Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
So, I didn't update quite as quickly as I had planned, but I did manage to get a new chapter posted before the end of May, so I don't want to hear too many complaints. I am going to use a chaotic end of the school year as my excuse this time.
Anyway, here is your new chapter! As always, read, enjoy, and review!
"No!" The cry ripped out of Alice before she could stop it, exploding into the silence of the garden. "You can't." Agonized, she ran at the cards that held the Hatter, determined to help, to get him free, to do something. They couldn't take him away from her! He was the force that kept her sane, her anchor! With him gone…Wonderland would cease to be Wonderland for her.
Futilely, she pummeled the expressionless soldiers, her blows simply absorbed by their starchy paper bodies. Scowling, Alice tried a new tactic, ducking between ranks and into gaps in a desperate attempt to reach the Hatter. She darted this way and that, twisting and turning and maneuvering with every scrap of determination she possessed—but to no avail.
Faces blank, the cards simply shifted positions, shunting the protesting and struggling Hatter away from Alice and filling in the gaps with grim, impassive ranks. They parried her desperate lunges, stepping into each and every space she attempted to break through, pulling the Hatter ever farther away from his young friend.
"No!" Alice repeated, much quieter this time and so heartbreakingly desperate. She gazed at the swelling ranks hopelessly. The card soldiers numbered at least two decks now, swarming the garden and filling much of the space left by the rapidly-departing guests.
A few tears welled up in Alice's eyes before she blinked them away, leaving glittering tracks along her fair cheeks. What was she going to do? They couldn't just haul him off and execute him, could they?
At that thought, her mind flooded with the strong will that so characterized her. Alice forced herself to stand tall and proud, shoving the doubt and distress from her mind and filling it instead with determination and hope. There could be no room for grim thoughts or a weakening of her will. Hopelessness and despair gave way to a furious sense of determination.
She would free him. She had to.
Turning on her heel, she marched up to the victorious Queen, who stood dominantly in the center of the garden, arms crossed and a look of superior satisfaction on her face. Alice bowed deeply, forcing herself into a presumed role of subservience. Years of lessons with Wonderland's monarch had at least prepared Alice for presenting pleas: one never begged, nor did one ever argue. One instead presented one's case in as logical a manner as possible and prayed that reason would prevail.
Unfortunately, this was the Queen of Hearts, and Alice had been witness to numerous trials and audiences that, while the defense was as logical as could be, were ultimately crushed beneath the Queen's will.
Still, she knew that she must try—the Hatter's life depended upon it.
Shaking, Alice knelt and raised her head to look the Queen in the eye. "Your Majesty," she began, struggling to keep her voice level and persuasive, "surely you see this is an unnecessary endeavor." Even as the words left her mouth, Alice knew they were to no avail. The Hatter was undeniably guilty, and any third party observer could attest to the Queen's blatant dislike of Alice's haberdasher.
One pencil-thin eyebrow crept up the Queen's forehead. Was the child actually daring to argue against the sentence? Incredible! "I surely do not. He is guilty; therefore, he will pay the price." Her lips twitched as she sealed them, whether to conceal a smirk or to refrain from speaking further, Alice did not know.
Alice closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. Those words were the ones she had been most dreading to hear—and not least because she knew they were completely true. She thought back to those few times when the Queen had exhibited shards of mercy, recalling the pleas and arguments that had succeeded. All had been reasonable to begin with, but had eventually dissolved into pathetic and slovenly displays of tearful pleas.
Alice tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, unwilling even then to experience such a loss of dignity. "Please, Your Majesty," she all but begged, the words pouring out despite her resolve, "don't execute him." Her breath caught in her throat, the words turning watery. "He's all I have."
The Queen simply stared impassively at the girl, refusing to answer, and Alice gave up and turned away so that the immovable monarch could not see the tears brimming in her eyes. The Hatter couldn't just die. He was unchangeable; he was joy and insanity itself, a constant fixture of Wonderland and the lives of its many inhabitants, of Alice's life.
"Alice!" The sharp cry cut across the garden. "Alice!" Eyes wild, the Hatter struggled against the cards that held him so that he could address the girl face to face. He wrenched his arms free and darted forward, diving underneath a most imposing ten card. Scrambling to his feet, he continued his mad dash, relentlessly rushing forward towards the front of the regiment until he was eventually subdued by three of the disciplined soldiers.
