He stared at his bare body in the mirror, angling it this way and that with a critical glare aimed at his reflection. A madman glared back. His eyes were a blend of yellow and orange that would be more than enough warning to anyone who entered at the moment.
"No, no, simply won' do for Alice. Musn' frighten Alice. Cannae let Tha Alice see," he was muttering to himself in a dark brogue, as he spun around, looking at the healed gashes along his back, from where Stayne's whip had bitten into his flesh. He flexed his back, feeling the skin stretch and pull on the newly- knit wounds with a vague ache that he ignored. "Cannae let mah bonnie lass see."
A knock sounded at the door, and he was jolted out of his bout into Madness. "Who is it?" he called warily, hoping it wasn't Chess. Of course, the vanishing cat would probably have simply ignored knocking and materialized in his room.
"Tarrant? It's me, Alice. Are you alright in there? We're going to be late for tea with Mirana," the irony in her voice was plain to hear. Usually it was him ushering her out the door, with a quip that they would be late. As it stood, Hatter barely noticed the gentle teasing in her tone. Instead, he panicked.
"Yes, Alice, I—I know. I'll be…out in a moment. Just need to get dressed," he lisped, trying to gather his clothes before she decided to come in. He was fortunate; he heard her sigh, then walk away from the door and down the hall.
Hatter let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. He stood a moment more, looking at the mirror, before quickly donning his clothes and turning resolutely away from the Reflective Glass.
"So, Alice, how have things been with you and Tarrant?" Mirana asked gleefully, leaning towards Alice with a conspiratorial grin on her lovely face. "How do you like your new home?"
Tarrant had excused himself when he saw that the women wanted to discuss something, saying he wanted to check the state of his hat room, though they knew as well as he it was in the exact condition he had left it in: in a delightfully messy chaos that he favored in his work.
Alice sighed and slumped further into her seat. She fiddled with the ring on her left hand; a gesture she only did when she was extremely happy or extremely worried. "To be honest, Mirana, it's been difficult," she whispered, suddenly sitting forward to hold her head in her hands.
Mirana's smile slipped off her face as she registered what Alice had said. After a moment's pause, she asked quietly, "Alice, what's wrong?" She scooted her chair closer to her Champion, reaching out to take one of her hands.
Alice was silent or a few moments, her breathing shallow while she fought for control. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she raised her head and choked out, "It—it's Tarrant, Mirana. I think I've done something wrong, and I don't know what." The rest came out in a rush, "He…won't talk to me. Oh, I don't mean he ignores me or anything, but whenever I try to ask him what's wrong, he goes into a terrible fit. His eyes turn almost red and he breaks all the tea sets. He's never, never hurt me, but he keeps saying that I can't see, that I can't know." She laughed bitterly. "I guess he's grown tired of me, but he's such a gentleman, he won't tell me. And he hasn't—" She gave a sob, and buried her face in her hands again.
Mirana's eyes were wide, he free hand clenched in a fist on the table and she herself fought for control. She had a feeling she knew where this was leading, but she needed more evidence. "Alice, have you two…" she paused, looking for a delicate way to phrase her question. "…been intimate?"
"No! And that's the whole bloody problem!" Alice jerked her head up and shrieked. "He doesn't want me! I think he's realizing what a horrible mistake he made!" she quieted down for a moment, and continued with a whisper. "On…on our wedding night, everything was going so wonderfully. Hatter and I went to our rooms, and he was…kissing me. Oh, Mirana, no one kisses like him. Like I'm the most treasured thing in his world and he wants me to believe that I'm beautiful. But—but when I started to undo the buttons on his shirt, he pushed me away! He...he—well, I don't really know what set him off, but he started ranting about how I couldn't see the truth."
Alice looked at Mirana forlornly. "And—he said we could never be together," she finished breathlessly, starting to cry again. Mirana wrapped her arms around her friend, knowing how hard this would be for her Champion. Tarrant, you fool! She yelled in her mind. She knew what was wrong, but she would have to speak to the Hatter before anything could be resolved.
"Alice, I know you're hurting right now, but you simply must listen to me. Hear my words and take them to heart," she said calmly. "Hatter loves you." Alice started to protest, but the Queen silenced her. "He loves you, Alice. I think I know why it is Tarrant has been pushing you away, but I need to see for myself. For now, I need you to trust your heart when it tells you that Tarrant loves you."
