Disclaimer: Alice and Tin Man don't belong to me, they belong to SyFy. The craziness, however, is all me.

Duchess and Jack walked leisurely onto Wonderland Palace's loading bay, where Jack's personal Scarab was waiting. "Thank you for coming, my dear," Jack said. "I'm sorry we couldn't have more time together, but I have my usual appointment in the Mirror Room." The White Rabbit organization was still making trip to the Other Side, but not for oysters. They now took food, clothing, and other things – things that would not be missed – to Wonderland, where they were needed. Jack oversaw the collections himself and dictated what items were to be taken and from what locations. It was one of the many ways that he was attempting to rebuild Wonderland, though it was not a permanent solution. He wanted Wonderland to be as independent as possible and beholden to no one. Even the O.Z.

"I understand, darling. Business comes first."

Jack nodded soberly and took her hand in his, leaning close to speak to her. To the casual observer, it looked as though he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She played along, smiling and sliding her hands along his waist, giggling at the appropriate moment.

They were the perfect couple, King Jack dapper in his expertly tailored black suit, and the Duchess, effortlessly stylish in a short, skintight dress in bold blocks of black and red. He was devastatingly handsome; she was heartbreakingly beautiful. They were young, brilliant, strong, and successful, emblematic of the bright future for which Wonderland was destined.

But like their country, beneath that bright exterior was only a hollow shell. The words he whispered into her ear were instructions, not declarations of love. "I want a report on your findings by the beginning of next week." His tone was all business. "It will give you some time to organize your thoughts." He pulled her just a tiny bit closer, ever conscious of the eyes upon them. "I assume you've been invited to dinner parties over the weekend?"

"Just one. On Sunday." She bit her lip and leaned into him. Two could play at that game, and she'd been at it longer than he. "At Lord Grandin's estate."

"Lord Grandin." His eyes narrowed in thought. To hide the look, he dropped his head to her shoulder. "Lord Grandin, who has been suggesting that we abandon our efforts in courting Wonderland and fall upon the mercy of Merry Land and Quox."

"Lord Grandin, who does not have a thought in his head unless Lord Lucan Spade puts it there," Duchess returned, running her long, manicured nails along his scalp.

Yes, her insight was truly keen. He did not want to admit it, but Giacomo's idea had proved fortuitous. "Indeed." Jack's lips thinned. "Well. Do let me know if you learn anything interesting, especially if it pertains to Ambassador Raw's whereabouts."

"Has Queen Lavender-"

"What happens between Wonderland and the Outer Zone is none of your concern."

She barely flinched at the way that he cut her off. Like water rolling off a stone, she simply shrugged. "Of course. I will do what I can."

"See to it then." He lifted his head. "Well then, I shall see you next week." He leaned forward and kissed her slowly, as though he could not bear to let her go. When they finally separated, he reached past her and held open the door to the Scarab himself, waving off the chauffeur.

"Until then." Duchess fluttered her fingers at him coyly and climbed inside. As soon as the door closed, her head fell back against the seat and she closed her eyes.

Why had she agreed to this mad scheme in the first place?

Because it's Jack, a voice whispered at the back of her mind.

No. It couldn't be about Jack. The depth of her feelings for him was not enough to play at this farce. She was the Duchess. She never did what was unnecessary. Everything she did had a purpose or reason behind it. She did not believe in simply going through the motions. She believed in having convictions because without them, all actions were empty. And if actions were empty, what was the point in living?

No, this charade had to be about Wonderland, the country that she loved and had to believe was not doomed. She had to think about how she was doing something good for her people by finding out who was behind the decidedly nasty undercurrents that were rippling through society. She had to discover the identity of the ones who were preventing her people from moving forward.

The disappearance of the Outer Zone's envoy was only the most visible sign of the rot. It reached deeper, much deeper than the lingering effects of the teas on Wonderland's citizens. Somewhere out there were citizens who seemed determined to turn Wonderland over to its most bitter enemies. How else could she interpret the urgings of diplomatic relations towards Quox and Merry Land, who only wanted Wonderland's riches for their own?

