Author's Note - I want to say a collective thank you for all of the lovely reviews of the last chapter. Because I've been busy, I didn't quite manage to reply to all of them, but they all did make me smile :) In this chapter, I take great liberties with Thackery as a character. I hope that's okay with everyone!

Chapter 6

You Said We Wouldn't Make It

Maybe it is madness. But I'm afraid to stay. Alice's words echoed over and over again as Tarrant ran from the palace and towards the woods, not really sure where he would eventually stop so long as he could escape the pressure building up from deep within him. As he ran, Tarrant tried his hardest not to assume the worst of Alice's comment, but it was no easy task. The word madness screeched in his ears until he could only make sense of it as being that Alice meant madness was her reason for leaving.

And of course she means your madness. Tarrant came to a stop as he fell to his knees in anguish. His madness couldn't be right, the sane part of him argued. His madness was never right. Yet, it did seem highly likely she could mean nobody else. Had he really gone and finally scared her off? Had she come to her senses and realized she didn't want him or his madness? Because of his madness?

I told you this would happen. It's just a good thing you didn't charge in there and hurt her. Since when did his madness care who or what it hurt, Tarrant wondered. Then again, perhaps even his madness felt strongly for Alice. "I'm never going to hurt her!" Tarrant howled to no one. "If she leaves it's her choice." He had let her go once and he could do it again if that's what she wanted, he determined.

Then, the reality of what he had just said struck him. If Alice were to leave again, he would be lost. He already felt lost, but losing her again would be the final blow. He was certain of it. He knew he would fall into darkness and never be able to find a way out. Was this the cruel joke Time had been, not playing, but trying to warn him of? Was he to have her so close, closer than ever before, only to have to say goodbye to her? Was that the very dark end Time was ticking ever closer towards?

Why couldn't he just be sane, he bemused. What had he ever done to deserve his madness? He had rescued the White Queen, but was it a curse for not saving his family instead? He grabbed his hat and threw it onto the ground as if trying to free himself from a sudden weight it had been on his head. "Why can't I be normal?" If he was normal, he thought, then, Alice would have no need to be afraid of him. They could remain as happy as the moment she'd returned to Underland and there would be no odd feelings of Time running out on them or anything else. He could love her with a full mind, the way she deserved. "Why can't I just be normal?" he asked again, never expecting a response as he thought he was all alone.

"We've all wondered that from time to time, about you specifically I mean," Chessur's voice startled Tarrant and provoked the madness already torturous inside him. Before the Chesire Cat had a chance to blink, Tarrant had turned to see him –eyes frighteningly orange– and was on his feet and moving towards him unchallenged. Outlandish words of a most unkind nature were hurled at the panicked feline as Chessur moved backwards from the mad man, his mind so muddled from the happening he couldn't even think to evaporate to safety. "Tarrant?" He said, his ears flattening to his head in fear when it didn't change things. "Hatter!" he mimicked the more forceful approach Mally used. Still Tarrant came at him until Chessur found himself against a tree. He finally regained his senses and was about to evaporate when another name came to his lips and he uttered it in a futile hope to shake Tarrant of his madness. "Alice!"

Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, Tarrant returned to himself and stopped in his tracks. He looked at Chessur with a pained face before sharply turning his back on him. It had been just another episode that seemed to prove to Tarrant he would never be normal as he wished. Not sure what else there was left to do, Tarrant's mind was filled with unspeakable thoughts. If he was doomed to always be half a man without Alice near and not have even his trade left to comfort him, Tarrant didn't know if he could handle it. He wondered if he should just wander into the Outlands and let his madness take him forever. At least there he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone but himself.

"What's the matter, old friend?" Chessur hadn't called Tarrant friend in ages, but the cat could tell something worse was amiss with the Hatter, and all of Underland for that matter, than had ever been before. In part, it had been why he had taken to following him after he'd noticed his flight from Marmoreal. Now, he put past grudges aside and hoped Tarrant would too at least long enough for an explanation to be had.

Tarrant didn't answer at first. He wanted to, but it was difficult when his madness held Chessur to blame for the Horunvendush Day. "What do you care?" He finally shrugged.

"I care about Alice you churlish moron," Chessur snapped at him, losing what little patience he had been striving to maintain. "The poor girl is probably out of her mind wondering where you are."

Tarrant turned back towards Chessur in another flash of anger. "Don't you dare ever call Alice out of her mind again!" However, it passed quickly this time as Tarrant's thoughts were reminded of what had caused him to flee in the first place. "And she wouldn't worry too much. She's leaving."

"What?" Chess looked at him with newly widened eyes. "Leaving? When? I don't believe it."

