Hey all XD. This is the first thing I've posted in forever, so be nice, m'kay? Constructive criticism is welcomed as always, but no flames.

Disclaimer: I don't not own Wonderland or any of its inhabitants, although I wouldn't mind visiting. All characters, settings etc. belong to Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton and Disney.

***

The rocking motion of the ship had become so familiar to her that Alice barely noticed it anymore. That was probably why she all but collapsed the second she stepped off the gangplank and onto dry land. She took a deep breath and struggled to stand on her sea legs, gripping her small valise tightly in a white gloved hand.

She looked the picture of Victorian respectability, dressed immaculately in travelling clothes, hair neatly arranged atop her head. In truth, the corset she had been forced into this morning

- By the well-meaning but strict maid who had been assigned to her for the duration of the trip - was digging painfully into her ribs, the stiff collar of her coat rested uncomfortably against her neck, and her hair was pinned so tightly it gave her a headache.

Uncomfortable and hot in the July heat, Alice stumbled towards the small party that had gathered to greet her on the docks. Her sister Margaret ran towards her, her hair - a shade darker than Alice's - escaping from its bun as she enveloped her little sister in a tight hug.

"Alice!" Margaret stepped back, composing herself slightly. "Dear Alice, we have missed you, Mother most of all." Alice smiled and then frowned, glancing around. Margaret, Lowell, even Hamish and his mother, although she suspected they were there for Lord Ascot's arrival rather than hers. Her mother was not part of the assembly before her, of that she was certain.

"Where is she?" Her sister bit her lip anxiously. "Margaret, where is Mother?" Alice demanded, her voice rising shrilly.

"Your mother is ill, dying I'm afraid. Of Consumption" Lowell said briefly, stepping forwards and pulling Margaret close. Alice scowled. How dare he? How dare he break it to her so bluntly? He didn't deserve her sweet sister, who was crying quietly on his shoulder.

"A carriage is waiting." Margaret managed, wiping her eyes on a lace handkerchief and aiming a weak smile at Alice. "Mother is at home. She wanted to come but…" She gestured vaguely and turned sharply away, striding briskly towards the carriage. Alice hurried to catch up, and to her disgust, Lowell followed, tailed by a porter who carried Alice's large trunk.

Alice leaned her head against the cool glass of the carriage window, edging further away from Lowell and her sister, who sat close together on the opposite seat. She hated her sister's husband. She had never been keen on her, and seeing him and Hattie together at her almost-engagement party had simply given her further cause to distrust and dislike him all the more.

The journey was long and silent, with the exception of Margaret's stifled sobs. Alice didn't cry. She sat stiffly, staring out at the landscape, allowing her mind to drift. She would not think of mother.

Don't think about her, don't think about her, don't…

Alice was dreaming. She knew in an instant. Since her last trip to Underland, separating dreams from reality had become easy. She stood in the Tulgey Wood, a mere phantom with no real purpose except to look. There had been many dreams like this. The breeze did not ruffle her hair; her friends did not acknowledge her presence.

Soon, she came across the rotting windmill, the table laid for afternoon tea, just as it always had been. As usual, Thackery threw things, Mallymkun snoozed atop the tea table and the Hatter gazed into space.

"Tarrant." She said sadly. She was beside him now, within touching distance. With a start, he jolted upright, turning directly towards her.

"Alice." He shouted.

"I'm here, I'm here," She tried to say, but the landscape was fading around her, the colours blurring together.

"Alice, Alice dear! Alice wake up!"

Opening her eyes groggily, Alice saw Margaret's face above her, her hand on her arm, shaking her awake.

"I… I was dreaming." Alice jumped from the carriage, ignoring the hand the driver offered her. Nobody tiptoed around ladies in China, she thought. The English were so proper. Then Alice remembered, and a great weight settled upon her chest.

"Mother…" She darted up the front steps past her sister and Lowell, bashing on the front door until it was opened by a flustered looking butler. "Where is my Mother? Mrs Kingsleigh? What room is she in?"

"Right this way Miss Kingsleigh," he spoke gravely, walking slowly towards the staircase. "She's resting in her room. Doctors orders." Alice could not wait. He walked so gracefully, the mark of a good butler, but she couldn't wait for him now. She rushed up the stairs, boots clacking loudly on the polished floors, racing along the corridor to her mother room.

Helen Kingsleigh was sitting up, propped against a dozen pillows, coughing feebly. "Alice. I knew you were home. My dear, you're making enough noise to waken the dead." She stroked her youngest daughters flushed cheeks gently.

"I don't mean to make so much noise Mother. Lowell said… he said that you were…" Alice could not finish.

