Falling Back Into Wonderland

Summary:

Wonderland hadn't been just an imaginary world in a old children's book. No, to me, Wonderland had been home, the only place orphans like me could call home. Despite the dilapidated building and the thin walls, it was our Wonderland. With the youngest- the Quints, the middle-aged- the Decks, and the oldest- the House, we made Wonderland our home, despite the illegal ways we did it.

Of course, everyone knows the story of Wonderland, and the rise of the Red Queen, bringing betrayal and pain across Wonderland.

I am a member of the House. I am one of two Wild Cards. I am the Cheshire and with the help of the other Wild Card, Alice, I aim to bring down the Queen herself.

I just never expected Alice, or Parker as she prefers it, to have found a new family to call her own.

Author's Note:

This plot is of my own creation. This might become an Eliot/OC fic later one in the story, but as of yet, I am unsure if it will go that way. This is my take on Parker's past, before she became one of the best thief's. In my story, she has used the name 'Alice' before 'Alice White' came to be. Cheshire, or C.J., is not perfect, but she is quick thinking and quick to react in a situation, but she does have her flaws. I do have a direction where this story is going and I hope that the readers take the time to read and review, let me know what you like about the story and what you feel may need improved upon. As I am not a thief, nor a con-artist, I am trying my best with the jobs and their descriptions. Thanks for taking the time to check out the story, and please leave a review!

Also, any text you read that is in THIS FONT is Cheshire/C.J. talking to 'you' the reader, as she is telling her story to you all, and the normal font is embellishment on the situation.

For future reference, music lyrics may be used later in the story, and in any case, the disclaimer will be posted at the end of each chapter it is used in.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Leverage, but C.J. and all other OC's in the story are of my own creation, as is the plot to the story.

Chapter One
The Alice That Became a Legend

It has been many years since Wonderland became nothing more than a memory. I kept to the shadows of the world's underbelly, unable to be caught, just as the fictional Cheshire Cat became nothing more than a wisp in the wind, the echoing laughter left in his wake. I never stole for myself, a self-righteous idea ingrained in my mannerisms since Wonderland. I had almost forgotten about my past.

Almost.

"What do you mean Pantera is better than Metallica?! Who in their right fucking mind would actually agree with you?"

Amusement flashes in the green eyes as they shift from the ranting tall, lanky man to stare at the shorter, more built man glaring in his defense, "Uh, easy. It's because Pantera is better than Metallica." The young beach-bum turns his gaze on their third party, "Come on CJ. Tell me you don't actually agree with this asshat."

CJ doesn't bother stifling another fit of laughter as the lit cigarette leaves pale pink lips, her green eyes flashing with gentile humor, "If we are arguing lyrical content, Paulie wins hands down. Matty wins on musical content by a landslide."

"Aw, CJ, you can't be on the fence about this. Matt is clueless and stuck dreaming of what 'could of been'," Paul verbally jabs with playful intent.

Matt throws an empty beer can at the other man, "Oh shut the fuck up, dude. It's better than dreaming of 'has been'."

"Take that back, you beach slag," Paul remarks, shooting up to his feet.

"Oh come on! Metallica is a 'has been' band that should have never left the early nineties," Matt shoots in response, laughing as the lanky man launches himself over the table, the two friends wrestling each other.

A familiar ringing sound pulls CJ's attention away from the two adult men -who just so happen to act like a bunch of teenagers- as she pulls her phone from her pocket, "This is CJ Quincy's phone, I'm afraid CJ is busy at the moment and might have to make an appointment with you."

"Very funny, kid," the familiar voice on the other line causes a smoky chuckle to leave her lips as her gaze follows Matt lifting Paul off of him and shoving him back before the lanky man catches his balance and throws himself at Matt again, "I need you to stop by as soon as possible."

"Seriously? I'm not due for a visit for at least another week," CJ argues, "How important are we talking about?"

"Kid, this isn't a joke. I need you in here as soon as possible."

Agreeing to meet up, CJ hangs up and stubs out her cigarette while standing to her feet. Stepping away from the table, she uses her boot-covered foot to nudge the chair back under the table. Turning to her friends, she smiles softly at the sight of them both standing at attention, waiting for whatever news she had received.

