AN: So I started writing this back in march, but I only just finished it since I needed it for my creative writing class xDD. Either way, enjoy!

AN ALiCE

Alice's tired brown eyes stared down at the small vile in her armour covered hands, her tangled mess of blonde hair slipping over her shoulders and into her line of vision. It was about an inch and a half in height with a clear glass body and a fancy silver topper. Inside was a thick bright violet liquid that the White Queen had gathered inside from the decapitated head of the Jabberwocky with her usual grace – well, as much grace as one could in such a process – only moments before, nearly vomiting in the process.

"Will this take me home?" she asked, voice full of hope as she raised her gaze to meet that of the pale Queen. It had seemed like ages since she saw her family and her home back in London.

"If that is what you wish," was the Queen's response, giving her champion a sweet smile, hands raised at shoulder level before she glided over towards the Tweedles.

Alice turned the vial over in her hands, eyeing it suspiciously. Could something that simple really take her home after all she had been through? After everything she had seen? Wonderland – no, Underland, seemed so much more complicated than that. There had to be more to it.

Popping the top off the small glass bottle with her thumb, she raised it before hesitating. If she returned to London, would she ever be able to return to this magnificent place? She felt as if she belonged in this mad, colourful world while in London, she always felt out of place. She knew she would miss her friends dearly. The tweedles, Mallymkum, Chessur, Hatter...

An all too familiar voice broke through her thoughts. It was quiet and had slight Scottish brag underneath its English accent. It was hopeful, but depressed at the same time, causing an awful ache in Alice's heart.

"You could stay…"

Alice turned, a small smile tugging at the corner of her pale pink lips. She tilted her head to look up at the older man for once, being her actual size – which the Hatter liked very much and made very clear of that earlier, going off on a mini-rant about her size and how it was "a right proper Alice size" – instead of too tall or too small.

"What an idea. A crazy, mad, wonderful idea…"

A hopeful look flashed across the Hatter's face, his eyes turning a slightly brighter shade of green. She had trailed off, yes, but there was always a chance that she would stay here in Underland with him, right? She could stay and oh, the tea parties they would have! And the hats he would make her! They would have be beautiful Alice hats because an Alice deserved nothing but the best, he decided.

And, if she stayed, he would no longer have to spend his days sitting at that blasted messy set of tables with Thackery and Mallymkum awaiting her return. Maybe Time would agree with him. Maybe, if Alice stayed, it would no longer seem like it was always 6 o'clock and therefore it would no longer always seem like tea time, even if Time didn't forgive him. If Alice was there that would make everything better. An Alice always made him feel better. She was the only one who could control the worst of his… 'Episodes'.

But there was that pause. That one pause that, in reality, only lasted a moment but seemed to drag on forever in his mind thanks to Time, his already crowded, twisted mind. The voices, though small – and awfully noisy and distracting he thought – were telling him that she wasn't going to stay. She was going to slip through his fingers again just like she did three years ago (though it had been thirteen years in Alice time he had later found out).

Tarrant forced himself to give a small nod of his head to get her to go on, anxious to know of what else she had to say. He was begging, pleading, in his mind for her to stay and not return to that horrible London where she would grow up and not be an Alice anymore. He didn't want her to lose her muchness again. An Alice's muchness was a terrible thing to waste. But, much to his distaste, the brilliant smile that she held effortlessly on her face quickly faded.

"But I can't," she finished, "There are questions I need to answer. Things I need to do."

She thought back to her life back in London. Hamish Ascot, her deceased father's business partner's son, had proposed moments before she took her tumble down the rabbit hole and she had left him standing there without an answer. She needed to give him an answer, the right answer. Not the answer everyone expected her to give him.

Her brown eyes searched the Hatter's pale face, her brows creasing slightly in worry. His dark lips were pressed into a straight line and his green eyes darkened and lowered to the ground, not wanting to look at Alice.

The blonde champion couldn't bear to look at her friend's sad expression. She was used to his mad, gap-toothed grin that had haunted her dreams for the past thirteen years – along with long falls, rabbits in waistcoats, and Queens dressed in red, but they weren't important at the moment – and it was familiar in a comforting way. The sad look he wore now didn't suit him.

