“Don’t think about it,” he tries. It’s obvious this is hard for her to hug him, to allow him to even see her. He can’t fool himself to believe that she’s forgiving him… for whatever she was mad at him over. I didn’t lie, he wants to say again, but bringing up the argument from over a week prior seems pointless. It would only cause more upset. And Brie had generously hosted them.
“So, I suppose this is for your birthday. I brought tea cakes, your favorite…” The words dry on his lips. He isn’t supposed to know of any of her preferences from before they ‘met’ during this particular curse. “At least, I hope.”
Speaking reaches his ears from the kitchen. The name Grace is the only word he can make out clearly. Hearing Rumpel speak that name and not Paige brings a smile to his face. “Want to go see why our hostess didn’t bother to tell me this was for your birthday? I made you a hat. I would have brought it…” Though it was a damn good thing she hadn’t mentioned it. He wouldn’t have come and he would have missed out on this moment.
Cheeks flushed, Brie steps away, bereft at the loss of his arms. She has missed him the past few days, and the few minutes they have spent reacquainting themselves with each other is not enough – not by a long shot. The smile he is bestowing on her goes a long way to sooth that loss as he moves to focus on the wine. “I hope you’re hungry,” she says in response to his comment of how delicious dinner smells, stepping to the counter she had been working at before the knock at the door, “I think I’ve made entirely too much food.”
There’s a homey feeling to the kitchen as they move about, both preparing different parts of the meal. It feels right. Like something they have done time and again, and she finds that she loves it. Sliding the garlic bread into the oven, she moves over to where he is opening the wine. For a second, she just watches as he fights with the corkscrew, filing the memory away for those moments when she’s alone and misses him.
“Not a lot for me,” she mutters, stepping up behind him to slide her arms around his waist, unable to pass up the chance to make a memory. Locking her fingers together over his stomach, Brie lets her cheek rest in the middle of his back. “I haven’t felt the greatest the past couple of days,” she admits, allowing her eyes to close briefly as she breathes in the warmth he exudes, “and sweet things especially are turning my stomach.”
Turning, she presses her lips to a spot between his shoulder blades, the material of his jacket scratchy under her mouth. Nuzzling against him for a moment, she sighs contently. “I have a bottle of sparkling grape juice in the fridge,” she tells him, making no move to leave his side. Instead, she slides around until she can slip under his arm, curling into his side as she allows her head to rest against his chest. “I like this,” she admits, a soft smile pulling at her mouth as she settles, completely forgetting their guests.
It was difficult not to think about it as that was all that had been on her mind since they parted. Or really since she had told him what they had was over. It may have been rash for her to do so. Although Regina had advised her to make an effort with her parents that had failed. They hadn’t remembered her birthday. Not that she expected them to. Figuring after she had severed ties with her dad or Jeff, or she had no idea what to call him, he wouldn’t do anything yet he brought her favorite.
Her brows furrowed as she stares at the box in his hand. Tea cakes. She never got the chance to tell him how much she loved them. How he managed to make her favorite dessert was beyond her.
Oh, right. Paige had almost forgotten why she was even here to begin with. “They don’t know it’s my birthday. I think I’m their chaperone,” she says honestly as she brings her fingers to brush away the dampness on her lashes. When she pulls her hand away blackened streaks are left. “Crap,” it had to be smeared all over her face, she may look like a raccoon for all she knew. Then as she steps out of his arms she notices that she had cried most of her makeup on his clothing. “I’m sorry. Did I ruin it?”
Joseph had already poured three equal portions by the time Brie says not to pour much for her so he does what seems right and adds more to the other two glasses. and nodding his acknowledgment of the grape juice in the fridge for Grace.
“Oh?” he frowns at the news that she’s felt ill recently. He hadn’t expected her to wrap herself around him but he likes it and instinctively puts his free hand over hers. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to have us here this evening.” It was selfish of him to think it but if she had had to cancel the dinner, he’d be missing out on this and probably be moping around the rectory instead. “I was looking forward to seeing you again” he admits softly. Perhaps it was easier to admit with her behind him rather than looking into his eyes.
