A/N – Okay, so here's where I get sappy.

This silly little fanfiction which has entertained, annoyed and hopefully touched you has taken me through eleven months and three houses. Writing it has made me laugh, cry, rage at myself. I've enjoyed myself – mostly.

But what has really touched me the most about this is reading all the messages from people who have read, enjoyed, related to or connected to this story.

Knowing that this has affected people has really affected me, and I'm rambling now but I just really want to thank every single person who has read (and stuck with!) this story, whether you've commented or not, whether I've managed to reply to you or not. I am incredibly grateful to every one of you.

So there's nothing left to say now, except...

41. The Last Beginning

Two Years Later

"Emma!" Regina cried out in surprise as she felt her girlfriend's warm lips press firmly against the side of her neck, felt her hands tighten either side of her waist. She ducked her head, trying to squirm away.

"What?" Emma's voice was still heavy and sleepy from the long morning in bed, but she could hear the hint of a laugh in her teasing tone. She smiled and gently brushed Regina's dark hair – now just brushing past her shoulders – aside and peppering more kisses up and down her throat. "What, baby, what's up?

"Emma," Regina protested, fighting to hold back a laugh. "Emma, stop it."

Emma grinned against the warm skin of her girlfriend's neck, arms locking tight around the brunette's waist to keep her in place. "You like it,"

Regina made an unimpressed noise. "I might, but Henry has enough on his mind without finishing breakfast with a live –"

"What?" Emma teased.

"Oh, stop it." Regina muttered again.

Emma sighed against her neck, giving in and pushing them over to the kitchen sink where Regina hopped up off the wheelchair, smoothed down her nightdress and leaned over to run the hot tap.

"Guys, just because I can't hear it out there, doesn't mean I wan to hear it," Henry muttered, walking through the doorway into the kitchen with a pointed look at Emma.

Regina smirked into the sink, reaching for the dish soap. "Well you can blame Romeo over there for that."

Emma caught Henry's eye as he trudged over to sit himself back down at the kitchen table and grab his juice glass, half empty from breakfast. He was still in his pyjamas, brown hair ruffled up at the back, and there was a smear of jam on his t-shirt. He yawned, rubbing at his bleary eyes. "You guys might have to put a dollar in the jar."

"No," Regina reasoned, turning off the tap. "The jar is for when you see stuff or when one of us swears to much – Emma. Hearing stuff doesn't count. And we were just kissing. And anyway – We told your parents we'd be over by twelve." Regina reminded them. "We have to start getting ready now or we never will."

"And what would be so bad about that?" Emma asked, catching Henry snigger out of the corner of her eye and biting back a smile.

"You're both impossible." Regina huffed. She crossed the kitchen back to the table, leaning over and stacking up their empty breakfast plates. The remnants of Sunday pancakes were scattered all across the polished wood.

It had been a pretty typical Sunday morning in their now shared house – Regina had woken up first and tried to get up and be productive. Emma had woken up and refused to let her leave the bed, where she'd been comfortably snuggled into the blonde's chest. At around ten, Henry had surfaced and climbed in with them to chat about everything and nothing. By eleven Regina finally managed to get them both out of bed, and of course, Sunday pancakes had been in order.

Maybe not the best idea, considering they were headed to David and Mary Margaret's for lunch soon, but it was a tradition nonetheless. And the quirky, hand-made traditions the three of them had cobbled together for themselves were taken very seriously.

"I can't believe you got me to stay in my pyjamas half the morning," Regina muttered, but Emma saw she was grinning to herself as she carried her plate over to the sink.

"I can't believe you wear that to bed," Emma smirked, eyeing the short nightdress she loved so much. Regina spun around and smacked her arm lightly.

"Guys," Henry warned, looking up from his phone with wide, serious eyes. "You're being gross again."

"Right, sorry." Regina set the last dish down on the kitchen side. "Well I'm going to go take a shower. Both of you better have these plates washed up by the time I come downstairs."

"Yes ma'am." Emma joked, casting a sneaky glance over at Henry – slumped on the side of the sofa, texting. Not yet thirteen, and he was already coming down with a case of gawky growth spurts and dorky crushes. He caught her eye, and though he didn't say anything, she knew they were thinking the same thing.

"Okay," Regina said, unaware of the wordless exchange. She smiled, dropped a quick kiss on Emma's lips and then hurried out the room and upstairs.

Emma waited until she heard the distant rush of the shower turning on before she spoke.

