Hello, everyone! I am back, and oddly motivated, so I hope you really sink your teeth into this fiction.

Summary: In which the subject of hair color arises. If you squint, you might see the beginning of HatterxAlice.

Note: If I had to set this somewhere in the story, it would be shortly after Hatter and Alice meet, and are on their way to the Dodo.

Disclaimer: This was all Syfy. I just supplied the fluff.

205 Extra Bleach Blonding

Alice Hamilton had been afraid of heights for as long as she could remember. She had a great amount of respect for those who made their lifestyles from heights – mountain climbers, bungee-jumpers, and the like – but as a level-headed martial arts sensei she preferred the firm ground of earth. The kind that, should you misplace your high kick, wouldn't tip you over the edge and send you to your death.

That being said, Alice was very quick to assume that she would not enjoy Wonderland.

It was dark, and gloomy, and millions of feet in the air. She was cold, with only Hatter's purple coat as protection, and she was beginning to regret the raspberry tights she had pulled on. She'd lost her boyfriend to some weird man with a rabbit pin (Alice didn't like to think it, but the word pedophile rang sharply through her mind). And to top it all off –

"What the hell are you doing?"

Hatter, instead of leading her through the treacherous streets, had been pulling and messing with her hair for the past five minutes, muttering random things under his breath. The only word she was able to clearly make out was "blond."

"Do you dye it?" he asked, curiously twirling a strand between his fingers.

"Dye what? Dye my – my hair? No."

"Never?"

Alice jerked her head to free her hair from Hatter, but only ended up tugging on her scalp, as Hatter refused to let go.

"I have never once dyed my hair. What does it matter?"

Hatter gave one final tug, as if her real color was hiding somewhere deep within the strands of hair, before letting go and regarding her warily. Alice wondered if this had something to do with her being the "Alice of legend."

"Well…I've been up to your world once or twice, and I've seen some of the stuff that you Oysters associate with Alice." Hatter said matter of fact. "She's blond."

"She's not real," Alice repeated for the umpteenth time. "And don't call me an Oyster."

"But she is real, how many times do I have to tell you? And it seems to me that if you're going to be the Alice of legend, you should be blond."

"Excuse me?" Alice said, scrunching herself closer to the wall as the path dipped sharply.

"You know – blond? Yellow hair? Spun gold, all that jazz? And curly. I think Alice's hair was curly."

Hatter stepped in front of her suddenly, taking her hand and guiding her down a narrow passage that she never would have noticed had she been on her own. His hand was warm; the feel of it against her cold hand made her shiver. He looked a lot warmer than her – but then again, he hadn't swum two hours to reach the godforsaken shore of Wonderland.

He's just been sitting cozily in his stupid tea room, she thought bitterly. And now he's accusing me of being blond.

"So what if I'm not this Alice of legend? I'm not here for your benefit, I don't give a damn about this place; I'm here for Jack."

"Uh-huh. Jack. Casino-boy."

Alice glared at his back. "Don't say that."

"Well," Hatter sighed, "I suppose you have the blond mentality."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Hatter raised an eyebrow. "Well, none of you Alice's are very smart, the way you all keep falling into Wonderland, now are you?"

She was going to retort, going to let him have it – after all, she'd been assaulted, locked up, dropped from that weird Scarab thing, bartered off, and forced to traverse this stupid (and literal) highway of streets. She didn't need to take his verbal abuse, and she wasn't a martial arts sensei for nothing.

But as she opened her mouth, he pulled a random scarf from somewhere on his person and wrapped it around her neck.

"You look cold."

It was a sweet gesture – something she wouldn't have expected from someone like him – and she didn't want to undermine it, but the sting of being called stupid could not be ignored.

She wrapped the scarf a little tighter. "You're a jackass."

He squeezed her hand and dragged her forward with him. And because Alice was behind him, she couldn't see his mad grin.

So, another short.

It always bothered me that Alice is always blond, and it did my heart good to see that this Alice was a wonderful brunette. Being of mixed race, it hurts my heart to think that no one will ever consider us an Alice. Baby steps, though. When I'm famous, we'll have a mixed Alice.

(For those who wonder about the title: It's the name of a L'Oreal hair dye. Tee-hee.)

Comment, and I shall love you!