Where You Belong
Twin Kats
He watched her, watched everyone from his little house on the hill dressed in expensive clothes and surrounded by hats and tea sets and dolls. He watched her since that day she rolled into town, memorized her schedule, mesmerized by her. The minute she had crossed the border, he knew. He knew her, in the same way he knew Regina knew Rumplestiltskin. He could taste it on his tongue, feel it beneath his skin writhing like agony.
They called him the mad man on the hill. They pretended he didn't exist. He'd slip into town once in a while starting ten years back to purchase food, drop off some clothes for this or that person, maybe a hat or two even when he loathed to make them because they were never right. Everyone avoided him, ignored him, and in some ways he preferred it.
Jefferson knew he was quite mad. Knew by how his lips would twitch into a too-wide grin, how his fingers itched to grab a hat, to give it a spin, and how he'd rage destruction upon his workroom when it didn't work. Knew by how he'd trace the line around his neck, stare at it with a gun to his temple and hat perched on top and a twisted sort of broken smile on his lips as he whispered, "Off with his head."
He never once pulled the trigger, although he'd stand like that for hours almost when things got so bad, the depression, the tantalizing, unreachable, image before him of Grace, tore his mind into shreds that he had to piece together again.
Sometimes he thought he was still in Wonderland sewing hats for the blasted queen, or at the never ending tea party when he broke, finally, from it all it; couldn't make another hat, couldn't touch a needle, could only stare and laugh and make conversation with toys and dolls and cups of tea and people not there.
Sometimes he thought he was the lonely mad, man on the hill who made clothes and hats for the people of Storybrooke, creeping and spying on them because he couldn't face the world, couldn't dare talk to a person for more than five seconds because of what had been done to him, what he had done to himself. He'd wake to nights of pure terror, screaming at himself and pulling at his hair before he remembered, he remembered and then he'd be sobbing, crying, and unable to move.
But not since her. He watched her drive into town in the yellow volkswagen bug, and he felt that spark. He'd felt that spark once before, ten years prior, eighteen years after this hell started, this infuriating punishment, neverending torment. This time the spark had been stronger, nearly put him onto his backside laughing, laughing, laughing until he got control of himself.
Jefferson became obsessed. He knew it, he knew it. He watched her, tasted it on the air around her. Not even Rumplestiltskin or Regina had a taste like her, not anymore. The curse stripped everyone of everything and slammed them into new bodies, new lives, new memories that weren't right. Jefferson knew, he could see it, they weren't meant for this world. They were meant to be home but no, Regina had to be a bitter old witch, had to get her way. She couldn't let bygones be bygones, let him go, let them all go.
Emma tasted like home. Jefferson hadn't been the only one caught up in it, he had noticed with clenched fists and snarls until he broke the telescope in twain. The Huntsman had felt it too, perhaps more keenly than anyone in this wretched town discounting Rumplestiltskin and Regina and himself. Only the three of them could tell before even that blasted Huntsman because they knew. They were awake. They were aware.
Rumplestiltskin thought himself clever all these years, pretending, but Jefferson could see it every time he walked up to his door and demanded rent. Could taste it on his tongue, beneath his skin, and it brought a cold smile to his face every time. He didn't say anything, a long, long deep seated line of sworn loyalty saw to that, but then what worth was it to let Regina knew that her perfect little world she dreamed of was nothing more than another plot of the Dark One? Pathetic girl.
Jefferson ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, fingers tap, tap, tapping away on the table as he watched with wide eyes, rocking, Emma go through her daily routine. It'd been nearly six months now, six months of home being at his fingertips. Their little town was falling apart at the seams and it made him want to laugh but it was too slow. Everything was moving too slow!
He pulled away, shaking. He felt the mania come at him, wrap around him, and Jefferson swallowed and took deep breaths because now, now wasn't the time to be a broken, mad, man. He breathed out slowly until the shaking subsided, the need to move and do something edged away leaving him calm. He twisted his head with a faint grimace, heard his neck pop almost satisfyingly but it'd never be enough.
He'd never be rid of this ache.
With a puff of air Jefferson shook out his hands and headed down the stairs toward the kitchen. He needed food and a drink, maybe a good sip of tea. He'd look at a clock but he knew instinctively that it was tea time. He always knew tea time. His hands barely trembled as he tugged down the tea set, put the water on to boil and settled the leaves into the strainer to be steeped. He poured the hot water from the kettle into the pot and then carted the tray out into the foyer where he set it down onto the coffee table.
