Author's comments:

Author's comments at the end. Please have a read.

Special Thanks: Beloved wife, you have elevated this story in more ways than I can list and you are the best "inhouse" editor I could have ever hoped for.

Guest: You are very, very welcome. I was hoping everyone would feel proud of Regina. She, like Emma, has come a really long way. I have totally misplaced my character bible but if memory serves, they were in their early thirties when they met Emma at 14. Regina is a few years older. So they'd be about 15 - 18 years older than Emma and Regina.

betagamma:It all plays back to the idea that these two make one another better. Regina gave Emma a reason to fight and Emma did the same for Regina.

MuffinRamsey: - I agree. Hurrah Mills Avengers! So much fun to think of them that way.

Guest: - Welcome aboard and thanks for commenting. Hope you enjoy the rest of the journey.

wthc: I pm'd you but thank you for the running commentary as you went.

Chapter 38 - The one where they live happily ever after

Five months later

"So Emma," Regina's low voice tingled against the shell of Emma's ear. "How did you sleep?"

Emma huffed, arm curling around Regina. "That's smug. You are being smug. Again."

"I don't know what you mean. I am merely expressing concern for your well-being."

Emma attacked, capturing her then tickling her sides while she squirmed. Regina tried to fend her off, but she also giggled. She almost never did that. It was the best sound in the world.

Emma's insomnia occasionally still intruded, but like everything in her life, it was better. At night with Regina snuggled up behind her, or if Regina read to her, some of the anxiety would melt away. Most of all, when they traded light kisses, or burning ones, she almost forgot it was there at all.

The brief tickle-fight became an excuse for an embrace.

Regina gave a hum of contentment, then sighed. "I have to go to work."

Emma didn't move, as if Regina's words weren't a convincing reason to get out of bed.

A month ago, just before Thanksgiving, eighty percent of the town wrote in Regina's name in the election for mayor. The candidates, Belle and Archie, had actively encouraged it. It was the weirdest election Emma had ever seen. Regina hadn't been focused on the race, instead diving into contacting and working with families her charity had once supported. Many were bitter, some refused her help at all. The results of the mayoral race were tabulated and the announcement made in the high school gym. Regina had been sitting in the bleachers like everyone else. She stood stunned, when her name was announced. She thanked everyone, calm, gracious — and overwhelmed. After, she whispered that she didn't understand while she cried soft tears into Emma's shoulder.

"We have to meet your parents for breakfast,"

Emma, still partially pinning Regina, groaned. "But it's cold out there." Emma's teeth nipped at Regina's shoulder. "So fucking cold."

Regina made a sound of pleasure."That does tend to happen during winter in Maine." She pushed lightly at Emma's shoulders. "We're supposed to discuss Christmas plans with them. You have to work, too."

Emma was working on Cybersheriff's tenth case: a divorced woman whose husband kept hacking into her facebook and email. Her knight complex was satisfied because she was helping people, and she was getting paid decent money. Best job she ever had.

Nolan Securities continued to grow. They had hired two employees a few months ago, one who lived in North Carolina and the other in Florida. Officially speaking, Emma was their mentor. She just had them do what David and Mary Margaret said, and then occasionally asked them questions about it; she had no idea if she was doing it right.

Regina prodded her side. "Ms. Swan, you are being extremely irresponsible. I won't have it under my roof.

Emma heard the smile in her voice. "It's our roof," she said. "You gave me a key and everything."

"Our roof." Regina's rich, warm tone made the words sink into Emma's skin and quicken her bloodstream. She moved light, fire-filled kisses down Regina's neck. Her hands moved under her pajama top, tracing up her ribcage.

Regina's breathing hitched. "That...Emma..."

"Be irresponsible with me," Emma said, and pulled one of Regina's legs around her hips, not stopping the attentions she gave to Regina's throat.

"Dammit." Regina caught her face and claimed her mouth, surging inside, tasting the heat there. "Emma," she groaned. "Baby."

