Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all SyFy and Lewis Carroll.
Author Notes: Many thanks to love_ophelia for encouragement and great beta work.
THE GRIT AND THE PEARL
Duchess wasn't there when Alice left Wonderland, but she heard all about it, catching Clubs' muttered conversations when they thought she had passed out of earshot. Even a crumbling casino and dramatic shift of hierarchal power couldn't destroy gossip.
Jack had proposed to Alice. She had refused him. Now she was gone.
Duchess looked at herself in the mirror. Technically she was still engaged to Jack. But that didn't matter to the King of Hearts. It never had.
A stab of something painful crossed through Duchess. She could feel it trembling under her skin. Her heart was breaking.
When she sauntered into the new throne room – now situated in a beautiful building full of wide open spaces and polished floors that reminded her of sliding across the casino floors in her socks with a youthful laughing Jack, back when his eyes were always clear to her – Jack was seated on a simple wooden throne.
There was a glass of something in his hand that not long ago she would have labelled Clear Conscience. He was wearing a gold circlet studded with exquisitely cut rubies. His suit was the most vivid blood-red, his tie was a charcoal slash against his white shirt.
This was the way the King of Hearts chose to rule.
"Your Highness," Duchess faltered. Her practised steps, her smiling expressions and poses for every occasion and person to curry favour with were all useless. The Queen's rules didn't fit here anymore.
Jack barely raised his gaze. Whatever he was staring at didn't exist in Wonderland. Even in the depths of this strange solemn mood, he was perfectly beautiful. And that chink inside of her that had always fiercely cared for him sparked brightly.
She tried again. "And how does the day taste?"
Jack stirred, but didn't drink. "Like home, I suppose. Like a King's decisions."
That was bitter. Like an Oyster crate slamming shut around him. He still glowed with the residue of the Other Side, but it was fading. He was still one of them, even if he didn't wish to be.
"My mother is in the tower, until I decide what to do with her."
"She was going to kill you."
Now he looked at her and his gaze was not kind. "I won't have her blood on my hands. Wonderland won't be built that way again."
What a complication he was. Wonderland's hero, freeing them from fear. He smiled whenever he was outside and ruled with implacable authority. He met with ministers and acted decisively. He was every inch the King of Hearts.
But these bleak moods would flood him and it was always behind closed doors, with no one to see. Except for Duchess. They were just words that he needed to say, to sound them out. Duchess listened.
A funeral for Jack's father was held a fortnight after Alice had left. There were already monuments of the Oyster up and groups that bore her name proudly. Just Alice, or Alice the Just. She hadn't left at all. She was the grit and the pearl both. Duchess felt that emotion stab through her again. It took her breath away.
The former King was buried, an Other Side custom, and nothing was said. Roses were planted there, red and velvety. Jack stood like a statue, all in black. Duchess was merely nearby, a vision in gold and white, because he was the King and she wasn't his consort.
It wasn't until everyone else had left that Jack crumbled. His legs became unsteady and there was a twist to his perfect features like something had shattered inside. Duchess' heart echoed it.
She crouched beside him, so difficult in her beautiful shoes, and pressed gloved hands to his shoulders, his arms, even his face. Reassurance. It was always green in the bottle and tasted of solid plans and her wardrobe in perfect bountiful order. But something bled through, something real. It shook her from the inside out. She cared, so much.
Jack rested against her, only for a few moments. She felt his tears on her dress, his sigh against her skin. It was so.....odd. Emotions displayed by the royal house were unheard of. But Jack was different. He had been before he went to the Other Side. He was building a new house of cards. It was a baffling new game.
Jack straightened without a word and she followed him, back to the Palace, as the citizens called it. He didn't tell her to leave.
There were courtiers gathered in the Palace, but there was no Jack to lead them. The Suits were worried – it was clear in the slight glances out of the corners of their eyes. Jack was out, overseeing some more rebuilding. There was so much to do as Wonderland rediscovered itself and he was only a singular figurehead.
A Diamond Girl looked at Duchess with great relief. Duchess' armour slid instantly into place. She had never treated the Clubs and Diamonds with anything other than spite, shrieking her displeasure whenever they infuriated her. Even now, most fell stiff and silent at her approach. But she had always been a constant here, Jack's sly shadow. And there was no one else to turn to when Jack disappeared.
