A/N: Okay, a few notes here. This was written before the airing of "The Outsider," so I guess this now officially falls into AU now. I won't spoil it if you haven't seen it, but you'll see where it has veered off. Also, the show has mentioned both Henry being eleven now and yet Emma and Neal meeting eleven years ago. I'm no math whiz, but I would have said twelve years ago to be on the safe side, but I also wanted to be consistent with the show. So that is why that possible discrepancy is there. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. It means a lot to me.

Jefferson had worried about Grace, even before the curse, even back home. Seeing her around so many other children her own age just emphasized it...although twenty-eight years of stagnant childhood really couldn't count as childhood...but he pushed insane trains of thought out of his head. He'd had enough of them. Intelligence, physical development—she was on track if not a little ahead, and she'd been far more capable of accepting responsibilities than he had at her age. No, it was her...he couldn't even call it childishness. But an eleven-year-old girl still interested in playing tea party and talking to her stuffed animals made him wonder, especially compared to Henry, who spoke more like an adult than a few actual adults in Storybrooke.

"Papa? The left hand?"

"Sorry." He played the accompaniment at the piano. She'd chosen some Sesame Street song for them to play. She didn't watch it anymore, he knew, but the willingness to return to it so often made him wonder. He watched her mouth the lyrics about how great a rubber ducky was, watched her concentrate on her fingering of the keys. Smiling, he kept up with her. It was a gift to be around her and just let Grace be Grace, nothing less.

She'd been the one with the idea to sell the house, after all, and he wished he'd thought of that before he and Herb and Deb had worked out their arrangement. Jefferson had found work as a tailor, which was slightly better than making hats, Grace went to school, Herb and Deb worked from home and then picked up their "god daughter." She'd stay with them for the hour between school letting out and the end of his work day, and then she spent the night with them every other weekend. While he wondered if other Storybrooke children were in the same situations, Grace had decided the designated Hatter house was too big.

"I don't think many people are going to be selling, sweetheart."

"The curse is broken, Papa. Don't you think some people might be unhappy where they are? They could use a change of scenery. There's a girl in my class that lives in a gigantic shoe with a ton of brothers and sisters."

"It's still a confusing time for a lot of people, though. People cling to what's familiar when they're confused."

"Couldn't we try?"

He couldn't say no to that. Someone had to find this ornate monstrosity of a house irresistible. Wanting to practice the piece again, Grace turned the page back and gestured for them to start over when they heard the mail fall through the slot.

"I'll get it!" She raced to the front door, bent down, and gathered the bills and magazines up in her arms. He'd subscribed to a few children's magazines, suggestions from Deb, Beatrice in the Enchanted Forest. He and Alice had both liked Beatrice and Garth...yeah, like Herb was that much better...but lately Deb had that well-meaning "buttinsky" vibe about her. Every single day it was, "You know we both thought Alice was a lovely girl" (as if he'd married a girl and not a woman), "but I think Paige (not Grace) would be so relieved if you would start dating again."

Not that he would ever fault anyone for loving his own daughter as their own flesh and blood, but there were days, frustrating, brooding days, when he just wanted to blurt out, "I tried dating and had two women at my house not too long ago. After some drugs and bondage, one of them whacked me in the face with my telescope and the other kicked me out the window" just for the shocked expression that was sure to follow. He twisted the wedding band around his finger.

"Papa, you have a letter."

"Thanks." Only his name on the front? No postage or return address? That's never good. Flipping it over a couple of times, he at last opened it and pulled out a hand-written note on an index card. Grace bounded over next to him and stood on the third step of the staircase to read over his shoulder.

"May I help you?"

"It's from Belle! I didn't know you knew her! She's the librarian. We go there once a week at school. She's so nice. What does she want?"

"It says she would like..." he trailed off, raising his eyebrow at her. "What business is it of yours?"

"It is if it's for school?" she tried with a hopeful grin. Jefferson shook his head.

"Shouldn't you be feeding Dinah about now?" Herb and Deb at some point had bought her a kitten that was now rapidly growing into a kibble-eating bottomless pit. Dinah, he'd snorted. Most certainly not a name he would have picked out. Aside from being separated from Grace, the processed knowledge in his brain boasted the title of Worst Aspect of the Curse. Every day he sorted through information and memories he'd obtained himself along with information pertinent to this Land Without Magic—cars, computers, reality shows, and that damned Alice in Wonderland, the book he'd fantasized countless times of hurling into a bonfire and beating it with a poker while watching it burn.