"Relax, guys, it was just Fox. He asked me to come down to the Den for something important. I shouldn't be long," she states, watching both of them relax in their stances. Slipping her leather duster jacket from the back of the chair, she claps both guys on the back, "Oh, and toward the previous argument, I stand by the fact that Def Leppard is both lyrically and musically better than Metallica and Pantera," she raises a hand to silence the retorts from the two guys, "One, unlike Pantera, they are still producing music and touring. Two, unlike Metallica, they never pigeonholed themselves in one specific genre of Rock that put fans off later when they tried to expand their musical talents. So, I'm afraid both of you fail in this debate."

Giving both men a soft smack on their cheeks, she flashes their dumbfounded expressions a broad grin before the front door of the house shut behind her with a curt, signature slam. CJ chuckles to herself briefly, sliding her shades over her eyes as she steps into the early evening Miami streets. Living with the overzealous Paul and the lazy, sarcastic Matt, has proven to be a blessing in disguise. While her alter-ego, Cheshire, plays a vital point in her mannerisms, her eyes always observing a room, or her surrounding area before she is able to relax, her life as CJ gives her a decent perspective on the actions of other people. People-watching and observing their characteristics plays a strong, vital role in her life as a con-artist. Inhaling the salty air breezing in from the coastal line, she ponders over the changes in her life since Wonderland's fall.

It hadn't been easy. It took over three years for the rehabilitation of her vocal chords to be complete, the only remnants of her injury being a faint, quarter-inch wide, white line wrapping around her throat, much like the tether so many years ago. The palms of her hands also carry old scars from the same tether, thankfully the broken bones of her fingers had healed to complete functional capabilities, rendering her to wear finger-less gloves (full-covering gloves when she plays as Cheshire). Of course, CJ is well identified by the full-head of thick black hair, always sporting various streaks of a variety of colors that change often, this week's hair-style of her hair pulled up into thick, messy pigtails, deep purple and neon-green streaks decorating her hair. Of course, Cheshire's hair is constantly changing as well (the use of wigs styled and colored to match the mark's perfectly plays a key role in her work).

Coming upon Fox's Den, CJ immediately ignores the long line roped off from entering the popular, underground establishment and pauses in front of the almost stereotypical, large-muscled dark-skinned bouncer standing before the entrance doors, "Hiya Max!"

"CJ!" Max greets, his intimidating features fading as a dimpled grin is flashes in her direction, "I wasn't expecting you for another week."

"I know. I'm just popping in for a quick chat and a drink, if you don't mind?" CJ states, ignoring the groans from the waiting people.

"How comes she gets to go in?" "I bet she sleeps with one of the workers."

Motioning for Max to hold his response, CJ's gaze (although blocked from their view by her shades) turns to the group of scantily-clad women waiting for their entrance, "When you manage to get your name of the VIP list, you are more than welcome to go on in and sleep with whoever you want, but until then, I suggest you watch your words, or you'll find yourself banned from entering."

"What makes her so special?"

Max snorts as he gives a series of signature knocks on the door behind him, "It may have something to do with being Fox's sister? If you want, I can file a complaint to the Boss for you?"

CJ snorts at the nonsense as she passes him. It isn't as though she really has a sibling of any kind, but it works with coming and going frequently. Entering the establishment with an offer thrown toward Max to come to the house for their bi-weekly poker night sometime, she is immediately assaulted by loud, pounding music, heavy smoke-filled air and people yelling over the music. Smiling at the familiarity of it all, she weaves around the meshing bodies as they move to the music, getting small nods of greetings from regulars that notice her. Finally making it to the bar, she waves a hand briefly to catch the beautiful bartender's attention.

"Hey girl!" Harley greets with a bright, white smile, instantly retrieving a shot glass and filling it with the light, amber Jameson Whiskey, "What's going on?"

Instantly knocking back the shot, CJ smirks, "I'm actually here to talk to Fox."

"Oh, he's been locked in his office for the past few hours," the blonde beauty states, jabbing a thumb behind her in a lazy manner.

Sliding a twenty-dollar bill across the bar table, CJ winks at Harley before making her way to the back of the establishment. Opening the door to the room, she feels a slight display of shock transfer across her face as shock overrides her. Fox's mess of auburn hair seemed more unkempt than usual, dark brown eyes clouded with thought as they look through the several folders that cover the usually clear desk. Clearing her throat, she is greeted with a quick, strained smile before he motions for her to look over the files.