"What is it?" she asked, frantically ducking around ranks of card soldiers so that she could see him. She refused to think that this could be the last time she would see him, that he was going to be taken away from her, that he might die—
The Hatter's face was grave but smooth, reflecting none of the internal turmoil that was swirling within him. "Don't forget about me." He spoke intently, determined to impress upon her the importance of his request. "No matter what you do," he implored, "never forget the fun you've had, the bad times and the good, the time we've spent together."
"As if I ever could," she said, willing her voice to stay strong. She failed miserably, she knew, but the effort was there. A few tears trailed down her face. This was actually happening. They were taking him from her. She was going to be alone again.
The Hatter grimaced, shooting one of the cards that held him an offended look as it jostled his hat out of place. "I'm sorry for putting you through this," he said, wrenching one arm free to re-establish the position of his overlarge accessory. "I shouldn't have eaten the tarts, but they were so bright and forbidden…" he trailed off, his eyes glazing over in reminiscence. "And the sugar…"
Alice could have screamed. Here he was, about to be hauled away and executed, and he was being nostalgic about tarts? She pinched the bridge of her nose, losing some of the urgency that had been fueling her fervor. "Snap out of it," she commanded irritably, snapping her own fingers in front of his face. "You're still under arrest, remember?"
His gaze snapped back into focus. "Ah, yes. Quite right." Turning to his captors with a quirky grin, the Hatter clapped his gloved hands together in a businesslike manner—or he tried to, anyway. They were still held by three very ferocious-looking cards. "I believe this is the part where you 'take me away,'" he dictated.
Turning back to Alice, his humorous mask slipped briefly, revealing the agony that was tearing at his heart. "Alice, don't forget me," he asked once more. "Forget me, and you forget yourself. You'll forget who you've become." The Hatter shook his head intently. "I don't want Wonderland to lose its Hatter and its Alice."
They had one moment where their eyes met, a split second suspended on the threads of the universe. Time seemed to stop for the pair, Alice's eyes fastening desperately onto the Hatter's, locking onto those lively, fathomless blue orbs in one last desperate attempt to convey what words could not say.
The Hatter looked long and hard at Alice, his own eyes widening in shock at what he saw reflected in her face. He opened his mouth, determined to speak, to finally put out in the open everything he had been keeping secret—and then he was gone, the cards wheeling about in formation and hauling the Hatter out of the garden and down the long, winding road to the palace.
Alice was left alone in the diminished garden, the only guest not to have taken the opportunity to disappear. She stood in the spot where the Hatter had left her, swaying as her legs threatened to give out.
Two small, furry arms wrapped around her, holding her steady and preventing her from toppling over where she stood. "Alice…" The Hare looked sadly up at her, released finally from his obligations as host as the Queen of Hearts swept out of the garden. He had been forbidden from assisting his friends, held in place by some of the Queen's extra soldiers.
The girl trembled. "March," she asked shakily, resting a hand on his head, "what are we going to do?"
His ears drooped. "I don't know, Alice," he said dejectedly, "I just don't know."
They stood together for a long while, the blonde with the torn soul and the Hare with the tormented mind. Defeat was never an easy concept to deal with, and this case in particular was one that left a gaping chasm of pain. Finally, Alice shook herself out of her stupor. "This is not going to help," she declared shakily.
Even in England, Alice had never been one to take no for an answer. Five and a half years spent in Wonderland had taken this quality and ripened it, developing so that Alice was now a tenacious young woman who would fight for even the most hopeless of causes. She straightened, flooding with some reserve of inner strength that had been spared, driving out the overwhelming sense of defeat that plagued her. "I'm going to the palace," she declared, "to make a case to the Queen, and I will be coming home with the Hatter."
"And when I get back," she added, with a trace of her traditional authority, "we will be discussing the questionable logic of touching what doesn't belong to you." Her lips thinned. "When we get back." She repeated it to cement it in her mind, make it so no other possibilities existed.
Oblivious to the bite of the cold, she hurried out of the garden and onto the road, beginning the long, lonely trek to the palace.
"…and that is exactly why you should release me," the Hatter concluded, his voice echoing throughout the cavernous throne room, "and not cut off my head." He tugged at an ear in demonstration, grinning cheekily up at the glaring sovereign on the throne. "We're rather attached to each other, you see."
He had long since found that laughing in the face of imminent death was much more enjoyable than quavering in fear and submitting to the demands of one's captor. What good was the delightful partnership of madness and insolence if one made no use of it?
