Author's notes:

The serious warning: Hark, hark before we start! Proceed carefully into this story. There are scenes that will be triggering for some. Hence, the M rating.

This story: Sometimes things like this happen: I came across a painting by Alyona Lewis called Angels with dirty hands. It didn't take much to hijack this story from a one shot to this. I can't upload the image here as it is copyrighted. Might I, however, suggest that you look it 's beautiful.

Despite the warning, it still managed to make laugh as I was writing it. It's not all doom and gloom, you know?

Thank you to the lovely MarieYOTZ for her betaing and lovely comments.

Now, on with it.

Much love to you all

Jane

Chapter 1

Snow fell mercilessly in swirls of white fury and the wipers of her windshield were simply not coping. The tires were still skidding even though Regina had been doing her level best to keep her foot off the brake pedal. Stupid she called herself over and over under her breath. She knew the storm had been coming in, she had felt it in the air, had seen in the way even the owls had kept to their nests and still she had postponed going into town until it was too late. One day, this fear would have to stop and she would actually have to face doing her grocery run when more than the store keeper would be in the shop. It didn't really count as facing reality otherwise.

But what do shrinks know anyway?

Now her calf muscles were aching from the sheer effort of not pressing on that pedal against her every instinct, her fingers were stiff from holding on too tight to the steering wheel and her eyes burned from trying to see ahead and it hit her then that this was her life in a nutshell- out of control, unable to see where she was going and still fighting tooth and nail to hold on. All the while failing miserably, lost and alone.

She wiped a tear away and in a moment of weakness, wished she didn't have to be alone. Not on her birthday, not again.

And then the whiteness of the road was broken by a dash of yellow careening down the slope, hurtling towards her. Her foot hit the brake then, Daddy's lesson about driving in the snow completely forgotten as if it had never been and the black Mercedes slipped into a halfhearted spin to get mercifully stuck in a bank of snow. The airbag exploded white and hard between the whiplash of the seatbelt and the thump of her forehead against the steering wheel. Her face grazed the cushioning of the airbag before the lights out moment.

… … …

Regina came to and there was only white. Her cheek and forehead were starting to burn in increments and she gingerly touched then. No damage beyond the carpet-like burning on her skin. She looked outside her window. The yellow was a car that had slammed against something far harder than a snow bank judging by the plume of dark smoke coming out of the engine.

Regina staggered out of her car, her movements hindered by the inflated airbag. She took one look at her car, half hidden under the bank of snow and she strode- as much as possible in her heels and the ten inch snow carpet - to the car. She wrapped an armor of aggression around herself during that short walk.

Through the curtain of the falling snow, she could make out the form of the driver, slumped against the steering wheel. She kindled the anger carefully until it roared loud in her ears, so loud that it filled the stillness of the empty road and lifeless forest. The driver remained slumped against the wheel. Good she thought, for driving her into a ditch where no one would be coming to help her out from even if this hadn't been the storm of the decade, probably of the century. The more the gravity of her situation sunk in, the more forceful her steps became, the harder her fists clenched. She was going to drag the idiot from the car, punch him the face, kick him when he was on the ground and leave him there to die of exposure. The train of murderous thoughts fortified her every step, gave her a confidence she hadn't had when she got out of the Mercedes.

She grabbed the handle of the door and pulled, quite unaware that the moment the door refused to open, her life had changed forever.

She tried again and again, getting angrier by the second. She leaned to peek inside at the still unmoving driver. She tried the door again, this time with more urgency than anger and it finally gave, propelling her backwards to fall on her back.

She stood and dusted the snow off her clothes and moved to the slumped driver. Carefully, she touched the shoulder. "Hey!" That was not good. There was no airbag and the driver had clearly been far unluckier than herself. "Hey!" She tried again, her anger subsiding, giving way to worry. She pulled the driver by the shoulders worrying at the damage caused by the forehead hitting the steering wheel.

There was moan of pain and then a pair of green eyes opened, a trickle of blood falling from a gash over the eyebrow. A girl. A child really, Regina thought when she pulled the knit hat and a tumble of blond hair came cascading down the slim shoulders. Her knees buckled. Oh God.

"Are you okay?"

There was another moan as reply and a pair of green eyes opened momentarily only to slide shut again. Regina felt a little flurry of panic. No, no, no. She pulled back and looked around her in the vague, distraught hope that help might be on the way, help from someone better than her, someone good and savior-like. Visions of red blood staining the snow made her breath catch in her throat and suddenly, the only sound was of the blood in her ears, the pounding of her heart, the gentle thumping of the heavy snowflakes on the frozen ground. No, no, no, her carefully constructed composure was slipping, slipping from her control as her trusted anger gave way to panicked concern. "Come on, don't do this. Please wake up." She took the girl's shoulders and barely refrained from shaking her. "You're okay, you're okay, come on, you're okay. You're okay."

