Fic: Of Tea & Chess

Rating: R

Summary: Alice & Hatter travel back to Wonderland for innocent reasons and discover that there is no such thing as coincidence.

Author's Note: Sometimes, I move plot forward in a bit of an odd turn. Sadly, the Knave ended up being that odd turn. Short straw wins out unfortunately. Thanks for sticking with me, guys, even when I pull something like that out of the proverbial hat.

My semi-beta is still on vacation, so please forgive anything that spell check and my 1 in the morning re-edit missed. (one day I will edit things in the daytime. Not anytime soon but one day :-P)

I've gotten so used to writing a bit longer chapters that when a short one pops out, it surprises me :-P


Chapter 38: Kingside

Hatter kept counting in his head, looking around the corner anxiously but still seeing nothing. The halls were empty, the lights flickering on and off and giving off a strange mixed glow to the area. He had thought that he had heard the whispering down the hall, the sound of a door slamming closed but he wasn't certain. Considering the way he had been hearing whispering ever since they had entered the Palace, his cautiousness wasn't without good reason. He didn't know the Palace well enough to feel comfortable just wandering the halls like they had been and now he was becoming even more cautious the longer they waited. It wasn't built like the Hearts Casino, which had signs that pointed every which way, nor the White Manor which had a reason behind its insane halls. The Heart Palace was a maze of doors simply because there was so many rooms that had been built around the old palace and the many levels that had built on top of it.

Beside him, Charlie had leaned even closer and was now breathing heavily down the back of Hatter's neck, a distinctly uncomfortable feeling that made his skin crawl. Hatter shrugged his shoulders in irritation.

"Do y'mind?" Hatter hissed as he looked over his shoulder at Charlie. Charlie looked back at him and arched a thin brow.

"Mind about what?" he asked. "Is it the armour?"

Hatter grunted and swiped at the back of his neck, still shrugging his shoulders to try to get rid of the feeling. "Never mind." He looked back down the hall. "I ain't seein' anythin'."

"I could delve in the oracles, you know. I could plunder the depths of," Charlie began but Hatter reached back and clamped a hand over his mouth. The Knight had an annoying habit of talking far too loud in inappropriate situations. Charlie kept talking beneath his hand for a moment before he finally grew aware that Hatter was keeping him quiet for a reason. Hatter gave his hand a small squeeze meaningfully, the pressure on Charlie's mouth squeezing his lips shut.

"You can plunder those depths some other time, Charlie," Hatter whispered as he put his finger to his lips. Charlie looked at him in confusion, his mouth still covered. "Right now, we've got to find the Knave before he gets caught or before you and I get lost even further."

"Right," Charlie said when Hater removed his hand from his mouth. He smacked his lips together and thought it over before looking at Hatter again. "So...what are we waiting for?"

Hatter hesitated to answer, not sure himself why he hadn't followed the Knave already. It was just that nagging feeling, the one that had told him when he was being followed by a Jabberwock or by the Knights in the Taiga. That feeling was there and he put his hand to his gun holster uneasily, unclipping it. He had no love for guns, hated using them really, but it gave him some comfort to have it there when he had no other protection or body armour. The halls were empty though and he couldn't see anyone along the walls. There was no sound of Knights or Crows going along the halls so why hadn't the Knave come back? In the short time they had all been together, Hatter had found the Knave to be strangely the most dependable of all them. He had always been close around, never wandered too far off and always scouted reliably.

Shaking his head, Hatter motioned with his two fingers to the hall and stepped out across the tiles. He put his hand close to his hip, keeping low to the ground as he moved so that he was ready to run if he needed to. Charlie kept close to his back, fingers hooking lightly into the back of Hatter's coat so that he could keep up with the younger man. Hatter moved quietly down the hall, keeping close to the wall and stepping so carefully that his boots made no sound on the black and white tiled floor. Charlie's outfit made only the occasional clang or tinkle and Hatter found himself relieved because of it, considering the noise that Charlie normally made when they walked. He looked over the doors as he went, not seeing anything to distinguish them. In his head, he grumbled about why all of the Wonderland Royal Houses insisted on creating such mundane rooms and buildings that always had to look the same from door to door. He could easily gamble on the idea that even the servants quarters here would the same somehow.

