Happy Holidays, my_ownremedy!
Title: A Mad Tea Party
Recipient: my_ownremedy
Author: Anon
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Emma/Jefferson, Henry, Grace
Word Count: 2,156
Warnings: None
Summary: Set in Season 2 just after Emma and Snow White return from the Enchanted Forest. Emma has a lot of loose ends to clean up from the breaking of the Curse, and one of them happens to involve talking with a certain former Mad Hatter.
Author's Notes: Hello my dear! I was inspired by your date prompt for Emma and Jefferson after reuniting in Storybrooke, but they ended up really wanting to be in private for their first meeting, so I hope you still enjoy what I came up with. Happy Holidays!
A Mad Tea Party
It was unfortunate, really. Emma had very little time to experience post-Curse Storybrooke before falling through a portal to the Enchanted Forest with her roommate-turned-mother, and it was only when they finally made their way home that she realized how much catching up she had to do.
Making up for lost time with Henry was obviously at the top of her list, but when she discovered where her son had been spending a large number of his days during her absence, she realized she was going to have to confront one particularly difficult demon sooner than she’d hoped.
Henry had readily informed her that he’d done his best to help “Grandpa” run the town while she was missing. He’d confided that David seemed in need of a lot of assistance (which Emma had no difficulty believing), but when he wasn’t ensuring the safety of Storybooke, Henry had spent a good amount of time with a young girl named Grace. And when Emma realized exactly who that was, she couldn’t help but wish her son had befriended anyone else.
It made a twisted sort of sense, though, she had to admit. Both children had gone through the pain and anguish of losing their parents. Of course they’d have a lot in common. Of course they’d bond.
Of course.
Emma knew she’d eventually have to deal with the erstwhile owner of the mansion at the edge of the town. She never denied it. But her emotions were so convoluted, and she felt so…well…messed up was perhaps not the most graceful way of putting it, but it seemed to fit the bill. She hardly had any idea who she was anymore, which meant she was in no condition to deal with the feelings she found herself having whenever she thought about…him.
She supposed she understood now, for the first time, how life really could drive one mad.
But Emma had never been one to walk away from a problem, and she wasn’t going to start now. So the next time Henry expressed an interest in meeting Grace for the afternoon, Emma offered to drive him. Grace, herself, greeted them at the door, and she gave Emma a friendly smile.
“I’m so glad you’re back home safely! We were all horribly worried! Henry most of all, of course, but we’re all happy to have you home.”
Grace’s smile was infectious, and Emma could immediately see why she and Henry had become such good friends. Taking a deep breath, she replied, “Is your father at home by chance? I haven’t seen him since I got back, and I was hoping to…catch up.”
“Oh yes, he’s already waiting for you in the living room,” she replied easily. “Just through the door on your left.” She grinned again. “He has tea ready as well!”
Emma opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She wasn’t sure which part was more disturbing --- that he had been actively watching and waiting for her to come (no doubt his telescope usage had gone into overtime since the breaking of the Curse) or the fact that he’d prepared tea.
Maybe even un-drugged tea. That was a novel concept.
Blissfully unaware of her predicament, Grace and Henry waved and trotted off, most likely for a tea party of their own, if she had to guess. Mustering her courage, and wishing for the thousandth time that she hadn’t made the last-minute decision to leave her gun (and sword) at home, Emma stepped into the room Grace had indicated.
He was waiting for her at the back of the large room, his arms crossed as he leaned gracefully against a mantel. A tea service was indeed laid out on the low table across from his leather couch. As always, he was dressed elegantly in black, with a scarf knotted loosely around his neck.
The neck that Emma now knew for certain bore a scar carved by the blade of an ax, by order of a heartless queen.
His lips quirked into a small smile as she slowly approached him. “Hello, Emma.”
Sighing, Emma raised her eyes to meet his. “Hello, Jefferson.”
“I was wondering if you'd ever decide to come by, or if I'd have to track you down myself.” He gestured to the tea tray. “I thought about asking you to join me at Granny's for lunch, but I thought it would be best if our first meeting was in private.”
Warily, Emma eyed the tea. “Private is definitely good, but I think I'll pass on the refreshments, if you don't mind.”
