23

Alice has to wait another week before even broaching the subject with Nivens, and his answer is exactly what she should have expected.

"Alice, do you know what last resort means?"

He wheels his cart, the books thumping a little against the metal as he pushes it down the long corridors between bookshelves. Ever since his return, he's been demoted, in a way, to book restocker and organizer rather than hall monitor. It's less interaction, and, hopefully, according to the staff, therefore less stressful for him.

Alice catches a book that's about to fall from the cart, pushing it back into place. "Yes, I do." she says, carefully containing her annoyance. She'd nearly forgotten that this pompous, self-righteous side of him still exists.

"Then why," Nivens grabs a book from the top of the cart, pushing a little space between a couple of books on the shelf to make room. He glances at the spine. "Diggory, right here." he mutters to himself. He slides it between the books. "Are you even bringing it up? You haven't even had the preliminary trial yet. You don't know if you'll even need to do that." He picks up another book. "Lockhart." He makes a disgusted face, replaces it back in the cart, and pushes on.

Alice follows him still, determined. "It won't look good for us if we bring in an undocumented witness." she whispers through her teeth. "We need a backup plan."

Nivens stops the cart again and shuffles a few books around. "Sounds like you don't have much faith in your case." he says. He pushes the Lockhart book into place with the rest of the series.

"I just don't want any chance of us losing."

Nivens abruptly turns around. "Do you still have the pen drive?"

Alice frowns. "Yes, but —"

He holds his hand out. "Give it here. So you won't be tempted."

"Nivens!"

"Keep your voice down." he hisses. "The drive."

Alice reluctantly fishes it out of her pocket and gives it to him. Nivens tucks it alongside his pocket watch in his vest. "If the preliminary doesn't go well, then you can come to me. Now please, leave me alone."

Alice bites back a stream of curses and nods, giving him a tight smile. She turns on her heel and leaves Nivens to his dusty old books.

Three days. Three days until the trial. The preliminary hadn't gone particularly well, with the Underland party barely able to convince the judge that Bumby did, indeed, need to go on trial. Bumby had pushed back quite a bit, bringing up the point that Mirana had checked herself in, implying her consent and violating the contract she'd signed. Now, with the drive out of her hands, she's not sure what to do. Wilkins is meeting with Mirana right now, so there's no hope of distraction from the fact that they may very well lose.

Tarrant finds her curled up on the lawn outside near the Founder's statue, ripping bits of grass out of the lush bed of green, scowling. He kicks his legs underneath him and sits beside her. He's silent for a moment, watching her stain her fingers.

"The groundskeeper is going to kill you, you know." he says quietly. Alice continues to tear at the grass. He tries again. "Things not going well?"

"What do you think?"

"Okay, stop killing the grass." Tarrant says, uncurling her fingers. "That's not going to do anything. Tell me what's wrong."

"The bloody judge can't believe a word against Bumby. We haven't got any solid evidence." Alice rubs her fingertips together to give her something to fidget with. "It's our word against his, and his is winning."

"So why not get some evidence?"

Alice scoffs. "Oh, sure, let's drive down to the shop and pick some up. Should we get some milk while we're there as well?"

Tarrant doesn't even bat an eye. "Think about it. There's cameras in Rutledge." Alice frowns. She still doesn't understand. Tarrant continues, elaborating further. "So, there's recordings of every room, which means…" He trails off, hoping she'll finish his thought.

Alice's mind works at a blur, but suddenly, it clicks. "Video evidence." She sits up. "So I'll have to go back."

Tarrant smiles wanly. "No. We'll have to go back. You don't have to do this alone this time."

Alice shakes her head. "I've got to. There's no point in getting anyone else involved."

Tarrant rolls his eyes. "Not getting others involved has gotten you into a fair bit of messes. This isn't just about the two of you. It's about shutting that asylum down, about finally getting people to listen to us. And you can't do that by yourself." He thinks for a moment. "We'll need Mally. She knows how to pick locks really well."

"We're breaking in this time?"

"In the name of justice, yes." He stands up and offers a hand to Alice, who takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. "I don't think it'll matter which tapes we get, but if we can find the ones of Mirana and Mason, possibly of you and I as well, though those may be harder to find, that would be best."

Alice frowns. "The trial is in three days, Tarrant. When would we even go?"

"Tonight. The sooner the better."

Alice's stomach churns at the thought of going back, but without the drive and with Bumby having the court practically in his pocket, they really don't have a choice.

"Tonight, then."

