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When Emma awoke on Christmas morning, she did not feel merry and bright like the rest of the world.
Although she was woken by the sounds of her sweet little Hope yelling, “It’s Christmas! Get up! Santa came!”, Emma knew she was in for a rough Christmas based on the way her head pounded and her body ached.
She tried to breathe in to power through it, the action caused her to cough deeply. It was a deep and awful sound; her chest, throat, and head all hurt with the action.
Groaning, she rolled over onto her stomach to bury her face in her pillow as tears of frustration and sadness began to build in her eyes.
While it wasn’t the first time she had been sick on Christmas Day in her lifetime, it still didn’t stop the sting of sadness that coursed through her. She let out a sniffle, though she wasn’t sure it was from the sadness or from her runny nose.
A warm hand settled on her back, rubbing it gently. “Love?” her husband asked worriedly, kissing the top of her head. “Everything all right?”
Emma rolled over to look up at him, unable to help her pout. “I don’t feel well,” she croaked out. She closed her eyes when Killian leaned down to kiss her forehead, and she was able to give him a little smile.
“I’m here,” Killian murmured, opening his arms to her and she gladly curled into them. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead yet again, though he did frown somewhat. “Emma, you’re burning…”
“Thanks, babe, you’re hot too,” she mumbled tiredly. She felt the vibration of her husband’s chuckle against her skin, and she cuddled up against him even more. His hand wove its way through her hair and she nearly drifted off again at the action alone.
“Do you want tea, love?” he murmured, his lips against her temple. “And some medicine? See if we can’t cut this thing off at the pass?”
“My hero,” she rasped drowsily, her eyes already fluttering shut. “Do you think you can get our daughter to stop from tearing into all the presents?”
“Mmm, a keeping seven-year-old from her presents on Christmas morning? Highly unlikely.”
The little pitter patter of feet sounded from downstairs as if Hope was running from one side of the house to the other just to entertain herself. While Emma was admittedly thankful that Hope had chosen not to go up and down the stairs to expend some of her boundless energy, each footstep caused her head to pound.
“All right, let me make you some tea, see if we can’t settle our little Christmas beast,” Killian murmured affectionately, planting a quick kiss to her lips.
“Babe, no, you’ll catch this,” Emma whined, rolling onto her back as she looked up at him.
Killian merely smiled down at her before leaning in for another kiss. “So, I catch it and be miserable together,” he replied with a shrug, getting out of the bed. He made sure to pull the covers back over her and headed downstairs.
Emma smiled a little bit wider at the love her husband showed her and nearly fell back asleep as she waited for him to come back. The door opened and she picked her head up weakly.
Killian stood there with a cup of tea in one hand and Hope perched on his back.
“Hi, Mama. Merry Christmas,” Hope murmured softly as she flopped down onto the bed. “Papa said you weren’t feeling so good and I had to be real quiet.”
“Oh, Cygnet,” Emma murmured tiredly. “Merry Christmas.” She reached out and brushed some of her daughter’s hair from her face. “Papa is going to give me some medicine and I should be all better soon.” She smiled at her daughter. “I love you very much. Mama’s okay. And we can celebrate Christmas like normal, huh?”
“Okay! I love you too!” Hope said brightly and even though the sound lanced through her head, Emma didn’t dare let it show on her face. Killian frowned though and kissed Emma’s temple again.
“All right, up you get,” Killian said affectionately, helping Emma sit up as he handed her a cup of tea. “Why don’t I get some medicine from the bathroom?” His voice turned up in excitement as he added to their daughter, “Cygnet, why don’t we open presents in bed?”
Hope’s eyes sparkled as if the idea had never occurred to her. The little girl gasped excitedly, “We could be comfy and open presents, Papa!”
“Indeed we could, little love,” Killian chuckled.
“But I might need some help with the bigger presents though,” Hope realized, her face puckering adorably as she frowned. Turning to Emma, the little girl said assuredly, “Santa brought some very big presents, but I don’t know who they’re for!”
Killian was still grinning as he ruffled Hope’s hair. “Let me get Mummy’s medicine and then I’ll help you bring up the presents, all right?”
“Okay, Papa!”
Emma couldn’t help but beam as she watched her daughter light up and race downstairs. Killian kissed Emma’s forehead and gently stroked her cheek. “Thanks for taking such good care of me,” she told him, kissing his palm.
