Passing through the fabric of one reality into another is not an easy passage. As she takes a step forward she feels an invisible force trying to gently push her back. But the obstruction is malleable and Emma pushes her way forward into a sudden blaze of light. Throwing up her hand she squints over Jefferson's shoulder. Beams of sunlight, thick and golden, shine down through massive oaks and the ground is dappled with green light. Dew drips off leaves and the air is sweet with the scent of petrichor. Emma breathes in deeply, lost in the magical sight, and she does not realise she is a foot up in the air. She steps out of the hollow tree truck and plummets.

"Careful," Jefferson says, catching her before she lands. Emma grips at his shoulders, still focused on the forest around them. But when he clears his throat she snaps her eyes to him and blinks in surprise.

"Sure. I can't believe we're here," she pulls herself away and moves to touch the trunk of the tree that has served as their portal. The bark feels rough and very much real under her fingers. The tree is gigantic and all the other trees around are tiny in comparison.

"This is an Enchanted Tree, probably the only one left now. Once this forest was filled with them. From the looks of it we're in deep," he takes Grace's hand who stares around in wonder. He smiles at her expression and squeezes her hand. "Are you glad to be back?"

"Yes. I forgot how different it is, the way it makes you feel. I don't think I realised before…"

"That tends to happen when you're gone from a familiar place for a long time. You see what's been overlooked," he gazes at Emma as she unzips her black coat. Back in Storybrooke it's freezing but here summer is in full swing. She looks at them, her face flushed and her eyes shining.

"It's beautiful."

"Now you know why I wanted to get back. Come on, we better get walking."

"Wait," Emma says, suddenly stern. "We can't stay here for too long. I have to get Grace back home."

A muscle in his jaw jumps but he manages to smile. "Don't worry. I can get us back so only a few seconds have past in Storybrooke."

Emma eyes him sceptically. "You can manipulate time as well?"

"Yes," he answers simply and begins walking, leaving Emma to frown at him. She follows after awhile, wondering who — what — on earth this man is.


After an immeasurable amount of time later — the sun seems to sink slower than normal — they find themselves coming to the edge of the forest and a path which leads to a small village. If anyone is still here that is where they should find them. But the village is deserted and Emma had not seen a soul in the forest. The only thing that seems to remain in the land is animals. Birds sing as they walk down the picturesque main street, breaking into the eerie silence. They peer through windows of empty cottages.

"Did you think there were people left behind?" Emma asks as she pushes a door open. Jefferson cocks his head in thought.

"I thought the curse might have missed a few, it's a big place. But it seems it got everyone…" he follows her into the cottage where Emma and Grace inspect the pantry for food. Jefferson had packed enough food and water for two and Emma is already starting to feel hungry. She finds a loaf of bread, cheese wrapped in cloth and some dried meat. For being almost three decades past their sale by date all the food she finds is magically fresh. She's just packing some sticky buns into a sack when Jefferson appears.

"We better hurry, it looks like a storm is approaching."

Emma and Grace follow him outside and sure enough a dark grey cloud is spread across the horizon. Slinging her bag of food over her shoulder Emma follows them back into the forest and they hurry to out race the storm. After half an hour walking, over rocky and uneven terrain, Grace gets tired and so her father gives a piggy back ride. Grace had denied the service at first, reminding him that she is ten and too old for such things. But Emma can see the happiness on her face despite being carried, at being reunited with her father after such a long time apart. Emma watches them with a strange longing and wishes that Henry was with them, with her. He would love this place.


The thatch roofed cottage stands before a road that runs through the forest, now overgrown with grass and bracken. The place is small and humble, in direct contrast to the mansion that Jefferson had been confined in. Grace races into the cottage, a grin spread over her face. Emma stands beside him as he stares at his old home, gaze far away.

"Must be weird huh?"

"Yeah, I had forgotten how small it is…" he whispers, eyes never leaving the cottage. "I used to be rich; I come from a wealthy family. Before Grace was born my wife and I lived in a manor. We had an estate but we were hardly there. I was hardly there," he corrects and turns to her, his gaze solemn.

"Is Grace's mother in Storybrooke?" she hadn't thought about that possibility until now.

