A/N: Happy Sunday one and all!

A shaft of orange light from the streetlamp outside cut across the ceiling through a chink in the curtains. She should get up and close them properly. But she couldn't. Getting out of bed didn't seem like an option, at least, not one which wouldn't lead to her walking up the stairs to Emma's bed. And that definitely wasn't an option.

The feeling of anger which had curdled in her stomach had faded but had been replaced by something worse, or at least more complicated. Fear, hurt, betrayal. What did it mean that Emma's father was looking into her 'case'? What did it mean for her safety? Would she have to give evidence? Would she have to come face to face with Killian again? And, more than anything, why hadn't Emma told her?

She rolled onto her side, curling her legs up into a foetal position. The absence of Emma's body, in parallel to her own, resonated but she pushed the thought away. Although a part of her evidently craved the blonde's closeness, another bigger, more stubborn part of her needed space. She curled even tighter, wrapping her arms around her midriff and ignoring the familiar tingling which had started in her body.

It wasn't bad. She could ride this out. Only a few hours until dawn and another dose. She could get through this.

But, that said, why should she have to? Why should she be lying here, uncomfortable, a niggling at every nerve ending to let her know she needed to provide her body its hit? It's not her fault she missed her nightly dose. Ok, she'd remembered when she was brushing her teeth and could still hear Emma moving around above her. So, yes, she could have swallowed her pride and gone up to the converted loft to request her methadone. But, well, she didn't. And quite frankly, it was Emma's fault in the first place, not to mention Emma's responsibility as her nurse.

That confused matters, Regina mused. Emma was acting as her nurse, providing her with the methadone based on the dose she was prescribed. And at the same time, evidently, their relationship had been blossoming into something more than housemates, or even friends. It was this dual dynamic which, clearly, wasn't working.

Anyway, why does Regina need someone to measure out some liquid for her? She could do that. Anyone could do that. And she wasn't going to let Emma's betrayal get in the way of her own recovery.

Swinging her legs out of bed, Regina straightened her pyjamas before opening the door. The hallway light was on, which was unusual, but she quickly realised why. On the ground outside her bedroom was the bottle of methadone, and the measuring cup. Trapped beneath the corner of the bottle was a note. She crouched down and slid it out to read:

Regina,

I know you're upset and you have every right to be. But I don't want my mistake to get in the way of your recovery. Your usual evening dose is 5 milligrams but if you're already feeling withdrawal symptoms, I think you should take 10. I trust you.

Emma x

Folding the note in half, Regina picked up the bottle and cup before retreating into her room and closing the door.

By the time she emerged into the kitchen the following morning, Emma was already halfway through her first cup of coffee and appeared to have emptied most of the fridge onto the island in the centre of the room. She looked up from the chopping board where she was slicing mushrooms as soon as Regina entered.

"Hey," she said quietly, offering a crooked smile.

"Hi," Regina replied, moving towards the coffee and pouring herself a mug.

"Did you -"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"And this morning?"

Regina shook her head. "I couldn't remember if I was on thirty or thirty-five. I figured it would be best for you to do it. I mean, if you're ok with that."

"Of course," Emma said quickly. "Shall we do it now?"

Nodding, Regina deposited her coffee and disappeared back upstairs to get the bottle and cup which she'd rinsed in the bathroom sink that morning. She noticed as she walked back down that the bottle was close to empty. She wondered whether Emma would be able to pick up some more at the hospital the following day when she was at work.

Emma took the bottle and cup from Regina and poured out the correct amount. Thirty millilitres, Regina noted as she took the dose from the blonde.

"Thank you," Regina said, placing the empty cup on the kitchen counter.

"You're welcome. Regina, I'm so sorry," Emma said, not sure where else to start the conversation which clearly needed to be had.

"I know you are," Regina replied quietly. "But that doesn't mean I'm ok with you keeping it from me. I … yeah, I'm not ok with it."

Emma cocked her head to one side. "What can I do to make you ok again?"

Shrugging, Regina took a sip of coffee. "I don't know."

It was true, Regina didn't know. But she also didn't think it should be that easy even if she did know. She couldn't just tell Emma how to right a wrong which, unless the blonde could turn back time, couldn't be righted. She'd been lied to, or at least kept in the dark. And irrespective of why the older woman made that decision, Regina was still unhappy. It was her life; she deserved to know what was happening.

"Breakfast?" Emma asked, gesturing to the mushrooms which were half prepared. "I was going to make a full English."

"I'm not really that hungry."

"You have to eat, Regina. It's important."

Something snapped in Regina. "You know what else is important? The truth."

Emma's eyes widened at the loud exclamation. "Yeah, I know I -"

"You lied. That's what you did, Emma. You lied to me."

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you about the investigation."

"Same thing. You didn't tell me about something which directly affects my future, and beyond that, you didn't tell me that your dad was doing exactly what I had told you I wasn't ready for. I'm not ready to talk to the police, Emma. I told you that. I said I needed time, when all the while you already knew that your own father was going behind my back to investigate Killian."

"I never asked him to do that," Emma defended.

"You didn't tell him to stop either," Regina shot back.

Emma threw her hands up in frustration. "Well, it's not like he'd have listened to me if I had. He's a MET police officer, Regina. He's not my dad when it comes to this case. He's doing his job. And yes, ok, he's doing it based on the address I gave him but this is bigger than that one lead. It's bigger than you, frankly. You weren't the only girl being trafficked and you know it. I get that you're scared. I get that you're traumatised and don't want to talk about it but the longer we wait, the more girls are going to suffer like you did. My dad is just doing his job and trying to save victims just like you from being raped every single night. God, Regina, can't you see that not everything is about you?"

