A/N: Happy Sunday! So, I have next week off work but I've got a zillion things to do. However, I do have a fairly free (house-bound, at least) Tuesday so there may be a bonus chapter … Can't promise anything though!

"Emma!"

"What?" She snapped back to the present, eyes focusing on her mother who was looking at her with a mixture of amusement and concern. She'd clearly not been listening to the woman who had raised her.

"I said, do you want a sausage roll?" Mary Margaret asked, holding out the Tupperware with the picnic food in.

Emma reached out to pick one up, murmuring her thanks as she gazed out across the brittle grass of Hampstead Heath. Dotted across the browning blades were clusters of Londoners, taking advantage of the sunshine, even though it was far too hot to sit out in it for any length of time. Already she could see several people with angry sunburn. She wished people were more educated about the risks of skin damage. Emma and her parents had spread out their picnic blanket under the sprawling arms of an ageing beech tree which cast a generous ring of shade above them. To be fair, Mary Margaret had set up the spot. Emma and David had been late.

The blonde ate the homemade sausage roll, the conversation between her parents mere background noise as her mind wandered back to the hospital earlier that morning. Ever since Regina had disappeared down the corridor, she had been unable to get the woman out of her mind. Her father had waited for her to finish her shift and together they'd made their way across the city, David indulging his daughter who wanted to go over exactly what had happened with her patient.

"Dad, did you say Regina actually mentioned her pimp?"

It was perhaps understandable that Emma's mother looked a little disgruntled not only that her conversation was being interrupted but also that the subject matter had changed quite so dramatically.

"No, sweetheart, she didn't. I merely brought up the possibility that someone was forcing her to sell her body."

"And she didn't give you a name?"

"She didn't say anything. That question was what made her stand up to leave," David replied.

"But you asked her that for a reason, right? I mean, do you think she's being pimped out?"

"Can we not talk about this?" Mary Margaret interjected before David could answer.

Emma shot her mother a glowering glance. "Not talking about something doesn't make it go away. It just highlights how privileged you are to not have to face it. Regina doesn't get to not talk about something she's actually living through, does she?"

"Regina didn't want to talk about it," David pointed out to her daughter, trying to diffuse the situation before the two women got into yet another full blown argument and his wife used the word 'woke'.

"I know but she needs help, Dad. You think she's been sex trafficked?"

David offered a resigned shrug to his wife, knowing that until he answered Emma, they weren't going to be able to enjoy their lunch. "If I had to guess, I'd say someone is forcing her to be a sex worker of some kind, yes. I don't know the details and I wouldn't want to speculate. As I said, she didn't say anything to me. But that makes me think she's scared of someone and the way she answered some of my initial questions made me rule out domestic abuse. Whoever hurt her, it's not a partner. Whether it was her pimp or a … customer, I don't know. But either way, she's in a difficult situation and one in which she doesn't feel she can get out of at the moment."

"But you could have helped her," Emma sighed. "We could have helped her if she'd told us what was happening."

"We could have but not without her taking that first step. She wasn't ready to trust us and today wasn't the day for her telling us the truth. She's scared and I don't blame her. It's a vicious world and she could put herself in danger if she spoke to the authorities."

"I know that but you could have protected her, couldn't you?" Even at twenty-five, Emma still saw her dad as someone who could solve any problem. After all, that's what her father had always done.

David nodded. "I told her that but she wasn't ready to hear it."

"And what if next time it's worse? What if next time she can't make it to a hospital? Do we just sit by and twiddle our thumbs until she turns up in a morgue?"

"Emma, please," Mary Margaret exclaimed.

"What? That's the truth. That's where this is going, right? Dad, we have to help her."

David sighed. "Sweetheart, I know how you feel but there is nothing we can do until she's ready to ask for help."

The blonde pouted, brow furrowed as she contemplated her dad's words. The image of Regina, curled up in the corner of A and E came into her mind. She had looked so small, so vulnerable. She had see the woman flinch when she was touched. It was obvious to Emma what was happening and the thought of just standing by, hoping that Regina returned to the hospital with another minor injury made her despondent. Surely there was something else she could do.

"No, that's not good enough."

She got to her feet, flecks of sausage roll crust fluttering to the blanket as she dusted herself off and swung her rucksack over her shoulder.

