NOTES: Scroll down.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death, blood, gore, violence and suicidal thoughts.

Chapter One.

It'd been nothing but sun for weeks. Nothing but sweat and dry skin and heat. It was the kind of weather that demanded cold popsicles and air conditioning, hours in the pool or Sundays at the beach. Weather like that had been far and few between in Maine, where all it ever was was overcast skies and rain. A sunny day in Storybrooke meant half-a-day in school, because no one wanted to be cooped up inside when the sun was out and shining. Not the students, not the teachers. But it'd been a year since she'd last seen her hometown, a year since the virus broke, a year since the world went to hell and all shit hit the fan. Regina woke to rain for the first time in weeks. It pounded heavily on the tin roof of the shed she'd stumbled across late last night. There were no windows, but she didn't need to see the sky to know that the rain that fell, fell hard. She wouldn't be leaving here for a while, not until it stopped, not unless she absolutely had too.

She didn't want to anyway.

Exhaustion had finally set in and she was tired. So, unbelievably, tired. Water leaked from somewhere, tickling the back of her neck as it trickled down the concrete floor. If she'd had a blanket, she'd have set it down to lie on overnight, but all she had was a bag and an oversized sweater, which she had to use to keep somewhat warm as she slept. Or, tried to sleep.

Regina hasn't slept properly for months, waking to the sounds of broken sticks and groaning, or to her own choking yelps. She lay on her side now, the sleeves of her sweater curled in her hands as she held them to her chest, shivering. A heavy thump outside startled her slightly, and her eyes settled on the door that she'd barricaded with a locker cabinet she'd pushed from the other side of the room. 'They can't get in,' she tells herself, closing her eyes and turning her head so her forehead can rest against the cold concrete beneath her. 'They can't get in.'

She's not sure how long she'd lain like that, her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth chattering. Maybe she fell asleep, or just lost track of time, but the heavy rain turns in to a light trickle and somewhere in the distance, a bird sings. It must be clear outside. The bird wouldn't sing otherwise. So, reluctantly, Regina drags herself to her feet, secures her bag on her shoulder and rolls up the sleeves of her sweater. She can't stay here. As much as she'd like too, as much as she'd rather just die in this tin shed, she can't. She made a promise, one she intends to keep.

Pushing the cabinet away from the door is a lot harder than it was when she pushed it in front of the door yesterday. But she gets it to move with a little strain, enough for her to somewhat open the door and squeeze through the crack. It's wet and muddy outside, but the air is clearer than it has been in weeks and she inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and tilted her head back a little. She hasn't got time for this, she has to keep moving, but one second of peace amongst absolute chaos is too tempting to pass up.

If she tried, if she really tried, she could imagine the world as it once was. She could pretend that she were camping, that she'd just woken to a stoked fire and freshly caught fish, her fiancé in the midst of teaching their son all his secrets - secrets Regina never bothered to learn. Not because she didn't want to, because she would've spent hours listening to Daniel speak regardless of the topic he chose, but because she wasn't a camper by trade. That one time three years ago had been the first and only time she'd accompanied them, because that was their chance to bond and Regina loved her espresso machine too much to survive more than one weekend in the woods.

Oh, the irony.

Opening her eyes, Regina blinked and squinted, the sun blinding her momentarily. God, that was stupid. Bowing her head, she rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one of her hands, before she hoisted her backpack further up her shoulder, and she began to walk. It was quiet, but it was a calm kind of quiet. With the slight breeze rustling the leaves she pushed aside and the sound of that morning bird chirping, her day started well. She could only hope it ended so too.

She's light on her feet now, she notices. Easily avoiding branches she knows will snap underfoot, gently pushing aside bushes that block her path. Even her breath comes quietly, only the rise and fall of her chest to tell her that yes, she is alive. Go figure. Head down, Regina walked, following a trail that she could barely see. It'd been months since anyone walked this path, that much was obvious. But there were breaks off to the side, and it wasn't hard for her to figure out that a fair few of them had wandered by recently. The site had her pausing above a particular mark in the dirt, and she stared down at it. They had been so close to her, so very close. The storm had masked any sounds she may have made in her sleep - Regina had always been a light sleeper, but she didn't have anyone as of late to confirm that she still was. Her dreams were more nightmares now, and she'd always woken with a sore throat and a racing heart. But if it weren't for that storm, if it weren't for the thunder and the rain, she may not have woken this morning at all.

