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Promising Something For Everyone

It all started on a day much like the morning they set sail on this grand adventure. The choppy seas had come and gone between bursts of sunshine and clear skies, marking an unpredictable weather pattern. It had set back their journey by two days. The crew was weary. Time dragged on as they worked tirelessly to get the Jolly Roger to their destination. Though the weeks had been long, cold, and difficult it certainly helped their collaboration skills. The ship worked like a well-oiled machine in the control of a ragtag team of individuals who had come to learn about as much as themselves as each other.

On a particularly sunny hour the crew pushed and pulled at ropes, turned wheels, and mounted the sail quietly and without complaint.

Boredom going straight to her head, Emma began singing. "I've got soul, but I'm not a savior. I've got soul, but I'm not a savior," she sang while hauling yard on starboard.

The breeze carried her voice to Regina who grinned to the spirit. Emma was no soloist (more of a disjointed yodeler), but Regina felt compelled to help a girl out.

"Another head aches, another heart breaks," Regina joined in as she continued her tugging of a sail. She winked at Emma. "I am so much older than I can take. And my affection, well it comes and goes I need direction to perfection, no no no no…"

"Help me out!" David added in his broken soprano. Working at the main sail, he elbowed his wife to contribute and sang on. Mary Margaret eventually joined in with a laugh.

"These changes ain't changing me," Hook belted to the greying sky.

Gold finished, "The cold-hearted boy I used to be!"

"Yeah, you know you got to help me out," they all sang in unison. "Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner," they crooned to the sea gulls, fleeing from the discordant band, "You know you got to help me out," they sang their hearts out.

The Jolly Roger troupe singers' cacophony was interrupted by a crack of lightening. Ominous clouds rolled in, forming a shadow overhead. The boat creaked and started rolling to and fro with the increasing current. It was the storm Gold had prophesized. It was the day they all had prepared for. But it was trailing in much quicker than expected.

"Ready about!" Hook shouted from the main bridge. He pointed to the husband/wife team and commanded, "Prepare the boom!"

The drizzle that had cropped up turned to a downpour. Emma strained to see in the rainstorm and pushed at her errant hair dancing in the whirlwind. She held tight as she could to the halyard until Hook ordered differently. Though he was the last person she trusted with her life (or her rum) the pirate was a superb helmsman. Not to mention she was her captain and there were rules – rules that she would take to heart considering their predicament.

"Stern on course!"

With a hand gripping a wheel's handle and a hook locked with another, Hook steered the ship around breaking waves. Waves crashed into the side, testing the ship's integrity that Hook prayed would see him through one last journey. When stern was pointed correctly downwind he steered his vessel at top speed. The faster they flew the further distance they were from the eye of the storm. The faster they sailed the safer they felt.

Just when the crew was ready to yip and hoot their victory a gust of high winds blew through. Traveling at such a high velocity, Hook lost control of the helm on a wave face. A vicious squall forced the Jolly Roger heeling off course. The crew began to slide under the unbalanced deck towards the port railing. David snagged an arm around the masthead, but missed Mary Margaret's hand by a centimeter.

She slipped down the deck, screaming and fingers clawing the wet planks. Before smashing into the wall side the magic of a once dark witch wound a rope around Mary Margaret's wrist and hauled her up to her feet. Panting wide-eyed, she cast a death grip on the port railing. No one especially Mary Margaret noticed the swinging boom loomed towards her. She cried out as the horizontal pole broke off and knocked her overboard, the chopping waves consuming her sweater weighted body.

Without thinking Emma screamed, "Mom!" for the first time and bounded over the railing.

Regina heard the shout followed by the splash. Blinking through the sheets of rain, her nerves ran cold. She didn't react for a few seconds, hoping what happened did not just happen. Her fear quickly turned to fury. "You IDIOT!" she roared over the howling wind. She marched unsteadily to the port railing.

Not hearing or seeing his wife and daughter through the storm, David ascended for a better view. With every step on the rungs his fears amplified. He remembered the last time he climbed the lookout, but unlike then he was not afraid of getting reamed out by his idol pirate and captain.

At the lookout pinnacle he strained to see through the whipping sails and pelting rain. The high winds swung his nest precariously. In the distance he spotted two heads above water, one blonde, another black. They were together. Thank god.

Shouting at the top of his lungs David commanded "Lower that ladder over starboard side!" and pointed out to his family floundering in the chaos.

Hook stared proudly up at David, gave a salute and responded, "Aye-aye, quartermaster!"

Gripping the railing enough to break it in two, Regina watched as Emma hoisted her sputtering mother to Hook's helping hand.

"Got her?" Emma shouted up.

"She weighs a ton!"

"Excuse me?" Mary Margaret gasped in outrage despite having just escaped from drowning.

"You couldn't have purged the five pound sweater while you were down there?"

"You would have liked that wouldn't you? Saving a naked damsel in distress. Humph!"