"Hey, kid," Emma called, glancing either side of the room to make sure the coast was clear. "You got a second?" She paused. "It's about Operation Cobra."

"Sure," Henry nodded and lowered his voice – already rough and uneven with the onset of puberty. He pulled out his earbuds and set his phone aside. "What is it? Did you find a ring?"

Emma breathed in and nodded. "I think it's the one, kid." Her stomach was fluttering at just the mention of it. "But I need your opinion."

She reached over the table to pick up her phone, quickly unlocking it and going to the gallery to find the photograph.
Even now, after all this time, it still amazed her sometimes. That she could just do that. Lean over and grab what she wanted.

That first day in Emma's bedroom, when she'd held Regina's hand and touched her face, had been just the beginning.

It took weeks after that, months even of intensive physiotherapy, before she had another surge of movement in her arms. Months still after that before she could call on it at will. But Emma went into the physio sessions every day with all the grit and determination of a soldier, Regina at her side every step of the way.

It was never humiliating, never aggravating like it was before. Not after Emma had had a taste of what it was like to be able to move and touch as she wanted. After that, she was willing to do anything for another shot.

The return of movement to her upper body and arms had happened slowly, piece by piece. First it had just been in her hands and wrists – the sudden surge in her upper arms that had allowed her to reach up for Regina that day was, apparently, a fluke. But it grew from there. First it was just being able to reach over and squeeze Regina's hand. Then it was re-learning to type on her phone, hold a pencil, crumple a ball of paper. After that came the long, slow journey to feeding herself, tying back her hair, eventually throwing a ball.

And after nearly a year of intense therapy, Emma was switched to a manual wheelchair: one she could push herself. The big mechanical monster that had been most of her life for so long was packed away and moved to her parents' shed. She couldn't quite bring herself to get rid of it, however much she had loathed it. After all, her first kiss with Regina had been in that thing.

It was a long, hard journey, but with the right support and encouragement and treatment plans, the little word at the top of all her paperwork had turned from quadriplegic to paraplegic.

And now, almost a year on from that, here she was. Sitting with Henry, comfortably holding her phone up in her hand. She frowned, swiping through her pictures until she found it.

"I have it on hold at the store until I decide," Emma told Henry, staring at the screen. She paused. "Alright then. Tell me what you think of this..."

She wiggled her eyebrows, breathed in hopefully, and held the phone out for him to look at. He shuffled closer til he could take the phone from her and get a good look at the snapshot on screen. Emma anxiously scanned his face for a reaction – after a second, his eyes got all soft and a little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"So?" Emma prompted.

"I really like it," Henry said, looking up at her with a dorky grin. "It's really pretty. Not too much, you know." He gave her a look, holding out her phone to her. "Mom's going to love it."

Emma grinned, taking the phone back off him and taking another glance at the photo. She couldn't stop looking at it every chance she got. Everything about it – the simple silver band, the twinkling princess-cut diamond, the memory of the lady at the store's sweet, knowing face - never failed to put a flutter in her stomach and a sparkle in her eye.

She looked back over at Henry, chest dancing with excitement. "You really think so?"

"I know it." Henry smiled. "That's the one. You have to get it. You have to."

"Tomorrow morning," Emma said. "Dad's given me a late start down at the station, but your mom will be at work. I can get it then."

"Awesome," Henry enthused. He paused, hazel eyes shining, and took a second to glance upstairs as if making sure Regina was still distracted. The faint noise of the shower was still going. He turned back to Emma. "When are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know, kid." Emma breathed in. "Soon, I think. When the moment feels right. I mean, I don't want to make a big fuss but I want it to be romantic. Special, you know? Your mom's a real sap at heart, and she's been through all this before so I kinda want –"

"Say no more," Henry held up his hand, smirk starting to crawl over his placid face. "I know exactly what you need to do."

-0-

The day rolled around within a matter of weeks, and before she knew it, she was standing in the living room waiting for Regina to come downstairs with a grin on her face that hadn't left for days, and a mass of butterflies in her stomach that seemed to have taken up permanent residence there.

"You got everything?" Henry asked, glancing either side of the room, making sure his mom wasn't down yet. He paused, hazel eyes sparkling as they met hers. "You've got the ring?"

"Right here," Emma patted her jacket pocket with a breathless smile. The butterflies in her stomach where bringing up a storm. She paused, glancing down at herself for the thousandth time. "How do I look?"

