"Are you asleep?"
The voice is light and soft, as if she's trying so very hard to not wake him if he is, but Will knows better than that. He takes a deep breath and contemplates pretending to actually be a heavy sleeper and ignore her until he feels the point of her boot in his hip. Nudging him. Waking him up.
"Oi," he mutters under his breath, smacking her foot away. "What's that for, huh? A man needs his sleep, especially one being dragged all along the countryside by a crazy woman."
Even in the dim starlight of Wonderland, he can see the outline of Alice's smile on her face. "So you're not asleep then? You were ignoring me?"
"How do you know I wasn't? You kicked me awake!"
"I nudged you." Alice rolls over onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. She's close now. A little bit closer than he thought she was when they decided to tuck in for the night.
Well, it is cold, he supposes. Colder than it should have been, and she's in practically nothing while he snuggles further into his stolen Storybrooke leather jacket. But she doesn't act like she's cold, doesn't shiver, doesn't ask for his jacket. Doesn't even move in closer to him.
"I thought we needed to get some rest," Will mutters, folding his arm under his head to rest on it. His gaze moves from her face to the sky.
"I can't sleep," Alice admits. "I keep thinking-"
"Well, there's your problem. Nobody got nowhere with thinking, you know. All it does is drive you mad." He pauses, thinking about the horrid place he found her in, the asylum that she seemed more than content to spend out the rest of her days in. "No offense."
She kicks him again, this time catching him in the stomach, and Will hisses as he scoots away from her and holds himself. "I keep thinking about what you're doing for me."
"Bleeding internally, you mean?"
Alice rolls her eyes, reaching out with her free hand to tug at his jacket sleeve, practically dragging him back over. "Helping me."
He thinks about that too, but he's said that enough times already that he's able to bite his tongue on that now. And he lets her pull him closer, because sometimes it's much safer to do what Alice wants rather than fight her. The girl is terrifying, if he's going to be honest. But that's part of her lackluster charm.
Still, he thinks about it. About why he would. And it's not for some dashing and noble reason that he's aware of. The Knave of Hearts is no hero. And it's not because he's fool enough to think his charm will win back Ana. He looks over Alice's open, eager face. He sees within her the pain and the struggle and the uncertainty of her life that is all at once too similar and completely foreign.
Their lives are not the same at all, and their choices are far from the same path, and yet here they are. Sharing the same cold ground, her icy fingers on his hand, hope in her pale blue eyes. She's close enough that he can see that even in the dark.
"I told you, you're thinking too much," he gruffs out, turning away from her. "We're mates. Friends. You've saved me, and I've saved you. That's what we do."
She smiles at him. "I've saved you more."
He sits up now with a gasp. "Are you keeping tally, Alice? Is that what we've come to?"
Her smile turns into a lazy smirk. "Do you want to know the score? It's pretty awful. I might have to question your competence at this friend-saving thing."
"I'm wounded. Right here." Will taps his chest on the left-hand side.
"You said you had no heart," Alice points out with a laugh.
"Well, now you're just wounding my pride."
She sits up, leaning forward as if she's going to let him in on a secret. He likes her like this, less serious, more like the girl he once knew. Heartbreak will do so many things to a person. Make them stupid and bitter and heartless. She's what he could have been if he was strong.
But then he remembers her in that hospital bed and the way she pretended that he was nothing, that Cyrus was nothing, too. The way she was going to let them get rid of her memories forever and the way she had asked for her heart to be taken. Alice is him, Will thinks.
And he is Alice.
A terrifying thought.
"Let me borrow your coat," she says, "and I'll give you a few more marks."
His nose wrinkles. "Bloody hell, now you're bribing me?"
"Spent too much time around you. Do we have a deal?" Her eyebrows raise high on her forehead.
"How about you even the scoreboard, and I'll even snuggle with you so we can share the jacket."
"Deal."
They shake on it.
He lowers himself to the ground first, unzipping his jacket. She presses against his side, one arm around his waist as her arm rests on the empty cavern in his chest. He pulls the jacket side over her, then his arm. This, he decides, is much better. Warmer. Comforting.
Will can't even really remember the last time he had been so close to someone that made him feel good.
She's quiet for so long, he just about falls asleep. And then: "Are you awake still?"
"Bloody hell," he breathes out, almost a laugh. "What is it now?"
"I miss your heartbeat."
He frowns up at the night sky. "You never knew it."
"I did, when I held it. I remember it."
He doesn't ask her about it, and she falls asleep before she can say more. But it leaves him with a strange ache in his chest anyway.