Chapter Sixteen: We're All Mad Here

Author's Note: The Alice is these flashbacks is not Alice Jones. References to the spinoff Once Upon a Time in Wonderland. References to and lines taken from the tie-in graphic novel "Out of the Past." Also, lines taken from S5E20 Firebird, credit to the onceuponatimefandom wiki.

Zelena paced her prison cell fuming. When Amara had sent her to this new realm, she had told her it was the perfect place to continue her magical education. Amara was clearly a liar. No sooner had she landed in Wonderland than she had been seized by palace guards for being a witch. This Wonderland was even less tolerant of magic-users than Oz, and she no longer had her slippers to get her out of here.

They were holding her in some sort of magic-proof chamber until tomorrow, when they would behead her. It was just like what had happened to her mother, except that, unlike her mother, she hadn't lied. She had done nothing wrong, except maybe trusting the wrong people. How could she be so stupid?

She steamed and stewed until she noticed a puff of magic on the nearby table. Curious, she thought, because she had been told magic would not work in this chamber. Perhaps it was only certain types of magic that were blocked.

A mirror had appeared on the table. Why would they gift her a mirror? Was it so she could make herself presentable for her execution? Or did they want her to look into it just to see how miserable and wicked she truly was?

Well, she wouldn't be tempted by magical trinkets. Instead, she would try to focus her magic. Maybe there was a way out after all.

"Zelena," a voice spoke.

Zelena looked around for the source of the voice, and when it repeated her name, she saw that it was coming from the mirror.

She was curious despite herself, so she lifted the looking glass and looked into it. At first, she simply saw herself, but then the vague outline of a face began to form. It was blurry and its features were indistinguishable, but it was clearly there.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"I am the answer," the voice said. "I can help you."

"Can you? And why should I believe you?"

"Because you have no other choice. You do not want to perish as your mother did."

Zelena started. "What do you know of my mother?"

"I know how she died, and I know that she was not meant to die as she did."

"What do you mean?"

"Once Upon A Time, someone played with fate, and your mother was a casualty. In another world, where different choices were made, she would have been queen of this realm."

"My mother would have been Queen of Wonderland?" Zelena scoffed. "She wasn't from this realm. How would she become queen?"

"She was ambitious, but in this timeline, she lacked magic. With magic, she could have sought power," the mirror said. "I can show you how to take power with your magic, as your mother would have. I can make you the Queen of Hearts."

Zelena had her doubts, but, well, nobody else was helping her. She was scheduled to die, and things could hardly get worse than that. And if she were a queen, if she could truly master her power, then she could return to Edward and rule at his side.

"Show me," she said to the mirror.

"Your first lesson," the mirror said, "is how to take a heart…"

Jack woke up panting and gasping for air. A scream had awakened him, and it was only after he'd been alert for a few seconds that he realized that the scream had come from him.

Glancing at his surroundings, he tried to remind himself that he was safe in his own bed. Well, on his own couch, at least; he let Aria sleep in the bed now. Hopefully, his scream hadn't woken her. He listened for footsteps, but heard none.

Throwing back the blankets, he got up and made his way to the bathroom. He ran some cold water and splashed it on his face.

This wasn't the first time he'd woken up from a nightmare; it had been happening a lot recently. He tried to remember what he had been dreaming. Images came sluggishly to his mind: the hazy view of a girl, anger, violence, blood on his hands …

Perhaps it was guilt about how he had treated Aria for the majority of their marriage. He did regret that. He knew he did. It was why he was trying to be better lately. Still, when he told himself that that was what his dream had been about, it rang untrue in his mind.

Well, who else had he hurt? He thought of Rosie, remembering her telling him that he hadn't told her he was married. The memory stung, and he hated himself … but the dream hadn't been about that either.

He hated not remembering. It made him feel like his life, his choices, weren't his own.

Like his choice to leave Rosie at dinner. He had gone to the office and found Selena unconscious. It was good that he had gone and found her. She could have died if he hadn't. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what had compelled him to go in the first place. What had he been doing there, leaving in the middle of a date to randomly go to the office? It made no sense.

It wasn't the first time either. He couldn't remember every time, but he had the vague notion that there were multiple times had had stopped in the middle of something and gone off to … to do what? Where had he gone? What had he done? Why couldn't he remember?

A terrible thought occurred to him. What if he couldn't remember because he was suppressing something horrible?

Some months ago, he might not have cared. He hadn't cared that he was beating his wife. He'd blamed Aria and seen himself as an innocent victim. Then he'd woken up and realized that he saw a monster when he looked in the mirror. So, he'd tried to change, and he thought he was doing better. But what if he wasn't? What if, when his unconscious took over, he committed unspeakable acts and then made himself forget? What if he did something worse than smacking his wife around a bit? What if he had killed someone?

As the thought solidified in his head, he felt his dinner coming up, and leaned over the toilet just in time for it to catch the vomit. Then, after rinsing his mouth, he decided he needed a plan.

As assistant to the mayor, Jack knew a lot about their little town. There were some places that the citizens tried to forget existed, but he knew about them. There was a place, just on the outskirts of town. Maybe it could help him now.

After searching a bit for the number, he dialed up the local mental hospital. "Hello? Yes, my name is Jack Scathe. I'd like to make an appointment."

Rumple wanted to reach out to his son, but he knew that wasn't part of the plan. Neal was safe with Maleficent—or as safe as he could be, given the circumstances. The instinct to go, to do, to throw himself on the fire and spare his son was strong, but he knew how to be patient.

Emma was another matter. Patience had never been in her vocabulary, and while he was disappointed when he saw that she had driven off, he couldn't say he was surprised.

Both of his children (because he did see Emma as a daughter) were missing, and he had to sit on his hands. He was grateful that Henry, at least, was asleep upstairs.

As the night wore on, he went back and forth between checking on his grandson and waiting up for his daughter, all the while reminding himself that Maleficent would get in touch when it was safe.

Finally, around 1:00 in the morning, he heard Emma's car pull up.

When she came in, she was shaking, so Rumple wrapped her in a hug. At first, she stiffened, as if afraid of his touch, and he couldn't help remembering the teenage girl he had initially taken in, who had doubted every hand stretched out to her. She had been afraid to trust then, and he saw that fear in her now. If she had pushed him away, he would have let her, but she just stood there, neither reciprocating the hug nor rejecting it.

He led her over to the couch, sat her down, put a blanket around her, and went off to make cocoa, telling her he would return momentarily. He knew, of course, that it wasn't from cold that she was shaking, but warming her up might be a comfort right now.

When the cocoa was ready, he gave it to her, and while she didn't drink it straight away, he noticed when she placed her hands on the mug, absorbing some of the heat. Progress.

"You waited up," she finally said.

"Of course," he said. "I was concerned."

Emma shook her head. "Neal ditched his phone," she said. "He let me go to voicemail, and now I can't find him." She held up her hand before Rumple could say anything. "I know, he's trying not to make me an accessory, but doesn't he know that I would do that for him? That I would do anything?"

"Perhaps that's his fear," Rumple said. "That you would do anything, even put yourself at risk for his wellbeing. Neal loves you; he wants you safe. Besides which, he's always been the sort who was willing to sacrifice of himself to protect others, ever since he was a boy. I'd wager he thinks he's trying to protect you."

"It should be my choice," Emma said. "He should talk to me. He should trust me. Does he think I wouldn't take his side?"

Rumple shook his head. "Any doubt he has is not in you, but in himself."

"I just … I thought I could count on people. When I was a kid, I didn't think I could, but then there was you, and Neal, and Lily, and … and I built a life. I thought I was safe, that I had people. I thought I was safe enough that I could uproot my life, and my family would follow me and support me, because you're supposed to pay that sort of thing forward. I tried to be there for other people, the way you and Neal were for me, and I thought I was doing a good job, and now … Aria won't step forward, and Mary Margaret … the way she looked at me, the stuff she said. I don't know why it hurts so much, because we haven't known each other that long, but when she said we weren't friends, it was like a gut punch. So maybe nothing has changed. Maybe I'm still a lost little girl who everybody tosses away."

Rumple put his hand on Emma's knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Neal has not tossed you away. Neither have I, nor your son."

Emma didn't say anything. She just stared into the cocoa, not drinking it.

"I'm sorry about Mary Margaret," Rumple said. From what he recalled, Mary Margaret was Snow White, and Snow White was Emma's mother. No wonder they had bonded so quickly. No wonder her rejection cut Emma so keenly.

"It shouldn't matter so much," Emma said. "With everything going on, what does it matter if she doesn't stand by me?"

