It had started raining by the time Alice reached the bus stop, the pitter-patter rapidly increasing in pace until sheets of rain were pouring down. All of the pedestrians cleared off to shelter wherever they could find it and Alice huddled alone on the bench under the minimal roof the Transportation Authority had provided. Alice briefly wondered if her mother had gotten caught in the downpour or if she'd been savvy enough to take a taxi. It was probably the latter, and nothing would be solved by Yelena getting soaked anyway.

Rain pelted down, and the knot in Alice's stomach tightened every time headlights slowed in front of her. She clutched her bags and hoped she wouldn't miss the car in the rain. This wasn't how she'd envisioned feeling before seeing Tarrant again. Her pleasant memories of the weekend seemed already faded around the edges in light of this new and confusing development. What had her mother been giving her? And why? Alice bit her lip distractedly and hunched down into her damp clothes.

A cherry red vintage car pulled up to the curb and before Alice could even rise, Tarrant had hopped out of the driver's seat and helped her up from her freezing damp refuge. He didn't bother to speak since the sheets of water pouring over them were so deafening, or if he had said anything she couldn't hear it. Tarrant had grabbed the backpack from the bench next to her, and Alice's face flushed when she realized how heavy it must have felt. She didn't want him to think she was planning on imposing on him indefinitely.

He opened the door for her, which Alice suspected she might not have been able to do for herself since it seemed to entail jiggling the door handle and lifting its weight straight up. Alice hopped in the front and settled her handbag by her feet, relieved to find no one else inside. Tarrant ran back over to his side, and tossed her bag in the back over his seat even as he got in.

"Well, that was an unnecessarily dramatic addition to the evening on the part of the fates," he proclaimed.

Alice turned to him and smiled, though it was probably tinged with her rueful regrets that her meeting with the man she had been thinking about ceaselessly since she'd met him would be colored by this highly personal family drama.

"It was rather, wasn't it?" she answered vaguely.

Alice looked around her, noting the roof of the car above her was a removable hard top. The seats were nicely redone in cream leather, but the dash was rather scuffed. A red Triumph convertible must be the very thing to run around in during warm weather, but there was already some dampness seeping in through the seams where the top was attached. Tarrant pulled out from the curb in a sharp U-turn that had Alice clutching at the armrests.

"Sorry it took so long—I had to get the top on the car, and then everyone was driving slowly due to the rain, but it won't take much time at all to get home, and then everything will be alright."

He glanced over at Alice, and then revised himself, "Not to say that everything will immediately be alright. Thackery would not tell me exactly what he discovered, so I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you about the pharmaceutical aspect, Alice."

The dear really did sound so sorry and she could hardly blame him anyway, but Alice found she wanted to talk about absolutely anything else. She blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"How'd you get this car?"

She wanted to retrieve the words and stuff them back in her mouth. They sounded so rude and personal! But she'd been wondering since she'd seen it in his garage (was it really just today? it seemed ages ago) whether it was something he'd chosen particularly. She rather thought not.

Tarrant looked a little surprised, for he had clearly still been thinking on earlier lines, but answered her gamely.

"It was my Great-Uncle August's, along with the house and everything in it. He passed away a couple of years ago and as both relative and apprentice I got the lot."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. He must have been the hatter that started your business," Alice murmured.

"Don't be, it was his time, poor fellow. If he'd lived any longer there wouldn't have been a business to revive. At one hundred and two he was still showing up to work every day, demanding things be done just as they always were, and he'd not lost enough of his faculties to prevent him from noticing if you didn't do as he said. He was still, technically, the boss so everything sort of ran down before his death. I was still at school part time finishing my Master's, so I wasn't yet able to see quite what had or hadn't been done. But it's been almost three years now and things are looking decidedly brighter for Bembury."

Tarrant glanced over at Alice, and saw that while she seemed to be listening, she did not seem up to holding up her end of the conversation. That was alright. He'd never been accused of being short-winded, especially on the subject of hats. But she'd asked about the car.

