That evening was spent treading through a dank aura of despair. The mothers and son returned to a freezing, unlit home, having forgotten to leave a light on for when they came back. Not wanting to spoil Henry's fun at the beach, they all stayed until around three o'clock. The women had settled on the rod-like log that the young man had conquered on his own; like always, he was in the middle, and his moms were on both sides of him. They sat together in silence and let their animal brothers and sisters communicate through croaking and hissing. The burning ball of light hovered over the steadying waters as if it were having a conversation with its earth-bound counterpart. When one of the only clouds in the sky passed over the sun, the waves became less frequent, as though it had lost its companion. After, when the sun was visible again, the ocean exulted and clapped against the rubble.

Henry sensed the tension between Emma and Regina; it was as a blatant as a big, fat, red target. Emma would make a few comments about the captivating shapes the waves made in the sand, and Regina would respond with a terse "Hmhm." When Emma tried to engage her girlfriend, the mayor merely nodded, her focus on the incoming tides and their increasing height. Literally stuck in the middle, Henry tried to placate both of them by talking about school and his latest math test, which he aced. However, his efforts were futile. Whatever his mothers had previously discussed in his absence had been too unpleasant to fix. Henry was as powerless as he'd ever been.

Immediately after walking through the front hallway, Regina headed straight for the den and closed the sliding doors. She forced herself to finished the mountains of paperwork she'd brought home over the weekend. Applications for school funding, permission to replace broken water mains, and a plea for more money to finish the repairs on Granny's exterior all taunted Regina mercilessly. Some of the papers, which were packed together in various folders, had coffee stains on the front where her signature was supposed to go. Seeing as she rarely drank that heart attack-inducing beverage, the only other person responsible was Jane, her novice secretary. Regina had asked the woman countless times to be careful with the forms, but it was evident that Jane needed more than just a kind reminder. Between the dried coffee droplets and the misplaced applications— the appeal for new textbooks and the petition to close off Main Street for construction were in opposite folders— and everything else in her life, Regina was running out of steam. She did everything she could not to send a fireball right into the painting of the Enchanted Forest she'd bought from Marco.

While Regina fussed over various mayoral duties and familial concerns, Emma was in the garage, working on her fading yellow Bug. Thanks to Michael Tillman, the sheriff had picked up a few tricks of her own. Her little knowledge of cars meshed with her growing talent for magic always resulted in getting the job done. Today, however, there was no specific task to complete. Emma just had the compulsion to examine the inner organs of her faithful vehicle. With her head under the hood and Foster the People coming in through her static-prone radio, Emma was letting out her own irritations. She just had to work on something— it didn't matter what. As long as she wasn't sitting as still as a nightstand, as long as she kept moving, she would be ok.

Henry had been doing his best to gauge his mother's attention— the attention that seemed to be more glued on the women's individual projects than their son. He went back and forth between the designated areas Emma and Regina seemed to have sectioned off, saying nothing but observing everything. He cracked open the doors to the den just enough to peek through and noticed that Regina's knee was bouncing up and down beneath her desk— a trait usually associated with Emma. And when he checked in on his other mother, he watched Emma rev the engine of the Bug with her magic. It was as if the adults had switched their nervous habits.

When he was sure that a simple "Hey" wouldn't work, Henry resorted to the one thing he hated to do: lying. Unlocking the front door and opening it until the metal brushed against each other audibly, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Moms, I'm gonna go light the clock tower on fire and rob Granny's! I'll be back later!" A few moments went by and neither one of the women appeared from their caves. Henry waited in the open space and refused to let the cool winds faze him. He stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, his sweater zipped and his hood up. With his dark-wash denim jeans, hidden face, and skater-like sneakers, he loosely resembled a delinquent, minus the tattoos. Pawing his brain for another fib, he added, "I'll just grab your keys to the car!"

Making good on his tall tale, Henry rifled through the ceramic bowl and jingled the metal pieces more so than he needed to. Within seconds, two sets of footsteps came from two different directions. Regina strode down the main corridor, while Emma entered through the backdoor and coasted through the kitchen. Thew women stopped at precisely the same moment, exactly five feet from another, and angled inward the same degree amount.

