Strange Asylum
A/N: It's almost complete fluff and nonsense, sorry. My only excuse is too much chocolate (hence my consideration of the chapter title, 'The Chapter that the Rolo's Wrote'), and not enough sunlight. I'm snowed-in here. Apologies - but, hey, if you like it even a little, I'm happy!
Chapter Seven: There Goes Her Heart
Alice never wanted to leave her rooms again.
After the disaster, the guards had come, and boarded up the windows - presumably so she wouldn't try to jump out - so the room was darkened. A small fire burned in the fireplace in the corner, and there were candles and lamps available, but Alice was grateful for the gloom. It suited her mood perfectly.
She wasn't sure how long she'd stayed there, exactly, but she'd kept count of all the meals and teas sent to her door, so she figured she'd been holed-up for the better part of three days.
Alice had dragged a high-backed chair to sit before the fire, and lit a single candle in its stand nearby She sat there now, curled into herself, staring into the flames.
It felt like life was over. It felt like it had to be, because there was no way she could ever face anyone again. She wondered what to do at the same time she told herself there was nothing she could do.
Feeling her scratchy eyes threatening to fill with tears again, Alice pulled up her knees beneath the plain white linen gown and robe she wore, and set her chin on them. The feeling of hopelessness that she was drowning in wasn't an unfamiliar feeling at all. It was like a dreaded relative coming to visit just when you least expected it.
Alice remembered another time when it had felt like the end of the world. Yeah, there were times when you were a kid, and bad things happened, and they scared you so much you thought, "This is it. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Nothing can compare to this."
Sighing shakily, Alice hid her face in her knees. Other then this, the worst day of her life had been the day she'd been forced to tell her parents what her brothers and grandfather had done to her. It had been humiliating, terrifying - but instead of throwing her out into the street as she'd assumed they would, they had completely shut down. Cold, icy denial - and that had been the atmosphere she'd lived in for three years before she broke.
The lack of response had been anti-climactic for sure. It had relieved her at first, but then it made her realize that her parents didn't care. As long as their world wasn't disturbed, anyway, as long as she hid her imperfections.
The night before she'd runaway, she'd been in the kitchen alone, cleaning up dinner dishes at the sink, when her oldest brother came in from taking out the trash. She'd ignored him, listening to a game show on the T.V. in the adjoining living room. That was when he'd brushed his hips up against her, his hands resting loosely on either side of her hips as he 'passed' by.
"Hey, Sweets," he'd muttered, and God, did she hate that nickname.
Hideously uncomfortable, lips curling in absolute disgust, Alice had twisted away from him, and thrown a dirty, infuriated look after him as he'd walked out of the room in apparent unconcern.
Alice stood at the sink, with about three-feet of space between her and the head of the table, and it's chair. Not a lot of space, but more than enough that her brother could have passed by without even touching her.
Just the memory made her stomach lurch. She hadn't had to deal with anything overtly physical from them in years - not since she'd gotten old enough to realize what was happening - but they were always brushing by her, and she had to cover the keyhole and the crack under her bedroom door to keep them from trying to peek in. She'd even caught them lingering outside the bathroom when she'd gone to take showers.
Alice shuddered. It was no wonder she had nightmares.
A knock came at the doors, and after a moment of hesitation, Alice got up and went to open them. It was probably tea, and even though she couldn't stomach the thought of it right now, she wouldn't be rude enough to ignore it when someone had gone to the trouble of preparing it just for her. It wasn't their fault she was on the verge of going crazy.
Unlocking and opening the doors, she was already looking at the floor for the tray when she noticed there wasn't one. There were, however, a pair of shiny black half-boots.
Alice lifted her eyes in confusion, but didn't even make it past her visitor's slim waist before she was wrapped in an embrace so tight it almost hurt.
Her stumbling a little from the force didn't seem to make a difference - the Hatter steadied them both and held her to him as if she'd be taken away.
