The End of the World (and After) Chapter 14: A symphony that's you, an once upon a time fanfic

Interlude: Neal

The world has ended, Neal finds.

He wasn't there when it happened. He only returns to it years later, having escaped the horrors of Neverland just to find something far more horrifying awaiting him.

New York is in ruins, and he spends days just walking around in a daze.

He thinks of his papa then, at long last. He's had to stop thinking about his father, being haunted enough in his dreams all that time in Neverland. His father let go, loving power more than him, being the Dark One more than a father. The thought hurts, and so he's let it go the last few years. He's tried to grow up.

But now he thinks of his papa. He can't wish his father had come with him to a world that is ending, so he doesn't. Instead he wishes that while his father might not have loved him enough to go with him, that he had loved him enough to find him and bring him home.

A selfish wish perhaps, but then, he is still a child.

The world has ended. Neal has to grow up in the after.

II

Chapter fourteen: A symphony that's you / joyously awaking the sleeping

Mary Margaret

The years pass.

And to Mary Margaret, they hardly seem to change anything at all. Life goes on, one day much the same as the other. They farm. They survive. David loves her and she loves him, and they both love their daughter.

Nothing changes. No one changes.

Except Emma.

It's an evening like any other, just like so many evenings before it.

David has fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from a day working the fields. Emma is nestled on his lap, looking thoughtful. Emma is getting too old for her father's lap, really, but David pretends not to notice. It will be Emma who decides when she's too old, and David will quietly both feel the loss and be proud that his daughter is growing up.

Like any parent, and she smiles at the sight of her daughter and husband. Her family.

This is, Mary Margaret knows, all she's ever wanted. A loving husband who is the living embodiment of a Prince Charming, a daughter who is healthy and happy and growing up fast, a community of friends and chosen family. It's not an easy life, with the ruins of a world around them and the struggle to survive, but it still makes her happy.

It could stay this way forever, and she would be happy, she is sure.

"Mommy?" Emma asks, lifting her head from David's shoulder.

"Yes, honey?" Mary Margaret replies sweetly, putting away the shirt she's been mending.

"Why does no one change?" Emma asks, sounding puzzled.

"What do you mean?" Mary Margaret replies, moving to sit next to David on the couch and taking Emma's hand.

Emma is clearly struggling to find the words. "I wanted to be a as tall as Ava. Now I am."

"Kids grow differently, honey," Mary Margaret says slowly. She tries to remember Ava when they first moved to this community, but her memory seems almost foggy. Ava was smaller then, wasn't she?

Emma seems to consider that. "Everyone seems to stay the same except me. And Owen."

Mary Margaret thinks of Regina's Owen, who is becoming a young man, and who has definitely changed and changed Regina with him. A good change, they all agree.

"Everyone changes, honey," Mary Margaret says reassuringly. "It might not always seem like it..."

"It never seems like it," Emma says impatiently, then lowers her head back to David's shoulder and seems to let the thought go for now.

But the thought, as strange and impossible at it seems, takes root in Mary Margaret's mind – and the evening like any other becomes the moment when it starts to change.

She thinks about it after they've all gone to bed, Emma tucked in with a quick retelling of her favorite fairy tale, the one about Snow White.

No one changes. What an odd thing to say, yet...

Yet.

David wraps his arms around her and kisses her shoulder softly, and she lets his touch silence the nagging thought in her head for now.

She dreams.

They're fleeting images, coming apart like mist when she tries to hold on to them. Like ghosts, haunting her more than finding her, always just beyond her reach.

She dreams, and doesn't remember.

In the morning, David kisses her awake like so many other mornings, and she smiles against his lips before opening her eyes.

"Good morning," he whispers, his body warm and familiar against hers. She draws her hands across his chest, feeling his skin against her palm.

"Good morning," she replies, sighing happily as he kisses her tenderly. In the faint light of the dawn through the window, she can feel him more than see him, but she knows the shape of his face and body by heart.

It is strange, though. For all he jokes about being a daddy now, he is still the very image of the young man she met and then fell head over heels for. Maybe she'll always seem him like that. Maybe it's just her romantic view of him, and yet, Emma's words echo in her mind.

"David?" she asks against his lips, and he pulls away slightly, but keeps a hand on her cheek. His thumb caresses her skin lightly while he waits for her to speak. "Do I seem older to you than when we met?"