"You asked me a few years ago, to keep an eye out for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. My men caught wind of innocent CEO's, doctors and political figureheads suddenly showing signs of embezzling. I did some research and I figured you'd want to look at the results."

Taking the first file from Fox, CJ pushes her shades up to rest on the top of her head as her eyes quickly reads through the text. It was surely a joke, CJ muses inwardly as she tosses the folder down to pick up another one, seeing similarities between the two, "Are they all this similar?"

"Unfortunately. None of these people have shown signs of illegal activity before now, believe me, the underground would be all over this shit," Fox states, and CJ distractedly nods in agreement, "So, I think someone may be holding something over their heads and check it out," Fox tosses another file in her direction.

Opening the file, CJ's fingers immediately clench around the lips of the folder, her mild-temperament flashing in her eyes with righteous fury. Cursing under her breath, CJ turns her gaze up to him, "I need every single one of these files, immediately. I want them on a hard drive and ready within an hour."

"Are you sure? She's in a relatively high seat of power and unlimited resources," Fox asks, worry filling his chocolate gaze.

CJ looks back down at the aged face of a face she would never forget, "I don't care if I go down with her. That bitch will pay for everything. Now, I need you to do one thing for me," CJ reaches into the pocket of her duster jacket and flipping through her wallet, she pulls two cards out of one of the slits. Fox watches silently as she snatches a plain white envelope, a Sharpie marker and immediately jots down something on one of the cards before sliding the cards into the envelope. "Use one of your couriers to deliver this personally to this office. Not the mailbox, not through mail services, not even to anyone. I want it dropped off in this specific place."

"Consider it done, Kitten," Fox states, the nickname causing her fury to fade, "I worry you will lose yourself in this one."

CJ grants a sincere smile to her friend, thankful for his worry and protective tendencies, "It's not me you should worry about."

Turning on her heal, she leaves with her signature slam of a door, never hearing whatever Fox said in return. Bidding both Harley and Max a quick good-bye, she starts off toward her house.

I've known Fox for a few years, so sounding that demanding in using his courier system wasn't exactly out of the norm. While it may appear we are close friends, we are actually loyal acquaintances. He finds me jobs, I pull them off, give him his cut of the deal and the rest is sent through his couriers to different charity funds and shelters. I come and go as I please, and Miami has only acted as a base of operations for me.

I figured seeing Alice again would be tense, but I didn't expect her to bring a couple of friends with her.

The infamous, blonde thief known as Parker isn't the type that enjoys surprises. It had only been a couple weeks since the team managed to steal the Black Book and the engagement of Nate and Sophie. Parker, having been left in Nate's place, wasn't used to leading people, so she had immediately opted for Hardison to play Mastermind. She still called the necessary shots when needed, and her authority overrides that of Hardison's, but she will always be a thief before playing Mastermind. Upon entering Hardison's brewery, she heads upstairs after waving to her boyfriend as he played bartender, and with a heavy sigh she slips past the kitchen where Eliot, the team's protector, worked hard to prepare dinner.

With Nate and Sophie gone, Parker is still trying to wrap her head around the sudden loss of her friends. She hated the memories brought on by their disappearance. She hated feeling as though the team was hanging on by what little thread tied them together. She knew Eliot, nor Hardison, were going to leave her anytime soon, but she had thought that before. Picking up a stack of envelopes on her desk, she shifts through them before one catches her attention. Parker was no idiot and immediately spots a series of red flags.

The first being the most obvious. Alice was not her name, Hardison had faded out her old alias a month back and she had a few others, but none of them named Alice. The second was the lack of a return address. The third was the elaborate 'C' drawn in the top-right corner, beautiful and decorated in an elegant manner. This letter obviously never went through postal services, the lack of a stamp of authorization throwing Parker the fourth red flag.

"Eliot!" Parker calls out, ignoring the grumbling from the team's Hitter as he enters the study room, "Was anyone up here?"

"No, why?" he asks, his voice as husky as always.

Parker flashes him the envelope, "Alice White no longer exists, and I know for a fact this never went through a post office."

