Alphabetical Ruminations

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: Alice left the Hatter behind in Underland, with his heart broken in two. Enter Claire Quinn, a wide-eyed young woman given to flights of fancy, who takes a tumble down a hole and finds herself surrounded by a fairytale realm where the Red Queen has made her way back from banishment with a need for revenge against her sister and all others who stood against her. Will Claire put everything on the line, her life included, to save the place that she has grown to love, and can a man find happiness with another when he was sure that he would only ever love the one called Alice?

Disclaimer: I have no claim to any story that Lewis Carroll ever created, or to the amazing film directed by Tim Burton. Sadly, I also have no ties to the wonderfully sexy and talented Johnny Depp...sob...but I was definitely inspired by his portrayal of the delightful Mad Hatter.

Author's Note: Let me say upfront that I loved the sweetness portrayed between Alice and the Hatter in Tim Burton's new film, but I was steamed when she left him behind, thus shattering his heart, at least in my opinion. That said I felt the need to write this bit of fanfic to give him a new girl of my creation, one that would be happy to stay in Underland for all time. This will be saccharinely fluffy, as all my fics are, so if you don't lean towards the fairytale romance type of prose, perhaps this isn't the tale for you.

Warnings: This story is rated M for possible swearing, violence of one type or another, sexual innuendo, and eventual, gratuitous smut.

Chapter One

Words That Start With the Letter A

1870

Abandoned-Left alone without being cared for or supported.

Hatter's POV

Life is monotonous repetition, each day passing by in the manner of yesterday, an endless procession to nothingness. I'm never truly alone, there's always someone nearby, but my head and my heart are barren, with only the distant memory of her smile to keep me from losing my mind...well, any more than what has already flown the coop.

I don't know how much time has passed since she left, she...blast it all, I can't even think of her by name...it simply hurts too much. All I know is that I've been notified that everything will be "just fine", and that it did no good to "carry on in this fashion". I know that everyone means well, that they are simply concerned with the effect my broken heart will have on my already teetering sanity, but I just wish that they'd bloody well piss off, and leave me to wallow in my self-pity.

I can't even muster up the inclination to continue in my work, even at the personal request of the queen. It used to bring me such joy, such fulfillment, to perform the trade of my choice, the industry that I had been born for, but now it held zero appeal for me, as was the case with everything in my life. What was the use in pretending that I cared whether or not time went on, when all I wanted was to kill the hours that remained, each second that existed without her an excruciating reminder that she would never come back.

"Care for a spot of tea, Hatter?" a tinny voice burst through the murkiness of my thoughts. "Maybe you'd like a fresh scone or two as well?"

Dear sweet Mally, she was the most faithful of all. She tried to bolster me each day, throughout the day, whilst others would only make the effort every other day. I had a hint of suspicion that she harbored devotion for me that went beyond that of simple friendship, but out of respect for her feelings I had never mentioned or even made any indication that I had noticed the lovelorn glances that she sent in my direction.

"No thank you, Mally," I answered, returning my gaze to the beautiful blossoms that adorned the trees surrounding the queen's palace. "I'm rather off tea and scones at the moment, but I do appreciate the offer."

I expected her to leave, after all my words were as good of a dismissal as any, but she stood her ground, her bulbous black eyes growing sad for a moment, then quickly growing heated, her tiny body quivering with what appeared to be barely controlled anger.

"Oh, you're rather off tea at the moment, are you Hatter?" she replied, her tiny voice growing even sharper as her irritation grew. "You're rather off scones as well, how about that? I suppose the only option I'm left with is to watch you wither away, right? After all, why should you be expected to live? Why should I care one way or another whether your heart continues beating? Oh that's right...maybe it's because I'm your bloody friend, that's why!"

Bothersome little mouse, who was she to stand there and rail at me like some sort of minuscule fishwife. "I'll be the one who chooses what I will consume and when I will consume it," I responded, my voice growing just as heated as the tone that she'd used with me. "And as for rather I live or rather I die, that is my decision. That is my choice Mally, my pronouncement...my judgment...my resolution...my evaluation...my conclusion...my..."

"Hatter!" she screamed, cutting me off mid-tirade.

"Thank you," I replied rather sheepishly. It was so vexing to me, my tendency to fly off the handle, to lose myself in an enraged volley of words, shrieking like some sort of slobbering madman. "Please forgive me for lashing out at you Mally," I said quietly, my voice softening as I reached out to rub the tip of my finger beneath her chin.

"I'm the one who owes the apology here," she answered, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't know what came over me Hatter. I just worry about you so much, and I suppose it's made me a bit more snappish than normal."

I allowed myself a smile, a rarity for me lately. Mally was renowned for her snappishness throughout Underland, only I was rarely, if ever, a recipient of such treatment from her. I knew that only the deepest of concerns could have driven her to such a state, so I concluded that it was not only right, but necessary, that I partook of the repast that she'd assembled, despite the fact that the idea of food disgusted me at the moment.

I was saved from the unpleasant occurrence of upchucking by the arrival of a rather harried McTwisp, who had been installed in the position of herald to the rightful queen. "Hatter," he gasped, hopping from one foot to the other, reminding me of one who needed to empty his bladder in the most desperate way. "There has been an arrival, from above; another has fallen into our midst."