At one in the morning, Alice quietly unzips the duffel bag Tarrant had slipped her in the Cibus earlier. She'd spent the rest of the day relaxing Mirana from her meeting, partially to distract herself from what she'd have to do tonight. Mirana doesn't suspect a thing, though it'd been a challenge wiggling out of that marshmallow she calls a bed. They'd taken to sleeping in all that white as opposed to Alice's much messier blue sheets, but that also meant slipping and sliding out of layers upon layers of white silk. Not the best candidate for sneaking, or for making Alice feel any less guilty for having to lie to Mirana.

The contents of the bag are simple — all black everything: jumper, trousers, sneakers. There's also a can of pepper spray with a note in Tarrant's hand ("Just in case"). The trousers are big enough to go over Alice's normal set, so she pulls them over along with the jumper. She unlaces her Converse and shoves them underneath her bed, replacing them with the black sneakers. One quick glance in the mirror tells her she looks very much like a burglar and will be treated as such if they're caught.

Well, too late to think on that now. She clips the pepper spray to one of the trouser belt loops. With one last glance at Mirana, not daring to give her a parting kiss on the forehead and risk waking her up, Alice pulls the hood up and down over her head.

Without Nivens patrolling the halls, it's much easier to get out to the parking lot. Tarrant is already waiting in his bright orange buggy, Mally in the passenger seat. Mally waves her down with a grin, and Alice runs over to jump into the back seat.

Once inside, Tarrant wastes no time getting them out of the parking lot. It is only when the school is well behind him that he relaxes, but only slightly. The air is thick with tension, Tarrant keeping his eyes firmly focused on the road, checking his mirrors every so often, Alice sitting in the back fidgeting with her fingers. Mally is shifting around in her seat, glancing out the window, at Tarrant, then at Alice. Given what they're about to do, Mally seems far too giddy, happy, even. Her little lock-picking kit sits on her lap, tenderly cradled in her hands.

She turns back to look at Alice, beaming. "Isn't this exciting?" she says. "We're about to break into an asylum!"

Alice smiles wanly, trying her best to join Mally's enthusiasm. She sees Tarrant's jaw clench out of the corner of her eye. "I don't see anything exciting about that." he says quietly.

Mally pouts. "Since when did I have to tell you to lighten up? Yes, yes, we can all be very serious about this. But this is the sort of adventure you dream about when you're small! We're about to take down a monster, and that's exciting!"

Tarrant snorts, a hint of a smile creeping across his face. "You're still small, Mally."

Mally rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "Small enough to make you stop being so grumpy. Let's play something fun!" She pops open the glove box. "Where's the album?"

"Underneath the blue papers." he says, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the road.

Mally pulls out a battered jewel CD case triumphantly and pops it into the player. She skips until she hits six, then lets it play. A slightly warped voice whispers out of the speakers:

Will you have some tea with me?

An electric guitar riffs along, a bouncy little melody, joined seconds later by some sort of horns and a heavy, steady bass drum, slightly muffled.

Ladies and gentlemen

The instruments grow clearer, then the music kicks up full swing as the rest of the drum kit layers in along with some trumpets. Mally elbows Tarrant.

"Come on, love, you know you want to." she says cheekily.

Tarrant's eyes light up, and he starts to sing, his voice light and breathy, speeding up ever so slightly as he lets the music fill him up, his shoulders rolling to the rhythm.

Ladies come on over here, let's have a lovely beer

Let's hit the dance floor!

Mally chuckles and joins in, her voice noticeably more nasal, but able to carry a tune fair enough.

Time for tea, time for tea, bread and jam and company

Play the music nice and loud, love to see a dancing crowd

As Mally and Tarrant get more into it, bopping around in their seats to this strange hybrid of swing and tech, Alice feels herself relax a little. She finds herself humming along to the relatively simple tune, her head moving slightly. Even though this car is carrying her closer and closer to the place of her nightmares, her friends have still managed to turn this into some happy-go-lucky roadtrip.

They could very well die from this.

The thought comes out of nowhere.

Suddenly, everything — the singing, the drums, the horns, the rolling tires — quiets to a dull roar. Her own heartbeat pounds in her ears: boom, boom, boom, BOOM! boom, boom, boom, BOOM! Images flash before her eyes. The dirty, dingy rooms, tiny little prison cells. The sickeningly sterile scent, deceivingly clean in a place so filthy. Mattresses stuffed with bricks, guaranteeing weeks, months, of restless nights. A high pitched, whistling sound swells inside, joining her steady heartbeat. The crack of a whip against the pitted floor, ready to bite into her skin. The glint off long, deadly needles, filled with deathlike sleep. The click of a lighter.

Burning metal.

Gunmetal eyes.

Pain.

Red.

