Author's Note: So, this is a one-shot based off the SyFy movie Alice. It takes place immediately after Alice goes through the Looking Glass all the way up to when they reunite at the end of the movie (This seems to be a hot topic here, doesn't it? ). Elias is the guy who takes Alice and pushes her back through the Looking Glass. He's not my character, but I don't know his name, if he has one. Also assume that our cunning friend Hatter has some basic knowledge of the "real world," and isn't completely clueless, but he still has a lot to learn. This is my first one-shot and my first non-Rocky Horror fanfic – reviews are greatly appreciated! And if you like the movie please come and talk about it in the forum I made for it (yes, that was a shameless advertising plug). Enjoy!

The swirling slowed down until the Looking Glass became nothing more than a plain mirror again. With a heavy sigh Hatter plopped down on the top step and stared into his reflection.

Fuck.

The rest of the Oysters lined up to go through the Looking Glass and return to their world. He barely noticed that the rest of them had gone, and the Suits and Jack and Duchess met in a separate room to discuss what would happen to Wonderland, now that the Queen was removed from power. The hall became desolate.

Hatter dared himself to look in his reflection in front of him. He tried to see himself better but his mind was so muddled with replaying those last moments that he couldn't concentrate: Elias ignoring his silent plea to have those precious seconds with Alice, Alice's look on her face when she turned to smile at him right before Elias pushed her through, his throat too choked up to say what he really wanted to.

"What's wrong with you?!" Hatter screamed at the failure in front of him, staring right into the eyes of his own reflection. "You had her right in front of you! Why didn't you talk?" He squeezed his hands into fists, shaking away the water, burning sensation in his eyes. "She was right there! You had her!" He buried his face in his hands, hunched over for what seemed to be an eternity. Knowing nothing else could be done, he left the hall and reluctantly headed to his tea shop.

*

The sky was darker when the back door came into view. He guessed that Mad March broke the lock when he plundered his home because it was partly ajar. Hatter gingerly pushed the door open with one hand, and he threw the burgundy coat over his shoulder and held his pistol with the other hand. He was through with taking chances. The door triggered the automatic overhead lights to turn on, one after the other. The last one, back by the door leading into the Stock Room, emitted a few sparks and then turned off for good.

He slowly lowered his gun. Although he was not surprised, he was still in a bit of shock when he saw the true amount of damage Mad March and his posse had done to his home. Chairs and tables were turned over. Glass shards were scattered on the floor, still sticky and discolored from the tea they once held. The grassy floor was scorched black. It would take months – no, years probably, Hatter mentally corrected himself – to rebuild all the way from scratch. And without the convenience of the black-market enterprise he ran, there was no way for him to get any of the supplies he needed. There was nothing left to fall back on. There was nowhere to run to. "Damn you, March," he hollered.

He took the coat off of his shoulder. His eyes fell to it as he cradled it in his hands. He stroked the soft velvet in the dim light.

"You know, you could always visit my world."

Hatter ran to this closet and dug around the fallen clothes until he found a cardboard box. He frantically opened it up, then sighed with relief as he saw that the cargo had been unaffected by the apparent fire. He changed into the white t-shirt and brown jacket inside, and he stuffed the rest of the box's contents into his pocket: a fifty-dollar bill and a calling card. Working for the Hearts sure had its benefits, despite that he was secretly snooping around for the resistance at the same time. He managed to pickpocket many interesting objects from Oysters as they came of the Scarabs and went off to the casino.

He headed back to the door and turned around for one last look. The utter mess was what was left of his life here. Wonderland was his true home, and always would be; but it had helped him as much as it could. He didn't even bother closing the door as he stepped out into the dusk-illuminated pathway back to the Looking Glass Hall.

It was pitch-black outside once he arrived back. The only light was the glow from the chest that held the Ring of Wonderland. Hatter knew the Glass was still operating because the generator kept its constant humming.

He looked at the Looking Glass.

"I'm coming, Alice."

He ran and fell through the vortex.

*

Beams of light blinded Hatter as he opened his eyes. He slowly sat up and blinked a couple of times, attempting to orient himself with his surroundings. Hatter found himself in a jungle of steel beams and framework. The light, he saw, was coming from the street in front of him. Wiping his hands on the sides of his pants, he got up and headed outside.

