Chapter Four: Cat in the Grass
Disclaimer: I do not pretend to own anything from Batman: The Animated Series, Batman: Mask of the Phantasm or Alice in Wonderland. No profit is being made.
A/N: Last chapter before the shift...
Ally took off like a shot into the clearing towards the hookah smoke that was rising over the grass. He had a wicked head start!
"ALLY! NO!" Tim panicked, springing forward to stop him.
"NO!" Arthur yanked the boy back unexpectedly. "You'll get sucked in!"
"We've got to save-"
"Forget Knox! He's too far gone!"
"What the HELL?" Tim ripped himself free with surprising strength.
"It's suicide-"
"We can't just leave Ally!"
"We've already lost him to this place. We've got to save ourselves."
Tim's expression darkened. "You really are a sleazy, selfish jerk. People weren't kidding. You haven't a heroic bone in your freaking body."
For a fraction of an instant, Arthur was hurt. Then his pride kicked in and he was offended. "I saved a girl from a burning building today, thank you! I'm not a monster! I just know when to cut and run. We can't save him, kid. We – can't – save – him. You are committing suicide if you follow him into another trap."
"If you hadn't held me up, he wouldn't be in that trap!"
"MAYBE. Or maybe getting even a few feet closer would be too much. That smell is pretty freaking intoxicating from right here! We need to get the hell away from it!"
Tim's face only darkened further. "I need to get the hell away from YOU. I wish Ally was the one lucid with me. He's a good person. He doesn't deserve this."
With that, he turned and ran off to try to save Knox.
Arthur watched him go for a moment. Shocked. The implications of Tim Drake's statement were very clear. He disliked Arthur so much he wished that HE was the one lost to the Wonderland spell. He wished he could trade Knox for Reeves. He felt Knox was a better human being and deserved to live, whereas Reeves deserved to die. Ouch.
"I was trying to save you!" Arthur called after the boy. "Suit yourself!"
Normally, Bullock would have been sunburned by now. But he hadn't thought of it, so it wasn't happening…
The piglet had wandered further and further off and was now harder to see. He didn't bother to strain to make it out. He could barely remember why it mattered.
And then something caught his eye. Far away, on the other side of the clearing, a young woman burst from the forest at high speed. She raced across the green space.
He recognized her from somewhere.
Standing up, he shouted: "Hey!"
She was too far away and clearly distracted.
He started after her, but he wasn't a sprinter… and she had an enormous lead. So he stopped and put his hands together. He intertwined his fingers, so that he was sort of making a fist and yet fingers and thumbs were protruding at random angles as well. And then he put his lips to his hands and blew through it all. The whistle was loud and piercing. Like a loon call. It easily cleared a mile.
The girl came to a dead stop. She was like an animal caught in headlights. She just stared at him anxiously.
"Hey!" he jogged towards her. "Hold on!"
Fortunately, she stayed on the spot. She didn't take her eyes off him as he approached. The closer he got, the more apparent it was she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She looked extremely anxious. She had been crying.
"Who are you?" she demanded when he was close enough to see her shaking. She was still breathing heavily. She reminded him a cornered wild animal.
"Easy." He tried to sound reassuring. "I'm a cop."
He was? Where did that come from? He wasn't entirely sure.
She didn't speak. She was still trembling, whether she realized it or not. Her eyes were intense.
"Don't I know you from somewhere?" he tried again.
He knew he knew for a FACT he knew her. But from where? She was certainly pretty. They stood there a moment while he wrestled with it. Tried for any kind of memory.
She watched him apprehensively, panting. He had such a pensive look on his face.
Nothing came to him. Memories had to be triggered, he supposed. Something would hit him out of nowhere at some point. Right now he couldn't really remember who HE was. How could he be expected to remember her?
She surprised him by blurting out: "I know I'm supposed to know you. But I don't. I don't remember anything anymore. And I should. This place is killing me!"
For the first time, the detective actually looked around and took in his surroundings. She had a good point. What the hell were they doing here?
"I saw Tweedledum and Tweedledee!" she grabbed his arm, freaking out.
"Um… you've lost me…" Bullock made a funny face. What the…?
"They aren't real! That isn't normal. None of this is normal! I feel funny! I feel trapped! I'm not well!" And she was clearly starting to spiral out of control. If she entered a full blown panic, he wouldn't know what to do with her.
"Hey… hey…" He touched her wrist. "Easy, kiddo. You're panicking."
"I feel funny!"
"You're panicking." He repeated. "Nothing's happening to you… Just slow down…"
She could close her own throat or make herself faint if he didn't turn this around. Holy crap… Her symptoms were real, but her fear was causing them!
"Breathe…" he continued. He'd never been very good at handling these things.
And then he recognized that frightened look in her eyes.
They were tied up and gagged. It was Christmas. Candy canes would be forced into their mouths. She looked terrified. It was dark, but he could still make out that terrified look in her eyes.
She unexpectedly ripped her wrist away and started running one direction and then another. It was deliberate. She was trying to ground herself.
"Ok, ok…" she panted. She was clearly doing some sort of grounding exercise with her fingers as she stopped running. "Ok, ok, I'm cool… I'm good… If I can talk, I can breathe..." And she tapped her foot and rubbed her fingers together, trying to ground herself.
Bullock was at a loss for what to say.
