Disclaimer: I do not own 'Once Upon A Time' or Jefferson. I claim credit only for my OC and her actions.
Lost And Found
Nothing ever changed in Storybrooke.
Jefferson wished he could forget that, only knew it was impossible. There were reminders of that rule everywhere in his life. Even sitting in the quiet hospital, reading from a tattered, old book, Jefferson couldn't shake the despair it caused him. Nothing ever changed.
The book was an old copy of 'Alice in Wonderland', pages all yellowed with age and spine bent from the numerous times the cover was bent around to the back. It looked as if it belonged in a museum – or dumpster – given how old as it was. It had been around for at least as long as Jefferson had lived in Storybrooke; twenty-eight years.
For twenty-eight years, Jefferson had a routine of reading that book.
Every Sunday, he would drive down to the hospital, turn left three times, and then take the second door to the right, which led to his current surroundings.
He sat at the bedside of one of the patients. She was around his age, a few years younger at the most, with a frail body that matched her pale complexion and sickly state. Her hair was an ashy-blonde, long where it had once been short, and falling over an angular face incredibly similar to that of his daughter's. Jefferson also knew for a fact that her eyes were a brilliant shade of green, flecked with brown if he looked close enough.
Her name was Alice, and for the twenty-eight years that Jefferson had read to her, she had been asleep.
He had prayed that she would wake from wherever she was, but it had never happened. He was a fool for thinking it could. Nothing in Storybrooke ever changed.
It left Jefferson bereft, with nothing more than to hope that she was happy in whatever Wonderland it was she was in. Wherever Alice's mind lay, he wanted it to be a happy place where she knew nothing of her life outside and felt no sadness. It was all he had ever hoped for; her happiness.
It was also the thing he had found most unattainable.
The pages sighed as he turned them, weary as he of the many years. Jefferson was so close now; another chapter to go.
It didn't matter, really, because he knew how it ended.
His fingers caressed the spine, turning the page again. Eyes fled over words long memorized, whilst his tongue moved to say them in a hushed voice that wanted to disturb no one else but Alice. He was there for her, her alone, and he did it not just because she had done it for him. That was, perhaps, the most remarkable thing to come of it all.
When the time came for Jefferson to leave, he did so quickly and quietly. The book was carefully set on the bedside, and the chair moved back against the wall.
Jefferson also took enough care to straighten Alice's sheets. For a moment, his face was close enough to hers that her breath could be felt against his cheek, light and distant. Without thinking, he reached out and held her hand.
Her fingers were long, yielding as they didn't yet know what it was they yielded to. Jefferson marvelled at her warmth, at how she had survived – survived through apparent death, even – and found his memories of her wrap around him like a familiar blanket to comfort him in his sorrow.
He kissed her hand softly, before letting go.
That day, he asked her, "Please, wake up."
A few days later, she did.
.
.
.
She woke as if a bucket of icy water had been thrown over her.
And she woke, knowing it wasn't water, but magic. The kind of magic she had known her entire life, and the kind she understood very well. She knew it obeyed only one rule; all magic comes with a price.
A daze, a dream-like filter, seemed to smother her. Reality had no meaning, and everything was beyond her concept but for a few things. There was, first of all, the warmth. She knew, because of it, that she was alive, just as she knew that she was real because of her memories. Faces, parents, the tree with the ladder, Jefferson, kicking, a hat, and tumbling down, down, down. Some of these memories weren't even her own, but those of some character from a book. She was beginning to wonder when that had happened, when suddenly, it stopped.
"Oh."
I'm Alice.
"Ow."
And that was her speaking.
Alice sat up much too fast, and immediately regretted it. Nausea swept through her, leading her to clutch her stomach until it past a few minutes later. The sheets over her knees were white and smelled sickeningly clean.
When Alice looked up and around at her surroundings, she instinctively knew where she was. The room was filled with rows of pale beds, identical to the next, and all the walls and windows were kept meticulously pristine. There was only one place that looked – and smelled – like this did, and no matter what world it was that she was in, Alice knew it was a hospital.
She knew why she was there, also.
She had been asleep, for a very long time. When she tried to recall why that had been so, she couldn't. It hurt to try, and although she knew she did have a life before, she couldn't remember it. She remembered her, being Alice, and she remembered Jefferson, the Hatter, and all that had happened in her old world; the fairytale world. She could also remember a lot about this new world, Storybrooke, which was incredibly unusual seeing as how she had never been awake to learn of it.
There were people outside of her room standing at the windows of the hospital, looking out, or looking at each other as each had their own revelation. Alice merely wriggled her toes, checking they were working.
