#I hope your kids clip your brakes for the inheritance

[omnipointmuses]

hey im gonna bitch about work abit

why the fuck are mystery shoppers a thing?

like i get it you wanna make sure the employees you're paying are doing their job to the best of their abilities and all that but that creates a possibility that the single mystery shopper is the only customer not taken care of properly while everyone else was to the best of the employee's abilities and the employee is punished for doing their best, im gonna name names but the place I work at does this shit every fucking month. This puts a timer above the head of every fucking employee at that location including the manager that will go off at some point and get them fired, my brother in christ it's not that no one wants to work here, you are actively making new ways to get people fired.

"Well if you're doing your job right you'll have nothing to worry about" shut the fuck up

people get tired

people get stressed

people get hungry because they have to work through their lunch break because of a rush of fucking customers

at some point in the day, even if you don't work in the service industry, you will be at your lowest point where you're more liable to make mistakes

why the fuck am I being judged off of that and not the other tons of people I served correctly?

[lenfaz]

Time Upon Once, Ch. 16 (16/?)

Summary:  Killian Jones is a bailbonds man, living in Boston and doing his own thing. But on his 29th birthday, a kid knocks on his door and claims to be his son. What happens when Killian is forced to face his past along with a mystery prophecy about his own purpose in life?

Rating: M (eventually)

A huge thank you to @tnlph @businesscasualprincess and @blessed-but-distressed  for beta duties and @shady-swan-jones  for the banner!

Tagging a few people that showed interest in this story:@lk0622 @sambethe @xemmaloveskillianx  @l-e-x-a-xd  @profoundlyfadedprincess @once-uponacaptain @icecubelotr44  @poetic-justice-96 @allietumbles @el-kelpo @jennjenn615 @leiandcharles @midnightswans  (want to be tagged? let me know and I’ll do it)

on Tumblr: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV

ao3 ff.net

Chapter XVI

After a brief meeting in the pawn shop, Killian returned to the police station with Gold. While he wasn’t that keen on letting the man into the investigation, Killian knew he had no other chances at this point. Mary Margaret needed help. The kind of help Killian couldn’t provide at this point.

Killian couldn’t hide his surprise when he spotted Henry sitting on the bench of the police hallway, the storybook resting on his lap.

“Henry, lad, what are you doing here?”

“I came to congratulate you,” Henry said with a beaming smile that Killian couldn’t understand considering the dire straits they were in.

“Congratulate me for what?”

“Your genius plan!”

“And what plan’s that, Henry?” Gold took the words right out of Killian’s mouth and for once, he was thankful. Trying to make sense of his son’s mind was taking a toll on him after the day he’d had.

Henry’s eyes darted to Gold and his smile suddenly faded. “Nothing,” he mumbled, averting his gaze, as a child that didn’t want to confess his deeds in front of strangers.

Gold seemed to have caught on this meaning, because he mumbled something that Killian couldn’t understand and signaled to Killian that he was heading towards Mary Margaret’s cell. Killian nodded and watched him go.

The moment Gold was out of hearing distance, Henry barged into an explanation. “Sorry. I thought Mr. Gold was in on it, now that he’s Miss Blanchard’s lawyer.”

“In on what?” What was Henry talking about? What genius plan was in the works that Henry thought he had a hand in, and Killian was clueless about?

“The escape plan,” Henry announced as if it were the most logical thing in the world.  

The dread was only just starting to creep up Killian’s spine when Gold’s voice came from the other room. “Sheriff, could you join me, please?”

Killian quickly made his way into the office and he could hear Henry trailing along after him. The sight when he arrived caused his heart to plummet down to his stomach. The jail cell door was open. And the cell was empty.

Mary Margaret was gone.

“She’s gone,” Gold announced. Killian would be annoyed at the man’s incessant need to point out the obvious if he weren’t too worried about Mary Margaret to care.

“Henry, what did you do?” He turned around and faced his son. If the kid had somehow aided Mary Margaret in her escape, Killian was going to ground him until he was old enough to drive. Or longer.

“Nothing. She was gone when I got here.” There wasn’t an ounce of lie in the words, but the reprieve in Killian’s soul was brief. He was glad his son wasn’t involved in aiding a detained person’s escape, but if he was telling the truth, that meant...

Mary Margaret, what have you done?

