AN: a guest posted a review on the last one I wanted to address, noting parallels between Jabbers and Rumples. There ARE quite a few, since Jabberwocky is cannon for the Wonderland series (so it's all the same canon). She isn't controlled by the blade, but the vorpal blade is the only thing that can stop and imprison her. Unlike Rumples she doesn't do a lot of magic, her "magic" seems to be more natural and limited specific abilities. The "monsters aren't born, they're made" is a direct quote from her in the show. Also, for those interested and who don't mind ending spoilers for Wonderland series (she doesn't appear until the end), all of Jabber's appearances are on youtube. She only has a few 2-4 minute appearances, but they are all AMAZING. Just search OUAT Jabberwocky and you'll find several. Her voice is downright deviously delectable.

Since there is so little known about her and the series got canceled, I've built her a back story you'll be privy to in pieces starting in this chapter. ;)

The next chapter will finally feature Rumples, so look forward to it!

Archie still hadn't gotten any more than a few hours of sleep in the last few days. His health was suffering for it, both mentally and physically, but he kept his few remaining appointments. After the third day with no reappearance form the nightmare who had seen fit to torment him, he decided he could no longer just wait around.

"Jabberwocky?" he called out to the creature, half testing if she were indeed listening in, wondering if she would answer him.

"Are you there?" he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he was being watched since her first appearance to him, but how much of that was reality and how much the delusions of a sleep depraved mind? An open copy of Alice and Through the Looking Glass each lay on his coffee table, but all he had been able to find was the single poem speaking of danger. It mentioned a blade, a Vorpal Blade, and he had to admit he drew the comparison to the Dark One's blade. Would Gold know something useful here? What would he have to pay for such knowledge? A shiver ran through him at the very idea of going to Gold for anything, especially after that first time. No, even if Gold had somewhat tempered out since coming here and since having Belle in his life, Archie wasn't so sure he wanted to deal with the man again.

His eyes drifted up to the clock. It was nearly time. He forced his tired muscle to comply, picking himself as well as the books up and grabbing his keys. Pongo perked up from his doggy bed, stretched and trotted over with a jingle of tags for his leash.

"No, I'll take you out later." He left the whining dog a treat instead, stepping out to lock the door.

It took him little time to reach the bus stop, getting there exactly as he planned, with the children unloading. There she was, Grace fleeing from the confines of the bus and running into the waiting arms of her father. He had been so proud of Henry for helping them reunite. He had been so proud of Henry in general, for who he had been growing into even without his help, and all the good he had done. For everyone in this town. The thoughts brought a smile to his lips, and a hesitation to his step. Should he be doing this? He needed answers, true, but at what expense? Would the Jabberwocky know he had spoken to them? Would it be angry? Even if he was very careful to give nothing away? Books in hand, he took a breath and forced the smile to remain as he approached.

"Excuse me?" he had heard Jefferson was suspicious, rightfully so if the Jabberwocky was any indication of a norm for Wonderland.

"Yes?" but the man was tempering his behavior and gripping tight his daughter's hand.

"Sorry, I don't think we've formally met before. I'm Archie Hopper, a friend of Henry's." He extended a hand, which was eyed cautiously instead of taken.

"The therapist?" he felt his face flush at the prompt tell,

"Yes, though that's not what I'm here for. I'm very much off the clock." He reassured and was granted a begrudging handshake for it and a curt,

"Jefferson. This is Grace." She at least didn't seem as put off, giving a smile and a nod though still clinging to her father's hand.

"Grace. It's very nice to meet both of you at last."

"Grace, why don't you wait for me in the car?" Jefferson smiled and handed her the keys, for which she took them and graciously complied. As soon as she was out of earshot Jefferson rounded on him.

"What do you want?"

