Everybody's Broken, by Bon Jovi
Welcome to the party
Come on in and disappear
You're feeling like a stranger
But all your friends are here
Little lines and cracks
Around your eyes and mouth
Something's trying to get in
Something's trying to get out
It's ok, to be a little broken
Everybody's broken, in this life
It's ok, to feel a little broken
Everybody's broken, your alright
It's just life
Step into the deep end
Make yourself at home
When you wonder why your breathing
Know your not alone
It's so hard to believe
It's easier to doubt
You're trying to hold in
But your dying to scream out
Take a look around
Tell me what you see
Is who you think you are
Who you want to be
Hatter knew he should be happy. Everyone was telling him so. Underachieving Cobb had been called away to the Casino, never to be seen again, making Hatter the youngest and most profitable Tea Shop owner in Wonderland. And while he couldn't quite help the little surge of pride he felt at being so successful, he'd hardly say he was happy.
A week and a half ago he'd been summoned by the Queen; her "invitation" was delivered by several armed Suits, who had so nicely escorted Hatter out of the City. There'd been a little party to celebrate his prosperity, during which he'd been made to sample the newest Teas. And then the Queen had bestowed a gift on him, something to help protect the Shop and make sure the profits kept flowing.
Hatter frowned. Some gift. He'd been dragged off to see Carpenter down in the labs and strapped down on a shiny metal table. Several painful injections later, and his right arm had been remade into a formidable weapon of destruction. The burning pain had lasted for three days, and just remembering it made Hatter wince. The Queen, of course, had demanded a demonstration of her "gift" before she'd let him leave the Casino.
The Suits had brought in a young woman, dirty and disheveled. Hatter never knew her name, only that she was supposed to be a high-ranking member of the Resistance. The Queen had ordered her execution, and she wanted Hatter to carry it out – with just his new, strong right hand.
"No," he'd whispered, shocked. He wouldn't be made to kill anyone. But the Queen had insisted. The Suits had beaten him so badly he pissed blood for a week. He could've stood that, he really thought he could've, but then the Queen threatened him with a session in the Truth Room. He'd been through that once already, had experienced the agony that the crazy Doctor could dole out.
"I'm sorry," he'd told the girl. "I'm so sorry."
He hadn't been able to look at her, just put his right hand round her neck and closed his eyes. It didn't matter. He could still hear her sobbing pleas, could still feel every bone snapping under his hand. He would feel the dead weight of her in his grasp for as long as he lived. All because he couldn't take any more pain. All because he didn't want to die.
And all the while the Queen had watched with bright, avid eyes.
She also made certain the story circulated, putting the word out that Hatter was a person to be feared and respected. There were few who would challenge him now. Fewer still who would be his friend without hoping to gain. He'd never felt lonelier, and for the briefest moment wondered what March was up to.
"Hatter?" squeaked a voice from the door. It was Dormie, his new manager. Recommended by his friends at the Casino, of course. Hatter looked at him from across the office, waiting. Dormie was fairly forgettable, except for the ridiculous coat he wore that was trimmed with lots of black fur. The squat little man could fall asleep on a dime, and often did, but Hatter had heard him talk up the different Teas and there wasn't a person in Wonderland who could do better.
"The…uh…work crew is here. Did you need to talk to the foreman?"
"No. He knows what's to be done. So do you." Hatter dismissed him with a wave. He was having a bit of renovation done on the Tea Shop, including having a small flat added on for himself. May as well stay close, keep an eye on things. He was paying the foreman extra to be sure that the entrance to his flat would be concealed; he wanted a safe haven, a place he could escape to that no-one could find.
He'd have to do something with this office as well. The desk was nothing more than a dented metal folding table, and the chair was missing a wheel. All the grass in here was dead. Hatter spent most of the rest of the afternoon making plans for the office, from paint to furniture.
It helped to take his mind off that girl. Even if for only a little while. She'd be back, he knew well enough. When he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, she'd be back. And if he occasionally found himself staring at the box of Tea under the desk, wondering for the first time in his life how bad it would really be to drink some – Forget, maybe – he tried not to think too much about that either.
AN: No fluff this time, sorry faithful readers! Hatter has some hard times ahead, I'm afraid. Especially with the Queen keeping tabs. At least we know that eventually he gets his happy on, right?
I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of my reviewers. You so totally make my day, and I'm so glad you like these often-angsty Hatter fics. This was never a story I wanted to tell, but now I can't stop so there'll be lots more coming!
