Summary: "Look at this place! It's beautiful!" Jefferson remembered the incredulity he'd felt at Emma's words. What did she know? No-one could understand how this world, this life, shredded his mind to ribbons, or his torment at being so close to his daughter and yet unable to reach her. No-one could understand how this hateful house mocked him… A look into how Jefferson's opinion of his prison changed once the curse was lifted and he and Grace became a family again.

Warnings: Heavy Jefferson angst. Mentions of intense grief and depression.

Disclaimer: OUAT and associated characters belong to ABC Studios. Writing belongs to me.

AN: I cannot imagine the pain of being separated from a family member in this way. The agony of being near a loved one whom you cannot reach, who doesn't know you. I wanted to explore Jefferson's mind-set and how the curse affected him.

AN2: I am so sorry I've been away so long! Real life has been so busy and so much has been going on I haven't had as much time to write and to be online as I'd have liked. So I apologise for the long wait for a new Jefferson and Grace one-shot. This one is written in a slightly different style from my other Jefferson and Grace fics, but I think it works for the story I am trying to tell…

Hope you enjoy - reviews are much appreciated :)

How a House became a Home

By Lanthiriel25

Jefferson wandered along the hallway, his fingers absently brushing the raised wallpaper as he passed. Wallpaper which he and Grace had chosen together, having ripped down the old paper with much abandon, and helping each other paste up the new design one highly messy yet immensely enjoyable, laughter-filled afternoon.

Coming to the doorway of the living room, Jefferson stopped, leaning against the frame, arms loosely folded, one foot coming to cross in front of the other, enjoying the happy sight in front of him.

Grace had been a little unsure of the house at first, so big, with so many empty rooms, so different from their small home in the woods. But anywhere where her Papa was, she knew she was safe, that she was where she belonged. So, it took no time at all for Grace to settle in and weave her way into her father's house and back into his life.

He smiled as he watched Grace turn a page of her book, completely engrossed in its world. She was lying on her back on the white sofa, knees bent over the arm rest, socked feet swinging absently where they dangled. Her book was held above her so she could see the pages. Jefferson watched as she chewed her lip, frowning, before thumbing the page back, checking something she'd just read, before carrying on. The wonderful imagination she'd possessed in the Enchanted Forest had only increased in this world, devouring book after book after book. Some books she read herself, but others they read together, curled up side by side on the sofa in front of the fire, not unlike they used to do before the curse, sometimes with Jefferson reading aloud, sometimes Grace. Sometimes they had different characters each, acting out the story, doing all the voices. Given what his existence had been like only weeks before, Jefferson couldn't believe what his life had now become. The light and life which Grace had restored to his world. And he was grateful for every day with her he was given.

Glancing around the room, Emma's voice echoed in his mind.

"Look at this place! It's beautiful!"

He remembered the incredulity he'd felt at her words. What did she know? No-one could understand how this world, this life, shredded his mind to ribbons. How this hateful house mocked him.

The house was luxuriously designed, no expense spared, modern and chic. Designer wallpapers, carefully co-ordinated colour schemes, meticulous feng shui and arty statement pieces from around the globe. It boasted only the finest fabrics and purest wood, imported from all over the world. Everything had been selected for style and opulent comfort.

Stunning to look at but exquisitely superficial.

He'd been trapped there for twenty eight years, staring at the same walls, alone with his memories which scratched and twisted at his sanity. He'd watched his daughter from afar, unable to reach her. Regina had manipulated him, using his desire to provide for his daughter against him, his wish to give her a comfortable and happy life. She'd used that need for her own ends, tricking him and ripping his daughter away from him. And now she'd built him this extravagant prison, to mock him by surrounding him with this soulless, empty wealth, a stone's throw away from his daughter. A daughter who no longer knew him.

He'd broken his fist when he'd woken up in this cursed world. Battering at the door violently, throwing himself against it, crying out Grace's name. He'd seen her, his precious girl, for the first time in he didn't want to know how long, ever since being trapped in Wonderland. He'd thought he'd never lay eyes on her again, yet, out of his window, standing in the street, there she was. Smiling, happy, healthy. He'd called her name in disbelief, banging on the glass, trying to get her attention, but nothing. Fingers scrambled to release the latch to open to window, but it was unmovable. He'd rushed down the stairs, ready to throw open the door, to gather his girl into his arms and never let her go, but the house was a fortress and he couldn't reach her. It was then, seeing Tobias and Sara catch up with her, walking on each side of her, holding her hands, when Jefferson truly comprehended the cruelty and brutality of the curse. To be so close to the daughter he'd lost, surrounded by the comfort he had always wished to give to her, but never to share it with her. Never to speak to her. Never to hold her. Never to beg forgiveness for leaving her alone.

He remembered the days, the nights, he'd spent pulling at his hair, scratching, clawing, shredding his skin, screaming his agony at the wallpaper. The tumblers he'd smashed in angry frustration, the mirrors he'd shattered so he didn't have to face the man who'd failed his daughter so completely. Tearing apart the cushions with his bare hands, gutting them, ripping out fists of feathers and scattering them around him. Taking twisted satisfaction in the ruin which surrounded him.

He remembered sitting amongst the wreckage, his eyes burning and damaged skin stinging, his heart pounding and chest heaving, only for all of the destruction to be miraculously restored to immaculate perfection the next morning.

