Chapter Text
Epilogue
The house was quiet this time of night. It was still dark but soon dawn would greet this new day. His first real day back in Storybrooke, with his family. That at least put a smile on his face.
With a heartfelt yawn he rubbed his bleary eyes and cursed Hydra and evil curses alike for stirring up memories and fears that he had no interest in revisiting. He really hadn’t been keen on a rerun of his nightmares starring both Rumlow and his daughter.
Gooood, I need coffee!
He shuffled along the hallway to the kitchen when a cracking sound – eerily loud in the silence of the house – startled him out of his trance. That’s when he noticed the soft light that flickered beneath the living room door. Frowning he stepped closer and opened the door, careful to not make a sound.
Warm, orange light filled the room and conjured strangely unthreatening shadows that danced across the walls. The crackling and whooshing of the blazing fire in the fireplace immediately banished his annoyance and the last lingering tendrils of dread from his mind. His eyes were drawn to the flames, to their soothing, never-ending dance.
Bucky sat on the floor, cross-legged, right at the edge of the fluffy carpet. In nothing but his shorts and a too tight T-Shirt.
Jefferson softly rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. He had no intention of startling his brother.
“Heard you already.”
Of course you did.
“Oh…” He closed the door behind himself and stepped closer. “Couldn’t sleep?”
He got no answer.
It was only fair. It had been a stupid question. Why else would he come down here in the night and start a fire. He adjusted his dressing gown and sat down next to his brother. It wasn’t cold, a bit chilly at the most, nonetheless he had to close his eyes against the blissful warmth that hit his face and front. These heating systems in this world were a blessing but nothing could compare to the dry, caressing heat of a fire.
And he couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky’d started it because of a nightmare about the cryogenic chamber.
“We used to roast bread on sticks over the fire,” his brother said out of the blue.
Long gone memories formed into pictures before his mind’s eye again and his lips tugged into a lazy grin. “You always burned your tongue because you couldn’t wait for it to cool down.”
“And you always wanted it crispier. You almost burned them to a cinder.”
“But they crunched really good.”
Bucky chuckled. Low and dry and it made his long hair that obscured his face move. Jefferson joined him. And he wondered. Maybe it hadn’t been the warmth alone that his brother’d been seeking by starting a fire. Maybe it had been that feeling of safety and belonging that he’d craved.
Silence fell again, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Just the opposite.
He simply enjoyed the easy camaraderie, soaked up the pleasant heat and let the hypnotizing dance of the flames drag him down memory lane. Back to all those many evenings they’d spent in front of the fire, the whole family. Watching their mother working on her stones or learning how to carve an animal out of a piece of wood from their father.
“Jeff?”
“Hm?” he hummed, lulled by the warmth of fire and memories alike.
“How do you do it?” Bucky’s voice was low and quiet. But there was something intense vibrating in his tone that made his eyes snap open and his attention focus. “How do you reconcile those two different sets of memories in your head with one another?”
Jefferson took a deep breath. It wasn’t hard to see where this was coming from and it also wasn’t hard to see that there was more to that question than met the eye.
He’s talking to me! He wants my advice!
Even though the topic was serious he couldn’t help the elation that set his whole body alight. Bucky was opening up to him!
He clasped his hands together to hide their shaking and leaned his chin on them.
“You mean the memories from the curse? That Regina gave me?”
“Mmh.”
Bucky still looked into the fire. Or onto the floor. He couldn’t tell with the curtain of his dark hair. He wished his brother would look at him, that would make it easier to gauge his reaction. He just- he didn’t want to screw this up!
So Jefferson steeled himself, because no matter what, he wasn’t going to lie either.
“I’m the wrong person to ask.”
Bucky’s shoulders slump and he gave a stiff nod that sent his hair in motion.
He’d seen enough of his brother these last weeks to be pretty sure that he currently pressed his lips into a grim, thin line. So he hurried to explain.
“That curse has been different for me than the others. I knew what was going on. I knew that those memories inside my head were false. That they weren’t real. Yet I still felt the pain and desperation they held. But I’ve never been this other person. I’ve never really lived his life. Not really. Not like Grace or Victor or the others in town.”
“I see…” It was quiet and subdued and clipped.