The soft tremble in Regina's voice was like gasoline. She started to unbutton Regina's pajama top, but as so often happened, Regina became impatient for skin on skin contact. She tore it off, doing the same to Emma's a moment later. Her nails skimmed over Emma's tattoo making already hyper-sensitized skin tingle.

Emma ached for more.

To suck on Regina's tongue, capturing and recapturing it.

To graze her fingers over her nipples, and tease just the tips the way Regina loved.

They whispered all kinds of things to each other in these intimate moments. Some days they were happy and their eyes glowed as they said words of love. Other times the scars in their hearts asked for promises and reassurances. Sometimes their bodies just took, hard and greedy. Their bed held darkness and light, promise and doubt, wonder and need. They moved together till there was only quiet, only love. Only home.

##################

They were very late to breakfast and, like whenever they were running behind, Regina became irritated and snappy. It was fortunate Emma understood and and didn't take it personally.

David hugged all three of them, as did Mary Margaret. They saw each other daily for one reason or another, but still — always hugs. Regina had almost gotten used to it. Almost. Emma informed her that her hugs now earned an A rating, but not A plus. Not yet.

After breakfast was ordered, Regina unzipped her briefcase and reached inside, withdrawing a notepad. "So, let's discuss Christmas. How to make it Emma-friendly."

"Do you think Santa has outsourced his naughty list to her," Snow asked.

"Any thoughts?" Regina asked, pointedly ignoring her.

Emma and Henry exchanged a look, battling over something. "The kid and I were looking on Amazon last night, we were wondering about maybe a non-tree Christmas tree." Emma said.

"Something that could stand in for a tree," Henry said.

"We thought non-traditional would be fun, but we don't have to..." Her words were more of a question that a statement.

"Right, it's just an idea," Henry was quick to add, watching Regina intently.

"We can do that," Regina said slowly, fighting the urge to fidget. She reminded herself how hard the holidays were for Emma. Anxiety still rose in her; moments when she felt like she needed to escape and she couldn't help the desire to run. They had a deal. She could go as long as she texted or told Regina she was going and then checked in every hour or so. Regina couldn't help but worry when Emma did it, but she had never been gone more than a couple of hours.

"And will we still put presents under this non-tree?" Regina asked.

Emma nodded, eagerly. "Yeah, I think that would be okay," she said.

"I know you don't want to do a big Christmas dinner, Emma," Mary Margaret said. "But, David and I have an idea." She waited for a beat. "A medieval Christmas, complete with garb."

"Seriously?" Emma said, brightening. "We get to wear garb?"

"Garb," Regina repeated.

Henry sat forward, face aglow. "Like costumes?"

"Regina, we can still do pajama brunch at your place Christmas morning," Mary Margaret said. "Then medieval Christmas that night. If that's okay?"

Regina took notes as other ideas were tossed out. Her lips pressed together tightly, and she kept pushing her hair back from her face in agitation. After about another half-hour, she said, "I should head to the office."

"Hey, why don't Henry and I walk you to work?" Emma asked.

"Nope." David stood, surprising them. "You guys stay here and brainstorm. I would like the honor of escorting the mayor to work today." He bowed to Regina with a flourish then offered his arm to her.

###################################

David didn't say much, but when he did, he spoke about craving a donut. Which led to him convincing Regina to stop by the donut shop. She knew him well enough to realize he was giving her the opportunity to talk to a mostly-neutral party.

"I'm not as good with informal."

"You've been with Emma for months. I think you're not giving yourself enough credit."

"The holidays...we didn't do a formal Thanksgiving. No party for Emma's birthday. It's —" She shook her head. "Very different. A little disappointing sometimes. It's not that it always has to be my way. It's just that there's so much I want to do for her and Henry. I'm good at large dinners and sensible decorations. I enjoy making a traditional meal, dressing up and taking out the good china and…" She sighed. "I suppose I'm being petty."

"You're being you. She's being her. It's that sweet spot of together you have to figure out."

"What I like makes her anxious."

"And what she likes makes you the same way." He winked at her. "Sweet spot."

"I don't want to be selfish. I know this is hard for her."

He nudged her. "And it's hard for you, too. Regina, one thing you aren't, with her or any of us, is selfish."