Alice blinked, and then tried to move away, but he wouldn't let go.
Alice was torn between fighting him in embarassment, and returning the desperate hug.
"I...don't know what to do," she whispered a moment later, her cheeks flaming, heart pounding in panic. She'd never been held quite this way - like she was something precious, but already broken.
It took awhile, but the slender man who held her responded quietly, "Be here, Alice."
"But...I am here." Alice frowned, and Tarrant pulled away. He looked at her solemnly, the marks beneath his bright green eyes bruise-like and dark, as if he hadn't slept in some time.
"Not in here, you aren't," he told her with a slight wince, his fingertip touching the soft gold curls at her temple.
"I see," Alice said sadly, pulling away. She didn't want him to touch her anymore - she felt like she was tainting him in some way.
"I know I'm not the same girl you used to know. I let you down a lot, didn't I? I didn't end up doing anything you expected."
The Hatter shook his head. "No, you are absolutely the same Alice, and I'd know him anywhere," he said so gently that Alice didn't have the heart to correct him.
"I'm really not. I couldn't be."
"But you are."
"The real Alice - the true Alice - something that ugly wouldn't have happened to her. I've seen drawings of her. She was beautiful."
Tarrant looked down at her with gold streaking into his eyes. It would have been pretty if Alice didn't know the color preceeded an abrupt and sometimes violent change of mood.
"You are beautiful. An' bad thin's can happen to anyone," he said with a slight growl in his voice. "We are no better, or worse, than anyone else."
Alice caught the 'we'. "What do you mean? Something...bad happened to you?"
Tarrant's expression went completely blank, and his large eyes became unfocused.
"Hatter? Tarrant?" Alive ventured quietly.
"My clan," he finally answered. He blinked, moved his head, as if trying to shake something off. "T'was...the Jabberwocky. The Red Queen's pet...and her lover, Stayne, the Knave of Hearts. They attacked us during celebration."
Alice watched him with growing concern. "You were hurt?"
He blinked again, and suddenly laughed. It was not a joyous sound. "Nay. Naught a scratch."
"Someone you...loved, then?"
Tarrant looked down at her, the red of his madness bleeding from his pupils. "Nay. Not just one. All of them."
Alice caught her breath. "All of them? You lost your whole family?"
"Aye. The whole of the clan Hightopp. I be th' last."
Alice didn't know what to say. "I'm so sorry, Tarrant."
The Hatter narrowed his eyes suddenly. "Sorry for what?" he asked darkly.
Alice looked at him, confused for an instant, before shaking her head. "Nothing."
Walking away from her, she watched as he stopped in the gloom before the windows. He looked up at them, tall and blocked up, and then dropped his head.
"When you arrived this time, I had hoped that you would manage better...but you tried to escape, didn't you?" he asked quietly.
Alice frowned. "No. I'm not a prisoner, here - Mirana said so."
The Hatter turned on her suddenly, his face hidden in shadow. "There are different ways of escaping."
Her breath felt knocked from her chest. She swallowed, and then gave a shaky sigh.
"I...thought about it," Alice admitted.
"Please don't," he asked her softly, suddenly sounding very young and frightened.
"I was afraid of seeing you again," she explained reluctantly. Walking over to the bed, she wrapped her hands around one of the carved posts and hung on it, resting her forehead against it. "I - I was so ashamed. I didn't want you to know."
Alice heard him move, and felt him come to stand behind her before there was a rustle of cloth, and he shoved his hand and wrist into her line of vision. The light was dim, but she could tell he'd unbuttoned his cuff and pushed his sleeves up his arm.
"I didn't want you to know, either," he whispered over her shoulder, and Alice stilled a shiver before hesitantly taking his bare forearm in her hands and looking closely.
His arm was pale white, but lean, and clearly strong - she traced a finger over the hard muscles, and then turned it slightly to to look at the inside, and then gasped. There was a long, raised, plum-colored scar running from the crease of his wrist all the way to his inner-elbow. It was thick and wide, a puffy, irregular-shaped mass that didn't look like it was from a cut, or a burn.