"You're as lovely as the day I met you and you saved both Emma and me," he declares, the sincerity in his voice making her heart ache.

"Charming," she replies, the word always coming so easy to her when it comes to him. "But David, I'm being serious. Do I seem older to you?"

He frowns, then looks downright confused for a moment. "No, but... We're both still young."

"Are we?" she asks. She doesn't feel it, now that she thinks about it. Sure, Emma has been slowly growing up, a beautiful young girl now, but Mary Margaret doesn't feel any older. The days and years have passed, but it almost feels like they haven't touched her at all.

"Yes," he says, but his voice sounds almost distant. "Mary Margaret, what's going on?"

"I don't know," she whispers. "I just... Emma said something odd yesterday. She said everyone stayed the same but her."

"She's growing up so fast," he says affectionately. "I can't blame her for feeling that way. She's no longer our baby, Mary Margaret."

"I know," she says, thinking of the weight of tiny Emma in her arms all those years ago. It seems so long ago, and indeed Emma has grown so much since then, but... "How long has it been since we found her, David?"

"Ten," he says slowly, as if struggling to add the years up. "She's ten."

"Ten," she repeats. It's been ten years but doesn't feel like it. A decade? Really?

Her head hurts, and she closes her eyes as David kisses her forehead softly. He doesn't quite understand what she's trying to tell him, she knows, but she barely understands it herself.

Why does no one change?

Mary Margaret asks Ruby first. Just a simple question, really.

How long has it been since they came here?

Ruby can't really answer. She looks confused, and manages to guess it's been years, but can't say more than that. Whale can't answer it either, nor can Ava and Nicholas.

It makes Mary Margaret increasingly worried, especially as she watches Emma play with Nicholas and Ava. Faintly, distantly, she seems to remember Ava leading Emma around by the hand and being the taller one.

Now they're the same height. How has she not noticed it before?

"What is it?" David asks as they walk away, taking her hands in his. "Mary Margaret, you're cold. Your hands are like ice. Maybe you should go home and lie down. I'll make some soup for you and..."

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Did you hear them, David? They don't know how long it's been."

"It's hard to keep track of time given our circumstances," he says slowly, but he sounds almost hesitant.

"That's not all," she insists. She feels dizzy, almost as if she's going to fall, but into what?

She closes her eyes as David's arms go around her, embracing her. She clings to him, feeling his presence slowly steady her.

"Something is wrong," she whispers, digging her fingers into his arm.

"Okay," David murmurs, and she opens her eyes to see him look at her with equal amounts of worry and love. "Let's figure out what."

They end up going to Gold. Of course. They always seem to, they always have, and Mary Margaret isn't quite sure why. She doesn't fully trust him, nor does David, and she suspects he doesn't expect them to. He even seems to find their caution endearing.

But even if they don't fully trust him, he is usually the one with the answers. The trick is just to get them out of him.

"If it isn't the fair Mary Margaret and her charming David Nolan," Gold greets them as he opens the door. "Where is that beloved daughter of yours?"

"Playing with Ava and Nicholas and Ruby," David says, squeezing Mary Margaret's hand. She nods, taking a deep breath.

"No one changes in this town," she says hesitantly, watching Gold's face. Something flickers in his eyes, like a light, and she knows Emma is onto something.

"I dare say your daughter is evidence to the contrary," Gold says after a moment, but his tone is inviting rather than challenging.

"She's growing up," Mary Margaret acknowledges, feeling the bittersweetness of that. "But no one else seems to."

Gold watches her like a hawk. "Did the lovely Miss Swan say something perhaps?"

"She said no one changes," Mary Margaret replies almost automatically, and Gold nods several times.

"And you can't stop thinking about it?" he guesses, still looking at her with unwavering attention. "Your daughter's words have power, dearie."

"Power?" she echoes, but he simply smiles and leans on his cane.

"What do you think, Mr. Nolan?" he says, shifting his attention to David. "Did your daughter say the same to you and you can't get it out of your mind either?"

"No," David says, but he meets Gold's gaze without wavering. "But if Mary Margaret says something is wrong, I believe her."

"Such faith in your wife," Gold says. "How very charming of you."

"What's wrong?" David cuts in, and Gold smiles as if he finds the directness more amusing than anything.

"I cannot tell you, dearies," Gold says after a moment. "You wouldn't believe me in any case. Listen to your daughter and you will know, in time."

With that, he shuts his door and leaves Mary Margaret none the wiser, but all the more worried.

