"Goldilocks," Emma calls.
"In here," she replies.
"Is Calcifer still here?" Emma questions as she rushes in, pushing through the glass doors.
"Yes," Calcifer drawls, waving lazily from the bed in his cell.
"Are you okay?" Emma asks, laying a hand on Goldilocks' shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she replies. "Did you find the Mad Hatter?"
"Actually," Emma says, "he found us. Calcifer trapped his daughter, and promised to release her in exchange for sending you here. He took her with him, though, so Jefferson followed him to Storybrooke."
"Wait, does that mean I can go home?" Goldilocks says, standing, her dress flowing out of her lap.
"Unlikely," Calcifer croons. "You have nothing to offer the Madman."
"I've got to try," Goldilocks huffs, gathering up her skirt and breezing out of the room.
The door to Granny's barely has time to chime before Goldilocks thumps her palms against the table Jefferson and Regina are bent over. Regina cocks an eyebrow at the young woman. Jefferson eyes her warily, vague recognition in his eyes.
"Can you get me home?" Goldilocks asks bluntly, her gaze slipping to his hat.
"Pardon me, but you're interrupting," Regina says dryly.
"I'm terribly sorry, but I need to go home," she replies.
"Why?" The Hatter asks, and Goldilocks is surprised at the softness in his tone and the intensity in his eyes. It catches her off guard.
"Well, I—" she starts, but her voices falters. Why is she trying to get home? She works all day gleaning fields, just so she can go home alone to her little cottage. Her entire life has been a fight against the brothers, and now that they're gone, what will she do? "I don't know," she mutters.
"My daughter, Grace, gleans with you in the field," he says. "She says you look unhappy. I'd have to agree with her. She likes you though."
"I remember her. She's a sweet little girl. She's in there?" she asks cautiously. He nods, pursing his lips. "I'm so sorry. I feel a bit responsible."
He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have taken her back to the Enchanted Forest. We were safer here."
Regina sighs. "Perhaps. I really don't think I can get her out of here. She's okay, from what I can tell, but she's stuck. Any chance we can get Calcifer to tell us how to let her out?"
"Not likely," Jefferson mutters.
"Gold might be able to convince him," Regina says with a grin.
"Dark One?" Calcifer says, pressing himself against the back wall.
"Hello," Rumple says with a grin. "I hear you've been making trouble, Calcifer. I can't have that. This is my town, and you're not allowed here." he chirps.
"You think you can stop me?" Calcifer challenges, trying to sound courageous.
"Oh I know I can. We've proven that before, Calcifer. And this time, you don't even have your brothers to help," he sneers. "I heard they were turned into bears by a little girl," he laughs as he paces in a slow circle.
"Cut to the chase. What do you want?" Calcifer says.
"Let the Hatter's little girl go," he replies flatly, opening his hand to reveal the little glowing vial.
"Why should I?" Calcifer questions.
"Because, if you do, we'll let you go back to the Enchanted Forest."
"Truly?" Calcifer pauses. "Why?"
"Because I'm generous," Rumple sneers.
"Why would you help the Hatter? And why would they release me?"
"Allies are power, Calcifer. As for why you'll be allowed to leave, we don't want to keep feeding you." He chuckles.
Calcifer is silent for a few minutes before he replies. "Very well. Give me the vial."
"Not a chance. Tell me how it's done."
"It's blood magic—" Calcifer begins, but he's cut off by Rumple's hand on his wrist.
"Excellent," he says as draws a blade across Calcifer's palm. He lets it run into a vial, then releases him. "Much obliged."
Rumple lets the crimson run onto the vial, which begins to glow brighter. It shines white, filling the room. When it clears, Grace is standing, blinking, in the middle of the room.
"Thank you again for your help, Calcifer. Come along, Grace, your Papa will be waiting." Rumple lays his hand on Grace's back, gently guiding her towards the door as he explains what has been going on.
"Papa!" Grace shouts, running into his arms. Jefferson engulfs her in his arms, spinning her and laughing happily.
