"Do you need my help?" Belle asks, resting her chin on her hands as she watches Rumpelstiltskin move around his lab, picking up jars and vials and lining them up on the table.
"No," he answers sharply. "It is very important that you do not interfere."
"Why did you want me here then?" she tries to ignore his indifference as the man seems to be absorbed in his task, measuring three drops of some clear foul-smelling liquid into a silver teaspoon and dumping it into the cauldron.
"I… well," he glances at her in confusion as if he has forgotten why he required her presence. "I just thought it would be…" he trails off vaguely gesturing around and returns to his potion. "You don't have to be here," he murmurs and she sighs.
Belle doesn't attempt to speak again but stays; the way he moves around the cauldron, stirring, smelling and adding things to it resembles some kind of ritual dance and she is content to just observe. The sorcerer extinguishes the fire and clasps his hands together, the tips of his clawed fingers resting under his chin.
"It's ready," he announces and she looks at him surprised.
"Doesn't it have to simmer or at least cool down?"
"I suppose I could leave it till the full moon and drink it stark naked at a crossroad precisely at midnight, but don't you think it's a bit excessive?"
Belle shrugs because she actually expected something similar; surely several hours are not enough to brew anything as complex. Rumpelstiltskin summons a goblet – she should really ask him how he does it; is there a room someplace in the castle, full of objects he deems necessary at one point? He carefully pours the steaming potion into the goblet. The girl's heartbeat quickens as she eyes the thin bluish smoke rising over the rim and he catches her stare, clearing his throat.
"To you," he toasts and blows on the liquid before pressing the cup to his lips.
Belle watches him take a large gulp, his Adam's apple moving jerkily, and holds her breath. The man drains the full goblet for good measure, shutting his eyes and his hands tighten on the stem of it. There is a second of silence and then he opens his eyes.
"Damn it!" he curses, flinging the empty ornate goblet at the wall and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in distaste. "I'll try again," he says more calmly. "There is something I'm missing; the balance is wrong or it's not potent enough. Don't wait up this time; I think it'll take longer."
"Rumpelstiltskin," she calls, but he pays her no mind.
"Maybe if I add an extra pinch of calendula and…"
"Rumpelstiltskin!"
"…and then two stirs clockwise instead of three and an extra one counter clockwise…"
Belle walks around the table, tugging on his sleeve and making him stop abruptly in the middle of his monologue.
"Yes? What is it, I'm busy."
"How long do you intend to do it for?" she asks and he shrugs the question off, clicking his tongue in irritation.
"Until I succeed, of course. Now, as I was saying…"
"You intend to stay here and keep trying?"
"Yes, yes! Isn't that obvious?"
"Don't," she says gently and his eyes widen. "I want to be with you and not have you locked in here, poisoning yourself time after time, blindly searching for the right combination of ingredients."
"But Belle," he protests and she puts a fingers to his lips, cutting him short. Deep down she knew that despite her hopes, the potion wouldn't work; whether it's the irony of fate or her luck ran out, she thinks that, perhaps, it all is not worth fighting for. They are together and he does love her, even if some stupid superstition holds him back from saying it.
"I know," she offers simply, covering his hand with hers. "I'll learn to accept that my memories are my own and I can no longer share them with you."
"What did you say?" he gasps and Belle slowly repeats her last sentence, while a huge grin breaks on his face. "But of course," he chirps and involuntarily makes his trilling little giggle, practically bouncing with excitement. "Share your memories. Oh why haven't I thought of it before!"
He darts to his table, pulling out a slip of parchment and a quill. He dips the tip into the ink jar quickly, leaving a blot on the wooden surface in his carelessness and scribbles several words on the parchment. Curious, Belle approaches the desk, leaning over to see him scroll "Urgent. See me in 5 minutes" before the little piece vanishes without a trace.
"Come on. We're having a guest arrive soon," he announces merrily and heads to the exit with an extra spring in his step. He turns to glance over his shoulder and seeing that she's still standing where she was, orders her to keep up.
"I don't understand," Belle huffs as she hurries down the stairs, "who is coming and why?"
Rumpelstiltskin stops dead in his tracks and the girl nearly collides into him.
"I do not need to bother with whatever is blocking my memories," he turns to explain, all large eyes and giddiness. "You simply need to share yours with me."
The notion is bizarre yet if he can have anything he desires the snap of his fingers, getting inside one's head is not as absurd or impossible as it appears at first.