Without any clear answers, they let the matter rest for a few days. Emma doesn't bring it up again, not even when Mary Margaret prompts gently. But still, Mary Margaret finds she can't quite rest.

She dreams, and wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling her mind desperately clawing at images that come apart the moment they come into focus.

She casually asks people how long it's been since they got here, if Ava and Nicholas seem older to them, and all the muddled answers give her is more of a headache.

It's as if everyone is in a fog, and she's the only one truly seeing it.

Except there is one she hasn't asked yet.

Regina looks surprised when she sees Mary Margaret at her door, but lets her in nevertheless. The part of the house that is Owen and Regina's has become cluttered with items much like her own house, Mary Margaret notes, like a family home.

"What can I do for you, Mrs Nolan?" Regina asks, but not quite in the icy tone Mary Margaret remembers from the beginning. Regina has thawed, slowly but surely.

Mary Margaret still feels nervous around her and isn't even sure why.

"Owen is becoming a lovely young man," she says, and Regina's face softens just a touch. "You've done a good job raising him."

"Emma looks to be growing up well," Regina comments after a moment's hesitation. From her, that is practically a glowing endorsement.

"Have you noticed no one else is?" Mary Margaret says after a few moments, and Regina's face shuts down and becomes a mask.

"What do you mean?"

"Ava and Nicholas, they're not growing older. Emma used to be younger than them. Now she's not. I don't feel any older than when I found her, but Emma is ten years now."

Regina watches her carefully.

"What you are suggesting sounds like magic to me, Mrs. Nolan."

Mary Margaret just nods helplessly. She knows it sounds crazy, and she feels out of her mind.

She looks up when Regina suddenly takes her hands and looks at her.

"Go home to your daughter and husband, Mary Margaret," Regina says kindly, almost softly. "It will make sense to you one day, I promise."

David greets her when she comes home, sitting down on the couch with her and holding her hands. They feel icy in his warm and firm grip, and she feels almost ill.

"Mary Margaret," he says worriedly.

"It's wrong," she manages to say, her lips feeling stiff. Something is either very wrong with everything, or with her, and the thought chills her to the bone.

"What is?" he asks softly.

"Time," she says helplessly. "This place. It's wrong."

"I don't understand," he says, and she knows he doesn't. He doesn't have Emma's words echoing in his head and driving him to the point of madness.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" she asks David, but he's shaking his head before she's even finished the question.

"No," he says emphatically, cradling her face in his hands. "No."

"I'm starting to feel crazy," she admits.

"You're not," he says, kissing her forehead. She closes her eyes as he continues kissing her face, as if looking to reassure her. She lets him, even knowing that he can't.

There is something wrong and she can't let it go.

In the evening, it's David who makes dinner and serves his family. At his insistence, he's wrapped Mary Margaret in a warm blanket and tells Emma that mommy is feeling a bit under the weather.

Emma looks worried at that, and doesn't leave Mary Margaret's side the rest of the evening. So for once it's Emma who reads a fairy tale to her mother, and Mary Margaret closes her eyes and listens while David does all the evening chores.

As Emma reaches the end of the story, she pauses.

"Do you believe in happy endings, mommy?" she asks thoughtfully.

"Yes," Mary Margaret admits. "It might not always seem like it in this world, but I believe in happy endings."

Emma nods. "I want to believe in them."

"I hope you will one day, honey," Mary Margaret says, and Emma leans against her. They sit in silence for a while, only David's distant humming sometimes breaking the silence.

"You're not sick like Granny was?" Emma finally asks, and Mary Margaret remembers that Granny's death was the first death Emma ever knew. So long ago now, yet...

"No, honey," Mary Margaret says reassuringly. "Granny was very sick, Emma. I'm just a little bit cold."

"I don't want you to be sick," Emma says stubbornly.

"I'll be fine again soon," Mary Margaret says, wishing she could make it sound like a promise. "Emma... Do you remember what you told me? About people not changing?"

"Oh," Emma says, sounding defensive. "I asked Nicholas about it and he said it was stupid. So I was just stupid."

"You're not stupid," Mary Margaret says, making a note to have a chat with Nicholas. "You're anything but stupid, honey. I believe you."

Emma's face lights up. "You do?"

"Yes," Mary Margaret says, thinking of what Gold said about listening to Emma. "Can you tell me why you think no one changes?"

