Author's note: I'd like to thank all the readers who stuck with me through the whole story. And thanks to all those who took the time to leave comments, it's great to know what you think! This is the last chapter of this fic, I hope you'll enjoy it :-)

Emma was sub-renting a room in a neighbourhood where Regina was glad Henry never had to set foot. Regina herself was not too happy to watch her cab disappear in the night, leaving her alone on the sidewalk with her violin case hanging from her shoulder. She found Emma's building – no locked door to access the hallway – and climbed the stairs – no elevator. In front of Emma's door, she hesitated and took a deep breath, her hand poised to knock.

The second her hand was about to meet the wooden panel, the door opened, and Regina found herself facing Emma, in flip-flops, leggings and tank top, holding a pile of magazines.

"Oh," said Emma, jumping a little, "My god Regina, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Well," Regina smirked, "Remember the time you sneaked up on me in my studio? Now we're even."

"What are you doing here? Has anything happened to Henry?" Emma's eyes darkened as she waited for an answer, dumping the magazines on top of a pile of junk to recycle on the landing.

"Henry's fine." Regina reassured her. "He, hum, thinks you and I should talk about "stuff", imagine that... But I thought maybe you'd like to finish our last music session… You're probably too busy anyway. This is not the right time. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come."

Emma considered Regina silently for a moment, then backed away and motioned her to come in. "No, that's OK," she said. "My roommates are out, and I'm done packing up."

Emma showed Regina into the living room, where she sat on the couch to unpack her violin while Emma disappeared into her room to retrieve her guitar. They tuned up.

"You go first," Emma offered.

Regina nodded, and sticking her violin under her chin, played a love song. So, apparently this was what she had in mind. She sighed and added a few grace notes to her languorous ballad.

Emma grinned and played an elated variation on the ballad. Emboldened, Regina threw in a long sensuous melodic moan in D minor. Emma answered with a series of caressing quavers that made Regina shiver in anticipation. She could feel the heat rising between them with each additional note. When they had started playing, Emma was sitting on the couch and Regina standing opposite to her at the other end of the room, but without Regina even noticing, they were now only a violin's length apart from each other. Regina's bow amorously stroked her violin's G string, drawing rapturous sounds out of it, and her gaze lingered on Emma's slightly parted lips.

And then, the next thing she knew, Regina, who was always so careful with her precious instrument, all but flung it on the coffee table and her mouth was on Emma's, burning and demanding. Emma, melting under her touch, blindly let her guitar slide to the floor, and returned her kiss as if her life depended on it.

The living room, littered with torn clothes, was becoming messier by the minute, and driven by a vague remain of decency at the prospect of Emma's roommates coming back, they staggered into Emma's bedroom, grasping at one another. They slammed the door shut and carelessly shoved Emma's bags off the bed to tumble on it. Regina's roaming hands and mouth soon claimed all of Emma's body, one of her thighs impatiently pressed between hers. It was deliciously intoxicating, and Emma so incredibly attuned to her every move…

Suddenly, Regina froze. Emma, her head nestled in the crook of her neck, was moaning, "I love you."

Regina didn't answer – people will say that in bed – but maybe in retaliation she nibbled and dug her nails a bit harder than usual into Emma's soft skin while she coaxed her closer and closer to orgasm. When Emma reached her climax and lay panting under her, momentarily deaf to the world, maybe Regina's cheeks were a bit wet – it was nothing, just a foolish gut reaction. She hastily wiped her face with the back of her hand then rolled onto her side and turned her back to Emma, fighting the urge to get dressed and leave at once.

A few moments later, Emma tentatively pressed her cooling body against Regina's back, and whispered in her nape, "You don't believe me, do you? I thought you felt the same. I'm sorry if I didn't get it right. I thought it was what our music was about."

Regina stiffened. Of course, love was what their music was about. It had taken two to play that game. But now… She was terrified to admit it to Emma in case she'd lose her. Something always went wrong when she loved someone. But you love Henry, the little voice in her head pointed out, and it turns out fine, after all. Thanks to Emma, she thought, half-bitter and half-grateful.

Regina turned around and backed off slightly to look at Emma, who was gazing at her, quietly waiting for her verdict. "I hate you," she said in a voice she cursed for betraying just the opposite, "and besides, what's the point? You're leaving tomorrow."

"Yes I am," Emma answered, pushing her on her back and climbing astride of her. "But I'll be back," she promised, leaning forward to nibble at her chin, her naked breasts deliciously brushing against Regina's.

"You'd better be," Regina grumbled, holding back a happy sigh. "Henry's counting on you now."

Emma's pupils were dilated with desire, but her hands stopped whatever they were doing that was quickly making Regina lose track of the conversation.

"Regina Mills," she declared soberly, "Henry knows he can count on me now. How come you don't know that too? I want to come back, not only for Henry, but also for you. The question is, do you?"

Regina would never admit such a thing. It was too much weakness to expose, and she couldn't possibly trust another person to know that much about her. Trusting someone with her heart – she could never do that again. Absolutely not. She was better off by herself anyway.

Emma waited for a few moments, then she sighed and stretched out against her, her legs intertwined with Regina's and one hand lightly pressed to Regina's chest, over her frantically beating heart.

Without thinking, Regina reached out to stroke Emma's cheek tenderly. She couldn't bear the idea of Emma disentangling from her for good, no more than she could imagine her life without music. Whether she wanted it or not, Emma was not anymore a grace note that she could easily forget or replace, she was intricately part of Regina's inner melody now – a much happier one, like a G major movement finally resounding after a lifetime spent in G minor.

"Yes," she heard herself say, "I do."

And she did.

THE END