Halden checked his watch. The train was due to arrive at any minute. Best check to make sure... especially that he was on the right train. He'd got on the wrong one, once, because the schedules were a bit confusing. When he turned to check the schedule, he jumped. Standing silently beside him was a well-dressed young man, who seemed to be watching him intently. Halden couldn't really tell; he had the brim of a brown fedora over his eyes and a tan scarf over his chin.

"Is there something you want?" Halden asked.

The stranger adjusted his hat, and he saw piercing gold-brown eyes staring at him. The stranger had dark hair, which he wore a little long, and tapered down to rest at the back of his neck. Well-trimmed sideburns led to a goatee. He had at least two earrings.

"Only to give you some... rather delayed good advice." His voice was silky smooth and deep.

"What advice?" Halden asked.

"It was about a patient that you tried to treat... not long ago."

"Which? I've treated many."

"It was the one named Faith. Faith Maras, if you want to go into specifics. With a good friend called 'June,' an acquaintance 'Jean' in London and a deceased brother 'Jeremy,' who currently resides in some cemetery several miles from her home."

"How do you know all of this? What's going on with Faith?"

"I know because I watch her. I have since she was about seven years old."

"What about her?"

"You treated her wrong. You spent all of your time finding out what was wrong; her problems. You totally ignored the real reason that people thought that she was insane."

"Which was? Wonderland?"

"Very good." The voice was sarcastic.

"So what should I have done?" Halden asked, matching the man's sarcasm well.

"Oh, that was a little sharp for a therapist."

Halden glared.

"Anyway, what Faith needed more than a shoulder to cry on was a good slap in the face. Don't get me wrong on that, but the girl is positively wallowing in self-pity. She's really rather pathetic. It doesn't help us much."

"Who are you?" Halden asked, completely stumped.

"Cheshire. Cheshire Kitt Mara Danlor-wend, the eighth."

"...I see," he finally said. He wondered where the "Kitt Mara" part came from. It didn't sound completely like a name that would belong to a noble.

The two stood in silence for a moment, then Cheshire spoke again.

"You're in a lot of trouble at Rutledge, you know. You've been accused of harbouring inmates."

"What are they talking about?" Halden asked, evidently annoyed.

"I see."

"What is it?"

"You don't know."

"Know what?" Cheshire gave him a sidelong glance and smirked.

"Faith disappeared."

She was running. The soldiers were far, far behind her, and yet she was not trying to escape them. She had sneaked past them a while ago. Now she was trying to escape from the drums in her head.

A figure appeared, about twenty feet in front of her. She barrelled into it, and she heard Cat's indignant hisses. She stopped and turned around. He was not quite so laid-back as he usually was. He appeared quite irritated, as a matter of fact.

"A wonderful heroine you are. Positively incredible." His words were not meant in kindness. "Alice was never this much trouble."

Faith looked up again, anger merging with the tears in her eyes. "What this time, Cheshire? Another flaw, another fault to deal with? Or is it that you're so wrapped up in your perfectly wonderful country that you forget the person that you ever so kindly volunteered to help?"

Cat stared, shocked. Then, a horrible thing happened. His shoulders slumped, his head drooped, and a huge melancholy seemed to settle over him. "Then... I suppose that you are not what we all thought you to be."

Faith's head shot up. "What?"

"Maybe... we saved the wrong one."

"...Saved...?"

"Yes, Faith. It was a miracle that anyone survived that fire. We thought that you were the right one."

"But... I thought..."

"That Jeremy couldn't? He could have, if you had died instead of him. But no matter what we did, one of you would have died. It was all a matter of choice."

"Why was my house burned down at all?" her voice took on a hard tone.

"If you were wracked by guilt and despair, think of how easy it would be to take over. It is not the only thing the Queen could have done. If you're dead, then she may tweak the balance of things again and get some child that would side with her instead of us."

"So... I've failed you, and we haven't even begun."

"Not precisely. You can still make amends."

As she walked, Faith noticed just how different this part of Wonderland was. Everything was grey and muted... there was nothing there that suggested that there had ever been any colour there at all. The buildings were old and rickety, and she knew that they were lucky that they had not collapsed onto the people who lived inside of them. She had gotten out of that tunnel after her talk with Cat, and had been lucky, having met no guards on her way.

When she was about halfway through the gate, a strange voice from behind her said, "C'mon Faith, use your eyes!"