The tall buildings of the urban street reflected sunlight, making it seem brighter than it was. He never really thought abou thte weather. Wonderland seemed so melancholy with its seemingly eternal haze of clouds. This more luminous "real world" seemed more confined, yet so full of surprises and potential. Hatter stepped around the corner. He spied a pay phone booth against a building. He went inside it. The booth had a mounted telephone against the back wall. Below the phone was a giant yellow phone directory, sitting on a shelf. A pen was attached by a metal string of beads to the shelf. He pulled out the calling card and punched the card's numbers into the telephone. An automated teller said "Hello, David Hart. Please enter the number you wish to dial. Thank you and have a nice day."

"What are the bloody chances?!" Hatter muttered as he frantically searched the directory on the shelf. "Where are you… Hammer – no, too far – Hall, Hamett, Hamilton!" He dialed the number: one ring… two rings… three rings…

"Hello?"

He didn't recognize the voice. "H-hi, is this Alice Hamilton?"

The woman on the other end hesitated before replying "No, this is Carol, her mother. Who is this?"

"David Hart. I'm a construction worker here at –" he glanced at the street sign at the intersection, then slowly continued "—8th Avenue and West 22nd Street."

"Oh! You're the one that found Alice!"

Found? Had his improvisational skills worked even here? "W-why, yes." He straightened up and pressed on confidently, "Yes, I am. I found Alice while working here, ma'am."

She gasped. "I am thrilled, absolutely thrilled, that you called! The hospital wouldn't give me any information on who made the 911 call, and I wanted to thank you personally."

"I understand." What the hell is 911? he wondered absentmindedly. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and refocused his attention on the telephone call. "So, uhm, anyway, I just wanted to know if, you know, she's okay now."

"She's been doing much better, thank you. She finally woke up around seven this morning, and I'm bringing her home at four, after the doctors run a few more tests.

"That's great." Hatter bit his lip. At least she knew she was in someone's care. Still, he couldn't help but wish it was him instead of the doctors, or her mother, or anyone else who might be able to spend time with her.

"If you'd like," Carol started, "… I'm sorry, what's your name again?"

"David."

"David, I'm sorry, it slipped my mind for a moment. David, if you'd like to stop by when I bring her home you're more than welcome to."

"That'd be fantastic! I mean, if it's all right with you, ma'am."

"I'd be honored. Besides, I want Alice to meet the young man who saved her. You know I'm forever in debt to you."

"It's not a problem. I just want to see her." The last statement prodded at his stomach.

Carol crooned, "How sweet." She cleared her throat. "We're in Apartment 2C, over on 18th and 65th."

He snatched the pen and wrote the address down on his hand. "Thank you so much!"

"My pleasure. See you at four!"

"Goodbye." He hung up the phone and leaned against the side of the booth. Hatter drew in a deep breath and sighed. The booth reflected his image lightly on the other side. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes lit up with a sudden realization as he took a closer look.

"I have to find a comb!"

*

At four o'clock on the dot he pressed the buzzer to Apartment 2C. Hatter heard the muffled voice of Carol and the pattering of high heels before she answered the door.

"Oh, you must be David! I'm Carol, Alice's mother. Please, come in." She smiled and gestured inside.

Hatter stepped in and then turned to face her. He held out his hand. She shook it as he stated "It's nice to meet you, Miss Hamilton."

Carol beamed. "I was just telling Alice what a sweetheart you are, for coming over here." She walked over to a hallway leading off to the left and called out "Alice, come meet David!" Then she turned back to Hatter. "She doesn't remember you because she was unconscious, after all, but I'm sure she appreciates what you did as much as I do. I don't' know how much longer she'd…" Her voice trailed off as Alice emerged from the hallway.

He froze. Wow, she looks so radiantly beautiful, he thought. He questioned how he could have possibly forgotten just how gorgeous she was to him. She turned her head, looking around. After two long seconds their eyes met. Her visage snapped instantly from nonchalance to pure ecstatic surprise.

"Hatter!" she exclaimed, running up to him and throwing her arms around him. Alice almost knocked him over, but he squeezed back. He closed his eyes, leaving behind everything but the wonderful feeling of her in his arms. He held onto her as if any moment she'd disappear. Yet, he knew he'd never have to let go ever again.

"Finally."