Storybrooke, Maine; Pre-Season 1

Grace wasn't the only one Jefferson could see from the manor the curse had made for him.

He could only watch her from afar, and sometimes it hurt too much to face the fact that the one person in the world he would give up anything for didn't even know who he was. He'd almost considered approaching her once or twice, but quickly shelved the idea. His daughter not knowing him—maybe even fearing him—would surely end him.

And that was what she wanted.

Regina.

When all else failed, when he felt like the next day would surely be his last—that the curse, that the knowing, was driving him insane—he watched Regina.

Unlike his daughter, he didn't need to keep his distance with Regina, because she knew. He could see it in her eyes. He could hear it in the way that she laughed when she glanced at him and realized that he was staring.

It only happened every now and then, and for good reason. Jefferson was often too distracted to bother seeking out the queen, for although Regina had been cruel enough to curse Jefferson with knowing exactly what had happened to the citizens of the Enchanted Forest, the curse had also left him with the memories of a stranger.

Jefferson Maddon: a pampered young socialite fresh out of law school who had been hidden away in Storybrooke by his parents while he recovered from a prescription drug addiction and dealt with crippling anxiety. At least the curse had enough decency to let his altar-ego share his first name.

Regina herself was the worst part of being Jefferson Maddon, because Mr. Maddon knew Mayor Mills almost as well as the Mad Hatter knew the Evil Queen. They'd gone to high school together, and he'd always been hopelessly in love with her. Sometimes, in his worst moments, he forgot that those feelings weren't real and it made him want to die.

He hadn't loved Regina since they were both no more than spoiled, foolish children.

It was only on the days when Jefferson was able to successfully shut out Mr. Maddon (often with the help of the pills that his Storybrooke persona was supposed to be avoiding at all costs) that he was able to leave the house and seek out the woman who had dammed him not once, but twice.

Wonderland ruled his dreams. Maddon infected his waking world. Not having Grace tortured and twisted him in every minute, awake or not. There was only one constant variable in his life that didn't fill him with anguish: Regina.

Instead, she filled him with rage.

She hadn't always. Memories of the affair they'd had in their youth—of the young queen in his arms shrieking with laughter—occasionally made their way into his psyche, but they never lasted long. How could they, after what she'd done?

At first, he kept track of how long he'd been cursed with finery, addiction, and the absence of his daughter. One year. Two. It was one of the only things he could control. Eventually, he even let that slip.

By the time that he finally found enough (liquid—a bottle of aged scotch in his basement that had never been there before, surely) courage to confront Regina about the curse, it had been twelve years, but for all he knew it could have been two-hundred.

Bottle in his hand and car parked half on the street and half on Regina's lawn, he stood in the doorway swaying.

"Regina!" He called out, the bottle slipping from his hand and landing with a clatter but not quite managing to break completely. "REGINA!"

When the mayor didn't come to greet him, he reached down and grabbed the bottle, stumbling forward until he was close enough to throw it at the door where it finally shattered.

He was too drunk and angry to notice that, in picking up a half-broken bottle, he'd made a bloody mess of his hand.

"REGINA!" He screamed again, refusing to back down. He'd put off confronting her for years, and he refused to wait for even another second. There was nothing holding him back, not when he was more drunk than he'd been since before Storybrooke.

Finally, after another few screams the mayor's windows lit up. Jefferson quieted down and stared at the door, putting most of his attention into making sure that he stayed upright for the confrontation.

The doors opened and the queen burst forth, swearing up a storm and looking ready to kill him.

"Jefferson, you are unbelievable! Do you have any idea what time it is?" She demanded, still managing to look like a queen in a loose robe, tank-top and yoga pants. It was the most casual he'd ever seen her in the Land Without Magic.

"No!" He spat back, being completely honest.

"You!..." Regina paused, looking the other man up and down and taking in his drunken, bleeding state. "Inside! Now!" She hissed, stepping to the side and pointing.

"Good! We're talking! Now!" Jefferson, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, made it through the door almost falling down once. As soon as he was inside, Regina was at his side with an arm around his waist, guiding him into the living room and then the couch.

As they moved through Regina's house, Jefferson continued to speak.