"Movement sorta breaks the panic." She explained, her voice sounding funny. "Makes me realize my physical symptoms aren't really there. That it's just a panic attack."
She tapped her foot solidly all the while – feeling the ground beneath her helped.
He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. Waiting.
She started doing a breathing exercise… She needed to get herself grounded, for at the moment her own mind was more of an enemy than the illusion!
She breathed very slowly, slowing her heart rate. And then, only when she felt somewhat grounded, she spoke: "We have to recover our memories if we're going to survive."
"I still don't get any of this." He sighed.
"I partially get it. We're caught in some sort of death trap. It is erasing our minds or something. We've got to get out somehow."
"Well… I dunno…"
"What have you seen? What do you remember?" She was still anxious.
"Um…" The detective glanced back to where the piglet had been. It was gone now. He tried to remember further back.
His face dropped back down, looking at his feet. His hand rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, he spoke, sorta mumbling: "A baby died here, I think… There was a house. Some abusive freaks. I tried my best, but… I dunno. There was a talking frog. And a talking fish."
He clearly felt awkward describing his experience.
He risked shooting a glance up at her. To gauge her response.
"This place isn't normal." She muttered nervously. "Talking animals. Storybook characters. Dead babies. The place is warped."
She seemed to zone out for a moment, like she was thinking…
"What now?" he ventured.
She sighed. "I know that I know you. I just don't remember anything."
"Ya, well, ditto." He ran his hand through his sweaty, spiking hair.
Arthur trudged through the grass deep in thought. It had been easier to keep his identity with someone to talk to. This place was also a lot less frightening with company...
He stopped and looked up into the sky again, nervous and tired. If danger showed up he was on his own now. But to have followed Tim and Ally meant certain death. It had to be this way.
Sure, he'd let a kid run off to his death. That wasn't so grand. He should have stopped Bruce's brat from ending himself like that. It was messed up. He was feeling pretty crappy about it now.
But hey, he wasn't a police officer or a soldier or… or… anyone with martial arts training. He wasn't an athlete with physical prowess or someone with emergency training – like a fireman or a paramedic or anything like that. He was a suit and tie, nine to five kinda guy.
This was way, way out of his league. He was in over his head here. They needed help.
He couldn't be expected to… well… the police needed to…
A musical chuckle interrupted his thoughts. Interrupted his over-justifications.
Arthur looked up, startled.
Sure enough, a cat was sitting comfortably on the log – actually twig – before him.
"You feel guilty." The cat was smirking an enormous smirk.
Arthur shook his head and turned the other way. He had to get away from any sort of Wonderland nonsense. It was deadly.
But the cat miraculously appeared everywhere he turned. He could not escape it.
"And I can see why. It wasn't very good of you. Leaving the boy and the reporter to fend for themselves in this dangerous place."
Arthur kept darting around, though he was quickly realizing it was futile.
"And it really wasn't good of you to sell your old friend to the mob, was it? You can feign ignorance all you like, but you knew you were putting his life in jeopardy when you gave them that phone number to trace…"
Arthur covered his ears and closed his eyes.
"Oh right. Like closing out my observations makes them any less true. Like it erases your guilt."
The cat was smiling all the while. Smiling as though friendly, but it wasn't friendly at all.
Arthur swallowed hard. He refused to let this illusion defeat him. This place was very, very good at getting under his skin… at reading his thoughts… at understanding what it needed to do to win.
"The chesire cat was nonsensical." Arthur opened his eyes while still covering his ears, looking very vulnerable.
"Are you sure? I thought he made more sense than anyone. I thought he understood the nature of the place. Hm…?"
"You're straying pretty far from the script." Arthur glared hatefully.
"This isn't about a script. This is about you."
Arthur suddenly recalled the dodo bird's comments about his vanity… and… well, these characters seemed to all have harsh things to say about his inner self. They all seemed to be feeding off his inner issues. It was unnerving.
"You're an easy mark, ya know." The cat chuckled. "For all your cold, arrogant, self-love… you fail to realize you don't REALLY like yourself. You hate yourself. For all your proud talk, you're weak and vulnerable. It's easy to get to you."
Arthur closed his eyes and spoke calmly – "Just shut up."
"It's easy to get to you." The cat repeated.
Arthur's eyes were still closed. He really didn't have a choice. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt for-
The cat laughed out loud. "Oh please. You're too afraid to hit a major artery."
Arthur was suddenly VERY frightened of hitting a major artery.
Abort mission.
And then, before he even had time to think it, less the cat stop him-
"AHHH!"
Arthur jumped up and down, shaking his hand like a maniac. "Ow, ow, ow!"
He was lucky he didn't set his clothing on fire, he'd struck so fast. He'd had to change tactics before the cat could sense it. He'd been initially feeling for his jackknife. At the last instant he'd snatched his lighter instead and burned his hand.
The cat was gone. It was obviously enough pain to snap him out of the fantasy.
Or at least his mind had decided it was. So much of this was psychological. It had probably worked because he'd decided it was going to work. This place seemed to roll that way, after all… But wait – he shouldn't think that! The cat might come back! He had to stop thinking about the cat!
He returned the lighter to his pocket and pulled out the little jackknife. How deadly was it? He used it to open letters and peel fruit...
He looked around suddenly, self-conscious. Tucking the pocketknife away, he decided to start running. He didn't even pay attention to which direction he picked. He just wanted to get moving. To forget that cat and what it had said.
