A/N: First of all, I just want to say how excited I am to have gotten the amount of reviews I did. I honestly didn't expect many people to acknowledge the story, given that WCMI(as amazing as it is) is still somewhat underground and it doesn't seem like there's much traffic in and out of the Alice and Wonderland fanfic category as it is. So, thanks to those wonderful three people! I look forward to hearing more. =)
Secondly, I am having such a dangerously good time writing this, I can't even express it. Ideas are coming to me faster than I can write them, so look for the next chapter soon.
There is just something so cool about combining the characters of my childhood under the same "roof" and being able to craft their interactions with one another. Its also refreshing to put a different, more realistic spin on the familiar characters, making them a bit more relatable.
Plus, I love working with the Reginald character. I was initially worried about writing his dialogue, as I haven't had nearly the same amount of exposure to his character as Bri and Rain(given that I don't-as previously mentioned-work at Disneyland). But I've managed to impress myself with the delivery and I hope it has the same effect on you.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter! Don't forget to review!
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"So as I was saying, Sylvie and Bruno definitely challenges what we understand to be reality, and that which we believe is only perceptions…"
Don't yawn. Don't yawn. You promised her you wouldn't yawn…
"It should also be pointed out that the novel is a social commentary on the values of the age…"
Okay, the urge to yawn has passed. Good. Now, what should I make for dinner tonight?
"But is that commentary limited to only volume one when the characters are in Victorian London, or does it continue to the second part, which most qualify as nonsense?"
Oh, that's right, I'm not making dinner tonight. I'm going out with…him…
"Alice, what do you think?"
At the sound of her voice, the blue-eyed blonde immediately emerged from her daze, her head springing from the support on her fist. Belle was eyeing her expectantly, along with the other members of the monthly book club. The circle of eyes consisted not only of Belle's, but of the nerdy, gangly young man named Milo Thatch who often haunted the library in his abundant free time and Wendy Darling, a close friend of both she and Belle's. This didn't make for a copious group in the least, but the sudden attention was enough to make Alice feel uncomfortably in the "spotlight".
"You haven't said much," Wendy added, concern growing on her face. "Aren't you feeling well?"
Alice nodded violently, preparing to assure them all she was perfectly fine as long as boredom wasn't terminal, when Milo cut in.
"You know, I just got over this awful case of the flu. Terrible. I was vomiting everywhere."
He emphasized his point by using sweeping arm movements, which gave a more visual interpretation of how much cubic area the vomit encompassed.
Wendy nodded, while Belle and Alice observed the sole male with expressions that fell somewhere between surprise and disgust.
"Yes, yes, there's definitely something going around," Wendy agreed. "Peter was feeling particularly under the weather himself. Except he seemed to be having more trouble in the restroom than-"
"Okay, okay," Belle interjected with false whimsy, determined to cease the story of Peter and his restroom troubles before things elevated beyond the realm of too much information. "So I think we've established that there isn't anything wrong with Alice. I'd really like to continue our analysis, if its alright with everyone else."
The topic of conversation was altered to the former issue, and Alice found herself falling back into the familiar cushion of apathy. It wasn't that she didn't love reading. She adored reading. It was no accident that she worked at a library, after all. But for some reason that she could not entirely fathom, she had no desire to debate novels with others. It was fine enough to talk about an interesting novel factually, that is, without asserting any personal opinions or biases. But Alice supposed it had to do with the fact that she liked her own interpretation of what she read and had little interest in how others saw it. She had no desire to sway others to her side-the only reason she could find for someone to argue in the first place- and liked to keep her opinions as little secrets all to herself. She only found mutual interpretations boring, and so there was no pleasing her in this aspect. Reading was a special activity that she could only share with herself, and so it had been a personal practice for most of her life.
However, when Belle had the idea to start a Book Club at the library, Alice knew she wouldn't have been a good friend and business partner to oppose it. It also became apparent that Belle desired for her to participate, and she supposed refusing that wouldn't have been any more ethical. And so she attended every meeting, reluctantly.
"Alright, well, I think we've covered a lot of ground today," Belle said finally, signaling the end of the discussion.
Thank god.
"I really would have liked to go more in depth about the moral undertones of volume two," Milo mentioned as he made his way to the door, clumsily adjusting his armful of objects that he had apparently seen as necessary for the meeting.
"Ah, well, we know how dangerous a conflict of ethics can be, don't we Mr. Thatch?" Belle chuckled somewhat artificially as she ushered him out the door.
A small wave and a sugary-sweet "Bye!" was delivered to the two departing guests before Belle hastily shut the door. She turned back to her coworker, her expression unexpectedly relieved.
