To Kill or Kiss

"Silence!"

Regina had remained quiet for long enough. Painfully unamused by the cacophony of discord that had erupted around her, she slammed a heavy gavel down three times in rapid succession. The vibrations carried through the mahogany until they quashed the last squabbling voice.

"One person at a time," Regina announced, raising her fingers to her temples to rub them gently.

She had regretted calling the emergency meeting the moment she crossed the threshold. Arguing over each other en masse, the meeting members had boisterously voiced their suggestions for combatting the rolling, cursed cloud that gathered at the town borders and now obscured the horizon in all directions. She observed Gold, across the table, who had remained disquietingly silent and Leroy, who sat steaming in his chair beside Snow, red-faced and tight lipped. She contemplated bringing food to the next meeting (if there was one), imagining how satisfying it would be to watch the dwarf choke on a mouthful of dry crackers.

"Calm down everyone," Charming began, "The fairies have already started creating a counter curse. Emma and Elsa are going to find Anna, using her necklace, and then bring her to them to enact it."

Emma, to her father's left, nodded in support.

"Blue said we don't even need Anna. So I say we scratch looking for the sister, use the necklace and go on with our lives," Leroy said indignantly.

"With respect David, there isn't much time. Regina has estimated ten hours and, from what I've heard, this curse has been three decades in the making." The usually taciturn cricket jumped in with ardency. "Which is why I think we should enjoy what time we have left."

"The Doc's right," Leroy agreed, "How many curses have we survived? We can't just postpone our lives every time a new villain struts into town. We need to send a message that this town, our town isn't going to take this sitting down."

"I can think of a message that only involves one finger," Regina muttered under her breath.

Leroy must have heard her, for he laughed, earnestly. "So you're on board?"

"It makes sense," Regina said. She looked at Charming, who seemed to share the dwarf's sentiment but was begrudged to agree.

Snow, to Emma's obvious shock, nodded her approval.

"Can we also go ahead with the preparations for tonight?" Archie said hopefully, "The ball was scheduled weeks ago."

"I can't see how throwing a party in the midst of an impending curse is going to benefit anyone," Regina said, checking her watch. She was late to meet Tink for lunch.

"Charity ball." Archie corrected. "And it's for the mental health awareness program."

"With all the unsolicited advice you already hand out, I thought you were it." Regina stood to take her leave. "If you have nothing to contribute, then I suppose you may hold your ball."

"Thank-you, Regina," Archie called after her.

"Anyway, Blue managed to reign in the fire but she almost had her eyebrows singed off in process." Tink laughed quietly to herself.

"That's great," Regina replied, sliding her fingers over the cool condensation covering her glass. Her attention was focused outside the diner, at the Charming crew who were trying to persuade Elsa to give up the necklace.

"And you're not listening to me, are you?"

"Right," Regina murmured distractedly. She took a long a sip of water.

"Mm hmm," Tink hummed from behind the safety of a large Granny's menu, "Because you've been staring at Emma's arse for the past minute."

Regina tore her gaze from the window. "I was not!"

"Look Gina, I understand you haven't been in the game for a while, but seriously, you have to tone it down a little," Tink deadpanned, "Unless you're going to put us all out of our misery and kiss her already."

Regina opened her mouth and closed it, heat flooding her cheeks.

"I am a bit surprised though, I've heard you usually prefer the bad girls," Tink grinned like a Cherie cat, ignoring her friend's reddening ears, "But I guess I can see the appeal, she does have the whole denim and leather, outdoorsy thing that you like."

"Shhh, not so loud!" Regina hissed, reaching out to grab the petite woman's arm. She tilted her head slightly to look around the diner. Fortunately, the fairies were hard at work and well out of ear shot.

"Come on, Gina. Everyone already knows you and Mal were more than just black magic buddies," Tink teased, a little louder than necessary. She quickly leaned back in anticipation for Regina's swat to her arm.

Regina crossed her arms. "That," she huffed, "is nothing more than an unfounded rumour."

Tink waggled her eyebrows mischievously. "So you're not denying your crush on lady lumberjack out there?"

"If you promise not to utter the phrase 'lady lumberjack' ever again, then I may admit to a slight attraction."

The bell on the door chimed as Emma entered with her family. She waved to Regina as she crossed the diner to Blue.

"Why haven't you done anything yet?"

"You're forgetting about the rum soaked pirate," Regina said dryly, "and the fact that all her misfortune starts with me," Regina said dryly.

"Who's to say you can't make her happy now." Tink leaned in conspiratorially. "And by make her happy I mean –"

Regina cut her off with a swift kick to the shins.