My heart lightened for a moment, my mind cleared, until I heard the word "another". If she had returned, the rabbit would have spoken her name; after all, it wasn't painful for him to say it. What did I care if some other twit had stumbled down a hole, landing themselves in our world? All I wanted was her, and this new arrival meant nothing to me.

"What do you expect me to do about that?" I asked, resuming my perusal of the pale pink blossoms that surrounded me. "I haven't a single care about some visitor from up above, McTwisp."

The rabbit stared back at me, his eyes growing stern. "Perhaps not Hatter, but your Queen has made the request that you fetch the newcomer and make them welcome here to Underland. That being said, she has declared that you will travel forth, procure the visitor, and bring them safely to her at once. Is that understood Hatter?"

Pious little furball...he knew damn good and well that I would obey my Queen. I may have lost all use for life in general, but the vow that I had made to Underland and its liege remained a necessitating drive in what remained of my sorry existence.

"Perfectly clear," I responded, standing and sighing as though I were bored. "I shall leave at once," I said, walking to the tray of vittles brought by the Dormouse, plucking a scone for my journey. "Inform her Highness that I will return by nightfall, safe and sound with our new guest."

Awestruck-Having the sensation of both wonder and dread.

Claire's POV

One minute I was strolling along peacefully, dutifully following my charges around the immense gardens on the Ascot estate, the next I was hurtling headfirst down a hole in the ground, into a seemingly unending tunnel, which was filled with images and objects that didn't belong in such an environment. I wondered briefly, as I was tumbling along, screaming like a banshee, if this was all a nightmare, or perhaps a figment of my rather overactive imagination, but as my hand glided across the keys of a grand piano, and musical notes sprang forth, I realized that I was very much awake, and this tunnel existed outside of my imagination.

On and on I traveled, dizzyingly spinning and flailing until at last I bounced, quite ungracefully, off of the surface of a rather dusty brass bed, hurtling myself to land painfully against the hard tile of the floor. I stayed prostrate upon the floor for a few moments, collecting my scattered thoughts and doing my best not to put too much weight on the body parts that were aching with each breath that I drew.

Where the devil was I? What sort of odd place had I fallen to? Or was it all inside my head, another imagining of my rather flighty mind, a direct result of my stumble just a few moments before. Yes, that was the likely excuse for all that I'd just experienced. Any moment now I would open my eyes and find that I had just frightened my two charges, Errol and Eugenia Ascot, the twins of Hamish and Olivia Ascot. The parents would be annoyed once they discovered that I had frightened their little monsters with my accident, but their irritation would be nothing compared to that of Hamish's mother, Lady Ascot, who thought that I was a poor excuse for a governess.

I knew that I was sorely lacking in all of the areas that made for a good governess. For one, I was too young, too inexperienced, and approached the job of teacher with far too much enthusiasm, taking more joy in education than my pupils did, especially when learning and studying nature. Lady Ascot also thought that I was wishy-washy, not stern enough in matters that were of importance, things such as my allowing the children to run and play, as opposed to walking briskly, but properly, whilst keeping themselves serious and focused upon behaving in the fashion of a young lady and gentleman. Then there was the issue of my not remembering that I was an employee, and someone of no social or titled importance, who should realize that it was I who must hold my tongue, and not become upset when the children spoke to me as though I were beneath them, because the truth of the matter was that I was beneath them. Lastly and perhaps most damning of all was the fact that I was a Yank, born and raised across the pond, and therefore it was believed that I wasn't capable of any sort of manners or decorum, characteristics that were impossible having been born in a country that's citizens had spent five years fighting amongst themselves.

I closed my eyes, readying myself for the berating that I'd receive once I regained consciousness, but once I'd opened my eyes I found that although I was awake, my surroundings remained the same. Maybe I had finally gone completely around the bend, I mean what other explanation could there be for what I was seeing, what I was feeling? True, that I was given to flights of fancy, but this was a different kettle of fish altogether.

The floor beneath my feet was dirty, tiled in blocks of white and black, and everywhere I turned there was a door to be seen. I cautiously turned several doorknobs, but none offered entrance, which made me more than a little panicky. If I could just find someone, a person in charge who could set me straight, then perhaps I could be on my way home, everything set to right, but if I were the only soul drawing breath, how could I hold any hope of things being normal again?

It was then that I took notice of the table in the center of the room, a wrought iron bodied table with a glass top, which was holding a key. That had to be a spot of good luck for me, an offering for an escape, but when I tried the key in each knob it proved unable to open any of them. The final door was tiny, and I considered bypassing it altogether, but curiosity got the best of me, and in the end I crouched before the miniature door, placed the key in the lock, and found out to my surprise that it was a perfect fit.

That was a reassurance, but one that was short-lived when I contemplated the likelihood that I'd be able to fit myself through the doorway. Even if I were able to fit my head, shoulders and arms through, my rather generous bust would more than likely hinder me from entering any further, and if that didn't stop me then my equally curvaceous backside would.