"So you've sent a message to someone who can help us with it?" she guesses as they resume their walk.
"Precisely."
"Is that person a friend of yours?"
"You could say so for lack of a better word," the man offers. "He and I have a long history of beneficial partnership."
"But how will he get here so fast?"
"Just wait and see, my dear," the man replies and pushes the doors to the great hall open. Belle senses that there is something different about the room but she cannot quite put her finger on what it is. Then, following Rumpelstiltskin's gaze, she spots a large black top hat on the carpet.
"What..?" she begins to say while the thing starts spinning, creating a purple whirlwind in the middle of the floor. The magic mist thickens, sending off occasional sparks and Rumpelstiltskin snorts.
"Peacock," he sneers, watching the hat. "Always arriving with a show."
Belle bites the tip of her tongue to hold back a smile; she could name another sorcerer who is all about showing off but that is hardly wise. Finally, a figure appears amidst the swaying purple haze and a man steps out of the top hat, the whirlwind disappearing just as swiftly as it began.
"Was that bumpy ride even necessary, you whimsical old thing?" the stranger inquires, bending to pick up the hat and brushing a non-existent speck of dust off the brim and downing it on his head.
"As a matter of fact yes," Rumpelstiltskin grunts but the insolent man interrupts him.
"Oh not you, you self-centred geezer. I was talking to Betsy." The man's steely eyes stop on Belle and he straightens, pushing his shoulders back and flicking his cravat to puff it up. "Ooooh, who is this young lady?" The visitor puts his left arm behind his back, bowing to her with practiced ease and reaching to place a kiss on her hand. "Enchanted, I truly am. Your beauty is remarkable, I must say, I have never…"
Belle blushes at the shower of complements and the man still gently holds her hand in his large palm.
"None of that, dearie," Rumpelstiltskin hisses, not particularly amused.
"Does he call you that as well, love?" the stranger winks at Belle, making her blush further at the endearment and the sorcerer grunts again.
"Hatter, I warn you…" he drawls but the hatter in question pays him little mind.
"Jefferson, at your service, love." He lets go of her hand and his warm fingers suddenly press to her temples. "Oh you are marvellous," he praises, softly sliding his fingertips over her skull. "It would be an honour to hat your perfect little head." Confused, Belle doesn't know if she ought to push him away and tries to turn her head to Rumpelstiltskin for help, but the hatter keeps her firmly in place, studying the crown of her head with quick clever fingers. "What shall it be, sweetheart? Bonnet, chaperon, slouch?" he speaks faster and faster, blurting the words out until they blend together and his voice gets pitched with excitement. "Porkpie, bowler, fez, stetson…"
"Hatter," Rumpelstiltskin calls out warningly but the man goes on.
"Tricorne! Oh, oh a beret! No, wait, how about…"
"Hatter!" the sorcerer shouts and Jefferson blinks several times, dropping his hands to the side.
"Sorry, love, got a bit carried away. So, what were we talking about?"
"Betsy," she prompts.
"Right, right. Not only are you beautiful but you've got superb skills at keeping a conversation, love."
Belle chuckles at this open flattery but Jefferson stops at that. It appears he cannot hold a thought for too long when he's interrupted, so Belle tries again.
"Is it your friend? Will she be coming too?"
"She already is here!" he beams at her, taking the top hat off himself and flipping it over several times. "Betsy, my oldest and dearest friend," he says proudly before returning it to its place on his head.
He has some strange sort of charm; the kind of zealous energy he radiates combined with serious grey eyes make it impossible not to warm to him.
"Why did you choose this name?" Belle asks, not a bit surprised he hasn't asked for her own.
"Because that's what old things are called," he explains slowly as if it was obvious but the mild annoyance rapidly shifts to amusement. "Aren't they, Betsy?" he turns to Rumpelstiltskin who crossed his arms in front of him and gives him a scornful look from beneath his brow.
"Ha-ha. Good to know nothing has changed, Jefferson."
"Sad news for you, you grumpy lizard; I'm afraid you still haven't acquired the tiniest bit of humour!" the hatter chirps and Belle smiles; despite their verbal skirmish it's obvious they are on good terms even if neither will admit to it.
"Can we talk about my offer if you're done practicing your wits?" Rumpelstiltskin growls but the hatter isn't a bit disturbed by the cool welcome. He taps his finger on his chin in thought and then stares at Belle, not actually seeing her with his eyes glossy and his mind far away.