If her playacting could help Jack and Giacomo get to the bottom of this, eradicating the threat of invasion, then that would be enough. Surely that was purpose enough. She didn't need anything – anyone – more than that.

She had a useful skill, so why not use it? Duchess was well aware of her own charms and her ability to use them to her own advantage. The education provided by the Queen of Hearts had been most thorough.

"Sit up, Duchess. Or must I tie your back to the needle-board?"

The strength of that memory provoked an instantaneous reaction. The mere echo of the former queen's voice was enough to force her back into ramrod straight. Her hands automatically folded on her lap and her legs crossed demurely at the ankle.

"Most thorough, indeed," Duchess said bitterly, recalling the pin-sharp sensation of needles on her back. Wasn't that why Jack and Giacomo had approached her in the first place?

Duchess walked into Jack's ready room, nodding to Giacomo as he held the door open. Her entire body was humming with nerves and expectation, though none of it showed on the surface. Her armor was internal as well as external. The dress, skintight and made of black velvet, decorated with sinuous silver designs, covered her from neck to wrists to knees. It was one of her favorites. It didn't show as much skin as the dresses she'd worn whilst under the queen's thumb. Those had been lost in the rubble of the Hearts Casino and she had no cause to mourn them. They were symbolic of her status as the queen's pet, to be trotted out to perform whenever she wished.

Still, she had impeccable taste and style. She enjoyed daring and alluring fashion, but her taste was more…subtle than that of the former Queen of Hearts. In fact, everything about her was more subtle than she led people to believe, but she preferred it that way. People had always underestimated her because of her beauty and she took great satisfaction in undermining those assumptions.

The only person who had never underestimated her was the one currently sitting before her.

Why had Jack summoned her? The last time they had met without the interference of other people was the night of the fall of the Hearts Casino and his mother's overthrow. And that was a night that was best forgotten. It was difficult – the touch of his hands and the heat of his body were all but imprinted on her skin. He had been all too quick to keep her at arm's length the morning after. The Duchess knew why when news of his proposal and subsequent rejection by Alice Hamilton reached her ears.

The news had stung – more than she expected. Duchess had thought that her rescue and her confession had touched something within him. Perhaps she'd been mistaken.

"Your Majesty." She curtseyed, but kept her eyes on Jack's face. Was it her imagination, or were his cheekbones more prominent? There were hollows in his cheeks and dark smudges beneath his eyes, though they were nothing compared to the blankness in his eyes. Once he'd had nary a care in the world. Now, he carried the world – or Wonderland, at the very least – on his shoulders. He'd lost weight. Was he eating at all? She knew better than to voice such concerns. Jack would not welcome such inquiries, not from her.

Jack waved at a seat. "Have a seat, Duchess." His eyes followed her across the room as he sat. His gaze was measuring and distrustful. He always looked that way now, utterly impenetrable and always calculating. That head of his was always moving on the next move. He had to stay several steps ahead of his councilors, after all. "You are no doubt wondering why I have called you here."

"I admit that my curiosity was piqued," she drawled, crossing her legs. She kept an eye on Giacomo as he closed the door, crossing the room to stand behind his king. His expression was as readable as granite. The Ten of Clubs had retained his somewhat bumbling, always eager to please, and hot-headed persona, but only in public. It was a carefully erected mask, one that only fell – well. Duchess wasn't entirely sure if it ever fell. She had a feeling that this stoic, unemotional shell was as far as it ever got unless he was in the presence of his fellow Resistance fighters. She knew that just by looking at him. He was far too cautious to ever really relax, which served him and Jack well.

"I have a job for you."

Well, that was quick. Duchess raised an eyebrow. "A job?" she echoed, shoving her musings to the back of her mind. What did he have planned for her? "Curiouser and curiouser. I am well and truly intrigued now."

