All that Jefferson could see was a white light, its brightness consuming his sight. His fingers reached out, caressing a soft material beneath him. The light began to fade as he blinked, shadows creeping into the corners of his eyes, until the room was revealed to him: Elizabeth's bedroom.
Jefferson rolled over in the bed, expecting to see the sleeping figure of Elizabeth beside him, dark curls splayed out onto the pillow. But there was nobody next to him. A shiver ran down his spine as the chill of the cold sheets rushed up his fingertips.
Roughly pushing off the duvet, Jefferson sat upright. His breath stung in his lungs and the room grew clouded around him. Something damp ran down his cheek and Jefferson brushed away the tear with the back of his hand. More tears streaked down his face, each breath ragged from his sobs.
Pushing himself off the bed, his feet landed upon the floor with a thud, though Jefferson hardly registering the sensation. He had risen too quickly, and the bedroom whirled around in his blurry vision. Almost dragging his legs, which felt rather heavy, he staggered over to the dresser by the window. In the morning light, Jefferson's reflection stared straight back at him in the gleam of the mirror.
He hardly recognised himself. Usually his tailored clothing, with their lavish detailing, gave the appearance of a well-kept man. His reflection was the complete opposite.
'I look like I'm from this realm' Jefferson thought, gazing at himself. The paleness of his cheeks was only accentuated by the dark circles beneath his eyes, tinged with the eyeliner. He was wearing the clothes from the day before and the material clung to his skin, having grown creased during the night, hair matted from relentless tossing and turning. Jefferson gave a pathetic hiccup, finally managing to regain control of his breathing. His fingers reached up to his lips, and in the time it took for him to realise what the dark stain was, fresh tears began to slip down his cheeks. Snapshot memories replayed in his mind, painfully vivid.
There was a sudden knock on the door, and Jefferson sighed with relief at the distraction.
"Are you awake?" A voice called.
'Victor. It's too early to speak to him…' Jefferson made a non-committal noise in response, and the door creaked open.
Victor's head emerged from between the door and its frame. When he saw the empty bed, Victor stepped inside, and Jefferson forced his aching body to turn and face him.
"Did you sleep at all last night?"
"No," Jefferson began, his voice grating against his throat like gravel. He tried to swallow, but his tongue was dry and the words came out rasping, "I tried- I just couldn't."
In an attempt to drive away his lingering thoughts, Jefferson focused upon Victor, noting how he too appeared to be just as exhausted. "You didn't sleep much either?"
Victor shook his head. "I wanted to make sure Grace was alright. I didn't think it would to fair to you to look after her last night," A slow smile spread across his lips as he added, "She's very sweet, I have to admit. And you were right: Grace does have her mother's eyes."
"Where's Grace now?"
"She's in the kitchen; Igor's keeping an eye on her. He's fairly experienced with small children, he's been butler to my family for a long time. We were just about to have breakfast, which was why I came to see if you were up."
"I'm not really hungry. I could do with a cup of tea though."
"I'll bring it up for you," Victor nodded towards Jefferson's hand that was clutching the dresser for support, "You look too tired to be clambering up and down stairs: you need to rest. I know it's difficult, but just try to sleep."
"Thanks."
Once the door had swung shut, Jefferson made his way back towards the bed. His legs ached with the effort, and Jefferson collapsed onto the duvet, embraced by the soft sheets.
Elizabeth's sweet scent had stained the fabric, enveloping his senses so that the smell was tangible in his mouth. Mixed with his breath, it rapidly dissolved into a sour taste upon his tongue. Coughing, Jefferson rolled over, the back of his head sinking into the pillow. He closed his eyes, the bright bedroom vanishing into darkness.
A wave of fatigue swept over him. For a moment, Jefferson felt himself begin to be lured into a slumber. But Elizabeth's scent hadn't faded, if anything, it was heightened by his loss of sight.
He could feel her touch, gently brushing along his skin, the hairs on the back of his neck pricking up. Her lips were upon his ear lobe, her voice whispering the words that had echoed in his mind all night long, *italics* "No matter what, I'll always be with you..." Each syllable was drawn out, a soft lullaby, and they slowly changed into his name, growing quieter with each repetition.
