Welcome to my nightmare

Jefferson hit the black marble floor hard on one shoulder, another body landing hard half on top of him. He lay there for a minute or two, breathing heavily and staring up at the theatre-red curtain lined walls in wonder – he hadn't thought he would see them again for some time.

A grin spread across his face as he realised that Emma had somehow made it work, that must mean that she believed, at least a little; he didn't know what had convinced her, but was glad of the perfect timing her belief took to kick in. Though he certainly wasn't pleased that Snow White had decided to kick him out of a window, or that Emma had stabbed him – with his own scissors nonetheless! – He was glad that there had been enough magic left in Storybrooke to make the hat finally work. Magic that Emma had brought.

Jefferson rolled onto his side and then up onto his feet with a grunt of effort, his limbs feeling battered from the fall and his injured leg screaming at him, he knew he was lucky that the scissors hadn't hit an artery, otherwise he'd already be dead, much less standing. He had an odd feeling that Emma hadn't been aiming for a killing blow when she had stabbed him – from what he had seen of her he was pretty certain that if she had wanted to kill him, he'd be dead. He took a moment to look around the hall of doors, and jolted in shock and horror.

The vast variety of doors that usually decorated the walls of the hall were gone, instead there were only two doors remaining. As Jefferson rushed over to the nearest he realised where the two remaining doors led to. "No, no, no, no, no...NO!" Jefferson's voice rose in pitch as he ran his fingers anxiously through his hair, tugging at it in frustration as he realised exactly what sort of situation he was stuck in.

One door was black, unmarked and with no handle.

The other was a glassy mirrored surface.

He knew all too well what was behind the mirrored door – "Wonderland". The stupidest and most ironic name imaginable, he had always hated the place, it was a cruel twist of fate that it would be the better of two other door did not even bare considering as an option; it was the one door he instinctively knew not to even touch – he had explored most of the magical realms with the use of his Hat before he became a father. But that black door was the only one he had never dared to explore, some part of him knew that if he ever did try to go through it, he wouldn't return; but it wasn't that thought that always kept him away from it – even before Grace – it was that the door seemed to suck all the light away from around it. Whatever was through there was far worse than Wonderland.

What was worse was the fact that Grace was not with him, he hadn't planned on using the Hat's portal until he was with his daughter once more. He couldn't return to Storybrooke and he couldn't get to the Enchanted Forest either – the whole purpose of getting Emma to fix the hat in the first place was lost. He supposed that the lack of doors was most likely due to the lack of real magic or profound belief that was involved when it was created and used. The Hat was a living piece of magic and it could sense the will of its creator, so Emma's limited experience of the realms of magic and her scepticism must have had an effect on which doors had appeared. In order to access all of the doors he usually did, he would have to make his own new Hat in a realm with magic. Remembering the last time he had tried to create a working hat in Wonderland made despair claw at his insides and the darkness claw at the edges of his mind – he couldn't do that again – not ever.

Jefferson was pulled from his depressing thoughts by the realisation that he wasn't in fact alone in the Hall of Doors, for the first time, he registered the fact that a body had landed next to him when he fell through the hat. Jefferson turned away from the two doors and redirected his attention to the heap lying in the centre of the black and white swirled marble floor. Supposing that she must have been knocked unconscious by the fall or was else simply laying there in shock, he approached Emma's prone form and knelt down beside her.

He reached out a hand to brush her long silky blonde hair out of her face, even in sleep, she was beautiful – perhaps even more so, when there was no trace of worry or anger in her face. She was certainly one of the most beautiful women he had seen in all of his travels, even when compared to the likes of Regina, as her beauty was tainted by the cruelty of her nature and the foulness of her heart. Emma was strong willed, fierce, sarcastic and brilliant – though she had refused to believe in what was right in front of her, and he still saw her as someone who had suffered through a lonely life, yet still retained a hero's heart – even if she wouldn't see it in herself.

Jefferson frowned as he noticed that her face was slightly scrunched, as if in pain, his eyes roamed her body, searching for the source of her apparent pain, gasping as he saw the handle of the scissors protruding from her shoulder. There was a pool of blood that was forming around Emma, previously unnoticed due to the dark hue of the marble, but now it was shining red on the white swirls that covered the surface of the floor.