Moving on, Regina left the mark in the dirt behind, as well as the shed she'd called home for the last three days.

"Mama?" She smiles, small and subtle as footsteps race towards her; little footsteps from the little feet of a little boy, and she braces herself against the kitchen counter. Palms up against the edge, she lets out a loud 'oof' as a small body crashes in to her legs, and she looks down. "Mama, I founded you!" Eyes widening, Regina turned in his little arms and crouched, letting his arms wrap around her neck, and she bopped him on the nose. "You did find me, aren't you clever?" Her grins at her toothily, and her heart positively melts. It amazes her, and it angers her, and it confuses her like nothing else, how someone could possibly abandoned such a sweet child. He is positively adorable, with his floppy brown hair and his bright hazel green eyes, two front teeth missing and a third by the right corner of his lip. He's been her son for two years now, and she's been absolutely in love with him just as long.

Long legs appear in the corner of her eyes and she looks up, smiling at her soon to be husband, before she rises to her feet, their son's legs wrapping around her waist as she sits him on her hip. He's getting far too big for this, but she dreads the day that he's too big to lift, or that he's too embarrassed to be carried by his mother. "I told him you were in here but he didn't believe me - he had to go through the whole house." Laughing, Regina glanced down at his grinning face as he played with her hair. She bounced him on her hip a little, revelling in the squeal of 'Mama, no!' that he shouted in her ear before erupting in to laughter, and she swooped in to sloppily kiss his cheek. Hands on her hips drew her closer, and she leaned back in to Daniel's embrace, as he dove for the other side of Henry's face.

His peal of laughter echoes in her head, but it changes, it morphs, and suddenly there's no sunlit kitchen, no smiling little boy and not comforting embrace - there's darkness, and there's screaming, and there's blood and...

Breaking from her reverie, Regina blinked and gasped, stumbled back in to a tree as she comes back to reality - and just in time too. Just a few feet ahead, staring at her with a broken jaw and what looks like half it's intestines dragging in the dirt, stands one of Them. She doesn't know what to call Them. Do they even have names? Zombie's are too, - they don't feel real when she calls them that. Zombies are reserved for movies and television, for comic books and best selling novels. These... things - they don't deserve to be fantasised. They're real. And they're dangerous. She fumbles with the knife attached to her hip, knowing that the gun secured around her thigh will take too long to pull and it's getting closer, so very close - she can hear the sounds it makes in it's throat, can smell it's rotting flesh and she gags, wraps her hand around the handle and tugs. It catches, she panics, she tugs again as her eyes, wide with fear, flicker from left to right and back again. There's another one in the distance, slowly making it's way towards her and it's friend, and she can hear the slow drag of feet just beyond - more of them. Gaze drawn back to the first, Regina's heart pounds in her chest and she lunges forward with gritted teeth, just as she manages to pull her knife from it's sheath and embeds it in the poor fuckers head. It's hands come up to her arms, fall heavily on her elbows and she falls forward, lands right on top of it as the knife digs in further and blood spurts from the wound, splattering over her face. Looking up, she panics again as the second is closer, much closer than she thought, and there's not just one behind it, but a whole herd. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck -' she thinks as she tries to pull her knife from the officially dead undead's head, but it's stuck in there quite nicely, and Regina hasn't eaten anything more than two questionable pieces of bread and half a tin of dog food over the last four days. She sits up, straddles a rotten chest and pulls with as much strength as she possibly can, rearing back as another hungry mouth lunges toward her. Leaving the knife in the skull it'd firmly embedded itself in, she fell back on her hands and tried to crawl backwards.

She's going to die.

She can feel it in her bones.