He had not squashed her stature in Wonderland. He was curious what she would do with it now.
"There's talk and rebellion," the girl whispered as she hovered like she was taking a drinks order. "The courtiers have all their business, but the King….."
Duchess dismissed her. "Bring them through."
She led the way into the hall. The Suit that always followed her slid in behind her. There was a table and portraits and a ceiling that never appeared to stop rising and room for everyone. She sat at the head of the table. Where she'd always aimed to be. A thrill of pleasure purred down her spine. But there was something else as well, an emptiness, because of the space beside her.
This is what she would do with her stature. This, she could do for him.
"The King isn't in his counting house today," she announced, clear and confident. "But I will listen for him."
No one visibly objected. The courtiers stated their business. She could have easily spoken Jack's mind and made the decisions. She had learned his point of view like a second skin. She could play this puppet show with ease. But she knew his reaction to such a presumption too and kept her silence.
Jack waited for her the next day with a distrustful lift of his eyebrows, fully informed of her actions and ready for her report.
"Someone needed to deal the deck," Duchess stated.
"And you always loved court."
She had. All that knowledge to drink in and use. Knowledge was power, the Queen had taught her.
"And you always hated it," she replied with a softness that surprised them both.
Jack was standing in the shadows, maps spread out over the table. She couldn't see his eyes. She hated that.
"There's a new kind of resistance," Jack's voice spoke out of the darkness. "Those who want the Queen to rule them."
To have the old rules in place. Everything in its perfect hard order. Duchess could see the appeal in that, she could taste it. She knew how to play her role there and gain what she wanted. But here, things were being shaken loose inside of her. Jack was here, and she was learning how to be herself without the role-play.
"There will always be resistance," she offered. "No matter who wears the crown."
"Do you care who wears it?"
It was like a slap. Duchess teetered between hideous understanding and denial. An indignant shriek howled inside her, followed swiftly by the honeyed tone she'd always used to smooth away Jack's suspicions. But her instincts, always her greatest weapon, supplied her true voice. Incredulous and hurt.
"Of course I do," she forced the words out, wanting him so desperately to see their truth. "I want it to be you."
Jack snorted and it cut into her, sharp and unforgiving.
"The Queen's supporters cry your name," he told her. "I've heard that you're making a way for them and for my mother."
Of course. Duchess could feel tears stilling in her eyes. She had never cried in front of Jack before. Cool Composure, icy blue and twice as cold, had always kept her carefully level.
"I'm watched everywhere I go. I couldn't help, even if I wanted to."
"Which you don't."
Duchess's voice cracked. "No."
She was pinned by Jack's clear strong gaze. She stood her ground. He was seeing her tears, her unsteady voice, as another of her immaculate performances. But she wasn't playing to an audience anymore. He didn't see that, not even a little.
He allowed her to continue taking the lead in court. The Suits and Clubs were no doubt reporting every move she made and every word she uttered. She was composed and firm with sardonic eyebrows to all who encountered her.
But Jack had cracked her open. Her life was consumed, checking on him from the edges of his awareness. She made sure food was taken to him regularly, that his quarters were kept as simple and soothing a retreat from his life as he'd always needed, that everything was to hand for him, that his life was made easier so that he could rule unhindered.
It was subtle and secret, with so much more meaning than before.
The emptiness wasn't just Jack not being beside her. It was inside of her as well.
The first sign of trouble was the untidy but handsome young man in a hat storming out of the throne room. He didn't say anything, but the look on his face would have curdled tea. Another of Alice's friends. Duchess remembered him with a knife, threatening to cut off the Queen's ring finger.
Inside, Jack had a face to match. But there was something playing at the edges. Perhaps a smile?
"I seem to have missed all the excitement."
"He wants to go through the Looking Glass," Jack replied, sounding incredulous. "To find Alice."
Duchess's expression twitched. She wished, fervently, for a sip of Calm. Jack's mind was worrying at something. And she had no Honesty to ply him with. That wasn't the game anymore. This was all still so new.
"He wants to be with Alice."
"Of course he does."
"Jealous, Duchess?"
Duchess's lips thinned. Now she was the plaything he was toying with. He had a cruel streak that was all his mother.
"Everyone loves the Oyster."
She curtseyed perfectly and spun on her heel for the exit. Jack didn't stop her. Two of Diamonds slid her into her coat – white and soft with shining gold buttons – and smiled hesitantly at her.
