"Look alive Jones," someone nudged Killian out of his thoughts. He looked around the poke table, the rest of the crew around the poker table looking unexpectedly at him. He peeked at his cards and made a quick move without thinking it through. He saw his friends' lips moving but their jokes and laughter didn't reach his ears. Flashes of Emma's angry face invaded his mind. He missed her, but he didn't want to push her away by pursuing her when she clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

The tap on a cane against the linoleum tiled floor caught his attention. Killian noticed a young woman approaching their table. She leaned heavily on a plain wooden cane, but the lines of her shoulders and stern expression gave her a regal appearance. As she got closer, the light of the overhead fluorescent lamp lit the gentle curves of her face and set her eyes alight with an ice-blue shine.

Teddy addressed her, "Hi. Need something?"

"I need to speak to Mr. Jones," Priscilla Jefferson answered.

"Sure," Killian agreed as she turned her face to him.

"We're kind of in the middle of something," a man from their crew, Tommy, complained.

Killian tossed his cards onto the table, "It's nothing. I'm losing anyway."

He rose from his seat and followed Priscilla to a quieter spot in the bar. Now, just the two of them sitting in a small booth, Killian noticed how exhausted she appeared. She was breathing heavily, like simply walking into the bar had worn her out. Her cane leaned against the wall.

"Have you been feeling alright? I know you're still recovering from you're...ordeal."

"I'm fine, Mr. Jones."

"You can just call me Killian. I was just worried it might be too early for you to be up and about."

A smile glimmered on her dark, full lips. "You're sweet Killian, but you don't have to worry about me. I need to talk to you about Emma. She told me you knew about the curse too."

Her words hit him like a crowbar. "You're awake?" he gasped.

Priscilla nodded, her smile gaining a sad tinge. "Have been for over a decade, and it's been absolute hell." She paused, eyelids fluttering like she was holding back tears. "I don't know how it happened, but one day I had my memories back. I was two people, Priscilla Jefferson the spoiled heiress and the Mad Hatter, and I didn't know who I was. My daughter was gone, and when I tried to find her, I got tossed in jail. And the next morning I woke up back in my bed, like nothing had happened. Like the day had been reset. I lived the same day over and over again for years, and I couldn't make it stop. My daughter had another family and didn't know who I was and there was nothing I could do to get her back. And I-" Her voice cracked. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Christ, that sound horrible," Killian muttered, still in awe and trying to process what she had told them. "Do you have any idea who did that you?"

"It was the Evil Queen, Regina," Priscilla answered. "It didn't take long for me to notice that she was the only person in town who had any sort of free will, so I confronted her. But there wasn't anything I could do to stop her. I didn't know the nature of the curse. What about you? How did you keep your memories? How did you manage to leave and come back?"

"I was never in Storybrooke," Killian explained. "I remember when the curse was cast, a huge plume of purple smoke the smothered everything in its path. I think I got knocked out, because the next thing I remember was waking up in the streets on New York City. I know who I is was, but I didn't where I was. And it took a while for to figure out how to survive in this world."

"How did you know to come to Storybrooke?"

"I didn't. I was a drifter, moving from one place to another without rhyme or reason. Before Storybrooke I had been roaming up and down the West Coast for almost a decade, until I decided to move back east." Killian shrugged. "When I realized what this town was, that it connected to magic, I knew I had to stay. You're aware the mayor's boy knows about magic?"

"Of course, he never shuts up about it," Priscilla smiled fondly. "Poor child. To have the Evil Queen for a mother..."

"Did you ever wonder how Henry got a book that had all our stories in it?" Killian pondered. "Who would have written it?"

"I don't think that's very important now. What matters is that we can't break this curse without breaking the curse on Emma."

Killian's eyes widened, "Emma's cursed? How do you know this?"

"I'll admit, it's a possibility, not a certainty," Priscilla conceded. "but I think Emma was placed under a curse that makes her think everything was normal and ignore all evidence to contrary. There are way too many weird things happened here for her to dismiss unless she had no choice but to. She mentioned that she had tea with Mr. Gold a few weeks ago, and I suspected that he might have been the one to curse her."

