Jefferson's comment left Nora shaking her head as she turned to her computer. She stared at the screen, the title of her book blurring out of focus and the word eccentric suddenly came to mind. It described Jefferson to a tee: his clothes, his map-making, and his odd preoccupation with supposedly living in a fairy tale. As she pondered her host, she decided he was a perfect character for a book. His earnestness and desire to have her believe his stories along with his strange habit of calling her Tati. How to get that character into her current work in progress was another matter altogether. Her musings on Jefferson's personality soon turned to wondering where on the large map the Nebula Tenebris galaxy and Aethel, the home planet of her protagonist Priscilla would be. Nora immediately shut down the thought and silently laughed for even considering the situation.
Okay, Nora, time to focus, she told herself. It took a bit of effort, but Nora shook herself out of the reverie and got to work. She focused on the title page for a few moments before jumping to the end of the document. After re-reading the outline she had created and reviewing her notes as well as the last chapter written, Nora felt prepared to get to work. The feeling of dread that had followed that ritual the last few weeks was nonexistent. For the first time in longer than she cared to admit, Nora found herself looking forward to placing her fingers on the keyboard.
Instead of typing and backspacing over and over which had been her habit of late, Nora was able to move from sentence to sentence without editing along the way. The critic in her head remained silent and her characters moved through each scene unencumbered by her starting and stopping to delete their every move.
Down in his workroom, Jefferson thought about Nora's reaction as he spread out the maps he had brought from the kitchen. She hadn't been afraid to offer her opinion even though it was contradictory to his. He smiled as he remembered the fire in her eyes and determination in her voice. It was so like Tati. As Jefferson looked back and forth between the border of the Enchanted Forest and Camelot, his mind wandered to Nora's story. He hoped that he could get her to tell him more about it. Maybe it was one of the portals he had discovered while working for Rumpelstiltskin that he had impulsively decided it wasn't worth another visit.
Jefferson suddenly craned his neck to look at the clock. He was a bit surprised to see that hours had passed while he had been pouring over the maps and idly tracing borders. During that time, he had made no progress in figuring out how Nora had managed to enter Storybrooke or where exactly her story fit into the other lands. He listened carefully, expecting to hear footsteps but the house was silent. Surprised that Nora hadn't returned downstairs, Jefferson decided to go and see if she needed anything. He had barely closed the door of the workroom when a sudden fear of Nora slipping out the front door and leaving Storybrooke entered his mind. He froze momentarily but then assured himself that he would have heard some sort of noise if the door had opened.
The idea of Nora leaving triggered a wave of unexpected anxiety and Jefferson's stomach churned. The morning's events flashed through his mind as he climbed the stairs. Nora had been intent on getting out of the house and Jefferson was almost certain he had glimpsed her hurrying out of his bedroom. Tati's picture was in the desk drawer, a drawer he had a habit of not fully closing due to it squeaking. He wondered if Nora had discovered the sketch that resembled her so closely and that was what caused her distress.
In an effort to allay his fear, Jefferson stepped inside his room and looked around. Nothing appeared to be disturbed; the light was still on and the vest he had hastily discarded still hung haphazardly on the back of a chair. His eyes went to the desk drawer (check - call the same) which was open a bit wider than he had left it; the papers inside were clearly visible. When tested, Jefferson was able to slide it forward a smidge before it gave its familiar sound. He inhaled sharply as his insides quaked. The drawing of Tati was the third page down. He used to keep it right on top but over the years he had allowed himself to move it. Even if nothing else changed in Storybrooke, he had.
As Jefferson flipped the edges of the pages, he held his breath. The sketch was there, in the same place. He gazed down at it for a few seconds and smiled before returning the papers to the drawer. If Nora had seen the drawing earlier, she had given no indication; given their other interactions and her willingness to contradict him, he was almost certain that she would have said something. If the situation was flipped, Tati would have voiced her thoughts, rather loudly.
Jefferson walked the few steps to the next room and suppressed the urge to open the door without knocking. He had barely lowered his hand when Nora invited him inside; the sound of her voice calmed the butterflies. He found her pacing in the open area between the bed and desk, phone in hand. She barely looked up as he entered; an audible harrumph was punctuated by Nora's fingers flying over the screen. While Jefferson waited for some additional acknowledgment, his eyes traced over Nora from head to toe and attempted to find a discernable difference from Tati. From what he could see, Nora was probably a shade taller and her hair a bit straighter but otherwise they appeared to be identical.