"What I really want is some Peace," Duchess commented with practiced idleness. "But there really is none left, isn't there?"
Her words were hopeful and leading. Two looked alarmed.
"Of course, ma'am."
One of Jack's first decrees has been to smash up the stills, dismantle all the tea shops, and pour away the emotions. Every drop was gone. There were no quick fixes anymore. Wonderland was learning how to feel its own emotions again.
Often, Duchess longed for a soothing tea. Any way to cure the ache of what she was feeling. There was another fix of course. She could leave the Palace and make sure to never see Jack again. He had made his choice, even before he'd gone through the Mirror.
But that spark for him burned harder than any of the pain. And he needed her help, whether he knew it or not. She took a step out into the cold night.
The clatter of rusted armour heralded Charlie's presence in the Palace. He was re-enacting a chase or fight of some kind when the Duchess found him. He staggered to a sort of narrow-backed posture and tilted his head proudly.
"Your Grace! An honour to see you, a privilege. You are a ray of sunshine."
It seemed there were places in Wonderland that did not gossip about her as the Queen's secret weapon and strongest supporter. There was something to be said then for life alone in the forest.
"Charles."
She offered her hand and he brought it to his lips in a surprisingly gentlemanly gesture. She treated him to her special smile.
"And how are you?"
"The spirits have been talking to me, Your Grace," his look was wild-eyed again, fingers to his temples as though concentrating greatly. It looked laughable, but Duchess gave only a small smirk. "Such wonders are revealed to me, such wonders! The King is to have a Queen. A White Queen."
There was a certain look he was favouring her with. This mostly-mad fool - the only one inside or outside the Palace who treated her with genuine courtesy, who had somehow cleared the casino of most of its Suits, and was in the process of training a new line of White Knights - was talking of an impossibility. There hadn't been a White Queen on Wonderland's throne for centuries. And the King had no desire to make good on a betrothal.
"Ah ah," Charlie pointed a finger aloft when Duchess opened her mouth to dismiss his attractive yet fanciful idea. "The spirits, Your Grace, the spirits."
Then Ace of Clubs appeared to escort Charlie to where Jack was waiting for him in the throne room. Duchess was left behind, something hard in her chest. It coloured her dreams.
The next day, Hatter went through the Looking Glass with Jack's apparent blessing. Duchess's smile curled her lips beautifully. There was something like the amber glow of Triumph warming her inside. It felt even better first hand.
Jack was waiting outside court when Duchess finally declared the meeting over. The courtiers didn't notice him because he tucked himself away. But Duchess knew. She lingered in the doorway until they were alone and then skated a glance over at him.
"Scared of your courtiers?"
"They're scared of you."
"They need someone to tell them what to do."
"And you're good at it."
A compliment? Duchess lowered her eyes. It had always been a coy gesture before. But now, something real fuelled it. It was Joy, raspberry red and breathless.
"You haven't asked for anything in return," Jack's eyes were weighing her carefully. "What is it you want?"
Duchess smiled, amusement and pain colliding in delirious agony under the surface. How exquisitely ironic that she continued to speak the truth, honest and actual, and he would always take it as a lie.
"You already know," her smile twisted. "And you don't believe me."
"Try me."
That was a command. Duchess' eyes were as clear as glass.
"I care about you, Jack," his name singed the atmosphere. Something ignited and cooled all at once.
"That's all there is?" he was incredulous, his brow furrowed, his eyes searching searching for something more, some agenda.
"It's everything."
It was the most complete truth she had ever spoken aloud to him. It was there now, between them, his to disbelieve and discard. Jack didn't walk away. He looked at her, his expression troubled. Searching.
"I don't trust you."
Duchess wasn't surprised. She was resigned, a flavour she had never tasted before. She was exhausted by it. "I know."
"And you still stay here. You work here."
Duchess inclined her head. Jack cared, so she looked to what he cared about. Knowledge was power. Some lessons were so deeply ingrained. Wasn't he using the lessons he'd learned at his mother's knee to remake Wonderland?
Her heart rattled.
"It's everything," she repeated. You're everything, sang silently inside her.
The King is to have a White Queen.
Jack let her leave and Duchess felt his eyes at the middle of her back. Not judging her or even scornful, but puzzled and intrigued and always always searching.
-the end