"It's a Triumph Herald. I believe he bought the car new in sixty-eight and took excellent care of it for years. He had finally had to give up driving sometime in his early nineties though, so I'd only seen the car working when I came to visit London as a child. It took quite a bit of fixing up. I'm still working on it, in fact, you might have noticed the passenger door is a little off. I hate leaving things unfinished. But cars aren't like hats or clothes where you first gather everything together and then proceed until finished. One is forever discovering some new ancient part that must be ordered from some far-flung place. Though at least it's old enough that I can work on it easily. If it had a computer it would be hopeless. I haven't the slightest idea why cars had to become so bloody complicated. . ."

Tarrant realized he was on the verge of ranting, or perhaps had unknowingly crossed over a while back. He shot a look at Alice and saw her smiling softly. Well, at least that had amused her.

"Sorry," she said. "You just reminded me of someone for a moment."

"No one bad, I hope?"

Her smile grew sad. "The best person," she replied.

Tarrant waited, but she didn't continue. Really it was ungentlemanly of him to want to pry but she was killing him with all of these mild allusions to her past. This was also very foolish of him, as her reticence should be considered a good thing—perhaps she would give him some leeway about sharing some of his own past. It wasn't that he didn't want her to know, but there was so much of it, and so much of it was unpleasant to tell. But if not told in the right order or at the right times it might be disturbing for her. Lord knew it had disturbed him to have to go through it all. He hoped someday Alice would know everything and still be able to look at him with that soft smile, but it would be exhausting nevermind upsetting to relate it all to her.

During this thoughtful silence they had arrived at the house. Tarrant elected to leave the car on the street for the time being to get Alice into the house most expediently. The poor girl was drenched and shivering, and clearly dreading whatever it was that Thackery had to tell her. With his usual energetic speed, Tarrant heaved her bag out of the back seat and ran around to open the door for Alice. Thankfully he'd gotten there before she tried to do it herself, as he really should have explicitly mentioned that the door was quite likely to fall off. Ah well, it didn't matter now.

Alice grabbed her handbag and rushed with Tarrant through the rain, which had let up a little but not enough to be out in on such a chill night.

Tarrant opened the door to the house, but as soon as Alice stepped inside, a warm brown hand caught her own and she was dragged through the house by a determined and agitated Thackery. He seemed nervous in the extreme. He had a dreadlock between two fingers and was worrying it relentlessly even as he pulled her through the front room and down a small hall. Tarrant was following closely after her, but when they got to a certain door—the one to the spartan office Alice had noticed when peeking in from the outside windows as it turned out—Thackery pulled her swiftly inside. Tarrant said something, and tried to enter, but his jittery friend slammed the door in his face.

At Tarrant's muffled protest, Thackery opened the door enough to pop his head out and said, "Go park the car. This is none of your business. Go on! Get!"

Once the door was firmly shut once more, Thackery took a deep breath and let it out. He held his hand out toward a chair, and Alice seated herself. She was still wearing her wet coat and clutching her orange handbag, though she set that down by her drenched feet.

"Ye're probably wondering why I've made such a fuss so suddenly," he started. Thackery was wearing brown checked pants with suspenders, though they were only up over a plain blue t shirt. His thumbs kept sliding between the fabric and elastic nervously. He was pacing, though with an effort he stopped and seated himself in the chair on the opposite side of the desk from Alice.

"It's about the pill. You told me to get the bottle, and I have. Though I don't understand how you knew."

"You said yer vitamin was small, blue, and had an 'r' on it, whereas most commercial multivitamins are large, 'natural' or neutral colors like white or yellow, and unmarked. Prescription drugs usually have an inscription and tend to be smaller, as the contents are much more potent."