She wondered if he had any idea how few people in her life had ever said anything like that to her.

They fell silent and walked most of the way to city hall in that same companionable way. "Oh hey." He paused by the doorway, "As a warning, Mary Margaret has begun sending Emma hints. Emails about sales at jewelry stores. Specifically rings."

"Oh, she sends them to me, too."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

A glow filled Regina's eyes. "Absolutely not."

He grinned at her. When he gave that smile, that exact delighted smile, it reminded her of Emma. "Tell you what, why don't I convince Mary Margaret that we should do the medieval thing on New Year's Eve. We'll still come over Christmas morning for brunch. But that night you should take the time to do whatever you and Emma decide. Your own traditions."

Regina paused and smiled at him, then kissed his cheek lightly. "Thank you, David."

Emma came by for lunch as she often did. Regina assumed at some point the honeymoon phase would end, and they'd spend less time together, but she loved every second of it.

"The casual Christmas thing is bumming you out a little, isn't it?" Regina hadn't expected to have this conversation quite so soon. They were seated on the same side of the desk and Emma tugged Regina's desk chair closer to hers. "Regina, I know when something's bugging you."

"I guess the holidays for most of my life, and especially after Henry, looked very different for me. I'm willing to make new traditions with you, I do want to do that."

"But you feel like you're missing stuff."

"I don't know." She didn't want to lay a burden on Emma, but she also didn't want to lie. "A little."

Emma patted her lap and waggled her eyebrows. "Come here." Regina, sometimes far too charmed by Emma to be sensible, settled close to her. "So, tell Santa what you want for Christmas this year?"

"You're ridiculous."

"You love me. Besides, I didn't even do the big, booming Santa-voice. Ho, ho, ho! Tell Santa what you want for Christmas this year." Regina rolled her eyes, but it was in play. Emma softened. "Seriously. I want you to be happy, too. Look, I have baggage because the voices in my head like to fuck with me when I'm confronted with the big Hallmark moments that I wanted so much as a kid. When I throw a wrench in the scene, even a little one, it's like tossing them a curveball. They're quieter. But if me facing a little noise in here —" she tapped her head, "— makes you happier, I want to do that. You do it for me."

Regina looped her arms around Emma's neck and just tried to be honest. "I miss making turkey and stuffing. I miss mashing potatoes and making pie. Henry and I would dress up. We would sit down to a proper meal on a white tablecloth with the good silverware and the good dishes. It was like that our first Christmas dinner together and since then..." She shook her head. "It's hard not to miss that."

Emma thought for a moment. "What if we get dressed up, good china, and all that stuff, but we all wear Santa hats or something? Just a little, you know, curveball."

"And you'd be okay with that?"

"I'd be okay with trying. And if that doesn't work, trying something else."

Sometimes the words "I love you" weren't enough. Sometimes it was "thank you" and "I love you" and "I need you" and "you are the best thing in my life". There was no way to say all that.

"Marco," Regina said, voice breaking.

"Polo," Emma whispered.

Henry and Emma chose an inflatable medieval knight with a Santa hat and an extended sword for the "tree." On the sword, they somehow managed to hang the Christmas ornament Emma had bought them about a year before.

Every single time Regina walked past, it played a Christmas carol and flashed an array of lights at her.

She removed the battery a week later.

She was madly in love, but she wasn't a saint.

##########################

On Christmas night, Emma sat at the very top of the stairs. Her heart felt too big, beating unevenly in her chest. Her hands were clammy and she rubbed them on her pants. Downstairs, Regina and Henry had set the table.

The evening before they had all had dinner with Cora. Mary Margaret tried to be polite but made no attempt to hide that she didn't trust her, watching her very carefully. Cora was a rigid presence. She didn't really mesh that well with everyone else, but she was Regina's mom, so Emma treated things as a work in progress.

Regina walked rapidly up the stairs to stand in front of Emma. "Dinner's ready."

"Yeah, okay, just give me a minute. You got the Santa hats for everyone, right?"