She turned, and thought that she saw Jeremy turning away, only to vanish before her eyes. Before he was completely gone, however, he turned, and though his face was serious, he winked and whispered, "Good luck," before going completely.

She began looking around.

"Need an 'and?" Another voice asked.

"What?" Faith asked.

"Are ye lookin' fer somethin'?" She turned to find a young man standing before her. He was grimy, and his dark hair was greasy, having been ignored for quite some time. His eyes were golden brown though, and completely alert.

"Um, not really... I don't really know what it is that I'm looking for."

"I see. So, right, 'oo are ye?"

"I'm... I'm Mara," she said, nearly forgetting.

"Okay. I'm Del th' son, right? Short for Delaney, but don't ye go airin' that out in public."

"Alright. So, what are you doing?"

"I'm 'elpin' ter rebuild Alice's Village, or, wot we affectionately call 'The Village of the Damned'."

"I've seen it."

"I know. No bloke comes outta there unscarred and I spot that in yer face," he replied.

"I saw someone else carting wood and nails," she said suddenly. "What are you carrying?"

"Pitch and tiles. Me Da's in th' mine. My sist'r 's choppin'. Do yer do an'thin'?"

"I... I'm a messenger. I'm going with a list of what they should prepare."

"I see," he said, rather sceptically. "Now, right, could ye tell them ta get the glass for windows ready for me next round, then, eh? It'd 'elp greatly."

"Sure," she said, fidgeting nervously. She didn't like lying, and it seemed to be all she did nowadays. He was watching her closely, she realised. Awkwardly she asked, "Is there anything else, or is that it?"

"Ah, that's all there is, thankee kindly."

"Um, sir?"

"Call me Del."

"Del. Do you think that Faith is coming?"

"I believe 'n wot I can see, and when I see 'er I'll believe tha' she's 'ere." He turned to leave, but he called out, "An' good luck to ye on whatev'r it is you be doing."

She knew that Cat would be more than a little displeased that she had spoken to yet another stranger, but she needed help and practical advice. First Morag, then Del, then... what was it... Timbre, a girl about her age, who had given her advice on the best route to take; where she wouldn't encounter many nosy soldiers. Also she had given her advice on practical matters as well.

"Dementia, tha's our city... it's mostly an indoor village, since we're a minin' tahn, but we'd begun ta branch out and start life outside before the Queen attacked us."

"That's where most of the miners are though, right? Inside?"

"Yep. Ye'll probably need yor identification ter get inside though, so I'd keep it 'andy."

"...Identification?" Faith asked, bewildered. Timbre nodded. Faith bit her lower lip and murmured, "I don't have any..."

"Ye don't 'ave identification? That's bad, Mara. Ye need i'n some places."

"Really? Where?"

"Checkpoints n' the like. Usually, they'll take yer word as ta who ye are, but nowadays, with evry sold'er on the lookout for Faith, ye'll need it, jus' ta prove tha' ye aren't 'er." Her grey eyes were full of concern. She pushed a strand of dark blonde hair out of her face, and peered into Faith's own. "All I really can tell ye though, is ta keep out of trouble- don't make a stir anywhere."

"Why not? What'll happen?"

"Most anyone 'round here'll beg you not ter make trouble. That'll brin' the Queen's guards into it, and they're... ruthless. They've killed more people 'ere than age, famine and disease put together," she pleaded. Faith changed the subject, knowing that Timbre was beginning to catch on.

"So what is it with Faith? I mean, some people talk about her like she's the Second Coming, and others seem to think that she's almost the Devil incarnate? Why?"

"Because of Alice," was the simple reply. "Alice is pretty much our god, and ta us, Faith is the Second Comin'."

Faith felt her heart stop. She discreetly pounded her chest to start it up again.

"Are ye okay? Ye 'ave a look as though we'd just told ye that ye were the Second Comin'!" Timbre examined her face closely. "Ye look a wee like 'er- Alice."

"I don't know what she looked like," Faith admitted.

"Dark 'air, pale... though 'er eyes were green. Yers are more blue... they're almost black, for that matter."

"Well, I'm not Faith," she said softly.

"I think that ye 'ate 'er," Timbre said suddenly. "Why?"

"She waited too long. She could have come here so long ago... instead she chose to wait on earth, crying tears without meaning."

"So ye're one of the bitter ones," Timbre said knowingly.

"No," she almost said. "I am the bitter one." But she knew that she would have to begin anew. She was no longer Faith, but Mara, and Mara was not afraid.