"Great, 'Ma." Henry assured her, using the word that still made her heart ache with love for this kid, this kid who had taken her on and brought her into his family without a complaint. It was originally a shortening of her name, but now it was starting to feel like something more. Something more maternal. He smiled reassuringly. "You look really pretty."

"Thanks, kid," Emma grinned. She hadn't been sure whether or not to wear a dress or trousers or what – hell, she'd even considered a full suit. It was just something that needed to be thought through. Too much of a fuss would be out of character, and Regina would know something was up. Not enough, and she'd probably regret it for the rest of her life.

She'd settled on a dress in the end, plain and simple and un-dressy enough to be her, but expensive enough that it was still nice. She was wearing a suit jacket with it, since she needed a pocket for the ring, but Henry told her a thousand times that it worked, and she wasn't ashamed to accept fashion advice from a teenage boy. (Or get him to help curl her hair at the back. But they'd sworn never to talk about that.)

She was taking his advice about the simple speech and the fancy restaurant, too. But who was she to question him? After all, he knew Regina better than anyone.

At the sound of heels clicking down the stairs, both Emma and Henry jumped.

They exchanged a final glance, Henry giving her hand a quick squeeze and whispering one last good luck, Ma in her ear before the living room door opened and Emma's heart stopped.

Regina slipped through the doorway, brushing back a dark lock of barely-curled hair back from her face. She paused when she registered the unusual silence in the room, and saw the way both Emma and Henry were staring at her.

"What?" Regina asked, confused.

"Nothing," Emma said, voice heavy with love, hint of a smile on her lips. "You just look... so beautiful."

"Oh," Regina couldn't fight the slight flush of warmth to her cheeks. "Thank you."
She was wearing a classy dark-red dress Emma had never seen before, tailored just right. Her hair, now shoulder length again, was curled gently at the ends – clearly, she hadn't needed any help. Both her heels and her lipstick matched the colour of her dress.

Emma tried to stop herself from grinning the biggest, cheesiest grin that was threatening at the corners of her mouth. She had to keep this low-key, damn it. Just a normal anniversary date-night. But Regina was standing there, and she didn't have a clue, and yet she looked so fucking gorgeous, it was all Emma could do not to pop the question right there.

"You look beautiful, too, Emma," Regina said, almost shyly. After a second, a mischievous smile quirked at her lips. "If I didn't know you I'd almost say... Refined?"

"Oh, stop it, Mills." Emma laughed. "You flatter me."

Regina smiled teasingly, brushing her hair back behind her shoulder again. "The reservation's at eight, you said?" She reached for her coat, the tailored black one hanging over the back of the sofa, and started to shrug it on. "We should probably get going soon."

"Probably," Emma agreed, nodding. Oh god. Oh god. A fresh wave of butterflies in her stomach had her heart doing somersaults. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Henry giving her a knowing look.

"Right, well, you know where everything is if you get hungry," Regina told Henry, straightening her coat and turning to face him. "Just give us a call if you need anything. We'll be back around ten thirty, maybe –"

"Mom." Henry gave her a look. "I'll be fine. You go enjoy yourself. It's your anniversary, after all."

"Kid'll be fine." Emma assured her, buttoning up the front of her jacket and brushing the pocket with her fingers, just to feel the shape of the little black box inside. A shiver ran down her spine at the feel of it.

Henry walked them to the front door, where he gave Emma one final reassuring smile and nod while Regina was distracted fishing the van keys out of the bowl in the foyer. When she came up with them, they broke the look and Henry turned to her.

"I love you, Mom," Henry said, with a little smile, before reaching out and pulling Regina into his arms. Even with her heels on, they were still of a height now, and her chin tucked over his shoulder like puzzle pieces.

"Now go on, you two." When he let her go, he ushered her out onto the porch, smiling. "You guys have fun."

The drive out to the restaurant went by in a flash. Emma barely remembered any of it, all the joking and sweet words and streetlights and radio music blurring together into a mess of nervous anticipation, a squirming in her belly and sweat on her palms.

The waiter showed them to their candlelit table, and just like that, they managed to sink into an evening perfectly reminiscent of other dates and other nights, perfectly them, perfectly easy. Even the nerves in Emma's gut went away – almost.

It wasn't until after dinner that Emma lifted the bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses. The lights of the restaurant shone against the glass, making strange patterns dance in the deep red wine. Wordlessly, she lifted her glass for a toast – Regina, smiling, picked up her own and the glasses met with a soft clink. Emma caught her eye across the red tablecloth, heart pounding like crazy.