"Downstairs," Regina said, reassuring her. She looked conflicted as she sat down beside Emma, smoothing out her red velvet top. She had avoided a dress today, thinking it might be easier for Emma. "Emma, we don't have to do this."

"Just...I need to do it slowly. Is that okay?"

Regina nodded and pressed her brow to Emma's. "You tell the demons in your head that you're mine, okay?"

Emma squeezed her hand but said nothing as Regina rose and went back down.

She'd helped the kid with his tie about an hour ago. After that, she dove into her computer till Henry told her that he had been instructed to give her a "fifteen minutes till dinner" warning. Emma would be wearing jeans and a sweater, just another way for her to maybe feel a little more normal about this.

Plucking at her shirt, still uncertain about it, she exhaled slowly. She took three breaths like that, while convincing herself that she could at least go downstairs and look into the dining room. No harm or commitment in that, no need for demons in her head to stab at her. Besides, everything smelled really good. Regina had let her mash the potatoes and help with the stuffing, but then she kicked both Henry and her out of the kitchen.

She ducked her head into the room and saw that Regina and Henry were already sitting. Besides the Santa hats, they were also wearing big white beards. They turned, hearing her.

"You…." Emma said, gesturing to the white fluff on Regina's face.

Regina laughed helplessly. "Henry's idea. He thought it might help."

Henry grinned proudly.

It made it okay. Seeing them both willing to do this ridiculous, wonderful thing made it okay. She leaned down and kissed Regina.

"You two are totally scarring my childhood," Henry said.

Emma ruffled his hair and sat down in front of her place setting. Regina lost the beard soon after but Henry took it as a personal challenge to keep it on and still try to eat.

They had their first Christmas dinner together.

Later she and Henry went for a walk, as they often did. This time, just down the street and back, given the relentless winter weather.

"You know," he said, "Mom didn't even argue about the beard thing. That's a really big deal."

"Um, about your mom." Henry could be too attentive sometimes, with eyes that latched on and didn't let go. This was one of those times. "She and I have been together for a bit, right? Things are going really well. You think that too, don't you?"

"Things are good," he said. "Have you been thinking about marrying her?"

Emma had to stop walking, that question striking her right between the eyes. "I — I don't know. Okay, yes. More than a few times. But I'm not sure about it."

"Oh, I kinda thought that's where you were going with this conversation. Why aren't you sure?"

Emma shook her head and put her hands on her hips. "This is a weird thing to be talking about with you."

"Because I'm a kid?"

"Yes, because you're a kid."

He shrugged. "Who knows you both better than I do?"

He had a point, and Emma felt out of sorts because he did. "Look, it's just hard for me to trust myself. That I won't become a jerk again. But, who wouldn't want to marry your mom?"

He played with the zipper on his jacket as they walked a little more. "Do you remember when I told you you shouldn't text me anymore?" It surprised her. His brows were pulled tightly together, deep in thought. "That was really hard for me to say that to you, but I knew I had to. We couldn't trust you then." He pulled on her sleeve, stopping her. "You're different now." He sounded so grown up; Emma marvelled at it. "Everything is. So, just in case you were wondering, I trust you to take care of her. And me, too." His breath came as rapid, white streams of air, as if it took a lot out of him to say all that. He paused then gave a mischievous grin. "Besides, I hear New Year's Eve is a really romantic time to propose."

Her mind blanked, not with fear, just…

Just…with thoughts. Many, many thoughts.

He gave her quick hug then started striding back home. "Come on, I'll make us hot chocolate with cinnamon."

She jogged to catch up then looped an arm around him. "Hey kid," she said. "I love you, too."

################

A few days before the end of the year, Regina visited him.

She shuddered at the cold of the room, the intense blank, whiteness of it. Half the wall was white tile, then pasty paint with poorly repaired holes here and there.

He sat down in front of her and picked up the phone on his side of the glass.

She met his eyes and pulled her own phone from the holder. "Mr. Marshall."

"Mills, right?" An uncertain smile spread over his face. A half-circle of black and blue discolored the skin around his right eye. "I didn't know what to make of you asking to visit me. Almost said no."

