A/N: Sorry for the delay everyone, real life got in the way at first, and then when the second season aired this story needed some revamping… well, that's done now, and we can move on. So without further delay… This story takes place sometime after "The Return" but before "An Apple Red as Blood" in my slightly alternate, more Jefferson-heavy universe.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 1: Calling in a Debt

Jefferson ignored the spectacled eyes that followed him down the hall and up the stairs of the town's small bed-and-breakfast. Granny had not been expecting a visit from the town's now-infamous recluse, but she was not the one he was here to see.

Jefferson ascended the stairs two at a time, eager to be in and out of this visit as soon as possible. He had a dinner date at the Driscoll's that evening which included being driven home by Emma; which was sure to include a sleep over with the town's illustrious sheriff. This had been shaping up to be a good day… until Jefferson had received a phone call from August Booth. When Jefferson received the call he had just been stepping out the door on the way to his appointment with the town psychiatrist Dr. Hopper, who just so happened to also be a boy's conscience in the form of a cricket… and recently, Jefferson's own conscience. Once a week Jefferson would go to see Archie, talk about Jefferson's home world of magic and fantasy, and then part ways, neither one any more or less convinced by the other's reality. Archie did however provide Jefferson with useful advice as to how to live in this world with his madness and his delusions, who to tell them to, who to hide them from, and what to do if he felt himself losing control. It was all valuable information, so Jefferson tolerated the other man's analyzing so that he could put a tick in that box, and then go and see the daughter he shared with the Driscoll couple. Once a week they would invite him over for dinner, a dinner for which the town sheriff Emma Swan was present, and then Paige would visit him without her parents on Sundays again with the town sheriff present. This was a routine that Jefferson had relaxed into easily, the ghosts of his past and therefore his madness, quieting considerably with the interaction with his daughter. He never mentioned anything of the Fairy Tale Land to her or of his sessions with Dr. Hopper, but Emma was given frequent progress reports, as she was his official guardian while he was still considered unable to care for himself. However, Jefferson's relationship with Emma was not strictly business, as they had started sleeping together soon after Jefferson had hidden from the evil-mayor Regina in the flat Emma shared with her mother/friend, Mary Margaret/Snow White… Storybrooke was a complicated town for any sane person to keep track of, for Jefferson it was downright infuriating, the lines between his old fantasy world home, and this magic-less world blurring and blending erratically.

Jefferson found himself standing in front of a solid oak door with the number 2 emblazoned on it in a brass numeral. According to Granny, this is where August Booth was staying, but to hear her grand-daughter Ruby tell it, he wasn't doing too well.

Jefferson paused, his hand hovering above the wooden door before he shook away any remnants of his madness that were telling him to run screaming in the opposite direction of this encounter, then he rapped on the wood sharply three times.

"Who is it?" August's voice sounded weak as it floated through the closed door.

Jefferson frowned. "It's Jefferson." He said. "You… asked for me."

"Come in. It's open."

Jefferson entered the room but stopped dead in his tracks when he caught a glimpse of August on the bed. One of his arms was draped over his torso, the other lay by his side. His breathing sounded labored and pained as it rattled around in his chest before being expelled with a wheeze. August lifted one arm and waved at him to come closer. The movement was jerky; as if he didn't have full control over the limb.

"What's wrong with you?" Jefferson asked warily, but even as he asked it Jefferson knew the answer. The hand that lay across August's chest was a piece of finely carved wood.

"There's no magic in this world," August said, in between his gasping breaths. "And without magic, I'm still just a puppet."

"Why hasn't this happened sooner?" Jefferson asked. "Why didn't you come to this world a puppet?"

"Because of the curse. The minute Emma got to Storybrooke and started to change things, she brought just enough magic into this world that I started to change back, as punishment for breaking my promise to my father."

"And what promise was that?"

"My father made me promise to protect her, since he was adamant on sending me through the portal as part of his agreement to make it. It meant that Emma wouldn't have her parents to help her."

Jefferson frowned again, in distaste, he'd never known the carpenter but he sounded like a fool. "You were a child! How could you be held responsible for the care of an infant?"

August shook his head with difficulty. "Doesn't matter, the magic doesn't see it that way. I promised I would, and I broke that promise, so the magic is punishing me. All magic…"

"…comes with a price." Jefferson finished.