"No," he decides and then pouts. "I do not talk about offers in places where I am not offered tea."
Rumpelstiltskin rolls his eyes and before he snaps at their guest, Belle links her arm through Jefferson's and leads him to the table.
"What a lovely cup," he exclaims, wrapping both hands around white and blue china and raising it to his eyes, turning it around to examine the delicate pattern of leaves and flowers. Then he throws it over his shoulder and Belle rushes to catch the cup before it hits the floor. Sighing, she puts it back onto the table as Rumpelstiltskin conjures a pot of steaming tea. The hatter beckons her close with his finger and almost presses his lips to her ear.
"They call me mad, you know," he whispers confidingly and the girl shivers a little at those words.
"I wonder why," Rumpelstiltskin snorts from across the table; he had to use magic to hear them and Belle is unsettled by it. Perhaps she has misunderstood him and the man doesn't trust Jefferson.
"No idea," the hatter says sincerely. "But be mindful that brilliance and insanity often walk hand in hand." He slams his fist on the table and the girl jumps. "Tea, where's tea? You promised me tea, old man. Green, black, white, oolong, herbal? Braided, in pearls, leaves, crushed to dust?"
"Hatter, you shall drink whatever you are served," Rumpelstiltskin cuts him off and the hatter nods gravely.
"Indeed. I beg my pardon; that was extremely rude of me."
"Honey?" offers Belle and Jefferson nods but grabs her wrist firmly as soon as the spoon hovers over the tea cup.
"What are you doing?" he shouts. "Don't you know that if you put honey in your tea on Tuesday it will turn it into the deadliest of venoms?"
"Really, Belle, how could you've forgotten?" Rumpelstiltskin teases and lifts his hand to cover the goofy grin on his face. "Poor thing, you got all confused!"
The girl shoots him an undignified look from beneath the lashes and seriously reconsiders playing a host with the hatter, who nods gravely at the sorcerer's words, taking them in all good faith.
"My, my," Jefferson drawls, switching his attention to the wrist of hers he's still holding and strokes his thumb across her smooth skin. "What a gorgeous hand you've got! Is the other one like that too? I need to make you a pair of gloves to go with your new hat, they will be glorious. Now, I'm thinking tender lamb skin would..."
"Jefferson, will you finally concentrate?"
The man drops her hand as his head turns to Rumpelstiltskin.
"What? Oh yes, right," he takes a sip of the tea, sloshing it around his mouth before swallowing. "Hell, this is an excellent brew, old friend!" He slams the cup back onto the saucer, making the china click loudly and spilling the tea all over the place. "Tick-tock, business talk," he sings and Belle scoots away from the eccentric man, firmly convinced she should have chosen to sit at Rumpelstiltskin's side. "So, what is it you want?"
"A hat that..."
"Wait, what?" Jefferson put his hand up, cutting the man off and wrinkles his nose in distaste. "A hat? I do not recommend it. With that nose of yours and the complexion like that..."
"Do you ever run out of jokes about my age and looks, dearie?" he asks acidly and the hatter picks the cup up again, swashing the fluid around before dipping his finger in to stir his tea. The liquid must be hot but his face doesn't let on sign any discomfort.
"Nope," he says simply popping his finger into his mouth and Rumpelstiltskin sighs.
"Thought so. Anyways, I need a hat that would enable me to access Belle's memories."
Jefferson shifts on the chair, leaning forward until he's perched on the edge and plants the cup between his knees.
"Swap the memories?"
"Not, not that. Simply be able to see what she cares to show."
The hatter throws his head back and laughs. He roars with deep rich laugher and Rumpelstiltskin patiently waits.
"Oh that's precious. You realize how ridiculous it sounds? Mess with the memories, har har," he wipes the tears that gather in the corner of his eyes. "Impossible."
"Mhmm," the sorcerer consents, locking his fingers and staring at their visitor intently. "So will you do it?"
"Of course," the hatter says. "I do the impossible, I love the impossible. But if your head explodes, there will be no refunds."
"What? No! You're joking," Belle gasps and turns her head from Jefferson to Rumpelstiltskin. "Please say it was a bad joke!"
"But of course it was, love," the hatter says, patting her on her shoulder. "I haven't had a head bursting accident in over half a century."
"Nothing will happen to me, Belle, don't look so pale."
"Yes, love, there is nothing to worry about. He could use a different head, if you ask me."
"Then it's a good thing she didn't," the sorcerer snaps. "How quickly can it be done?"
