Author's Note - Okay, between Father's Day coming up in a week and having spent all (very little) free time the past few days working on a shipping manifesto, I was pondering the relationship between Alice and her father and how deeply it relates to her relationship with Tarrant. You know that saying that girls tend to grow up to find men like their fathers? I just really feel like it fits in the case of Alice and Tarrant. I think Alice's telling Hamish about the "6 impossible things before breakfast" practice and getting a negative reaction, but then getting a positive reaction when she feels the need to tell Tarrant the same thing is kind of a metaphor for Alice wanting to find a man who is like Charles was. I don't know, maybe that's just my interpretation though, lol. So, this oneshot touches on Alice's relationship with her father as well as including the beautiful saganistute concept that was cut from the draft script. And, of course, it's Alice/Tarrant in the process!

Disclaimer: By now everyone should know that anyone posting on FFN probably doesn't own anything they are writing about. I don't even claim to know if this plot, any of the specific details, etc. have already been used somewhere in this vast section as I haven't read everything. So, my apologies if you feel I have stolen something from you. I promise it was unintentional!

Saganistute

As Alice sipped on her tea and looked around the clearing, she was still uncertain why she had ever decided she should leave Underland in the first place. Tea in London, Hong Kong, or anywhere else for that matter had not tasted as good to her anymore. Maybe it was the atmosphere, she thought, seeing as the tea itself was probably very much the same. Even now, as she sat in her favorite spot in any world, she felt happier than she had in quite a long time. The only thing that could possibly make it better would be the sound of gallymoggers from her dearest friends. However, Thackery was preparing a feast in Marmoreal's kitchens and Mally had not arrived for some reason or another as well.

Alice felt eyes upon her as she set down her cup and turned to look at the one she knew they belonged to. She smiled, suddenly taking back her previous thought that Thackery and Mally should be there. She didn't mind at all having Tarrant and a tea party all to herself. If only he could hear her slurvish thoughts. This caused a slight blush to rise to her cheeks which deepened when she realized he was still staring at her quite intently. "Tarrant?" she finally broke him from his gaze.

"Alice," he looked down as though he were suddenly very shy about something. "What's it like?" The question that had been weighing upon his mind for some time finally filled the air between them.

"What's what like?" Alice was happy to answer any question that might be troubling him, so long as she knew what it was.

"No, I shouldn't have asked, I mean, it's your business, and I should just be happy that you're back, but I've been wondering so long and…" Tarrant couldn't control his rambling.

"Tarrant," Alice said simply. She enjoyed that she was now to the point of calling him by his first name when the madness took hold and not just Hatter. Now that is a slurvish thought, Alice! She scolded herself for even remotely liking anything about having to break Tarrant from his madness. After all, she hated to see him suffer period.

"I'm fine," Tarrant said in a hoarse whisper before returning to his previous question. "What is it like Up there?" He finally managed to ask. He was very curious about the world that had brought Alice to him and, worse, had taken her away.

"Oh?" Alice could honestly say that was not what she had expected the question to be. She thought hard for a moment, wondering how to describe it. "Up there is nothing at all like Down here," she started decidedly. "Animals don't talk, tea parties are dull, dances are not joyous, and…green eyes are never green enough," she smiled again as he realized what she meant and also smiled.

"And…" Tarrant hesitated for a moment. He was afraid to bring up the next subject for fear it would cause her to leave again. "What about your family? With all your muchness, you must come from a wonderful family," his head bobbed a little as he made his comment with great conviction.

"Well, yes, they are wonderful." To be honest, Alice had not given her family much thought of late. All thoughts of the place she came from were mostly overpowered by how wonderful she felt to be in Underland again. "I love my mother and sister dearly, but I don't know if I could say they have the same kind of muchness as I do. My mother Helen is perfectly sane, and I mean that in the best sense. By the standards of my world, her character is hard to find and should be envied by all." Even if her mother had never quite understood her, she knew it was only because her mother was perfectly suited to London in a way that she never could be. "As for my sister, Margaret, she's a better sister than anyone could ask for. I wish the White Queen had been as fortunate to have had an elder sister like my Margaret. But she is determined to see things the way she wants to see them even if it means seeing good for bad," Alice clearly meant Lowell by this comment.

"That doesn't sound like a bad trait to me," Tarrant looked at her slightly confused and Alice smiled in spite of having been thinking of Lowell.

"You're right. It isn't at all," she nodded in agreement. "I only fear she'll have her heart broken because of it." Mirana had once told her that she could not live her life for others. Alice supposed this might also mean she couldn't live others' lives for them. If Margaret were to get hurt because of her decisions, was there anything she could really do to spare her? After all, Margaret did seem genuinely in happy and in love with her husband.

"And what of…" Tarrant's voice caused Alice to pay attention to him and no longer her thoughts of Margaret. "…your father?"

"My father?" Alice stared blankly ahead of her as she repeated the question and Tarrant immediately feared he had asked the wrong thing. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Alice spoke before he could. "There aren't really any words to describe my father. At least, none that do him justice. He did have muchness, but I think most people thought he was mad," she paused, turning to look at Tarrant with a curious expression. "But I don't think it ever bothered him that they did."