Jefferson took a seat on his couch, carefully set up one cup and one saucer and then glanced inside the pot to see if the tea had steeped enough. Satisfied he poured himself a glass, replaced the pot, and turned the cup around three times. He picked up the saucer and cup which barely shook in his hands and breathed in the scent. Jefferson's eyes slid shut with a smile on his face, and took a sip.
Three sharp loud bangs disturbed his peace, jolted Jefferson out of drinking his tea so hard that his cup and saucer tumbled to the ground and tea spilled down his front, his hands, and his pants. Jefferson cursed. He got to his feet, shook his hands out and stared at the state of his clothes with a snarl to his face. He puffed at his cheeks, tried to regain a semblance of his own mind before he tore off for the door as another set of sharp loud bangs disturbed his peace.
Nobody visited him. His eyes were narrowed, his entire frame tense as he yanked the door open and stared outside, half a second away from grabbing the nearest pair of scissors and carving out a neck.
"Regina," he said, tone cold. "I should have known."
Regina gave him a smile as frigid as his tone. "Jefferson," she greeted. "May I come in?"
Jefferson pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes, and tightened the grip on the door. "State your business and be gone," he said through gritted teeth.
Regina sighed. "I see your hospitality hasn't changed a bit."
"I'm sorry, did you want to join me for tea time?" Jefferson cocked his head, gave a twisted sort of smirk. "A pity, you just missed it. Now what is it you want, your majesty."
Regina rolled her eyes, looked him up and down. "I can see that, Jefferson, but no. I have a job for you."
Jefferson became even more stiff if possible at her words. He hissed, "I will do nothing for you."
Regina arched an eyebrow, a curl to her lips as she said, "Not even for Grace?"
Jefferson swallowed, heavily. His eyes darted to the side, then back to Regina and he wet his lips. His eyes turned glassy and his hands began to shake. After a minute he breathed out, put on a wide, false smile, and opened her door.
"Come on in, Madam Mayor," he said with false cheer and a clenched fist. Regina gave him an entirely condescending smile.
"Thank you, Mr. March," Regina said and stepped over the threshold. Jefferson peered out into the daylight beyond his home as he slipped the door shut, his face dangerously blank as he did so.
He found Regina standing in his foyer, staring disdainfully at the cup on the ground and the stain on his carpet and he found he didn't care. With a calm he didn't feel he picked up the cup, the saucer, and placed them back onto his coffee table.
"Well?" he asked, scooping up the tray itself after he settled everything back in place. "Out with it."
Regina arched an eyebrow. "No offer of tea?"
"Tea time is past," Jefferson stated, carting the tray back into the kitchen. He set it down on the island. He carefully picked each piece apart, set them down beside the sink in neat columns and rows, and started the water. He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a towel, and some soap, and started to clean.
"This pot is still full," Regina said, eyes narrowed.
"Either you tell me what it is you want and what it is you are offering," Jefferson said, "or get out."
Regina sighed. "Always so troublesome, Jefferson. I've done plenty already. I had Grace move in next door, if you remember."
Jefferson paused, only for a minute in his cleaning, his teeth grinding together in an attempt to control himself.
"Don't," he said, voice dangerously soft, "tempt the Hatter, your majesty. It might not end well." He went back to washing.
"Very well," Regina set her purse down on the island, tone all business now. "I want you to distract her."
"Who."
"Who else?" Regina asked and Jefferson licked his lips.
"And what do I get in return?" he demanded back.
"I'll give you access to Grace," Regina told him, a pretty smile slipping over her face as Jefferson literally stumbled in washing the cups. He dropped the one in his hand, whirled around to stare at her, fingers covered in soap and a rag still clutched in one hand.
Jefferson's breathing was labored. It was almost too good to be true. He stared at Regina, licked his lips, debated on trusting her word. She could be a sly one, always sly. She had him for years bound to this house, forced to rely on her good will to bring him food and supplies. When Henry came into town he'd been given leeway at the promise that he'd keep an eye on the border and report any suspicious activity to her.
He didn't, of course, but she wasn't aware of that.
Then she moved Grace close, but Jefferson suppressed that particular memory as often as he could. And here she was, dangling yet another carrot in front of his face and he helpless to resist. Jefferson closed his eyes.
