A/N; Hello, all! Forgive me for the wait on this chapter….between computer trouble and schoolwork, I've not had much free time for fan fiction lately. I was hoping to make this chapter a bit longer, but I wanted to get it posted before I went home for the weekend, so please, bear with me, and I'll try to get the next update out as soon as possible! Enjoy, and Happy Easter, everyone.

Disclaimer; I own nothing. Alice in Wonderland the novel belongs to Lewis Carroll, and the film belongs to Tim Burton.

Dreams of a Memory

Chapter 8

That night, for the first time in longer than she could remember, Alice dreamt no dreams.

Upon the forceful insistence of Mirana and the others, she had fallen into bed almost three hours past midnight, still dressed in the white gown, and still with no news of the Hatter. She had searched the entire palace for him for what felt like hours upon miserable hours---looked into every room, opened every door, asked any and everyone she came across---but it was all to no avail. No one had seen hide nor hair of him since he had vanished wordlessly from the ballroom...no one had even seen him leave, with all the distress the Oraculum's prediction had caused. She had fallen into bed with dried tears staining her face, and her mind heavy with the absolute certainty that she would never, never be able to get to sleep….and yet, her head had scarcely hit the pillow before she was enveloped in the blissful void of unconsciousness, sleep stealing over her and burying her completely in its blackness.

And she had no dreams.

It was the sound of the grandfather clock standing against the far wall of her chambers that finally woke her. Her eyes fluttered open as she dimly became aware of loud, clanging chimes, filling the room with reverberations as they sang out four successive bellowing gongs. Alice groaned softly with her mouth shut, closing her eyes again and folding the pillow over her ear. It wasn't the noise itself that bothered her, so much as the tone. It seemed unfathomably, unbearably cruel that anything should be allowed to make such a boisterously cheerful sound after what had happened last night.

After another moment of hazy, aimless thought, Alice opened her eyes and sat up, a strain of apprehension suddenly tightening through her as she narrowed her gaze at the clock.

Four chimes? That didn't make any sense. How could she have slept for only an hour? It felt as if she'd been dead to the world for days….

Puzzled, she climbed out of bed and made her way around to the large nearby window, her bare feet cold on the stone floor and the train of her now badly wrinkled and slipping dress dragging behind her. She swept the curtains aside with both hands and squinted as a flood of pale white light filled the room. Bracing herself on the sill, she leaned close to the partitioned glass and peered out over Underland. The sky was an ominous-looking marble of pearl gray and dark blue, the sun obscured behind storm-threatening clouds. A soft, steady rain was falling, pattering rhythmically against the glass. After a few troubled seconds, it dawned on Alice that she must have slept straight through the first half of the day, and it was already four o'clock in the afternoon.

"No…..no, no," she muttered, a thin twist of panic slowly knotting inside of her and growing sharper and sharper by the second. "No, no, no!" she turned and half ran out of her bedroom, hiking her skirts improperly high as her feet slapped the floor. She looked wildly about her, but there was no one in the corridor outside her room, and everything was dead silent. Her breath rushing faster, she turned and hurried down the stairs.

As she ran, Alice cursed herself bitterly for letting herself sleep so late. What if there had been word of the Hatter? What if he'd come looking for her, and she hadn't been there? She should have been awake, she should have been….

"Alice!"

Recognizing Mirana's voice at once, Alice slid to a halt in the hallway outside the kitchen and looked eagerly through the doors. The White Queen and a small handful of her ladies in waiting were sitting at a round table set sparsely with a few modest tea things, an untouched cup of tea resting in each of their hands. Mallymkun was sitting on the table beside a silver pitcher of cream, and she rose quickly to her feet as Alice entered the room and approached them. Alice was so frazzled and elated to see them, she didn't even notice the strange second glance that everyone at the table gave her as she drew near.

"Have you heard from him?" she asked immediately, her voice a still-groggy croak of anxiety. "Has anyone seen him?"

"I did," Mallymkun answered gravely, not having to ask who she meant. "I ran into him climbing out a lower window in the southeast corridor early this morning, just after sunrise."

Alice's heart gave a tremendous leap, her eyes shooting wide as she immediately woke to full alert.

"Is he alright?" she demanded frantically. "Did he say anything? What happened to him last night? Where is he? Is he here now? Answer me!"

