A/N: This story isn't meant to be a long one, maybe just two chapters or three, but depending on the feedback I'll get on it, I might consider adding a few more chapters. Let me know what you think and please forgive my mistakes, they're awful and cringy, I know.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

This wasn't exactly how she envisioned herself spending her mid-twenties. She thought, by then, she would've graduated college, became the teacher she always wanted to be. She hoped she would've met her significant other and they would be engaged, or even married, living somewhere were strangers where strangers and no one knew the other, somewhere, as beautiful as the stars were, they wouldn't be scattered across the night sky so heavily and not quite as bright. Somewhere loud and crowded, somewhere lively like the city, unlike the town she grew up in.

And she did move, she moved to another town. Another small, wretched place where every face was a familiar face, where it was quiet, boring, and where the front page story on the newspaper was dedicated to an elderly who just turned a hundred instead of anything major. Not that anything major every happened around Storybrooke anyways.

Regina never understood how a night out celebrating with her friends ended her up where she was, but if she had the choice to undo it all, start fresh, she wouldn't. Because if it wasn't for that night, if it wasn't for all the alcohol she consumed, if it wasn't for the man she drunkenly seduced, she wouldn't have her greatest gift of all. Her son, Roland.

He was her pride and joy, everything she never knew she wanted in life. His existence costed her everything; her parents, her friends, her hometown, her dreams, but she didn't regret a thing. She would stand against the world for him.

However, as great as it was to have him, taking care of him was a struggle. He was a baby, barely a year old. He needed diapers and food, he needed constant attention and care, which she couldn't grant because of her work, so a sitter was required, and that only added more to her plate.

So she did what she could do, she did her best to ensure his life would turn out as great as it could be with the little she had to offer, and nothing similar to how hers was.

She worked every night, sometimes for longer hours, especially on days where money was tight. Unfortunately, today was one of those days. Roland's birthday was four days away, and though he was young, most likely to never remember it, it didn't mean it had to be any less special. She'd throw him a party, just a small one and invite Ruby, the girl who looked after him when she couldn't, and her grandmother, who welcomed her into her home for the first couple of months with open arms. She'd buy him a cake, or a few cupcakes, if that's all she could afford, and a couple of gifts to add to his small collection of toys. He had very little, just a stuffed fox she got him right before his birth and a toy car he picked up three months ago while they were out.

Regina pulled her coat tightly around herself as she stepped into the tavern where she worked, offering the bartender a small smile, as well as the waitress that worked there. They were both kind to her, offering a helping hand whenever she needed it, be it with financial issues or her son, but she'd always been too embarrassed to accept.

"It's a little less crowded tonight," she mused, looking through the customers. Most of them were old men, old enough to be her father, and some of them returned every night, which made her skin crawl.

"Yeah," Ashley, the waitress, agreed. "But then again, the night is still young."

"I know." Regina frowned. The sun was just starting to set, more men will definitely stop by, and she won't be off until two hours past midnight — more, if she was required. And she was sure she would stay for more, after all, Roland's birthday needed all the money she could get, every cent she could get a hold of would matter. "I better get going," she sighed and Ashley nodded, wishing her luck.

She headed back into the room specified for her and removed her coat, followed by the dress she wore, revealing the white lingerie that was hidden beneath it. Her uniform. Funny how she thought work uniforms only came in forms of labeled shirts and fitted suits, not this, never this. Much to her dismay, though, this was her reality. She'd been doing it for months now, not too long after moving into town, and every time she got on the petite stage in the center of the tavern, it felt as though it was her first time. She would never get used to the wandering eyes of the intoxicated men roaming her body, catcalling and asking her for more. She would never get used to the thought that she had to do this, dance, half naked, around a pole, just to keep a roof over her son's head and food in his belly, to keep him warm, shielded from the cold, to keep him safe and content.

Unlike the other men in the tavern that clearly came here for the sole purpose of ogling the brunette dancing on stage, that wasn't Robin's intention. He came to the tavern because it was the only place close to his motel that was still open at eleven o'clock and offered food, and his stomach demanded some, growling in hunger. He hadn't eaten anything since the early morning before getting lost on his way back home from attending his best friend's wedding.

This wasn't his thing, he was taught better than to view a woman as though she was nothing more than an object for one's entertainment, hence ditching his childhood friend's bachelor party and pretending to be sick when Killian announced there will be strippers accompanying their drinks. And these men, all of them, stared at the brunette as if she was nothing more than that. It sickened him, but as hard as he tried to avert his eyes, he couldn't help glancing in her direction every now and then.

It wasn't the way she moved that caught his attention, nor how little she wore, leaving nothing to the imagination, but her beauty that struck him…and how unhappy she seemed. Her eyes focused on anything but the crowd, as if while she was stuck up there, her mind was elsewhere.

He didn't judge her, he felt sorry for her. He knew that to some women, this was their only option.

"Hey, Ashely. Is she available for tonight?"

