Chapter Six: Fever

Staggering out of the burning building, the Hatter stumbled to the edge of the pond where Hazel and Charger were waiting. Setting Alice down, he collapsed into a fit of coughing, trying to rid his lungs of the smoke-filled air that burned his nose and stung his throat. When he was finally able to breathe again, he looked up at the horses.

Charger stared down at him with worried coal-black eyes. "Where is my Master?"

"Still inside," he panted. He stood, a look of resolve burning in his golden eyes. "Take care of Alice, Ah'm gaein' back in."

"Tarrant you'll get yourself killed if you go back in there now!" Hazel whinnied.

"An' 'e will be killed if Ah dinnae!" He shook his head. "Ah'll nae leave a man tah die."

Hazel nickered sadly. "I see you've found your muchness, Tarrant. She nuzzled his shoulder lovingly. Be careful, my friend."

Having resigned himself to the belief that death was inevitable, Stayne was surprised to hear the sound of footsteps. He looked up to see the Hatter running toward him.

"Hightopp, you idiot, what are you doing? I told you to get out!"

"An' Ah gave ye mah word Ah'd come back!" Grabbing the end of the fallen support beam, he strained to lift it.

"Give it up, Tarrant! You can't save us both. You have a wife with a child on the way. She needs you!"

The Hatter grit his teeth and tried harder to lift the wooden shaft. "An' ye 'ave a wife an' a daughter who need yew!"

Panting, he released the beam and glanced around. Running to the side of the blazing hearth, he grabbed a metal poker, hissing in pain and dropping the object as the hot metal touched his skin. He looked down at his hand, which was already showing some nasty blisters from the heat despite the fabric that covered his palm. Strengthening his resolve, he forced himself to pick up the poker yet again and took it over to Stayne where he lodged it beneath the fallen support beam like a lever. Chunks of the flaming thatched roof were already beginning to fall around them in large heaps.

"Hightopp, you'll NEVER move that board alone!"

"Mebbe not, but we can lift it between the twine o' us." He motioned for Stayne to take the lever, then ran back to the end of the log. "Alrigh'. On three. One. Two. THREE!"

With Stayne pulling down on the lever with all his might and the Hatter pushing up against the end of the beam, the rafter trembled, then slowly began to move upward. With a final surge of strength and determination that only a madman could possess, Tarrant lifted one end of the beam high over his head and threw it to the side where it slammed into another window, shattering the glass. Seeing their chance for escape, he ran to his fallen companion's side.

"Can ye stand?"

Stayne braced his arms against the floor and tried to push himself to his feet, but the moment he tried to move his legs, he crumpled, howling with agonizing pain.

The Hatter glanced up. The other support beams were burning thin. It was only a matter of minutes before the entire roof would cave in. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to carry Stayne the way he had Alice, he wondered how he could possibly get them out in time when a sudden thought came into his mind.

"Roll onto yer back," he ordered.

Still reeling in pain, Stayne looked confused. "How is that going to help – "

"JES DO IT!"

Fighting the urge to scream, the former knave forced himself to flip over. The Hatter responded immediately, grabbing the king beneath the arms and dragging him to the broken window over smoldering piles of thatch and shards of broken glass. Stepping out, he turned back to Stayne and began pulling him through the opening, dragging him over the sharp edges of the glass that tore through his clothing, staining the back of his dark shirt a deep purplish red and slicing his fractured legs in several locations. The Hatter paused to take a breath, panting from the exertion of energy required to move the deadweight of a body nearly twice as heavy as his wife. Giving one last tug, Tarrant stumbled backwards as Stayne slipped free from the window. Panting heavily, the two men stared in awe as only seconds later the roof gave an unearthly groan and came crashing down, folding in upon itself like a poorly built house of cards.

The Hatter looked down at his hands, which were trembling like leaves in the wind, though whether from the mercury poisoning or the adrenaline rush he'd experienced he didn't know. Glancing over at place where his pregnant wife lay, unconscious but still alive, he wept with the joy of knowing that they had all escaped the flames relatively unscathed. He had done for his wife and unborn child what he hadn't been able to do for the Hightopp clan all those years ago.