Eventually he stopped at a toadstool to catch his breath. And his guilt caught up with him.
He began thinking about Tim and Ally. They were probably dead now. Or in serious, serious trouble.
He remembered Tim hating him and feeling he deserved to die. It was a BAD feeling.
If he was rescued everyone was going to want to know what happened. What happened to the others. And he would have to LIE. To pretend he wasn't a total bastard.
He cringed at the idea of ever having to admit he'd left a young boy to die. He wasn't sure he could lie forever about something like that. It was just too bad. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about Tim needing a funeral.
It had already been bad enough to find out Carl had died because of that other bull shit. To find out that Andrea, one of the few people he actually LIKED in this life, had turned into a serial killer because of something he'd done. Ouch. It had been a time of weakness in which he'd handed over a phone number to avoid bankruptcy and the end of his career. He'd been on the brink of disaster and Carl had screwed him over. He'd risked his life helping them escape the mob and then Carl hadn't been willing to help him in return. In fact, the man had wanted to severe ties to ensure he stayed hidden. Arthur had been desperate. He'd been angry. He'd even been a little hurt. But above all, he'd been WEAK.
He tried to blame Carl for getting mixed up with mob... and then actually stealing their money like a fool... He tried to blame Andy for lying all those years, pretending everything was ok when it clearly wasn't... for turning into the exact type of masked lunatic he hated...
But really, he'd been at the root of the whole disaster... He didn't need a cat to tell him he was a selfish BASTARD.
He was weak. That's why Carl and Andrea were finished. That's why Tim Drake was going to die. And that's why Gotham was such a nightmare. Too many cowards and weaklings turning a blind eye or taking the easy route instead of the right one.
And Gotham was a nightmare. They were surrounded by criminals and psychopaths and… and… well… The closest things to "good guys" were shady politicians (himself), deadbeat detectives (Bullock) and freaks in costumes.
Then another ugly thought occurred to him. What if Tim survived and told people what had happened? That was such a horrible thought! Tim would tell everyone how Arthur had left him die back there. UGH. He felt his stomach fall right out of him.
He sighed miserably to himself. He was very conflicted. He knew what was right, but he was a coward.
He kicked the mushroom stem. "Even if I wanted to go back and help them, I couldn't. I have no idea how to get back."
He then realized that the top of the toadstool poked out of the grass. If he could somehow scale to the top of the yucky thing, he'd be able to look around for the smoke. If the caterpillar scene was even still unfolding… but it was worth a shot…
"I'm gonna let fate decide this." He announced to no one in particular. "If I see where the caterpillar is – I swear I'm going back. I'm gonna try to make it right. But if I don't… well… I don't. And I can't do anything. It's too late."
Saying those words made him feel a great deal better already.
Harvey Bullock and Summer Gleeson – though neither of them recalled those names – were making their way steadily through the brush. Summer had calmed down significantly now that she had company. And once again, the detective had a purpose and was actually moving about the landscape. If he couldn't save the baby, perhaps he could save this girl.
Left alone, neither of them would have been productive, but together they were making ground. He estimated a few hours had passed and they'd covered a great distance… if time and distance even existed in this strange place…
"Does this physical space even exist?" she asked from behind him.
Bullock glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know. Sometimes it seems sharp and solid and real… and other times it feels more like a dream. Ya know?"
"I wish I could just wake up."
"I'm enjoying your company too." He muttered sarcastically.
"You know what I mean…" She sighed.
"I hear ya." He said because he couldn't think of anything else to say. He sounded like he was humoring her in a macho way, but really, he was just tired of this. Really, really tired of this. They'd been walking too long in this heat without food or water and he wanted to take his jacket off, but couldn't because this chick was around now. He looked like HELL without his jacket. But man was it hot. And NO water…
"We should have drank back at the pond…" He muttered.
"What pond?"
He didn't answer. He wasn't altogether sure, frankly.
"Do you think-" she started.
And then Bullock unexpectedly slammed her backwards. She nearly fell over.
"Hey!" she snapped, an aggressive look on her pretty face.
"Snake." Bullock motioned to the grass. But nothing was there now. He could have sworn he'd seen something striped in the grass! What-
"Use your words." She looked angry.
"Oh ya. And watch you die! You needed to back up instantly." He was defensive.
She looked livid.
That facial expression. It suddenly struck him:
"Come on, Gleeson! This guy's gonna whack me!"
"Look on the bright side!" she snarled venomously. "You'll make the six o'clock news!"
With that, she slammed a door in his face.
Ouch… They hadn't been friends…
"What?" she suddenly looked nervous again. "What's wrong?"
"Your name's Gleeson." He cleared his throat, looking away. "I just remembered."
"Oh." She looked surprised and then very serious as she tried to recall. "That doesn't sound right."
"Obviously a surname." He turned and started walking again.
"Obviously." She agreed quietly. And then she started to follow him. After a moment she ventured – "Thanks, um, about the snake."
"Whatever." He didn't even look back.
Arthur took a very long time to scale the mushroom. He wasn't exactly a sports- OH, enough with the excuses already! Oy!
He needed to cut that crap out. He was constantly justifying why he sucked at everything. Why he didn't need to do the right thing. Did he want to spend the rest of his life like this? Holy Hell. Why did it take falling down the rabbit hole to realize he needed an attitude adjustment?
