Alice was fading.
She missed Underland terribly. Her journey to China might have sated her hunger for adventure, at least in part, but bad weather and bad luck had forced the crew to turn back long before reaching their destination. Alice found herself back in London before six months had passed, once more having to suffer the disapproving glances and the whispers when they thought she wouldn't hear. Her mother was still dead set on marrying her off, and she had to endure an endless parade of suitors, none of which were suitable. Every last one of them was proper and rich and dull, no better than Hamish. Not to mention that she was still expected to wear her stockings and corset.
She was becoming more pale and distant, daydreaming about her friends and her real home, and her dreams were haunted with their faces. Her dear Mad Hatter would say that she was losing her muchness. He would be right. Her free spirit stifled under the gloomy and oppressive social expectations of London. Everything was just so terribly dull.
Alice had to go back.
She gathered up her muchness and began to set her affairs to rights. Her father's share of the trading company went to Lord Ascot, who accepted it with surprise, and all the money she owned went to her mother, who she truly did love dearly.
She'd been surprised but delighted when she'd caught glimpses of a white rabbit in the bushes, then a too-wide and faceless grin lurking in the shadows, then a butterfly with wings too bright a shade of blue. When she was cornered by them in her bedchamber, she knew that she was very nearly ready to leave.
"Hello, friends!" Alice said cheerfully, but her good mood died when she saw their faces. Absolem looked grim, Chessur's grin was forced, and poor nervous McTwisp was very nearly vibrating. "…What's wrong?"
"You're late!" McTwisp exploded, and for a moment he looked almost like Thackery. "You must come with us, now, or you will be too late!"
His frantic tone only added to the dread coiling in her stomach. "Too late?" she gasped. "For what?"
"Not for what," Absolem sneered, tone laden with something like disgust. "For who, stupid girl."
Alice stared in horror. Chessur rolled onto his back, grin widening almost maliciously, and purred, "Your dear Mad Hatter, Alice. He's most unwell, you see, and only you can save him."
Her mind went blank with panic. "Oh—" she gasped. "I…I must write a note…I have to say goodbye…"
"Then hurry, stupid girl," the Butterfly spat, and she did. It wasn't a neat letter by any means, blotched and splattered with ink in her haste, but it served its purpose. Wonderland is real, she wrote. And now something has come up and I must go back. I love you, but I don't belong here. Don't look for me.
It was her final goodbye.
McTwisp nervously checked his watch again and again. "Oh, do hurry!" he yelped, and Alice swallowed hard, scrawled a signature at the bottom of the note, and dropped the pen, staining her desk that she'd never use again.
"Alright," she said shakily. "I'm ready now. Take me back."
McTwisp grabbed her hand, Chessur draped himself over her shoulders, and Absolem settled on her head. "Hurry now!" the White Rabbit hissed. "Through the Looking Glass!"
"The Looking Glass?" Alice exclaimed in surprise. "I thought—"
"No time!" McTwisp cried, voice shaking with nerves. He tugged her hand again, and she stepped hesitantly through the reflective surface. It rippled around her like thick liquid or gel, sucking and dragging at her, until she broke through the clinging surface and stumbled into the blinding whiteness of Marmoreal.
"Alice!" called the White Queen, her dark eyes brightening at the sight of her Champion. She drifted over to Alice and took the hand that McTwisp relinquished, pulling her gently but firmly and with great speed through the twisting white corridors. Alice stumbled after the monarch with far less grace.
Eventually, they stopped at a door, and Mirana pressed a finger to her dark-painted lips. "He's in here," she murmured softly. "He's in an enchanted sleep, but…he doesn't look like the Hatter you met."
Alice's worry showed on her face. Mirana sighed. "He's been very ill…he misses you too much, Alice. You're the only one who can set this right." Alice swallowed. How could preparing to see her friend be more terrifying than facing down a Jabberwocky?
Oh, that's right. Because he was beside her as she faced down that horrible beast, and now he was the one dying.
She touched the doorknob, gathered her muchness, and pushed it open.
The Hatter was nigh unrecognizable. Once so colorful, he was now overwhelmingly grey. Even his impossibly brilliant orange hair had gone to a shade like long-dead autumn leaves. His usual clothes in their glorious quirkiness were replaced with the soft silver-white raiment of Marmoreal, only serving to wash his skin out even more. He was horribly thin, bony and terribly sick-looking. His form was dwarfed in the white bed, dull hair splayed and tangled about his drawn face, one clenched and bandaged fist grasping a handful of fabric like a lifeline.
Tears stung Alice's eyes. "Oh, Hatter," she whispered, settling on the edge of his bed. "What have I done to you?"
Mirana floated back into the room, holding a small bottle of pale blue liquid. Alice started—she hadn't realized the Queen had left. "The antidote," she explained. "It will undo the sleep he's under and let him awaken." She leaned over the prone Hatter and parted the bluish and grey-tinted lips before carefully tipping the liquid town his throat. He swallowed reflexively, then let out a tiny, pained whimper as the antidote took hold, dragging him back to unwilling consciousness.
She didn't notice the tears dripping from her eyelashes until they splashed onto the Hatter's face.
His orbs moved feverishly beneath their dark-stained lids before fluttering open, and her heart gave a pang at the dull grey. But as she watched and his unevenly dilated pupils focused, they gained a bit more of the bright green she loved.
"Are you really here?" he questioned tremulously. His voice sounded awful as well, a raw and broken half-whisper. "Is it…is it really you?"
Her chest wrenched in pain at the utter hopelessness in his tone. "Yes," she answered, putting as much love as she can into her tone, fighting to keep her voice steady.
"You're not another…dream?" he whispered, and ghosted his fingers over her face.
She struggled to smile. "No," she stated, putting as much conviction as possible into those words. "I swear that it's really me and I'm really here."
She wasn't expecting him to grab her like he did, holding her in a tight embrace with all the strength in his wasted arms, sobbing like a relieved child. She certainly didn't mind, though, and wrapped her own arms around his fragile body, supporting his shoulders as he buried his face in her neck, rubbing his back, and soon she was sobbing as well. It seemed like her fingers hit every bump in his spine and every rib. It lasted quite a while for his tears to run out, but these were healing tears and she didn't begrudge him them.
She couldn't help but burst out laughing as he pressed his face to her curls and murmured, shaky but sounding like himself again, "You're terribly late, you know…naughty." This was her beloved Hatter, surfacing from under the pain and exhaustion, and she pressed a gentle kiss to forehead.
When she pulled back, despite the gauntness and paleness, his eyes were brilliant again, and his lips parted in that sweet gap-toothed grin she loved.