Fixing You

by Flaming Trails

Victor and Alice would have liked all their problems to have been over with the restoration of Victor's memories. But as 1876 starts, Alice is still dealing with Londerland hallucinations, and Victor's struggling with the after-effects of being Bumby's slave. Perhaps what they need is a change of scenery. . .and perhaps Dr. Fixxler and his uncommon cures can be of use. . .

10. The Grand Wonderland Tour

Chapter 10

February 6th, 1876

Houndsditch Home, Whitechapel, England

9:35 P.M.

"So – tonight's really the night?"

Alice regarded Victor with a smile that was equal parts amusement and exasperation as she turned down the bedclothes. "Victor, I promised you yesterday that it was. Do you believe me so fickle I'd change my mind this soon?"

Victor blushed, dropping his gaze to his feet. "No, of c-course not. Sorry, I'm just – I'm so e-excited and anxious all at once," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I wanted to be s-sure you were ready. It's a b-big thing we're doing, after all."

"Bigger than breaking the veil between the living and the dead?" Alice asked, fluffing a pillow.

Victor waved a hand flippantly. "Oh, that? I've done that so often it's almost routine."

"Twice is routine?"

"Three times!" Victor retorted, matching his words with his fingers. "I may not have been Upstairs long, but going to see Victoria after I married Emily counts."

Alice shrugged. "I'll give you that. But it's still a very low threshold for 'routine.'"

"I said almost," Victor corrected, grinning. "And to be fair, people are meant to travel between the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead. Only the once, admittedly, but still. Going into someone's very mind. . . ." His hand found his pajama collar, twisting up the corner. "That's something else again."

"True," Alice allowed. "Honestly, I'm glad there's such high barriers for entry. I don't want just anyone traipsing around my Wonderland – particularly after what the Dollmaker did to it." She grimaced as she remembered charred islands whisking through a blood-red sky, ready to crumble to ash at a moment's notice. "It's always been very close to my heart."

"Did you move your brain then?" Hatter asked, abruptly looming over her for a cranial examination.

No – and get back to your domain! Alice scolded, giving him a mental swat. I'll be there before the hour's out, and I'm counting on you to ensure that Madcaps don't harass us every step of the way through your factories!

"Fine, fine!" Hatter grumbled, straightening up as he faded from view. "Miss Hammerhead strikes again, I see!"

Well, you shouldn't do such a good job of looking like a nail. "Even when the residents annoy me," she added, rolling her eyes as she gave her pillow a final punch. "Which is good, because they do it often enough. I'm so glad they heed my calls to leave so much more readily now. . . ."

"Me too," Victor said, still fiddling with his collar. "You're – t-this won't undo all your progress, w-will it? I don't want to be responsible for you attempting to slaughter your wardrobe again."

"You won't be," Alice assured him. "The Jabberwock is gone, the Dollmaker is destroyed, and the Queen of Hearts is content to stay in her chamber under her castle. I'm settled in a way I haven't been since I was small. I truly believe the days of me completely losing my grip on reality are long over with." She came around the bed, reaching up to rub his shoulder. "Besides, I want you to see Wonderland. I've wanted it for quite a while now. You're not an intruder, like Bumby – you're an invited guest." She gave him a smile. "One whom the residents already think quite fondly of, I might add."

Victor's blush reappeared, strawberry red spreading across his cheeks. "Thank you," he murmured. "I know that, I do. It's just – you know my policy on hurting you."

"Same as my policy on hurting you," Alice nodded. "Hence my own delay on this moment. But I don't think either of us have anything to fear. Wonderland's as safe as it can possibly get after everything that's happened. And I trust you not to muck up the place."

For a couple of seconds, a strange mixture of what seemed to be fear and guilt flickered across Victor's face. Then he set his jaw and squared his shoulders, like a soldier off to some foreign war. "I won't," he said, voice low and intense. "I promise."

Alice frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You – don't have to take it that seriously."

"I do. It's your mind. It's the most precious thing about you." Victor gritted his teeth. "I will not pollute it again."

The chimes of the Origami Ant Monks' temple played in the back of her brain – only this time, they sounded more like warning bells. "Victor – you're sure you're ready for this?" she asked, eyeing him. "Just that – you seem – frightened of something."

"No, of course I'm – I. . . ." Victor sighed, slumping as the protest died under her suspicious look. "It's – it's my nightmares," he confessed softly. "I keep t-thinking – we d-don't know exactly how this works. And I. . . ." He yanked on his collar, looking away. "I don't want the Bumby in my head somehow escaping into yours."

"Ah. Right." Alice chewed her lower lip. She should have guessed this would be an issue. After all, she could count on the fingers of one hand how many nights they'd slept together peacefully during their trip. Even last night, when they both should have been too relieved at being back in their own room to even think about insomnia, the pattern had repeated itself – the creak of the mattress, the sight of Victor getting up for a late-night walk, the building anxiety as she tried to guess just what his mind had done to him this time. Yes, he hadn't yet repeated that horrific scene where he'd almost torn his face off, hands clawing at his eyes as if he hoped to gouge them out – but watching him leave her again and again, murmuring that he just needed a second to clear his head, wasn't much better. And then, when he came back, there would always be that moment where he stood in the doorway, staring at her like she was a tiger and he was wearing a suit of fresh-cut strip steak. Wringing his hands with a terrified guilt in his eyes. He'd always returned to her so far – oftentimes catching her in an embrace that threatened to break ribs – but she couldn't help but wonder if, one night, he'd just. . .disappear again, succumbing to whatever dark thoughts kept him away.

That was the worst part, actually – the fact that she had no idea what those dark thoughts were. Victor usually offered up a few details – typically involving Ruin snaking its way into his body – but he always avoided giving her a full picture. "You don't want to k-know more," he insisted when she pressed. "Y-you'll just have nightmares too." Which was probably true, but she wasn't exactly resting easy with her head full of questions either. And given how Victor had dodged Dr. Wilson's inquiries about his sleeping habits after dinner last night, he had no intentions of talking about them to the local psychiatrist either. She unconsciously squeezed the front of her nightgown. It was just – bloody frustrating, like a block puzzle with a piece missing, or a wrong note in the middle of a musical scroll. She'd tried to give him his space, hoped that maybe the trip back to the Land of the Dead and his friends would be enough to settle his mind, but. . . .

"It appears that your dear Victor is still stuck, Alice, despite his best efforts. One of your famous 'taps' might be your only choice."

That book was as tall as I was, Cheshire – a mere tap wouldn't have done squat to loosen the cover, Alice retorted. But – and you should remember this moment always – I think you're right. I've given him the chance to balance himself, and it hasn't worked. We're in the same rut that we were in over a fortnight ago – hesitant kisses and dismal sleep. She sighed softly. I don't doubt he's tried – I can't see anyone suffering his nightmares willingly. But if he can't move on his own – it's time for a push.

But not tonight, she added, before Cheshire could come in with a smug comment. Tonight is for happy things. There will be plenty of time to discuss secrets and nightmares tomorrow. And who knows? Perhaps, after being let into my very mind, Victor will be more inclined to talk.

"There is always that chance," Cheshire allowed, his invisible body rubbing against the back of her legs. "And perhaps, after allowing him in, you'll be able to better see what you're facing. His fears of his Otherland merging with yours might in fact be his salvation."

Maybe, but. . . . "I don't the spell works quite like that," she said aloud, pulling Victor into an embrace. "And even if it does. . .Victor, a second chance to slaughter that bastard? That's not polluting my mind – that's giving me a present."

To her relief, Victor snorted. "Rather awful present! I'd rather give you another omega necklace."

"One sterling silver piece of jewelry is probably enough for Whitechapel," Alice said, smiling. She faked a shiver. "And it would still be better than that horrible green dress Witless gave me when I got out of the asylum."

"You were entirely too happy to dump that at the rag shop."

"That dress was a crime against color and good taste," Alice argued. "I wasn't about to keep it once I had the funds to buy something better." She reached up, brushing his bangs back from his narrow forehead. "You have always been a perfect gentleman to me. I trust you to treat my mind with respect. I wouldn't be taking you to Wonderland if I thought there was the least bit of danger to either of us."

Victor nodded. "Right. Sorry, you know h-how worry gets the best of me." He took her hands and squeezed them lightly. "I promise you, though – if something does happen, I'll be right by your side to fight it off."

"Same," Alice nodded. "Though hopefully it'll be nothing more than an opportunistic Snark taking a snap at us from the river. I tried to eradicate the little monsters, but they apparently breed faster than Rabbit's family." She sighed. "If worse comes to worst, at least I know you can handle some of my weapons. And that there's no way for you to permanently die there."

"That was nice to hear," Victor admitted. "I liked seeing the Land of the Dead again, but I'm not ready to become a resident."

"Me either." Alice kissed his cheek, then pulled away to grab her sketchbook from her shelves. "All right – ready to board the Looking-Glass Line? Or do you need one more moment to go to the toilet?"

Victor laughed. "No, no, I'm fine. Though – Looking-Glass Line?"

"Dr. Fixxler told us we needed written permission to get into each other's heads," Alice reminded him, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it over. "But that's boring, so. . . ."

Victor looked down at her meticulously hand-drawn ticket. "'Admit One – General Wonderland Tour,'" he read. "'By Permission of Alice Liddell, owner. Courtesy of the Looking-Glass Railway, est. 1863.'" He looked back up at her with a grin. "You're adorable when you want to be, you know that?"

"Don't let it become general knowledge – I have a reputation to keep," Alice teased back. "We'll probably be using the portals more than the train once we're in Wonderland itself, but that should more than suffice to drop you down the rabbit hole."

"I hope so." Victor's brow furrowed. "Do you think I have to hold onto it?"

"Dr. Fixxler didn't say anything about that. . .then again, he forgot the bit about written invitations the first time he told me about this, so. . . ." Alice shrugged. "We'll try it without for starters – if nothing happens after ten minutes, then we'll have you hang onto it."

"All right then. I'd just like to keep it if at all possible." Victor retrieved his own sketchbook, tucking the ticket carefully into the back, then climbed into bed, bunching himself up against the wall. "All aboard!"

"Leaving the station," Alice joked back, extinguishing the lamp. She hopped in next to him, pulling up the covers. "We really are lucky you're as thin as you are," she added, wiggling around a bit to find the most comfortable spot. "Trying this if you had even the slightest ounce of fat on you would be very tricky indeed."

"I'm about ready for a double bed, yes," Victor admitted, squirming around himself. His hand found hers under the blanket, interlocking their fingers like a jigsaw. "At least we shouldn't notice any lumps tonight."

"A very handy side benefit," Alice agreed. She rolled half on her side to give him another quick peck. "See you in the Vale of Tears."

"Until then," Victor nodded, returning it to her cheek.

Alice smiled, then straightened out again and dropped her head against the pillow, shutting her eyes tight. Beneath her, the bed creaked as they settled in for the night. All right – I know exactly where I want to go and how I want to get there, so whenever you're ready, Wonderland! She shifted, making the mattress bounce slightly. And if you could be ready sooner rather than later, so this damn spring will stop poking me in the shoulder. . . .