Just as Mary Margaret made it safe and sound on deck into the unfortunate arms of the captain the boat careened sideward creating a swelling wave. Emma didn't even have time to gather a breath before she was sucked into a whirlpool. Regina screamed after her but the blonde head had disappeared under the boat. She shouted for Emma again and again until her throat was raw, but was met with the lapping of waves.

She immediately peeled off her jacket, casting it aside. Regina would be damned if Davy Jones' Locker got a hold of that idiot before she was through reaming her out. Diving into danger without a second thought, as always, never looking before she jumped, never asking for help before acting the savior, never caring for others' feelings before threatening her own life.

Emma, she begged within the confines of her mind.

Then it occurred to Regina, those were actions she purposely endorsed through their magic lessons. From the beginning Emma was hesitant to use her magic and use it to her full potential. She always had to ask a question before casting a spell, making absolutely sure she was supposed to be setting fire to the right target, or manifesting salt in the correct teacup of a Dark One. For once, Emma had actually learned from her teacher. Perhaps she learned too well.

Yet she never wanted Emma to sacrifice her own wits over such heroism. She never asked for her heart to drop into her stomach and feel so queasy she could retch over the side. Because it was not the rocking ship that made her sick, it was the prospect of a loss she could never live with that was cause for nausea.

"Are you mad?!" Hook stomped over to her. "The sea will suck you both down!"

Not dignifying the absurd question with a response, Regina disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. Seconds later her body felt like it was being attacked by pins and needles. The shock of the frigid water literally took the breath from Regina. She gasped deeply above the chopping waves and began hyperventilating. Limbs waving erratically below the surface, she struggled to keep her head up. Through the rain and the wind she could no longer see the Jolly Roger, nor its captain. And she could not make out the shouts to come back. All she heard was the crack of thunder, and the water rushing at her ears. All she saw was white foam and black ocean. She was alone – teeth chattering, fingers numb, wet, tired, and alone. The fear of freezing, the fear of drowning was so strong. But the horror of her own death was nothing compared to the death of Emma.

Knowing what – who – was at stake, Regina allowed her magic to surround and bind her. Just as Emma had, Regina called forth her powers to warm the water around her body. Then she dove under.

It was just as fear inducing, the unknowable blackness of the water. The storm above was child's play compared to the whiplashing currents and rivers below the surface. She allowed herself to be sucked into the current, hoping it would lead her to Emma. The deeper it took her the darker it became. The flashes of lightening from above ceased. Black, the color she thought was her favorite, wrapped around her like a blanket. It was suffocating, and if it weren't for her magic storing up the need for breath she would have expired already. Such a thought did not bode well for her Emma.

Eyes were no good in the pitch black ocean, so Regina opened herself up to magic, completely and without regard to whether it was dark or light in character. If intent was everything, than it would be enough to save Emma. Her aching heart should be reason enough.

It came like a star at twilight, fuzzy at first as if you were imagining it. So she blinked. The star remained. Something told Regina this was one star she had to catch. Every part of her was drawn to the target, her body, mind, and more importantly her magic. Nothing else mattered, no storm could hold her back, no leviathan could frighten her off her path because the star had already seemed to latch on to her. Regina began swimming in the direction of the force pulling at her chest. She swam for the star, a silver glow growing brighter and nearer.

No bubbles. That confirmation almost slackened Regina's jaw into a mournful wail. She grabbed fistfuls of leather and braced the inert body to hers with astonishing force.

If the main deck was not soaked from the storm it was positively drenched by Mary Margaret's tears. The storm had dissipated, but it was just too late. The moment purple smoke thinned into the winds they all knew it was for naught. No one could have survived the squall. These magical waters were a security system controlled by Pan and his Lost Boys. Children playing at magic, Hook sneered. Pathetic.

It damn well was an efficient system, Hook thought glumly, that was for sure. He looked down, contemplating over how he could have better prepared his crew, how he could have trained Emma properly. Perhaps he shouldn't have insulted her magic technique all those times. Perhaps he should have lent a hand or a hook. He had seen more action than the sheriff and had faced Neverland's seas before. Perhaps he should have been a better captain. Perhaps he should have been a better friend.

Hook still stayed glued to the helm, preferring to keep a distance from the sobbing crowd while Gold thought in solitude as well. He was leaning against the capstan; a piece of machinery the blonde had the frequent pleasure of cleaning. He could almost hear her complaining over the kick of her boot to the metal.

Gold tapped the end of his cane at the deck, remembering her more sufferable moments. Like her kindness. He broke out into a smile at the memory of Emma defending his crankiness to the airport security guard at Logan. She had referred to him as her grandfather. He also recalled Emma giving him words of encouragement, and how she stared him dead in the eyes asserting, "You're not gonna die. I won't let you." She had done all that not because he had threatened her family (which was now their family), nor because of a contract. Emma protected him in New York because that was just what Emma did.

And yet another member of his family lost forever.