"I don't mean any harm, there's no reason to-"

"Those books in your hand tell me otherwise. So let me make something perfectly clear. I've worked very hard to get out, and get my little girl back. If you do anything to jeopardize my family…" he trailed off, but in his stepping closer Archie saw a familiar reflection in those eyes. Madness. The craze which he was starting to gather was very much an effect of Wonderland, if he had to guess. He knew this man could be dangerous, he had kidnapped Emma, and Archie had no doubts at all of what lengths he would go to in order to protect his child. He couldn't rightfully say he blamed him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," Archie was naturally more demure, tucking his head at the threats and stumbling over his words for a moment. Meek, "You're just the only one I've heard had been to Wonderland. I'll leave you alone." He agreed readily, he'd been on the fence about this whole thing to begin with. He turned to go, but was pulled back.

"Wait," a sigh, despite what he was capable of, Jefferson was no bully. Just protective, and worried, "if you're looking to get there let me at least warn you: it isn't worth it. No matter what you're looking for there, you don't want to be on that side of the looking glass. Better leave it alone." Archie glanced around, lowering his voice when he was satisfied he saw no one.

"What if what's on the other side doesn't stay there?" he whispered, and saw terror fly into the other man's eyes before his hardness could hide it. He mimicked the breathy tones,

"Who?"

"I can't say. I was hoping you might be able to clear up any…inaccuracies in the book?" there, he hadn't said a thing, and surely that alone wouldn't earn retribution? He held out the books in hope, Jefferson eyeing them wearily, deciding on if he should run then and there, but after a moment he took them.

"I'll leave some notes in them and drop them off at your place, as best I can. Give me a few days."

"Oh, of course! Thank you so much!" He gave another smile, which wasn't returned, and watched the man return to his car and drive away.

A few days. He could last a few more days, couldn't he? He turned to return home, a brisk chill on the air which made him clutch his jacket a bit closer. He was halfway home when he jumped at the feel of a slender arm lacing itself into his. She was here.

"Don't bother reacting, no one can see or hear me but you my dear." He could see her smiling at a couple of the dwarves they passed as if they could see her, as if the two of them were on little more than a casual stroll on a sunny afternoon. What did this mean? Had she seen the whole exchange? Was she angry? Would she hurt him? Worse, would she hurt Jefferson? Or Grace? Even though he forced himself to keep walking, these thoughts made it difficult to breath past the pain of guilt already growing in his chest.

"If you wanted to know more about Wonderland, all you had to do was ask." They were reaching the door to his office now, but his hands were shaking so much it took him what seemed like ages to grasp the key, and was having more difficulty getting it into the lock. Her talons closed over his wrist to steady it, hard enough that he was certain there may be bruises later, guiding the key to the lock and turning it for him before letting go. The door opened, but he just stood there, trying not to cry and too terrified to make his muscles move.

"What are you waiting for?" he tried to answer, but only a whimper escaped his lungs.

"I don't care much for children." The tone implied two meanings at once. She didn't care enough to harm Grace, but she also didn't care enough not to harm her if so inclined. It did nothing to ease his nerves.

"You're drawing attention to yourself, my dear." She already ran out of patience, giving a nudge on his shoulders to guide him inside and get his legs working. Once he was moving again, it came automatically. Climbing the stairs, moving to his apartment door, taking out the keys and unlocking that as well. He may as well have been walking to the gallows. Tried and sentenced to death. Who would find him? Who would take care of Pongo when he was gone? He couldn't help that he was crying by the time his door was unlocked and he was inside, the Wonderland Monstrosity following him as a silent specter the whole way in, and closing the door behind him.

"This is most disappointing." She sounded too much like his parents. Pongo had already run to hide, smart dog he was.

"I never told you I would kill you." She brushed past him, as usual making herself perfectly at home on his sofa.

"N-No. You said you'd do worse." He managed, removing his glasses to wipe at his face just in time to miss the devious smile she gave him for the affirmation.

"Indeed. But my cleaver little Cricket did perfectly well to keep just within what I've commanded. No harm done." So, she wasn't mad? He was working now to catch his breath, from both the tears and the nerves. She pat the place beside her.