For maybe half a minute, it seemed like the spell wouldn't take – that, for once, Wonderland was going to be shy about dragging her in. Then, just like that, the spring jabbing her disappeared – along with the rest of the mattress. Alice grinned as she toppled downward, hair streaming in the wind and nightgown flapping about her ankles. At last! Now it's just a case of meeting Victor at the bot–

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Alice's eyes snapped open, just in time to see a familiar pale hand sweep across her face. Twisting her neck revealed Victor tumbling head over heels beside her, waving his arms and legs frantically in an attempt to slow his descent. "Oh! And here's me thinking we'd meet in Wonderland proper," she said, looking at him upside-down. "I guess if I dream of falling down the rabbit hole, you have to as well. Are you all right?"

"I didn't expect the bed to just vanish like that!" Victor cried, still spinning. A booming grandfather clock flew by, just missing his head. "It could have given me a little warning!"

"Sorry, Victor – if I don't usually get one, I wouldn't expect Wonderland to extend you that courtesy." She dragged her fingers along the spine of a book sailing past. "It's fine, though, really. Nothing here's going to hurt you."

Victor finally got himself pointed face-down, limbs spread wide like a very ineffective flying squirrel. "You're sure?" he asked, eyeing a pointy-topped globe revolving its way past him.

"Well, even during the worst days, nothing's ever actually hit me whenever I plunge – ooof!"

Her back collided with something soft and springy, and for a split second she was flying up instead of down. "Alice!" Victor cried, managing to flip himself over –

Just in time for gravity to reassert its hold on her and send her crashing into his chest. They both gasped, limbs tangling together as they spun past a nightstand, lamp, and a couple of loose pillows. Alice jerked her head around to see a bed gliding leisurely downward, its blankets in disarray. "You know, perhaps that's only because I'm usually looking where I'm going," she admitted, turning her gaze back to the bottom of the hole.

"Y-you're all right?" Victor asked, squeezing her tight against him.

"Fine – more annoyed by the irony than anything." With a shimmery clinkclatterclink, a cutlery drawer dumped out its contents beside them, sending a parade of glittering knives, forks, and spoons streaming down the foggy wall. "And glad I got knocked into you rather than those."

"Me too." Victor eyed a carving knife as it tumbled past them. "Why do you have things like beds and silverware and lamps down here anyway?"

"I assume they're Rabbit's, given it is a rabbit hole," Alice replied, kicking a ladle away. "Though he does own a proper house, so. . . ." She shrugged. "I never really gave it much thought, honestly. It was all here already the first time I fell down. And now. . .well." She watched an empty jar of strawberry jam fly upwards. "When I was called back during my asylum days to fight the Queen, my first inkling something was seriously wrong was that the hole was empty – just me and the fog."

"Oh." Victor frowned as a rug flapped past him. "Did something similar happen with the D-Dollmaker?"

"Funnily enough, no – he'd left my things in place. But his Ruin had infested the lower half of the hole – all black gunk and rusted pipes. Which also served well enough as a warning." She spotted a circle of blue below them, growing larger every second. "Speaking of warnings, our journey's almost at its end."

Victor swallowed. "Should I b-brace myself?"

"Only if it makes you feel better," Alice said, patting his back. "We'll slow down before we land. Sending me flying into a soft bed is one thing – rocketing me into the hard earth is another." She hooked her ankles around his legs (eliciting a funny strangled sort of noise from his throat), then twisted them around so they were falling feet-first. "Deep breaths, okay?" she said, squeezing him reassuringly. "You'll like it once we land. I promise."

Victor gave her a nervous smile – then gasped as they plunged out of the tunnel, straight into a thick white cloud. Alice gave him another squeeze before shutting her eyes again. All right, time to get dressed – can't go visiting in my nightclothes, after all! Nor can Victor – what should I put him in?

Automatically, her mind went to the suit she saw him wear the most – the charcoal-colored jacket and matching striped pants, paired with a red waistcoat and blue tie. She frowned slightly. It was a good, familiar look for him – but wasn't it a bit mundane for Wonderland? He needed something with a bit more color if he was going to fit in here. . .Too bad I can't lend him any of my outfits, she thought, touching her nightgown. Not unless my dress suddenly sprouts trousers and his suit trades for a skirt –

A swell of warmth and light turned the blackness behind her eyelids glowing gold. Ooops! Damn it, out of time. She sighed as an invisible force gripped them, slowing their rapid plunge to a gentle crawl. Well, he'll look good whatever he's in, I'm sure. And even if he doesn't, if my last trip here is any indication, it'll change the moment we step foot into Hatter's Domain. She opened her eyes and smiled at him as they drifted to the ground. "There. Not so bad in the end, was it?"

Victor barely paid any attention to her, head revolving like an owl's as he tried to take in everything at once. "No. . . ." He reached out and plucked a pink leaf from a passing branch, then turned his gaze downward to watch as a blue candle flower opened wide in greeting. "Not at all." His eyes went back toward the sky, bright and crisp, with marbles slowly revolving overhead like tiny moons. "Oh, Alice. . .it's even more wonderful than I thought."

Alice couldn't help her blush. "Well, I made an effort just for you," she pointed out as their feet touched down on a chunk of emerald grass. She released him and did a quick scan for anything more vicious than a googly-eyed snail lurking about. "And of course, the Vale of Tears is usually one of the more – oh!"

"Oh what?" Victor asked, watching some dominoes follow the marbles in their steady course.

Alice grinned, tugging the end of his jacket. "Look at this – we match!"

"We do?" Victor looked down, then blinked as he found himself attired in blue. "Oh! I wasn't expecting. . .I thought I'd just be in my usual suit," he admitted, running a curious hand up his navy-striped leg. "Though I guess it isn't that different. . . ." He pulled back his lapel to take a look at the white waistcoat, then touched the silver A holding his sky-blue tie in place. "I guess both of us have to – wear. . .the. . . ."

He trailed off, staring at her dress like he'd never seen it before. "Victor?" Alice asked, following his gaze. "What is it? I've shown this off to you a couple of – what."

This last was directed at her skirt, which was decidedly not the familiar blue. Instead, it sported thin vertical stripes of alternating dark and light gray. Above it was a charcoal suit jacket (so that's why she'd felt a bit warm), buttoned over a red waistcoat. And, like Victor, she was sporting a blue tie with a silver clip, hers in the shape of her ever-present omega. "How did – this looks like–"

And then it hit her. What she'd thought right before Wonderland had transformed them both. "Not unless my dress suddenly sprouts trousers and your suit trades for a skirt," she groaned, slapping her forehead. "I should have known my brain would seize upon the opportunity to play silly buggers."

"Don't feel too badly – I admit that I myself am surprised to see you take me up on my suggestion that you should swap clothes."

Victor jumped, looking around wildly. "What the–"

"He's over there," Alice said, touching his arm before pointing out a set of bloodstained teeth hovering in a wide arc over a flat-capped orange mushroom. "It was purely by accident," she added in their general direction. She spread the skirt, looking over the outfit critically. "It's not a bad look though, I suppose. Speaking of which, how about you put in the effort to show yourself properly? We have a guest, after all."

Two yellow eyes winked into existence above the smile. "There are those who might call him an intruder."

"I – I don't want to c-cause any t-trouble–" Victor started, holding up his hands.

"Oh, no trouble at all," Cheshire assured him, as the rest of his body faded into view. "I never said any of those people were here. The only example I can think of recently met a train."

"Don't be an arse," Alice scolded, hands on her hips. "He's only just arrived."

"Not entirely true – an echo of him has been here for months now," Cheshire replied, tail flopping from side to side. "Or have you forgotten your butterflies so easily?"

"If you're talking about my dodging talents, I'd argue that's more an echo of Emily," she said, frowning. "If you mean my crystal memories. . .well, I'll have to give you that."

"Keep them for yourself – I know you want to." Cheshire turned his grin on Victor. "The famous artiste finally meets his muse in person. How does the reality – such as it is – compare?"

"It's beautiful," Victor whispered. He turned in a slow circle, taking everything in with a reverent gaze. "My drawings aren't a patch on the real thing."

"Don't be like that," Alice said, poking his arm with a smile. "I wouldn't have them up all over my room if I didn't think you captured Wonderland better than any other artist I've met – including myself."

"I wouldn't say that. You're quite skilled with your pencil now that the Insane Children have surrendered your talents," Victor pointed out.

"Yes, but I have the option of erasing my mistakes. You can turn an accidental splotch into something wonderful."

"You learn to adapt with ink," Victor said, shrugging. "Or you throw away a lot of half-finished sketches." He leaned over Cheshire, studying him. "I don't think I ever got you quite skinny enough. You poor thing, you're almost nothing but bones."

"When one is the pet of the Duchess, one quickly learns to eschew gaining any tempting meat and fat," Cheshire replied. He pawed at Victor's stomach. "A lesson you have taken to heart yourself, I see. You needn't worry about taking him to see her, Alice – even if she was in the mood for long pork instead of short, she'd consider him little more than a toothpick."

"I am in no mood to listen to a bunch of random morals," Alice replied. "Besides, we can't linger here too long – we have a lot of ground to cover, magical portals notwithstanding."

"We have the whole night, Alice," Victor reminded her, hesitantly reaching out and scratching Cheshire a few times behind the ears. To her surprise and amusement, the Cat purred and nudged Victor's hand for more. "And it's so gorgeous here – we can stay for a bit, can't we?"

Alice smiled. "Of course. I didn't mean that we had to rush off right now. We should pause a minute and at least decide what the best route would be."

"Take as much time as you need," Cheshire said, rubbing his face all over Victor's fingers.

Alice snorted. "You greedy thing. You could have told me a little petting was all it took to get into your good books."

"Your fingers aren't as talented as Master Van Dort's," Cheshire replied, bringing a blush to Victor's cheeks. "If you weren't already bound on keeping him, I would insist now that you do so."

"Good thing we're in agreement then." She rocked on her heels, pondering their options. "So – we could chase down some of the waterfalls at the edge of the island, if you like. Or hunt some nutterflies. Or seek out the Drink Me pool – you might need the ability to shrink at will too, depending on where we go."

"Of course – this has nothing to do with you wanting to be the taller one for a change?" Victor said blandly, though his tone was betrayed by his smile.

Alice smirked back. "Side benefit. Or maybe we could just play on the bouncy mushrooms for–"

An image sprang into her head, familiar and sweet. She snapped her fingers and grinned. "Actually, no – I know exactly what to show you first."

---

"You never did get over missing out on visiting the slide at Hyde Park, did you?"

"Nope," Alice confessed cheerily, looking down at the winding chalkboard serpent before them. "And no cracks about how I could go now if I wanted to. People generally look poorly on adult women making use of playground equipment."

"I thought you didn't care about anyone's opinion," Victor teased, poking her shoulder.

"I care if it means possibly being ejected from the park," Alice responded. "Besides, this is better than the Hyde Park slide will ever be." She straightened her tie. "And, more importantly, it's where I found my first memory of you in Wonderland."

Victor blinked. "Really?"

Alice nodded. "Right where you're standing, actually," she said, making him automatically look down. "Just a little moment we shared in the spring, not long after my birthday. You were telling me how you'd loved butterflies all of your life while showing off some of your – sketches."

Victor's face fell briefly. Then he shook his head and gamely mustered up a smile. "T-that was a nice day. And I'm – I'm glad they live on in your memory, at least."

Alice touched his arm. "You're allowed to still be upset about it," she told him softly. "I know it's hardly the worst Bumby did to you, but – I also know how hard you worked on them. How much they meant to you. I'd be sad too if I'd lost all my drawings."

"I know, but – I'm trying not to dwell," Victor said, rubbing the back of his head. "It's probably not healthy." He looked up as a shadow fell over them. "And, uh, I'm not really in the mood to get rained on."