"Ow!" Tink chuckled, rubbing her leg. "So are you going to this dance tonight?"

"And be confined in a room full of sashaying fools? Absolutely not." Regina laughed. "If you fairies succeed then I'll donate to the cause."

"Don't include me with them," Tink said. "I have no idea what they're doing."

The rest of the afternoon had been a whirlwind. After an intensive search for Elsa, who had run off with the necklace which was to be their last saving grace, Emma finally found her, reunited with her sister. By the time they reached the diner, however, the fairies had vanished and presumed captives of the Snow Queen. In one last effort to save the town, Belle and Henry had helped Regina pour through volumes of texts, exhausting a multitude of shielding and counter spells. All that was left to do in last couple of hours before midnight was brace for the incoming storm.

Regina had attended countless balls in her lifetime. The ballrooms themselves were built scales of grandeur that could only befit kings, in palaces so large they dwarfed giants. As a child, she had marvelled at the dazzling rows of crystalline chandeliers and the fragile, veined wings of frolicking Fae depicted on grand tapestries that hung high above patterned marble floors. There was something about the swell of the orchestra across a gilded gold ballroom, that billowed and swayed the voluminous skirts of ladies-in-waiting and floated the rise and fall footsteps of foreign princes, that could only be described as magical.

As a young Queen however, reality soon turned lackluster, much like the complexion of brass with age. She began to see past the grandness of it all. Balls became a tiresome tradition, a way of passing time in beautifully opulent rooms filled with the surface level interactions of the perfect porcelain figures of royalty and gossiping members of court, all of whom were unknown to her. Regina doubted Storybrooke could change her mind.

"I looked at the expense report for this and I still don't see why they couldn't have used the hall for this," Regina grumbled to Henry and Tink as they walked toward the Town hall.

"Forever the pessimist," Tink sighed.

Henry grinned in anticipation, taking her hand to lead her across the lawn. "Just wait until you see it."

The brisk evening air carried the sounds of laughter and lively music. A massive, semi open tent had been erected on the grass outside. Several cylindrical gas heaters were stationed along its multiple entrances, spewing molten coloured flames several feet high, giving the impression that the great white canvas was catching fire. The whole town seemed to be here, in a mood of celebratory surrender juxtaposed with an undercurrent of fear for the glittering, lilac cloud that loomed above.

Inside, seated at a small table with her parents, Emma stared upwards, through draped fabrics and fairy lights, at the segments of night sky visible under the translucent tent canopy. She observed the figures of her friends dancing jovially to elaborate choreography that everyone seemed to have agreed upon beforehand. The fervent mood was infectious. Flutes of champagne sparkled under the yellow light among a sea of wide smiles and melodious laughter. She felt as though she were watching a David Attenborough documentary special. The tent full of disporting fairy tale characters was bizarre yet felt completely natural. The only other person who could possibly share her fascination was Henry.

"Sorry I'm late, love. Champagne?" Killian asked, offering a flute to Emma as he took a seat beside her.

"Thanks." Emma gladly received the glass and immediately raised it to her mouth to take a sip of the chilled, bubbly liquid. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted. "Is this pear flavoured?" she asked in surprise.

Her question went unanswered and she looked around the table expectantly. The chatter around them had abruptly dropped off. Emma moved to rest her arm on the table as she twisted towards the centre of the room's collective attention.

Regina stood in the entrance, one arm linked in Henry's suited arm. She wore a low cut, black gown which hugged her curves down to her waist, from which point it cascaded slightly outwards, in layers of fine netting, towards the floor. Her hair was pulled back tightly, highlighting her classic beauty. A thin gold chain glinted around her neck; Emma tracked its descent downwards, over defined clavicles until it disappeared between the soft swells of her ample cleavage.

For a brief second, Emma forgot herself and the use of her arm completely. Her elbow - which was originally table bound - missed the edge by a fraction, hitting nothing but air on its descent and effectively bringing down her whole torso in the process. The champagne sloshed about the flute, spilling half its contents on her crisp, white tuxedo shirt. "Shit!"

Beating Killian to the punch, David swiftly drew a pocket square from his breast pocket and passed it to Emma.

"Thanks." Emma accepted the silken cloth, set her glass down and headed towards the bathroom to clean the liquid that was slowly soaking into her shirt.

Regina's eyes found hers and she smiled.

"I knew this was a mistake," Regina hissed between her teeth, clenched in an awkward smile, "Everyone is staring at us."

"They're staring at you," Henry corrected, looking up proudly for a moment before he led her through the crowded tables.

"In a good way," Tink added.

