She can still feel Hatter lingering behind her as her gaze drifts from the powerless, limp looking former queen to her regal, stiff looking son. Jack Heart... She's not sure if he's king now, but his arms are around the Duchess and she feels-- not jealous, neccessarily, but a little pained... a lot raw. When they finally break apart, she keeps her chin up as she walks over to him and drops the ring silently into Jack's hands, officially done with the mission. Right now, she just wants to sleep for a decade, forget everything that happened the last few days.

"You alright?" Hatter's low voice drags her thoughts from the two blondes and she gazes at him, shrugging distantly.

Her dad's dead, for real this time, after ten years of her thinking she had done something to make him leave-- after just realizing that no, no, he didn't want to leave-- he had been kidnapped, brainwashed, drained of everything that had made him her dad until mere minutes before his murder. She's far from alright but there's something weird about Hatter that distracts her from the tears stinging at her eyes-- he's pale, even trembling a little. It reminds her briefly of how he looked after he was nearly shot, just different, somehow. She considers all the torture he's gone through the last few days-- and what she might not be aware of. "Are you?" she asks, tentatively reaching out towards him.

His lips part like he's about to say something flippant but before any words come out, he cringes and changes his mind, eyes on her outreached hand. "Uh, yeah."

She feels annoyed, sick of swallowing lies. "Hatter. Don't expect me to trust you and then lie to me. Not now, after everything." His wandering eyes snap back to her face and yeah, he definitely looks sick, his stubble looking black against his pasty skin. "What's wrong with you?"

"Just-- just the bruises and cuts," he says feebily, the lie obvious as soon as she looks into his eyes.

She shakes her head, the last few days finally crashing down upon her in all their terrible glory. "Fine, don't tell me," she says, her lips turning down as she brushes past him, looking for a way through the crowd of people from earth. As soon as her body grazes his, he hisses and she stops immediately, feeling the heated tremors through his shirt and jacket. "Hatter, God, just tell me," she whispers, moving away. She may be mad at him but she doesn't want to cause him physical pain, especially with his face looking as cut up as it is, blood still flaking along his throat. Speaking of... She gazes up at him, certain she now knows the answer, and she seems to forget about all of the people around them as she carefully tugs at the jacket, peeling it off of his shoulders without asking. He seems to understand what the dawning look of horrified understanding on her face means.

He doesn't even try to stop her, looks away as if ashamed and she carefully unbuttons his shirt, somewhat surprised to find the body armor that had simultaneously relieved and pissed her off mere days before is missing, all thoughts about how sensual this would be in any other circumstance wiping clean from her mind as soon as his chest and abdomen is revealed. It's much, much worse than bruises, she discovers in horror, as there are burn marks and bruises of various sizes and shapes spread up and down his rib cage on either side... "Oh, God," she mutters, shaking her head. "What did they do to you?"

She looks up at him in amazement. "Oh, my God."

"Oh these, they're just a few bruises and cuts," he's saying, looking flustered as she ignores his claims and jumps into his arms, eyes wide as she grips at him. She had thought he was dead-- thought her suicidal mission had also taken his life but he's here, he's a little beaten up, but he's strong and solid around her and murmuring something about how nice it feels-- which she agrees with-- before reluctantly pulling away, suggesting they get to safety before continuing this.

He says something vague about Drs. Dee and Dum liking their torture devices before she shakes her head, a distressed look on her face. "What?"

"Did I hurt you?" she mutters, hand fluttering by her lips. "When I hugged you before...?"

"Course not!" he says, anxious to ease her fears. "I..."

"What if you have nerve damage and I did hurt you but you couldn't feel it? I mean, oh God, this could be bad," she says, taking in his tired features once more. "Really, really bad..."

He frowns and catches her still fluttering hands as they hover helplessly above his chest, just wanting to ease the look of horror on her face. "Listen, I'll get checked out, alright? I will, I promise. I'll be fine." She nods with an uncertain look on her face as he presses at her hands, molding her fingers around his subconsciously. "But really, Alice... how are you?" He's hurt and tired but he still takes the time to ask about her...

That is all it takes as the last of her strength crumbles, and she buries her face into the sleeves of the purple jacket that he gave her what feels like ages ago now, not wanting to risk hurting him further by doing the cliche'd thing and crying against his shirt. He ignores this however, quickly rebuttoning the shirt around his beaten up midsection and dragging her over so her face is pressed against the fabric which, despite it all, is still somehow soft and comforting. They stand like that forever as he just lets her cry it all out, shielding her from the nosy eyes of the still lingering oysters and suits.