"Is it an offer on the house?" Grace asked, bringing him back to the present.

"No, unfortunately. Just wants to meet."

"Oh! This weekend?" Dinah pranced down the stairs and allowed Grace to pick her up.

"No, tomorrow while you're in school. Sorry. How about you put Diane down..."

"...Dinah," Grace giggled, always enjoying what wrong names he could conjure up.

"...and we can start working on dinner. Okay?" He smiled again watching her weave around him to release the cat into the living room. "Dinner prep requires two hands, not one petting Dagmar."

Hands in his pockets, Jefferson stood at the entrance to the library with his back still against the door. The natural lighting and roses everywhere gave it a comfortable atmosphere, most likely Belle's doing since the exterior had been neglected for, well, twenty-eight years. She emerged from the aisles of nonfiction pushing an empty three-tiered cart.

"Hello! You got my note," she said, moving to behind the counter.

"Yes, and I wanted to address this right away; I'm not really looking for a date."

"No, neither am I!" she laughed, blushing. "No, it's...I never got to thank you. If it weren't for you, I'd still be locked up underneath that hospital. You've given me a second chance at life, so I was hoping you'd let me treat you to lunch." She picked up her purse and slid the strap over her shoulder. "Not that that can begin to repay you, but I figured it was a start."

"That's not necessary. In fact, I really don't think that's a good idea." Ouch, that had come across far harsher than he'd intended. Seeing her face fall pulled at his heart. "It's just that rumors going around of me making a move on Rumpelstiltskin's girlfriend wouldn't do me much good."

"I see," she sighed, biting her lip. "Well, if not lunch, then how about a business lunch? Do you like pizza? I've actually never had it."

"What do you mean?"

"You could browse while I order it, and if it happens to arrive while I'm helping you get a library card, then you might as well help me eat it. Do you get my meaning?"

Laughing, he looked around at the shelves.

"You know I've never actually been in a library before."

"Well, you just explore away, sir, and let me know if I can help you find anything."

Sliced tomatoes on pizza cut down on the grease, much to Jefferson's relief. He had never really cared for pepperoni or sausage or the other greasy meats. Belle ate like an adorable bird, taking quick sips from a bottle of water now and then so she could swallow and tell him about cataloging and the challenges of ordering new pieces to the collection. She eyed him a few times, her mouth parting as if to speak, which unnerved him. Such a thing shouldn't occur during a business lunch between potential friends. Friends. He wondered if he would have to stress that.

"So, I have a question for you," she said, folding her arms and leaning them on the counter, the pizza box adjacent to them. He looked up as he knew she was waiting for his undivided attention. "How did you know I was there?"

"What?"

"In all that time, no one knew where I was and I never had any visitors except Regina," she said, eyebrows narrowing. "But you knew exactly. Did you help her capture me somehow?"

"No, no. Gods, no," he breathed, struggling to swallow the little string of cheese in the back of his throat.

"Then tell me."

"Look, I made it my business to know what all was going on and who was doing what, especially Regina. I knew she had you in the Enchanted Forest, so I assumed she would have you here somewhere. I'm sorry I didn't bust you out earlier, but I had my own issues."

"Oh." She cast her eyes down and over at the box, then back at him. "I had wanted to make sure."

"So the thanking me was a ploy?"

"I was grateful to you either way," she said, sipping her water. "But it's best to be a bit guarded around some people, don't you think?" A long silence washed over the lunch, his library card ready to go. He considered just standing and heading out the door when she added, "You know, Grace is a really sweet girl."

"Thank you. Yes, she is."

"Very smart." Apparently, his nodding didn't satisfy her. "I'm not meaning to pry, but I was curious as to her mother. Has she passed away?"

Grace mentioned Alice more than he did, the memories not quite as vivid as his, though, and not as numerous. She held a sacred handful of them, mostly consisting of the two of them gathering mushrooms in the forest, singing and playing little games. It was when they did their little rhymes and songs together that he would notice just how similar their expressions were.

"No, uh..." He took the library card and stuffed it into his wallet. "She...she became lost in another world when Grace was very, very young and I've never had the ability to look for her." It was the not knowing anything—not knowing where, not knowing how she was being treated, that was the worst torture. Henry had been right, not knowing is the worst. "Listen, I don't really want to talk about it."