He laughed. “Even if I promise it won't send you to sleep this time?”
Emma snorted. “No offense, but you've basically put me off tea for a lifetime, at least in this house.”
Jefferson's smile morphed into a full-on grin, and between that and his suddenly bright, almost manic eyes, Emma wondered, not for the first time, how she could have possibly failed to believe that his insanity was anything but true.
“I had a feeling you might say that.” Moving aside, he revealed a steaming mug behind him on the mantel. “So I prepared a substitute.”
Emma automatically held out her hand as he offered her the mug. Hot chocolate with cinnamon. Of course. She shouldn't be surprised, she really shouldn't. And she should stick to her guns and refuse to eat or drink anything he'd prepared for her. That would be the smart thing to do, after everything. And Emma was nothing if not smart.
As she hesitated, Jefferson sighed and flopped down on the couch. “Look, I kidnapped your mother, lied to you, drugged you, and turned a gun on you. Clearly, that was not the best way to handle things.” He leaned toward her. “But you have your son back now. You know what it is to be a parent. Look me in the eye and tell me that if our positions were reversed, if Henry had been right in front of you for 28 years, his memories wiped clear and his life stolen from him, never knowing who you were or where he came from...tell me you wouldn't have been willing to do anything, no mater what it took, to get him back.”
Emma's lip twitched, and she looked down at the mug in her hands. She couldn't say that and he knew it, but it went so very, very much deeper. And he knew that, too.
“I bashed you over the head with your own telescope,” she replied slowly, her eyes still locked on the cocoa. “I didn't believe your stories and your motivations, and even though I had absolutely no reason to, I should have known...something.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I'm the Savior after all, right? Fat lot of good that did me, or anyone else. I think we're more than even.” Her voice cracked, as she finally vocalized the crux of her self-loathing. “I should have...believed. If not in you, then in Henry. I should have listened. I wanted to, and I couldn't, and everyone suffered for my blindness.” She felt tears pool behind her eyes, but she angrily forced them back. “I should have believed.”
“And you did.”
Emma jerked her head up, almost spilling chocolate all over his pristine carpet. “What?”
Jefferson patted the couch cushion next to him, and Emma felt her knees simply fold under her as she sat down.
“You did believe,” he repeated. “It was only for a moment.” And here his grin returned. “Though luckily for me it was precisely the right moment. But you believed, and I'm living proof.”
Emma went briefly silent, wracking her brain for what he might mean, and then suddenly her eyes widened. “When you fell out the window!” she breathed.
“When I was pushed out the window,” he corrected, though it was clear there was no malice in his voice.
“Whatever. You deserved it and you know it.” Emma's eyes were still as big as saucers. “Mary Margaret and I searched for you, but all we found was the hat!”
Jefferson nodded. “That's because, for that one brief moment, the hat worked.” He laughed. “Not very well and not very long, I might add, but there was just enough magic in it to create a portal for me to fall into, instead of splattering across my front lawn.”
“My God,” she whispered.
“And since there was still no magic in Storybrooke at that time, your belief was the only thing that could have caused the hat to work. There's simply no other logical explanation.”
Emma burst out laughing. “Logic? Seriously? I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. I fought Maleficent in dragon form with a sword given to me by Rumpelstiltskin. I apparently share custody of my son with the Evil Queen. And I'm sitting here, next to a tea tray, talking about magic with the bloody Mad Hatter. And you want to bring logic into this?” She shook her head in wonder. “You really are crazy, aren't you?”
Jefferson simply leaned back against the couch. “Indeed.” He fixed her with an intense stare. “And now you know exactly why.”
“Yeah.” Emma lowered her eyes. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Reaching over, Jefferson gently unwrapped her fingers, which had been clenching her cocoa mug tightly, and placed the drink on the table. “I told you, Emma,” he said softly, “you're special. You're not like other people. And now you've done what you were born to do. You saved this town, and you're reunited with your son.”
“For now!” Emma's head shot up. “But we've already got another crisis on our hands. Cora and Hook aren't just going to wait around in the Enchanted Forest. They're going to find a way to get here, and then we'll have a war on our hands all over again!”