"Did you want something?" Nora asked after clearing her throat. She had caught him staring, although he wasn't sure if her arched eyebrow hinted at annoyance or amusement. Until she said otherwise, Jefferson chose to think it was amusement.
He straightened up from leaning against the door. "You've been up here for hours. I thought maybe you'd like a drink... perhaps some tea."
Seeing her hesitation, Jefferson asked if she had any success writing. When Nora replied that she had completed more than she had in the previous week or so, he again encouraged her to take a break. After taking another few seconds to consider the invite, she agreed to accompany him downstairs. As she returned to the chair she had sat in earlier, Nora noticed that the maps were no longer in the room.
"What's your secret?" Nora said and put her cup down.
"Secret?" This time it was Jefferson with the questioning expression.
"The tea. I'm generally a coffee girl but this is the best tea I think I've ever had."
"I've had a lot of time to perfect the process," he replied with a coy smile. "Tell me about what you're writing."
"So you know where to look on your map?" Nora laughed.
"It would make it easier," he nodded and leaned in across the table. "I'm really interested to hear about it."
Nora took a sip of the tea and hoped that her cheeks weren't too pink. It had been a while since anyone, besides her parents or her editor, had expressed interest in what she had written. Michael's check-ins had become perfunctory after about halfway through her first novel. At this point, he asked more out of a sense of duty than any real concern.
She took a deep breath and explained that she was working on her second book. To her surprise, her first novel became a popular young adult release. Nora explained that the main character was Priscilla, a space pirate, for lack of a better term. Priscilla captained her own ship and traveled across the Nebula Tenebris galaxy in search of treasure.
"To make the long story short, she pulled herself up from a difficult upbringing and created quite a good life for herself. Along the way, hijinks and possibly some romance ensue."
"She's a thief?" Jefferson asked wide-eyed. He had been lounging in his seat listening to Nora but now he sat up straight.
"A girl's gotta eat." The statement was punctuated by the faint growling of Nora's stomach which she brushed off.
"How did you come up with the story?"
"I can't take all the credit. When I was younger, my dad would take me out on the boat fishing and tell me stories. There was one about a girl and her sailing ship. She was strong and stubborn... and she had the best adventures." Nora smiled as she remembered.
Jefferson's expression mirrored Nora's smile. "Your father's stories were about you?"
Nora shrugged. "I may be stubborn but I'm not strong and I don't have grand adventures."
"You need to give yourself more credit. Not everyone would head out on their own to write," Jefferson said. "And, you made it into Storybrooke... that's an adventure very few can claim."
His declaration was met with another shrug which led Jefferson to double down on his assertion. A comfortable silence followed which was interrupted by the rumbling of Nora's stomach. It was louder this time and she apologized with a wry smile. Jefferson stated he was hungry, too, and offered an early dinner. He rose from his chair to see what he had on hand.
As he looked in cupboards and the refrigerator he apologized for the meager offerings. Nora, who had been watching, assured him that what was on hand was fine. She stood up and after excusing her intrusion, pulled a few items together. Jefferson eagerly agreed to her dinner suggestion and he was soon assisting with some prep work and directing Nora to the location of various pots and pans.
They worked together easily and soon were plating up a meal of pasta with vegetables. Ends of a rustic loaf of bread became hastily made garlic toast. Instead of wine, dinner was accompanied by more tea which had cooled to room temperature. To add a touch of elegance, he poured the beverage into crystal goblets and handed one to Nora with a flourish.
Jefferson expressed his appreciation as he dug into the pasta. Nora accepted the compliment while sharing that her mother was the real cook of the family. Nora herself preferred being out on the boat with her father or reading a book to the kitchen.
"Even now, mom always says that being on your own and having a nice meal could, and should, happen," Nora told him.
Jefferson sheepishly agreed to try and put that advice into practice. He then turned the conversation back to the book and Nora herself. While looking at her computer screen earlier in the day, he had spied the by-line. It had said Eleanora Corbett.
When he asked if that was her name, Nora nodded in agreement. "Only thing is that each vowel is pronounced, so it's el-ee-an-ora."
"El-ee-an-ora," Jefferson repeated. "It's very regal sounding. I like it."
"It's a bit much," Nora replied with a chuckle. "I'm just Nora."
"Then, Nora it is," Jefferson nodded. His mind drifted to Tati who much preferred the shortened moniker to Tatiana. Thinking it was better not to mention that fact at the moment, he asked further about her writing and they spent the rest of the meal and some time after in conversation.