The Madness of Cadmea; or The Lunatic Couturier
EIGHT
"A man who wishes to make a profession of goodness in everything must necessarily come to grief among so many who are not good." - Luigi Ricci
It was early in his career - indeed, just before his first Wonderland trip - in the Silver Thorn Tavern, that Jefferson first met a common but lovely lass named Priscilla. Well into his cups, something about her intrigued him - and he is honestly unsurprised when she forcefully dragged him to her bed.
When he wakes to discover her gone in the morning, he tells himself he is lucky to have avoided any emotional entanglements, and satisfied, goes on his merry way.
Priscilla is of a like mind, though when two months have gone without her natural visits, she does panic, for what is a thief on her own to do with a child?
When her fourth month brings blood, she is both overjoyed with relief and saddened to the point of depression - which explains her actions later on when she is on a quest for an item in Wonderland, and instead of the miraculously valuable item, she returns with a the tiniest, unhappiest tot rescued from the bowels of the Duchess's manor kitchens in Wonderland. The babe was small and weak with hunger, and after a harsh upbraiding from Priscilla about its treatment, the pinched-faced scullery maid handed the noisy girl-child off with haste, and bade the other young woman a sullen good day.
Left outside the kitchen doors, gripping an orphaned infant with cold fingers, Priscilla found herself in much the same boat she'd been in before, and she briefly considered knocking upon the door and leaving the child back to it's fate - but within a bundle of graying rags, the most wonderous blue-gray eyes gazed trustfully upon her, and she found herself thinking of the handsome young man named Jefferson, and the child that may have been…
Jefferson was in Camelot nearly two years later when he came upon Priscilla again - but the woman was after the same prize in the King's treasure room as he, and his selfishness was at it's worst. Retrieving the item, they helped each other to escape the King's guards - and somehow ended up sharing a bed once again.
It was a wounded Jefferson - still reeling from the death of Cadmea - whom found himself falling in love with the girl thief when she revealed that she had a child to care for. And if he looked into the two-year old tot's eyes and somehow saw his own, Priscilla was not one to correct him, for her secretly-adopted daughter, Grace, could have been his in age and looks anyway.
Jefferson, for the first time, his heart full of hope and mind spinning, hastily proposed on the spot.
It was when Jefferson decided not to do jobs anymore, that things began to go south.
Worried over the danger of their jobs, Jefferson not so gently set his foot down after he and Priscilla were married - they would not be using the hat portal anymore, for now they were responsible for the life of another, and the life of a portal jumper slash thief could surely not be a long one.
An adventurous spirit, and though a good mother, not an unselfish one, Priscilla argued with Jefferson's decision. To her knowledge, neither of them had other skills to market, how would they survive?
But Jefferson was adamant in his decision, and the pair stumbled through the next few years, and while they were hard times, they were inarguably some of the happiest handful of years either could recall.
One winter, their foraging in bad weather made Grace take ill, and Jackson found himself and Priscilla in a difficult spot. With no money for medicine and little to offer from the forest in the way of food, he found himself contemplating, and then getting back in touch with some of his old handlers - there was an object of certain value that had resurfaced of late, one he had failed to acquire years before. He lied when he explained it was not personal, for it was, but surely this one job would not ruin their bliss, and they would be set for years.
Priscilla was not in a place to argue - the years of lack of easy wealth and hard living had not been entirely kind to her, and she was sometimes quite unkind in her regard of her tattered home and husband. Jefferson, for all his handsomeness, was not so sharp-looking as he'd been before, what with having to sell off his bespelled wicked black suit piecemeal to put food on the table. It was truthfully the only time she'd ever seen him in tears. The only thing he'd kept was the coat, minus the silver buttons, and the hard work he'd put it though made the otherwise waterproof black velvet bleach orange and wear, and wither in the harsh sunlight.
And so Grace was left with a kindly neighbor, and Jefferson unearthed his hat box and only slightly ragged top hat, and Priscilla did not ask where he'd come by his talented hat, for the only other time she had, he'd gone very quiet for days, only speaking enough to say, "I made it, but it is not as I made it. I was deathly ill once, and when I woke from near death, it was as you see it. I thought it was a gift, but over the years...I think it was not, not at all. A gift is given freely, and I sometimes think that this gift took of my very life."
