Beane Odette - Reawakened - A Once Upon A Time Tale

She decided to investigate, and backed away from the room Jefferson was in, unsure if it was wise to give up the element of surprise. But the whimper came again, and she couldn’t ignore it. She turned and went to another closed door. The sounds seemed to be coming from behind it.

Quietly, carefully, she twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

In the center of the room: a chair. Little else. On the chair, hands bound, gag in her mouth, eyes screaming in terror: Mary Margaret Blanchard.

Emma rushed into the room, set the poker down, and immediately pulled the gag out from Mary Margaret’s mouth.

— What are you doing here? — Mary Margaret whispered.

— I should ask you the same thing, — Emma whispered back, moving to the rope that bound her wrists. — Who is this guy?

— I have no idea, — she whispered back, eyeing the door. — I was in the woods, running, and he just grabbed me and brought me here.

— Are you hurt?

— No — are you?

— No, — Emma said. — How did you get out of the jail?

— Someone planted a key under my pillow, — Mary Margaret whispered. — I thought about it, thought I was in trouble if I stayed there. I don’t know. I panicked.

— Who put it there?

— I don’t know.

This guy, Emma thought in a flash. It made perfect sense — and on top of that, he’d been watching the jail. But why would he want both of them here?

She pulled the rope through and the last of the knot fell apart. Then she leaned down and got to work on Mary Margaret’s feet, also bound, saying as she worked, — All I know is we gotta get out…

— Emma!

— Hello, — came a cool, disturbing voice from the doorway. Emma spun. Jefferson stood, silhouetted by the hallway light. He was holding a gun. Her gun.

— I found this out in your car, hope you don’t mind, — he said. — Blades can be very messy.

— I already called for backup, — Emma said.

— You haven’t called anyone, — he said. — No one knows you’re here. And so now you’re going to do what I say. Tie her up again.

Emma tried to see a way out, but she couldn’t yet. She needed time. So she nodded her head.

— Okay, — she said. — Just take it easy.

— Make it tight, — Jefferson said. — Very tight.

Jefferson led Emma back to the room where she’d seen him sharpening the scissors. Once inside, he flipped on the light, and Emma was dazzled by what she saw.

Hats.

Many, many hats.

They were all top hats, all black, and each occupied an individual, backlit shelf. In the middle of the room was a long table covered in bolts of cloth, scissors, clamps, and stencils — this was the room of a hat maker.

— I don’t know who you are, — Emma said, turning to face him, — or what you’re doing, but if you hurt her, or me, you’re not going to get away with it.

— Hurt her? I’m practically saving her life.

— What does that mean?

— She was trying to leave Storybrooke, — he said. — You know what happens to people who try to leave Storybrooke, don’t you?

— Yeah, — Emma said. — They leave.

— No, they don’t, — he said. — Bad things happen to them. The curse.

Emma shook her head.

— Bad things. A curse? You sound like Henry.

— If he’s talking about the curse, than he’s a smart kid, — he said. — You should listen to him.

Okay, Emma thought. He’s insane.

— The look on your face betrays your thought, — he said. — I know how I must seem to you. But let me tell you a story.

— Okay, — said Emma, thinking that it was good to get him talking. Get him talking and keep him talking.

— Once upon a time, — he said, — there was a man who lived for only one thing: his daughter. They lived together in the woods, and he found a way to make ends meet by doing some cobbling here and there, selling wares at the market. They didn’t have much, but they had enough.

— Sounds lovely, — Emma said.

Jefferson smiled a sarcastic smile. — It was, — he said. — But in stories like this, it never lasts, does it? Of course this man had a past, and of course the past caught up with him. Finally.

— What was he? — she asked. — A retired pimp?

— No, — he said. — He was someone who owned a very special, very powerful item. And he knew how to use it. He had worked for a bad, bad woman long before, and one day, she came to his house and told him she needed his services. This item he had, you see, could open up a doorway to another realm, and she needed to get somewhere. To Wonderland, in fact.

— Wonderland? — Emma said. — I didn’t see that one coming.

— Of course you didn’t, — he said, — but the man did. You see Wonderland is a place where all forms of exotic magic are possible, and this woman needed something special. She needed to get back something she’d lost, and it was there, being guarded by the Queen of Hearts.

— What was the cost? — Emma said.

— What? — The question seemed to catch him off guard.

— The cost? — Emma said. — There’s always a cost.

— Right, — Jefferson said. — Yes. Well, initially this bad woman promised that his daughter would always be safe. But the cost, as you so rightly point out, was far higher than he expected.

— What happened?

— He was trapped, — said Jefferson. — She betrayed him, got what she came for, and left him in Wonderland.

— He couldn’t get home to his daughter?

Jefferson shook his head very slowly.

— No, — he said. — He couldn’t.

Emma saw real pain in his eyes. This guy, she thought, is completely insane.

Just as she thought it, Jefferson looked up at her and smiled.

— He was driven mad, you see, — he said. — While there. Because he couldn’t get back.

Emma waited.

— So what happened? — she said.

Jefferson nodded.

— Of course. You’d like to know the ending. Any good story has a good ending.

— He never got back?

— I need you, — Jefferson said, — to make me a hat.

Emma looked at him. He was watching her as though he expected her to know what he meant.

— What?

He pointed the gun around the room, then pointed it at the hat on his own head.

— What do you think? — he said. He laughed.

— I’m sorry, but you kidnapped me so I could make you a hat? — Emma said.

He put a hand on her back and led her to a bench, then went around the table to the other side, all the while holding the gun on her.

— That’s right, — he said.

— You don’t have enough?

— Mine don’t work, — he said. — That has always been the problem. But you have magic, and that’s what this world is lacking.

I see, Emma thought. The hat had something to do with that portal. In his story.

— I have been stuck here for decades trying to manufacture a hat like my old hat — a hat that has magic, and a hat that can transport me back to Fairy Tale Land. I’ve thought it through, you see. This land has no magic, but you have magic, Emma. Which means that you can make a hat that works.

— I don’t know how to make a hat, let alone a magic hat, — Emma said.

— Try.

She looked at him. He did not seem well. In the woods, at least, he’d had the appearance of sanity, but now — well, something was coming unhinged. Emma was afraid. Both for herself and for Mary Margaret.

She picked up the scissors and reached for a bolt of cloth.

— You do know there’s no such thing as magic, — she said. — Right?

— Of course, of course, — he said. — That’s what every ignorant person in this world seems so sure of. — He laughed. — Except, that is, when someone needs a personal miracle of their own. Am I right? Then the people of this world loooove to believe in magic.