"Another world?" He must have shot her a look because she blushed again. "Sorry, it's just that, she's alive...probably...and you must still love her." She wrung her hands. "Jefferson, if I tell you a secret, would you promise to keep it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm only going to tell you because I think it might help you." She leaned over to him, eyes darting everywhere checking for patrons. "You can't tell anyone. Rumpelstiltskin has a son."

"A son?" Well, feeling more of a helpless, incompetent husband than usual wasn't enough, so now he could feel like a simpleton as well. He'd done more than his fair share of transactions with the Dark One in the days before the curse, and not once had there even been a hint of anything so normal about him.

"They were separated a long time ago. The whole reason he created the curse was to find him." Tears welled in her eyes and Jefferson wondered if it was the story itself, the fact she was telling it since it had been clearly meant only for her, or a combination of both. "You see, he left our world and came to this one through a portal. I know I don't know anything about your wife or you for that matter, but it sounds similar."

"People can come here through portals?" His hat never could have. Every world he'd ever been to possessed some degree of magic. This one only now did.

"Please, if word of that gets out...Regina..."

"You don't need to worry about me helping Regina do anything," he growled, standing. "I have to go. Thanks for lunch, thank you for telling me that. I don't mean to cut it short, but there are some things I need to look into."

"I understand. Good luck," she called to him.

"Hello?" Ah, that aristocratic tone Regina seemed so fond of. Some things never change.

"Hello, Regina," he said into the phone at the tailor shop, his mouth not sure whether to sneer or match the smirk he knew was forming on the other end.

"Jefferson. To what do I owe this intrusion?" He relished every inch of irritation and dismissal.

"I want a few questions answered."

"No, I'm not afraid of you," she snapped. "Does that answer one?"

"Now, now, Regina, I'm being civil. I would think having had both Snow White and Emma in my power would earn your respect." A pause answered him. "Thinking of how to respond?"

"What do you want?"

"Is Alice alive?"

"Who?" she snapped again, a twinge of fear piercing Jefferson as he felt that question felt a little too sincere.

"My wife."

"Your...wait, your partner?" she scoffed. "Grace's mother was your business partner? Oh, dear Jefferson, no one ever told you not to mix business with pleasure, did they?"

"Enough. Word on the street is that everyone here was brought here because you wanted them to be. Now you may not have known her name, but you knew about her and you knew I had lost her. Is she alive? Tell me, you..."

"I can think of better things to do with my time," she said and he could see so easily her shifting her weight from one leg to the other in regal impatience as she always did. Well, not always. She'd once been what he would have described as naïve.

"Tell me and I will never bother you again."

"Yes, she's alive. She's not here-here, and I have no idea where she might have fallen into before, but she's in this world. Since 'word on the street' back then was that the two of you were inseparable, I thought it might be comforting to know just how close you've both actually been this entire time."

He hung up, not caring if his phone would ring all day with her chomping at the bit to badger him. The shop could wait. He had another place to go.

The rented Honda Civic drove down an empty street of a drab Storybrooke, the gray in the sky emphasizing the flashy candy apple red of the car all the more. It parked at a meter in front of the pharmacy. Neal and Alice stepped out onto the street, craning their necks every which way in search of the familiar.

"It's not how I pictured it," Neal said, stifling a nervous laugh.

"How did you picture it?" Alice asked.

"I don't know. Like a Disney movie, I guess. Cobblestone roads, a big fountain in a square, maybe a dragon flying around..." He slammed his door shut and stood with his hands on his hips. "So any ideas of what to do now?"

"We get our bearings," she said, taking dainty steps up onto the sidewalk. Given the addresses and kinds of stores along this street, she thought, it had to be parallel to the main one, maybe a block or two over.

"Hey, don't wander around too much. If Emma really broke a curse, this place may not be the best place for going around by yourself, huh?" He mirrored her, though, sprinting to the sidewalk and scanning every nook of the street like they were on a scavenger hunt.

"Trust me, I know how to not draw attention to myself." This world was different, though, she reminded herself. So many of the others she'd been to had people that wouldn't notice or care about someone new. These people had known only each other for years from the sounds of that curse. They would immediately want to know who strangers were. That could draw Jefferson and the baby right to you, she thought with a hopeful smile. Or it could lead to a rollicking car chase followed by some jail time.