"Because you expected her to, and because she means something to you."

"But why?" Emma asked, and Rumple recalled the guarded child she'd once been, so clearly in pain, pushing others away because she didn't trust them, because she didn't understand attachment and love because she'd never had it and yet, how desperately she'd wanted and needed this thing that she didn't understand or even believe existed. She resembled that raw, vulnerable little girl she'd used to be in this moment. "Why do I care about it, when Neal is missing and accused of this horrible crime? That's where all my energy should be going: into finding him, into proving him innocent. Except I have no idea where to look or how to prove anything. I have no resources in this town, no friends apparently, and I thought …"

"You bonded rather quickly with her, I gather," Rumple said. "Why do you think that is?"

"Because she needed someone … or I thought she did. She needed hope and someone to believe in her."

"As did the others you've helped in town, I'm sure. That girl Mary Margaret lives with, and this Aria you've all mentioned."

"She didn't stand by me either," Emma said. "And I haven't talked to Ashley, but once word gets out … This town worships the mayor. They'll all turn on us, and Mary Margaret has more reason than any of them, since the mayor is her sister."

"Yet, I'd wager that Mary Margaret's rejection hurt you more than those other women's?"

Emma nodded. "I don't know why, though."

Rumple smiled, wondering how far he could push Emma. "You may recall that Neal also bonded with someone in this town—Ms. Jones."

"Yeah, because he thought that she was his sister."

Rumple nodded. "A familial link is powerful, assuming both parties would be interested in such a connection."

"So, what, you think Mary Margaret is my long-lost sister?" Emma scoffed.

"Emma, have you noted where we are?"

"We're in the living room," Emma said.

"We're in Maine," Rumple said gently. "Emma, I've seen that newspaper article of yours, the one you think I don't know that you've kept all these years. The one about the boy who brought you to a diner after finding you on the side of the road."

"I gave up on that after you adopted me," Emma said. "I didn't need to find a family that didn't want me when I had one who did."

"You do have a family, Emma, and we love you. But it's natural to want to know where you come from, to be drawn in by your past and your blood.

"Emma, that diner is just outside this town, walking distance, in fact, which means you were found not far from here. Is it not possible that Neal isn't the only one with a relative here?"

Emma's eyes widened slightly, but then her body tightened, and she shook her head. "That would be too big of a coincidence," she said.

"I've never much believed in coincidences," Rumple said. "I do, however, believe in fate."

Emma cocked an eyebrow at him the way she always had when he or Bae said something that smacked a bit too close to where they'd come from. "Really?"

"Come, Emma, you're not the cynic you were when we met. You know that there is a guiding hand out there, even if recent events have chipped away at your faith.

"Think about it. When we came to this town, we were just passing through. Now we live here. And despite everything, I don't think it has once occurred to you to leave."

Emma shook her head. "No, it hasn't."

"In fact, if I recall, it was your idea to stay. Something about this place, its people, made you feel like you needed to stay and help them, and I'd wager Mary Margaret was a part of that."

"Not just her," Emma said.

"Perhaps not just her, but she was a factor. What are the odds of us going on a random trip and happening on a town that you feel compelled to stay in, with people who seem to need just your brand of help? With people connected to my past, and Neal's? I think there is a reason we're here, Emma, and I don't think it's coincidence, and I don't even think it's just because Neal may have family here. I think that the questions you've had your whole life can be answered in this town."

"How?"

"By knowing what to look for, what to ask, and who to ask it of. By opening your mind to things like fate."

Emma shook her head. "We don't have time for this right now, Neal is …"

"We have nothing but time. It's too early in the morning to speak with the lawyer, or even with Lily. Searching for Neal would be both fruitless and foolish. And as long as he's missing and accused, there's little we can do but wait."

"I hate that," Emma said.

"I know, but that's the situation. Now, you've had a long night, and I've given you a lot to think about. Why don't you head to bed, and set your alarm for a tad later than usual? I'll make sure Henry gets to school."

Emma nodded, getting up. "You know, it's funny. When Neal and I were fighting, I wouldn't let him in the bed with me. Now … I'd give anything to have him lie next to me."

"He will come back to you," Rumple said, "The two of you will be happy again. Have faith."

Priscilla didn't understand, and she would thank him in the end. That was what Jefferson told himself as he kissed his sleeping wife and daughter before sneaking off into the night with the hat he had promised to retire.

He knew it wasn't true, at least not entirely. They were in debt. Grace deserved to grow up with everything, unlike he had.

It was just that Priscilla had grown up like that too. The both of them had turned to thieving for similar reasons. It was how they'd met and how they fell in love. They had been an unstoppable pair together, and he knew she loved the thrill as much as he did. It wasn't about the thrill, of course, or so he told himself.

Priscilla, the Priscilla he met and married, had understood that an honest day's work got you nowhere. Jefferson had been to many lands, but in each there was a class divide: you had your royals, and your peasants; you had your haves, and your have-nots. And the haves, those born to privilege, would never let the have-nots have anything, no matter how hard and honestly they worked. A man had to get creative to get by, and there was a certain justice to the whole thing.

Jefferson was creative. He was clever, cunning, and quick. Priscilla was exactly the same, which was why she was the first person he had trusted since childhood. They were so alike; they saw the world the same way. That was why he couldn't understand her determination to live honest lives now.

Yes, being a thief was dangerous. He knew that, but they were careful. So, what if a little danger was part of the fun? When Grace had been born, they'd agreed that it was worth it to put everything aside for her sake, that the danger was no longer worth it. What if they didn't come home one day?

It was a good argument, so Jefferson had agreed to hang up his hat, so to speak. Still, he hadn't really believed it would be forever. What honest work could either of them get? Anything they did would take all their time away from Grace, and in the end, it still wouldn't be enough to give her a good life. What was the difference between spending time sweeping streets or washing windows for some stuck-up noble, and going on an adventure? The difference was that the adventure would give them more money in the long run. Besides, it was fun.

Priscilla had suggested gathering feathers in the forest to sell at the market; there was no fun in that either, though. It was demeaning. It was time-consuming. And it wouldn't get them enough to save the house. It wouldn't get them enough to get out of debt.

Priscilla hadn't even told him that they were in debt! She'd thought he would turn to thievery, but how could she not see that it was necessary? They had run out of funds, and all he knew how to do was steal things and make hats. True, he could sell hats … but the hats he made were dangerous, and he did have some scruples. The power to go from one land to another was too great to trust to just anyone. He could make regular hats too, of course, but he doubted they would sell for much. This was the only way. Priscilla would understand.

This wasn't about glory and adventure. He wasn't being selfish in risking leaving his daughter without a father. This was about giving his daughter what she deserved. Grace would never want for anything, he vowed to himself. Grace's life would be free of pain, free of exclusion and free of isolation. Grace would have all he had never had. This was completely about Grace.

Squaring his shoulders, Jefferson threw the hat on the ground, waited for the swirling portal to build, and jumped.

Henry's grandfather had been weird when he'd brought Henry to school. It wasn't anything he'd said, it was more in what he hadn't been saying. The weirdness hadn't stopped with his grandfather, either. Everyone at school was shooting him covert, slightly hostile glances. Things really came to a head at recess, though.

Nicholas came up behind Henry and shoved him to the ground.

"Hey!" Henry said, as he got up and brushed himself off.

Nicholas shoved him to the ground again, and this time when Henry tried to get up, Nicholas kept his foot on Henry's chest to keep him down.

"Your father tried to hurt my mother," Nicholas said.

"What are you talking about?" Henry asked. He knew that Nicholas was the Evil Queen's fake son, so it wouldn't actually have been so bad if his father had done something to her.

"He attacked her," Ava said, coming up on the other side. "She almost lost the baby."

That made Henry go cold all over. The Evil Queen was one thing, but a baby was innocent. His dad would never hurt a baby. He knew he wouldn't, so he said as much. "You're wrong. My dad is a good guy. He can't have done what you think he did."

"Everyone knows it," Ava said, kicking him in his side. "Everyone thinks you deserve this." She pointed to one of the teachers, who was making a show of looking in the other direction and not noticing what was going on with Ava, Nicholas, and Henry.

"You should leave town," Nicholas said. "If you don't, we'll make you pay."

"And it won't be just us," Ava said. "Everyone on this playground will make you pay, and that's nothing compared to what will happen to your parents."

"Go home today and tell your parents that you want them to take you back to wherever you come from," Nicholas said. "If you come to school tomorrow, we'll kill you."

Ava kicked him one more time, and then the bell rang, signifying the end of recess. The two ran back to class, laughing as though all was well.

