Author's Note and Disclaimer
First and foremost, I do not own anything to do with Alice in Wonderland except one DVD copy. And furthermore, I do not intend to profit by this in any way, shape, or form (unless you count my own enjoyment). ... Exactly how would you profit off of fanfiction anyway? Is someone, somewhere, charging people to read this stuff? Who would pay?
This story takes place in Burtonverse and may very well be rated M in the far, far future. In other words: Don't expect smut from me until I'm comfortable with this story and the characters. If this bores you, don't read. CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome. So are nice reviews. Now on with my epic tale! (yeah, epic... snigger)
Prologue
Alice sighed, staring out the window, distracted from her work on the finances of her mad-crazy-wonderful (not to mention utterly successful and ultimately profitable) Idea.
Three years. Three wonderful-strange-lonely-homesick-exotic years.
Alice examined her face in the window glass' reflection, more pleased with shadowed illusion of her image than she ever was with any sliver-backed mirror. She was twenty-two now, nearly twenty-three. Her face, no longer trapped in that strange-beautiful phase between childhood and adulthood, showed strength, character. The freckle dusting on her nose a little more pronounced, her cheeks a little more hollow, and, she noted with rue, the circles under her eyes so much darker.
When would that blasted letter get here?
So much had happened since the rabbit hole. The China Idea had proven to be a good one, even more so since her Idea arrived at the tail end of the Second Opium War, opening even more ports to trade than before. Two months of planning, cajoling, learning, convincing with Lord Ascot by her side. Another five months by ship.
Alice winced at the memory. The novelty of being on a cramped ship without a single other woman on board while on the high seas had lost it's charm well within the first week. Surely the return trip would be even more interminable.
She briefly toyed with the idea of scrapping Wonder and heading back to England on mule. Foot, even. Unfortunately, she seemed to be the only one who thought that was a good idea.
A little over two years in China. Years where she established trading posts in the major ports and towns. Along the Hoang Ho River in Lanzhou and Yinchuan, off the Yellow Sea in WeiHeWei. She even managed to corner the market by being the first to establish a post in the new open port of Shanghai.
Sometimes disappointing years: Her sex worked against her just as much in China as in England, it seemed. The culture was rich, yes, but the mannerisms and class bias were ridged and suffocating. Alice had hoped to set some native women up as the managers of these outposts, but unfortunately it had proved impossible. A woman who could read and write the local tongue was a rarity in China, and besides, they practiced the most horrid things here. Alice could vividly recall the first time she saw a woman with bound feet, being carried by her son. When she inquired of her guide and translator what was wrong with her, Alice had at first been certain that she misunderstood. Why would anyone, anyone, subject themselves to that!
Sometimes wonderful years: Alice remembers the triumph of the first ship sailing off, loaded down with tea, silks, and opium. Her heart felt like it had grown wings, knocking against her ribcage in joy. And the beauty, the sheer beauty of China! Even without the heady feeling of success and accomplishment the trip would have been worth it for the sights alone.
Mostly homesick years though: Any letters she wrote to Mother and Margaret took forever to be delivered. And there were others, so many others that she could not write letters to. Mally, Thackary, The White Queen. And her Hatter. Alice missed her Wonderland with a steady, never-ending ach. Sometimes, when she was in a place of almost impossible beauty, or near a particularly intoxicating tea scent, Alice would close her eyes, inhale deeply, and for a moment, the barest moment, it would be as though she never left. Then her heart would catch on to the trick and ach anew.
Luckily the equally never-ending work to be done was more than up to the challenge her heart possessed. Even the things... Alice glanced at the ledger and groaned ...she wished would sort themselves out.
One more glance out the window and one more sip of tea.
Was that Damnable letter ever coming?
The tea here was heavenly, if a bit strange. Alice rolled her sip of white tea on her tongue before swallowing. The Chinese never used cream and rarely sugar in their teas. But such lovely teas they were anyway. She wished she could get the Hatter's opinion on them; the robust blacks, the greens, the sweet white teas. Every cup she had made her miss that ceaseless teaparty more.
But she was in China, and likely to remain so until that awful-wonderful-late-late-late letter arrived. The letter, of course, would be the one from Lord Ascot, who was monitoring the arrival of the shipments to Britain and appraising how they were received on the market. Should the shipments be too irregular or the market too glutted with similar goods to make it profitable, Alice would receive the letter she dreaded: the one with suggestions and instructions to fulfill. The one that would keep her here in China for another six months to a year, traveling between trading posts trying to set things right.
If everything went well though... That letter would be the one calling her home. That was the letter Alice had come to wish for with her entire aching heart.
At first he waited for Her.
Sitting in his chair pouring tea, trying desperately to smile through the scream that was building inside of him as the hours turned into days turned into weeks turned into months turned in an entire year... Yet Time must be angry at him again because all these days were the same... Running together and clotting like blood into one huge lump in his throat that made the nice calm words harder and harder to force out, until he was afraid to open his mouth at all for fear that black clots would fall out instead of words...
Eventually he wandered.
After all, She had said 'Be back before you know it'. She could be back and he simply did not know it yet. Best to go look for her. Naughty. Better than sitting, walking. And if his wandering took him to That Place more often than not, the first few times he barely noticed. Intent on Her.
Eventually That Place and She became intertwined. He thinks of Her disappearing and hears Their screams. The chessboard and the flames are one and the same.
That is when he starts disappearing. He'll lose himself and wake in another place. He begins to suspect that the times he is awake are becoming fewer. But when he disappears he doesn't (can't, really) think of Her. Or Them.
...bloodinhisthroatwhereishe...
The last time he wakes up he is in a room he does not recognize. This doesn't really alarm him. He's use to it now.
Besides, the room is white.
'What is it about monocolor that is so attractive to the queens of Underland?' He wonders. 'Surely a few splashes of color here and there couldn't cause her majesty that much distress.'
This room is quite filthy, he realizes. Broken furniture everywhere. And what is that on the walls? Blood?
His blood, he again realizes. His blood from the scratches that decorate his hands and arms. Blood under his fingernails too.
"Really? I know the white must be annoying... Where is my hat? If Chess has taken it again... Cat, hat... A rhyme..."
Down below, beside the locked tower door, Mirana listens. She's been listen quite hard now, ever since the screaming stopped. Hoping that something better, not worse, will take it's place.
Hoarse crooning makes it's way down the tower stairs, tickling her ears.
Twinkle twinkle little bat
I think the cat has stole my hat
Chase him down and steal him too
Cut him up and make some stew
Twinkle twinkle little bat
I think the cat...
Over and over again, dissolving into maniacal laughter, until Mirana starts to cry, useless potions held in useless hands.
Alice sat at her desk, re-reading her letter again, letting her smile stretch wider, feeling the bands that had grown around her heart stretch, loosen, and break.