She listened as Jack outlined his scheme, often looking to Giacomo to expand on certain points. For her own part, Duchess waited to ask any questions of her own, taking in all of the information that they gave her. Once they were finished, she sat back to think.

Jack wanted her help. He wanted her to be a spy – his spy, amongst the lords of the High Council. What did this mean? Was he ready to trust her once more? This was no simple feat that he was asking of her, no job that could be shuffled off to any person. There was a reason that he was asking her, and not one of his fellow Resistance fighters. "You want me to be your agent against the High Council," she stated.

"That is correct." Jack placed a hand on the table in front of him and stared at her. "You will be compensated, of course. Name your price."

The breeziness of his offer, paired with the derision and coldness in his eyes, had the same sort of effect as a dousing with a bucket of cold river water. He was testing her, she realized. He didn't trust her but was offering her this job nonetheless. But why? If he didn't trust her now, how could he take any of her reporting seriously?

She shouldn't have felt disappointed, but she was. It was as though the door between them was well and truly shut. "Bargaining, Your Majesty?" she inquired breezily, using her insouciance as a cloak, a balm for her bruises. "How disappointing."

A muscle in his jaw clenched. "I'm not here to play games, Duchess. Perhaps I should ask if you're even willing to accept this task."

"Oh Your Majesty, how can you say that? I do so enjoy a game of intrigues."

Apparently it was possible for his face to become even more still and expressionless. His eyes frosted over. "I'm aware of that, Duchess."

Oh, that hurt. He hadn't even bothered to dig any deeper. But then, was that truly a surprise? He had already formulated an opinion on her and Jack Heart held fast to his convictions. It was a trait that she had always admired in him, even when it served to turn him against her. "I am willing and able to accept this job of yours, Your Majesty." She tilted her head and smiled a smile that would have done Cheshire proud. It was all teeth – playful yet dangerous. "I'm rather insulted that you're bringing up payment. The thrill of the game is payment enough."

"As tempting as it is to believe you," His tone said anything but. "I know that you must have some sort of price, Duchess. Name it."

He wasn't going to let it go, Duchess realized. "Well," she murmured, giving in. She made sure to allow her lips to curve, as though she was thinking of all the possible favors owed to her. "I expect I'll think of something suitably outrageous. May I have some time to think about it, Your Majesty?"

There was no overt reaction to her statement but the subtle loosening of his muscles. She knew what that meant. In his mind, he had been proven true. The knowledge of it made Duchess feel horribly, achingly empty inside. She looked away and caught Giacomo's eye. For a moment, she was startled. Was that sympathy? But as quickly as she caught it, it disappeared, and his face was impassive as ever. She stared at him for a moment longer and then let it go. She must have been imagining things. Giacomo was loyal to Jack. He would never possess an ounce of good will towards her. "Of course you may, Duchess. Once you have decided, let me know and I will procure it for you."

"I expect nothing less." Her smile was vacuous and brittle and she took no pains to hide it. Jack would only see what he wanted to see. "Now, let us discuss exactly what I am to do." In this game, at least, she was determined not to be a pawn.

She'd been working with Jack for three weeks now and she had almost nothing to show for the information that she had been able to glean. Jack and Giacomo were grudgingly impressed with her ability to charm information from the members of the High Council, and even more impressed with her insights, but it was a far cry from trust. And trust was about as far from love as Wonderland was to Fliaan.

Even her intel on the disappearance of the Viewer from the Outer Zone had not raised her standing. Jack's newly formed intelligence network did not have the connections she did. With some eavesdropping and deduction she'd been able to determine that Ambassador Raw was no longer being held in Wonderland City. He was, however, still somewhere in Wonderland. Where exactly was anyone's guess. Most of Wonderland was still wild, punctuated by rugged landscapes and inhabited by strange, dangerous creatures out of myth and legend. She expected to find more information at Lord Grandin's party. The councilor's estate was outside of Wonderland City, across the swamplands and situated on the coast near Port Morraine. It was as good a place as any to start a search for the missing ambassador.

