When the dust of the rubble had finally settled, the sky above Storybrooke had filled with stars.

After the dramatic fall of the Gorgon, the former Mayor of the previously sleepy little village stood before the devastated clock tower, raised her hands and pronounced,

"And with that, our show is over! Happy Festival of Wings, everyone!" The townsfolk, struck dumb only moments before by the fear and terror that had played out on the roof of the library and spilled onto the streets below, stilled in silence a moment… before breaking into mad applause. Collectively, they couldn't help but marvel at the spectacle, certainly the best Festival ever, and wonder aloud how Regina—especially Evil Queen Regina so recently scorned by all—had pulled it off. Only Ruby raised a questioning brow, but after relinquishing Henry to Regina's open embrace, she, too, strode away.

Amidst all the flurry, no one had even batted an eye that the Evil Queen and the Savior, embracing in the street, had apparently taken up with one another—as most had expected it was only ever a matter of time with those two.

And then, nearly the whole of Storybrooke marched, en masse, off to their safe little homes to chitter and rest until the next, exciting Storybrooke day. Dozens of doors shut behind giddy festivalgoers.

Leaving three alone.

Under a bright night now filled with silence.

Emma reached out carefully, touching the soft web of skin between Regina's thumb and finger, drawing the woman 'round to meet her gaze. Emma shook her head.

"How did you do that?" She asked, gobsmacked. "Does NO one else think what happened here was nuts?! I don't… I can't EVEN…"

Henry tugged at Emma's shirt, motioning her down to his side. He cupped his hand at his mouth to whisper in her ear, "Evil Queen."

Emma kept her body bent, there at her son's side, her eyes coming to rest on the sanity of a lone dandelion poking through the asphalt at the base of the Storybrooke stop sign. Emma thought it winked at her.

Jesus. This place.

"Emma?" Standing and turning at the welcome sound of Regina's rich voice, Emma fell into the dark eyes of the woman she'd saved from mythical creatures and venom, who'd nearly died saving her and Henry moments ago, the woman for whom she'd become animal, and would again. A thousand times, again. "Drink?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, looked around at all the destruction and chaos left in the wake of the last few minutes, including, she was reasonably sure, a dead Gorgon still splayed out on the library roof. She quirked her head at the mess, asking unspoken questions.

Regina just shrugged lightly in response.

Emma thought just one more beat before nodding, and together all three left the scene. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they'd unravel it. If, Emma wondered, any of it would even still be there.

Emma pulled Henry's door shut behind her.

"It was so awesome, wasn't it? I still feel like there's stone in my legs, like actual stone, like they'll never bend again, and then mom, and the Gorgon? I mean, I've read all the stories, but there's nothing like that, and she made the shield, and… so smart! Why wasn't there ever anything ever about mom saving people?" History's largest yawn distorted Henry's features.

Emma furrowed her brow. "Think she's making a run at my job?" She joked, winked. Henry blushed and lay his head down, too exhausted to stay upright a second longer. He giggled softly.

"Thank you for whatever you did to her," Henry's eyes were shutting. "I like it."

"Me, too, Henry. But your mom's doing that on her own."

"Be here when I wake up?" He asked with the smallest sound. "We can make pan…"

And that was that. Henry had conked out mid-sentence. Staring down at him, his head pressed into his pillow, Emma felt within her a rush of such love for the boy. She ran a hand along his bangs, moving them from his eyes, then stopped, realizing how often she'd seen Regina do that very thing. Her smile lifted and she left the room without another sound.

Regina's body was tucked into the rise of the chaise, glass of cider moving slowly to and from her lips. Emma couldn't recall ever seeing Regina lean against anything. As tired as her son, it would seem. Regina's son. Emma's son.

Their son.

Could this really be? Could it? Could a relationship borne of chaos make it in the stillness? Only one way to find out.

As Emma entered the room she watched Regina's body react, straighten up, her back rise from the support of the cushion. Emma wanted to step behind Regina, wrap arms about her, kiss her neck, and tell her to relax.

Instead, she went to the sideboard where a glass of cider had been poured and was waiting. Lifting it, she turned to Regina and toasted her with a

"Thanks."

Regina nodded almost imperceptibly.

The stillness. Yes, that it was. So still and quiet, in fact, that Emma's enhanced hearing picked up the sound of Regina nervously tapping, thumb against thumb, behind the crystal glass she held in a rock solid grip.

