A/N. So, firstly, I appologise for the extended delay; I was finishing up university - I am now free of the dratted place forever - and being hit round the head by two other wips I have for another fandom not to mention the original fiction bug on top of that. Great timing, self. But, I am back with an offering of Hatter. Hopefully the next chapter won't take quite as long.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

Curiosity And Dead Ends

"You know," a cultured voice drawled from behind him, "for someone who so dislikes it when others are not on time, you are running quite late yourself."

"Hello Chessur," Tarrant replied, one hand reaching instinctively for his hat, dare the cat try and pilfer it from his very head as he ambled along the path, content to continue on at his own pace, to take the time to view the land and the changes that had begun to occur in the few short weeks since the Red Queen's defeat. Everything looked and sounded less wilted, less crunchy bracken and briar and more bubbly green and spring like. "And I am not late."

"If you say so, though I am sure the Hare would be inclined to disagree with you on that point."

He tilted his head to one side, catching a glimpse of the blue striped cat floating beside him, thoughts of shrubbery being replaced by a far more interesting inquiry, "You've spoken to Thackery?"

"Not personally, though judging from the ruckus I have heard I would assume he is still working in the Queen's kitchen, something about salty soup and Battenberg."

"He does make the best pastries, even if half of them do end up on the ground instead of the plate; he and Mally do like to throw them. Such a waste…" He trailed off, recalling the last great pastry fight between the two. It had been half in celebration of Mirana regaining the throne that was so rightfully hers, half due to a misheard request for more cream and half because of some foolish slip of the tongue that had been taken the wrong way. The maths had worked out quite nicely, but the sentiment was there and it brought another thought to mind, "What of the little dormouse?"

"One would assume that she is at the palace as well," Chessur rolled away and vanished from sight, reappearing a few feet further down the path. "Surely though, I did not think it was my job to keep track of your friends, Tarrant."

"Really," Tarrant replied, though exactly which statement he was replying to was anyone's guess and he did not choose to elaborate.

"We do need to be going, you know," the cat continued, winding his way through the trees, always at least partly within sight of the milliner.

The Hatter absently followed him along his meandering path, murmuring greetings to the flowers and trees, some answering back, some not, and he didn't seem to mind either way, until he stopped again, the cat's words finally catching up with him, and he asked, "We?"

The sigh was patient yet frustrated with the further delay, "It happens that I too am paying our dear Queen a visit, that's all."

It was reasonable enough reason, Tarrant admitted, though it did bring to mind yet another question which he was quick to voice, "Why?"

"Curiosity."

The Hatter sniggered.

"You would be too if you had spent less time bemoaning the fact that Alice chose familial duty over you and actually listened." By this point the Hatter had stopped laughing and Chessur was growing increasingly fond of the fact that he could evaporate given the look in milliner's narrowing eyes. However, the words needed saying and if no one else would tell him then Chessur would, continuing on in a conversational tone, "Have you heard anything of the Red Queen or Knave?"

"They were banished, why would I've heard anything else of them, you mangy cat."

It was a statement, a very dry one at that, but Chessur smiled, sure to keep a good distance between himself and the Hatter he had irritated and insulted, "Exactly, no one has heard so much as a single word regarding either of them. Most strange that no one has seen fit to report their glorious deaths in the Outlands or attempts at sanctuary in the kingdoms beyond, not even McTwisp has head a whisper of their whereabouts. Why, they seem to have simply vanished into thin air."

The words were illustrated with a purposeful disappearing act by the cat, only his voice remaining, hanging in the air as a courteous farewell and afterthought, "Most strange indeed, a curious state of affairs one could say."

What the blasted cat could have meant by those words could have been any number of things and Tarrant made a mental note to serve the sour milk the next time he came to visit, it was the least he deserved for his attitude. However, he had given the Hatter something to think about, or worry about more to the point. Indeed, it was a very worrying idea that the bloody big head had vanished, because if she had then where had she gone, and to what purpose?

He continued to walk and think and think and walk round and round in circles, frowning and forgetting to apologise when he stepped off the beaten path as he wound the delicate gold chain of a simple, lost necklace round and round his bandaged fingers before unravelling it all and starting again.

He was still following the same ever-changing patterns when he walked, backwards, through the gates, almost tripping over the anxious McTwisp who had run out to greet him, all paws and frantic gestures and tumbled words.

"I'm afraid you just missed His Majesty the Goblin King, he left a few hours ago, but the Queen is still waiting in the tea rooms if you would like to follow me," the rabbit nattered, nervous and jumpy, skittering back towards the white marble palace while keeping both eyes on the missing milliner in case he decided to disappear again.

Tarrant was still thinking about the Cheshire Cat though, and he had come up with an answer, and it was not an answer he liked one bit as to where the Red Queen could have gone and why. The how did not matter.

"Alice."


If she had been anywhere else at any other time then the notebook would likely have met an untimely fate, slamming with great force into the nearest solid wall. Luckily for the notebook, however, Sarah was currently holed up in her university library surrounded by bookshelves as opposed to walls and a handful of people who would not approve of her throwing a drama queen sized hissy fit at her dead end research trail.

Nothing was adding up, nothing at all; she could not classify the Goblin King under any specific myth, legend, folklore or fairytale anywhere in the world. There were always discrepancies; little details that she wouldn't normally have noticed but now were blindingly obvious, crossing them off her list. Not him, not him and also not him. It was beginning to frustrate her.

Hoggle had, as expected, not been best pleased when she asked about his king, but had grudgingly given her answers. Answers which they both came to realise quite quickly were completely useless. He couldn't remember where he had first heard the Goblin King's name, nor could he remember when the current king had taken up the throne or who had been monarch before him. All in all it had left both of them with more questions and worries than answers and Sarah had made sure to check back with her friend every night since, to reassure herself that he was safe and to see if either of them could come up with anything new.

She'd been searching for too long, back through old lecture notes and large, musty volumes that were labelled in capital letters 'reference only', and coming up with a grand sum total of nothing. She was beginning to get paranoid, making excuses to call home and chat to her mischievous brother, just in case. Just in case of what; she honestly wasn't sure anymore, but the one thing she did know was that she wanted answers, that she hated not knowing what was creeping around in the gap between the worlds, or her world in the night.

Hoggle had told her that The King was away, but no one knew where, and that maybe Sir Didymus would know better or at least give them a clue no matter how biased his opinions may be as to who or what The King was, not even Hoggle used his name now, calling him only 'the rat' while Sarah settled for simply his title.

So, that was her plan for tonight, but it was not night yet and she still had another mountain of book to wade through before she could call it a day.

The Champion of the Labyrinth ran a hand through her and glared at all the names crossed out in angry black ink on her page, flipped open the next volume with more force than was truly necessary, earning her a few muttered comments from fellow students and staff, and began to read about the Chinese Jade Emperor and King Yama.