"No, she died, in one of the other realms…" he exhales suddenly and puts on a brave smile. "I didn't come here to relive the past. I just want to make Grace happy."

Emma nods and says nothing. She believes he wants nothing more than to make his daughter content but she can't ignore his transgressions. The man drugged her and held her at gun point. He is dangerous. And yet she has to continually remind herself of that fact, his love for his daughter and honest delight at being home offsets her. As the clouds unleashes a torrent and they rush into the cottage she vows not to be sucked in by him. Not again.


As the storm rages outside and night settles Emma faces the prospect of spending the night in the cottage. She watches Jefferson run back out into the rain to get firewood and return, soaked to the bone.

"I usually have some stocked but it's gone. And Grace your things are missing too."

Grace shifts uncomfortably at the kitchen table, a note pad spread out before her. "When you didn't come back mom and dad — I mean our neighbours looked after me. I lived with them."

"For how long?" he asks, his eyes gleaming sadly in the firelight.

"For almost two years. You don't know how long you were gone for?"

Jefferson shakes his head and sits beside her at the table, Emma sat in an armchair opposite. He glances at her before speaking.

"Where I was time didn't run like it does here. For you it felt like two years but for me…it was considerably longer," he stares darkly into the fire, a thousand miles away. Emma leans forward and plucks a thread that's connected to a large loom.

"Did you make your own clothes?" she asks, changing the subject. Jefferson visibly relaxes, nodding at her and Emma purses her mouth. "I see your affinity for paisley transcends worlds," she remarks dryly, picking up a piece of fabric. Jefferson smiles thinly at her, eyes glimmering in bemusement. Thunder rattles and booms outside and Emma gets up to look out of a narrow window. The forest beyond is almost obscured by falling rain.

"We'll probably have to stay the night," he whispers, coming to stand behind her. Just as in their past dealings he has no concept of personal space. She can feel the buttons of his waist coat scraping against her back and his breath against her neck. She presses herself closer to the window.

"Great, got a sleeping bag?"

"You can have my bed; I'll sleep on the pallet…Thank you Emma."

"For what?" she turns to him and he only leans back an inch to give her space.

"For trusting me."

"I don't trust you, that's why I'm here."

His jaw clenches. "I'd never do anything to hurt her," he hisses, careful not to be overheard.

"I know that, I do. But you end up hurting other people to get what you want. If I wasn't here would you have come back or forced Grace to stay here?"

He blinks rapidly and begins to breathe heavily. "I'm not some tyrant, I'm not a monster. I came back here to say goodbye to this place. Why would I make my daughter live in an empty world? I was alone for almost thirty years; I would never inflict that on anyone." This time Emma blinks, speechless. Jefferson nods, staring deeply into her eyes and then glances down at her lips.

"Papa? You do realise you're soaking wet?"

Emma looks around at Grace, who has been watching them, and steps back from Jefferson. He pulls a funny face and unbuttons his waistcoat, heading to the back of the cottage and disappears behind a curtain. As he gets changed into something dry Emma sits beside Grace and looks at the note pad she has brought with her. She seems to be working on a list, the page separated into three different sections and colour coded.

"What are you working on?"

"Well when the curse was broken and I got my memory back I was…confused. I had three sets of memories, three lives."

"Three?"

Grace nods and points at the first section on the page. It is titled Grace. "Under this name I wrote down everything I could remember about living here, with papa. The second section," she traces the name Paige, "is everything I can remember about living in Storybrooke, when I was Paige."

"That's very smart of you, very ordered. You should come work in my office, I could need you. What is the third section about? It doesn't have a heading."

Grace nods, her smile fading. "I don't know what to call it. Here I started to write down everything I could remember about what really happened in Storybrooke. I lived there for twenty eight years and I remember it."

Emma feels a chill. "What do you remember?"

"Doing the same thing everyday. Waking up at the same time, eating the same thing for breakfast, wearing the same clothes. Look, I even studied the same topics."

She pulls out a text book from her bag and hands it to Emma who flicks through it. The chill that Emma had felt turns into a shiver as she sees that Grace has been studying the same topic — the civil war — for almost three decades. She looks at the little girl, whose eyes are dark and knowing.

"It's weird right?"

"Yeah…"

"I started to write but the more I thought about it the more freaked out I got. I don't like to think about it."