Without looking at each other, the protective parents narrowed their eyes at Henry. For once, he was glad they were about to ground him for whatever reason they decided on. That meant they at least had to talk to the other. He'd so quickly become accustomed to Emma and Regina being together, he already hated when they went for more than an hour without even so much as holding hands.

"All right, you've got the both of us here, Henry. I highly doubt your exaggerations were necessary," Regina said brusquely as she shifted her weight to one hip.

"Creative, I'll give you that," Emma amended. "But totally unnecessary." She wanted to steal a glimpse of Regina, to see how the brunette was holding up, if she still had tears in her eyes. But she didn't. Emma never took her attention off of Henry.

Closing off the sneaky breeze, Henry leaned against the door and fiddled with Regina's keychain. How anyone could carry so many keys on one small ring baffled the boy, but he didn't let that detract from the main topic. "Something's going on. You guys are hiding from each other like two year-olds."

"Henry, dear," the older woman began slowly, "I understand that you are getting older and that there are certain privileges you're coming into, but let me just remind you that we are your mothers and you do not speak to us like that. Do you hear me?"

"Well someone has to say something," he protested. "You can't just go back to hating each other like before."

As if a camera had just flashed in front of them, Emma and Regina's eyelids fluttered in order to regain their vision. They'd had other disagreements before, sure, and Henry had helped them in one way or another, without any complaints. But this was the first time he'd ever expressed what is was like for him— what he saw when they fought. It never occurred to the couple that their spats so much as suggested more than what they felt. For the first time, they were getting Henry's side.

Suddenly, embarrassed and ashamed beyond belief, Regina and Emma stepped forward at the same time, further proving their connected souls. They were so in tune with the other, they started to take it for granted. Glancing at each other, and then at Henry, the women composed themselves enough to assuage his anxiety.

"No one hates anyone, Kid. We've never hated each other," Emma said matter-of-factly, reaching to hold Henry's shoulder. "Sometimes people just don't get along, that doesn't mean they stop caring."

"I'm not five, Mom. I get how it works," Henry grunted, annoyed at his mother's unintentional condescension.

"With all due respect, Henry, I don't think you do," Regina objected. Henry was almost the same height as her, just tall enough for them to meet eyes. It was both a milestone and a loss for the mother; her son was really growing up. He was no longer the little child with the hight-pitched voice and constantly rosy-cheeked. Henry was a young man now; that was clear in his charisma and his maturity. Regina knew he wasn't being stubborn out of immaturity, but out of his care for her and Emma. Bending her knees slightly, until she was perfectly square with Henry, Regina took her keys back and removed the hood. "This… this is still new to me— to all of us. There are no instructions or manuals for this. Today was an obstacle and right now, Emma and I are just doing our best to… let it all settle."

"Apart?" Henry pushed.

Emma noticed Regina struggling to create a sufficient response and swooped in, further fulfilling her duties as the Savior. She took Henry's hand, which was as cold as ice. "How about this, Kid. Whaddu you say you and I take a walk? I know we were outside all day, but I think some fresh air will make things better. It'll give your mom some space."

Half grateful, half miffed with the blonde for assuming she wanted to be alone— even though she was right— Regina added, "By the time you get back, I'm sure Emma and I will figure something out."

Yanking his limb back, he shoved his hands into his pockets; he pulled hood over again, further covering his features and a shadow masked him. "Um… I think I'll just go upstairs. I'm… I'm kind of tired."

Never even letting his mothers bid farewell, Henry trampled up the stairs and slammed the door to his room; the violent sound resonated through the spacious house and vibrated through the walls. Emma's ears rang for a few seconds after their son vanished, from the crash and Henry's insane perceptiveness. She didn't want to, but she felt her torso twist until she caught sight of Regina, who looked as guilty as ever.

"He'll be fine, Gina," Emma said. "He's a tough kid."

"He shouldn't have to be," the Queen muttered. "It's not fair to him. Henry deserves a normal life, not one crammed with chaos and fictional fairy tales."