To cursed Wonderland they travelled, and to the manor of the much-hated March hare. It was the Hare that held the powerful Clock of Evermore, and more jealous a possession of it he could not have. Guards borrowed from the Queen of Hearts had been set around the object, making the process of getting in difficult - but not impossible for to such experienced thieves.
It was a wayward golden arrow that changed everything for Jefferson...he did not obtain the prize in his shock, and he lost his wife - but the value of the arrow that came back through the portal within her body did see Grace well again, and saw her fed throughout the last cruel days of winter.
Years later...
Jefferson tried to ignore the odd twitch he received when the Evil Queen asked him to return to Wonderland - mostly because he had no damned intention whatsoever of doing it, especially since Priscilla's death there - that, and he knew by now that twitch, that certain tiny quirk of his right lower eyelid, boded nothing but ill.
But his pride had taken a hit, never mind the fact that he had long-since turned over a new leaf. He was no longer taking jobs that had anything to do with his hat and/or portal jumping, hadn't for some time, and had no intention of ever doing so again...until the doubt began settling in, seeping like the cold between the bricks of his crumbling forest home.
Jefferson worked hard, and long hours - he foraged, did labor and odd jobs, took in simple sewing from simple folks like a retired old woman with low income - and still he could not keep his daughter in a comfortable lifestyle. Perhaps if he returned to his old trade of making hats - but just the thought of touching another hat, magical or not, made the battered muscle of his heart twist painfully and pushed him into a full-blown panic-attack. If he touched another hat, it would bring to mind the loss of Cadmea, never mind the years between.
The past day at market with the old gypsy and the stuffed rabbit had only solidified his fear. What had he become that he could not afford the cost of a small fur stuffed with batting? Yes, he'd sworn off manipulation and thieving, and it had been easy, a joy even, to become a better father to his ten-year old Grace - but why the ever-loving fuck did goodness have to come at such a dear price that he could not offer his daughter the trifles other children - children such as he'd once been - so took for granted?
So he took it upon himself to ignore the siren call of the queen's offer, and set about searching his home for odd bits and pieces in which to fashion a stuffed rabbit for Grace - and she loved it. She took it to her tender young heart with no hesitation, just as delighted - if not more so - that he'd made it with his own hands instead of purchasing the fancy one from the gypsy.
But the seed of doubt had settled - day by day it grew, forcing more distance between his heart and his head, his instinct and his reason.
Would it truly be so bad to do this one small job? Even though it was in the dreaded and despised land of Wonder? Priscilla had died there, yes, but...he knew Wonderland and it's tricks, that was a bonus. It would make the job easier and quicker. In and out, right? And Grace would be settled with enough wealth for life.
The part of Jefferson that was the portal-jumper, the thief, the villain, laughed at him while he tried to reason, to justify taking on the job. That part of him knew it was the worst idea he'd had since leaving Cadmea, but being a villain after all, it did little to talk him out of it.
And so Jefferson eventually threw caution to the wind in favor of soothing his pride and providing for his daughter, and accepted the evil queen's offer.
Sadly, despite Wonderland's own Queen of Hearts and her attempt to behead him, he would live to regret it.
Returning to Wonderland was indeed, the worst thing he ever could have done. The Bitch Queen stranded him, left him there, bald-faced lied to him - and he was taken away by the guards and bloody beheaded! He was ordered by the silent Queen of Hearts to reproduce his beloved hat, to no avail, and eventually, when he was the joke of the castle, the "Mad Hatter", reduced to an over-stuffed workroom and stone-cold tea, the bored Queen saw no true magic forthcoming from his dextrous fingers, and she carelessly allowed his movement around the castle and Tulgey Wood.