"What happened?" she found herself asking breathlessly, horrified.
"Sorrows too long dwelled upon. I tried to escape," he murmured with a shrug, and then added matter-of-factly, "I have often wished myself dead since I went mad. Hmph. Mad, sick, loony as a pair of loony lunatics - "
"God, Tarrant, what did you do?"
"Poisoned needle," he said calmly, withdrawing his arm as pushing the sleeve back down. "It did hurt quite a bit."
"You poisoned yourself?" Alice's chest hurt as she turned back to look at him, watching with blurring eyes as he pulled his glove back on and buttoned his cuffs.
"Oh, Hatter."
"Chessur found me, and Mirana saved me. Absolem reminded me. It turned out that I did have reason to live." Tarrant raised his eyes to hers. "I waited for you...and eventually you did come back."
"And you knew I'd come back again." Alice offered him a trembling half-smile, embarassed, but unable to stop the hot tears from spilling over.
"Well, you promised that you would."
Alice wiped her hand across her eyes. "I'm so glad you didn't escape."
"Oh, but Alice, you're crying!" He stepped quickly toward her in distress.
"It seems like all I do these days." Alice put a hand on his chest, surprised again at how solid he felt. She ran a thumb across an embossed button on his jacket, and then realized she was indeed fondling him, and dropped her hand, hiding it behind her back like a child.
Tarrant gave her a crooked, soft smile that melted her knees.
"I'm so sorry about everything, Tarrant. You have no idea how hard it is to think of you being hurt in any way. The fact that I can't stand to be around my family, but they're still alive, and you still mourn the loss of yours - it makes me want to cry even more."
"You...pity me." Tarrant said lowly.
Alice rubbed a stray tear from the corner of her eye and sniffed. "No way. It's not pity."
He looked over at her slowly, surprised. "It's not?"
Alice snorted. "No. I - it's just that I think...I think I hurt for you. Is that right?" Sniffing again she wiped another tear on her sleeve. "I don't feel sorry for you. I mean, I am sorry, but...sorry, I guess I'm not making any sense at all, am I?"
Tarrant sighed, but it wasn't a sad sound. "No...but I understand."
Alice looked up at him and ran a knuckle under her now dripping nose, chuckling ruefully. "Yeah, I guess you would."
There was a rustle of fabric, and then a square of turquoise paisley drifted in front of her nose.
Alice knew from its texture it was silk, and she didn't want to ruin it, but she also knew she'd offend the Hatter if she didn't take it, so she pinched an edge and slowly pulled the fabric from between his battered and be-thimbled fingers. "Thank you," she said as she gave the tip of nose a quick swipe.
"Please," Tarrant bowed a little, and winked. "Keep it."
Alice giggled, and folded the handkerchief into her cuff. She looked back at him, and then cringed as she recalled their discussion, and couldn't help asking, "So...you aren't disgusted by me? Now that you know...everything?"
"Now, now, leave off that!" Tarrant's eyes glinted in the firelight, and he reached out to take her upper arms in his, then sliding them down until he chased out her hands. "Alice, my dear friend. Of course I'm not!"
Alice squeezed his hands gratefully. "I wish I could just forget. I wish it had never happened. I'd give anything - "
"Alice, if one feels obliged, one can break or even kill Time in Underland, which is awfully handy because it's always running out, but you can't turn him back anywhere." Tarrant interrupted, and then shook his head. "What I mean to say, is what's done cannot be undone."
"Why did 'what's done' have to happen in the first place?" Alice complained angrily, not caring if she made no sense.
"I often ask the same question myself," the Hatter told her matter-of-factly. "Don't try to make sense of it - it will only make you mad, and being mad, as in angry, on top of being mad, as in crazy, just leads to utter insanity - "
"Hatter."
