sixwordstories | (no subject)

[ Seated at the counter, Alice stirs her own tea - Irish breakfast - and slides the sugar over without a glance, flipping through her journal and jotting down a few notes here and there. ]

[ She hadn't quite entered his purview in this magicless world. Not that he was looking for her. He had other things to occupy him. But this woman looked so entirely like her that he couldn't fight his gut acknowledging that it was entirely possible that this was, in fact, Alice. But the thought was too cruel to be true. ]

[ Curious, isn't it - how well-preserved she is after all this time? She has traveled from realm to realm and the magic sticks to her skin like white on rice. When she was not permitted to go down that last rabbit whole, Alice became a wanderer, aching for her family and regretting that departure.

So, why is she suddenly here after all this time? Even she could not answer that question. She twirls a blonde curl around her left hand, her pinky and palm smudged with purple ink. ]

More tea, please? [ She requests, sliding her cup across the counter. ] Same as before.

[Belle uses the delicate silver tongs to add two cubes of sugar to his tea and stirs precisely seven times before sliding the cup and saucer gently over to Jefferson. She pours her own cup after.]

Thank you. [He manages the words with a stiff grin.]

It's the very least I could do.

[He's hesitant to approach. What if she doesn't know still? Perhaps it isn't even her? He considers all of his doubts as he waits for his tea and drums his fingers on the counter.

What he does remember of her is muddled in years of dual lives and being lost in Wonderland. She was once so dear to him, could all of that be erased by his ~~madness~~ loneliness?]

Please, don't thank me. [he says, stirring his tea.] How is your freedom?

It suits me far better than captivity.

I would imagine it suits most everyone better. [He takes a slow, cautious sip of his tea. It isn't that he mistrusts her, per se. He does, however, distrust Rumpelstiltskin.]

I wanted to say thank you in some tangible way -- I thought I'd bake a cake, or something like that. But I didn't know what kind you might like. Or cookies or something?

Really. It's fine. [A ghost of a grimace passes his lips, but he quickly catches it and turns it into a slightly manic grin.] I'm glad you're out and everything worked as it should have.

[ Without realizing it, setting foot into Storybrooke has already made Alice's internal clock tick. She is now half an hour older.

Alice slides her notebook back into her bag, preparing to leave - but not after her third cup of tea. It is when she turns to adjust the bag slung over her seat that she notices a familiar frame. Turning to the counter once more, she almost brushes it off - impossible.

But then she ventures for another look. ]

Me, too.

Rumplestiltskin is grateful, too.

[He know's he's been caught. Though he feels he's hardly glanced at her, he's been staring. In fact, his tea arrived and he hadn't even noticed. Where does the time go these days?

Aware that she's seen him, he lifts his tea and takes a slip as his eyes trace the opposite edge of the counter. Twenty-eight years of isolation have obliterated his understanding of true subtlety. All that remains is the vain pantomime of his past life.]

[His lips drop once again, having fulfilled their requirement. The name Rumpelstiltskin causes his right eye to very subtly twitch. This time, however, there is a sense of accomplishment attached to his mention.] It was the least I could do to rectify the situation.

[ The guilt that once weighed on her shoulders has become a part of her. Years and years of separation have turned that guilt into quiet self-loathing, cloaked by a sunny disposition. What is she to say? She has dreamt of this moment, of the things she would tell him - but now, she is winded, as if punched in the stomach.

Instead, she finds her pen and jots down a note on a napkin, which she promptly slides over: Hello, hatter ]

[Unexpectedly, a surge of warmth pushed through him, burning away some of the armor he'd laid over his heart. A genuine smile lifted his face, which was not aged by time but instead with weariness.

He took his turn to scrawl across the napkin. Hello, dear Alice.]

Edited 2012-09-21 22:42 (UTC)

[ Alice breathes a sigh that can only be classified as relieved. She fingers the corner of the napkin and covers her mouth with the back of her hand, a downpour of emotions washing over her. Dear. His dear. She can't bring herself to look at him again - not yet, anyway.

The note continues in her curvy penmanship. I missed you. ]

[There were too many ways in which this could be a trick of some sort. Giving him his heart's desire would be the easiest way to trick him.

But for now he'd savor it. Alice. His Alice.

With his dirty green fountain pen, he continues their speechless conversation. We missed you.]

[ Alice lifts the napkin and presses it to her heart as she finally lifts her eyes to face him. Her eyes shine under the light of the diner and she moves closer to reach for his hand, her palm against his palm. If he and Grace want to push her away, she has steeled her nerves for their rejection, but this is a chance she will take. ]

[If only it were all so simple. Nothing was simple any longer. He looks to their hands intertwined as they once were. There was a hollowness to their union here on the wrong side of the rabbit hole.

He knew it was in part the dual lives that lingered in his mind that the whole of Storybrooke was not inflicted with. Time had only worn away the barriers between, not dissolved the fictitious life made by the Curse. He knew also that it was in part due to his inability to block out the paranoid voice in his head telling him that this was all too good to be true.

The paranoia hit him hard and he released her hand after a few blissful moments.]

We should talk somewhere more private.

Of course.

[ She folds her hands over their exchange, keeping those purple and green notes in the palm of her hand. They will serve as a reminder for how things once were between them. ] After your tea.

[ Alice sips her own, quiet. The question of Grace still hangs in the air but she will wait to cross that threshold. ]

Edited (fff html) 2012-09-21 23:38 (UTC)

[He takes a small drink, but his nerves are rising and his hand grips the cup. There are too many people who might strike at him through her. He takes another drink in quick succession and pulls his money from his pocket, leaving two dollars tip for just the tea.]

Now. [Jefferson says abruptly as he rises, abandoning the rest of his still hot tea.]

[ Alice places a ten dollar bill on the table to cover tea, pastry, and tip and picks up her purse, slinging the long strap over her shoulder. ]

Alright. [ She takes a deep breath and follows him out, unsure and almost nervous, expecting the worst. ]

[There is only a moment of hesitation as he waits to hear her get to her feet, the he pushes out the door. He walks at a somewhat brisk pace down the main thoroughfare of town and towards the road into the forest. He knows she once could follow, but that was long enough ago that they were nearly strangers now.]

[ Naturally, she follows him, picking up her pace until it matches his own footsteps. Once entering the forest, she stays close by, not wanting to get lost in an unfamiliar place -- and judging from her personal history, the chances of that happening were fairly high. The want for familiarity clashes with the overwhelming feeling that she is, once more, following a complete stranger. ]