"No, Elizabeth," Jefferson murmured. Her pale, motionless body flashed in his mind as he felt a hand grasp his shoulder.
"She's gone Jefferson."
His eyelids snapped open at the sound of Victor's voice. Jefferson gasped for air, his heart racing. He stared up at Victor, whom was stood over him, concern lining his solemn expression.
"I've brought you a drink."
From the corner of his eye, Jefferson could see the cup of tea that had appeared upon the bedside cabinet. Sitting upright, he reached out and took the cup into his hands; the warmth from the china seeping into his skin. Jefferson took a gulp of tea, not caring that it scorched his throat. He looked back up at Victor and saw whom he held.
"Grace."
"I think she was missing you, so I brought her up with me," Victor explained, slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Swallowing down the last of the tea, Jefferson placed the cup back onto the cabinet and Victor passed the baby to him. Grace's face seemed to light up at the sight of her father, her dark eyes shining up at him.
A tiny hand protruded from the blanket that Grace was now wrapped in, and her forefinger curled around Jefferson's thumb. The gesture took away the ache of losing Elizabeth and their son, replacing it with affection for the baby in his arms.
"I promise that I'll never, ever do anything to hurt you Grace," Jefferson told her, holding Grace to his chest so that her head rested on his heart.
Grace merely smiled up at him, her rosy cheeks plump. In an instant Jefferson was reminded of her brother. The dull sensation inside of him began to return, though it burnt more fiercely as Jefferson's thoughts were consumed with memories of the stillborn baby.
'He didn't even get a chance to open his eyes.'
His head began to pound as the sound of Victor speaking interspersed with his thoughts.
"...You and Grace can stay as long as you need. I've managed to get hold of some milk, though we don't really have any clothes for her-"
"I need my hat," Jefferson interrupted. His words were a low growl, despite having quenched his thirst. "Where is it?"
"It's in the laboratory, with your coat," Victor looked across at Jefferson, sounding confused, "But why would you need it?"
"I need to leave. Grace too."
"Jefferson, I really don't think that you're in the right frame of mind to be going anywhere. You're not going to be making rational decisions: you've been awake for almost forty-eight hours, you've just lost the woman that you love, as well as your son."
"Exactly: that's why I need to leave," Jefferson rose from the bed, Grace murmuring at the sudden movement.
Victor stood up, though Jefferson was already heading towards the door. "Jefferson, you're not making any sense. Please, just stay a few days, get some rest, and give Elizabeth and Oliver a proper funeral."
Jefferson froze in the doorway and whirled around. "They shouldn't even be dead! Our son was never even alive! And Elizabeth was only eighteen. They didn't deserve to die." Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Jefferson muttered, "My price of magic."
"What do you mean?" Victor said, stepping towards Jefferson, who in turn stepped out into the hallway.
"She changed the deal," Jefferson said, more to himself than Victor, "And who made her?"
Jefferson had now reached the staircase. Cocooning Grace in his arms, Jefferson started downstairs. Each step sent a jolt through his body, his legs hurriedly tugging him down the stairs.
"Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't do it," Victor called, as he followed behind, his voice just loud enough for Jefferson hear. Each word was emphasised: as though to express the severity of the situation. Jefferson was suddenly stopped as a hand grabbed his elbow, and Victor turned him around so that they were facing one another. "Do you understand?"
"I won't be returning Victor," Jefferson said, his locked jaw loosening as he grinned. The anger in his eyes only made his expression seem more maniacal. "I have to go. Rumplestiltskin is expecting me."
The swirl of magic faded around him, leaving Jefferson to stare around at the woodland. It had only been a day, but the colour filled world seemed to be different without her. The beauty had vanished, the flowers curled up in the weak sunshine, darkening storm clouds hovering in the corners of the sky. A cool wind rippled through the trees, and Jefferson tucked his coat around Grace. Her dark eyes darted around, taking in the sight of the realm that she would call home.