"Please….try to calm down," the Queen said gently, rising to her feet and offering Alice her chair. Alice took a deep, shaky breath, forcing herself to steady. She accepted Mirana's chair, noticing with no small pang of guilt the dark, heavy circles under the Queen's eyes, the inescapable note of sadness and weariness marring her lovely face. It was clear that she had spent a sleepless night. "Have some tea, dear," the Queen muttered softly, drawing a clean cup in front of Alice and pouring out the steaming brew. Alice took another deep breath, calmly opening her eyes and piercing Mallymkun with a pleading gaze.

"Please, Mally," she said quietly. "Tell me what happened."

The Dormouse rested her hand compulsively on the hilt of her sword and heaved a small sigh, looking down at the tablecloth. "He was leaving the castle when I found him. I don't know when he came back last night, or how long he'd been there….he wouldn't answer when I asked. All he told me was that he was going home, and that he'd be grateful if Thackery and I could stay at the palace for another night…to give him some time to himself."

As quickly as Alice's spirits had risen, they sank down again, and her face turned in a puzzled frown of disappointment.

"Then he isn't here," she said, her brief elation deflating instantly. Her shoulders slumped and she looked down to stare at her tea. "He wants to be alone."

He doesn't want to see me, was what she really meant.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence at the table, the Queen's ladies in waiting either exchanging anxious glances or becoming suddenly very engrossed in stirring their cups.

"I'm sure he'll be back soon," Mallymkun insisted consolingly, walking closer to Alice. "You must understand everything he's been through these last two years. He just….he just needs a bit of time."

"Of course," Alice murmured, trying to sound reassured and failing dismally.

Mirana stood behind her and placed a caring hand on her shoulder, frowning thoughtfully.

"Alice," she said with just a touch of her old brightness, as if trying to cheer her up with brief change of subject, "May I ask what it is you have on your face?"

Surprised by the question, Alice looked up at her, confused. "My what?"

"Your face," the Queen whispered tactfully, gesturing to her own visage with her finger to indicate the placement of the markings. "You've got a bit of something blue on your…..well, all over, really. Here," she picked up a large spoon from the table and handed it to her.

Curious, but with no clue what she was talking about, Alice eagerly held the shiny spoon in front of her face and peered into it. She squinted in dumbfounded astonishment when she saw it, right there, as plain as day; bright, indigo blue squiggles painted all over her forehead, her chin, her cheeks, and straight across the bridge of her nose. The held the spoon closer and closer until her breath clouded it, then she looked back at the Queen with a mixture of amazement and intrigue.

"It….it looks like writing," she remarked.

"Let me see, dear." Mirana bent over closer to her to gaze at her face, her dark eyes scanning the markings thoughtfully. "Yes….I believe you're right. The hand is terribly sloppy, but….perhaps I can make it out." Mallymkun and the ladies in waiting all leaned forward expectantly, brimming with curiosity. The White Queen pointed her little finger at Alice's face, tracing the lines as she slowly deciphered them aloud.

"'Dear….Alice…'" she read. "'…if you will please forgive the…..untimely abruptness of this…. invitation….it would give me….immeasurable pleasure…..if you would join…..'" Mirana crouched lower, descending to read the writing on the lower half of Alice's face, "'….me for afternoon tea…..at the windmill…at 3 o'clock. Sincerely and cantankerously yours, T.H.'"

Alice's eyes lit up like shooting stars.

"T.H.? Tarrant Hightopp!" the Dormouse snapped the fingers of her paw.

"The Hatter!" Alice cried, bolting up from the chair so swiftly she nearly knocked it on its back. Not stopping to give a second thought to the strange notion of Tarrant slipping secretly into the palace and writing a message on her face in blue ink while she slept, she set off immediately for the door. A thousand thoughts were chattering in her head at once, but all of them merged together into one irrefutable point, repeating itself over and over. Tea at the windmill….3 o'clock….tea at the windmill…..he does want to see me, he does!

Some of the ladies in waiting yelped and started, the White Queen jumped aside in alarm as Alice darted past her, and Mallymkun leapt down from the table to run after her.

"Alice, wait!"

Already at the doorway, Alice reluctantly skidded to a halt and looked back, her heart thudding in her ears.

"I've got to go now!" she insisted impatiently, throwing an anxious glance at a clock hanging on the kitchen wall. "It's more than an hour past 3, I'm terribly late! He'll think I'm not coming!"