Henry wanted to get up, but his side hurt. Maybe he should go to the school nurse?

He saw Paige approaching him through his peripheral vision, and he let her help him up, "That looked rough," she said sympathetically.

"You saw?"

Paige nodded, "The whole thing. I didn't know those two even knew how to fight, not that you put up much of one."

Henry felt himself flush a little. "Well, you could have helped, instead of just watched."

"I'm not stupid," Paige said. "You, your family, you guys are all Public Enemy Number One right now. I can't be seen helping you. Why do you think I waited 'til after recess to come over?"

"What do you mean, Public Enemy Number One? Why do people think my father – "

"The rumor is that he's been attacking people, that he attacked the mayor, and nobody in this town is programmed to take an attack on her lying down. You should know that better than anyone."

Henry nodded. "I guess that makes sense. But I don't think my dad did this."

"I wouldn't blame him if he did," Paige said. "But I don't think killing her is how the curse gets broken. Dorothy has never made it sound … We should go and see her again after school."

"She said not to," Henry said. "She said we can't trust her."

"Well, we don't have a lot of options, do we?" Paige said. "I'll go without you if I have to. I'm there all the time anyway, visiting my sister. I just figured you would want to come."

Henry sighed. "Let me talk to my dad and grandfather first. If they think it's a good idea, then I'll meet you there an hour after school lets out."

Paige sighed. "Fine. I guess I can wait an hour. Just don't be late, or I'm going in on my own."

Henry nodded. "Sounds fair."

"We should get back to class," Paige said. "Wait a minute or two before you come in, okay? I don't want anyone to see us together."

"And just where do you think you're going?" Maleficent asked Neal, when she found him in the woods outside her home.

She'd known this would happen eventually, though she had hoped she would have more time. It had not been easy convincing him that staying with her was the only safe thing for his family. It had not been easy convincing him to ignore his phone or to hand it over to her. He had been a fidgety mess when she had left for work, and she had returned on her lunchbreak precisely because she'd thought she might happen.

"I need to talk to Emma," he said.

"Not your father? Or your son?" she asked, cocking her head.

"I mean, obviously, I'd like to talk to them too, but Pop knows what's going on and so does Henry. They'll be worried, but they'll get why I have to hide, and they'll look after each other. Emma though … She may have been born in the Enchanted Forest, but she's not from there, not really. She knows this world. She doesn't believe in magic and curses. She'll have no idea if I'm okay, or if I ran off on her, leaving her to clean up my mess. I need to talk to her, tell her – "

"What exactly? What would you tell her if, as you said, she doesn't understand about magic?"

"I … I would … I would think of something."

"Well, you don't seem to be doing a very good job of it right now. Emma is the Savior, so at some point, she will need to learn about magic, and if you think that time is now, then we can discuss next steps, but the situation as it stands puts both of you in a vulnerable position. She would want you to turn yourself in, would she not? She would want things done by the book. If she believes in the rules of this land, and your innocence, she will attempt to hire a lawyer and tell you to trust in the system. But the system cannot protect you here. The Evil Queen will turn this entire town against you; that has already started, and if your family appears to be cooperating, then they will turn against them too."

"If my family is in danger, I need to be there –"

"To do what? You have no power. You may try and fight, but you will not win. You know this. The only advantage you have at the moment is that I am your ally, and I am shielding you. Give yourself to the enemy, and you will have made the situation worse for all those you hold dear."

"I can't … I can't just wait."

"Well, as I said, everything will change once your wife is ready to accept that there are such things as magic and curses. So, perhaps your time should be spent attempting to discover a way to make her believe."

William Colter had sent a letter to Jefferson, his old partner in crime, telling him that he knew the location of the Clock of Evermore. He hadn't written the location of the clock in the letter, of course; he was too sly for that. He knew that if he told Jefferson where to go, Jefferson would have no reason to take him along. It would, of course, have been preferable to have the clock to himself, but he had no way to travel between realms, so it would need to be the two of them. Surely, they could come to some kind of arrangement.

Jefferson had arrived with his usual flourish, and William had happily disclosed that they would be going to a realm called Wonderland.

It was just like old times, though Jefferson seemed happier than he had back then. He was married now, to a woman named Priscilla, and had a daughter. He was very happy, or so he claimed. Still, William could see that he was excited to be traveling and pulling off a heist. Personally, he couldn't imagine settling down, but it was Jefferson's life, not his. The man was free to do what he wished with it.

The heist itself had seemed easy enough at first. Locals (and by locals he meant a talking bird) had warned them that the man they sought, the supposed March Hare, was dangerous, insane, and sadistic. Neither of them had been worried. They didn't intend to deal with the man himself; when robbing a large manor, it was best to avoid meeting those who lived there, and the two of them were well adept at being stealthy.

Jefferson had been attempting to pick the lock to get them inside when it had all gone wrong. They had been attacked from behind, Jefferson knocked unconscious, and William had barely escaped.

If he'd been a better man, he would have rescued his partner, but that had seemed a tad too dangerous for him. He would need to find some other way home.

"How to get out of here?" he mused aloud to himself, "How to return to the Enchanted Forest?"

"I'd be willing to take you," a voice said. "For a fee, of course."

William turned around, startled, but there was nobody behind him.

"Down here," the voice said, and William looked down to see a white rabbit in a top-hat.

"You could take me to another realm?" William asked.

"It's what I do," the rabbit said.

"For a fee?" William asked.

The rabbit looked sheepish. "Well, a rabbit has to make a living, doesn't he? There are extreme circumstances, of course, where I would waive the fee – "

"I need help," William said suddenly. "I need to get aid to rescue my friend. The March Hare took him."

The rabbit's ears shook. "The March Hare? Are you mad? Nobody has enough power to go against him other than, well, the Queen of Hearts herself!"

"Alas, I admit, I myself could not do such a task," William said, hamming up his shame, "But the man has a wife and child. Priscilla and … and Alice, I think. They should know what happened to him, at the very least, but from what I know of his wife, she'll want to rescue him. You can go get her and bring her back with you!"

The rabbit cleaned his glasses with the edge of his white waistcoat. "All right. I'll take you, and track the lady down. The home of Priscilla and Alice, you said?"

William nodded, hoping he had remembered their names correctly. "Yes."

"Very well," the rabbit said, drawing a portal. "I'll come back with her and then see you all safely home."

"So, what brings you here today?" the town's psychiatrist asked Jack.

Not a lot of people knew that there was a psychiatrist in Storybrooke, mostly because he worked out of the local mental hospital, and those that knew of the asylum's existence liked to pretend they didn't. It was Storybrooke's best kept secret. But now Jack had need of it, which was why he was here. He tried to think how to put what he was going through into words.

"I feel like I've been … maybe making some bad decisions for a while, and I don't know why. I mean, I thought I knew, but … I just … sometimes I do something, and it don't make no sense to me why I do it, ya know?"

Dr. Jefferson nodded. "It can be hard to determine why we do the things we do."

Jack nodded back. "Yeah, but this is different. I sometimes … I sometimes have dreams and I feel like … like maybe they really happened, you know, but I can't quite remember."

"Our dreams can feel very real," Dr. Jefferson said.

"No!" Jack said, throwing the chair back and standing in frustration. "You ain't gettin' it. There's something … wrong … here." He pointed at his head, and then after a minute, he pointed at his heart and said, "Or maybe here."

Dr. Jefferson nodded. "Perhaps you could give me a specific example," he said. "Tell me what you have done that you don't understand."

"It can't go anywhere, right?" Jack asked. "What I say here, it don't leave this here office?"

Dr Jefferson nodded again. "That's right. What you say stays between you and me."

"I used to … hurt someone who did nothing wrong, just 'cause I could. Me wife. I was 'orrible to her, and I don't know why, 'cause she's perfectly nice, and has stuck by me when a lot of women would've left. And then … then I met someone, and I went out with her, even though I were married. I didn't even tell her, and then in the middle, I just up and left with no explanation. Who does that?"

"It sounds like you aren't quite sure what you want."

"Well, that's one point for you, ain't it? O'course I don't know what I want. I feel like I ain't been myself for a while, like me heart ain't in anything. And now, I'm startin' to feel again, but it's still … off. Something's missing, ya know?"

Dr. Jefferson nodded again. Is that all this so-called doctor does, Jack wondered. Just nod?

"What do you think is missing?" Dr. Jefferson asked.

"Well, that's the million-dollar question, ain't it? So, can you tell me then? Can you tell me what's missing?"

Dr. Jefferson shook his head. "Therapy isn't a quick fix, Mr. Scathe. If you want answers, you're going to need to be patient, and you're going to need to do the work. Otherwise, I don't think I can help you."

