When he wakes the sun is not yet up but he can see a sliver of light on the horizon. A deep layer of snow covers the roofs of the buildings opposite and icicles hang off windowsills. The night had been bitterly cold and the snow had fallen for hours, which he knows because Emma had kept him awake for most of the night. She had tossed and turned fretfully in her sleep and he had wondered what her dreams consisted of, possibly her son. Now she sleeps peacefully, pressed warmly against his side. He lifts his head up to look at the empty fireplace and then lies back down, too comfortable to get up and make a fire. He gazes adoringly at her sleeping face, knowing that he will not get the luxury of doing so while she is awake. He brushes a lock of her hair away from her cheek and allows his fingers to graze her skin before hiding his hand back under the covers. The feel of someone against him, soft and at rest, touches something almost primal inside. For so long he has been alone and he finds himself at mercy to base impulses; he is unable to stop staring at her or curb the desire to touch her. Boundaries blur after being so starved for contact and he can not help himself.
When Emma arrived in Storybrooke all those months ago he had watched her, at first curious by her miraculous appearance and then increasingly hopeful of her ability to break the curse and free him. For someone stuck within the same house for almost thirty years he found it difficult to immerse himself in what is just a small town so instead he kept his distance, watching her comings and goings through his telescope. But his interest in her gradually shifted from something platonic to a lure he could not resist. He finds her beautiful, in her solemn way, and touched by her heartbreak and struggles. When they had actually met face to face he had been surprised at how receptive she was, how trusting. For those few precious minutes she seemed almost smitten. If circumstances had been different…
His actions have spoiled whatever may have grown between them but he does not admit defeat yet. For everything that fate has thrown at him he has always tried to make the best of the situation, even if it drove him mad. He had something to hope for. In Wonderland and in Storybrooke it was the prospect of going home. Now he is free and at liberty to do as he wishes. He has no blade hanging over his head or locked doors baring his escape and as he lies there beside Emma he smiles. She is the one that has made this possible and he will always be faithful to her, be that as a friend or not.
But with the burden gone he feels a strange hollowness, a void that is too wide to ignore. He considers it in confusion, wondering why he is feeling this sensation when he never experienced it before, not even at his lowest moments. He does not know what to do with himself, he has no ties or links to anyone but the women beside him who has made it clear she mistrusts him. He gazes at her face again, a line between his brows and has to fight the need to pull her closer. Instead he gets out of bed, gasping as his feet touch the cold floor, and makes his way over to start a fire in the grate. As he gets it going he peers out of the window at the street below and sees a few people trudging through the snow. He looks back at Emma, in her jeans and light blouse, and decides that a shopping trip is in order.
When he returns Emma is wrapped up in a blanket and sitting by the fire. She looks up as she pokes the logs, sending up sparks.
"Morning, I got some provisions," he says and lays down what he has collected on the unmade bed. Emma gets up to take a look and is immediately unimpressed.
"Dresses?"
"I got you breeches if that's what you prefer but you'll be warmer with the dress on top of them. It's freezing outside and you're going to look strange to these people in what you're wearing now."
"Thanks," she says dryly and picks up a shift, numerous petticoats and stockings. "Where did you get these from?"
"The inn keeper. Sometimes people leave things behind at inns. Don't worry they've been laundered," he passes a simple green woollen dress to her which Emma takes grudgingly.
"If I have to blend in you have to as well," she challenges and he nods, grabbing a pair of breeches and reaches up to pull the curtain of the bed across, blocking him from sight. The bed curtain acting as a shield he begins to undress, unbuckling his belt and after a few moments he hears the rustle of Emma undressing.
"The slip goes on first and then the petticoats."
"I know that!"
"Just saying…" he smiles to himself at her affronted tone and pulls on his long coat, which thankfully fits into this realm. As he does he stops in surprise and pulls something out of his pocket. It is the dreidel that Grace gave him, claiming that she had created a portal with it. He squeezes it and feels a faint pulse of magic. He has tried to avoid thinking of the girl, her strange accusation still unsettling. He does not believe she was pretending but rather that she has been afflicted by the magic in Storybrooke. It is the only explanation.
"So where do you think they are?" Emma asks and he hears the curtain being pulled aside. Now dressed he does the same but freezes when he catches sight of her.