As he walked, Jefferson wondered what the world would seem like to his daughter, whether her infant mind had recognised the sudden change into colour; whether when she grew older, she would see the beauty in the colours, the way that her mother had.
Jefferson's forehead creased a ray of sunlight suddenly flashing in his eyes, Elizabeth consuming his thoughts. He lost all sense of direction, any sense of the world around him, though his feet knew precisely where to take him.
Reaching the castle that he had arrived at all too many times, Jefferson halted before the door. Slightly self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to give Rumplestiltskin the satisfaction of seeing how unkempt he had become. With Grace held tightly between his arm and chest, Jefferson pushed at the door with all his might. His lack of sleep left him weakened, and the door creaked open slowly.
Stepping inside, Jefferson yelled through the gap, "Rumplestiltskin!"
The door slowly eased shut behind him, and Jefferson gazed around the empty hallway.
"Rumplestiltskin!"
There was no reply. All that Jefferson could hear were his heavy breaths, heart pounding in his chest. Suddenly, the potions door began to open.
"There really is no need to yell," Called Regina, appearing in the hallway, "What would Elizabeth say if she heard you?"
Regina's teasing smile faltered under Jefferson's gaze, her lips parting as she looked him over and caught sight of the child that he cradled.
"Elizabeth's given birth? But I thought you were expecting twins?"
Jefferson didn't reply, though Regina gave him little chance, as she continued, "Where is Elizabeth?"
"She's with our son."
Before Regina could question him further, another voice cut in.
"Don't you have a potion to be working on Regina?"
Both of their heads turned to look to end of the hallway, where Rumplestiltskin was stood.
"Well I-"
"The answer to that is yes," Rumplestiltskin said briskly, "Now leave us."
Regina glanced from her mentor back to Jefferson, sensing the tension between the two. She gave a curt nod and retreated to the potions room. Neither Jefferson nor Rumplestiltskin spoke until the door had closed behind Regina, and Rumplestiltskin arched an eyebrow enquiringly. "You have the tree sapling?"
Jefferson wanted to say yes, but the word stuck in his throat. Instead, he placed a hand into his satchel in confirmation.
'How the hell can he go straight to business?' Jefferson thought disgustedly, fingers clenching around the sapling. 'Because he doesn't care,' His thoughts answered, as he slammed the sapling down onto the table.
"Excellent," Rumplestiltskin murmured, ignoring Jefferson's silence. He gave an airy flick of his wrist as he moved to examine the sapling, the sliding of locks across the doors sounding. Taking the sapling into his hand, Rumplestiltskin turned his back on Jefferson and wandered over to the cabinets at the far end of the hall.
"You killed her," Jefferson said, unable to bear the burden of words any longer.
There was a plinking noise as the sapling hit the bottom of a vial.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Rumplestiltskin said, without even a hint of sincerity, without even glancing back at Jefferson.
"I loved her," Jefferson took a slow step towards Rumplestiltskin. His free hand lay by his side, shaking with each step, his voice growing louder, "You killed her: and our son. He didn't even get to open his eyes!"
Finally, Rumplestiltskin turned to face him. The chill in the air would have been enough to make Jefferson's blood run cold, had it not been for the rage that burnt inside of him, and he continued towards Rumplestiltskin.
"The death of your son was not my doing," Rumplestiltskin replied, his words clipped and dangerously low, "Some things are out of even my control. As for Elizabeth, it was her decision to make such a noble but foolish sacrifice. She was fully aware the consequences when she altered the deal."
"She didn't have to die!"
Rumplestiltskin didn't even flinch at the sudden yell, his scaled features remaining devoid of any emotion. "Someone had to pay the price dearie. It was your price of magic. That's what fuelling your anger: your guilty conscience. You might blame me, but really, you know that this is your entire fault."
Unable to avoid the bait, Jefferson felt the flames inside of him roar, and he stepped even closer towards Rumplestiltskin. "Shut up," He hissed, "or I will kill you, I swear to every god that there is-"
"Do it then."
Jefferson's lips paused upon the unfinished threat as he stared at Rumplestiltskin. In the minuscule gap between them, a dagger had begun to materialise.
