Waking the Lunatics
A/N: One-shot about what might have been going on just before Alice's arrival back in Underland.
The clearing in front of the burned-out, dilapidated wreck of a windmill was dark, and quiet, and yet the Hatter's sleep was suddenly disturbed.
"Whit!"
Lifting his head hesitantly, he opened his eyes to search out what had awoken him, his heart lifting in hope of seeing a flash of blond curls and lacy skirts - but his disappointment was devastating when a scan of the table and clearing turned up nothing. Even his two constant companions at the table were asleep, Mally's tiny form lounging in one of the butterdishes (thankfully it was empty) and Thackery with his head pillowed on a plate of stale teacakes. He had a small teapot balanced atop his ears, and his soft snores were hidden beneath a soiled linen napkin.
Tarrant took another nervous look around, and then tried to close his eyes and sleep again, but his attempt at escape was elusive. He finally gave in and sat up in his chair, digging out his watch to stare forlornly into its still face.
The hands had not moved since the last time he'd checked, and he didn't have the slightest how long ago that had been.
'Nae time, nae time...'
Tarrant scowled, and dropped the watch rather violently onto the tabletop. He leaned over it, resting on his forearms, waiting, waiting, always waiting for the bloody thing to move, talk, tick, twitch, anything, something!
The cracked face didn't do anything, and in frustration he picked it up and flung the wretched thing into an open teapot, smiling in grim satisfaction as it landed with plop in the cold, stagnant tea. His sense of contentment was short-lived, however, and he was soon digging around in the seemingly bottomless teapot with cuffs rolled back to his elbow, searching for the cursed watch.
He was on his knees on the tabletop, with his arm in up to his shoulder, when his fingers at last grasped the the cold chain in the nameless sludge at the bottom, and he dragged it out and proceeded to to sit there, crosslegged in the middle of the table, and clean the watch thoroughly with a handkerchief. When he was done, he opened it and gave the gears a proper buttering for good measure.
Tucking the watch away, Tarrant hopped off the table and realized with dismay that he had nothing else to do. Oh, certainly, he could fetch a fresh pot, more dishes, and rouse his friends for a lively game of 'Clean Cup', but that would be quite selfish when he could see they were resting so comfortably.
Sighing, Tarrant returned to his seat, ignoring a grumble from the vincity of his stomach at the thought of a fresh cuppa.
A twig popped on the footpath, and his head snapped up, a hopeful smile on his face in spite of himself.
"Alice?"
A generously-sized bread-and-butterfly fluttered from a broken branch on the ground and glanced his way guiltily before it aimlessly drifted off into the forest.
Tarrant drooped, inside and out. "Awae ye' gae, then," he muttered crossly, and stared moodily at a stain on the tablecloth before him. The stain was from squimberry jam, and made him recall the way Alice's wee, doll-like face had scrunched up adorably when he'd tasted his first squimberry tart.
"Oh, Alice," he murmured sadly, slumping back against his chair. Alice, Alice, Alice. The dear child had gone along his merry way, and he'd been left behind, like a once favored toy outgrown.
A loud slurping noise came from his left, and Tarrant remained in his slumped position but allowed his eyes to cut over to seek out the cause of bother.
A large teal-striped furry bottom was sticking out of one of the teapots, and Tarrant found himself crossing his eyes in annoyance before rolling them, and coughing pointedly.
"Chess, although I do appreciate your impromptu visit, is it really necessary to attempt to drown yourself in my honey-vanilla chamomile?"
The large cat's hide shuddered, and then disappeared, only to reappear in the chair next to Tarrant. A delicate burp preceeded the appearance of Chessur's grin, and the mischevious cat touched a paw to his mouth.
"Oh, do pardon me. I was ever so parched. My thanks for the refreshment."
Tarrant couldn't help but giggle, and then he lowered his head toward the cat's grinning face, a wild brow lifting in suspicion.
"I'm sure you're very welcome, Chess, but what have you been up to that has you in such a state?"
The cat put an elbow on the table, and rested his head on his paw. He let out a put-upon sigh and absently brushed some crumbs from the cloth near a chipped plate.
"Oh, you know how her highness delights in conversing with her so-called subjects - "
"Downal with th' bluidy big heid!"
"Not that queen, Tarrant," the cat drawled patiently, rolling a sugar cube with the tip of a claw. "Mirana still thinks to change the tide - I'm ever being sent hither and yon to deliver messages. She does take advantage of my evaporating skills so, and you know how I detest politics..."
Tarrant's left eye twitched. "What kind of messages?"
"Well, of late, they've mostly been about the Oraculum," Chessur yawned.
"The Oraculum?" Tarrant's eyes grew impossibly wide.
"Hm, yes...and the Frabjous Day." Chessur's long tail gave a teasing twitch, tilting the empty tea cup nearest him with a pointed look. "There is to be a Slaying, or so it says."
"A Slaying! Ha!" Tarrant crowed loudly, banging a triumphant fist on the table and sending precariously stacked china crashing.
A heavy silver teaspoon slid from an upended saucer and smacked into Thackery's face. He woke with a violent start, snorting, and slung his teapot-hat at the Hatter's head, which he absently ducked.
"SPOooON!"
"Oh, dear," muttered Chessur at the resulting crash. "You've gone and woken the lunatics."
"Blasted, buggerin' red knights!" exclaimed Mally, erupting from her sleep with her sword drawn, only to stumble from the butter dish headfirst into a sugar bowl.
"Ow, my head, my foot!" Mally attempted to use her hatpin as leverage to remove herself, and succeeded in jabbing the point into the Thackery's paw.
"Oi, ya' wee eejit!" the wild-eyed Hare bellowed. "Tha's ma' foot!"
"Oh! A Slaying! How exciting!"
"Yes," Chessur drawled, "and The Alice will be playing the part of Slayer."
"Alice!" Tarrant burbled happily. "Ma' bonnie, wean lad is returnin'!"
"Aw, fer fecks sake!" cursed the violent dormouse at the news. "She'll be nuthin' but trouble, that one, believe you me!"
Tarrant turned on the tiny mouse with darkened eyes and a menacing smile. "Are ye' throu?"
Mally dropped her head and retreated, looking chastened.
Chessur sighed in the midst of the hilarity. "Yes, Tarrant, The Alice shall return. Soon, one would hope. Very soon..."
End