I moved away from the door feeling rather dejected, cursing my voluptuous figure, something I did frequently since I found myself surrounded by women who were as thin as a buggy whip, their figures neat and trim, with no noticeable curves that made them stand out in a crowd. I had often heard that most men enjoyed a shapely figure on a woman, but I had to wonder where these men had hid themselves, because I had yet to meet any of them myself.

It was then that I noticed that a bottle had appeared on the table where the key had rested, had just appeared, as though by magic. There was a label tied to the neck of the bottle with a piece of ribbon, which read Drink Me. That was definitely a curiosity, a phenomenon that I would have no part of. At least that's what I told myself, but in the end, my inquisitiveness got the best of me, propelling me towards the bottle with the intent to investigate only, not to ingest. I uncorked the bottle and took a quick whiff of the contents within and nearly gagged at the putrid odor that assaulted my nostrils. That solved my dilemma quite nicely, because had the liquid smelled like chocolate or strawberries I would have been tempted to partake of it, in spite of the possibility that it were poisoned, but given the fact that the fluid emitted a fragrance which resembled that of rotten food, I wasn't coaxed to try it.

Given the possible dire state of my circumstances I dropped down to the floor beside the table, valiantly fighting back the tears that were threatening to flow. Crying never solved any problems, or so I had been frequently told, and I tried to bolster my spirits with the thought that help would come soon, but in the end I succumbed to my fear and my tendency to feel sorry for myself and started to cry uncontrollably.

I don't know how long I sobbed, long enough for my nose to grow runny, which was a terrible inconvenience, seeing as how I had forgotten my handkerchief...again. I made due with a strip of muslin torn from my petticoat, cleaning up after myself as well as I could, and after I finished I became aware that I was being watched. There were two eyes peering at me from the open doorway of the only unlocked door, a shocking tint of green, with pupils that were larger than what was normal, the right being almost shockingly so. The eyes were surrounded by garish makeup, both pink and blue, and the skin surrounding the eyes was a pasty white. I panicked for a moment, thinking that some sort of brazen light skirt had found me, a soiled dove for a rescuer, but then the person spoke to me, and while the voice was strange, lisping and almost childlike, there was no denying that it was a male.

"Are you illiterate?" the voice asked me, causing me to bristle immediately. "The label clearly states that you are required to drink the contents of the bottle. I'm afraid that we're not going to be going anywhere until you do so."

Well, this is just wonderful. My rescuer has come and he turned out to be an insufferable jackass, made up like some sort of common prostitute. "I am far from illiterate sir," I answered quite haughtily. "I didn't follow the instruction on the bottle because it appeared out of nowhere and the liquid contained within smelled very similar to rotten food."

He sighed, as though he were being forced to deal with a simpleton, when I was an educated woman, with a respectable occupation. "Just drink the blasted potion so that we can be on our way please. Her Highness is most anxious to make your acquaintance, and I have been commissioned to deliver you to her."

Well, that sounded much more promising, an audience with royalty, but how could I be sure that he was really who he claimed to be. Most who were on a mission for a monarch would possess manners that dictated that a gentleman didn't swear in the presence of a lady.

"There's no need for that sort of coarse language," I replied, wincing as I realized that I sounded eerily like Lady Ascot. "And how am I to know that you don't have a nefarious purpose in mind, as opposed to the mission that you have claimed?"

The eyes blinked furiously for a moment, then narrowed. "Gorblimey woman, what sort of man do you take me for? I am here to fetch you for the queen, not to ravish you. Now drink the damned liquid or you really will be given a dose of coarse language."

This was truly beyond the pale, but what other choice did I have? In the end I knocked back the potion with all the finesse of a dockhand gulping a pint of ale, and needless to say I was completely unprepared for the shrinking that took place. I had always wished to be tinier, but this was ridiculous. I don't know what size I ended up, but I do know that the only garment that I was able to clutch to my body; to safeguard me from complete nakedness was my petticoat. My gown had boning built into the fabric, because I personally detested corsets, but now I felt my cheeks burn, wishing that I had placed more beneath my gown that would offer me adequate covering for modesty's sake.

"Well, don't dilly-dally," my tormenter said, with humor evident in his voice as I escaped the fabric of my gown. "We'll get you some more appropriate attire once we reach the castle. I'm positive that McTwisp will have a fresh supply of upelkuchen, and once we get you back to your normal height I will present you to her Majesty."

I had no clue as to who this McTwisp was or what in Heaven upel...whatever was, but I held my tongue sauntering out of the door with as much dignity as I could muster at that moment. The sight that awaited me was magnificent, more breathtaking than anything I had ever beheld in my entire life, a sight almost as odd as the man standing, towering above me, tapping his toe with impatience. I had to be dreaming, people like this man didn't exist, but then I felt myself being lifted into the air and placed on his shoulder. I could feel the careworn fabric of his coat, could smell sugar and berries on him, and I knew that he was just as real as I was, and at this moment, my only companion, though not necessarily my friend.

"Have a seat, Miss," he said in a tone that was almost polite, his voice a little more friendly than before and I did as I was told, wondering what sort of adventure, or calamity, would next come my way.