David enveloped the small, shivering body in his arms. Chin on a shoulder he and his wife were the only ones still staring into the water. The dying waves still held a magnetizing tragedy about them. It was so enticing Mary Margaret had the idea to go out and join the surf, join her daughter. David held her back and they cried together. They mourned the loss of their first born a second time for the last time.

The deafening thud ripped them from their individual guilt trips. The sight was so shocking they froze were they stood.

Regina rubbed manically along the sodden arms of leather, igniting some heat into the body. Emma lay on her back, unconscious and blue. Straddled over her hips was Regina, equally sodden and on the brink of passing out. The use of her magic had taken quite a toll. The amount of strength it took to focus on Emma's magic amidst the tempest had weakened her body and soul. There was not much she could stand to do. Except revive Emma Swan.

She finally noticed her stock still audience. "She's not breathing," Regina declared to the comatose body. Tears leaked from her eyes. More water. More goddamn water she didn't want to associate herself with. If she ever got out of this, if Emma got out of this, she would take her to a nice dry cave or a mountain. It didn't spell romantic, but at least it wouldn't involve the ocean. Maybe they would even return to the resort and the queen-sized bed of their True Love Suite. "And she's cold," she added definitely, trying desperately to school her features.

"Use these." With a snap of his fingers Gold brought a pile of blankets. "They're imbued with heat and should curb the hypothermia."

Once the essential parts were covered with heat Regina began chest compressions. She had never performed life saving techniques. A slave to her magic, it had always been a simple matter of waving a hand for Regina. But without a spark or flicker of magic on hand Emma would not be saved by supernatural approach. Even if Regina had it within her, even if the Dark One himself had the power, it couldn't be done. Emma was already far too gone.

Regina thought back to the books she had read and the programs she had watched into the early morning hours. She remembered soaking up every emergency treatment and first aid remedy known to man in preparation for the arrival of her infant son. Modern medicine was a whole other animal to a native of the Enchanted Forest, but it was not without its benefits.

Regina's hands pressed between pauses, controlling the pace and force of the compressions as her memory recalled. It all seemed so barbaric, pushing at one's chest like she had to punch Emma in order to get her to breathe. Hm, Regina thought, maybe that would work. The warm glow of magic was a more appealing preference. She missed the tingling sensation when it was succeeding, and the beautiful result that presented just seconds later. With CPR it was a "wait and see" process. It was grueling and personal and ugly. But if it resulted in bringing color back into that blue face and the opening to emerald eyes than Regina loved the fuck out of CPR. She'd love it till her dying day.

Mary Margaret cried some more. She clutched at David's hand and stared in a mix of fascination and fear. For a moment she couldn't understand why Regina was crying so hard over her daughter's body. Why did she get to cry more than her? What gave Regina the right to be more upset over Emma's blue and semi-expired existence than her? She was Emma's mother, goddamnit, and it was her heart's prerogative to suffer more agony. Yet all Mary Margaret could do was watch Emma being unsuccessfully revived by her lover. And cry some more.

Even Hook looked like he would break down into tears.

The resuscitations grew more erratic with each pump and less controlled than before. The minutes passed like hours and Regina was still breathing air into Emma's mouth and now punching fists into the chest. Still no pulse. Still blue as the silk blouse they had ceased to remember who owned first. Rising from her straddled position over hips, Regina leaned into the motionless chest and pressed her mouth once again onto the discolored lips. She had lost count by now. It could have been the fourth time she puffed breaths into the mouth or the even the thirtieth.

On whatever count it was, instead of giving air Regina offered a kiss. It was the last thing she had left to contribute. It was their last hope. Desperately, she pressed her mouth fully against Emma's, hands placed unsteadily on the chilled flesh of her cheeks. Mary Margaret surged forward but was halted by David.

"Please," Regina begged against blue lips. "Breathe for Henry." Her voice was raw from screaming. She was disoriented from the flurry of activity. She was dizzy and breathless from the exertion and could barely hold herself up. But she had a little bit left. There was an errant spark remaining that she would mine for all it was worth. "Breathe for me."

Her whisper was so low she could barely hear it herself. Regina pressed in again, this time with more passion. Forgotten tears falling, she kissed with that same old magic. Nose pressed alongside Emma's, Regina let her lips and her tongue work in tandem as they had always brought out the most seductive of moans and pleasant of sighs. Her tongue flicked gingerly against a lifeless tongue, whimpering at the contact. She kissed her very best kiss because it might very well be her last.

It was not beautiful nor did it give off a tingling sensation, but the result was accepted nonetheless. The water spurted out of Emma's warmed lips like a small fountain. She rolled under Regina's weight, coughing up sea water. Once her lungs were clear Emma stared wide eyed at a teary and aghast Regina.

She expected Emma to make the usual cheesy comment like, "You saved me!" or "Hey beautiful" or even the more likely "What the hell took you so long?" But all Regina received was a gaping stare.

"Oh, my baby!"

Regina heard the cry and the stumbling feet of Mary Margaret. Without a word she made way for the mother.