This is it, this is the moment she gives up. Her promise broken, her life over - it sounds so dramatic in her head but she's too slow, she really is, and she's not nearly as well fed as this bitch with fresh meat caught in it's open jaw. Is she not full? Do they even get full? Scrambling back, Regina inhales sharply and raises her hand, prepared to at least try and fend It off. It's groaning loudly now, practically screeching, and she grimaces at the sound, gags at it's breath - fuck, it's so close. Hand shaking, she locks her jaw and grits her teeth, tenses in preparation for what will no doubt be the most agonising pain she's ever experienced in her life.

It lunges forward.

It's mouth opens wide.

It's hands grasp at her arm.

An arrow appears between it's eyes.

"Did you hear that?" She sits up in bed, her head turned to the window and her hand resting on Daniel's shoulder. He groans, snorts, snores, and continues to sleep but Regina feels sick to her stomach. Something's wrong. She can feel it. Shaking him harder, she turned and leaned down, hissing at him through her teeth. "Daniel?!" He startles awake, mutters incoherently something that could be her name. "Wha' - Regine'a - tacos?" Rolling her eyes, Regina shook his shoulder again and tugs the blankets away from his back, exposing him to the cold air of their bedroom.

He groans, but pushes himself up and settles back on his knees, blinking sleepily at her and she knows he doesn't understand a single word she's said, but the sounds she'd heard outside were louder now, and he turns his head to stare at the window. She does the same. There's a dull light illuminating the sky. It flickers, and grows brighter, and she realises then that it's fire. Sharing a glance with her fiancé, she pushed the blankets off her own legs and slid from the bed, padding to the window and pulling aside the curtains. "I think - I think Town Hall is on fire..." She blinks.

"What?" His voice is rough from disuse, but he joins her at the window, his arms moving around her until she's locked inside and he presses his palms against the window sill, leaning forward a little to squint through the glass and she leans to the side, turns her head to look at him over her shoulder, and he looks down at her. They stare at each other for a moment, maybe two, before simultaneously turning their heads to once again peer out the window. "I should... I should probably go, shouldn't I?" She should. She's the Mayor's PA and a shoo-in for the next election. She makes to move, to slip under his arms but they tighten around her, and he steps forward. She's pressed against the window, her hips knocking against the sill and she grunts, questions. "Daniel?"

"Shh," he mutters in her ear, frowning in a way she finds absolutely adorable and she smiles, but that smile falls as she realises then why he wants her to be quiet. Was that a scream? Her eyes fall to the street, the street lights making it difficult to see but somehow she manages. The old man from next door lies in the middle of the road, bent over something she can't quiet make out. Tilting to the side, she blinks and squints. "Is that..."

"Ashley."

Disgust rises in her throat and Regina stares in horror as a war veteran pushes the blonde to the ground, holds her down and starts to mouth at her neck. "Daniel, he -" she can't even finish speaking, she's horrified. That old man used to tell her son stories, sitting him on his lap as Regina picked apples from her tree. He was kind, he was harmless, and now he's attacking a young mother in the middle of the street - and they're watching. "We have to,"

"Stay here."

Turning, Regina watches as he moves to the closet and takes his old baseball bat from behind her coats. Something doesn't feel right, she reminds herself, and she follows him down the stairs. Quickly glancing over her shoulder, she hesitates. Henry's still asleep. Or, he should be. But what if he'd woken to the same sounds she had? He was just as light a sleeper as she... But Daniel's already opening their front door and she knows their son will be safe upstairs, that he won't ever come down them without her or his father to go with him - so she follows her fiancé out the door and down the path, wrapping her arms around her waist as the cold night air hits her.

"Hey!"

There's a heavy weight on her chest, something sticky running down her neck and she blinks, sees not the love of her life as he runs ahead of her, but the body of a dead woman with an arrow being pulled from it's head. Nose crinkling and lip curling, she made an odd gurgling sound as she used the flat of her palms to push it off her and she blinks up as a hand stretches out, wraps around her wrist and suddenly she's being hauled to her feet. Yelping, she stumbles back and wrenches her hand free of the stranger's grasp, holding it to her chest. "Who the hell are you?" she snaps.

