Summary: During a quiet family evening with her father in Storybrooke, Grace accidentally notices Jefferson's scar from his beheading. Both father and daughter are confronted with their guilt about what happened, confiding in each other and coming to terms with Jefferson's experiences in Wonderland.

Warnings: Mentions of beheading and scars.

Disclaimer: OUAT and associated characters belong to ABC Studios. Writing belongs to me.

AN: After Jefferson and Grace found each other again and settled back into life as a family, I imagine there would have been many events to catch up on, not least what had happened to Jefferson to stop him from returning to her. I always wondered how Grace would react to Jefferson's scar and how Jefferson would feel about having a reminder of his time in Wonderland etched so permanently into his skin and having to explain it to his daughter.

Hope you enjoy - reviews are much appreciated :)

A Daughter's Wisdom

By Lanthiriel25

"Papa? What's that? Are you hurt?"

Grace's question pulled from Jefferson from his thoughts. He was sitting on the sofa, arm around Grace, his daughter sitting sideways beside him, her knees bent over his lap, feet wedged between the cushions. She had been reading her latest book, leaning against the arm rest, enjoying her story and her Papa's comforting presence. Turning to look at Grace, he saw her book hanging limply in her fingers, her eyes scared and expression worried. He shifted, frowning at her, confused.

"I…? What do you mean? I'm fine." He tried for a smile to show her that he was ok, despite whatever it was that had her worried, but in the face of her clear distress he could only manage a brief twitch of his lips.

"Your neck," she explained, her gaze flicking downwards from his, to his neck and back up again. Her mouth was pulled down at the corners, eyes dark and sad, brows knitted.

Jefferson's stomach sank. When he'd explained to his daughter what had happened to him, why he hadn't come home to her, he'd left out that part of the story. It wasn't that he wanted to lie to her, to deceive her, but he had wanted to protect her from it; he hadn't wanted her to be frightened or upset by it.

"Please, Papa," she entreated softly, setting her book aside, and sitting more upright, "let me see."

Taking a deep breath, Jefferson forced himself to look at his daughter; he owed her that much at least.

Her innocent face was turned towards him, her wide, brown eyes so earnest. He swallowed heavily, the sounds of "Off with his head!" echoing in his ears. He'd thought his world had ended when Regina had trapped him in Wonderland, faced with the devastation of never seeing his Grace again. But he was wrong. Beheading. A sharp, unyielding axe swung for vulnerable flesh and brittle bone. Dead. No way to reach her, not ever, not even the smallest chance. She'd be all alone. He remembered the screaming terror which consumed him at hearing the sentence, the masked executioner approaching. Terror, not for himself but for his little girl; his agony of knowing he would never be with her again, see her smile, hear her laugh, had seared through him.

Jefferson shook his head slightly to dislodge the less than pleasant memory; it wouldn't do to dwell too long on those emotions, he knew.

Taking courage from the fact that Grace was here, with him, happy and healthy, he wordlessly lifted his hand, hooking his fingers over the top of his scarf where it had come loose and pulled, feeling the material unravel from around his neck.

Grace gasped as she took in the jagged scar on her father's skin. She reached out, her gentle fingers carefully tracing the fading red stripe which wrapped around his entire neck. He could feel the way her fingers trembled slightly against his skin. Grace pressed her mouth together in a tight line, trying to stop her bottom lip from quivering as tears prickled behind her eyes. How could someone do this to her Papa?! Why would they?! It must have hurt so badly, she thought sadly. He must have been so scared. She could have lost him, for good.

"I'm sorry, Papa," she whispered, so quietly that had she not been so close Jefferson probably wouldn't have heard her.

Gripping his daughter's shoulders, he gently pushed Grace away from him slightly so he could meet her gaze. He brushed some of her hair from her face, as she settled more comfortably in his lap.

"Sorry for what, sweetie?"

Grace ducked her head, biting her lip against the tears. She mumbled something mournfully, but Jefferson couldn't hear what she'd said. Beginning to worry for his daughter, he slid his fingers under her chin. He tenderly lifted her face so she was looking at him, his heart breaking at the grief-stricken expression on her young face. His daughter had had to deal with so much sorrow in her life, and it would appear he only seemed to keep adding to it, no matter how much he tried not to.

"It's my fault…" she sniffed. "You wouldn't have gone to Wonderland if it wasn't for me. And if you hadn't gone, you wouldn't have been hurt so badly. And… And I wasn't even there to look after you, like you looked after me when I fell in the woods, or grazed my knees, or was ill."

Realising with a sickening jolt the completely unfounded guilt his daughter carried, Jefferson sucked in a breath, quick to lay her fears to rest.

"Oh, Grace, you have nothing to be sorry for," he countered, eyes boring into hers, needing her to believe him, his hand stroking soothingly over her hair. "None of this, not a single part of it, was your fault. Please, sweetie, if you believe nothing else, believe this. You have nothing to feel guilty for. Not a single thing. I should never have left you, but it was my decision, so it's all on me. Or, well, on the Queen I suppose, since she manipulated me and trapped me there. Do you understand?"

After his soft and earnest assurances, the final words about Regina and what she'd done came out spitting poison and Jefferson took a moment to calm himself, wrapping his arms around his daughter who was watching him worriedly, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other clutching his shirt over his heart. She tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly as she followed the line of the scar, the worry still clear in their depths.

"Yes, Papa, I do. I promise. But, it's just… It looks so painful," she choked out, voice quiet, sad.

Jefferson shook his head with a small smile to reassure her.

"It doesn't hurt, I swear. It didn't even hurt when it happened, despite what you'd think. I was more preoccupied with the fact that I was, amazingly, still alive. That and the fact that I had to find a way to get back to you. That was all I could really think about."