He rattled this off while looking furtively around the room. His index finger tapped rapidly against the desktop. Alice began to wonder if the room was so spare to give Thackery half a prayer of focusing his attention. Alice reached into her bag and unzipped the travel bag with the bottle. She handed it to Thackery who scrutinized it carefully. He even popped the lid and examined the pills.

He sighed.

"It's as I thought. Riftorelin is one of a class of drugs called gonadotrophin-releasing hormone agonists. They're usually injectables. I'd never heard of an oral type, but apparently this one has had a limited trial for the past however many years you've been on it."

"What is it though?" Alice could no longer keep the question inside. "You've said what it's called, but what is it meant to do?"

Thackery hesitated. "The real answer is highly scientific and specific, and we can get into that later if you'd like, but I'll try to tell you what you want to know. The drugs have several uses, sometimes being used to stop the body producing hormones that interfere with cancer therapy." At Alice's wide eyes he hastened on, "But there's no way you could be being treated for cancer without your knowledge. Sometimes they're used in small doses in IVF for women having trouble conceiving, but that's not you either," he continued. "If you've truly been on them for years it's horrifying you didn't know. They're a pregnancy risk x drug, meaning they cause birth defects if you use them long enough. Were you at least warned about that?"

Alice shook her head in horror. "Not beyond the usual, 'don't ever have unprotected sex' talk and not being allowed to date."

Thackery shuddered a little, but composed himself enough to say, "Ah hate to have to ask it, but in light of new information, is there anything about the other night ah should hear abou'?"

Alice's eyes grew wide. She didn't have unprotected sex with Tarrant, but that was through no fault of her own. How could she be so stupid? Though of course she hadn't the faintest idea then that there was this extra layer of consequences hanging over her head. Alice held in a sniffle, as she still hadn't heard anything like an explanation for why she'd been on this medication.

"No. No! But why—" she started.

"Ah was just gettin' to it. Sorry, Ah had to ask abou' the other part. 'S too important not to. But the only other thing that these drugs have been used for is in children with gender dysphoria. When a child feels they've been born in the wrong sex body, and has convinced their doctors and therapists they want a reassignment, they're often given a gonadotrophin-releasing hormone agonist to prevent the onset of puberty. Gives them more time to decide whether they truly want to go on with hormones an' surgeries and such."

"What?" Alice had never felt so aghast. She hadn't been the girliest of children, but she'd never once to her knowledge begged to become a boy.

"Ah wuld guess from your reaction that that was not yer situation. Tha' correct?"

Alice nodded dumbly.

"When did you first start taking this pill?" he asked.

"When I was fourteen, best I can remember. It was after we'd had to leave our house and Mother told me I would start modeling." Her voice sounded strange and detached as it drifted past her lips.

"And, sorry to put it this way, but were you, well, a late bloomer?"

"Excuse me?"

Thackery sighed and pulled together his best professional demeanor.

"Had you started menstruating?"

"Yes, but only just twice."

"And since?"

"Very erratically. Hardly at all really. But I was given to understand that was not so terribly unusual for girls in my...profession."

"Loss of reproductive function is one of the body's reactions to being in a state of extended stress due to starvation and chronic cardio exercise, yes," he said. "But in your case it is likely that the real onset of puberty was delayed."

"What—what does that even mean?" Alice cried.

"While you are almost twenty, I think that your body has been arrested in a prepubescent state. It's conjecture, but my guess wuld be it was done to keep you suitable for fashion modelling."

Thackery tapped the desk quicker than ever. Alice could see his eyes scanning her face and body, trying to figure out what she thought of this. She wondered what answers he was getting, as she would also like to know what she thought of this hypothesis. Had her mother really set out to willfully alter her physiology just so she could model? She wasn't even good at it! She hardly made enough money to keep a roof over their heads! Alice had long thought that she probably had enough financial knowledge left over from her work with her father that she could earn at least as much playing the stock market. However, they had no capital for that. Hadn't her mother said that outright just yesterday? Her only asset was her body?