"And it seems the price that I have to pay is my life."

"So why did you call me?"

August stared at Jefferson for a long time, as if deciding something then finally he spoke:

"I need to call in that favor you owe me, for helping you during your hearing." He said.

Jefferson nodded for August to continue.

"I want you to do what I couldn't do – what I didn't do. I want you to protect Emma."

Jefferson huffed. "Emma doesn't need protecting, and even if she did, I don't think she'd accept it, from anyone."

"Well tough, because she does, even if she doesn't want to admit it."

"You don't even like me!" Jefferson said with his nose scrunched up like he'd smelled something sour.

August made an unpleasant sound, several sharp exhalations, which Jefferson guessed to be a laugh. "That's true, I don't; but I know we both like Emma. So can I trust you to do that for me?"

Jefferson, still startled by August's affliction shrugged and said, "Yeah, I guess so."

August's good hand shot up and tugged heavily on Jefferson's sleeve, dragging Jefferson to his knees so that they were more-or-less at eye-level.

"I'm gonna need something a little better than that." August snarled. "Promise me; swear to me, that you will protect Emma from anyone or anything that wants to hurt her."

Jefferson could feel the power behind the other man's words, the magic curling through the room, making the air turn cold, and preparing to bind Jefferson to his word. But Jefferson could honestly not think of a scenario in which he would not do anything to protect the Savior, his sometimes lover, his friend, Emma. So Jefferson ignored the hairs standing up on his arms, and the shiver going down his spine, and the way his scar was itching in an imaginary noose around his neck.

"I swear." He said, clasping August's hand in his own, even as it too turned to wood in his grasp. Jefferson shivered.

"Good, good…" August said, his eyes draining of their fire as a wave of exhaustion settled over him. "Thank you, Jefferson."

"You're welcome." Jefferson replied, stretching out his hand repeatedly in an attempt to banish the eerie sensation of flesh turning to wood from his nerves. His scar was burning now, and the madman in his brain shrieked at him, railed at him, threw things and cursed. 'What have you done, you stupid boy! That was magic, and magic is never so simple! Magic always comes with a price. Are you willing to pay it? Can you even comprehend it?'

"I'm tired," August said, drawing Jefferson's attention away from the Hatter. "You can leave now, just please lock the door on your way out."

Jefferson left the bed and breakfast with a foreboding cloud following him all the way to the Driscoll's where he was meant to have dinner.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Emma couldn't help but feel like a third… or maybe a fifth wheel, at these family dinners with Jefferson and the Driscolls. She wasn't very good at family stuff, not really having much experience in such things. She couldn't say she looked forward to them at all, but Paige's parents still requested her presence, it had only been a month since Jefferson's hearing after all. So she endured them, for Jefferson's sake. Besides, he had many creative ways of repaying her during their little sleepovers, which were disguised as court-mandated monitoring sessions.

Emma was on her way to one of these "monitoring sessions" right now, with Jefferson sending her seductive glances from the passenger seat of her Volkswagen Bug every few minutes. That being said, almost everything Jefferson did could probably be labeled as "seductive," such was the allure of the man; but Emma knew him well enough now to know when he was doing it on purpose. This was one of those times.

"Stop it." She said. "I'm driving."

Jefferson just smiled in a thoroughly self-satisfied manner but said nothing.

Jefferson had been going to see Dr. Hopper for counseling; another of the Driscoll's conditions for his access to their daughter. Dr. Hopper had confessed to Emma some of his theories about Jefferson's delusions, all without breaking patient-doctor confidentiality. He said that Jefferson's "Wonderland" was the embodiment of a tragic event from Jefferson's past; probably the car accident that had killed his wife, and led to the loss of his daughter. The "Mad Hatter" was Jefferson's alter ego, who had been developed to distance his less savory actions from the good man that Jefferson was. So when Jefferson had somehow heard about Henry's Fairy-Tale Land, he latched onto it as evidence of his own sanity, and thus expanded his own fantasy world. Jefferson and Emma had an unspoken pact, never to speak of these things. Emma never pressed him to divulge what went on in his therapy sessions, and in turn Jefferson refrained from speaking of Wonderland and curses. Their other pact involved never trying to convince the other of their insanity/ignorance; it made their relationship much more cordial.