"Where are you going? We only just got here and I haven't seen you properly for almost a month," Mary Margaret lamented.

"Sorry, Mum, but I have to go find her."

"How?"

Emma pulled out her mobile. "I wrote down her address from the hospital records."

"Is that legal?" Mary Margaret asked.

"No," came David's stern reply before Emma could even fashion a defence. "It most definitely isn't. Emma, you're overstepping. You can't just write down someone's address and then turn up at their front door. It's unethical."

Emma, who busy typing Regina's address into Google Maps, ignored both her parents. She was pleased to see the building was only a few minutes walk away from the hospital, which in turn was only a five minutes walk away from where she was currently stood.

"Mum, Dad, I'll see you later. Thanks for lunch."

Despite the fact that both her parents called after her, Mary Margaret warning that her father would arrest her for illegally stealing a patient's address and David reassuring her that he wouldn't but that what she was doing was a bad idea, Emma set off at a brisk pace, following the directions on her phone which told her she'd be outside Regina's door in eight minutes.

She smiled to herself, pleased with her decision and knowing that she was doing the right thing. But as she drew closer to the address, tendrils of doubt crept into her mind. How angry was Regina going to be? She couldn't deny that she was overstepping. Would the brunette even let her in? Would she have left her parents and walked all this way in the blazing heat for nothing?

And then, as she turned into the street where Regina's building was, she began to wonder what she was walking into. Although the area of London as a whole was nice, this street felt like it had been left behind. Not only was the upkeep to the pavements and roads terrible, but the sense of community evaporated. Shops were boarded up. She passed a burned out car. And a spray of glass shards across the pavement told her a recent act of vandalism had occurred.

On a whim, she decided to text her father the address, along with the words 'don't arrest me' and a winking emoji. Better safe than sorry, she thought to herself as she pulled up outside a nondescript block of flats. She looked at the list of buzzers but most of the spaces where occupants were supposed to write their names were empty. A quick scan confirmed that there was no Regina Mills listed there. Just as she was wondering how she would gain entry, the door opened and a young girl in a skin tight dress and heavy make up hurried past her, eyes downcast.

Emma stuck her foot out to stop the door shutting and kicked it open, slipping inside. The corridor beyond was dark and stuffy and as the front door closed, it was as if the balmy summer's day outside had been blocked entirely. She could smell damp. And pot. Checking the address again, she looked at the numbers on the first few doors before walking to the staircase at the end and climbing up to the first floor. There, she saw room 101. Glad she was in the right place and didn't have to climb to the tenth floor, she headed down until she found the door with 108 stuck on, the numerals made out of peeling black plastic.

She hesitated for a moment, realising she didn't quite know what she planned to say. But then from inside the apartment, she heard Regina cry out, her words muffled through the door. There was no time to formulate a plan. Steeling her resolve, she raised her fist to knock.

There was silence. She strained her ear for movement or voices on the other side. Nothing. She waited a few seconds before knocking again, harder this time. The sound of footsteps, stomping towards her made her heart pound and she was suddenly wishing she'd brought her father when the door swung open and a tall, thin man with dark eyes was snarling down at her.

"Who are you?" he barked, taking in the woman before him.

Emma didn't answer straight away. Her eyes were locked on Regina whom she could see behind the man, standing stock still in the middle of a dingy room. "Um, hi, I'm Emma."

"Right, well, you can fuck off out of here now, Emma."

It was the barest of movements but Emma saw Regina shake her head ever so slightly. This was all she needed to see. "Actually, I'm here to meet Regina," she said, sounding far more confident than she felt as she focused her attention on the man before her. "We've got … tickets to a show."

Well, that was the worst possible lie. Why would Regina's pimp care about a West End show?

"What?" the man asked, incredulous. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm a friend of Regina's," Emma replied, her resolve hardening. The more time she spent talking to this man, the more determined she was to make sure she didn't leave without Regina.

"Emma's taking me to the show for my birthday," Regina piped up as she stooped and began gathering items up off the floor and putting them back in her handbag which, Emma realised, had been unceremoniously emptied.

"Your birthday?" the man scoffed.

"Yes, I'm twenty-one today," Regina replied. "Didn't you remember, Uncle Killian?"