“Her arraignment is tomorrow. If she’s not there…” Gold again with the obvious, his timing as impeccable as always.

“She’s a fugitive.” Killian took a few steps forward and inspected the cell quickly, not finding anything out of place. She’d even made the bed before fleeing. He sighed. “It doesn’t matter if she’s convicted for Kathryn or not – she’s screwed.” Killian quickly made up his mind and turned towards his desk. “ I have to go find her before someone notices she’s missing.”

“You mean Regina?” Gold was really on a roll this evening and Killian had to suppress his annoyance. He busied himself unlocking the safe drawer on his desk and retrieving his gun and clip. Checking everything was in place, he quickly removed his leather jacket,  strapped on his shoulder holster and placed his gun inside.

“The arraignment is at eight A.M. I’m sure she’ll be here bright and early to celebrate her victory.”

“We have until that time then,” Gold observed.

“How can I help?” Henry asked and Killian’s heart beat frantically in his chest.

“Henry, you will go home.” He didn’t want his son anywhere near this. First, even though he trusted Mary Margaret, chasing after a fugitive wasn’t a suitable excursion for a kid. Any kid. Let alone his kid, who’d inherited his talent for trouble. And second, if everything went to hell and Regina ever found out, Killian knew she’d make sure he would never see Henry again. Killian couldn’t take that chance.

Henry was ready to protest and Killian expected it. He was his son after all. Doing what he was told was not in his nature. Once again, he marvelled at the constant patience Isobel and Brennan had shown him growing up.

“Killian, if she tries to leave Storybrooke…” Killian didn’t let that sentence end. He didn’t have the time to cater to his son’s fairytale fantasies. Not today.

“Not now, Henry.” He gently pushed his son towards the exit. “Go home and stay there.”

Once Henry had left the office, Killian turned to face Gold. The other man was unmoved, as if nothing ever bothered him. “Mr. Jones time is of the essence, but if Miss Blanchard doesn’t return, her future is in jeopardy. And if you’re caught helping her, so is your future.”

Killian clenched his jaw. His future in this station was the least of his concerns right now. “I don't care if I lose my job. She’s my friend, she could be in danger - the person that framed her is out there. I’m going to find her.”

Without waiting for Gold’s reply, Killian pulled on his leather jacket and walked out of the station. He opened the door of his Bug and quickly turned over the engine. He’d considered for a brief moment taking the patrol car, but he didn’t want to raise any suspicions about his whereabouts. His mind racing, Killian drove out into the woods along the backroads. While he tried not to think about it, he couldn’t help being reminded of the months right after he got out of jail and how desperately he’d searched for Emma, only to come off empty-handed.

He quickly shook his head to eradicate his wandering thoughts. The night was foggy and it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of the car. The Bug wasn’t equipped with fog lamps so Killian didn’t see the man walking on the side of the road until he was almost at the curve. He quickly swerved, just in time to see the figure of the man fall to the side of the road. Killian slammed on the brakes and by the time he got himself free of the seatbelt, and out of the car, he was relieved to see the other man picking himself up out of the ditch.

“I’m sorry mate,  I didn’t see you there,” Killian said as he reached out a hand to help the man to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m just not used to sharing the road with cars so late at night out here.” The man stretched, one hand braced against his back, as gave Killian a proper once-over. “You’re the Sheriff, aren’t you?”

“Aye.”

The other man tilted his head in confusion. “What brings you out here so late?”

Killian knew he couldn’t even hint at Mary Margaret’s escape t, especially to a stranger he’d found wandering down the road. “I’m looking for a lost puppy.” He knew exactly how it sounded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

If the other man found something wrong with his cover story, he didn’t let it show. “I hope you find it soon. It’s not good to be outside on a cold night like this.” As he turned to leave, Killian noticed his limp.

“You’re hurt.”

The other man shrugged. “I think I twisted my ankle, but it’s not a big deal. I only live a mile down the road, I’ll be fine.”

Killian wanted to let the man go and continue his search for Mary Margaret. Time was of the essence in these cases. But he was somehow responsible for the man’s injury and in addition, he had a responsibility as Sheriff of the town.

“I’ll drive you.” He raised his hand before the man could object. “I won’t take a no for an answer. It’s my duty, mate.”

The other man smiled and nodded, his hand reaching to shake Killian’s. “I’m Jefferson.”