Returning her attention to herself, she glanced around again. Her bed sheets were pulled too tight, so she tore them off, before spotting what lay on her bedside table.
A book. She picked up and read the title of it out loud.
"'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'," She breathed, "How curious."
She flicked through the well-read pages, words snagging her gaze as she did. After a few seconds of repeating this action, Alice turned to the front cover again. She traced the illustration, and her own name, which was coloured a blue more faded from wear than the other letters of the title.
Interest piqued, she opened it finally. The first page was blank, and the one underneath was another title page. On the other side to it, Alice noticed some small scribbles in pencil.
It was a phone number, and underneath, the name Jefferson, written in a messy scrawl she knew too well.
"What's a phone number?" Alice wondered, before realising she had spoken out loud again. She hoped the habit would wear off after she was no longer shocked by the absurdity of her situation.
Oh, she realised, of course; the number that connected someone to an electronic device that could transmit and receive sound from another similar device. Alice was bewildered by how she could have forgotten that, before realising that she didn't know it originally.
It was part of the knowledge she shouldn't know but did anyway.
She also knew another thing; to use a phone number, one needed a phone.
Alice looked around at the walls, before spotting one. It hung quite near her bed, and though it was probably used mostly by the hospital staff, Alice decided it would serve her well enough.
She swung her legs over the bed, touching the cold linoleum and curling her toes in shock. The second time was much easier, until Alice attempted to stand. She felt her body tremble, unused to the pressure and effort needed to walk and support her weight. Considering the distance, Alice took a deep breath before making a rush for the phone. She swayed forward, grabbing it by pure luck, before swaying backwards.
The mattress springs creaked under the sudden weight, yet Alice ignored them. Instead, she held the open book in one hand, and the phone in the other. She punched in the numbers, yet didn't press the call button. Instead, she waited.
She wasn't sure what for. Some kind of sign, maybe.
Alice looked down at her lap, catching the name underneath the phone number in the corner of her eye. Maybe that was sign enough.
She dialled.
"What?"
He was agitated.
"Hi." Alice breathed into the receiver.
He didn't reply straight away, instead allowing Alice to listen as his breaths grew harsher. "Who is this?"
"Jefferson?" Alice asked, ignoring his question so that she might ask her own.
He didn't answer, which, in itself, was enough for Alice to know the truth.
"Jefferson." She repeated.
"Alice?" He replied.
She giggled. "Hi." She said again.
"Hi." He replied, obviously stunned.
"I'm awake."
"Are you?"
"Yes. I think. Seems to me that I am."
"What if it's all just happening inside your head?"
"What if it's all just happening inside your head?"
Jefferson was silent for a few more moments. Alice had no idea what to say next, which was unusual when talking to Jefferson.
"Why are you calling me?" he inquired at length.
"You left your number in that book," Alice explained, "And who else would I call?"
She imagined Jefferson shrugging in the ensuing silence, before then realising she couldn't see that and so saying, "I don't know."
"Exactly." She agreed.
"I really don't know." He reiterated, probably because of the shock.
Alice smiled sadly, although he would not see, nor know, it. "I love you." She told him.
"I-!" Jefferson started to say, after which he began to rethink his words, "I- I'll come soon."
The line beeped dead when he hung up.
Whatever comfort he has thought to offer with those words, was rendered useless; Alice knew he had lied.
.
.
.
It was, in fact, a few days before he came.
Even to someone possessing Alice's patience, this extended far beyond her definition of 'soon'. In these circumstances, 'soon' should have meant minutes. But it did not, and that was why Alice was still in Storybrooke's hospital.
She wasn't entirely vehement, however. The few days allowed her to get her bearings, and also allowed her to escape the chaos that had ensued since the breaking of the Curse. Alice was grateful for those few aspects, and had also taken into account unforeseeable occurrences that could have waylaid Jefferson.
But she also knew he was afraid; what of, she wasn't sure, yet she was certain that he was.
Being unable to leave just yet, under the doctor's orders, Alice and resigned herself to curling up on her hospital bed and reading Jefferson's book. It was a painful, boring existence.
Alice kind of liked it.
She, her entire life, had been used to luxury, and adventure in later days. She had stumbled across the thrill of life even as she had stumbled across Jefferson; a strange, foreign boy lost in her village. Along with other things, he brought excitement into her life. But Alice was no longer young, and she had grown wiser in recent years.
Alice closed her eyes, picturing the man she knew so well. She could still hear his voice, fresh in her mind from the other day, and his footsteps.
Wait.