Loose blonde curls tumble over her shoulders and down her back, still mussed from sleep. The bodice, simply embroidered, is tied along the centre with dark green ribbons and pushes her breasts up. Full skirts brush the floor and the toes of her leather boots poke out below. She is in the humblest of garments but for the first time he can see the regal woman she so fiercely denies. Even he had mocked her for it, monarchy is a joke to him, but now he can only stare in awe. He gazes into her eyes and she blinks, looking uncomfortable with his appreciative look. He comes forward, taking a grey cloak from the bed and offers it to her.
"You better put this on, it's cold out," he says and she takes it with a nod, settling it around her shoulders.
"So…where do we look?"
"Right," he says, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. "If they find homeless people they take them to a building on campus, a shelter. Sometimes they're runaways and vagabonds and the school tries to find them jobs. We should look there first."
"Okay, lead the way."
Leaving the warmth of their room they make their way through the inn, hastily grabbing some warm rolls from the kitchen, and out onto the street. Luckily the morning is windless but the air is icy cold and they make their way hurriedly through the snow, passing retailers opening up their shops for the day.
After they had run from the University they had wandered aimlessly around, just taking in the sights. Henry's hope that Grace would lead them to a place of refuge was squashed when she confessed that she knew of no such place. She had lived her whole life in the forest and ventured out into town to buy and sale with her father. The forest is miles away and they would not make it on foot. As night fell and they grew stiff with cold a group, including children, were lead past them and they had followed behind. As it so happens the homeless were allowed to spend the night in one of the buildings on campus and so they had shelter. The palliasse that she slept on was old and needed refilling but the hall was warm and so she and Henry passed the night relatively peacefully.
"Better to die from the cold then the Catcher getting you," a grubby looking girl says as Henry and Grace eat breakfast, a meal consisting of hard rolls and jam.
"Who's the Catcher?" Henry asks and swathes of dirty faces regard him sceptically.
"The Child Catcher," one of them says theatrically.
"Oh, like from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?"
"Huh?"
The street urchins look at Henry in puzzlement and Grace suppresses a laugh. For Henry all that he sees exists in books and movies but for them — for her — it is real. She knows that Henry is open to the impossible but it will take some time for the notion that everything he thought of as just a story, be that a fairy tale or science fiction, is real. As they finish their breakfast the urchins are shooed away by a harried but friendly looking woman who pauses when she spots them.
"Hello, haven't seen you here before."
"No miss, we're new in town," Grace says politely.
"We got lost," Henry chips in and Grace gives him a swift glare.
"Oh dear, where were you heading?" The woman, who has a silver ring on her right hand, stares down at them sympathetically. Grace, who had been annoyed at Henry's insertion, now has an idea.
"We're related to the Gambol family and our parents sent us ahead. But we got lost."
"Oh you must be here for the ball!" The woman proclaims happily, clasping her hands together. Grace and Henry smile and nod at her, Grace amazed at her good luck.
"That's right but we don't know where their estate is. I know it's on the outskirts of the town and you can see the university from the roof," Grace says smoothly, reciting what her father had told her when he was in a nostalgic mood. But it is not longing for him that makes her ask but for her mother. Right now she is alive and possibly within walking distance.
"You're right; it's only half an hour away by carriage. This evening members of the faculty and guests will be attending their annual mid winter ball. You're welcome to come with us or I could arrange for someone to take you now?"
Before Grace can decide someone clears their throat and the woman who has been so cheerful suddenly straightens stiffly and turns with a jittery smile.
"Your Highness," she says, practically trembling with fear and reverence. A handsome looking woman with a well coifed appearance smiles briefly in greeting.
"Apprentice Hubble…I happened to overhear you just now, speaking to these youngsters about the ball," the formidable looking woman glances at them and then does a double take at Grace.
"Yeah — yes. The poor dears seem to have gotten lost and had to stay the night here."
"What a pity," she looks back at apprentice Hubble and Grace lets out a breath she has been holding. The woman had been staring at her like a hawk. "Well before this young girl makes her decision I think she should be tested, don't you?"
"T — tested?"