He’s working up the courage to say more when she’s moves like a cat circling and curling around him. He lifts his arm to let her pass through from back to font. Setting down the wine bottle he lets his arms fall down around her. It feels awkward and right at the same time. “I like it too.” Joseph rests his chin against Brie’s head. “I meant to call you after…” he winces at how badly it sounds. “I - I mean I didn’t know what would be proper. This isn’t exactly…I’ve never done this before.” Of course he doesn’t even know what this is.
(First confrontation with the Hatter’s addressed here and post Miner’s Event)
Had it worked? The little visit she had paid the elder Hatter... Hopefully considering the stark look in his eyes, he knew well of who she was. More specifically what she was capable of. Now it was time to make sure all the t’s were crossed and i’s dotted. It wasn’t so much the elder as it was the younger Miss Hatter who was the object of her agenda this day.
It was just a lovely little twist to throw the possible blame towards Regina - renaming Grace to Paige once more and specifically placing her with those neighbors - should anything went awry. Much to Fiona’s dismay the curse did not affect the elder Hatter as well as it did his daughter. She had absolutely no recollection of him. That was till he had a chance encounter meeting and striking up a conversation with his child in the market.
She fumed upon this realization. Especially as she watched the teenager from a distance as the girl ate her lunch, searching this thing called a cell-phone… Fiona sneers thinking that she may be using this realm’s magic of talking through what they called texting as a way to communicate with her estranged father.
The fact that already the ugly symptoms of true love were rearing its ugly head between them, appalled Fiona. She narrows her eyes knowing, that the sudden smile on the teenagers blackened lips (Dreadful choice in cosmetics, she notes) is from a new message couriered by the this contraption in Paige’s hand. The polished nails working diligently to type a hasty response.
Squaring her shoulders under the weight of her custom suit and wool coat. With her heels tapping against the cement she approaches the girl who is much too invested in this peculiar piece of technology than Fiona’s presence.
“Hello,” Fiona says, startling Paige to where the girl fumbles with her phone ending up it landing in her lap.
“Dude?” Paige blurts with an expression of annoyance and rolling her eyes dramatically. “Like did you hover over here or something?”
Fiona had not one clue what Paige was meaning, especially this customary term of Dude. Her brows work themselves into a furrowed confusion before addressing the teenager again. “It is Paige, correct?”
Paige eyes her warily, turning to give Fiona a side glance. “Yeah, you some kinda recruiter for college? I mean, suit and all.”
“Ambitious, I like that,” a little flattery couldn’t hurt. “However I’m afraid I am not a recruiter. I needed to speak to you about something of great importance, do you have some time to spare?”
Paige keeps her wary expression and does her best to asses the woman in full. She was quite put together. And her speech was formal. It is only a matter of seconds when Paige asks, “So you’re the social worker, right? I expected this. I mean I figured Dad would try and reverse the adoption ruling.”
Social worker… well, she could work with that. “You could say I’m something of the sort,” Fiona wears her kindest smile. “I’m Ms… Black, but you can call me Fiona. And I fear I am not here with the best of news for you. I have learned that you are, or believe Mr. Buchanan to be your father, correct?”
Paige slumps as she rolls her eyes and neck not afraid to show any sign of insolence, “He is my father.”
“Yes, I’m sure that is what you believe to be true,” Fiona knows if she is anything like her father, which there is a inkling in the way Paige presents herself that is telling. Grace is still below the surface and is struggling to break free. This is most problematic. Fiona crosses a leg over her knee, “Despite what you believe, what Mr. Buchanan has encouraged in you, is false. There are no legal binds that link the two of you together. He has no claim for you as his daughter.”
For sure Paige is certain the Skovbye’s had sent this woman her way to dissuade the bond between her and dad. Talk about stooping to an all time new low. Did they think she was this stupid to believe some random crackpot spouting the same crap the Skovbye’s had?
“It does not bring me pleasure to tell you this, Paige,” to which Paige arches an eyebrow. Sure it didn’t. She wonders how much it set the Skovbye’s back to hire this chick to put on a good enough performance to sway her.
It’s only a game and you have the upper hand. If they are desperate enough to do this, means they are know their case is crap.