"Not likely," Killian remarked with a shake of his head. "He's a bloody menace, but he wanted the curse broken. His wife's curse family wants to pull the plug on her and they're taking him to court for power of attorney over her. He needs Emma to break the curse before that happens."

"That's what she told me," Priscilla nodded. "It's more likely that it was the Evil Queen. She wouldn't have to worry about Emma breaking the curse if Emma didn't believe in it."

"That's possible, but when would the Evil Queen have a chance to do that? She and Emma avoid each other like the plague."

"I haven't figured that part out."


"See you in the morning, dear," Widow Featherson gave Priscilla a gap-toothed smile as put the day's wagers in the younger woman's hand.

Priscilla gave a respectful nod, "Good evening 'till then." Grace gave the wrinkled, steel-haired woman a hug, her arms wrapped tight around thin, bony hips. Window Featherson patted the child on the head before sending her and her mother on their way.

Outside the sky had turned the deep indigo of early evening, with just of sliver of the orange-red sun visible on the horizon. The lampboys moved down the streets, one on each side, setting fire to the streetlamps that lined the town's busiest streets. Priscilla walked slowly because she knew Grace liked to watch the lampboys at their work. Although she had lived in this town for almost five years, Priscilla had never gotten used to the pale pink flames that glowed from the streetlamps. When she had asked, a lampboy explained that the fire burned that color because of a special type of wood used in the lamps, one that with magic properties that let the fire burn even during rain and heavy winds.

They had been walking so slowly, the street were deserted by the time the last lampboy had moved on to a different street. Priscilla tightened her grip on her daughter's hand and began walking faster. Grace huffed, but said nothing and matched her mother's pace. They lived in a small cottage just outside of town, but if they moved quickly, they would still make it before the sunlight had done completely.

Two soldiers came out of an alley and block Priscilla and Grace's path. They were the black and silver armor that marked them as the Evil Queen's men.

Priscilla put herself between the soldiers and daughter, and put on her friendliest smile. "Good evening. My daughter and I were just-"

"Silence," one guard commanded.

Priscilla's heart jumped, startling her. She hoped they didn't notice her hands shaking. She hoped Grace couldn't sense her fear.

"Mad Hatter," a woman's smooth, throaty voice cut through the silence like a knife. "It's such a shame to see such a renown portal jumper reduced to this." The Evil Queen appeared from the shadows with more soldiers behind her. She wore a simple black cloak, pushing the hood from her face as she stepped into the light. Queen Regina of Misthaven was beautiful the way an antique sword was beautiful, sharp and cold and deadly.

Priscilla didn't respond.

"What, no greetings for your old friend.

Priscilla didn't take her eyes from the queen's face, but she could feel Grace staring at her. Judging her, demanding answers. "You looked well. Royalty becomes you."

"It certainly does," Regina smiled, flashing all her straight, white teeth. "And who is this darling little girl behind you? You're daughter?"

"Yes. Her name is Grace."

"Grace," Regina moved closer and leaned forward with her hands on her knees so she was almost on Grace's level, "Your mother were such good friends? Did she ever tell about all the trouble we used to get into?"

"No," Grace whispered fearfully.

Regina straightened herself. "That's unfortunate. I assure you, they're very interesting."

"Is there something you want?" Priscilla snapped.

Regina glared at her, as if debating with herself how to punish her for that outburst. "Yes, in fact there's something I want very much. And you're the only person who had get it for me."

"I don't do that anymore," Priscilla started firmly.

"You do whatever your queen commands of you." Regina challenged.

Priscilla remembered the soldiers, the sharpened swords at their sides. She didn't think for one second that Regina would hesitate the use them. "Can I at least see my daughter safely home first."

Regina's smile returned. "Alright, but only because I like you. Hugo, Patrick, go with them, just to make sure they don't take too long."

