He had been late coming back down from the Tea Shop, and March had begun to wonder if he was coming back at all. They had barely spoken since March had found Andy at the bottom of the city, but March was determined to change that. After all, they were Hare and Hatter! The grandson and great-nephew of the once-famous duo.

And it was time to be legends in their own right.

March had spent the day unpacking the provisions that Andy had brought home the night before – tea and cured meat and cheese, and butter – and had run out a few times to collect some provisions of his own – mainly tea pots and cups and at one point, a bag of sugar and some scones.

When a weary-looking Andy finally did push the door open, March was practically beside himself. Andy's eyes grew wide as he stared at the long table.

Every inch of the table was covered in dishes. There were six steaming teapots, and plates of bread and cheese and meat, and every inch not covered by those was full of teacups.

"We had the maddest tea parties. They lasted all day and sometimes all night too. And we would tell riddles and speak nonsense..." Of all the stories that he remembered his great-uncle telling, the story of the tea parties, of meeting and aiding the Alice of Legend... they had been his favorite. They had been the ones that stuck in his mind, long after Uncle Madigan was gone.

March was practically quivering in his chair beside the table. He had been quite taken over by the excitement of the re-creation, and seeing the look of absolute awe that crossed Andy's face made everything worthwhile.

"Welcome, Hatter, to our tea party!" He made a grand sweep of his arm, and accidentally knocked a tea cup. It fell to the floor in a hundred pieces.

Andy's face split into a wide, dimpled grin, any trace of old anger forgotten. With a laugh, he grasped his hat, and threw it across the room. It swung neatly onto the back of a chair, and he quickly followed it.

Tea time lasted long into the night, with the two laughing incessantly, drinking cup after cup of tea, and eating all manner of food. More then a few tea cups ended up shattered, some accidentally knocked, others carelessly tossed once emptied.

"Where's Alice?" Andy asked at length.

March quirked a brow at him. "Alice?"

"Uncle Mad – he always talked about tea-time with Alice." Hatter swiped a wide swath of butter across a scone and bit into it with a look of bliss.

March's eyes widened in mock-horror. "What shall we do? We have no Alice."

They were both silent for a long moment, then they erupted into laughter once again. Finally March grabbed a broom from the corner of the room and set it up against a chair. "She'll have to do, I suppose," he stated with a grin. Andy guffawed into his sleeve and accidentally dislodged another tea cup.

As the night got older, the banter got sillier. Then Hatter turned to the Hare and, in mock seriousness, asked, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

March found himself chuckling, as he wracked his mind to come up with the answer. But no answer was forthcoming, although they both posited theories for the better part of an hour. But ultimately, as it had for their predecessors, it remained the riddle with no answer.

And so, as night started to give way to morning, March leaned back in his chair, raised a cup of tea in a toast, and stated, "Twinkle, twinkle little bat. How I wonder what you're at!"

Andy joined in with gusto. "Up above the world you fly, like a tea-tray in the sky."

They downed the last of the tea, and at long last found their beds. It would be well past noon before either would stir again.

…

"Twinkle twinkle, little bat," the icy, mechanical voice singsonged. A sharp knife glinted in his hand. "Good-bye Hatter."

…

It was the memory of their very own Mad Tea Party that kept softening Hatter's heart, even years later as he was recovering from a gunshot wound and a rather large and deep cut that stretched from his shoulder almost to his navel, courtesy Mad March. Maybe it was a combination of blood loss and pain medicine, but he could almost hear the laughter and the clattering of tea cups again.

…

It was the beginning of the end of the good times.

Perhaps the last time Hatter remembered their friendship being truly happy. But a memory he would cling to.

Only two days after their very own mad tea party, March didn't come home at night. Andy had gone out to search for him, but lacking March's tracking skills, was unable to find him. The night after that, March was there, but Andy could tell that something wasn't right.

Andy tried desperately to ignore the changes in March – the frequent absences, the moods, the glazed stares – but silently it tore at his heart. He wasn't stupid. He knew March was turning into a tea-head.

Less then a month after his first dose, "never let Andy see me touch tea again" had turned to "never let Andy see me with tea... in our house." And for a while, that was good enough.

Andy spent longer and longer days up at the Tea Shop. He still ran errands for the tea-sellers, and spied on people, collecting information that could prove valuable, but now he was starting to be trained on the basics of the tea market. Even as young as he was, he was a quick learner, and was proving to be a valuable asset to the tea shop. And it wasn't going unnoticed. As his skills grew, so did the responsibilities that the sellers heaped on him, and with that the profits.

However, the profits were less and less often being paid out in coins. It started slowly – a small bag of coins and a dose of Excitement. He had frowned slightly, but said nothing. He ended up selling the bottle to a tea-head in the lower city for far less then it was worth, but was glad to be rid of it. But then the next time, there had been only a few coins and several doses of tea. Lust, Exhilaration, Bliss.

Andy cringed inwardly as he once again took the bottles and sold them on the street. He knew what they were worth in the Tea Shop, and he always sold them for a little less, and tried not to acknowledge the small wave of guilt as he looked into the hollow eyes of the buyers as he gave them their poison.

Soon, tea was all he was being paid. It didn't surprise him. More and more, tea was becoming its own currency in Wonderland. If you had the right emotion, you could purchase almost anything with it. And soon Andy simply began trading the tea for what he needed, rather then selling it for coins.

He never mentioned it to March. It was the first secret he had ever kept from his best friend. He felt guilty about it, but he knew he could never tell.

…

Andy slipped into the apartment quietly, trying to keep the bottles of tea from clinking in the bag he had slung over his shoulder. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted, so he hadn't taken the time to trade the tea away before he came home.

He could see March, seemingly asleep, on the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief and sank down onto his mat. The tea bottles clinked slightly as he did so, and he cringed, his eyes tight shut. But after a long moment with no movement from the bed above him, he opened his eyes. He gently pushed the bag as far under the bed as he could reach, before curling up to sleep. First thing in the morning, he would get rid of them.

It was still the deep dark of night when he came awake suddenly, to giddy laughter coming from the bed above him. A candle, lit beside the bed, created menacing looking shadows on the wall, and that combined with the strange laughter nearly froze Andy for a moment.

Then he heard a sound – a sound that had him leaping to his feet in an instant. The sound of a glass bottle breaking on the floor beside him.

March was sitting on the bed, the bottles of tea that Andy had hid carefully under the bed lined up before him. He was holding a half-empty bottle of Excitement, and the bottle of Bliss was already missing – undoubtedly the broken glass on the floor.

He managed to look a tad guilty when he saw Andy standing in front of him, pale and trembling, his fists clenching and unclenching silently. Then he laughed again, sounding even more insane, and held the rest of the Excitement out to Andy.

"Have some tea, Hatter!" he said, thrusting it further toward the boy in front of him.

Andy felt rage and nausea overtake him simultaneously. "Those are mine!" he almost shrieked, barely recognizing his own voice. Then he did the last thing he ever thought he would ever do. He balled up his right hand and let fly, hitting March square in the left eye.

March toppled backwards, nearly upsetting the remaining tea bottles onto the floor. There was a moment of stunned silence, then he heard March start to curse as the pain brought him sharply out of his stupor for a moment. Suddenly afraid, Andy grabbed his bag and thrust the remaining bottles of tea into it and fled.

…

AN: Sorry for the long delay... been trying to write this chapter for days.

Hopefully it isn't too disjointed. Please read and review. Constructive criticism very welcome.