"True, it might be easier if he had a life outside of Storybrooke. But, you can't ignore the fact that this is his normal. His grandfathers are Rumplestiltskin and Prince Charming; his grandmother's Snow White, and his mothers are the Savior and the—"

"I know quite well what his family tree looks like, thank you," Regina cut her off bitterly. She folded her arms one over the other, but it was more like a hug; she was comforting herself. "I should get back to work," she said shortly. "I'll get dinner started in an hour."

"I can do that," Emma offered, semi-desperately. "The lasagna recipe's in the bedroom, right? In the jewelry box?" As if she were expecting Henry to be sitting on the top of the staircase like he used to, Emma craned her neck, but he wasn't there.

"No need. I can handle making a meal. You go on back to your decrepit chunk of metal." Regina exited their little zone of intimacy and went back to what she was doing before: wistfully approving everyone's requests. None of them were extremely harmful to the town or the the budget. It was a sickeningly easy job to do.

Emma, meanwhile, remained in the rotunda with her thumbs in her belt loops. The scratchy denim rubbed against her knuckles as she held onto the straps like a cowboy. The way she saw it, she had three options: 1) she could go and try mend things with Henry, 2) she go could and try mend things with Regina, or 3) she could go and try mend things with Snow. If coins had three sides, Emma would have tossed one and let that decide for her.

Early dusk had just begun to nestle itself into the cushions that were the white puffs of vapor. The gentle, blue tones melded into navy and then cotton-candy pink. The clouds went from paper-white to a dazzling orange sorbet, all natural weapons of the night. Heavenly rays of sun burst from behind the cotton balls and sprayed over Storybrooke like a storm. The flame-colored beams of light created a tint that weaved itself through the neighborhoods and under the bridge.

In the end, Emma chose to go through with neither of the options she'd laid out for herself. Like her son and partner, she went back to what she'd been doing before; Emma retuned to her car, the one thing that wasn't mad at her. Closing the hood and wiping the oil stains from the body, she got into the driver's seat and cranked up the tunes. The poor radio reception resulted in crackling and sputtering through the speakers, as if the automobile were centuries old. She rested against the stiff headrest, rolled the windows down, and left the vehicle on just enough to listen to music— not enough for the engine to roar through the small arena. Emma let the melodic voice of Ed Sheeran send her off into dreamworld, freely relinquishing her power to stay awake…

The void in Emma's arms was filled by a slender individual with shiny, brown hair that swayed with even the slightest movement. She felt someone's heartbeat against her own, smelled that familiar smell, and listened to ragged breathing. The women were absolutely and unconditionally in love with each other, and they were only on their third date. But then, this is what they'd both been waiting for since the moment they met. The spark that had been ignited the night that Emma brought Henry back from Boston, that instant reaction, had been the first step on the road to their happy ending.

In the center of the forest, in the darkest of dark nights, it was just the two of them; they were free to be loud and obnoxious or quiet and sincere. There were no rules or guidelines to how they should act around each other, and there were no expectations. From day one, the agreement was to let it be— whatever "it" was didn't matter.

All Emma could see was the face of the woman she loved with everything that she was and everything she would ever be. The blood red lips, the radiant glow, the fierce courage. She had never, in her entire existence, been in the company of someone so incredibly magnificent; she regretted that it hadn't happened sooner— that they hadn't happened sooner. Next to the first racing heart, Emma's own vessel worked furiously to pump life into her system. When her lips parted, she felt the words spill from her like a waterfall, except she was more a witness than a participant. Everything that she said was engrained in her memory, as if she could ever forget.

With the twinkling, gaseous bubbles hanging in space, they pressed their foreheads together and closed their eyes. "I never want this to end," Emma whispered as she kissed the woman's nose.

"Neither do I."

The blonde readjusted her hold on the mayor, but never let go or loosened her grip. Her back was up against a hallow tree trunk, which made it even easier to embrace her date. As she looked up above, a shooting star zoomed through the atmosphere and vanished into oblivion. "Let's make a wish," she said. "Better yet, let's make a promise. I, Emma Swan, promise to fight for you, protect you, and love you until the day that I die."

Seeing no reason to fight, the brunette smiled at Emma, unable to fathom how it was possible to be so incredibly infatuated with another human being. "All right. I, Regina Mills, promise to be good, to be honest, and to love you until my very last breath."

