Chapter 4: Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters.
For twenty eight years he had stood just as he did now watching his little- or not so little anymore- girl. She sat next to her friend on a bench in the school's playground. Briefly, she whispered something to the other girl and then they both started giggling. He longed to go to her. He had spent countless hours dreaming about the moment when the curse would be broken, imagined finally going up to her and having her remember him. And now…now he was afraid. And ashamed.
He had struggled with the curse of two lives in his head. One fabricated by Regina in which he had abandoned his daughter to pursue his career. And the other life…the one where he had abandoned her because of his pride. No matter how many times he told himself that Regina had tricked him…it all came down to that one little fact…his pride had been hurt when he could not afford to buy his daughter a stupid stuffed animal at the market. He had felt unworthy of her love then, a feeling that the past twenty eight years of being under a curse had only cemented.
Part of him wanted to just walk away, like he had done for all those years. But the voice of the little boy, the mayor's son, telling him that not knowing was the worse made him stay. Made him leave the shadows and approach the bench. Made him find the courage to utter her name.
"Grace."
"Papa, you found me. I knew you would."
And suddenly she was in his arms. He was holding her, and he would never let go. Suddenly everything felt right again. Everything was going to be okay.
"Grace," a woman's voice interrupted them.
"Mom," Grace said and pulled away from Jefferson, though not entirely. She was still holding his hand.
"Mom," Grace said again, excitedly this time. She tugged him towards the woman. "This is my papa, he found me!"
The look the other woman gave him was far from friendly.
"Grace, honey, why don't you go wait in the car."
And as quickly as it had come on, the feeling that everything would turn out all right vanished.
The caddy stopped at the edge of town. Rumplestillskin sat behind the wheel. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He tried to block out the magic of Storybrook, the magic he had brought, and concentered instead on this world's natural magic. With time he could learn to access it and use it almost as well as his own, he knew he could…but the problem was he didn't have time. He had found his son, or more accurately narrowed down a general location, weeks ago. But he hadn't left to go find him. Because the moment the curse had broken he had been plagued by visions, violent images of danger and death. Sometimes it was his son, sometimes his beloved. Once it had been him. The visions were never clear, but the urgency was real. Something was going to happen once he left Storybrook. Something that would endanger the lives of those he loved. And he needed a way to combat it. The memory of the seer who had given him his gift floated in his mind. Her last words about finding his son…and his undoing. And all the while his curse raged at him. To not leave. To abandon his quest. To let go of his son as he once did. If nothing else, the demon was very good at self- preservation.
"No," he said. He had always been a coward. He thought the curse had changed that, made him stronger and unafraid. But in the end, he had been afraid to lose that power and the fear had cost him his son. The dark magic had become his crutch, one he could not walk without.
"Not anymore," he whispered and got out of the car. If he couldn't walk to Bae, he would crawl to him. On hands and knees and beg his forgiveness. And if the price of their union was death, he would pay it. He would die if it meant he could look upon his boy's face and say he was sorry. Gritting his teeth, he steeled himself and stepped over the town line.
The pain hit him instantly. As instantly as the demon's voice was silenced. Rumple ignored the pain and tried to focus on the energy around him from the forest, the trees, the storm clouds gathering overhead, and tried to draw on it. Slowly, he took a step and then another. One foot…then the other. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow but he kept going, kept walking using the small bit of magic that he could to hold him. One more step…
"Ugh," he groaned as the pain became unbearable. He felt his ankle give way and he collapsed on to the road. He lay there on the cold ground, exhausted. If he could hear the demon now, he knew it would be laughing at his failure. How could he protect those he loved without the darkness? He could barely take two steps without falling. The thunder rumbled and the rain began to fall, soaking him where he lay. Of course, rain on a man when he was down, how appropriate. He started to laugh but the sound came out as something between a scoff and a sob. He closed his eyes and felt the visions assault his mind. Bae or Belle, they seem to taunt. One or the other, but not both.
"I'm sorry," he choked out.
Whether the apology was for Bae, Belle or the crippled spinner he had thought no longer existed, he could not say.
Tamara stood in Neal's apartment looking at his work. A cork board with sketches pinned to it on a wall and two tables, covered with a myriad of art supplies and unfinished pieces, served as his workspace. The drawings that he had were mainly panel scenes from a comic, some sort of super hero thing, nothing that she would be familiar with. Seeing it made her smile though, as it brought back memories of the boy she had met as a teenager, who was always drawing or doodling. He was a talented artist and she thought he could do much better than working on comics. She had said as much to him after she had seen a painting that he'd done, of a beautiful blonde woman, with swan's wings.
Neal however was not thrilled that she had found the painting. She had teased him about it, calling it his Mona Lisa and asked if his mystery lady was an old girlfriend. That had scared him out of the apartment faster than anything. He had cited some excuse about getting to the dry cleaners before it closed and rushed off so quickly he left his keys behind.
A knock at the door interrupted her perusing.
"I was wondering how long it would take you at the cleaners," she said as she opened the door.
Her smile faded when she realized it wasn't Neal.
"You! What are you doing here?"