It must have happened when they fell through the window, he had managed to keep hold of the scissors when Snow White hit him and even when Emma tackled him. He had stabbed Emma. He had long ago promised himself that he wouldn't resort to violence unless absolutely necessary - fighting wasn't a part of who he was really. Even before the birth of his daughter - even when Regina betrayed him and left him to suffer under the influence of Cora and the then the curse she cast - he had never thought of actually killing the witch. And now the Saviour could very well die because of him. His one hope to re-unite with his daughter, and a woman he admired greatly.

Jefferson grasped her arm and attempted to shake her awake which resulted in a weak attempt to punch him in the face, however Emma's swing was cut short with a loud cry of anguish as the scissors shifted in her shoulder. Jefferson quickly pushed her arm back down as the blonde's eyes snapped open and hazily fixed onto his face; he thought that was probably a good sign, however the movement certainly couldn't have helped the wound.

"W-what... what happened?" Emma mumbled, her voice was thick with pain, but her green eyes were sharpening.

"You made it work." Jefferson replied shortly, his voice hushed as he moved to her other side to better examine the wound in her right shoulder. The blade had pierced at the joint between her collarbone and shoulder blade, luckily it had missed her heart and narrowly missed her lung, but the scissors were still lodged in the muscle under her clavicle. Jefferson did not have much experience with treating wounds as he usually made a point of avoiding danger by any means possible. He needed to take her to a doctor or physician, or hell, even a wizard – he just knew she needed help. However he also knew that it would be a good idea to remove the scissors before moving her anywhere.

"W-where are we? What the h-hell did y-you do?!" Emma was getting agitated, attempting to sit up but failing as her weak body refused to support her on one arm, she crashed back onto her side with another cry of agony. Blood streamed down her pale chest, staining her black vest top, she was making her injury worse and stood a good chance of bleeding out unless he got her help – and fast.

Panic made Jefferson grip Emma's arms and push her back down to the floor, maybe more harshly than was necessary, and this caused to fear fill her eyes.

"Explain. Now." She hissed at him through clenched teeth, but she didn't try to move again. Jefferson stared down at her in concern and indecision; he didn't feel that now was the time to explain that they had jumped through a magical hat and were now left with options of staying here forever, entering that blasted Wonderland or trying their luck with "the door of no return". Emma had been sceptical enough before to tell him that she wouldn't believe him easily now; what was important was that he found her help quickly.

"We don't have time for this now – you don't have time for this." Jefferson hissed back at her, his voice tight with concern and impatience, he took at steadying breath and reached forward to grip the handle of the scissors. With the other hand, he whipped off his already loosened scarf, balling it up in preparation to use as a makeshift bandage to staunch the bleeding.

Before he could lose the meagre amount of courage he had left, Jefferson pushed down hard on Emma's chest with one hand and used his grip on the scissor handle to wrench the blades free from her flesh in one swift motion, casting them to the side in a splatter of blood. Emma screamed and her body arched horribly up off the ground as the scissors were removed, agony clearly written over every taught muscle in her body and the tightly scrunched up eyes from which tears leaked down her pale cheeks. Once the blades were free, Jefferson hastily pressed his scarf to the now open wound, the material quickly turning red as it soaked up the flow of blood. He pointedly ignored the mental complaints this triggered at the destruction of his wardrobe.

"Emma, I'm sorry, but we have to move." Jefferson's voice was husky with concern as he gently stroked the pad of his thumb across Emma's tear-stained cheek, willing her to look at him. Her eyes fluttered open and rested upon his, though the pain, fear and distrust were still present, he could see acceptance in the depths of the forest green.

Jefferson pulled the scarf away from the wound momentarily, re-positioning it so that it was now tied around the wound, though it was a shoddy bandaging job, it would hopefully stem the blood flow until he could find help. Taking another long look into her eyes, he knew his path was clear; even if he didn't like it.

Jefferson hooked an arm underneath the Sheriff's knees and placed the other around her waist, scooping her up and holding her against his chest as he stood and strode across the room. Emma barely made a sound as he carried her, clearly becoming faint from the pain and blood loss. Jefferson paused for a moment before the mirrored door, his blue eyes drawn to the image that was reflected back at him – the darkly dressed madman holding the wounded swan in his arms.

He took a deep breath and stepped through the looking glass; once more into Wonderland.

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