Her father-in-law had been right. Chantey's Lobster House wasn't far from the Storybrooke town line. In fact, if she hadn't needed to drive to get to the town line, she probably could have walked there.

Sitting in her car outside the lobster house, she looked at the old newspaper article: "Seven-Year-Old Boy Finds Baby on Side of Road."

She hadn't looked at the article in ages. She had tracked it down as a preteen, and read it religiously, looking for clues to where she'd come from, but a year into living with the Stiltskins, she had locked it in a box and never taken it out again. She hadn't wanted to obsess about the past anymore. It didn't matter that her birth parents hadn't wanted her. She had a family now, and they loved her. Whoever had given her up, she was over needing to know about them.

Or at least, that had been what she'd told herself. Now, she wasn't so sure, because the way her heart sped up looking at the lobster house seemed like her body's way of telling her that she had never really let it go. Yes, she had a family. Yes, they loved her. Yes, they wanted her. Yes, they were enough. But …

But someone had cared enough to sew her name into a baby blanket, and that same person had left her for dead. It had never made sense to her. How could someone just chuck their child away like that?

As a social worker, she had worked with girls in bad situations. She knew that sometimes staying with the birth mother wasn't the best thing for the baby. But then you found someone to adopt the kid, or if you were scared and you didn't want anyone to know you were pregnant, you dropped the baby off at a hospital or even a police station. You didn't leave them for dead on the side of a road.

So why did it matter? This person who had conceived and given birth to her clearly hadn't cared. She had people who did. Why now, after all this time, was she sitting in her car outside the lobster house, looking at an old newspaper clipping that she had nearly forgotten she had? (That was a lie. She never forgot. Not really).

She didn't have the time or the energy to examine it. What she needed now were answers. So, steeling herself, she got out of the car and headed for the lobster house.

Apparently, the place had outdoor seating, and there was even a concession stand. A woman was manning it, but luckily there was no line.

"Excuse me?" Emma said, approaching the woman at the concession stand.

"What can I get you?" the woman asked, not looking up.

"Um, I wanted to show you something," Emma said, handing the clipping over to the woman, "This is an article from 28 years ago, about a baby being found on the side of the road by a seven-year-old and being brought here."

The woman just looked at Emma, not taking the clipping. "Are you going to order?" she asked.

"I, um, in a minute," Emma said, "First, I was hoping that … that maybe someone who still works here might remember the baby being brought in?"

The woman shook her head. "28 years ago? We can't keep cooks for six weeks."

"Maybe, like, a long-time customer?"

Again, the woman shook her head. "The food ain't good enough for that kind of loyalty. Sorry, honey, but you're not gonna find anyone here who remembers this. Now, are you going to order?"

Emma sighed, "Sure. I'll take some fish and chips to go."

"Coming right up."

Some doctor, Jack thought, scoffing. Dr. Jefferson hadn't helped him at all. He'd just preached patience and insisted that everything Jack was feeling was perfectly normal. Except it wasn't, and if he was doing something that he couldn't remember, it was only a matter of time before he did something he couldn't take back.

Granted, he hadn't mentioned losing time, or that he might be forgetting something. He didn't have any proof, really. It was just a feeling.

He was turning a corner, trying to make his way out of the building, when he came to a dead end. That wasn't right, was it? Honestly, the whole place was a bit of a labyrinth.

"Are you lost?" a female voice asked.

Jack turned and saw a tall girl with long brown hair. She was wearing a white pajama set, and she had a dreamy look in her eyes.

"Just a bit turned around," he said. "You, uh, know the way out?"

She shook her head. "It's a maze. I've tried running, but the queen's guards always get me in the end."

"Queen?" Jack asked, before giving her another glance. Pajamas, dreamy gaze, mental hospital. Right. "You're a nutter, then."

"And you're a knave," she said. "I know you. You're Jack."

His breath hitched. "How … how do you know me name?"

"You told me. Jack of Hearts. Jack of all trades. The Jack of Hearts he stole some tarts."

"I think it's the Knave of Hearts," Jack said, remembering the rhyme. "I, um, I think you're confused."

"I'm always confused," she said. "Sometimes, things make sense, and other times … other times, I'm in Wonderland again."

"Right," Jack said. He wanted to leave, but he didn't know the way out. He also didn't want to startle the girl; she could be dangerous. "So, are you Alice, then?"

"Who's Alice?" she asked. "I don't know who I am. I've lost myself, you see. You're lost, I'm lost. We're all lost. We're all mad."

"Well, one of us is," Jack said. "Um, which direction did you come from? Do you remember?"

"I came from England, I think," the girl said.

"I meant a bit more recently," he said. "Do you know how to get … anywhere in here?"

"I found my way out once," she said. "But I always come back. This is where I belong."

"Right, but not here in this hallway, right? I mean, is there someone … is there someone who works here that can help you find your way back."

"The rabbit helped me find my way to Wonderland," she said. "But I've never seen him here. Here, the Hatter's in charge. Isn't that interesting? A mad Hatter running a mad house." Her face dropped, and she suddenly looked very sad. "I think I was sent to a madhouse once, by father. I think I was … I was very sad. I'm happier here. The Hatter is nice and people visit me, Dorothy, and … others. I can't recall their names. They say they know me and sometimes, I think I know them … then I forget again. I always know the Hatter, though. Jefferson. He had a daughter once, and a wife. I wonder what happened to them?"

Jack jumped onto the one bit of that mess that made sense. "Jefferson. You mentioned Jefferson? The doctor here?"

"Is he a doctor?" she asked. "I thought he made hats with portals in them."

"Well, maybe he does that too. Side hustle." Jack looked around them at what seemed like an endless hallway. "But, um, do you know how to find him?"

"It's a maze," she said again. "You solve it by counting the steps. The maze changes, but the math doesn't. Everything is a riddle, you see. And I'm rather good with riddles. Let's count." And sure enough, she was counting steps in front of her.

She could be going anywhere, but the fact was that Jack had no clue where he was or how to get out, so he figured he might as well follow the girl who lived here, even if her memory was as suspect as her sanity. "Down the rabbit hole, then," he said, before falling into step behind the nameless girl who seemed to think she had followed a rabbit to Wonderland.

"You must be Alice," the white rabbit said. "Is your mother home? It's urgent that I speak with her. We're already late."

There were a few peculiar things about the white rabbit who had popped up next to Alice Liddell in the garden outside her family home. The first was that he had asked for her mother, who had been dead for quite some time now, though there were those who still made that mistake. However, the second more peculiar thing was that he was talking to her at all. Rabbits didn't talk, as far as she knew. They certainly didn't wear top hats and pocket watches and tell you that you were running late.

"How can a rabbit be late?" Alice asked.

"It's your father, Alice," the white rabbit said, which made Alice sit up straight. "A man named Jefferson, I believe. The March Hare has trapped him in Wonderland, and a man told me to come and get your mother so she could save him. We need to save them! Oh dear, I'm sure he wouldn't like me involving you, because it is quite dangerous an adventure to have, and you're so … young."

Alice's father's name was not Jefferson, it was Edwin, and she was certain that he was not trapped in Wonderland, wherever that was. Her father was safe at home, though he was sad and distant.

Whoever the rabbit had meant to find, Alice envied her. This daughter of Jefferson who was lucky enough to have two living parents, even if one of them did need rescuing.

Alice had never rescued anyone before. She had never done much of anything, except sit at home doing her studies, trying to cheer her father up. It never worked. He was determined to be sad no matter what she did. He hardly noticed her anymore. That meant he wouldn't notice if she disappeared on a rescue mission.

She might not have been who the rabbit was looking for, but someone had to rescue this Jefferson. Alice couldn't help being curious; the white rabbit was intriguing, and he used words like 'dangerous' and 'adventure'. Alice would like to have an adventure. It would make her interesting. She would like to rescue someone as well. It would make her a hero, and quite brave.

Perhaps if she were a brave hero who went on an adventure, her father would be proud of her. Perhaps he would want to hear about her adventure and, as she told him about it, he would smile. He would laugh again and hug and kiss her as he hadn't done since her mother died. Oh, it was all such a splendid idea.

With all this in mind, Alice decided not to tell the Rabbit that she wasn't Jefferson's daughter just yet. Instead, she asked, "What is Wonderland?" and then, "Where is it? How do we get there?"

"Wonderland is a dangerous place, full of great wonders. Surely your father told you he was going there?"

