The subway ride was the longest Hatter had ever taken. They were going across town this time, not just three stops up. He fought his uneasiness, still not entirely comfortable with the method of transportation. There were just too many people, all crushed together in a metal tube that was hurtling underground through a long tunnel. Thankfully, where he and Alice lived, most things they needed were within walking distance.

Alice smiled at him, and nudged him toward the sliding door. His hand released its vice-grip on the metal pole – he had learned early on to grip it with his left hand – and he followed Alice off the train and into the station.

They headed for the stairs that would take them back to the surface. And that's when Hatter noticed him. A man, half a flight of stairs above them. He was wearing a suit jacket and dark gray trousers. His gray hair was neatly parted and combed in place. He looked like any other distinguished older businessman. Hatter couldn't see his face, only the back of his head, but something was wrong. Hatter's body positively tingled with the negative vibe coming off of him.

The man paused, and half turned his head, not enough for Hatter to get a good look at him, but Hatter could sense that the man was somehow aware of him, somehow knew him. Then the man quickened his pace, until he was almost dashing up the subway steps.

Hatter immediately took the chase, following the man up the crowded steps. He could hear Alice calling him from behind, but he barely paused.

He burst to the surface of the city street, and looked around in the crowd for the man. But the man had disappeared. Hatter swung around, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the man he had been pursuing. The crowd pushed past him, jostling him.

And then suddenly he saw a flash of gray down a side alley. He turned quickly, seeing the man's retreating back. He charged after him, only to round the corner and find that the man had again disappeared.

He heard retreating footsteps behind him and wheeled around to see the man duck around the corner, disappearing again.

The cat and mouse game continued for quite some time. Every time that Hatter got close, the man simply disappeared, only to reappear at a distance – sometimes up some stairs, sometimes ahead in the crowd, then back into another alley. He stayed far enough away that Hatter could never make out his face, but Hatter had a disconcerting feeling that he knew the man – and not in a good way.

Finally Hatter entered yet another alley, this one with a dead end. The man stopped at the back of it, with nowhere left to go. Hatter ran up behind him, grabbed the man by the shoulder and spun him around.

And stumbled back in shock at the sight of smooth, featureless skin.

The man had no face.

…

"Your majesty, Sir Charles has arrived." The Ten of Clubs voice sounded from the doorway of the throne room.

Jack jumped slightly and looked up. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't heard the man enter the room. "Oh, very good," he said. "Send him in."

Ten bowed as he exited the room. Moments later, Jack could hear the heavy clanking of the White Knight's armor as he approached. The doors opened, and the man trotted in with his usual awkward gait, and dropped to his knee in a bow before the king. "Your majesty."

Jack looked down at the man before him, noting that Sir Charles had not gotten up. He waited, a long moment, before he said, "Sir Charles?"

With a heavy clank, the knight managed to get back to his feet, though with his back turned to the king. He shuffled around, until he was finally facing Jack.

And that is when Jack noticed a large dark bruise that covered most of the right side of Charlie's face, and blood dripping from a gash in his forehead. The front of his armor was spattered and more battered then usual.

Jack's eyes widened. "Sir Charles, what happened?"

Charlie's eyes grew wide and somber. "Dark times, your majesty." He cast a nervous glance toward the window, before stepping closer to the king. His voice was low and ominous as he said, "The city has gone mad."

Jack felt chills run up his spine, as he strode quickly to the window that overlooked the city streets. And what he saw turned his blood to ice.

An angry mob, armed with torches, was approaching the bridge. He could see the small group of suits fighting them off, and flashes of gunfire, but there were too many people and too few guards, and within moments, the suits were overwhelmed.

Jack stared for a long moment in horror, then he turned, yelling, "We're under attack! Security!" But no one answered his call. When he turned around, he realized that he was alone in the throne room. Even Charlie had disappeared, though a small patch of blood stained the floor where he had stood.

Jack ran to the hallway and tore open the door, yelling once again. But it was deserted, and no one responded. Jack could hear the mob now, crying for blood and oyster tea. He could see the flicker of their torches far down the hallway.

He turned and fled, racing toward his bedchambers, desperate. The angry tea-heads were gaining on him. He only had a few seconds to act.

He dashed through the bedroom, heading for the small room that housed his tea collection. But the tea was gone – all the bottles were smashed and the tea soaked into the carpeting.

He wheeled around, and the mob was upon him. And at the front of the mob, a visage he hoped to never see again. A woman in gaudy silk robes, with ridiculously long lashes and bright red lips and hair. She glared at him, her eyes practically glowing, and shrieked, "Usurper! Off with his head!"

…

Jack sat up with a yell, sending his bed linens and bed partner flying. He gasped for breath, trembling. It took a long moment before the dream evaporated enough that he could hear Charlotte's soothing tones, feel her hands on his arm, her words assuring him that it had only been a bad dream.

…

Hatter jolted awake, and instantly cringed at the bright sunlight that met his eyes. Alice's side of the bed was already vacated, and he could hear her in the kitchen.

He shook his head groggily, feeling rather unsettled. Fragments of his dream, quickly fading, niggled at his mind, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something wasn't right. All he could remember was a man with no face.

...

AN: Excuse my muse. She had nightmares last night and decided that if she had to suffer, so did they. Sorry if this chapter feels a little disconnected.

Please read and review. Constructive criticism very welcome. Struggling a bit with the story at present, trying to keep it on track.

Still working on the piece about Hatter and Mad March and their history (was going to be a one-shot, but it appears to have spawned into a several-chapter work. Hopefully I will have that up soon.

Update: "Hares and Hatters" is now up. :) Enjoy!