Jefferson wrapped his coat around his torso tightly with one arm as he pulled the door closed behind him. The weather today, and it seemed always, was bitterly cold and there was no doubt that the ground would sit under a fresh blanket of snow by the time the evening began.
Down the driveway, Jefferson slid into his black Cadillac comfortably, sighing as he turned the key and the engine purred to life. He turned the heater on full blast despite the fact that the car hadn't warmed up yet and pulled out of the drive way. He should really have fastened his seat belt but he wasn't going far and traffic tickets weren't a normal occurrence in Storybrooke.
Over the past week Jefferson had thought a lot about what Killian said. He began to wonder why he did the drugs, drank the liquor, fucked the men. Initially it had been a way of escape and now it was just a way of survival. It's not like Jefferson enjoyed doing those things, it's just that doing them had become habit and he didn't really know any other way out. So last night Jefferson came up with a resolution. Any time he felt like doing a line or four, every time he felt the urge to head toward the liquor cabinet, he was going to leave his house. He didn't really have another step beyond leaving, but leaving and just driving gave Jefferson an undefined sense of calm.
As he drove along the interstate and toward town, the thought of visiting Killian briefly crossed his mind but doing so would be admitting defeat and Jefferson was never great at doing so which is partially the reason he had trouble confronting his downfall. The thing that struck Jefferson the hardest was when Killian told him to have some self-respect for Grace's sake if nothing else. And Jefferson knew Killian was right and that hurt even worse than the fact that Jefferson couldn't bring himself to do such a thing.
Most of this came to light in the early hours one morning when Jefferson awoke, passed out on the living room floor from the overwhelming amount of substance in his body. He felt near death but managed to pull himself onto the sofa and decide that he would never again combine blow and an entire bottle of whiskey. Ever.
He also knew, in part, that he was in denial but he just couldn't realize how in denial of his situation that he really was. Grace was gone. Grace had been gone for 28 years and then Emma came. But she was gone now too and the curse still lingered over Storybrooke. If Jefferson wasn't going to begin accepting that, he was going to end up dead.
He pulled into Granny's roughly 15 minutes later, keeping his head down as he walked through the front door. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, not that anyone would ever speak to him anyway. Word of Jefferson's personal life had gotten around town and aside from Killian and Ruby, no one volunteered to speak to him.
He settled into the corner booth with his back to the rest of the diner so he wouldn't have to confront the prying eyes and whispers. His hands rested atop the table and he stared at them for the longest while until Ruby could slip back from behind the counter and cross over to him. She slid into the opposite side of Jefferson's booth, a small smile settled on her burgundy lips.
"What are you doing here?"
Jefferson didn't raise his eyes as Ruby spoke. He couldn't bring himself to look at her and immediately regretted the decision to leave his house, his sanctuary. His social anxiety was at an all-time high and he was unsure whether or not his talk with Killian had anything to do with it. As much as Jefferson tried to ignore it he began to feel more and more like the brute of a man understood him. And to be fair Killian wasn't exactly a brute. He could be, but to Jefferson Killian always held some sort of standard for the way he treated the poor man.
It took several minutes for what Ruby asked to sink in and Jefferson's head jerked in a frantic movement.
"Just— uh, nothing," he muttered.
"You hungry?" Ruby inquired, ducking her head lower in attempt to meet his gaze. "When's the last time you ate?"
"I—" Jefferson paused in remembrance and without hearing an answer, Ruby patted Jefferson's hand and left momentarily. Jefferson exhaled slowly when she left, but moments later Ruby returned with a grilled cheese sandwich and a large pile of fries.
He cleared his throat and looked at her appropriately this time. "Thank— thank you," he nodded.
"You know, if you ever want to talk, I'm here."
Jefferson smiled the slightest and gave Ruby a nod, just a tiny downward jerk of his head. "Thank you," he repeated. He faintly heard Granny's voice from behind him somewhere and Ruby slipped away once more, leaving Jefferson to enjoy his dinner.