"I don't know when, but she will," Tarrant was annoyed that Chessur didn't believe him and he began to burr. "Ah 'eard 'er say she's a fearin' to stay an' she said somethin' abou' madness so she must be meanin' me."

"Oh, right, of course because it's always about you," Chessur rolled his eyes, his own annoyance growing. "I still don't believe it." The Chesire Cat remembered his conversation with Alice the night before and was doubtful that things could have changed so quickly. It was the other part of why he had followed after Tarrant. Chessur realized there could be no dissuading Alice of her feelings for the Hatter, but he could manage to make sure Tarrant didn't do anything stupid, something that would hurt Alice or make the match even more ill suited than the cat already thought it.

"And what other madness would she be talking about then, Chess? Can you answer me that?" Tarrant had Chessur stumped as the cat remained silent. "I'm pushing her away. And soon I'm going to lose her. I don't want to lose her, Chess," Tarrant admitted, causing the feline to feel a twinge of sympathy for him. "If I could just be normal, if I could just shake the madness, I…" he didn't finish. There seemed no point in it.

Chessur narrowed his eyes a moment before his characteristic grin spread across his face. "Well, is this Underland or is it Underland?" Tarrant looked at him in confusion as though it were a trick question. Just like Chessur to start asking riddles at a time like this, he thought. "I'm pretty sure there's a potion for anything so why not madness too? Find it, take it, make Alice happy," Chessur stressed the last part in a protective manner. It seemed a fail proof enough plan to the Chesire Cat and he couldn't deny there was a slurvish motive of his own in the suggestion. If Tarrant was sane again, not only could the Hatter and Alice have peace, but he could have peace. Maybe they would even be friends again, the possibility occurred to him.

"Chessur, you're brilliant!" The idea seemed fail proof to Tarrant as well and he looked at the cat with a giddy gleam in his eyes – much to Chessur's distaste. Perhaps being friends again wouldn't be so simply accomplished, Chess rethought. "I must say, it's your best idea since you helped me escape Salazen Grum." However, this new joy didn't go unchecked. Tarrant furrowed his eyebrows as he gave it some thought. "I don't know how to even find the potion if it should exist."

"Well, there's Thackery I suppose. He might know. Or perhaps the White Queen," Chessur suggested. "Then again, maybe you should just go talk to Alice before you do anything." He was beginning to lose faith in the idea. Something in the pit of his stomach warned him against it.

"I can't risk frightening Alice any further. Being who she is, she'd leave before I had a chance to risk it," Tarrant explained, although he meant nothing mean against Alice's character. Wait, would it be risky, he suddenly wondered, but shook the thought from his head. "And the White Queen might be just as against it."

"But I wouldn't suggest doing anything against her majesty's counsel," Chessur warned again. However, Tarrant didn't seem to be listening as he began trudging back towards Marmoreal. Chess sighed and shrugged his shoulders before dissipating into a bluish-gray mist. If Tarrant wanted to do things his way, he could only do so much to persuade him otherwise. Besides, the chances of his finding a potion without Mirana's help seemed slim anyways, Chessur figured.

Tarrant felt a little like the sneaky Chesire Cat as he crept about Marmoreal in an attempt not to be interrupted before he was able to complete his mission. There were moments he felt guilty and wanted nothing more than to go turn himself in to Alice or the White Queen, but he kept telling himself it was for Alice he had to do what he did. He had to try to find a cure for his madness. It was the only solution left, he reasoned.

At last, Tarrant came stealthily into the kitchens of the white palace. He was grateful that no one else ever disturbed the March Hare as he fiddled about here and there making wonderful feasts of whatever sort fancied him. "So ye thought ah woul' nae catch ye in yer lies?" The hare shouted at a large spoon before casting it towards Tarrant and adding angrily, "There ye can 'ave him then if that's wha' ye want!" Tarrant ducked the object hurdled at him and smiled a little at his friend's amusing manner. Ironically, Thackery's madness never seemed to bother Tarrant in the way his own did. Thackery's seemed perfectly suited to him. If Alice's "terribly, delightfully, wonderfully, perfectly" definition of madness suited anyone it would be the March Hare and not himself, Tarrant thought.

"Where does her majesty keep the potion books?" Tarrant asked straightway as though there was nothing unusual in his question.

Thackery continued with what he was doing and it would seem to anyone else that he had not even heard the inquisition, but Tarrant knew that was just his dear old friend's way of doing things. He was definitely processing the question somewhere in his mind, or what was left of it, and would eventually answer. The only uncertainty was how he would answer. Would it be helpful or simply nonsensical?

