Is it safe for me to come out from behind my barricade yet? This chapter, I hope, offers some answers! I'll clean up the mess I've made of Hatter and Alice's relationship soon enough, too.

o…o

He didn't dislike Carol—he couldn't, after all, because she'd raised Alice, so that meant she couldn't be all bad, right? He knew it must have been hard for her, dealing with a ten-year-old Alice and a missing husband and juggling two jobs and her frantic years-long search for him, all at the same time.

So, he admired Carol Hamilton and he kind of liked her a little bit because of everything she went through in her life but that she still managed to come out all right.

But after hearing she'd hidden her un-marriage—what had Alice called it? Divorce?—from Alice and seeing how angry it made her made Hatter like her a little less.

Alice was kind of a wreck. She was shuffling back and forth between his apartment and other places where she said she could 'couch surf' for a while. She didn't talk much, kept quiet, and fumed silently. And then every so often she'd have an explosive cry, or scream and her anger would get suddenly very loud and very open. It was painful for him to watch.

If he knew Alice, it wasn't what her mother did that bothered her so much—though that was a large part of it; it was the fact that her mother did it so long ago and never told her about it. If Alice hadn't figured something fishy was going on herself, and pressed her mother about it, then she might never have known.

And that bothered him.

Then there was this whole business about having Carpenter—Robert—'declared dead', which Alice said just meant making his death official. So far as anyone in this world knew, he was just 'missing'. Carol was going through what must have been the very difficult process of acknowledging her husband's death. She didn't actually know that her husband was shot and killed in Wonderland; all she knew was that he'd been missing with no sign and no evidence that he was still alive, so she was simply going about making the acceptance of his death 'official'.

Was she going to hide that from Alice, too, he wondered? Alice wondered that, too—that was part of what was bothering her so much. Since the only reason she knew about the divorce was by finding something she shouldn't have, was Carol planning on keeping this a secret from her daughter?

He didn't know her well enough to say, but the thought of it bothered him. That wasn't something she should keep to herself—after all, like Alice said, he was her father and it was her right to know these things.

Realistically it was none of his business, because it wasn't his family, but he cared for Alice and it upset her, so by extension it upset him.

Hatter wasn't working today, which left him free for the library and books. Because he had two part-time jobs he sometimes ended up with the odd day off during the week, when everyone else was still at work; but he liked working two jobs, because he never got bored. Half the time he was working in a second-hand bookstore, and the other half of the time he was in a tiny little tea shop—a proper tea shop—in what Alice called the 'artsy' part of town.

And he had a few days off when he could do anything he liked. Like plough through mountains of books.

When Alice was in a less-abysmal mood she sometimes poked fun of him for spending so much time in the library—she said he was getting prison pallor.

At least he got fresh air when he walked where he needed to go. Even riding his motorbike got him some fresh air, even though it was hardly practical when the mercury dipped in the thermometers. The license manufactured for him in Wonderland to allow him to drive a vehicle on this side of the Looking Glass—since they didn't just trust that people who didn't know how to drive wouldn't do so, not here—only permitted him to drive a motorcycle. It was Jack Heart's last 'fuck you' to him for winning Alice over, he imagined.

He was on foot today, though, wrapped in a long coat and a scarf and gloves.

He heard some dogs barking and his immediate reaction was to reach behind himself and protect the seat of his pants.

"Will you guys slow down?" He heard someone begging piteously. "I've only got two feet, you have more than I do!"

He knew that voice.

The first thing he saw was dogs. All of them were identical little stocky tawny-and-black things with wiry-looking hair and big ears that stood straight up. None of them alone looked too strong, but as there were four of them it probably added up. They pulled enthusiastically on their leads, dragging their handler with them.

None of these, at least, were tall enough to reach the seat of his pants, so he relaxed, though they could probably do a good job damaging his ankles if they were so inclined.

"Hello," he greeted casually.

Nel looked up from the tangle of dogs and leads around her feet. When she looked up at him, she smiled. She had a really impressive black eye.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Huh?" She frowned for a second, like she didn't know what he was talking about. Then she reached up and touched the bruise around her eye. "Oh—that. I, uh… I whacked myself on a saddle horn."

Hatter snorted and then quickly bit his lips so he wouldn't laugh.

"Yeah, I know," she said, then she shrugged. "I hardly ever use a western saddle, but I did the other day and I kind of forgot there was a horn until, well… yeah. Makes me look like I hang out in biker bars and get into fights, doesn't it?"