"Thank you," Jefferson says, nodding in Rumple's direction. He returns the nod solemnly.
"Goldie, I'm so glad you're okay," Grace exclaims, squirming out of her father's arms and running to wrap her arms around the woman. "I was worried."
"We were more worried about you, dear," Goldilocks says, stroking the little girl's hair. She looks up to meet Jefferson's gaze. He's staring fondly at his daughter, and Goldilocks smiles. She releases Grace, nudging her towards her father, watching as he gathers her back up in his arms.
"I'm so glad you're safe," he mumbles against her hair. He glances at Goldilocks with a thoughtful half-smile that surprises her. She would've thought that he'd be upset with her. She's the reason his daughter was taken. He seems to sense that she's perplexed. "You look a little like her mother," he explains. "You're nothing like her though," he adds, "she was a bit softer. Not the kind to turn people into bears." He chuckles, and Grace laughs along with him.
Goldilocks shrugs. "I do what I must."
"Stay with Grace and I," he says suddenly, and once again, he catches her off guard.
"What?" she exclaims. "I couldn't. I—"
"Nonsense," he says flatly. "It will be better for you here."
"Please," Grace adds, rushing over and tugging on Goldilocks' skirt.
"Well—" she begins, but she is interrupted by screams out in the street. "Calcifer," she mutters, rushing outside. She emerges to whipping wind and Calcifer's dark laughter. He is standing across the street with a wicked smile plastered on his face. He sees her, and it grows wider. She stands frozen as people rush around her. She can see Emma drawing her gun, and Robin, her rescuer, walking down the sidewalk with his wife and child. Jefferson emerges from the store and wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.
"Don't try it," he whispers.
Calcifer bolts down the street. Emma yells at Robin, but he doesn't see him before it's too late, and Calcifer has ahold of Marion, a point to her throat. "Nobody move," he yells.
The street is frozen. Silence descends. Finally, Goldilocks can take it no more. She wrestles herself out of Jefferson's grip and dashes toward Calcifer, hoping to distract him at the very least. He turns as she dives toward him, and she watches in agony as he draws the blade across the woman's throat and tosses her aside. She has enough momentum, though, to push him to the ground. His head thuds against the asphalt, wiping the sneer from his face. Goldilocks can hear Emma shouting and a crowd rushing towards her, but her eyes are locked on Calcifer's face. It is still. His eyes have always been as beautiful like nightshade, poisoning her dreams. Now, they cannot hurt her anymore. Even as strong hands, Jefferson's, pull her away, her eyes are locked on his. Her leap drove his blade into his own heart. It takes Jefferson tucking her against his chest to tear her eyes away from the scene. She sobs out tears of relief as he leads her away.
"He's gone now," Jefferson mutters as Grace runs over to join the embrace.
"These are absurd," Goldilocks says, looking down at the jeans Grace brought her.
"You look good in them!" Grace exclaims, clasping her hands together.
"If you say so," she chuckles, fiddling with the hem of her flowing lace top.
Jefferson smiles, leaning against the doorframe. "She's right. It suits you well."
"Thank you again, Jefferson."
"It's no trouble. Grace loves having more people at her tea parties," he replies, smiling softly. "And that reminds me," he adds with gusto, "The tea is ready."
Grace runs excitedly from the room. Goldilocks goes to follow her, but Jefferson catches her around the waist. "Thank you for staying. Grace needs a woman in her life."
Goldilocks smiles bashfully. She still hasn't gotten used to Jefferson's lack of a concept of personal space. "Thank you for having me."
He smiles and releases her.
"Wait up, Grace!" she exclaims, giggling as she rushes down the hall.
Jefferson watches them disappear around the corner. Once they are gone he crosses the hall to his hat room. The supplies are gathering dust, the disarray frozen in the moment he got a hat to work. He tosses a few scraps in a pile, straightening his tools. His hat sits on a pedestal, and he strokes the fabric tenderly before exiting, locking the door behind him. He may need his hat again someday, but right now, it's time for tea.