poof blanket

Regina and Emma’s baby blanket...

Regina poofs over to the sherrif’s office, practically sprinting over to the cabinet in the corner. She unlocks it with a flick of her wrist, pulling out a small, battered box. She lifts the lid off, revealing the white yarn of Emma’s baby blanket. Regina sighed, running her hand across the soft surface.

She could still remember the time Emma first showed her the blanket…

It was after the Arendelle sisters had left, in the six weeks of calm before the Rumplestiltskin returned. She’d brought Emma lunch one day, as they had fallen into the habit of providing the other with food if they forgot to eat.

Emma sat at her desk, staring at the old box on her lap.

“If you stare any harder at that box, you’ll drill a hole through it,” Regina quipped, setting down a takeout bag on the desk.

Emma jumped, her head whipping around to face Regina.

“Oh, hi,” she said distractedly, as if her mind was somewhere else.

Regina sensed this, and sat on the desk, looking expectantly at Emma. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking,” Emma said. “About my past.”

She lifted the lid of the box off, pulling the baby blanket out and handing it to Regina.

“My baby blanket,” she replied to Regina’s questioning look. “For a while, it was all I ever had. It gave me hope that one day I would find my family.” She blushed. “It’s silly, I know.”

“No, it’s not,” Regina said, placing a reassuring hand on Emma’s shoulder. “You found them, didn’t you?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I guess. My parents, Henry-”

“Hook,” Regina added, somewhat bitterly.

“I was going to say you,” Emma said, smiling at the brunette. “But I guess I have Hook, too.”

“Me?” Regina asked, surprised.

“Yes, you,” Emma said, nudging the older woman’s knee. “Despite everything we’ve been through, I do care about you.

Regina smiled sadly at the memory.

“Don’t worry, Emma,” she said, stroking the blanket. “I promise, I will find you.”

“What are you doing hiding up here?” Emma asks as she joins Regina on the balcony. The brunette is sitting alone, legs dangling over the edge, and her head resting on her arms with a forlorn expression. 

Regina sighs, “I don’t feel much like celebrating…and I didn’t want to bring down the party.” 

Emma nods before poofing up a blanket to drape over them both, “It’s freezing up here…I get that you don’t want to celebrate. I used to hate New Year.”

“You did?” 

“It’s hard to see it as a “happy” New Year when you’re living in your car with no money,” Emma points out, “So how about we don’t say Happy New Year? Instead, we’ll just say, ‘To tomorrow.” 

“One day at a time?” Regina offers. 

“But without the platitude feeling.” 

“I like that,” Regina replies as she clicks her fingers and poofs them each a mug of hot cocoa, “To tomorrow.” 

Emma grins clinking her mug against Regina’s as they both turn their gaze to the night sky, “To tomorrow.”