"Why of course. Even as I was passing I could feel the ripples around her, distorting the air. She has told you that she is from one of the oldest realm jumping families in the land. It would stand to reason that she also possesses that skill…or am I mistaken?"
"Well I— well I never thought, one so young — "
"Young but with potential. Have her tested," she says firmly and walks away, dress switching from side to side.
"Who was that?" Henry asks, face pulling into a grimace.
"That was a High Witch. She is visiting with the Grand High Witch," she says this last part in an awed voice.
"Is she royalty?" Grace asks.
"No but she wishes she was," Hubble says in a conspiratorial whisper and swiftly looks around to see if she has been overheard.
"Why does she want me tested?"
"She thinks you may have the skill. I'm only an apprentice so I couldn't feel it but if she thinks you have the gift then she is probably right."
"Cool!" Henry says and Hubble gives him a strange smile.
"So if I was tested and passed would I be an apprentice?"
"No there is an order: novice, apprentice, witch, high witch and grand high witch."
"What about mages?"
"It is roughly the same but they have master mage and grand master mage."
"But you're a realm jumper and a witch?" Grace reaches forward and brushes her fingers against the woman's silver ring. "My father wears one just like it."
"Yes. All realm jumpers are given this ring when we initiate. I haven't actually travelled to different realms yet, just created portals. My speciality is more in potion brewing."
I out rank her, Grace thinks. She has already created a portal and jumped realms. Admittedly she doesn't have total control over doing both of those things but she has done it. She has come here with the intention of seeing her mother again but the prospect of being trained is tempting. She hoped her father would help her but he has abandoned her again and is as insane as her other father said. She pushes this thought away before she becomes upset.
"Once the ball is finished I'll come back to be tested. Is that all right?"
"Yes, I think that is wonderful. I will find you both later when it is time to leave, which is before sundown. Now both of you seem to have travelled light," she eyes their jeans and chucks, "but if you go down to the laundry there should be some spare clothes there that should keep you warm and dry. Until tonight," she beams at them and leaves.
Henry stares at Grace and smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"What?" Grace asks and stands up.
"I'm the sidekick," he answers glumly as they walk out of the hall and into a courtyard. A wooden post with numerous signs point the way. They go in the direction of the arrow pointing towards the laundry department.
"Don't be silly Henry. If anything I'm the sidekick!"
"How do you figure that?"
"Uh duh. Your grandparents are Snow White and Prince Charming. They're royalty and so are you."
Henry stops; blinking as the truth sinks in. He has always been so preoccupied with who these people were that he never fully focused on his connection to them. But Grace is right, he is royalty. He smiles gleefully and runs forward through the snow.
"You have to call me Prince Henry from now on Grace!"
"In your dreams! If I do you have to call me High Master Witch Mage…or something."
They laugh, each proclaiming pompously their rightfully earned titles and all thought of their parents are gone for that time.
Emma heads through the gates, a hooded Jefferson at her side. He has declined to go in the building with her for fear of being recognised. Now he points out the place where Henry and Grace should be.
"If they haven't left they should be in the hall across the courtyard."
"And if they're not?"
"Then use this," he says and pulls out the dreidel. Emma takes it in bemusement but utters a small gasp when she presses her fingers to the wood. Her fingertips tingle with magic.
"Grace said she used that to create a portal. If you are near her the magic within it should start reacting to her proximity. Think of it like a magnet near filings. You'll feel a pull."
"If you say so…" she says, unconvinced, and heads towards the hall with Jefferson following at a distance. It takes one look through the door to see that they are too late. Even if they had slept here they are long gone. She turns back to Jefferson with a sigh, about to tell him when the dreidel suddenly jerks in her fist. Emma holds out her hand and the dreidel trembles before rolling around her palm in slow circles. She looks up at Jefferson as he reaches her.
"She must be close," he tugs on Emma's arm and they walk to the centre of the court to stare up at a sign post. Emma looks in all directions and after a hesitating moment moves her hand in those directions. As she lifts her hand towards the west of the campus the dreidel suddenly sits up on its point on her palm.
