You guys honestly do not know how happy I am. I got ten reviews in such a short time, and over thirty story alerts. It honestly made my days receiving all those emails. This is the best reception that one of my chaptered fics has gotten in such a short time and it is only the first chapter with that much reception.

I love you all so flipping much!

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It mainly focuses on Jefferson.

Chapter 2

He landed with a thud on the ground and he squeezed his eyes shut. He groaned in utter pain and wondered if he actually inside the hat, or if he had imagined things. He started to reach out his right hand to feel the floor in front of him. It was smooth tile.

He then dared to open his eyes and look all around him. Everything was the same from the last time he had been here, when Regina the "Queen" had betrayed him. He carefully pushed himself up from the ground even though his body was full of aches and pains from his fall. When he stood he saw the blood on the ground and he sneered at it. It trailed from his knee which apparently had a shard of glass stuck inside it. He tore the shard out of his knee in an instant and his leather pants tore, but he did not care, even as the blood kept trailing down his leg.

He walked towards that familiar entranceway. It was clear and like a bubble. Wonderland. His system filled with distaste at the name. He hates Wonderland. He was trapped in there always making hats, only stopping for food. For, he would not be able to go back if he did not eat. Tea felt like his only beverage. He was having tea with the White Hare when that girl came along. He had not wanted her to leave, but she still had left. She had reminded him of his Grace.

He stopped thinking and walked away from that passage and headed to the one that would let him go home. Its familiar white archway called to him and he wanted to cry just by looking at it. It is where he wanted to go ever since he jumped into the other hat with Regina.

He took in a sharp breath, closed his eyes, and took his step inside the archway.

One goes in only one can come out.

He sniffed in the rich air all around him and he heard nothing, not one sound. He slowly opened his eyes and he viewed everything around him. Trees.

Nothing but trees.

He walked in further as the archway disappeared behind him and the hat appeared in his hands. He was used to this, it would always happen whenever he came back home. It was simply a carbon copy of the real hat, which was most likely in Emma's hands. It only occurred in this world, which Jefferson could only believe that this meant that this world has the most magic.

The archway was near his home, and that was the reason why he built his house there. It came in handy with the work he had done. He walked the familiar trail towards his house and then he saw it in the distance and a swell formed in his throat. Then he ran.

He ran and he stopped just a few steps in front of his home. It was exactly as it was that day he had to leave, except a cross was planted right in front of the house. It looked thin, small, a little rotten, and it was wooden. He approached it cautiously and knelt down in front of it. He read out RIP JEFFERSON, and he clenched his eyes shut for a second. Then he saw more words carved in the cross and they were I LOVE YOU DADDY.

The swell burst in his throat and he cried and cried. Grace thought he was dead. He cried and buried his face in his hands. He could not compose himself and the tears kept streaming down his face.

Emma held the hat in her hands, only wondering why Jefferson's body had disappeared. All he had been saying to her when he kidnapped her was impossible, and unbelievable. He was loon, and a lonely man. It may have been possible that he survived the fall and ran away into the woods. It was also possible that he was back in that large house, observing her every move. The thought made her shudder in fear and worry.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret called from her cell.

"Y-yes?" Emma replied.

"Are you alright, you seem a little shaken up?" Mary Margaret said with concern.

"It's just Jefferson. He might be alive, and it sickens me to think that he could be watching us," Emma said cringing.

"I'm not going to lie, it is possible, and I don't want to be blamed for another murder," Mary Margaret answered.

"That's what scares me."

Jefferson lay on his old bed staring up at the ceiling. He had woken up an hour ago and had not had the energy to move. It had been untouched for twenty-eight, un-aging and lonely years. His cravat was beginning to tighten up more on his neck so he untied it and his scar was able to breathe. He ran his fingers over the scar, remembering the day of his beheading, the fear he felt when he felt that he was going to die, and that he would have absolutely no chance of seeing Grace alive again.

Grace's belongings had been removed from his old home and most of his belongings remained. He knew that Grace would not have been able to part with some of his items. He groaned and turned on his side facing the rest of his old, tiny home. He wanted so desperately to return, but what is this hovel without Grace. Simply, just a hovel.

He thrust himself from his seat and ran out of his old home. He stared and looked onward to where the old neighbors' house was. He prayed that Grace would be there, but he knew in his heart that it was doubtful.

He passed the well and ran to that house a little bigger than his own. A young couple had lived here and they had no children of their own. He had suspicions that they could not bear one if they even wanted to. They had taken quite the shining to Grace and Jefferson knew that he could trust them. He had sent Grace to stay with them while he was gone, but he had never returned.

He knocked on the door of the house, but no one came to answer the door. He could not hold his anxiousness inside and he burst open the door.

It was empty and musty inside the little home. He could see a little table set up with four tea-cups and a teapot. It pained him to look at it. He was supposed to be one having tea parties with Grace. He approached and picked up one of the tea cups and he knew it was the same one they used on that last day. Sitting on another side of the table was that rabbit he made for Grace on that last day.

He picked it up and held it in his hands. It was not as perfect looking as the one that was in the market place, but his eyes starting tearing as he looked at it. Grace must have treasured this rabbit, no matter how imperfect it was. He covered his eyes and dropped the rabbit. He could not stand it. He needed his daughter.

He ran out of the house took out the carbon-copy hat and spun it. It turned and turned and the purple smoke formed from it. He jumped right inside.

The familiar room formed around him and he ran to the door where if you go through it, you will appear to wherever the original hat was located. Without a second through he dashed inside and pushed upwards by an unknown force.

Lights blinded all around him as he popped out of the hat. His eyes squinted and he realized that he was sitting right on the desk in the Sheriff's office.

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