"Aren't you going to toast?" Regina asked, raising a coy eyebrow.

Now or never.

Emma breathed in and nodded.

"Yeah. Actually, I am." She said. "Except I'm gonna toast..." Emma flashed a smile. "To you."

Regina's face softened, cheeks flushing a little pinker in the arm light. "Emma..."

"Look, Regina, can I say something?" Emma smiled, green eyes purposefully finding brown and holding on. She took a deep breath. "When I first met you, I was in a really bad place. I didn't enjoy anything, I didn't care about anything. There were some days when I wondered why I even bothered getting up at all.

"And then I met you.

"And I had no idea that you were about to not only change my life irrevocably for the better, but become the most important part of it. I had guards up a mile high, but you clawed your way in and refused to get out, no matter how much I pushed you.

"Now, I'm not saying there was a reason or a divine plan to any of what's happened to us, but I am saying that..." Emma breathed in, trying hard to hold back the tears burning behind her eyes for just a few minutes longer. She needed to finish, and then she could let it all out.

She raised her eyes back to Regina's. "I can't speak for you, but I can say quite happily that I'd rather live my messy story and all the scrapes I've had, than anyone else's. I'd take my crappy childhood and my tragic car accident every time. Because it got me to you.

"And if I hadn't spent years growing up alone, then I wouldn't have got to find and love my parents. And if I didn't have them, then I wouldn't have had that car crash. But if I didn't have that, I wouldn't have met you.

"So I guess what I want you to know is that every moment was worth it. Every second of pain and misery, every trip to the hospital, every embarrassing, agonising, time-consuming physio session, and all the drugs and doctors and sleepless nights, were worth it. I would go through it all again, willing, because I know it meant that someday –" She breathed in. "Today... I could do this."

Emma inhaled slowly, forcing herself to be brave, and reached into her jacket pocket. Confidently, her fingers closed around the little black box and pulled it out. Slowly, precisely, she lifted the lid.

Regina was staring at her.

"Regina Mills." Emma's green eyes were dreamy and resolute, never leaving hers. "I love you. I need you. I can't imagine my life without you." She paused. "Would you do me the incredible honour of becoming my wife?"

Regina's breath caught in her throat.

Her big brown eyes were softer than anything, lips slightly parted, staring and staring and staring with her breath coming gently, like the tide against the shore.

For a long time, she looked at Emma, with her heart caught up in her throat, thinking about the ache in her chest, and about Mother, and Robin and being loved and being fucked up and how for once, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered now was Emma's eyes on hers, and the feeling inside of her like maybe for once, everything was going to be okay.

Maybe it already was.

And suddenly, Regina couldn't keep it all in. In an instant, she was out of her seat, hurrying around the other side of the dinner table and launching herself into Emma's wheelchair, into her arms, and wrapping herself so tight around her she might never be able to let go.

It took her a disorientated second to get her hands in the right place – Emma's hair, Emma's cheek – for her lips to find Emma's. Regina clung onto her like a life raft, kissing her as if her life depended on it. She couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. Didn't ever want to.

"Wait, is that a yes?" Emma laughed, barely getting the words out between the flurry of kisses. Breathless, she managed to pull back, her eyes finding Regina's like fireworks, like celebrating. "Are you saying yes?"

Regina nearly laughed. In her rush of emotion, she'd forgotten to actually answer the question. "Yes!" Regina cried, as if Emma was ridiculous for even doubting it. "Yes, yes, yes, of course, yes."

"Yes?" Suddenly it was Emma awash in emotions, staring utterly hopelessly at her girlfriend – no, fiancée. "Yes? This is really happening?"

Regina's dark eyes found hers, drawing closer until their noses were touching. "Does this feel real to you?" She whispered, voice soft and heavy with happiness, before she leaned in to meet her lips in a long, gentle kiss.

Emma could feel herself smiling into it, even as warmth stirred heavily in her stomach. As she moved her mouth him tandem with hers, one hand anchored firmly in the silky dark hair at the back of Regina's neck, her other arm going to wrap tight around her waist. Still, she was unbelievably, unendingly grateful that she could do just that.

She always would be.

Together they had beat the odds, beat fate, beat anything that said miracles couldn't happen, or that the impossible was just that.

And, Emma thought, relishing the feeling of her fiancée in her arms, we'll carry on doing that.

Now, and forever.