"Wow, what an intense discussion, huh?" she commented breathlessly, wiping a strand of hair out of her face. "I never seen them so adamant about their opinions! I thought things were going to start getting violent…"
Alice rolled her eyes as Belle chuckled about her over-exaggeration.
"You didn't say much though," Belle mentioned as she began stacking stray books in uneven towers. "Although, what else is new?"
"Belle, to be perfectly honest…"Alice began with a sigh, hoping for an opening to come clean about her relationship with the book club.
"I know," Belle interrupted, not ceasing her book-stacking activities. "You're distracted…"
Alice could tell by the devious tone of Belle's voice that she was talking about her conundrum with Reginald. Or, as most would characterize it judging by that morning's paper, her "blossoming romance". The blonde didn't think she could have gotten any more annoyed at that moment, but had forgotten about her current predicament, the mention of which might have made her punch a hole in the wall.
"I'd rather we not talk about that…" Alice said uneasily, rising from her chair in hopes of escaping the awkward talk.
"And why not?" Belle countered. "Why so bashful?"
"Because…" Alice began loudly, attempting to restrain her bubbling feelings of contempt. "I feel like I've been violently thrown into an extremely odd and embarrassing situation. I never wanted to go to the dance with him. The man just crawled into my house one
night-"
"Wait, what?" The other woman queried suddenly, dropping an armful of books with a thud.
"No, no, no," Alice quickly corrected, instantly perceiving the negative implications. "He came to serenade me, you see, and then he climbed the damn tree so to talk to me better and nearly broke his neck…"
Alice could see that her explanation was having little effect in swaying Belle's opinion of things, as the brunette was eyeing her mischievously, her eyebrow cocked and a smirk painted across her face, all while her arms were folded across her chest.
"Oh, for the love of Walt, don't look at me like that," she huffed, before spinning on her heel and setting off for a far corner of the library.
"If you don't like him so much then why did you agree to see him again tonight?" Belle challenged, yelling after her.
Alice swiveled her upper torso around enough to see the other female and give her a thoroughly dirty look.
"You threw a book at my head!"
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Unlike most of her fellow females about the land, Kida did not care for pirates. While most of the members of her sex seemed to find some inexplicable allure to the sea-faring heathens, particularly those from the Caribbean, she saw them as brackish, unhygienic, unappealing drunkards with Walt-knows-how-many communicable diseases. They also were particularly skilled in the most anti-gentlemanly ways of attracting a woman's attention. This was often done with cat-calls, hands in inappropriate places, or sometimes even, throwing things. Needless to say, these qualities were not what Kida sought for in a partner, romantic or otherwise, and so she kept far away from the docks on Tom Sawyer island.
Today, however, was different. She knew that the only sort of people who could achieve the full potential of her scheme against Alice were pirates, and so she was forced to accompany Helga to the port and discuss matters with her dear friend, Captain James Hook.
Helga, with her tall, icy, intimidating demeanor had no problem navigating the place without being disturbed. She had already developed a reputation here after all, and undoubtedly had made examples of a few unfortunate scallywags who had dared to use a pick-up line on her. Kida, however, found that after only thirty minutes of wandering behind her friend, she had already pulled out her dagger more than five times to threaten heckling perverts. So on her guard was she, that she didn't notice a particular rum-soaked rapscallion hanging from a network of ropes above her head.
"Well, well, good day to thee, love," a raspy, gutteral voice crooned from the space above her.
Before she could crane her neck upwards to see the source of the greeting, the familiar figure dropped in front of her, eyeing her wantonly with his raccoon-rimmed gaze. He took a generous swig from his dirtied rum bottle before swaggering towards her, swaying dangerously towards falling over entirely.
"Silver hair, eh? I like 'em older, meself. Got a few new tricks to teach me, dear? I'm sure you've been around the block a time or two…"
He extended an arm around her shoulders as he spoke, grinning stupidly and revealing a series of gold-capped teeth.
"So whadda yeh say then, eh? Yay or nay?"
Kida sent him a piercing gaze that would have struck him stone-cold dead, if looks could kill. As she peeled his fingers from around her she growled,
"Get out of my face, Long John."
A loud, deep bellow of discontent was heard a few paces away at the bar, the origin, Kida supposed, of the Caribbean pirate. After a few rhythmic thuds, clunks, and metallic gyrations, a large cyborg appeared at the entrance donned in a port bar-tender's clothes.
"Arrgh! I be Captain Long John Silver, not this scurvy brat!" he corrected fiercely, pointing directly at the fellow pirate.