"And yet, you didn't."

"I figured you're worried I might still have pictures of your kid. I might." His eyes were dark, glowing with malice.

"And if I was worried about that, what then?"

"You have influence." He gestured to his eye. "I need protection. Or money I can use to buy it."

She rapped her her fingers on the table before her. "So, you wish to blackmail me? I pay you, or you could, possibly, hurt my son."

"Do you see my face? The guys in here are animals."

"I've heard that prison isn't kind to people like you. But then, neither is the outside world."

"So, we can help each other." A smile flashed briefly, straight white teeth. He'd been a manager of some furniture store, Regina had read. "For as long as it takes."

"Mr. Marshall, the FBI was very thorough about impounding your electronic devices. I doubt you'll have access to a computer for several years. And when you get out, you'll have other concerns. You see, I intend to — on a yearly basis — buy a full-page ad in the town newspaper wherever you reside. Your picture will be displayed, as well as the reason you went to prison."

"That's harassment. I'll sue."

"Yes, and I am sure many judges will find in favor of a man found guilty of distributing child pornography. Judges do love to have things like that on public record. Besides, my mother has an entire fleet of lawyers who can file motion after motion. You won't see a dime." She leaned in, closer to the glass. "The point is, that's the least of what I can do." She felt a feral superiority rise up in her. "I can get billboards. I can have a website devoted to your deeds and put it everywhere. Cabs. Social media. Skywriting. Your choice is once a year, every year on January 3rd or...once a week. Maybe even daily."

"You wouldn't dare try that. I got in once, I can get in again."

Regina propped her elbows on the table. "And we got to you, too, didn't we? I'm not giving you a warning, Mr. Marshall, I am making you a blood oath. Once a year, or much, much more often. I suggest you chose wisely."

She stood, eyes still on his as she slowly hung up her phone. She moved toward the guard and spared him one last look. He hadn't moved, his eyes bleakly staring at her empty chair.

Outside, Emma leaned against her Mercedes waiting for her. "So, we're done with that, right?"

"I don't intend to ever see him again. Just the yearly ad." Regina's first plan was the threat of weekly reminders to the people in the town he lived in. Emma reminded her that devoting so much of her life to anger probably wasn't a good thing.

"You okay?"

"Would you hate it if I said that, while I don't advocate revenge, that felt extremely good."

"Wow, that's oddly hot. Come on, we've got a long drive. Let's go home."

################

Of course, the fucking boat broke down because of the cold. The steamboat was Emma's plan. Her only plan. Marco looked at them, apologetic. He'd been trying to get it going for twenty minutes.

Emma's insistence that they go on the steamboat ride before their early dinner on New Year's Eve had not entirely gone over well. Regina, always antsy about punctuality, worried they were trying to cram too much into one day. The boat ride was at 3:00, the reservation was at 4:00, and they had to be dressed and ready to head to David and Mary Margaret's medieval-themed New Year's Eve party by 6:30.

Emma had sworn they wouldn't be late. With every moment Marco tried to get the boat going, the ring in her pocket felt heavier and heavier, and Regina grew more agitated. Emma didn't know how to salvage things.

"Why don't we just head to dinner, Emma." Regina said.

"Well, I…."

"It was already going to be a challenge to get there on time.".

"But I..." Emma held up a finger. "Can you give me a minute?" She paced to the end of the pier and starting typing frantically into her phone. "Boat died," she typed to Mary Margaret, "plan ruined. What do I do?! !" A minute went by with no answer, then two. They knew what she was doing today, shouldn't they be by the phone waiting breathlessly for news? "Where are you? MOM!" Still nothing, not even that little dotty thing that indicated a message was being typed back. "Okay, I should just ask her, right? It's still kinda romantic. Maybe? Okay, I'm going to ask her."

Emma rubbed her brow fiercely and hoped it would spark ideas. It didn't. "Marco, can we get on the boat anyway?"

"But it doesn't work," he pointed out.

"Just —"

"Emma, it's okay, let's just go."

"No. No, I had a plan."

Regina's brows drew together, confused.