"How much access," he asked and Regina knew she had him. He'd do exactly as she wanted.
"She stays firmly where she is," Regina told him, picking up her purse. "You do not disrupt her life with her parents," Jefferson clenched his fist, "or give her any wild ideas, and if I hear she's gone missing I'll lock you up in the psych ward." By this point Regina was halfway out of the kitchen, Jefferson trailing behind her like a puppy.
He trembled as he said, "You have a deal."
"Oh, I know," Regina laughed. "I'll see myself out, Jefferson. You just keep her busy tonight and tomorrow."
"As you say, your majesty," Jefferson said, and she disappeared out the door. He could hear it practically slam, like a death knoll on his very soul. He stared, wide eyed at the walls, and as if in a daze moved back into the kitchen on unsteady legs. With a deep breath he went back to cleaning his tea set. Slowly his gaze hardened, he thought, and he planned.
There had been something about Alice, he remembered. Not the little girl Alice who became Cyrus' Alice but his Alice. His beautiful, brilliant Alice that he would never see again. He called her Alice, but only in his head, because she reminded him of Alice, Alice even though she was someone so very different. Unique.
It was like how there had been something about Snow, Jefferson mused as smacked the thick branch to the back of Snow's head. He grabbed her before she could hit the ground, and with a gunt hefted her up and dragged her back towards his house. Snow had been special even before Regina, before exile, before all the bullshit. He could remember it clearly, the taste in the air the day Snow entered the world. He'd only been a child, then, barely five and yet already sent to work on perfecting his ability to Jump using the Hat. Yet Snow's something was different to his Alice. His Alice's something different to Snow's.
He dragged her up the stairs, pausing only to huff as his breathing became an issue. Snow hadn't been far from his house, but she certainly weighed a fair amount more than he'd expect.
"Princess," he grumbled, "you need to lose some weight." He dragged leaned against the wall, not-quite panting as he stared down at her unconscious face. "Seriously." With a grunt he pulled her back up until his arms and started up the next section of stairs until he was on the second floor. He pulled her down the hall into the west wing. Abruptly after three doors the hall opened into another which he took the turn and then pulled Snow into the first door.
Jefferson ignored the walls, the stacks wrapped straw wire and boxes. He dragged Snow over to a chair settled in the middle of the room and with a grunt shifted until he was facing her front instead of her back. Awkwardly, legs on either side of hers, he hobbled until he got her seated in the chair. By this point Snow started to come around, which Jefferson rolled his eyes with a sigh, grasping for the duct tape he had waiting. With single minded focus he tugged out a strip, ripped it with his teeth, and began to bind her down starting with her legs.
He had just started on her left arm when Snow finally came around.
"What hit me?" she asked dazedly.
"A tree branch," Jefferson replied, ripping off another strip of tape as he finished off Snow's left arm. He pulled out another and started to tape down her right when she jolted.
"Who are you?" she demanded, eyes snapping wide and posture going stiff. Jefferson sent her a smile, although it wasn't very reassuring. He felt more like Hatter tonight than Jefferson, but he didn't quite care right now. His thoughts were filled with Grace and his Alice and what tonight might bring.
"Just a poor old Jumper, my dear Princess," he said, ripping off another strip. At this point Snow started the struggle, but Jefferson wrapped the last piece around her wrist and pressed a hand to her mouth just before she could scream. He raised his index finger of his other hand, still grasping the roll of tape, and said, "Shhh. Be a good girl now and let me get you ready for our guest." Assured that she wouldn't scream, he let go of her and sat the tape down on the desk, picking up a strip of cloth first.
Calmly he measured it out along his arm, and assured it was long enough he made his way back to Snow he watched him warily.
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked, pale.
"No," Jefferson said and gave her another too-wide smile. "No, I'm saving you," he told her pointedly. He knelt down and held the strip for her to see. "Now be good Snow and let me gag you."
"Did you kill Kathryn?" Snow asked him, trembling.
Jefferson tilted his head, utterly confused. "Who?" he asked, but a moment later shook his head and reached around her and wrapped the gag tight before she could answer. "Hope that's not too tight, Princess, but I can't have you screaming just yet." He double checked each of her restraints and then the gag before he stood.
He looked her over, frowning slightly to himself. A moment later he tilted his head, trying to get another angle, before he snorted out a laugh. "Definitely not the best first impression."