Fiona gives Paige her best empathetic expression, “Mr. Buchanan has been deceiving you. The adoption, the parental rights, the hope that you two are actually father and daughter is simply not true. The documents are forgeries that could get him and plenty of others in a great deal of trouble. Again… it is not something I wish to tell you, though I think it is best you learn who Mr. Buchanan is before you get in too deep. I don’t want you ending up hurt, dear.”
Paige having observed Fiona as she sat opposite her at the lunch table nibbling on her sandwich. She says nothing as letting the other person have their say was always more beneficial than just blatantly interrupting them. This woman - Fiona - was awfully determined and sought her out for a reason that from what Paige could pick up, had nothing to do with her dad. It was something more, something deeper and methodical. Feeling the need to educate her on the evils of reuniting with dad.
“You know,” Paige chews and swallows the bite in her mouth before continuing. “Your ass is probably jealous of all the crap that comes out of your mouth,” spoken quite monotonously. And the use of profanity was not regretted either, even if it was crass of her, the woman provoked the teenager. This was the end result.
Fiona’s eyes widen before fixing her gaze upon the girl, quite perturbed by the vulgarity thrown her way. The raven haired woman opens her mouth to retort when Paige holds up her index finger.
“Hold on there. You had your say, now I’ll have mine,” she crumbles the small wrap that had held her sandwich and stuffs it into her messenger bag, then returns her attention to Fiona. Leveling a deadpanned expression to her. She rests her arms against the table, folding her fingers into an arched hand, “I dunno what the Skovbye’s paid you to do this, but I suggest you get a refund,” she shrugs a shoulder not removing her gaze upon the woman. “But, they clearly have no idea who they’re dealing with. Especially if you think this act or hearing this crap would change my mind about my dad. You’re sadly mistaken. Dad and I will be a family. It doesn’t matter if you try and get in the way or the Skovbye’s do,” she stands angling one leg out from behind the bench, then the other to free her as she takes her bag and rests the strap on her shoulder. “Maybe you can go try and screw with someone else, because don’t mess with me or my dad. I’m not giving him up.”
“Is that so,” Fiona chuckles. Her words cause Paige to pause as the teenager goes to walk away. Fiona too gets up from her spot, maneuvering out from behind the bench. “Haven’t you noticed oddities with Mr. Buchanan? Forgetfulness? Temperamental behavior? I have an answer to the questions that I know you have tried to figure out. And please, don’t feel bad, it isn’t easy accepting that someone you think you trust is really…” Fiona heaves a somber sigh. “...a schizophrenic.”
Inwardly she hopes she worded the diagnosis correctly and from Paige’s eyes, though the girl remains as stoic as possible, give wariness away.
“You know about schizophrenia, correct? I mean you’re clearly a smart girl and brave to have not shied away from the brashness in which you used towards me a moment ago,” it was annoying that she had to even give this child any ounce of praise. Too much of her father resided inside the teenagers persona that it irritated Fiona. “Well, I’m saying this again to caution you for your own safety. He hasn’t been truthful to you. Someone so mentally unstable just shouldn’t be socializing with youth. I know you feel mature, but you’re young…”
“I’m not ignorant just because I’m young,” Paige narrows her eyes at Fiona. “Yeah, so dad is a little weird. I’m kinda weird too. Besides he’s the only one who actually cares about me. Why are you even sticking your stupid nose in where it doesn’t belong? Listen you’ve gotten paid for whatever it is the Skovbye’s hired you, so no need to lay it on thick.”
Ah, there was that attitude she loathes so much. Yet she retains her composure and offers a saddened smile before finishing off what should do the trick. “Paige, I am his case worker. I was assigned to him after he was… well, after he was released from the hospital. For the past few years he’d been confined to the sanitorium for his and everyone’s best interest.” Paige gives her an incredulous look not yet convinced by Fiona’s words. “I don’t expect you to believe me, not with how he’s managed to worm his way into your life. I’m afraid I haven’t been doing a good enough job. If I had, it would have spared you this unnecessary pain. But,” she shakes her head, “He has no family. Has never been a father. In his mind, he thinks this is true because he wants it to be true. Or at least the side of him that refers to himself as Jefferson. I’m sure you’re acquainted with both personalities of Mr. Buchanan?”
Like it or not Paige couldn’t deny this much was true, “Yeah, so what? Doesn’t mean he isn’t my dad.”