Not being able to stand it for another moment, Alice bravely raised the purple filled vial and drank it back quickly. It tasted awful, the Jabberwocky blood, and made her want to scrunch up her face and possibly vomit, but she restrained and kept a straight face. It was no wonder that a creature like that would have such foul blood.

"Be back again before you know it," she reassured the man with the wild orange hair. He didn't look convinced though, raising his forest green gaze to meet Alice's.

"You won't remember me," he replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Why would she? She had forgotten him the first time. She had forgotten everyone in Underland. She would leave and she would forget. He would never see dear Alice again.

"Of course I will. How could I forget?"

She looked hurt that he would accuse him of such a thing, but how could he not? The thought of her leaving Underland again had been lingering in the back of his mind since the moment she arrived at their dying tea party. Little Girl had not been so little then. Well, she had been about three inches tall, but she was no longer Little Girl that he used to know back from her first visit to Underland – or "Wonderland" as she called it. Something had changed, more than her muchness.

"Hatter," she spoke up, interrupting his thoughts before pausing a moment and continuing on, "why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Oh that Alice, always asking questions and demanding answers at the silliest of times. He couldn't help but smile as he gave a small shake of his head.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

Alice smiled, glad to see that smile back on Hatter's face before she left although the sadness hid behind it and it felt as if it would slip out at any moment. It was then that she could feel the Jabberwocky blood begin to take its affect. For some reason, she found herself inwardly panicking. 'No wait,' she thought, 'There are things I still wish to say!'

Her eyes widened just slightly and her eyebrows rose as she watched Hatter lean closer with much curiosity. She could feel his warm breath against her neck and in her hair, could feel his lips brushing lightly against her ear. He was close, she thought, and a light pink tinged her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose. She remained completely still, not wanting to startle the Hatter.

"Fairfarren, Alice."

It had been exactly three years since Alice had left Underland. Exactly three years since she watched the Hatter's green eyes slowly dissolve in the purple and gray smoke before crawling back out of the rabbit hole. That very haunting memory still caused shivers to run down her spine. It was the one thing that still bothered her – besides the slaying of the Jabberwocky.

Within the three years she had been away, she had refused a marriage proposal and became a well respected apprentice with her father's company. She helped the company expand all the way from England to China with Lord Ascot. She was leading a very successful life and was glad to be back at her home in England but, much to her dismay, she still felt as if something was missing.

Her mother tried to assure her many times that it was because she didn't have a man in her life, her words laced with the disappointment of Alice's refusal to marry Hamish. However, Alice didn't back down from her decision. Hamish, with his fiery red hair who looked down his nose at practically everything she did or said, was in no way the one she would ever marry. Lord or not, he would drive her absolutely mad.

'As mad as someone who is already half-mad can get,' she thought with a small frown. She was sitting in Lord Ascot's study, the older man not to far away from her in his arm chair with a pipe hanging from his mouth as he spoke more of his plans for the company. She sat as lady-like as she could, though it was proving difficult for her, with a book on her lap.

Her fingertips ran lightly over the cover and spine. It was old and aging, coloured in scarlet and gold. The corners of the hard covered book were fraying and torn. Chinese calligraphy was sprawled across the front in a nice, traditional way. She had brought it back with her from her business venture to China that had begun nearly two and a half years ago and only ended the month prior. Inside were images that reminded her of the world beyond the rabbit hole. She only wished she could read Chinese, but unfortunately her knowledge of the language was limited to what she would need for the trading industry. Not that she minded. She rather enjoyed picture books as a child and preferred them over the novels her sister often read.

"Alice Kingsley," a gruff but kind voice broke her trance-like state and caused her to look up, "are you listening?"

The blonde young woman gave a sheepish smile and shook her head, "I'm sorry, Lord Ascot. What were you saying?"