“Killian Jones.” Killian quickly made his way towards the driver’s seat as Jefferson climbed into the passenger’s side.

/-/

Jefferson’s house was a massive Manor house, large enough to fit all of Killian’s previous apartments combined, with room to spare. As he helped the man climb the stairs, Jefferson mentioned he had no family and it was just him alone in the house. Whilst odd, Killian didn’t think much of it.

He was currently pacing around the living room, eager to go back to his search for Mary Margaret. Jefferson had asked him to wait and Killian had no idea why he’d agreed to it.

Jefferson came back holding a tray and what seemed to be folded maps in his hands. “Here we go. I thought you might want to warm up for your search. It’s cold out there.” He poured some tea, handed a cup to Killian and grabbed the folded items. “I’m also bit of an amateur cartographer – mapping the area is a hobby. Maybe, this will help you track down your dog.”

Jefferson spread the maps over a piano and Killian took a sip of his tea while he examined the maps. They were thorough and very detailed - or at least that is what Killian thought. He never had much experience with maps, and it was in moments like this he wished Graham was still around. He probably could have made more sense of the maps in front of him than Killian could.

They seemed… confusing. “Route Six runs the boundary of the forest, so… So, if I just follow that, I should…” Killian couldn’t finish the sentence as the map starting to dance in front of him. Feeling dizzy, he pitched forward and leaned his entire weight on the surface of the piano, shaking his head.

“Is something wrong?” Jefferson asked.

Killian tried to fight the wave of dizziness that came over him but found himself unable to do it. He swayed on the spot and Jefferson grabbed his elbow, supporting him as he helped Killian down onto the couch. Something didn’t add up here but Killian couldn’t clear his foggy mind long enough to figure out what. It was only when he noticed Jefferson walking towards the window that it all sank in.

“Your limp is gone,” his voice felt strange and he fought the drowsiness overcoming him.

From half-closed lids, he watched as Jefferson gave him a sardonic smile.

Bloody hell. He’d forgotten the same rule he’d been drilling Henry’s head ever since he arrived in Storybrooke.

Never accept food or drinks from strangers.

/-/

Killian woke up disoriented, and it took a few moments for his foggy mind to clear and for him to piece together what had happened. He noticed his jacket was gone, and he was tied up and gagged. Trying to remain calm - he hadn’t survived eleven months in jail without facing a dire situation or two - he searched around for something to use to his benefit.

He spotted the teacup that must have fallen from his hand when he passed out. It wasn’t ideal but it could be of use. Looking around, he quickly located a cushion, which he nudged on top of the cup and then stomped on it. The pillow muffled the sound. Maneuvering himself onto the floor, Killian reached for one of the ceramic pieces with his bound hands. After a couple of minutes, he managed to cut the tape holding his wrists together. He untied his feet and removed the gag from his mouth. Careful not to make any noise, he made his way to the nearest window. He tried every single one, searching for a way out, but they were locked shut and the glass was fixed into the windows with no way of opening it. .. No escape route there. In fact, the only interesting thing in that part of the room was a telescope. He wasn’t sure exactly what made him look. But as he crouched down to peer through the eyepiece, he realized that from this vantage point, his telescope was pointed directly into Killian’s own bloody office.

Already creeped out by the situation, a faint sound coming from the other side of the door caught Killian’s attention. He made his way there very slowly, thankful for the rug underfoot that muffled his steps. It was a shrieking sound, almost as if someone were sharpening…

Killian didn’t want to finish that thought as he slowly creaked the door ajar and peeked into the room across the hallway.  His heart sank in his chest as he watched Jefferson - if that was his real name - there, sharpening what seemed to be some kind of blade - scissors. They were scissors.

Not wanting to spend one more bloody minute in this madman’s house unless it was with an arrest warrant and five back-ups heavily-armed, Killian made his way out of the room and into the hallway as silently as possible. When a rogue floorboard creaked underneath him, and afraid of alerting Jefferson about his escape, Killian quickly darted to the first door he found and stealthily opened it. He was just closing the door, his heart thudding violently in his chest as he tried to listen out for Jefferson’s steps when a muffled “Killian” sounded behind him. When he turned around, his knees almost collapsed from what he saw.

Mary Margaret was in the room, tied to a chair, her mouth gagged, her eyes terrified and filling with tears.