David brought Emma to her feet, hugging her from behind while Mary Margaret hit her head-on like a professional linebacker.

"Why would you risk your life like that?" the petite mother questioned after a long embrace. "Never," she stated firmly, shaking her head and gripping Emma's arms, "never do something stupid like rescue me. That's what I have David for."

Gold raised an amusing brow at David who rubbed the back of his neck, his red cheeks displaying his failure to get to his wife fast enough.

Hook slapped a hand (not a hook because he learned his lesson from the palm stabbing incident) to Emma's shoulder. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Yeah," Emma muttered tiredly, "I'm still not taking you up on that offer to go skinny dipping. Nice try, though. And great timing."

Hook shrugged, taking it as a compliment.

"Next time let me do the saving," David chimed in. He hugged Emma's shoulders tighter, giving her a noogie and eliciting a riotous laugh from the girl. "You're making your father look bad. And I'm an experienced knight!"

Gold rolled his eyes. "You mean an experienced shepherd?" He even smirked while saying it, proving just how cuddly he had grown around the Charming family.

"A shepherd turned heroic knight," the wife corrected and joined in the laughter.

"I don't know," Hook said, scratching his chin. "A sheriff turned savior screams greatest bedtime fairy tale story to me."

"Gross! Stop talking about your smutty bedtime reads," Emma griped lightly, "cause you're not getting any."

The pirate gave a "harrumph" before he received several punches in the shoulder, all playful of course.

Not far away, but distant enough not to be taken notice of stood Regina. With the last shred of respect she had for Snow, she allowed the mother/daughter moment. When their hug finally ended Regina took a step forward with the newly resurrected blonde in her sights… but then hesitated and shrunk back.

From within the lively, happiness infused family reunion, Emma sought out her own savior. Before leaving, Regina's eyes locked onto Emma, giving her love with a small smile which quickly dissipated.

Emma allowed them an hour – two tops. Mary Margaret and David coddled their soaking wet daughter and doted on her with fresh, dry clothes, and kisses and plenty of hugs. They even pushed food on her which Emma for the first time in her life declined. Something was not sitting well. Half her attention bestowed on her parents, the other half was buried in the recess of her mind. Something was missing, and she still felt cold and shaken. These were not her blankets and the kisses David laid on her head and Mary Margaret on her cheeks were not the ones she desired.

After several reassurances that she indeed was fine Emma broke away in search of Regina. She was found behind the opening door, folding a neat pile of tank tops on their bed. In all the time Emma had known the woman she had never seen Regina do laundry. She was not sure why, so she filed away the curiosity for later.

Stealing inside their cabin Emma spied the lingering hand on a folded tank. The strap was fingered and petted down with a care Emma hadn't even seen when Regina was in her most tender state post-coital.

"Hey."

The gentle undertaking halted. Then the tank was crushed under the gripping force of the hand. It twisted and wrinkled under the pressure of the closing fist. It bent to Regina's will so quickly Emma could have sworn she heard it scream in pain.

"Hey?" Regina ground out.

"Yeah," Emma replied slowly, blinking. "Like, 'Hey, how ya'doing?'"

"You risk your life to save someone you've only met a year ago," the tank fell to the bed like a distraught victim as Regina turned on Emma, "and then almost die in my arms, and you have the gall to say 'hey' to me?"

"Umm, you want a hug instead? My parents couldn't get enough of them." Emma offered an uneasy 'ha' but it only seemed to further aggravate the situation. Whatever situation it was.

"Well I am nothing like those blubbering fools. And I sure as hell do not require a hug," she spat out.

"Noted."

When there was no reply Emma dug her toe absently into the edge of a floor plank. She had never been in this situation before, where it was someone else doing the saving, so Emma had it in mind to strike up casual conversation. Because people usually make fun of intense and horrible stories after the fact right? To little the mood?

"That was a close one wasn't it? I almost didn't think you actually cared enough to retrieve my sorry ass."

"Of course I care about you… you stupid woman! I wasn't about to let you drown!"

Emma's eyes went wide at the wrathful snarl and backed up a step or two. Then she saw the hands that would not stay still, and the welling tears, and the bobbing throat to sobs that would probably burst through the walls. Regina insisted that she didn't need a hug, but her body was screaming for it. Knowing every reaction of those parts of Regina, her dips and curves, the increasing pace of her chest, and the words staying like a mournful lover on her tongue, Emma surged forward to answer those prayers.

She was just as frail in Emma's arms as she herself had been in Regina's. Chest to chest they embraced with an insistence anyone would think was madness. Emma had been kidding herself and her parents when she admitted to being fine. She was not fine, and the hot trails down her cheeks were evidence. She hadn't shed one tear in the presence of Mary Margaret and David. She couldn't. But with Regina Emma felt she could do anything. She could cry her heart out, bear her soul, reveal every last piece of her sordid past and still feel accepted. Still feel loved. It wasn't that she feared her parents would judge harshly, it was that they would be too lenient. Regina would berate her extensively, lift her chin up, and then give her a mind-blowing kiss that verified Emma's worth (which to a former queen was quite substantial if she could say so herself). Mary Margaret and David were capable of many things but not that.