"Don't panic. I'm okay." The girl mumbled, one hand going to the gash on her eyebrow the other remaining on her lap. "I just need a minute."

"Let me help you out." Regina moved forward and had visions of the girl's legs pinned by the steering wheel, crushed, broken. And then the girl was out of the car. "I'm okay. See?"

But the moment she said the words, she lost balance and slumped against Regina who could do little more than slow down and cushion the fall.

"I need my phone. I need to call an ambulance. We're not far from town."

"No need. Just a little dizzy. See?" The girl tried to stand. Regina hoped the girl managed it. If she had to make a call to the emergency service, the moment they identified Regina's voice or number was the moment that the girl would die without help. But the girl swooned again and this time she placed a hand clearly protecting her midsection as she fell down. Regina moved on instinct to support her, her head doing the quick mental jig. "You're pregnant."

And now that her mind had taken the leap, she could see it clearly, the parka jacket revealing now more than hiding the bump of the girl's midsection. Panic flooded Regina's body replacing all her blood. The girl was pregnant and in a car accident. Without an airbag. Her heart thrummed and her fingers and toes prickled painfully.

"Just a little." A lopsided, fearful smile colored the girl's cheeks."Please don't call anyone."

But Regina did something between a crawl and a stride, unable to fully regain balance and coordination. She reached her car and fumbled with her purse until she got her phone. She'd get the girl to call. She'd get the girl to tell them her name and they would come. For this girl they would come.

The phone was dead. She looked at it stupidly and then at the girl. She banged the phone against her hand, screen against the heel of her hand but nothing made the network sticks come out of wherever they had gone to. Down. Dead. Mute. Useless. She growled in fear and frustration. This girl was going to die on her and it would be her fault all over again and this time she would not survive the mob. This time, she wouldn't.

"Where's your phone?" She rushed back to the girl. When she got no swift reply, she trudged to the yellow car, smoke still billowing from the engine, her intention clearly to rummage through the car until she found one.

"I don't have one."

"You don't?" Regina felt her heart sink all the way to her toes.

"No. But I'm okay. I'm fine. Nothing happened, see?" But there was a grimace of pain when she tried to stand.

Regina looked about her, the messy, convoluted tire tracks on the snow, the darkened snow marking the white blanket on the ground, the sky a darkening, heavy grey. "No..." Though she was not quite sure of what she was refusing. "It's not…" And she looked at the girl's very pregnant body. How could a child understand the danger? "You need…" Her frustration locked the words inside her, made her stumble on her own tongue.

The girl took her hand and pulled it to her, unzipping the parka in a show of dexterity Regina could not have mustered at that moment. "See?" She brought Regina's hand to her now visible belly and pressed her cold hand atop Regina's to keep it in place. "Feel that?" Not for a moment, Regina didn't, not with the invasion of her personal space, not with the thought of someone else's skin on her hand. Her touch on someone else's body. She couldn't have felt a thing through the panic. But the girl's hand just pushed hers around a fraction and then it was all Regina could feel, the warm firmness under her hand and under that, a gentle thump, like someone calling her. Calling out to her.

"You're pregnant." She stuttered dumbly because words kept on failing her. As if only now she understood that state of pregnancy meant that the outcome was a small human, more than a bump on someone's belly. It scared her and she pulled her hand away. "You need a doctor."

"I'm okay, lady. Nothing happened. Kid's kicking. Everything is fine."

Regina looked at her car and then at the yellow metal heap against the rock, the smoke still persistent with none of the comfort of a campfire. Her body stiffened and all the while, she could still feel, like a phantom pain, that soft, warm thumping against her hand. She rubbed it against her pants, trying to get rid of the sensation.

She clenched her hands and found her anger in the maze of panic and confusion. Like hell nothing had happened. She'd be lucky if she could pull her car from the snow bank. She took her anger by the hand and ran with it because it was safer than that warm thumping in the palm of her hand. She rounded on the girl. "What do you mean? Look at the state of my car. Look at the state of yours. We could have died here. You're pregnant and you're driving in this weather. What the hell is wrong with you?" But the girl just stood there, trying her best to look impervious to Regina's ire.

"Nothing. I just had an errand to run. Got caught in the storm, a little lost, that's all. But it's getting worse, so we both better get going. Sort of like now. The snow is piling and pretty soon neither of us will be able to get to where we're going."

"Your car isn't going anywhere. Look at it. It's hugging a rock." And to prove her point, the little yellow car gave a loud sputter, a dying gurgle of sorts and a hiss of steam and then it all went silent. "I'll take you back to Storybrooke. Let me take you to the hospital."

"No." And if there was anything Regina recognized was the panic, familiar as an old song in her ears.