It would be in Tulgey Wood that he would meet the secretive denizens of Wonderland, and take up shop in Maddie's old hut - but Maddie was gone, exiled just by days before his arrival, and what's more, she'd had a child by him, and that child just happened to be Grace. His Grace, who'd somehow been adopted by his late wife Priscilla, who'd had no idea the babe really was of his get. The details and circumstances were enough to send a sane man mad. And they had...
Only the White Rabbit came to tea that particular day, and Jefferson was already annoyed. He did not have the patience to listen to the absurdly calm creature, and made it well known.
"Someday you shall leave here, and on that day you may reunite with your daughter - perhaps even Maddie."
Stabbing a hole through the worn tablecloth with his shears - lovely wicked chased silver things, shears that had lately been Maddie's, he been informed by the dour cat - Jefferson hissed with impatience.
"You make it sound so simple. Obviously you've never had a child of your own," Jefferson commented disdainfully, twisting the shears into the wood right along with the downward twist in his lips.
"Untrue!" The Rabbit protested vehemently. "The Cat and I, and the Dormouse too, we alI cared for the Seamstress while she carried your child - we saw her through the difficulties of birth and did what we thought best for them both by separating them. The Seamstress was in no sound mental place to raise a babe, even by Wonderland's standards. If you tell me you do not think I had worries that kept me awake nights, you are wrong, lad."
Jefferson felt like wrenching on his hair again - with as much witless pulling on it as he'd done lately, he'd either grow it out like the infamous Rapunzle or go bald within another fortnight. "You don't understand that I left her. I left Grace, and she'll wonder what happened to me - she'll think - God, she'll hate me. They'll hate me. I'm fucking cursed! I'm always leaving the people I care for. It's my fault she's in such trouble. I just left her there, alone and now I'm stuck here, a-and all I can do is drink tea and have ridiculous chats with animals wearing tiny clothes, and I'm mad! Don't you get it?! I'm the one who's supposed to keep things - keep us - together! She'll hate me!"
"Calm yourself, lad."
Jefferson actually bared his teeth at the rabbit.
The Rabbit simply 'tsk'd' at him and went on patiently. "The Seamstress held no ill will toward you when you left her for good, and Grace is her mother's daughter after all."
Jefferson sneered. "'Her mother's daughter'? Maddie was insane! Grace has never shown any hint of holding that madness within her. "
The Rabbit sighed. "Everyone holds madness within them, Hatter - all it takes to set it free is a matter of circumstance - yours, for example, was brought on by a combination of things. You cannot disdain a thing while succumbing to it, willing or no. Makes a man naught but a hypocrite!"
"My-Grace-is-not-mad," Jefferson bit out, tossing aside the shears to fist his work-scarred hands in the much-abused tablecloth.
The Rabbit shrugged. "There are many different kinds of madness, Hatter, not all of it bad - a bit of nonsense here and there can be cathartic - and before you blow your top, there is good reason to believe your Grace won't even miss you."
Blue eyes widening enormously, Jefferson straightened in his chair indignantly, swiping his mess of overlong curls from his cheek. He briefly recalled the insistence with which Grace demanded her stuffed white rabbit accompany them to tea...
"Odds are," the White Rabbit continued reasonably, "she won't even know you've been gone. Not really. Not for any substantial amount of time."
Jefferson frowned. "How is that even possible?"
"This is Wonderland, my boy! Time moves in mysterious ways here. For instance - how many days do you make since you were abandoned here?"
Jefferson's lips began to tug up at one corner - what ridiculous kind of question was that? Of course he knew, it had been...wait…
He closed his eyes and tried to think of how many sunsets he'd seen since the Evil Queen had left. When he couldn't put a distinct number to them, he tried sunrises instead. Then he simply tried to count how many teas he'd been to…
"C'mon, concentrate, you useless fuck!" he growled at himself, blue eyes snapping open in frustrated anger.
"Please, language, Hatter!" the Rabbit mumbled, skin reddening under his fur.
Lips hanging open, Jefferson's eyes shot to the red of the White Rabbit's with a terrified stare.
"I-I can't remember."