Fire.

Death.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

STOP!

"Alice!"

Alice's head snaps up and she gulps in air, belatedly realizing that she'd had her own fingers clamped around her throat. She slams her hands onto the upholstery, fingernails digging into the cushioning, her feet unfolding themselves from her chest and hitting the car floor, trying to ground herself. Her eyes focus, slowly, and she starts seeing grey, then fabric, the ceiling of the orange buggy. The high pitched whistle fades away. Her heart beat grows softer, calmer. She forces herself to relax her jaw, then her neck as she lets her head sit back on top of it. Tarrant's pulled over the car, and he and Mally are both staring at her with wide eyes. Alice risks a glance out the window. Hell incarnate. They've arrived.

"Maybe you should stay here —" Mally begins.

But Alice will have none of it. "No." she says firmly. "I've got to go in."

Tarrant still regards her with a wary eye. "It wouldn't be a good idea for you to, ah, break down, in the middle of that place." he says carefully, noticing Alice's growing scowl. "You won't be doing us any good… incapacitated."

Alice looks out the window again, back to Rutledge. She's been back here twice now, not counting her childhood time. Why is this time different? Why is she feeling this way now? Has she reached her breaking point? Has she been suppressing for so long that it's now come to explode?

No.

This will not control her.

So, instead of responding, Alice flips the lock and shoves the door open with her foot, stepping out into the chilly night air, into fate, come what may. —

Breaking in is much easier than any of them expected. All it took was a swift tug, and Tarrant got one window open. Mally and Alice come in right after him, careful to land as quietly as possible onto the floor. They check every hallway, careful to duck into the next one over whenever they see the occasional orderly, before concluding that there's nothing on the first floor. Tarrant starts for the elevator, but Alice shakes her head vehemently and motions him towards the stairs. Bumby will undoubtedly hear the elevator moving.

They climb the stairs, running on their toes to minimize the tapping of their shoes hitting the steps. The door to the second floor is locked, but after giving Mally a few minutes with her needles the knob easily clicks open. They check each door. This floor seems to be mostly offices, unlike the first floor being full of patients. There's one door at the end that sticks out from the rest, a steel door with three padlocks and a black plaque that reads: RECORDS. Mally fiddles with her kit, trying a few different needles.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Heavy, loafer footsteps thud down the hall. Mally's eyes widen, and Alice forgets to breathe. Tarrant wrings his hands as Mally hurries along, barely getting the lock open in time as the footsteps round the corner. The three of them lurch inside, slamming the door shut behind them, grimacing at the lound BAM! it makes. Alice fumbles for a lightswitch, hearing Tarrant and Mally scramble to their feet, getting ready to fight if need be.

Blinding, fluorescent light floods the room, and Alice shuts her eyes immediately to close off the burning sensation. When she opens her eyes again, they've adjusted, and she realizes that the light is actually much dimmer than she'd initially thought.

The records room is much like cells they keep patients in, except it's full of green metal bookshelves stuffed with tapes, sorted in alphabetical order. Against the center wall is a black metal desk covered in papers, a laptop sitting on the top corner and a giant monitor in the center. A plush grey rolling chair with the stuffing coming out of the seat sits in front of it.

Alice goes straight to the shelves, going past the A's, the B's, the C's, skipping past the K's. She goes to the bottom shelf, the U's. There are only three names, but only one matters: Underland. She grabs that tape, holding it to her chest. This will help them win. Bumby can't talk his way out of video evidence. This is what she holds onto. This is what's going to help her keep it together.

Click.

The knob on the door turns. Alice's eyes widen, and she mouths "hide" at Tarrant and Mally. Mally flips the switch off while Tarrant pushes the desk chair back. The door starts to move, pushing inward from the other side. The three of them scramble to get underneath the desk, which doesn't have much space there to begin with. Tarrant and Alice are mashed together side by side, their legs drawn up and their necks bent at uncomfortable angles. Mally barely fits in front of them, having to turn into them after she pulls the chair back into place. She's practically curled into their knees, her head resting on top of the caps. Alice shuts her eyes as the door is shoved the rest of the way open.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The space beneath her lids brightens slightly. Whoever is in here has turned the lights on. Alice holds her breath, letting out tiny little puffs whenever she needed it, not daring to breathe normally. The tape is digging into her stomach, but she can't move it. She can't move anything. The person shuffles around the room, leather scuffing the floor. Alice knows those shoes, but she's praying she's wrong. She shouldn't open her eyes. She should not open her eyes.

She peers down through her eyelashes.

Bumby's loafers.

Two feet away.

