If Jefferson was a man of anything, it was not indecision. With his midnight blue cape billowing behind him in the dark streets, he strode with his head held high above his scarred neck.
The air was cool around him, or his pace would have induced him to perspire.
He wasted no time getting to Regina's street and picking her lock with a deftness that would make a fairy reek of envy. Then he swung the door open with his elbow and strode into the dark, abandoned foyer.
In the faint sheen of moonlight bouncing off the dining table, Jefferson saw the red heart glittering. The red heart which sat in the center of Regina's blue and white magic book.
Caring nothing for Regina, Jefferson broke the glass with a rock as soundlessly as he could. Knowing she would suspect Gold or Grumpy but certainly not him. She did deem him a wuss, after all.
He didn't need to keep the vile thing. He only needed it long enough to perform the spell to summon the wraith. Then he could fling it outside of Storybrooke for all he cared.
He reached through the broken glass. The top of his hand brushed under a jagged slit, opening his flesh. Plucking the book up, he cradled it against his chest with warm welcome. Because it would be his salvation.
All he needed was courage.
Bound to the shadows, he rushed home with his stolen prize.
Back in his home, Jefferson made himself comfortable in his study. Sitting at the table on his chair with his back angled how he liked it. An ankle under the opposite thigh, about an inch away from the knee. His stomach relaxed.
He lit a candle with a match, bringing a yellow glow to his room. One of his many hats came into view.
He cracked open the book before him on the table and felt a chill slide up his spine. No longer welcome, he found he was repulsed by the book. Grimacing, he fondled the scar surrounding his neck like a collar.
Forcing himself to sidestep his revulsion like a skittish stallion, Jefferson scanned the pages of the book, using his thumb to help him keep track as his gaze slid along each page. Then using that same thumb to press into the corner of a page and turn.
He was three-quarters of the way done with the book and had accidentally ripped two pages before he found the one he sought.
To Summon the Qui Shen, one must sprinkle the venom of the Agrabah viper atop a small boulder. Place three hearts over the venom. Then crush a diamond into the hearts while chanting, "Qui Shen, Qui Shen, I have a soul to mark for you." The medallion and Qui Shen will appear from the boulder. Select your victim by branding the palm of their hand with the medallion.
Now he'd have to shimmy into Regina's vault, tease one of those wretched vipers, and nab a few hearts. Maybe a diamond object would be slung somewhere too, but if all else failed, the March Hare had gifted him with a tower of teacups with diamond handles.
He didn't rightly want to destroy a gift from the March Hare, but he'd have to make due with his memories of the funny guy. Cora had beheaded him then eaten him for dinner as punishment for waving his teacup a certain way, drunkenly blurting, "I believe!" and summoning Pan's shadow.
In the blacker night, Jefferson traveled without hesitation on nimble feet. Rain had drizzled on the ground in his absence, so there was a bit of sloshing.
The clock tower hung ominously under the moon blacked out by a cloud. Jefferson's shifty eyes twinkled. He stormed his way into the closed library and scooped up his luggage by the ear.
"You," he snapped, waving the gun in its face, "are going to help me, or I'll shoot."
Will smirked. "Well, then." He eyed the gun fearlessly. "You know that saying? Dead men tell no tales. You have to kill me, or I'm going to the sheriff tomorrow."
Jefferson dropped his gun. "Please, you don't even quack unless someone gooses you. Both of us know we hold empty threats."
"Oh yeah?" Will inquired cockily with great interest. "Then why d'ya think I'll do whatever-it-is you want of me, eh, Dimples?"
Jefferson rubbed his chin. "That's not a dimple—it's stubble, you nut."
"Alright, mate." Will splayed out his hands in phony submission. "Psycho, if you prefer."
Jefferson scowled. "Fine, if you want to be that way, I'll take my tequila and be off."
"Now you're talking," Will asserted giddily, snatching the midnight blue cape.
"Good, 'cause I was going to pour it down a sewer."
Boggle-eyed, Will gasped, "You bloody prat! Why do the craziest people hate alcohol so much?"
Jefferson snorted. "So I don't play by society's bland rules. That makes me psycho? I guess," he folded his arms over his chest, "people who aren't 'psycho'," after saying the word, he crossed his eyes, stretched his face, and stuck out his tongue, "are tediously dull." Batting his long lashes, he extended his hand out of his folded arms.
It was painfully obvious Will didn't want to accept the handshake but his mother had ingrained the habit of always accepting handshakes. To avoid "rudeness". Gritting his teeth, Will took the hand.
Jefferson smiled tightly. "Call me Psycho all you like, Drunk Nimrod. I can pick some locks, but the lock I need open is more your expert criteria."
"Regina's vault," concluded Will breezily. "That what happened to your hand?"
"Yes," lied Jefferson without missing a beat.
"So how much tequila we talking?" Will licked his chops.
"Enough to keep you busy for a month."
Will's eyes popped. "Now you're talking. 75 bottles? 1.5L?"
"100. 2L."
"Forget Psycho, mate." Clapping Jefferson enthusiastically on the shoulder, Will declared, "You give me that tequila," he nodded firmly, "I'll dub you Best Friend."
With a sarcastic bow, Jefferson asserted gruffly, "Anything you say, Knave of Hearts. Cora used you as lotion, didn't she?"
"Annnd we're back to Psycho. What does that even mean?"
