AN: I am back! There will be a new chapter every week. Thank you all for reading (and for your comments!). If you have any requests, feel free to share them with me. I try to include your ideas. Only two more chapters are planned for season two and then we are in season three of Downton Abbey.

A few hours earlier...

Emma rushed to their shared bedroom and closed the door behind her. In her small room, surrounded by her cherished stuffed animals and toys, she felt safer, but the words of Thomas and O'Brien still echoed in her mind. Determined, she grabbed her favorite dog and her school backpack, into which she packed a few clothes and her favorite books. She decided to run away. If her Dad didn't want her, then she would manage on her own.

With a pounding heart and tears in her eyes, she quietly sneaked down the stairs and slipped out of the big house. Raindrops fell from the sky.

"Hello Emma, out on your own? Where are you headed? Perhaps I could accompany you for a bit?" the elderly man offered.

"Hello Mister Mason," she greeted politely, "I don't know where I want to go yet, because I'm running away from home."

"Why don't you run with me to my farm then?" the old man suggested, "You can help me with the animals."

On the farm, he first showed her the animals, which Emma loved just as much as his William did. She got to know the horses and pigs. The cat and the chickens. She even got to pet the animals before settling down on a bale of straw with a cup of warm tea in her hand, observing the animals.

"So, now please tell me why you want to run away?" he asked and took a sip of his beloved black tea.

"Dad is losing his job and can't find a new one because of me."

"I hardly think you're the reason Thomas is losing his job."

"But he is, because he took advantage of the generosity because of me, and no one wants to hire a single-parent servant," she explained, "Dad needs money urgently because he lost a lot of money."

"But don't you think your father would be sad if you ran away?"

"I don't think so," Emma sadly shook her head, "Dad never has time for me anyway, and if I'm gone, he'll find a job. And he needs a new job."

"Emma," Mister Mason sadly shook his head, "Your father works 16 hours a day, sometimes he's too exhausted to play with you, but I don't believe you're a burden to him... there are other single fathers or mothers out there who work and raise their children. He'll find a new job. It just takes some time."

"But Miss O'Brien says brats like me belong in an orphanage, and Katherine from my class told me that's a terrible place," Emma started crying, "I don't want to go to an orphanage."

"Don't worry, Emma. This Miss O'Brien can't decide for you, and I hardly think Thomas would ever send you to an orphanage."

"But he would. Dad agreed with her! He wants to get rid of me! He only kept me because he thought he had no other choice," she sniffled.

Mister Mason pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and gently dabbed it on Emma's cheek, "Honestly, I can't imagine it. Thomas wouldn't send his own child away," he comforted.

"That's the thing," Emma said, "Sometimes, Dad is really great and plays with me. He even gives me piggyback rides, but then he ignores me as if he doesn't want a child."

"I don't know him that well, but I believe your father finds it hard to allow or show emotions," he explained, placing his warm hand on her shoulder, "Nonetheless, Thomas surely cares about you very much."

The next morning, the staff sat somberly at the breakfast table.

"Any news about Emma Grace?" Carson inquired to the group.

"No, Mister Carson," Thomas replied curtly, his gaze fixed on his full breakfast plate. He couldn't bring himself to take a single bite.

"The poor child, out alone in the darkness all night. May God protect her," Mrs. Patmore shared her thoughts.

"Mister Carson, we would like to search for Emma again today – in daylight, we might find a clue about her whereabouts more easily," Anna explained, "We plan to go right after breakfast, if you don't object."

"Are you joining in again, Mister Bates?" the butler asked, surprised and not particularly thrilled at the prospect of having to assist in dressing Lord Grantham for a second time in a short span, due to his valet wanting to help in the search effort.

"Yes, Mister Carson, if you would allow me, I'd like to continue searching for Emma," Bates replied.

"Then I shall inform Lord and Lady Grantham about the child's disappearance. Additionally, we should consider involving the police."

"But what do you mean she ran away?" Lady Grantham asked, shocked. "Was she not happy here? Did she lack something?"

"No, Milady," Thomas spoke with shame, "I believe there's a misunderstanding between me and Emma."

"Very well, I don't wish to know the details," Lord Grantham cleared his throat, "You have our full understanding, of course, and we will certainly participate in the search effort. Please inform Mister Branson to bring the car around," Lord Grantham looked out of the window now, "There was a storm last night. We can only hope the child didn't hide in the woods." The strong storm had brought down some branches and trees, and during a thunderstorm, the woods should be avoided anyway.

At the same time, the door opened. Bates ushered in Mister Mason. Hidden behind the old man, a small figure emerged. "Good day," greeted Mister Mason. His hand now rested on the child's back. He gently pushed her forward.

"Emma," Thomas exclaimed in relief.

Kneeling down to Emma's eye level, he brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Where were you? I was so worried about you," Thomas voice was gentle, trying not to frighten the child or make her feel guilty. His right hand rested on her shoulder.