Alice followed his gaze to find gray clouds gathering above them, blocking the sun and darkening the trees. "I do have an umbrella, if it comes to that," she reminded him, before sweeping her hand across the sky. The clouds obligingly fell apart into mere wisps, releasing the sun's rays. "But I'm with you – let's save getting wet for the Deluded Depths. For now. . . ." She grinned and tapped his shoulder. "Tag! You're it!"

"What – hey!" Victor tried to grab her, but she butterflied out of reach. She quickly sat down and pushed off before he could recover. "Get back here!"

"Rather hard to go backward on one of these!" Alice called as she slid away. "I assume you know that, anyway – I noticed Burtonsville was rather lacking in amusements for children!"

"I've been on a slide before!" Victor shouted, plopping himself down and pushing off. "Though not in some years, admittedly. . .they rather lose their charm when you end up taller than most of them."

"Not a problem with this one," Alice said, leaning into a curve as they sailed past a tree. "And it doesn't just go straight down. I always thought that looked rather boring."

"This is rather fun," Victor admitted, finally cracking a smile as they looped around another towering trunk. "Too bad the ride is always over so quickly, isn't it?"

"Gravity," Alice shrugged, leaning back to look at him. "Even in Wonderland, some things must hold true."

"I find that hard to believe when you have whole forests floating in – uh–"

Victor stopped, eyes widening. "Uh, Alice?" he asked, craning his head as they started down the final long slope.

"Yes?"

"Is it just me, or does the slide not go all the way to the ground?"

"Not just you." Alice glanced back to see him biting his lip. "Oh, don't worry – all you have to do is jump."

"And probably plant my face right into that river," Victor replied, leaning back in an attempt to slow himself.

"Not if you do it right. Remember what I told you about twirling and floating?"

Victor eyed her skirt, then his trousers. "I – don't think that's going to work as well for me as it does for you."

"Oh yes it is. Otherwise Wonderland and I are going to have words." Her chalk-stained bottom hit the open air, and she promptly leapt upward, gray stripes all aswirl as she rode a cushion of feathers and butterfly wings to the moss-covered rocks below. "You'll be fine! Now jump!"

Victor squeaked but did so, springing from his seated position and spinning like a clockwork ballerina. For a split-second, it appeared that Wonderland was going to play a nasty prank on him and let him fall – but then a swirl of bright purple light twined around his legs, holding him up. A spray of autumnal leaves followed him as he drifted toward the ground, glowing butterflies playing around his feet. He gaped for a moment, astonished – then his face lit up in the biggest, brightest smile she'd ever seen on him. "Oh – oh wow!"

Alice snorted as she landed. "Yes, I figured you'd like that."

"Like it? I love it!" Victor's feet touched the earth, only to immediately bounce back into the air. Three quick turns brought them level with Alice's eyes as he reached for the sky. "Oh, it's better than I ever imagined! How do you manage to walk anywhere when you can do this?!"

"I don't, usually – I run," Alice corrected as he bounded in circles around around her, scattering leaves everywhere. "And I was on a – a rather important mission the – the last time I was – here. . .can you calm down, please? You're making me giddy."

Victor giggled as he finally landed, brushing away a few orange and red stragglers from his trousers. "Sorry, sorry," he said, still bouncing on his toes. "It's just – I've always wanted to fly under my own power, but I never thought. . . ."

Alice laughed. "Wait until we hit Cardbridge. You'll truly feel like a bird then."

"Oh, I can bet. . . ." Victor looked around, idly kicking a leaf into the river at their side. It swirled for a second in the current before disappearing over the edge of the waterfall. "So where are we now?"

"The pool where the Vorpal Blade returned to me," Alice said, wading into the water. Thank God that self-pitying statue of me is weeping regular tears instead of blood now! She led him along the narrow path between the trees and boulders, into the little lake cupped by stone and moss. "The Jabberwock's skeleton was here too," she added, waving at the low island rising out of the wet. "But it blew away after the Blade pulled itself free of his head."

"Oh," Victor frowned slightly. "Too bad – I would have liked to have seen it. Or kick it."

"I would too," Alice admitted. "But really, I'm quite satisfied with how our final encounter went. Better to know he's gone for good than worry about the risk of him coming back."

"Fair enough." Victor looked down at his reflection in the water. "Have I said how glad I am that he isn't going to be bothering you anymore?"

"You have, but I don't mind a repeat," Alice said, doing the same. He didn't look half-bad in all blue. And the suit actually suited (heh) her rather well. "Especially since I lay most of the credit for his disappearance at your feet."

Victor raised a puzzled eyebrow at her. "What? You're the one who kept killing him over and over."

"Yes, but you're the one who always encouraged me to keep fighting," Alice told him. "Back in Rutledge, I didn't really. . .I had Nanny and Dr. Wilson and Nurse Darling on my side, I suppose, but I don't think any of them seriously expected me to get better. I was so far gone, it was hard for anyone to see any hope in me. Even after I got out, no one thought I'd get to the point of being able to join regular society. I mean, Dr. Bumby was always saying I would, but I didn't think he really meant it at the time. And we know what he had planned for me now," she added, glaring at a nearby tree as if it held the essence of the doctor within it. "You were the first one to truly believe I could get past my madness and guilt. Who never stopped thinking that I could get better. It may not have been a magical cure-all to my problems, but. . . ." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "It was – encouraging to have someone else cheering me on. Someone I could lean on when it all got to be too much." She waved a hand, encompassing as much of the Vale as she could reach. "I don't think I would have gotten this far – restored so much – if it hadn't been for you being in my life."

Poor Victor's face was as red as the paint on a white rose. "I – Alice, you g-give me too much c-credit," he said, ducking his head. "You are the strongest, most capable woman I've ever met. You didn't need me to save you – you did it all by yourself." He kicked the water, sending a little wave racing across the surface. "And you are so much better than I deserve."

Alice rolled her eyes. "You have a very poor sense of your own self-worth, to think London's most notorious madwoman is better than you."

"You're not really that anymore – not after Tailor's articles," Victor said, swinging his leg and sending up little splashes. "And the Alice I know has always been one of the smartest, most imaginative, funniest, kindest people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting." He peeked up at her. "I still wonder sometimes what it is you see in me."

"The smartest, kindest, funniest, most interesting man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting," Alice responded, taking his chin and lifting it. "And the most patient, given the nonsense I put you through with my Wonderland wanderings. I'm proud to have you at my side, Victor. And so are my parents and sister, judging by their reactions to you when we visited. You're practically a Liddell yourself, in all but name."

Victor laughed softly. "High praise indeed." He cupped her cheek with his hand. "I'm proud to have your love too. I just want to be sure I'm worthy of–"

"SCREEE!"

Out of nowhere, a black glob launched itself out of the water, straight at Victor's face. Victor screamed and jerked away, overbalancing and tumbling into the pond. The Slithering Ruin flopped onto his chest, spreading out like an oozy, smothering blanket. Victor slapped at it frantically, churning the water around him into foam. "Ow! Ow! GET OFF!"

"Victor!" Alice dropped to her knees over him, the Vorpal Blade shimmering into existence in her hand. "It's okay, it's all right – just stay still for a minute!"

Victor dug his fingers into the mud, gritting his teeth as the Slithering Ruin squirmed up toward his neck. With one fast slash, Alice opened up the monster's skin like it was a mobile black pudding. The Ruin squealed in startled pain – then, like all its brethren before it, burst apart, reduced to just a few floating bits of glop. Alice dropped the Blade and grabbed the back of Victor's collar, hoisting him up into a sitting position. "Are you all right?" she demanded, feeling his chest. "Can you breathe?"

Victor coughed, then nodded. "Y-yes. . .ow, that went r-right through my suit," he added, whimpering as he rubbed his side. "How can anything feel like both b-burning oil and cold slime at once?"

"I don't know – just another reason to loathe those bastards." Alice ran her fingers through his hair. "Oh, Victor – I'm so sorry. I seriously thought I'd eradicated every last Ruin of any stripe from the Vale."

"It's all right," Victor said, shaking the water off his head. He gave her a rueful smile. "So much for not getting wet before the Deluded Depths."

"Perhaps we should just consider it a practice run." Alice scanned the area, sighing in relief as she spotted a few freshly-discarded snail shells by the roots of a nearby tree. "Ah, good. . .come with me," she said, hauling Victor to his feet.

"I'm really all right," he tried to insist as she led him over to the shells, clutching his ribcage. "I just need a moment to – to get my breath back."

Alice summoned the Hobby Horse and smashed the shells open with one solid blow. Shining white teeth spilled out of the shattered remains, along with a few glittering red crystal roses. "You'll need a moment less if you take one of those," she said, pointing to the latter. "Do it quickly – they don't last forever."

Victor obeyed, scooping up a flower with his free arm. The moment his hand made contact, it vanished in a flash of crimson light. Victor blinked, then stood up straighter, letting his other arm drop. "Oh. Oooh, yes, that's much better," he nodded, touching his sternum. "Meta-essence, right?"

"Life force of Wonderland," Alice confirmed, gathering up the teeth. Maybe I can barter with Yves later for a shiny new Croquet Mallet, or a sharper set of Jacks. "It comes in a few shapes, but the roses seem to be most popular with my brain now. Maybe the color just reminds me of the Queen's famous garden."

"Right." Victor picked up another flower, sighing as the health-giving flash enveloped him. "I wish I'd known how to get these during my fight with the wall."

Alice winced. "Sorry – they're supposed to drop from enemies too," she said, looking back at the slowly-dissolving remains of the Ruin. "I should have let you know before we went to sleep that night. Just I was so bloody tired from walking over half of London with you. . . ."

"It's fine – I didn't think of it either," Victor said, taking the final rose. "I just wanted to get there and have it all done with." He pulled her into a hug. "I'm all right. Truly. It just – it t-took me by surprise, and then it just s-stung. But I'm okay now."

Alice wrapped her arms tight around him. "I believe you. It's only. . .I promised nothing would happen to you," she whispered. "I don't like Wonderland making me a liar."

"You didn't know it was there. Didn't you tell me those Ruins could pop up randomly out of nowhere?" Victor paused, then added softly, "And – and if me being bait can help ferret out the last of the corruption in your mind–"

Alice slapped her hand over his mouth. "You are never to talk about yourself as 'bait' again, all right?" she informed him with a stern frown. "That is not the reason I brought you here."

Victor blushed and looked at his feet. "I'm just saying. . . ."

"Well, don't. Besides, Victor, it doesn't even make sense – if it's my mind, the Slithering Ruins should be going after me, not you. You were probably just in the way of that one." She sighed. "All this proves is, despite my best efforts, you are going to need something to defend yourself. Anything in particular you'd like?"

Victor rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I – I might have one thing already. I mean, if this is Wonderland. . .I should be able to pull weapons from the ether, right? Same as you?"

"I don't see why not." Alice suddenly grinned. "Such as the famous Vorpal Fork?"

Victor's head turned a deep pink. "Maybe," he mumbled, not looking at her.

"Oh, no, Victor, I'm not trying to make fun," Alice quickly reassured him. "I want to see it, I really do." She flicked the Vorpal Blade back into her hand. "My most loyal weapon is based on the family carving knife. Would be rather hypocritical for me to tease you for using cutlery as a weapon. And that's not even getting into the croquet mallet that spits electricity, or the playing cards that slit throats, or the hobby horse that can shatter bones, or the teapot that can shoot boiling tea bombs. . . ."