Emma let out a shaky sigh. In the crushing arms of Regina she felt two steps from great and three from elated.

Regina sobbed once into the shoulder and then again when the hands fisted into the material at her back. What would happen if she let go? Would the sea take Emma away again? Would her love be ripped from her heart like Daniel had been? She did not think she could survive it a second time.

When they faced each other the tears were gone. Hands pet the cheeks of Emma's face, feeling the solid warmth of reality. The inner wrists of those hands were stroked in circles by calloused thumbs. After a few moments of quiet staring and satisfied that they were indeed still there, the two separated awkwardly.

Emma pushed her hands into the backs of her pockets, scuffing her boots on the floor. Regina smoothed a hand over her blouse, eyes searching elsewhere. They were so unnaturally clumsy it could have been a dream.

"I need to ask you something," Emma started, her face scrunching, "and I don't want you to freak out."

"When have I ever been so unreasonable?"

Emma assumed the response 'seriously?' with a cock of the head. Then she grew anxious. Her boot kicking further at the crack, teeth running along a bottom lip, and eyes diverted anywhere but the patient brown of Regina's. "Did you revive me with True Love's Kiss?

After an agonizing moment of silence Regina answered quietly. "Why would I be upset by that question?"

"Well, I-I just thought…" stuttered the blonde.

"You know how I feel about this – us. Emma, if you don't trust me or you doubt my affection for you then I implore you to say so now. If so… this," she waved her hand between them, hesitantly, her voice thickening to the point where she was stumbling over words, "this should go no further."

"No! No, I haven't changed my mind about anything related to us. I asked because… well because I wondered if it could happen – if it was possible."

"It's not." Regina flinched, seeing how her honesty was misconstrued for a blunt shut down. "I mean, it wasn't necessary. You were not under a curse, and you were not… gone from this world. So no, magic was not achieved by a kiss. I revived you with a little thing called CPR, the magic of common sense."

There was a low grunt that could have passed for "oh." Emma's eyes lowered to the floor and stayed there.

Regina looked on in worry, her hopes at a response dashed frighteningly quickly. It wasn't every day that Emma missed an opportunity in responding to snark. She really liked the challenge. She missed it almost as much as she missed her son.

"Are you disappointed?"

Green eyes flicked up and widened. "No, I'm not disappointed. I'm grateful." Blood rose to her cheeks and a bashful smile drew across her lips. She chuckled over the inanity of it, admitting, "I just thought the kiss thing would have made it more authentic? Fairy Tale Land stamp of approval, you know?"

"Miss Swan," Regina spoke deeply, taking a step, "Princess," another step towards the inert blonde, "Emma," she grinned in an impossible feat of wickedness paired with fond affection, a hand exploring the curve of a hip, "are you a romantic?"

"Uh, th-that's not really what I was going for."

"You're a romantic," Regina affirmed sweetly.

"That doesn't exactly scream Savior/former Evil Queen material."

"It's endearing."

"O-okay."

"And sexy."

"Mm?"

"Mm-hm."

"Listen, not to shatter this great and stimulating moment here, but… Regina, you saved me." The awkward teenager turned serious. With an intense gaze she latched onto the other woman's hands, breathing out what she had wanted to say the moment she came to in Regina's arms. "You saved my life."

"It was nothing."

"It was not nothing," Emma retorted. Her stern expression softened to something unreadable. "It's everything."

Regina thought she experienced an end to her tears.

"There is nothing I would not do for you, Emma. And that includes forfeiting my own life."

"Noted." Emma nodded tearily. "Same goes for me. I'd rip that beating thing from my chest just to save you."

"Please don't. You only have one and I like your heart where it is. It helps me fall asleep in the middle of the night. Even when I'm awake its rhythm keeps my own going." She gazed down at the hand above Emma's breast. The thumping sped up under her finger's soft ministrations. Her eyes drew up to Emma's. Nose wrinkled with a bit of whimsy, Regina flashed a smile. "And it also lets me know when its owner is aroused."

"Regina…"

"Yes?"

"That's it," Emma gasped before taking Regina's head in her hands. "Just you." She kissed fervently and without ceremony. Their mouths locked with each other, not a single care to be apart any longer. "Regina," Emma half moaned, half mumbled before gripping the woman's neck and enticing her in a deeper kiss.

Thrusting her body, her tongue, anything that would move up into Emma, Regina sank into the once cold flesh of her lover. She thrived in the reality of what could have been lost. The heart was beating again, the skin had a healthy glow to it, and the woman herself was proving to have a little more "oomph" in her than she thought. Emma was alive and so very excitable to the touches laid upon her. She growled to the nails raking down her shirt, threw her hips into the ones pleading for hers, and stripped down to nothing before Regina even got a chance to lay a hand on a button much less a belt buckle.