/-/

Killian hastily darted towards Mary Margaret, reaching to remove the gag from her mouth.

“What is going on?” he asked almost to himself as he moved to free Mary Margaret’s hands. “What are you doing here?”

“Killian, thank God,” Mary Margaret spoke in rushed whispers, her voice breaking from fear. “I was in the woods, trying to get away. Then, this man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me.” She paused a moment and seemed to be confused. “Why are you here?”

“I was trying you find you. You escaped on me,” Killian tried - and failed - to leave the accusation out of his voice. Mary Margaret looked chagrined. Not wanting to get into it at the moment, Killian averted his gaze as he focused on removing the duct tape from her ankles. “How did you get out?”

“There was a key… In my cell, under my pillow. Someone put it there.”

Killian wanted to know who’d left that key in there, but now was not the moment to dwell on such things. They needed to get out of this place as quickly as possible. Grabbing Mary Margaret’s hand, and making sure she was shielded behind him, Killian eased open the door and peered out into the hallway. It was deserted, so he slowly crept out into the hall, tugging Mary Margaret behind him. The sound of a gun cocking made the both of them stop dead in their tracks.

Jefferson was standing on the other side of the hallway, a gun in his hand pointed straight at them. “I see you found your lost puppy.”

“I’ve called for back-up,” Killian said instantly, standing straight and pushing Mary Margaret behind him. “They’ll be here any minute.”

Jefferson cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly not amused by his bluff. “You haven’t called anybody. For the same reason you didn’t tell me about her. You don’t want anybody to know you’re here, which means, nobody does.” He pointed his gun at Killian. “So, now you need to tie her back up.”

“Over my dead body,” Killian refused, taking a deep breath, ready to face down this lunatic if it gave Mary Margaret enough time to escape. But Mary Margaret placed her hand on his elbow as she moved around him.

“No, Killian,” she said with a calm Killian knew she didn’t feel. “It’s okay. Do what he says.”

He tried to refuse but Mary Margaret gave him a hard look before going back to the room they’d just left. Jefferson smirked and pointed his gun in that direction. Feeling defeated, Killian made his way back. His hands were shaking as he slowly bound Mary Margaret’s wrists, making sure the knots were loose enough for her to make a run for it if she could. He hoped his eyes conveyed that as he carefully put her gag back in her mouth. There were tears in her eyes, but she took a deep breath and nodded back at him.

If Mary Margaret was hoping her show of strength would calm him, she was wrong. He felt rage, white-hot, creeping through his veins, the desire to rip this man apart growing stronger with every second. Killian couldn’t disguise the bile in his voice as he faced Jefferson. “Your telescope. Why have you been watching me - us?”

“I need you to do something.”

Jefferson pushed him towards the hallway and closed the door. Even with the wooden panel between them, Killian could hear Mary Margaret muffled screams.

/-/

Jefferson dragged Kilian to a new room. He only noticed a few top hats lying on a shelf by the wall before he turned and got into Jefferson’s face. “If you so much touch a hair on her head, I swear I’ll make you suffer.”

Jefferson gave him a sardonic chuckle. “Hurt her? I’m saving her life.”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead as Jefferson moved past him, all the while keeping his gun aimed squarely at Killian’s chest. “Don’t play stupid. You and I both know what happens when people try to leave Storybrooke.”

No, actually Killian didn’t know what happened, considering that he hadn’t actually witnessed anyone leave Storybrooke since he’d arrived. Now he started to think about it, the only people he knew for certain who’d crossed the town line in the past few months were himself, Henry... and August.  Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to share his thoughts with a madman that was holding Mary Margaret hostage and now pointing a gun at his head.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, mate,” he shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

Jefferson lowered his gun and took a few steps towards Killian. “The curse!”

His blood ran cold in that moment and Killian struggled to talk. “Wh...what curse?”

“The one keeping us all trapped. All except you.”

Bloody hell. Did that mean he’d been talking to his son? Or had this lunatic been the one that had taken Henry’s book?

“Have you talked to Henry? Did you take his storybook?” Killian couldn’t help himself as he blurted the questions.

Jefferson’s eyes squinted for a second, as if he were confused. “Henry? You mean the Queen’s father?”

Who? “Henry, the Mayor’s son,” Killian clarified, not quite sure if he wanted to provide more information.

