When Worlds Collide | Mad Hatter OUAT x Reader |

Chapter 31 ✂ Possible Possibilities

There was a torrent of rain clouding the vision of all those who stared at the caskets. Petals of roses fell apart from the harsh weather, even before they touched the grave. Black umbrellas encircled the bodies which were finally facing mourning after days of investigation.

"Funerals are a time to comfort and to be comforted," Archie mumbled, placing his flowers. "Those in attendance are mourning and some face extreme grief," he gently glanced towards the stern faced man.

"The ones who are most affected by the death are feeling overwhelmed, lonely and afraid." Red added on, placing her tulips next. The sound of her wavering voice told all that she was hurt far more than she showed.

"The fear of living their life without their loved ones," Gold whispered, eyeing the royal couple who broke through the sorrow-filled crowd.

"Remember," Snow mumbled, glancing at the entire town who hung their heads, gathering in the huddle, "if (Y/n) and Paige or Grace was still here, they would want you to laugh, to enjoy every moment with those you have lost over the years due to the curse. They would want you to love all those you thought were strangers. They would want you to live your lives again."

"They would never want their death to be the boundary between you and your happiness," Charming added on, placing his bouquet of flowers upon the casket. "And I believe it's time we put them in the place where they would find their happiness." He muttered, taking an end of one of the ropes. "Shall we?"

A group of men nodded to one another, taking the ropes and leisurely lowering the coffins into the ground. And slowly, the people dispersed, mingling quiet exchanges of comfort words before fleeing from the vacant graveyard.

Jefferson waited silently, his black clothes drenched in the icy water while streams trickled off his chin. If people had taken a moment to reassure him, they would have noticed his red rimmed eyes, quivering lips and the ring he fidgeted between his fingers. Once everyone had vanished the man sat before the two graves.

(Y/N) and Grace.

The two most significant and only ingredients to contentment in his entire life. Money, violence or manipulation could bring you both back. Smiles, laughter and memories would not bring you both back. Nothing would bring his loved ones back. Not even magic. Not in this world, of course.

Despite the grief that lingered in the town's mind, they still had someone to wash out the poor memory. More than pity or grief, there was confusion. Reports say that the fireplace had brought the house down- but it was not even cold enough to be useful. Besides, everyone in town knew you were the type that would rather be cuddling in the cold than sweating in the warmth.

Jefferson gawked at the words engraved into the stones, "How could I have let it happen?" he whispered to himself. "How could I have not said it before it was all gone?" his voice thickened with tears, "A stupid man, tied by pride, should have given his words before the fire had strike."

"Could have told you that I loved you," he wept, glancing down at the ring at his palm, "could have told you we had a chance. We didn't need any memories cause I was always under your trance. And now that you're gone," he glanced up once more, "and I have nothing to do. I'm left with a broken heart," his voice quietened as he made his final decision, "and a knife too."

The huffed a sigh, reaching into the pocket of his coat, and brought out the sharpened weapon. His reflection glistened in the metal and he immediately was disgusted by the own sight of him. Withered, sick and wrecked is all he was. Jefferson took one last glance at the stones of both his wife and daughter, before taking the knife to his neck and attempting at slitting his collar.

"Wait-" A hand suddenly smacked the weapon away from the man. "Are you insane?"

Jefferson cackled hysterically, "Why else would they call me the Mad Hatter?" However, the man quietened at the unfamiliar man. He quirked a brow at him, puzzled by his look. He was not familiar especially by his hook.

The dishevelled man froze, his eyes widening in fear. He hadn't seen Killian, definitely not within a year. The Mad Hatter sprung to his feet, attacking the pirate with no cause. He toppled the man over, blowing his fists at his jaws.

"Quit it! Ugh, quit-" Killian stopped himself before his hook dug deeper beneath Jefferson's chin, "it... Good boy." Leisurely the pirate stood once again, brushing his jacket off with his spare hand while still in command with his hook at Jefferson's neck, "The weakest a man can ever possibly be is when he is under the spell of love."

"More like grief." Jefferson whisked the sharp point from his body, turning his back against Killian.

The captain felt that bitter sensation radiate off from the Mad Hatter's body, swallowing at the preview of his own words, "My deepest sympathy is with you." He muttered glancing over towards the burial. "Although I met them both in the wrong situation, I can imagine how loyal and humble they were."

"You can only imagine..."

"I lost my brother- to someone I thought I knew was forever out of my life." The pirate muttered, "The worst of it all was knowing I lost him from letting my guard down."

Jefferson shut his eyes, understanding word for word what he was saying but something rung in his mind as a possibility. What if- there was a way he could bring you back? Of course this was a world without magic, but could there be another spell of some sort to make it- possible?

"- Maybe you just have to let yourself find the possibilities and believe in them," Killian continued although the Mad Hatter only heard the last of what he had said. Jefferson quietly turned on his heels; the look on his face was both distress and relief. "Is there- something wrong-" the man was suddenly interrupted by the bone crushing hug from the Mad Hatter.

Killian felt a shudder run down his spine as he grimaced. Ew. Gross. "Thank you," Jefferson suddenly said, a pleasant grin creeping upon the corner of his lips. And with that, Mad Hatter fled, not before leaving your favorite rose on both the graves.

Hook was flustered, gleaming around awkwardly, "I think I'll be needing more scotch tonight."

✂✂✂

Far away from the hustle and chatter of the town, there was a cottage sitting close to the border of Storybrooke. The place was unnoticed, uncared for since there was childish but proven rumors of ghosts existing there. It reeked of raw fish and the only source of light within the entire household was candle.

Hot waxed trickled down from the lamps and ate away at the skin of your leg. You, after four days of being repeatedly drugged, woke up and hissed at the sudden pain that your body finally acknowledged. You were about to touch it when you realized your hands were bounded behind your back, firmly restricting you from any movement. You were parched, famished and in dreadfully uncomfortable as you glanced around to discover that you were thrown into a cold, murky cellar.

"Mama?" Grace's weary voice finally snapped you from your trance, "You're awake!" She whispered. You were reminded of your situation before you can bond with your daughter.

"Oh sweetie," you whispered back crawling towards the girl with your feet tied together. "Oh God, oh God," you chanted, kissing the child's forehead, "I'm so glad you're okay,"

"He found me again," she wept, "now he's trying to hurt you too."

"Who is it? Who's he?"

"It's the man who kidnapped me before remember- he-"

Grace was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the cellar door shrieking open. Heavy footsteps and a long shadow casted itself to the cement wall you sat against. "Shh," You panicked, "P-Pretend like you're still drugged, shh," you whispered.

Immediately the two of you played dead, both taking the acting aspect of it more seriously than you regularly would do. You could hear him approaching, closer and closer by ever second. And you imagined him staring at you when his footsteps stopped, perhaps tilting his head in admiration of his work.

'Go away, go away, please, just go.'

His footsteps began to scatter again, this time diminishing to silence.

'He must be gone', you thought, sighing heavily through your nostrils.

"Since you're supposedly asleep," he muttered. Your breath hitched a bit, and you tried your very best to hold it all in. You felt him grab a handful of your skirt.

"I guess you won't mind me doing this..."