"It's never a sure thing," Alice mumbled.

"Wha' was that?" Thackery asked.

"It's never a sure thing, in modelling. Any day you might walk into a shoot and find that you've been sacked for measuring an inch off of what they wanted. People's bodies change. But it's never happened to me."

Thackery acknowledged this with a nod and continued.

"I've called my former professor—a physician with a practice not far from here, and he's agreed to see you in the morning. I had to report the prescription fraud in any case as this is made out to your mother and been given to you without your knowledge."

Alice's eyes grew wide. "Fraud? My mother? What will happen?"

"I can't say for certain. But Alice, this is a serious case of child abuse. You were only fourteen when this started, and your body has been artificially prevented from, well, from growing up. You are going to need professional help to get through this."

Alice shivered, and Thackery finally noticed her sodden attire and wet hair.

"Ach! What are you doing sitting about in those wet clothes?" he hurried over to her chair and hauled her up. "We've got to get you warm an' fed an' rested."

Alice turned to him, closing her hand over his on her arm and looking into his concerned honey eyes. "Tarrant. What do I tell him?"

Thackery patted her shoulder lightly. "Don' worry about tha' oaf, ye don't need tae tell him anything if you don't want. Seriously Alice, you don' owe anyone an explanation. He'll worry, it's just how he is, but you don't have to say anything you don' want to. An ah won't be telling him or anybody else about this, though I'll go with you to the doctor if you'd like."

She nodded, relieved that he would both not tell tales and be there to explain what she could not even begin to wrap her head around. They walked into the hallway, where a fair young man in a button-up shirt and dress pants was pacing nervously with a blanket neatly rolled under one arm. He looked up, startled, when the door opened.

"I'm to give the Alice this blanket and to scold you for not taking care of her sooner, as Tarrant is too angry with you to tell you himself. And I think he's arranging some dry clothes for our guest. Hello, Alice, I'm Nivens, the other housemate."

Alice, rather shell-shocked, shook his hand politely. "How do you do?" she said.

"Oh, please let me take your coat." The formal young man handed off the blanket he'd been clutching to Thackery and took her drenched coat. He then swapped it out for the blanket which he wrapped carefully around her shoulders without actually touching her.

"Please come into the living room while you warm up. Tarrant's started a fire."

Thackery sighed, starting down the hall with Alice's wet coat in hand.

"It sounds like he's worked up. I shuld go check and make sure he isn't going tae set the whole place on fire."

Nivens politely indicated that Alice should follow him, and they crossed through the kitchen and into the living room beyond where a toasty fire had been lit in the hearth. Nivens saw her comfortably settled in a chair and ran off before Alice could gather her usual curiosity to ask him anything. Despite her shock, Alice did want to know what she was expected to do for the night. Apparently she would be staying here, but with Tarrant? On the couch? Alice could hardly say what she would prefer at the moment, so perhaps this time alone was the most she could ask for.

-o-o-o-

Tarrant finally turned up with a towel and a bundle of clothes for her, though Alice was already warm and mostly dry and dozing in the overstuffed brown leather chair that had been pulled close to the hearth for her. He saw from the empty plate on the end table beside her that she'd been brought some of Thackery's meatloaf for dinner. There was hardly a crumb left on the plate, so he could assume she'd been hungry.

Tarrant was half-tempted to carry her up to bed as she was, as the poor girl looked like she could use the rest, but he couldn't leave her in such an uncomfortable state. He lightly shook her shoulder.

"Alice," he said quietly, watching as her long eyelashes fluttered open. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I've found you some dry clothes and I thought you might like a bath."

She blinked sleepily, then sat up from where she had snuggled back in the chair. Alice yawned.

"I suppose I ought to." She shook her head. That didn't sound as she wished it to. "I mean, that would be lovely, if it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. The water's running now. I'll just give you these," he handed her the clothes and towel in his hands. "I know you brought a bag, but it was soaked from the rainstorm so I doubted your clothes would be wearable."