"Your residence, Duchess." The Scarab had set down over the landing platform on top of her building. She smiled at the chauffeur and made her way indoors, eager to distance herself from any more reminders of Jack and the palace.

Duchess stepped into her quarters, expecting to feel some kind of modicum of relief, a lessening of the pressure that seemed to surround her with every step she took. But as she looked around at the sumptuous decorations, the crystal and leather and velvet, she realized that this was not a place designed for relief. It was a shell – just like the one that she wore every day. After all, she entertained here. The movers and the shakers of Wonderland came here expecting to be dazzled because she was the Duchess, protégé of the queen and fiancée to the king of Wonderland.

This was no sanctuary. It was a prison. She couldn't be anyone but the Duchess here. There was no room for anyone else and she knew that she was more.

It was time to leave Wonderland City. Smugglers like Hatter weren't the only ones with ways out of the vertical city. She'd spent her earliest years in the various tunnels, stairs, and abandoned buildings of the capitol. She knew how to disappear and she knew how to move about secretly.

That knowledge had served her well. She'd learned early on that she needed a place where the queen couldn't touch her. With all of the traveling that she'd done between Wonderland City and the Hearts Casino, it had been easy enough to slip away for a day or two to simply breathe.

Right now, she needed to breathe.

Duchess moved quickly, tossing on a cloak to cover her distinctive hair and manner of dress. She navigated the vertical maze of the city with smooth efficiency, taking care to make sure that she was not followed. Eventually, she made it down to a small inlet off one of the smaller canals, where her private boat was moored.

It had been a pain to acquire all of these things and learn how to drive a boat in complete secrecy. The sacrifice was worth it in moments like this. The wind coming off Lake Mirana was brisk and cool, a welcome change from the stagnant air within the city. The sun shone clear and bright, throwing Wonderland's verdant forests and magnificent mountains into sharp relief. The Duchess could already feel the tension in her shoulders dissolving away. How could anyone feel bad when faced with such beauty? It would take a harder heart than hers to resist it.

She soon pulled into one of Lake Mirana's many small coves, mooring the boat and covering it with bracken. She hurried up the forested slope, her feet instinctively finding the stairs that had been carved into the rock. The stairs led straight into a shallow cave, one whose mouth she'd taken great pains to disguise with vines and rocks. The stone wall furthest from the cave mouth held a secret. A hidden door would swing open at the lightest touch from a discreet catch in the wall.

She'd come across this place quite by accident, when a sudden and quick storm off the lake had forced her to land her boat and take shelter. Fortunately, she'd come across the cave – and the dwelling carved within. Her clumsy fumbles in the dark of the storm had triggered the catch, causing her to discover something beyond her wildest dreams.

Duchess didn't know when the dwelling had been constructed, but it had already been long abandoned by the time she discovered it. The place was expertly done. She couldn't even begin to imagine what technology had been employed in its construction. The walls and floors inside were completely smooth and polished. It was as though a house had grown organically within the cave.

The dwelling contained four rooms in all, leading from one to the next. First was a sitting room, the second a kitchen and eating room, a bedroom, and a privy, complete with a cave spring to provide fresh water. Amazingly enough, there was even a rough sort of plumbing in the kitchen and privy. It was, in a word, perfect.

It had taken her a full year to outfit the place to her liking. The cleaning alone had required a month's work because of her engagements within the city and the casino. She had also been restricted by the size of the boat and her own admittedly limited abilities in construction. Luckily, most of the basic furniture of the cave had already been carved out of the rock. All she needed to do was provide additional furniture in the form of small tables and cushions.

Duchess stepped into the sitting room and felt the tension drain from her body. She'd whitewashed most of the rooms to take advantage of the natural light that streamed into the dwelling from skylights in the ceiling. The skylights were made not from glass, but a clear sort of stone that she'd never encountered before. She'd had to clear away years worth of leaves, roots, and rocks above the cave in order to utilize them to their fullest degree – and still had to do some periodic upkeep – but the effort was well worth it.