"I've been thinking it for a while," Emma admits shyly. "Daddy keeps making marks on the wall to show how much I've grown."

Mary Margaret smiles at that. David's pride at his daughter growing up is impossible not to smile at, after all.

"Ava and Nicholas don't have marks on the wall," Emma goes on, sounding thoughtful. "Then I started thinking about it. I thought maybe because I was adopted, I was different."

"Oh Emma," Mary Margaret says softly. "You are our daughter in every way that counts."

Emma looks at her, something almost adult in her eyes. "I know. But I'm still different. I feel different."

Mary Margaret feels her heart break slightly, hugging her daughter close. It is part of growing up, she tries to reason, to feel different and even alone sometimes. Yet hearing her daughter voice it aloud is heartbreaking.

"It's okay to be different," she murmurs against Emma's hair. "The right people will love you for just who you are. That's what true love is."

"True love," Emma echoes. "That's what you and daddy have, isn't it?"

Mary Margaret glances over at where David is finishing stacking the logs to keep the fire going all night.

"Yes, honey, it is," she confirms. "But you want to know a secret?"

"What?" Emma asks breathlessly.

"It's what daddy and I have for you too," Mary Margaret whispers, and Emma's smile lights up her whole face.

"I love you too, mommy," Emma says, leaning forward to kiss Mary Margaret's forehead. "It's true love."

And inside Mary Margaret's head, something explodes.

She dreams.

Only this time the images are clear, crystal clear. There is David, only he is Charming, and there she is, only she is Snow.

There are their friends, their kingdom, their world.

And there is their daughter, the daughter they have to give up to give her her best chance.

Emma.

She dreams – no, she remembers.

"Mommy?" Emma asks, looking worried. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Mary Margaret – no, Snow - says, trying to keep her voice steady as her mind puzzles itself back together. She's... Oh, she's Snow and this is Emma, and this is... This is the curse, and...

She pulls her daughter into a fierce hug, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. Oh, Emma.

"I love you," Snow manages to say, the words feeling inadequate to describe what she's feeling right now. "Oh, Emma. I love you so very, very much."

"You're being weird, mommy," Emma complains and Snow has to laugh at that. She pulls away to look at her daughter properly as Snow again. She sees now just how a perfect mix of herself and Charming their daughter really is.

Emma. They had her and then ended up adopting her, making her their daughter twice over.

She can feel tears in her eyes, so she quickly leans forward to kiss Emma's forehead again to hide it.

"Come on," Charming – no, David – says, holding out a hand to Emma. She hadn't even noticed him approach, so lost in her regained memories and Emma's presence. Charming. "Let's give mommy some rest. She'll feel better in the morning."

Snow watches them link hands almost as if seeing them for the first time. Her husband, actually her husband in two worlds now. Her daughter, here as in the Enchanted Forest. Her family.

They found each other.

She closes her eyes, trying to steady herself. She remembers. She remembers everything, both Snow and Mary Margaret and it's almost like drowning. It's too much. She needs someone to hold on to, the only one who always knows how to keep her afloat.

She needs Charming.

"Emma?" she manages to call, her voice close to breaking. "Tell daddy what you told me and kiss him goodnight."

Emma nods regally, like the princess she truly is, following David while Snow watches them go with an aching heart. Oh, Emma. Their savior, truly their savior no matter what might happen with the curse. Emma brought them together and saved them all.

They got to raise her after all, Snow thinks distantly. She'll treasure all those years as Mary Margaret for that alone, no matter how cursed they were.

Regina, she thinks distantly. They have to deal with Regina. And Gold, who clearly knows judging by his remarks and attitude towards them and Emma. They have to find a way to tell Emma the truth too, and then find a way for Emma to break the curse so they can all return home and leave this world without happy endings, this ruined world.

So many things to do and yet there is only one thing she wants to do right now.

"Snow?" a voice says hesitantly, and she glances up to see David – no, Charming – look at her with a dazed expression.

"Emma kissed you," she says happily, feeling the tears in her eyes finally fall. She doesn't care. They're happy tears, good tears. She stands up, letting the blanket fall to the couch as she no longer feels cold. His gaze makes her feel warm instead.

"Yes," he says, taking a step closer. "She said she loved me and then kissed me and Snow... I remember."

"Yes," she says, smiling through her tears as he steps closer, and then closer still. She lifts a trembling hand to his cheek, and then it's as if something snaps in him and he pulls her into an almost crushing hug.