Alice's chest tightens, but she stifles the hyperventilating she feels coming on, feeling the breath building up in her throat, burning. Bumby seems to stand there for an eternity, shifting his weight, presumably looking around the room.

Then, three thuds later, the light pops off and the door closes. The sound of Bumby's loafers fades away, and it is only then that Alice releases the breath she's been holding, hearing Mally and Tarrant do the same.

"Let's get out of here." Mally says, uncurling herself and moving the chair so she can get out.

Tarrant and Alice nod and follow suit, not even pausing to stretch their cramped muscles. They dash down the stairs as quietly as possible, going back out through the window downstairs, and, as soon as they're outside, sprint for Tarrant's buggy. Tarrant speeds out of there, his fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

As they fly down the road, not really thinking about what might happen if a cop might be out and about, something starts bubbling within Alice's chest. It's fluttery, nearly euphoric, and if Alice doesn't release it, she feels she may burst.

And it bursts, it bursts in a fit of giggles.

Alice laughs, laughs until her sides hurt, and it's so contagious that Tarrant and Mally can't help but join.

"We… did… it!" Mally wheezes.

"Ahahaha… yes… indeed!" Tarrant pants.

"We're going to win!" Alice pushes out, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. "We're going… to be… okay!"

They carry on like that for a while before settling down, stewing in their mirth.

"I got your tape and mine as well, Alice." Tarrant says, turning into the academy lot.

"How are we going to watch them?" Alice asks. Finally, they're getting somewhere!

"I've got a player in my room." Tarrant says. "Bayard will be asleep."

Mally yawns. "Can I sleep over?"

Tarrant smiles fondly at her. "Of course. You did well, Mally."

"Mmmmhmm."

Tarrant parks his buggy, switching the car off. "Will you stay over, Alice?"

Alice shakes her head. "After we watch the videos, I've got to get back to Mirana." She smiles at the thought of crawling under those snowy blankets, snuggling with her queen. "Maybe some other time."

They get up to Tarrant's room, dragging their feet the entire way. The trip had taken an emotional toll on them all, especially Tarrant and Alice. It's 2:30 AM, and Bayard is asleep, as promised, snoring softly. Tarrant opens one of the drawers in his chest, pulling out his player and a monitor.

"Mally, Alice, change into something more comfortable. You can pick from my closet and get the clothes back to me in the morning." Tarrant pulls out some cables. "I'll set this up."

Mally bounds over, noticeably weighed down with exhaustion, and opens the top drawer. She picks out a gold and purple t-shirt, which ends up being more like a dress on her, and grabs a black and green striped shirt and a pair of yellow sweatpants, dropping them beside Tarrant. Tarrant mutters a thank you, and Alice moves in to try and find something to change into. She ends up with a loose, glittery red and orange shirt and somewhat matching crimson gym shorts. That'll be an outfit for Mirana to wake up to. She slips out of her black outfit and into Tarrant's clothes. The shimmery material feels amazing against her skin. Perhaps she'll find more shirts like this, in softer combinations.

By the time she's dressed and folded up her clothes, Tarrant's got the entire setup rigged and ready to go and Mally's made a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor. Alice sits beside her after handing Mirana's tape over to Tarrant. Tarrant pushes it into the player and sits back with them, grabbing the remote.

He turns to Alice. "Ready?"

Alice nods, bracing herself for whatever she may see.

Tarrant presses play.

The screen flickers for a minute, and then goes black. A quiet, deadly calm chuckle emanates from the box. Then, the camera focuses properly.

It's Bumby, and he's leering at the camera, sitting back in that same grey chair they'd been using as protection only moments before. His gunmetal eyes glimmer, piercing bullets waiting to be fired. He laughs for a little longer, his chin on one set of knuckles while the fingers of his other hand drum against the table.

"Hello, Alice."

Alice's heart stops. What is this?

"Nice try." Bumby leans back in the chair. "If you're watching this, then you must have thought you've won, until now. I knew you'd try something like this. You children are so predictable. Why do you think it was so easy, hmm?" Bumby smirks. "I'm always going to be a step ahead. You'll be back under my care soon, my dear. You, and any of your little accomplices." He leans in, so close that Alice can see the monitor reflected in his eyes, that menacing blue glow. "You've already lost." The picture lingers on his face, on that twisted smile, for a minute exactly, before going black.

Tarrant clicks the monitor off, sneaking a worried glance at Alice, who sits quiet, eyes still fixed on the screen. Mally makes to say something, but thinks better of it.

Alice stares at the blank screen for a good minute, the corner of her mouth twitching.

She exhales once, sharp, strained.

And slams her fist into the telly.