A/N: This is the oneshot for episode 17: Hat Trick. This tells about how Jefferson was affected by the curse.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the epic characters (and David/Charming) in the television series Once Upon a Time, those belong to the creators, writers, and ABC. These characters were brought to life by the amazing actors that play them (and Josh Dallas; just kidding) :)
"Got to make it work. Got to make it work."
So long Jefferson had been in Wonderland, losing his head completely with his sole goal to get the hat to work. Every day, every minute was devoted to making hats.
Top hats, fedoras, bowler hats, turbans, fezzes, and things that could only come from his mind filled every corner of the vast room, floor to ceiling covered in hats. Jefferson wasn't sure how long he had been here, so overcome with despair that the only thing he ever focused on was stitches, swaths of fabric, and the hopes that he would see his Grace again.
Ever since the Red Queen had put his head back on again and gave him the task of making a new hat, Jefferson had devoted every second of his life to making hat after hat, in hopes that maybe just one more would be the lucky hat, but always disappointed.
He realized that his manic behavior both humored and feared the Wonderlanders. The few in the queen's court had even given him a new name, The Mad Hatter.
Jefferson never really listened, though, so empty was he now that he only thought of few things. Hats, Grace and Regina.
He would make that evil witch pay for what she had done to him, what she had costed him. These three things were all that kept him going. He wasn't even sure if he slept or not, or how long he had been trapped in this room, forced to make these horrendous things until his fingers bled and then even more after that.
In fact, he had been doing just this when the smoke came.
Jefferson had heard some people in the castle screaming, shouting about something, but he ignored them, feeling that this last hat, a dark navy top hat with a bright purple band, was just the one.
He was almost finished with it when he began to focus on the increasingly louder shouts.
"What is it?"
"What does it want?"
"Get the Queen, she will know!"
"It's headed towards the Mad Hatter's room!"
Just as that last comment met Jefferson's ears, the doors banged open and a dark swirling cloud seeped into the room. It was massive, already filling up the entire doorway, bright green and purple lightning sparking inside of it.
Panic filled Jefferson. He knew that whatever this thing was, it was here for him, and he knew that if he touched the cloud, something awful would happen. It would rip away all of his progress, take him away from his last chance for redemption.
"No! I can't go, not yet! This is the one!" Jefferson shouted at the cloud, gesturing to the hat in his hands, hoping the cloud could understand him.
It couldn't take him away, he needed to see Grace again, to tell him he was so very sorry for what he had done to her. But whatever controlled the smoke wouldn't, or couldn't listen and as if catching his scent, aimed right towards him.
Jefferson threw things at the void, trying to sate the thing, throwing hats at it, flinging mannequins to and fro, but they just went through it, the smoke too thick for Jefferson to see through to the other side.
The smoke had managed to back him into a corner, the half-finished hat still clutched in his hands. People were still screaming, still shouting, but there seemed to be nothing they could do, he was going to die, he was going to be suffocated by this beast and shocked with the lightning.
He had resigned himself to his fate, when the bishop, the right hand man to the queen, the one who gave him his life sentence, ran through the smoke. Relief almost erupted in Jefferson, but the bishop grabbed him by his collar and jerked him forward, pushing him towards the swirling mass.
"Here he is, take him!" he yelled, and as soon as Jefferson's hand connected with the smoke, it began to envelop him.
He let out a choked cry as it sucked him into it, the last thing he saw before his vision was blocked was the bishop's look of relief. In a matter of seconds, The Hatter was no longer in Wonderland, the smoke disappearing from the room as if it had not been there at all.
Jefferson fought, he yelled, but the sound was muffled and his movements were in slow motion. The lightning sparked through the clouds, hitting him square in the chest.
The shock was immediate, and Jefferson prayed that the initial shock would kill him right off, but no such luck. He seemed stranded there, in a limbo between the darkness and somewhere else, the lightning shocking him more and more with every hit.
The smoke seemed to go into him, the lightning getting worse and worse, his vision began to get spotted and his daughter's name had barely left his lips when his world went black.
He was running through the woods, laughter filling him as the birds chirped and the leaves rustled in the woods. He running from someone, his hair in his eyes and the warm sunlight shining in them as well. The world swirled around in a kaleidoscope of leaves and bark and sun, and he couldn't remember the last time he was this happy.
He paused a moment to catch his breath when he heard someone giggling in the distance. In an instant, the wood scene and sunlight were ripped away, revealing a whirling room surrounding him, along with someone else he couldn't quite make out from the dizzying movement of the room.