"O'er there on the shelf," Thackery answered plainly enough, but it was followed by the hare taking a ladle of whatever concoction he was working on and flinging it in the direction of the shelf he meant.

"Ah, thank you," Tarrant nodded gratefully before heading over to the shelf and taking one of the volumes to look over. Flipping through the pages of the first volume, he found nothing. Not ready to give up, Tarrant combed over the next volume. Again, he didn't see anything useful. Growing more anxious, as he was already impatient and perplexed to say the least, he grabbed the next book and began searching the many potions it contained in an even more frantic manner. He was close to the end of this volume as well, losing hope with every page and, thus, losing the determination he'd had at the start of his quest. Then, suddenly, his eyes caught the word madness and his heart nearly stopped.

His eyes quickly scanned the informative text. In the case of unwanted madness, mix potion and consume one vial's worth at once. Potion will take effect immediately and become permanent should reversal potion not be taken before the final stroke of the third day. Side effects may include…

Tarrant didn't finish as he saw the very long list of side effects. They were probably only minor details, he figured. After all, it stood to reason that healing potions couldn't do more harm than damage. His eyes skipped ahead to the list of ingredients, but this is where his heart sank. He was a Hatter not a Healer. Only those gifted in the healing arts, like the White Queen, could successfully create any potion. It was how she had known that the Jabberwocky blood would grant anything Alice wished, and why she had been the one to extract it first. However, Tarrant wasn't in the mood to think of that blasted purple substance at the moment. He needed to find a way to create the potion.

"Ah said ye are too thick fer yer own good!" Thackery banged on the side of his pot with the ladle, bringing Tarrant's full attention on him. Spinning around quickly, Tarrant watched as the March Hare poured a large pitcher of liquid into the pot and began stirring wildly and shouting threatening words to make the density of the food substance (soup or whatever else it might be) comply with his demands.

"Thackery!" The sound of his name did not break the March Hare from his madness like it did Tarrant. Instead, it made the poor creature jump clean into the air, clutching the ladle closely to him in anxiety as he did. "So sorry," Tarrant realized his mistake and quickly apologized. He had simply been in a state of ecstasy as the thought occurred to him that Thackery was also gifted in the healing arts. Now it struck him why Chessur had mentioned the hare. Thackery had been able to create and administer potions with ease before the madness had taken him at the Horunvendush Day. Perhaps he still could if Tarrant asked him. After all, he was still clever in the kitchen and, in his short-lived moments of clarity, he knew exactly the precise course of action which should be taken – both sure signs to Tarrant that his friend still possessed somewhere in him the gifts and knowledge he had once used freely.

Upon reaching the floor again and realizing it had been Tarrant to startle him, Thackery chuckled insanely as he grabbed and pulled at an ear with his free paw and pointed at Tarrant with the ladle in his other. "Is it tea time?" His expression and train of thought changed quickly.

"Not yet, no," Tarrant answered first before gathering the nerve to ask his own question. "I need to ask you a favor." Thackery began twitching nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect. "I need you to make a potion for me."

"Wha' kind o' potion?" The March Hare's eyes widened. He was intrigued by the prospect.

"This one," Tarrant held out the book and showed Thackery the potion he meant. "It's very important. I need it as soon as possible."

"Aye, well, Ah've got stew a boilin' so Ah s'pose," Thackery paused. He studied the page more closely than he had before, scratching at one of his ears thoughtfully. Tarrant began to worry he would be against the idea. "Aye, Ah think we've got all the ingredients we need," the hare nodded as Tarrant's worry gave way to relief.

Tarrant felt the pace of his heartbeat quicken as he watched Thackery working away at adding ingredients of a magical, strange and, in some cases, even hideous nature into a large pot. At last, the March Hare spit into the potion to add the healing touch needed to make it work properly. He then grabbed a vial and, not so carefully, filled it. Corking the top, he handed it to Tarrant.

"Thank you," Tarrant took it and clung to it joyfully. He needed only now to take it and then evaluate whether or not it worked. Of course, he didn't see how it couldn't work if it was a healing potion. He thanked his friend again before hurrying from the kitchen, leaving Thackery behind in a state of slight confusion. That, however, passed quickly as the March Hare chuckled uncontrollably for a moment and then went back to cooking as if nothing had happened.

So, as you can see, I decided to make it so that Thackery is gifted in the healing arts like Mirana is (as is stated in the script, err, and I think book too maybe? Can't recall.) And I don't know why, but I decided to make it so that the spitting part is tacked on by the healer to add the power, lol. So, whether or not it's believable, hope everyone's okay with the backstory I created for him. And there was no fooling the lot of you :) You all were spot on when you assumed poor Tarrant couldn't take Alice's comment well...