He is... the first human being she's come across in weeks who hasn't tried to take a bite out of her. His eyes are the first thing she sees. They're blue, so very blue and they remind her, almost, of Daniel. But she shakes that thought away and looks him up and down quickly. He looks just as worse for wear as she feels, and he has a beard that looks like the home of the bird she'd heard this morning. "You're welcome," he grunts at her, scowling just as hard as she is, and she notices what could be an accent - but the herd she'd spotted is closer now, and she can hear them groaning. Instead of thanking him, she brushes past and moves to the first Thing she'd fell, reaches down and pulls once, twice, three times - no budge. "Fucking -" she starts, before stepping back as that same hand moves, easily tugs her knife free and she looks up to watch him turn and walk away. "Excuse me?!" she shouts, before realising that maybe that's not the best idea, and she moves to follow, snatching her bag from where she'd dropped it without realising. She has to run to catch up, his legs much longer than hers and he seems to be much more at home in these woods than she is - but she manages to get close enough to reach out for his arm. She grips his sleeve tightly and tugs with as much strength as she can muster, forcing him to stumble back and turn towards her. "That's my knife," she nods towards it in his hand, and he has the gall to laugh at her.

"Finders keepers."

"What are you, four?" She snaps, reaching around him to try and grasp at the knife but he side steps her, and catches her around the waist. "What the f-" he hoists her up, and for some reason she notices the muscles of his arm tense around her ribs, his hand pressing in to her stomach - and what the fuck? "Put me down!"

"No."

She struggles, kicks and flails and beats her hands in to his thigh. She could punch him in the groin if she really wanted to, but the fight is slowly disappearing and eventually she becomes limp in his arms as he carries her away, the sounds of the undead behind them drifting in to silence. Grinding her teeth, Regina stewed in her anger until his arms starts to slack and her feet drag in the dirt. Squirming again, she dug the toes of her shoes in to the ground and tried to pull away. "Let me go," she growled, stumbling back in surprise when he did as she asked and she fell back. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Me? What's wrong with you?!"

Bristling, Regina stood and brushed the dirt off her worn jodhpurs. Angrily, she swung her backpack from one shoulder to the other and scowled at him. "I had it under control." She is stubborn. She always has been. But she's never been one for those damsel in distress stories - if she'd wanted to die, he should've let her. But even if she hadn't, even if she'd somehow managed to muster the strength to push the bitch off her, she would've handled it herself. She doesn't need help. She doesn't want it.

"A simple thank you will suffice."

That... that cocky - she glared at him, her teeth grinding against each other and were her mother here, were things normal, she'd probably have been scolded for such an act. But mother isn't here and things aren't normal and she'd damn well grind her teeth if she damn well felt like it. Holding out her hand, Regina pursed her lips and cocked her hip to the side. "My knife," she demanded gently.

And he laughed.

"This isn't a knife. It won't save you."

"I've managed so far, haven't I? Just give it here - it's all I've got." She won't leave without it. She certainly won't let him keep it. That knife was Daniel's. It had been a part of his camping kit and she may have lost the tent, and the fishing lines, and the flare gun - but she hadn't lost the knife, and she refuses to let it out of her sight. "- please..." The very word tastes like salt on her tongue. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, and her jaw tenses further. She hates asking for things, just as she hates saying thank you. It makes her feel like she owes them, like she's in their debt, and for as long as she'd been with Daniel, she'd only ever asked him for something three times. She'd thanked him the same.

This man, this blonde haired blue eyed jerk of a man, smirks at her, and flips the knife over in his hand. The blade rests in his palm as he extends his arm, holds out the knife, and she snatches it quickly, breathing relief as she feels it's comforting presence before re-sheathing it on her hip. Satisfied, Regina pushed passed the thief - for that is what he was to her now, and stalks away. She groans when she realises he's following her. "Go away," she snaps, raising her hand and waving him off over her shoulder as she trots down an incline.

"I just saved your life, milady."