Alice started to nod in thanks, then inhaled sharply. "Oh no!" She got to her feet, almost tripping on the blanket that had been wrapped around her as she sat. "I left my books in there!"

Tarrant put his hand on her shoulder. "They're fine. I hope you don't mind, but I got them out and nothing seemed damaged. I'm sorry to have opened your bag, it's just that it was very heavy and I thought it must have had something in it, whether books or something electronic that ought not to have gotten wet." He shrugged sheepishly. "I couldn't help but notice that it was rather a lot of books though," he added curiously.

"Oh, thank you," said Alice. "I don't mind at all. And they're mostly for class and a paper I'm supposed to be writing. I have class in the morning, but not until eleven. I suppose I should check with Thackery and see if that conflicts with my doctor's appointment. If necessary, I'll skip but I've already had to miss one class due to work, and they are not very lenient."

"Ah." Tarrant nodded. "Go on upstairs, I'll be sure to get an answer out of him. You know where everything is."

He smiled, and Alice found herself returning it. Despite the very strange turn events had taken, she was back where she wanted to be, in Tarrant's wonderful warm homey house with him and his kind if somewhat eccentric friends. Mally didn't seem to be about, and Alice certainly wasn't going to complain. However even an ill-tempered shriek or two couldn't break the spell of Alice's feeling of safety at Witzend. Perhaps it was her overwhelmed mind trying to replace the security she'd apparently been lacking in her own home since her father's death, but she felt like the very air of the cozy house was giving her hope and health she'd long been missing.

Alice moved toward the stairs, then stopped and turned toward Tarrant.

"This is all so strange, and I know I'm still a bit in shock, but thank you," she choked a little, trying to keep her emotions from spilling over. "Thank you for picking me up and letting me stay the night. We hardly know each other, but you've been so kind."

Alice found herself meeting Tarrant's green eyes and concerned expression, and then felt his arms around her. Tears started to flow down her cheeks without her permission, but Tarrant continued to hold her, only releasing her with a sad smile to say,

"You'd better go up and turn off the bath before it runs over. We'll talk later Alice. There's no rush."

She went upstairs and Tarrant turned to the doorway to the front room where Thackery had been listening.

"So? Is Alice's schedule workable?"

"Probably. We'll be going over early, so eleven shouldn't be a problem timewise. The concern is whether or not she'll be too upset." He paced further into the living room. "She seems pretty composed now considering what she just learned, but she's right, she's still in a bit o' shock about it."

"And what did she just learn?" Tarrant asked, intensity coloring his gaze an even brighter shade. "What has happened?"

Thackery looked at his friend. "Ah willnae tell you Alice's personal medical details, but ye already know she's been given a prescription drug for years without her knowledge by her mother. Child abuse is most insidious when the child has no idea what's being done to them. This woman must be heartless."

Tarrant thought about the proud woman he'd encountered earlier that day, and frightening though he may have found her it was hard to believe that she'd be so fiercely protective of a daughter she didn't love. However, as he well knew, loving your family and treating them with kindness and good judgement were not always the same thing.

Thackery hesitated. "Should I make up the spare bed?" His fingers touched the edge of a picture frame hung on the wall beside him, a print of an abstract design done by one of their friends. Thackery wobbled it back and forth, leaving it further off center than it had been to begin with.

"That shouldn't be necessary. She's already slept in my room. I can sleep elsewhere if that's a problem." Tarrant's eyes questioned his friend, and he realized that though Thackery felt bound not to discuss the particulars of the situation he was probably trying to give him a hint.

"She's...well, very fragile right now and facing a lot of changes. I trust you to do the righ' thing, but with all this family stuff. . .ye know how ah said she looked twelve years old?"

Tarrant nodded, puzzled as to why that was being brought up when Alice's age was already well established.

"Perhaps it might be best if ye thought of her as if she was for a while."