"I have an idea. It's something I've wanted to do for a while, but didn't have the guts to suggest."

"Mm," Regina purred. Her eyes slid open to show Emma the extent of her desire and allowed herself to be led to their bunk. "I hope it isn't like last time. You know how uncomfortable this floor is, and I will never forgive you for getting me that wet."

"Hey, talk to Hook about the leaking floorboards, not me," Emma shot back with a snicker. Her lips pecked Regina's and then again for good measure. "And it's not like that. You'll like it. Hell, you'll love it."

"If you don't stop talking and get to the point I will find some other means to please myself."

Emma groaned at the thought. But as tempting as that image was she wasn't a watcher. No, Emma Swan was a doer and she would do Regina a world of good that night.

"I'm thinking we won't have this chance again, seeing as it's our last night here. And I fully intend to take advantage of this cabin, and that top bunk in particular."

Not at all one for being teased, Regina let out a heavy sigh and detached from Emma. She made a valiant effort to look persecuted and played up her exasperation as she turned and stomped off – to where, she didn't know yet.

Emma snagged the arm and pulled her back in. "Not so fast!"

"You talk too slow! In fact you shouldn't be talking at all, Miss Swan!"

"Aw, come on with the formal titles now. And I was leading up to my idea! I wanted to set the stage."

"What are we? Writing a script for a television show? I don't need to be wooed, buttered up, or tempted. You already have me so take me!"

"Jeez, well when you put it like that…"

A squeal of laughter, a wicked cackle, two pairs of underwear down, and lots of kissing later the two were settled in the top bunk. They couldn't decide if it was uncomfortable or satisfying as both were felt simultaneously. The idea hit Emma when she was sleeping in the top bunk, staring at the crack in the ceiling only five inches from her face. It struck like a prophetic lightning bolt from god, but alas she and her cabin mate had yet to become intimate which later Emma couldn't imagine such an unfortunate time. Such an idea suggested at that time would have been taken with spite and thrown back with flaming brown eyes too aroused for their own good.

Yes, now was the perfect time, Emma mused as Regina slid up her body with those plump blushing lips, peaked nipples, and thighs already damp for the brilliant plan at hand. After a giving a few instructions about the mechanics of how it would work and warnings of getting splinters and the like Emma proceeded to take advantage of the cramped space. It was never ideal for sleeping in, anyway.

Wedged between a naked blonde and the ceiling, Regina felt a wetness between her thighs that was definitely not her own. Once Emma had stuttered through the specifics of her idea Regina met her with skepticism. She was by all means an adventurous lover, but this idea in particular, and coming from Emma, threw her off. Her doubts waned, though, as she was spurred on by a sly grin and insistence that could have rivaled a mere puppy.

There hips aligned, Emma grabbed hold of a waist and clashed their bodies together. Twin groans sounded at the sensation of rubbing clits. Emma swallowed Regina's more deafening moments with a kiss. Her hips kept a pace that had them both shuddering in ecstasy and wanting more still.

Pressed deliciously from both sides, Regina gasped erratically. She couldn't decide where she wanted more of that luscious pressure, from the ceiling pressing into her clenching backside or from between Emma's legs, the liquid heat painting strokes to her own. The whole decision making process seemed so superfluous. She had both, and at the same time. What more could she ask for?

Writhing from below without a single conscious thought but 'beautiful' and 'fucking hell' on her mind, Emma sneaked a hand between their sweat stained bodies. She caught the object of her desire and rolled the bud between the pads of her fingers. She squeezed and pulled at the other, eliciting a broken cry from its owner. Emma looked at the face mere inches from her own. Regina was twisted in pleasure, her mouth sagging around moans and sighs, the lines framing her bolted shut eyes. She was so close and Emma wanted to take her so much closer. Between the provocative moans of her lover, Emma's thrusts became stronger, more insistent. One thrust became a shy too robust and sent Regina into a fitful yelp of pleasure, her back arching into the ceiling with a resounding thud.

It certainly brought a whole new significance to banging.

"I hope no one is upstairs," Emma said with a chuckle.

Regina groaned loudly and gripped Emma's shoulders. "Who the hell cares?"

"Well my parents for – oomph!"

Regina's tongue got in the way. Those insufferable Charmings had ruined her life quite enough. The last thing she wanted was for those idiots to ruin her sex life. Let them hear. By no means was she going to be silent for anyone. Because damn, this was a really good idea.

"You're a genius."

"I'm a what?"

Regina blinked and then shook her head. "Nothing."

"No, no, go on. I think I heard something of importance."

"More important than this?" Regina punctuated the question by rolling her hips. If Emma ever heard her say crazy things like praise for her intelligence she wouldn't hear the end of it. The woman's ego did not need any more assistance. Regina tried to shut her up with a classic.

Emma was immune. This time.

"Don't think that Regina Mills Kiss of Sexy Doom will work on me."

"The Regina Mills what?"