The trio made their way to Charming and Snow, who were dressed in a coordinated crimson attire. Spying Emma rushing to the direction of the bathroom, Regina excused herself to follow. She drew a breath at the sight of Emma's reflection in the backlit mirror. Golden hair fell loosely in its usual style of voluminous curls around her face while the woman herself appeared to be alternating between furiously dabbing and blowing her shirt dry.

"I thought you weren't coming." Emma smiled, observing Regina through the mirror.

"Well I couldn't send Henry off alone and Tink already procured the dress." Regina absently fingered the length of her chain, looking around the bathroom. "I feel overdressed."

Emma glimpsed nervousness tint her painted lips, but it disappeared the moment her tongue slipped out to wet them. Composed, Regina moved forward.

"Said the woman who wore a blazer to Neverland," Emma joked. Regina was always better dressed than anyone one else in her presence. Emma found it hard to believe that anyone's opinion mattered to the former Queen. She looked over her shoulder and caught Regina's gaze. "You shouldn't, it's stunning - you're stunning."

Regina's eyes raked across Emma's form, taking in the tailored, black tuxedo suit and open, collarless shirt, unbuttoned at three buttons in slow appreciation. "You look quite dashing yourself," she smiled.

"Thanks," Emma stammered. Feeling the uncomfortable burn in her ears, she turned back to the mirror, occupying her wandering mind with patting her shirt dry.

"You could always wear it without the shirt," Regina suggested coolly, addressing her reflection.

Emma laughed nervously, sweeping hair away from her hot cheeks. "I don't think so. Besides, it's only a little wet."

"You're right. I might be too…distracting." Regina's eyes never left Emma's as she stalked behind her. She placed a steadying hand on Emma's hip and slipped the other between her torso and arm. "Allow me."

Whatever magic Regina was doing with her hands was working. Her shirt was dry but Emma was positive Regina's thumb didn't need to be inside her shirt, a hair's breadth away from grazing her stomach. She felt her skin grow hot at the proximity. Emma turned her head back, bringing their faces close together.

"Tell me the truth, Regina."

Regina pulled her hand away from the shirt. Had Emma discovered that she had lied to her about the spell page? As much as she wished that they didn't, her thoughts raced with potential lies.

"You've secretly always wanted to use that gavel, haven't you?"

Regina exhaled her relief and whispered, "When I want something, Emma, there's nothing secret about it."

As the hours of the night drew on, the energy dramatically declined. Killian felt terrible about what Gold had made him do to the fairies. He drained his hip flask, picturing their faces as they got sucked into the swirling, black vortex of the hat.

Emma tapped his shoulder. "Can I talk to you outside?"

Killian followed Emma outside the tent to a worn bench, just enough to seat two.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked, taking a seat. He watched her pace back and forth with a sense of apprehension. "You're nervous about this curse?"

"Yes, I don't know." she replied uncertainly, rubbing her forehead. She felt a sickening constriction from within her gut.

"Everything will be okay." Killian caught her hand to still her. He gently took the other hand in his and held on to her gaze. He had always perceived an inequality to their dynamic, but he had brushed it off. She was with him, he reasoned, and it didn't matter that he would always love her more than she loved him. "Emma, I love you."

Emma bowed her head. Killian rose to her level, and gently lifted her chin. "I can wait for as long as you need."

"No, I don't want that. It would be unfair to you." Emma had never felt so small or more disgusted with herself. This was the moment she had been dreading, perhaps since the beginning of their relationship when he told he how much he had sacrificed to be with her. How could she deny such devotion? She forced herself to watch the effect of the weight of her words register across his face. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner but you're charming and you traded your ship. And no man has ever done something like that for me."

"You want to stop?" he said blankly. It was more a statement to himself than a question to her. He nodded solemnly, ashamed that he could not control the pathetic waver in his voice and the tears that stung his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Emma whispered. Her eyes brimmed with tears at the kindness she still found in his.

Untangling their fingers Killian raised Emma's hand to his lips one last time and turned away, willing himself not to cry. If there was one thing that consoled him, it was the fact that the crocodile had his heart detained outside his body. He walked away with an overwhelming detachment from his psychical self and a new wisdom. Tonight he had learnt it was possible to feel the crushing agony of heartbreak in absence of an actual heart.

"I hate them," Regina sighed as she dropped down dejectedly onto the chair beside Emma, her dress ballooning out sightly. She watched Snow and Charming dance, wrapped up in each other's arms, faces inches apart, like they were the only two people who existed.

Emma smiled, "They don't seem real. It's like they-"

"-stepped out of a fairy tale," Regina finished, sipping champagne from her flute.