"She wanted to run away," Mister Mason explained, "I happened to see her on the road to Thirsk and brought her to the farm for the time being. I would have informed you earlier, but I don't have a phone, and I couldn't just leave her alone."

"Thank you, Mister Mason," Lord Grantham expressed his gratitude, while his wife added kindly, "Thank goodness you found the child. It's unimaginable what could have happened to Emma."

"But why?" Thomas asked, bewildered, "Why did you want to run away? And where were you planning to go?"

The little girl just shrugged, avoiding looking around the room. So many faces staring at her. Lord and Lady Grantham, their daughters, Mister Matthew and his mother, Mr. Carson, and Mrs. Hughes.

Narrowing his eyes for a brief moment, he ran a desperate hand over his face. "You overheard us? The conversation between Miss O'Brien and me?"

Emma nodded, biting her lower lip. "You never wanted me."

"If I didn't want you, you would have been in an orphanage long ago, I can assure you," Thomas said, observing his child's reaction. It seemed to be an unsatisfactory answer for a young girl. Thomas took a deep breath. "Clearly, I care about you a lot, my little dwarf... and I'm sorry you believed I wouldn't want you."

"But you said it yourself – to Miss O'Brien, that you would send me to the orphanage!" the girl– well, with the strength of a 7-year-old – forcefully pushed against her father's chest. Thomas briefly wavered in his crouched position, but the push didn't really knock him down. Instead, he reached for Emma's tender hands, gripping her wrists gently. "That was just sarcasm!"

"What's that?"

"It was just foolish talk. It wasn't serious! I would never give you away. Never. Aren't we a great team, you and I?" Thomas stood up, lifting the child into his arms at the same time. "I love you very much," he confessed. "Will you forgive your Dad for the silly remark?" Emma nodded hesitantly. "And will you promise me that you won't run away again?"

"Promise," Emma pressed her face into Thomas' neck. "I missed you anyway, and I love you even more when there are pancakes with jam."

"That's blackmailing, little dwarf," he said in mock outrage, yet a small grin appeared on his face. "But I'll happily ask Mrs. Patmore for you."

As the warm embrace between father and daughter continued, the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. The tension that had gripped everyone began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of understanding and comfort.

Carson cleared his throat, breaking the emotional silence. "Shall I inform the rest of the staff that Miss Emma Grace has been found?" he asked, his tone indicating a mix of relief and readiness to get back to the routines of the household.

"Yes, please do, Carson," Lord Grantham replied. "And also let them know that we're deeply grateful for their concern and assistance."

Mister Mason stepped forward, still holding the small bag that Emma had packed. "It seems she was quite determined," he said, handing it to Thomas.

Thomas took the bag, looking at Emma with a mix of amusement and affection. "Quite the little adventurer, aren't you?"

Emma blushed, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I didn't want to be a bother..."

"You're never a bother, Emma," Thomas reassured her, giving her a gentle squeeze. "We're a team, remember?"

After her adventure of running away, Emma found herself back in the comfort of the servants hall.

"I'll make sure those pancakes are the best you've ever tasted, Emma." It was Mrs. Patmore, with a comforting smile on her face as she entered the room, carrying a tray of freshly baked pancakes topped with a generous dollop of jam.

Emma's eyes were wide with curiosity as she stared at the stack of pancakes, adorned with a generous dollop of strawberry jam on top.

Thomas sat across from her, watching with a mixture of amusement and relief as she took her first tentative bite.

"Dad," she mumbled with her mouth half full, "these are amazing."

Thomas chuckled, his heart swelling with joy. "Well, I'm glad you think so."

Emma's initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a newfound sense of comfort and belonging. With each bite, the weight of her worries seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of her father's presence and the assurance that she was loved and wanted.

As she continued to devour the pancakes, her earlier determination to run away faded into the background. She realized that her misconceptions and fears had almost led her to miss out on moments like these – moments of shared laughter, tender conversations, and, of course, delicious pancakes.

"Emma," Thomas began, his tone gentle, "I want you to remember that you're the most important person in my life. I would never give you away. And running away isn't the answer when things get tough. I'm here for you, and we'll face challenges together."

Emma nodded, her eyes welling up with gratitude. "I know, Dad. I'm sorry for running away."

"No need to apologize," he said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "Just remember that you're loved, always."

Emma gave him her warmest smile. "I love you, Daddy. And I'm glad you're my dad."

Tears of emotion welled up in Thomas's eyes, "And I am so grateful that you're my daughter."

After the relentless hunger, the shadow of illness cast its pall over Downton Abbey. The Spanish flu swept through the country in the spring of 1919. First, Carson fell ill, then her ladyship, and finally Lavinia. Several housemaids also found themselves confined to their beds, stricken by the virus that had arrived in Downton just days after Emma's little escapade.

With caution, she entered Mister Carson's room. The butler lay there, breathing heavily and with a slight fever.

"I've painted a picture for you," she proudly declared, revealing her tooth gap as she grinned. The drawing depicted a man with a gigantic melon-like head, beside which stood Downton Abbey. Colorful words adorned the sky: Get well soon, Mister Carson!

