I think about a week or two ago, I tweeted, asking for a prompt (happens from time to time) and my beautiful friend Oh_my_Helena, the queen of Angst herself, asked me to fill out one for her. So I did.

I want to say firstly, that I don't expect this to be great, it's probably crap (ha! what's new?), but all I ask is that you give it a chance. It might be slow at first, but it will pick up, and when it does, it should get interesting (fingers crossed). Secondly, this is AU, complete AU. Characters are hopefully on point, but everything else is a totally different ball game.

I know it's a crime to have another story when you have another, but if I promise I will work on both of them diligently, will you guys forgive me? :)

But you're not here for my babble, so here we go. As usual, all disclaimers apply, including the fact that I own nothing and no one.

Alright, enjoy!

Chapter One

A sleek black Mercedes makes a screeching halt in front of the old, discolored building strategically hidden away from the heart of the city, located at the farther part of Manhattan. The infrastructure, if one can even call it that anymore, looks like it might crumble any minute, looks nothing like the skyscrapers in Manhattan that she is used to. Granted, she has never stepped foot anywhere that is not located at the Upper East Side, lest she gives her mother a conniption, but this, this looks like it's been built in the 1800s and will just fall over the ground (it probably is, and it probably will, she thinks).

She turns the engine off with a sigh, tells herself that she does need to do this, wants to do this (only she isn't prepared for what she is about to face), and so she fumbles with her belt and then climbs out the car, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud. She walks down the gravel road gingerly, her high heels making it a challenge to cross the short way from her car to the entrance of the building, and she thinks to herself that the next time she pays a visit, she'll be wearing flats, no matter how much she actually loathes to do so. The breeze whips around her and she pulls her cobalt coat around her tighter. The October air isn't very forgiving, and it beats about, hard and cold. The clouds are certainly greyer now, the summer have long gone and moved on to a breezy, cold autumn.

The inside of the battered down infrastructure is not much better, she thinks, once she's inside the building, and the click clack of her shoes makes echoing noises of the otherwise empty, quiet halls. The lights flicker and a chill runs through her spine as she approaches the reception. A bored looking woman (who also looks entirely too judgy for her taste) looks up at her, a surprised expression taking residence on her face for a half minute before the woman schools it into a polite indifference.

She places her black purse atop the dingy, old desk (this place is dingy and old, honestly), and stands before the woman, trying to give her a polite smile that she thinks might have come out as a grimace instead.

Well.

"How may I help you?" the woman asks her, eyebrow raising—and yep, she's judgy, alright.

"I'm Regina Mills," Regina says softly but strongly, not entirely sure if her name gains the same reaction it does in the city. "I'm here as a representative from King Properties."

The woman's eyes widen, almost comically, and the gasp that slips from her mouth is too loud not to be noticed. She scrambles off her feet, tries to place a smile on her face that has Regina scowling internally. Well, that's too late for that now.

"I'm sorry," the woman says as she stands up straighter in her seat, offering Regina a polite nod. "I'm nurse Abby, and this Storybrooke Hearts Center."

Regina wants to ask if this is really the center, but she bites the question down. It does not look at all like it is serving their purpose, but she knows that there is always more than meets the eye. However, the cold, dank feeling of the building does little to mollify her concern—do they really cater for children here? This does not at all look like a child friendly place.

It looks too empty, seems to be too quiet.

Still, she is here for one purpose only, to deliver Leopold King's grace—money granted as charity for this place, to help it not fall apart and help him save a few million dollars as tax pay-offs. Every year, Leopold King finds a charity, a hospital or hospice, or a non-government organization he can donate a truckload of money to, that still won't cost as much tax money he needs to pay off, if he doesn't. This year, they have found a semi-private establishment, or rather state-owned (which she has sure has a modicum of difference between them, but basically means that there are stockholders, but the state can have their interference—something or the other, she's managed to doze off when it's been explained to her, the particulars had not really mattered then), one that caters for young children with heart ailments who cannot afford to pay for the treatment. They could come from different places, different background, but most of them are orphans who has been passed on by the child-services to them for care.