Jefferson cracked a small smile as if he had realized of something. “Oh, Henry. Your Henry.” Killian didn’t have time to acknowledge the two skipped beats of his heart at hearing someone refer to Henry as his, because Jefferson kept talking and making Killian’s skin crawl.  “Your boy and his book of stories. The ones that you choose to ignore. Maybe, if you knew what I know, you wouldn’t.”

This man seemed to know a lot about Killian for being someone he’d just ran into for the first time tonight. Which, combined with the telescope, could only mean one thing. “Why have you been spying on me?” Killian asked, trying hard to keep most of the apprehension out from his voice.

Jefferson paced around the room, which only now Killian noticed had a working table with what seemed to be a semi-constructed hat in the middle. “Because, for the last twenty-eight years, I’ve been stuck in this house. Day after day, always the same.” He tilted his head, pointing at Killian with his gun. “Until one night, you, in your little yellow Bug, roll into town, and the clock ticks, and things start to change.”

Killian clenched his jaw at the condescending tone, but tried to remain calm. This was not the moment to play a reckless hero type, not when Jefferson was pointing his gun at him. Jefferson lowered his gun, but his eyes never left Killian’s.

“You see… I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Killian. You’re special.” Killian’s hair at the nape of his neck started to rise in a mix of panic and revulsion. “You brought something precious to Storybrooke – magic.”

Aye, that was creepy. “You’re bloody insane.”

“Because I speak the truth?”

Killian resisted the urge to snort. “The truth? You’re talking about magic.” This night had taken a turn for the nonsensical.

Jefferson took a few steps closer and Killian resisted the urge to take a step back. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by this man.  “I’m talking about what I’ve seen. Perhaps, you’re the one that’s mad?”

“You really think so, mate?” Killian pointed between the two of them. “That out of the two of us, I’m the one that is not in his senses?”

“What’s crazier than seeing and not believing? Because that’s exactly what you’ve been doing since you got to our little hamlet.”

“Seeing what?”

Jefferson opened his hands and motioned around. “Open your eyes. Look around. Wake up. Isn’t it about time?”

It was clear this man completely deranged and if Killian didn’t play it smart, he and Mary Margaret wouldn’t make it out of there alive. He needed to keep calm, assess his surroundings and find a way to get himself and Mary Margaret out of there safely. Taking a deep breath, Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you want from me?”

That seemed to do the trick. Jefferson smiled and pointed at a chair next to the working table.  “I want you to get it to work.” He motioned for Killian to take a seat, and he complied, his eyes focusing on the sewing supplies and the unfinished hat beside them.  “You’re the only one that can do this. You’re going to get it to work.”

What the bloody hell?

Still holding the gun, Jefferson placed a piece of fabric in front of Killian. He then walked over and took a seat in front of him. “Make one like that.”

Killian’s eyes darted from the hat on the table to the abundance of hats around him. “ You want me to make a hat? Don’t you have enough of those?” he dared to ask, careful not to jostle the lunatic currently pointing a gun at him. Much.

“Well, none of them work, do they? Or else you wouldn’t be here. Now, make a hat, and get it to work.”

“Make it work?” Jefferson sounded like a mad version of one of the hosts on that designer show and Killian was beyond confused. “Make it work doing what?”

“You have magic. You can do it.”

What the actual fuck?

“I don’t have magic-” Killian started and then his eyes focused once again on the room, his mind frantically connecting the dots. “The hats, the tea, your erratic tendencies. Bloody hell, you think you’re the Mad Hatter.”

Jefferson tilted his head and shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “My name’s Jefferson.”

And Snow White is tied up in the other room. Clearly, somehow, this mental lunatic had gotten wind of Henry’s theory and built himself a persona to fit into the story.

“Listen, mate,” Killian started carefully, fidgeting with the elements on the table. “You’ve clearly glommed onto my lad Henry’s thing.” He took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on the other man. “They’re just stories. The Mad Hatter is in Alice in Wonderland – a book. A book I actually read.” It was one of Emma’s favorites and he remembered scrapping for loose change to buy her a gently used copy from a flea market stand. She’d read it to him every night for weeks, the pages becoming thinner and thinner each day. Much like her, the book vanished when he went to jail.  