Hatter decided that if they survived this, he was going to have a word or two with Jack about decorating this blasted place.

The abstract thoughts had distracted him from his anxiety but also dulled how alert he had been, so that when his boot met something slick on the tile he almost slipped to his backside. Charlie's grip on the back of Hatter's coat kept him from falling further and Hatter grabbed hold of Charlie's arm. His boots skidded again and he slipped into the wall, Charlie still holding onto him and keeping him from going all the way down. Using the Knight's hand on his arm to balance himself, Hatter stood and shook out his coat.

"Thanks," he whispered and Charlie nodded.

"Who would know that the servants would have waxed the floors so vigorously," Charlie commented lightly to break the tension and Hatter nodded before looking down. He frowned when he saw the dark puddle on the ground, seeing the print of his boot in it and the way the puddle had come from beneath the door he had fallen against. Both he and Charlie wrinkled their noses when they took a sniff of the air. Charlie cleared his throat and looked down. "Smells like..."

"Blood," Hatter murmured, crouching down and dipping his fingers carefully into the liquid. He lifted them to his nose and took a quick inhale of the sticky liquid. "Definitely blood...still warm too."

Whose blood though?

That forbidding feeling came back and he stared at the door they were just outside of, moving to the side and motioning Charlie back quickly. The White Knight pressed against the wall and watched as Hatter jerked the door open. He leaped back in time as a man slumped out into the hall, collapsing into a lifeless heap into the puddle of blood. Hatter and Charlie both cried out in shock before they recovered and looked around for anyone who may have heard them. Once he was certain that no one could hear them, Hatter stepped back forward.

Horrified, Charlie turned his head away as Hatter bent low and gently turned the man over. The sight of the Knave lying there, his throat cut and his bloody face frozen into an expression of shock, was like a slap to the face. Hatter swallowed, not wanting to believe that he was dead but he knew that it was so without even doing a useless check of his pulse. Murmuring to himself, Hatter reached out and closed the Knave's eyes slowly, bowing his head in respect. Charlie behind him was muttering softly, still horrified by the sight. Furious with himself for not being there to help the Knave, Hatter stood and looked back at Charlie, who had turned to stare down the dumbwaiter shaft. He clearly preferred the sight of it rather than looking at the Knave's body, and Hatter saw how shaken up Charlie was by horrific sight. Hatter clenched his right hand into a fist, wanting nothing more than to slam his hand into the nearby wall to vent his own anger.

"We're not alone, Charlie. We need to move on fast," Hatter said, slowly relaxing his hand and waggling the fingers. Charlie turned slightly, a green tinge to his face though he avoided looking at the Knave's body.

"But he's our friend...he deserved...deserves better," Charlie stuttered. Hatter knew what he was getting at; he didn't like the idea of leaving the Knave's body behind like this but he had no other choice.

"I know. We'll come back for him. But someone else is here and we need to get to Jack and Alice before anyone gets wind that we're down here too," Hatter warned and turned back to the stairs. He rubbed his hands onto his trousers and took a step through the threshold. Not knowing why at first, he stopped and stared around. He leapt back in time to narrowly avoid a small rapier being thrust towards his throat, the tip of it just nicking the skin above his collarbone. The sting of it startled him and he backed up further, staring in confusion into the dark stairwell. Then his eyes narrowed and Hatter saw a faint outline in the shadows. He lunged forward and grabbed hold of the outlined form, fingers wrapping into what felt like a tweed coat. He saw the glint of silver, lifted his arm to block the blow, and felt his coat rip slightly at the sleeve when the knife slashed out again. Yelling to Charlie to stay back, Hatter yanked the man out of the shadows and met Chesh's green-gold eyes.

Chesh gave him that strange grin before he shoved back hard at Hatter, the pair of them tumbling over the Knave's body and flying into the wall beside Charlie. Charlie yelled something unintelligible beside them, trying to pull his sword to help Hatter. He grabbed onto Chesh's shoulder and was shoved back away but he resolutely tried again. This time, Hatter's arm caught Charlie's chin and the Knight yelped, falling backwards. Hatter looked over and saw Charlie teetering.