Victor laughed. "Point taken." He shut his eyes and extended his hand, concentrating –

The air shimmered, and into his fingers dropped a long barbecue fork. Victor beamed, opening his eyes. "Ha! I did – it?"

He blinked, tilting his head as he examined his weapon. "Huh. It didn't look quite like this before."

"No?" Alice asked, taking a gander. The fork was about as long as her Blade, shining silver in the sunlight. The metal was etched with twisting vines, curling around the shaft and tines in little flowery knots. On the wooden handle, delicate butterflies flitted about in the spaces between Victor's fingers, the carvings highlighted with the faintest touch of blue paint in the cracks. "I think it's all very you."

"Oh, I'm not complaining, just – the one I had before looked a lot more like the one I'd actually gotten from Ms. Plum," Victor explained, touching a tine with his finger. He winced and drew it away, leaving a tinge of red behind. "I wasn't thinking of anything fancier at the time. Mostly because it was hard for me to think of anything at all."

"Ah. Well, maybe your subconscious took a cue from seeing this up close and personal," Alice suggested, holding up the Blade.

"Maybe." Victor swished it around a few times, watching the tines draw blue slashes through the air. "So long as it works as well as yours." He opened his hand and let the Fork tumble away into the ether, before giving Alice a smile. "All right – I've met my first Wonderlander, gone down my first slide, enjoyed my first float, and survived my first run-in with a monster. What's next?"

---

"Come now, Alice – the way you're staring at your plate, you'd think I was trying to poison you again! Which I'm not. Just want to make that clear."

"I believe you," Alice assured him. "It's just. . .this really isn't typical for tea, is it?"

"This isn't a typical tea!" Hatter responded, leaning on his cane. "It's a welcoming party! We went and fetched these from the Vale especially for you and Victor."

"And we appreciate the effort." Alice squinted at the snail resting on her plate – green with a peppermint-striped shell, sporting a little scoop of pink custard and a cherry. "But, as I thought I made clear last time, I have a natural aversion to eating anything that I can hold a staring contest with."

"You didn't – you objected to it moving last time," Hatter retorted. He bit into a slice of bread and butter. "Not a word about it staring at you. And if you never ate anything that stared at you, you'd be like March and Dormy and eat nothing but plants."

"Generally the first step of turning an animal into meat is removing the eyes," Alice pointed out.

"Yeah – don't want to be reminded of yer guilt in killing a poor wee innocent hare," March declared, fixing some fresh straw into his fur.

"Or a dormouse," Dormy murmured behind a yawn.

"I've never heard of anyone eating a dormouse – at least, not in my part of England. Edith from school once kept one in a teapot as a pet, though."

"That's nice," Dormy mumbled – then abruptly perked up, glaring at Hatter and Hare. "Hey! You two liked to stuff me in the teapot whenever you got the chance!" he snapped, tail stiff with indignation. "Am I just a pet to you?"

"No, you're an insufferable nuisance," Hatter replied calmly, tapping his cane against his saucer. The large silver teapot in the middle of the table promptly rose up on eight spindly legs, tottering across the table to refill his teacup. "With a voice that could grate cheese."

The tail flopped back down. "Oh. That's all right then," Dormy said, letting his head drop onto his plate.

"Er – so what does the Cheshire Cat eat?"

Alice glanced to her left. "Beg pardon?"

Victor fiddled with the deep green goggles smushing down his bangs – a gift from Wonderland upon entering the Hatter's Domain. Alice thought he looked quite sharp in them, especially paired with his new black suit and butterfly-shaped bow tie. "Well – you know what cats in our world eat," he continued, eyes flicking between March and Dormy. "But. . .he wouldn't go after anyone who talked – would he?"

"Ach, only with his tongue, and I'd rather have his teeth," March complained, banging his fist on his spoon and flipping it up onto the air. "His riddles are more impenetrable than ravens and writing desks!"

"I wouldn't say that," Alice said, watching as the spoon landed neatly on Dormy's head. "His usually have answers."

"Sometimes the best answer is no answer," Hatter said, in a tone Alice guessed was intended to make him sound sage. He stood up, pointing down the table with his cane. "Here now, I want a clean cup! Everybody down one!"

Alice, Victor, and March obligingly got to their feet to shift seats. Dormy groaned and hugged his plate. "But I'm tiiired. . . ."

Alice went over and gave Dormy's key a few sharp twists. He yelped as it ticked, then bounced upright, wheels spinning. "Oh! Oh! Yes! Clean cup clean cup move down move down," he babbled, motoring around the table.

March caught him as he zoomed past, chuckling. "Don't have to go that far, laddie! Just you take the Victor's seat, and I'll take yours. . . ."

Alice moved into Hatter's old chair as March got his friend settled. "Honestly, I'm not sure what Cheshire eats – if he even does these days," she confessed as Victor sat in her place. "But if I had to take a guess, I'd choose fish. Barrelbottom may be populated by the walking, talking type, but I saw plenty down in the Depths that were just doing fishy things." She wrinkled her nose. "And if he wants to snack on Snarks, he's more than welcome to them."

"What if he wants to snark on snacks?" Victor asked with a little grin.

"He's welcome to do that too."

"Fish look at you when you eat them, don't they?" Hatter said, leaning toward Victor.

"It depends on how you prepare them," Victor replied, waving to the cream and sugar. They scuttled over. "Thank you. . .Father's canned sardines have the eyes in, though. He says they're healthy."

"Ah, you see? Food that looks at you is healthy," Hatter declared, holding up a finger.

"William Van Dort might claim anything that would help his sales," Alice countered. "And ask Victor just how much fish does he eat these days."

"Just how much fish do you eat these days?" Hatter echoed, turning back to Victor.

"None, if I can help it," Victor replied, making a face. "Father insisted we have fish for dinner just about every night, to prove just how good the Van Dort Fish product was. And since when we were eating on our own, we didn't have so many courses, it was often the main meat of the meal. Not to mention any leftovers were generally made into lunch the next day. . .it's gotten so I can barely stand the taste of most kinds of fish. The only sort I can still stomach is shellfish – we never had quite so much of that."

"The snail has a shell," Dormy said, buttering a scone before laying his head on it.

"And it's not a fish," March added. "So you should stomach it twice as well."

Victor frowned, then looked down at the snail dripping ooze onto his plate. "Well. . .Mother did insist I have escargot at a party once," he said, picking it up. "And I remember thinking it was all right. Just not something I'd eat every day." He ran a finger through the dripping custard and sampled it. "Strawberry. Hmm." He and the snail stared at each other for a moment. . . .

And then, to Alice's shock, Victor closed his eyes, leaned forward, and bit off the snail's head. He chewed a few times, making various faces, then swallowed. "It's rubbery," he reported, looking around the table. "And slimy on the bottom. But it tastes like candied orange. Perhaps if you cooked them instead of serving them raw?"

"We'll take it under consideration! And over it and around it as well!" Hatter's hat burst open with a fuweeee!, shooting confetti all over the table. "See, he likes it! We're not that mad after all, are we Alice?"

Alice eyed him, then March and Dormy, who were currently playing keep-away with a sugar cube. Sometimes the best answer was no answer indeed. "I'm not fond of slimy or rubbery foods either, so I shall continue to keep my distance from snails at the tea table," she said instead, before fetching her spoon and scooping the cherry off her mollusk. "Though I'll try the custard. And. . .hmm. Is the shell edible?"

---

"Wheeeeee!"

"You are having far too much fun on this ride!"

Victor grinned at her, the wind whistling around him and mussing his hair as they sped along the twisty track. "Oh come on, you're not enjoying yourself at all?" he asked, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "This has to be what it's like to ride the Gravity Road in Pennsylvania!"

"I never said I wasn't enjoying myself," Alice protested, giggling. He has no business being so cute when he's overexcited! "I'm just afraid you're going to split your face in two with that smile."

"I can't help it!" Victor waved to a Torch Gnome as they rocketed past his catwalk – he returned it before going back to tugging his pickax free of a stubborn crack in the rock. "This is such a wonderful thrill!"

Whoosh! Abruptly the cart was airborne, sailing over a gap in the tracks. Alice grabbed the side to steady herself as they came back down with a hard bump! "You should try riding on a grit cart sometime," she commented, recalling her first madcap journey through Yur Mine. "With stones digging into your nethers and nothing between you and almost certain disaster but air. There's a thrill."

Right on cue, they whipped around a tight turn, the corner of the cart screeching against the cave wall and sending up sparks. Victor leaned away, gripping the front of the cart a little tighter. "I, uh, I think this is j-just enough thrill for me, thank you."

"Good, because I wasn't keen on trying it again." They slowed briefly as they came to a hill, only to regain their madcap speed as they lurched over the top. Squinting ahead, Alice saw the cave open up, and the edge of a familiar wooden floor come into view. "Aha – here's our stop," she reported. She shot Victor a cheeky grin. "Last chance to wave your hands in the air!"

Victor eyed the low ceiling. "And have the tips of my fingers nearly skimmed off again? No thanks."

"Hatter could always build you replacements. He isn't good for much, but mechanical limbs are a specialty."

"I don't think I need fingers that shoot drug-filled syringes," Victor said, examining them.

"I suppose not. Your hands are feared enough in the East End without them."

The cart hopped over one last break in the track, then shot out into what passed for open air in the underground village. Victor and Alice braced themselves as their vehicle slammed into a large springy rail, then slid backwards until it finally came to a stop by the unloading ramp. "Oof – jolts like that are not good for the spine," Alice declared, rubbing her back. Then she peered forward at the almost-vertical cliff that lay beyond the rail. "Though it beats having to fling yourself off before going over the edge."

"I don't think that would have ended well for me," Victor agreed. He climbed over the side of the cart, then offered Alice a hand. "So where are we now?"

"Well, it used to be a minor Card Guard compound – but as they're all now rotting in the earth of Queensland, the locals have turned it into a pub," Alice said, pointing out the sign – a rough representation of the Queen's stylized heart, cracked neatly down the middle. "Just like any we might find in Whitechapel, really. Fancy a drink?"

"If they serve anything non-alcoholic," Victor said, biting his lip. "I'm – not good company when I'm drunk."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "I have a hard time picturing you drunk. When did that happen?"

"Mayhew convinced me to share some ale with him and the other male servants when I was about sixteen," Victor told her. "I don't actually remember much of the night beyond the first glass, but I have it on good authority that I. Do. Not. Shut. Up."

Alice bit back the urge to laugh. "As if rambling on isn't a feature common to almost all of my Wonderland friends," she reminded him. "Caterpillar in particular practically makes it an art form."

"Yes, well. . .I just don't want to – embarrass myself with what I might say," Victor said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or upset anyone. I have a hard enough time controlling what comes out of my mouth when I'm sob–"

SPLORCH! "Eeeeeee!" "Aaaaaaa!"

Victor hopped away from the remains of the Slithering Ruin, attempting to shake black glop off his leg. "Where did that one come from?!" he demanded, screwing up his face. "I didn't even see it! Oh goodness, that's disgusting. . . ."

"But informative," Alice murmured, watching the droplets of Ruin soak into the wood. "I didn't know they just burst if you stepped on them. That'll make life a bit easier." She patted his arm. "At least this version of your suit is already filthy."