The older man gave a small sigh as he lifted his hand and removed the pipe from his mouth, his eyes watching Alice turn her attention back to the book. "I was saying that—" he pause a moment, replacing the pipe back into his mouth with a mischievous smirk, "Alice. What are you thinking?"

Alice cleared her throat quietly as she raised her eyes to meet Lord Ascot's knowing stare. She gently lifted the book off her lap and placed it on the ground beside the chair before leaning back and dropping her hands limply over the arms of her chair. A very unlady-like way to sit indeed.

"I've done everything I've wanted to do since I was nineteen," she explained, "I've become a part of a widely popular company, I've expanded farther than my father had ever dreamed, and I've become my own woman... for the most part."

Ascot simply nodded as he sat up in his chair, "and?"

"I think I've left something important behind," she finished, her eyes focused on somewhere else.

"Who is he?" it really wasn't a question that she could avoid. She knew that the older man in front of her – the one who she came to see as a father-figure of sorts over the years – would get an answer out of her one way or another.

Alice paused, ignoring the blush creeping up onto her face, and began considering the ways she could answer. It wasn't like he would know who he was. There was a time when she was convinced that he didn't even exist, that he was a figment of her own imagination. She had thought that she would only ever see him in her nightmare which was unfortunate.

And she had told him that. She had told him he wasn't real and smiled all the while. When Absolem had helped her realize that both he and Underland were, in fact, real she had felt her stomach drop. It twisted and turned in the most awkward of ways, making her feel sick.

"Well…?" Ascot spoke up again, quirking an eyebrow in Alice's direction.

"He's… a Hatter," she spoke slowly, her light eyebrows knotting together as she tried to think of a way to explain.

"A hatter?"

Alice nodded, "A Mad Hatter."

"Is there any other kind?" he laughed.

A smile made its way on to Alice's face, "No. I suppose not."

It was quiet in the small clearing just outside of the old windmill except for the quiet, scratchy music coming from the record player not too far away. There was a long set of tables set out in the clearing, each a different shape and slightly different height with a different tablecloth draped overtop.

Set among the table were mismatched tea sets – some of which were broken – and an assortment of treats. Some of the treats were left untouched while others were thrown about and lay on their sides or upside down on either the table or the ground, as well as a few of the tea sets.

The table seated three guests. The first was a hare, the March Hare to be exact – also known as Thackery Earwicket. His fur was a mixture of browns and whites underneath his dark jacket. His eyes were a shocking shade of yellow and were occasionally rather wide. He shook and twitched rather frequently, his tea cup jittering about in his hands. He sat farther down at the third table, occasionally pulling his pocket watch out of a nearby tea cup to see if it was working and watch the tea drip off the edges.

The second was a small dormouse, Mallymkum, seated at the second table in the middle opposite the March Hare. She had short white fur, beady black eyes, and wore a cloak of pale pink and gold. Unlike the other two who sat in their seats, she sat inside one of the tea pots, her arms hanging limply over the edge and her chin resting overtop with a bored expression on her face.

The third and final guest sat at the head of the table in a dark green worn armchair with a high back. His green eyes – blue and pink rimed them in an odd fashion – remained focused at the opening to Tugley Wood with an impatient gleam behind them. He had bright, wild orange hair that stuck out from under his favourite hat which was placed quite securely on top of his head. He had a pale face and dark lips. A large bowtie was hanging loosely around his neck and he wore a suit that was a dark brown with white lace from his shirt beneath sticking out of the sleeves and a checkered waistcoat. His pants were about three inches too short and revealed the mismatched socks he wore.

He was – or rather used to be – the most animated of the trio, constantly going on about ravens and writing desks. However, since she left he had calmed for the most part and his madness had almost become worse. Straightening up, the man gave his two friends his gap-toothed smile and placed his damaged hands lightly on top of the table.

"Now, now," he started up, "this is supposed to be a party. Enough with the gloom faces."

Mallymkum simply raised her head and glanced at Thackery who had in no way been quiet since they arrived. He had been chattering about one thing after another. She had eventually just given up trying to keep up.

