Aloha, fair readers! To avoid confusion, I'd just like to explain in advance that this chapter chronicles what Killian was up to when he should have been in class last chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Due Time, Old Sport

"Everyone is cursed here," Jefferson said happily to himself. He reclined in the stained cloth seat of his beat-up Chevy, his last cigarette playing in his teeth. This had been his last cigarette for over a month now, and he felt damn proud that he had been able to keep it that way. The lighter that had burned a hole in his pocket for the past thirty-six days (pun intended) was starting to smolder a little bit. Maybe the smoke in his lungs was finally starting to clear out.

But although he was ridding himself of one demon, he knew he wouldn't be able to shake the other so easily. No, he was not one of Gold's cronies, one of Cora's puppets, but he may have just as well been one. Here he was, waiting to meet Killian Jones in this dumpy-ass ally behind the football field, encouraging him to do what Gold would have done - was already doing, behind the scenes with fancy deals and elaborate tricks. What Cora had schemed up, he was no doubt quickening the process. He, Jefferson, the one and only Mad Hatter, was a slave to his own desires, and therefore, in a begrudging twist, a slave to the desires of his enemies. The agony! But as long as the Swan girl is here, those emperors will have to play their cards carefully if they want to be able to manipulate her... he just needed to sell the bluff... just not to Emma. No, she had already proved to be immune to Jefferson's arsenal of weapons. (Or weapon. Namely, bluntness.) He needs to find a way to get Killian on his side. Gold and Cora had already set up the perfect excuse for them to spend time together. Now all Jefferson needed to do was exploit it.

Footsteps sounded on the cracked pavement.

"8:15," Jefferson read his watch aloud. "Right on time."

A shadow appeared over the passenger seat. "Get in," Jefferson ordered through the rolled down window. Maybe the reason why his antics refused to work on Emma was because the car was moving. He'd try a stationary vehicle out on Jones.

Killian obliged, swinging the car door open and sliding inside. Slick, smooth, agile. He was like a snake. And he probably was one underneath his leathery garb.

"What do you want, Hatter?" Killian demanded. The bite of his words didn't faze Jefferson at all. Jones' curiosity meant that he had the upper hand. And besides, he quite liked the sound of his moniker. "I'm not in the mood for a tea party."

"Quite right, Old Sport. I was in more of a coffee mood myself," Jefferson said, procuring to mugs filled with steaming liquid, handing one to Killian.

"This has got to be some kind of joke," Killian scoffed in disgust, pouring the coffee out the window.

"Correct again, Old Sport," Jefferson commended. "Coffee's just a prop that I use whenever I have an appointment. A little theatrics never hurt."

"So what?" Killian prompted. "You've invited me to your rape van for some kinky role play?" This was supposed to be tongue-and-cheek, but with odd fellows like Jefferson, there might be some truth to that mad theory.

"Now I'm offended," Jefferson said mockingly. "Old Sport, dear, dear Old Sport. I'd expect more from you. Can't you tell this is a shitty-ass Chevy? I would never stoop so low as to drive a van! Really, do you think me that classless? And as for the other activities you speak of, I don't kiss and tell." His scold turned into feline insinuation within second. Killian decided that Jefferson was improperly named. The Cheshire Cat was a much more suitable stage name.

"Now," Jefferson continued before Killian could get in a sarcastic remark of his own, "I'm sure you're just on the edge of your pleather seat, dying to know why I requested an audience with you."

"I wouldn't go that far, mate -" Killian began, but Jefferson cut him off, determined to make it the whole way through his prepared speech. Strategy was the only game that could be played at this point.

"If you'll let me finish," Jefferson growled testily. Killian knew better than to open his mouth. "Like I said, pleather, seat, dying, audience. We all up to speed?" he asked rhetorically. "Good. You may have heard that I ask very few people to meet with me. Of course, myriads of people approach me, but I'm not usually the one asking for the favor. This is probably why you even showed up today, curious little you. I can get people what they want almost like magic, and you want my secret."

It was true. And Killian knew it was true. The Hatter had a code name for a reason. He was a powerful son of bitch as far as high school went. But when it came to the big leagues, he was just as easy to fry as anyone else.

"But I'm not here about money, drugs, sex, booze , or whatever other law-bending things you might have had in mind." Killian noted the way he said law-bending instead of law-breaking. Neither could pass for law-abiding. "See, I need a capitalist like myself to do the job I have in mind. Normally I would carry out my business myself, but due to certain circumstances I'm not privy to disclose at this time, it has to be someone else. And Jones, I can think of no better man than you."

"There isn't anyone else better for any of your other endeavors either," Killian stated proudly. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"I suppose that if you look at it in a certain light it could be about sex," Jefferson mused. "But it doesn't have to be if she doesn't do it for you."

"She?" Killian was confused. Everything was always about sex in the real world. Sex and money. But if it didn't require either of those things, or any other greedy enticements what could it possibly be? There was a girl involved, so there must be some romantic ploy in there somewhere.

"Yes, she," Jefferson replied, relishing the surprised look on Jones' face. "And finally, the moment you've been waiting for - I'd ask for a drumroll but I think this piece of shit car might fall apart if I used it. Besides the suspense has already been built up enough by this long monologue of mine. You're here, trying to pretend that this car isn't singed with the smell of cat urine, because I have a special purpose, if you will, for the new girl." Killian showed no hint of recognition. Quite the effective liar, Jefferson observed silently. The role was well cast. "Emma Swan," he described further. "Surely you've seen her."