“As if taking care of you is such a hardship, love,” he replied adoringly, pressing his forehead to hers. His thumb gently brushed along her cheekbone. “You know I’d do anything for you, yeah? Whether it be Christmas Day or otherwise.”
Emma laughed, letting out a little cough with the action. “I know,” she said tenderly. “And it’s gonna be the same for you when you end up catching this from me, Killian.”
He smiled a little salaciously at her, given that their child was not in the room. “Well, I’ll never say no to you playing nursemaid, love.” He winked at her, and she let out a cough of a laugh again. Frowning, he rubbed her back gently until the coughing fit subsided. “I’ll go get you the medicine, love, I’ll be right back.”
True to his words, he was back in a moment, pressing some cold and flu tablets into her hand. She smiled gratefully up at him, and he responded in turn by pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. A loud thud sounded from downstairs. There was a pause and then a little voice piped up, “I’m okay!”
“Take your medicine while I go help our Cygnet, yeah?” Killian murmured. “Captain’s orders.”
“Far be it from me to disobey my Captain.” Emma smirked at him, and given the wiggle of her husband’s eyebrow in return, she knew he too was recalling some times when she had done just that.
“You, Emma,” he growled a little bit, playfully nipping at her lips. “Are in for it my love, but only when you are fully recovered from this illness that plagues you.”
“Is that a promise?” Emma asked huskily, trying very hard not to cough in her husband’s face.
“Aye. So it’s all the more incentive for you to get well, love.” He finished this sentiment by sweetly kissing the top of her head before he turned around to head downstairs to help Hope carry the presents from under the tree.
Emma sat up in bed a little bit and sipped at her tea. While she waited for him to return, Emma ruminated on how different it was from Christmases past. She recalled a Christmas in foster care when she had the flu and she had been left to fend for herself. Another Christmas with a cold as she slept in the Bug, shivering under blankets to try and stay warm and not get any sicker.
The memories made the sight of her husband and daughter return into the room holding presents in their arms all the sweeter.
She hoped that it would be enough to defeat this Christmas cold.
--
A few hours saw Emma all the poorer, despite how well she tried to hide it.
Despite taking the medicine, Killian could see how his wife winced at the lights in their bedroom. How her hand went to her temples every time she tried to hide it when Hope’s back was turned. How she reached for the tissues what seemed to be every few minutes just to blow her nose.
Despite her protestations, he still held her in his arms, knowing all the winters she had been without comfort or care, and was determined to show it to her now. And even still despite her protestations, he could tell how much it meant to her as she relaxed in his hold.
They spent the morning opening presents and watching Christmas movies and cycled through each of their favorites. Hope was quite partial to the Muppets and Killian truthfully had to admit the same, especially given how many times she had watched this movie ad nauseum before Christmas.
Emma simply chose Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer this year, though normally her favorites were either the lad named Charlie Brown or the story about the George Bailey fellow. But it was clear as they watched Rudolph that Emma just needed something she could easily sleep through that wouldn’t take up too much attention.
Still, the time drew nearer for them to head off to her parent's farm, and Emma still seemed no better. And he wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it.
Christmas was Emma’s favorite holiday, and the holiday was all the better for being able to celebrate it with her and their children.
“Why don’t I just stay home for Christmas?” Emma asked against his neck when it was clear she would be unable to rally for the day’s festivities. “No point in getting everyone else sick, right?”
“Aye, just me then?” he teased her, in spite of the worry blossoming in his chest. She must have sensed it for she looked up at him and gently took his hand. “Are you sure, love? I hate to leave you alone on Christmas.”
“Not the first time I’ve been alone and sick on Christmas in my life. One more year won’t kill me,” Emma said with a shrug and that did not make him feel better if truth be told. “Besides, Hope loves going to my parents’. I’m sure she won’t mind that I’m not there.”
“If you’re sure,” Killian replied, kissing her forehead again as he held her close.
“Yeah, ‘m sure. Go enjoy Christmas.” Emma nodded sleepily, cuddling back to him. He let her rest for a little while longer before tucking her in and getting Hope ready for Christmas day.
As he showered and got dressed, helped his daughter get lean, and pick out her own Christmas outfit, it felt less and less right for him to do this without her. Still, she needed her rest, and he was loathed to deprive her of it, even if it was Christmas.