He blinked at her. "I'm fine. Thank you. Er...what was I saying?"
Alice sighed. "I can't change what's been done."
"Yes, you can't. But Alice mine, you can do something else."
She watched him, desperate to hear an alternative. "What?"
"Instead of remembering them...you can always think of me."
Alice clenched her jaw a little, trying not to cry again, and looked down at their hands, still holding tight onto each other, almost like they were afraid to let go.
"Oh!" The Hatter had looked down too, and jumped, letting go guiltily.
"It's okay," Alice told him, feeling lost without his warmth. "I think I was the one holding onto you."
"You can hold onto me," he said in his friendly lisp, the tiny gap in his teeth flashing adorably. The dark pupil of his vivid left eye contracted and expanded while the right remained still, and Alice couldn't help but laugh at how he could look maniacal and yet so sweet at the same time.
The Hatter obviously had no idea why she was suddenly laughing, but he didn't have any reservations about giggling madly along with her, which made her laugh even harder. His laughter was genuine and quite infectious.
Alice cackled breathlessly, both hands pressed into her aching stomach. "I don't even know why I'm laughing!"
Tarrant gave a cackle of his own. "Perhaps you've lost your mind!"
Alice rolled her eyes, and pushed her hair back from flushed cheeks. "Oh, no, I think I lost that a long time ago, along with my pride, apparently."
"Yes, Underland tends to have that effect on some people..." he frowned distantly, "along with cafeteria food."
"What?"
"Nevermind that...but it does seem as though you're finally remembering something!"
Alice frowned, thinking hard. "Um...something about trying to stuff a grumpy mouse in a cracked teapot? Or was it trying to stuff a cracked mouse into a grumpy teapot?"
The Hatter snorted in laughter, and that was enough to set Alice off again.
Finally, after several minutes of trying to quiet down, and unable to think of anything to say, Alice looked down and blurted stupidly, "My feet are freezing."
The Hatter looked down, too, and then simply picked her up, walked over, and gently deposited her in the chair before the fire again. He knelt down on one knee to tuck the edges of her long gown around her bare feet, and then chafed them with his hands to warm them.
He glanced back at her hesitantly from beneath the dark rim of his hat, it's embroidered salmon pink sash trailing over his shoulder.
"Still chilled?" he asked in concern when he caught her staring.
Unable to help herself, Alice took a deep breath and reached out to remove his hat from his head. She set it gently on the wide, rolled arm of the chair, and then hesitantly reached to rub the end of a lock of his wild hair between her fingertips. She moved slowly, so as not to startle him, but he didn't appear to be bothered, only curious. She took her time discovering its texture. It was odd, but his hair was as warm as its fiery color suggested, almost as if it was alive, all on its own.
"You have pretty hair," she commented.
Tarrant's expressive eyebrows lifted slightly. "I...do?" He sounded surprised.
"Sorry, I mean 'handsome'. Men aren't pretty, they're handsome. I always forget that. Anyway, I've never seen anything like it."
"I-it was longer once," he offered hesitantly, his face tilting down toward hers a little. "And not quite such a violent shade."
"It was?"
"Mm," he nodded distractedly, his frosty lashes dropping low as she carefully ran her fingers through his hair.
"I wish I could have seen it."
Alice felt her heartbeat pick-up speed as Tarrant's face tilted toward her. Unable to resist, she smoothed her fingers through another wild patch of his hair before she suddenly realized it was changing almost before her eyes.
Fascinated, Alice leaned closer, staring as the strand of coarse, soft hair trailing through her fingertips subtly changed color and texture, becoming less orange, and more auburn, a glossy sheen relaxing the fluff into a longer, sleek curl.
"Wow," Alice breathed, amazed as she fingered another fluffy piece at his nape, and the magical change occurred again. She ran her fingers down its thick, shiny length, her knuckles inadvertently brushing along the smoothness of his neck.