He couldn’t take it anymore. So he reached out and placed his hand on Bucky’s forearm. Skin to skin. And finally – finally – his brother looked up at him. The dancing flames reflected in his eyes, highlighting their lost expression.
He gave the arm a reassuring squeeze.
“But this isn’t about memories, is it? This is about being different people. It’s about this other person living inside you that cannot possibly be a part of you. That did horrible things. The one that you’re afraid of. It’s about this person that you try to forget or run away from but no matter what you do or where you go it’s always lurking in the shadows, watching you. Taunting you. And when you least expect it, it jumps at you from behind.”
With each sentence the creases on Bucky’s forehead grew deeper and more prominent. As did his confusion.
It made him huff out a soft laugh. “Don’t look so surprised! You’ve got the Winter Soldier and I’ve got the Mad Hatter.”
Bucky’s mouth dropped open slowly, as if he wanted to say something, but instead he closed it again, a thoughtful – and very serious – expression on his face.
“I don’t have a universal remedy at hand, I wish I would. And I’m probably the worst example ever when it comes to coping. Most of the time I’ve been running from that crazy guy within me. I wanted nothing more than to leave him behind once and for all. At other times I embraced him. Embraced the madness as an escape. Neither worked for long. I- I don’t know… getting Grace back helped. But that little bit of crazy is still there, deep inside. It’s a part of me now, if I want it to be or not. Sometimes I can accept that. Other times I can’t and I hate it. I hate what it did to me and I hate myself for not being stronger. But I learned one thing for sure, Bucky! One very important thing! Just because that other person is there, is a part of you, that doesn’t mean you have to be that person. Your past doesn’t have to define you. You can be whoever you want to be!”
Jefferson inhaled the rich scent of his coffee and took a sip. His eyes never left the moving figure outside. After their talk Bucky had been quiet at first, contemplating his words before he’d opted to combine his musings with his need for exercise as soon as the darkness outside gave way to the first cold, gray light of the new day.
They’d set up a room for Bucky after Steve had left. And he’d raided his wardrobe again – this time more thoroughly – for anything that would – hopefully – fit his brother. They really needed to go shopping today and get him his own stuff. A smile tugged at his lips. He could practically hear Grace’s enthusiastic squeal at the prospect of a shopping tour.
His eyes were still on Bucky as he was running through the woods in a longsleeved T-shirt that threatened to rip apart any moment, together with sweats that also were a bit on the tight side and combat boots. He looked absolutely ridiculous.
The moving figure finally vanished between the trees. The fog on the ground swirled back, closing the whitish blanket again that covered cart track and forest floor alike. Cloaking everything in an essence of mystery. He loved it. He only hoped Bucky wouldn’t get lost. But he’d shown him the best way for a run and how to circle back on one of his maps.
A tired yawn behind him made him turn. His frown only deepened when his gaze fell on Grace. Or the zombie that bore a vague resemblance to his daughter.
“Up already?” he asked, one of his eyebrows arched to new heights.
She shrugged half-heartedly which made her pajama top slip even further and expose her right shoulder. She didn’t even mind, only trudged into the room on autopilot. “Couldn’t sleep.”
You don’t say.
Next thing she threw herself onto the couch, her head on the pillow in the corner as always, and curled up on her side with the heavy sigh only a tired teenager could produce.
“I dreamt we were fighting and- I was so pissed I- I pushed you and then you fell down the stairs and-“
“Oh Grace.”
He grimaced at her weary tone and her rising distress. With few quick strides he crossed the room and placed his cup on the table to sit down next to her head.
“Don’t let this curse get to you like that. It’s over. And that wasn’t you, honey.” He stroked some strands of hair out of her face and tried to smooth down the rest of that entangled mop by carding his fingers through it.
“I know, but-“ She stilled and her eyes narrowed in confusion. “A fire?”
Jefferson chuckled softly. It really spoke volumes of her exhaustion if she only noticed it now.
“Bucky made it.”
“It’s nice.” Her lips tugged into a lazy smile as she sank even deeper into the pillow and relaxed. “Where is he?”
“Running.”
Her eyes shot open again. “Running? This early? Is he crazy?”
This time he chuckled in earnest. Her outburst reminded him too much of his own reaction two months ago at finding out about Steve’s and Bucky’s morning sessions. Grace only buried her face into the pillow with a groan.