"Emma?" There was an abrupt creaking in the space around the sleeping sheriff and soon, it was as if the world were being shaken like a snow globe. Regina tried to be considerate and close the door at the slowest speed possible, but Emma still jolted awake as though she'd just been punched.

"Gina?" she slurred and wiped the line of drool off of her chin. Emma rubbed her eyes forcefully until there was only one Queen before her, not two. She was brought back to reality just like that; with one glance at Regina's apologetic frown, one whiff of the freshly baked lasagna.

Regina sat with her legs crossed, even in the car. She'd never been particularly fond of the Bug, that was no secret, and since dating Emma, she often refused to ride in it. However, since they weren't going anywhere, and since they didn't have anywhere to go, Regina compromised and placed herself on the tattered, leather chair. It was then she realized last she'd been in there, was the stakeout back in March. "You were in here for a while… I thought… I thought you left."

Resting her elbow on the windowsill in an effort to come across as casual, Emma gave Regina a kind, semi-smile. "Nope. You know I wouldn't do that."

"Yes, I… I guess I do. Making up for much needed rest, I gather." Picking at her nail polish, which she would later regret, Regina rotated her body until she was facing the Savior. It was clear that Emma had been in a deep coma when she'd walked in, and she didn't take any joy in waking her up. When she hadn't heard from the blonde or seen her since they'd all talked, Regina got worried. "Emma, listen," she sighed. "This, what we've been doing, it's wonderful. It's more than I could have ever dreamed of, and I haven't experienced this kind of exuberance in years, not since… well, not since Daniel. It's still all rather difficult for me to connect so easily. I just think that—"

"I know," Emma said. "We should take some time apart. I get it, I pushed too hard. I knew better and—"

"No! No that's not what I'm saying! Emma, look," Regina shifted uncomfortably. "I love you, that much is crystal clear to me. You and Henry are all that I ever think about, I promise you. I just— it's— it's all happening so fast, you see. One moment we're breaking curses together and the next you're moving in. Not that I'm not happy you're here, Emma, I am—"

"Gina, slow down. You're going off in too many different directions."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Regina shook her head. "I'm sorry, Emma. That's what I'm trying to say. I'm sorry that I'm not very good at all of this." Unable to stop herself, Emma let a roll of laughter escaped her lips. It wasn't that she found any of this funny, not in the least. It was more laughter of relief. When she saw Regina's severe expression, she feared the worst. For a split second, Emma fully believed Regina was going to break up with her. "And just what is so amusing?" Regina demanded, insulted at the woman's reaction.

Holding her sides, Emma gasped for air. "It's not… it's not you…" she panted. "Sorry." Wiping the moisture from her eyes, the Savior cleared her throat and waited until she'd fully regained control. "Look, Gina, I'm not upset or anything. I just… I'm still trying to get you to let me in. It's like, you go from being as easy to read as a picture book, to having to use a magnifying class to figure out what's wrong. You don't have to do that anymore, Gina. You don't have to shut yourself off. I'm right here."

"You're right, I know," Regina said, fidgeting with her shirt. "I'm sorry."

"And stop apologizing. Jesus, not everything is on you. I shouldn't have pressured you."

Something was going on within Regina; it wasn't like that butterfly flutter she usually got. This was more like coils twisting and tying themselves into knots, right in the pit of her stomach. Her palms were cold and clammy, her knees weren't as steady as they should have been, and for the first time in a weeks, she was truly frightened of being with Emma. "You have to understand; until last year, being alone was my normal. Henry was all that I had and— and now…"

"Now you have me," Emma finished the thought. "And that scares the hell out of you." Regina nodded timidly, her chin falling to her chest. Although this was a meditative place in time, Emma still found Regina undeniably attrative. To prove her pledge of allegiance, she tossed an arm around Regina's shoulders and motioned for the woman to lean in. That comforting warm body was all Emma wanted right now— to hold Regina. Just like in her memory/dream, she felt the brunette breathing next to her, as if she needed Emma right next to her in order to push through. "I'm not going anywhere, Gina. No matter how scared you get or how big of a tantrum Mary Margaret throws, I'm not leaving you. I swear with every ounce of magic in my being, I will never leave you."