The upside of saving people was that he could hopefully make up for some of the bad things he'd done in his life. Maybe saving Tim would cancel out dooming Carl. Maybe? Probably not. He doubted it worked that way. But he would probably feel better about himself for saving someone. It would be a step in the right direction.
And hey, imagine what people would think if he actually saved someone? Oh wait. He'd spent his career bashing vigilantes. Right. It would look rather hypocritical, wouldn't it? Nevertheless, he could take credit for an act of heroism. It would help his image.
No. He couldn't use saving Tim Drake to boost his image. It would look so contrived as he had a sleazy reputation. Him? A hero? What a freaking JOKE… eesh… He wasn't delusional. Besides, this was supposed to be about his guilt. He had to find a way out of this miserable funk he was in. He felt like crap for being a bastard and a selfless act was the only answer.
He stood up straight and shielded his eyes from the sun. He looked in all directions.
There was a garden nearby… And then he froze.
There was the smoke. It was pretty far off, but it was there.
He felt a pang in his stomach. Oy…
He actually had to do this now.
"Recite." The caterpillar spoke indifferently.
"How does the busy bumblebee…" Tim stood and started. He then went completely blank. "Um…"
"Continue."
"Um… I don't know. I wasn't raised in the eighteenth century."
"And why not?"
"Or was it nineteenth century?" Tim frowned.
"Don't you know?" The caterpillar was always challenging. He was extremely argumentative.
"Sorry. I guess not. I'm not really sure about time anymore."
"Why?"
"I… I dunno."
"You? Who are you?"
"I used to know. Now I don't."
"Why?"
"Quit attacking me!" Tim grew defensive.
"You? Who are you?"
"ERRR!" Tim threw up his hands in frustration.
Ally stood and recited perfectly:
"How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale!
How cheerfully he seems to grin,
How neatly spread his claws,
And welcome little fishes in
With gently smiling jaws!"
"Wrong." The caterpillar was blunt.
Ally's face fell. "OH."
"Then how does it go?" Tim countered rudely.
"Don't you know?" The creature smirked.
"NO! That's why I'm asking, genius!" Tim scowled again.
"This is the worst conversation ever." Ally sulked. For once he wasn't happy.
"Why are we even here?" Tim demanded, turning to the reporter.
"Recite." The caterpillar interrupted.
Ally sprang to attention again. "How does the busy bumblebee-"
"Don't bother!" Tim snapped.
"And why not?" The caterpillar challenged.
"Coz this is pointless! You're pointless! This whole thing is POINTLESS. I don't even remember why we're here."
"Where?"
"Here! Right here!"
"Where?"
"ERRR!" Tim snarled in frustration.
"Recite."
Ally sprang to attention: "How does the busy bumblebee…"
"AHHH!" Tim grabbed his hair.
Speaking of bumblebees…
The sound was absolutely deafening. Arthur had hit the dirt and prayed for a miracle. He risked looking at the creature as it hovered by the flowers. It wasn't cute at this size, it was grotesque. He felt the air from its flutter.
It landed and crawled a little beside him, strange movements...
He bit down on his tongue to silence his anxiety.
When it took off, it grazed him. It actually TOUCHED him. It tickled as it passed.
When it was gone Arthur realized: I survived. All by myself.
Feeling uplifted, he rose and walked towards the smoke. He could do this. Somehow it would be ok.
"Didn't you wear a hat?" Summer asked randomly. They were still pushing through the bush and they were both sweaty and unkempt.
"I think so. I dunno. I must have lost it."
They trudged onward. They both wanted to rest, but both were too proud to ask for a break. There was an awkwardness between them. Things were strained.
"Didn't you have red hair?" Bullock asked, trying to take his mind off his thirst.
"I don't know. Maybe."
"I remember you with red hair."
"What do you specifically remember?"
"I dunno." Bullock lied. It was awkward. She had clearly hated him.
"But I had red hair?"
"Ya, it looked a lot better." The detective was honest. Too honest.
Summer scowled, offended. "Gee, thanks!"
"Well, no offense. You're hot either way."
"Excuse me?" She snarled. Was he socially inept or what?
"Sorry, Gleeson. Never was one for chat-chat." Bullock muttered impatiently.
"Clearly. You're a real charmer. I bet you sweet talk ALL the ladies."
"Look, I'm hungry, thirsty, hot, tired, confused – not to mention missing my identity in a freaking death trap – forgive me if I'm not exactly graceful in the art of conversation!"
Summer was taken aback by this comeback. It was unexpectedly good. Hm. He wasn't a stupid jerk. He was just a jerk.
"Well, you were always like this." She muttered, somehow knowing it to be true.
"Bitchy?"
"And hungry."
Bullock sighed. And then decided to lighten the mood. "And confused, right?"
"Right." She sighed, also tired of fighting.
"Look, Gleeson, sorry to be a dick."
She didn't look appeased. "Well… you have been a dick, you know."
"I don't apologize easy." He was getting irritated again. "Don't blow it."
"What? You said yourself, buddy, you've been a real-"
"I'm a detective." He suddenly realized.
"What?" She was confused.
"Dick. You know, detective. I just kinda… I dunno… realized that…"
"O… K…" Summer raised an eyebrow.
"Never mind." Bullock shook his head. "I'm sick of all the yakking. Can't we just try to survive in silence?"
