Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Thanks Angie for the beta!


Chapter Three

"Please buckle up," Mary Margaret pleads, but she doesn't slow down, feeling the wheels slide across the pavement as she rounds the turn.

Regina pays her no mind, slipping out of the passenger seat and sliding into the back with her boyfriend. She bumps Mary Margaret's shoulder in the process, causing the car to swerve a little to the side. Both girls shriek and giggle in response. Daniel greets Regina with open arms, pressing clumsy, open-mouthed kisses to her lips. They both reek of alcohol, the smell burning Mary Margaret's eyes even from across the car.

"Where are we going?" She's driving aimlessly (and a little too quickly). She should have taken one look at their tipsy faces and driven them home. She could still do that. "And why are you two drunk? It's my birthday."

"Because you're too little," Regina replies cheekily. She giggles when Daniel pokes her.

"Be nice," he says.

Regina is indignant. "I am nice."

Mary Margaret likes Daniel. Regina's other boyfriends had always treated her like a baby, had always told Regina to 'ditch the loser' when they thought she wasn't listening. Daniel includes her, treats her like family. He'd even taken her shopping for that very special ring; the one that has yet to make it onto Regina's finger.

"Where are we going?" she asks again. She knows to be patient with drunks.

"Take the toll bridge," says Regina. "We have a surprise for you."

Mary Margaret rounds the corner onto the back road that leads to the old toll bridge. Her father had insisted she wait to get her license until spring, not trusting her to drive alone in the harsh Maine winter. She isn't alone, though. Regina and Daniel are plenty old enough to "chaperone" her with her learner's permit. Yep, completely legal (if you ignore the alcohol and curfew violations). Nothing dangerous, though. And what her father doesn't know ...

"What sort of surprise?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Regina teases.

Mary Margaret laughs nervously, and catches sight of Daniel in the rearview mirror pressing delicate kisses to the side of Regina's neck.

The toll bridge looms ahead. There's something special about bridges and overpasses, she remembers. Something Mr. Kemp had said was important in driver's ed class.

A truck rounds the corner from the other side, high beams glancing across the windshield. Mary Margaret flashes her own, blinded. She hits the bridge and suddenly she remembers Mr. Kemp's words of wisdom. Their rear-end drifts to the left as the car begins to fishtail. She holds her breath, trying to concentrate over the sounds of Regina scrambling for her seatbelt and Daniel trying to talk her through the crisis. The truck is on the bridge now, too, slowing to a careful stop. She turns into the slide (that's what you do, right?) trying to swerve away from the truck.

She overshoots.

"Mary Margaret!"

The sound of smashing glass; crunching metal.

"Mary Margaret!"


Mary Margaret woke with a gasp, finding herself sprawled out on the floor beside her bed, tangled in her sheets. She was breathing hard, chest heaving, and staring up into the concerned face of her roommate. It had been almost ten years since she'd last had that nightmare; ten years free from the fear and guilt of that terrible night.

"Are you okay?"

Mary Margaret blinked up at Emma, her words silenced by the sound of the crash. "What?" she said, still regaining her breath.

Emma reached out and placed an uncertain hand on her shoulder. "You were dreaming. I heard a crash and came down and you were here on the floor." There was a flicker of something new in Emma's eyes - fear. "What were you dreaming about?"

Mary Margaret hesitated, swallowing the shadowy terror of the nightmare. "I don't know," she lied. "I don't remember." She'd almost told Emma, several nights ago when she'd asked about Regina. And just as before, she couldn't bring herself to tell, too ashamed to face the past.

Emma looked unconvinced, but didn't say anything. Of course, her 'superpower'. She offered her hands. "Want some help?"

Mary Margaret nodded, and braced herself against Emma's shoulders instead. She pulled herself up onto her good leg, almost toppling over again as she got caught up in the sheet.

Emma slipped her arm around Mary Margaret's shoulders and hauled her back into bed, careful of her injury. "Did you hurt your ankle again?"

The pain, as if sensing the attention, made its presence known once more. Her ankle ached, even through the haze of medication. "I think I bumped it," she admitted, touching it carefully. "But it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Emma perched herself on the edge of the bed, as if a little frightened to get too close. "I thought I heard you," she paused, frowning momentarily, "screaming, or something."

Mary Margaret waved it off as casually as she could. "Probably just some weird dream from the pain meds."

Emma eyed her skeptically, but didn't push any further. She collected sheet from the floor and spread it carefully over Mary Margaret, followed by the blanket. "Can I get you anything?"