“Stories. Stories?” Jefferson’s voice brought him back from the memories that had assaulted him. “What’s a story? When you were in high school, did you learn about the Civil War?”

I didn’t stay in high school that long, mate.  But Killian wasn’t about to spill his secrets to the man in front of him. “Aye, of course.”

“How? Did you read about it, perchance, in a book? How is that any less real than any other book?”

The man had a point there, or at least he thought he had one. “History books are based on history.”

Jefferson scoffed. “And storybooks are based on what? Imagination? Where does that come from? It has to come from somewhere.” He sighed, his hand pointing the gun upwards. “You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution for their problems, and yet everyone refuses to believe in magic.”

“I never wanted a magical solution…” Killian retorted, the words somehow escaping him. It was true, he never did. All he’d ever wanted was to find Emma and try to live their life together.  If it there had been magic, if he could have turned back time to that fateful night...  but no, even if… he supposed there was a steep price to pay. And one shouldn’t tamper with fate like that.

“Then that makes you an exception.” Jefferson pointed at the hat. “Now, get it to work.”

“Here’s the thing, Jefferson – this is it. This is the real world” Killian said, his hand holding what could very well be the tiniest pair of scissors in the world.

Jefferson stood up and leaned on the table to face him. “A real world. How arrogant are you to think yours is the only one? There are infinite more. You have to open your mind. They touch one another, pressing up in a long line of lands. Each just as real as the last. All have their own rules. Some have magic, some don’t. And some need magic. Like this one. And that’s where you come in. You and your friend are not leaving here, until you make my hat.” He grabbed a larger pair of scissors and handed them to Killian. “Until you get it to work.”

Killian started tearing the fabric apart with the scissors, desperately seeking a way to use them to his advantage. “ And then what?”

“Then I go home.”

/-/

Killian worked relentlessly for what felt like hours but none of what he did seemed to change anything on the bloody hat in front of him.

“I can’t make it work.” He said frustrated, throwing the hat on the table. “What you’re asking me is impossible.”

“No! It has to be.” Jefferson had pocketed the gun at his back and was now inspecting the hat with both hands. “If it’s not, I’m never going home. I’ll be cursed to live in this house forever.”

Killian could think of one or two worse fates than this and couldn’t help his next words. “What is so cursed about your life, mate? Look at this place. It’s beautiful. I know a lot of people who’d loved to live in such a cursed place.”

The barb seemed to hit Jefferson fair and square. He paced the room until he was facing the window, next to the telescope.  “It’s cursed because, like everyone else here, what I love has been ripped from me. Take a look.”  He gestured for Emma to look through the telescope. Killian bent and focused his eyes. This time, instead of the Sheriff’s Station, he saw a suburban house, the curtains left open to reveal a little girl and her family eating dinner at home. “Her name is Grace,” Jefferson said and Killian lifted his head to meet the man’s conflicted eyes. “Here, it’s Paige. But it’s Grace. My Grace. Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch her, day in and day out, happy, with a new family? With a new father?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit together for Killian and he had to fight the dread that was fast enveloping him. “You think she’s your daughter?”

Jefferson gave him a fierce stare. “I don’t think – I know.  I remember. She has no idea who I am. Our life together, where we come from. I do. That’s my curse.”

I remember.  The same words as Graham. Only this time they involved a minor being the target of a deranged man. Killian swallowed hard and let Jefferson continue.

“What good is this house, these things, if I can’t share them with her?”

He measured his words carefully, trying to assess Jefferson’s obsession. Was he crazy enough to take the girl and harm her? “If you really think she’s your daughter, why don’t you reach out to her? Why don’t you tell her?”

Jefferson’s cold stare almost made Kilian recoil. “And destroy her reality? I’m trapped by knowledge. How cruel do you think I am? You think I’d inflict that awareness on my daughter? It’s hard enough to live in a land where you don’t belong. But knowing it, holding conflicting realities in your head…will drive you mad. Would you do that to your child?”

No, he wouldn’t. If Henry were really happy and healthy and safe, he’d been out of this town the next day, letting him live in peace. But that wasn’t the point at the moment.

“That’s why you want me to make the hat work, isn’t it? You just want to take Grace home – to your world.” Killian chose his words carefully, the father instincts he didn’t even know he had in him until recently, kicking in full-force.

“It’s the one world where we can be together… Where she’ll remember who I am.”

