So, long story short: I frequent IMDB and started looking at this show because of Sebastian Stan. Basically familiarized myself with Jefferson's story thanks to the internet and, of course, felt inclined to write this character study thing even though I haven't gotten around to actually watching the show yet, so if I've got anything wrong here, I'm really sorry. Still, I hope this came out alright, and reviews, if you've got the time, would be deeply appreciated.
Disclaimer: I own nothing whatsoever and make absolutely no profit from this.
Quiet Moment of Sanity
Get it to work. Get it to work. Get it to work.
The words played an incessant melody in his head, annoying and unending, but wasn't it also the only thing that really mattered? He'd been stuck here in this hateful, horrible land for who knew how long, and what had he to show for it? A room full of failed hats. Unsuccessful experiments, each and every one just as useless as the last. And what good at all was that? Another lost chance, one following orderly after the other. Another scrap of his crumbling logic lost to immeasurable defeats. Another piece of time wasted that should have been spent with the only family he had left. Yet, he had to get back, back home, back to her. It was the one and only thing worth living for anymore.
With an exhausted sigh, he threw yet another botched hat atop a stack of others just like itself, simply another of his massively growing collection. The barely audible thud of fabric hitting fabric seemed to echo across the cavernous room, bouncing off the walls in a mocking requiem as the young man dropped his forehead to calloused hands, somehow feeling a contrasting, yet calming, quiet moment of sanity in the midst of it all. Of course, he knew he must look otherwise, a lone man surrounded by towers of innumerable hats, constantly toiling away to make countless more; why, he must appear absolutely mad. Even he would think the same of himself if he didn't know any better.
However, therein laid the problem. He knew exactly what was going on; he knew he wasn't insane. He was desperate. More so than he had ever believed possible, once upon a time. These were circumstances and emotions so extreme he had heard them only as happening to others, but never to himself. Never truly believed they could touch him and the humble life he had built since putting portal jumping behind. But now, he did believe it could happen, he did understand, for he wanted nothing more than to go back, the one thing denied of him. Even when he'd promised to return, after she'd begged him not to go, but he did and assured her he would come back to her. Promised to her everything would turn out alright, promised to himself to make life better for his only daughter. Yet, looking back, he would wish for things to be just as they used to be: life simple, only the two of them playing in the forest or wandering through town, no more richly if trying to change it meant this unbearable solitude. Those were the days he longed to have once more, those which had been stolen from him.
Hopeless longing sprung up from within, flowing out from within the deep void in his heart, an emptiness which could never be filled except by the reunion with his precious Grace. A reunion he would ensure at any and all costs. The one thing that kept slipping through his fingers, leaving behind no more than the dying embers of a dream for him to clutch onto.
More happy memories slipped into his mind's eye, playing back against his closed eyelids, bringing one corner of his lips to twitch up in a rare smile at living again in the past. True, these were hardly desirable circumstances and a far cry from the home he wholeheartedly missed, but the short glimpses of remembrance would need to serve as enough until fate decided otherwise. Even now, the thoughts of the perfection that used to be his life beat back the bleak despair, suppressing it for some time longer, and reviving the dimming sparks of hope to grow them into a burning flame. Fires of determination (or was that still desperation?) without which he would have given up this task and consigned himself to living in Wonderland's absurd realm long ago. Fires which, so long as they lived, would push him to find some way back to her, find some solution to this impossible problem. He was going to get back, of that he had no question.
But would she be able to accept what he did, be able to forgive him for his poor choices? Would things ever really be the same again, even if he were to be part of her life once more? Those possibilities he was still uncertain of, but were also ones to await another time. For now, as he took up needle and thread another time, all he wished for was the familiar weight of his girl in his arms, and any chance, be it by skill or luck, magic or science, to be near her, he would take as a blessing, no matter the form it might take.
Nevertheless, as the short burst of clarity faded away and he set into frenzied work, Jefferson realized there was merely a single way to accomplish such a task on his own.
Get it to work.