Her nose scrunches, and she looks at him over her shoulder, scoffing "Milady?" Who says things like that anymore? "I didn't need nor ask for your help so why don't you take your Britishness elsewhere?" And he laughs again. "My Britishness? Aren't you just a peach?" God, why is he still following her. Moving forward, she pushes a stray branch out of her way and waits for it to whack Mister Smart-ass in the face. But when the sound of it hits flesh and she turns to smirk over her shoulder, she finds him pushing the same branch away with his forearm. Smirk falling, Regina rolled her eyes and quickened her pace. He continued to follow her, until she turned on her heel and pushed him away with her hand. "Stop it," she snapped, but he just grinned.

"You're the first person I've seen alive in nearly a month."

"So?"

"So..." he drawls. "- don't you think we should, oh I don't know - stick together?"

She scoffs.

"I don't even know your name so no, I don't think we should 'stick together'."

"Robin. My name's Robin."

Regina blinks, tilts her head at him and glances him up and down - again. She never would've pegged him as a Robin, but she can see it now. Looking up, she notices him smiling and she focuses on the dimples she can see despite his rather rustic beard. Were these any other circumstances, she might have found him somewhat appealing. But then she thinks of Daniel, and of Henry, and that ache in her chest starts anew. So she turns on her heel, and walks away from him.

He follows.

"Hey!" She stops at the gate and watches as Daniel moves forward, steps on to the side walk and then on to the road, bat held tightly in his hand. The old man pays him no mind. Maybe he didn't hear him - but Daniel can see blood running down Ashley's arm, Regina can see it from where she stands a few feet away. "Fredrickson!" Daniel snarls, tossing the bat up until he can grip the handle and it's raised a little higher, the perfect height for him to swing if need be and Regina steps forward, protestation on the tip of her tongue, but then her eyes meet Ashley's, her head turned to the side, and they're blank.

She's dead.

Bile rises in her throat and she stumbles back a step or two, looks from Ashley to Daniel to the old war veteran her father used to play poker with. Carl Fredrickson was a good man. He had been, until his wife died and he withdrew in to himself. It wasn't until Henry came along that she'd actually spoken with the man - this isn't right. Something's not right. "Daniel," she starts, but whatever she's going to say next comes out strangled, an almost choking sound tearing from her lips as the old man turns, snarls at Daniel and bears blood soaked teeth. His skin is pale, some of it bruises and his face is gaunt. He looks almost... dead.

"What the fuck?!" Daniel swears, and she knows something must be wrong if he's swearing because Daniel simply does not swear. Ever. He back tracks, holds out a hand as if to keep her back, until he's just in front of her and he's hand grasps her forearm. He tugs her behind him and she follows with ease, peering over his shoulder to watch with wide eyes as Carl sways and stumbles, drags his feet. But his pace is quickening and there's bits of flesh caught in his teeth. He groans incoherently, reaches out with broken fingers, and she thinks he looks like one of those creatures from the movies Daniel likes to watch. The ones that make her hide her face in his neck and leave nail marks in his arms.

"Daniel?" She tries, but then there's crying behind her and Regina turns to look over her shoulder. The front door is wide open and she can hear Henry calling out for her from the top of the stairs. "Get inside, Regina." She turns, hesitates, but eventually leaves Daniel behind to run towards the front door. The sound of their path gate banging knocking in to the hedges draws her attention and she spins, walks backwards before stopping completely, her eyes wide and a scream threatening to break in her throat. She watches as Daniel swings his bat. It slams in to Carl's head, knocks the old man to the side and completely unhinges his jaw - but he keeps moving, even with his jaw hanging off his face, and Regina watches as Daniel swings again, smashing in to Old Man Fredrickson's temple and blood rains. The veteran falls to the floor and twitches, before lying completely still and Regina stares. He's dead. He's actually dead. Her eyes rise to Daniel's, and he's staring back at her in just as much shock and horror as she stares at him, but then movement drags her eyes to just over his shoulder and she screams.

"Daniel!"

