Hours earlier…
Tarrant listened as Mally's footsteps receded and finally faded out of his hearing – she'd gone outside. He was alone. His eyes were wide, staring into the darkness. Alone. He'd always had his friends and then there was… but now, things were different. His heart had been so happy whenever Alice was around, but without it her, it deflated. His chest felt empty and hollow. Her voice kept coming back to him, whispering "Hatter…" over and over again. Taunting him, so it seemed. He threw a pillow over his ears but he could still hear voice and it was driving him even more out of his head.
"She doesn't remember me," he mumbled to himself, over and over again as though begging for it to be true. He didn't want it to be, but if it was, he didn't want his mad mind to get his heart's hopes up. If he could convince himself she was gone for good, maybe her voice would stop tormenting him.
"Alice," he whispered, he voice weak and broken sounding. All the Hatter wanted with all his heart was to see her again but after what Cheshire had said… and Cheshire knew things that none of them did as it was easier for him to travel and overhear things. She's not coming back, he had said. Tarrant cried out in anger or pain, curling himself as tightly as possible as though to stifle the pain in his heart, and in the process his hat fell off of his head, tumbling to the floor. He wanted to weep. He shouldn't have let her go that day on the battlefield and Tarrant regretted it more than anything else in his life. The Hatter replayed the scene over and over again in his mind, imagining what could've happened if he'd only insisted she'd stay. He should've taken her into his arms and held her there, told her how he truly felt and begged for an answer about if she felt the same. If she didn't, he wouldn't have forced her to stay but if she did, he'd have pleaded with her until he had no more breath.
"Alice!" he cried, more urgently. "Oh, come back to me," he sighed as he heard her calling his name yet again. He never should've let her drink that Jabberwocky blood. The White Queen never should have given it to her; she should have left well enough alone! If Alice had wanted to go home, she would've asked for a way, not just happened upon it! But then a thought struck the Hatter. Alice could've stayed. No one had forced her to drink the blood of the Jabberwocky. It had been her choice. She'd wanted to go back, back to Overland. She'd wanted to leave.
The Hatter's eyes grew wide as he realized what this meant. He sat up slowly, staring into the gloom of his room but not seeing it, seeing only her face as it had faded away in front of him those years ago. She'd chosen Overland over him. Maybe she didn't feel the same way after all.
His breathing slowly became more agitated, more quick, and his eyes clouded over red-orange. It wasn't fair. Alice didn't belong in Overland, it was obvious. She knew that when she was little and had first come to her Wonderland. But the years, the world above must've changed her. Overland had changed her, made her forget where she truly belonged. And though she'd started to realize it, it seemed, the White Queen had gone and given her the Jabberwocky blood and let her leave, after forcing her to do all that fighting and… The Hatter's thought's swirled, become more and more uncontrollably mad and angry. In a rage, he stood, shouting her name to the sky above. "ALICE!" he shouted furiously, with an anger not at her but the worlds that were keeping them apart. He tore through his house like a storm, knocking over old broken sewing machines and busts piled high with hats, and no one was there to stop his rage. He continued destroying everything in his sight until his eyes alighted on his two-handed longsword. He picked it up, remembering the last time he wielded it. His rage subsided but his eyes still glowed orange.
He remembered the feel of it sliding into the Jabberwocky's tail when… she had fallen – strictly against the rules of a Champion-vs-Champion fight, but he couldn't have just let her die. And he remembered the clang of its metal against the Ilosivich Stayne's sword, the weight of it in his hands as he'd been about to thrust it through the heart of the Knave of Hearts, having been stopped from this murder only by the fact that at that moment, she had slain the Jabberwocky. He held it up, his own reflection peering back at him through the gloom. His eyes swirled between orange and yellow-green. The turmoil within him was almost uncontainable and then he heard her voice calling his name again.
"Hatter…" it called softly, sounding much more clear and closer. Again, louder now, "Hatter!" And that was when Tarrant knew he had to leave. These memories, delusions, dreams, were tied to the things that reminded him of her, he was certain of it. If that was what it took then, he'd leave the tea party garden, leave all of the places he'd been with her. He'd even leave his friends behind. There was a set to his shoulders and a hard look on his face that hadn't been there before as his eyes continued to flash between angry and sad. The desire to forget filled him, because remembering was far too painful now that he knew she wouldn't come back, now that he knew she… didn't want to.
He had no need to pack – he'd find food if need be and nothing in his house was particularly valuable to him. He'd take his sword though, for he didn't know where he'd go or what kind of creatures he'd meet or have to face. At this point though, he wasn't sure he'd even try to defend himself if any kind of creature attempted to attack him. Nothing seemed important anymore. He didn't feel very… mad – contrariwise, he felt very bland, very normal, very Overlandish. He stopped only to scratch out the words, "I'm going mad and won't come back" onto a slip of paper. Tarrant was determined to forget and that meant he had to be by himself for the rest of forever, however short or long that would be. He looked around one last time and his eyes fell on his hat.
So many memories were in every stitch of that hat, it's magnificent handiwork and many accessories. He knew he'd have to leave it behind. He was no longer so mad and not a hatter. He'd shuck the title just as he'd shed his memories of her and everything that had been good in his life. He leaned over and set the note on top of it, then turned and without a backward glance, Tarrant Hightopp stepped out the back door and into Underland for what he believed to be his last adventure.