The Rabbit nodded. "Just so. As I said, time moves differently here, Jefferson-lad. Above all, it will always have it's way. When you return, there is every likelihood it will be as if you've never been gone - or, you may have been gone so long - "
"Don't!" Jefferson snapped, dropping his eyes to stare fixedly into his faded tea cup. He kept them focused and wide-stretched in a mighty effort not to cry like a frustrated youth. "If you were trying to comfort me, you've failed."
The White Rabbit sniffed and stood, hopping down from his chair. He took out his watch and tittered at the position of it's twisted hands, and carefully put it away in his waistcoat pocket again.
"I was just attempting to be helpful. I did not seek to offer the Seamstress false comfort before her exile and she appreciated it all the more. You've lost everything you knew. You are mad, Hatter, hopelessly so, and when you are truly mad there is no true comfort to be had."
Jefferson curled his lips back and set his jaw in hostile response, especially at the mention of Maddie, but did not look up. It enraged him so when the animals would speak sometimes, carrying on a perfectly sensible-sounding conversation yet twisting the words to make your mind wander and wonder at their meaning.
"If I am so very unpleasant today, then perhaps you will kindly shove off with your absurdly large watch to whomever it is the Queen is next sending you to harass."
The White Rabbit sighed. "Very well, I see I will get no further discussion from you today, Hatter, semi-rational or otherwise. Perhaps I will come to tea again some other time when you are in a better mood."
Jefferson allowed the rabbit to take his leave without uttering another word - there was no use, for any he could utter would be ugly and prompted by violent feelings. He was in no mood to pretend to be civil and sane.
Once he was alone at the long, rickety wood table he'd set up in the little clearing, the very same clearing he'd first met Maddie in, the place where he'd helped create his Grace, he stood and snatched the cloth from it and then flipped it, making a satisfying racket that scared the birds from the trees and sent the bread-and-butterflies fluttering from the nearby flowering bushes.
The Cat and the Dormouse stayed far away that day.
The Seamstress tumbled from the air into another wood, and long stood gazing into it's dark wood was not the one where she'd made her home so comfortably - it was dark and impenetrable in places, not a friendly place to be - but even without her shears she was in no mood to be trifled with. She could be quite unfriendly herself.
Then she came face to face with the troll - and to be honest, she could not have drawn a different name for the golden, magic-drenched creature from her tattered memory. Trolls were slight of build, quick-of-hand, steeped in old magic and greedy beyond man's understanding.
This particular troll seemed quite impatient indeed, and not at all happy to have run into her.
"D-does this mean you know me?" she asked in awe as she interrupted the beasts' pitchy rant, and the fierce creature looked upon her with surprise and then a sort of guilty displeasure before her flicked a finger and she knew no more.
When Cadmea Metaxas was found Wandering his forest, far, far outside Wonderland by Rumplestiltskin, he cursed the tug of magic from their old bond that had brought his attention to her, and immediately thrust her into a dreamless sleep-state in a cell in the old Lunatic Asylum - things were beginning to fall apart in the Enchanted Forest, and he could not afford for the wild thing she had become to be discovered and traced back to him. If Belle knew what he had done, taking her heart, relieving her of her senses and her chance at True Love, he would be ruined. Belle had forgiven many things, but the very lopsided trade of a Pure Heart...she would be wounded beyond his ability for apologies.
But he could not go back on his word and return it to her, not now, not when so many things of a dark nature lay upon the horizon. Not when he could use the considerable magic he'd gained from their deal to hold something over the Dark Queen's ever-scheming head.
Cadmea would just have to wait to be reunited with her turncoat thief of a lover - but the irony of Jefferson being trapped in Wonderland mere days after her exile did not escape his notice. To be parted from their daughter as well, well...something in their world really did have it in for those two.
A/N: I guess that something is me. Bwaha-ha! J/K But I do want to apologize for the single chapter this post. I haven't gotten had much time to write lately, and trying to figure out how to get so much information into this chapter - ergh. But. Things should move along smoothly now, and we will get to see more characters from here on out. I'll keep writing whenever I can and post ASAP. THANK YOU to everyone who reads and those who comment. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter.