Hands bound.

Heart racing.

Breathing shallow.

Emma's eyes were fixed on the psychotic stranger in front of her, never once tearing her fearful watch of him away, his eyes hypnotically holding hers captive as he paces back and forth in front of her. Jefferson's eyes were set with deadly intent on hers, not once breaking his hold of hers as he continues his slow, predatory pace. His eyes were on fire…with rage, betrayal, madness and confusion displayed openly, staring at the reason behind his mood and his only hope for being reunited with his daughter. Grace was his only reason for contemplating the hideous thoughts now racing in his mind, any means was necessary, even if those means included using Emma with what ever it took to get him back home.

Stopping right in front of Emma, his eyes slowly took in the sight of her bound and helpless before him. The sight sparking satisfaction and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

She had betrayed his momentary trust. She was the reason he had raised his hopes, felt something more than pain and loneliness that had kept him trapped in this house for twenty-eight years. Placing his hands on each knee, he moved forward, his face only a hairsbreadth away from hers as he became eye level. Underneath his hands he could feel her tremble, her face however, was trying to mask the fear and uncertainty he knew she was feeling. It served her right. "You're a pretty good actress. You had me fooled, making me think that you'd finally begun to accept the obvious truth… The truth that is staring right in front of your face." His voice dropped down a decibel, his voice sounding deeper, threatening.

Emma's only response was to swallow; fearing that whatever response she gave to him would only make matters worse. Her hands were bound too tight for her to even think about escaping again. She was still unsure of what the consequences to her actions were going to be. She knew he wouldn't kill her; he needed her, he had made that abundantly clear. Thinking back now, she could almost kick herself for missing the opportunity to escape this mad house. She had almost escaped, almost. If it hadn't have been for that front door being locked and Jefferson catching up to her, she could have been halfway to the police station for back up by now. But she wasn't. Emma still couldn't figure out how Jefferson had been able to get up so quickly after being hit over the head, and with his own telescope she might add. How was he not unconscious on the ground instead of invading her personal space right now? She could already make out the bruise forming on his right eye, the hint of his skin turning a deep blackish purple, the only evidence that she had hit him and, had put a great deal of force behind that swing. Deciding to take a leap of faith and to show him that she wasn't going to be bullied or be pushed around by this delusional wannabe Mad Hatter, she replied, "How did you get up so quickly?"

Jefferson had been so lost in thought that when she didn't reply right away, he began thinking about how he was going use Emma to get his hat to work. He was certain she was the key to his dilemma. It was her magic that had made the clock begin ticking again, she possessed magic even if she wasn't willing to admit it to herself. That was the problem; she didn't believe in magic or anything he tried to tell her otherwise, she didn't even believe her own son. He needed to come up with a plan to make her believe if he had any hope of returning back home and breaking the curse. But when she spoke, it startled him from his train of thought. Furrowing his brow in confusion for a second, he replayed her words in his head, a smile began to creep onto his lips, turning wider and wider with her words reminding him of something.

The smile sent shivers down Emma's spine, making her unsure of the reason behind it, remembering back to earlier when he had drugged her and exposed himself as someone not to be trusted. "Maybe if you listened" he tapped her ear, amused at her scowl, "you'd know why." Straightening up, he leans back on the work table behind him, folding his arms, completely amused by Emma's reaction, trying to figure out the meaning to what he'd said was. "And what does that mean?"

Moving away from the desk, Jefferson slowly walks around to the back of her chair, leaning in; he pauses for a moment, breathing into her ear, letting her know exactly where and what he was doing, keeping her in suspense until he whispers, "You'll see soon enough."

Letting out the breath she hadn't noticed she took when he whispered into her ear, Emma tried to keep her raging emotions under check. He was trying to get to her, to rile her up and keep her in suspense to whatever fucked up mind games he was using on her. Well she wasn't going to play. This was probably how he got his kicks; well he'll have a hard time with her she promised. "So what am I supposed to be doing in the mean time?" His chuckle throws her, not expecting it but then again nothing this guy does fits into her expectations. "Still trying to show a brave face, c'mon Emma, you don't need to fool me. I know you much better then the people around here think they do." He circles back to his seat, leaning back into it with a knowing smirk, turning her insides. "Cause you've been spying on me, I doubt that makes you an expert on me." She's quick to counter point, refusing to believe his ridiculous statement.