Tarrant's eyebrows shot up.

"I don't think Alice would appreciate being treated as a child, especially now."

Thackery waved his hands around. "Tha's not wha' I meant." He sighed. "Jus' wait, and see what she decides to tell you."

"Alright."

Thackery turned and started to leave the room. However, he twitched his head over his shoulder and quickly added,

"And don't have sex with her."

"Thackery!"

He moved even further away.

"Sorry!" he called, "'S too important tae leave alone."

Tarrant was left embarrassed and puzzled. Should he wait for Alice upstairs as he'd been planning to? Perhaps not if this was some sort of sensitive sexual issue. So Tarrant did what he usually did when he didn't know what else to do: he went to his workroom and buried himself in a project. He'd been in there just a few minutes ago to make Alice a quick pair of flannel pajama bottoms. He'd given her a pale pink tank top Mally had left lying in the laundry room he found when he'd hung up Alice's clothes to dry (Mally was sure to be angry about that) and one of his old sweaters to go over the top for warmth, but he hadn't been able to find anything that would fit Alice's lower half. Since it was really the easiest thing in the world and much faster than watching Nivens dither about whether or not he could give up any of his own pajamas, Tarrant had noticed some serendipitous green, pink, and yellow striped flannel on a white background spilling over the counter and made some for Alice. He'd even had time for French seams with green piping while he'd sent Nivens to take care of Alice and then Thackery to make sure she ate.

Now he turned to the designs he'd been working on for Vetvier. His Alice designs. It was to be the summer ready-to-wear line, and so would not be part of any major fashion week displays, this was still a chance to do something different. Absolem obviously saw some potential for mass-market consumption if he thought this enterprise would be worthwhile, though Tarrant wasn't too sure, as everything he'd ever done in school had tended toward couture. He did suppose though, that from his time in the London club scene he had a few more ideas about pieces that people would actually wear. If they were going to try to drop the prices low enough to sell his designs in department stores, they would almost certainly adulterate the fabrics and any trickier constructions he chose. Would he be okay with that? Tarrant was not at all certain that this was a good idea.

He was staring into space when a knock came at the workroom door, although he'd been careful to leave it ajar so that Alice could find her way in. Sure enough, a head peeped curiously around the corner, wet hair spread across the towel on her shoulders. Tarrant watched Alice's interested gaze take in first the room, its proportions and window treatments and somewhat faded striped wallpaper, then the shelves, counters, and cutting table overflowing with materials and projects and sketches and notions and finally himself, elbows up on the elevated table, pulling at his dishevelled hair and watching her. A blush stained her pale cheeks pink to match the tank top that peeked out from the vee of his old green cardigan.

"Come in," he said.

Alice entered the room, padding on bare feet over to the shelf where some of his sketches had been taped over the edges to mark where the materials for their construction were kept in bins above. He noticed she lingered a little on the last one, which was the one most recently put up. It was a rather fanciful dress to be done in the perfect shade of Alice blue—not the hideous Roosevelt stage shade, but rather something between Cornflower, California and Columbia. He still hadn't found the fabric for the dress, but he'd decided to make a pinafore to go over it in classic Alice style just to be cheeky and he'd already put the white cambric and lace in the bin along with some buttons he'd been saving for something special.

Alice was not looking in the bin but was still scrutinizing the drawing. Instead of a typical fashion sketch he had drawn Alice in some detail wearing the dress in several poses, some standing, one sitting on a low wall holding a kitten. Tarrant had to admit he'd been getting a little fanciful with that one, but he'd done it the night before when he'd despaired of ever finding her again. Twenty-four hours on and here she was looking at it. Perhaps he should have felt silly, but he was too glad to see her and know that she was safe with him.

"Is that, is that me?" she asked. "I mean, I don't want to sound arrogant or impertinent, but. . ."