Nevertheless, he knew logic had a place in any argument with the Queen as well, and he drummed his fingers against the brim of his hat, lost in thought. "Alice's wrath will be far more painful to bear than any punishment you might mete out," he finally continued with a wince, eyes hazing over as he envisioned the possibilities. Should he survive, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Alice's despair gave way to a righteous fury. She would become the adult, he the child to be castigated.
Drawing her brows together, the Queen strengthened the intensity of her glare, rising and descending from the dais to prowl about the kneeling Hatter like a hawk circling its prey. "You ate my tarts," she accused. This was not a light accusation; the Queen's tarts were the sweetest in the land, slaved over by the finest chefs in Wonderland and reserved solely for the Queen's own taste buds.
"And that I did." He spread his arms out appealingly. "To be fair, though, I've eaten a lot of tarts. I must commend you, though—I've had none that were finer." He continued to babble on in an annoyingly perky voice about tarts and teas and sugar and anything whatsoever that popped into his mind. Keep her distracted, lad, his subconscious all but screamed, and perhaps she'll keep you around.
Finally, the Queen had had enough. She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes wearily and flinging up a hand. "Enough," she commanded. "I have other matters to deal with at the moment. To the dungeons with you for now, Hatter, and then we will see." Waving a hand, she summoned a guard forth from the side of the chamber.
The card hauled the insolent haberdasher to his feet, propelling him up and out of the throne room and into the dark, adjoining hallway. As the last glimpse of orange flashed out of sight, the Queen of Hearts clapped her hands. "You may enter," she called to the next subject waiting for the royal reception.
At the far end of the room, one of the two tall doors swung open with a loud creak to admit a slim, fair figure. The bright sunlight behind the girl gave her an almost ethereal appearance, casting her in a bright, golden glow that was a harsh contrast to the dark expression that danced across her face.
"Alice." If the Queen were capable of expressing affection, then she would most certainly have been demonstrating it. The frosty tone she had adopted when addressing the Hatter had all but thawed, and she spoke to Alice with what could almost be equated to—and would have been in any other person—warmth. "What business do you have here, child?"
Alice's lips pursed as she stared down the long, familiar, red floor, her eyes narrowing as her gaze honed in on the ornate throne that sat at the end. No audience with the Queen ever ended predictably… She squared her shoulders and marched forward, striding forward until she was gazing up at the raised figure on the dais. "I've come to ask for the Hatter's release," she declared.
The statement reverberated in the empty room, lingering as if to stress the absurdity of such a request. Alice winced at the volume of it, and then shrugged it aside, continuing her speech. Her mouth twisted into a disapproving frown. "He may be a foolish, unthinking, made imbecile, but he's…" She paused, refraining from finishing that particular thought, and continued instead with a safer alternative, "Well, I would ask that you spare him and release him to me."
"And if I say no?" The Queen folded her arms across her chest, looking sternly down at the antlike figure beside her throne. Very few people had ever dared to challenge her, and she was sorely impressed with Alice's audacity, though she would never show it. Nevertheless, the girl was daring to dispute the authority of the Queen of Hearts.
Alice swallowed, bunching a fistful of her skirts up in her fists. "If you say no…then he dies." Her voice shook. "Please, Your Majesty…" It was the closest she had ever come to begging for anything.
The Queen sat in silence for a long moment, toying absently with the scepter that rested across her lap. Her mind was already made up. She knew the Hatter, and she knew Alice—and she knew what her decision would be. "Done," she finally declared, and reached around behind her to detached a small steel key from the back of the throne. Tossing it to the astounded Alice, for the Queen never surrendered anything, she nodded decisively. "He's your problem."
"You—you're letting him go?" Alice could not believe her ears. "He's free?" She shook her head, confused.
Leaning back disinterestedly in her throne, the Queen heaved a long-suffering sigh. "If you go and retrieve him, he's yours." Her dispassionate tone belied her keen interest in the situation, and she watched Alice carefully. Far be it for anyone to suggest that she harbored any sort of fondness for the girl; all it took was one witness to their lessons together to dissuade that notion.
However, the signs were there for the careful observer: where a courtier was required to attend a regimented number of social events, Alice attended none; when the palace library failed to contain any new and interesting books, an impressive number managed to appear overnight; on a particularly fine spring day, Alice might be observed cavorting happily about outside, released early from a tedious lesson when "royal business" arose.