Stayne was still in shock, pondering the thought that his former enemy, whom even after their reconciliation he had never really considered a close friend, had just saved his life. His face was nearly as pale as Tarrant's as he stared at the smoking ruins of the cottage.

"Thank you, Hightopp," he whispered hoarsely.

Alice took a sip of her husband's famous breakfast tea, quietly pondering all the information she'd just been told. It had been three days since the fire, and she had just awakened from the sleeping draught that morning. "It's strange," she commented, staring down at the dark liquid in her cup. "I don't remember any of it. I feel as though I've missed so much…like I've been away for quite some time."

Stayne, who was sitting in a wheelchair at the head of the table, stirred his tea absentmindedly. "Well, it was a rather…eventful day."

Alice glowered at him. "I can't believe you gave me a sleeping potion without telling me! I can't believe I was stupid enough to drink something without knowing what it was! You could have hurt the baby!"

Stayne sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "For the thousandth time, Alice, I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

"Ye did wha' ye had to." The Hatter, who had been silent nearly all morning, looked up from his barely touched breakfast. Talking about the fire and thinking of what could have happened had made him anxious. "Ye protected yer fam'ly an' helped me protect mine. Thank you."

"I believe that I'm the one who should be thanking you, Hightopp. I never would have gotten out of there if you hadn't been so stubborn in your attempt to do the right thing."

Alice sighed. "Well, I suppose since everyone got out alright, I shouldn't complain too much. But I find it odd that Iracebeth would give up so easily. What will happen when she realizes that I'm not dead? Who's to say that she will keep her promise? And even if she does, she only promised protection to your family, not mine. What's stopping her from trying to come after me again?"

Mirana frowned. "I know my sister. It's unlikely she will go back on her word, but she will try to find a way around it. You're not out of the woods yet, Alice."

Alice looked concerned. "So, what do we do now?"

"I don't know." The queen's dark eyes filled with sympathy for her best friend. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what happens."

"Aaaarrrgh!"

Tarrant dropped the hat he'd been working on, bringing his hands up to cradle his throbbing head. Ever since the day of the fire, he'd been having the nightmares again. Running on very little sleep and worried sick about Alice, who was due to have the baby any day and still potentially at risk from Iracebeth's ghost, he'd barely let her out of his sight since she'd woken up, but the hat orders had begun to pile up and Alice had grown weary of his constant worrying, so today he'd finally gone back to work. Or at least, he'd planned to until the headaches had started.

It was a strange, dizzying sensation, a pulsating throb that sent a sharp, shooting pain through his head with every beat of his heart, and he had to sit down to keep from losing his balance. He sat with his head on his desk buried between his arms, trying to shut out any light that might further irritate his malady. Already he'd closed the curtains and put out the lamps, doing his best to work in the dim light but finding his attempts to be relatively unsuccessful. He hadn't experienced anything so painful since the sorceress' torture while he'd been trapped inside the looking-glass. It was almost nauseating. The soft knock on the door sounded more like a sledge hammer pounding against the oaken panel. He moaned softly and tried to lift his head.

"Alice, you shouldn't be here. You promised to stay away from the workshop until the baby comes."

His wife walked softly over to his side and began stroking his hair, gently massaging the back of his head. "Neither should you," she whispered. "You don't need to be working if you're feeling like this."

"Have to…" he mumbled. "Too many orders…They'll be late."

"Well, then, they'll just have to be late. I'm not letting you keep this up. You should be in bed." Laying a hand on his arm, she tried to encourage him to stand. "Come, we'll make you some tea, and – "

"No! No tea!" He shook his head violently, immediately regretting the decision. He leaned away from Alice with his head over the wastebasket, gagging. But he had already embarrassed himself in front of Hazel, and he was determined not do the same in front of his wife. Taking a few steadying breaths, he turned back to Alice, looking apologetic. "I don't think my stomach can take it right now."

Alice frowned worriedly. If there was anything Tarrant loved more than hats, it was tea. She placed a cool hand to his forehead. He was burning up, and his eyes had turned a strange, hazy gray, as if they had been glazed over. "Hatter, how long have you been feeling like this?"

The Hatter closed his eyes, leaning into his wife's hand and relishing the feel of her cool skin against his feverish brow. "Just since this morning. It started a few hours ago."