Being protective as always, Eliot takes the envelope and carefully inspects it. His light blue gaze meets Parker's for a brief moment before he opens the envelope. Quirking an eyebrow, he pulls out two poker cards, the Queen of Hearts and the Black Joker. Turning his gaze back to Parker, he grows worried at the suddenly wide eyes staring at the two cards before she snatches them and the envelope out of his hand.

"What's going on, Parker?" Eliot asks, curious as to why she suddenly takes a random paper from her desk and starts to write something down.

"Can you call Hardison up here. I need a flight to..." Parker's gaze falls to the Red Queen, seeing the numbers written on the back of the card, "Miami, Florida as soon as possible."

Turning from the desk, she jumps as Eliot claps his hands on her shoulders, keeping her from running off, "Woah, slow down, girl. You're acting ten times more crazy than usual, and that's sayin' something."

"Eliot, this isn't funny," Parker bites out, her irritation causing tension to grow in her shoulders.

Having always been understanding of Parker, Eliot nods, "I can see that, but ya' need to tell us what's goin' on, darlin'."

Parker knew the guys wouldn't let her run off without an explanation, so she nods tentatively, "Alright. I'll explain everything when Hardison is up here."

Parker takes the chair at the desk, her index finger tracing over the elaborate 'C' drawn in the top-right corner, memories of green eyes staring down at her with worry and fierce determination. Hearing Hardison enter the room, the blonde thief pushes down the hollow guilt filling her heart as she pulls herself from her thoughts. Eliot quickly explains what occurred and she finds herself on the end of a concerned stare. Smiling weakly, she motions for them to sit down.

"I am being requested to do a job, most likely an elaborate job, down in Miami by an old friend of mine," Parker states, Hardison immediately demanding a reason behind this request, Parker sighs, "Do you guys recognize this at all?" She asks, pointing to the 'C' on the envelope, both of them shaking their head. Turning the envelope long-ways so the curve of the 'C' is facing downward, "How about now?"

"The Cheshire?" Eliot and Hardison echo at the sight of the 'C' turned into a wide grin, Hardison continues, "Are you serious? You do know Cheshire's identity is hidden from every database. Even facial recognition systems can't pin Cheshire's face to a civilian or government official."

"Yeah, well, I used to live in the same orphanage as Cheshire," Parker says, earning curious looks.

Sighing at the looks, she launches into the tale of her childhood and the eventual split of the first family she had ever known, "...I never had the chance to thank Chess for saving my life and I swore that if Chess ever needed my help, I would help without hesitation. Chess had been the only one that just accepted that I was gifted at stealing things. Never asked questions, never wanted an explanation for the way I did things."

"You think your friend tracked down this 'Queen'?" Parker's eyes grow in surprise as she looks up at Eliot, "You said Cheshire swore vengeance on Queen for setting you all up. It seems as though Cheshire is capable of taking the Queen down alone, but possible, your friend wants to extend an offer to help. Maybe Cheshire feels you have the right for revenge as well."

"So, you guys don't mind if I take off and help Chess?" Parker asks, hope growing in her chest.

"Oh, we mind a great deal," Hardison responds, watching her expression fall, "That's why we are going with you. Come on, Parker, you don't think we're going to let you go off by yourself, do you?"

Realizing the guys will never take no for an answer, Parker nods curtly in agreement. Hardison sets off to get them flights into Miami and penthouse that would house all three of them together. Parker had to point out the Fox's Den imprinted on the backside of the poker card when they asked how they would find Cheshire in a big city like Miami. Each of them part ways to pack up some of their belongings and soon, all three of them board the airplane that would take them to Miami, Florida.

When I look back at seeing Alice (or Parker) and meeting her new...team, I suppose it could have gone a lot better than it did. Then again, I wasn't expecting such a quick response and I was not exactly in the mind frame of working.

"Come on, CJ," Paul's instant tone causes the young woman to roll her eyes as she finishes applying the black-light reflective lip gloss to her lips.