"Gloom faces?" Mallymkum asked before hopping out of the tea pot and narrowing her small dark eyes at the man, obviously not as tired as she had been not a moment ago, "You're the worst out of us, y'are!"

His eyes widened slightly and he leaned back in his chair in shock, his left hand rising to press his fingertips to the right side of his chest, just over his heart, quite obviously offended in some way.

"Me?" he managed to choke out, "Now Mally, what are you talking about?"

"Ever since Alice –"

"Alice!" The hare called out while reaching up and pulling his ears down against the sides of his head. Mallymkum sighed quietly and shook her head as she watched Thackery, rather annoyed that she had been interrupted before turning her attention back to the man.

"Ever since she left," repeated, being careful not to use the girl's name, "You've done nothin' but mope."

The orange haired man scoffed, placing a cube of sugar in to his cup of tea before picking up a small spoon and twirling it amongst the cream coloured drink, leaning forward and placing his elbow on the table with his chin resting on his hand. His eyes watched transfixed and said nothing to the dormouse's accusation. He heard Mallymkum scowl but paid no attention to her foul mood.

"Y'gunna have to get over her, Hatter," she spoke up, her voice seemingly larger than herself. The man, Hatter, simply waved a bandaged hand in her direction.

"Mally, just because Alice," he paused a moment, green eyes shifting over to Thackery who was too distracted by his broken cup to notice the name, "is no longer around does not mean I spend my time, day in and day out, thinking about her. It does not mean in anyway that I mope around, as you say, about her sudden disappearance. It does not mean that I think about what I could have and would have said if I had just one more moment with him. It does not mean –"

"Hatter!" Mallymkum interrupted the rant she knew that was coming on, picking up a spoon and tapping it quite loudly against a near by tea cup. Hatter paused, his eyes staring blankly at the table before lifting his elbow off the table and straightening up.

"Thank you," he breathed out, his voice a little rough, "I'm fine."

"Y'called Alice a 'him' again," Mallymkum teased, "You do realize that she's a girl, right?"

Hatter blinked before shaking his head and carefully lifting his tea cup, "I am very aware that an Alice is a girl."

"An' that she's a human, not her own species?"

"Yes, well…" the Hatter trailed off as he brought his tea cup up and took a sip so he would not have to answer. He was fully aware that Alice was 'human', not her own species or Little Girl.

However, that's just how he referred to her. It had been ever since her first journey to Underland as Little Girl. She had been so small then, not three inches tall like her last visit, but tiny. Nothing but a child. His first impression of her was that she was going to be nothing but a nuisance, the girl with the long tangle of blonde hair in the pale blue gown with eyes that seemed much wiser than their owner. She had just waltzed into their tea party after all, no thanks to Chessur.

"Your hair wants cutting," was one of the first things he had said to Little Girl. She had said nothing at first, her eyes watching him carefully as her bottom lip stuck out in a slight pout. She was thinking of a response, he could tell by the way she would puff out her cheeks slightly and her eyebrows came together in thought.

The blonde girl had changed so much from that day. She was no longer Little Girl but an Alice. She was much too tall and smart to be Little Girl anymore. Her pale and smooth skin was too aged, but not old. She was like a doll, he decided. She was beautiful and much too fragile to simply be Little Girl.

"You love her, don't cha?" Mallymkum asked with worried eyes after the Hatter's long silence, her tiny paws tightening their grip on the spoon larger than herself that she had been holding.

Tarrant nearly spat out his tea, "Love an Alice? That's absurd. Alice's are much too different, lovely, but different. Have you see an Alice ever wear a hat? She's much too strange."

"Which is probably why yer so attracted to her. Ya love the fact that she's so much more different than th'rest of us, ya do!"

The Hatter's eyes shifted about nervously, though his expression was blank. "And if I did, as you say, love Alice, would she love a Hightopp back?"

It was a couple days after his talk with Mallymkum and he was sitting in that very same arm chair. His gaze remained ever so focused on the entrance to Tugley Wood, even as he picked up one delicate white tea cup with hand painted flowers and took a small sip of his increasingly cold tea, his gaze did not budge.