"How could you? To me? You already hurt me! This isn't…I was…this isn't fair! I'm talking to you!"

"Yes, yes you are." Regina sighed, sounding like she had a headache as she sat Jefferson down on the couch. "Stay here."

"Right. Because we're talking." Jefferson agreed, trying to put his feet up on the coffee table but instead almost falling. When Regina came back, it was with a first-aid kit in hand.

"You're an idiot." She breathed out, taking his hand and roughly rubbing a disinfectant-soaked pad over his bloody hand. Initially he jerked away, but with a soft slap to his chest he settled down and let her work.

"It's not fair." He continued as she took care of him, not forgetting the real reason he was visiting her. "You already hurt me. You didn't have to…didn't have to do it again. You already did." There were tears in his eyes that he couldn't control, even as she shoved a tall glass of water into his good hand and he obediently drained it.

"It's three in the morning, Jefferson. I don't have time for this." She muttered, coaxing him into a second glass of water and a handful of painkillers. "Come on."

"Where are we going? Wonderland?" He asked, doubling over in uncontrollable laughter even though there was nothing funny about what he'd said.

Regina's response was an exasperated sigh as she practically hauled him up the stairs.

"No, Jefferson. We're going to bed."

"I don't think I can get hard right now." Jefferson said matter-of-factly. He couldn't even move his feet.

"Not the same bed." Regina rolled her eyes and the next thing Jefferson knew, he was being unceremoniously rolled into what was apparently the mayor's guest bedroom. Jefferson, though he still wasn't thinking clearly, almost thought that Regina was being kind as she pulled the blankets over him and put more water on the bedside table.

"Goodnight, Jefferson." She whispered, slipping out of the room and leaving him to sleep off everything he'd intended and failed to say.

As Jefferson began to fall asleep, he let out a laugh.

Regina being kind? To him? That was almost as funny as Wonderland.

xxx

Regina was glad that she'd never become a mother, because taking care of a drunken Jefferson was the most that she ever wanted to do for another person. It was exhausting, and really she should have just let him drop dead on her front porch.

But what would the neighbors think.

It was well after noon by the time that the hatter stumbled down her stairs looking dazed and confused. She'd never seen him so drunk, and they'd known one another a long time. He was one of the few people who had really known her before she became the Evil queen.

And how had he repaid the trust that a younger, more foolish woman had given him?

He'd betrayed her. Abandoned her. It could not be forgiven.

She made him breakfast anyway. Perhaps she owed him that much for his eternal suffering.

"I don't normally make eggs and bacon at two in the afternoon, but just this once I'll make an exception."

"It's the afternoon?" Jefferson muttered, sitting down at the island in the middle of the kitchen and running his fingers through messy hair. Regina hadn't seen him looking so undone in years. He usually cared so much about his appearance. "What happened to my hand?..."

"You threw a broken bottle at my door." Regina explained, setting down a full plate in front of her ex-lover and sitting across from him with a raised eyebrow. "You made a scene, Jefferson."

"Oh." Looking down at his plate, the hatter took a few small bites of the eggs Regina had made for him. "Is this poisoned?"

"No. I don't have time to get rid of a body—being a mayor is busy work."

"A pity. That would save me a lot of grief." He laughed, and Regina frowned.

"You aren't supposed to be saved. You're supposed to suffer. All of you." It had been easy, for five or ten minutes, to forget how much Jefferson had hurt her. How much he deserved the curse.

"Don't you worry about that, Regina. I'm suffering." Jefferson pushed his plate away and stood, most of his late breakfast uneaten. His hands gripping the counter, he paused and looked her. "…but so are you, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Regina said briskly, picking up Jefferson's plate and scraping it off. She hated mess. "This is all I've ever wanted."

"Then why aren't you smiling? You look just as unhappy as you did in the Enchanted Forest."

"What would you know about how I feel, Jefferson? The last time I checked, it wasn't something you cared about." Not anymore.

"Because, Regina—I've got my eye on you.

She let the words sink in for a moment as she washed off his plate. By the time that she had a retort, he was gone. Even without his hat, the madman was good at making a hasty exit.

As Regina turned on the dishwasher, she took a deep breath and, against her better judgment, thought about the past.