"Whoa…" she watches in amazement as the dreidel begins to spin very slowly as she and Jefferson head west, towards the baths and laundry. People with trolleys filled with bed sheets and clothes bustle out of the laundry department and the dreidel spins faster as they pass through the door. The Laundry Room is steamy and warm and the smell of soap is almost intoxicating. Emma inhales deeply and then stops when she spots something on the floor. Amidst a pile of leather shoes are two pairs of Converse sneakers and Emma bends down to pick them up. As she does the dreidel stops spinning.
"Well at least they're savvy enough to dress for the weather," Jefferson says and takes the sneakers from Emma and places them into a bag he carries. In another pile Emma discovers the rest of their discarded clothes and has Jefferson store them away with the Chucks.
"So we know they're here. I just wish I knew if they're safe or not."
"I'm sure they are. Someone must have told them to come here to get clothes. Right now they're probably searching through the market or the grounds. If you were a kid what would you do?"
"Explore," she answers without hesitation.
"Exactly. They won't stray far when all this is at their feet. If we don't find them before tonight we'll head back to the sleeping hall and collect them there."
They walk back through the grounds, along a path clear of snow. Emma pulls her cloak around her, balling her hands up and stares at the stained glass windows and the flags waving from turrets.
"So you went to school here?"
"Yes, from the age of twelve until I was seventeen."
"Was Alice a student?"
Jefferson eyes her swiftly from beneath his hood. "No, she didn't possess any magical skills. Though she was an incredible storyteller. If she had been from Earth I think she would have been a children's author…"
Emma smiles softly at the pride in his voice and feels a pang of sorrow at the loss of a woman she has never even met. For all the awful things he has done at his core he is, arguably, a good man who has been through tragedies. She just wishes he hadn't crossed so many lines as the result of that. Pushing these thoughts away she picks up her skirts and climbs a flight of stairs into the main entrance hall. Students and teachers walk past, some leisurely others running and she looks back to Jefferson.
"It's like Hogwarts," she says in a bemused whisper.
"Except not nearly as fun," a musical sounding voice says and Emma turns to see a beautiful middle aged woman approaching. She looks over her shoulder for Jefferson but he appears to have dived out of sight. Emma turns back to the woman with a smile.
"Have you been?"
"Once, long ago. I couldn't bear doing magic with a wand, blasted things. Are you a new student here?"
"Oh, no, I'm just passing through."
"So you're here for the ball?" the woman eyes her shrewdly and Emma feels like the contents of her mind are being flung out like sheets, inspected and then put away again. It is a strange sensation and Emma knows that it will be useless to lie to her.
"I wasn't aware that there was one."
"Yes. One of the local families throws a ball every winter. This year I hear it will be exceptionally extravagant so I wouldn't miss it if I were you."
"I'm not one for parties."
"Neither am I but it seems my life is comprised of banquets, ceremonies and frightfully dull lectures. But it seems that is my lot and I shouldn't grumble."
Emma stares at the strange woman, who smiles pleasantly, and voices something before she can rethink it. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Are you able to break a curse?"
"It's possible though it depends what it is. As you will have no doubt heard any curse can be broken by true loves kiss…or by the person who originally cast it."
"Well I think he's out of luck where kisses are concerned," Emma eyes where Jefferson is hidden and tries not to smirk. The witch, for she certainly is that, steps forward and gazes intensely at Emma.
"You are quite extraordinary. Your capacity for magic is profound."
"I don't know about extraordinary," Emma says modestly, off put by the witch's assertion. "I have magic but I can't control it or even do anything with it."
"What is your trigger?"
"Trigger?"
"Yes. When a witch or wizard first starts to use magic it is usually instigated by a trigger. For me it was boredom. You can imagine the lengths I had to go to."
Emma thinks of all the times she felt magic. When she picked up the storybook and saw her birth, kissed Henry and travelled through the hat she had been doing the same thing.
"Touch. I have to touch something or someone."
"Well there is your first task. Draw on magic through using touch and then without. This may take seconds or years but you will only be able to fully reach your potential through practise."
"How did you start using magic without your trigger?"
"I ran away from a convent," she answers mysteriously and does not elaborate. She pulls on a pair of leather gloves, numerous rings glinting in the sun. "Now it appears I have scared your male friend into hiding and I don't want him to catch a chill. So I will bid you good luck but not farewell for I am certain we will meet again," so saying the woman sweeps forward, giving Jefferson an amused glance as she does. He comes out from behind a window to Emma's side, looking flabbergasted.