"Not in a minute, apparently. Keep in mind that pretty little thing has to sew it. Can you do it, love? Have those delicate fingers ever held a needle?" He reaches for her hand but she pulls her arm away.
"I can sew, thank you very much," she says a bit more grudgingly than intended but he smiles at her.
"I knew you did, you perfectly scrumptious..."
"Hatter!"
"Alright, alright, you jealous imp."
"I suppose you know where I keep my gold, don't you?"
Jefferson unhurriedly finishes his tea, smacking his lips and carefully placing the cup on the table. He frowns and turns it to the other side until he is satisfied with the angle of the handle and wipes the wet spots from the rim.
"Actually, I just might ask for something a bit more special than the money this time," he offers and Rumpelstiltskin waves his hand in the air, encouraging him to go on. "I need a body."
"What kind of body?"
"Oh, doesn't matter. Preferably fresh."
Belle feels like her eyes will bulge out of her forehead.
"What?" she squeaks weakly.
"I need a body, little love," Jefferson explains. "Someone dead, deader than dead - corpse, if you please, but that's a foul word."
"It's not for a head transplant experiment again, is it?" Rumpelstiltskin wonders cautiously.
"Ugh I'm done with those at the moment," the hatter says and digs his fingers behind his cravat, tugging and loosening the fabric. "The last time went... not as well as I had hoped."
"Alright then," Rumpelstiltskin clasps his hands and giggles. "A body you shall have. It's a deal."
"No!" Belle shouts, horrified. Is she really sitting in the room with two men negotiating a provision of cadaver for some sick purposes of a mad man? "You aren't going to murder anyone, are you?" gasped Belle.
"Who mentioned a word of murder, my sweet?" Rumpelstiltskin asks, voice puzzled and it makes her feel silly all of a sudden. Has she misunderstood them?
"B-but you said," she stutters, turning to Jefferson, "you said you needed a dead man."
"I do, love, I do."
"Why?" she presses, feeling her stomach turn; she probably won't like the answer and the girl is grateful she had nothing to eat as the bile rises to her throat.
"Hat math. Two can enter and only two can leave. Or three. No matter. The rule is that when a number of people enters the hat, the same number must return. Not necessarily the same people, of course. Simple as that, albeit it always proves tricky." Belle frowns and he strokes her cheek.
"But why can't you take someone with you?"
"Would you want me to take you to Wonderland, love? I am afraid I'd have to leave you there as I intend to come back with someone dear to me. But it is so very pretty in there, you'd be delighted."
"She is absolutely not going anywhere, hatter!" Rumpelstiltskin fumes and the corners of Jefferson's mouth droop. "And as to your concerns, sweetheart, if I can turn someone into a snail, I can transfigure any object into a person. Dead is dead, whether it had been alive before or not. I'll give you a gollum, hatter, and you shall provide me with the hat I need."
"Hmmm," Jefferson hums, pulling the brim of his top hat down to his eyes. "I am not so sure a gollum will trick Betsy. She is a spunky thing, I tell you. Won't take crap, only the real deal."
"Great," the sorcerer mumbles. "Do you honestly think I have a supply of bodies in my broom closet?"
"Funny, I have never imagined you owned a broom closet."
"Jefferson, you are not a bit amusing. Where the hell will I find you a body? It's not like people die in the Enchanted Forest every day. Will a cow do or something?"
"Abso-bloody-lutely not. Do you think hat magic is cheap hocus-pocus? No sir I find this notion outraging; it's complex, tender and alive. Where and how you get the body is not my problem, is it? If I could find a dead man myself, I'd do it, but here I am and since it's your deal, you figure everything out, or I am out of here."
"Why can't you negotiate with someone? I mean, you say Wonderland is nice, I do not see why it would be difficult to find someone willing to settle there."
"Fair enough, except that the local queen has developed a nasty habit of ripping people's hearts out. Where she learnt it from remains a mystery to me," he says airily.
Rumpelstiltskin covers his face with his hands.
"I so didn't want to do it, but it looks like we need to pay a visit to another old acquaintance."
"That's more like it," Jefferson nods approvingly and leans back, balancing only on two legs of the chair. Rumpelstiltskin fights the urge to call his magic and send the arrogant fob tumbling backwards. "I've missed that sleazy bastard. Or was it someone else? I don't remember. We are going to have a huge tea party," he giggles. "Lovely!"
"Will you two please stop talking in riddles and explain it to me? Who is the man you mentioned?"