"We should be close to the main street," she said, distracting herself. "Once we're there, we can figure out the best places to look." He followed her, still in a rumpled suit. He'd been so excited when they'd left New York he'd parked at the front of Wal-Mart and said he'd wait for her to grab some clothes and change out of her waitress uniform. She'd returned in jeans and a yellow sweater and they were off with a screech. Now, he seemed frightened, and she feared it would be contagious. It had only been four years for her since she'd seen Jefferson, but she had no idea how many it had been for him. He could have remarried, Grace knowing another mother...what if the curse had separated them? Being without either his wife or his daughter could have finally made Jefferson snap—he'd always been so manic, and then Grace was alone...

"We have to start looking," she said, not sure if it was to Neal or to herself. "Do you see any payphones or a place that might have a phone book?"

"I have a better idea."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. What do people usually do if they can't find someone?" They crossed onto the main street where Neal pointed to the sheriff's office. "Let's report some missing persons."

Inside, after what felt like a lifetime of stairs in spite of it being only one floor up, they entered a room that looked surprisingly modern and yet something out of The Andy Griffith Show at the same time. Perhaps it was the single jail cell running parallel to a desk where a man sat with a young boy in the chair adjacent to them. He didn't look like he was in trouble, Alice thought, staring at him as he read from a large square book. The man, handsome in a rustic sort of way, looked up at them with a friendly smile.

"Can I help you? Don't mind Henry here." He patted the boy. "For once he's not in school for a legitimate reason."

"I have strep throat, so don't come too close," he said.

"Are you the sheriff?" Alice asked.

"No, uh, Sheriff Swan is out at the moment, work related. I fill in for her when she needs me to."

"So you're the deputy?"

The man wrinkled his nose a fraction, as if finding both disdain and amusement from that. He seemed a family man to Alice, gentle and good-humored. He would want to help.

"How about I just be David Nolan? What can I help you two with?" At the same time, the boy blurted, "You aren't from Storybrooke, are you? I've never seen you before."

Neal spoke first after a brief second of watching the boy flip through the pages of his book. "We're looking for some people, Emma Swan and...Alice?"

"Jefferson and Grace Hatter."

"Wait, you know P...Grace?" Henry asked, his face bright and alert, forcing Alice to contemplate his age, a nauseating thought polluting her brain. Grace is supposed to be six. Grace is supposed to be six. Grace is supposed to be...

"How do you know Grace?"

"She's in my class. She's at school right now."

"How old are you?" Gods, that couldn't be. He had to be somewhere around...

"Eleven."

Her legs buckled. She knew her face was without color without having a mirror or a way to see herself. Bracing herself against the edge of the other desk, she held out her arm when David Nolan leaped out of his seat to attend to her. Waving him and Neal away, she shifted until she was all but sitting on the other desk. Eleven years old. Nine years gone...minimum. Her hands flew up to her temples. Well, didn't you wonder if something like that might have happened, she scolded herself, willing some pink back into her face. Time was far from constant when it came to going from one world to another. Not often, but often enough to where it was no longer a surprise, she and Jefferson would get back and it would be at least a few days later.

"I'm all right," she whispered, nodding to them. "I'm all right."

Once that seemed to satisfy David, he turned to Neal. "What do you want with Emma?"

"I...it's no concern of yours, is it? Look, if she's the sheriff here, great. It's not about that. It's just, we go back...I need to talk to her."

"Henry, why don't you help this lady out while I see what I can do for Mister...?"

"Cassidy."

"Cassidy."

Henry led her to a phone near the back of the office space and began dialing. A rotary phone, she noted. Cursed indeed. She paid little attention to who he was with on the phone as it seemed to not be anyone she would want to talk to. Eleven years. She would have to be sure to announce it if she found a little bit of gray in Jefferson's hair. That would kill him.

"Here's your husband's number," he said, hanging up the phone and handing her a card.

"How did you..."

"I've had to learn how to work around a few things here." He gave her a sheepish shrug. "So you're Grace's mom. She'll be so happy to see you. I know I was when I found my mom." Taking her by the hand, they went over to the window overlooking the main street and gave her some directions. Everything was a whirl, but her brain surprised even her by retaining them. She murmured a thank you and headed towards the door.