Alice would return. Alice's always returned. He would sit there, like he did every day, awaiting her much anticipated return. Then, when she did come back to Underland, they would have a grand tea party together he decided. He would bring out his best china – which wasn't really his best anymore ever since Thackery had gotten his paws on it – and line the tables with table cloths the same pale blue as the dresses she had worn on her trips to the land beyond the rabbit hole. There would be music, not the sad melodies that usually drifted in the background by the windmill, but happier tunes. And he would futterwaken until the sun went down.

"Hatter..."

And he would invite his dear old friend, the White Queen Mirana. She would wear one of her best gowns, with lace he was sure. Pale beads would be embroidered into the fabric as delicate as her and he would make her a hat. Oh what a fabulous hat it would be! It would be small and an ivory shade of course. It would have a dark lace to match her dark eyes, lips, and painted nails. Perhaps he would add a feather or two as well.

"Hatter."

He supposed he could invite Chessur as well, despite the fact that the cat with the disappearing act – my, had he made a rhyme? – bugged him to no end, it would only be polite. Alice seemed to get along with the Cheshire, so it couldn't hurt, and he knew that he enjoyed his tea as well. It would be a very grand party indeed, filled with all of Alice's friends from Underland.

"Hatter!"

Tarrant jumped in his seat, successfully knocking his tiny teacup onto the ground in the processes. Oh dear, he must've fallen asleep. He could've sworn he had seen an Alice...

"Do you ever do anything else besides sit here in this old, rotting chair?" asked a seemingly familiar voice. As he slowly raised his gaze from his lap, he noticed a pale blue, thick fabric dangling over the edge of the white laced table cloth. As he continued upward, it was met with a navy blue jacket and golden curls, pale face and warm brown eyes.

"Alice," the hatter breathed, "you're back." As he spoke, he couldn't be sure if it was really Alice kneeling on the table in front of him. Her face had thinned out, if only slightly, from her last visit, and she had seemingly grown another inch or two. She was definitely no longer Little Girl but, perhaps, Young Lady.

"Of course I'm back," she giggled, "did I not say that I would return."

The hatter gave a small nod in response. Yes, of course she had, silly him. How could he forget?

"And... you remember me?" he asked, the memory of her second return quickly flooding back. She had forgotten him then, why not now? But, to his surprise, she gave a roll of her honey eyes and smiled, small index finger tapping the tip of his nose.

"I'm addressing you, am I not? And I told you that I remember saying I would return."

It took a moment for reality to set it for the Hatter, but eventually his damaged and bandaged hands reached up and brushed against the smooth skin of her face, to memorize it so he could never, ever, forget it. He watched as her pink lips twitched into a smile and she pressed against his touch.

"Alice," he whispered as his hands moved to tangle into the blonde locks of hair sitting atop her perfect head, "I missed you..."

"And I you, my dear Hatter," she laughed quietly as she shifted closer, her dainty nose brushing against his. His hands rested on both her rosy cheeks, holding her in place – though in no way forcing her – as his eyes searched Alice's. He wanted to kiss her, but he was afraid that she wouldn't want it. She was an Alice after all, and a lady. He was a hatter. A hatter for the White Queen, yes, but a hatter, and she was now a business woman... whatever that was in an Alice world.

"Alice... why is a raven like a writing desk?" was the only response he could muster.

"Because," she whispered, "Poe wrote on both."

Hatter could only stare at Alice. Lovely, beautiful, smart Alice... she was the only one to ever come up with an answer, whether it was the correct answer or not, he didn't care. She had come with an answer.

And with that, he closed the distance and placed his lips against his dear Alice's, perhaps a little more forced than he had meant to be, but she didn't seem to care either way.

An Alice was a lovely creature. They rarely wore hats, despised corsets and stockings, and never sat nor talked like a proper lady should. She could be loud and outspoken, and stood up for what she most strongly believed in. She was strong, mentally and physically, and many questioned on whether the girl was completely sane or not. Though what probably mattered the most was that she had the love of a man named Tarrant Hightop, who was perfectly content being mad enough for the both of them.

Owari.