It was a choking, swirling void of madness and despair. His only thought was to reach out to his daughter. But it was like trying to catch water in his fingers; no matter what he tried, his prison held strong. He couldn't do it. And every time he failed, a piece of his heart, a piece of soul, frayed away, leaving him brutally beaten, tattered and torn.

His task here, he'd realised with blinding clarity, was the same as it had been in Wonderland. To make a hat. To get it to work. To find a way home with his daughter. It was the only way they could be a family again. Get a hat work. He needed to get it to work.

Sleepless days and sleepless nights followed. The sun setting, the moon rising. The moon then sinking and the sun climbing. But it was an illusion, a smokescreen. Time didn't pass and clocks didn't tick, just people going through the motions, unaware that they were trapped and manipulated.

And the house taunted him for every non-existent second which passed unnoticed by everyone but him. He remembered screaming out his daughter's name until his throat was raw and shredded. Until the numbness came, silent and cold and suffocating. A single-mindedness, almost callous, like ice and stone, freezing and solidifying his blood. But then, all too soon, the pain would descend again, as it always did, shattering the frost into a shower of shards. Making him wish he could reach inside his chest and rip out his own heart with his bare hands, anything to stop the howling agony. His crippling anguish was tearing him apart at the seams.

The pain and memories of it all vibrated through every room and down every hall.

Jefferson lay a heavy palm on the thick and lavishly decorated wallpaper by the frame where he now stood. The devastated echoes of his insanity were buried in these walls; a house drenched in his suffering and torment, his terror, his grief and his hopeless rage. He imagined he could almost feel the sorrow and madness dripping from the wood and plaster.

But, looking around the room now, his daughter content, relaxing peacefully, at Grace's things strewn haphazardly around, he smiled. Grace's fingerprints were everywhere, just like they were in every room. Her shoes resting by the front door where she'd kicked them off, school rucksack perched on the chair in the kitchen, her pencils and homework littering the table. Her clothes hung on the laundry rack to dry, her favourite cereal stored safely in the cupboard, her packs of cards and other games peeking out of the closet or stacked on storage shelves. Her drawing pads lay haphazardly on the coffee table in front of her, half-finished sketches poking out. Her beginner's sheet music balanced on the piano and a pile of her favourite DVDs were stacked by the newly acquired television. And of course, there was the home-made and hand-painted tea-set sitting pride of place on the mantle, with her stuffed rabbit proudly standing guard. Not to mention the bedroom she had chosen for herself, the one directly next to his, which she'd made completely her own.

She'd arrived in this lonely, pain-filled house, tearing through it like a whirlwind, debris of her life scattering around her, an attribute of Paige she'd kept, so different from his neat and tidy Grace of the Enchanted Forest. But Jefferson didn't mind the mess and comforting clutter in the slightest; in fact, he loved seeing her things strewn all around. She'd touched the whole house, making it come alive around her, her presence transforming everything in her wake.

Yes, he mused, as he looked around the room before him. Emma was right. He could see it now.

This house. It truly was beautiful.

Jefferson reached out to the picture frame hung by the door, his fingertips skimming over the glass, reverently lingering over his and Grace's goofy faces. It was a photograph snapped during their impromptu dressing-up night, when Grace had decided to cheer her father up by raiding her (Paige's) dressing up box and staging an outlandish fashion show. Grace was wearing one of his once-hated top hats, over-sized plastic glasses on her nose and a neon green feather boa wrapped around her neck. Her eyes were sparkling with mirth as she posed and pouted for the camera which she'd held out to capture them both. Jefferson sported another rakishly tilted top hat, the one onto which Grace had stitched a huge, fluorescent yellow and pink sunflower to the band. A tiara had also been wedged into the rim which was lined with fake-feathers stripped from another boa. They both looked completely ridiculous but Jefferson couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed as hard as he had that night, so soon after the curse had broken, his daughter wanting nothing more than to reassure him and make him smile.

Photographs like this one decorated every wall, replacing the previous, impersonal water-colours nailed into the plaster. Souvenirs of their many happy times of the recent weeks perched on every table top and shelf, snapshots and pictures of their new life completely covering the fridge. The pair of them, making up for lost time, wanting to enjoy and remember every single moment together.

"That was fun," Grace commented with a smile, gesturing to the top-hat photograph. She laid her book aside, swinging her legs to the carpet as she sat up.

Jefferson turned in surprise, unaware that his presence had been noticed by his reading daughter. He smiled in remembrance.

"Yes, it most certainly was, my dear Grace."

Standing, Grace made her way over to her father, sliding an arm around his waist as his settled around her shoulders, father and daughter looking at the happy memento together. Craning her neck slightly, Grace looked up at her Papa, brown eyes happy to see the lingering pain hidden in his features decreasing day by day, being replaced by the carefree smile and twinkle in his eyes which she knew so well.

Jefferson hugged his beloved daughter a little tighter, silently thanking every power of good in every world he knew, be they gods, fairies or angels, for giving him back his daughter and gifting them with a life so blessed which they could enjoy together.

Before, it was just a house. A huge, magnificent house. Cold, empty and soulless. Nothing more than a gilded prison. A lavish asylum . But now…? Now, it was a haven. Happy, lived in, enjoyed.

A place for family, for him and Grace.

It was a home.

The End

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed :) Reviews are very much appreciated.