"Really, Tamara, is that anyway to greet your old friend? Besides I could ask you the same thing. Does the old man know you're here?"
"What I'm doing here August, is none of your business. And if you even think of breathing a word…"
"Relax. I'm not here for you. Neal's an old friend of mine. I'm just in the neighborhood and thought I'd say 'hello'."
"Well he's out."
"Fine. Tell him I stopped by. Maybe the three of us can get together, swap stories about old times."
Belle walked briskly away from Archie's office. Their sessions were going well, and she liked the gentle, warm hearted therapist but today did not feel like a day for talking. She was restless and upset and just felt like she needed to keep moving. She had had a fight with Rumple…or more like a snapping match. In her time with him in the Dark castle, she was used to his volatile moods and his sharp comments whenever he was upset about something. She knew that anger pretty much was what he used to hide his vulnerability. Keeping people at a distance, making them fear or hate him, so that they would never get close to him was his survival mechanism. But she thought that, had hoped that they were past that now.
But Rumple had been pushing her away since their last conversation when she had agreed to start going to therapy. At first she thought he was still mad at her. Then she had figured that he was just busy and stressed over trying to find his son. But then he had found his location and hadn't told her until she asked. She had volunteered to go with him, to help him and he had seemed less than thrilled. He had said it was something he had needed to do on his own, and she had respected that even though she had the feeling that was only half the truth. She hadn't pushed him until he had suggested that when he left for New York, she should not leave the house.
"What about therapy? Which was your idea, by the way."
"I can arrange for Dr. Hopper to come here."
"Rumple, what's going on?"
"Nothing, I just need you to be safe."
"No…you can't do that. You can't make me agree to this with that half- baked answer."
"Belle, please…"
"Tell me."
"I…I had a vision. You were hurt…you died."
"Rumple, that's not going to happen. You told me that the future was not fixed. That visions were not always what they seemed. Maybe that's the case here. Besides, I can take care of myself."
She had meant the words to be comforting. But they had the opposite effect.
"Really? Because the last time you left my home you were kidnapped and locked up for twenty eight years!"
It was her turn to be mad.
"If I remember correctly, you were the one who told me to go!"
It had just escalated after that. She had walked out and felt the need to just keep moving, even though she had no idea where she was heading. She walked until the rain came down. Having no umbrella, she dashed into the nearest building to take shelter.
"Are you here for the class?" a voice that sounded familiar asked.
"Sorry? Class?" Belle asked, looking up.
"Belle!" the woman smiled in recognition.
"Mulan," Belle replied, "it's so good to see you. What are you doing here?"
"Well, this is my dojo. And I teach a women's self-defense class that starts in the next twenty minutes. You're welcome to join…it gets the blood flowing and the cold off. You look like you can use that."
"You know what, I think I would love to join."
Jefferson sat drinking at the bar. The Rabbit Hole they called the place. Once, a life time ago, he had had his fill of rabbit holes. Now ironically he sought comfort in one. Of course this one was vastly different from the ones he had frequented in the past. Except maybe for the magic shrinking drinks. How much? He wondered. How much would he have to drink for his problems to get smaller and smaller, till they disappeared? Of course, that fix was only temporary.
He supposed he could just take Grace and run. Leave Storybrook, custody battle be damned. Except he had no idea where he would go and what he would do. This place wasn't exactly home, and his cursed memories didn't exactly equip him with anything practical to help him survive out there, much less raise a daughter. Maybe he could try to go back home. Except he couldn't get the hat to work right…he'd only managed short distances within the town itself. Plus he really wasn't sure what was left of his home after the curse hit.
"Mr. Jefferson?" a voice interrupted.
"Depends on who's asking," the Hatter replied.
"Someone who requires your service," the other said, taking a seat beside him.
Jefferson looked at the man, bald with piercing blue eyes, a monarch…King George if he remembered correctly. He scoffed. His days doing jobs for the likes of kings and queens were done.
"I really don't give a damn what you require. Now if you don't mind, I have some drinking to get back to."
"You have a daughter, Mr. Jefferson. Grace I believe. Custody battles can be nasty things, long and drawn out…"
"What do you know of it?" Jefferson asked angrily.
"I know that judges like children to be placed in a stable home, loving parents, preferentially sound of mind. Your reputation however…what is it you've been called? 'Mad' hatter, I believe."
"What's your point?"
"My point is Mr. Jefferson, your chances of winning this battle is not very good. Not unless you have the favor of a judge. And lucky for you, I just happen to be one such judge. You help me, Mr. Jefferson, and I can make all your problems go away."
"I can't believe you're actually considering this," Emma said looking at David and Mary Margaret. "I think people may notice if a dragon starts flying around the town."
"If she's hurt, it may take her a while to fly," David replied. "So we've decided that it might be best not to get people panicked until we have a plan."
"We will tell them…just, now may not be the best time, especially with the election." Mary Margaret added.
Any counter argument Emma was going to give was stopped by her cell phone ringing.
"It's the station. Hello…wait, what? I'll be right there."
"What is it?" David and Mary Margaret both asked.
"Big problems. It's Regina, she's gone."
TBC.