"A bit sensitive about that, he is," The pirate of contested identity beside Kida whispered. "It's a common mistake, no need to fret, love."
"I wasn't," she assured him glacially through gritted teeth.
Interrupting this back and forth banter was the sudden descent of Captain Hook from his vessel, an occasion that required every being within a mile's radius of the ship to cease what they were doing and gaze in awe, lest they be fed to a crocodile or gutted with the infamous hook.
"Mr. Sparrow," Hook spoke pleasantly from his elevated position. "I believe this is the third time this week I've had to remind you to stay in your designated area."
Kida could hear the pirate swallow uneasily before replying, "Its Captain Jack Sparrow, actually…"
"Hardly," Hook scoffed as Smee arrived beside him to change out his hooks. "We'll discuss such a status when you've managed to commandeer yourself a ship."
Jack peered around a bit shamefully, realizing that he had been gotten-the-best-of in front of his colleagues and the woman he was attempting to woo.
"Well, you see, dear sir, I have-"
"Yes, thank you, Sparrow, that will be all," The captain brushed off, inspecting his replacement hook with an enviable amount of attention.
"Eh, like I said, sir, it's Captain-"
"I said, that will be all!"
A few snickers and chuckles were heard around the port, particularly from Long John Silver, the cyborg bartender, as Sparrow reluctantly turned around and drunkenly made his way back to which ever area was his own. Kida didn't feel too sympathetic for him, even in this particular moment of humiliation. He would still be reeling in the "tail", as it were, while Captain Hook would be spending another night alone. This, she guessed, was the source of Hook's disapproval with his counterpart.
"Well, well, if it isn't Fraulein Sinclair," Hook observed, removing the blanket of silent tension and releasing everyone to resume their pirately duties. "Has her honor finally found a hiatus in her ever busy schedule to see her dear friend Hook?"
"I didn't come here to talk pleasantries, Captain," she stated firmly. "I came here to talk business."
Hook motioned for Smee to depart, presumably to prepare his state room where said business would take place.
"And why would I want to do that?" he challenged, leaning against his rapier. "Not even so much as a call to any of us in months and now you request my assistance?"
"I thought you said you still talked to him," Kida muttered, to which Helga ignored.
"You'd be mistaken to think my departure from the Villains was anything personal, Captain," she responded respectfully. "Now please invite my friend and I onboard so that we can talk about this more in depth in your stateroom- which, by the way, I know Mr. Smee is preparing for us even as we speak."
Though at first seeming a bit indignant towards Helga's cheeky perception, the pirate nodded and yelled for his crew to descend the gang plank. Helga shot Kida a look that was riddled with I told you so, before ascending up to the ship.
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"She…WHAT?"
"You heard me, my fine lucky-footed friend. I, Reginald Theophilus The Third, have tamed the shrew,"
The baffled March Hare was finding Reginald's claim that he had won a second date with Miss Lidell more than a bit far-fetched. Nevertheless, that didn't prevent his anxious surprise at the Hatter's ridiculous news. Even though he knew, as a perfectly perceptive rabbit, that Alice had far too much dignity to accept such an offer, there was the slight, one-in-a-million chance that Reginald's story was not entirely caused by mercury poisoning.
"Well, old boy, I don't mean to cool your chamomile, as it were, but are you entirely sure you heard the young lady correctly?" the hare questioned skeptically, eyeing his friend uncertainly.
"Of course I do!" Reginald answered incredulously. "I listen to every word she says! Especially, when she's talking about me."
His emphasis on the last word of his sentence made the Hare roll his eyes emphatically.
"And just how much does she say about you?" he challenged, sipping from his china in an extremely unimpressed fashion.
"Well, not a whole lot," the white-haired young man admitted hastily. "But that will soon change! You'll see…"
"Oh will I?" the March Hare retorted, just before Reginald caught sight of a rather spectacular shard of aluminum foil, that the Hare could only have guessed fallen from his tray of muffins that he had lined with the aforementioned substance just a moment ago.
The Hatter dropped to his knees and cradled the glittering material in his palm, all the while emitting some sort of strange, otherworldly moan.
"So," The Hare spoke with a grin. "Where will you be taking her tonight, old chum?"
Reginald, however, was too caught up in the beauty of his treasure to notice the subtle hints of sarcasm in his friend's tone.
"Quiet, lecherous Lepus!" he demanded, briskly. "Can you not see that I have discovered a genuine nugget of purest silver?"
It was all the Hare could do to keep from wrenching the man's head off and sparing his female friend such pain as he endured currently.
"Do you think I should make Alice some jewelry?" Reginald queried with an abundance of enthusiasm.