Priscilla nodded stiffly. As she and Grace continued through the rose-lit streets, the heavy rhythm of the solider's footsteps behind them rattle Priscilla to the bone. Although she knew the queen needed her, she couldn't shake the fear that these men would raise their swords and kill them where they stood.

Eventually they made it to the building where Priscilla rented a room. Rather than go to her own room, she went to the neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Upton were a kindly couple in their fifties; so kindly Priscilla often found them suffocating, but there were few people in the world she could trust to care for Grace. When Mrs. Upton opened the door, her eyes opened wide with concern.

"Miss Priscilla, Grace, is everything alright?"

Priscilla nodded, lying, aware of the armed men behind her. "Something had come up and I may be gone for a few days. It' urgent. If it's not bother, could watch mind Grace for me until I return."

"Of course, you know that you and Grace are always welcome in our home."

Priscilla forced herself not to cry. "Thank you." She turned to Grace, looking at her for the first time since the Evil Queen had appeared, and held her daughter's face in her hands. She could see a million questions swirling in the little girl's eyes. "I'm sorry. I love you."

"You'll come back, won't you?" Grace whispered.

"Of course," Priscilla nodded. "I will always fine my way back to you. I just need you to be patient."

Mother and daughter shared a deep hug before Priscilla gave Grace to Mrs. Upton and went with the soldier back to the alley where the Evil Queen waited.


Emma needed to take the edge off. She had never been in the Rabbit Hole before; normally she got her drinks from Granny's or sipped surprising good vintage wine with Mary after they had put the kids to bed. But right now, at the end of her shift and with the prospect of another night of terrible dreams to endure looming over her, she decided she needed to get smashed and made the impulsive decision to walk into the building.

The smell hit her first. Cigarette smoke, pungent vodka, something vaguely moldy. How did anyone put up with that? The lighting was so dim, she could only see part of the bar at any given time. Somewhere in the back, she heard a few people playing billiards. In another cornered, some sailors were huddled in a circle playing poker. She planted herself at the bar, looking at the selection of liquors before she saw the bartender.

"Nice to meet you too," the bartender joked.

Emma flushed. "Sorry. Hi."

"Hi," the bartender took her rudeness in stride. She was young, perhaps college-aged. Emma couldn't tell her skin tone under the multi-colored lights than lit the bar, but she guessed this girl was African-American from her features. She wore a long, shiny weave in a braid that went down her back. "It's been one of those days, huh?"

"More like one of those months," Emma admitted.

"What can I get you?"

"What tastes the best?"

"You mean the least terrible?" the bartender laughed. "The Looking Glass special."

"Okay, that. I'm Emma, by the way."

"Ivy," she held out her hand for Emma to shake, which she did.

As Emma waited for her drink, she looked around the bar. Even Storybrooke's bars had the well-worn small town feel, with its smudged red walls, odd mix of neon and fluorescent lights, and the way the patrons all interacted with their surroundings with the familiarly of two elderly lovers who'd spent their lives together. She felt exhaustion settle in.

Priscilla's cane jolted her awake. Yes, that was Priscilla's care, Emma concluded after staring at it a moment longer. It was leaning against the side of a booth. Emma couldn't tell who was sitting in it. She was just aware enough of her surroundings to thank Ivy when she came back with her Looking Glass, but Emma kept her focus on the cane and the booth. Since when did Priscilla go to bars? Was she even well enough to leave her house?

To Emma's surprise, Killian came out of the men's room and sat in the booth next to Priscilla. Her heart sank. She knew he often came here with his crew, but the other fishermen were on the other side of the bar. He came here with Priscilla...for a date. Wow, he moved on fast, Emma though bitterly. She stopped herself. She and Killian were never together, at least not in any official sense. When had she even admitted to liking him? It was perfectly fair for him to go on a date with someone else.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Ivy asked, snapping Emma's attention away from the booth.

"What?"

"The drink. You haven't even look at it."

Emma glanced down at the Looking Glass. She could hardly tell what she was seeing because at the forefront of her mind, she imagined Killian put on calloused hand on Priscilla's neck, pulling her closer until their lips. The Looking Glass suddenly smelled foul.

