A/N:

This is based on I Wonder, by Kellie Pickler (I love her), but I didn't really think it through beforehand, so in this Alice is remembering. :)

Alice twirls in the mirror, turning her head this way and that way, trying to decide if she likes the outfit. She reaches up and brushes a piece of hair out of her eyes, and it takes her way back.

"I won't go! You can't make me!" Alice screamed, her green eyes becoming wide. "Why don't you just kill me like you killed Mother?" Alice's heart is racing, but she clutches her bed post firmly, shouting for help as best she can. Her father shakes with rage, but hides behind a pretense of calm.

"Mary Alice, won't you calm yourself. Don't upset yourself like this." He tries to prise her wrist off of the post, but she snatches her hand back, and her eyes turn to the window. She sees her Aunt's house. If she runs quickly enough, she can leave, and get away. Her father sees her gaze, and turns to glance too. Alice takes this chance to run. It takes a few moments before her father realizes, and she's at the door already, hammering at it with her bony fists.

"Let me in! Please! Please let me in!" Alice cries. "Help!" The door opens to reveal an angry Auntie Pandora.

"Mary, please. You're making a spectacle of yourself. Now leave, and go back to your father like a good girl, if that's not too much to ask," she says, aware that her son's murderess was standing before her, even if it was her niece. She cursed him.

"But-" Alice tries, but the door is slammed in her face before she can get the words out. Panicking, she runs to the town marshal, who is ready and waiting for her with a sympathetic look on his face.

"Mary Brandon." He says, taking ahold of her arm. "I've been expecting you." She sobs in relief, flinging her arms round him.

"You believe me! You really do!" He nods.

"Of course I belive ya, sweetheart." She breathes out, laughing a little. She thought nobody would believe her. "Now we'd better get going. We've got a long journey ahead of us."

"Excuse me?" Alice says, confused.

"Your Daddy's been talking to me."

No.

"Oh." Alice says limply, closing her eyes tightly.

"Yes." He pauses. "I'm going to take you to a very nice place for people like yourself." Alice shakes herself free of his grip, and starts walking towards her house. He grabs her arm loosely, but lets her go. She knocks on her house's door.

"Yes?" Her father opens. He frowns when he sees her. "What are you doing here?"

"I need something."

"Right. Well, only a minute." Alice knows it's only an act to make himself look good. Alice walks, head held high, into her sister's room. She's coloring in on the floor. She kisses her head.

"Well," Alice says awkwardly. After their mother died, they'd never been close. "Goodbye...you'll...you'll remember me, won't you?" Cynthia looks up, her big brown eyes, inherited from their mother, sparkling with tears.

"I'll remember you, Mary Alice," she looks down. "And I won't let anybody else forget you, either." Alice nods slowly, and walks to her own tiny room. The wallpaper was peeling away from the wall, and the carpet was badly scuffed, but she loved her poky room nonetheless.

"Mary! We have to get going now."

"No." Alice says, suddenly afraid.

"Mary Alice Brandon, get out of this house!" Alice sits on her bed again, tracing the pattern of the stitches. Her father pulls her up. "Don't you dare make a scene of this."


Alice leaned against the wall of the carriage, tears seeping out of her closed eyes. Pictures of life ahead flash through her mind, and she smiles wryly, folding her hands in her lap. Her long nails tap against one another, and the woman sitting next to her frowns. Alice simply offers her a smile and looks out. They were getting close to the middle of town, where the market stalls stood, blowing in the light wind. Alice wrinkles her nose. She wonders if she'll ever work - or live - here again.

She thinks they might stop here, as there is a home for orphans a little walk from there. But they continue to a large building, broken at the edges and secluded in every way possible, and then get out.

"We're here, Mary."


Alice steps through the doorway and is ushered through to a plain white room, where a stony faced lady in a white, crisp dress is waiting, a razor and scissors handy. "Mary, this won't hurt a bit." Alice wonders what they possibly could be doing to her, but silently sits. The lady starts snipping at her hair while Alice looks on, horrified.

"What are you doing!" Alice yelps, smoothing the hair down again, mouth agape.

"There is an outbreak of typhoid. We need to shave your head." Alice struggled and fought with the nurse, which ended up with Alice having a black eye, and being physically restrained by a very tall and broad man who whispered in her ear nice things. After her head was shaved, the man took her to her room.

"You're safe here." He says gently, sitting on the chair next to her bed. Alice looks to the ground.

"Yes, I know." She pauses.

"Go on."

"But I won't be happy."

"We'll see. I'm Lawrence, but you can call me Laurie. I didn't catch your name."

"That's because I didn't tell you."

"And are you going to?"

"Not yet." But he knew he'd earn her trust.


He brought things and hid them for her to guess. She always got it right. She was becoming happy again, until she finally got to have a bath. She was dragged there by a woman who thought that she looked like trouble. Alice shrugged. She didn't really care.

"I'll be by the door. Don't be long." She walks out, and Alice walks to the mirror. Forcing a smile upon her lips, Aice finally opened her eyes. Dark circles underlined her eyes, the tendrils of hair she had were like a ducklings, and she swore her forehead had a wrinkle on it. But her eyes.

His eyes. They still looked the same, even if they were a little more defiant. She reaches out and touches the reflection. She wonders if her father is thinking about her.

Alice is snapped back to reality by Jasper's hand on her shoulders. "A vision?" He queries. She smiles and shakes her head.

"Just a thought." It still hurts to think about him. She wonders if he even missed her. Would he even recognise her? She's not his little girl anymore. She's long gone. But she would recognise him.

Because she looks in the mirror and all she sees is his green eyes looking back at her - the only thing he ever gave to her at all.