Broken
Jefferson only spent a few hours in the hospital as they checked him over and patched him up. It came as a great relief to Emma that her closest friend was going to be fine.
"Don't you ever do that again," she snapped as they headed out. "I was worried sick!" She threw the car door open angrily and climbed in, fuming.
Jefferson followed her, opening the other car door and looking inside. "Calm down . . . I'm okay now." He leaned against the door, smirking. "And you looked quite scared back there. Worried for my life?"
"Get in now, or don't get in at all."
He slid in beside her obediently.
"What the hell were you playing at, Jefferson?"
Emma reversed the bug out of the parking space, driving out onto the road and heading back to his house to drop him off and go home. He obviously didn't need her. The original panic of losing him was gone and had been replaced with fury . . . and betrayal. The idea that he was the Mad Hatter meant nothing to her. That he'd had a history of doing or saying psychotic things barely crossed her mind. They'd teamed up to get through the grief together, and then he'd quit. That was the cause of her anger. That was what hurt.
He hung his head, staring at his lap. "I . . . I don't know. I don't know what I'm going to do if this is how I act all the time. I could pass it off and say 'I'm crazy', but that's not what you deserve. You deserve someone who you can trust and - I'm not that person."
She drove into the forest, following a much quieter road. "What are you saying?"
"That you shouldn't come round anymore."
"No," she replied instantly. "You can't leave me alone. Not now." How could she tell someone who'd loved and lost so much that she wanted to be a part of their life when they were clearly pushing her away?
"Emma, it's for your own good," he insisted. "Please listen to me."
"No!" she said again, indignant. "I'm not just leaving when -"
"Emma Swan, you listen to me right now -"
She slammed down on the brakes, jolting them both. "You want this?" she asked, looking at him. "After everything . . . After what we've been through. You want me to stop visiting you."
"Yes."
Emma swallowed. "Fine," she whispered, then repeated louder, "Fine."
"Emma, please . . ."
"Please what?" She started driving again, hands shaking on the wheel. Her eyes were fixed on the road, her hair falling down in front of her shoulder and creating a wall between them.
"I've hurt you, haven't I?"
"Nope." Her voice was harder than steel. "If this is what you want, then go ahead. I'm fine with it."
The journey continued in a stony silence, Emma biting down hard on her lip to stop herself from breaking down. Thoughts whizzed into her head and back out in a matter of seconds, but she didn't linger on them. She was strong. She could make it without a Mad Hatter in her life. Right? Wrong. Her conscience said otherwise. Her conscience wanted Jefferson by her side.
The idea of living without you now is scary. Don't go. Don't leave me alone.
Don't leave me . . .
She swung into the driveway carelessly, pulling up next to the steps and just looking at him. "This is you," she said impatiently. "I won't bother you anymore." The hurt look that flickered into his eyes made her want to look away, but she didn't, she held her ground. Moments passed without him moving. "Well?" she said abruptly. "Go."
He didn't move. Emma shook her head and opened her door, getting out and walking round. She swung his door open, unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his arm and dragged him out.
He let her pull him out of the car without a struggle, stumbling out onto the gravel and catching her hands. "Don't go," he breathed, his emotions and thoughts seemingly fluctuating wildly every second. "Emma, I'm sorry, don't go."
Nothing seemed to be going right . . . Well, as right as it could go, seeing as nothing had really gone right since Cora got to Storybrooke. Emma stared at the crackling fire, her lips pressed against the mug she held but not drinking. Taking in the warmth. She was still so cold all the time, even stuck between a lit fire, a mug of steaming tea and a man whose arms were currently curled round her waist. She was still so cold.
They stayed wrapped up in each others' comfort until the sunlight drooped and the moon rose. They'd gone from sitting on the sofa, to laying, to holding each other and eventually falling asleep. Emma's mug slipped from her relaxed grip, hitting the carpet with a dull thump and spilling stone-cold tea over the floor. It didn't wake her, though. She kept sleeping, coiled up, the Hatter's breaths tickling the back of her neck.
What did wake her was sudden suffocation, followed by being thrown off the sofa and hitting the floor hard. She woke with a start and felt herself tossed into chaos as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings.
"Wha-?"
Pain ricocheted through her shoulder and down her body as Jefferson landed on top of her, screaming for help. In a matter of moments she rolled them over, searching his face, shaking his shoulders.
When he finally woke up, they were both panting like they'd ran a marathon. Emma straddled Jefferson the best she could but he writhed and shrieked even when awake. The petrifying fear dilated his pupils and his glare flicked around the room, eyebrows turned up in fright. Emma definitely didn't regret going to the gym for the last five years as every bit of strength was used to keep him from hurting anything anymore than he already had.
She only let go when his muscles relaxed and the crying stopped. The quiet darkness echoed round them, shadows cast upon their faces and making everything strangely distorted. Smoky remains of the firewood lay forgotten in the grate, and judging by the lack of light, it was still the middle of the night.