Robin couldn't help but eavesdrop as the man behind him spoke to the waitress. Did he hear him right? Was he asking whether or not the woman was available for tonight? It couldn't be, he must've meant something else. But he was right the first time.

"Maybe."

He frowned, turning his attention back to his food, though his appetite was gone, lost after witnessing the old man slip the waitress some cash. It was life, but it was awful. He forced down the bile rising in his throat and spent the rest of his meal pushing around his food with his fork. Eventually, he paid and got up to leave, but as he gathered his items and slipped his jacket on, the look on the brunette's face stopped him in his tracks. She was standing still, both hands tightly gripping onto the pole, tight enough that her knuckles were starting to turn white, and her gaze was fixed over the waitress as she collected another payment from another old man, and then another one after him. His face twisted in disgust, and before he knew it, he was beckoning the waitress. He had to do something about it, and he will.

"How much?" he asked and Ashley's brows creased in confusion. He repeated, "How much did they pay?"

"I…I don't think she can take another man, sir."

"That's not what I asked. I asked about how much these three paid," he reiterated.

"Fifty bucks each for an hour," she imparted.

Robin chewed on his lip for a moment and nodded. He didn't carry much cash with him, just enough to get him to the wedding and back safely, but she would benefit from it more. She looked like she desperately needed it. And, although he wouldn't be around every time it would happen, at least he could do something to help, even if just for one night. He fished out his wallet out of his pocket and reached for a pair of one hundred dollar bill and a fifty, handing them to the waitress. "This would cover three of their hours and two more should anyone else ask for her."

"S—she'll be done at two."

"Then I shall wait," Robin said, returning to sit back down on his chair.

Five hours. Someone paid five hours to have her and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. She was scared and rightfully so, rich men were rare, but when they stopped by, they weren't the greatest to deal with. She was also nervous, part of her wanted to chuck the money back at whoever paid and bolt right out of the place, but she needed the money, she needed it for Roland. Therefore, she swallowed her pride and fear, and pushed aside her worries. Maybe these five hours won't be so terrible, maybe, just maybe, he might be a gentleman—no, gentlemen don't never pay for sex, but perhaps he'd be nice and gentle with her. That's a wishful thought.

Regina tightened the coat around her and stepped into the room rented for the night, immediately knocked off her feet at the man's sight. He was young, unlike the others she'd seen in the tavern. His hair wasn't gray, rather a dark shade of sandy blonde, and he greeted her with a sincere, dimpled smile. One of which reminded her so much of…Roland.

Her eyes grew twice as wide and before she could find her voice to speak, he beat her to it.

"I've seen you before," he recalled, his brows knitted in thought.

And he did.

What were the odds that the man she seduced that night at the club almost two years ago would be the one who paid to have her for the entire night? He was just as sloshed as her back then, but just like her, he probably remembered a few things.

She hoped not, though, so she denied it, shaking her head and chuckling nervously. "I don't think we met, unless you've been here to the tavern before."

"No, it's not the tavern," he waved off, adding, "you're that girl from The Rabbit Hole, aren't you?" She gulped and pursed her lips, remaining quiet as she braced herself for the name calling. Surely he'd call her something and belittle her over the fact that she slept with him back then, and now she stripped and slept with others for money. But he didn't, he only chuckled. "I was wondering what happened to you. I woke up to an empty bed the next morning."

He remembered, and a million thoughts went through her mind.

He must be a wealthy man, he dressed nicely and he paid over two hundred bucks just to have her for the night. What if he finds out about Roland and decides to take him away? It'll be easy for him to do, she owned nothing, and she danced in front of a bunch of men, half naked, for a living. But she'd never seen him in town before and it was a rather small place, he could have just moved here or maybe he was only visiting, and for her sake, she hoped it was the latter.

"Oh, that night," Regina chuckled to hide how terrified she felt. "I remember, I remember you, too. You came back for round two?"

He shook his head and sat down on the chair across from the bed. "No, none of that. I just came for dinner and it seemed like you needed the money." She opened her mouth and he quickly shut her down. "Two of the men that asked for you look like they're in their mid-fifties or maybe even early-sixties, milady. I doubt you would've wanted to go with either of them. I don't want you going with either of them, so please, take the money. I want nothing in return."

That brought a genuine smile to her face. Maybe he wasn't such an awful man, but she didn't get her hopes too high over it. Sometimes people are not who they seem to be.

"Let me do something, though, as a thank you," she offered, nodding toward his groin but he shook his head immediately.

"We could talk," he suggested. "I'd really like that. I'd like to get to know you better, starting off with your name." He extended his hand and smiled. "I'm Robin, Robin Locksley."

"Regina. My name's Regina."

"Well, it's a pleasure meeting you, again, Regina. And it's nice to finally have a name to that mysterious brunette I met that night."

She was wrong. Gentlemen didn't pay for sex and Robin didn't, he paid for her time instead. He was definitely a gentleman.