"Dying?" Alice flinched, and Helen's expression softened. "I'm sorry dear. I've had many weeks to come to terms with it now." She broke off, coughing harshly, the handkerchief against her mouth dotted with blood. Then she drew in a rough breath and continued. "I meant to write, but you were aboard the ship, already on the way home when I fell ill."

"But you can't die…" Alice choked out. Her throat felt tight, and she swallowed hard. "You can't! Dying is for… Old people." To her surprise, Helen laughed.

"Sit down by me," Helen patted the bed beside her, another cough ripping from her lungs. "I'm not infectious. Now, I wished to see you happily married by the time I di- passed on." Alice opened her mouth to protest, but Helen laid a hand on her arm. "That's clearly not going to happen. I have left it to Margaret to find you a suitable husband by the end of this year. I have set my affairs in order Alice. I'm ready to move on."

"Well what about us? We're not ready, me and Margaret! We need you…" Alice whispered, laying her head on Helen's shoulder. She then sobbed against her mother for a long while, squeezing out every last tear until she could cry no more, before collapsing exhausted on the bed, soothed by Helens gentle fingers running through her hair.

The silence was broken by a soft tapping on the doorframe. Alice sat up. Her cheeks felt swollen, her eyes sore from crying.

"The doctor is here Alice. He wants to speak to Mother." Margaret reached out an arm to her little sister, and the two left the room. Alice paused in the doorway.

"|Goodnight Mother," She whispered. Helen was already asleep, her breaths rattling in her chest. It was the last time she would see her mother alive.

***

2 weeks later

Alice had woken to sunny skies and birds singing outside. It didn't seem right. She felt that the whole world should be suffering, not just her family. It was the day of the funeral, and she was dressed in a severe black mourning gown with a high neck, hair scraped back off her face. Deep, bruise like shadows surrounded her eyes and her cheeks looked thin and sunken.

The vicar droned on and on throughout the service, his monotonous voice almost sending Alice to sleep. Her mother had been Catholic, and attended church faithfully each week. Alice failed to see the point in religion. It's a nice idea, the belief that someone is watching over us. Alice thought. But really, religion causes nothing but trouble. She remembered reading a book in her father's library about the crusades, and had been appalled. A Just war? Was there such a thing? Like her father, she had no firm faith, and found the sermon meaningless.

The funeral seemed to last hours. As the coffin was lowered into the cavernous pit, Alice was reminded of another hole. A rabbit hole. As close family members - namely her sister and Margaret - were invited to step forwards to drop a handful of earth on the coffin, she felt the tears spring to her eyes.

"Margaret… I love you. Never forget me." She whispered, squeezing her sister's hand. Ignoring her sister questioning glance, she turned to the yawning grave before her. She tossed some dirt into the hole, hearing the soft patter as it hit the hard wood. "Fairfarren Mother. Go well."

Then she ran.

Alice could hear them shouting after her. She hoped none would give chase. Soon she was out of the churchyard, dark dress hindering her every step. Finally, she reached the Ascot estate. At first she feared being seen. But everybody would be at the funeral.

Several gardeners looked up as she ran past. She ignored them. They didn't matter. By the time they realised who she was, she would be far away.

Through the gardens Alice went, until they gave way to wilder surroundings. Tree branches clawed at her dark gown, and she stumbled and tripped over roots until she fell heavily, turning her ankle.

Hot, searing pain shot through her leg, and she gasped. The rabbit hole was near. She could see the blackened stump ahead. Gritting her teeth, she stood up unsteadily, hobbling onwards until she reached the edge of the hole. It was dark as ever, end her heart quickened in fear.

Who knew if it even led to Underland? Supposed she should fall into any ordinary hole. She would never be found again.

"Oh Alice, really!" She scolded. "Where is your sense of adventure? There's nothing left for you here anymore, nothing at all. Just go!"

And with that, she stepped forwards into space. Cool air rushed past her face, drying any remaining tears, and she was immediately surrounded by pandemonium. Objects swirled past her face, mostly too quickly to be recognised, but occasionally, she identified them.

A jar labelled ORANGE MARMALADE and several maps and books. Then she hit something soft and yielding - The bed. She thought - before tumbling onwards, white petticoats flashing, skirt flying up over her head. Then she hit the ground.

She was upside down, and this time, she was prepared. Alice braced herself for the fall that would inevitably come, and managed to land in a sort of half crouch. Scooping up the little key, Alice took a swig of the Pishsalver and hurried on through the little door into the garden beyond.

"Welcome home Alice," She said to herself.