“What about some hot chocolate?”
“Pleeeaase!”
When he came back a few minutes later with a steaming cup that spread a deliciously sweet scent through the room Grace was asleep. He placed the cup on the table and pulled the woolen blanket from the backrest of the couch. With a fond smile he tugged her in, cherishing this rare opportunity. She was growing up so very fast and he’d missed way too much.
He sat down next to her again and watched her sleep while he finished his coffee.
The first night home.
The first night that they were all together.
And none of them had gotten a good night’s sleep.
He sighed and let his eyes get drawn in by the dancing flames in the fireplace. It would take time to heal. For all of them. Most of all for Bucky. But they would manage. They had each other after all.
Maybe he should call Archie. After the first curse had been broken they’d talked a few times, well, to be precise, Archie had sought him out for some reason to make sure he was okay. Something about his calm and open demeanor had made him open up. Or maybe it had been the complete lack of judgement in his eyes. And he’d offered advice. It hadn’t seemed like much at the time, but it had kept him thinking. And in the end it had helped him to settle back into a life with his daughter and find an arrangement the Woods could live with as well – in the end, real memories or not, in a certain way they were here parents as well after all.
He was sure Archie could help Bucky with coming to terms with his past. Maybe he even knew a way to undo the remaining programming of Hydra.
His gaze swept across Grace’ sleeping form for a moment. She looked pale and tired, even in her sleep. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if Grace also had a chat with Archie. He sighed. The same certainly applied for him as well.
His lips twitched as he huffed out a silent laugh.
Maybe we’ll get a family discount.
Yeah, that was a good idea. But he needed to speak with Bucky and Grace about it first. Later. There was no hurry. They were safe here.
With a content sigh he leaned back to rest his eyes for a moment.
He startled up from his snooze, disoriented for a second and wondering what-
The insistent ringing of his cell phone in the kitchen answered that question before he was even done asking it. His eyes darted to Grace while he jumped up. She was still sleeping soundly and he wanted it to stay that way so he hurried into the other room, grabbed the phone and stepped out onto the terrace on impulse. The cold and somewhat humid air woke him up a bit. He checked the caller ID.
Unknown.
Frowning, he took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy scent of moss and spruce and home and finally answered the call.
“Yes?” Maybe not the friendliest way to greet an unknown caller but hey, it was so damn early it was practically still nighttime.
“You son of a bitch!”
What…
What the fuck???
Is this a prank call?
Asshole!
“The fucking Mad Hatter!!?? For real!? That wasn’t just crazy talk?? Well, it was the crazy talking but- you’re seriously the real thing???”
“Stark?”
He blinked against the unexpected onslaught at this ungodly hour for crying out loud!
Dammit, he hadn’t nearly enough coffee – or sleep – for handling a squealing, shouting and in general way too enthusiastic and awake sounding madman!
“Two months and you never… There’s a fairytale dimension??? And you… The Mad Hatter, the real thing, was in my house and… why did I never get a tea party?”
Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Stark, it’s 6am. It’s not-“
The other man ignored him completely.
“You lied to me, Cravat Boy!”
“I didn’t lie-“
“I used to drive Jarvis crazy with my theories about the Mad Hatter. I guess he regretted the day he gave that book to little me.”
Even though his mind had trouble with imagining Tony Stark as a kid, arguing with his computer program – wait a minute? When had he built that thing??? – he could sympathize with Jarvis.
“You know what that means, right? You owe me a tea party! And some explanations! How do you open portals to different worlds? How long can they stay open and how do they work? Is it just for one way trips? What other worlds are there? Is it like parallel universes or- can you travel to other planets? Are all the fairytales for real? How does magic work? Still not really convinced there is such a thing as magic, by the way, but- hey! Is Alice real, too? Can you invite her to the tea party? Come on, you have to! There’s no tea party without her, right? And I’d love to…”
Jefferson palmed his face and rubbed his eyes. A deep and long-suffering groan escaped his throat.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening!
No matter how often he repeated it in his mind it just didn’t make it go away.
Damn you, Steve!
He regretted his decision of bringing Stark into the loop already.
Coffee!
I definitely need more coffee for this!
End