"Well," The Hare breathed loudly, attempting to maintain his own sanity for both their sakes. "Perhaps you should decide where you're taking her first."
Reginald pocketed the glimmering aluminum that was now in a fist-size, spherical shape, and chuckled whole-heartedly as he stood from his kneel.
"Certainly you didn't think I hadn't yet planned somewhere for us to go!"
The Hare crossed his arms over his chest, cocking a furry eyebrow.
"Yes, actually. You don't usually get that far, anyway, before, inexplicably, they demand…that…"
"I be handcuffed and restrained to the bed with ropes and bits of leather?" Reginald offered, failing to understand his friend's horror at the creation of this mental image.
The rabbit simply shook his head, as if in attempt to clear his mind of the current description, before muttering simply, "Good god…"
"Well, no matter," Reginald continued confidently, adjusting his bowtie. "Miss Lidell has agreed to accompany me to the cinema this evening, for what I hope to be a simply delightful night of cinematics and subsequent discussion."
The March Hare suddenly sprung to his feet on the surface of the tea-party table, crushing a teacup in his carelessness. He rose to the tips of his toes, coming in very close proximity to the Hatter's face. His normally cheery, upbeat eyes were narrowed and burning with an indescribable fire, and his small paws were clenched in stone-hard fists. The abrupt movement, along with the intimidating demeanor, caught the Hatter completely off guard, causing him to fall backwards on to the small of his back.
"Subsequent discussion?" The March Hare repeated, becoming the first bunny to ever elicit any sound reminiscent of a growl.
"You know," Reginald began uneasily. "Underlying themes, character motives, flick flubs…"
"I know what you mean by subsequent discussion," he insisted. "And let me warn you now, Reginald Theophilus the Third. I will not have you disgracing my friend for your own twisted pleasure. All of the others were one thing, but Alice Lidell is a genteel lady, and I will see you fully castrated before I allow her reputation tarnished on account of your immaturity!"
The Hatter's eyes immediately faded from frightened to hurt, as they often did whenever the Hare became too passionate and outspoken about the qualities that annoyed him. The Hare, on the other hand, always knew by the expression in his friend's eyes when he had taken his point too far. The Rabbit was fully aware that Reginald, deep down, was capable of emotional maturity and still cared deeply for the ruffian no matter what disgraces he was guilty of. Nevertheless, he couldn't find himself able to trust one friend's heart in the hands of another, particularly when the recipient of the organ had become a notorious heart-breaker.
"Oh…I am sorry, chum," The Hare sighed shamefully, his once rigid body drooping into a lifeless sag. "But you have to understand my perspective of things. I just…don't want to see Alice hurt."
Reginald nodded, understandingly. He gathered his discarded hat as he rose from the unfortunate position, and began dusting himself off.
"I'm not a psychopath, you know," he mumbled bitterly in between dustings. " I'm not out to emotionally torture as many women as possible."
"What is your intention, then?" The Hare questioned eagerly. "I know for most of them it had to be some physical trait, like hair, or eyes, or a willingness to go to bed with you. But what in the world is in Alice that makes you want to pursue her, even after you've defeated the challenge of having her warm up to you? Surely, this is far too much work for another carnal escapade…"
Reginald raised his index finger with, seemingly, every bit of confidence in the world for his answer to the question. He puffed up his chest and took in a generous amount of air, prepping for what could have been the greatest, most eloquent line in history, when unexpectedly, the assurance was taken from him as quickly as lightning strikes. He stood there for a moment, frozen in place with eyes empty from shock, staring at nothing in particular in the distance. Eventually, his body relaxed and naturally fell out of its heroic stance.
The Rabbit could only stare at him in anticipation, wondering what had caused this uncharacteristic absence of speech. Just like anyone, the Hatter often ran out of important things to say, but that had never stopped him before from continuing to talk.
Reginald, however, was lost in thought. It occurred to him that this had been the most effort he had ever put into the pursuit of a woman. Though this was mainly so because it was often the female that did most of the pursuing, such a fact had never occurred to the Hatter, and so he was given an inflated sense of his own seductive potency. He knew he wouldn't have hung around this long for most of the females he had been with, save one that he didn't like to discuss or think about. So what was it about Alice that made her so worthwhile? He had never thought about it before.