"Come sit beside me, I'll tell you a story." His brow wrinkled with the effort to try to determine if there was indeed risk here, but he shuffled over and complied, for which he earned a smile he could barely catch from the corner of his eyes. He couldn't quite bring himself to look directly at her, taking slow deep breaths to recollect and keep his calm.

"It was a very long time ago. Longer even than any can rightly remember. In a land beyond this one, a place called Wonderland…"

As she spoke the words it painted the image in his mind. Tangible, colorful, he could almost reach out and touch it. Towering trees, so high he couldn't see their tops at all. Colorful mushrooms of all sizes decorating the lush green underbrush. The scenery was beautiful, the light filtering down from above and glow of things below assisting him in relaxing more quickly. The Tulgey Woods. And in these woods was a girl, plain and dressed in simple colors, bright of face and waiting beneath a large boulder cluster peeking out from the green. This was not the Jabberwocky, it was not the crazed and malicious creature drinking in terror with glint to her eyes. It was just a girl. She turned, at a sound of branch breaking, and her face lit up, rushing over to another dark haired youth, this one dressed in robes befitting those who practiced and studied the ways of magic, or alchemy, or any number of other things of this nature. Archie had to confess that so far, this world didn't seem too far different from the Enchanted Forest. The dark haired youth took her in his arms and swung her in a circle.

"How are your studies finding you?"

"Very well, we're making much progress." Her face fell and voice grew hushed as she was set down,

"It's been spotted again, you know."

"I know. We're working as fast as we can. There's a sorcerer from another realm, he says he knows how we can do it. How we can stop this once and for all. We can put an end to the-"

"Don't say its name!" she covered his mouth before he could finish, but earned just a laugh for it.

"I am not afraid. Soon these trials will be over with, and the land will be at peace." She chewed her bottom lip, uncertain as he went on.

"If only…there is one problem." Silence lingered, and he wasn't fit to answer her questioning look.

"What?"

"We need someone for the ritual. I asked to volunteer myself, but they need me for the circle. I've been searching, but none have proven brave enough. I fear at this rate all our work will come to nothing." He sighed, slumping against the boulder and removing from his back the snack he had brought, a fruit not unlike an orange but far brighter and violet in color. He made quick work of peeling it as she sat beside him, and shared with her the segments.

"Can you find no one?"

"I have little doubts we will find one soon. We've only asked so many, there is surely someone who will wish for the chance at heroism." She held the segments offered, but didn't eat.

"I'll do it."

"What? You most certainly won't! I won't let you risk it!"

"You need someone, and it's my choice to make."

"You don't know what you're volunteering for, there are risks-" she let the food drop to her skirt and cupped his face with both of her hands.

"This whole time I've known you, this has been your sole purpose. This work. I won't let it end here, not when you're so close!" his hand came up to her wrist, thumb stroking lightly the skin there,

"I couldn't ask you-"

"You don't have to." She noticed then the closeness, pulling away with red cheeks and nibbling on the fruit.

"I've made up my mind. You wouldn't let anything hurt me." He didn't sound as confident as she did, but he gave a nod.

"I'll tell the others. We should have everything ready at the tower in two days' time."

"I shall be there."

The images faded, and soon he was back on the sofa, the world which had been granted fading away to smoke.

"Wait, what happens next?"

"The rest I will tell you, on another day." He did look at her now, and for only a moment he saw beneath the madness and terror. She hadn't always had that, she had been human once. Human and ready to risk it all in some kind of ritual, what he gathered was to put an end to something unnamed terrorizing the land. What had gone wrong? What had caused her to become what sat here now? She called herself a monster. She tormented him, she pushed him around, she insisted this was all for fun and she wanted nothing from him. But if that were true, why would she share this?

"I would like very much to hear the rest." His words and interest were earnest. Just because she was reluctant, or wouldn't admit it, he was certain now she had come to him for help after all. Perhaps she didn't notice it yet herself.