"Snow," he says, breathing hard as she clings to him. "Oh, Snow. Snow."

"Charming," she says, tasting his name again, so familiar and so forgotten all at once. "Charming."

"Yes," he says, laughing and crying as he kisses her face and swings her around. "Snow."

"Charming," she says. Her Charming, her beloved Charming in her beloved David. "You found me."

"We found each other," he replies and she links her arms behind his neck and kisses him, truly kisses him as if it's been a decade. In a way, it has been, after all.

He moans into the kiss, slanting his mouth across hers and parting his lips as she tugs at them. They kiss and kiss and kiss, until they're both panting and reluctantly pull apart.

"Snow," he says again, her name always such a caress when he speaks it.

"Charming," she replies, and he steals a kiss at that. He watches her with such wonder on his face, the same wonder she feels. "Emma, she's... She's our Emma, isn't she?"

He already knows the answer, she suspects, just wanting it confirmed. So she nods, and kisses away the happy tears that streak his cheeks.

"She's our Emma," she says, hearing her voice catch. Wordlessly, he takes her hand and they walk into Emma's room together.

Emma has fallen asleep in her bed, the tiny mobile of carved wooden figurines moving lightly above her. The crib she used to sleep in until she outgrew it is placed against the wall, used for toy storage now.

They built her a nursery twice, Snow realizes. At least one of them saw use.

Charming watches his daughter without saying anything, as if he finds her mere presence comfort enough. Every now and then he smiles faintly, as if wandering through David Nolan's memories of their daughter and seeing them anew.

Much like she is.

Finally, he leans down and kisses Emma's forehead.

"Sleep well, princess," he whispers, as lovingly as David would but now with Charming's love added in as well. It makes the lump in her throat grow, and so she wordlessly kisses their daughter with all the love she can muster.

Emma, she thinks, and aches with it.

They leave their daughter to her sleep, heading into their own bedroom and wordlessly embracing there. They cling to each other, and she imagines he feels as overwhelmed as she does.

He finally pulls away to look at her, his eyes bright. His hands cradle her face, caressing, and she lifts her hands to press against his chest. He's here, he's here with her. The last image she has of him as Snow was him dying on a floor, and the thought makes her clutch his shirt in her hands.

"We have a lot of things we need to talk about," she says breathlessly.

"They can wait until tomorrow," he murmurs, and she can only nod. She would have suggested the same thing, if he hadn't.

"Snow," he says, brushing his lips against her cheek, then hovering maddeningly close to her lips.

"You should probably still call me Mary Margaret in front of Emma and everyone else," she manages to say.

"Yes," he agrees easily. "But here, with just as us two, you're Snow."

"I'm Snow," she agrees, and he kisses her forcefully, pressing her against him. She sighs at that, slowly stepping backwards and pulling him with her, never breaking the kiss. He moans in encouragement as she pulls at his shirt, finally pushing it off his shoulders and letting her hands roam his chest.

His skin is warm and familiar under her palm, the lines like a familiar roadmap. The familiarity only heightens her desire, as memories of past times with him – as David, as Charming - make her cheeks flush with heat.

Soon she'll have another memory to add to it, she thinks, as the back of her legs hit the bed and she lets herself fall backwards, bringing her with him. He uses his hands to brace himself without breaking the kiss, his tongue brushing hers as her hands brush his abdomen and then dip lower.

He growls at that, but almost happily. David always had a way of making Mary Margaret feel bold, but now she knows it was Charming in him calling to her Snow. Charming loves her boldness, and so David did too, and, he smiles into the kiss as she impatiently tries to pull his jeans down.

"Snow," he murmurs affectionately, pulling away slightly to move them both further onto the bed and moving the covers slightly around them. He pauses for a moment, looking at her almost reverently and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you."

She kisses him at that, catching his lower lip between hers before brushing his lower lip softly, teasingly. He lets her, his hands intent on pulling her sweater off. The noise he makes when he succeeds and realizes she's not wearing a bra is triumphant, making her giggle into the kiss.

He laughs at the sound of that, and she joins him, feeling the joy of this moment almost overcome her. She has her Charming, her Emma, her family. The world ended, and yet here they are, after. Together.