Jaw clenched, fingers gripping the mug tightly, Regina levelled a steely gaze at Emma before storming from the room.

"Fuck. Good one, you idiot," Emma muttered to herself as she heard the brunette stomp up the stairs and, seconds later, the guest bedroom door slamming shut.

Regina was fuming. There was no other word to describe it. And then, about an hour later, she downgraded to stewing, lying fully clothed on the bed, allowing her mind to rake over and over again the words Emma had said. Trafficked. Victim. Rape. A couple of hours after that, stewing had been replaced by an unsettling feeling which she was starting to recognise as shame.

And still Emma hadn't knocked on the door. Not that she wanted Emma to knock on the door. But, to be fair, if she had knocked, Regina would have preferred to be in her wildly angry phase rather than the one she now found herself in. At least the raw emotions from before would have fuelled some sort of reaction. Now, she didn't know what to say.

Shame. Not at what had happened to her. She was starting to understand that her past wasn't her fault. No, the shame was more about the fact that she'd got out and not done anything to help those whom she'd left behind. Emma was right. Yep, that thought made her grimace. The blonde was right when she said that this wasn't just about her. Ok, the blonde's outburst had been rather tactless but Regina couldn't deny that the sentiment was correct.

That meant, Regina realised, that she was going to have to, at some point soon, face Emma and apologise. Or at least acknowledge that she was right. It didn't mean Regina wanted to talk to the police. The mere thought of that made her throat constrict with panic. But she couldn't be angry at Emma for her belief that the investigation was needed and that her involvement would help. Emma was right. There were other victims out there and Regina might have answers to questions the police were asking.

So, ok, she wasn't angry about the fact that Emma wanted Killian arrested and wanted Regina to help put him behind bars. They both wanted that. She could, however, be upset that Emma hadn't told her about the open investigation from the start. In fact, why hadn't Emma told her?

Seizing upon the question, and a way to open the conversation, Regina got up from the bed and made her way downstairs. It didn't take her long to find Emma, curled up on an armchair in the living room, soft music playing which she scrolled idly through her phone.

"Hey," Regina said, leaning on the door frame.

Emma looked up and placed her mobile on the arm of the chair. "Hi."

"I'm sorry." The words were said in unison, leading to identical smiles as Emma got up from the chair and Regina stepped into the room.

"You go first," Regina offered, coming to a stop a couple of feet away from the blonde.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm sorry I was insensitive. I know this is hard for you, Regina. I know it's huge and I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about what my dad was doing when I first found out."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Regina asked, the question she was going to ask already on the table.

"I didn't think you were ready to hear about it," Emma shrugged. "You'd said you weren't ready to talk to the police and since all they were doing was running the address and surveilling the building, I didn't want to upset you by mentioning it when, really, there was nothing to tell. I figured I'd let you know either when you seemed ready or when something came up in the investigation that meant your involvement was needed. I was't hiding it from you, Regina. At least, not deliberately. I just didn't want you to have to deal with this on top of everything else."

As Emma finished speaking, Regina reached out and took hold of the blonde's hands. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you for thinking of me and being so thoughtful and considerate when it comes to everything I've got going on. But I wish you'd told me. I know you think I'm dealing with a lot and I am but I think knowing before I was ready would have been better than finding out through your parents."

"Yeah, I'm gonna kill my mum," Emma glowered.

Regina chuckled and stepped closer, moving her arms up to loop around Emma's neck. "She didn't mean to tell me. I guess she assumed I already knew, which was a fair assumption."

"Still, she's tactless." Emma hands wrapped around Regina's waist, fingers interlacing at the base of the woman's spine. "You're right. I should have told you and I'm sorry I didn't."

"You're forgiven," Regina said, leaning forwards to kiss Emma softly.

"So, we're good?"

"We're good," Regina nodded. "And, for the record, you're right. This isn't all about me. I need to tell the police what happened. I will tell the police. This week. You can tell your dad I'm ready and I'll give my statement."

Emma looked down into those large brown eyes, scanning them for any sign that she might not be completely comfortable. While she wanted Regina to tell her story, she didn't want her to feel pressured into doing something which might be too much, too soon. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, but I'd like it if you could come with me. I don't think I want you to hear my statement. Some of the things … I don't want you thinking of me like that, but knowing you're in the building would help. Is that ok?"

"Of course," Emma said at once. "But for the record, nothing you could possibly say or tell me about what happened to you would change how I feel about you. What Killian made you do has nothing to do with who you are as a person and he's never going to take away your spark."

"That spark got pretty dim," Regina remarked.

"But it's shining brightly now," Emma insisted, pressing a tender kiss to Regina's lips. "And he's never going to snuff it out. I know the future won't be easy but you can do this, Regina. You're strong. And I'll be right there beside you, every step of the way."

Regina pulled Emma's lips down towards her own, melding their mouths together and sinking into the sensations. She relished the taste of the older woman as their tongues touched, soft and sensual. It was a kiss to kiss away all lingering tendrils of anger or upset from their argument, and smoothed the pathway towards the rest of their lazy Sunday together which culminated, later that evening, in front of the television sharing a bottle of Merlot.

"Hey, when you downstairs in earlier, you apologised too. Why?" Emma asked, her fingers idly stroking up and down the skin of Regina's stomach, beneath the woman's t-shirt.

"I was saying sorry for walking away and then sulking in my room for three hours. It was childish. I should have stayed so we could talk things out rather than hiding away. If had, maybe we'd have got to this part of the day sooner."

Emma smiled and peppered soft kisses along Regina's neck. "This is my favourite time of day."

"Me too," Regina murmured, turning her face upwards and capturing Emma's grinning lips in a kiss.

A/N: I think a lot of ground was covered in this chapter. Coming soon: Regina's testimony!