"You have always been a man of your word," Rumplestiltskin stated, "Take your revenge."
Jefferson grabbed the dagger.
His fingers wound around the hilt. But before his emotions could take hold, a bleating cry disturbed his thoughts. Grace had awoken in his arms, and her cries stopped him in his tracks.
The dagger clattered onto the floor.
Moving his arm to create a protective barrier around Grace, Jefferson gently caressed her cheek, wiping away the tear that was trickling down her cheek. "I can't let my daughter's first memory be of me becoming the next Dark One."
Jefferson's eyes trailed upwards as he felt Rumplestiltskin's gaze boring into him. "If revenge isn't what you seek, then what are you here for?"
A ghost of a smile crept across Jefferson's lips. "I'm here to quit. My price of magic has been paid. The deal is fulfilled: I'm no longer bound to work for you. Elizabeth's sacrifice was noble, but it wasn't foolish at all."
Rumplestiltskin continued to stare at him for a moment, before his eyes lit up devilishly. "I suppose if you're quitting then I can take back what is mine," His fingers snapped, and bags of gold began to appear on either side of the table; five years' worth of service.
"That's my money- I earned that!"
"Earn it?" Rumplestiltskin echoed with a sneer, "You're a thief; you've never earned a penny. And you no longer have any business here. Now leave."
"But...but how I am supposed to raise my daughter with no money?" Jefferson protested, though Rumplestiltskin merely waved away his words.
"You'll raise her in the poverty that you grew up in. I won't ask you again. Leave."
Swallowing back his indignation, Jefferson gave the most theatrical bow that he could whilst holding onto Grace. He smirked up at Rumplestiltskin, voice filled with derision, "With pleasure."
Jefferson straightened up, trying not to think of Rumplestiltskin's taunts as he turned his back upon his ex-employer, attempting to keep his emotions under control. He made it to the bottom of the steps, the door slamming shut behind him, before Jefferson slumped down against the stone pillar.
'I've lost everything: Elizabeth, Oliver, my job, my money, my lifestyle. It's all gone.'
"Jefferson?"
Folding one leg over the other, in an attempt to appear as though he had intended to end up slumped on the ground; Jefferson raised his head in the direction of Regina's voice. "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to say-" Regina paused as she rounded the corner of the castle and came into view. "Get up," She said firmly, approaching him.
"That's it? You wanted to tell me get up?" Jefferson quipped, growing sullen as he added, "I can stay here if I want. It's not like I have anywhere else to go. I have no money-so I can't keep my house. The woman that I love is dead, as is our son. Oh, and I just quit my job."
"So you're just going to wallow in your own self-pity on the edge of the Dark One's porch?"
Jefferson scowled up at Regina, before begrudgingly rising. He didn't even attempt to brush off the dust that covered his clothing.
"I've lost everything. Don't you think that I'm allowed to feel slightly sorry for myself?"
"No. You don't get to focus on yourself. You don't get to give up," Regina nodded down at Grace, "She has nobody but you. There's nobody else to give her the undivided attention that children crave. If you only think of yourself, you'll lose her too."
"You think that I'm that pathetic?" Jefferson growled, riled by her words, "You think that I'd let anyone take her from me? That'd I let her grow up in the hell that I grew up in: penniless and alone? I'm never going to abandon her, never going to hurt her; she's my daughter!"
"I know," Regina said softly, almost soothing. "Which means that you'll spend this wisely?" She suddenly produced a small pouch, filled with the rounded bulges of golden coins.
"I don't want your charity."
"But I insist," Regina said, equally as forceful. Sighing, Regina breathed slowly before continuing, her voice taking on a frank tone, "What I wanted to say was that I had no idea what Rumplestiltskin had intended for Elizabeth. I'm sorry about Elizabeth, and your son. I meant it: I know what it's like to lose someone you love. But you lost a child too…"
In that brief moment between the pair, Jefferson saw past the 'Evil Queen' that Regina had grown to become over the past few months. He saw the vulnerability that she had learnt to shield: the grief, the hope, and yearning for freedom that she had once been so full of. Back then, he'd thought that her desire to resurrect a stable boy was ludicrous; that he would never know the sadness behind her eyes. But now Jefferson understood.