He dips his head down to kiss her as the laughter dies, nipping at her lips while his hands move to her breasts. She arches into him as he moves his thumbs in circles around her nipples. He knows how to touch her, has since those first times they spent exploring each other as Snow and Charming. How David knew her body now makes sense, as if his hands and mouth remembered what his mind did not.

As hers did, she knows, and smiles at the noise he makes when she strokes him through the cloth of his worn jeans. Yes. Oh yes, and his teasing kiss becomes a hard, demanding one as his mouth encases hers.

That too, is familiar, the need in him that she feels in his kiss, that she feels when she kisses him. It's mixed with their love for each other, or perhaps it's simply a part of their love for each other. It's no wonder David and Mary Margaret were drawn to each other helplessly, not quite understanding it but feeling it.

They already loved each other. They just didn't remember.

As they did with Emma too.

Her lips feel swollen as Charming pulls away slightly, lowering his head to her neck instead. He sucks on just the right spot there, clearly remembering what it does to her, and she lets her head fall back against the pillow with a sigh.

He keeps kissing her skin as she closes her eyes, sometimes light butterfly kisses, sometimes lingering brushes of his lips and sometimes sucking lightly in a way that makes her clench her fists. He seems intent on kissing every inch of her skin available to him, and when he bites her nipple oh so gently, she can feel her nails against her palm so hard it hurts.

"Charming," she says, practically moaning his name. She can feel him smile against her skin before continuing, drawing more sounds out of her. She is practically panting as he lowers his head and kisses her stomach as he pulls her jeans off agonizingly slowly.

He glances up at her for a moment, his face bright with love and lust. He is so lovely to her, so breathtaking for simply being himself. Charming; Charming and David Nolan, and she loves both.

She whimpers as he gently palms her through her underwear, no doubt feeling the heat against his skin. Still, he takes his time rubbing his hands up and down first through cloth, then with an impatient groan, tearing her underwear off and it's his fingers against her skin.

She watches him watch her through lowered eyelids, gauging her reactions as he moves his fingers. She feels adrift in heat, sinking in it as his thumb circles and his fingers move – and then it overtakes her and everything is blinding pleasure.

She hears more than sees Charming stand up as her body and mind slowly seem to find each other again. After a few moments, she can feel him slip underneath the covers and feels his body on top of hers again. He's removed his jeans, she realizes, feeling him hot and hard against her stomach.

"Snow," he says, caressing her cheek as she blinks a few times to focus her vision. He is smiling at her, she sees, happily and maybe just a little pleased with himself. She smiles at that, then lifts her head and kisses him slowly.

"I missed you," he murmurs into the kiss.

"You had me," she counters, arching into him and seeing his pupils dilate at that. "Repeatedly."

"Mmm," he hums. "David Nolan did seem to have it hard for his wife."

As if to make the point, he grinds into her, and she can feel just how hard he still has it.

"Good," she says, linking her legs behind him as he slides into her, so wonderfully familiar and making her lips part in a soundless moan.

"Good," he echoes huskily. She clenches her muscles around him as he holds still, and he licks his lips and then hers. She kisses him at that, catching his lips with hers, as he begins to move. It's a slow pace he sets, long strokes deep into her that her body welcomes.

She can feel him moan her name into her mouth every now and then as he moves, his skin slick and warm against hers. All her bodily sensations seem centred on him, on his kisses, on his touches, on his skin, on him hard inside her. Charming, she thinks, her body seeming to hum his name as well.

She clings to him as he shifts them onto their sides, lifting her leg across his hip to allow him to continue to thrust leisurely. His hands keep touching her while she keeps kissing him, resting her own hands at his chest just above his heart.

He might have lost his memories, as she did, but his heart remained true, she thinks, and wonders how she would have managed if the curse had taken that from her, if David Nolan hadn't been so very Charming.

"I love you," she whispers against his lips as she feels his body shudder with his orgasm. He sighs happily, brushing his lips against hers with agonizing tenderness.

"Snow," he whispers, sounding breathless.

"Yes," she agrees. Tomorrow, she'll have to be Mary Margaret to the world, to their daughter, at least until they can figure out what to do about... Well, everything. But right now, she is Snow, and she has her Charming. And together, they have Emma. "Say it again."

"What?"

"Snow."

"Snow," he says, and she kisses the sound of her true name on her true love's lips, welcoming the change.

It's a night not like any other, and the quiet life David and Mary Margaret made for themselves and their daughter ends.

Snow and Charming's new life is about to begin – the first of many changes Emma is going to bring.