“I suggest you look into the records of Jefferson Buchanan at the Storybrooke hospital. Even ask some of the staff. They know him,” Fiona challenges. “The records are there in black and white. As for the adoption papers which I reiterate, have been forged.” She pauses as it is clear Paige has deflated inwardly despite her fortitude to remain calm. “Now I don’t believe he’s doing this out of malice, but it is unfair to you to let you believe something that isn’t true.”
Pursed black lips, Paige raises her chin towards the woman. “Well,” her tone sharp. “Fine, are you done now? Or would you like to tell me that the town I live in is make believe and that I’m off my rocker as well?”
“This won’t be the last time we meet if you continue to engage Mr. Buchanan in these alternative realities he’s living in,” Fiona takes a step closer to Paige who gazes at the woman her brown eyes full of mixed emotions. Good. Lacing her fingers together in front of her, “I will not inform the Skovbye’s and despite what you think, I was not hired by them. For your benefit, I am cautioning you to stay away from Mr. Buchanan before you get hurt and to not encourage his imagination further.” She nods to Paige as she walks around her, “I hope we don’t have to talk again, Miss Skovbye. And best of luck with your school.”
As Fiona walks away Paige narrows her eyes at Ms. Black and her smugness. Insinuating that Paige was living in her own dream world, that’s what it was, right? She and dad were related. They had to be. But… but the way he changed so easily, only someone who knew him could talk of it with such confidence, to which Paige’s confidence had taken a beating.
This is ridiculous, Paige physically shakes off this encounter with Ms. Black and turns the toe of her boot to return to her school and her afternoon classes. No matter how boring her teachers could be, it would at least be a distraction to her mind now swimming with what? What was it that bothered her so much?
I mean yeah, dad was weird, but wasn’t that where she got all her peculiarities from? That clerk at the men’s store thought she and dad looked alike. Even she thought they looked alike. So why… why was she suddenly feeling so uneasy?
But she knew. Knew about the two versions of Dad. Though Dad didn’t deny it or even hide it, he wouldn’t broadcast that for the world. If she knew that, then what if…? What if there was some truth to what Ms. Black was saying? As she wound the hallways to her correct classroom, making sure to take a seat directly in the middle. The kids in the front and back were always targets to be called upon first, no matter what the teacher was saying she couldn’t shake this ounce of… was it doubt? Did she doubt dad?
That’s it. Discreetly under the ledge of the desk, Paige takes out her phone and quickly shoots a text off to him. Can we meet sometime? I need to talk to you. She’s about to add her usual love you, but something stops her from doing so. Before she can be caught, Paige slips the phone back into the side pocket of her bag and does her darnedest to feign interest in the subject.
The night is dark what with the blackout produced during the Miner’s Day Festival chaos. The ambulance lights still barely reach where Jefferson and Grace tucked under his arm, MacAvoy and Brie embracing, rush towards The Library. Jefferson’s focus remains entirely on keeping a hold on Grace lest she suffer whatever fate that ambulance had arrived to remedy.
This is my fault. I didn’t believe. He may be panicked, but the promise of safety is near. Hearing Brie’s words to take her keys to let them into her shop, Jefferson reaches with his free hand and takes them. One key stands out amongst the bunch and for some reason, he expects it to be the key to safety.
Now upon the stoop of the shop, there isn’t a twitch to his hand, to his relief, as he fits the key into the lock. He doesn’t want Grace to see his nerves are aflame. It’s his job to protect her and to keep her from fearing the situation. When the key produces a soft clicking sound, the tumbler falling into place signifying the door is unlocked, Jefferson feels some of the weight lessen upon his shoulders.
In a swift movement, he turns the knob and opens the shop door. “Are you okay, dear?” he asks his daughter, gently ushering her inside. She had said as much minutes before, but needing to hear confirmation again is imperative.
This occurs a few days after Paige has told Jefferson to stay away.
Ever since Ruby so conveniently and inadvertently released her inner wolf and fainted, thus leading Jefferson into the hospital which he had so vehemently declared he was not going into, his latent cursed side had been getting antsy. Add into that Fiona's threats to do harm if he persisted in spreading the word about the curse and getting too comfortable around 'Paige' and their subsequent falling out, Jeff was becoming more vocal in Jefferson's mind.