"Get rid of it." Emma stated. "I'm sorry I wasted your time, I'll still pay for it, but coming here was a mistake. I need to get home."


Dread dogged Priscilla's heels as the soldiers led her back to the queen. The elegant top hat in her hands had never felt heavier than it did at that moment.

"Are you ready?" Regina asked when she saw Priscilla approaching.

No. "Yes."


Wonderland hadn't changed much at since the last time she'd been there, almost ten years ago. While it was evening in the Enchanted Forest, it was morning in Wonderland. Today the sky was purple; Priscilla liked it best when it was blue, because at least then she could pretend she was in a less horrendous realm. The hat brought them to a field outside the royal palace that belong to the Queen of Hearts. A massive hedge maze loomed before them. Priscilla knew from experience that touching the hedges could spell disaster.

"What are we doing here?" Priscilla dared to ask, now that it was just her and Regina, without the soldiers to threaten her and Grace safely away with the Uptons.

"I told you, something I want to in that palace and I'm going to get it back," Regina shrugged.

"Let me guess, the Queen of Hearts stole it from you?"

"Not the only thing, but certainly the most important."

"What do you want me to do?"

Regina turned to her with a sharp look, "Nothing. Your job was just to get me here. You're to stay here and stay out of my way."

Priscilla smiled sardonically. "You don't have to tell me twice."

Regina's eyes were ice, but she let it go. She had other things to worry about.

As instructed, Priscilla did nothing. She took off her cloak and set in down on the ground so she could sit for a minute. She imagined that Grace was already sleep in bed; she wanted to be there when Grace woke up and take her home. Hopefully Regina would be done with whatever she needed to do soon, so Priscilla could leave. The hat only allowed the same number of people to enter and exit the hat per trip. She couldn't leave without Regina coming back with her.

What did Regina want that the Evil Queen had stolen from her? Jewelry? A family heirloom? A book of a powerful spells?

A chill went down Priscilla's spine as she imagined what Regina could do with such a book. When Rumpelstiltskin had introduced them, all those years ago, Priscilla had been awed that a noblewoman wanted anything to do with her. She had been just a young teenager back then, using the hat she had inherited from her late mother in her petty thefts; a loveless orphan girl just trying to get by. Rumpelstiltskin took an interest in her, and even though his cold, falsely-cheerful eyes perturbed her, he paid well for the goods she retrieved for him, so she kept working for him. Regina, his apprentice, had become something of a friend to her. In those days Regina had been shy, kind, and soft-spoken, but something happened to twist her into the cold bitch was now.

Of course, Priscilla wasn't one to judge.

She didn't know how long it took for Regina to return, but she did eventually return with an ornate, jeweled box in her hands. Priscilla wondered what was in it, but she wasn't sure how Regina would react to her asking to see what was inside, and she knew better than to provoke Regina.

"Are you ready to go?" Priscilla asked.

Regina had a strange look on her face. "I am." She outstretched one hand, and faster than Priscilla had to react, a web of vines shot out from the hedge and grabbed her. They slammed her back, against the hedge, and held her there, immobilized by the vines clinging tight to wrists and ankles. "But I'm afraid you're not doing anywhere."

"What the hell are you doing?" Priscilla cried out. "You know you can't leave without me!"

"Don't take this personally. And don't worry, I won't forget about you."

Priscilla struggled against the vines in a futile attempt to free herself. "You know how the hat works Regina. Two people went in, so two-" The truth dawned on her in that instant and she focused her eyes on the jeweled box. "Two people have to go out."

Regina opened the lid and took a tiny man. She set him on the ground and performed a spell to bring him back to his regular size. Priscilla didn't recognize him, but he looked rather old and was clearly disorientated. "Regina? Honey, what happened? Where are we?"

"I'll explain when we get home, Daddy." Regina said sweetly. She grabbed her father's hand and led him back through the portal, leaving Priscilla alone in the realm she despised most of all.

"Grace," she whispered to herself as tears welled in her eyes.