This had to stop. Killian had to stop it. It was one thing to have him or Mary Margaret in danger, but with a child and her family involved in this man’s delusions, Killian felt no remorse in resorting to any type of lie, deceit or trickery to get out of this situation and ensure everyone’s safety. He found himself one more time wishing Emma were here with him and he asked himself the same question he had every single time he’d found himself in dire straits.

What would Emma Swan do?

The answer came to his mind and the memories almost had him smiling… but now was not the time. He had a part to play.

“I know what it’s like to be separated from your kid,” he started hesitantly, averting his eyes to buy himself more time.

Jefferson tilted his head to the side and studied him. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“It can make you feel like you’re losing your mind.”

Jefferson stiffened and Killian winced internally. This was a false step. “I’m not losing my mind. I’m not crazy. This is real!”  

Killian racked his brain for the appropriate answer. “Maybe. Maybe, it is,” he sighed.  

“You believe?” Jefferson stood and faced him, a glint of hope in his eyes.  

Time to play the believer card…

Killian swallowed. “If what you say is true, that woman in the other room is my mother. And I want to believe that more than anything in the world. ”The words came to him easily and Killian wondered how much of it was actually a lie. Maybe none of it at all. “So, maybe you’re right. Maybe, I need to open myself up more. Maybe, if I want magic, I have to start believing.”

“So, you’re… You’re going to help me? You can get it to work?”

Killian hoped the ruse would work. “I can try.” The moment  Jefferson turned around, looking for the hat, Killian grabbed the telescope and swung it round until it crashed into the back of Jefferson’s skull, knocking the man unconscious. He dropped the telescope and reached for Jefferson’s gun.

“I’m bloody tired of this fairytale bullshit.”

He quickly darted towards the room where Mary Margaret was being kept. She screamed for him through the mouth gag and Killian removed it with as much care as he could in such a moment.

“It’s alright, lass. I’m going to get us out of here.” He rushed to start removing the ties from her hands. “He won’t hurt you anymore.

“KILLIAN! LOOK OUT!” the scream reached him only a second before he felt someone pounce. He could only assume it was Jefferson. He struggled to break the hold the other man had on him, but it was almost like Jefferson was possessed. Killian lost his hold on the gun, and it fell onto the carpet. He launched himself after it and gasped at the force of Jefferson’s elbow digging into his neck. By gods, he was no stranger to fights, but he hadn’t been in one with such ferocity in ages. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a long scar around Jefferson’s neck. The sight made him lose his footing for a brief moment, landing on the floor. And it was enough for the other man to grab the gun first and pointed it at him.

Jefferson gave him a sardonic smile as he put on that ridiculous hat and tilted his head to the side. “Off with his head.”

But whatever was supposed to come next never happened, as Mary Margaret hit the man from behind with what seemed to be a croquet mallet. As Jefferson struggled for balance, she kicked him, bearing a force Killian didn’t even know the lithe woman possessed, and the other man fell through the window.

Panting, she turned around to face Killian. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He couldn’t articulate words as he hugged her fiercely, ensuring she was safe. Once they broke apart, they both peered through the broken window. Killian’s heart sank in his chest as he saw only broken glass and that bloody hat, lying abandoned on the grass. There was no sign of Jefferson.

What in the blazes was going on with that man?

/-/

Killian grabbed his discarded leather jacket and he and Mary Margaret rushed downstairs, not willing to spend one more minute in that wretched place. It was already dawn as they left through the front door, Killian pushing Mary Margaret behind him, just in case Jefferson was waiting around to ambush them. But there was no sign of him, so he and Mary Margaret darted towards where the glass was scattered on the grass.

“Who was he?” Mary Margaret asked. Her voice still showed hints of fear, but there was also pity and concern in it. Leave it to the woman to feel almost sorry for the man that had just held them captive.

“A very conflicted man,” Killian offered, not wanting to dwell too much on what Jefferson had confessed. Instead, he turned around and gave Mary Margaret an appreciative look. “Have you been taking personal defense classes? That was one hell of a kick.”

May Margaret almost blushed, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “I have no idea where that came from… it was probably a motherly need to protect you.”

Killian groaned. “Not right now. I can’t take jokes about this… we almost got beheaded by a crazy man that believed he was the mad hatter.” Mary Margaret gave him a soft squeeze on his arm before she started walking towards the back of the house.

