Chapter Twenty-One: Mad Man with a Glass Box

"She could be anywhere, John." Jack tried to convince the schoolteacher.

"I don't care. We have to get to her before Emma does." Smith rebutted. "Mary Margaret's innocence is all I care about right now, and if she's not in her jail cell when Regina stops by in the morning, then how else will she protect that one thing she's got left in this world?"

Harkness knew how right Smith was, which was what kept him driving into the outskirts of Storybrooke so late at night. The headlights from his sedan were barely able to light his way. Then there came some light beyond the trees ahead, working as a guide for him. Jack followed the lights for a few more miles until he discovered that they belonged to a three-story house. In gazing upon the house, both Jack and Smith spotted Emma's yellow Volkswagen Beetle sitting in the driveway.

"What the hell…?" Harkness uttered as he pulled over to the curb and parked his sedan just a few feet from the driveway. "Why is Emma's car there?"

Even Smith was curious about the same issue. "Maybe she's questioning a possible witness?"

Jack was not buying it. "This is way out of town, John…and pretty far from where we found the box with Kathryn's heart. There's no way the owner of this house could've been a witness to anything that goes on in town."

"Then what other reason would Emma have for stopping here?"

Harkness remained silent for a brief moment before unbuckling his seatbelt and saying, "Only one way to find out."

Seeing him as he was stepping out of his car, Smith was caught by surprise. "Wait. What about Mary Margaret?"

"Which mystery do you want to solve? The Case of the Missing Schoolteacher or the Case of the Unknown Resident?" Harkness could see the uncertainty on Smith's face; while he was set on finding Mary Margaret, he was rapidly growing intrigued by the house that he had never seen in his years of living in Storybrooke. "Tell you what…you check the house and I'll go search for Mary Margaret. This way we get the best of both worlds."

Smith reluctantly nodded in agreement with this plan; although he could not trust Jack as far as he could throw him, Smith knew Jack would do the right thing for the sake of Emma, a woman who actually trusted Harkness enough to make him deputy (or "Deputy-Captain" as he preferred). As Jack closed his door and re-buckled his seatbelt, Smith unbuckled his and stepped out, leaving Jack to continue the search on his own. Turning his attention to the mysterious house, Smith walked up the driveway and passed by Emma's Volkswagen; he saw no one inside the beetle, which meant that the driver was still inside.

The schoolteacher had moved from curious to nervous with each step he took towards the front door; he was beginning to wish that he told Jack to just keep driving and abandon the thought of going inside. He slowly approached the front door and gave a couple of hesitated knocks. His fingers were trembling and his body grew stiff; he had never felt more terrified in his life.

Smith nearly jumped when the door unexpectedly opened; he expected to hear a series of locks to unbolt before it did. The owner of the house, a man who was dressed fashionably, complete with a scarf that covered his entire neck. The man looked directly upon Smith and said in a friendly tone, "May I help you?"

"Um, yes…Hi." Smith tried not to sound too nervous. "I-I was wondering if a friend of mine is here with you. I saw her car parked outside." He indicated the beetle parked behind him. "Her name is Emma Swan."

The man did not appear to know who Smith was talking about at first; but then he nodded and chuckled. "Right, right. Emma. Yeah, she's here. We were just having tea." He stepped aside and gestured for Smith to enter. "Please. Come in."

Discovering how friendly the new fellow was, Smith relaxed a bit and entered the house. The owner immediately shut the door once he was inside, prompting Smith to turn and look back to him somewhat suspiciously. Overcoming apprehension, Smith finally asked the man, "How long have you lived in Storybrooke?"

Smiling, the owner answered, "As long as everyone else…maybe even longer."

"Quite an ambiguous answer, Mister…?"

"Jefferson. And, yes, I guess it is." He paused for a minute and added, "Then again…this is an ambiguous town. You never know what goes on around here. People never leaving town, clocks that start working on their own, people experiencing unexplainable deaths…"

"Meeting strange residents for the first time."

Jefferson grinned and suddenly switched to another subject. "Do you like my statuettes?" He gestured to a nearby display case that held many models of different sizes, shapes, and colors. "I spent some of my time sculpting…mostly teapots, of course."

Smith approached the display case curiously, seeing a few of the aforementioned teapots and even teacups. He was about to turn away until he spotted one particular item that was front and center: a heavily-detailed glass model of a police box. The schoolteacher found himself gazing upon the model for a prolonged amount of time, gaining a sense of familiarity. He was quickly snapped out of his trance as he heard Jefferson address him once again.

"You see it, don't you? Took me years to remember all of the details."

Smith swallowed hard. "You're a fan of Verity Newman, I take it."

"No…I'm more of a fan of you…Doctor."

It was then he heard a cocked gun, and his heart jumped to his throat, rendering him speechless. Gradually he turned, raising up his arms, and found himself staring down the barrel of Jefferson's handgun, which was aimed directly at his head. The friendly homeowner had transformed a deranged lunatic, and Smith could see the shift in the way Jefferson was leering at him.

Smith asked the obvious question to the armed madman. "What do you want from me?"

"Home, Doctor. I want you to take me back to my real home."