"Charlie!" Hatter yelled, going to grab his ankle as Charlie tumbled down into the dumbwaiter shaft but he was too late. He could hear the clank and thunk as Charlie landed on something solid but Chesh's tight grip on his arms soon took his mind from his friend, yanking him back away from the dumbwaiter. Chesh held him up against the wall and grinned.

"Hatter, how nice to see you so...alive," Chesh growled close to his face, eyes going over Hatter's to the small gash still healing near his hairline.

"Wish I could return the sentiment," Hatter answered as he shoved the man back, sucking in a deep breath to recover his own wind. Chesh tripped backward, falling against the other wall without any of his usual feline grace. They stared at each other for a moment and Chesh's eyes glinted behind his yellow spectacles after a moment.

"I figured that you wouldn't break down completely. If you had...this would be rather less entertaining," Chesh said slowly, that awful grin still on his face. Hatter gave him an equally twisted grin, a trace of insanity lurking at the edges of it, and fixed his hat on his head.

"Glad that you find this funny, cat." He glanced down at the Knave. "Because it makes it so...so much simpler. Real simple, actually"

Chesh gave him a confused look and balanced the blade in his hand, eyeing Hatter's gun still in its holster. Deciding not to give the younger man a chance to use it, he charged forward and they met halfway across the hall. Hatter left himself open when he went to punch at Chesh with his right hand and the Cheshire took advantage of it, lifting his knee and slamming it into Hatter's vulnerable stomach. Hatter crumbled just slightly, recovering to retaliate with a hard blow to Chesh's ribs. Chesh grunted and fell backward with Hatter, tumbling through the stairwell door with him. Hatter managed to get his right hand out and slammed it against Chesh's cheek, keeping himself enough in check that he didn't break Chesh's jaw.

Chesh himself was starting to glow, using his magic to protect himself against the strength of Hatter's blow. He was still startled by the power behind it and fell to his side on the landing. Hatter stood over him, shaking out his hand before reaching down to grab at Chesh's coat. Chesh swept his leg to the side, tripping Hatter and as the man started to go down Chesh kicked up into his chest, sending him backward down the steps. Hatter teetered for a moment on the edge of the first step down, trying to grab at the railing as he went rolling down the round spiral stair case.

By the time he reached the next landing, he was so winded that he simply lay on the iron grating as he struggled to breathe. Hatter stared at the landing above him, eyes searching the dimly lit stairwell for any sign of Chesh following him down but finding none. He heard a door opening and closing several landings above him, likely to that Ballroom that the Knave had been leading them to. His anger demanded him to get up and charge blindly after the Cheshire, to kill him for what he had done, but Hatter forced himself to relax for a moment. Reaching up with his hand, he pressed his fingers to his temple and was inanely relieved that his hat still remained on his head. Hatter rolled to his stomach and carefully pushed himself up, still staring up the stairs and tipping his hat back a bit.

"Yep. This is why I dislike Cheshire cats," he grumbled to himself before charging up the stairs.

The Red King had insisted on leaving Jack standing, snapping at his fingers at one of his Knights to bring him a chair. In his opinion, after he had had Jack stripped of his gun, the young Heart was no real threat. He had made sure that Jack's arms were tied behind his back however, not wanting to take too much of a risk. Jack, standing still and forcing himself to stay as relaxed as he could, watched him warily. The Knight that had pressed his sword to Jack's back had moved back to his place near the doors, equine head held high in the air. The red eyes were no longer glowing though and it constantly shifted from foot to foot in as if irritated by his own stillness. The scuffing sound that the Knight's boots made Jack's nerves set on the edge and he clenched his jaw. Trying to tune out the sound, he watched as the Red King made a rather big show of dusting off the gilded gold chair before seating himself.

"So, at last. I have been dying to have a chat with you, you know," Archibades said, speaking as if he and Jack were long lost relatives and friends. Jack relaxed his arms behind his back and spread his legs further to balance himself. He raised his chin as regally as he could and stared back coolly.

"I cannot say that I have longed for the same opportunity," Jack answered, "but I was hoping to see you dead."

The easily spoken honesty made Archibades' eyes glint furiously for a moment. "Then you should have thought out your plans better. Your mother would have been ashamed."

"Well, I did not have a bastard version of magic on my side," Jack said with a slight shake of his head. The Red King smiled back.