Jefferson shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. We'll find out.”
“No, not maybe!” Emma retorted. “And I don't know how you can sit there, all casual, at the idea of that happening. This is Cora we're talking about. You know, the Queen of Hearts, the one who chopped off your head, re-attached it, and drove you mad making hats so you could get back to Grace? That Cora?”
Jefferson's mouth tightened. “No one knows better than I how dangerous that woman is, but believe me when I say that she will never, ever get close enough to me or my daughter to bring us any harm again. I can promise you that.”
He didn't go into details, but then again, he didn't have to. With that spark in his eyes, Emma could fully believe he would move Heaven and Earth to protect his family.
Just as she would. Just as she had.
They'd both spent so much of their lives alone, on the outside looking in, wanting a family and a real home but having no way to go about getting them. They'd loved and lost and fought for the life they wanted, and still they had holes in their hearts, waiting to be filled.
Apparently they were more alike than she'd ever thought.
Slowly, giving him enough time to discern her intentions and stop her, Emma reached out toward Jefferson's neck. She gently unwound the scarf, careful not to pull too hard or put pressure on the area, until the grey material fell from her hands to the couch.
Previously, she'd only seen the scar for a brief minute, and it was even uglier than she remembered. Jefferson sat there, stoically, not meeting her eyes but not stopping her, either. He simply stared over her head, hardly breathing, while she reached out and very, very gently touched a finger to the ruined flesh.
Yes, he did indeed know better than anyone what Cora could do when she was determined enough.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
It wasn't enough. Nothing could be enough, not after what he went through in that hell called Wonderland. Not after he sat here, alone in this house, for 28 years, watching another family raise a girl named Paige. A girl who never aged and never once looked at him as anything other than a reclusive stranger.
That was indeed true madness.
Emma dropped her hand and offered the scarf back. He accepted it, clutching it in a tight fist, but made no move to replace it. He was baring himself to her in the most intimate way possible, and she knew of only one way to possibly repay that trust.
Reaching over to the table, she bypassed the hot chocolate mug and grasped a delicate china tea cup. Meeting his eyes steadily, Emma raised it to her lips and drank.
Recipient: my_ownremedy
Author: Anon
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Emma/Jefferson, Henry, Grace
Word Count: 2,156
Warnings: None
Summary: Set in Season 2 just after Emma and Snow White return from the Enchanted Forest. Emma has a lot of loose ends to clean up from the breaking of the Curse, and one of them happens to involve talking with a certain former Mad Hatter.
Author's Notes: Hello my dear! I was inspired by your date prompt for Emma and Jefferson after reuniting in Storybrooke, but they ended up really wanting to be in private for their first meeting, so I hope you still enjoy what I came up with. Happy Holidays!
A Mad Tea Party
It was unfortunate, really. Emma had very little time to experience post-Curse Storybrooke before falling through a portal to the Enchanted Forest with her roommate-turned-mother, and it was only when they finally made their way home that she realized how much catching up she had to do.
Making up for lost time with Henry was obviously at the top of her list, but when she discovered where her son had been spending a large number of his days during her absence, she realized she was going to have to confront one particularly difficult demon sooner than she’d hoped.
Henry had readily informed her that he’d done his best to help “Grandpa” run the town while she was missing. He’d confided that David seemed in need of a lot of assistance (which Emma had no difficulty believing), but when he wasn’t ensuring the safety of Storybooke, Henry had spent a good amount of time with a young girl named Grace. And when Emma realized exactly who that was, she couldn’t help but wish her son had befriended anyone else.
It made a twisted sort of sense, though, she had to admit. Both children had gone through the pain and anguish of losing their parents. Of course they’d have a lot in common. Of course they’d bond.
Of course.
Emma knew she’d eventually have to deal with the erstwhile owner of the mansion at the edge of the town. She never denied it. But her emotions were so convoluted, and she felt so…well…messed up was perhaps not the most graceful way of putting it, but it seemed to fit the bill. She hardly had any idea who she was anymore, which meant she was in no condition to deal with the feelings she found herself having whenever she thought about…him.
She supposed she understood now, for the first time, how life really could drive one mad.