"Thank you, Emma Grace."

Cheekily, without waiting for his permission, she settled herself at the edge of the bed. "I can read you a book if you'd like. William said I'm good at reading."

Carson sighed in resignation. "Very well."

Opening the first page of her book, Emma began to read with a steady voice. It was a tale of high-sea adventures, pirates, and hidden treasures. As she read, she noticed the tension on Carson's face slowly relax. His eyelids grew heavy, and his breathing became more even.

When she finished the last chapter, Emma looked up at Carson and smiled. "Did you enjoy it, Mister Carson?"

He nodded slightly and murmured, "Yes, it was a wonderful story, Emma Grace. Thank you for sharing it with me."

Immediately, there came a knock on the door. Lady Mary and Doctor Clarkson entered. The doctor began his examination while Emma watched eagerly. Shortly after, another knock sounded. Clarkson opened the door.

"Thank you very much, Sir," a very familiar voice suddenly spoke. Emma bit her lip, her eyes widening as her Dad walked in. He balanced a tray – undoubtedly Carson's supper – and placed it on the dresser. "There you go, Mister Carson," he said kindly, "Do you have everything you need?" He turned to face them. Thomas couldn't help but notice that his daughter was standing quite close to the butler.

Carson nodded.

"Emma," Thomas smiled awkwardly, "Are you coming with me?"

Emma hesitated for a moment before stepping away from Carson's bedside. "Yes, Dad," she replied, her voice a little uncertain. As they left the room, Emma looked back at Carson with a hopeful smile, silently wishing him a swift recovery.

As soon as he closed the door to their shared bedroom, his angry expression became evident. "What were you doing in there?"

"I was just annoying Mister Carson with my presence," Emma replied. At seven years old, she knew very well that Thomas didn't particularly get along with the butler.

"You should stay away from the sick ones," he scolded her. Thomas's frustration was evident as he paced the room, his hands clenched into fists. "You could get sick too. The Spanish flu is highly contagious."

Emma looked down at her feet, her lower lip trembling slightly. She hadn't meant to cause any harm; she had just wanted to help in her own way. "I'm sorry, Dad," she mumbled softly, her voice barely audible.

Thomas took a deep breath, his anger softening as he saw the genuine remorse in his daughter's eyes. He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him. "Come here, Emma."

She approached him cautiously, her eyes still downcast. Thomas put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a reassuring hug. "I know you wanted to do something nice for Mister Carson," he began, his tone gentler now. "But when people are sick, especially with something as serious as the flu, it's important to let them rest and recover without any added risks."

Emma nodded against his chest, her arms wrapping around him in return. "I didn't think about that," she admitted in a small voice.

"It's okay," Thomas said softly, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You're still learning, and I appreciate your kind heart. Just remember, next time, maybe you can find another way to show you care without putting yourself or others at risk."

Emma looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with a mixture of remorse and gratitude. "I promise, Dad. I'll be more careful."

He smiled warmly and kissed the top of her head, "That's my girl."

The Spanish flu also claimed its victims at Downton Abbey: Lavinia Swire. Emma had only had limited contact with Mr. Matthew's fiancée. However, that limited contact was enough for her to know that Lavinia was a kind-hearted person. She had always been friendly and courteous.

Lavinia Swire was the third funeral Emma had attended in her young life. And once again, she stood quietly beside her father, holding his hand tightly as the priest delivered his speech.

After the funeral, a nasty surprise awaited. Two police officers were in the servants' hall, patiently waiting for Mr. Bates.

"Are you waiting for me?" Bates asked.

"John Bates?"

"Yes."

"You are under suspicion of murder and are hereby arrested. You are not obligated to say anything unless you wish to do so. Whatever you say now will be taken down in writing and may be used against you in the trial."

"I understand," Bates said, and immediately the second policeman placed handcuffs on him.

The policeman's words echoed in the silence of the corridor as the Downton Abbey staff looked on in shock and speechlessness. The servants stood paralyzed at the edge of the corridor as Mr. Bates was led out of the manor by the police officers. His steps were slow but determined, and his gaze was calm, although deep concern was evident in his eyes.

"Daddy," Emma whispered softly, tugging at Thomas' livery to get his attention. "What does suspicion of murder mean?" she asked as his eyes met hers.

"It means that Mr. Bates is a bad man," he explained.

"It means that Mr. Bates is wrongly accused of committing a crime," Mr. Carson cleared his throat to correct Thomas's statement.

Emma furrowed her brow. She didn't quite understand why the police were taking Mr. Bates away if he was innocent. Nevertheless, she nodded slowly. Her gaze wandered to the empty corridor through which Mr. Bates had been led away. By now, the first servants were beginning to discuss what had just transpired. Mr. Carson quickly disappeared up the stairs, undoubtedly to inform his lordship, while Mrs. Hughes tended to Anna and led her into her sitting room.

"If he's innocent, why did the police take him?" the 7-year-old asked, puzzled.

"A good question, but who knows if he's really innocent," Thomas doubted.