"I don't blame you. Everything is okay now, the curse is broken."

"Because of you," Grace says and Emma snorts. "It's true! My dad said that you're special."

"Did he?" Emma looks over to the curtain and smirks. "I apparently have magic, so I guess he was right. Don't tell him I said that."

"Is…is my dad okay?"

Emma turns to stare at a worried looking Grace. "What do you mean?"

"He seems different than before. Like when he thinks I'm not looking he'll get this far away look in his eyes. He looks like he's in pain."

Emma looks Grace in the eye. "I can't explain everything Grace, only he can do that. Your dad went through some tough times but he loves you, that's what you've got to remember if he acts a little weird."

"Is he mad?"

"No! He's just…fragile. But I know being with you makes him stronger and he'd do anything in this world — any world — to make sure you're safe."

"How do you know that?"

"Because that's how I feel when I'm with my kid," Emma smiles at Grace and then looks up when someone clears their throat. Jefferson stands there in a new shirt and pants and Emma laughs.

"Are those pants leather?"

"You don't seem to mind them on August."

Emma's grin disappears and he flashes her a smirk. He takes Grace by the hand and directs her to bed. His daughter grumbles and protests but after a few minutes she lies down and falls asleep almost immediately.


The storm passes overhead, leaving behind a drizzly rain. Emma and Jefferson sit before the fire, Emma avoiding his gaze while he can't seem to stop staring at her.

"I heard what you said to Grace. You didn't have to say that so thank you."

Emma nods, catching his eyes. "Did I tell her the truth? Are you sane?"

He had vehemently denied being crazy before but now he hesitates before speaking. "I know madness, I know the slow creep of it. People think insanity just happens in a flash but it doesn't. I was sane when I entered Wonderland but I lost my mind there."

"How?" she asks gently.

He pulls off the scarf that hides his scar and Emma can't take her eyes away from the garish sight.

"The first time she cut off my head it was a warning. I had to make a hat that would work and so I tried and tried. I don't know how much time passed, time stands still there, but it felt like a thousand years. I started making top hats, like my old one, but when they didn't work I thought maybe I was making the wrong type of hat. So I started making them in different styles. I'd ask for bales of exotic fabric and precious jewels to delay the inevitable."

"Which was what?"

"For every hat that didn't work they would cut off my head," he answers in a monotone voice.

"How many hats did you make?" Emma whispers, horrified. He doesn't answer but the awful, twitching smile that grows on his face tells her everything. Emma leans forward and takes his hand, surprising both of them. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I came to believe I deserved it, for leaving her behind. I broke my promise and left her alone."

"That wasn't you fault and she wasn't alone. She was with good people. I've been in the foster care system okay; I know it can be worse."

"But I had a choice, to stay here with her in poverty or trust Regina. I made the wrong one and I paid the price," he looks into the flames in self loathing and Emma kneels beside him. She should not be comforting him but she can't stop herself. His guilt at abandoning his daughter touches on her own.

"You have to stop blaming yourself. You screwed up and you own it. You make it up to her. What else have you been trying to do for last twenty eight years? Just suck it up and move on."

He smiles at her suddenly and she is struck by how handsome he is. She had ignored it before but now she lets herself appreciate it and feel guilty later. She sits back down across from him, feeling flushed.

"I'm not mad Emma. I felt a little stir crazy in that house but so would anyone. I was desperate and went to extremes. I'm sorry for what I did; I was trying to get my child back," he stares at her sincerely, his eyes searing.

"I understand and while you might not be crazy you're not exactly normal either."

"Normal is overrated. I promise from this point on I won't be a bother to anyone. I'll be a model citizen."

"Lets not get ahead of ourselves," she gets to her feet and yawns. Jefferson stands and shows her to his bed, which has a hay filed mattress.

"It might not be comfortable but its better than the floor."

"It's fine."

They stand awkwardly, staring at each other until he whispers goodnight and draws the curtain together as he leaves. Emma peers through and watches him set a pallet down at the foot of Grace's bed. When he pulls off his shirt Emma turns away and sits on her bed. She shakes her head in disbelief at what has unfolded since she had awoken that morning and then pulls off her boots. She will not get much sleep tonight, that's for sure.