Snow struggled and Jefferson waved, turning to slip out the door and pull it shut behind him.
"Behave, Snow," he said to her, "We don't want to be late, do we? There's a very, very important date tonight." He couldn't help it, he laughed as he shut the door. He felt quite mad, or madder than usual. He caught the tail end of a scream, properly muffled, that went silent as he shut the door. He leaned against the shut door, tilted his head back against the grain of the wood, and closed his eyes with a sigh.
Distract her Regina told him. He'd not once let himself get close, slip onto her radar. Jefferson hadn't been certain, nearly terrified, of having that girl with the taste of home come close to him could do to him. He'd feared that the Hatter would slip out and faster than he could even utter one of his mad phrases land himself in the hospital. He didn't want to lose Grace like that, lose what little he had, so he stayed away. She seemed so ignorant, anyway, so asleep to the world around her.
"You can do this," he muttered to himself, breathing in deeply. With a huff of air Jefferson pushed himself away from the door and headed down the hall and then down the stairs. He paused at the front door, looked back inside up to where he knew Snow struggled to get free, terrified. A part of himself felt horrible for it, but then there was Grace. The temptation was breathtaking, and with another steadying breath Jefferson shut and locked the front door.
He stared out into the forest around his home, trailed his fingers along the stone work as he stepped down the patio past his drive way and to the stonework fence. He traced the number 316 and smiled, softly, to himself. Jefferson looked down the length of road, straightened his back, adjusted his scarf, and said, "Time to catch my wayward Alice," to himself and started down the road.
He didn't lie to her, he couldn't lie to her. Jefferson knew how good Emma was at detecting lies. Her so-called special power, the ability that got her into and out of trouble at the drop of a hat. His lips twitched up in thought and she glanced over to him.
"Something funny?" she asked.
"Ah, no, just a stray thought," he replied. "Turn here." He pointed in the direction of his driveway, the stark 316 standing out on the rockwall that surrounded his property. Regina liked to think she gave him this house, and maybe a part of her did, indeed, grant him all the wealth he'd had before. Especially since the only other man with the power to influence how the curse affected each and every one of its residents would have preferred to leave him as nothing more than an impoverished hermit in the woods.
"Oh wow, this is your house?" Emma gasped as she pulled the car to a stop. "You must have a huge family!"
Jefferson didn't quite smile. He didn't quite want to. He could remember a comment like this, words that had fallen from young lips at the sight of where he'd lived before.
"No," Jefferson said and stared up at the mansion he lived in. "Just me." He grimaced, got out of the car. His leg wasn't quite as stiff now, the ankle much better as his own body, changed from the tortures of Wonderland, worked to correct the oversight.
He didn't lie to Emma. He never could.
Jefferson lead her inside, hung his coat up on the rack just past the door but he didn't dare take off his caveat. He didn't dare expose to her the scar that ran the length of his neck, round and round. He'd exposed it once in Wonderland and remembered the shocked gasped, the horrified not-quite scream and now, now he couldn't bring himself to show her.
"Tea?" he asked, leading Emma to the sitting room, just off of the foyer. He ran his fingers along the grand piano, debated playing a song for her for a brief moment until she gave his agreement.
"Ah, sure, that'd be nice," Emma gave him a smile and Jefferson hobbled into the kitchen. He pulled out the tray, the cups, boiled some water and set the leaves into steep.
Distract her Regina had said. His hand trembled and he cursed under his breath. Jefferson had not expected the effect Emma would have on him. He had forgotten what it was like to have anyone aside from Regina or Rumplestiltskin enter into his house, be within his company for more than a passing moment. With a careful, drawn out breath he calmed himself and picked up the simple mixture he'd made earlier, once Regina had left.
The powder was white, as most powders where when they were made. It was a few roots and leaves and herbs he'd found in the forest, carefully crushed until it was fine enough to be soluble in tea. He dipped the bottle onto his finger, took just enough of the powder to coat the pad, and the carefully dabbled his pad against the inside of his cup until no powder was left. With a sigh Jefferson put the mixture back into his cupboard, washed his hands, and walked into the sitting room with all the settings on his tray.
Calmly Jefferson poured her a cup, smiled, and picked up the map he had painstakingly put together.