Since tonight would be Fox's bi-weekly 'Rave It Up' Night, a night they all frequent to let loose and enjoy life, CJ felt dressed to the nine's. Or at least as far to the nine's as you can get with a techno-night. Her hip were hugged by a pair of tight, black hot-pants, neon blue tights covering the expanse of her legs, only to be met by black ankle boots. A black halter top hugged the curves of her torso, the electric-blue, long-sleeved mesh top running along her arms before being met by her signature finger-less gloves. Her straight, ebony hair brushes the tops of her shoulders, decorated by neon-green streaks left to hang as they please, the electric-blue, quarter-inch thick braids pulled into loops, hanging to the bottom of her ears. The white eye shadow along her eyelids would reflect the black light, as well as the specialty contact lenses that give her green eyes a glow in the low, vibrant lighting.

"Yeah, girl. You've kept yourself locked up in the study for the past thirty-six hours. We had not choice but to drag you out," Matt comments as he claps Max on the shoulder as they pass by the velvet rope and enter the establishment without fight.

CJ snorts as she weaves her way around the meshing bodies as they plunge into the dark interior of the club. Every glass table sported black lights underneath the table, causing the neon glasses (both drink glasses and shot glasses) to glow bright in the darkness. The dance floor placed in front of the turntables illuminates by strobe lights and wavering glow-sticks as the people danced to the electronic-techno music. Matt pats her shoulder as he squeezes pass her to put their order to the bar, CJ following Paul up to the second level; the VIP lounge area.

Within an hour, Matt had finished his third round of drinks and disappeared downstairs, most likely getting into some kind of trouble. CJ sips her glass of Jameson, her eyes gleaming in the black lights as she listens to Paul and Duncan; another regular, talk about tattoos. Duncan owns a tattoo shop down the street from Fox's, Paul frequenting to add to his ever-growing collection of inked depictions. Hearing footsteps heading up the staircase, CJ's gaze shifts to see Matt ushering a tall, lean-muscled dark-skinned man to the second level.

"Problems, Matty?" CJ calls out curtly, her gaze looking over the man, who is obviously out of place.

"Yeah. This guy swears that I hustled him out of five hundred dollars, when I legitimately played to the best of my ability," Matt states, causing both Paul and CJ to cock their eyebrows, "He says that I appear more drunk than I really am, and it gives off a feeling of self-assurance."

"I doubt he said it like that," Paul comments, causing Duncan to snicker into his glass.

CJ ignores the jab toward the unnamed man, her gaze never moving from him as she speaks, "You honestly feel as though you were hustled? It is well-known that Matty is the best when it comes to playing pool. Is it his fault you willingly forked over five C-notes?"

"Look, it was unfair and I want my money back. I don't want any trouble," the man states.

CJ says nothing as she turns in her booth seat, waving a hand signal toward the blonde beauty behind the bar, who gives her a thumbs up in understanding, "I assure you, uh..."

"Hardison."

"Hardison, last name, yes?" Seeing him nod, she shrugs once again, "Again, I assure you, Hardison, that Matty can't hustle people. His poker face is the worst ever seen."

"Look-"

CJ raises a hand, irritated at being cut off, "If you want your money back, you have to play a simple game with me."

"W-What kind of game are we talking about?" Hardison states as Harley makes her way up the stairs with a tray of drinks.

"It's really easy," CJ starts as two, full shot glasses are set in front of Hardison, "Those are your drinks," Two tall glasses of beer are placed in front of her, "These are mine. I bet you, your own money, that I can finish both of my beers before you finish your shot glasses. The rules are simple; you can't touch the other person's glasses and you can only hold one drink at a time. Sound fair to you?"

"Actually it sounds too easy, if you ask me?" Hardison argues.

CJ cocks an eyebrow, "Would you feel better if I finish off one of my beers, your two shots against one beer?"

Hardison seems to contemplate it before nodding, shaking her hand to solidify the deal. CJ downs one of the glasses with slow, consistent pulls before setting the glass back on the table. Paul counts down and CJ's gaze hardens as Hardison lifts up on shot glass. As the dark-skinned man downs the shot, CJ takes the empty pint glass, flips it upside-down before setting it over the top of Hardison's remaining shot. As Hardison opens his eyes, his cheeks darken with anger and embarrassment as CJ holds up her remaining beer, mocking a toast in his direction before taking a slow sip from it.

"That is hustling someone," CJ states, holding out her hand, Matt groaning as he places the money in the palm of her hand. "Next time, think before making bets, because I won't be so nice about you complaining if you lose."

