Present Day

"Agh!" Emma cried in frustration.

Sabrina managed a thin chuckle as she closed her eyes and rested her cheek on her husband's shoulder. She was just so tired. All she needed was a nap—

"Sabrina," Puck asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "Just a little—tired."

"I'm taking you to Faerie now," he said after a moment. Sabrina assumed he had conferred non-verbally with Daphne and Pinocchio.

"Is Mom going to be okay?" Emma asked with worry coloring her voice.

"I'm fine," Sabrina murmured as she forced her eyes to open. In front of her stood her ten-year-old daughter with concerned eyes that matched those of her father's. "I'm going to be just fine."

"But Dad's taking you to Faerie," Alison added as her face appeared beside Emma's. "That's not just for sight-seeing."

"No," Puck admitted as his hold on Sabrina tightened. "It's not. But we're hoping that it will be no big deal and that she'll be ready to come home soon."

"Come home?" Alison asked worriedly.

"You're going to stay here until we know for sure what's going on with your mother," Puck said as he picked Sabrina up and extended his wings.

"I'm fine," Sabrina whispered as she settled further into his arms.

"No, Sabrina, you're not," Puck corrected with a firm, but sad tone.

"We'll take care of the girls, Sabrina," Daphne said softly. "You just focus on getting well, okay?"

Sabrina nodded slowly as she allowed herself to slip into the sleep that was calling her so insistently.

Daphne sighed as Pinocchio escorted Puck to the backyard. She turned to her nieces who were looking frightened by their mother's sudden illness.

"She's going to be fine," she assured them as she opened her arms to embrace them. The girls sat on each side of her, and she hugged them both to her tightly. "Your dad's always taken good care of your mom—even when we were kids and she thought he was annoying."

Daphne sighed softly as she tried to determine whether the girls were ready to be distracted or not. "Shall we continue the story? I'm sure your mother would want you to know the rest of the story."

"So, what happened, Aunt Daphne?" Alison asked softly. "Why didn't you just say yes?"

"That's what I asked when I went out to the patio to see if Daphne was okay," Pinocchio said as he entered the living room.

Five and a half years earlier

The sliding door slipped open as Daphne stood on the patio and inhaled deeply. What was wrong with her? She loved Pinocchio—she knew that much. Why hadn't she been able to just say yes?

"Are you okay?"

She looked to her left to find Pinocchio taking a step toward her. "I'm fine," she said with a nod. "It was just—everyone was looking at me. I couldn't breathe."

He nodded in understanding.

Daphne looked over at him. He was just standing there, looking out over the city like she had for the last few minutes. He wasn't pressuring her for anything she wasn't already to give him, and for that she was grateful. He'd become infinitely patient and understanding with her, which she didn't necessarily understand.

"I suppose you want an answer," she whispered softly.

"I suspect you had a good reason for not giving me an answer when I wanted it," Pinocchio said with a shrug.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few more moments before Pinocchio turned to her. "Was my question really so unexpected?" He asked quietly.

Daphne bit her lip. "Yes. And no." She released a breathless chuckle and shook her head. "I don't know. All I know is that I wasn't expecting it right then, and as I felt everyone look at me, I could hardly breathe."

Pinocchio nodded slowly. "I see. So the thought of marrying me makes you claustrophobic."

Daphne reached out a hand to touch his arm gently. "No," she said as she shook her head seriously. "I love the idea of marrying you."

"But," Pinocchio prompted, his eyes filled with pain.

"But we've only just started seeing each other again. Granted, this time it's better than it was ten years ago, but it's still—it feels like it's too soon," she whispered as she turned her gaze back to the city.

"Too soon," Pinocchio murmured. "I appreciate your feelings," he said with a nod. "And I can see why you would think that it was too soon, but I haven't stopped thinking about what we could have been for ten years."

"That's exactly why it's too soon," Daphne said as she shook her head. "We need to know that we're not just getting married because we think we need to—or to live out some fantasy that we've played out in our minds."

"It's not just a fantasy that I've played out in my mind, Daphne," Pinocchio said fervently.

"What about kids?" Daphne blurted out.