He looked at the little stocky dogs tangling themselves up in their leads. "No Bello today?" He asked. He'd met Nel a few more times while she was walking that behemoth dog and they'd struck up something of an acquaintanceship. Sometimes she had other dogs with her, instead of Bello.

"Naw," she said. "Today's Tuesday. I don't walk him on Tuesdays."

"Oh."

"He's not mine," she explained. "His owner works and he can't always get home early enough to take his dog for a walk, so I do it during the day. I do it for lots of people. You didn't think they were all my dogs, did you?"

Pause. He hadn't really thought about it.

"Odd jobs," she explained. "It keeps me in food and keeps my bills paid and all."

"Horses, too?"

She nodded. "You ride?" She asked.

He assumed she meant did he ride horses, so he answered, "Yeah." He was still getting used to the idea that around here, horses weren't something that most people encountered. Alice told him they were the hobbies of the obscenely wealthy, but Nel didn't look obscenely wealthy.

"Look—hey!" She lurched when all four dogs started trying to tear her arm off and continue on their walk. "All right, the fantastic four down there are gonna go apeshit if I don't keep going, but here," she reached into her coat pocket and gave him a little piece of card. "My number's on there, you can call me if you ever wanna go riding or something. I'm there in the middle of the week when the students aren't around."

He read the card briefly. It read 'Eleanor Ravenna', and a few phone numbers and an email address. "Eleanor?" He asked.

"Mm-hm. Nel is short for Eleanor."

He didn't have time to say anything else before she was dragged away in a sea of little dogs.

And then he continued on his way.

He didn't know where Alice was so he was apprehensive about the errand he had to run after the library, but he had to do it because he'd had these books for some time.

Hatter stood for several minutes at the apartment building's threshold, eyeing the building suspiciously as if it might suddenly leap up and attack him. Then he made his way inside and up the stairs, along the familiar route to the apartment on the third floor and, after another hesitation, rang the bell.

Carol opened the door. She looked a little drawn.

"Oh, hello, David," she said.

He felt awkward and uncomfortable. "I just had some books I borrowed here and I wanted to give them back." He turned around and reached into his bag around his fresh crop of library books, looking for the ones he'd taken from Alice's apartment.

"Well, come in—you don't have to hang out outside."

She led him inside.

"Alice isn't here," she said. "She hasn't been for a few days."

Hatter set the knapsack down on a chair and looked for the books he had to give back. Was she accusing him of debauching her daughter or something? Living in sin? He didn't know what was an appropriate answer so he wisely chose not to answer at all.

"Raymond says she's been sleeping at their place some nights," she said.

"Who?"

"Raymond Damm—Jason's father."

It still made no sense.

"JD is just a nickname," she explained. "His initials. Jason Damm—'JD'."

That surname had a lot of potential for abuse, Hatter thought absently. A whole 'Damm' family. If the situation had been anything except for what it was, he might have laughed, but this wasn't the time or the place.

"I, um… I don't think she's talking to me," Carol said softly. She looked concerned, worried.

It wasn't any of his business because it wasn't his family, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"I can't really blame her," he said from the bookcase. "Five years is a long time to keep a secret like that. She had the right to know what you were doing when you were doing it, not five years later when she accidentally stumbled on it. It's one thing when your mother lies and tells you there's a tooth fairy—that's a secret that doesn't cause any real damage. But this, it's another kettle of onions."

Being this brutally honest and saying what he said wasn't likely to endear him to Carol; if she turned around and kicked him out of her apartment he wouldn't be surprised. But Alice needed someone on her side, even if she wasn't there.

To his surprise, the woman sat down in one of the plump chairs in the living room with a heavy sigh and said, "I know."

He didn't move from his spot.

"I should've told her. I planned on telling her, but you must know how she is—she gets an idea in her head and then she doesn't let it go, ever."

Most definitely he knew that.

"She wanted to find him so badly, she put everything into trying to track him down because she wanted him to come home and wanted us to be a family again, but… the years went on and everything here changed and even if he'd turned up one day, there was no way we could've just picked up and gone on like we always had. He'd've come back to a whole different world and, well…"

She sighed again, put her face in her hands and her elbows on her knees like the weight of her own head was too much to hold up anymore.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this, I'm sorry, David," she apologized after a few minutes of very, very tense silence.

"I don't know why you're telling me, either, ma'am," he said. "I'm not Alice. I'm not the one you have to explain yourself to."

"I know," she sighed. "Will you tell her?"