He finished shortly, leaving a tip and payment on the table, and walked. He wasn't sure where he was going but it was in the opposite direction of both Gold's shop and the liquor store. He didn't know how he ended up at the boat dock because the walk was a blur but he was there. Maybe it was a subconscious move but Jefferson soon realized he was standing in front of the houseboat that Killian called home.
But he couldn't go in. He couldn't even knock because he couldn't face Killian in the emotional state he was in. He knew better. He knew it would inevitably lead to a shouting match or a sass-off or maybe just more fantastic sex. But Jefferson was tired of sex. He was tired of shouting, he was tired of acting like everything would be fine because it would never be fine. He was doomed to live a life in the large house Regina had given him – or rather, cursed him with. But if he could, Jefferson would trade his house, his car, his everything if he could be with his daughter because Grace was the only thing that ever gave his life meaning and now that she was no longer his, he didn't feel as if there was anything left to live for.
Jefferson had contemplated suicide before. He tried with pills but all that lead to was a physical state worse than a hangover and several days in the hospital. But once again when the three days were up, he found himself alone again in his huge home with no company other than the beautiful furnishings.
The longer that Jefferson remembered these things the more he believed that he should allow Killian into his life. It seemed like such an impossibility but he would at least have someone to talk to. He couldn't think of any reason why it would be a bad thing other than the fact that Killian would make him behave and deter him from using again. But maybe some discipline would do Jefferson some good. He thought about getting a job but it seemed fruitless because having sex with other men was a lot easier than work and the payment was immediate.
Jefferson attempted to find a hobby to occupy his time but by default he continued making hats which only led to another very low point in his life. The more he looked at hats, the more he thought about Wonderland, and the more he thought about Wonderland the more he thought about Grace, and he couldn't have that.
"This seat taken?"
A soft voice brought Jefferson out of his thoughts and he blinked, looking up to see those all-too-familiar leather boots. He heaved a sigh and shook his head as Killian plopped onto the bench beside him.
"What are you doing here?" Killian inquired.
Jefferson shrugged, clearing his throat before answering. "Thinking. Trying not to use."
Killian was taken aback both by Jefferson's words and the tone of his voice. Usually Jefferson was full of confidence but not this evening. They were quiet and almost timid as he shamefully admitted the truth.
"That's… that's good, Jefferson. I'm glad to hear that. Any reason for that?"
"I thought— I've thought a lot about what said these past few days."
"And?" Killian quipped.
"You—… you're right, I'm so self-destructive that I don't even remember who I am anymore. All I think about is Grace. Or how I'd love to see Regina's body in the morgue.
"That makes two of us," Killian murmured, staring down at the wooden dock planks.
"It wouldn't solve anything," Jefferson sighed apologetically. "It would give me a few moments of happiness caused by revenge but I would still be left the same broken person in the end."
"So you're admitting that you're broken?"
Jefferson nodded, reaching up to adjust his scarf as the first snowflakes of the night began to fall. His voice cracked as he spoke. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to deal with this, how to fix it. I-I thought about talking to Dr. Hopper but he doesn't know about the curse"
"You haven't got many options," Killian agreed with a scowl.
Jefferson ran a hand through his quaffed hair and murmured in agreement. "I need a distraction, a hobby, a purpose. Those are things I just can't have."
"You could find a hobby. Though I guess you've tried that before."
"Hence the name Hatter. Maybe I'll get a pet… a dog, name it Spot." Jefferson shrugged. "Just a little bit of normalcy. Anything, anything to keep from feeling this pain because I can't, I literally cannot deal with this any longer. It's crushing me. I feel as if I'm being murdered slowly, intimately, in the way that could bring me the most pain."
"Jefferson, I don't know what you're going through. I cannot pretend to know how you must feel about losing your daughter. But I do know how it feels to be alone, to feel like you'd give anything for just for someone to listen and understand. And if you'll let me, I could be that person."
"I wouldn't mind that," Jefferson replied in a whisper.
A/N: Thanks for reading! And, um, in the off chance someone would like to RP with me, please let me know, because I have serious Jefferson/Grace feels and I don't really have anyone to RP that with me anymore so yeah. :(