"I brought this," he said, a smile to his face. "I've become somewhat of an amateur cartographer." He pulled off the rubber band and laid the map down on top of his piano. "Mapping the area is a," Jefferson pursed his lips, "hobby. Maybe it will help you track down your dog." He stepped back, let her set the cup down after taking a sip, look over the map.
"Wow, that's...pretty good," Emma said, surprised. Jefferson smiled briefly again, although more bitter as to why. He'd had nothing more to do in these woods aside from map it and pick up anything useful. For years he'd had nothing more to do.
"What's his name?" Jefferson asked, sitting down on the edge of the arm of the couch. He watched her like a hawk.
Emma smiled, glanced to him and said, "Spot."
You're a bad liar, Emma, Jefferson wanted to say, eyes grown dark and a too wide smile crossing his face. Shall I teach how to lie better?
"Cute," he said instead, cheek twitching and casting his gaze elsewhere.
Emma browsed the man, Jefferson's eyes on her almost the entire time. She sipped her tea, muttered to herself about the road and the forest boundary. Her words began to slow, slur together, and Jefferson fought off a sigh of relief. A little too fast, but nothing he gave her would kill her. He got to his feet.
"Something wrong?" he asked, hands clasped in front of him.
"I'm just feeling, ah," Emma began to sway backward, but Jefferson was there, arms around her waist. He pulled her back to his chest, hefted her up and had to bite back any sounds as she pressed against him.
"Let me just, ah, help you," he said into her ear and dragged her backwards, let her slip sideways onto the couch with a smile. "Let's just lie down here," he said. She tried to sit up, brow furrowed. "I'll get you some air." He walked around, front of her.
She called out, "Your leg…" which brought Jefferson to pause. His leg? He glanced down. Ah, right, his leg. It'd gotten better, movable, finally.
Jefferson turned around, slow, said, "Guess you caught me." He wanted to tug the caveat off his neck, but he gave a too wide smile instead and stalked back towards her. "Go to sleep," he whispered, leaning down.
"Who are you?" Emma gasped, and then her eyes rolled up and she dropped her cup and tumbled into slumber.
Jefferson stared at her face, traced her jaw with one hand and placed a kiss to her lips. A smile flashed across his face for a moment as he stroked back her hair and then pulled away, reoriented himself back into Storybrooke.
Distract her Regina said. Jefferson walked out of the room, took the stairs two at a time and made his way into the room that held Snow. He looked her over, brushed past her with a smile.
"Soon, Princess," he said, brushing his hand across her cheek which made Snow jerked with muffled expletives and he laughed. He picked up the duct tape and another piece of cloth and then slipped right back out of the room and down the stairs. Emma was still passed out on his couch, to Jefferson's relief.
Calmly Jefferson moved until he knelt beside her. He placed a kiss between her shoulder blades, tugged her arms back, and tore off a strip of tape with his teeth. He wrapped it around her, leaving enough room to cut herself free and not much else. He placed another quick peck to her lips when he pulled out the cloth and tied it around her head, pressing it past her lips.
"Now to put the rest of the stage into play," Jefferson said, smoothing back Emma's hair one last time before turning on heel. "We'll have quite the show tonight!" He grinned, almost laughed again, and leisurely sauntered out of the sitting room, back up the stairs, and into his workroom. Yes, he thought, tonight they would have quite the show.
It only took Emma about thirty minutes to wake up. He could tell by when the electric fire of her presence grew stronger. Jefferson smiled, scissors in hand as he sharpened them on the stone. He'd planned, almost immediately after Regina told him what she wanted him to do, this little play. He'd figured, why not? He could feel the power, it writhed beneath his skin, wanting her, waiting for her to bring it forth.
Jefferson figure'd he'd have her make him a hat. One that would work, finally. One that could take him out of this cursed nightmare, take him and those he waited for with him. Oh how he longed for his Alice, for the day they could be a family again. Jefferson listened for footsteps at the stairs, but they never came.
He frowned, set the scissors down. Had he underestimated her? Carefully he slipped out of the workroom, down the stairs, and into the sitting room. She wasn't there.
"Dammit!" he snarled. He saw the teacup, broken, but none of his windows had been opened. They couldn't be, he remembered trying once twenty-eight years ago. His front door hadn't been disturbed either which meant she was still here, somewhere. Jefferson cursed again, grabbed the gun he'd placed in the entranceway dresser and took the stairs two at a time. He paused just in time at the corner between hallways, listened.