The Queen shook her head. There was just something about this girl… Different though Alice might have been, she had become an integral piece of Wonderland, and a piece that the Queen inexplicably wanted to keep content. If that meant relinquishing the Hatter, well, then so be it. At least the dungeon would be quieter.
Stammering her thanks, a very bemused Alice took advantage of the Queen's uncharacteristic distraction, clutching the key tightly in her fist and darting into the adjoining corridor. Her feet pounded along the stone floor, beating out a frantic rhythm as she ran. Gasping, she picked up the pace, the exhilaration that accompanied her unexpected victory spurring her to greater speeds; she was going to free the Hatter!
In the dungeon itself, the Hatter sat dejectedly in a tiny cell. He remained relatively presentable, the morning's finery in good condition but for a small tear in his sleeve; it helped that he hadn't put up much of a struggle once the cards had carted him away.
The cell itself was dark, furnished with only a single wooden bench shoved up against the moldy walls. Light trickled in through a tiny, barred window, creating a fiery path across the dark stone floor. In the corner, a small spider had spun a silky web, creating a comfortable little abode for itself against the dingy stone blocks.
Desolate, the Hatter knelt before the barred door, his hands curled around the iron that caged him. He just had to forget himself and do something insane, didn't he? Insanity ran in his blood, but it had been a long while since he had let himself go so badly and performed such an illogical act.
Life had been going so well. He had been happy, Alice had been happy…
He heaved a sigh and bent his head against the rusty metal, ignoring the scratches he received as bits of brown, coarse iron flaked off against his skin. The Hatter closed his eyes and sank into the dubious realm of introspection. He doubted the Queen would truly execute him—she had declared him headless on no fewer than twenty occasions, and had yet to follow through with any of her proclamations—but he had no doubt that he was condemned to a nice, long stay in the palace dungeon.
Mumbling incoherently, he pressed his face up against the bars of the cell and stared vacantly at the opposite wall. Imprisonment wouldn't be so bad, he mused, if there were only something to do. He counted the stone blocks that formed the opposite walls, making it all the way to thirty before he sank once more into boredom. Sighing again, the sound reverberating in the otherwise-empty dungeon, he knocked his head gently against the bars. He hated solitude, and he hated boredom—and here he was, alone and with nothing to do.
Closing his eyes, the Hatter sank back against the barred door, turning his back on the hallway and hope.
A loud clang and a jarring of the door that supported him yanked him back to consciousness sometime later. Groggy and disoriented, he swatted at the air. "Nngh…don't wanna," he muttered. "G'way, Alice." His eyes fluttered, the grimy cell slowly coming into focus as he re-familiarized himself with his surroundings.
"Very well, then," a light, amused voice from some feet above him remarked. "I'll just leave your foolish self in there. Heaven knows you deserve it."
That woke him up.
"Alice?" The incredulous exclamation burst from his lips as he scrambled to his feet. "How—?"
She shrugged one shoulder delicately, declining to answer. Absently, she fiddled with the single key that dangled from the ring around her finger, swatting it back and forth with the index finger of her other hand.
In return, the Hatter raised an eyebrow, expectantly awaiting an explanation.
Alice, however, refused to give way, simply staring at him with a smug look smoldering in her eyes. After his foolish actions, he deserved to be left in suspense; what did he care about the details of his release so long as he was released?
Sensing that Alice was not prepared to succumb to his silent demand for more information, the Hatter switched tactics. "Fine!" he huffed exasperatedly, throwing his arms into the air. "Thank you for coming to rescue me." He rose from where he had been uncomfortably slumped over on the floor, dusting grime and flecks of dust from his clothing and smearing the rust from his forehead. "Will you let me out now?"
"Oh, I don't know…" Alice placed the key next to the lock, staring at it thoughtfully. "How do I know you won't just turn around and get yourself arrested again?" Briefly, a spasm of anger passed across her face. "Here you are, sitting in your little cell, quite content and apparently unaffected by today's experience." Her eyes flashed. "I thought you were going to die," she hissed. "How do you think I feel?"
He cast his gaze to the ground, eyes shadowed and haunted. This was not the figure of a man prepared to argue. "Alice...I'm sorry. I truly am. I would never wish any sort of pain upon you." The words were simple, but the apology was soft and sincere and so different from his usual joviality.
Alice was forced to relent. "Come on, then," she said. With a click, she turned the key and swung open the heavy iron door, extending one hand into the cell. "Let's go home."