"Maybe," Killian shrugged. "If I did she must not have grabbed my attention." Killian had no idea why he was lying. So what they'd had one run-in where he botched his attempt at flirting, and then had a stare-off later that day when she was supposed to be tutoring him. Not that he minded her fiery blue eyes on him one bit. The part that threw him was that he wasn't bragging about his conquest... And then he realized why: there was nothing to brag about. There had been very few women he had any vague interest in that had taken time to succumb to his charms. Only one, actually, when he thought about it. And there it was. Emma reminded him of Her. And he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that knew, even subconsciously, that his curiosity of her, had been a little more than his natural state of being, stemmed from her uncanny similarity, personality wise, to Her. And that's when he knew his curiosity had to end, because the last time his curiosity got the better of him, it hadn't gone well.

"Well," Jefferson answered, snapping Killian from his thoughts, "you must have missed her then, because if you'd seen her, you wouldn't be able to look away. It's quite curious, though, since you have English with her first period everyday." Shit. Even The Hatter knew he was lying. He did have an innumerable sources, but still. "Which, I'm sorry to say," Jefferson looked as his watch for no reason, "is the class you're missing now."

Killian's expression remained steeled, determined not to give anything away. But what was there to give away? They'd met yesterday, she'd exchanged his innuendo for an insult, they'd spent a whopping fifteen minutes in the library verbally duking it out, and he may have occasionally thought about her in the hours up until this point. Maybe it was the thinking. People didn't seem to think that thinking was part of his repertoire.

"And what is it, exactly, that you want to do with this Swan girl?"

"It's a simple task. I'm sure you can do it. All you have to do is make her fall in love with you."

"That simple, huh?" Killian scoffed.

"I'm sure a man with your charms could easily woo her."

"True," Killian nodded, expertly hiding his skepticism. "And what happens after she falls head over heels?"

"That's on a need-to-know basis, Old Sport And, unfortunately for you, you don't need to know. Make her love you. Whatever you have to do, do it. I'll handle the rest from there."

"And," Killian began gingerly, "what will I get as... compensation for my services?"

"I can't reveal that to you at present, Old Sport," Jefferson smiled ruefully. "I am only a catalyst, and cannot offer payment until you choose your destiny. But please, do find comfort in knowing that all will be revealed in due time."

"Fuck destiny and due time! I can't do a job without payment!" Killian snapped angrily.

"Well someone's greedy now," Jefferson teased, not breaking his stoic expression. Killian, on the other hand, was having a hard time keeping his cool. Actually, cool had long since passed. Now, it was more like putting a lid on his boiling hot rage! That son of a bitch had dragged him out here early in the morning, made him endure the filth and stench of his god-awful car, and for what? To ask him to do something without payment and for an unknown purpose. He could kill that Hatter...

"Now, Old Sport," Jefferson chided, "I understand that you need your beauty sleep, and that your nose is extra sensitive to piss and throw up -" It was as if he could read Killian's mind. "- and I get that you have strong lust for money and that you're late and that this entire thing is all very mysterious. But if I know Killian Jones, life on the fast lane has always been a favorite pastime. All you have to do is trust that I'll get you your compensation, as you call it, okay? And as for class, well, any man with such a capacity for adventure must enjoy making an entrance."

"Can you at least tell me when due time is?"

"I'll say what I say to everyone who asks me this: Due time is due time, my friend. There is no further explanation that can be given to clarify. Not because I simply won't, but because there isn't, because as any sensible individual knows - and I believe you are a very sensible individual, Old Sport - due time is not a concept of how long, but of when, and since when is derived from how long, it simply stands to reason that due time is simply a way of saying it will happen, nothing more and nothing less."

Could he be any more vague?

Killian knew it was decided. It was done. He had no choice in the matter. He was going to make the elusive Emma Swan fall in love with him. It couldn't be that bad. Besides, it could be fun.

"Do we have a deal, Old Sport?" Jefferson extended a gloved hand.

"Only if you stop with The Great Gatsby references," he quipped, shaking his hand

Jefferson chuckled. "See, I knew you got into AP English for a reason. Speaking of, your future lover awaits."

And just when The Hatter was starting to sound like a normal human being...

Killian slid out the passenger seat just as cat-like as he'd gotten in it, and walked past the puddle of coffee just a few feet from the car. He climbed up the stairs faster than he normally would and hurried down the hall to Mr. Booth's classroom. A stream of fluorescence blinded him as he entered the classroom, and when the haze cleared, he saw Emma.

Yes, this was going to be very fun indeed.

Jefferson stayed in his car, despite the fact he should go to class. The pungent smell alone probably should have spurred some sort of action as well. But he couldn't move. Not with what was going on in front of him. Miss French had ventured outside for some unknown reason a few minutes before. Not worth mentioning. Then Gold came out. Getting curious. And then they started kissing. Oh, the intrigue! Jefferson whipped out his camera (he brought it everywhere for cases like these) and snapped photo after photo after photo.

This was just the leverage he needed.

So we've finally got some Rumbelle! Yeah! And I have to thank you all for reading and those of you that review. I really appreciate it, and I thought this review that was posted about Chapter Five, like, forever ago would be appropriate to put at the end of this chapter:

Cheshire Illusionist: My goodness, your characterization of Jefferson in this is wonderful. He's just perfect! I really want to see more of him in this story [seriously an interaction with Killian would make it even better]. Great chapter! :)

And there it is! Hope you all liked it, especially you, Cheshire Illusionist! More Killian and Jefferson interactions coming your way.