Oh that clever girl. Jefferson smiled. She probably didn't even realize what she'd done, so blinded was she, but he'd take it. He pressed himself into the other wall, aimed the gun in their direction, and clicked off the safety.
"I see you found Spot," he said with a smile to his face. Emma turned around and froze, Snow beside her.
"I've already called for backup," Emma started and Jefferson shook his head.
"No," he said, smiling slipping until all it was, was a faint curve to his lips. "You haven't. No one knows you're here because you don't want anyone to know you're here, just like you didn't mention her." He motioned with the gun towards the room. "Now tie her back up."
They walked back into the room at gunpoint. Jefferson tossed her the roll of duct tape and raised his brows.
"Well?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe. Emma breathed out slowly and unwrapped the tape, carefully tying Snow's wrists back into the chair
"Emma," Snow whispered and ah, Jefferson had to tilt his head back to get a better look. Yes, those were tears, even. The Hatter grinned, too wide and full of teeth.
"It's gonna be okay," Emma whispered back.
Touching, isn't it? Jefferson thought as the gag was slipped back into place. Emma got to her feet, turned around. He could see the defiant look in her eye, the touch of her stance and oh. Alice, there you are.
"The telescope," Emma said. She sounded so strong, so sure of herself. "You've been watching me. Why?"
Because you've forgotten everything you fool of a girl! Because there is magic in your veins and it sings and-Jefferson stepped into the room, gripped Emma by the arm tight.
"Because I need you to do something," he said, low and almost guttural, and pulled her from the room. He tugged the door shut with flourish, inciting a bit more of the Hatter in his movements now. He could feel the mania rising within and he didn't bother to shut it away this time. No, no matter how unpredictable the Hatter could be, right now he just wanted to let him free. With a laugh he pushed Emma into his workroom and pulled the door shut behind him.
"I don't know what you're thinking of doing, but I swear if you hurt my friend I'll make you regret it," Emma snarled.
Jefferson stepped into her space, forced her back. "Hurt her?" he said, a crazed little grin to his lips. "I'm helping her."
"How?" Emma asked.
"Oh don't play stupid," Jefferson's smile turned into a scowl and he tilted his head to the side. "We both know what happens when people try to leave Storybrooke."
She knew, she had to, she must!
"What are you talking about?"
"The curse," Jefferson said, and he almost spat the word. A curse, a nightmare, his worst dream come to life.
Emma stopped, and Jefferson stopped six inches from her. He could touch her if he moved his arm. Reach up and cup her cheek, maybe remind her of everything that was wrong with this picture. Wrong with this world! He didn't.
"What curse?"
Does she not know? Jefferson wondered. Hatter snarled how could she forget you, forget me, forget us, forget? He wanted to breath, oh, Alice, but he stopped himself. This wasn't Alice, not Alice, Alice, and maybe not even his Alice.
"The one keeping us trapped," he said. "All. Except. You." Emma swallowed.
"Have you been reading Henry's book?"
Henry? Henry who? His brow furrowed, he looked off to the side.
"Henry? The queen's father?" he questioned.
"Henry the mayor's adopted kid," Emma pointed out and Jefferson smiled. Oh. He'd forgotten Regina called the boy Henry, wiped away his own identity and for a moment Storybrooke snapped into place, washed away the Hatter, Wonderland, and the Enchanted Forest. Washed away Alice and Grace until the Hatter reasserted himself and pulled Jefferson along for the ride.
"Henry," he said, drawing the name out. "Your Henry." Like his Alice, his beautiful blond Alice who didn't remember, didn't know. It was like falling down a rabbit hole all over again, lost and broken and alone. "Henry and his book of stories." He didn't know of any book, but if that is what Emma believed then he would humor her.
She'd humor him soon enough.
"The ones you choose to ignore," he almost brought a hand up to drag through her hair. "Maybe if you knew what I know you wouldn't," Jefferson said instead.
"Why have you been spying on me?" Emma demanded instead. Jefferson pursed his lips, slipped around her. He raised the gun, dropped it.
He'd had this whole speech planned out, words designed to rouse something in her, maybe wake her up. Instead he got around to the other side of the room and raised his head to the ceiling and then looked back to her.
"You're special," he said, his lips curling into both a snarl and a smile. Special the Hatter scoffed. Special is what made her break us. "You brought something to Storybrooke that it's been missing for twenty-eight years. The clock started to tick, things began to change, you brought magic."