She gave a loud, impatience sigh and said nothing further.
And then a memory hit Harvey like a punch in the jaw:
"Come on, Gleeson…" He tried to speak with charisma as he turned her chair towards him. He attempted a charming smile. As awkward as it was for him.
"You're lucky I talk to you at all..." Gleeson said unkindly. The expression on her face stung his ego. She wasn't charmed. In fact, she disliked him.
Bullock tried to remember why he'd been trying to win her over. He knew it had been extremely important. He had really needed her help. He hadn't been actually trying to charm her sincerely. His heart hadn't been in it. But STILL, her rejection sucked. It had really stung. Was he really that disgusting? That despicable?
He played back the other memory in his possession:
"Come on, Gleeson! This guy's gonna whack me!"
"Look on the bright side!" she snarled venomously. "You'll make the six o'clock news!"
With that, she slammed a door in his face.
Ouch. The more he mauled over this stuff, the harder it was to deal with Gleeson in the present. Whoever she was to him. It was growing increasingly awkward.
"Woah!" He unexpectedly stopped. He'd seen another flash of stripes in the trees.
"What?" she rushed forward.
"I saw the stripes again." He muttered.
"You are not making ANY sense. Detective. Stripes. You're not coherent!"
ERRR… She was pissing him off…
"AHHH!" Tim ripped at his hair in frustration. "That's it! I'm gone!"
"Timmy, wait…" Ally sounded upset.
Tim did not wait. He burst through the wall and grass and into the clearing. He had no idea who he was, where he was or where he was going now, but he didn't care.
There was no way he was staying with that confrontational caterpillar!
And then, unexpectedly, he heard: "Young boy, wait! Come back! Please. I have something very important to tell you!"
The caterpillar sounded sincere. He no longer sounded unkind and argumentative.
Tim stopped and looked back. The caterpillar had climbed up a branch to be above the grassline. He looked extremely earnest.
Tim turned around and started trudging back…
He hadn't been headed anywhere in particular anyway. Hopefully the caterpillar would have something helpful to say.
When he cut through the grass wall again, the caterpillar was sitting patiently. It had that look on its face again. That indifferent, arrogant look. It was so pompous.
Tim walked right up the mushroom cap. "Yes?"
"Keep your temper."
Tim saw red. "IS THAT ALL?"
The caterpillar smirked in response. The expression was unmistakable.
Tim was angry enough to bite off his own tongue. And he nearly did.
But then the caterpillar blew a ton of smoke directly into his face. Tim began to hack uncontrollably for a moment. His eyes watered. The smell was extremely intoxicating.
He felt a little dizzy. A little unsteady on his feet.
Another large puff of scented smoke was blown into his face. He hacked more. His eyes hurt. He was confused… disoriented…
He stumbled and found himself sitting on the ground.
Ally was lying down fast asleep.
UH OH…
Tim opened his mouth to cry out, but more smoke stopped his words. He coughed violently. So violently his throat and lungs ached. He couldn't cough like this much longer. It would almost be better to fall asleep…
He tried to fight. He coughed until specks of blood hit the ground.
"ACK!" Summer cried out, having suddenly scratched her leg badly. A thorn branch had slashed across her skin and now she was bleeding drops of blood down her lovely legs.
Bullock stopped walking and turned around. He noticed her wound. Then he noticed her legs. And then he caught himself noticing her legs and shook his head.
"What?" she demanded.
"Nothing. Just realizing there's nothing we can do for that cut. I've got a handkerchief, but otherwise…"
"Don't bother." She sighed. It would probably be dirty anyway. Eesh.
He didn't really know what else to say. The slash was kinda deep. It should been cleaned and covered up in this forest. If they had to poke around out here long enough it would get infected. He decided to allude to this problem.
"It might get infected out here. We could be roughing it for days." And then he frowned. "Or forever."
"For at least as long as we live." Summer was pessimistic. "We're not doing very well. We've been wandering for hours. No food, no water. We're going to die out here. This place was DESIGNED to kill us."
"Don't start flipping out again." Bullock sighed.
Summer was briefly taken aback by this. She initially seemed embarrassed. She was then extremely defensive. "I was having a panic attack, ok? Are you so inhuman that you've never had a moment of weakness? We're probably going to die. I think I'm entitled to a little fear."
Bullock sighed again. "Aww, not expecting Bats to save us?"
"Who?"
Bullock suddenly froze. "Um, I dunno. Stuff is just kinda coming outta my mouth. I don't understand it all the time…"
Summer started to say something particularly nasty, but caught herself. She closed her mouth visibly. And Bullock glared at her.
"What?" she was defensive. "You walked right into it."
"Oh no, PLEASE, don't hold any punches…" Bullock was sarcastic.
Summer grumbled and looked away.
Bullock decided to sit down since they had stopped walking anyway. His feet and legs ached and he just wanted to go to sleep. Unfortunately, he suspected falling asleep was dangerous in this place. And yet it was designed to wear a person down. Death trap indeed. He was about to share this thought with Summer and thought better of it.
"What?" she saw he had been about to speak.
He went for it anyway. "Just realizing we probably shouldn't sleep. We might not wake up. Which sucks, considering this place is designed to make us exhausted."