"How does one get to this Wonderland?" she asked again, "Shall we take a horse? I am a great rider. And how does one execute a rescue mission? Perhaps we should bring weapons. I don't have a sword of any sort, but there's a heavy rock just there," she pointed. "If we could lift it, perhaps we could use it to hit this March Hare."

"I'm not bringing a child to face off against the March Hare," the white rabbit said, aghast. "Go get your mother."

Alice sighed. "My mother was laid to rest some time ago," she said. "I'm afraid she won't be rescuing anyone."

The white rabbit looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't like the idea of leaving you an orphan. I have children of my own, you know. I promise I'll find someone to go after your father."

"I can go," Alice said. "I'm brave. I can save Jefferson!"

"Jefferson? You don't call him … oh dear," the white rabbit looked around. "That man said he needed to return to the Enchanted Forest. I was so focused on finding the home of Alice and Priscilla, I didn't think … He's not your father, is he?"

Alice's head fell, and she shook it shamefacedly. Then she lifted her face to look at him. "But that doesn't mean I can't come with you. I can help."

"No," the white rabbit said. "I forbid it!"

That made Alice mad. She hated being forbidden to do anything.

"I suppose I'll have to go back, find that man, and see if he can give me better directions."

As he spoke, the white rabbit seemed to touch the air above the ground, drawing a circle with his hand. Blue light followed where his hand went, until it became a swirling blue vortex, "Surely, he knows his friend's address. I need to hurry, though. I'm late."

Before Alice could plead her case, the white rabbit jumped into the vortex. There was nothing else for it, so without another thought, Alice jumped in after him.

"Paige wants me to meet her at the mental hospital," Henry said to his grandfather, who was picking him up from school. "Let's get Dad and go."

"Perhaps the two of us would suffice," his grandfather said, dodging his gaze.

Henry sighed. "Kids at school were talking about Dad today."

"Oh?"

"They said he attacked the mayor."

"I see."

"Did he?"

His grandfather shook his head. "No, Henry, he did not. However, I doubt anyone in this town would believe that."

"But … it's not true. We can make them see that it's not true."

"Henry, you have a talent for seeing the truth of the situation. It's always so clear to you, and you believe so completely. It's admirable. But not everyone is like that. Some people can't see the truth, even if it's staring them right in the face."

Henry shook his head. "I don't like people thinking bad things about Dad," he said.

"Nor I, but for now, your father needs to lay low."

"And that's why you don't want him coming with us?"

"Very astute," his grandfather said. "As I said, you see things clearly."

"But he can't just sit at home. We have Operation Cobra stuff to do!"

His grandfather stopped walking. "He won't be sitting at home." He leaned down then, so that his face was nearly level with Henry's. "He's in hiding, and it's very important that you don't go looking for him."

"But—"

"Henry, the people in this town serve the mayor, and they will be watching us. If you go to see him, they could follow you, and then they will know where he is. It's important that they don't find him."

"So, I can't even know where he is?"

"He's safe," his grandfather said. "He's with his employer."

"Oh," Henry said. "So, she's protecting him?"

His grandfather nodded. "Nobody in this town, including your mother, knows who he works for. That must remain the case. Do you understand?"

Henry nodded. "Yeah. I do."

"All right then. Now, let's go and see your friend."

"There's a book," Maleficent heard Neal say.

She looked up from her papers (she was working from home today to make sure he didn't run again) and saw him standing in the doorway of her home office.

"I beg your pardon?"

"There's a book," he repeated. "It has the history of the Enchanted Forest, explains the curse …"

"Ah. So that is how you knew who I was."

Neal nodded. "My son has it, and I hate to involve him in anything dangerous, but if he were here, he would say … I don't know if anyone could convince my wife of the truth, but if anyone could, it would be our son. Can you get a message to him?"

Maleficent nodded. "I will try."

Emma knew how small towns worked. She'd basically grown up in one. She knew that everybody knew everybody's business. It was something she thought she could use to her advantage right now, which was why she had gone to Granny's, but it didn't take her long to realize that it was working to her disadvantage instead.

People were shooting her angry looks and whispering about her.

"You're not welcome here," Granny said. "I have the right to refuse service to anyone."

"I'm not here to order anything," Emma said, biting back the angry retort on the tip of her tongue. She wasn't that hungry, having eaten her takeout from the lobster house on her drive back to Storybrooke. She was here for information, not food.

"Well then, all the more reason," Granny said. "Now, will you leave quietly, or do you need me to escort you out?"

A few of Storybrooke's more burly residents stood and started making their way over to Emma. Could Emma take them? Maybe. She had taken some self-defense classes and done pretty well. Would it be worth it? Probably not.

She needed to talk to Granny, but maybe it would be better to approach her alone later at the inn.

"I'm going," she said, before exiting the diner.

Paige had been just about to give up waiting for Henry when he finally showed, with his grandfather in tow. "I wish you hadn't brought him," she said.

"Hey, he's helpful," Henry said.

"We might need to run or hide again, and he uses a cane," Paige said pragmatically.

"That's ableist," Henry snapped.

"I can hardly let my grandson go unaccompanied into a mental hospital."

"And his dad is hiding from the sheriff, and his mom is still in the dark," Paige said with a sigh. "You know, at some point, you're going to have to tell your mom, 'The Savior,' what's going on, don't you?"

Henry nodded. "Yeah, but I'm waiting for the right moment. Mom's going to need proof. And a mental hospital patient claiming to be Dorothy won't cut it."

"Whatever. Come on." She led them inside, then stopped short when she saw Dr. Jefferson. Sometimes she snuck past him, but sometimes she liked to talk to him. There was something about him that she found … it didn't matter. Anyway, he'd spotted her.

"Here to see your sister?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"And you've brought friends," he said, smiling at Henry,

"I know they aren't cleared –"

"I trust your judgment. You're a discerning girl; you wouldn't let someone into your confidence who wasn't trustworthy." He began walking in the direction of Paige's sister's room, and she fell into step beside him, with Henry and his grandfather following behind. "Frankly, I'm glad to see you making friends. You've always seemed rather lonely."

"I do okay," Paige said, defensively. What right did he have to judge her lack of friends? She was fine on her own.

"I just want you to be happy," he said, bringing her up short. "You've been dealt such a bad hand in life, with what happened to your parents, and what happened to your sister. I'm glad you aren't all alone anymore."

"I wasn't … I mean, I have Uncle Ben."

Jefferson rolled his eyes derisively. "Yes, your sister's boyfriend. If I'm being honest, I've always had doubts about his fitness as your guardian."

"What, did you want to be my guardian or something?"

Dr. Jefferson shook his head. "I'm hardly father material. I just think … you deserve better."

Paige didn't know what to do with that; it made her feel unsettled.

"Here we are," Dr. Jefferson said, opening the door marked Lydia Alston.

"I thought your last name was Lewis," Henry said.

"It is," Paige said.

"So why does your sister have a different last name?"

Paige didn't answer. It had never occurred to her that it was strange.

"Oh dear," Dr. Jefferson said. "It seems she's gotten out."

"You've caused a lot of trouble," said Zelena … no, The Queen of Hearts, she corrected in her head; she was the Queen of Hearts here, and she had to remember that.

It had taken time to rise in the ranks, taking over Wonderland one heart at a time. She hadn't liked doing it. All she wanted was to get back to the Enchanted Forest, back to Edward, so they could be happy. Being queen meant nothing to her if she had nobody to share it with. Still, having the title, and the power, had kept her alive. If she hadn't done as the mirror bade her, she'd be as helpless as the child standing before her in a blue dress.

Of course, the girl hadn't been helpless a minute ago. She had grown to the size of a giant, having eaten one of the magical mushrooms this land offered, which was known to have that effect. The Queen of Hearts had learned that long ago, and she knew the trick to make the girl small again. That hadn't undone all the damage the girl had done to Wonderland.

"I never meant to cause trouble," she said. "I came to Wonderland to save someone."

"Came to Wonderland?" Zelena asked, her interest piqued. "How?"

"Why, the white rabbit," the girl said, as if that made all the sense in the world. "He needed someone to rescue someone from The March Hare, and he didn't mean to find me, but I insisted on coming along. Of course, he ran off once I got here, and I've been trying to find him ever since."

The March Hare, was it? Zelena had heard of him. He was quite insane, apparently, but she'd never had cause to confront him.

"This rabbit," she said, trying to get the conversation back on track. "He can take people out of Wonderland?"

The girl nodded. "I believe so. I'll need his help getting home, when the time comes, but first I'll need to save that man from the March Hare."

"And that was this rabbit's goal? To save this man?"

"Yes, it was."

"Well then," Zelena said. "Wouldn't it stand to reason that he would be staking out the March Hare's manor?"