In the three years since she'd returned to Underland, Alice had never seen her husband this sick. "You need a doctor. I'll fetch Mirana and see if she has any potions that will help with the pain. In the mean time, let's get you to bed."

He looked utterly miserable. "I don't feel like walking, Alice."

"Alright…Well, then, just stay here and try to get some rest." She snatched the hat he'd been working on off the table. "No more hat-making today, alright?"

He nodded slowly, never opening his eyes. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

She placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "You'll feel better soon. I promise. I'll be right back." She turned to leave.

"Alice...?"

She glanced back over her shoulder.

"Stay…"

More than once she'd ignored that plea of his, and every time she'd ended up regretting it. This time she would not make the same mistake. Pulling out a box of fabric to use as a chair, she sat down beside him and took his hand in hers, gently rubbing her thumb along his knuckles. "I'm here. For as long as you need me, I'm here."

Alice sat on a stool, watching the queen flutter around the kitchen like a nervous hummingbird. She'd finally managed to help the Hatter into bed and, after much soothing and comforting, had gotten him to fall asleep.

"I don't understand, Mirana. He was perfectly fine earlier this morning. How could he become so ill in such a short span of time?"
Mirana frowned as she scanned the kitchen for the ingredients to make a pain relief potion. She'd been using that recipe a lot lately, as well as her healing potion, to help Stayne with his legs, and she was beginning to run low on some of the necessary components.

"I'm afraid Time has never been on the Hatter's side, Alice."

Alice sighed, somewhat irritated with the queen's attempt at a joke. "But what would cause an illness like this? I've never seen him look that bad before. He didn't even want any tea!"

"Perhaps he's just tired. He's been under a lot of stress lately, and from what you've told me, he hasn't had much sleep. Not to mention the fact that he spent nearly all of last week locked up in his workshop, working day in and day out to keep from worrying about you while you were away. Or perhaps it's the mercury that's giving him headaches. I don't mind giving him some time off if he needs it."

Alice shook her head. "But that still wouldn't explain all the other symptoms." She frowned. "Do you have anything that could cure it? Some sort of special healing potion that works on sicknesses rather than just physical injuries?"

"Alice, dear, I'm afraid even I don't know all the answers. I can give him something to relieve his pain, and I can give him a sleeping draught to help him rest if you feel it's necessary, but that is all."

Alice huffed. "I wish there was some sort of magic cure-all potion."

Mirana smiled sadly. "Don't we all?"

Alice dipped a cloth into the basin of cold water on the bedside table and held it to her husbands' forehead. It had been almost a week since the mysterious illness had taken hold of him, and things had gotten progressively worse. He hadn't eaten more than a few bites of food over the past few days, and whatever he had managed to swallow generally didn't stay down for long.

Then the chills had come, along with the hallucinations. Though she was used to his occasional fits of madness and regular bouts of nightmares, she hadn't been prepared for the screaming, thrashing, delusional state he'd come to be in. At one point, she'd had to call in some of the guards to restrain him until Mirana had come in with a sleeping potion, but when he'd woken up, it had started all over again. What bothered her more than anything, however, was that he could look straight at her and not even know she was there. If he saw her at all, he usually didn't recognize her, shying away from her touch or gripping onto her arm with a force she knew he'd never handle her if he'd been aware of his surroundings. Sometimes he would shout out nonsense words or recite ancient Outlandish rhymes like the jabberwocky poem. Sometimes he would talk to people she couldn't see, to family members who had long been dead. And sometimes he would just stare off into space with a blank expression on his face, looking more like a statue than a human being. One day when Mirana and Stayne had come to check on him, he'd taken one look at the former knave and flown into a fury of Outlandish curses, believing he was still in the prisons of Salazen Grum. Though too weak to stand, he'd thrashed around in the bed until Alice feared he'd hurt himself, and Mirana had been forced to wheel her husband out of the room as Tarrant attempted to get out of the bed, screaming the cry of the resistance: "Downal wyth the Bluddy Big Hid!"

But even that had been preferable to the state he was currently in. Now, he was completely silent, had slipped entirely into the realm unconsciousness. He hadn't opened his eyes in nearly two days, and Alice was beginning to seriously worry about her husband.