Emma made a decision, and strode around the coffee table, seating herself directly before Regina, who responded by creating distance, once more pushing her body back into the couch.

"It's okay, Regina. It's over." Emma spoke softly, not pressing for a response, but she held out her hand and marveled when Regina took it up.

Then Regina smiled.

And if the heavens ever open with the express purpose of raining perfection on the earth, then Regina smiling is the result.

Emma was proud of herself for having the foresight to have already sat down.

"It does seem to be, doesn't it?" Regina started to drag her thumb over the back of Emma's hand and the sheer intimacy of that small gesture was wonderfully unsettling. But the fact that Regina almost immediately stopped herself, extracting herself from Emma, resulted in an eruption of sadness in blue-green eyes.

"Need I remind you of the same thing?" Regina asked.

Emma shook her head, vehemently. "No, no. This isn't really about any of that loony tunes business tonight. I mean, that, all of it, was just… Jesus. I'm…" Emma breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. "I'm just really glad you're okay. I don't think I could have handled it if anything had happened to you."

Regina looked strangely at that. Scared. Maybe even for the first time in all the recent madness, Regina actually seemed scared.

Perhaps it was too much, after all, the stillness.

Regina raised her glass to take a substantial swig, but Emma's hand stopped her.

"Miss Swan?" Regina only half-joked, obviously a bit piqued at the interference.

"Hang on." Emma tread on delicate ground, she knew, but looking into the dark copper eyes, she understood it was the journey she craved. "You know what? Let's put these down." She took Regina's glass and placed it, and her own, on the coffee table.

Emma held the cautious gaze as she moved to her knees before Regina, which had the unexpected consequence of making the former Evil Queen exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Listen to me," Emma heard the plea in her own voice. "I don't want there to be any misunderstanding here. No confusion. No excuses." As she spoke, Emma's hands moved with gentle pressure up Regina's legs, up, then down her arms, entangled all ten fingers of two soft hands. She hadn't meant to be so hand-sy, hadn't even meant to touch Regina at all, but she could. She could, finally, touch the woman she loved, and that was all she needed to know about that.

Emma met Regina's startled eyes a moment before dropping her gaze and plowing ahead. "What happened at the hospital? You were…"

"Ridiculous," Regina tensed, berated herself, "Shaking like a teenage boy."

"Beautiful." Emma smiled softly, struggling to maintain contact as Regina began to twitch and shift under the sustained attention. "Regina, don't hide from me. Not with cider, or bluster, or anything. Please. Kissing you… it was so far beyond anything I've ever known. And of course, I realize now there was a WHOLE lot riding on that kiss, but I'm gonna believe that it was also so amazing because you let me in. And, well, I really want to stay there. Okay?"

Emma could see she was losing her, could feel Regina's hands again retreating from her own. Emma grabbed them back and let the desperation in her heart rattle through her voice.

"No!" And more gently, "Don't go back, now, please. Don't believe those voices in your head that even I can hear, telling you I'm not right for you, or that this can't be, or that it was all some actual fuckin' fairy tale but now we have to really live, in the real world? Because I'm right here, still, and I'm not going anywhere. And you and me and Henry, we can make all this work. I know we can. Yeah?" Emma gave an encouraging nudge and waited, trying just to keep breathing as she watched darkening clouds of decision and consequence pass across Regina's face—a face that showed nothing to those unwilling to see, and everything to those who cared to look.

Emma saw the break, the moment when she had Regina's unspoken agreement, her willingness to try… and the single heartbeat later when she didn't.

Regina extricated herself from the lounge, scooting herself past Emma, not touching, trying to be cool, nonchalant, and fooling neither of them.

"Emma, I'm… I'm sorry." Regina had to keep her gaze tilted away, had to try and mask her shaking hands, dragging her fingers along the desk, the bookcase, as she moved across the room with muted, brisk steps, each one distancing herself further from whatever Emma's vision of family looked like.

In this moment of finally being offered a future, Regina felt that no part of her was ready to accept it.

Finally, out of space, framed by the doorway, she turned back. "I think what you want from me, what I even thought I wanted, is a lovely ideal. Emma." She shook her head. "But I… I'm not the woman you think I am. I know I said… things, but I'm… not." Her eyes burned to close, to weep with Emma gone, not watching, not looking like she'd been struck across the face. "Another time? Can we try and pick this up another time?"