But Emma had never been one to walk away from a problem, and she wasn’t going to start now. So the next time Henry expressed an interest in meeting Grace for the afternoon, Emma offered to drive him. Grace, herself, greeted them at the door, and she gave Emma a friendly smile.
“I’m so glad you’re back home safely! We were all horribly worried! Henry most of all, of course, but we’re all happy to have you home.”
Grace’s smile was infectious, and Emma could immediately see why she and Henry had become such good friends. Taking a deep breath, she replied, “Is your father at home by chance? I haven’t seen him since I got back, and I was hoping to…catch up.”
“Oh yes, he’s already waiting for you in the living room,” she replied easily. “Just through the door on your left.” She grinned again. “He has tea ready as well!”
Emma opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She wasn’t sure which part was more disturbing --- that he had been actively watching and waiting for her to come (no doubt his telescope usage had gone into overtime since the breaking of the Curse) or the fact that he’d prepared tea.
Maybe even un-drugged tea. That was a novel concept.
Blissfully unaware of her predicament, Grace and Henry waved and trotted off, most likely for a tea party of their own, if she had to guess. Mustering her courage, and wishing for the thousandth time that she hadn’t made the last-minute decision to leave her gun (and sword) at home, Emma stepped into the room Grace had indicated.
He was waiting for her at the back of the large room, his arms crossed as he leaned gracefully against a mantel. A tea service was indeed laid out on the low table across from his leather couch. As always, he was dressed elegantly in black, with a scarf knotted loosely around his neck.
The neck that Emma now knew for certain bore a scar carved by the blade of an ax, by order of a heartless queen.
His lips quirked into a small smile as she slowly approached him. “Hello, Emma.”
Sighing, Emma raised her eyes to meet his. “Hello, Jefferson.”
“I was wondering if you'd ever decide to come by, or if I'd have to track you down myself.” He gestured to the tea tray. “I thought about asking you to join me at Granny's for lunch, but I thought it would be best if our first meeting was in private.”
Warily, Emma eyed the tea. “Private is definitely good, but I think I'll pass on the refreshments, if you don't mind.”
He laughed. “Even if I promise it won't send you to sleep this time?”
Emma snorted. “No offense, but you've basically put me off tea for a lifetime, at least in this house.”
Jefferson's smile morphed into a full-on grin, and between that and his suddenly bright, almost manic eyes, Emma wondered, not for the first time, how she could have possibly failed to believe that his insanity was anything but true.
“I had a feeling you might say that.” Moving aside, he revealed a steaming mug behind him on the mantel. “So I prepared a substitute.”
Emma automatically held out her hand as he offered her the mug. Hot chocolate with cinnamon. Of course. She shouldn't be surprised, she really shouldn't. And she should stick to her guns and refuse to eat or drink anything he'd prepared for her. That would be the smart thing to do, after everything. And Emma was nothing if not smart.
As she hesitated, Jefferson sighed and flopped down on the couch. “Look, I kidnapped your mother, lied to you, drugged you, and turned a gun on you. Clearly, that was not the best way to handle things.” He leaned toward her. “But you have your son back now. You know what it is to be a parent. Look me in the eye and tell me that if our positions were reversed, if Henry had been right in front of you for 28 years, his memories wiped clear and his life stolen from him, never knowing who you were or where he came from...tell me you wouldn't have been willing to do anything, no mater what it took, to get him back.”
Emma's lip twitched, and she looked down at the mug in her hands. She couldn't say that and he knew it, but it went so very, very much deeper. And he knew that, too.
“I bashed you over the head with your own telescope,” she replied slowly, her eyes still locked on the cocoa. “I didn't believe your stories and your motivations, and even though I had absolutely no reason to, I should have known...something.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I'm the Savior after all, right? Fat lot of good that did me, or anyone else. I think we're more than even.” Her voice cracked, as she finally vocalized the crux of her self-loathing. “I should have...believed. If not in you, then in Henry. I should have listened. I wanted to, and I couldn't, and everyone suffered for my blindness.” She felt tears pool behind her eyes, but she angrily forced them back. “I should have believed.”
“And you did.”
Emma jerked her head up, almost spilling chocolate all over his pristine carpet. “What?”