"Tiny mercy," Victor grumbled, glancing down at the earth-toned jacket and trousers smudged with coal dust. He attempted to scrape his shoe off on the side of the ramp, then gave it up as futile. "Hopefully they have a towel inside. . . ."

"Here." Alice knelt down, using her own dirt-stained apron to wipe away the last of the goop. "It's not like I mind – and Wonderland will surely change our clothes again once we're in the next place." She took his hand and pulled him along to the front door of The Broken Heart. "Come along – I think you could use a quick sit-down and a snack."

"Me too." Victor scowled as the last of the Slithering Ruin seeped under the floorboards. "Maybe I'll try a bit of beer after all."

---

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Victor nodded, jaw slack with awe as his eyes traveled along the ribbons of pink and green winding through the velvet black of the sky. "Gorgeous," he breathed, shaking his head. "Utterly gorgeous. I-I've read about the aurora borealis, but I didn't think I'd ever see it for myself."

"That's what it's called!" Alice said, snapping her fingers. "I couldn't remember the last time I came here. Could only think of 'Northern lights.'"

"Well, whatever you call them, they're wonderful." Victor managed to tear his gaze away from the colors for a moment to take in the majestic spikes of the icebergs jutting up from the dark sea, practically glowing white and blue in the moonlight. "It's all wonderful."

Alice allowed herself a moment to preen. "Would you expect any less from a place called 'Wonderland?'"

Victor shrugged. "To be honest, the way you often described it back when Bumby was alive? I thought more than once it should be called 'Horrorland' instead."

Alice thought about the collapse of the Vale, Ruin fountaining from the crumbling landscape, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth and stormy skies – the merest taste of the pain and terror to come. "Mmm – point," she admitted, making a face. "Fortunately his death seems to have restored much of the wonder." She watched the moon puff away on his cigarette, more bands of glowing color trailing off the rosy tip. "It was here that I first realized just how much I wanted us to be able to do this," she added softly.

Victor glanced down at her. "Really?"

She nodded. "I mean, obviously I'd thought about you before, thanks to your memories. And I'd had the occasional abstract musing about how much you might like roaming through the Vale of Tears, or sipping tea in Hatter's Domain. But it wasn't until I came here that it hit me how much I truly wished you could just leap into my head and visit. That I could give you a proper tour, show you everything in person instead of just describing it to you after the fact. It took me by surprise, since I hadn't felt that way about anyone since Lizzie had died. And I didn't see you as a brother. . .and then I stopped myself before I could come to the other obvious conclusion about why I might feel that way," she continued, huffing in annoyance at her past self. "I am frankly amazed at how many times I came right up to the edge of realizing that I loved you, and then backed away. It really shouldn't have taken me until Queensland to accept my feelings for you." She hugged herself. "But as Caterpillar said, I can be very good at denying reality when I want to be."

Victor chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Well, it's not like I helped much, keeping my feelings to myself. I was just – so nervous about how you'd take it if I confessed. . . ." A strange expression passed across his face, then he shook his head. "And I didn't want to make things worse for you in Wonderland either. I was frightened that one more thing to deal with might – might s-send you back to the asylum."

"I don't think a confession of love would have done that – but sadly, I can't be sure," Alice sighed. "I do know I was in no position to start a relationship while in the middle of my campaign against the Dollmaker. So I guess it all worked out in the end." She leaned her head against his shoulder with a smile. "Including getting to show you this."

"True," Victor agreed, smiling back at the sky. "And it's everything you promised."

For a minute, they were silent, simply enjoying the view and each other's company. Then Victor spoke again. "Alice?"

"Mmmm?"

". . .it's also bloody cold."

Alice snorted. "It is. Don't worry, though." She waved to a familiar green figure, sailing toward them on his ship. "It's much warmer under the waves."

---

"Yooooouuuu are intruUUUuuding on my praaaactice tiiIIIMeeee!"

"Really? You practice?" Alice replied blandly, scooping up a handful of sand. She drizzled it carefully over the battlements of the castle taking shape before her. "You could have fooled me."

"We're not doing anything that should interrupt you," Victor added, packing together another cylindrical turret on the castle's back side. "You could go ahead and sing if you like."

The Bottle Fish huffed – or, more accurately, tooted. "I neeeeeed at leeeAAAAst an hooooouuur of priiiivaaacy to contemplaaaaate my beauUUUUtiful voice!"

"Go ahead and contemplate it – we won't stop you," Alice said, tilting her head back to look at the diva better. "And then go off and find it, because I think it's run away."

The Bottle Fish's eye stalks bobbed indignantly. "Youuuuuu're just jeaaaaaaalous!"

Alice smirked. "Not in the slightest. Even I can get a tune out of a bottle."

FOOOOOHHTT! The Bottle Fish swung around, its tiny tail lashing the water. "Caaaaarpenteeer will heaaaAAAR about thiiiiis!" it promised as it vanished over the rocks.

"Yes, well, let's see what he's more afraid of – your voice or my knife!" Alice shouted after it. She paused and considered that. "Actually, no, that could go either way. Especially if it breaks out the high notes."

"I don't think I'll need to clean my ears for a month," Victor agreed, wincing as he rubbed the left one. "Why on earth do you have a creature that reminds me of my mother in your head?"

An image of the Bottle Fish in Nell's favorite befeathered hat and mink stole, tooting at her about how she wasn't good enough for her son even if her father had educated the children of lords, popped into Alice's mind. "Perhaps I was subconsciously inspired," she said, shaking it out before thought became reality. "Although Mama's stories about how opera singers are such irritable divas must have played a part too." She picked up a bit of stick and used it to carve a door into the front of the castle. "The Oyster Starlets can be even worse, if you can believe me."

"Since you're the one who created them, I suppose I can." Victor carefully shaped a conical roof for his turret, then used his finger to poke in a few windows. "How likely are we to run into them?"

"Well, the seaweed gardens where they live are just beyond that door," Alice said, pointing at the wood panel blocking the mouth of a giant stone head. "But they're likely to be asleep when we pass through. I have it on good authority that when they're not performing, they're napping." She reached across their edifice to pat him on the shoulder. "You needn't fear having your eardrums burst, I promise."

"Heh – thank you." Victor flicked his wrist, and the Vorpal Fork appeared in his hand. He promptly began carving a brick pattern into the castle's side with the tines. "It is beautiful here, though," he added, glancing up to admire the wide anemones waving their tentacles above their heads, and the various outcroppings of pink and green stone jutting up from the soft white sand.

"I thought you'd appreciate somewhere a bit more tropical after Tundraful," Alice said, smiling. "In my opinion, it's the prettiest part of the Deluded Depths."

"It's certainly the most colorful." Victor twirled his Vorpal Fork through his fingers, looking around them with a thoughtful pout. "Um – Alice?"

"Yes?"

"If we're underwater right now – why are we walking everywhere?"

"It's easier, to put it simply," Alice told him, lining the base of the castle with bits of shell. "I tried swimming back during my Rutledge jaunt – I didn't care for it much. Every time I ducked my head underwater, I was swarmed by Snarks nipping at my heels – and my fingers, and my face. . . Even the honorary reptile shell Turtle gifted me wasn't much protection. Add in the fact that I was extremely out of practice after ten years of lying on a cot, and nearly drowned at least a dozen times searching for air, and. . . ." She shook her head, the currents whipping her hair into odd shapes around her face. "I decided almost the moment I arrived I was going to just walk about on the bottom and damn the consequences."

"Ah – that makes sense, I suppose," Victor nodded, going back to his bricks. "Particularly with you already fighting for your life against all sorts of monsters."

Alice eyed him. Was it her, or did he seem the tiniest bit disappointed? "That doesn't mean we can't swim, though. If you want to. Did you?"

"I – I was more just expecting it," Victor admitted. He turned his gaze on himself. "What with the bathing costume and all."

Alice smirked. "Yes, the bathing costume with a waistcoat. And a tie made out of seaweed."

"You're the one who keeps dressing me in these outfits," Victor retorted, grinning. He held his hand over his leg, watching the bright white stripes running across the blue-green one-piece glow in the faint shade. "Not that I'm not enjoying each one. I haven't worn a bathing costume in quite some time."

"I can believe it – the only water I saw in Burtonsville was that river, and that didn't look deep enough for more than a paddle." Alice quirked an eyebrow. "Which begs the question – where on earth does your father get his famous canned fish from?"

"Most of it comes from docks in London," Victor told her, finishing his pattern. "We have a few canneries spread out over the country now – Father pays handsomely for priority train cars, fast carriages, and lots of ice." He stuck his Fork in the sand and stood up. "The river plays host to trout in the warmer months. And there's a lake about a day's ride from the village which has a nice stock of carp. We took a few day trips out there when I was growing up – that's where I learned to swim, in fact." He fiddled with his tie. "I – I don't have a lot of practice, but I could go across the lake and back and not drown."

"Which is the most important thing," Alice said with a nod. "You're welcome to give it a try if you like. Just don't kick over our castle."

"I have no intentions to," Victor assured her, walking over to the trio of pink stones nearby. He jumped, then jumped again, catching the lip of the highest as he began to sink. One grunt of straining arms later, and he was on top. He straightened his waistcoat, smoothed his hair out of his face, and flexed his shoulders and knees. Then he dived off the edge, kicking his feet wildly.

Immediately he became tangled in the currents swirling around them, tumbling end over end as he attempted to coordinate arms and legs. After about a minute, he stopped, panting, and just let himself float. "Oh dear. . .I thought once you learned, you never forgot."

"I think the people who say such things have a lot more time to practice." Alice dug around in the sand, picking up shiny stones and laying a short path to the front door. "But you're off the bottom, so that's some sort of progress. Give it another go."

"Right. . . ." Victor sucked in a deep breath, then turned and started kicking again, face wrinkled like a walnut in concentration.

It took another half-minute of floundering, but this time, Victor managed to find his rhythm. Alice watched as he sailed above her head, grinning as he played with the tendrils of the anemones and chased the bubbles spilling from the shell speakers as the Bottle Fish's band practiced their notes. She had to admit – shorn of creatures that wanted to kill her, swimming did look like fun. And she didn't like just sitting on the sidelines while Victor enjoyed himself. . . She carefully threaded a scrap of seaweed onto a thin stick, and stuck it into the tallest turret of their castle to form a flag. Then she climbed atop the nearby ledge, brushed the sand from her dress, put her hands together in a neat point, and leapt off the edge.

Her skirt flared out like a jellyfish's bell, cushioning her as always as gravity began dragging her back to the sand. Alice windmilled her arms and legs, fighting the pull. What did Papa always say when we were practicing in the Isis? You have to – to kick with one leg while scooping forward with the opposite arm. . .or do you kick both legs together, like a mermaid? And do you go over your head with the arm, or out from the chest? Damn it, I know there's a trick to this. . . .

A hand grabbed hers, and she was pulled upward into Victor's arms, spinning slowly as he tread water. "Mind if I have this dance?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

"So long as you don't mind being the more graceful one for a change," Alice said, clinging to him. "I didn't think it would be so hard! I managed in the old Vale! Barely. . . ."

"You're doing fine," Victor assured her as they revolved. "You just have to get used to it again."

"I guess." Alice looked down at her dress, which was still trying to spread out wide. "Maybe if I shortened the skirt on this, it would help."

Victor glanced down himself, then flushed. "I – ah – I r-really shouldn't comment," he murmured, turning his head.

Alice giggled. "Oh? And why not, Master Van Dort?" she asked, wrapping one of her legs around his. "Still frightened of my bare feet after all this time?"