"Jefferson?" she whispered sharply, inexplicably afraid of being too loud and yet equally nervous of the quiet. She shook his shoulders, gently, and in return she received a low moan. His eyes opened and he looked at her, glowing faintly in the dark.
"Make it stop, Emma." His face showed nothing but fear and pain. His hand reached up, seeking out hers, and he entwined their fingers delicately.
She ran a finger from her free hand over his forehead, wiping away stray hairs and sweat, only then to lie down and rest her head on his chest. A soft sigh escaped him, and for some reason she couldn't quite understand, it made her smile. She felt his lips touch her hair, and then his fingers, combing out the tangles rhythmically. The feeling was welcome, the feeling that someone cared. The feeling that someone was there.
And she heard him whisper to her, "Go to sleep, Emma," but she didn't want to. He'd either stay awake or fall back into a haunted trance of nightmares, and she couldn't let him do that, right?
However, before she even knew it, her fist was curled round his loose shirt, his faint scent of tea leaves and forests filling her thoughts, and she was fast asleep.
In her dreams, though, came an idea. An idea to help Jefferson.
A saving grace, as it were.
She warned him she was going home, at least to go make sure Mary Margaret and David were doing well. Well enough, at least. At least to warn them where she was if she went missing without an explanation.
When she got back to his house, she didn't even bother knocking, seeing as the majority of Jefferson's night was spent combing through her hair and he was most likely making up for lost sleeping time. Emma stepped into the house, shutting the door quietly and heading into the kitchen to make a coffee.
When she went upstairs to check on him, Jefferson lay awake on the bed. He barely acknowledged her presence as she walked into the bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling in a trance.
"Jefferson," Emma said, breaking the silence. "Look at me."
He did so obediently, but to Emma it was like he was looking through her, not at her. She sank down onto the bed, kneeling in front of him. "I brought something for you. To help. That's why I was gone so long."
"What could possibly help me?" he asked tiredly, propping himself up on his elbows to make it easier to look at her. "You should go, Emma. You're obviously healing and I'm obviously not."
"Then my work here is obviously not done," she replied smoothly. "Now sit up and shut up."
After a moment's hesitation, he sat up, running a hand through his hair and then just turning to face her. "Emma . . ."
"Shh." From her pocket she pulled out a pendant, unfastening the chain. She looped her arms over Jefferson's head, refastening it and letting the pendant drop down onto his bare chest with a quiet thud. It hung right over where his heart would be, the silver chain running underneath the neck scar.
Jefferson looked down at it, going a little cross-eyed. "Emma . . ." He trailed off, fingering the pendant in awe. "Emma, this was Henry's. Why did you -"
"Give it to you?" she finished for him. "I figured it might help you and me both."
"I can't take it, it's Henry's -"
"And he's gone," she cut in again, her voice thick. "Henry's gone and holding onto the past won't do me any good while I'm trying to plan for the future. I want you to have it, Jefferson."
He stared at her, eyebrows drawn together in admiration, confusion and a touch of sadness. "But why?"
She leaned forward, still unsure of herself, and paused right in front of his face. He closed his eyes but she kept hers wide open, looking over every inch of his skin, his hair, his flickering eyelids and parted lips. "Because," she whispered, "because when Henry wore that necklace, it kept him safe from the nightmares. I hope it does the same for you."
A small smile taunted his lips. "It's not the Netherworld I'm suffering from."
"It's a nightmare enough. I just want to protect you."
He swallowed visibly, hand flitting up just to loosen his scarf the slightest. Emma could feel herself going cross-eyed just to keep sight of him, feel his breath hit her cheeks.
"You'll give up on me," he mumbled. "You'll leave me like everyone else leaves me. Abandon me."
She smiled faintly and caught a tear that trickled down his face, brushing it away with her thumb. A vague memory; an old quote. Henry's book. She remembered reading it and she remembered thinking about it. "Jefferson," she replied, voice quiet, "you don't abandon family."
Only then did she close her eyes.
And when their lips met, when his hands wrapped round her waist and her fingers tangled in his hair, nothing to Emma had ever felt more like comfort.
Losing Henry and Grace was the worst possible thing imaginable, but it happened, and they wouldn't have survived it alone. Together, not only did they survive, but they created something wonderful from it. Maybe there would be a place inside both of them that would never be whole again after losing someone so important. But they had each other, and for the time being, it was enough.
The end.
I wanted you to know that I love the way you laugh,
And I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away.
I keep your photograph, I know it serves me well,
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain.
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome,
And I don't feel right when you're gone away.
You're gone away . . .
You don't feel me here anymore . . .
The worst is over now and we can breathe again,
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away.
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight,
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain.
'Cause I'm broken when I'm open,
And I don't feel like I am strong enough.
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome,
And I don't feel right when you're gone away.
You're gone away . . .
You don't feel me here anymore . . .