He took the pouch from her, slipping it into the side pocket of his jacket. The look that she had given him had struck something inside of him, yet it was her words that lingered, a memory of his trip to her castle flitting into his head.
"I'd never thought much of that potion that you were making when I visited. You hate your husband to the point that you'd give up your own desires just so that you won't bear his child?"
"Just go," Was Regina's response, her voice empty once more. "And hope that you never have to see Rumplestiltskin or me again."
The hand that had taken the money went up to the brim of his hat, and Jefferson tipped his hat to her with a nod before slowly walking away; past the iron gates that marked the boundary of Rumplestiltskin's castle. Grace had fallen asleep in his arms, and she didn't stir all whilst he walked through the forest. The anger that had fuelled him vanished the second he dropped the dagger; now Jefferson walked in a daze. There was only one place left for him: home.
All was silent in the woodlands, allowing his thoughts to fester, taunting him with each step. The gold felt heavy in his pocket.
Eventually Jefferson reached the village that his house overlooked. It was a market day, and the streets were bustling with people braving the fresh, but cold, spring air. Nobody seemed to notice him, and Jefferson was content with that.
The lively chatter drove his thoughts away, but his head had begun to pound, and Grace had awoken. Her feeble cries slowly ascended into wails. People turned around to look, and Jefferson bowed his head, keen to avoid their judgemental stares. He tried to shush Grace, but she kept crying. Feeling a flush burning his cheeks, Jefferson quickened his pace, nearing the outskirts of the village centre.
Suddenly, Jefferson was forced to look up as he felt his body slam into something: a worn, cornflower yellow coat. The person that he had walked into whipped their head around, a look of frustration upon her features.
"I'm sorry," Jefferson muttered. The woman's face softened as she glanced up at him, taking in his expression before looking down at Grace, whose crying had finally begun to subside.
"It's alright, I can see that you're in a hurry," She gestured towards the hill, "Do you live up upon the hill?"
"Yes…" Jefferson began with a frown.
"Oh, I thought so! You must be Jefferson, Elizabeth's fiancé? How is she?"
"Yes, I- how do you know Elizabeth?"
"She used to come into the village once or twice a week, just to pick up some food or get some fresh air. We got talking; I know that she was expecting to give birth soon."
"Yes, she gave birth yesterday but she-"Jefferson swallowed, the word lodged in his throat. The woman seemed to understand, giving him a sympathetic smile and placing a hand on his arm.
"I'm sorry. Elizabeth was a wonderful person. Your child looks just like her," She reached out and softly brushed a finger along Grace's cheek, her face brightening as Grace gave a hiccup.
"Her name's Grace."
"That's a lovely name," The woman seemed to snap out of her reverie as the first few raindrops fell from the sky, "Well; I'll let you get back home. I'm Sara, by the way. My husband and I live just down the lane, if you ever needed anything, then you're more than welcome to pop by."
"Thank you," Jefferson said, a little uncertain of what else to say. The drizzle was beginning to thicken, and Sara gave him another kindly smile before setting off down the muddy track into the fast-disappearing crowd.
Tucking Grace back into his coat, Jefferson hurried towards the hill. His feet sunk into the grassy pathway as he climbed, though the bitter rain spurred him on, and Jefferson was soon approaching the place he'd been calling home.
As he reached the front porch, Jefferson noticed that the flowers Elizabeth had planted the previous autumn were now beginning to bloom, flashes of purple and yellow popping up amongst the grass. His limbs heavy from lack of sleep and the water that clung to him, Jefferson slowly pushed open the front door.
But as soon as he stepped inside, Jefferson wished that he could be back outside, where the rain could wash away any trace of Elizabeth. Inside, the humid air made his lungs tighten, air that tinged with smoke and too many memories of Elizabeth. Ignoring the sensation as best he could, Jefferson discarded his leather coat on the banister and took Grace upstairs.