Jefferson patted the couch cushion next to him, and Emma felt her knees simply fold under her as she sat down.
“You did believe,” he repeated. “It was only for a moment.” And here his grin returned. “Though luckily for me it was precisely the right moment. But you believed, and I'm living proof.”
Emma went briefly silent, wracking her brain for what he might mean, and then suddenly her eyes widened. “When you fell out the window!” she breathed.
“When I was pushed out the window,” he corrected, though it was clear there was no malice in his voice.
“Whatever. You deserved it and you know it.” Emma's eyes were still as big as saucers. “Mary Margaret and I searched for you, but all we found was the hat!”
Jefferson nodded. “That's because, for that one brief moment, the hat worked.” He laughed. “Not very well and not very long, I might add, but there was just enough magic in it to create a portal for me to fall into, instead of splattering across my front lawn.”
“My God,” she whispered.
“And since there was still no magic in Storybrooke at that time, your belief was the only thing that could have caused the hat to work. There's simply no other logical explanation.”
Emma burst out laughing. “Logic? Seriously? I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. I fought Maleficent in dragon form with a sword given to me by Rumpelstiltskin. I apparently share custody of my son with the Evil Queen. And I'm sitting here, next to a tea tray, talking about magic with the bloody Mad Hatter. And you want to bring logic into this?” She shook her head in wonder. “You really are crazy, aren't you?”
Jefferson simply leaned back against the couch. “Indeed.” He fixed her with an intense stare. “And now you know exactly why.”
“Yeah.” Emma lowered her eyes. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Reaching over, Jefferson gently unwrapped her fingers, which had been clenching her cocoa mug tightly, and placed the drink on the table. “I told you, Emma,” he said softly, “you're special. You're not like other people. And now you've done what you were born to do. You saved this town, and you're reunited with your son.”
“For now!” Emma's head shot up. “But we've already got another crisis on our hands. Cora and Hook aren't just going to wait around in the Enchanted Forest. They're going to find a way to get here, and then we'll have a war on our hands all over again!”
Jefferson shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. We'll find out.”
“No, not maybe!” Emma retorted. “And I don't know how you can sit there, all casual, at the idea of that happening. This is Cora we're talking about. You know, the Queen of Hearts, the one who chopped off your head, re-attached it, and drove you mad making hats so you could get back to Grace? That Cora?”
Jefferson's mouth tightened. “No one knows better than I how dangerous that woman is, but believe me when I say that she will never, ever get close enough to me or my daughter to bring us any harm again. I can promise you that.”
He didn't go into details, but then again, he didn't have to. With that spark in his eyes, Emma could fully believe he would move Heaven and Earth to protect his family.
Just as she would. Just as she had.
They'd both spent so much of their lives alone, on the outside looking in, wanting a family and a real home but having no way to go about getting them. They'd loved and lost and fought for the life they wanted, and still they had holes in their hearts, waiting to be filled.
Apparently they were more alike than she'd ever thought.
Slowly, giving him enough time to discern her intentions and stop her, Emma reached out toward Jefferson's neck. She gently unwound the scarf, careful not to pull too hard or put pressure on the area, until the grey material fell from her hands to the couch.
Previously, she'd only seen the scar for a brief minute, and it was even uglier than she remembered. Jefferson sat there, stoically, not meeting her eyes but not stopping her, either. He simply stared over her head, hardly breathing, while she reached out and very, very gently touched a finger to the ruined flesh.
Yes, he did indeed know better than anyone what Cora could do when she was determined enough.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
It wasn't enough. Nothing could be enough, not after what he went through in that hell called Wonderland. Not after he sat here, alone in this house, for 28 years, watching another family raise a girl named Paige. A girl who never aged and never once looked at him as anything other than a reclusive stranger.
That was indeed true madness.
Emma dropped her hand and offered the scarf back. He accepted it, clutching it in a tight fist, but made no move to replace it. He was baring himself to her in the most intimate way possible, and she knew of only one way to possibly repay that trust.
Reaching over to the table, she bypassed the hot chocolate mug and grasped a delicate china tea cup. Meeting his eyes steadily, Emma raised it to her lips and drank.