Jefferson had no fear that his cursed side would take over. No. It wasn't that. But ideas popped into his mind that he was certain were not normally his. Thoughts about the other house, Jeff's ‘slum,’ wondering if he'd made the car payment that month, if he'd remembered to take the dumpster to the street curb. Things he'd never think to worry over were popping up.
It was perfectly logical and easily explained without involving magic as the reason. He could recognize this as a method of self preservation. Jefferson's heart hurt. He'd lost Grace to Paige and the Black Fairy's tricks right before his eyes and she now hated him just as he feared she would. It was his fault for getting involved. But she had been so lonely and unhappy before. "And now how is she? Worse than ever." Self preservation? He'd prefer this pain to forgetting her to Jeff. No, he wouldn't let Jeff come back. It's too easy to forget, just as he'd told Regina on Miner's Day. Grace may not believe him, but he remembers. He'd remember for the both of them because he'd never give her up. Not for adoption, and not when she hates him. Love moves past those impediments. One day she'll remember again.
This is a moody teenager phase she's going through, that's all. Nothing to do with the curse. What curse? Until then... it might just be trash pick up day. It would be wise to get rid of all that crap Jeff hadn't bothered to clean up. While Jeff may have become vocal in his subconscious for self preservation, Jefferson didn't bother to push the origin of those thoughts away. It didn't matter. He'd already embraced the fact that Jeff is part of who he is and vice versa. He did not fear a complete switch because it wouldn't happen anymore. What he needed was a distraction from the hole in his chest where his heart had been.
So, when he was putting old take out boxes in a garbage bag, his eyes met clean white fabric hanging over a door hook. The scrubs. 'Get in that building and go to work!' Ruby had yelled at him. Jefferson let out a laugh in remembrance. She had gotten him in that building alright. Checking the time, it would be time for his shift soon...
The last bit of garbage taken care of, Jefferson quickly showered and dressed in the scrubs. "What the hell," he muttered to himself part in resignation and part in curiosity as his fingers flipped the last button through the buttonhole. "What's really the worst that can happen now?" Had he just gone to work, he wouldn't be in this predicament with Grace in the first place. But wasn't that giving up?
With his neck visible, Jefferson drove towards the hospital. He didn't have to be subconscious over the scar, his reminder every time he saw it in the mirror that he had abandoned Grace. Jeff hadn't cared about the scar. Jefferson does. It wasn't like he was going to see her. She's the only one he cares about not seeing it. The rest of them? Nope. Not at all.
Just his luck, his staff parking lot pass wasn't scanning so he can't park there. Parking lot may be full, too. Either way, it wasn't opening the gate. If Ruby had his pass revoked, he'd give her a piece of his mind. So it was back to the grocery store for him to park and walk the rest of the way. For a hospital so desperate for help, they were sorely tempting him to turn the car around and just go home. Maybe burn the scrubs this time so he will have less temptation in returning.
Slipping his shades over his eyes, Jefferson exited the car and headed for the hospital. He won't look at the grocery. That's where he met Grace again. Or Paige really. She was Paige then. His mouth twitched in thought over the surprised expression she wore when he looked at her, also surprised. He couldn’t really regret their time, could he?
Gods, he missed her.
Pulling the collar up on the scrub top, perhaps he could hide his discomfort as he walked. Blame it on the lack of style in white scrubs rather than feeling completely discombobulated in everything that had been happening. She hadn't texted or called that day as he had grown accustomed. Perhaps she wouldn't. She does hate him after all. He couldn't blame her to not text.
Glancing at his wrist watch, Jefferson swore to himself. "Ten minutes." He might be late now because of that parking lot being the size of a Cracker Jack box.
A continuation after the Black Fairy visits Paige in Tying Up Loose Ends
It was Tuesday. The day after Miner’s Day. The event seemed to have gone well. He had spent some quality time with Grace while helping out in the community. Interacting with so many people was refreshing and something he hadn’t done in a very long time.
Jefferson felt good. Despite the threat he had received from Fiona on Sunday, it seemed his time with Grace had been ignored by the fairy. She certainly was no Evil Queen.