Summer looked uneasy. She slowly sat down on a nearby rock. She investigated her leg wound and Bullock found himself staring at her again. He shook his head. He had to stop that! Jeez… Yes, she was pretty. But it was sleazy of him. And she found him disgusting. And he was progressively disliking her and had probably disliked her in his previous life.
He looked away. He did NOT want her catching him staring. No way. That was the last thing he needed. He'd already stupidly called her hot. He didn't need to seem any more like a freaking CREEP out here. This situation sucked enough.
"So…" Summer sounded awkward. "What we're doing isn't working. We can't continue like this. Any other ideas?"
"Well… the only water I know of was back where we came from. And we could potentially make it back there without dying… But we'd be faint. Real faint. We're sore, tired and parched now. I can't imagine repeating this exercise without any kind of recharge. Ya know? Oy."
"What if we go back there and the water isn't there anymore? This place is like that."
"True. And I don't wanna go back to that cottage either way. That psycho bitch of a duchess is someone I never wanna cross again."
"You never told me fully what happened back there. You alluded to it, but-"
"I didn't ask you about the idiot twins." Bullock interrupted her, not wanting to go there.
"There's nothing to tell. You're situation sounded… well..."
Bullock scowled. "Interesting? You find that kinda messed up crap interesting?"
Summer didn't know how to respond. She really was curious. She didn't remember she was a reporter.
And then they were interrupted by an unexpected chuckling. It was musical and warm.
Bullock turned slowly and saw the stripes again. In the tree branch above their heads.
Summer saw an enormous white smile gradually appear and cried out in alarm. She jumped to her feet.
"It's the duchess' cat." Bullock didn't stand. He wasn't pleased.
Arthur came to the spot where he'd abandoned Tim and Ally.
He could see Ally's footprints in the mud where he'd landed after his massive jump into the clearing. Remembering the happiness and the energy of the dreaming man made him sad suddenly. Ally was probably dead now. He should have let Tim stop the loon from running off like that.
Arthur poked his head through the grass and saw the clearing leading to the next grass wall. Beyond it was still the smoke coming up over the grass line.
He had a terrible feeling that Tim and Ally were long gone and that he was walking into a trap. He was going to die because he'd acted at the wrong time. He should have helped Tim right from the beginning. Now he was probably going to die. EESH.
He was determined not to chicken out... or succumb to the caterpillar. He would just barge in and out of the clearing once he assessed the situation. He would figure out what happened to the others and then act instantly and decisively. He would not fall under any spell.
He braced himself and then started forward into the clearing.
His heart started racing. He couldn't kid himself. He was frightened.
Tim and Ally were dozing on the ground amongst spirals of coloured smoke.
Through the clearing came a determined Arthur.
He immediately saw the two slumbering victims and knew he'd made the right decision. No question. He only hoped it wasn't too late now…
He beelined for Tim and began to shake the boy.
"Who are you?" the caterpillar challenged.
Arthur did his best to tune the character out. It wasn't real. The conversation wasn't happening. He had to try to get these guys out of here…
He continued to shake Tim, but the kid wasn't waking up. It was probably too late!
"WHO ARE YOU?" The caterpillar repeated.
Arthur shook Tim harder. "Wake up, kid! WAKE UP!"
The caterpillar blew a large cloud of intoxicating smoke at Arthur. The councilman began to hack, but didn't let go of Tim. He continued to try to wake the boy up.
"WHO ARE YOU?" the caterpillar repeated, blowing more smoke.
"Not participating." Arthur told himself with determination.
More smoke hit him and he realized he was falling down… This was it…
And then he remembered something.
"OW!" he burned himself on the neck. It really, really hurt. Necks are freaking sensitive.
Arthur realized what to do. He turned to Tim with an open flame.
Tim screamed suddenly. His shirt was on fire!
"AH! FIRE! FIRE!" Tim reflexively began to roll around on the ground to douse the flames. Thank goodness that this crucial lifesaving information had been brainwashed into him as a child. Instinct kicked in – ROLL.
What the hell? Why was the shirt burning so fast?
"AHHH!" Ally freaked out, slapping at his neck in pain. Arthur had successfully gotten his neck without burning his clothing.
Tim, meanwhile – "OUCH! OUCH! OUCH! I'M BURNING!"
"I know, I know. I'm sorry! I had to!" Arthur was on his feet, hopping about. He wasn't sure how to help the boy. This was so messed up.
Fortunately, rolling worked. The flames finally gone, Tim's shirt was partially black now.
"Come on!" Arthur ushered the two through the grass wall and into the clearing.
They ran and ran until Arthur stopped them. "Ok, ok, I think we're safe now."
"WHAT THE HELL?" Tim unexpectedly punched Arthur in the face. SMACK!
Arthur hit the ground, blood coming from his nose and mouth. The kid was powerful. Shit.
"Damn it..." Reeves whispered, giving Tim a very dark look as he touched his face and found blood on his hand. That had hurt like hell. Hopefully his nose wasn't broken and his smile was intact. If there was permanent damage to his face...
"You set me on fire, you jerk!" Tim barked furiously.
"Why'd you burn me?" Ally Knox asked sulkily. "It really hurt."
"I had to." Arthur was checking his teeth gingerly. "I had to wake you from that killer spell. That caterpillar was ending you two."
Tim suddenly remembered everything.
Arthur waited for it. He expected a thank you and reconciliation.