The cave dwelling was minimalist but cozy. It had life to it, unlike the Hearts Casino and her quarters within the city. The cushions and accents in the living area were all done in bright splashes of green. A large hearth and a carved stone table dominated the kitchen and dining area. That room was accented with shades of sunny yellow. She refused to have any black, red, or gold in this place. It was hers, and hers alone.

In no place was this clearer than the bedroom. Everything was in varying shades of blue, from the blackened sapphire tone of the deepest ocean waters to the washed out white-blue brightness of the summer sky. It was sentimental and romantic, everything that the Duchess was not, from the floral patterns to the gauzy canopy that hung over the bed. She shed her clothes as she walked into the bathroom, eager for a bath.

The privy was the only room that was completely white, with a tub that was sunken into the floor. It had been a surprise to find that warm water was available here – a hidden cistern on top of the cave collected rainwater and was warmed by the sun. Another spigot drew directly from the cave springs to bring in cold water.

Once the tub was filled the Duchess sank into the water and sighed, closing her eyes. This was peace. Everything here was utterly silent, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of the city.

She only emerged from the bath when her skin was as wrinkled as a raisin. She wandered back into her room and put on loose, roomy trousers and a shirt made from the marvelous cloth that the Other Siders called "cashmere." Her face was bare of makeup and her hair free from the products that allowed it to keep its elaborate styles. She was all but unrecognizable. This was the only place where she could be like this, free of the trappings of the life that, for better or worse, she'd chosen for herself.

Duchess could only be glad that she had it; otherwise she would have gone mad long ago. There were times when her circumstances were so unbearable that she was tempted to run away from it all and live out the rest of her days in isolation within her little cave. She could become a hermit.

That, of course, was folly. She knew nothing about subsisting in the forest. She had to bring in food and supplies from the city. She was too much of a social person to shut herself away for the rest of her life. She needed to be around people. The place was a retreat, nothing more. There was too much to do, and too many things that she would miss if she remained there.

Therefore, she would only stay until Saturday morning. She deserved some rest before she had to face the councilors at Lord Grandin's party. She needed to be at the top of her game. She wouldn't expect any less.

It had been ages since he'd seen the sun.

Raw felt along the stone walls of his prison cell, leading himself from the privy to the low bench that served as his bed and only seat. He knew every rough-hewn block in here by now. It was one of the only ways that he prevented himself from going mad. He had no concept of time without the sun, and thus could not say how long he had been imprisoned. All he could say was that it seemed like a lifetime.

He'd been imprisoned during his time with the sorceress, but the gaols in her tower had been ruthlessly organized into recognizable shifts. He'd been able to tell the passage of time by the shifts of the guards, recognizing their faces and knowing how long they'd been gone.

Now he was in a cell where food was shoved in through a small slit in the door, perhaps two or three times a day, he wasn't sure. His meals never seemed to come regularly, and he never heard anything beyond his cell – no murmurings of other prisoners, no rat-tat-tat of boots on the floor as the guards performed their patrols. It was as though he was the sole person in this entire prison, save for whoever was feeding him.

The memories after his capture in the garden were somewhat hazy. All he remembered were flashes of emotions – consternation, anger, and the coldest, most frightening indifference he had ever felt in his life. That, at the very least, he remembered, as well as a single conversation.

"This is folly! Jack Heart's spies are everywhere trying to find word of Ambassador Raw, and you have him? What of the Queen of the Outer Zone?" There was panic there, and a healthy amount of fear. Raw could read him well enough. Here was a man whose ambition overrode reason and was only now realizing that he was in over his head. This one was more of a coward than Raw had ever been, which almost certainly made him the weak link in this plot. Raw hoped that someone would realize that.

"No one will be able to trace the Ambassador's disappearance to me." It was one of the voices he'd overheard in the garden. This man was frozen, save for a flame of greed and ambition that burned deep at the heart of him. Raw had never felt such a lack of emotions in a human being before. Even the sorceress had been a whirlwind, the strength of her emotions a force to be reckoned with. Luckily, her emotions had been her undoing. In her haste to get what she wanted, she made gross oversights that allowed DG to unravel her plots.