"Uh, on second thought – never mind. Don't need you knowing that I know about your super-secret operation to divert me from what you don't want to talk about."

Regina blinked. "How do you have friends?"

"Why don't you ask yourself? You're my…"

"I'm not –"

Emma gave a look.

"Well, I guess I am. However there are times – many times – where I do not understand the words coming out of your mouth." Brown eyes shifted to the side as her cheeks reddened further. "I suppose it's endearing."

"Suppose?" Emma choked out in a chuckle. "I should hope so, otherwise I'd have to reexamine why your body is so nakedly grinding on top me."

"You are amusing."

"Is that one of my endearing qualities?"

Anyone else wouldn't have believed it. Anyone else would have thought it a rouse to exact her revenge. But Emma knew well enough. That smile was one hundred percent genuine and paired with those ultra-soft chocolaty eyes promised warmth and love and forever. Emma wasn't even capable of holding back the giggle. It was strange: Emma Swan giggling. Just what alternate universe had she been dropped into? Whichever it was, she was happy as long as it meant being on the receiving end of that smile. Wherever she was, it must have been heaven.

Bound up with enthusiasm and that bubbly feeling called love, Emma launched her mouth against Regina's. The force of the kiss sent the brunette's head slamming to the ceiling and a sharp hiss resulted.

"Sorry!"

Regina's pained face made way for light laughter as she brought her hands under Emma's neck. "It's perfectly alright, dear." Their smiles met in a soft, languid kiss.

Using the ceiling as leverage Regina pushed herself against Emma, eliciting a loud moan from her mouth. The breathy laugh came so easy against Emma's arched throat as Regina nipped the extravagant flesh.

Regina tried to sling the milky white thigh over her hip, but there was just no room. She wanted to be closer to Emma, and feel every part of her quivering against her, into her, around her, everywhere. She released the waist and collapsed back onto Emma with a groan, her arms sore but everything else aching with a welcome exhaustion.

Turning an ear to the frustrated sounds of her lover, Emma found enough steam to satisfy them both. Thanks to the daily five mile runs, Emma used her thighs in leveraging them both into a gratifying angle. Again their heated sex came in contact and sent rivers of pleasure along their spines. Panting through more than her fair share of morning runs (and late night escapades) she thrust and rolled, pitched and pulled her all, listening to the highly audible responses of Regina and joining in when her throbbing clit called for it.

Regina came with a smile on her face. Her giggling became infectious as her partner came too with a breathy shout which quickly turned to a gasping chuckle. When their roving hips settled and their lips slowed against skin to a mere graze the two lay side by side beaming at one another.

"That was…" Emma paused to ease her breathing, "… that was awkward. But… hot."

"And really sexy."

"Really, really sexy," Emma agreed as she half climbed over Regina to get a kiss.

"Mm, you have your moments."

"Yeah, and I'm a genius."

"I said no such thing!"

"It's funny the moments you forget in the heat of things."

Regina rolled her eyes as Emma's adorable giggling turned to laughter. It was definitely infectious.

After only a few minutes of quiet resting and occasional snuggling (snuggling that Regina would still not admit to fancying), Emma grew antsy.

"Want to have another go?"

As if she was waiting for that exact request Regina responded without pause. "Please."

The blonde wiggled her brows. "This time I'm topping."

Gold and Mary Margaret were the first two up that following morning. Apparently, some were more fitful sleepers than others and needed the extra time to rest.

Alone in the silence of the galley they had breakfast. Gold drummed his fingers next to his bowl of oatmeal while Mary Margaret held her head up with her chin, searching in vain for a suitable icebreaker.

Following a liberal sigh Gold finally put words to express what had irked him since the night before. "It's strange, isn't it?"

"What's strange?" Mary Margaret inched up in her chair, tipping her head curiously.

"After four weeks on this ship, living and working together, we're finally making port. By noon today our feet will be on solid ground again, on Neverland."

"You don't sound thrilled."

"Oh," he asserted, shrugging and mouth twisting doubtfully, "don't mistake my lack of adventure for unwilliness to arrive at our destination. No, I'm… " he squinted at his bowl of soupy oatmeal, perfectly seasoned with a bit of fresh nutmeg. He searched for the term within the warm cereal, a dull pang growing in his heart. "… I'm despairing," he murmured, nodded as if that was the perfect word to describe his pain, "yes, despairing. I'm afraid when I leave this place and set my first step on those sandy shores I will not be able to cook for everyone anymore. There won't be a point."

Mary Margaret grinned sympathetically to the sunken shoulders. She should really push David to talk to him; they have so much in common. They grieve so similarly and would find a great deal of camaraderie through their pain – Gold with having to abandon his galley and David with his unrequited rolemodel affair with Hook.

"I wouldn't despair, yet. As far as I know we haven't lost the necessity to feed ourselves. An island has very few resources when it comes to sustenance. I'm sure your skills of improvising ingredients will be in high demand."

The scraggly chin rose to reveal watery eyes, widening to the admission.