Emma's yellow bug pulled up the long drive way in front of Jefferson's house and stopped under the overhang.

"Come in for a cup of tea?" Was how the formal invitation would always go, it was never just a cup of tea.

"Sure." Emma inevitably replied.

Before either one knew it the cups of tea were left forgotten on the counter, as Emma and Jefferson discarded their clothing and stumbled up the stairs inextricably wrapped around one another. They had reached the top step before it dawned on Jefferson to lift Emma off the ground with his hands under her thighs, and those legs wrapped around his waist. This made it considerably easier to walk… however he'd eventually have to do something about the fact that his trousers were currently wrapped around his ankles and only allowing him to move in penguin-like shuffles... But Emma's mouth was hot against his own, and her thighs squeezed his hips, and oh, her hands were in his hair, what was he thinking about? Jefferson tripped. Oh right, his trousers.

Jefferson deposited Emma neatly in the center of his large bed, the duvet cushioning her fall and puffing out around her to make an inviting looking nest. Jefferson shook his feet to free them from his pants and quickly crawled over her kissing a line up her body hungrily, paying special attention to her breasts as one hand teased her down below, making slow paths up and down her legs straying close to, but never touching that ever-so-pleasant place between her thighs.

Emma's head rolled back when Jefferson decided he wanted to taste that very same place, his tongue delving in and out between her folds, glancing across her clit now and then. When he eventually added a few clever fingers into the already tantalizing mix, it all became too much and Emma orgasmed with a breathy exclamation.

Jefferson looked up at her quizzically from her crotch, waiting for her to come back to her senses before asking: "Did you just call me 'god?'"

He ducked as a pillow was sent whizzing towards his head.

Emma slumped back limply against the remaining pile of pillows, as Jefferson's luxurious bed had many, panting heavily.

"If you hadn't just done such a good job you'd be in serious trouble mister." She said.

Jefferson merely grinned at her and licked his lips, the sight of which made Emma hot all over again. Jefferson leaned back for a second and rolled on a condom that seemed apperated from thin air. Then he crawled up the bed and settled over her, Emma's legs automatically went around his waist and Jefferson took this as an invitation to push into her. They both gasped at the feeling, Jefferson's eyes snapped shut and he began to thrust into her in tiny movements that gradually got more fluid as he found a rhythm that worked for both of them.

"I wasn't calling you god, you know." Emma said, in between gasps and pants.

"Weren't you?" Jefferson asked incredulously.

"No-oh!" Her reply turned into a cry of pleasure. "Most definitely did not."

"Emma?" Jefferson said.

"What?"

"Shut up."

Had it been any other person who'd said that to her, they probably would have gotten a punch in the mouth. Had it been in any other situation that he said it in, he probably would have found himself without a ride to and from family dinners so fast his head would have fallen off. But it wasn't anyone else, nor was it any other situation, and really Emma couldn't disagree, so for once she complied, and they both came shortly thereafter.

After another few rounds, and a cuddle session in the afterglow, Emma lay awake in Jefferson's arms, her back to his chest and him snoring lightly into her hair. She was finding it difficult to sleep. Her conscience had kicked in a couple minutes ago, telling her how wrong this was, how much trouble she'd be in if anyone knew, and how dangerous the man who was currently drooling in her hair was.

Every voice in her head was screaming how bad of an idea this whole set up was, but her heart was, for once, not listening. Her heart was inexplicably attracted to this man. This man, who had once held her and her friend hostage, this man who was seven layers of crazy, but who was also a loving father, an attentive lover, and quickly becoming one of her better friends. Emma sighed, she wouldn't be able to put off the long think she had coming for much longer; too much was happening far too quickly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Morning came quickly, but Emma had barely slept before Jefferson's alarm-clock started chirping that it was time for her to go to work.

Emma stretched her stiff limbs and prepared to climb out of bed, but she found Jefferson wrapping his body all the more tightly against hers in response. Emma sighed and wacked him on the arm.

"Come on, let go. I need to get to work." She said.

Jefferson's reply was mumbled into her breasts.