Alice looked at her for an immeasurable amount of time, before nodding slowly. Mirana smiled at her and stood. "Now, I need you to take a carriage home. Don't worry about Tarrant. I'll talk to him and see if this is what I believe it is. Go home, take a bath, and wait for your husband to come back to you."
With that, she turned and strode down the hall towards the Hatter's workroom, leaving Alice gaping after her.
"What in Underland is wrong with you, Tarrant Hightopp?" were the Queen's first words when she regally burst through the doors of the Hatter's shop.
The Hatter, who had previously been making a new hat for Alice, jumped at her sudden entrance and scrambled to stand. He wasn't given many options when she gripped his shoulder and practically threw him back into the chair with a force that no one would expect from such a delicate lady.
"Wha—?" was his very eloquent response to the fury that was written all over his friend's face.
"Alice thinks you don't love her."
Now, it must be said that Mirana was rarely ever straight-to-the-point. So that she was saying it so bluntly, meant it must be true. And the Hatter was horrified. "What? She—she…how can…but—!" He was cut off his ramblings when Mirana gripped his shoulders and shook.
"She thinks you don't love her, Tarrant."
"But, I do!" he shouted, his eyes wavering between the Lucid green and the yellow of Confusion. "How can she think that?"
"Because you won't make love to her!" Mirana's voice dropped from her shout into a murmur. "She thinks you don't desire her."
Tarrant stood in dumbfounded silence for several seconds. His eyes were slowly creeping up on the orange of Madness. "I want…I long teh…but I cannae. She cannae see, cannae kno' tha truth. I cannae hurt mah Alice!" his voice, which had started out low, rose to screaming pitch as he went on.
"She is already hurt, Tarrant. You are already hurting her. And I know of what you speak. Do not forget who healed your wounds when you were freed from the dungeons. I know that you're ashamed of your scars, but there isn't any reason to be," Mirana said sternly.
"Nae! I will nae'er show mah Alice. She…" he trailed off, only to regain his sweet lisp. "She would blame herself. And I can't hurt her like that."
And Mirana knew she had been right. Hatter loved Alice with every fiber of his being. More than his own desires, and he valued her feelings above his happiness. It was not selfishness that led him to deny his wife, but unconditional love. "Tarrant. I want you to listen, and listen well. Alice is strong. She loves you so much, you cannot believe that anything about you can drive her away. She has accepted you as you are, Madness and all. Why would she not accept your body as it is?"
The Hatter was silent.
"Please, Tarrant, if you love her, you will trust her. Without trust, there is no love. Go home, show her your wounds, which are the most honorable you can carry; they were all for her. And let her see how much you love and desire her."
The Hatter sat there long after Mirana had left, listening to nothing but the voices in his head. Only one stood out. It was his mother's.
"Tarrant, mah lad, my dearest wish is tha yeh find a nice bonnie lass an' find peace. Remember, when love is nae madness, then it is nae Love."
He stood, and ran out the door towards where he knew his Alice was waiting; all with a silent vow.
I will find peace with Alice.
Alice lay in her and Tarrant's bed, waiting in the silence of the night. Where is he? She wondered. Would Mirana talk to him and get the truth? She didn't know, but she trusted her dear friend. And she, despite everything, trusted Tarrant.
The front door slammed shut, and Alice found it hard to breathe. This was it: where they either were truthful with each other, or parted ways forever. Slowly, the door to their bedroom opened, and Tarrant hesitantly walked over to the bed, leaning down towards Alice. "Are you awake, Cricket?" he breathed softly.
Alice almost pretended to be asleep, but in the end, she knew she couldn't avoid this forever. "Yes," she whispered back.
"Oh, Alice…" with that, he sat on the bed and gathered his trembling wife into his arms as she sobbed against his chest.
"I'm sorry, so sorry. I never…I didn't…" he was upset at himself that he couldn't even offer words of comfort to his beloved, so he simply held her. "Alice, please, please, tell me you know how much I love you," he begged.
She shook her head desperately against him, and he had to bite back the self-loathing he felt. Of course he would bollocks this up too. His one chance at happiness would be stripped from him like Time had stripped away his sanity. "Alice, mah bonnie lass, I love yeh more'n I love anythin'. When ah am with yeh, the only place ah want teh be is closer," he whispered, his brogue slipping in as he fought his fears. "Ah love yeh so much, an' I'm gonna show yeh."