"Did you have a different name then?"

"I don't remember it. I have only the title." Title? Jabberwocky, he guessed.

"You could chose a name, if you wanted to." The idea evidently hadn't occurred to her.

"Why would I need a name?"

"Something more personal to be called by? Something you chose? I suppose if you don't mind just Jabberwocky-"

"It is a touch unusual for this land, isn't it?" she grinned, no doubt making the same connection he did. She was unusual for this land as well, though then he supposed in a way they all would be in their own rights.

"You weren't here for the curse, you weren't given a name and job for this world." He rose and felt her eyes follow him sharply, moving to his bookshelf and withdrawing a large tome. The compiled works of Shakespeare. He held it out for her and she took it in puzzled expression.

"I chose Pongo's name from a book, but for you a think a body of work more…dignified." She flipped through the pages, and he wasn't sure if she was idly flipping or actually able to read that quickly. He wouldn't be entirely surprised by the later. When she had flipped through the entire tome once, she flipped back through the pages again and gave pause, entire focus on the text before her.

"Imogen."

Imogen? He recalled the tale from which she claimed the name, a curious choice, had she truly read it through or was she simply taking a name which jumped out at her? Or was she attempting to communicate some other meaning there?

"It's a lovely choice." He smiled instead of asking or commenting on any of this. His home almost felt like his own again for this interaction, it almost felt like he was making progress, reclaiming his role as therapist if slightly. She snapped the book shut with a single hand and held the tome out for him to retake, rising from the couch.

"Imogen, before you go," he tested the name and her gaze flicked over her shoulder back at him, "Have you been…I don't mean to blame of course, it's just…I haven't been able to sleep well since your arrival. Are you in some way responsible for that?"

"Probably." She spoke it so casually, absolutely indifferent to the effects it was having over him or the bags growing beneath his eyes. He couldn't help but get a bit frustrated, barely reigning that emotion in,

"Well, could you please stop it then? I need my sleep, if this goes on much longer I won't be much good to anyone. Least of all you." Evidently this line of thought was as puzzling as everything else he thought obvious in mentioning.

"You need sleep?"

"Yes! You…don't?"

"No."

"Oh. Well," how to explain this, "Most people here do. Lack of sleep can have a terrible toll on our emotions, even our bodies. Our health begins to fail, I'm certain we can even die if we go long enough without rest." Her head tilted, this information evidently very new for her, though the calculating look in her eyes made him wince and suspect he might have accidentally given her a new torture method. Not that she hadn't proved more than able to use it without suggestion.

"I see. Very well. Until next I see you." And she was gone. For the first time since she had appeared to him that day, he felt the watchful sensation grow distant, and then leave altogether. Soon Pongo slipped out from his hiding spot to beg attention. Archi hadn't expected her to comply. She didn't sleep? Did she genuinely assume he didn't need it either? He had been fairly certain she was behind it, and fairly certain it was deliberate, but now he wasn't so sure. She seemed genuinely perplexed. Did she truly not know any better? And if so, what else was a case of misunderstanding?

With a sigh he removed his glasses and Pongo jumped up on the couch to lick at his face affectionately, which did much to ease what little nerves remained. He almost wished she would come back then so he could figure out more, but knew she would return only on her own time. He was beginning to suspect that, like Gold, maybe she wasn't truly as terrible as she wanted people to think. How much of all of this was for show? He glanced down at his wrist she had grabbed earlier, and saw no developing bruises. It must have been his imagination at the time, the fright she had given. Or had he worked himself into that fright on his own? He shook his head for the time, taking comfort in the warm fur settled in beside him, and resigning himself to get some rest. He felt oddly hopeful, after the events of that day. Hopeful not only that this wasn't the end all be all terrible situation he had come to think it was (though it would certainly be difficult), and hopeful that when he went to talk to Gold, perhaps it would go well after all.