He saw the sunrise from the very top of the city. He had spent what had remained of the night getting as far from home as possible, climbing stairway after stairway and making his way along sidewalks and bridges that were far too perilous to traverse in the dark, yet he had.

At first he didn't know where he was going. At first he didn't care. He felt scared and angry and frustrated and more than a bit guilty. He should never have brought the tea home. But after seeming hours of walking, he started to see more of the sky, and thought again about traveling to the top of the city.

And so by the earliest morning, Hatter had reached the very top, and the clarity of the sky, the vivid colors of the sunrise, nearly took his breath away.

He leaned against a chimney, a small sigh of contentment escaping his lips in spite of everything. Exhaustion started to take hold of him, and in spite of the very bright sunlight that was now bathing the rooftop on which he sat, he soon felt himself starting to drift.

March's head was pounding, and his eye was almost swelled shut. As poor of a fighter as Andy was, he could sure throw a solid punch when provoked.

And he had been provoked.

March fought back against a wave of bitter guilt that washed over him. Andy had run away from him again. And it was his fault. It was the fault of the Tea.

Tea. The slightest thought brought with it an overwhelming need for the absolution that could be found in the bottom of a bottle of Peace or Bliss.

He could barely sense Andy's fleeting shadow by the door as he made his way out to find his next fix.

The rooftops and the heights became Hatter's new home. Still bearing a little fear of March, and dreading finding his best friend in a tea-soaked state, he divided most of his time between the Tea Shop and the rooftop.

But every few days, he made his way, carefully, back to the lower city, creeping back into his old home and leaving small packages – bread, cured meats, fruit – for March, before disappearing back into the Upper City. He never saw March, and many nights, as he stared at the sky, he would find himself in tears thinking about him.

March never spent another night in the home he and Andy had shared. He tried, but he found that he couldn't. No matter how much tea he drank, the apartment always felt too empty, and the guilt would come back, fighting its way through his stupor.

He still came back, every day, checking to see if Andy had returned. Sometimes he could feel Andy's shadow, and it would fill him with hope for a moment, and he would run through the door to find an empty house. But there would be food, left for him, a sign that Andy still cared.

And today it was there again. Cheese and bread, but no Andy. March managed a few bites, swallowed down past the lump in his throat.

The door of the Truth Room flew open with such force that it nearly came off its hinges, and Mad March stormed through it, positively raging. He barely noticed the house, and that the room through the sliding doors had no floor.

He could feel him. His shadow was strong; it was all over the place. Alice hadn't escaped. She had been rescued...

Rescued by Hatter!

Mad March absently fingered the blade of his knife as he twirled it in his fingers. He would find them. And when he did...

Hatter hurried through the front door into the Tea Shop, and immediately caught the eye of the seller. As usual the Tea Shop floor was a mass of people, yelling and bartering. He motioned with his head toward the back corner, and he moved to meet the seller there.

He had information. Information that might prove valuable, and earn him a few extra bottles today.

But he never reached the corner.

The front door flew open with a bang, and the last person he ever wanted to see darkening the door of the Tea Shop was exactly the figure who's frame was silhouetted in the daylight.

March scanned the room, frantic, and didn't immediately see Hatter, who had dropped behind a table when he had realized who it was.

"Hatter!" March's voice sounded a little crazed. "Hatter!"

Hatter started shaking slightly. March had never come to the Tea Shop while he had been working before, and right now March looked more than a little out of his mind.

March staggered a few steps further into the room. People were backing away from him, and the selling floor had gone rather quiet.

"Hatter!" March yelled one more time. Then he dropped to his knees. "Andy." It came out as a soft plea.

He was enough out of the light of the doorway for Hatter to see him well now. March's eyes looked haunted and desperate; his face was very pale. And then Hatter suddenly realized why everyone was staring at him.

March's shirt was covered, in no small amount, with blood.

AN: Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter. I have been struggling with writer's block really badly for the last week or more. I will try to be faster with my posting, but I think my brain will remain fairly fried until inventory is over at work.

Please review. Let me know what you think! Much love!