"No, no you don't," said Tarrant, not at all embarrassed. "You're quite right. It is you. I hope you don't mind, but since we met the other night I've been quite overrun with ideas. Those clothes at the Vetvier show, while nice enough classic styles, weren't really right for you, and I suppose I've become a little fixated on trying to find what might be."

Alice smiled a little. "Since you've had to give up on a hat for me, you're trying clothes instead?"

Tarrant raised a challenging eyebrow. "Who said I've given up on a hat for you? At the show I only had those I'd already made for the collection to choose from. Even if I'd found one to suit it wouldn't truly have been a hat for only you. I'm biding my time, learning a little more about this unusual Alice creature before giving a hat a real attempt."

Alice's smile became brighter at that. "I'm glad to hear you've kept your spirits up. They're wonderful designs."

"So perhaps in the meantime you'll try some of these other clothes for me and tell me how they measure up to your exacting standards."

At this, Alice's bright demeanor faded. In fact, she looked like she might start crying. Bravely she sniffed back a tear and answered, "I'd love to, if I'm able. But, well, due to recent occurrences. . .I probably won't be modeling any more."

The other night Tarrant would have gotten the idea that an end to her modeling career was Alice's most fervent wish come true. This must have something to do with Thackery's discovery. Still, he'd like to hear it from her, if she'd tell him.

"Why do you say that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, you must know that Thackery has discovered that I've been given something. Something to keep me. . .the right shape for modeling, I suppose. Without it, well, who knows how I'll end up."

"I see," said Tarrant, though he didn't really. "Then, I look forward to seeing the end result Alice-shape. It will be very helpful in deciding which of these is right for you."

"But I might not be—probably won't be—model-shaped anymore," she said. "You'll have to find someone who's the right fit."

Tarrant looked mildly offended.

"Alice," he began, "I don't know what you think I think about these things, but I have been both trained and brought up as a tailor, hatter, and couturier. I make the clothes to fit the client, not the other way about like all of these shortsighted and lazy designers. They wonder why they struggle to keep their houses open? I don't, if their standards of beauty are so pathetically rigid that they can't make clothes for anything other than a six foot size zero. No offense," he added quickly.

"Under the circumstances none could possibly be taken," she said, her tears again threatening to drip out of the bounds she was so carefully confining them to.

Tarrant set aside his work and walked up to Alice, putting his arms around her once again. "I"m sorry I keep doing this," he said, "but you look like you could use a hug."

At this, The floodgates opened, and Alice let his kindness do its work, allowing herself to finally let out all the fear and confusion and frustration she'd been feeling. As she sobbed, she realized that it had been building for far longer than just Thackery's text this evening. Ever since her father's death and the confusing nonsensical accusations and revelations that followed it, Alice had been carrying these emotions around with her. She'd been kept too busy and too distracted to ever fully process them despite the time that had passed.

Alice finally calmed herself, knowing that if she was truly going to pour six years and the death of a beloved father's worth of tears on Tarrant he should at least have some warning of what was coming. And maybe she should be sitting somewhere uphill or with a drain so she did not create an ocean by mistake. Still, she'd released enough emotion to relax her body.

Tarrant, sensing her exhaustion, urged her toward the door. His arm still around her shoulders, he led her up the stairs to his room, and he somehow didn't make it back out before morning.

A/N

Here we are with another chapter. So, now you know what Alice was taking and possibly why. The doctor will describe the more sciencey aspects of Alice's physical situation and also offer some insight on how this might have happened. Still, this is the gist of it. Does it make sense now? (Whether or not you find it believable-I suppose that's just up to each of your individual abilities to suspend disbelief! This is definitely a misuse of this type of drug.)

This is one of my longer chapters even though not all that much happens. Does it seem like it drags? I was wondering if I spent too much time on what Alice was doing between hearing the news from Thackery and finally going to sleep, but I wanted to spend some time with Tarrant too. Was that ok for everybody?

Anyway, please review and let me know what you think! I really really so definitely appreciate those of you who do!