Emma shook her head. She looked unsurprised, but rather disappointed. He wanted to shriek, but he kept himself in check. "You're insane," Emma breathed.
"Because I speak the truth?" Jefferson parroted back to her, memory slipping ever so slightly. He drew it back, walked back around his work table until he was six inches from her again.
"Because you're talking about magic," Emma implored him.
"I'm talking about what I've seen," Jefferson hissed. "You wander around town, walk among us, listen to our stories, work against Regina at every turn and yet still you don't believe. Still you don't open your eyes. Perhaps you're the one that's mad."
"Really?" Emma scoffed.
He leaned in until they were inches from each other, until it was just his eyes and hers and lips near pressed. She stood stock still.
"Open your eyes," he implored her. "Look around," he whispered. "Wake up. Isn't it about time you just woke up already?" He did not beg, he did not have tears in his eyes. The Hatter did not scream at him, rattle its cage, beg her to just wake up already please my beauty my lovely my one!
Emma breathed in slow. Her heart hammered in her chest. She asked, "What do you want?"
Jefferson closed his eyes. Pain flashed across his face.
It didn't work, it didn't work, why won't anything work?
"I want you to get it to work," he snarled, placing a hand on her shoulder and shoving her into the seat. He placed the scissors in her hand, pressed his cheek to her head. He stared at the hat.
"Get what to work?" Emma asked.
"You're gonna get it to work," Jefferson said, he placed a kiss to her temple and stepped back. Waiting.
She'll get it to work.
She didn't.
Summary: AU. Jefferson had high hopes that little miss Swan would do what he couldn't. That she'd get the hat to work, not because he wanted her to but because she just could. Yet she didn't, and so the women he knew was deep inside her continued to sleep, and he continued to be nothing more than a broken man. Until he couldn't wait anymore and decided to take matters into his own hands. Again. Mad Swan
I'm a horrendous Mad Swan shipper and so saddened that there haven't been more stories about these two. Jefferson has been my favorite on screen since I first watched Hat Trick way back when I first got into this show. Season One by that time was over and done with and on Netflix and they were starting into Season Two. I've been shipping Mad Swan since.
I never ventured into fanfic until recently, compelled to re-watch and catch up on Once after going into a severe Sebastian Stan obsession. I hadn't realized at the time that Sebastian Stan was that pretty mouth and leather pants that I'd adored from Hat Trick until I looked up his filmography and it just clicked.
My obsession has finally begun to wane now that I've watched pretty much everything he's in aside from Gossip Girls, except I started to have a rather delicious idea for Once and Mad Swan. So aside from this and my single Winter Soldier WIP there's not gonna be much else fanfic wise with Sebastian Stan coming from me ;p
The story is going to be primarily AU. Events of the episodes before Hat Trick and the following episodes up until An Apple Red As Blood are pretty much the same canonically. There's no difference to them that happens. The only difference in Storybrooke is that Regina and Rumple both like to go up and bother Jefferson at random points. Regina usually when she wants something, Rumple just because he can.
I'm also playing this that Rumple already remembered anything the moment the curse was implemented, his own little "back up" plan so to speak. So like Regina and Jefferson he was aware of the past and of the curse, and a part of him actually genuinely enjoys being human again. Enjoys the power this gives him, so different from magic yet still strangely satisfying.
No, most of what is AU actually takes place pre-Storybrooke, pre-Emma arrives in Storybrooke, pre-Curse. I'm running mostly on the notion that Wonderland is pretty much "Everything is possible, nothing impossible" to explain a few things, especially in regards to Jefferson's past. Wonderland has its own rules (obviously it has rules) that will crop up now and again but most of those rules just come and go with how strange and impractical Wonderland can be.
Also there are a few little twists as to why Jefferson worked for Rumple and how he became an impoverished mushroom seller. We're still keeping the "my work cost my Grace's mom" rule, but beyond that you'll have to wait and see.
I'm thinking of writing this story as one chapter Storybrooke, one chapter past, alternating back and forth. Chapters past this one (the simple retelling of Hat Trick with minor changes through Jefferson's POV) will focus on both Emma AND Jefferson and dip into their heads (probably alternatively, but not always) We'll see how that works.
I'll be attempting to keep to around 15 pages a chapter. We'll see.