"The doctor," Jefferson says.
"Bloody butcher and charlatan," Rumpelstiltskin corrects him and snaps his fingers.
"Doctor? Doctor who?"
"Victor von Frankenstein, doctor of medicine, if you please," a heavily-accented deep voice responds and Belle turns abruptly to see a tall man in odd clothes wearing a pair of elongated shady glasses. He gives her as much as a sliding glance, bowing slightly and acknowledging her presence with a quick "Miss" and an even swifter "Sir Jefferson" muttered to the hatter.
The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, revealing pale thin arms, covered with ginger hair. He is awkward-looking, as if he is still an adolescence trying to figure out how to behave in the company of wise grown men. His back is impossibly straight though and his serious face betrays a proud man.
"Must you do it each time, necromancer? I admit I would appreciate a note of warning. You've pulled me out in the middle of a phenomenal operation."
"Yes, yes, that's all very interesting," the man waves his hand in the air dismissively, not troubled by the doctor's grievances. "I am not a necromancer, Frankenstein, how many times have I told you that? Besides, we need your services."
"Your magic has failed you, wizard, and you have reverted to science?" the doctor sneers, immensely pleased with himself.
"Keep on dreaming, you insolent excuse for a medic. Remind me again, what did they expel you for?" Victor's face reddens rapidly and his hands curl into fists.
"Gentlemen and reptiles, please be civil," Jefferson stands up and spreads his arms and surprisingly it works; both men fall silent. "You are a brilliant scientist, you're an excellent sorcerer and I'm purely a genius better than both of you combined. Can we please lay this dispute to rest?" Belle snickers at the statement but surprisingly they do stop arguing. "Thank you!" Jefferson winks at her and straightens his cuffs meticulously. "Now, as Rumple was saying..."
"As I was saying, doctor, we need your assistance with a sensitive issue."
"What's in it for me?" Victor asks quickly.
"If my memory doesn't fail me," Belle scowls at the choice of words, "you haven't said no to a fat purse of gold last time."
"So I shan't do it today. Very well, then," the man lowers himself onto the chair and crosses his legs. "What am I required to do?"
"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Jefferson says delightfully, filling the cup he drank from with a fresh serving of tea and pushing it towards the doctor, who eyes it suspiciously but doesn't make any effort to touch it. "We need a body."
"Human body?" Victor repeats and the man nods enthusiastically almost losing his top hat.
"Yep; a tiny-teeny ikle body."
"You do realize that i don't run a morgue?"
"But you do cut them up," Rumpelstiltskin points out. "It happens that the only 'supplier' we agreed on was you."
"I am not a delivery boy," he snarls.
"Of course not, you are an astonishingly outstanding gem of the independent medical research in both realms!" Belle thinks Jefferson is pushing it too far but the doctor's chest swells with pride and his mouth even curls into a shy smile.
"Then no more questions will be asked," he says haughtily and the hatter drapes his hand around the other man's shoulder casually.
"Oh Victor, you jolly old fellow, that is why we love you so much." The doctor shakes his arm off himself only to find his hair ruffled with it. "No time wasted on superfluous questions or fruitless disputes on morality."
"That's quite enough, Jefferson, thank you," Rumpelstiltskin interferes.
"Tea, Victor? Why aren't you drinking it?" the hatter asks, earning himself a spiteful glare.
"Because there is no need to socialize. Shall we go, gentlemen?"
"Yes," Rumpelstiltskin consents. "I just heed an extra moment."
"While the doctor mumbles something about weaknesses and pathetic sentiment under his breath, Jefferson takes the top hat off, throwing it into the floor where it begins to swirl and form another whirlwind.
"I'll keep it open for you, but don't take too long," Jefferson warns and he steps into the purple mist, disappearing after the doctor.
"Can't I go?" Belle asks resentfully and Rumpelstiltskin gives her an apologetic smile.
"Hat math. Three come in and three must return," he reminds her and pulls the girl in a clumsy embrace. "Besides, you'd not like that place."
"You could transfer us there with magic."
"I couldn't. The rules of that realm are different from what you know here; it is a dark, bleak world with very little magic in it and I would be nearly powerless there."
His words are unsettling and she's about to beg him to stay – the hatter can retrieve what he wants on his own – when the sorcerer kisses the top of her head and pulls away. Before she can say another word he strikes a dramatic pose, making her giggle and steps into the portal, vanishing into another dimension.