It wasn't anything simple, like the color of her hair-even if he was partial to blondes-or the blue of her eyes. It wasn't the deliciously impartial way she treated him, or the unexpected manner with which she had began to observe him from time to time, as if she was studying some form of complex art and was searching for a meaning. It wasn't her refreshing preoccupation with books, the frantic way she chewed her nails and pencils to grainy stubs for oral satisfaction, or the dainty squeak of a sneeze that so many other girls seemed to force in order to sound more lovable. It couldn't have been her constant fragrance of honey and book dust, or the flush of her cheeks that reminded him of the essence of a tea-bag escaping into a pond of boiling hot water. And it most certainly wasn't her quick wit and sophisticated vernacular that rivaled his, or even the amazing talent she seemed to have on the dance floor.
"You know, most girls can't dance like that…" he thought to himself. "And how many of them would even know what a dereliction of genetics was?"
Regrettably, none of these attributes, however endearing they may have been to him, seemed like a justifiable cause for endless pursuit. At least, not for his rabbit friend, anyway.
"I don't know," Reginald admitted finally, an aura of baffled, somber defeat overcoming him.
The March Hare sighed, disappointedly. He had hoped there would be some definite sign that Reginald's interaction with Alice wouldn't go in the same direction as all of the others, but the Hatter had, unsurprisingly, failed to give him justification and assurance that the lady's character would be preserved.
"I see," The Hare responded disconcertingly, turning around in preparation of descending the table.
"I didn't want to have to choose between my two friends, Reginald," he confessed. "But I simply can't let you-"
"Maybe you won't have to!" Reginald exclaimed suddenly with an abundance of elation.
"What are you talking-"
"Come with us both!" he encouraged, seizing the animal's shoulders.
"What, you mean on the date?" he relayed, disbelievingly.
"Of course on the date! You see, that way, you can be sure that I am a gentleman of honorable intentions, and most importantly, that Alice is totally into me."
The Hare regarded the freckled man with an expression of horrified doubt.
"Somehow, I don't think Alice will agree with the logic behind this genius plan…"
Reginald released his death-grip on The March Hare's shoulders in order to extend his arms outward, emphatically, as he announced,
"But that's what so genius about it! She'll never know because you'll be incognito! A phantom!"
"A phantom?"
"Well," he quickly corrected. "A phantom with a walkie-talkie. But nevertheless, we shall make for a natural Cyrano and Christian!"
The whole idea brimmed with impossibility, the Hare knew, and not the silly, wonderful kind that he and his friend were accustomed to. This was the kind of impossibility that could possibly make someone very upset, specifically, someone with a very surprisingly nasty temper for her size.
On the other hand, as there always was a second perspective, accompanying Reginald on his date would be the equivalent of chaperoning. He would be there to make sure Alice stayed intact, both physically and mentally, and that Hatter behaved himself. Even better, the willingness to have him hovering a close distance behind boded well for Reginald's potential as a committed partner, or at least an individual that was more in-tune with the feelings of the opposite sex. As long as he remained in the background, no one would be the wiser.
"I've never heard a scheme more preposterous," The Hare said simply, crossing his arms over his chest. "But, then again, what else can I expect from a mad hatter? Anyway, you're success in this endeavor has so far exceeded my expectations, so whose to say it won't happen again?"
"Now there's some faith in your old friend!" The Hatter exclaimed, gathering the Rabbit up in a suffocating embrace and twirling them both around the perimeter of the table.
The March Hare, mouth obscured from being pressed into Reginald's chest, attempted to shriek complaints and writhe out of the crushing cocoon that was his friend's unexpectedly strong grasp.
"Oh, this is going to be wonderful!" Reginald declared, finally releasing the poor animal. "How delightful it is to have a chum of such unwavering dedication and loyalty!"
"Yes, quite," The Hare responded sarcastically, spitting bits of cotton, feather, and whatever else had accumulated on Reginald's jacket from his mouth.
"And between you and me, Ears," Reginald whispered slyly, his attempts to be secretive and devious negated by his unavoidably ridiculous face. "I may need a little bit of assistance in the articulation department, if you get my drift."
The March Hare gazed at him dubiously.
"Articulation? I thought you said she was crazy about you. Surely you've already said all the right things,"
The Hatter shook his head.
"Not entirely. The dance, you see, was mostly dancing, which she and I seem to do quite well together. There wasn't much time for talking, and so I suppose she just forgot that I am sometimes less than smooth-spoken. Besides, you're quite the impassioned mammal when it comes to word choice. Don't be modest now."
The Hare rolled his eyes, as he nodded his head, reluctantly.
"Oh very well, I suppose I can keep you from saying something entirely moronic and offensive."
"But I'll probably need one of those purple molars so I don't have to be discreet humungous walkie-talkie…" Reginald added contemplatively, scratching his chin and looking upwards.
"Uh," The Hare interrupted, uneasily. "You mean a Bluetooth?"
"Precisely!"