A Reminder

Her fingers hurt, her limbs were numb, and she was as tired as could be. Why was this guy forcing her to make some hat!? She glared at him, but it had no effect. He watched her hands carefully, his gun still pointed at her. It made it all the more disturbing the moments he'd mutter to himself or stand up and look out his giant telescope near the window.

"I can't! I can't make it work, and I just can't make some hat!" She threw her supplies on the table in defeat and disgust. Why would she know how to make a hat! She had no idea how to make one, let alone 'get it to work'. He quickly stood up and she was afraid he may beat her or something until she gave into his insanity. But no, he walked over with the gun tucked tightly in his pocket, walking behind and laying his hands on Emma's.

She frowned a bit at the tender hands on hers, sending a slight chill down her spine. He pressed his chest to her back, resting his chin on top of her hair. She felt something, but it was impossible to tell what being as all her other emotions were hardly working. He was incredibly close, invading all of her personal space. She thought about pushing him off or reaching for his gun, but she was tired and still drowsy from the drugged tea she drank.

He fingers moved hers slowly, teaching her without speaking how to create a hat. She tried to come up with excuses for him to get away from her, like that if he help make the hat, it couldn't work and he wouldn't go back. All he said was she could make another, then he kept quiet. He wanted to stay close to her, seeing how it made her squirm. But he did also want to get away. He could smell her hair and it smelled all too familiar. He didn't need a reminder of his wife, sorry, dead wife around. It was bad enough she looked like her, but smelled like her too?

He quickly finished and pulled away, to her relief, and sat down in his chair. He started muttering to himself again, trying to keep his mind off Emma and Grace's mother. Grace; the only reason he's like this. If only he didn't listen to Regina, if only he didn't help her. He would've still had he beautiful daughter, and she'd still have remembered him, considering Regina needed her father to conjure up the curse. She needed his heart, anyways.

Emma rubbed her aching hands, trying not to whimper at the pain shooting through every finger. Jefferson stood up and went over for supplies, gathering them as Emma laid her head on the table. She was tired; exhausted. Jefferson looked back and saw her falling asleep, so he left the supplies and walked over. If she was going to get his hat to work, get him back, she'd need rest.

He firmly took her arm and pulled her up as she snapped into focus. Not complete focus, but enough to realize she was now on his shoulder in the hallway. She would've made an effort to get away, or to complain but he was already in one of the many guest rooms, laying her on a bed.  She would've complained about him slipping off her shoes if she hadn't almost fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. He grabbed the blanket and pulled it up on her, trying not to think of tucking his Grace in when she went to sleep.

"I love you, papa!" She leaned up, out of the cocoon of blankets she was wrapped in and placed a kiss on his cheek. He smiled, moving loose hair out of his face as she fell back down against the pillow. She giggled as he leaned down, putting a kiss on her forehead. He pulled back and stood up, smiling down at her. She turned and closed her eyes to sleep as he got up and walked to the door.

"I love you more, my dear Grace.'"

He frowned and quickly left the room, shutting the door and locking it tight. She wouldn't get out, not before she made and got his hat to work. He went to to the room he tied Mary Margret in. He knew she needed to leave and go back to the staion or they'd search Storybrooke for her. That included his own home, so she needed to go. He walked in as her eyes went wide. He ripped the duct tape off her mouth, causing her to wince.

"Now, Emma wouldn't want you in anymore trouble then you're already in, right? So I will let you go, but tell anyone and you and Emma will be in major trouble; you know that. Oh, yeah, and I'll kill her." He couldn't help smirk as her eyes went wider at his last remark. He untied her and held the gun to her head as she slowly made her way down the hallway. He watched as she left through the woods, running quickly. He returned inside and trudged to his room, crawling into his cold bed and wrapped himself in covers, falling asleep.

"Come and get me, Jefferson!" She laughed as she ran, not slowing or stopping. He was breathing hard, wondering how she had so much energy. He chased her, almost to her when his foot hit a tree root and he fell face first onto the ground. He groaned and rubbed his nose, turning over. She turned around and couldn't help laugh as she jogged back to her husband.

"You okay, honey?" He shook his head and she laughed more. He smiled; no matter what happened to him, he had her. Always and forever. She bent down, putting her forehead on his.

"Want me to kiss it better?" She smiled as he shook his head yes. She gave the tip of his nose a quick kiss before pulling herself up, yelping and laughing as she was pulled back down.

"I think you kissed me a little too far up, my dear Alice." She raised an eyebrow as he made the comment, grabbing the collar of her dress and pulling her down to meet his lips, forming a kiss. He pulled the rest of her down, laying her on top of him as they kept the kiss going. Suddenly, it was dark and Alice was screaming. She was somewhere in the distance, no where in sight. He could hear her wail in agony, hear her crying out his name in sobs and shrieks of pain.

"Alice! ALICE!"

He shot up quickly, breathing hard. Yet another dream of losing his wife. He couldn't see quite straight, the dream making him a bit dizzy and depressed. That was the worst he's ever had. He stood up and walked to the door, heading down the hall softly and quietly for a cup of tea; his usual remedy for nightmares. He passed one door and stopped, his eyes going wide. He heard her breathing softly, possibly asleep. He couldn't believe she would be in there, being as she died years ago. But then again, people didn't just come to his house, his house of all places.

He slowly pushed on the door and frowned. How could she get into a locked room? Did she lock it then shut it? But then why would she lock herself in a room? He shook all the questions out of his head and pushed open the door after inserting the key into the key hole and turning it, peaking in. His breath caught in his throat, in his lungs. She was laying on the bed, her golden hair scattered all over the pillow. He face was hidden in the shadows, but he saw her perfect features. There lay his one and only Alice.