The Mad Hatter, more commonly--and not very creatively--known as simply "Hatter", sat silent in a red velvet high-backed chair. His green eyes were glazed over in a drunken stupor, a lazy smile plastered on his pale face. In one hand, dangling from his fingertips, was a delicate porcalein tea-cup, and from the other, a dark bottle of brandy, mostly empty save for a few drops. He slumped in his chair, the collar of his coat rising to the bottom of his eyes, his long legs bending at the knees as his feet slid under the chair. Drunk. It was not uncommon for him to drown himself in alcohol these days. For almost three months now, he constantly reeked of alcohol, mostly rum.

Nemo, the Chesire Cat, to many, had perched herself on a branch, high above Hatter's head, staring down at him with worry and displeasure. Most wouldn't know the Cat to actually be female, who could blame them? She looked and sounded like a boy, except for her enourmous golden eyes. Large purple ears poked out from her short and messy silver hair, twitching and turning to take in all the noise around her. Her tail twitched below her, lazily swaying back and forth as she contemplated what to do with her dear Hatter. Apparently, he knew she was there, because he began speaking to her. Then again, he was drunk, and could quite possibly be babbling to himself.

"Do you miss her...?" he slurred, his head rolling to one side. He could see her now, one piercing green eye staring at her through dirty red hair. Another habit Hatter had gotten into was not bathing, which didn't help the smell. The drunken fool. Nemo simply flicked one ear in curiosity before hopping from her perch. She landed with a soft thud on the table top, her boots muffled by the soft cloth beneathe them. Tea cups and other dishes and silverware rattled quietly as she approached the Hatter. Plopping herself down on the table, she crossed her legs and studied the man.

"I don't have any clue what you're talking about." she muttered, pursing her lips. He hadn't realized she had moved until he heard her voice. The Hatter's head rolled once more, his trademark hat toppling off his head to settle on the cobblestone path. He stared again, with his deep green eyes, lost in his own head.

"Do you miss her?" he asked once more, leaning forward a bit in his effort to make the feline understand him. Nemo shook her head in disapproval. And for a split second, she saw his face change. His expression changed from that of drunken bliss, to sheer agony and hurt. He stared so intently at the ground that Nemo was sure it would swallow him whole. His bottom lip bobbed and quivered. What he was thinking, she didn't know, but the look on his face both scared and fascinated her. Never in her years of knowing this man had she seen him so upset. Even for the moment it was, it terrified her to think that the man she thought was so strong, could be transformed into a whimpering child. Child, yes, maybe. He always had an aloof and young personality, but never had she seen him so close the breaking down and crying.

And then he was back. His green eyes glazed over once more, his stupid smirk back on his face where it belonged. He then noticed his hat wasn't were it should have been. He felt the top of his head absently, frowning when he didn't find the floppy brim or tattered feather. His eyes found it, crumpled and lying on the ground. He reached for it. Once. Twice. Three times. No luck. The forth one, he reached a bit too far, and the whole chair tipped sideways, falling on top of him.

Nemo's yellow eyes widened as she saw the chair tumble onto the man. His legs stuck out beneath it, kicking wildly in an attempt to free himself. Sighing, Nemo hauled the chair of the frantic man, pushing it aside as if it were nothing. One thing could be said about Nemo, she was unusually strong. No one really knew what it was, but she could throw heavy objects around as if they were nothing. No one dared to question it, either. The young girl had a tendancy to get violent if need be. Her friends however, which merely included the Hatter, the March Hare, and Alice, were lucky enough not to get beaten senseless.

Alice.

Nemo suddenly realized just who the Hatter had been talking about. Of course he would miss Alice. They all missed Alice. Nemo scolded herself for not realizing it sooner. How could she forget Alice? And it had been so long since Alice had left. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. And those, soon, would turn into years. No wonder the Hatter had started drinking more than normal. He had always enjoyed alcohol, but not so much to the extent that he stumbled around.

"You were talking about Alice, right?" Nemo asked, kneeling down next to him. He stared up into the trees above him. His eyes grew distant once more. He seemed to instantly become sober.

"It's been so long..." he groaned, his voice cracking. Nemo felt pity for him. All he wanted was to see Alice.

"You can see her, you know..." Nemo began. He rolled over, facing away from the Cat. He knew she was right. But why? Why would Alice want to see him of all people?

"You're thinking it again..." Nemo scolded. He would have rolled his eyes if his head didn't hurt so bad. She was right. "I'm sure she'd love to see you. Any of us. They keep her all cooped up in her house. No friends..." Nemo trailed off. The Hatter focused on a tiny purple flower growing on the edge of the path. It swayed lightly as he exhaled. With one hand, he reached out, running a long finger over one of the petals.

"Not today..." he whispered, ripping the tiny seedling out of the ground. He placed the bloom in his pocket, rolling over and sitting up to face the Cat. "Not today." And then he was out cold. Unconcious on the stone path. Nemo shook her head, standing up.

"Well, I can't just leave you here..." she muttered, obviously irritated. She slung one of his lanky arms over her shoulder, tucking her own udner his knees, and lifted him off the ground, carrying him like a sleeping child to her home.