She's bringing in the documents that need signing so that the Center can finally get a hold of the money they have been granted. She's also wanted to go around and check the center, see if there is anything else they could do to help, or maybe, she thinks, it's to mollify her conscience. Of course, Regina didn't really have to do this, did not have to drive on her own to see this people and tell them that King Properties wants to donate money to their establishment, but she's thought it would be good for her, thought it would ground her, mother's agreed, thinking it would good for their image to have her deliver the news herself, and Leopold—having been apprehensive at first—agreed then, too, because he basically eats off mother's palms. Only Regina's father, Henry, has been the one to worry about her, or her reasons for wanting to do this, but of course, he's never dared to ask, never dared to question either his wife or daughter for their decisions.

Now, Regina wonders if she's made the right one.

Regina comes back down to the present when the nurse gets out from behind the reception desk and starts leading her away to a room—the director's office, says the nurse when Regina asks where they are headed to.

The director is not at all as Regina has expected. The director, Mary Margaret Blanchard-Nolan is a pixie haired woman with a very fair complexion, and bright brown eyes, with a soft smile, and is probably a few years younger than Regina. She is warm, kind, and probably the kind of woman who wins people over with her rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers. She reminds Regina a bit of Snow White, a thought that has Regina stifling a chuckle.

"I'm Regina Mills," Regina says as she holds out her hand for the other woman too shake, which she does, enthusiastically. "I'm here for the King's Properties charity grant."

The pixie haired woman nods, smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mills. We have been expecting you" she says as she leads Regina to her table, asking her to seat, if she pleases, which Regina does. "I cannot begin to thank you and King's Properties for this grant, Miss Mills." The young director sighs forlornly and looks around the meager space she calls an office. " As you can see, this place is run out and old, it's barely sufficient for the patients we already have here, and this money, this grant would really help the establishment a lot. We try to take in as much patients as we can, but it's not easy when we run on a very low budget. And I'm sure the children will appreciate it."

Regina nods, she does understand, and it breaks her heart more than she could possibly say to know these things. But she also knows that there is just much that she can do, that anyone can do, and whatever she's doing now isn't even enough.

"Would you like a tour of the facilities, Miss Mills?" Mrs. Blanchard-Nolan asks, looking at her with a soft smile. "Perhaps, you can also meet the staff and our volunteers. Get a feel of how we run things here."

It shouldn't matter, it doesn't really, she doesn't have to know—the money has been granted, Regina doesn't have to know anything anymore. The Center has been researched thoroughly by Leopold's staff, Regina just needs to have the contract signed by Mary Margaret Blanchard and she can leave, but somehow, RegIna stays rooted to the ground, finds herself nodding at the younger woman.

"Sure," Regina says, and when the other woman positively beams at her, the doubts she feels floats away.

(-=-=-)

Though the edifice suggests otherwise, the center is homey and cozy, the facilities are lacking, and Regina is sure that the amount of money the foundation is giving will be more than enough, but the staff are warm and nice and they try and make it work as much as they can. The smiles on the children's faces (they have passed by a few rooms on their way) are priceless, joyous despite their situation.

Mary Margaret Blanchard in true Disney Princess fashion, gives Regina a tour of the establishment, all the while talking about giving the children hope. She must be granted a quarter by the hope committee every time she gives out those speeches, Regina muses.

Regina has also been introduced to some of the staff of the heart center, from the resident psychiatrist named Archie Hopper down to the ones who take care of the children (like nannies, or second parents, Mary Margaret explains) down to the maintenance crew, led my Leroy Grumps. All of them have given her warm smiles and passed on their gratitude for the fund that King Properties has kindly granted them. Regina can only nod, smile as she shakes their hands and say that it's well worth it. It is.

"There are children who stay in here," Mary-Margaret (as she insists on being called, Mrs. Blanchard Nolan sounds too stiff and old, she's said) says, as she points to a row of rooms that make up as bedrooms. "Those are children who were orphaned, passed onto here by child-services. We had more last year, but we really can't afford to take them all in and give them care. We're short on staff, as it is, and we do have volunteers, but we can't expect them to give more than they already do, so we've talked with Child services and some of them had to be transferred. Mostly the intensive care ones."