Uncle? Emma thought to herself. What on earth was going on? But there would be time for questions later. Right now, she was going to seize on the excuse Regina offered her. "Yep, exactly. Gotta make sure my friend celebrates her twenty first in style, right? Don't worry, it's a matinee show. She'll be home by five."

"A matinee?" Killian repeated. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Killian, please, I'll be back before dinner, right Emma?"

"Right," Emma nodded, heart thudding against her ribcage.

There was a long silence. Emma stood, trying to look as if she wasn't terrified of the man before her as well as trying to look trustworthy. She wasn't a great liar, although she was very good at telling when other people were lying. Regina had finished gathering her handbag back together and was now standing, clutching it to her chest, her large brown eyes wide and pleading at Killian in what Emma assumed was her most innocent expression.

"Back by five," Killian huffed eventually. "Where's your key?"

"What?"

"Your room key," Killian replied. "I think I'll hold onto it until you're back. You can come and tell me all about this show when you get in. And if you're late … well, just don't be late, ok."

Regina reached into her bag and handed over her key without hesitation. Fine by me, Emma thought to herself, the woman isn't coming back here anyway.

"I promise I won't be late. See you later, Uncle Killian," Regina replied as she walked past the imposing figure in the doorway.

"Nice to meet you, Killian," Emma said in a sickly sweet voice, as she stepped out of the way and gestured for Regina to walk in front of her.

The man didn't reply but stepped out of the room and watched as the two women walked down the corridor. Emma's heart was pounding and every nerve screamed at her to grab Regina's hand and run. But she didn't. She walked at a steady pace, just behind the brunette, who she could see was visibly trembling. They walked in silence down the stairs and along the long, dark corridor below. Behind them there was no sound. Emma was surprised, she was expecting Killian to follow them out.

It felt like an age before the two of them stepped out onto the sunny London street.

"Regina, what -"

"Don't speak," she hissed. "Not yet."

Emma obeyed and followed Regina as she walked down the pavement, strides lengthening the further away from the building they got. The brunette kept looking behind her, face pale with fear.

"Where are we going?" Emma asked after they'd walked down two streets in silence, Regina continually looking over her shoulder to see if they were being followed.

"Archway," Regina replied, rather loudly. "That's how we get to Leicester Square, right?"

Emma frowned for a moment before deciding the play along. "Um, right. Yeah, Northern Line."

They continued to walk briskly in silence until they reached Archway Tube Station and entered. Both women swiped their Oyster cards and passed through the barriers. Regina led the way, stepped onto the downward escalator and pulled out her phone.

"Regina, what are -"

The woman whipped around and glared at her, finger to her lips. Emma fell silent again and glanced over her shoulder. Still no sign of Killian. Regina was staring at her screen but hadn't opened any apps. The background, Emma noticed, was a photograph of Regina and a woman she could only assume was her mother. Both were smiling into the camera. The joy on Regina's face looked almost unrecognisable compared to the Regina that Emma had seen so far.

At the bottom of the escalator, Regina slipped her phone back into her bag and they stepped off in tandem. But instead of turning left, Regina began walking towards the northern platform.

"Um, Regina, Leicester Square is south," Emma said, catching the younger woman up and pointing in the opposite direction.

"Unless you have tickets to a show I don't know about, I have no intention of going to Leicester Square," Regina said, passing a bin and throwing the mobile phone she had been carrying into it.

Emma looked back at the bin which Regina just marched past, mouth agape. "What the fuck is going on, Regina."

"Killian tracks our phones," Regina said shortly. "The app doesn't work without signal, hence the underground. He can turn our microphones on remotely too, which is why I didn't want to say anything. It'll take him a while to realise that he's lost me but not long. We've got about half an hour to get clear, I'd say."

"Regina, what the fuck?" Emma asked again as they turned onto the northbound platform.

The brunette stopped short. "You wanted to rescue me, Emma? Well, good job. You've rescued me. But now you've got to help me hide. So whatever saviour complex you felt at the hospital, get back to that mindset because when Killian realises I've gone, he won't stop until he finds me again."

A/N: Ok, now go onto YouTube and search Little Lady (feat. Mikill Pane) and click on the one which was posted by Ed Sheeran. The top search result has incorrect lyrics (and terrible grammar). Close your eyes and just listen - they're clear enough. Anyway, drop thoughts once you've listened on A) the song and B) the story so far!