The girl's eyes widened. "Do you know where to find the March Hare?"

"I know everything that goes on in Wonderland," Zelena said, though apparently, she didn't know everything. She hadn't known there was a rabbit who could take her out of this godforsaken place.

"Then we can rescue him together!" the girl said.

Zelena picked up her skirts and stood. "Yes," she said to the girl. "Yes, we can."

"This don't look like an office or an exit," Jack said.

The girl had taken him to a room on the lower level of the hospital. The walls of the room were lined with little gold drawers, each marked with a letter.

"I did this once before for you," the girl said.

"Did what?" Jack asked. "I don't think we're supposed to be here."

The girl shook her head and reached out, grabbing the box marked with a J. "You'll need that," she said, as she handed it to him.

"What, er, what is it?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember, but I think it's important."

"I can't just take –"

There were footsteps drawing closer, and the girl looked panicked. "Hide it," she said. "You can't be seen with it or they'll take it back, and you need it. I know you do!"

"All right," Jack said, looking around for a place to hide the cumbersome thing.

"If only you could make it small," she said idly.

What am I doing? Jack thought. This girl was clearly unhinged. Why should he trust her when she said what was in the box was important? Except … it felt important. It felt like he should have it, and there was something in his gut that told him to trust this strange, crazy girl, at least as far as the box was concerned.

"Here," she handed him a bag (he had no clue where she'd gotten it, or if she had had it before) and he shoved it in, just as Dr. Jefferson came into the room, with two children and an elderly man with a cane in tow.

"Lydia," he said when he spotted the girl. "We've been looking for you. Your sister came to visit."

He indicated the girl, who stepped forward. "I brought you flowers," she said, producing crumpled daisies from her pocket.

Jack's new friend, Lydia apparently, took up the flowers with a smile and smelled them. "They're lovely, uh …" she trailed off.

"Paige," the little girl said, looking small. "My name is Paige. I'm your sister."

"If you say so," Lydia said with a sigh. Then, seeing the look on Paige's face, she said, "Oh, that was rude, wasn't it? I'm sorry, Paige. Of course you're my sister. It's just …"

"It's just that she skipped her meds and ran off," Dr. Jefferson said. "You won't do that again, will you Lydia?" The girl didn't respond, so the doctor continued, "Let's get you back to your room, get you your meds and something warm to eat, hm?"

As he took her arm, he seemed to notice Jack. "Mr. Scathe. What are you doing down here?"

"I, uh, got lost, finding my way out. This girl said … "

"She's not well, Mr. Scathe. I need to return her to her room. Then I'll show you out."

Jack nodded, "Could I … that is … if I wanted to visit her –"

"I'm afraid you would need to be family or approved by family," Dr. Jefferson said, his eyes narrowed in disapproval. "We can't just go around letting strangers visit our patients because they find them pretty."

"No, it's not that," Jack said. "It's just …"

"You'd like to gawk at her?" Dr. Jefferson asked. "Like she was some sideshow freak?"

"No! Of course not. I just … she seemed to know me. And I thought, once she's taken her meds and is more … herself, I could ask her how."

Dr. Jefferson shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Scathe. I just can't permit that."

"I thought I kicked you out," Granny said from behind the counter at the inn.

"From the diner, yes," Emma said. "But – "

"We don't have any rooms," Granny said.

"That's not why … I just wanted to talk to you. Ask you something about … about this town's past. I figure you've lived here a long time and –"

"I don't need some felon's wife calling me old in my place of business," Granny said, before heading up the stairs.

Emma began to follow her, when she heard Ruby say from behind her, "She won't budge."

Emma turned.

Ruby was still on crutches, but she looked happier than she had been when she was staying with Emma.

"Ruby, I –"

"Granny's stubborn. If she doesn't want to talk to you, she won't."

"I can be stubborn too," Emma said. "Do you think she's the first person who hasn't wanted to talk to me? I'm in social work."

Ruby laughed. "Yeah, well, as entertaining as it would be to see you two try to out-stubborn each other, maybe it would be better if you come with me."

"What? Why?"

"Granny's not the only one who has lived here forever, and I might not be as old, but I know most of the gossip she knows." Ruby motioned to the hallway she had come from. "I have a room down here. Most of the rooms are upstairs, but …" she gestured to her crutches, "Granny set me up with a nice room. You can hang there while I go to the diner to get you some cocoa with cinnamon, and then we can talk."

Paige's sister Lydia was nice enough, though they didn't spend a lot of time with her. Dr. Jefferson had given her her medication and then insisted that she needed to rest.

He seemed fond of Paige, while Paige seemed almost unsettled around him, but that was just idle observation. The truth was that nothing much had come of their visit. They hadn't been able to stop in and see Dorothy, what with Dr. Jefferson on the lookout, so after their brief visit with Lydia, they had left.

"There has to be some way …" Henry said in frustration, kicking at a pebble in his path, as he and his grandfather made their way home.

"I'm sorry, Henry," his grandfather said. "I know you wanted to find answers."

"There must be something we can do. We can't just sit around."

"You are, in every way, your parents' child," his grandfather said with a smile.

"What if …" Henry trailed off.

"Yes?"

"What if we went to see Dr. Drake?"

"Henry –"

"For a checkup," Henry said quickly. "Because … she's a good doctor and … and there must be a reason, right?"

His grandfather was quiet for a minute. Then he said, "I'll make an appointment."

"Sorry for the mess," Ruby said, throwing some clothes off of the bed to clear room for herself (she had set Emma up with a chair before going to get the cocoa). "I wish I could blame the crutches, but truthfully, I didn't do much cleaning before."

Emma didn't know what to say. Ruby was being surprisingly nice, considering the way that the rest of the town was behaving, and it wasn't as though Emma had ever bonded with her the way she had with … certain others.

"So, you had a question?"

"Why are you helping me?" Emma asked, knowing that wasn't the important question, but being unable not to ask it.

"Looking a gift horse in the mouth, huh?" Ruby said.

"It's just that – "

"It's just that you're a pariah right now, and you're wondering why I'm treating you differently than everybody else, is that it?"

Emma nodded.

Ruby sighed. "Look, I think your husband is shitty. He shouldn't get a free pass for what he did, and I hope he burns in hell for it. But that's him, not you. You helped me when you found me on the side of the road after my accident. You took me in and asked nothing in return. I haven't forgotten. So, I owe you, and I guess I don't like owing people. This'll make us even."

Emma nodded. "Fair enough."

"So, what did you want to know?"

Emma took her baby blanket out of the bag in which she was carrying it. It was still in surprisingly good condition, considering how long she had had it. Holding it out, she said, "A long time ago, a baby in this blanket was left on a road near here, abandoned."

"Tragic," Ruby said.

"Yeah. The thing is, this town is the nearest bit of civilization to where the baby was found, and I was wondering if there was anyone … if someone might recognize the blanket."

Ruby picked it up, mesmerized. "I do feel like I've seen it before," she said in a sort of dreamy voice. "I think … I think I remember seeing Mary Margaret with it, some time back."

Emma's heartbeat sped up. She knew the blanket couldn't be Mary Margaret's. Mary Margaret was younger than she was, and therefore, would not have been born when she had been left on the side of the road. However, sometimes people made matching things for their children, especially when those children were young. Could Mary Margaret's mother have made a blanket like this one, but with Mary Margaret's name, for the daughter(s) she kept?

"I know that … her parents died, right?"

Ruby nodded, "Yeah, she and Selena were orphaned after the accident. Granny took them in and raised them up alongside me, as best she could."

"Were their parents … young?" A woman who had given birth to Mary Margaret and Selena in her early twenties might very well have been a teenager when Emma was born. Teen moms often gave up their children. "Do you know what the mother's … what their mother's home life was like?" Abused girls also gave up their babies sometimes, either because they feared for the baby, or because they feared for themselves.

"I can't say I remember much about them. Sorry."

"Would Granny –?"

"She won't talk to you, not even if I ask her to," Ruby said. "Besides, we tend to let the past stay in the past in this town. I doubt anyone really remembers them. Tragedies are best forgotten." Ruby stood, and Emma knew she was being dismissed.

"Thanks," she said.

"Don't mention it … to anyone, especially Granny."

Emma nodded. "Understood."

It had been hours, and yet, it had been no time at all. The Clock of Evermore truly was a wonder, Jefferson mused bitterly. If only it weren't in the hands of a madman.