Emma's shoulders sagged. She took three giant steps and boarded the book, then offered Regina her hand. "Regina, will you come here, please?" Regina tilted her head, uncertain and a little concerned, but she let Emma help her onto the boat.

Emma's phone buzzed. Probably her mom, but it was too late. Emma drew in a deep breath and pulled the ring box out of her pocket. She fumbled, trying to get it open. "I was going to wait until the part of the ride where we could see the town, you know, with all the lights in the background." She bent a little, planning on moving to her knee. Regina grabbed her arm.

"Wait." She dug in her pocket and also produced a ring box. "The restaurant tonight." Emma stared at the ring. It didn't make sense to her at first, too surreal a moment for her to process quickly. "I was going to…"

Emma took a step closer to her. "I — I was going to." The boat swayed gently, rising and falling with the waves.

"I know a nice restaurant is not very imaginative. I went there yesterday to walk through things with them. They were going to give us a seat by a window and put up Post-It notes that spelled out 'Will you marry me'. They were going to bring us Mountain Dew to toast with. I asked your parent's blessing. I had a speech."

Emma loved the idea of it, a smile pushed up the corners of her mouth. "I was going to wing it on the speech. What were you going to say?"

Now, Regina smiled. "Mostly just..." She made a helpless gesture. "A lot of telling you how much I love you."

"I was going to tell you how much you've changed my…" Emma shook her head, biting her lower lip, and realizing, "You already know."

"Then, do you want to..." Regina offered Emma her hand. "My answer is yes."

Emma slid the ring on Regina's finger and offered her own hand. "Me too," she whispered.

Emma wouldn't be able to remember, years later, if she hugged Regina or Regina hugged her, or if they kissed too. She would remember, though, lifting Regina off her feet and swinging her around, and the sweetness of her laughter. The sounds of cheering, looking up to see David, Mary Margaret, and Henry watching them from the boardwalk above. Mary Margaret, the loudest among them.

"Do the hug again," Henry called out. "I think my yelling screwed it up. I'm calling it 'Engagement Excitement Excitement'."

Mary Margaret jogged down the steps as fast as she could, David behind her and Henry trying to film everything and not trip.

Emma took Regina's hand, linking their fingers, and the rings, together. Smiling, they started toward their family.

Author's Note

Happy Thursday Everybody,

I can't say that I didn't expect to feel emotional writing this because I am the sappiest of sentimental saps. I cry at Hallmark commercials and Youtube videos of dogs reuniting with owners. First, as buffer against my teariness, let's talk about what I am doing next.

My next Swanqueen story is called "Garden of Heroes". It takes place in the Enchanted Forest and has a talking sword. I'll start posting the last Thursday in January. FYI: This one won't be as long as LH because is anything as long as LH?

After that, I will be working on an original F/F western called "Unbroken Sky". There are no outlaws in it and very few guns. It's mostly about two women helping one another find their voice. I'll toss rough drafts up on Wattpad as I go and link to it on Twitter.

Finally, I will rewrite LH and try to get it published. Assuming I can, some publishers ask that you take fanfic stories down that your book is based on. So, at some point, I may need to make a decision. Hope not though.

I have thanked you all many times and my heartfelt gratitude to you remains. I have met so many great people (keep in touch or I will stalk you) and received more supportive comments than I ever expected. Everyone can occasionally use the feeling of being cheered on. You all gave me that and then some. Just thank you and thank you and thank you.

LH is my first attempt at storytelling in years. I started by wanting to connect with anyone in our community who has been made to feel 'less' by the many voices out there who delight in bullying, badgering and belittling. I wanted to say, "start at 100 and fight like hell against anyone that tries to make you feel like you are less." As I wrote, the story also became my attempt to look at my fears and how and why they have sometimes held me back. Especially around my writing.

So, as I land you all safely at Swanqueenland and you disembark, let me thank you again for flying with me and remind you to 'Start at 100.' Know that I am out here plotting a course and getting the plane ready for the next journey. I hope you fly with me again.

This, is your captain speaking.

FYI: I am mariacomet on Twitter too.