The next second he was trapped in a room piled high with hats. Hundreds upon hundreds towered over him, making him feel claustrophobic. The hats began to quiver and fall on him, suffocating him and crushing him under the weight of all of them at once.
The man screamed in fear as he held his hands up protectively, but the hats had already vanished and he found himself in the middle of a circular room, doors on every side of him.
"Choose one" something whispered at him, but the man wasn't sure which one to pick. There were dozens, all with different designs.
One was pink and covered with frills, another with green stripes, another that was as clear as glass. He turned and turned, the doors getting more and more confusing.
Finally reaching a decision, the man walked up towards the door that had a simple sign above it but he couldn't make out the name. Reaching for the doorknob, he opened the door. Light burst through and he heard someone scream
"Father!" A girl's face seemed to fill his entire vision and everything when back to black.
Jefferson jerked awake, sweat pouring down his face.
"Grace," he whispered, looking up expecting to find her small little cot near the fireplace in their cottage. He received an extreme shock when he found he was in a large room, darkly furnished and very different from his small cottage.
Where was he? He looked down and found himself in a large bed, soft cotton sheets and metal posts. Struggling to gather his sense, Jefferson reached for the lamp on the bedside table and turned it on, a warm light flooding the room.
Wait. Lamp? He looked at the instrument, and the shade and the small little switch on it. It wasn't a gas lamp. The word electricity came into his mind, along with other things.
His mind was flooding with new things that he didn't quiet understand.
Cars, television, plumbing. All these things didn't make sense when he first thought them, but after a few seconds, Jefferson understood what all of these things were and where he was.
A place known as America, in a state called Maine, in a town called Storybrooke. It was as if someone had planted all new memories of things he couldn't remember back when he was...where, exactly?
Well, wherever he was, he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Flinging the blanket off, Jefferson opened the bedroom door and looked out towards a long, dark hallway.
Jefferson spent the next few hours exploring the house, acquainting himself with the large, lavish rooms, along with the technologies and ways of this world he had somehow landed in.
Jefferson had always understood the fact that there were other worlds out there and that he was indeed stuck in one, but that didn't excuse how he received these new memories about this world. Just because you entered a world doesn't mean that you understood how it worked. Some different form of magic must be at work here.
This large mansion like house was his home, but he didn't fully understand who he was. Whoever had brought that smoke must have put him in this house, along with giving him these intuitive memories.
Shaking his head, Jefferson passed a looking glass, a mirror, when he stopped and turned towards the smooth glass.
Slowly, Jefferson actually got a good look at himself. Gone was the raggedy long hair, his worn handmade clothes replaced by something finer, something machine made. What did that smoke thing do to him?
He was no longer Jefferson, a simple man living in the woods with his daughter. Here, he seemed to not only have an understandings for the workings of this world, but he had a life here.
Just looking at himself clarified that. And yet, he didn't know of his life here. Based on this house, the furnishing, his clothing and hairstyle, he was a man of great wealth, but who was he? Jefferson searched his mind, but nothing was there. This life for him existed, but his mind was a blank slate.
The large rooms began to make him feel trapped, like this was more of a prison than a home. He began to search quickly for any sign of a life here. Pictures, home videos, anything that could give him a clue as to who he was here. A thought clicked in Jefferson's mind.
"Grace," he whispered, bolting down the staircase and searching every room on the ground level, searching for signs of his daughter. Surely she would be in this world with him, part of this altered life. He frantically searched each crevice of the house, banging open doors and rifling through all the bureaus for any sign of a little girl.
He had finally given up his search as the sun started to set. He had spent the entire day exploring this large house, trying to come to grips with where he was and who he was, but there was nothing of his dear Grace.
No clothing, no small bed, no dolls suggesting a little girl lived here. Jefferson was all alone in this big empty house, making it feel twice as big as it was. Distraught, Jefferson resigned himself to a plush couch in a parlor area, a television and other various electronics and strange oddities in the room.
Finding the remote, Jefferson turned the television on and stared at the glowing screen, unable to hide his fascination of the large black screen filled with bright lights and loud sounds.
Jefferson flipped from channel to channel, exploring the world of most people that originally resigned in this world. Thirty minute sitcoms filled with exuberant people with foolish little conflicts and resolutions all changing in a half hour's time, documentaries describing an animal indigenous to some part of this world, or telling of a person long since dead, retelling there story with long facts about their lives and many pictures floating around the screen.
Jefferson wasn't sure how long he sat there, switching from station to station, engrossing himself in this strange yet delightful invention. His thoughts of Grace and his confusion temporarily distracted with this amazing scree.