Tarrant's eyes widened as the prospect touched him quite deeply. "It didn't?"

"I think he would have been just as happy being mad as he was not being mad," Alice continued to think aloud.

"Oh, I-I…I'm not sure about that," Tarrant's eyes darkened a little as he thought about it. He knew personally how much he hated fighting constantly to keep himself sane. It was no way for anyone to live, least of all not the man Alice called father. He was glad she had said he wasn't mad.

"Tarrant, do you remember when I told you all the best people are mad?" Alice reached out and touched his face as if to remind him.

He smiled again and forgot his prior negative thoughts on the subject of madness. "Yes, quite vividly." He was nearly certain there was no way he would ever be able to forget their moment in Salazen Grum.

"My father first shared that secret with me when I was a girl." Alice was happy to see his eyes brighten again. "That is the kind of man my father, Charles Kingsleigh, was."

"Was?" Tarrant suddenly understood that Alice had been speaking of her father in past tense. "Alice, I'm s-s-sorry." He felt horrible for having brought up something that might pain her.

"Don't be," Alice finally removed her hand from his face and moved it to sit atop one of his hands on the table. "He deserves to be remembered. My father was the one who dared to think of six impossible things before breakfast and taught me to do the same. He never stopped believing in me even when I felt like I had gone mad." She felt his hand flinch a little beneath hers. "Up there was never the same when it lost my father," she sighed a little and looked away as she recalled the deep loneliness she had felt -and still often felt- when she lost the only person who had ever made her feel secure.

"Saganistute," Tarrant whispered before taking her hand in both of his.

"What?" Alice wasn't sure what the Underland word meant, but something about it struck a chord in her heart.

"Your father sounds like he was saganistute," Tarrant elaborated as she turned to look at him again and he met her gaze. "It means a wise person of poetry and vision."

Alice couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. It would figure that the only word that could ever perfectly describe the great Charles Kingsleigh would come from Underland. Suddenly, her smile lessened a bit as several thoughts filled Alice's head. Tarrant's hands around her own had never felt so right. She studied the dear Hatter as he sat in a bit of a trance, possibly not even aware he still held her hand. As Alice sorted through her many thoughts and memories, she could hardly believe she had never realized such an important thing about Tarrant before, "You're saganistute," she finally found her voice again.

Tarrant was broken from his trance as he looked at her in disbelief. He wanted to protest, but the look on her face seemed to dive straight into his soul and find the confidence he desperately lacked. "Your father…" he started, but Alice finished his statement before he had a chance to say something she would rather him not at this particular moment.

"…was like you, Tarrant," she finished matter-of-factly. She was suddenly more certain of this fact than anything else she had been certain of since she had found her muchness on Frabjous Day. "You're the only other man to believe in me, accept me, to understand me," Alice had not felt such peace since before her father had passed. As she looked at Tarrant, the previous recollection of loneliness vanished entirely.

Before Alice could say or even think anything else, Tarrant jumped to his feet and then fell to one knee beside her chair. All at once, Time seemed to stop and Alice was certain she might never find her breath again. "Alice..." he began, squeezing her hand a little – perhaps for his own sanity. "I hope you don't think of me as your father," the uncertainty was clear in his voice, but the innocence in his statement only made Alice feel that more perfect with him. "Because, I-I…feel very much more for you than a father…or even a brother…or friend…or…" Tarrant squeezed her hand again and shook his head forcefully. He was not about to let madness ruin this moment. "Alice, I don't know much about your world, or your family, except for that your father was saganistute, and I know you don't know much about this world, or the Hightopp Clan before it fell," Tarrant gulped before continuing, "but I know you. I-I don't know how, but I've always known you. And I love you, Alice." Tarrant moved one of his hands to his pocket and carefully pulled out a silver band with pearly white insets so that it resembled the blade of the Vorpal Sword. "Will you marry me?"

While the answer was screaming loud and clear within her head, Alice struggled to actually find the sanity it took to say it. Her mind swirled with thoughts, the legacy of her late father at the forefront of them all. He would have wanted her to be happy. He would have understood if that meant staying in Underland. And he most certainly would have approved of Tarrant Hightopp over any other man. "Yes!" Alice finally exclaimed. "I love you, Tarrant. I don't know how, but I've always loved you," she echoed his previous similar sentiment. As Alice threw her arms about Tarrant, not even giving him a chance to place the ring on her finger, she realized how true it was. She had always loved Tarrant, somewhere deep inside her dreams before she even realized they were realities. It suddenly felt as though her entire life had been leading her to Tarrant Hightopp.

All the best people are. Why, even her father had a hand in it! He could have simply told her not to worry or reassured her that she wasn't mad. Instead, he had somehow known to teach her the best people are mad, something she now believed with every fiber of her body. Yes, the man she hugged so tightly now was proof that Charles Kingsleigh had been saganistute.

The End