"That's where you're mistaken Miss Swan. I see every thing, the things you try to hide, I see what you do alone at night when there's no one around to see." His smirk intensifies at her blush, her eyes darting away trying to keep her composure but failing miserably. His words continue on, despite how much she tries not to listen to them, "I know how you curl up in bed at night and cry; you're lonely… just like me." He pauses, she looks back to see the sorrow and pain in eyes, hypnotically she's drawn in, and her eyes refuse to look away. Just like before when he told her about Grace, she felt her heart pull in acknowledgement, believing in his statement, the situation disappearing momentarily as he allows himself for a brief moment to let her in.

"That's how I know." And with those four words he shut himself off from her. His tone was cold but confident, speaking the truth to her, as his words echoed on in her mind.

She wants to say something back, to get him where it hurts, to deny it, deny the possibility that they had anything in common, but the words die in her throat. She knows it deep down and that's what unsettles her the most. The violation of her privacy is still coursing through her veins, this psycho knows nothing of the depths of his own depravity, and he doesn't seem to care. It didn't matter to him to feel ashamed for openly admitting the truth about watching her, at the same time, Emma couldn't ascertain why she felt weirdly connected and comforted by this.

Hours passed by sluggishly as Emma made hat after hat, each one being inspected, scrutinized and declined by Jefferson, his anger and frustration growing all the more once he discovered that none of them would 'work'. As morning slowly approached Emma felt her lids growing heavier, exhaustion was taking over due to the repetitiveness of her task. She needed sleep. Not wanting to provoke the mad man in front of her she kept her thoughts to herself, tried to push on through the veil of sleepiness washing over her, she could only hope that he would take pity on her and let her sleep, or better yet, let her go home.

Finishing hat number... she lost count, did it matter? After making one the rest all seemed ridiculous to her in the whole grand scheme of things. Before tonight she had never made a hat, she never wanted to or knew how, not until Jefferson showed her. He welcomely invaded her personal space, a habit she had noticed earlier, it made her feel uncomfortable but something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. His hands on hers, going through step by step until she got the hang of things, thankful when he wasn't touching her anymore, she could think and despise him more clearly when he wasn't near her, touching her. Looking up expectantly to Jefferson, she was surprised to see him still sitting there staring at her, she couldn't read his expression, he was dead pan and distant. She was unsure what to do, should she say something? The silence was becoming unbearable as seconds ticked by and the awkwardness of the situation made Emma shift restlessly in her seat.

He finally moves, the relief swells through her but only for a second. Emma watches him carefully as he stands up and moves around the table to stand beside her. Grabbing her arm, but being careful not to grip too tightly that she might bruise, he pulls her up from her seat and escorts her out of the room. Fear sets in immediately, the blood draining from her face as she asks as evenly as she could, "where are you taking me?" Her reply is silence. Jefferson doesn't even look at her or blink in acknowledgement that he heard her. She follows along knowing it's pointless to struggle or run, knowing full well that he had her gun and could either shoot her, or just catch her again. They walked down hallways which lead into more, the realization of how big this place was, like a maze, made Emma feel small and out of her depth. Where was he taking her? Was he going to chain and lock her up in a dungeon, because this place does scream hidden basement dungeons, or was there somewhere equally as bad? God she hoped not.

They finally reached their destination, Jefferson none to gently, throwing her into what appeared to be a bedroom. Looking at the bed and back to him, eyes widening, her mind screaming he's going to rape you! Jefferson closes the door behind him, leans back and gestures to the bed.

"If you think-"

"I don't think" he cuts her off, taking her gun from his back pocket, folding his arms as he studies her. His expression still infuriatingly unreadable, he continues before Emma can reply, "You're tired, you need to sleep. Now lay down on the bed or I'll make you." Emma studies him for a moment, not sure whether to believe that he just wants her to sleep or if he has something else up his sleeve. Knowing it's pointless, Emma lies down, eyes never leaving Jefferson as she watches him move to the bed, holstering the gun in his back pocket, her body tensing, readying to fight him if he tries anything. He moves towards the bedside table and rummages through a draw, producing something metallic and shiny. Confusion washes over her face for a split second before she see's the object more clearly. Why does he have handcuffs? Why was she even thinking about why he has handcuffs? Clearly this psycho would have something like this!

"Lift your left hand up above your head." Slowly she raises her hand toward the bedpost, unfortunately for her, their metal too, no hope of breaking out. The metal slips around her wrists making her flinch, the cool metal circling her heated skin. Jefferson is close now; watching her as he's cuffs her, a tiny smile showing on his lips infuriating her, he was clearly enjoying this! "Sweet dreams; let's hope for your sake it's just that you're exhausted that my hat isn't working." His voice is low and guttural, it's more like a growl, the threat only adds to the mounting fear and dread growing in the pit of her stomach. With one lingering look, he turns and leaves, Emma lies there helpless and utterly bewildered by the situation she's in.