Jefferson awoke suddenly to find the television set still on, a commercial for a cleaning supply singing quiet music. He must have fallen asleep while still staring at the screen. Jefferson kicked himself for being so foolish.
Why was he being distracted by the knowledge of this world when it would not affect him in any way whatsoever? He should leave this house, try to get a better sense of where he was, and more importantly, where his Grace was.
First things first, of course, his stomach grumbled for food, complaining that he hadn't eaten in who knows how long.
Groaning, Jefferson pushed himself out of the chair and went in search of the kitchen. Inside the brightly lit room he was welcomed with various electronic mixers and blenders and freezers. All of these new creations still fascinated the simple man but he put his curiosity aside and began to search for something simple to eat.
A simple sandwich with processed turkey later, Jefferson was ready to leave. His prior instinct told him to pack supplies for fear of how long he would be away from another food source, but this new perspective told him this was foolish, since everywhere in this world there was some source of food. Then again, Jefferson didn't really qualify that packaged abomination as food.
This world's taste buds needed lessons, people here apparently were too lazy to hunt for themselves and chose to rely on chemicals and machines to keep there food fresh.
Jefferson shuddered and compromised on taking an apple and a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Taking a deep breath, Jefferson put the small things in the pocket of a coat he found earlier and went towards the door, finally leaving this place.
"Now, what's behind door number one?" Jefferson asked, giving a laugh that had no humor in it. He grasped the knob and turned, but the door wouldn't budge. This was definitely not the time for jokes.
Jefferson grabbed the knob again, giving a harsh pull, but the knob stayed firm, not stuck, but locked. He pulled and pulled at the door, groaning with the effort, but the door seemed to get stronger as he got weaker.
Scowling, Jefferson began to furiously kick the door, the frame shuddering but never giving way. Shouting, Jefferson felt like a caged animal. All he understood was that he needed to get out of this place, needed to escape the confines of this house.
He kicked, he pulled, he beat and he rammed his whole body against the any door he could find, using a dining room chair to try to break the windows, but everything he tried was faced with failure, sore muscles and lost hopes.
Yelling for some sort of assistance, Jefferson ran throughout the entire house, checking the windows only to find them locked and made of very durable glass, every door providing some sort of escape was locked and was as easy to unlock as the first one.
Jefferson was trapped in this house, no way out, no way to find out where he was, who else was here, and find who caused this strange occurrence.
Defeated, Jefferson began to trek upstairs, going to take a shower to clear his head, when he saw the door.
He had been in this house two days, seeming to have explored every corner of it in his mad search for Grace, but he seemed to have missed this one.
Inching towards the door, Jefferson began to be filled with dread. Whatever was behind this door, it was nothing good. He pushed the door open and peeked through.
The room was empty save for a closet, a bench, a table, and instruments he was very familiar with. The needles, the mannequin, all the things laid out on the table were perfect for hat making.
Gasping, Jefferson couldn't resist moving towards the table and fiddling with all the little things neatly laid out for him. Gazing at the tools, Jefferson noticed a small piece of paper, a note.
Cautiously, Jefferson picked it up, his hand shaking. This was just like how the beginning of a horror movie might start, he thought. Unfolding the piece of paper, he gazed at the message. It was a simple sentence, but the few words on the paper filled Jefferson with utter rage.
Happy Hat-Making!
-R
The next few years seemed to bleed together, the days and nights changing monotonously, very few things changing in Jefferson's routine.
He had figured some things out, somehow he had been given some insight into where he was, the thoughts filling his mind almost alien with its knowledge.
Inside the closet of his hat making room, Jefferson had found an abundance of materials and other simple oddities needed for making hats.
The irony of the only fabric in the room did not go unnoticed to Jefferson. The fabric was exactly like that of the last hat he made before the smoke came for him in Wonderland.
He began his one mission he had had long ago, making the hats in hope that one would finally work and he could finally escape this hellhole Regina had put him in.
Yes, with so much time alone to himself, Jefferson had managed to put two and two together. Somehow, Regina had created this world in which she put all "fairytale" characters in and they have been stuck in the town called Storybrooke with no idea who they really were.
Another discovery that Jefferson had made was realizing that by using several telescopes he had found in his attic, Jefferson was able to spy on the town.
He was on the outskirts of Storybrooke, in the grisly woods where no one seemed to travel to. He was so close to the town, to civilization, but unable to even open a window and breath fresh air.
He spent a good bit of his time studying the members of the town. He constantly saw Madame Mayor Regina skulking around the town, obviously relishing in the curse she had put on all of them.