"No. It's not the kind of thing you need a go-between for. You have to be the one who tells her."

He picked up his bag.

"I'll see myself out."

He was about to leave when he heard Carol call out again.

"David!"

"Yes?"

"Will you at least—when you see her—tell her we need to talk?"

He nodded. "I can do that."

"Thank you," she said, all sincerity. "You're a sweet man, David. I'm sorry you were dragged into this."

"It's all right," he assured her. "Things happen. I've been caught up in worse things. Afternoon, ma'am."

o…o

After everything that had happened in the last few days, Hatter was very, very relieved to spend a little time in the peace of a stable with someone who was completely unconnected to all of the Hamilton drama that had been going on lately.

He took Nel up on her offer to take him riding, just to get away from everything that was going on and clear his head. It was a bit of a ride away from the city to an area where there were houses on acres of land, horses, cows, and an annoying small yappy dog that refused to stop barking at the car and get out of the road until Nel stopped the car and got out and picked it up and moved it.

He found the horses and the stable relaxing. That familiar horsey scent, and the smell of wood and leather and hay and sawdust and sweet grain that was the stable were all the same as it was in Wonderland and it felt familiar and comfortable.

He sighed.

Nel came into the aisle with him with two sets of halters and ropes slung over her shoulders.

"I trust you know what you're doing around horses," she said in a warning tone.

"Of course—why would I lie?" He asked.

She shrugged. "People have lied about sillier things," she said. Then she handed him one of the halters. "I'll show you into the front pasture—you'll have to catch Ziggy."

He took it. "'Ziggy'?" He asked, mildly amused by such a silly name for a horse.

"Zig-Zag," she told him. "That's what everyone calls him."

She led him to a fence and climbed through it.

"So what am I looking for, anyway?" Hatter asked her.

"Oh, you'll know him when you see him," she said. "They call him 'Zig-Zag' for a reason—he's got really curly hair all over."

She wasn't kidding—that horse's hair was crazier than his. Frizzy and curly and wavy all over.

Nel showed him where to find the brushes and picks and tack and went to work on her own choice—a chunky little palomino.

"Why's all of his tack say 'American McGee' on it?" He asked, reading the nametags on the saddle and bridle and the embroidery on his saddle pad.

"Oh, that's his name," she explained.

"Huh?"

"He was from good stock—dressage. His breeders wanted to train him to compete, but he just doesn't have the attitude for competition." She shrugged. "Some horses don't have it. He's got a fancier name—American McGee. We call him Ziggy because of his hair."

"Well, all right then," he said with a shrug, checking everything over quickly before climbing up. "Ziggy McGee is a nicer name anyway."

She grinned. "We all think so. C'mon, this way!"

He found her easy to talk to. Talking to someone just to talk to them was an art Hatter had long fallen out of practice in. He didn't want or need anything from Nel; she didn't have inside information about the Casino, or the Resistance, and she didn't have resources he needed, nothing about her to take advantage of. He didn't want to swan-dive into her pants or steal from her so he didn't have to get her to let her guard down. There was no pressure. She was just there, and she was funny and clever and just the littlest bit crackers, and talking for the sake of talk was nice.

He was having to become re-acquainted with things that were so ordinary but that he'd forgotten how to do in Wonderland under the Queen of Hearts—conversation, walking around a city without looking over his shoulder every two seconds, going without body armour and not feeling like he was partially-naked.

She showed him the trails where they could trail-ride and for a little while it felt like he was in Wonderland—the old Wonderland, when things were different and nicer and happier and there was no threat from the Queen and he could ride because he wanted to and talk to people just for the fun of conversation. Then they ended up racing up and down the hilly meadow behind the barn.

Nel won.

"So what about your girlfriend?" She asked on their way back from the meadow.

"How'd you know I had a girlfriend?" He asked, frowning. He'd never mentioned Alice, had he?

She grinned. "I'm good at people," she said. "And I saw you with a hickey on your neck once and except for the funny shirts you're not really screaming 'gay', so I'm guessing you have a girlfriend."

He had to laugh.

After that afternoon, he made riding with Nel a weekly occurrence.

o…o

Hatter's horse, American McGee, is a bit of an inside-joke with myself. Back in the 90s a game designer called American McGee produced a game called 'Alice', which was a corrupted steampunkish-gothic-horror version of Alice in Wonderland. My friend and I played it together, and by 'together' I mean she played the game and I sat behind her with a bowl of popcorn and made sarcastic commentary about her gameplay skills.