"Didn't you though? Please. You had a Hatter on your side, whose mind is a magical trap on its own, and an Oyster who is clearly far more powerful than even my fair Queen had anticipated. You led a group rife with magic and did not have the wit to use it," Archibades said. "I am more for traditions myself."

"Traditions?" Jack barked out a laugh. "Traditions? If you were to go by tradition, you would not have tried to slaughter thousands. You have not have changed people against their will."

"To make a decent cake, you must break eggs," Archibades said simply, crossing his legs and leaning back in his seat. "You are simply a weak king and you know that. You let your enemies live when you should have destroyed them, lingered too long on the possibility of harming those pitiful fools that you rule over."

His words were aimed at the insecurity that he sensed dwelled deep in Jack, the insecurity that he was no great king. Jack clenched his jaw, his teeth almost grinding together.

"What is the White Queen going to do to Alice?" he demanded and Archibades rubbed his hand over his close-cropped beard. He looked over at one of his Knights who was shifting still. Jack, keeping an eye on the Red King to make sure he was distracted, reached subtlety for his back pocket.

"How am I supposed to know? She does find the Oyster quite fascinating yet never explained why," Archibades answered simply and Jack slowly smiled, palming the tiny rapier from his pocket.

"She likely did not say much about her plans, did she? Just asked you to trust her and she would reward you for it?" Jack asked. He was just as well trained, perhaps even better trained, than the Red King when it came to political persuasion. "How interesting. One would think that if you are as clever as you claim that you would realize when a woman was using you to her own advantage."

Archibades' gaunt face pulled into even tighter lines. "What are you..."

"Did she tell you anything of her plan? Or did she just say that she wanted to rule Wonderland?" Jack snorted. "That is too simple for the effort she has laid."

His words sunk in very slowly and Jack watched as Archibades clearly began to think it over in his mind. He realized that he must have struck a mark in the Red King when he watched the man's eyes dart from side to side, his tongue flicking out to lick at his lips. For just a moment, Jack hoped that he had hit a spot inside the Red King that would distract him enough so he could unlock his shackles and attack before he could recover.

Then that hope died when Archibades threw his head back and laughed as if Jack had let him in on a great joke.

"You are rather like your mother, boy! But with a far better sense of humour I think." He stood in a flourish of red armour, waving his hand in the air. "But you do have a point! She likely thinks that she rules our agreement. Women are so terribly deceitful on the whole; in my experience, most will succumb easily to a strong hand. Yet sometimes, just sometimes, you find some that are just a little bit different. But still delightful fun."

Jack tried to ignore his words, hearing the faint click of the shackle lock and hoping that it wasn't heard. It didn't seem to be, Archibades moving slowly toward him with his hands crossed behind his back. He moved with a dangerous sort of swagger until he came to stop just a few paces from Jack.

"Something I am sure you are quite aware of," he said in a friendly fashion. "That girl you consider your friend is different and so is the woman who you were supposed to marry."

Jack stared stonily back into Archibades' red tinged eyes and refused to respond.

"She is still alive," Archibades offered as if giving Jack some gift in letting him know that.

"If you have hurt her, I'll rip your heart out," Jack threatened and Archibades arched a brow.

"But I have done more than that. Far more than that...you should be proud of her...she is fighter, your girl is. Oddly enough, I never deceived her as to what I planned for her." He paused and stepped closer to Jack. "Never gave her illusions." He took a step around Jack and whispered in his ear, "Never gave her hope. Hope for love or for freedom. Never gave her hope for the chance that maybe, just maybe, the man she loved was not an completely emotionless idiot."

Jack's fists clenched tightly.

"Let me guess. You what? Had some time spent in self-reflection, moments alone with advice, your guilt pestering your conscience? And now you have decided you love her?" Archibades asked. "Probably based on your memory of her, the one where she is some glorious beauty? I should really not let you be so filled with illusions."

He snapped his fingers at the Knight at the door and the Knight opened it, snorting like a horse at something in the hallway. Then he was pulling a bedraggled slip of a woman through the door, shoving her before him into the Ballroom. Jack stared, shocked, as Amelia was pushed further and further into the room until she stood beside the chair the Red King had once been sitting upon. Her head was lowered but her skin was like pink porcelain, a mask frozen like a strange mockery of her normal face. She was barely dressed, strips of clothing torn and dirty fluttering about her in the cold breeze that flowed through the windows. Even her hair, once golden and bright, lay in ropey thick strands down her back.