"Kids?" Pinocchio asked as his eyebrows shot up. "I assume we'll have them."

"I mean, besides that," Daphne said as she shook her head. "Do we change your name from Pinocchio so that they never know that they're Everafters? Do we have them keep it a secret? Do we homeschool? Do we private school? Have you thought about any of this?"

Pinocchio looked away from her with a small sigh. "Not those issues specifically. Why do you ask?"

"Because my sister and Puck aren't telling their daughters that they're Grimms. Not until they have to," Daphne explained.

"Daphne, we're not Puck and Sabrina," Pinocchio said as if he didn't see the point.

"I know that," Daphne said impatiently. "But we're faced with the same dilemma—well, less the fact that their children could sprout wings or morph into some creature someday."

"Clearly, you've been thinking about this issue," Pinocchio said as he turned back to her. "What are your thoughts and feelings about it?"

She swallowed as she turned away from him and looked down at her hands as they draped over the railing. "I, uh, don't want my children to be deprived of fairy tales. I want them to know their heritage, and I want them to be Grimms and Everafters from the moment they're able to understand what that means. I don't want to shove it down their throats, but I don't want to hide it from them either."

"I agree," Pinocchio said with a nod. "That's a very healthy approach. It keeps us from alienating your family or the Everafter community. No one has to pretend to be something that they're not. I like your plan."

"You're just saying what you think I want to hear," she whispered. Somewhere along the line, her passion had begun to drip from her eyes in the form of tears.

"No, Daphne, I'm not," he said seriously. "I really feel this way. I spent four hundred years trying to be more important than I really was and more mature than I really was. I ended up shaming my father and betraying my friends. I think knowing and accepting who you are is key to all of this. And so I agree with you."

Daphne studied his eyes. He certainly seemed sincere.

"Daphne, if you need some time, I need you to just tell me," he said softly. "If you say no, I can handle that too. But I'm tired of this ambivalence. Ten years ago, you told me that you thought it would be a good idea for us to break up, and so I didn't ask you to marry me. After you heard what I'd been going through, you came to patch things up, and still you didn't want to marry me. Now, I've asked again, and you say you need some air. You're avoiding the question, Daphne Grimm, and it's hurting us both."

He was right, Daphne admitted to herself somewhat reluctantly. If they didn't make some headway in one direction or the other, they'd be stuck in a rut where they never really had any closure and were never able to make any progress.

She looked down at her left ring finger. She could almost imagine the ring on her finger. The joy that she would have on her face when her father passed her hand to Pinocchio's at the altar. The angelic faces of the children they might one day have.

He was still the most attractive man she'd ever been around—in more ways than just his physical appearance. He was smart and yet kind, hardworking and yet sensitive.

Her heart swelled with emotion, and she wondered for a moment if she could keep it all in. She inhaled as tears sprang to her lips and she turned to Pinocchio.

It was clear that the waiting was eating him up from the inside out. He was doing everything he could think of to be patient, but he was an impatient man by nature. He deserved the chance to have the family he'd always dreamed of but never been able to fully grasp.

"Pinocchio," she whispered as she looked up and into his eyes.

"Yes, Daphne?"

Daphne smiled softly as she slowly took a step toward him and put her arms around his neck. She hugged him tightly as she let her lips seek his out. As she finished placing a tender kiss on his lips, she looked up into his eyes as an odd sense of calm settled over her. "I would be honored to be your wife, Pinocchio."

The look of fear and anxiety that had eclipsed Pinocchio's face disappeared and was replaced with a sense of relief. "Do you mean that?" He asked as if he didn't trust that his ears had just given him this wonderful news.

She nodded quickly. "I do," she said as she grinned as well. "I love you, Pinocchio. And I don't know why it's taken me so long to admit it." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "I love you!"

A sudden cry broke out from the family inside, and Daphne pulled away and looked over with a chuckle. "I guess we don't even have to make a formal announcement," she laughed.

Pinocchio didn't say a word, but pulled her closer to him and held her tightly. "Forever, Daphne Grimm. Promise you'll stay with me forever."

"I promise, Pinocchio," she whispered tenderly as she leaned up to kiss him again. "Forever."