As he loaded up the car with the presents, Hope suddenly stopped on the front step of their home. “Papa?” she asked, turning back to look at the house. “Is Mama not coming?” She frowned as she looked up, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Killian sighed, scooping up his daughter in his arms. “I’m afraid not, Cygnet,” he sighed. “She’s not feeling well…”
“Okay,” Hope replied, hanging her head lowly as he carried her to the car. The light seemed to melt from her eyes like snow on a particularly warm day.
And it was only when they were about halfway to Snow and David’s when he looked in the rearview mirror to see tears rolling down her little cheeks. He pulled over the car immediately so he could park it and turn around to look at her. “Cygnet?” he asked worriedly. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“We left Mama alone on Christmas!” she cried, reaching for him. Killian quickly unbuckled Hope from her car seat and lifted her up so she could wrap her little arms around her neck. “Mama will miss eating the Christmas cookies and those are her favorite, Papa! And she’ll be all by herself and we are all together and I don’t like it!”
Killian’s heart somehow both broke and grew at his little girl’s worry for her mother.
In truth, he still was not comfortable with leaving his wife alone on Christmas either, given he knew just how deep her childhood wounds tend to run on the holidays.
And suddenly, he was struck with a flash of inspiration.
He smiled down at his daughter, tilting her chin up so he could tap her nose gently. “Never fear, little love. A good captain always takes care of his crew, aye?”
“Aye aye!” she affirmed with a nod of her head. Her curls bounced around her as she did and she laughed, heartily kissing her forehead.
“I have an idea, so Mummy won’t be alone on Christmas,” he whispered conspiratorially to her, winking as he did so. “Do you want to help?”
Hope nodded eagerly. “Yes, but only if you tell me what it is so I can help,” she answered sagely.
Killian laughed and began whispering the plan in Hope’s ear, even though there was no one else in the car.
“Should I text your brother?” he finally asked once he’d told her the plan.
“Yes, because it won’t be Christmas without Henry!” she answered, horrified at the notion of not celebrating with her oldest brother.
“Okay, let’s get in touch with Henry, and then we can get…uhh…Operation…uhhh…”
“White Christmas,” Hope offered.
“Aye, White Christmas indeed!”
--
While she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent better, Emma had to admit that the medicine was doing its job. She at least had the energy to move from the bed to the couch downstairs.
Turning on the Christmas tree and some music, Emma tried not to feel too lonely without the normal sounds of Killian’s laughter or Hope’s excited chatter, Henry’s voices while he told stories to all the children, and her parents arguing over the cranberry sauce.
In truth, she hadn’t felt like a Lost Girl in so long that the resurgence of those feelings caused tears to prick at the corner of her eyes. She took the heel of her hand to rub at her eyes.
This is so stupid! she thought, sniffling all the while. You’re not abandoned, you’re not alone…everyone will probably call you in a little bit to see how you’re feeling. It’s fine, Emma. You’re fine.
But in truth?
Emma just missed her family on Christmas Day.
And no sooner did she have that thought that the front door swung wide open, rattling as it hit the wall. Her magic flared to life as she coughed, but it was only Hope bounding back in. “Hi, Mama!”
“Hi, baby,” she rasped confusedly. She looked over at the clock. It had only been an hour at most that Killian had left for her parents’ house. Surely they hadn’t had dinner already?
Behind her was Henry, grinning at his mom. “Hey, Mom.” He came over and gave her a quick hug before going to wipe his hands down with hand sanitizer. “Heard you weren’t feeling so hot.”
Killian was last to come in, four stacks of deep trays piled high in his arms. The trays themselves were not massive, but it looked as if they could hold a lot of food.
Tears came to her eyes, but it was no longer feelings of loneliness and sadness that fueled them. “What’s all this?” she giggled, wiping at her eyes as she looked at her husband.
“Why, it’s Christmas dinner, of course!” he declared, nodding at Henry to go get a small table to set up in front of the couch for Emma. He came over and kissed Emma’s forehead, putting down the four dinners on the floor for just a moment. “Can’t have those young wounds linger on Christmas, eh?” He tapped her nose and she laughed, burying his face in his chest.
He wrapped his arms around her and against her hair admitted quietly, “Truthfully, love? It’s not Christmas for us without you. And even if it means we suffer your cold after this, I’d say it’s well worth it. And if you’re uncomfortable, we’ll move far enough apart that you won’t have to worry about us all. But we couldn’t have you be alone on Christmas. We love you too much for that.”
She let out a small hiccupping sob against his chest, and she could feel her husband’s worry for her increase. “Love, is that all right?” he asked, trying to dip his head down to make eye contact with her.
