Chapter Three - Seeking Wonderland

The moment his awareness returned, Hatter groaned loudly. He felt like he'd been trampled by a whole herd of starving Borogoves. Every muscle in his body felt achy and heavy, and the left side of his face and neck was swollen and tender. He tried to lift a hand to check on the injuries, but his limbs wouldn't respond. No, it was more than that; it was like there was something pressing down on him, stopping his arms from moving.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up. You've slept almost a whole day now."

Hatter's eyes snapped open at the voice and everything came rushing back at once. The last thing he remembered seeing flashed before his eyes and he immediately snapped, "Where's Alice?"

Gryphon chuckled. "Your feisty little Oyster? Still sound asleep in her world, I would imagine. It's so hard to tell how long these things will last in them. And then there's the time difference..."

"If you 'urt her, I will kill you," Hatter vowed menacingly.

Gryphon merely let out an amused sigh. "I'd forgotten just how melodramatic you are, Hatter."

As Gryphon idly examined his fingernails – talons is a better word, Hatter thought grimly – the younger man took the opportunity to survey his surroundings. They were in a simple, square room, made of swirled black-and-white marble. There were no decorations on the walls, and only two pieces of furniture; the plush chair where Gryphon perched and the stiff chair to which Hatter was tied. Wide leather straps were buckled over his wrists, chest, and ankles, just short of being painfully tight. Getting out of here wouldn't be a tea party, that was for sure.

No, instead it would be better to focus his attention on what he could get: information. He couldn't rightly plan any sort of escape until he had a few more answers. "You dosed me," he accused, feeling the scratches on his neck and jaw sting as he spoke. "What with?"

"Just a bit of Fatigue," Gryphon replied. "I always keep some with me, in case I need to acquire someone. Takes a lot of the struggle out without damaging them much. After all, I wasn't about to put myself on the wrong side of that right hook again, was I? You broke my collarbone last time. Shoulder's never been the same since."

Hatter ignored the question. "Who hired you?"

"You're making assumptions, old friend," Gryphon said and smirked.

"Not friends," Hatter corrected him flatly. "And we both know you're just the courier, Gryph. You just fetch when others tell ya. So who is it?"

Gryphon scratched at a nail distractedly and they made a grating noise as he rubbed the edge of one over the other, like steel on a whetting stone. "You have a long list of enemies, you know. Lots of folks that want you dead, and that was before you and your Oyster turned things upside-down. This wasn't the first time that someone asked me to fetch you."

"So what made this time so special?" Hatter pressed. He knew Gryphon was a master at dancing around the answers when he needed to, but if he pushed long enough the older man would cave. The only thing he loved more than being paid was gossiping.

At this Gryphon leant forward and planted his elbows on his knees, lowering his voice conspiratorially like he was imparting some deep secret. "This one doesn't want you dead."

Hatter laughed wryly. "That'll be a first. Whadda they want then?"

"That I don't know," the older man replied and sat back into the black cushion. "Didn't say, so I didn't ask. All I was told was they wanted you alive. Apparently, it's something only you've got, though."

Hatter frowned thoughtfully. What could he possibly have that someone wanted so badly? He didn't really have much in the way of possessions. Nearly every valuable thing he'd once owned had disappeared when his shop had been ransacked, apart from a few personal and family trinkets he'd hidden away whose only value was sentimental. His mind immediately went to the Stone of Wonderland beneath the kitchen floorboard, but that raised a whole new barrage of questions to his mind.

"We're in Wonderland," he said. Gryphon nodded. "How'd we get 'ere?"

The older man's smile was patronising. "Oh dear boy, you don't honestly believe that the Looking Glass is the only way in, do you?"

"The on'y controlled one," Hatter said but he felt a suspicious niggling in the back of his head.

"Hardly." Gryphon laughed, a sharp, shriek of a noise. "The old lines would never be foolish enough to put all of their faith into just one Rabbit Hole."