Jefferson felt that he was going a bit mad himself. He had no idea how much time had passed, because no time at all had passed during the tea party. It was just the same thing, over and over. Or, was it? Was the conversation changing? Had anything changed? He couldn't remember. And what of those he'd left behind? Time might not pass here, but it would out there, and Grace would grow up, marry, grow old, die … He could miss all of it. He never should have come.

The March Hare was still blathering on about philosophy and tea, which seemed to be his two chief obsessions (those and torture), when a young girl came over and sat at the table. Gods, she looked barely older than Grace, if that. In that moment, Jefferson decided that The March Hare wouldn't touch a single hair on her head.

"Another uninvited guest," the March Hare said, perking up.

"You shouldn't be here," Jefferson said to the girl.

"There's plenty of room," she said pleasantly, "and the table is set for many. I'm sure I can squeeze in."

"She's right," The March Hare said. "Anyway, it's teatime."

"It isn't," the girl said. "Or, at least, I don't think it is."

"It's always teatime," Jefferson moaned.

The girl shook her head. "Nothing in Wonderland makes sense, does it? Talking rabbits, mushrooms that make you shrink, and now it's always teatime."

"It's because of him," Jefferson said, pointing to the March Hare. "He's made it always teatime. He controls time. You never should have sat down."

"You sound quite mad," she said.

"Well, we're all mad here," Jefferson said. "Why did you sit down?"

"I'm looking for someone," she said.

"Well, look elsewhere. Run, while you can. I'm trying to save you."

"Well, I'm trying to save someone too."

"You can't save anyone. You're a child!"

"I am growing quite annoyed at people telling me I'm too small to be useful. I was quite big earlier today. Have you tried the mushrooms?"

Jefferson shook his head. "Just the tea. I truly hate this realm."

The girl's eyes widened. "Are you not from this realm then, mad sir?"

"I'm not mad," Jefferson said, though he wasn't quite sure anymore. "I'm a hatter who took a bad trip, so to speak, and now I'm stuck."

"Nonsense," The March Hare said. "You're both honored guests. After all, it is teatime," he said, as he handed them both cups. "And I quite agree that you are not too young," he said to the girl with a wink, "We were discussing the nature of nature. Care to comment?"

"Is this a riddle?" she asked, "I'm good at riddles."

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Jefferson moaned. "Surely, you don't need to keep the girl here too?"

The March Hare sniffed. "And why not? She's good at riddles, and she's making more of an effort than you."

"Fine, then let me go, and keep the girl," Jefferson said. Then he smacked himself. "I didn't mean that. I just …"

"Let's play a game," The March Hare said. "It's called, her or me. You can only save one, you know. I know how your hat works, Hatter. If one goes in, one must go out. So, tell me, who is it to be?"

"Can I play?" the girl asked.

The March Hare considered. "And what do you have to contribute to the game, my dear, other than playing the part of a pawn on the chess board?"

The girl stood up. "You said I wasn't too young. I'd like to play."

The March Hare sighed dramatically. "Very well then. I'll go collect the hat, and you two can deliberate who will go and who will stay for when I return."

He pranced off, leaving them there.

"You really shouldn't be here," Jefferson said.

"Are you Jefferson?" the girl asked, startling him.

"How do you know my name?" he asked.

"I'm Alice," she said. "And I've been looking for you. You've gotten yourself into quite a bind, haven't you?"

She stood, walked over to him, and started to untie him. He was going to ask how she'd gotten out of her restraints, when he realized that in all the commotion, The March Hare hadn't thought to tie her up.

"Why didn't he tie you up?"

"Because I seemed like I wanted to be here and made no move to get away. It never occurred to him that I would want to leave, let alone take you with me. People always underestimate a child. They think she'll just sit pretty, and do as she's told." There was a touch of resentment in the girl's voice, but Jefferson supposed he couldn't blame her. In fact, he was grateful.

"He'll be back soon," Jefferson said. "With my hat. I just need to get it from him."

"Why do you need … oh, is that how you got here? Well, you won't need it anymore; we just have to find the white rabbit. He should be coming this way, soon, to find us anyway."

"I'm not waiting around for some rabbit, and I'm certainly not leaving my hat in the hands of a madman!"

"Well, if you must get the thing back, be smart about it."

"I know how to steal, thank you very much. Now, you should get going. It's dangerous here, and you're a variable I didn't account for."

"It seems there is a great deal you didn't account for."

"He's not good at thinking things through," a voice said.

"Pricilla!" Jefferson said, both relieved to see his love, and scared for her.

"Oh, Jefferson," she said, before giving him a long kiss.

"How did you get here? Never mind. You can tell me later. Let's just get –"

"Your hat?" another female voice said from behind them. "I have it, now."

"Who are you?" Jefferson asked, as the woman in the crown and billowing cloak stepped forward.

"Well, that's rather a rude way to address one of this land's monarchs," the woman said.

"She's the Queen of Hearts," Alice said. "She said she would help me rescue you, if we could help her get back to the Enchanted Forest."

Jefferson grimaced. "I wish you hadn't promised on my behalf," he said.

"Why, because the hat doesn't work like that?" the woman asked. "Relax. I know enough about magical objects to know that this hat can only carry one back when one went in. Luckily for you, I have no use for it. I heard there was a portal-drawing rabbit on his way to save you. That's who I'm interested in dealing with."

A rabbit? Jefferson wasn't aware of any rabbit, but maybe he could bluff his way –

"That's how I got here. I made a deal with him," Priscilla said. "I know where to meet up with him."

"Well then, let's go," the Queen said.

"Um, if I may, Your Majesty … my hat?"

"Oh, right." She threw it to him as though it were as harmless as it looked, and Jefferson scrambled to catch it, "Yes, I suppose you'll need to go back the way you came."

"Those are the rules," he said reluctantly, hating that he was traveling separately from Priscilla. If he didn't, though, the hat would never let him travel again, "Incidentally, how did you get it back from the March Hare?"

"I ripped out his heart," said the Queen, "and for good measure, I cut off his head. He won't be bothering anyone again."

Jefferson wasn't sure if she was serious, and he really didn't want to find out, so he turned to Priscilla. "Lead on, m'dear. I'll see you through to make sure you're safe, and then join you on the other side."

"Yes," she said. "And when we get home, we're going to have a long talk about teamwork, communication, and straight-out lying to your wife."

Emma had hoped that Mary Margaret would have calmed down a little, but the second she saw it was Emma at the door, she attempted to slam it in her face.

"Wait!" Emma said, using her foot to block the door.

"What do you want, Emma?"

"I want to ask you … do you recognize this blanket?"

"What?" Mary Margaret asked, incredulous. "You're asking me about a blanket, with everything …" she stopped talking when Emma took out the blanket.

"You do recognize it? Don't you?"

Mary Margaret shook herself. "No, I don't."

"I can see it in your eyes. Do you have one like it, maybe? Made by your mother?"

Mary Margaret shook her head. "I've never seen that blanket in my life," Mary Margaret said.

Emma shook her head. She knew she had seen recognition in Mary Margaret's eyes. "Did your mother maybe tell you to say – ?"

"My mother is dead, and she never gave me anything like that. It's not even her style, it's more mine, like … like something I thought up when I had my abortion in high school. But that's all, and I don't know why you're even –"

"Because it's my baby blanket, the one I was found in on the side of a road in Maine as a newborn … not far from here. I thought that maybe it meant that my parents lived here, and someone thought they remembered you with it, or one like it, and I thought … I thought I might finally be able to find my birth family."

"I think you should focus on the family you have now, and what one person from it is doing to the women in this town. How do you ever have time for this … this search of yours? What kind of person –"

"You're right. I know you're right. I should be focusing on Neal." She had left a message for the lawyer, but he hadn't called back. She should be hunting him down, storming into his office, but after her talk with her father-in-law last night, she just couldn't seem to let this go. "But if there is a chance that you and I could be family – "

"Then what? it would erase everything, all forgiven, Selena drops the charges because we're all related?" When Emma didn't answer, Mary Margaret's eyes got even wider. "You didn't even think of her, did you? You don't want to be family with her, just me? Well, I have a family, I have my sister. You … I don't even know why anyone would want to call you family, but I can assure you, we are not related, and I'm so incredibly glad!" With that, Mary Margaret slammed the door in Emma's face.

Emma sighed and tried not to cry. She'd been crying too much lately, and while there was no shame in a good cry when you needed one, Emma knew it wouldn't solve anything.

Mary Margaret had been right. Emma had a family, and she should be focusing on them. She had lost a day when she could have been proving Neal's innocence on this wild goose chase to find a family she had given up on years ago. They clearly didn't want her. Neal, on the other hand, had chosen her, and helping him had to be her first priority. She needed to leave the past in the past and focus on the present, and on their future. It was time to track down Mr. Langland, and this time, Emma wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Where have you been all day?" Aria asked, as Jack came in the door, holding the bag Lydia had given him.