Instead, Tim smirked. "A-ha! Looks like I guilted you into doing the right thing after all."
Arthur wasn't impressed. Not AT ALL.
The chesire cat chuckled confidently from its branch, smirking down at them.
"Well, well, well…" grinned the cat. It was so creepy. "Beauty and the Beast."
"Back off, freak! Or I'll kick your ass back to that cottage!" Bullock sprang to his feet, pissed off.
"Stop trying to impress her. She finds you repulsive." The cat spoke plainly.
Bullock was taken aback. He had no response.
"What do you want?" Summer snapped, wanting to change the direction of the conversation.
"What does anyone want?" the cat smirked indifferently. "But if you must know, you two seem hopelessly lost…"
"We've totally lost our way." Summer agreed, sounding miserable.
"The way, hm? Didn't realize it belonged to you."
"Any idea where water is?" Summer asked hopefully.
"Gleeson…" Bullock was using his warning tone. These characters couldn't be trusted.
"Hm, that's funny. The racers have far too much water and you folks haven't a drop. You're either drowning or dying of thirst. What a lovely place this is, no?"
"We really need help." Gleeson spoke in earnest. "We've been wandering for hours. We really, really need to get somewhere."
"Oh, you'll always get somewhere if you walk long enough."
"I fear we'll die first." Summer frowned.
"Dying is somewhere, love."
Summer didn't like this answer. She suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Well, we don't want to die."
"There isn't usually a choice." The cat spoke indifferently.
"Well, yes, but-"
The cat chuckled. "You'll have to be more specific if you want directions."
"Well… if we continue in this direction, where will we end up?"
"Hm, this way leads to the Mad Hatter."
"Oh, oh no." Summer didn't like the sound of that. "No one mad."
"Well, this way leads to the March Hare."
"Oh, ok. Good. Thanks."
"But he's also mad."
"Oooh…" Summer seemed to almost wail. "But I don't want to go amongst mad people!"
The cat really laughed now. "That's unavoidable. We're ALL mad here."
"Clearly." Bullock muttered.
"Well, you must be mad too. Else you wouldn't have come here."
Summer tugged on Bullock's arm. "Maybe I really have lost my mind!"
"Or maybe this cat is rattling you something wicked." Bullock jerked his arm free.
"I feel I've had this conversation before. Or a similar one." The cat admitted. "You blondes are all the same. So easy to confuse and useless under pressure."
"She's actually a red head." Bullock inserted indifferently. It added salt to the wound.
The cat ignored him and didn't stop speaking: "You wail like a child. At least she WAS a child. What's your excuse? Forget to take your meds?"
Summer was shocked and then hurt and then humiliated. The cat had cut her to the marrow. And in front of that grumpy detective too.
It had nothing to do with being blonde. It was her meds. The cat knew about her meds. About her having panic disorder. She could just tell.
Bullock saw the look on her face and decided to intervene. "If you're gonna take anything a talking cat says to heart, doll, you ARE in rough shape."
Oh wait. That was helping?
Summer looked about to cry. Her hand was still over her mouth.
"He's just a stupid cat, Gleeson…" Bullock tried again, going for a persuasive tone.
The cat chuckled. Bullock looked at it, realizing it would probably target him now.
"Oh, please… What could I possibly say to make you look any worse?" The cat laughed, reading his mind. "You don't need my help. You're doing a fine enough job playing the part of the fat, ugly, incompetent, jerk of a slob."
"Nice. Nice." Bullock smirked darkly. "Hit the ground running. Get it all out there in that first blow. Nice."
"Nice is hardly the word for this cat." Gleeson frowned.
"You know…" The cat trailed off, smirking. "You wouldn't be SO ugly if you actually tried a little. But you're hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. You don't lift a finger to help yourself. No wonder everyone despises you. I can't imagine being so utterly hated by my community. I'd pity you if you didn't deserve it."
Wow. This cat was going for the jugular. It was ON.
Bullock advanced angrily. "Ya, well-"
"STOP! Just please stop!" Gleeson couldn't handle any more. It was just too horrible. The cat's words were like acid. It pained her to hear what he was saying to this detective. It really did.
The cat chuckled. "Oh please. You've said far worse to him. It is laughable for you to chastise me. If you only remembered some of your words, your actions. While he's no gentleman and no prize, you – my dear – have treated him as subhuman."
Summer felt a pang of guilt. She glanced at Bullock and suddenly felt bad. She couldn't remember treating him horribly, but deep down, she'd always kind of had a feeling…
The cat observed two miserable individuals. "Alright, alright. I'll say something nice. But only ONE thing. Who gets it?"
"Him." Summer spoke before Bullock could even THINK.
The cat cleared his throat as if stating something kind was a rare and formal occasion.
He turned to Bullock: "It was good of you to remove the baby from that situation. There's a touch of humanity in you that makes you an adequate police officer."
Bullock was completely taken aback by this. He hadn't expected anything like that.
Summer watched the detective intently. She hoped this helped. Even a little.
"If you aren't going to help us, please leave us." She ventured to speak finally.
"Fair enough." The cat began to slowly disappear. And then suddenly reappeared entirely. "Oh wait! I nearly forgot. Are you attending the Queen's croquet match?"
"If there's food and water, we'd love to!" Summer piped right up.
Bullock scowled, remembering the duchess would be there.