Tarrant inhaled quickly, and his eyes flew open, their color a startling pale seafoam rimmed in a ring of darkest evergreen.
Alice's eyes widened, her hand automatically clutching his warm nape in surprise as he suddenly grabbed her around the waist and dragged her to the edge of the chair against him, his own hand lifting to cup her jawline as he closed the space between their faces and...kissed her.
Alice was so startled she barely felt the smooth warmth of his lips on hers before he sighed and backed away.
The Hatter was rising to his feet when the candle chose that exact moment to gutter out.
Alice sat forward in the chair, realizing she could barely see - the fire had burned down to little more than red coals in the grate.
"Hatter?" she whispered, breathless, heart slamming against her ribs. "Why did you stop?"
"Oh, Alice. You're so young," he said from near the doorway in a clear, solemn voice she barely recognized.
"Yeah, right, and you're obviously ancient," she retorted, feeling annoyed and oddly frustrated. She reached up with a trembling hand to touch her lips, and suddenly couldn't get the obsessive need to feel his again out of her mind.
"I don't know how old I am, truthfully. I don't even know if I'm real. I've never thought about it. Huh."
"What's your point, Tarrant?"
"You won't stay forever, Alice. I've always known that. Everytime. You're always young, you always heal, and you always leave...and you always forget."
"But I won't, I'm not leaving - "
"Yer' bum's oot th' windae!" The Hatter snapped loudly in his rough accent, and then slapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry," he whispered. "I meant - "
Alice bit her lip. "I think I can tell what you meant," she told him wryly. "But what I said is true. I'm not leaving, and I'm not bull-shitting you, either."
The Hatter gave a mad, merry chuckle, but sobered quickly, shaking a finger at her. "Naughty, Alice-mine."
Alice looked back at him stonily. "I'm NOT leaving."
"You can't promise that, darling, and I don't want you to. You have to be free to do what you wish."
"I want to stay here! Are you trying to make me leave?"
"Of course not! Alice, I lose a bit of myself everytime you go, and I don't care!" He put his head in his hands, and shook it violently. "Ah...ma' heid's mince! I doona' question anythin', I jus' wai'. Ah'm always waitin'! Nay matter wha' happens, tha's oonly ever what'll be doin'!"
Alice stood up from the chair with clenched fists. "You don't have to wait, I'm right here! There's no way I'm leaving - this is the only place that's ever felt like home to me."
"Alice - "
She stalked toward him in the gloom, barely making out his shadow. "And you're the only one I've ever felt like myself with! I never knew what that felt like before I came here."
Alice stopped before him and looked up at him, at his eyes catching the dying ember-light. She pulled his hands away from his head, and looked at the poor battered things before laying a kiss on each knuckle in-turn. She ignored his quiet gasp, and held them to her cheeks.
"You're so special to me, Tarrant. You're gentle, and kind, and the best friend I've ever had. You make me feel things I didn't think were possible for me. Please believe me...I'll never go away from you again."
The Hatter made a low, pained sound, and he pulled his hands from hers. He turned and his hands scrabbled for the doors.
"I...'ah hav'ta think," he growled quickly, and then yanked the doors open and escaped out them like he was being chased by hellhounds.
Alice stared after him into the darkened hall, and then gently closed the doors again. She shuffled over to the chair, and saw Tarrant's hat still resting there.
Sitting with an exhausted thump, Alice took the hat in her hands and carefully stroked its delicate feather. She admired the elegant hatpins tucked into it, but steered clear of touching them, recalling what Chessur had mentioned to her over her first tea in Underland, "Don't worry about him, he's only a bit mad - but watch out, he's quite fond of poking pins in one's eye when he's feeling harassed."
Smiling, Alice arranged the trailing ends of the sash over her knees, and held it by it's brim, picturing it's troubled owner. She watched it as the embers in the grate died out completely, leaving her in darkness, and then rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her aching eyes.
"Fairfarren, Tarrant."
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (The Rainy Day)
To be continued...