Regina nods sadly, not really sure what to say. It breaks her heart, but there isn't much that she can do, not much that she can offer. This is the best she can give, and she knows it's not nearly enough.

"But, with the money we've been granted by the King Properties, I think we can manage to care for the children we have better and take in a few more patients," Mary Margaret adds cheerfully as they enter the kitchen.

Regina looks around the small kitchen and watches as a few people bustle about, cleaning pots and pans, preparing what looks like snacks for the kids and the staffs and volunteers, some were just lounging, talking.

'It's probably tea hour,' Regina remarks drily in her head as she surveys the kitchen. And what a ridiculous thought for only her mother would ever suggest such a notion as tea hour—her pretentious, heartless, horror-show of a mother. 'At least it's clean'. And it truly is, not a spot on the counter, no mess or puddle on the floor, and not one hair out of the kitchen helps' heads.

"And who's this supposed to be?" Regina hears a booming voice ask and she turns around to find a small, pudgy woman, a head full of graying hair, walk over to her and Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret beams, takes Regina's hands in hers, surprising Regina. She's never the one to be affectionate with people (the kind of life she lived did not, does not, really leave much room for that), but there is something about Mary Margaret—she is warm and kind, hopeful to a fault—Snow White.

"This is Miss Regina Mills," Mary Margaret answers, turning her head over to Regina, the gratitude almost pouring over from her eyes. The way she looks at Regina, one would think Regina hangs the moon. "She's from the King Properties. She's here because they've granted us the funds."

"Did they?" the old woman asks, her face serious, her eyebrow raising.

Regina only half smiles, nods politely at the older woman before her, and watches as Mary Margaret does the same.

"Thank you," the woman says and she surprisingly pulls Regina and crushes her with a hug, making Regina's eyes go wide with surprise. Surely, these people are not fairy tale characters? They have to be, though, to be this ridiculously warm and affectionate.

Mary Margaret laughs as Regina exhales out of sheer relief when the older woman finally lets go of her.

"This is Wilhelmina Lucas, we call her Granny," Mary Margaret explains, and Regina can only nod. "She's in charge of the food, for us and for the children. And she makes one hell of an apple pie."

"And strawberry cheesecake, girl, don't forget how you've eaten almost half of the cheesecake I baked, begging me to bake some more, because your baby likes it," Granny adds in, smirking at Mary Margaret in a way that tells Regina it hasn't been the baby who likes it at all, but the mother.

Regina turns her head to look at the pixie of a woman and raises an eyebrow. "You have a kid?" she asks before she can comprehend her question, and if it makes her look blunt and crass, well, there's no way to take it back now.

Luckily, Mary Margaret (Or Snow, as Regina has now kindly dubbed the unsuspecting director) only beams fondly at her and bobs her head in the affirmative. "I do, a boy," Mary Margaret answers excitedly as she fishes out her phone from her pocket and scrolls for a few moments before flashing the screen to Regina, showing a picture of an adorable, pudgy baby boy. "He is six months and a half, and his name is Neal."

Regina smiles, in awe, and nods her head as Snow (Mary Margaret, she reminds herself sternly, thinking she better stop thinking that before she actually calls the woman that) tucks her phone back to her pocket. "He's beautiful," she offers, completely sincere.

Mary Margaret's answering smile makes Regina smile too. And then Granny, who has now gone back to tinkering with her pots and pans, slaving away in front of the stove to what Regina thinks is hot cocoa for the children (no doubt for the adults alike), lets Mary Margaret do the introducing for the rest of the staff. They all welcome her with a grateful smile, their faces full of hope. She's never been so welcomed before, never in her life felt like anyone, someone, is so happy to see her, and it might only be because of the money she's come with, or the fact that almost all of the people here seem to have come out from a fairytale or something, but the warm fuzzy feeling that comes from being accepted stays, lingers and settles within her.

It is a few moments later, when Snow (and Regina's given up for now, there might be a large possibility that she won't see this woman again, ever, anyway) is about to usher her out of the kitchen that a young woman bursts through the swinging door. Her hair has streaks of red in it, her clothes are something that Regina thinks should be prohibited to be seen by children, and her eyes are lined with a think black liner and her lips are a shade of blood red. Regina is not a particularly judgmental person, she doesn't mostly care about what people wear as long as hers look decent, but this has her raising her eyebrows a bit. Mary Margaret looks like she's not entirely too bothered by it, so Regina clamps her mouth shut.