Victor went stiff in her embrace, the color rushing from his face. "Uuuh. . . ."

Alice's mirth faded. "Victor?" She withdrew her leg, and felt him relax a tad. Oh dear, had she touched him wrong? She knew very well that you still couldn't come up suddenly on him from behind, or even brush against his arse. . .but he'd never mentioned anything about his legs that might send him reeling into darkness. Perhaps it was just the surprise of so much of her bare skin touching so much of his? Or maybe – his nightmares almost always involved the violation of his body parts–

"Scrreee!"

Her train of thought derailed – as did Victor's, judging by his expression going from vague terror to very clear annoyance. "Is that another one?" he demanded.

"Yup," Alice muttered, looking down. The Slithering Ruin crept along the sand beneath them, making pathetic little leaps at their feet. "And I'm certainly not stomping on it like this." She pulled away from Victor, treading water as she summoned the Vorpal Blade. "Right – let's try something else I haven't done since my asylum days." She gripped the handle firmly, lined up her shot, flicked her wrist back, and –

Whup-whup-whup-schlick! The Ruin exploded into tiny chunks of black, drifting away in the current as the Vorpal Blade buried itself in the sand. Victor applauded. "Marvelous, my lady."

"I thought so," Alice agreed with a proud grin. She dragged herself through the water toward him, kicking until their faces were even (now there was a nice thing about swimming). "Hopefully that was our last interruption," she added, caressing his cheek.

Victor went pink again – but this time, it was accompanied by a smile. "Fingers crossed," he agreed, leaning in. Alice matched him, her hair streaming around them into a convenient privacy curtain. Their lips grew closer, closer, closer –

"Alice! Are you harangulating my talent?"

Alice groaned, letting her forehead knock against the equally-frustrated Victor's. "Always something. . . ."

---

"Knight One! Forward, to C3!"

White Knight One (Alice thought he was the one who'd rescued her as a child, but it was rather hard to tell in his current state) saluted his king with a whinny before hopping his way over to the correct square. The Red Queen watched him settle in, then surveyed her own troops with a critical eye. "Hmmm. . . ." She pursed her lips, then nodded and nudged her dozing husband. "Our turn, my dear. Remember, we must keep moving to stay in our place!"

"What? Oh. . . ." The Red King rubbed his eyes and frowned blearily at the board. "Pawn B, to B5," he yawned.

Red Pawn B hesitated a moment, eyeing White Knight One. The Knight whickered and made a show of polishing his sword. "Well, get on with it!" the Red Queen insisted. "Time here is worth a thousand pounds a second!"

Red Pawn B reluctantly hopped to the indicated square. "Aha – Pawn E to E4," the White King announced. He patted his wife on the back as the pawn bounced ahead. "That'll free the space for you, my dear."

The White Queen smiled – then, out of nowhere, began flapping her arms and spinning in place, shrieking like a train whistle all the while. "MY SHAWL! MY SHAWL!"

Alice nearly jumped straight out of her skin, head automatically jerking toward the sky to check for flying steam engines dripping goo. Victor, meanwhile, started so badly he knocked himself out of his seat, sliding down the hill toward the board. "Aaah!" He clamped onto a few tufts of grass, digging his heels into the dirt to arrest his fall. "A-Alice? Little help?"

Alice grabbed his arm, hauling him back up the slope. "Thank you. . .ow," he added, rubbing his ear as he resettled himself. "I thought the Bottle Fish was shrill – it's like a drill going straight through my head!"

"And we're all the way up here," Alice nodded, covering her ears in a vain attempt to protect them. "Imagine how bad it is down on the playing field."

"I can guess." Victor shot a sympathetic glance at the wincing pieces around the White Queen. Even the normally unflappable Red Queen was making a face. "Why is she making such a fuss? I don't see anything wrong with her shawl."

The first breath of a breeze stirred Alice's hair. "Give it a minute," she said, watching the White Queen carefully as the Red King ordered Red Pawn E forward a square over the noise. "I think I know exactly what's about to happen."

Sure enough, as the White King dithered over his next move, the wind picked up, snatching the White Queen's ever-loose shawl and sending it fluttering across the board. The White Queen promptly stopped shrieking and straightened her collars. "You see?" she said, quite calmly, before chasing after it.

"My dear, wait!" the White King cried, waving his scepter. "Other side of the board! Other side!"

The White Queen ignored him, eyes intent on her shawl. Red Bishop The Second raised his staff and snagged the wayward bit of cloth. "Oh, thank you!" she cried, skidding to a stop beside him and accepting the garment. "Very kind. . .it's all right my darlings!" she added to her fidgeting Pawns and twitching husband. "It's just tea and crumpets this time, not the guillotine!"

"Lucky for you – that's an awful position you're in," Alice muttered. "Good thing Bishops must move diagonally."

"Yes. . .although I'm surprised to see them following the proper rules at all," Victor admitted, as Red Knight One was commanded to F6. "Whenever you described fighting the Reds before, you never mentioned the Knights moving only in Ls, or the Rooks in straight lines. Just how hard they hit."

"Well, to be fair, that all occurred when they were under the command of the Queen of Hearts," Alice pointed out. "Who, being a card monarch, knew very little about chess." She frowned thoughtfully at the board. "But you're right – they're not normally this formal about their battles."

"It's only a mock-fight, not a real one," a Daisy piped up from the flower bed behind them. "If you weren't so dim, you'd know that."

"Quiet, you! No manners at all, daisies," the Tiger Lily complained, bobbing its head above them. "Personally, I think it's because the thorny ones have soured on being pruned."

"Oh yes," a Rose agreed. "I would be too, if I'd been cut off at the prime of my blossom."

"Good point," Alice said. "If I'd spent as much time dead as these four monarchs, I'd want to keep my skirmishes on the quieter side too. Especially if we were performing for company."

The White King tugged his beard, eyeing each piece in turn. "White Bishop The First!" he cried at last. "Seize Red Pawn A!"

White Bishop The First nodded and slid over to the unfortunate pawn, leaving a long streak of mud in the grass. Red Pawn A trembled as the Bishop lifted his crook – then, yielding to old instincts, drove its cycloptean skull right into the Bishop's stomach, knocking him over. Victor raised an eyebrow. "You were saying, Alice?"

"I was referring to the royalty, not the common chess piece," Alice said, watching as the White Bishop levered himself up with his staff, before sending a jet of red light at Red Pawn A. Red Knight One leapt in front of him, deflecting the beam with his sword. "They seem to love a good dust-up. There's enough of them fossilized mid-fight on the Queensland grounds, after all."

"What – hey! Order! Order!" the White King demanded, as White Rook Beta came to the defense of his Bishop, ramming into the Red Knight and sending both him and the pawn sprawling. Red Bishop The Second retaliated with his staff, scorching the Rook's pedestal, as the other Red Pawns bounced to their compatriot's aid. "Order, I say!"

But it was too late – rules and regulations flew out the window as, slowly but surely, more pieces moved out of turn and more weapons were brandished. Another gust of wind sent the White Queen's shawl flying again – she raced after it, just avoiding Red Rook Alpha's charge. He instead slammed into Red Bishop The Second, knocking him clear across the board into White territory. White Knight One burst into laughter, swinging his sword carelessly – the flat of it caught White Bishop The Second in the face. Fuming, he drove his staff under the Knight's pedestal, levering him face-first into the dirt. Within moments, the formal game was nothing more than an old-fashioned brawl, the Whites and the Reds fighting each other as much as the other side. The White King buried his face in his hands. "Oh my – hopeless, I tell you, hopeless. You might as well try to harness a Bandersnatch!"

The Red Queen huffed, tapping her pedestal. "We have got to restore discipline. This land is worth a thousand pounds a yard, after all!"

Alice stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Well – I think this particular game's ended in a draw. Shall we leave them to it and go explore the Looking-Glass House gardens some more?"

"I'd like that," Victor said, getting to his feet. "I want to see those elephantine bees you mentioned so briefly when I asked about your original adventures."

"Me too – I never did get the chance to visit them properly before all the troubles started," Alice remarked with a frown. "Perhaps we'll see the Gnat too, if he's still around. He's probably built up whole volumes of terrible jokes to suggest we make and then sigh over."

"I'd rather go searching out bread-and-butterflies, if it's all the same to him."

"Thank you so much for being on time to the feast!" the White Queen shouted, waving her retrieved shawl above the rabble.

"We hurried as quickly as we could!" Alice called back. "Ah, yes, I almost forgot about your welcoming dinner later. It's sure to be interesting – if you even get a bite."

"I can politely refuse to be introduced to any of the food, can't I?" Victor asked as they waved goodbye to the flowers, then went hand-in-hand down the other side of the hill. "I'm their guest, after all."

"Well, I earned a Queen's crown from them, and it didn't stop them from giving my name to every dish," Alice replied. She scrunched up her nose. "On the other hand. . .it might be safer to converse with some of the food rather than eat it. Particularly the pudding."

"What? Why?"

"Well, they're almost surely using the White Knight's recipe. And given his ingredients include blotting paper and gunpowder. . . ."

Victor stared at her a moment, then shook his head, lip curled. "Ah. Yes, I think it would be in our best interest to eat somewhere else."

---

"Ah, you possess a strong mind indeed! Three in a row, without a single reset!"

Victor ducked his head, smiling shyly at the praise. "They're n-not really that hard," he murmured as the last block settled into place.

"They've confounded us many a time," one Monk Ant said, crossing his legs as he settled himself more comfortably on his pillow. "How is it that you can see so easily where the lines must link up?"

"Maybe it's the artist in me," Victor mused, tracing the image of the dragon he'd just formed with a finger. "I'm used to following the lines in my head to see where they should go on the page."

"It is a gift," the Elder Ant declared, peering down from his rocky perch. "One you should treasure."

"Mmm," Alice agreed, through a sip of her tea. Above her head, the wind played little tunes on the green-inked stalks of bamboo, and rattled the chimes the Monks had put up to celebrate the departure of the Wasps. "You should see him with a quill in his hand. He's capable of miracles."

Victor blushed. "Alice. . . ."

"I've no doubt that when his mind wills one thing, it shall be done," the Elder Ant said, causing Victor's whole head to go dark pink. "He has the makings of true greatness."

"I agree," Alice said, smiling cheekily at her boyfriend. "Bet you're wishing he'd shown up as the savior instead of me now."

"Not at all," the Elder Ant assured her. "You proved your worth, and performed your duties admirably. Caterpillar, the Great and Powerful, has said so himself."

A warmth that had nothing to do with her drink filled her stomach. "Did he now? That's kind of him," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "He's not one to pass out praise easily – or where I can hear it."

The Elder Ant chuckled. "We will happily dole it out on his behalf. After all, he has also warned us your tongue is sharper than your blade, and that we would do well not to get on the other end of it."

"A fact he would know intimately," Alice smirked. She watched the steam drift up from her little paper cup, all fancy curlicues and loops like wispy white calligraphy. "But I'm content to trade compliments instead. This tea is as good as any Hatter makes – though don't tell him. Oolong, right?"

"Yes, miss," the serving Geisha nodded, scurrying around refilling any empty cups.

"It's very nice," Victor said, returning to his place in the semicircle. He picked up his drink and peered into the golden liquid. "Though I wonder why it's called that?"

"Because it comes from oo, a long way away," a Monk Ant replied, waving over the Geisha to get a top-up.