He's still following her. She growls at him to 'stop it', 'go away', 'leave me alone!' but he continues to trail after her like a puppy it's mother. Her hands curl in to fists by her side and she falls silent. If he wants to follow her, fine. But she won't entertain him with conversation. "What's your name?" He asks her, and she grits her teeth. She won't even acknowledge him. Oh no. Not a single word more. He seems fine with that. Robin. He chooses to fill the silence with conversation of his own. "I'll be honest, I'm surprised you're alive. How long've you been alone?" Her knuckles turn white. "That long huh? Me too... Well, I'm not alone, alone. I'm looking for someone. He's about, three foot high, likes chocolate chip cookies and hide and seek - brown hair, brown eyes... his name's Roland." Her steps halt suddenly, and she stares ahead of her. He doesn't seem to notice, just walks on past and continues to talk. "My son. He's four - was with his mother in Boston but... they're not there. Don't suppose you've seen him?"

She's going to throw up, she thinks. Can feel bile churning in her stomach, her hand pressing hard against it in an effort to soothe the sudden drop. She doesn't see him, even though she stares right in to his eyes as he turns, confused at her sudden stop. "Hey, are you okay?"

No.

No, she's not.

Her mouth runs dry and she can feel her fisted hands start to shake. His son... He's looking for his son. Doesn't he know - doesn't he think... it's been a year. A whole since since the shit hit the fan and the world burned in hell. If he hasn't found him by now - why? Why would he do that? Why would he go looking for something he surely knows is no longer there? She couldn't - she couldn't imagine...

Except she can.

And her breath hitches in her throat.

"Mama, my legs hurt!" Her hand tightens in his, and she realises then that she's dragging him behind her. Heart in her throat, Regina turned quickly and scooped him up in to her arms. He is too big now. Just turned seven and far too heavy, but somehow she finds the strength to lift him in to her arms. She rests her hand on the back of his head and holds him to her chest. "I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry. Shhhh, it's okay. Just a little further, I promise. Just a little more." Turning, Regina carries him as they walk away from Storybrooke, away from their home, away from Daniel.

Daniel, who lies dead on their staircase, a bullet in his brain. They'd survived in that house for two weeks before it became too much. There wasn't any life left in town save for them, and They seemed to know that. Maybe they could sense it. Maybe they could smell it. But the door couldn't hold them back and Daniel had pressed his gun in to her hand as she held Henry behind her in his room. 'Stay safe,' he'd said. 'Promise me you'll stay safe.' She'd cried, and she'd tried to hold him back, but he'd just kissed her and smiled, muttered 'I love you' in to her hair before closing Henry's bedroom door and breaking the handle, locking them inside.

She could hear them. As they crashed through her home, as Daniel's second gun went off and off and off and off until there were no shots left. She heard him scream, heard him try to muffle his pain because she knew he knew she could hear him, Henry could hear him. Choking back a sob, Regina turned, fell to her knees and wrapped Henry in her arms. "Shhhh, baby, shhhhh. It's okay, it-i-it's okay. Come on, honey. Shhhhhh." His sobs wracked his little body as he clung to her, muffling his own cries in her shoulder but she knew, she knew they were too loud. She could hear movement on the stairs and if they all swarmed at their door, it would break. Looking around, she'd skimmed over every surface of his room, skipping the window but her eyes drew back - and she wiped tears away, gathered Henry in her arms and picked up the bag Daniel had pre-packed just days before. "We have to go, Henry. Come on, we're - we're gonna climb a tree." She tried to smile. She did. But he didn't seem to believe it. Unlatching his window, Regina pushed it open and licked her lips. There was a tree directly across from Henry's room, and looking down she could see one of Them disappear in to her living room. There were none in the streets - this was the only chance they'd have to get out. Swallowing, the sounds of banging on the door behind them startled her son and he cried out.