"Holy shit," he whispers, looking after the woman and Emma cocks her head.
"What?"
"That was the Grand High Witch, Emma."
"And she's a big deal?"
"The biggest. Even people from Earth have heard of her."
"Yeah?"
"She's Morgan Le Fay."
"And I'm sure Merlin is just relaxing in the staff lounge with a sherry," Emma says sarcastically but Jefferson gives her a deadpan expression.
"Who do you think the Grand Master Mage is?"
"Oh come on, that's ridiculous," Emma says and they walk further into the entrance hall. "They're not storybook characters."
"I told you to open your mind Emma. Those doors lead to every story ever conceived on Earth. Be that one from a famous book or one that exists in a single mind. It just so happens that those two travelled from their own realm and into this one. They're renowned for a reason."
As Emma digests this information Jefferson walks over to a poster pinned to a board. The parchment declares a ball at the Gambol Estate in which a feast and dances are to be had by all. Jefferson makes a noise of realisation and Emma asks him what is wrong.
"My family is throwing a ball tonight. We threw one every year for generations but tonight is different. My father died last year and left us penniless. We managed to keep up appearances but people talked. As I told you I managed to find an income and this was a way to show the naysayers that we were still on top."
"Well I'm waiting here for Henry and Grace."
"That's if they stay here. Exploring the ground has its merits but I think a Grand Ball takes the cake. We'll have to wait for sundown to see if they go to the shelter or not."
"This search doesn't seem to be getting any easier," Emma says moodily and follows Jefferson up a staircase and then along empty corridors, which he tells her are secret passageways. He stops outside a door and presses his ear to it. Satisfied that no one is in the room he enters and Emma follows him inside.
"This is my old study," Jefferson says and Emma looks around the room. Books line every wall and desks are stacked high with tomes. From the mansion back in Storybrooke Emma deducted that he is very well read. On the walls are maps of unfamiliar continents and worlds. Emma points to them.
"Are these the worlds that you've been to?"
"Some. Others are famous lost realms. Some mages spend their whole lives searching through the hat, looking for them."
"And do they ever come back?"
"Not all of them," Jefferson whispers and gazes at her as she sits down in an armchair, smoothing her skirts down. His regard becomes intense and Emma avoids it, looking around the study but her eyes always come back to his.
"I know you've been socially deprived for a long time but the staring is creepy."
"Will you ever forgive me?" he asks her earnestly.
Emma shifts in her seat, looking over his shoulder for a moment. "Maybe but not now, not yet."
"You're all I have, Emma."
"That's not true," she says and fixes him with a hard stare. "You don't remember but you have your daughter. Everything that you've done has been for her."
"I want to believe that but everything I've done has been for me, like always. I'm selfish," he stares into the cold grate and the hollowness that he felt that morning sinks deeper.
"Wanting to be free is not selfish. You told me that you needed the hat to work so that you could take Grace home, because this was the one world that she would remember who you were."
"I don't remember saying that at all. I wanted you to make the hat work so I could go home, no one else. You paint me as this doting father but I'm not."
"Regina has really done a number on you," Emma says sadly, shaking her head and Jefferson clenches his jaw and stares out of the window.
"She's here now. She'll be at the ball with her mother and father."
"We would be saving people a lot of pain and misery if we kill her, is that what you're thinking?" Emma asks with a humourless smile.
"Something like that…" Jefferson says and then stands abruptly. "We should be okay here until sundown. Until then get comfortable. I'll get some wood for the fire."
Emma watches him walk out, pulling the hood back over his face, and stares at the maps on the walls again. One of them depicts Earth and she stares at it with a pang of longing. Her mother and father, her friends, are back there and she wonders if they have noticed her absence or not. Knowing that someone would miss her is a new feeling, one she has never experienced before and it makes her feel sad and touched at the same time.
note: The Grand Ball next, where we'll see a young Jefferson, Alice and Regina. For anyone interested I picked Gambol as his surname because I wanted something that had a jumping/leaping connection, like with the surname Soaring I used before. Also it has a playful, frivolous connotation that I thought fitting for Jeff's family.