Victor giggled. "Makes sense." He took a deep sniff. "We mostly had Earl Grey and English breakfast tea growing up – Mother somehow learned that was what Lady Everglot drunk, so of course we had to have the same. And in Houndsditch the most exotic blend I've tried is Darjeeling. I should broaden my horizons a bit more."

"Plenty of horizons here," Alice said, pointing through the gate to the green-tinted sky beyond, with its rain of Chinese characters still pouring down into the sea. "Especially now that the smoke's cleared." She glanced back along the rocky plateau. "Speaking of which, I see the village has been completely rebuilt."

"Yes – it took us many days of careful folding," another Monk Ant said with a proud nod. "But the first thing Caterpillar, the Wise and Mysterious, teaches us is patience. It would not do to erect a hut, only to have it fall over in the smallest breeze."

"No, it wouldn't," Victor agreed. "I was very impressed. It's truly incredible the things you can do with paper."

The half-circle of Monks beamed. "Careful, Victor – you'll give them swelled heads," Alice joked. "But yes, it's a job well-done. I'm very happy to see life going back to normal for you all." She paused. "Well, as normal as life gets for creatures made of origami living on a rock in the middle of a tiny pond."

"'Normal' is as relative as size," the Elder Ant declared, stroking his beard. "Our world is as vast as the famed kingdoms beyond – and better run, too."

Alice thought about the Queen of Heart's infamous croquet games, and the brawl that had marked their visit to Looking-Glass Land. "You'll hear no argument from me."

"Nor me," Victor nodded. "I suppose I have no direct complaints with how Her Majesty runs our empire, but – it would be nice if at least Whitechapel was as peaceful as this place." He looked around at the collection of ants, each creased and tucked just so. "Then again, maybe it's easier when you and everyone you love is as fragile as paper."

"Paper is strong, when you know what to do with it," a Monk Ant argued, sitting up a little straighter. "And can cut like a knife."

"Oh, I know that. I can't even count how many times I've sliced myself on the pages of school texts and sketchbooks." Victor flexed his abused fingers in remembrance of stings past. "Though speaking of which, I wish I could have brought my ink and quill. I'd love to draw you all."

The Monks pretended to protest as they allowed themselves a moment of very un-monk-like preening. "I wouldn't mind doing a portrait or two myself, if I had my pencil handy," Alice agreed, chuckling. "I imagine yours would end up more scientific in nature, though. Annotations about fold count and little close-ups of legs and heads running into the margins. Just like with your butterflies."

"I can't help it," Victor said, sipping his tea. "It's the entomologist in me."

An abrupt hush fell over the company, every Ant freezing in place. "Did – did you say entomologist?" the Elder Ant asked, pulling his beard.

Victor blinked. "Er – yes?" He fiddled with the hem of his charcoal kimono, tracing the wing of an embroidered butterfly with his thumb. "Why? Something wrong?"

"He – he doesn't have pins, does he?" a Monk squeaked at Alice, twisting his hands together as all four feet tapped out an anxious tattoo.

"We're rather over being stabbed and left to writhe in the dirt!" the Geisha agreed, hugging her teapot against her chest and crinkling it.

"Wha – oh! Oh, no!" Victor cried, waving a hand. "I d-don't do that! Just s-sketches! Everything I l-learn is from live study! I hate bug boxes!"

"He does," Alice nodded, looking around the group. "In fact, I don't think I've ever seen him kill an insect at all. The ones that crawl into Houndsditch get scooped up in jars, have a sketch or two drawn of them, and then are let loose out the window or the front door."

"I cried when Father told me what k-keeping a butterfly forever entailed," Victor stressed, setting down his cup to clasp his hands in supplication. "I needed a full h-hour to calm down. And I would never dream of – I mean n-none of you any harm. Please."

The Ants slowly relaxed, glancing at each other. "I suppose Alice, however imprudent, wouldn't bring danger right to our doorstep," the squeaky Monk allowed, twirling his beads around his neck. "But I don't like the idea of being in a jar either. Too much like a cage." He shivered. "Or a comb."

"I wouldn't put you in one, I promise. You I can ask to stand still for a while." Victor sighed deeply, letting his head flop forward. "I'm sorry. I should have thought before I spoke. I didn't mean to be insulting or frightening."

Alice patted his shoulder. "We all make mistakes. It's what you learn from them that counts."

"A cherry tree does not always put out its branches in the most ideal shape," the Elder agreed. "That is why we are given pruning shears."

"I think I need a pair of those. I've love to just – cut out the part of me that says idiotic things," Victor said, jabbing himself in the chest with two fingers. His eyebrows lowered. "Better yet, the part of me that has such stupid, terrible thoughts in the first place."

"Don't be like that – none of us are perfect," Alice replied, pulling his makeshift "scissors" away from himself. "Do you think I don't still have bad thoughts on occasion? Times where I've said something and instantly regretted it?"

"Well – no," Victor admitted, shoulders slumping. "But it seems to happen so often with me!"

"It doesn't, really," Alice said. A slithering bit of shadow inching out of the bamboo caught her eye, and she reached behind her toward Yves. "Dr. Wilson told me something once, during one of our chats before I left the asylum – the brain remembers bad things more readily than good. Pain holds more sway over us than joy. That's why the fire wouldn't leave me, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. My mind was only too willing to obsess over something that tore me up inside."

"Really? That's–" Victor wrinkled his nose. "Stupid."

"Oh, you'll hear no arguments from me – that little quirk of the mind is what left Wonderland so vulnerable to the ravages of both the Queen of Hearts and Bumby." Her fingers wrapped around the handle of the Blade. "But it's just something we've got to live with. Speaking of which, could you scootch back for a moment? We've got another visitor."

"What – oh," Victor said, turning and spotting the creepy crawlie. "Of course there would be another one. . .let me take care of it," he added, holding up a hand. "You got the last one. It'll make me feel better."

"All right then." Alice released the Blade back into the ether and stepped away. "The floor is yours."

Victor nodded, pulling the Vorpal Fork from the air. He waited a few seconds, letting the Ruin slither just a little closer – then spun and stabbed just as it prepared to jump. The Ruin, taken completely by surprise, exploded with a tiny "eee!"of pain. "Hate these things," he grumbled.

"We all do," Alice said, as the Monks gave him a round of applause. She knelt down next to him. "But back to the topic at hand – we're all better than we think we are. I've known you for almost a year now, and yes, you've said some stupid things. But you almost always apologize right afterwards. You correct yourself. And I know you rarely ever have truly bad intentions. I'd rather be around you, with all your stuttering and stammering and occasionally obtuse comments, than another smooth-talker than Bumby. Because you I know I can trust."

And there was the blush again. "You have got to stop plying me with compliments," Victor mumbled, ducking his head in an attempt to hide his flaming cheeks.

"Why? You never stop plying me." Alice smiled, giving his hair a ruffle. "You've told me plenty of times before to stop being so hard on myself. I'm just returning the favor." She took his hands, tugging him back to his feet. "Here – enough talk about our failings for the moment. How about another puzzle? We can work together this time."

The Monks perked up. "Oh yes!"

"That would be wonderful!"

"Alice the Clever and Victor the Intelligent!"

Victor laughed. "All right – far be it for me to disappoint our audience. Do you have another design ready for us, Elder?"

"Many!" The Elder Ant waved his hand, and the dragon disappeared, replaced by a new set of blocks ringing the wooden frame embedded in the stone. "Let your mind ponder this for a while!"

"24 moves or less!" Alice declared, heading over to the nearest block and studying its design. "Hmm. . .well, this seems to be the claw of a lobster. And this. . .a fish tail?"

"I've got a head over here," Victor reported, pushing his block into the frame. He peered at the one next to him. "And I think this one's the lobster's body. Do you suppose it's the Quadrille?"

Alice gave her block a shove, toppling it into the hole. "Let's find out."

---

"Why aren't all ants as friendly as the ones in the Mysterious East?"

"Because my brain likes taking things literally, and armies are not known for being friendly," Alice said. A bayonet jabbed at her face – she deflected it with a clang! "Not to mention they're followers of the Voracious Centipede." The Ant tried again to stab her – she denied him once more, forcing his blade away with her own. "Who responded to my efforts to broker a truce by attempting to chew on my head."

"I see – oh!"

Victor threw himself to the ground, just in time to avoid the BANG! of a rifle shot. His opponent let out a disgruntled hiss, kicking dirt at him with two legs. Victor swiped it away, scrambling back to his feet. "You're making me regret that my very first Wonderland picture was of you lot!" he snapped, lunging and plunging his Vorpal Fork into the Ant's side.

The Ant snapped its pincers and retaliated with its bayonet. Victor skittered to the side, but the blade tore into his suit and scratched his stomach before he could escape. He winced, clamping a hand over the wound. "I have to get something with range. . . ."

"Here!" Alice summoned the Hobby Horse and tossed it to him, swapping the Vorpal Blade for the Pepper Grinder as she did. "Hopefully it'll be as effective as a shoe!"

"I'll take whatever at this point!" Victor reeled backward as he caught the Horse, the weight nearly dragging him to the ground – then he corrected and swung the roaring unicorn straight into the Ant's mandibles. It stumbled away, screeching in pain. Victor pursued, crushing its backside with another blow. "That's what you get!"

Alice couldn't help a smirk as her Army Ant collapsed under a hail of red-hot peppercorns. "Finally found some insects you don't mind killing?"

"All bets are off when they try to put me on a pin – so to speak," Victor muttered. He stood over his prey, Hobby Horse high above his head, then brought it down with all his might. In a last, desperate burst of energy, the Ant twisted itself out of the way – but then the Horse hit the dirt, and all the woods for at least five feet rocked in a man-made earthquake. Victor staggered wildly, losing his footing and bouncing off the ground. "Oh! Ow. . . ."

"Sorry – should have warned you about that," Alice said, waiting for the aftershock to fade before hurrying over to give her beloved a hand up. "It's not quite as bad as a shot from the Blunderbuss, but still. I got some nice bruises on my behind the first time I tried it."

"I can believe it," Victor said, grabbing her wrist and hauling himself upright. "I felt that right through my spine!" He rubbed his back, then looked over at the Ant, curled up on itself as the last of its life was shaken out of it. "At least it got him too."

"I once took out four Insidious Ruins with one blow using that," Alice told him with a grin. "Once you're used to it, it's actually quite handy for – shit!"

Her arms locked around Victor on pure instinct – then the world burst into a flurry of frantically fluttering wings. A few moments later, they were Alice and Victor again, standing on the riverbank. Victor blinked rapidly, feeling himself all over. "What – what was–"

BOOOOOM! The spot where they'd been standing exploded, sending mud and bits of leaves everywhere. "Grenade," Alice explained, popping open her Umbrella to shield them from the worst of the blast. "Which means we've got a General Ant around too." She looked up at the ridge – yup, sure enough, there it was, outfitted in its green coat and waving its sword around like Napoleon. "No gun, but – well, you saw how they make up for that. Bloody hell, I hope we haven't upset an entire platoon. . .go away!" she yelled, waving at the Ant. "We're just doing a bit of sight-seeing! A few minutes of looking at mushrooms, and we'll be out of your – carapaces?"

The General's response was to lob another explosive at her. "Only spiders have those," Victor corrected as they dashed down the river, out of range. "Ants have exoskeletons."