"You need to be checked out. Your baby needs to be checked out. You were in accident. God knows what could have happened to your baby."

That gave the girl pause. She stood awkwardly and Regina had a feeling that this girl had a grace about her that was hidden under the parka and the pregnancy curves. She pushed her hair from her bleeding forehead and studied the blood on her fingers. She cleaned it on her pants and put her hands on her belly. Regina could see her, standing a little bit straighter, a little bit taller. There was, Regina could see, both fear and determination warring for prominence in the young, angelic features.

"I can't."
"What do you mean?"

The girl smiled something soft and brief and then her face was closed off again. "I mean, I don't need to. He's fine. Baby's fine. He's moving. He's got a good cushion here."
"Still. You should get yourself checked and_"
"No. I can't. Please." Panic won. "Please don't make me."

There is something about a desperate soul that always appeals to another desperate soul and even though Regina refused to acknowledge that, she decided that she could stand to be fooled for a little while. If there was one thing Regina knew well was fear. She took the girl's arm and directed her to the Mercedes. She opened the back door and assisted the girl to sit. At least she might as well keep warm while they sorted this mess. Going back to Storybrooke was going to take at least another hour if they made it in one piece. She closed the door and walked around the car hoping against all hope that the tires would find purchase so that she could back away from the ditch her faithful little car was in.

She sat in the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition noting for the first time, as her fingers closed around the key, how frozen she was. Her heart flooded with relief when the engine roared to life at the first attempt. She gunned the heating and rubbed her hands together to make the blood circulate.

She found the courage to turn in her seat and look the girl, noting how her lips were turning a little blue and the skin was deathly pale. "Please don't. Not Storybrooke."
"Your car can't go anywhere else. How far along are you?"

The girl covered her belly with her hands, pathetic protection though it was. "Almost eight months. Almost."

"But you're not sure."

The girl simply shook her head, the golden curls swinging delicately around her face.

"Tell me where to take you. It might be while until your… husband…" Regina let the word hang in the air for a brief moment noting it had come out bitter and stodgy against her tongue. "… boyfriend… your father…" And still no acknowledgement, not a flicker of it. "Comes looking for you…"

The girl looked at the yellow car and then at her hands covering her belly. "No one is going to come for me." To Regina it sounded like a lie but she was not sure what to do with it, so she just stared ahead and imagined that if she could pray, if there was someone willing to listen to any of her prayers, then, perhaps, they might assist her. Just this once, she murmured. Just this once. She put the car into reverse and hit the gas pedal softly, hoping not to hear the tires skidding uselessly on the snow. She took a deep breath. If the tires turned and turned without moving the car, it would just pack the snow into ice and then she would not be able to move. But for some miracle, the car moved. And inch at a time, her foot gentle on the gas and the car moved backwards. Regina could have cried in relief. The car moved.

"Please don't take me back." Came the plaintive mewling from the back.

"Where do you want me to take you then? The next town is too far away to drive in this weather." The snow was now being dumped rather than falling and the flakes were getting bigger and heavier.

"Please…"

What were her options, really? Storybrooke? She wasn't sure if the girl even belonged there. To someone there. And even if she did, they were an hour at least away and the tremble on the dirty little face's lower lip and the refusal to meet her eye was a persuasive thing. The next town over was twice as long away if they made it. It was dark and cold and her hand still felt the thump thump thump against it. Regina reached inside her for her trusted anger, faithful companion of her lonely nights, but it was little more than a clank and crank of her brain, like the engine of the yellow car dying smashed against the rock. "Where are your things?"

"Please…"

"Don't make me go looking for them. It's cold and I'm freezing and there's no telling when someone else might come down this road and hit me too. Where are your things?"

"Trunk."

Regina got out of the car plodding on the newly white snow, cursing everything from her heels to the weather and the makers of Volkswagens. She opened the trunk and saw only a small carton box. No purse, no suitcase. A carton box with an old baby blanket with Emma stitched in clumsy letters. She spared the girl a look under her lashes and sighed when all she saw was a child, frightened and alone. Then she plopped the box in her trunk and returned to her seat.

"What's your name?"

The girl remained furiously silent, one hand over her swell of her belly the other shielding her eyes which were, Regina was quite sure, to the brim with tears.

She repeated the question and the girl repeated the silence. "I will drive you to the Sheriff's station…" The unless was redundant. Smart girl.

"Mary." Regina felt her teeth grinding despite her best efforts.

"What's your name, Mary?" Regina asked and restarted the engine. The windshield was completely covered in snow cocooning them in their own world of whiteness.

"Emma." Came the reluctant, angry reply. "Emma Swan."

"Okay. Let's get you a cup of tea, Miss Emma Swan."

And Regina carefully stepped on the gas pedal, slowly starting the Mercedes forward, praying that this was not one more of her many, many mistakes.