"If I didn't know them, I wouldn't believe it."

Regina nudged her and pointed towards the edge of the dance floor where Henry was dancing with a slightly taller blonde girl.

"Who's that girl?"

"He didn't tell you about Grace?" Emma said in surprise, "I think it's cute he has a crush."

"On Jefferson's daughter?" Regina squinted suspiciously, "How old is she?"

Emma sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. "I'm not sure, one or two years older."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Regina said, alarmed.

"Relax Regina, they're just dancing." Emma assured. "It's not like she's going to sew him into a top hat."

Regina raised an eyebrow at her. "Laugh all you want, dear, but that's exactly what I'm going to do to her if something happens to Henry," she replied, touching Emma's wrist lightly.

Silence passed between them as they watched the townspeople dance and Emma grew hyperaware of the arm that had not moved away and still rested innocently beside her own.

"Killian and I broke up." Emma said abruptly, in an effort to ignore the tingling warmth that spread through her arm.

Regina shifted herself to face her. "Are you alright?" she asked gently, tilting her head to the side in genuine concern.

"I don't know," Emma replied honestly, "I guess it was a long time coming. I just wanted you to know."

"Oh," was all that Regina could muster. She reached her hand to Emma's but thought better of it and pulled back. Regina suspected that was all Emma was willing to share. "Have you seen Leroy dancing yet?"

Emma scanned the dance floor for Leroy. Nobody had told him about the fate of Blue and the other fairies out of concern for the havoc he would undoubtedly cause when curse hit. She spotted him dancing in a large group with the rest of the dwarfs. She opened her mouth, both horrified and captivated by the jig. Judging from the look on Regina's face, she had caught sight of him too.

"He looks like one of those waving, inflatable advertisements on the side of the road," Emma said, straining to keep a straight face.

"Like possessed string cheese."

Regina was the first to let out a muffled snicker. Emma watched her shoulders shake with suppressed amusement. Her chuckle grew steadily into a youthful, unencumbered laugh, so contagious, it spread to the neighbouring tables and had them all roaring with laughter within minutes.

At half past eleven, as the last attendees headed home, Regina and Emma sealed Henry in the office upstairs and returned to the tent.

"Leave it to the imps to insist upon a party and leave the cleaning up to someone else," Regina cursed under her breath.

"Everyone in town will be tearing into each other in half an hour and you're worried about whether the chairs are stacked?" Emma said as she downed the last of her drink. She watched Regina conduct a procession of floating tables and chairs to a corner of the tent while simultaneously walking the perimeter and switching off the gas heaters one by one. The only illumination that remained was provided by the moon and tiny lights strung in vines above them.

"Are you coming?" Regina questioned although she knew the answer; she could hear the soft click of low heels grow closer. She had her finger on the last switch when she felt a light tug on her hand.

"Wait," Emma said, her tone half way between command and question, "Dance with me."

Regina had never imagined that such simple phrase could ignite her body with such painful exhilaration. She swallowed thickly and glanced to the disconnected speakers, her mind blank for excuses. "There's no music," she said finally. Emma only smiled knowingly and took her hand, leading her to the centre of the silent space. "This is ridiculous," she breathed, looking everywhere but Emma as she placed her hand atop her shoulder.

Stepping closer, Emma slid her hand around Regina's waist, almost losing her nerve under the liquid chocolate of Regina's gaze. "Okay?" she asked gently, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat hammering in her ears.

"Okay." Regina nodded, studying the bright flecks of light reflected in Emma's eyes. The moment they took their first steps, the opening chords of a slow electric guitar song drifted across the desolate dance floor. The mellow notes were joined by soft drums and low bluesy vocals in a tune so crisp, she wouldn't have been surprised to find a live band playing behind them.

Unable to hold the potency of Emma's gaze, Regina turned her head to the side and, with courage she never knew of possessing, drew the other woman into her. Sporadic gusts of frigid air blew in from the cold night but she only felt the radiating warmth of Emma's body pressed to her own.

To say that dancing with Emma was effortless would be a sinful understatement, for they danced as though their bodies had met many times over. They swayed in silence, neither of them in the lead as they glided across the floor. Although she was weary, both in mind and spirit, and her eyelids fought against gravity to stay open, she knew that she could dance underneath the soft glow of fairy lights, breathing in the intoxicating aroma of cinnamon and champagne for much longer than she cared to admit.

Maybe this world had its own kind of magic, Regina mused, for she had finally discovered, in holding Emma, that dancing was not magical at all. Dancing was simply the language through which souls conversed.