"Forgive me for not remembering the right word in a firefight!" Alice swung around to see the General galloping after them – she flung a few Cards at it to slow it down. "I'm not the one who's spent half my life studying these creatures!"

Victor opened his mouth to reply – then paused. His eyes lit up. "That's right!" he cried, far louder than he needed to even with the grenade blasts still ringing in their ears. "I'm the entomologist here!"

The General skidded to a stop, sword lowering a few inches. "Why, yes, that you are!" Alice agreed, catching on. "I can't count the number of insects you've put under glass!"

The General's pincers started to chatter, weapon falling even further. "I think that one would make an excellent addition to my collection," Victor said, waving at the felled soldier nearby. Then he turned to the General with a much-too-friendly grin. "How about you, sir? Would you look good on display?"

The General looked from him to its broken private and back. Then it whirled about, tangling itself up in its own legs in its haste to get away. Alice giggled as it made for the hills, screeching in terror. "That was brilliant."

"You did tell me to learn from my mistakes," Victor said with a smile and a shrug. "Hopefully this will give that Centipede second thoughts about sending anyone else after us."

"He's not the most intelligent of creatures – but as a large creepy-crawly who has already suffered a most dramatic belly wound, he'll probably give us a wide berth from now on," Alice nodded. "Though I can't promise we won't run into a few more stragglers who haven't heard the magic word."

"I think we've proven we can take them." Victor looked down, poking himself in the chest. "So – um – did you know that your butterflies would work with me as well, or did you just take a chance?"

"Neither – I just did it without thinking," Alice said, brushing his hair out of his face. "Did it frighten you? I'm sorry."

"No, no – I'd rather be a bit frightened than blown up. It – it just felt so – so peculiar." Victor ran his hands over his legs, then his arms, then his face. "Like – I still knew myself, but my body. . .did Emily feel like that, when she passed on?"

"I doubt it, given she was peacefully moving toward Heaven rather than running for her life from an Ant with a military college degree," Alice said. "But I know what you mean. I found it very odd myself when I first tried it. Endlessly useful, though."

"Yes." Victor frowned, then shut his eyes, screwing up his face. "I wonder. . . ."

With no warning, his body burst apart, becoming a kaleidoscope of gray and white. The butterflies flew ahead a few feet, then melded back together, leaving behind the man she knew and loved. "Yes, still peculiar," he reported, opening his eyes.

"You should see it from the outside," Alice told him, blinking. "I've always wondered what my enemies saw. . .no surprise they're too startled to attack me again right away." She shrugged and walked over to him. "Still – given you were the one who told me about Emily and her dramatic exit, it's only fair that you should share the spoils."

"I suppose," Victor agreed. "I just hope I don't have to use it in combat again for a bit."

"Same here." Alice grinned, feeling rather like the Cheshire Cat. "On the other hand – did I tell you I can do that when I jump as well?"

Victor's eyes widened. "Really?"

Alice nodded and grabbed his hand. "How about we seek out some bouncy mushrooms and I teach you a little more about flying?"

---

"Oh, wow."

Alice beamed. "I knew you'd love it here. Spectacular, isn't it?"

"Amazing," Victor whispered. He walked to the very edge of the Two of Clubs they were perched on, eyes intent on the cards swooping and twirling in intricate patterns against the bright blue sky. A Five of Spades promptly slotted into place, ready to catch him should he accidentally step off. "I never thought. . .no wonder you completely ignored Alan when you first arrived."

"Yes, well, I'm just glad that didn't lead to me tumbling off a rooftop," Alice admitted, wincing at the memory. She watched another deck flutter past, hearts and diamonds and spades and clubs going every which way as they cut through the wisps of white cloud. "Though, looking at it now, it half seems worth it. Hard to believe this is so near Queensland, hmm?"

"Extremely." Victor lifted his face into the breeze, spreading his arms like gangly wings. "I – I didn't know the sky could get so blue. I've never seen its like, not even in the Land of the Dead. And the sun, the air. . . ." He gulped in a deep breath. "All of your Wonderland is gorgeous, but here. . .I've never felt so free."

"Neither have I." Alice crossed onto the Five – an Ace of Diamonds popped up to continue the path. "It helps that it's the only spot in Wonderland that's completely safe too." She peeked over the side at the mass of mossy green far below. "I suppose none of my enemies can follow me this high up."

"Fine by me," Victor said, dropping his arms. "That last scrap with the Army Ants was more than enough fighting for tonight." He stepped up to Alice with a mischievous grin. "Besides – now that we're finally free from distractions, I can give you something you're owed."

Alice grinned back at him, going up on tiptoe. "Oh? And what's that, Master Van Dort?"

Victor leaned in, his breath warm against her face – then tapped her shoulder and took off. "Tag!"

"What – hey!" Alice laughed as she started her pursuit. "You had how many chances to do that before now?"

"Well, we were always doing something else!" Victor called over his shoulder, feet pounding over a Three of Spades, a Knave of Diamonds, a Five of Clubs as they zipped in under his feet. "I didn't want to interrupt the tour!" He pointed at a nearby castle, hanging in the endless blue. "I'll race you to the front door! If it has one!"

"Race me?" Alice mock-complained. "Sir, you have two cards' head start and longer legs!"

Victor shot her a cheeky look. "Never said I would let you win."

An Ace of Hearts, Ten of Clubs, and Four of Diamonds abruptly broke away from the path, twisting themselves into a tube. The breeze whistled through it, creating a jet of air as powerful as any blast of steam. Victor confidently leapt into it, twirling and riding the current to the Two of Hearts just beyond. "You'd better get a move on, slowpoke," he teased as he drifted down. "Otherwise you'll – aaah!"

The playful Two fluttered away from his feet, letting him freefall for just a second before sliding neatly back into place to catch him. Victor stumbled as his foot caught the pasteboard, falling to his hands and knees. "Don't do that!" he cried, breathing heavily. "G-goodness, for a moment I was s-sure I was about to go s-splat!"

"I'm afraid a few of them are pranksters," Alice told him as she coasted her way across the air tube. "I've run afoul of a couple in previous visits." She landed lightly next to him, patting his back. "None of them would ever let you drop, though. I promise."

"They'd better not. . . ." Victor got to his feet, brushing off his suit before taking a few tentative steps toward the edge. An Ace of Clubs appeared on cue, rising and falling. "I don't want to end up putting a me-shaped dent in the Vale of Tears, just because a card decided it didn't like my face."

"Even if it did, you could always dodge your way back onto it," Alice reminded him. "Your butterflies can't be held back by gravity. And should the worst happen, no matter what you hit, you wouldn't die. Your body probably wouldn't thank you, but you'd live."

"Good to know, I guess." Victor peered over the side, watching the clouds swirl below them. "To be fair. . .it would be quite the trip. If you could do it safely. Maybe with some artificial wings? Or at least a parachute. . . ."

"I'll talk to Hatter about it," Alice said, hopping onto the Ace as it drew level with them. "He owes me a few free inventions after everything that's happened. And he'd probably find the idea intriguing, given how much of his own domain hangs in the sky." She turned around as the card began to rise again. "Oh, and Victor?"

"Yes?"

Alice tapped his arm. "Tag."

And then she was off, leaping to the Eight of Spades waiting for her above. "Oh no you don't!" Victor cried, grabbing the edge of the Ace and hauling himself up. "I'm going to catch you if it's the last thing I do!"

"It had better not be!" Alice called back, fleeing across the line of cards. "I'll be quite put out if your last act on Earth is to beat me at a race!"

"There are worse ways to go!" Victor climbed onto the Eight of Spades and got his feet, taking off after her. "Though I'd be pretty put out too, I admit."

"Then you agree to lose?"

"Didn't say that!"

Alice giggled and kept running, skidding slightly on a Ten of Clubs as she took a corner. The castle archway yawned open before her, promising victory. . .but Victor's determined footsteps were fast getting louder as his absurdly long legs ate into her lead. So close, so close – taking a chance, she burst into butterflies, trusting the swarm to secure her win.

However, a split-second later, it became apparent that Victor had had the exact same idea. They reached the finish line in a confusion of blue and gray wings, delicate bodies entangled in a strange dance. Then they reformed leaning on each other, laughing. "Well – that didn't go according to plan," Victor said, shaking his head.

Alice tapped his nose. "What does, with you?"

"Good point. And I suppose a draw still counts as catching you." He wrapped her in a hug. "And look, it wasn't the last thing I did."

"I'm glad," Alice said, snuggling into him. "I don't want you to go for a long, long time."

Victor squeezed her tight. "Neither do I."

Once they'd gotten their breath back, they proceeded into the castle hand in hand. Like most of the buildings in Cardbridge, it was essentially one large open room, with a few Shrinking Violets for color. A turret graced each corner, stretching toward the sky. "Not much to see," Victor said, a touch disappointed.

"They're card castles – they're not designed to really be livable," Alice pointed out. She spotted a doorway cut into the back left turret and pulled him toward it. "Though there seems to be something of interest in here. . . ."

Their investigation uncovered a ramp, curling around to the very top of the tower. They climbed it and found a little viewing platform, with two paper balloons waiting. "Huh – never thought of using one as a seat before," Alice said, spreading her skirts and plopping down on the right one. The paper crinkled under her weight, but held. "My instincts keep insisting I should split it open and see what goodies might lurk inside."

"Maybe after we've had a rest," Victor said, perching himself atop the other. He twisted his head around, taking in the other castles floating in the breeze, and the packs still soaring across the sky, forming all sorts of complicated patterns before breaking apart again. "Amazing," he repeated softly. "Alice, your imagination puts all others to shame."

"You are far too effusive with your praise," Alice protested, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

"I am not. I could never come up with a place as wonderful as this."

Alice folded her arms. "Oh? How do you know?" she challenged. "We've talked about your childhood. You made up plenty of imaginary worlds for yourself. Magician's towers, dragon keeps, forgotten jungles. What's stopping you from trying again?"

"I – uh – huh." Victor's brow furrowed. "I – I never – really considered it. Once you're about twelve or so, people tell you to stop making up such nonsense – not that my parents ever really encouraged me," he added with a huff. He waved a hand to encompass the domain. "This has always been sort of – your thing."

"It doesn't have to be. I'd love to see what you came up with in a world of your own." Alice took his hand. "I mean – both of us can cast the spell. Wouldn't be fair if every trip was inside my mind."

Victor bit his lip. "True. . .l-let me see what I can do," he said, sandwiching her hand between his. "I don't have as much practice as you, and – I – I want it to look nice."

"Oh, I didn't say you had to start right this minute," Alice assured him, stroking his cheek. "I'm not entirely sure what would happen if you tried to make an Otherland, as Cheshire put it, while we were already in my Wonderland." She patted his face. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

He smiled. "Thank you. I'll do my best to make it as lovely as this. . .though Cardbridge is a very tough act to follow." He looked up again, the breeze ruffling his hair. "Out of curiosity – is it always day up here?"

"I believe so. Why?"

"I was just thinking. . .can you imagine what it might look like at sunset?" he asked, turning toward her with bright eyes. "With the light hitting the cards just right? Oh – or what about if it was like Tundraful at night? You could practically reach out and touch the aurora!"

Alice chuckled. "And you're worried you won't be able to match my imagination." She nodded at the sun, which began slowly to sink downward. "We should still have a little time before morning – let's see if you're right. And if you are, you owe me a dance up here among the stars."

Victor smiled at her as the world went pink and gold. "I can do that," he agreed, before capturing her lips in a kiss.