffly settled into his usual place at the table.
Immediately, Regina eased away from Robin and turned to her son. "Henry, I'm sorry."
"You keep saying that," he nodded.
Regina swallowed and sought eye contact with him. Her eyes shimmered suspiciously moist again, but this time she didn't allow the tears to spill out. "I know. But I mean it. I'm sorry for everything. Starting with the fact that I completely abandoned you, to the fact that you had to take care of both of us alone, to my selfish behavior of acting like Emma was only important to me. I know you miss her terribly, too, and I have no right to act like that." She interrupted herself and slowly reached for Henry's hand. Glad that he didn't withdraw his, she continued. "I've seen your drawing. It's beautiful. And I want to visit Emma with you. As soon as we've eaten your wonderful dinner, we'll go to the cemetery, okay?"
For a moment, Henry was too shocked by this speech to even say anything. He hadn't heard his mother speak that much since Emma's death, and when she had, she had yelled at him in a state of complete drunkenness. "I..." He interrupted himself again, briefly running his hand over his eyes to hold back the unshed tears in them. "I'd like that," he finally pressed out.
Regina's lips formed a happy smile, which Henry returned, somewhat hesitantly at first.
"Well, now that that's settled, dinner's getting cold," it came promptly from Zelena, who placed the bowls on the table and set a place setting with cutlery in front of everyone. After turning the music down a bit, she sat down with them and looked at Henry. "Thank you so much for the invitation and this wonderful meal. A roast goose, my goodness. You really outdid yourself with that."
"Just wait, you haven't tasted it yet," he laughed.
"Nonsense, it's going to taste terrific."
"If you say so," a shoulder-shrug came from Henry. "Well, bon appétit!"
For the next few minutes, only the clatter of cutlery and the soft sounds of 'Mary' could be heard. At the refrain, Regina lowered her fork; the verses reminded her too painfully of Emma. "It tastes wonderful, Henry. Thank you," she whispered instead, giving her son's arm a quick squeeze.
"After all, you taught me how to cook," he said, which made Regina feel a spark of pride.
After they finished eating, Zelena insisted on just leaving everything and that she would do the dishes the next day. Instead, they should all dress warmly so they could go to the cemetery together.
The prospect of that made a knot form in Regina's stomach. She hadn't eaten much, but plenty by her standards, and Zelena realized that she couldn't manage more at the moment without getting sick, which was why she hadn't pushed her for more. She sat on the dresser in the hallway and slipped on her boots, her movements incredibly slow and only getting slower as she realized everyone else was already ready to go. Her hands began to tremble and her breathing quickened.
Henry immediately realized a panic attack was about to come and crouched down in front of her to grab her hands and make eye contact with her. "Breathe, mom. It's okay, we're with you."
Regina struggled, focusing on her son's steady breaths until hers matched his. Slowly, she nodded and stood up unsteadily. "Thank you." It was only a whisper, but she knew Henry had heard it because he squeezed her arm encouragingly.
Zelena had Robin wrapped up tight and warm once again, protecting her with her own body as the four of them made their way through the snow. At least the wind had died down and there was no more fresh snow falling, so progress was easier.
Henry's arm was tight around his mother, who was still barely able to stay on her feet and was leaning against him in turn.
As they walked, they did not exchange a single word.
Only when first Zelena with Robin and then Henry with Regina passed the archway to the cemetery did Regina stiffen again, stopped, and whispered Henry's name in a panic.
"You can do it," it came quietly from the 16-year-old, who had had no choice but to grow up in the past few weeks. "She'll be happy having you here, believe me."
Regina squirmed inwardly, but eventually continued to put one foot in front of the other. Focusing only on her footsteps in the snow, it hit her with icy force that they had suddenly arrived already. Shivering, not because of the cold, she stared at the letters on the wooden cross. There was no gravestone yet; Emma had died just three weeks ago. Emma had died. The words echoed in her head and she felt her legs finally give way and, only slightly slowed by Henry's hands, she finally knelt in the snow in front of the fresh grave.
Henry tried to help her up again, but she pushed his hands away.
"Can you give me a few minutes, please?"
Zelena exchanged a glance with her nephew before the two moved several feet away, leaving Regina alone.
"Emma... You probably can't hear me, but if you can: I forgive you." Hot tears trailed down Regina's cold cheeks. "I've been constantly cursing you for what you've done these past few weeks, but I forgive you. You did what you thought was right and put the children's lives above your own and I love you for that. I won't leave Henry alone again, I promise you. You and I, we had a wonderful time. Too short, but wonderful. And I don't want to ruin that any longer and destroy your memory with my ignorance. I think Henry is right with his drawing: For me, you will be the angel with the swan wings watching over us for all eternity. Merry Christmas, Emma. Goodbye, my love."