The pair made it out of the palace without further incident, traveling along the worn road in complete silence. Both Alice and the Hatter were lost in thought, minds churning and thoughts in disarray. As they finally approached the house, the anger and irritation and fear and desperation that had been propelling Alice through the day exploded out of her, forcing itself out of her mind and into the silence of the walk.
"What am I going to do with you?" Alice raged, coming to a sudden halt. He jolted to a stop behind her, donning a guilty expression. Furiously, Alice paced back and forth before the Hatter. They had stopped just shy of the house itself and stood in the foreground of the Hatter's large estate, and he recognized that they might be outside for quite some time. Grimacing, he seated himself contritely on a rather lumpy rock while Alice stormed around on the barren ground before him. Her temper had boiled over, and now she was stuck mid-rant in the frigid December weather, unable to do anything but continue.
The irresponsible teenager of that morning had long since departed and been replaced by a justly-irate adult.
"You could have been killed, but did you care?" she ranted. "Nooooo, you just had to go and eat the Queen's bloody tarts!" Her mouth worked furiously as more words than she could vocalaize fought to break free.
"Strawberry, actually," he interjected with the ghost of a grin. "The tarts were strawberry."
At Alice's answering scowl, he settled meekly back on the rock, making a great point to zip his lips closed and seal them with an imaginary key.
"For some reason," Alice said, "you got lucky. For some reason, the Queen likes me. For some reason, she and most of Wonderland seem to think that I need you." She sniffed, intensifying her scowl to mask her relief and to hide the fact that she was in complete and utter agreement with the Queen. "I need no such thing, and believe me, I was sorely tempted to just leave you in that cell."
He winced and held up his hands. "I know, Alice—"
"Don't 'I know, Alice,' me! You have no idea what I was feeling! I thought you were going to die, that the Queen would haul you off to who-knows-where and kill you, that nothing I could say or do would change that, that—"
"That I would never seen you again, never hear your laugh or be on the receiving end of your ire, that you would be alone and friendless in a world that was no longer yours, that there would always be things left unsaid between us?" It was the Hatter's turn to interject now. His tone was uncharacteristically solemn, and he stood slowly, rising from the rock to pace before Alice. "No, I wouldn't know that." Grinning a wry, humorless grin, he rocked back and forth slowly on his feet, looking intently at Alice.
Alice gaped, for once left with nothing to say.
An icy wind blasted through the frozen landscape, and she shuddered, suddenly reminded they were standing outside in the middle of a frigid winter afternoon. Turning quickly away from the Hatter—because you don't want to see what truths his eyes hold, a nasty part of her conscious whispered—she strode quickly toward home, determined to warm herself and escape the awkwardness.
Alice soon found herself settled in the thick armchair before the fireplace, biting her lip and avoiding looking at the man who was stirring up a warm, roaring blaze in the cold stone fireplace. Her mind churned, roiling with confusion. Why did nothing ever make any sense?
For his part, the Hatter remained silent, perching on the armrest of the sofa when he had established a crackling blaze. His tongue fizzed with the taste of countless words and apologies and confessions that clamored to be let out, but he held them back, waiting for Alice to initiate the next step of conversation.
She, it seemed, was not in any hurry to do so; they sat for a while in a silence broken only by the fire's crackle.
Finally, Alice could bear the silent suspense no longer. "How did you know that?" she asked, turning to look at her companion with wide blue eyes. She was terrified—terrified that he knew her secrets, that he knew her so well, that she should be that obvious to anybody, that he knew how she felt…
His face registered a modicum of surprise, as if she need not even waste her breath on the question. Opening his mouth, he paused and then closed it, staring intently at Alice for a long moment. Finally, he sighed, closing his eyes and sagging forward with the weight of his confession. "Because I feel the same."
And there it was: the elephant in the room, stumping in with a loud trumpet, parading its heaving bulk around between them.
Alice shook, her worst fears simultaneously denied and confirmed. It wasn't just her, she wasn't freakish or overcome by irrational emotions, she wasn't the only one mad enough to feel as she did—he felt the same way. She twisted her hands in knots, waiting for him to make the next move. She wanted desperately to speak, but could not get enough of a handle on her own emotions to be able to voice them.
The Hatter, too, was horribly afraid. Had he said too much? Would she turn and flee to the palace and the Queen, leave him never to return? He hadn't lied—he could not live without her. He closed his eyes, fluttering dark lashes against pale freckled skin. To have the secret out was a relief; to not know anything more was torture.
