Remember Wonderland
By Pandora.
There had been a bittersweet bliss to those days, knowing that at any turn they could be hauled away to the Court of Hearts. But they hadn't cared. Sometimes Jefferson still thinks of Calysta, his Alyse,…no that is a lie that his mind concocts to cope. He has to be the best father he can be, regardless of how much he wants to fall apart each time he remembers the horrible way that she died. He thinks of Alyse numerous times, every single day. If the solitary candle by the ashes of her heart flickers out, he quietly lights it again with a sprig of dried rosemary, the aromatic scent coursing throughout the humble cottage. He watches as, each night before bed, Grace replaces the flowers by Alyse's urn with the day's fresh finds before he tucks her in with a gentle kiss to the brow. Then quietly, he retreats to the dim glowing embers of the fireplace to reminisce and often to talk to memories of Alyse in his head, the fire light casting shadows over an expression that has always been bright. He remembers it all silently, painfully.
There was no time in Wonderland. Every day was Monday, tea time, and the White Rabbit was always running late. There was no way to bring Alyse back through the Looking Glass with him; one in – one out, the hat's rule, not his. She came to Wonderland from her world through the Rabbit Hole, and he had travelled there with her before. But her world was terribly dull, and Alyse hated that she was expected to do little more than parade around prim-and-proper simply for being a girl when all she wanted was adventure and dreams. So despite the danger, Wonderland had been their place. Oh, how it had been theirs.
Most of the time they were vibrant, revelling in the intrigues and wonders, and most of all in each other. Jefferson was an expert when it came to Wonderland, he had been coming here long before Regina had lured him into her service. He knew what horrific truths lay behind the madness there, each colourful character moulded like clay from the decapitated bodies of Her Loving Majesty's foes while their conscious heads rotted in the dungeons, and so did Alyse. That hadn't stopped them from smoking philosophy with the Caterpillar or singing with the Flowers, and with every visit they were sure to stop for a pot of tea with their dear friend, the March Hare. He and his cousin, the White Rabbit, had often commented over the blooming lovers with curiosity, even daring to suggest that Jefferson and Calysta were the true rulers of Wonderland at last returned to free them all from the Queen of Hearts. They certainly looked the part; he in his long, orange velveteen coat and knee high boots, and she always in dull patchwork skirts over colourful, frilled leggings that gathered long around her usually shoeless feet. They ran and skipped around Wonderland together, fingers intertwined and full of delighted laughter as though they were made to be there, unlike so many of the other disturbed monstrosities that suffered the prison world at the whim of its usurping monarch. Jefferson had no desire to be a king, but oh, how he could see his little nymph draped and crowned in the glory of Wonderland, the fabled Warrior-Queen to defeat the Jaberwocky and its mistress. Wonderland became Alyse like it could no other.
She had loved him endlessly, the tall and cheeky Hatter as he was known there, with his scruffy tangles of soft, brown hair and smiling blue eyes. And he had loved her too, remarkable Alice with her remarkable heart ten times the grandeur of her seemingly tiny stature next to him. She was wilful and wise beyond her years, impatient, overly passionate, and yet surprisingly sensitive to the smallest of cruelties. He'd never forget the day that she had wept over the Shag Noodle she had accidently stepped on, crushing his rainbow gizzards all over the chalk pavement they travelled. Jefferson had held her as her tears floated around them like bubbles, popping with melodic bell chimes into fire-flies that hummed and glowed around them.
"There, you see," he had crooned, stroking her hair, "your gentle heart has lit the way, we won't step on anything else now, I promise."
She had been happy then, clasping his hand and winding his arm up with hers as they followed in the luminous wake of the glowing insects. The skies of Wonderland shifted from blue to violet to pink to green, casting incredible lights that danced and shimmered on the shiny, polka-dotted tops of giant mushrooms and toad-stools. Together, they would lie in the fluffy, fur-like grass, sprawling across one another, imagining shapes in the clouds that would come to life and perform a pantomime in the air above them. There was so much laughter, dizzying amounts of it accompanying the intoxication of her beautiful smile.
The first time they made love, Jefferson was far from sober…drunk with happiness and Wonderland and everything that Alyse was to him. They had found an old, wind up camera that took your picture as anything you imagined, and Jefferson had snapped shot after shot of Alyse in all sorts of poses against a garden of blood red carnations. They had laughed as she became a swash-buckling pirate, then a grinning clown, then a little brown puppy dog, then ice-cream with sprinkles! He had lifted her into his arms and spun her around, drowning in the trickling song of her giggles until they had collapsed in a heap, her lips sweet and warm and lasting against his mouth. Alyse had been shy that she had kissed him for so long, in her world it wasn't proper. But Jefferson had only smiled and laid her down in the soft earth, his hands floating over her in soft caresses that made Alyse sigh. Her long hair had fallen all around, the big, round curls of honey gold splayed on the ground in a frame about her face. Over and over she had told him she loved him, as he pressed kiss after kiss on her neck, shoulders and lips. He had been slow with her that time, tender. Jefferson loved Alyse so, so much.