The banging got louder and louder and she inhaled deeply. Swinging her leg over the windowsill, Regina carefully set Henry down on the ground. He tried to hold on but she had to pry his hands away from her neck so she could move out and on to the roof above the patio. Reaching back inside, she slide her hands underneath his arms and Regina gently hoisted him through the window. He slid a little, but she held on to him with one arm as she pulled down the window with the other. Spreading her legs, Regina placed Henry between them and slid down the roof until they reached the end. A tree branch, conveniently placed, was just within reach and she was able to lift Henry up, help him move down until he reached the trunk of the tree before following. Her bag caught on several stray branches but they managed to get to the ground. Her heart was breaking, it felt torn in two but - she had to get Henry out. She had to keep him safe. Taking his hand in hers, she ran across the yard and through the gate, leading him down the sidewalk until she could veer off in to the woods.

She slowed once she was far enough in that she couldn't see the streets. Breath stuttering, Regina swallowed thickly and wiped away the tears in her eyes, before Henry's small voice caused her to turn and pick him up. She tried to carry him as she moved, whispering soothing words in his ear but he kept crying, he wouldn't stop. She licked her lips and kept going, thinking of Daniel and the promise he made her whisper in his ear before he left them. 'Stay safe,' he'd said. Lost in thought, grieving and mourning the loss she felt deep within her soul, Regina failed to notice the sounds of broken branches and footsteps dragging in the dirt. She didn't notice until it was too late. Until she'd been knocked to the ground, her son rolling out of her arms. She gasped, landing awkwardly on her arm and she cried out in pain. Rolling on to her back, she reached up with her hands and pushed against the monster's shoulders - Marco, she thought. Oh god, Marco. "Please," she gasped. "G-Get off!" She pushed him away from her, turned on her stomach and stretched for the gun sitting in the side pocket of the bag. She fumbled with the gun, grasped it by the barrel before she stood on shaking legs, turned it over and staggered around. Her arms rose, the gun in her hand trained on the old man she would greet every morning in Granny's Diner.

But her jaw fell open, her mouth hung agape and a scream froze in her throat. Marco, sprawled on the ground, had grasped Henry by the ankle and dragged him back. "Henry!" She finally managed to gasp, but it was so quiet, so very quiet. "Mama! Mama, help! Mama!" He screamed and it echoed in her head. She lifted the gun and pulled the trigger, but it was too late. Marco's teeth sunk in to her son's calf. "No!" She shrieked, the sound inhuman to her ears. She pulled the trigger. Again, and again, and again, and again. Over and over she shot him until he was a bloody mess. Henry was screaming, and Regina was no better. She fell to her knees beside him, gathering him in her arms and rocking back and forth, his name on her lips.

"Henry, no no no, Henry come on baby, shhhhhhh it's okay, you're okay - Henry, please..." She begged him to stay with her. Pleaded until she lost her voice. Not once did she let him go, even when he stilled in her arms and his body grew cold. She knew he would stir soon. That her little boy would be... different. That he would be one of Them - and for a while, she contemplated letting him take her. Her fiancé was dead. Her son, dead.

'Stay safe', he'd said.

Shaking, Regina hugged Henry to her chest and whispered 'I love you, my little prince,' in to his hair. And as he gurgled, as he stirred in her arms - she grasped Daniel's knife in her hand, and held the tip to his temple. Shaking, crying, feeling her heart break in to pieces - she gently pushed the knife in to his head and he stilled in her arms. "Henry..."

"Regina."

Her voice sounded hollow, even to her. And he seemed to think so too, if the look he gave her was anything to go by. "I'm sorry?" He said, confused. And she blinked, looked him in the eye properly. Her voice cracked, but she managed to croak, "My name... It's Regina." She'd failed her son, she decided. She wouldn't let him fail his. Gathering herself, Regina strode past him and bumped his shoulder out of her way. Swallowing, she called over her shoulder. "I still don't like you."

NOTES: So... It's been a while, I'm sorry. This got longer than I expected it too and I'm sorry for that particularly ending ( no I'm not ) but hey, if any of you have read my one-shot collection, you'll know that the one-shot titled 'Bad Blood' comes from this universe. I decided to multi-chapter one of them, and this is the one I chose. It will be slow burn and chapter will not come quickly. I'm thinking once a month, to be honest. That is, if it's worth continuing? Let me know what you think via a review or a favourite - or you can message me on my Tumblr: banditsass. Xo.