Finally, Alice mustered up the courage to speak, raising her eyes from where they had been focused on her lap-ridden hands to meet his simmering eyes. "What—" Her voice cracked, and she wet her lips and began again. "What now?"
He stared at her for a long while, and she froze beneath his intense scrutiny, suspended in time beneath the Hatter's gaze. An internal war was raging within him, two possibilities fighting for the opportunity to occur. He knew which he preferred, but…
Looking at Alice, his mind was made up. They had come this far already—the damage had already been done. He met Alice's eyes with a small smile and rose from the couch, slowly stepping towards her seat. His movements were gradual, taking him toward her at a cautious, leisurely pace, as if he were approaching a skittish animal afraid of contact.
Finally the Hatter drew up before her chair. He looked down at her, searching her expression for any indication that she wished for him to back away. He found none. Reaching one hand down, he curled his fingers around hers, taking her hand in his gentle grasp.
Alice started as her hand was enveloped in his warm grasp. For a moment she froze, unable to move or even breathe. They had touched before countless times, but never before had his touch set her nerves aflame, leaving her hand tingling where their skin connected.
Her fingers twitched in his, slowly curling about his hand.
The Hatter smiled. In one smooth motion, he pulled Alice up from the chair and into his arms, holding her close. His one hand shifted from hers, moving to her back to hold her to him, and the other buried itself in her hair.
Everything was moving so fast for Alice. She buried her face in his chest, overwhelmed and unwilling to meet his eyes.
The Hatter remained still, his only movement the gentle caress of his hand through her hair. Occasionally, he did understand the value of silence, the importance of patience; this was one of those times. Alice was unique, a treasure that he could not risk damaging. He could not afford to lose her now.
Slowly, her hands wrapped around his back, returning his embrace, and she sighed into his chest. Gradually, her face drew away from his coat, but still she hesitated, keeping her eyes downcast. She was terrified of what she might see in his, that it might be less than what she was hoping for, that it might be more than what she was hoping for…
"Alice," he said. She could feel his head shift above hers in such a manner that she knew he was looking at her with that frighteningly intense gaze. "Alice, you asked, 'What now?'" His voice was little more than a whisper, a slight exhalation with the careful words caught up amid them.
Gently, he placed one hand beneath her chin, tilting her face up so that she had to meet his eyes. Blue locked on blue, and Alice's eyes widened at the depth of the feelings she saw reflected there. It had been there all along, hidden by his refusal to let her see and by her denial of its existence.
She leaned into his feather-light caress, his warm, calloused hand cupping her cheek in the gentlest of grips. Her profuse vocabulary had all but abandoned her, and she struggled desperately to speak coherently. "That I did," she finally said, keeping her eyes anchored on his. Puzzled, she drew her eyebrows together. "What of it?"
"Well," he said, a bright glint in his eye, "simply this." Drawing his free hand around to her face, he cupped her chin in his hands. He leaned his head towards her until they were scan centimeters away from touching, their lips separated by only the barest bit of air.
Alice's breath hitched in her throat, and her eyelids fluttered and then closed. She could smell him, was awash in his very presence. The Hatter surrounded her very being, encompassed her senses and emotions. A bit of her trademark courage returned, and she raised herself up and closed the gap between them, brushing their lips together.
The Hatter thought he had to be dreaming. Only the very real feeling of Alice's lips against his kept him from pinching himself to see if the moment was actually one of fiction. He had long hoped for this day to come, but had long ago written off any chance of Alice's reciprocating his illogical feelings as a hopeless dream. For all he had known, she had simply seen him as a friend and a companion, some confused blend of a brother and a mad uncle.
It was quite obvious she thought no such thing.
Alice, too, felt as though she had strayed into a dream. It had taken her much longer to recognize her affections for what they were, masked as they had been behind layers of irritation and companionship and confusion. When she finally had come to the then-unfortunate conclusion, she had simply buried it in the dark recesses of her mind and prayed that it would never surface.
Count on the Hatter to make sure that never happened.
Their lips moved against each other, and Alice wrapped her arms around his neck, overcoming her reservations and moving closer. She didn't think about the fact that he was her oldest friend in Wonderland, that he was far older than she, that he was as free and fun-loving and insane as she was rational and mature.
The only thought that mattered to her was that he was her Hatter, and she loved him for it.
Oh, happy days! Something romantic! And no, this is most certainly not the end. There is much more fun ahead of us, my friends!
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