"So, kid, how do you know Emma Swan?" she heard on her way out.

Closed, the pawn shop had been closed. Jefferson organized a few drawers to keep from turning the whole desk over, spilling measuring tapes and pin cushions everywhere. Rumpelstiltskin on a lunch break...or probably collecting rent or seeing to his own affairs, he thought, arms out to the side. Relax, he told himself. It's a different world, different situation—no Dark One wants to be on call all the time anymore. Oh, but Rumpelstiltskin owed him one, didn't he? As many times as he'd played delivery boy for him? You're forgetting that nice little thing called pay, he reminded himself. You can wait. You can go back in a little while, make whatever deal you have to in order to be able to leave town, and then you can go look. Pull Grace out of school for a little bit, since she'd had more than her fair share of elementary school...and introduce her to her mother who has probably remarried and created her own neat little life that we would just swoop in and destroy...

"Jefferson."

He'd have dropped anything he'd have been holding onto. He knew that voice, would know it no matter how many years had gone by. He knew that silhouette standing in the corner of his eye. As if by magic, Alice stood in the doorway, matching his smile inch for inch. The worries, the fears—all of it swept clean away once they reached each other, smiles stretching across their faces. Time froze, the two of them simply facing each other and holding hands.

"Your hair's longer," he croaked out.

"Yours isn't."

Cupping her cheeks, their foreheads touched. Smiles broadened. Jefferson didn't know what he'd done to deserve so many second chances, first his daughter back and now this. He savored her voice and touch, banishing thoughts of how it could be true. Wrapping her arms around him, she brushed his scarf, revealing his scar.

"What on earth?" she gasped. "How long have we been apart for you?" she asked with half-lidded eyes, shimmering. He cringed.

"Decades."

He'd never said it out loud before, and he didn't wonder why since Alice started swaying in his arms, her face paling. Fearing her knees would buckle, he kissed her, just a peck to steady her. Locking eyes, she answered back, he responded, and then there was nothing left to do but find a spot with plenty of cushioning.

They hadn't meant to make love, or at least he hadn't. That kind of thing should have been put off. Then again, he thought, returning Alice's smile as they lay coiled around each other on a pile of fabrics and ribbons, there really wasn't much of a precedent for their particular situation. He fought his usual urge to fall asleep afterwards and filled her in on everything—the Enchanted Forest, Regina's double-crossing, cutting, sewing and stitching until his mind snapped, and then here, trapped in a mansion, resorting to kidnapping, shamefully hiding from his own child. Alice said nothing, merely stroked the scar on his neck. He allowed the tears to fall down her cheeks.

It had been only for years for her, the mysteries of time and space, but what a four years. She'd wandered around, begging and crawling into hovels for a few days before impressing a diner manager with her cooking and "sprightly friendliness" into giving her a waitressing job. Then she'd dumped her tips in tin cans in a cramped studio apartment, unsure why she bothered since she had no social security number, no driver's license, not even a learner's permit. Jefferson interrupted only once to state that even the accursed had been provided the essentials. She told him about Neal and a few other kind, generous tippers, culminating in her being here now with not much more than the clothes on her...she blushed...the clothes flung on the other side of the room.

She asked question after question about Grace and Jefferson did his best to answer them all. She was taking it all rather well, not unleashing a sob until she was all caught up.

"And she's been without me pretty much her entire life," Alice sighed, putting her sweater back on. "You know I never ever would have made you raise her by yourself if..."

"I know." He perked up. "Come pick her up from school with me."

"I don't know. That might be a little overwhelming for her." But he could see the desire in her.

"She'll want to see you. I wasn't sure she would want to see me, and, Alice, she ran to me. Ran to me." In spite of his wife's dilemma, he couldn't stifle a grin from that particular joyous memory. "She'll want to see you. Trust me." He said it straight to her, in the same quiet-but-assertive tone he'd said many facts to her over the years, the latest being a fierce, "By the gods, Alice, I love you" right before his eyes rolled back.

Nodding to herself, Alice tossed back her hair and slipped her arm through his, nudging his shoulder with her head for a moment before they went out the door.

"Not saying it will be easy," he told her, blinking back a few rays of sunlight. "All of us living together again. Might take some adjusting." She kissed him.

"Families figure that sort of thing out all the time," she told him.