Another short update! I don't know how much I can thank everyone for the reviews/favs/follows! It's been a fun ride!

Oh, but do you want to hear the true story? The one that never gets told?

Not the story of a true lover or even a drunk lover. Not the story of a passive engagement or unrequited love.

The true story is that love is not a flame. It is not a spark. It is not a light in the dark.

Love is simply an excuse to bring out that spark in yourself.

The music was as intoxicating as the drink. By the time both of them were finished, both of them were well beyond buzzed, it was almost impossible to tell which was the thing that had taken them down this road. Whether it was the shallow beats and chords in their ear drums of the drug in their system.

"Come, Miss Swan. Don't you want to dance?"

And then there was Regina, who had somehow gained composure during the process, who somehow managed to move so fluidly, so seductively, despite the fact that moments earlier she had looked uncomposed, sick, tired. Regina's bright eyes, innocence lost to the world around her, were so trained on Emma's body that she felt as though she were undressing. Regina's touch, which Emma was unaccustomed to, trailing her left arm. If she'd ever thought of the woman so much as laying a hand on her before, it wasn't like this.

This was simply thrilling.

Hand trailing down her arm, grabbing her hand by the fingertips. Coaxing her to follow. Emma obeying. Oh, but was this her? Or was it simply the alcohol in her system? The lights blinding her to the risk in this? She didn't care. The soft sound of the words screw it passed through her mind. She didn't want to care right now.

There was so much to lose, and Emma didn't want to dwell on it. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning, when the hangover set in. But not now.

The song was unrecognizable, but then so was Regina. Her movements reminded Emma, briefly, of the movements of a teenager at a club. Inexperienced, simply moving with the music in an attempt to gain the attention of a lover. The reminder that she was experienced kept playing in Emma's mind, and so when she moved, when she touched, she was attempting to surpass that experience. She was trying oh so hard to feel Regina's eyes on her body again, to feel her hands trailing down her arms.

And there they were.

She could have shivered, but the movement was stalled in the reminder that she had to keep her head out of the water if she wanted to keep swimming in this territory. The music slowed from the angry pounding to something softer, right when Emma felt as though she were getting the hang of this, and almost without effort Regina coasted into a closer movement, wrapping an arm around Emma as though asking for permission to use the second.

"This is nothing," she heard Regina whisper, and there was heartbreak in that just as much as there was relief.

And then the music was done.

They pulled apart, and Emma realized that as graceful as they may have thought they were, they were stumbling now. Regina was still looking at her the same, and if that was any indication, then Emma had no doubt she was doing the same thing.

James was standing on one of the chairs, telling everyone to get home, they were closing, and while Emma felt a sudden flush of panic at having to go back home alone, Regina's hand still lingered close to hers.

"Shall I walk you home?"

"I live in the country."

"Well. I won't let you drive. Come."

It was a command, one she hadn't followed in years. Neal had never been commanding despite his role, he had always been soft and coaxing on their nights together. He gave her all the choices in the world. Regina didn't seem to have the same attitude. Not in her dance, not in her movements. She may have been coaxing, asking even in her own way, but she still commanded. And every cell in Emma's body responded.

She was excellent at following orders.

They must have looked like an odd pair, stumbling down Main Street, Emma trailing a step or two behind Regina, Regina not looking back. It felt as though hours had passed when they got to Regina's house, but it also felt like mere seconds, as though time was no obstacle for the night.

"Where am I staying?"

Regina gave her an odd look as he opened the door and stumbled through the doorway.

"Well, Miss Swan. That's up to you, isn't it?"

An open invitation that could easily end in failure, and Emma wasn't blind to that. She shivered and took a step forward into the dark house, her shoes somehow already gone off her feet.

And she went up the stairs after Regina.

There were no nightmares and no dreams that night.

When Emma awoke she heard the soft, calm beating of another heart in her ear. The other woman in the room still, her body relaxed, one arm around her midsection.

There was peace. And Emma rejoiced.

She wondered vaguely if she should try to sneak out when the morning came and there was no headache that pounded behind her eyes. She wondered if, in the darkness before the sun rose its head, if she should escape before Regina awoke and realized the mistake they had stumbled into last night.

She should make her way to Main Street and grab her car, drive off. Perhaps they could forget the whole ordeal and pretend that none of the last half had happened. Perhaps nothing had happened, for all Emma recalled was following and waking up. She knew what she should assume, that being entangled in Regina said all that needed to be said, but perhaps it had simply been an embrace that had led to their slumber.

However, it was so damned comfortable here. And it felt almost as though she had found a home, a brief home, from the night.

When the sun started to peak through the window, Emma finally decided to make her move out. She pushed from the bed as slowly as she could, trying not to make any sudden movements. Trying not to jostle the sleeping woman. It worked for approximately three minutes before the woman stirred and looked up to see Emma starting to exit.

"It's rude not to say goodbye," Regina remarked, hiding her eyes from the sunlight with her arm.

"I thought I'd let you sleep?"

"So I could pretend that last night was a dream, I suppose?"

Emma didn't know if that was what she had wanted, but she realized that, with the words out in the open and real, that that was what she had been afraid would happen. She didn't know much, but she realized the stark terror in her chest that came with the realization that that could have happened.

"What happened after we got here?"

Regina chuckled, moving her arm so she could look at Emma, meet her eyes and assess her.

"Oh, Miss Swan. You worry so much, don't you?"

"What happened?"

Regina slowly pushed herself up. Beckoning her closer with another fluid movement. Emma responded, moving and sitting on her bed. Was this a sacred place? Had this once been a place of worship between Regina and her husband?

Closer, closer, closer, until Regina was right at her ear.

"Nothing, dear. I think we had something in mind, but we crashed far before it happened." The woman whispered into her ear.

There was relief, a brief moment of relief, and so Emma decided that she could hold that piece of information close to her heart in the same way that she had held the sound of Regina's heartbeat cloe. Nothing. There was no sin here, she decided.

"Are you happy?" Regina asked, and pulled away.

"Yes," Emma answered automatically. Yes, she was happy, but it wasn't because nothing had happened, it was because whatever brief moment they had shared had brought her a small amount of joy that she hadn't felt since…Well, since Neal.

"Good."

"I'm happy about last night, Regina…"

"I know. I am too." A sigh. "Now go, Miss Swan. Before it fades."

"Can I stay?"

A small smile played on her lips, almost devilish, and then she shook her head.

"Perhaps another night."

Emma nodded and got up again, already halfway down the stairs when a whisper seemed to travel through the halls and to her.

"It's been a pleasure, Emma."

She stuck her hands in her pockets as she walked down the streets, and despite the fact that she was damned confused and she wasn't sure exactly what was supposed to be done, there was still the tinkering of joy in her chest. She passed the bar, where soft melodies melted out of the door, and she couldn't help but remember the slow dance, the way that Regina moved, the way that everything seemed to simply fit.

And then, like a knock to the chest, she could remember the other words spoken by the woman during that night. She ducked her head as she walked.

This is nothing.

And no amount of peace on earth would likely change that.