A Christmasbrooke Tale

Christmas Morning

"Stop!" She screams, the raw words scratching and tearing at the back of her throat as her body recklessly flings forward in bed.

She gasps and heaves for any small fraction of oxygen to fill her burning lungs. Her eyes dart across the dimly lit room, the stars burning out and the moon fading into the grey sky above. A cold sweat is clinging to every crevasse of her body, causing her muscles to tremble as the icy morning air sweeps across her damp flesh.

Her mind rifles through too many images starting from the spirit of Snow White, to her mother and a ten year old version of the princess. Then comes images of her son, Emma and a sniveling pirate. Shivers run down her spine when she remembers a creepy Rumple lurking in the shadows and Emma in that wedding dress saying, I do, to the worst possible choice of human for her.

"Emma," she mutters under her breath and rips the comforter and sheets away from her body.

She doesn't even allow herself one second to process anything that occurred last night. Everything could have been some horrible dream, but something in her gut is screaming for her to believe in those three spirits. They granted her a second chance to fix this destructive path she is stumbling down and she refuses to neglect the important people in her life any longer.

She flicks her wrists without any thought and lands exactly where her mind knows she needs to be. A rush of heat warms her tired bones and settles her racing heart. All the shades are drawn in this tiny room, making it nearly impossible to truly see anything but darkness, and even darker shadows.

"Emma," she whispers while leaning forward in hopes that she is in fact hovering over the sheriff's bed. A soft moan stirs through the silent room, but the woman doesn't wake. "Emma," she attempts again just a tad louder this time. The frustrating woman hums quietly to herself and snuggles in closer to her pillow. Regina groans inwardly and exhales her annoyance. "Miss Swan!" She whisper shouts and leans further down toward the bed.

Regina's eyes begin to adjust to the black that surrounds her, watching as Emma jumps up in bed and scrambles backwards as her mind tries to awaken from dreamland. "Regina?" She croaks out through her sleep induced voice that has suddenly become the most endearing sound to ever grace Regina's ears.

"Miss Swan, I need you to get up," she firmly demands, prompting unruly golden tresses to whip around in a frenzy.

"Henry? Is Henry alright? What's happened?" Emma rushes on, creating one giant word instead of coherent sentences.

"Henry is fine...I think," she wavers as her mind replays images of her son as some smug spirit.

"You think," Emma shrieks so loud Regina finds herself tumbling forward to clasp a hand over her big mouth.

Both of their eyes wander down slowly to where Regina's hand is firmly covering up those pale pink lips that she's suddenly realizing look so delectable and so silky soft. Her heart pounds ferociously in her chest that she's almost certain the sleepy woman in front of her can hear loud and clear.

Regina clears her throat and quickly retracts her hand as if Emma smacked her away. "I'm not here because of Henry," she admits and watches as one sandy brown eyebrow slithers up Emma's forehead, but she remains quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I came to speak to you about something of importance."

Emma's shoulders slump in relief before she readjusts herself on the bed, folding her legs like a pretzel. Regina's eyes are glued to those long legs dressed in red plaid pajamas, because of course she's in those pajamas, typical Emma Swan.

"Take a seat," Emma whispers softly, patting the empty spot where her body slept all night before her eyes drift passed Regina for a moment. "Why are you up at five in the morning?" She questions, but Regina's still nervously lingering near the bed, unsure if she should sit down on that bed because that's indefinitely taking their relationship to a new plateau. "Regina?"