"That's enough, Gryphon." The voice that spoke up from behind Hatter was cool, calculated, and female, with a slightly amused affectation. Hatter jumped in surprise and tried to crane his head around but he couldn't twist far enough to find who had spoken. "Remember, we're supposed to be learning his secrets, not telling him ours."

"Of course, your majesty," Gryphon said and tipped his head. Hatter couldn't stop his eyebrows from rocketing upward. Majesty?

There were measured, clipped footsteps and then the woman appeared in Hatter's range of vision. She was a tall, lean build, every sweep and curve pronounced by the almost sinfully tight black leather dress she wore. A curtain of jet black hair hung to her waist, tied back in a loose plait that at least half of the strands had escaped from. "Thank you for keeping an eye on him for me," she said to Gryphon, not even bothering to spare a glance for her captive. "He does have a nasty habit of vanishing. Your payment is with the guard in the hall."

Gryphon bowed his head respectfully again, smiled at Hatter – who returned it with a glower – and then left the room the same way the woman must have entered it. The woman pivoted smoothly in her stiletto boots and the moment Hatter saw her face he let out startled gasp.

She was beautiful, in an oddly terrifying sort of way. Everything about her, from her stature to the angles of her long face to her piercing glare, gave off an air of power and control. But the part that shocked him to his core were her eyes; they had no irises, so the pinprick black pupils were the only thing to break the sleek whiteness. He'd never met one in person, but he remembered the descriptions from his textbooks.

"You're a White!" Hatter exclaimed. "But you lot all died out ages ago."

"I'm sure the Queen of Hearts would have liked you to think that," the woman responded drolly. "That usurper was never powerful enough to eradicate us. Not we, whose lineage goes back to the creation of Wonderland itself."

Hatter let out a staggered breath. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. All his life he'd thought that the White line had been wiped out when the Queen of Hearts rose to power and took control of Wonderland. Meeting Charlie, the delusional White Knight, had been the first indication he'd ever gotten that the old Kingdom he'd heard stories of had ever really existed in the first place. And now here he was, face-to-face with an honest to cards White.

"Now, Hatter, I think it's about time we got down to business," the woman said. There was a dangerous purr in her tone that made the little hairs on the back of his neck prickle in warning. "You have something that I want."

"I can't 'magine that," Hatter replied flippantly. "I don't really 'ave much to m'name, unless you're lookin' for a nice hat."

The smile that the woman gave him sent a heavy weight to settle in the pit of his stomach. There was no warmth or humour in that smile, nothing but malice and power. "Hardly, Mr Hatter. You have Time."

"Come again?" Hatter asked in confusion. "Time, you say? Well, I've got a l'il, but not much. Promised Alice I'd be there for 'er mum's birthday dinner this weekend and all. Can't break that promise or I'll be sleepin' on the settee for a year."

"I'm not the person to joke with," she said coolly. "And this is not the ideal situation for you to be testing your luck."

Hatter smirked. "An' that's ever stopped me before?" he asked sarcastically. "Really, if you knew anythin' about me, you'd know that."

"I know the only thing I need to know about you," she replied. "You're a Hatter."

"And yet I don't even know who you are," he pointed out, stalling.

The woman drew herself up proudly. "I'm Princess of the White Kingdom, and a Knight of Wonderland," she recited.

Hatter hummed thoughtfully even as his brain whirred. Princess? She wasn't just any White, she was descended from the central line. "Tha's a mouthful. Got a nickname?" She twisted her arm to reveal a tattoo on her inner arm, and Hatter's stomach lurched.

"The Unicorn," they both said at the same time.

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. "You say that like you've heard of me," she observed.

Hatter forced his composed expression back into place. "Just whispers and rumours," he said nonchalantly. "One o' the perks of runnin' a tea shop."

"Then perhaps you've heard why they call me the Unicorn," she continued and her tone had gone silkily malicious once again.

"Your mum thought it was pretty," he suggested.