"Are you the owner of the place, or somethin'?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow in her direction.

CJ snorts, "Not even close. I'm just well-established."

"Hardison! I suggest you get out of my way, pal."

Hearing the new voice, CJ looks up to see a well-muscled man standing at the top of the staircase. His dark brown hair fell just beneath the bottom of his earlobes, his facial features strong and stern. Seeing the hard dedication and calculating gleam in those light-blue eyes, CJ forces herself to relax as she makes a hand motion for the bouncer to let the new arrival through. He immediately moves to the dark-skinned man, the two muttering to each other, CJ smiling as two pairs of eyes turn on her, one in speculation and one in observation. Leaning back in her seat, she smirks, her lips gleaming in the reflection of the black-light.

"If I were you, I'd teach your friend some common sense. You don't come into a place like this, throw down a bet and complain if and when you lose. We expect a show of respect when transactions occur," CJ quips, sipping the remains of her beer as if to prove her point.

"Is that a threat?" the new arrival questions, his own gruff voice threatening, his stance protective before his friend.

"A threat? No. I am not one to make meaningless threats. Think of it merely as a display of humility," CJ retorts, earning a round of snickers from her surrounding friends.

"Yeah, because this place is just screamin' with humility, darlin'," the man states, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

CJ lets out a small chuckle, "Oh believe me, I agree. Fox isn't known for laying low."

"You seem to know a lot of people here," CJ waves a hand indicating it to be 'sort of', "Then ya' wouldn't happen to know a friend of our's? Goes by the name Cheshire?"

Silence falls around the table, both men picking up on the tension, and CJ simply looks both men over, "Sorry, I happen to know a lot of Cheshire's associates and I'm sure I've never seen either of you before."

"Yeah, because your friends seem to be so sincere in their agreement."

Ah, CJ mentally sighs, realizing this new face was not like others, his eyes too observant to be an average con-artist, "Look..."

"Eliot, I'm-"

"Yeah, look, I kind of like you. You aren't an idiot, and I can respect that, but your first mistake was coming up here and stating you are a friend of Cheshire. Let's face it, Cheshire has never shown a desire to have friends, and those that have managed that status are definitely not either of you," CJ comments, standing to her full height, "So, I'm afraid you should take yourselves elsewhere."

"Look," Hardison cuts in, waving his hands out in a display of innocence, "We aren't trying to cause trouble. We'll just go-"

CJ leaps back, moving to stand on back of the booth seat, her heels hooking along the railing of the second-level platform, some dancers below stopping at the sudden movement. Her gaze moves from the shattered glass showering the cushion where she once sat, her gleaming eyes turning on Eliot, who looks completely unapologetic for throwing the glass. Seeing the glint of challenge in his gaze, her gleaming lips twitching in a smirk.

"Now that was just rude," CJ states, her smirk growing into a full Cheshire Grin, as she stands up from her crouched position on the railing. As recognition flickers across both of their faces, CJ gives them a mocking salute before somersaulting herself off of the railing and onto the floor below.

"Stupid asshats," she murmurs as she stands from her crouched landing, "I guess that calls it a night-"

Her words cut off almost instantly as she turns to find a pair of familiar blue eyes only inches away from her own. Those same blue eyes gleaming with a pleasant emotion and distant flicker of worry. Everything seems to fade into the back of her mind as her gaze comes back into focus, familiar golden-blonde hair pulled into a signature ponytail framing the round, expressionless face.

"Alice."

Like I said. Meeting her new team could have gone a lot better than it did.

Hey, it's VS! Thanks for reading so far and I hope that this chapter gives a better insight in Cheshire/CJ's personality. She antagonizes people on purpose, most likely to ascertain the way the respond to certain situations. You can assume she has created a split-personality between Cheshire and CJ, which will be introduced more as the story continues. I hope I did the canon characters right and kept them in character. I figured that of all people, Eliot would be able to tell if someone is hiding something, so that explains trying to get a reaction from CJ, which triggered a very 'Cheshire' like response. As the story progresses, CJ is more lively and likes to have fun, while the Cheshire personality tends to be more...vindictive than anything else. Again, that trigger response will be explained further as the story progresses.

Let me know what you guys think!