Uncle Lachlan had been in the ground two weeks, now, and Hatter was still spending his days indoors, dressed in dark colors, acting as if the world was dissolving around him. Alice was at her wit's end.

Then things went from bad to worse.

Hatter was not only depressed, but ill, too.

It had started small - a tiny cough now and then, sporadic complaints of stomach pains. Alice wasn't overly concerned. It wasn't until she found him hunched over a bucket one morning, vomiting up everything in his system, that she started to worry.

As quickly as possible, Alice came to his side, rubbing his back as he was sick. When he finally finished, he was out of breath and tearing up.

"Tarrant, we've got to get you to Mirana," Alice told him. "You're clearly getting worse."

But Hatter would hear none of it.

"I'm fine, Alice," he answered, glaring at her. It wasn't particularly effective, considering he was crying. "Please leave me be."

Alice shook her head.

"You know I won't do that. I won't leave you to suffer alone."

Hatter frowned, and, knowing that it wasn't worth the argument, let Alice help him up. She led him over to the bed and tucked him in, pulling the blankets up to his chin.

"If you won't see Mirana then you must let me take care of you. And you must promise me that if you get worse, you'll go."

Hatter sniffled, feeling suddenly very sad again, though he was unsure why. He reached for Alice's hand, wanting the physical contact.

"Fine," he agreed. "Whatever you want."

Alice kissed him on the forehead. She didn't leave his side until he fell asleep.