A/N: I OWN NOTHING BUT THE PLOT AND ANY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS I MAY ADD IN FUTURE CHAPTERS! EVERYTHING ELSE BELONGS TO ITS RESPECTIVE OWNERS!
Reviews, flames, etc are welcome lol.
Till next time!
Lee
Last time:
She touched the doorknob, gathered her muchness, and pushed it open.
Healing Tears
The Hatter was now unrecognizable. Once so colorful, he was now overwhelmingly gray. 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, Tarrant," 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 his bluish and grey-tinted lips before carefully tipping the liquid down his throat. He swallowed reflexively, and 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 Tarrant's face.
His orbs moved feverishly beneath their dark-stained lids before fluttering open, and her heart gave a pang at the dull gray. But as she watched and his unevenly dilated pupils focused, they gained a bit more of the bright green she loved.
"Are ye really 'ere Ahlice?" he questioned tremulously. His voice sounded awful as well, a raw and broken half-whisper. "Is it…. Is it really ye lass?"
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.
"Your naw anotha…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 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 for crying.