“Killian! Look” she said in a whisper, pointing to where his car was parked, covered by a tarp. After removing the cover, Killian sighed in relief at the sight of the keys dangling from the driver’s side door.  Quickly grabbing them, he turned around to find Mary Margaret looking sadly at him.

“So, Sheriff Jones, this is where you take me back to jail.”

Her words cut deep into him, slicing through his heart. He couldn’t do it. Not to her. It had to be her choice. And whatever it was, he’d stand by her. Carefully, he moved until he stood next to her and pressed the car keys into her hand.

“It’s your choice, lass.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Do you want me to run?”

“Gods, no, I really don’t. But it’s not about what I want. You have to make this choice, Mary Margaret. Just know - from personal experience - that once you start, it’s hard to stop. You’ll keep running, and there is nothing waiting for you at the end.”

She backtracked, her voice stammering. “There’s nothing here… they all think I killed her.”

“I know,” he said softly, his throat closing from emotion. “And I know it’s hard because I’ve been failing left and right, but I need you to trust me. I’m going to get you out of this.”

“Why is this so important to you?” There was true curiosity in her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe he - someone - would care so much.

“Because when I first made it into this town and Regina did everything she could to shoo me away, you bailed me out without batting an eye. You trusted me. And when I wanted to give up on Henry again, you convinced me to stay and fight for my son.” He swallowed, resisting the urge to avert his eyes, and met her stare directly, pouring his heart for the first time in a decade. “Since the Joneses died I’ve been alone. I’ve always felt alone until I met Emma. When I lost her, everything was gone. All my walls were up again. There was no point in trying. But you. You’re the first real friend I’ve made in my whole life.” He took a deep breath, his lips curving into a smile. “Crazy theories of curses aside - you feel like family to me. And I don’t want to lose that.”

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Family?”

It seemed Killian Jones wasn’t the only one tired of feeling alone. “You know what I mean.” He shrugged. “Don’t you want us to face this together? Let me be here for you.”

She pondered for a moment, though it felt like an eternity to him, and finally gave him back the keys. “You drive,” was all she said, but he didn’t need more. He pulled her into his arms for a brief hug before his mind finally started to think logically.

“The arraignment will start soon. We need to get you back into that cell.”

/-/

Killian wished he could have stayed to see Regina’s face when Mary Margaret greeted her in her cell, but he knew it was best not to raise suspicions at this point. Besides, he didn’t have that big of a poker face and he wouldn’t be able to hide his smug smirk. So he made himself scarce the moment he ensured Mary Margaret was securely back behind bars. Instead, he took advantage of Regina being distracted by Mary Margaret to make his way over to the elementary school to see Henry.  

As he expected, his son was sitting on the bench by the front entrance, staring morosely into space. Killian sat down beside to him. “I found her,” he smiled softly. “She’s okay, or as much as she can be, considering she’s still being tried for murder.”

Whatever Henry was going to say got cut off by a little girl greeting him as she walked by. Killian’s heart sank in his chest as he recognized the little girl. She was the same girl Jefferson was obsessed with.

“Henry,” he asked, when the girl had gone, trying to mask the worry in his voice. “Who’s that?”

“Her name is Paige. She goes to school with me.”

It was madness, it was crazy. And yet….

“Can I see your book?” He didn’t have to ask if Henry had it with him, the lad had barely parted with the thing after getting it back. Henry nodded and pulled the book out of his backpack and handed it to him.

Killian scanned through the pages until he found an illustration of the Mad Hatter. He passed to the next one and he saw the same man with a little girl. The resemblance was uncanny and it might or it might not be Jefferson… and the little girl.

“What is it?” Henry asked.

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was probably imagining things. He needed to go home, collapse in his bed and get a few hours of sleep. “Nothing,” he said, giving his son a weak smile. “I’m just battered, lad. I need to get some sleep.”

“I gotta go to school anyway,” Henry pointed out to the entrance at the same time the bell rang. Killian nodded, his eyes darting briefly from Henry to the book.

“Can I keep this for today?”

Henry’s eyes lit up with hope and Killian felt a tug at his belly. He didn’t want to give his son false hope. But Henry had already nodded and turned his back to him, halfway to the school entrance.

Killian watched him go, his fingers mindlessly caressing the illustrated pages.