The Unicorn rolled her eyes. "Whites aren't given names," she said disdainfully. "We are addressed by our titles until we make a name for ourselves." The look she fixed him with gave him the impression of a large cat with a mouse whose tail was trapped beneath its paw, toying with it disinterestedly until its little heart burst with fear. He didn't particularly like being the mouse.

"Right. Well, maybe because you're not supposed to exist anymore, then," he guessed lazily.

This time, she laughed. "Oh really, Hatter, is that the best your mad mind can come up with?" She almost sounded disappointed. Hatter didn't waste any breath taking any more pointless guesses, so she stooped and drew something from within her knee-length boot. It looked at first like a normal dagger, but something about the strange shape made him look closer. The blade was a long and narrow point, with a groove that curled up its length. With a jolt, he realised it was a silver horn attached to a hilt.

"Is that a real unicorn's horn?" he asked in awe.

"Designed it myself," she said, tracing her fingers over it lovingly. "The horn was in our family's trophy case, just gathering dust, but I saw what a fitting weapon it would make. I became 'The Unicorn.'"

"Tha's a bit to the point," Hatter said dismissively, "but I s'pose it works."

"Oh it works just fine," she said. The sinister smile that crossed her lips was the only warning he got before she lunged forward and the point of the horn touched the hollow at the base of his throat. It had barely pierced the skin, but he stopped himself from swallowing, just in case. "And it's very 'to the point.'"

For once Hatter bit his tongue and kept his snappy retort to himself. Even he wasn't stupid enough to taunt someone who held a unicorn's horn at his throat. Stories said they could drive straight through stone without a scratch, so he didn't want to imagine what it would do to his oesophagus.

The Unicorn smiled, knowing that she'd won. "So tell me, Hatter. Where is Time?"

"I dunno what you mean," he said honestly. Her grip tightened on the hilt of the dagger and he winced. "I'm serious, Princess Trigger 'appy. I 'ave no idea what you're talkin' 'bout."

She withdrew the blade – Hatter finally succumbed to the frightened swallow that had been lodged in the vicinity of his Adam's apple – and eyed him suspiciously. His dark blood discoloured the glistening weapon as it rolled down through the groove. "I see," she said, in a tone that suggested very much the opposite. "Well, perhaps I can find a way to make you – understand." The tip of the blade plunged into his left shoulder.

Hatter screamed.

"Wake up, little Oyster."

Alice blinked blearily as the voice echoed in her ears. Instead of seeing Hatter's sleeping face, or her bedside table, she found herself staring at the gap beneath the chest-of-drawers. So that's where her other purple slipper had gotten to... But why was she lying on the floor?

"Hatter." The fog was lifting, little by little, and the details started to snap back into place with startling clarity. Whatever had put her to sleep must be running its course. She pushed herself up to her knees and her arm throbbed painfully at the movement. She checked the scratches that wrapped around her upper arm; they were long but shallow. The blood hadn't completely clotted in them yet, so she couldn't have been out for very long. No more than twenty minutes or so at most.

"Hatter?" she shouted but there was no response. The only signs of a disturbance lay in the wrinkled area rug and the thick cracks in the doorframe. When she looked closer she could just make out a streak of scarlet blood on the floorboard where Hatter had fallen. Her stomach churned as her eyes swept around the room for any other sign of the men, but there was nothing except for the faint scent of something musky hanging in the air.

Her muscles still felt sore, like she'd just run a marathon, but she clambered to her feet and darted for the door. The living room was undisturbed, all except for the front door which was still gaping open. Her bare feet stung as she staggered down the metal staircase on the side of the shop building and onto the concrete walk. The streets were deserted at this time of night, and there was nothing to give her any idea of where the man had taken Hatter.

"Damn it," she hissed, stomping her foot in frustration. She stepped in something cool and sticky, and instinctively she looked down. There was a dark spot on the sidewalk. Kneeling down, she touched it and examined her fingertips in the light cast off by the streetlamp. "Blood." She cast her eyes around until she found a second spot, a few feet to the left. Her heart leapt and she raced over to it.