“Killian, it’s perfect,” Emma sniffled, laughing as she brushed away her tears. She cupped his cheek gently in her hands. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
She noticed Killian give Henry a wink but couldn’t think on it further as Hope put a plate in front of Emma, and her family began making sure her Christmas dinner plate was piled high.
“Babe, I’m pretty sure this is enough to feed like three people,” she laughed, pretending to peek around her plate so she could look at Killian.
Her husband smiled patiently, even as he helped Hope set up her plate. “Then I must be doing Christmas dinner right.” Then, he frowned as if thinking of something. “Unless the food’s too hard on your stomach right now, love?”
“I’m perfect,” Emma assured him as Henry tucked a blanket around her and handed her a mug of tea.
“When’s the last time you took some medicine?” Henry asked, looking down at her.
“This morning, Dr. Henry,” she teased her son, but she couldn’t help but smile as Henry nodded firmly and walked upstairs to get Emma some more medicine. When he came back down, she hugged him tightly. “Love you, kid.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
“And I love you too, Mama!” Hope assured her mother loudly from the other side of the room.
Emma laughed and blew a kiss in Hope’s direction. “I love you too, baby!”
The Swan-Jones family ate in the living room, talking and laughing loudly, sharing stories from the year and fun anecdotes from living in the United Realms, even if Emma’s remarks were sometimes punctuated by coughs or sneezes.
As dinner wound down, Emma stretched out on the couch, closing her eyes contently. “Man, what I wouldn’t give for some of my Dad’s pumpkin pie. You didn’t bring any of that, did you?”
She didn’t open her eyes, but heard her husband say, “’fraid not, love, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”
Mmmm…well leftover pumpkin pie is good too, Emma decided, settling back into the couch.
She’d nearly dozed off again when she heard the door open and her mother’s voice call, “Sorry we’re late, we had to make dessert packages for everyone who was already at the farm, and it was a whole thing!”
Emma’s eyes flew open and she saw her parents and little brother standing in the doorway, holding various tin foil-wrapped packages in their arms.
“Hope, why don’t we help Gramma and Grandpa put the desserts down?” Henry asked, standing up and taking the dessert from David.
“Okay! I’m a great helper!” Hope declared, following Henry as she always did any time the siblings were together.
David immediately came to Emma’s side, pulling her into a hug while he cupped the back of her head. “How are you feeling, Emma?” he asked softly, rubbing her back a little bit. “Do you need anything? Water? Medicine? Tea?”
“I’m okay, Dad,” she murmured. She caught her husband’s eye as she added, only looking at Killian, “I’m perfect.”
--
It had taken a little while to get his in-laws out of the house for as late as they had come. Both David and Snow had insisted on fussing over Emma since she wasn’t feeling well and for all the eyerolling his wife did, Killian knew she secretly loved it.
He could tell in the blissed-out way she smiled, still laying on the couch on her side. Henry had gone off to Regina’s and Hope had finally taken her Christmas Day nap, sprawled out on the floor while a movie flickered unwatched on the television.
His wife’s eyes watched him expectantly, and Killian knew exactly what that meant. He gently propped Emma up for the briefest of moments before sliding underneath her, so she could use his chest as a pillow. He was rewarded with a delighted hum and her snuggling more into him, as if she could physically get him closer than he already was.
His hand gently began stroking her back, as her hand crept up his chest to rest over his heart. “So, all in all, not a bad Christmas, hmmm?” Killian asked her softly, his lips gentle against the skin of her forehead.
She looked up at him, her eyes glowing with the lights of their Christmas tree. Her mouth was curved in that soft smile he loved so much and couldn’t help but kiss. “Thank you for taking such good care of me today,” she said sincerely. Though while she was not as verbose as he was, he could read every emotion on her face.
But then again, she had always been an open book to him, and he found himself reading the depth of her thanks in appreciation as he looked at her.
“I’ll always be here to take care of you,” he promised her, gently pushing her hair out of her face.
“I know. I’m so incredibly lucky that I have you, Killian.”
“I love you, Emma,” he murmured.
“I love you too,” she replied. “And if you do end up catching this cold from me, I promise I’ll be here to take care of you too,” Emma murmured drowsily, tucked up as tightly against him as his own ribs.
Even a week later, with his wife tending to him as he lay in bed with the cold she had on Christmas morning, Killian Jones considered himself the luckiest man in the world just to have her by his side.