"Granny, it's snack time," the woman informs Granny, who only nods surly, muttering an annoyed, 'like I didn't know that'. It doesn't take long for the woman to spot Regina and cock her eyebrow at her presence. "Who are you?"

Regina would have shaken her head at the blunt and utterly tactless way the woman has asked, if only she isn't guilty of the same crime just a while ago. She opens her mouth to reply, but Mary Margaret beats her to it.

"This is Miss Regina Mills, she is from King Properties and she's here for the grant," Snow explains to the woman who nods her head and offers Regina a warm smile, one that Regina finds hard not to return. "Miss Mills, this is Ruby Lucas. She's granny's actual granddaughter, and she's in charge of taking care of the children, supervising them, entertaining them."

"Hi, Miss Mills," Ruby says as she waves from where she is standing, then she turns to Granny who has now trays of food and hot cocoa lined up on the counter. "We should go feed hungry little tummies. And you all should come out of here, heard that Locksley and his Merry Men are entertaining us today."

Regina shoots Mary Margaret a questioning glance, making the woman smirk at her, and it has Regina curious, to be honest.

"You want to come with us and watch for a while? Meet the children?" Mary Margaret asks, and she looks at Regina with the same eyes that she has when she talks about hope for the children that Regina doesn't quite know how to say no. Mary Margaret is like a freaking Disney Princess alright—with her doe eyes and her soft smile.

And Regina does want to say no, wants to say that she can't, she's running out of time (she isn't, but she'd like to say no all the same), because she does not know how she would bode should she ever have to see the faces of the children who are dealt with an unfair hand. It is Granny who prods her however, and Ruby whose arms loops around hers, dragging her out of the kitchen, saying she need not worry, she'll enjoy it.

She's inclined to take their word for it, but at the back of her head she wonders how.

How does she enjoy anything when the weight presses so heavily against her chest at the thought that this is the best she can do, and it is not nearly good enough?

(-=-=-)

Regina doesn't quite know what she expects to see, isn't quite sure what she's thought the children would be like, but it is definitely not this. There are bright smiles on their faces, some laughing as one of the Merry Men—Killian, she's been told—makes a show out of being a pirate before they actually played (she's learned that Merry Men is actually a band of men volunteers who likes to play and sing for the children—nothing serious, definitely not looking for a record deal, but they play as per the children's request. They also play on the Center's parties or fund-raising activities). If some of the kids look frail and sickly, it is taken away by the smiles on their faces, seemingly unparalleled even by the shining sun.

She stays at the back with Mary Margaret and Granny as Ruby and the others begin serving the snacks to the grateful children. It doesn't take long before the all of the children (not more than fifty, by Regina's estimate) are served with the snacks, and the stage is filled up by the Merry Men—the "pirate" guy Killian on rhythm, a tall beefy man named John Little (Regina tries not to laugh at that, how ironic) as the bassist, a tall, black-haired man who plays the drums, and then the lead guitarist and vocalist Robin Locksley who isn't even there yet.

But the children are happy and entertained regardless, the rest of the merry men doing their best to make the children laugh and smile. One child in particular, a young girl, has come over to her and Mary Margaret, just to say hi, and when the young girl has noticed Regina, she gave her a beaming smile, tells her that she should smile, because they were happy (it is only then that Regina's realized she's wearing a heartbroken look on her face—she's been too absorbed with watching the kids), and Regina can feel something catch in her chest, something that makes her gulp down, makes her clench her fists and makes tears prickle her eyes. She hears her mother's voice in her head telling her that crying is weakness. But she can't help it; it's too much.

She excuses herself quickly, earning herself a curious stare from Mary Margaret, but she pays her no explanation, only makes a hasty exit, blearily finding her way out the door and through the empty hallways. She faces the wall, tries to breathe in and out, she can't possibly break down because of this, can't possibly have her heart be so positively broken at the sight of young children (the oldest she's spotted cannot be any older than eighteen) smiling, laughing, putting on a brave face despite the pain of having a disease that chips away at their childhood. She feels their pain, feels it deeply, and it's hard not to get emotional.