It was hard work, picking out the ruby spots on the shadowy concrete, but she bolted from one patch to another hopefully. They were becoming further and further away, and smaller and smaller. The path travelled over a few blocks, around corners, and finally into an alleyway. She dodged from one to the next, and then abruptly she collided with a solid brick wall.

"What the...?" She placed her hands against the wall and looked around but there was nothing. The alley had turned into a dead end, without even a hole or a mirror or any indication of where they could have gone. "No." She slammed her palms on the wall, feeling the bricks scrape her skin roughly. "No. No!"

There was no clue as to where they were, but deep down she knew there was only one place they could be: Wonderland.

Turning around, Alice ran the four blocks back to the flat. She slid on the floor as she threw herself beneath the dining table. Hatter had shown her where he'd hidden the Stone of Wonderland, and she rubbed her fingers along until she found the faint groove between two boards. She dug her nails into the gap and pried it loose, coughing at the little puff of dusty air that came up when she tossed it aside. There it was, the little ring box with its hidden catch, tucked into a shadowy corner of the opening.

"Gotcha," she growled and snatched it out. She made to stick it in her pocket only to realise she wasn't even wearing trousers. She had been running around in her pyjamas, which comprised of nothing but one of Hatter's over-large tee-shirts. A swell of embarrassment swept over her as she realised she had been racing around the neighbourhood in practically nothing. In the bedroom, she traded out her tee-shirt for a pair of jeans and a comfortable blouse with short sleeves because her upper arm was tender to the touch. She put on a pair of sensible trainers – she didn't want to get caught running around Wonderland in her heeled boots again – and then grabbed the ring box.

At the front door, she hesitated long enough to lock up the flat behind her and then turned away. She didn't know exactly when she'd be back, but she wasn't about to come back without her Hatter.

The self-storage centre was deserted so early in the morning, the guard in the sentry box fast asleep at his desk. Alice slipped passed him quietly, punched in the security code, and let herself into the rows of metal storage sheds. After Hatter's arrival, they had moved the mirror out of the old warehouse for safety. It had been kept in the basement of Hatter's shop for a few months until the business picked up and they needed the space for supplies. The storage shed had been Alice's idea, keeping the mirror safe and locked away from prying eyes, with the added bonus of putting some extra space between her and the portal. It was dormant, but that didn't mean she trusted it.

Alice wound her way through the rows until she found the correct door; number 4-1, chosen because it was the date of Hatter's birthday in this world. The heavy padlock was still secured through the loop on the door, meaning the man who had taken Hatter couldn't have come through here. It made no sense, but she couldn't think of any better options, so she unlocked the door and stepped inside, shutting the door carefully behind her. She took a deep breath and then flipped the little switch on the wall.

The stark yellow lightbulb in the ceiling flared into life and Alice's heart stuttered in her chest when she found herself facing the mirror. It looked exactly the way she remembered it, propped up against the wall behind a few stray cardboard boxes of belongings they hadn't had room for in the flat. She stared down her reflection, taking in her pale skin and the wild light in her eyes. Somehow, in the mirror, she looked braver than she felt. But she had to do this. She had to find him.

Putting the ring on her right hand, Alice reached out and placed her palm against the glass. For a second it held, but then it rippled beneath her fingertips and gave way. It worked. This was it. Remember to breathe. Inhaling deeply, she jumped forward through the surface of the mirror.

The world pitched around her. Even though she'd gone in feet-first, she felt like she must be falling face-forward. Not that she could really tell, because she wasn't quite certain which way was up anymore. An intangible wind whipped her hair around her face and even though she knew she was screaming, she couldn't even hear it inside of her own head. Violet and blue and grey and white and green, all twirling and twisting until her head was spinning.

Her feet hit the ground hard and she stumbled, landing on her hands and knees. She groaned as pain lanced through her joints. She was still struggling to catch her breath when a voice spoke from above her.

"Stay where you are!"

Alice sat up on her heels and found herself staring straight down the barrel of a gun.