It never seemed to have mattered where they went any more than it mattered where they were going; it was always somewhere…curious. The antics of Wonderland's creatures and the silliness of all the nonsensical nonsense played fantastic games with them, tempting their minds away bit by bit. Only by the simple reality of each other and their knowledge of the way out were Jefferson and Alyse kept sane. Sometimes they'd stay for a week or two, other times it was months on end before they'd return back to their home lands and resume exactly where they had left off, not a second of time passing in their absence. But they'd always return quickly, never wanting to be apart for too long.
Those were the days when Jefferson had adored Wonderland.
But it had always been soaking, drenched and dripping with danger. Somehow he had become so caught up in the euphoria, the risk stopped being of such concern, though it was always there. First it was the hypnotic allure of Wonderland, calling to them to stay and never leave. Life in the Faraway Land – or anywhere for that matter – was incredibly odd, strange to no end, after a long stay in Wonderland. Months began turning into years, and even the White Rabbit cautioned them that to overstay Wonderland was a mistake. And then there was her…the Queen of Hearts.
"Jefferson," Alyse had spoken in a hushed whisper one night as they lay gazing up at the crescent moon, "let's leave Wonderland."
He had looked at her questioningly, the same boyish innocence that seemed mismatched with the depth of his voice peering at her. She wondered what kind of sorcerer he was in the Faraway Land. Alyse was always curious about his magic and his work for the queen there. Her world had no magic, but she could tell that Jefferson didn't much like to speak of those things. He remembered her clearly on that night, lying beside him like a golden haired muse, the profile of her lovely features tipped in moonlight. There was sadness in her tone.
"One ought not to pay death with love only," Alyse had offered, turning her head to cast her big, violet eyes on him, "and that is how we will pay when the Queen of Hearts catches up with us."
The melancholy in her expression broke Jefferson's heart and he gathered her in his arms so that she was nestled against his chest. What could he say to her in that moment when he knew with deadly accuracy how finely they had tread for so long, and acknowledged in his own heart that it was never a matter of 'if' but 'when' with the Queen of Hearts. Suddenly, Jefferson had known that their lives were about to change. It was no longer just about he and Alyse.
As he sits now, remembering that night in the dead silence of this one, Jefferson recalls what he said to her with a sad, dry smile. The tears begin to brew, welling mercilessly in his eyes. A deep sob catches in his throat and he shoves it back down, letting it heave agonisingly in his chest so as not to wake Grace. Regaining himself, composure returning slowly, he stares vacantly into the flames, chin resting on hands resting on elbows resting on knees. Softly, he whispers those words.
"I love you, and I'd give my life for yours."
But it had been Alyse who gave her life for him, and for their Grace, though he had tried and begged to take her place with all his heart. The Queen of Hearts had caught them and held them, and all he had ever done for Regina came flooding back like a nightmare to punish him and harm his Alyse. Blackmail. Ransom. Torture. Jefferson knows them well, faced their accusing consequences every time he closes his eyes and sees her beautiful head topple from the neck he had kissed so lovingly. They had paid death with love, and though he longs more than anything to take her place, he wonders if it is a worse fate to live on without her.
But Jefferson loves his daughter more than anything else in all the worlds he knows, and he knows more than most. Grace is the last piece of Calysta he will ever hold, and his heart will never belong to another the way it does to them. So long as Grace is with him, so is Alyse, and though she is humble and asks for little he wants her to have everything he can possibly offer. The sweet smile and bright eyes of his little girl are everything to Jefferson now, Wonderland is far behind him but the tea parties go on. Sometimes he is unsure and he worries that their lives are too much like child's play, but he has always been a mischief maker by trade and it makes up for all the things that are lacking in Grace's life. He sows her toys when he can't afford to buy them, and when she is delighted and praises his effort he brightens considerably because he has made her happy. Never has he grown accustomed to the giddying sound of her calling him 'Papa', it is the greatest pleasure he knows. Grace is his reason to live, the reason why life without Alyse is bearable.
She is gone now, and Grace is all he has left. Jefferson knows, beyond all other things, he will never let anyone take her from him. Not without a fight.