She braces herself with a hand on the wall, her other coming up to cover her mouth, she can feel herself shaking at the effort not burst into tears, she is so far unsuccessful as some errant ones find their way down her cheeks. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine their smiling faces, tries hard not to think of the sadness they must be feeling, or pity them—for they are not to be pitied, she thinks, they are fighters, they are survivors.

She feels a weight crashing on her legs and feels her knees buckle at the impact. She opens her eyes in a flash, her hands closing into fists as she pulls on her weight and lets it rest fully on her arms to not topple over the floor on her ass, but she needs not worry as she feels two strong arms wrap around her and save her from the possible graceless fall.

She looks down to find a boy sitting on his rear, looking at her with bright green eyes, wide like saucers in surprise, and she takes a fortifying breath as she straightens herself. She looks up, then, and finds the clearest pair of blue eyes she's ever seen, a dimpled smile accompanying it. The man looks rugged, looks a bit amused, and he bites his lip, his amusement fading away as his eyebrows knit. He looks at her with concern in his eyes.

"Are you alright milady?" he asks her, and god, does he have to sound so sexy in his deep voice and hot British accent?

Focus, Regina, she chides herself.

She places her mask of stoicism back and nods. "I'm fine," she says shortly, trying not to let her first thoughts slip through with polite indifference. She harrumphs with a modicum of annoyance, and says, "Though, I didn't really need your help."

Irritation flashes visibly across the man's face and he looks put out for five seconds before he schools his features to a more passive one. "A simple thank you would suffice," he chides, and she knows that, but she chooses to ignore it, instead she looks down to look for the child who bumped into her, finding him gone. She looks up and meets the man's eyes. "That was Walsh," he supplies needlessly. "He is a bit of a troublemaker, running around the halls when they are specifically told not to. But I'm sure he hasn't meant to bump into you."

She shakes her head. "I don't mind. I'm sure it was an accident," she says and she means it too, she can't fault children for being children.

"Hmm," he hums as he looks her up and down appraisingly. He holds out his hand, clearly intending for her to shake. "Robin Locksley, at your service."

She stares at his hand but declines to shake it. She doesn't really do touch. "Regina Mills," she offers however.

He smiles then, "Ah, so you're the one," he says softly, his eyes twinkling—and what was that in his eyes? Gratitude? Softness? Genuine pleasure at meeting her? "We cannot thank you enough for the grant."

Ah, and so that's it.

"Yeah, well, it's the least we could do," she says softly, but really, there is more that they can that they are not doing, and they both know it.

"Shall we go inside?" he asks then. "I have very anxious children waiting for us to play."

Ah, and yes, she suddenly remembers that he's the man of the hour. The lead of the band who's come in late. So, she nods, turns on her heels and walks away before he can say a word, and with that action she gets a whiff of his scent, making her senses go on overload. She pushes the thought away

No, Regina, she tells herself sternly.

She enters the room once more and finds her place beside the Director. Vaguely, she thinks that the man smells of forest.

(-=-=-)

He watches her, watches the elusive woman with deep brown eyes filled with sadness, masking it with indifference and coldness. He watches her as he plays with his friends in front of the room, while she stands with Mary Margaret at the back. He watches as she looks around guardedly, her eyes filled with sorrow, filled with compassion, but even then, even with the sadness she bears weighing down on her shoulders, she stands tall, looks every bit as regal as her name suggests.

He continues to stare at her, even when she looks up and catches him looking, he doesn't mind her knowing, and he can't help but smile when her cheeks flush with pink, slightly spreading down her neck and she averts her eyes, making him swallow don his chuckle. There is a pleasant feeling blooming in his chest at the sight of her reddened face and neck.

When the Merry Men finish their set, they all stay for a while at the front, their make-shift stage, to joke around with the kids and have a bit of a chat, but it doesn't take him long before he is gravitating towards where Mary Margaret is, specifically where Regina Mills stands beside her.