Tarrant moaned uncomfortably and tried to turn over on his side. Everything hurt. Every sound seemed ten times louder. Every sliver of light seemed a thousand times brighter. Every touch seemed to sting. Not even Mirana's pain relieving potions could help now. He didn't know where he was. He couldn't see or hear anyone, but he felt something cool and wet against his face, and he leaned into it, hoping it would alleviate the burning sensation in his skin. Burning…fire…Have to save Alice from the fire!...jabberwocky...Alice killed the jabberwocky…jabberwocky blood…Alice drank the jabberwocky blood…purple blood not red blood…Blood…red…Bloody Red Queen!

That's right, Hat Man.

Who said that?

Oh, don't tell me you've forgotten me already! After I worked so hard to get rid of your precious little Alice, I thought you'd remember…

Iracebeth!

Ah, good, so you do remember. Perhaps you're not as unintelligent as you look.

Wha' are ye doin' 'ere?

Don't you know? Alice is in need of elimination…And since Stayne failed me, I have decided to use you. Actually, I suppose I should thank him for that…You see, I couldn't have the pleasure of being the one to actually do the killing myself last time, but your mind is much weaker than his. It shouldn't be problem for me to control you. Oh, to see the look on her face when she dies by the hand of her own husband!

Ah'll ne'er harm Alice!

My poor, confused madman, I'm afraid I'm not giving you the option. I'm inside your head now, and you will do whatever I say.

Ah will NOT bow to ye! Ah will not be yer slave!

Oh, don't worry…It won't last for long. Just as soon as Alice is dead, I will release you, but for now you belong to ME.

Alice stared out the window, watching the rain splatter against the glass and the lightning illuminate the dark sky. She sighed.

"You should get some rest, Alice. You've hardly slept at all this past week. Let me tend to him for awhile."

Alice turned from the window and shook her head. "Thank you, Mirana, but I just can't leave him. Not when he's like this..." There were tears in her eyes. "What if he never wakes up?"

Mirana stood beside Alice, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Not even Underlanians are immune to death, Alice. We may live much longer than Overlanders, but we are not immortal. 'To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven…A time to be born and a time to die…' [1] Everyone's Time comes sooner or later, Alice."

"I know. But I'm not ready for our time together to be over. I can't raise this child alone, Mirana!" She let a few tears slide down her cheeks. "I can't look at my son or daughter every day and see his eyes staring back at me when I know I'll never see him again in this life!"

"Alice you have always been a strong, willful young woman. You will survive this, one way or another, and you will come out the better for it. You will be able to take care of your child because you will love him. A child is a very special gift, Alice. It is a product of your love, living proof that the two of you have truly become one in body and spirit and mind. And even if Tarrant should not be able to see his little one come into the world, there is a part of him that is within you, within your child. You may lose him, Alice, but you will never lose his love. Nothing can ever take that away. Not even death."

Alice turned back to the window and let the tears fall, quietly crying and silently praying for her husband and best friend. When Mirana pulled her into an embrace, she did not resist, weeping into her friend's shoulder and not even caring about ruining her dress. At long last, the queen bid her champion goodnight, and Alice returned to her seat by the bed, pulling out a book and attempting to read it, though her mind was far from the pages in front of her.

A sudden movement in the bed drew her attention. She set the book down on the nightstand and leaned over her husband. "Hatter? Tarrant, are you awake?"

His lips were moving, but there was no sound coming out, as though he was having a conversation within himself. She gently caressed his cheek. "It's going to be alright, love. Can you open your eyes for me? Hatter?"

Slowly, for the first time in days, his eyes fluttered open, but they were no longer fevered and confused, nor were they their usual bright green. They were red. A deep, crimson red that bordered on burgundy, darker than Alice had ever seen even in his worst bouts with madness. They were the color of wine. The color of blood.

Alice gasped and stepped back. "Hatter?"

He gave a vicious grin as he stood, towering over Alice. A flash of lightning lit up the room, giving his face an eerie glow. When he spoke, the voice he used was not his own. "Oh, no, Alice. The Hatter is gone. Iracebeth has returned."

[1] Ecclesiastes 3:1-2