"We need you just as much as everyone else," Mary Margaret affirmed. "David has his sword skills and rugged good looks. Emma and Regina are Henry's parents and if anyone has an idea of where to find him – if anyone has a connection with our grandson it is them. Hook… he may not be pleasant company with all his come ons and stab happy hook, but he knows the layout of the island." She patted Gold's hand, soft enough not to infuriate, but stern to show her support. "You, Gold, will be and forever shall be our sous chef, master of the culinary arts, and connoisseur of soup!"

Gold broke out into a snicker. "Don't tell Regina you said that."

"I don't plan to," she insisted wryly. "So chin up. You have an island feast to organize!"

That seemed to brighten his mood. Now set on a new path that demanded more challenging obstacles in the form of papaya and coconut, Gold smiled and whipped out his trusty notebook.

After scratching a few preliminary ideas he looked up suddenly with a frown. "Not to be a blabbermouth, but did you hear that racket last night? I woke up from a constant banging through the walls and I swear I heard the faint echoes of screams."

"Oh," Mary Margaret frowned, "oh, that might have just been the aftereffects of the storm."

At least, she was hoping it was just the storm.

Gold snickered behind his notebook. He could already hear the rusted wheels of her brain turning. "Must have been some storm, then."

"Were you really serious about what you said back there? Am I really quartermaster? Or were you just making fun?"

Hook rolled his eyes to the seventh inquiry. David really was a dog with a bone. And he had the tendency to beat a dead horse. The propensity to use animal metaphors with these Charmings was astounding.

David trailed behind him like a golden retriever (again with the metaphors) while Hook inspected the ship for the last few leagues of their journey.

"What makes you think I would ever make fun of you?" Hook cackled and struck an arm around David's shoulders. "The sea is a calling. You have to want it with everything you've got – every fiber of your being. And you know what? You do. I could see it when you climbed that bird's nest."

"I was just thinking of my family. That's all."

"And that's what makes you the right man for the job. You believe in protecting family. You know, a ship's crew is not so unlike a family. I know now that if you have the cojones to face your fear of heights in order to save what's precious, then I can certainly trust you with my crew." His hand stretched out. "What do you say… quartermaster?"

David scratched the back of his neck bashfully. "I'll have to check with the wife…"

"Ah, of course, mate. What's a real man who doesn't have the lady's permission?"

David joined in the laughter.

Hook gave a roll of his eyes.

"Say," David stuck a finger to his chin, "what are the chances of getting awarded with an authentic pirate's hat?"

"What happened to the one you wore at the movie screening? That flick with Jack Whatshisname?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow," David corrected severely. "And I did have in my possession a pirate's hat, but when Regina found me out she banished it to some infernal realm – or so she says. I overheard Emma mentioning she wanted to put it to use."

"Nice," leered the pirate, nodding slowly before an oblivious David. "Anyway, about you earning your pirate's cap… I will take it into consideration."

"And perhaps I should grow a beard? You know, to make my new employment official."

"By all means, go crazy." Hook clapped him on the shoulder in a show of brotherly affection. "After all, what's a real pirate without one?"

David beamed in rapturous delight.

And so her story ends… as it should… at the beginning of a new story.

Emma stands on the shores of Neverland more confident than before she embarked on this journey. She is far from home and in the company of people who certainly brought the right hook out of her. She traveled close to a whole month on the high seas with these people, this family and these less than pleasant individuals, and a surprising guest librarian. But no longer is the company unpleasant. Enemies they are not. Friends? Perhaps. The winds of time will tell.

They went through a special kind of hell to get to this beach, yet something told Emma it was worth it. Kissing Regina for the first time, even if it was to shut her up, was worth it. Punching Hook after he slipped a hand on her woman was almost as satisfying. Experiencing her first heart-to-heart with father dearest was consoling despite the hangover. And the first few seconds of being named the love of Regina's life… well, that she wouldn't trade for anything. And those hours after, of making love and unrestrained affirmations of the fact… she could die a happy ending.

Emma wouldn't change anything about these past few weeks. Not when it brought her and Regina closer. And if this sandy beach ends at the feet of their smiling, beautiful boy then she owes a great debt to the Jolly Roger and its motley crew.

"Emma!"

Head pulling from the clouds, Emma looks up to see Regina waving her to the tree line beyond the beach. Behind her Hook is holding up a chuckling David on his shoulders and reaching up into the island tree's branches. An authoritative Gold stands off to the side, pointing them to a bundle of hanging coconuts (one of the ingredients for his coconut-lime tilapia). Mary Margaret was pulling her hair out in consternation.

Regina gives her a look that says, 'I like these idiots but please don't leave me alone with them.' She quirks a smile. "Coming along, Princess?"

Emma laughs, rubbing a sweaty palm on her thigh. It's now or never.

"Sure thing, Cupcake."

Boots kicking up sand, she races up the shore towards the wiggling fingers stretching for her hand.

Emma Swan was never good at telling stories, but she definitely knows how to live one.