It's a strange feeling, to be so magnetized by one woman, to be so curious of a woman who he's barely even seen for more than an hour, whose existence he had not even known about prior to this, but he is, he is drawn to her like a bee might be to a pollen, akin to a moth towards the fire. It is a dangerous thought, something he is sure not to let fester—he can't, he hasn't been able to, not since his wife, but that is a different story all together.

He stops just short of the two, gives Granny his winning smile, and makes a show of grabbing Granny's hand and placing a kiss upon her knuckle. "Hello Milady," he says, bowing and grinning cheekily at Granny who lets out a whooshing laugh, clearly tickled by his charm.

And he knows that, of course, which is why he insists on doing it every time.

"Oh can it, boy," Granny huffs as she snatches her hand away, making Robin chuckle. When he looks up, he finds Mary Margaret laughing, and Regina Mills looking at him intently, her face a mask of curiosity. He smiles at Mary Margaret's direction. "Hello, Mary Margaret."

Mary Margaret smiles, "Hello, Robin," she says, giving him a warm hug, then he watches as he turns to her side, looking at Regina then back at him. "I don't believe I have introduced the two of you," she says, frowning.

"No need," he says before Mary Margaret can begin. "I met Miss Mills in the hallway. I helped her when Walsh almost made her topple over."

He bites back a smirk when he sees Regina throw him a glare, and he's sure that if she could, she would gladly char him to crisp on the spot, but he only grins at her.

"I didn't need help," Regina insists as she looks over with him, the corner of her lips turning downside with a frown.

He shakes his head and clucks his tongue at her, unimpressed. "You still can't say thank you, can you, Miss Mills?" he asks her coolly, watching as her eyes widen, and he only raises his eyebrow in response.

Well.

She harrumphs, and crosses her arms, and he watches her, sees in his peripheral vision how both Granny and Mary Margaret watch them with keen interest. He holds off her stare for a while longer, watches as she raises her eyebrow this time. From his side, he hears Granny mutter something unintelligible, before she's taking her leave, going back to the kitchen to get some more food prepped and cooked before dinner. But he barely notices that, only keeps his staring contest with the raven-haired woman in front of him. He smirks at her then, before he hears Will calling for him, one of the children having asked for him. He excuses himself and makes himself not look back.

(-=-=-)

She watches him, damn him, as he saunters over to a boy with wild curly hair and a dimpled smile so akin to his. She fumes silently, not really sure why or about what, but knows that it has everything to do with him, with his uncanny ability to make her blood simper with just that crooked, arrogant smirk of his, and if she has her way, she will gladly rip his heart out of her chest (very much like Snow White's Evil Queen, and she'd keep his heart in her vault, along with her collection), but such is not the case, and it seems very unbecoming of her to have such thoughts when she is in a heart's center, so she dispels them, turns to Mary Margaret with a huff.

"Is he really always like that?" she asks, crossing her arms and looking at Robin's general direction, glaring at his rather broad back.

Mary Margaret shrugs. "Like what?" she asks (and really, get a clue, Regina thinks).

"So insufferable and arrogant," Regina all but sputters as she juts her chin indignantly and tightens her arms across her chest.

Mary Margaret chuckles. "He'll grow on you," she assures the not-to-be-pacified Regina Mills, and then she smirks, as though they are old friends, out in a bar and checking boys out. "Besides, he's kinda cute, huh?"

Regina scoffs, rolls her eyes. "He smells like forest," she says as though it's a crime, like it's totally repulsive, but really, it's not (it is, Regina, damn it, she thinks—but no it's not, the flutter in her stomach as she's caught a whiff of him once more just moments ago tells her that it's really not).

Mary Margaret only snickers, shaking her head and giving Regina a look that Regina doesn't know how to interpret, but that's old news now as her eyes follow the man who has successfully ruffled her feathers in such a short time.

Damn that Robin Locksley.

I would just like to quickly thank my best friend Emma who has just been the sweetest angel ever and has been kind enough to listen to my endless hemming and hawing and raving and ranting. To my fandom friends whose support have been without limits or bounds, thank you, you know who you are. And of course, to Melis for such a lovely prompt and for answering all (trust me there were a lot) my queries about her prompt and she's been lovely, absolutely perfect.

So how was that? Thoughts would be most welcomed and appreciated!