His frantic, desperate cries of "Get it to work!" clamoured for his attention, remembering the nauseating fear which had consumed him in those (what felt like) centuries trapped in another land, trying to find his way home. He hardened his heart against those memories.

"How did it happen?" came Grace's voice, pulling him from his thoughts. "Was it in Wonderland?"

Jefferson sighed, unsure of how much to reveal to his little girl, but he'd lied to her to protect her before and it hadn't worked, maybe she deserved the truth. Steeling himself, he explained about how the Queen of Hearts had questioned him, how she'd decided he was of no use to her and had had his head removed.

Grace listened, horrified, as her Papa relayed the tale. She clung to her father a little tighter, needing to know he was here with her and that the hateful Queen hadn't succeeded in taking him from her permanently.

Having finished the story, Grace sitting frozen against him, Jefferson's heart ached. It would seem he had succeeded in scaring his daughter after all. Hating Regina, the Queen of Hearts, Wonderland in general, but most of all, himself, he gathered the soft scarf in his hands, the silky material spilling through his fingers. He dipped his head forward, beginning to wind the fabric back around his neck, hiding his scar from view.

Frowning, realising what her father was doing, guessing what he might be thinking, Grace reached out and halted his movements, trapping his hand in hers. The back of her fingers rested against the rough, mended flesh. She needed her Papa to understand.

"Papa…" she began, wondering how to explain what she needed to say. "I've… I've never seen you without that scarf since we've found each other. Why do…? I mean, it's ok that you want to wear it, that you don't want to remember what happened, but, it's just… Don't feel like you have to wear it for my sake, so I don't have to see it. Please. I love you, Papa. With scars or without."

Jefferson could not believe what he was hearing, the unadulterated absolution in those precious words. He had to look away, unable to stand the pure, innocent love shining earnestly in his daughter's eyes. Shining for him.

"Grace, I…" Jefferson had to swallow, his throat choked with emotion. "It doesn't scare you?"

"No." Grace shook her head without a second's hesitation. "It scares me that I could have lost you for real, but the scar doesn't frighten me."

Jefferson felt lost for words, his mouth gaping slightly. Taking his silence as disbelief, Grace sighed, taking the opportunity to prove how she felt, needing to make him understand.

"Look," Grace entreated, leaning forward and reaching out to pull off her sock and pointing to a permanent dark smudge on her skin. "Here's where I dropped an encyclopaedia on my toes. I thought I'd broken my foot, but I didn't, just took a chunk out of it instead!"

She then rolled up her sleeve, lifting up her arm to show a thick pink welt just above her elbow. "And this is where I fell off my bike when it was icy. Ripped all the skin off and it stung like crazy. But it's the wood that got stuck in it from the fence I collided with that made it scar.

"And here," Grace pulled back her hair, revealing a tiny, white scar, maybe half a centimetre long, by her hair line. "This is from when tripped in the playground and hit my head off the concrete. It hurt but it meant I missed the multiplication test that afternoon…!

"We all get scarred, Papa," she explained, fingers brushing his healed wound. "You don't have to hide from me."

Jefferson's breath hitched, the tears he'd fought so hard to hide spilling silently down his cheeks. He didn't know what he could possibly have done to deserve such a daughter as Grace. Some people often thought she was young for her age because of her open-hearted kindness, because her imagination was still so real and strong, but he knew better than that. After everything she'd seen and experienced in her life, how could she be young for her age? But still, he was sometimes surprised by the understanding and insight she had, her keen intelligence matched with her caring soul giving her wisdom beyond her years.

"Grace…" he breathed, cradling the back of her head and pressing a heartfelt kiss to her brow, unable to put into words all the swirling emotions he was feeling.

He hated his scar. It was a constant reminder of just how much he had let his precious Grace down, what he had put her through. The guilt he felt every time he caught a glimpse of the grotesquely marked skin in the mirror was torture; the pain and regret sometimes felt like it was literally eating him alive. The memory of his madness and the shame he felt at not being the father his little girl needed him to be burned hot and agonising within him, a feeling which he could never escape, his scar mocking him with the knowledge of what he had let happen, how he'd failed her in so many ways. He'd thought Grace would hate him. She'd be right to do so. But she'd seen his scar, knew the story. And yet she still loved him. She still loved him with the incandescent love which glowed in her every smile, touch and word. Unconditional. Jefferson couldn't believe it, letting his daughter's caring words wash over him like cleansing water, feeling his love for his Grace shine within his chest, warm and bright and over-whelming.

Sitting back against the cushions, he threaded his fingers through hers, fighting the itch to wrap his scarf up high. But he let the fabric hang a little less tightly around his neck, not comfortable to go without it, but taking no small measure of comfort and courage from his daughter's words.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked, catching Grace gaze, needing to know, before clarifying when he saw her puzzled expression. "For lying about this." He gestured to his neck. "For hiding it from you."

"Yes, Papa, of course," Grace nodded readily, "but only if you forgive me for being the reason you felt like you had to go to that horrible world in the first place."

"I told you, you have nothing to be sorry for," Jefferson smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But if that's the way you want it, then yes. Of course I do. No question."

Grace smiled in return, burying herself in his chest as her Papa held her close as he kissed the crown of her head.

"Now," he said, taking a deep breath, moving on to happier topics, a weight he hadn't known he'd been carrying having been lifted from his shoulders. "How are you enjoying your new book?"

The End

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this little story. Reviews are very much appreciated :) Sorry for the delay in posting this one; real life has been keeping me unbelievably busy lately! But I do have some more stories about these two in the works so, if you're interested, keep an eye out in the coming weeks :)