Emma groaned in frustration then forcibly tried to remove herself from the bed. It took the better part of her body's strength but eventually she did extricate herself from Jefferson's grasping arms.

Emma stepped into the bathroom and locked the door knowing all too well that if she didn't Jefferson would walk in on her and make absolutely certain that she was late. Twisting a couple knobs she adjusted the shower so that the hot water was quickly filling the room with steam. Then she stepped into the glass-and-granite enclosure and washed herself for another day of work.

When Emma finally stepped out of the bathroom, Jefferson was reclining on the bed with his hands folded behind his head, and his eyes closed. His hair was still playfully tousled from sleep, and he looked good enough to eat… But there were very few times when he didn't look like that.

Emma began to hunt down her discarded clothes and dress herself under Jefferson's watchful gaze.

"Now you're sure I can't convince you to call in sick? We could make a day of it." Emma suppressed a shiver; she could hear the devilish grin he was wearing just by his tone.

"I don't really think that's a great idea. If I keep on calling in sick on Fridays, directly after our 'monitoring sessions,' someone will eventually know that something is up." She said as she pulled on her jeans. Emma's bra was draped over the lampshade by the bed, and her shirt was over near a bookcase in the corner, and Emma vaguely remembered taking her coat off downstairs.

Jefferson was pouting playfully, and Emma cocked an eyebrow at him. Generally speaking she was much more of a morning person than he was, but today it seemed that he was more awake than usual. Emma freed her hair from her shirt then leaned over the bed to kiss him good-bye, and had to once again struggle to escape from the bed, as Jefferson attempted to pin her down, and coerce her into staying.

"I'm sorry!" she said, though a laugh. "But I really do have to go. I'll be back soon though."

"You promise?" Jefferson asked, looking a bit unsure.

"Yeah, I promise. You'll see me on Saturday."

Jefferson gave her a tight lipped smile as she left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Several hours later in the evening, Emma returned to the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret. Thankfully the day had been a slow one, involving one car accident, and sorting through the ever-present pile of paper work on her desk.

Emma stepped into the apartment and was immediately assailed with the scent of one of Mary Margaret's home-cooked meals.

"Oh my god, that smells amazing." Emma sighed.

"Hey, I missed you last night! That movie you love was on ABC last night."

"Oh, yeah?"

Mary Margaret nodded a pulled a steaming dish of roast potatoes from the oven.

"Yep. So where were you?"

Emma paused for a moment as her brain raced to catch up with the conversation. "I was doing that weekly thing with the Driscolls and Jefferson, then I drove him back home, and then stopped for a drink at Granny's on the way back, I got a little bit tipsy, and Ruby suggested I rent a bed for the night."

Mary Margaret nodded. "Uh-huh… So why do you have your overnight bag?"

Emma looked down at the duffle bag in her hand, and then looked back up at Mary Margaret.

"You weren't at Granny's, Emma. I know that because I was at Granny's… You've been staying at Jefferson's haven't you?"

Emma closed her eyes and sighed. "You caught me."

"Emma, do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in?! I mean really, is jeopardizing your job, and potentially your relationship with your son worth whatever you have going on with Jefferson!?" Mary Margaret yelled.

"No, but…"

"But, what?! What kind of relationship could you possibly have with the man who held us hostage!? Does that sound even remotely healthy to you?"

"That's a bit rich coming from you!" Emma snapped. "Miss I-jeopardized-my-whole-life-to-be-with-a-married-guy. Miss I-still-have-feelings-for-the-guy-who-was-convinced-I-killed-his-wife!"

Mary Margaret looked like she had been slapped across the face.

Emma stared at her wide-eyed. "Mary Margaret, I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"No," Mary Margaret interrupted. "No, Emma, you're right. What I had with David wasn't very healthy… But I ended it. So I think you need to decide whether or not your relationship with Jefferson is worth putting everything on the line for… you saw what happened to me, so learn from my mistakes."

With that Mary Margaret stormed out of the apartment leaving her cooking on the stove, and leaving Emma standing in the middle of the room, staring after her.

Then her phone rang.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XX

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you liked it why not review? Something short and simple as "Liked it!" would be completely acceptable. If you didn't like it, please review! I'd like to improve my writing abilities, so constructive criticism is welcomed as well.