Alice still didn't open her eyes, although allowed her other senses to expand. She was certain of it now; there was someone approaching. The corridor outside echoed with their footsteps and hushed voices, which Alice was able to hear only due to the open door into her room.
"Alice."
She smiled.
"Hi, Jefferson." She replied.
When he said nothing further, Alice opened her eyes and sat up.
He was tall as ever, and while he, physically, looked the same – aside from a haircut – there was something almost indiscernibly different about him. Alice met his eyes, a pale blue, and then understood.
He was at peace.
He tilted his head slightly, eyebrows drawn. "I'm sorry."
Alice's expression didn't change, as she instead threw the sheets off her body and jumped to her feet. Though Jefferson was caught in surprise, he still managed to catch Alice as she rushed them into a hug.
"So am I." she whispered back.
Jefferson's arms tightened themselves around her, holding her closer despite it not seeming possible. Alice, in turn, embraced him with just as much enthusiasm. Their touching skin seemed electric, and brought a warmth with it like neither had felt in ages. If they had had the choice, neither would have let go.
"You're not mad?" asked Jefferson, leaning away so that he could look at her.
"No," she assured quickly, "Not at all."
Jefferson nodded before swallowing hard. He gripped her shoulders, steadying Alice before she fell. He glanced away, for a brief second, but readily returned.
With all the honesty he could muster, Jefferson proclaimed, "I love you."
Blinking so that the tears might not overflow, Alice replied, "And of course I love you."
He kissed her forehead, before whispering, "There's someone I want you to meet."
Alice stared at him in confusion, to which he smiled and stepped aside.
"Come on." He called out, looking towards the doorway.
Alice followed his gaze, meeting the sight of a young girl. Her hair was golden blonde, features angular yet still soft with youth. When she entered, she glanced at Jefferson briefly, before turning her attention to Alice. Their eyes met, and Alice understood.
Separated long ago, only able to enjoy a brief few years together that was nothing compared to the amount she had missed, Alice knew who it was. Had she not become lost, had Jefferson not believed her to be dead, she had often wondered what might have happened. Now, however, the only thing that mattered was what would happen.
"Grace?" Alice said.
The girl nodded shyly, and kept to standing near the door. Alice felt a wave of emotions, of relief and happiness, break down upon her. The weight became unbearable, her legs too weak to hold her, and Alice fell to her knees.
As if a signal had been sounded, Grace rushed forward into Alice's arms.
"Mama." She murmured.
Alice had been waiting so long to hear that.
"Mama, I missed you." Grace continued.
Alice held her tighter, hating the thought of letting go. "You don't have to anymore," she assured, looking up to Jefferson, "I'm not going anywhere."
He stared at her, a strange expression adorning his face. Alice was hesitant to label it, although if she had to she would say it was something akin to thankfulness; if that were an emotion.
"I think your mum needs to sit down for a bit, Grace." Jefferson cut in.
She stepped away, nodding tearfully. Even as she was doing so, Jefferson swept in and offered Alice a hand, pulling her to her feet. She fell back onto the bed, Jefferson taking a seat beside her.
"Papa, can I go get Miss Bunny?" Grace asked.
"Miss Bunny?" Alice inquired.
She nodded at the blonde woman. "My toy. She's a rabbit."
"Really? Is she, perhaps, a white rabbit?" guessed Alice.
Grace again nodded, beaming.
"It's fine." Jefferson interjected, approving of the venture.
"Thanks. I'll be quick." She promised, before spinning around and rushing out of the room.
Alice watched her go quietly, pinching her skin as she did. When she felt nothing but pain, only then did she smile. It wasn't a dream.
"That's really my daughter. Grace." She murmured, turning to Jefferson.
His lips twitched, before he leaned down to kiss her quickly. Alice sighed and leaned towards him, resting her head on his shoulder when he drew back.
"I guess…"
"I know." Jefferson agreed, reaching around to hold her hand, smiling as he did so.
This time, she smiled back.
Oh my god this is the third time I've ignored writing chapters and instead written a oneshot. It's just so tempting though.
Just to straighten out a little bit of how Alice fits into the storyline; she was born into a rich, noble family and at a young age she came across Jefferson in the local village. He's taken in by her family and works for them, up until her father dies. It's then that they marry, and he becomes a portal jumper. When Alice accompanies Jefferson on one of his jobs, it goes wrong and Jefferson believes that she's dead, and leaves her in another world to go and care for a newborn Grace. Then, obviously, the Curse hits and she's transported to Storybrooke as a coma patient.
I'm sorry I always put so much thought into something so small. Thanks for reading and please review!