"Oh, that's right." The cat smirked. "You haven't been invited. What a shame. I guess you'll just have to drive each other mad out her in the woods until you perish. Ta ta!"
The cat vanished.
Bullock sighed. "We don't wanna go, Gleeson. That crazy duchess will be there. She'll probably have me put to death. And who knows what she'll do to you. You can't even look at her, let alone speak or move or… I mean… She's just so evil."
Summer blinked. "You're actually talking to me like we're both people."
Before Bullock could respond, the cat appeared unexpectedly.
"I forgot to ask…" the animal interrupted, smirking. "What happened to the baby?"
Bullock was extremely surprised. And then his gaze dropped.
Summer watched him. He always did this when he wasn't comfortable with what he had to say. He couldn't look at anybody. He left you looking at his messy hair.
"Well…" The cat prompted pleasantly. "What happened to the baby?"
"It died." Bullock didn't look up.
"That's funny. I thought it turned into a pig."
"Same thing."
"Tsk, tsk. So dramatic."
Bullock couldn't help himself. He risked a glance upward and asked: "Why did that happen?"
"Because on some level, you willed it to." The cat answered simply.
"No – freaking – way." The detective responded sharply.
"You likely doomed that child because you were convinced it was doomed. That you couldn't care for it. Which is a pity, considering you could have actually cared for it. Even if you can't take care of yourself."
Bullock couldn't answer.
"You shouldn't have asked." The cat smiled. "Well, ta ta."
The cat vanished again. This time for good.
Summer watched the miserable detective for a moment. He hadn't liked that answer at all. The whole conversation had been so sad and so very awkward. She'd found herself constantly cringing and feeling sorry for this guy. It had been pretty horrible for her to watch. The cat was ruthless and relentless and well… well…
She searched for words, but had nothing decent to say.
Instead, she reached out and touched his cheek in a very comforting manner.
"Don't touch me." He said softly, jerking away.
He really did do nothing to help himself.
Tim, Ally and Arthur were still wandering about the grass, thankful to have escaped the caterpillar alive. That had been far too close. Much more dangerous than the mouse or the dodo had seemed to be.
"Well, three out of five individuals being together is pretty good." Tim assured Arthur. "We just have to find Gleeson and Bullock now. If they're alive."
"Hopefully they'll be together." Arthur muttered. "That would make this SO much easier."
Tim laughed. "Fat chance! Those two sticking together?"
"Ya, what's with that animosity?" Arthur couldn't resist having a real conversation.
"Gleeson used to tolerate Bullock… but, well, he's Bullock. Now she can't even handle that. She can't even PRETEND to be nice anymore."
"She's certainly interviewed him enough times." Arthur shrugged.
"Oh ya. They've got a long history of pissing each other off."
"PERFECT." Arthur realized. "NONE of us like each other."
"Aww, Reeves." Tim muttered sarcastically. "You're so full of love."
"What?"
"Just when I thought we were forging a connection here, you go and remind me you're a bastard. You always do that. Without fail."
"You never cease to amaze me with the language that comes outta your mouth. Classy. You're a child and yet you're throwing punches and shooting off your foul little mouth-"
"Don't change the subject!" Tim snarled.
"You wanted me DEAD, Kid. Of course we aren't buddies!"
"I was just pissed. You deserved some harsh words at that moment. And hey, it worked. You did the right thing in the end. You came back and saved us."
"Something you never thanked me for, by the way. I nearly died trying."
"You need to be thanked for doing the right thing? After being a monster about it?"
"Boys, boys, boys…" Ally sprang between them merrily.
There was an awkward silence. They'd gotten way off topic.
Arthur sighed. "You know what I meant. I don't like anyone. You don't like me and Bullock-"
"I like Bullock." Tim inserted, just to be insulting.
Ally interrupted. "You don't like anyone. Bullock doesn't like anyone. Tim doesn't like you. Gleeson doesn't like you and Bullock. I'd be more or less indifferent if I wasn't hopped up on the Wonderland experience."
"Oh, come on!" Tim smirked. "You like me and Summer. Especially Summer."
"I barely remember her." Ally was truthful. "But then again, I don't remember much."
"The bottom line is we're a very dysfunctional group in a very dangerous situation!" Arthur interrupted impatiently. "Not ideal."
And that's when they exited the grass and found themselves unexpectedly on a mowed lawn. Before them was an extremely beautiful garden. Something out of a painting.
Tim whistled.
"I saw this when I scouted out the area." Arthur remembered. "I didn't want to head for it."
"Why not?" Tim pointed to the fountain. "We need water, dumb ass."
"Ah, the respect…" Arthur smiled. "I can only imagine the parenting..."
Tim was instantly livid... and then he unexpectedly calmed. "Consider us even now."
"What?" Arthur blinked.
"You saved my life and I just spared yours."
With that Tim waltzed towards the garden. Arthur blinked.
Ally grew excited and bounced after the boy.
"Wait!" Arthur called impatiently. "This is that garden of talking plants! We can't go in! It's going to be another trap…"
But neither of the boys were listening. They were already drinking from the fountain.
And Arthur was extremely thirsty. He'd die without water.
He glanced around uneasily and then went over to the fountain.
"Hopefully nothing bad happens…" he muttered to himself.
Who was he kidding?
Note: Next chapter reveals what is going on in the real world simultaneously. Pace will change, tons of characters start coming in...