There were no oversights with this one. He was patient, cunning, meticulous, and ruthless, which made him a completely different type of adversary.

"But-"

"Your lack of optimism is astounding, really. I grow tired of it."

The other man was silent, perhaps too intimidated by the mastermind. Raw could not blame him. This man was terrifying. "Where are you taking him?"

"Where the magic of the Outer Zone cannot reach him and where Jack Heart will never think to look." His smugness was like thick, sticky tar on Raw's skin. "After some time there, I think our Viewer friend will be willing to do almost anything we ask. His skills will be most useful."

A heavy sleep had fallen over Raw then, but not before he vowed to never aid these people. He hadn't done so for the sorceress and he didn't intend to do that now.

He couldn't have imagined that his situation would become so hopeless. He had hoped that his captors were wrong and that they underestimated the abilities of Outer Zone magic. However, time had passed, was still passing, and nothing was happening. He cried out to his queen, to DG, to Azkadee as often as he could, hoping that one of them was searching for him and would hear his calls. No answer ever came.

Despair was so very bitter.

He tossed his head back and howled, slamming a hand into the wall with all of his strength. He didn't even care that it hurt. At least he was feeling something other than hopelessness.

But that wasn't all that he felt.

Raw ran a hand along the stone he'd hit and was startled to feel it shift, ever so slightly, beneath his fingers. He straightened, startled. All of the stones had seemed firm within their places until now. Was he beginning to imagine things? Was he going mad?

But when he dared to test the stone once more, it made a discernable shift once he put some pressure on it.

The Viewer immediately got to work. It was possible that there was stone, stone, and more stone on the other side. Or it could be a way out. He wouldn't know unless he tried. One way or another, he wasn't going to just sit and stew any longer.

Meanwhile, miles away and buried deep in the heart of Wonderland City, the Head Librarian and Chief Chronicler of Wonderland's Great Library was happily immersed in cataloguing. Books were stacked in precarious piles all around her, arranged in some order that only she could comprehend. She put aside Riordan's Songs and Legends of the Vedu with great reluctance, promising herself that she would read it someday. It didn't matter that her to-read list could have filled the pages of a book: all that mattered was the intent behind it.

She looked up from the ledger and blinked owlishly at the book that was currently at the top of the stack. The Temple of Amakek.

The book was obviously one of the oldest in their collection. Despite its age, it was in superb condition and beautifully made. The pages were of heavy, hand-stitched vellum with gilt edges encased within an intricately tooled mahogany leather binding. A quick perusal of the contents revealed exquisite woodcut prints and illumination on the margins and beginnings of the chapters. In terms of materials and bookbinding techniques alone, it was beyond price.

And yet she had no recollection of the tome and how it had turned up in her cataloguing pile. How odd. She shrugged. It was possible that even she could overlook a book, even one so exceptional as this. She saw so many of them. Perhaps one of the assistant librarians had added it when she had been otherwise occupied.

Her pen flew across the heavy paper of the ledger as she took down the details (these Mont Blanc pens were marvelous, she would have to thank King Jack for the present the next time she saw him), but she soon found herself setting pen and ledger aside.

She immediately lost herself in the story. For all if its age, the book was amazingly well written. It was clear that the author had taken great pains to present the subject in a way that invited the reader in, wrapping them in rich imagery and beautiful prose.

Her other work lay forgotten.

The book came with her as she went to bed and she fell asleep clutching it to her chest. She barely stirred when a large cat curled up at her feet, its tail twitching back and forth as it smiled with smug satisfaction.

Please review!

Hello! Sorry for the lag in updates. Work has been crazy, but lucky for you, that means a surge of inspiration! The Duchess is such an intriguing character, isn't she? She did not have enough screentime (but then, neither did Jack). I hope y'all like her too, and we're only just scratching the surface!