Perhaps he was smug about it, but he had other things to occupy his mind than worry over some two-bit villain’s treats. He was planning on going out to visit Rumpel-MacAvoy at the church when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Can we meet sometime? I need to talk to you. Grace should be at school at the moment, but he’d never deny her a response simply because she was texting at school. He was happy to respond.
Of course. I’m always available, he sends back. I’m at home, but I can meet you in town after school. Bus stop? Oh, but he noticed she neglected to end it with the love sentiment she usually added since she figured out he was her father. He could not think of something being wrong. Everything was turning up roses lately. So, he added it to the end of his text. Love, Dad.
-This takes place after Down the Rabbit Hole and Curiouser and Curiouser-
After being arrested for a second time within a week, Jefferson drives straight home. He knows he has to mind his actions now that he’s been warned to follow whatever rules the Skovbye’s set forth, if they even allow him to see Grace. He’s not so sure without speaking to them. Even the thought of facing the people that have been caring for Grace out of the rules dictated by the curse make him feel odd. How can he even speak to them without smarting off over something or another? He’ll have to think on it first. Round up enough politeness not to come off as a smug asshole. They surely won’t let him see his daughter if he does. And they had cared for her for 28 years plus the week of the fourth curse... Perhaps he owes them some gratitude?
Exiting his car under the carport, Jefferson’s thoughts remain busy over what he will say or do, when he unlocks the door and enters the house. Something off catches his attention as his boot sole mashes something with a slight crunching noise into the tile floor of the kitchen. He steps back and raises his foot to see... breading? Odd. He picks it off and tosses it towards the porcelain sink. But then there is a leaf on the white carpet by the back door. The door is even unlocked. Jefferson had not used that door in... he cannot even say how long.
His eyebrows raise as he contemplates the meaning of this. Has the mansion been broken into? Vandalized? He could almost grin. No one had ever broken in before. Who would care to in a sleepy town? It had almost always been a forgotten landmark as he had never had visitors during the cursed years aside from two occasions. One when August had warned him about the savior and how to break the first curse, and two when he had followed August’s advice and kidnapped Snow White and lured the savior in for tea.
Oh, and it had seemed his cursed side, Jeff, had broken into his own home unbeknownst to him, and gotten rid of most of his wardrobe earlier in the week. He does chuckle at the absurdity of that. Jefferson is not missing any Time to Jeff’’s interference as he recalls, so that isn’t what this is.
But what the hell has initiated this particular visitor to enter his home? Interesting indeed. Now grinning fully, Jefferson heads for the stairs, quietly. He knows where any telling creaks in the floor will be and avoids them. If someone is in his home, he will have the upper hand. Straight to the hatting room he goes to find his gun, when he notices one of the hats has been moved. Just a hair’s worth, but it had been moved.
Extending his hand as he passes the shelf, he snatches the hat and rolls his wrist to drop the hat upon his head. In one more stride, he has reached the desk and pulls a key from his pocket to unlock a drawer that would contain a pistol. He wouldn’t leave it unlocked while Grace had lived there and hadn’t checked it in years, but it is still there, he sees.
That is when he notices his telescope has been shifted as well. Who the hell is in his house?!
Carefully gripping the handle of the pistol low to his thigh, Jefferson continues his slow, pace to exit the room. He checks the other bedrooms upstairs, but sees no movement. Perhaps the house is empty now after the vandal made their way through his things. They had better hope they’re gone. He won’t bother Emma by calling the station. He’ll take care of this himself.
Traces of the grin return to his expression as he returns to the first floor. He’s on the hunt now, adrenaline coursing through his veins. This will go one of two ways. The house will be empty aside from himself and he’ll make some tea to calm down, or he’ll find a burglar and deal with it.
It is dim enough inside with the morning rays of sunlight filtering through the gauzy curtains, that his eyes should be in shadow under the brim of the hat, and he knows this, hoping to intimidate the vandal should he find him. Curious as he is to why someone would break in, he also finds this amusing enough to play the cat hunting the mouse. He’s fully aware of his reputation in the town, mad recluse as he’s heard Emma call him crazy, and using that to his advantage much as he is loathe to do so, he continues towards the other rooms he hasn’t checked, gun still held low to his thigh.