He slowly laid her on the bed, catching her lips in a breathless kiss that consumed her, that left her needing more. His tongue darted out to duel with hers gently, sliding along her bottom lip. His kiss suddenly turned desperate and pleading. She whimpered and tugged him down on top of her, feeling his weight on her and relishing in the closeness.
Her fingers threaded into his soft hair, absently realizing his hat was over on a chair by the door. She angled their mouths for a deeper kiss, and Tarrant moaned at the heat.
He undid her dress carefully, caressing her neck with kisses and his hands moved over the row of buttons. She squirmed and tipped her head back father to allow him better access, delighting in his attention to her collarbone.
Finally, the buttons were all undone, and slipped off the bodice of her dress, revealing her supple breasts to his hungry eyes. "Oh, Alice, yehr so beautiful," he whispered before leaning in to swirl his tongue around her nipples.
Alice gasped, and arched her back, trying to gain more contact with his talented mouth. He obliged, and moved his attentions to the other side, until her nipples were both peaked with the attention.
Alice, gaining a bit of control over her limbs, reached to divest him of his ascot. But as she reached it, he lunged back, eyes a blazing orange, his breath coming fast.
"No…musn't see! Oh, but ah promised ah'd let Tha Alice see," he fretted, wringing his hands and staring past her shoulder in a frighteningly absent way.
"Tarrant," she said softly, leaning forward on the bed and taking his face in her hands. This felt so much like their wedding night, but she had made her choice. She was going to trust her beloved Hatter, and not leave her love behind without fighting for it.
"What is it, my love, what can I not see?" she asked gently. Stroking his face seemed to help him, and his eyes slowly went from orange to a yellow-green.
""Ah cannae let yeh see the scars," he whispered, looking into her eyes.
Alice suddenly understood. Why he wouldn't talk to her, why he didn't seem to desire her, why he stayed in his clothes when they went to bed. And she realized what scars he was talking about.
"Scars…from the war?" she asked out loud. He nodded slowly, his eyes cast down.
"Scars…wounds…ripped…torn…Downal Wid Buddy Big Head…" he muttered, until she kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth.
"Please, Tarrant, let me see. Let me in."
After a long silence, Tarrant finally stepped back and began to undo his ascot and jacket with aching slowness.
When his fingers shook and faltered, Alice moved his hands away and started on them herself. Hatter simply stood here, letting her do as she pleased, and trying not to beg her to stop.
At last, she pushed off his shirt to reveal pale skin, and she gasped. He was beautiful, with a defined torso with smooth muscles that came from always being active during the war. And he had scars.
There were the long gashes of whip marks across his chest and back, and several thicker marks of burns on his arms. Hundreds of thinner, little marks marred his skin, where swords had slashed and branches had cut across. His fingers had tiny scars from needles and pins, and under his ribcage, there was a scar that looked to be left from a knife stabbing him.
And he was beautiful.
He mistook her gasp of wonder for one of disgust, and he tried to snatch back his shirt from her.
"No!" she yelled, her voice ringing in the silence like the clash of swords. He froze, and looked at her fearfully, looking for all the world like he thought she was going to slap him and flounce off.
Carefully, she reached out and traced each scar, and Tarrant sucked in a sharp breath at her ministrations. "So beautiful…" she whispered absently, absorbed in her exploration of his skin.
So beautiful. His mind frantically repeated the phrase over and over. She couldn't mean it. How could she not be repulsed by such an awful reminder of all they had been through?
She lifted her eyes to his and leaned up to whisper in his ear, "I know that each of these scars were borne for me. I can't imagine how mad you must be to have taken these for me, but…if love is not madness, it is not Love at all."
Hatter choked on a sob, and pulled his Alice, his Beloved Alice, his Alice of Much Muchness, into a kiss. He put all of his grief and pain and love into his kiss, and she pulled him back to lie on the bed with her. "Now," she said silkily, "I do believe you're late to your Wedding Night. Tsk tsk, Naughty Hatter, I thought you'd have better manners than that."
He laughed. It was not a giggle, or an insane cackle. Instead, it bubbled from his stomach, and erupted from his throat with the rich tones of chocolate and butter, melting Alice into a veritable puddle of mush.
When he stopped laughing, he leaned in so they were nose to nose. "Aye, ah's better be settin' tha teh rights, then." With that, he kissed her, and made love to her as only a Mad Hatter can.
As only a healed Mad Hatter can.