"She used your magic touch to soften her skin." Jefferson snorted softly. "Forget I said anything. Cora was rather unpleasant, but Regina's the one who hit me in the treasure chest, tore out everything of value, and filled it with sand dollars and leprechaun gold." He scowled. "Anyway, let's get on."
Heeling Jefferson out of the library, Will mused, "Let me get this straight—Cora lopped your head off, and you don't take it personally? Yeah, you're loony, mate. Look, hun," his eyes slid to the door, "I wasn't even her lapdog by choice. I was young, saw me a lady, went chasing her like an unneutered male dog chases a lady in heat…wound up being Cora, she nabbed my heart…" the two men stepped outside, "and now everyone I meet judges me for barking up the wrong tree. It's not my fault she's a mighty seductress. Besides," he said with an eyeroll, "she didn't have my permission to seize my heart, so what's this about letting her?" he fumed.
He threw his legs forward and led Jefferson to the vault at a run.
By the time Jefferson reached the vault, Will was backing away from his handiwork. The set of his jaw and shoulders were both smug. Jefferson didn't care. Will had done what he needed, so he clapped the younger man on the shoulder and muttered in his ear, "Tequila's in the alley nearest Jiminy Cricket's office. I've been collecting it for years, saving it for a rainy day."
"Twenty-eight?"
"No. Sixteen. Gosh, Will. My 'curse' was that I was half-in, half-out of the memories. For me, it wasn't a fog. You could slip out if you intended to return, so I managed to leave for a newspaper and whatever else I fancied if I vowed internally to return. It hasn't been twenty-eight years for me. It's been split-identity."
"Alright then, mate…" Watching Jefferson enter the dark vault, Will wondered, "Whatcha want in there for?"
Poking around in the vault, Jefferson answered distractedly, "Viper venom."
"Oh? Casting a curse?" Will inquired conversationally.
Jefferson scowled suddenly. Without looking at Will, he stared with dead eyes at a wall. "Did your mother fail to teach you to keep your nose where it belongs? What's that you said earlier?" He stared Will in the eyes in such a way it made the jeering man uncomfortable. " 'Dead men tell no tales,'" quoted the Mad Hatter.
With a slurping sound, Will Scarlet sucked the insides of his cheeks between his teeth. Nodding abruptly, he voiced, "Ah. The psycho way of telling me to mind my own business."
"You have a funny way of thanking a man who traded you your greatest joy for something that takes you half a second to accomplish," Jefferson uttered ironically. "But I don't care what you think of me."
"How endearing." Will stretched. "I'll be off. See you around."
Jefferson didn't look up, though he put his palm in the air in a feeble farewell. Using his foot, he poked the bottom of Regina's father's casket.
Will disappeared, leaving Jefferson alone.
On a hunch, he gripped the casket in his hands and shoved it aside. Underneath it was a door. The faint traces of moonlight enabled Jefferson to see it.
Jefferson smiled a smile that could easily melt a woman's insides. He pulled the door open and was greeted by some stairs.
From a pocket in his midnight blue cape, he pulled out a black pen flashlight. He switched it on, making a clicking noise, then dove down the stairs.
In his haste, he thrummed with the sickening images his imagination fed him. Regina waiting for him, shining his light directly on her face so she glowed like a jack-o'-lantern. Her gripping his wrist and twisting his arm with a fun-loving grin. Ghoulishly informing him, "You will never be reunited with your daughter because there's nothing I love more than breaking families apart." In his mind's eye, she turned him into a moving painting. She licked her teeth, touched her forefinger to her puckered lips, and pressed the sarcastic kiss to the painting before evaporating into a fog of purple smoke.
When he reached the bottom step, his heart was pounding hard. Too terrified his daydream was a piece of the future, he swung the flashlight around in pursuit of a red lipstick smile.
At last, he consoled his panic levels that all was well. Stepping off the last stair, he stumbled into the room. Still unable to shake the fear Regina had a detector alerting her he was here, he expected to see her every time he turned and constantly half-jumped when she wasn't there.
The flashlight beam hit the Agrabah vipers' cage. The nasty things hissed. He recoiled slightly. He detested snakes. Every thing about them naturally repulsed him.
But he wanted to punish Regina for refusing to do her share of their bargain simply because "the wrong person ate my turnovers". He wanted to punish her because she'd tricked him into abandoning his daughter then mocked him for being a terrible dad as if she'd been honest and upfront with him.
He hated her…and yet, he didn't have it in him to murder her.
So he swallowed his revulsion, put it on the back burner, and whipped a vial out of his cape.
His hands quivered uncontrollably, but he extracted the venom. Once it was safely vialed and the tiny cork kept it secure, his heart rate slowed to normal and hands became the opposite of jittery.
Next, he went for the wall. The heart boxes. He didn't care which ones he grabbed. Any three would do. Snatching three boxes, he deposited them in his largest cape pocket. He pulled the drawstring closed and tied it off.
Lifting his flashlight beam, he lazily swiveled his wrist for diamonds—and was amazed by a glittering object. Halting the beam, he studied the object. Shots of color jumped at his face. A snow globe with a diamond base. In holographic letters, it said, "For My Dearest Daughter, Snow. Happy 14th!"
"She stole her birthday present," he muttered to himself. A maniac grin lit his features.
Now he wouldn't have to demolish any of the March Hare's priceless teacups.