"Out," he said more harshly than he'd meant, and he saw her face fall.

"I see," she said, turning to leave.

"Wait," he said. "I went … I went to a doctor."

"Are you sick?" she asked, and bless her heart, she actually looked concerned for him.

He shook his head. "It were … I went to see Dr. Jefferson, the psychiatrist. I've been … I've been off, haven't I? I want to be better."

"I thought you were being better," Aria said warily, "Unless you mean you want to go back to how things were before?"

Jack shook his head. "No, I just … sometimes, I feel like I don't make sense. It don't matter. Guy was cracked anyway. I got nothing out of it."

"It looks like you got something," Aria said, motioning to the bag.

"Oh, that. That wan't from him. A nutter girl gave it to me."

She looked at him as though he'd lost his marbles. "And you kept it?"

"It's nothing. It's just …" he took the box out of the bag, and stared at it for a bit. "She said I would need it," he said, his voice sounding small to his own ears.

"Well, what is it?"

Jack shrugged. "Haven't the foggiest. I didn't open it, did I?"

"Well then," Aria said. "Let's open it together."

Jack snorted. "Sure, some couples have date night; we open strange boxes from mental patients."

"We could just toss it, but I get the feeling you don't want to do that?"

Nodding, Jack put the box down on the table, and the two of them opened the lid together.

"What in the world?"

Anastasia looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was perfect, if a little heavy, turning her cheeks rosy and matching the color of her lips to the red jewels of her crown. She looked every bit the queen she was, but she didn't feel like a queen at all.

At one time in her life, she would have relished it: the finery and flattery of leading a royal life, not to mention how her mother would look at her … but she had walked away from all of that ages ago when she had chosen to annul her marriage to Prince Thomas in favor of Will Scarlet. Yet now, somehow, she had a crown, and she had lost Will.

It hadn't been her choice. She and Will had simply been trying to save her brother Edward from the clutches of the Evil Queen (or, as she was known in this realm, the Queen of Hearts), and cozying up to the Red King had been a means to an end, a way to get invited into her castle.

They had been caught, and the Evil Queen had taken Will's heart right out of his chest. She'd threatened to kill him if Anastasia didn't do as she said and, apparently, it had suited the Evil Queen's purposes to have a spy in the Red Court, so here she was, utterly royal, and utterly miserable.

At least, until she heard a familiar voice call her name. "Ana!"

She ran to the window, and sure enough, there was her thief. Her eyes filled with tears at seeing him. "Will!"

Her drew her into his arms and kissed her head. "Shh, none of that now, I'm all right. I'm here."

"How … I don't understand … she let you go?"

Will shook his head, "Nah, she never would. Horrid witch, her. But see, the thing is, when she had my heart in her possession, she could use it to control me, so she would send me out on tasks, 'cause she knew I had to come back."

Anastasia's heart plummeted. "So, seeing me is … is a task? You're here on her behalf?"

Will gave her a smile. "I said when she had my heart. She don't anymore. See, I met a girl named Alice, and she stole the thing back for me, if you can believe it."

"Alice?" Anastasia asked. She'd heard tell of a girl causing trouble in Wonderland, though it seemed quite the stroke of luck that said girl would help Will out just when they needed.

"Well, I was sent to capture her, but she got one up on me, if you can believe it. Then she offered to help me out and … well, it's a bit of a story, but it turned out all right in the end. I'm glad I met her, she was a great girl, if a bit strange. I hope she makes it home okay."

"I hope you didn't get up to anything unseemly with her?" Anastasia asked teasingly. A part of her was jealous, hearing Will talk so warmly about another girl, but it was old insecurities. He had never given her any reason to think he would stray. Besides, he spoke of this girl with the same sort of affection with which he spoke of Belle: sisterly affection.

"When I've got the best girl in the world waiting for me? Never," Will said, giving her a smile and a peck on the lips. "That'll be more fun once we put this back in," he said, holding up a box with a glowing red heart in it.

"Gods, Will, you didn't put it back in?" Anastasia asked.

"Well, I don't know how, do I?"

"Luckily, I do," the Evil Queen said, coming up from behind them. "So considerate of you to not put it back yet. Saves me having to tear it out again." She snapped up the box with the heart. "There, back where it belongs."

"Why won't you leave us alone?" Anastasia asked.

"Because, you tried to spirit away my dear Edward, and I need him."

"He don't want you," Will said.

Anger flared in the Queen's eyes. "I know that, of course, but I still need him. He's the final ingredient for the curse I plan to cast."

"He's a person," Anastasia said, "You can't just –"

"I can do whatever I want. Now, I think I've gotten all I can out of you consorting with the king. It's time to put you both in a box, where you can no longer be a nuisance to me."

"Box?" Will asked.

"Box, dungeon, prison cell. It hardly matters, does it? Very soon, the curse will take us all away, and you can be sure that you will pay for your insolence, because I will make you well and truly miserable for eternity."

"Can't all curses be broken, though?" Anastasia asked.

The Evil Queen shook her head menacingly, "Not this one."

"Thank you for coming in today," Maleficent said to Henry, as she examined him.

Maleficent! He was talking to Maleficent! She was a dragon and she remembered being a dragon, and she was talking to him!

"We thought it important to find the time for an appointment," his grandfather said smoothly.

"Quite," she said. "What grade are you in in school, young man?" she asked.

"I'm finishing up elementary."

"And I daresay you get assigned quite a lot of interesting books?"

Henry nodded. "I like to read."

"Well then, I'm sure you have one book that you're really invested in at this time." Before Henry could respond, she continued, "I'm sure you've told your grandfather here all about it, and your father, but perhaps it's time to share your special book with your mother?"

Henry's eyes widened. "I'm not sure my mom is ready –"

"Knowledge is useless if it is not shared, and the time has come."

"You'll have to excuse him," Henry's grandfather said. "He's had a long day. We visited the sister of one of his friends and found ourselves in a labyrinth beneath a mental hospital, if you can believe it. A strange sort of … vault?"

Maleficent eyes widened and she nearly dropped her thermometer. After a moment, she straightened up once more. "Excuse me," she said. Then, leaning in close, she whispered, "Are you sure? Under the asylum?"

Henry nodded. "I recognized it from my book."

"Will this be a problem?" his grandfather asked.

Maleficent shook her head. "On the contrary, I've been waiting for this. There's something there that … that I need."

"Do you need help getting it?" Henry asked.

"Henry –" his grandfather cut in, clearly planning to dissuade him from offering to put himself in harm's way.

"That won't be necessary. Getting in shouldn't be any trouble. I simply needed to know where to look. Meanwhile, you're completely healthy, so I suggest you go home and have a discussion with your mother."

"That was rather sloppy of you," Maleficent said, "Letting that knave get his heart back?"

Zelena scowled. "It's that Alice girl. She's so determined to save perfect strangers."

"Well, then why haven't you killed her yet?"

"I've sent knights and knaves after her, but she's hardly the most important thing, is she? Besides, I'm not as powerful as I once was."

It was true. It had become clear that whatever Snow White, Prince Charming, and Dorothy had done to banish Zelena to Wonderland, it had completely drained her of magic. She only maintained her hold by letting people believe she was still as powerful as she once had been. That, and using the hearts she had to control others.

Some were hearts that had already been in her possession from her last time here, but most, Maleficent had procured for her.

Mal had been invaluable to her as an ally, not that Zelena was dumb enough to trust her. Trust had never gotten her anything except betrayal after betrayal.

"This land we're going to, perhaps it would be wise to have some power there?"

"You said I would," Zelena said. "That I could make myself the most powerful person – "

"I meant magical power."

"Oh," Zelena sighed, "I thought that was impossible, and that in this new land, everyone would be as impotent as I now am."

"For the most part, yes," Maleficent said. "But I've managed to bottle some magic that I believe can make the trip. The question is where to hide it so you can access it. Perhaps if you brought your vault of hearts along, and hid it there …?"

"Yes," Zelena said. "Yes, that's perfect. Just in case I ever need magic, I'll be sure it's where only I know how to find it."

"And I, of course."

Zelena smiled. "Mal, you have been so helpful, as usual," she said, but in her mind, she was thinking on how to alter the curse to bring her vault, and just where she planned to hide it.

When she did, she would not tell Mal. Mal had been useful, but Zelena wasn't fool enough to tell her where to find magic in a land where nobody would have it … nobody, except for her.