Despite it, Jack could stare at nothing else but her face. "Hatter was right," he murmured, almost unable to breathe with the way his heart began to pound as he stared at the once regal Duchess. He had never known such emotion before, had never felt his heart pound in such a way and knew that, despite the ache it almost caused, he didn't want it to stop. He jerked away from the Red King, who surprisingly let him go to where Amelia stood. Her head didn't lift when Jack drew close.

"Amelia," Jack whispered, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch her face, but he stopped himself in time, remembering that he had to keep that illusion of being shackled. Not seeming to even hear him, she was wavering on her feet, eyes staring unblinkingly at her own feet. She seemed so fragile in that moment that Jack was certain she would fall to pieces if he did touch her, the strange change to her only increasing his desperation to save her. Up close to her, he could see the bruises that marked her cheek, the scratches that marred her once flawless shoulders and neck, the blood staining the edges of her threadbare clothing. Jack repeated her name several times, each time speaking softly to her, trying to get her to look at him. She didn't react to his voice, not even when he tried to say her name more forcefully to force her to look to him. Each time he spoke, her trembling grew worse.

"Amelia, look at me, please," he pleaded and her chin finally lifted but her eyes remained to the ground, not obeying him in the least. Taking in her face hungrily, Jack could only see that her one eye was so bruised that she had to keep her eye shut because of the swelling. Her other eye was lined with healing bruises, the sight of them only highlighting the way the blood vessels had broken, making the eye almost completely red.

"She won't answer you," Archibades said as he followed Jack and stood just behind him. "She's been broken, a mixture of Taiga magic that tore into her mind late last night. A play upon her fears, upon her desires, and now she is stuck within her own world, obedient to a fault."

His voice fell on deaf ears, Jack not hearing him as he stared at the battered woman. Her eyes were still on the ground and he felt bile rise in his throat, a mixture of pity and guilt gnawing at his stomach when he saw the other marks that disfigured her once flawless skin. Jack longed to reach out, to stroke her poor face despite the way the bruises made it look like a scarred piece of ceramic. He sighed and bowed his head.

"I'm so sorry, Amelia. I should have been here to protect you," he whispered. At his words, her eyes suddenly lifted and met his in a straight gaze. As Jack stared at her, he saw the haze in her eyes, saw the utter despair and agony, and knew that he was going to lose control of his temper in a moment.

"Though she has been a delightful companion," Archibades said slyly. Whirling on his heel, Jack let his hands slip free of the shackles and lashed out with his fist, catching Archibades in his throat. The Red King went stumbling backwards, startled by the suddenness and the strength in the blow. Jack breathed heavily, stepping after him and wanting nothing more than to beat the King to death. The Knights stepped forward to help their master, pausing in their restless shifting. Archibades staggered to his feet and Jack gave him a cold look, trying to figure out how to get out of this alive. Get out of this and save Amelia from whatever fate the Red King had in store for her. Then it slowly clicked into place. The sort of thing Hatter may have thought of and Jack was certain he had been around the other man too much now.

Archibades was steeped in tradition, still living from hundreds of years ago in times of warfare.

"You'd hide behind your Knights like some figurehead," Jack said. Archibades' face went red with anger, his eyes darkening.

"You dare to insult me."

"From one King to another? Yes, I dare," Jack snapped. Archibades' arched a red brow and smiled a cold smile.

"I have killed every man who dared to insult me, whether in war or in duel," he said lowly. Seeing his opportunity, Jack gave him an equally cold smile, still aware of Amelia shaking behind him.

"Then it is a duel then. The traditional way we once would have solved this problem in your day," Jack declared, the challenge firm in his voice. Archibades stared, startled at the young man's confidence and in his provocation.

"You are so willing to die for Wonderland to defeat me, like some hapless little martyr?" Archibades questioned. Jack stared back at him.

"I am."

Author's Side Note: It is all about tradition and rules! (and I'm actually being serious here) when it comes to the heart of the matter.

Unfortunately, I knew from Chapter 3 that I was going to kill off the Knave to act as a kind of catalyst, but man, it was hard not to just pull a soap opera thing and have him return from the dead. I got used to him as well.