Finding Alice

He had no memory of his escape from Wonderland. After trusting Regina like a fool, he'd found himself trapped in a room full of hats. He'd hurt Regina in the past, and Alice had warned him that someday his choices may come back to haunt him. But Regina had seemed so timid and kind. She was a woman with a power she didn't understand, and he'd agreed to help Rumpelstiltskin trick her. The pay was good, and he was so desperate to buy Alice nice things that he hadn't given it much thought. He never expected Regina to return for vengeance ten years later.

He didn't know how much time had passed since he became trapped in Wonderland either. It felt like years. But he hardly slept. He spent all his time building hats, hoping to return to Grace. He didn't even stop when his fingers cramped or bled. He wasn't even sure if he ever slept or ate.

Sometimes the latch at the bottom of the door would open, and someone would shove a tray of food inside. He barely touched it. He couldn't think beyond his singular goal and the thought of Grace all alone.

Until one day, the guard stationed outside of his door finally spoke.

"You need to eat," he'd said. It felt like years since he'd heard another voice. Since the Queen of Hearts had him locked away, his only company had come from his own mad mutterings and angry shouts. Sometimes he heard whispering from the guards and handmaidens outside the door, but they never spoke to him.

"I can't," he said once he was sure the guard had spoken to him intentionally. He glanced at the door to see the latch still open. The guard still had his hand on the tray. They'd given him tea this time. And he was surprised at how badly he wanted it. But he returned his focus to his task. He could worry about tea when he had his daughter back in his arms. "Busy," he said. The guard sighed in frustration.

"It'll take less than five minutes. You deserve a break."

"I break when I sleep."

"Let me try," someone whispered from beyond the door, but her voice was so low and quiet that Jefferson was too lost in his madness to pay attention.

"Are you certain?" the guard replied. "He might…." His voice trailed off into something far too low for Jefferson to make out. He was sure he could have listened if he cared to try. He just wanted them to go away and leave him alone. He'd get to the food eventually.

"Trust me," the other voice said. The guard's hand disappeared, and someone sat in his place. The tray slid further into the room, this time pushed by a much more slender hand. The sleeve of her gown was solid red, with little hearts and diamonds embroidered into the cuff. She cleared her throat. Jefferson glanced at the tray and went back to work.

"Go away," he said.

"I won't," she replied. "You have a child, yes? A daughter?"

"I need to get home to her."

"You won't be much use to her if you starve to death first."

"I can't stop now. I'm almost finished."

"And how many hats have you already completed?" Her voice sounded odd, he realized. As if she was trying to change it. Deepening her tone, altering the sound of her accent. He still didn't care. He made one quick sweep of the room, looking over all the hats in every variety and fashion he knew how to make. Piles and piles of them as far as he could see.

"Doesn't matter. This one. This is the one. I can feel it."

"If you don't eat right this instance—I'll come in there and shove it down your throat." And then, for the very first time since returning to that place, his curiosity was piqued. He stopped sewing, letting the needle dangle from a thread.

"Why do you care if I eat or not?" She cleared her throat again, clearly realizing she'd caught his attention.

"I'm the cook," she said, though her voice had risen slightly. Like someone caught in a lie. "It's my job to ensure everyone in this castle is well-fed." He glanced at the hand still resting on the tray. Not a cook's hand. Slender, as if underfed. Pale, as if it never saw much sunlight, let alone firelight. No calluses. No burns. No short and dirty fingernails. A handmaiden.

"Why does the cook care whether or not I have tea with my slop? I'm a prisoner. Not a guest." She tapped her fingers on the tray.

"Because you have a child," she said. "It's as I said. You won't be much use to her if you starve to death."

"But tea?"

"You look as though you need some." He set the hat down gently and scooted to the door. She slid her hand back through the latch, but he reached out and snatched it. She tensed but didn't move.

"Why do you care?"

"I already told you."

"I don't believe you."

"If you starve, your death will be on me. And I don't wish to orphan anyone."

"You're lying."

"Just drink the tea, Jefferson," she whispered.

He almost didn't. He had an urge. Some part of him, like the man he used to be before Alice and Grace came into his life. He wanted to take the scalding tea and dump it on her hand until she told him the truth. But something stopped him. The urgency in her voice, the warmth of her wrist in his hand. He had a priority. To get back to Grace. But something was telling him to trust the stranger on the other side of the door. So he reached for the cup with his other hand and took a swig.

It was remarkable. Not like the tea his mother used to make, but a different memory. Fonder. The kind Alice used to make in their cottage. She'd picked it up from the cooks at her family's estate in the orchard. More sweet than bitter. Creamy instead of watery. It tasted like the cottage, like home, and he hated Wonderland for bringing that memory back. He set the cup down, showing her that he'd finished it.

"Did you poison it?" he questioned.

"No," she told him. Then her other hand slid through the latch and grasped his. His eyes focused on the ring around her finger. His mind was already hazy, but the ring was familiar. He'd seen it before. At a blacksmith's stall. He'd traded gold thread to have it made to her size. Her hand was tight and warm, and she slipped back into a more natural speech. Allowing him to finally hear the distinct and familiar tilt of her voice. "I didn't poison you," she assured him. "I only want you to sleep."

He was out before the words made any sense. The darkness swam around his head, and her hand slipped from his grasp as he toppled over into a pile of hats. There was only one brief moment of clarity before he fell away entirely. Something he'd forget for years after Grace was the only thing that consumed his thoughts. But he knew, for just a moment, that Alice was alive.

When he woke, he was lying on the ground, surrounded by trees and mist. He was back in the Enchanted Forest, beside a rabbit hole that was big enough for a grown man to crawl through. His mind took a moment to refocus on the canopy above his head and the sound that had dragged him from sleep. The whining and stomping of anxious horses. He didn't have enough time to wonder how he'd gotten home. And he could no longer remember the ring or the voice. All he knew was that he was in the Enchanted Forest, and Grace would be missing him.

He sat up quickly enough to make his head swim. A woman was standing several feet away, wearing a gown of glittering jewels and black feathers. She smiled at the sight of him awake, and his heart dropped into his gut.

"Jefferson," she said, cocking her head to the side and motioning for her guards to apprehend him. She was just as imposing now as her mother had been in Wonderland. And even though he was back, he was not safe, and he knew Regina wouldn't let him go home to Grace. "You're just in time."

"Just in time for what?" he breathed out. She smiled.

"For a new world."