A.N: My first OUAT story guys, and of course it's Jefferson and Grace. Gah! Those two, I just can't deal with the feels! Anyway, this was a way to deal with those feels. It's just a little Grace centric drabble, since there isn't many of those on here.

I'll probably write more OUAT stuff, I'm just not sure when. It would have to be a really good idea, but I do need to focus on my other fandoms.

But anyhoo, as always, ENJOY!


"Grace."

That single, nearly breathlessly uttered name sent chills down my spine. I immediately froze, stopping dead in my tracks. My breath caught in my throat with the overwhelming swell of emotion that threatened to burst forth at any given moment, while my thundering heart lurched in my chest as my mind sped to catch up to what my heart already knew.

Only one person in this entire world would ever have any reason to call me by my true name.

Finally regaining control over my body, I turned to face him. "Papa!"

As soon as I saw him, all of my memories came rushing back in resounding clarity. My entire life with him flashed before my eyes in little snippets.

Chasing each other through a forest of deep green.

His booming, maniacal laugh.

A small cottage.

Bright red mushrooms.

A large black top hat.

A worn, handmade stuffed rabbit.

Sitting across from him at tea parties.

I remembered why those memories were so precious to me, why I remembered having dreamt about those things so clearly as a young child. Why my entire existence before the curse was lifted had felt so fake and unfulfilling.

I'd always felt that I never quite belonged with my family, even when I was younger. I was an only child of two very doting and nurturing parents, and they loved me as I loved them. We had happy, normal lives. But even still, our house never really became a home, no matter how much we tried to make it so. I'd always thought that our family portrait looked a little off to me. My smile was never quite genuine enough in those photos. There was just something that had always felt so wrong with them and the unrestful agitation only grew and became more potent as I got older.

Before I even knew that I had made the conscious decision, I was running into Papa's open arms and throwing myself at him, leaping into his embrace. "You found me! I knew you would."

I burrowed my head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the unrecognizable scent of his cologne, but remembering how he used to smell of wood smoke and a particular fragrance that is totally just my Papa.

Being in his arms, as he lifts me off the ground and carries me away- it was like being reborn.

I am Grace. His daughter.

I am finally where I belong.