The final lightning bolt of that evening lit up the sky, an electric flash amongst the darkened clouds. For a moment the rain stopped, the thunder fading away, replaced by the loud crackle of lightning.
Whether it was the sound of the lightning so close to them, or something else, Jefferson wasn't certain, but suddenly Elizabeth pulled away. She shrank away from him, her face an unreadable mix of emotions. Elizabeth gave an involuntary shiver, and Jefferson too felt the sudden chill of the empty hallway. He could still feel the numb sensation of her lips on his, though the taste had gone sour. The brief eternity she'd given him was shattered.
Shakily, Elizabeth said:
"Why?"
It was only one word. But Jefferson had no answer. He was still reeling from their kiss: his thoughts were an unravelled mess. Snippets of their conversations, Victor's warnings and Regina's teases all replayed in his head, their meanings becoming distorted. Jefferson closed his eyes, willing for his mind to clear so that he could say something, anything, in response to Elizabeth.
"Your words...about our reading lesson...I thought you meant, that you didn't," Jefferson paused before clearing his throat, "love him."
"Of course I don't," Elizabeth murmured, taking a hesitant step in Jefferson's direction. Her arms remained folded, an invisible barrier kept between them.
"My father arranged my marriage to him. I've been betrothed since I turned sixteen, though I cannot marry him until I become eighteen,"
Elizabeth seemed to grow stronger as she spoke, her tone filled with anger as she continued:
"For almost two years I've been trapped, with no chance of freedom: instead awaiting my prison sentence to a life as the housewife of a vampire."
Jefferson wanted to reply, but he couldn't utter a word of consolation. His mouth was dry, any act of showmanship deserting him.
"So, do you...love me?"
Elizabeth gave a sigh, but she inched a little closer.
"We've only known each other for two weeks. I'm to be married in under two months," she said monotonously, echoing Victor.
Her lips remained closed, though Jefferson saw the look on her face, the sadness in her eyes that filled him with a twisted guilt.
"I don't know how I feel," Elizabeth confessed.
She was close enough for Jefferson to reach out and touch; but he resisted the temptation to feel her skin against his fingers, softer than the velvet of his beloved hat.
"Right now, I think we both ought to get some rest. It's been a long day," she announced.
'And one hell of a night," Jefferson mentally added, nodding in agreement.
"I suppose I'll see you soon?" Jefferson said, though he knew he didn't need to ask. They both knew it was more of a statement than a question.
"I suppose," Elizabeth replied, a half smile playing upon her lips.
Her forlorn face lit up enough to seem to glow in the evening's enclosing shadows. That was all Jefferson needed to forget about the Count, about the scientist working beneath their feet, about all of little complications. Regina was right: Elizabeth was all that mattered.
Over the following few weeks, Jefferson found himself settling into a routine: travel the realms and steal for Rumplestiltskin, every couple of days visiting Victor to enquire about his experiments, fool Victor into believing he went straight back to Rumplestiltskin, and the imp into believing he had 'other business', so that he could go to the library and spend his afternoons with Elizabeth.
Even though Jefferson preferred a more spontaneous lifestyle, he couldn't help but slip into the routine easily; slowly growing more and more fond of the black and white realm that was quickly becoming a second home to him. But Elizabeth's imminent wedding loomed over him, their secrets lurking in the back of his mind. As much as he enjoyed the intimate moments he shared with Elizabeth, hidden unbeknownst to the world in the library, Jefferson felt as though every minute was tainted.
"Jefferson, are you even listening?" Elizabeth asked, leaning back in her chair as she raised any eyebrow, looking more than slightly unimpressed.
She gave a small smile to try to remove the frown from Jefferson's face, though his forehead remained furrowed. He was still lost in his own thoughts. Elizabeth tugged her chair closer to his, leaning in and placing a finger on his chin to adjust his head so that he was looking straight at her.
"Whatever it is that's worrying you Jefferson, tell me."
He could hear the concern in Elizabeth's voice, but Jefferson hesitated to confide in her. It wasn't just the prospect of Elizabeth's marriage that was concerning him. The promise he'd made to Victor still stood, and Victor had been keeping Jefferson posted on the progress he'd been making. Jefferson knew that the doctor had been experimenting even more on his brother, determined to resurrect him with his personality intact. The fact that he kept Gerhadt hidden from Elizabeth, kept her under the illusion that her brother was still serving in the Army and their father was away and alive, was troubling Jefferson.
"Nothing," he muttered, pulling away from Elizabeth, though it was too late: he couldn't resist. Pushing away the thoughts that lingered, Jefferson placed a sneaky kiss on the tip of her nose. She didn't mind his affections: they had inextricably become part of their secret meetings.
"Hey! We're here to read, not do that," Elizabeth pretended to scold him, the smile that brightened her face telling a different story.
She rested a hand on his before rising from her seat and heading off down the aisles of books. Jefferson awaited her return impatiently, every minute was precious. Soon enough Elizabeth was back, her arms filled with more dusty books, which she placed on the desk with a sigh.
"How about we try something a little more…familiar?" Elizabeth suggested.
Wiping away a layer of grime, Jefferson read the title aloud, unimpressed:
"Traditional fairy tales?"
He looked up at Elizabeth.
"You know these are real right? I live in the same realm as them; it isn't called 'the enchanted forest' for no reason, although," Jefferson continued, hoping to distract her: "maybe I will take you there someday? You could see a world filled with colour: more vibrant than you could possibly imagine, in every shade under the sun."
She laughed at that, the disbelieving look in her eye almost masking the hope that shone through, her eyebrows raised as if to question whether Jefferson truly meant it.
"Come on," Elizabeth said, sliding the book towards Jefferson in an attempt to persuade him to begin reading, "I used to love these as a child."
Reluctantly, Jefferson scanned down the rather yellowed first page: the words were of a reasonably sized font, and he smirked at the very recognisable title: Rumplestiltskin.
'Oh the irony.'
He rolled his eyes at the opening, before beginning to read aloud,
"Once upon a time..."