"No." Mary Margaret curled up under the covers, pulling them to her chin. "Sorry I bothered you." Sorry. So, so sorry.

Emma frowned, but when her friend made no move to continue the conversation, she left, flicking off the light as she went. Mary Margaret held her breath, listening as Emma's footsteps faded as she made her way upstairs. She waited in the darkness, waited for silence.

And when she was certain Emma was asleep, she turned her face into her pillow and let out a single, strangled sob.

I'm so sorry.


Despite being a morning person, Mary Margaret had never been fond of Mondays. Even as she'd roll out of bed with a smile, it never took long to cross someone whose rotten Monday mood would sour her day in turn. This particular Monday was already not helping to improve her opinion. By 7:15AM, she'd discovered firsthand that any added weight tends to throw off the balance necessary for using crutches, that driving with one's left foot is more difficult than it looks, and that even schoolteachers should work on upper body strength every now and again.

Finally, she managed to squeeze her way through the morning crowd at Granny's, desperate for coffee. She'd convinced herself that the recurrence of that horrible nightmare - and thus the source of her massive sleep debt - was simply a result of the prescription pain meds that were clearly too strong for her small size. (Never mind that she hadn't taken any more since that night, but these effects take some time to wear off, right? Right.) Normally, she could make it on a single cup until her kids left for PE, but on this particular Monday, that just wasn't going to cut it.

She made it to the counter, greeting Ruby - the waitress - with a tired smile. Though they'd grown apart over the years, they were old friends. Ruby had been the popular one of course, the cheerleader with the dark streak. Upon graduating high school, though, Mary Margaret had left for college while Ruby had stayed to help her ailing grandmother run the diner. A lot changed over the four years Mary Margaret was gone, but not Ruby. "Hey," said Mary Margaret, balancing her crutches as she attempted to rifle through her purse.

"Yeesh. What did you do?"

"I went running," Mary Margaret admitted sheepishly, then barely caught her crutches as they started to slip.

Ruby laughed. "I thought you had a doctor's note."

"Tell that to my roommate."

Ruby snorted softly and tapped her fingernails against the cash register. "So ... coffee, two creams?"

"No," said Mary Margaret, fumbling for her wallet again. "Black today." The crutches started to get away from her again, and she abandoned her search.

Ruby waved her off. "Don't worry about it. On the house."

Mary Margaret smiled her thanks and accepted the coffee a moment later, awkwardly tucking one of her crutches against her side. She managed to hobble a few paces away before everything - her crutches, her purse, the scalding cup of coffee - came crashing down around her. No, she decided with a sigh, Mondays were definitely not for her. She dropped to her knees as gracefully as she could manage, collecting the various items that had spilled out of her purse before they got too soaked in coffee.

A moment later, someone was on their knees beside her, mopping up the spilled beverage with a wad of napkins. She looked up.

"David?"

David smiled up at her, pressing more napkins into the puddle. "Hey," he said. "I thought it was you."

She covered her face with her hand, wondering how many other possible ways there were for her to embarrass herself in front of the same person. "Well, "It looks like making a fool of myself has become a habit lately." The mess covered in a layer of napkins, he helped her carefully to the nearest chair and fetched her purse and crutches. "Thanks."

He grinned, pulling out his wallet, and called out to Ruby, "Two coffees please."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Don't worry about it," he insisted, paying Ruby before bringing over a fresh cup of coffee. "Except maybe you should drink this one here instead of on the go."

"Just maybe," she replied, and accepted the cup from him. "Thank you."

He nodded, slipped into the chair across from her and took a sip of his own coffee. "So how's the leg doing?"

"Better. Still getting used to the crutches, though."

"I noticed," he quipped, smiling charmingly at her over his coffee.

She fought the blush rising in her cheeks. "What about you? Any more cats get the better of you?"

David cast a mock-wounded glare to the proprietor of the establishment, who returned it in kind. "No, just the one." He unbuttoned his sleeve to show her that the patch of gauze had been replaced by two normal band-aids. "Almost as good as new."

"Good," she said, and took a long drink of coffee.

They sat in silence for a moment, nursing their drinks.

"So, do you usually come here in the mornings?" he asked finally, looking at her in a way that made her think he was skirting a ledge around his true intentions. "Because I don't think I've ever seen you here before."

Mary Margaret shook her head. "No, not usually in the mornings."

He smirked. "Monday getting you down, then?"

"You have no idea," she chuckled. "I'm almost wondering if I should have called in for a sub."

"I think you'll be fine," he said warmly.

Mary Margaret swallowed the remainder of her coffee, glancing to her watch. "Oh," she said, regretting having to leave so soon. "I should probably get going. With everything that happened this weekend, I didn't quite finish all my grading."

David made a show of finishing his coffee as well, and stood to help her with her crutches. "Here," he said, taking her purse for her. "Let me help you to your car at least."

She accepted the crutches, and moved to leave. "What?" she teased. "Worried that I'll spill someone else's coffee?"

"Well," he said, holding the door open for her. "Your track record isn't exactly great, and I wouldn't want to see any more coffee go to waste."

"Quite the gentleman then, I see."

"Of course," he replied, and followed her as they made their way to her car. He pulled her door open for her and carefully helped her inside.

"Thanks for the coffee," she said, watching as he slid the crutches into the backseat. "And for rescuing me. Again."

"My pleasure." He smiled, then paused before closing the car door. "It was nice seeing you again, Mary Margaret."

"Same here."

They both hesitated, staring at one another for a long moment before he carefully closed the door and waved her off.

Maybe Mondays weren't so bad after all.


The week passed quickly enough, and with it, Mary Margaret's ankle began to heal. The swelling had lessened, and the patches of purplish-blue had turned to a sickly greenish-yellow. Come Thursday, despite Dr. Whale's instructions, she decided that the pain was manageable enough to bid farewell to her crutches and hobble around on both feet instead. And thank goodness she had; she couldn't imagine explaining the situation at parent-teacher conferences would be very enjoyable.

Conferences were coming to an end. Fourteen sets of parents down, and only one to go. She'd secretly been dreading this moment all evening, and her stomach lurched as Regina and Henry Mills entered her classroom. She forced a smile for Henry's sake and stood to greet them. "Hi Henry. Miss Mills."

"Miss Blanchard!" Henry ran around the desk to hug her, and she rubbed his back in return, her smile becoming genuine as she looked down at him.

"Good evening, Miss Blanchard," said Regina curtly.

Mary Margaret extended her hand to the other woman - "Always a pleasure," - but withdrew it when Regina made no move to shake it. "Please, sit down," she said, discouraged, and gestured to the chairs opposite her desk. Regina and Henry settled in their seats, Henry looking up at Mary Margaret happily while Regina just raised one artfully sculpted eyebrow. An awkward silence. "Well,"said Mary Margaret, hoping to break the tension. "As you probably know, Henry's grades are really improving. He's a hard worker, and it really shows."

Henry beamed.

Regina said nothing.

Mary Margaret pushed on, despite her confidence being shaken. "He's also really opening up to his classmates. I think he's really starting to break out of his-"

"Miss Blanchard," Regina interrupted, holding her at an even stare. "It's my understanding that you had ... wild birds in your classroom?"

Mary Margaret frowned. "Well, yes, I suppose. Just a bluebird. When we were building the birdhouses. Surely Henry brought his home with-"

"Of course he did. And he told me you had a wild bird in this classroom. Is that correct?"

Mary Margaret frowned. Henry sank down in his seat, casting her an apologetic look. "Yes," she said. "I did."

Regina's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you stop to think for one second that this might be a health risk? That this animal could have exposed my child to any number of diseases? Or that it might have hurt someone?"

"No," Mary Margaret said quietly. "I didn't. But nothing happened."

"This time," said Regina, her voice and anger rising. "This time nothing happened. And there won't be a next time. I'll be telling the principal about this indiscretion of yours."

Indiscretion. Oh, so that's what this was about. "Regina," Mary Margaret tried softly, noticing Henry look up at her curiously at the mention of his mother's given name, "Is this about Emma?"

"This has nothing to do with Miss Swan," Regina insisted, standing and leaning over her, palms braced against the edge of the desk. "And everything to do with my son's teacher being irresponsible with his safety."

Mary Margaret recoiled, unwilling to rise to her provocation with Henry in the room. He looked mildly frightened; though Mary Margaret could never imagine Regina harming him, she would not leave him with the burden of knowing what his mother might do to her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It won't happen again."

"You're right. It won't." Regina straightened herself, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt and regaining her composure. "Henry," she said, firm but not angry. "We're leaving."

As she left, Henry hesitated, glancing uncertainly between his mother and his teacher. "It's okay," Mary Margaret mouthed, and nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. She watched as he ran after his mother, then buried her face in her arms, completely drained.