Dear Grace,
I know you're called Paige. I know you don't know who I am. I know you have two parents, schoolfriends, and a pet rabbit. You may have seen me around town, the man in the scarf that always sits on the bench outside the school gates.
I'm not going to post this letter. I'd be a fool to think you'd believe me. And even if you did remember, you'd still hate me. I hate me. I hate me for leaving you alone. I hate me for never coming back. But I did try, Gracie, I really tried, and I'm still trying now.
And even if I am the man in the mansion that talks to no one and keeps himself to himself, I'm still your papa, and that will never change.
I love you more than you may ever know. Never forget that. You may forget who I am, you may forget the Enchanted Forest and everything inside of it, even your real name, but never forget that your papa loves you.
Try to forgive me.
I'm still up here making hats. Even pulled the sheriff in for a cup of tea to see if she could help me 'get it to work'. She didn't take too kindly to it, but at least I tried?
I can safely say you're always in my thoughts,
Love Papa.
Grace stared at the letter in front of her. She'd accidentally stumbled across it while searching through the drawer for her notebook, but there it was, a sealed envelope with her name on it. Any kid would've looked.
Mixed emotions ran through her at once. She remembered exactly what it was like, staying in the house for days after he left and just waiting for him to return. The genuine abandonment she felt at him not coming back and the weeks it took for her to accept he was gone. She'd known he was in another world - there was no hat in the small cupboard. It was the first thing she'd thought of when he didn't come back.
She never understood why he didn't come back. Back in time for tea, no. He never came back. And even when the curse broke and they were in Storybrooke together, it took him days to find her.
Not from a lack of trying on her half, though. Posters, phone calls, an illogical wander round the streets daily. Only now did she understand why he didn't come.
Jefferson stepped in, carrying a tray of tea and setting it on the table. "And how are you this evening, Gracie?"
She looked up at him, the letter still clutched tightly in her fist. "Papa . . ."
His eyes flickered down to the crushed paper in her hand as she rose to her feet, understanding immediately. "I - Grace . . . I didn't -"
"- Think I'd ever see it?" she interrupted, stepping forward. "Papa, it's okay. I'm glad I read it."
Their eyes met, and a mixture of unspoken apology and forgiveness transferred between them in a matter of seconds. Words Jefferson didn't have the courage to say aloud. Words Grace thought she'd never say.
She wrapped her arms round his waist, holding him tightly. "I love you, Papa," she mumbled into his shirt, fighting back tears.
She'd heard from many that he was the Mad Hatter; even read up what had happened in Henry Mills' storybook. But seeing it for herself in words he'd meant for her to read, seeing years of guilt and hatred cramped up in his beautiful handwriting, she finally understood what it must be like to go mad.
"I love you too, Grace. More than you could ever know."
She smiled slightly. "I think I know now."
This was it. The sincere forgiveness Jefferson had been waiting to hear for so long. The words that meant he no longer had to fear her; nights spent sleepless not knowing if he could ever admit to her just how crazy he'd been. And Grace finally saw the Mad Hatter her papa was so famous for - not the crazy man who kids read about in the books. Not the man who sat around with a hare and a dormouse.
No, she saw the man who made the wrong choice and regretted it for all the years to come, who tried so hard to fix the mistakes but never got the chance. She saw how torn up he was for leaving her. She saw the man who lost his mind trying to reach her. And despite how genuinely sorry she felt, for having been the cause of his pain and insanity, she couldn't help but feel a small ounce of pride that he cared about her so much. But they were together, and that was what mattered. Past had passed. Future was the focus now.
Grace pulled his head down to her height and rose up on tiptoes to whisper, "No more secrets and no more lies, okay, Papa?"
She felt his breath on her neck as he chuckled. "I'm no Rumpelstiltskin, dearie, but I think that's a fair deal. No more secrets; no more lies. Us versus the world."
"Together."
And from father to daughter, after all this time, they were finally reunited.
