ANGEL POV

I mused over what the Hatter had told me. It seemed that his life hadn't been the best towards the end. He was such a gentle man, undeserving of the cruel past he had. Yet despite my concerns for his well being there was something else repeatedly surfacing in my mind. It had been 321 years since his death yet he looked as if he was only in his early twenties. I understood that time seemed to be a bit different here but it was truly stunning.

There was also something else bugging me. When Hatter had spoken to me he seemed so... tender. It was odd, a connection with him. There was something tender in him I could tell no one had seen for a long time, maybe not ever. I hoped I could be there for him.

HATTER POV

After my time with Angel I felt... different. My mind was clear... Sane I guess. She was gentle and sweet to me, and she didn't look at me as if I was a monster. I wanted to always feel the gentle blossoms of feeling I got with Alice. No... Angel. This was Angel.

I knew that soon enough I'd lapse back into the confusion and broken wires that made up my mind, and I wanted to enjoy the brief moments of sanity left to me. The constant darkness slowly seeping into my mind again, poisoning everything it touched, oh God let me stay coherent, let me at least enjoy myself again! Oh no... I was... Gone.

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The laughter was back, bringing me the poison honey of insanity. I heard it always as it muddled my thoughts, as it twisted my dreams.

I heard it as it broke my heart.

-Magic flashback time-

The Hatter, in the past known as John, was walking hand in hand with Alice. Their eyes were filled with love for each other. They were perfect in every way. If one didn't have the words the other did. When one was sad the other was a shoulder to cry on.

All of that would end with the snap of a twig.

The snap of sanity.

The snap of reality.

John stepped on a twig as he walked with his beloved. The twig had an odd resemble nice t-

Oh God.

Please

Have

Mercy.

Memories of John's time in the woods from colonial times flooded back to him. The bodies of friends and family he would constantly find washed up on shore when he walked. The bones he would walk on as they crunched beneath him like twigs.

Now he felt the insanity creep in again, stalking around his mind like wolves around a wounded animal. The instinct to fight kicked in, and before he knew it his sword was out. And in Alice.

She looked at her lover in shock, not understanding the sudden lashing out. Mortally wounded the young woman dropped to her knees, the last breath of life escaping her. Her lips were stained red by her own blood, sticky and bubbling from the last bits of air escaping her.

The Hatter didn't even flinch.