Emma was silent, her brow deeply furrowed. Regina plastered a half-smile at her mouth, forced herself to continue, "I'm very grateful for your… devotion. To Henry. To me." A blush rose on olive skin. "But, I need to just…"

"Not need so much?" Emma asked, "Not be needed so much?" Emma's lip set in a flat line and she shook her head. "Too late."

As Regina stood rooted, Emma came to her with more swagger than Regina ever remembered—which was saying something. She stopped before Regina, feet planted, legs spread, eyes wide and insistent, locking their gazes.

"This is scary." Emma nodded. "I get it. I also get that there is no, 'picking this up later.' There is only me walking out your door, and us cobbling out some fucking parenting agreement over the next couple weeks while you hate yourself and blame yourself for the state of everything and everyone and feeling like the only thing you'll ever deserve is another slice of shit pie because that's what been shoved down your throat your whole, damned life." Emma grasped Regina's shoulders in her hands, but with such care that Regina only yearned for more of the same. "I'm not going to beg, Regina. You have to want this as much as me, and be willing to put aside enough of your insecurities or whatever else wants to stop you and to want to start building something else. With me." Regina was grateful for the wall behind her as Emma leaned in, sweet breath dusting red lips. "Come on. Whaddya say?" A cocky grin played at Emma's mouth, "You know we'd be fucking fantastic together."

Regina couldn't stop her answering smile, and yet, as her heart flayed about inside her chest, willing, begging her to make a different choice, she shook her head.

No.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, and her tears could hold out no longer.

And Emma's expression fell.

Emma took a hard, long step back.

She tugged the sides of her jacket, pulling her very being up, up from the metaphorical floor Regina had just kicked her to. She wanted to lie down and bleed until she stopped.

What the hell?

"Me, too." She managed to grind out, before she moved off. Her long legs took her quickly to the foyer, through the pristine space where the monster first appeared, nearly tore Regina to bits, where a spell turned Emma into a goddamn lion.

And it was only that twinge of nostalgia that slowed her down enough, that made it possible for Regina to catch up, and she felt something pull at her hand, turn her around, and fill Emma's horizon with love.

Regina's hand traveled to the back of Emma's neck, pulling her in. Regina's voice was raspy and warm, full of breath and need.

"I'm sorry. I'm going to say that in advance. Because I'm going to disappoint you." Regina's eyes moved to Emma's lips. A dark eyebrow rose, a second hand landed at Emma's waist, and then Regina was kissing her. Trembling again with fear, and kissing her anyway.

And Emma began to melt.

Regina's mouth was everywhere, hot, demanding, relentless, gentle, teasing.

Emma felt herself opening, growing wet, soaked, and she was stuttering and stumbling.

Until the solid ground below them seemed to shudder, but it was

Regina's heart, beneath Emma's hand, thundering, through skin so achingly soft that Emma's breath hitched and sobbed.

Round and peaked and pushing for more, Emma bent and cupped and pulled a perfect breast into her mouth with reverence, and the whole of each body surrounding the other vibrated with tremulous sighs

And the two of them enfolded together and staggered up stairs and through doors and under sheets that smelled of Regina,

then longing

And Emma could resist nothing, would resist nothing, and her legs shook with need, flung wide as Regina entered her for the first time, and she lay shimmering with liquid, heaving, gasping, flushed.

And Regina understood and gave herself equally, gratefully, happily

And Emma parted her, dipped her nose, drew a tongue across thrumming nerves, coated her lips and tongue, savoring and tasting and

Shared her awe in a kiss that brought upon them a rush of bliss, dismantling both in sensation. Forever joining them together.

And the fervid became languid, and drowsy,

and still.

And Emma, finally, was content.

And Regina, finally, was saved.

Emma awoke to music.

Delicate fingers were traveling over piano keys. Something classical and wonderful that Emma recognized but couldn't identify. She thought more about those fingers. Those lips. Those eyes. That pounding heart. Her own eyes closed. She sighed.

Dressed and as presentable as possible, Emma emerged from Regina's bedroom and started down the hall. Henry appeared in his door, eyes wide, rubbing out the sleep.

"Is that mom?" He asked.

"Yep."

"Wow." Henry smiled.

"Yep." Emma smiled.

Hand-in-hand, to an impeccably rendered Für Elise, they stepped downstairs to start breakfast.