A stair creaked beneath his foot, and Jefferson became aware of how painfully quiet the house was without Elizabeth, though every millimetre seemed to breathe with her invisible presence. He passed one door, then another. Each time, a miniscule part of him couldn't help but hope that Elizabeth would suddenly appear; that this was all some nightmarish fantasy. The knowledge that she was gone only hurt more at the thought, and he pressed on, reaching the nursery.
Just like the rest of the house, it was as though Elizabeth had never left. Her matted paint streaks covered the walls, the children's books that she'd picked out lined the bookshelf, her gentle laughter filling the room. As he gazed around, Jefferson knew that even if he had the money to keep the property, he would still have to sell it.
He lowered Grace into the cot that was closest to the window, wrapping her up in the knitted blanket, before going over to the wooden chest by the bookshelf. Inside were several stuffed toys and Jefferson searched through them for a moment, trying not to think of the stories behind why he and Elizabeth had chosen each one. He settled for the tortoise, with its gleaming button eyes and mottled green fabric.
Jefferson set the toy down in the cot beside Grace, who curled her body into the stuffed tortoise in approval. She made a slight noise of content before drifting into a slumber, having exhausted herself from crying. Lingering over her for a moment, Jefferson outstretched an arm and finished tucking the blanket around her, before wandering out of the nursery. A wave of fatigue washed over him, and before Jefferson could stop himself, he had crossed the hallway to his bedroom: their bedroom.
The door swung open, but Jefferson didn't step over the threshold. His fingers scrabbled to grasp the doorframe to support himself as he stared at the box upon the bed. After all that had happened, the box and its contents had completely slipped his mind; only to come flooding back.
'"It's beautiful," Elizabeth breathed.
"I'm afraid that you'll have to wait until you can try it on as I gave the dressmaker the measurements of one of your old dresses, seeing we're not getting married until October."
"Its fine, I can wait: I'm sure that it'll fit perfectly," Elizabeth's smile wavered slightly, and in an instant the gleam in her eyes seemed to fade. She set the dress down onto the bed, her hand quickly brushing against her cheek, leaving a shining streak.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing…" Elizabeth murmured, more tears trickling down her face, "I just…I don't tell you enough how much I love you."'
It all made sense to Jefferson now: the real reason for her tears, the words she had spoken, the kiss: their final kiss.
He suddenly felt his breath catch in his chest, his throat tightening. The ache for sleep had faded, replaced by the instinctive urge that he had to get out. His vision blurred, Jefferson stumbled back out into the hallway, feeling just as overwhelmed as he had been in the Land without colour.
Jefferson came to a halt with a jerk, as his foot missed the last step, and he landed upon the ground floor. The only two rooms were the kitchen or living room, both with far too many memories of Elizabeth. But the latter was closest, so Jefferson made his way into the living room. Papers were still scattered across the floor, as though Elizabeth had left them momentarily, about to return. Jefferson only managed a few steps before sinking to the floor, legs as stiff as lead.
His right knee landed on one of the papers, and he grasped the creamy corner, lifting the sheet up to his eye level. Elizabeth's cursive handwriting filled the page, re-telling their first trip to Wonderland on the evening of her birthday. Jefferson grabbed a few more the papers, devouring her every word. Each recounted a different realm, a different adventure.
Once he had read one page, he took hold of another until Jefferson held the entire manuscript in his trembling hands. Furtively, Jefferson tore through pages until he reached the final one. Her writing trailed away into the blank sheet. The reminder that Elizabeth would never finish the story; their story, hit him.
With a start, Jefferson dropped the manuscript, its emptiness stinging like a sharp flame. The sheets fell apart, fluttering to the floor around him. His breath was choked into stifled sobs. Outside, the rain lashed down, the sky dark with stormy clouds, casting a shadowed glow across the living room.
Although Jefferson knew that if he were to look after Grace, he couldn't give in to the hollowness inside of him. But the ache grew, the longing for Elizabeth too strong to resist. He let himself cave in, no longer supressing the sobs that ricocheted through him.