In his years of solitude Jefferson had become a very wise person, and it seemed the more he sat down and thought, the more he began to learn about things that didn't even really make sense to him.
His favorite subject to think upon was the thought of other worlds, only ever been in his origin, which he learned was named Fairytale Land, Wonderland, and now this world as well.
The thought was very intriguing him, filling many of his solitary hours in this prison. Jefferson was delighted when he had finally managed to find his little Grace, alive and well in this land too.
It hurt him greatly, however, to see her so pleased with her foster family, it hurt to know everything and having everyone else oblivious. It hurt that he could always see Grace wherever she was in the town, but never being able to let her see him, her true father, the only person who had loved her enough to sacrifice himself.
He would always look at the people in Storybrooke, observing them and learning their secrets, hoping someday that something would happen and they would all be free of the oppressive mayor. One night, he got his wish.
One day Jefferson had been watching the school, waiting for Grace to leave and walk home, but something else caught his eye.
It was inside Miss. Blanchard's classroom, Mary Margaret and Regina's adoptive son, Henry were in there. Jefferson still remembered the day Henry had come to Storybrooke, Gold carrying him in tow and watched as Regina went to the courthouse to adopt him.
This particular phenomena always confused Jefferson, Henry was the only person who ever came into Storybrooke, and he was also the only one that seemed to be unaffected by the curse, aging while others stayed the same.
Henry was showing Mary Margaret a book he had, and Jefferson could tell that it was a large and colorful picture book. Jefferson continued to watch the two, something telling him to keep watching.
When someone walked in and called for Mary Margaret's attention, Jefferson found what he had been waiting for.
While another teacher was distracting Mary Margaret, Henry reached for her bag and bulled out her wallet, coming up with a piece of plastic, a credit card, and swiftly leaving the classroom with the book in tow.
Another strange occurrence happened the very next week. It was right after school left, Jefferson had been keeping a sharp eye on the small boy, curiosity getting the better of him.
His hours of watching him had paid off, for the boy unhitched his bike at school and started to ride. Jefferson watched him as he began to near the sign leaving Storybrooke.
Jefferson watched, worried of what would happen to the boy.
Jefferson had made the discovery quite a few years back that no one could leave or come into Storybrooke, the exception was this little boy heading out. Jefferson felt a small spark of hope in his chest. Maybe Henry could leave, maybe he was running away from home, going to live the life he deserved.
Jefferson didn't believe any of them deserved to stay here, but they already had another life, this kid had only one, so if he could leave then there was still hope for him. Jefferson let out a whoop of triumph as Henry continued on past the sign and out of his range of view.
"Good luck, kid," Jefferson said, turning back towards the town, a small smile on his face.
It was coming nighttime when the true miracle happened.
Jefferson had been watching Grace having dinner with her "family" when a light caught his eye. Looking towards the source of the light, Jefferson found himself looking at the Welcome to Storybrooke sign, a pinprick of light getting larger and larger.
"It can't be," Jefferson said under his breath, focusing the large instrument on the light, watching it steadily get larger and larger, his spirits rising with every second.
Could it be possible? Was someone actually coming to Storybrooke?
Jefferson let out a gasp as a yellow Bug drove past the sign, the driver unknown of the momentous feat she had achieved just by driving past the sign.
Focusing on the inside of the car, Jefferson saw Henry in the passenger seat, the driver a young blonde woman. Looking at the two, Jefferson got a jolt of information, the knowledge actually hitting him like a blow.
Falling to the ground, he saw a flashback of Fairytale Land, but it was a memory that wasn't his own, but something more.
A child.
The curse.
Twenty-eight years.
Today.
This woman, she was the one who was going to break Regina's curse, the one who had the magic to save all the inhabitants of Storybrooke, to set them all free.
"To set me free."
Leaving the room he had inhabited for so long, filled with failed hats, Jefferson flew down the steps, putting on the same coat he had left on the rung twenty-eight years earlier, dust not even tainting the fabric.
Skidding to a halt, Jefferson found him in front of the great oak front door, his breath ragged from such quick movements.
This was the moment of truth, the test to see if this woman really was their savior.
Taking a deep breath, Jefferson reached up towards the knob, enclosing it in his fist. In one swift motion, Jefferson yanked the knob and the door flew open, cool night air greeting him.
For a second he just stood there, overwhelmed by the sight. He...was free. Jefferson was finally...finally...free.
A/N: Sucky ending, I know, but give me a break, I finish these when I should be sleeping, and if I don't end abruptly, it will go on and on and on, so hope you liked it anyway. For the seventy millionth time, R&R please!