The Queen and Mallymkun exchanged furtive, concerned expressions, but Alice could see it was clear to both them that nothing they said or did would stop her from going. Mirana looked back up at her and sighed softly, folding her hands and walking firmly toward her. She took Alice by the shoulder and marched her out into the hallway.

"At least let me give you something warm to wear," she offered quietly. "We can't have you go gallivanting off in the rain in nothing but a ball gown."

Alice looked at her briefly in surprise, then smiled gratefully. "You've been so kind to me, Mirana," she said, suddenly a trifle ashamed of her rash behavior. After all, the White Queen had been through just as bad an ordeal as herself in the last twenty-four hours…perhaps worse, if the sleep-deprived marks of her face were any indication. "How will I ever repay you?"

The White Queen merely smiled tiredly, leading her into what looked like a small guest chamber.

"You forget, Sir Alice, that if weren't for you, Underland would still be in the ruinous clutches of my sister and the Jabberwocky. It's I who am only trying to repay you." The Queen opened a large wardrobe and pulled out a long, hooded, pale blue riding cloak, white overdress, and warm cotton trousers. "But…if it's a favor you'd like to do for me…." she handed the clothes to Alice with a gleam of sad, but somehow laughing warmth in her eyes. "…you could try not catching cold."

Less than twenty minutes later, the hood of her cloak pulled protectively over her head and the Hatter's handwriting scrubbed from her face, Alice was hastening along the winding, overgrown road leading through the fields and forest surrounding the White Castle. For some inexplicable reason unbeknownst even to her, she knew the way to the Hatter's windmill as well as if she'd journeyed there a hundred times. Her feet seemed to fly left and right of their own accord, following twists and bends in the road that her eyes didn't recognize but her heart somehow did. Perhaps it was the ingrained memory of her previous two visits to Underland…perhaps it was some invisible connection, stretching like a guiding thread between she and Tarrant…..whatever it was, she didn't care. All she knew was that she had to get to the Windmill as quickly as her feet could carry her.

The rain was pelting her cloak, growing heavier and louder each minute….fortunately, the material seemed to be at least partially waterproof. Her shoes and trousers, however, were soon soaked to the knee and caked with mud. The road was swiftly filling with puddles, and she was soon forced to slow to a trotting jog in order to keep from slipping and falling with every step…but still she went on. She refused to stop, refused to let the inclement weather delay her an instant longer than was absolutely unavoidable.

Alice wasn't entirely sure why she suddenly needed to see the Hatter with such urgency…after all, the words of his message hadn't sounded particularly desperate. But then, perhaps that was just what worried her---the vague, nonchalance that channeled through his short message, the absence of emotion…it wasn't like him. It reminded her chillingly of the way he had been when she first returned, the dead, unfeeling gray stare of his eyes as he slumped in the chair….and then, with the Oraculum's prediction, his disappearance from the party, without so much as a word to her or anyone….

Alice pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders, clenching her jaw against the bitter, whistling wind.

No. She wouldn't let that happen to him again. This time, she was here.

This time she could make a difference.

Finally, after what felt like hours of trudging through biting wind and the cold rain, which had turned from a bothersome drive into an absolute downpour, she came to a bend in the road where the trees thinned out into a sparse, airy thicket, and above the low treetops she could see the bowed, stationary wings of the broken down windmill where the Hatter, the Dormouse, and the March Hare kept their home. Her heart leaping with hope, Alice jumped over a fallen birch and ran hurriedly across the grassy glen, smiling even as she panted for breath. She rounded the final bend and burst into the open grove…..and stopped. Her smile fell, replaced with a pained gaze of both wonder and sadness.

"Oh…..no," she sighed heavily, slowly walking toward the dreary scene before her.

On the overgrown cobbled yard in front of the windmill sat the long row of tables and chairs, just as she remembered it….the ratty white tablecloths, different stools and seats of all sizes, the hopeless mishmash of porcelain and glass and silver tea things, no two pieces alike….even the dingy old phonograph standing on its spindly legs nearby. It was playing a soft, rag-tag tune as she drew near, the song clearly meant to be pleasant and cheerful, but rendered utterly melancholic in the dim, gray light of the rainstorm. A flash of lightning streaked across the mottled sky, followed by a great clap of thunder as the branches of the trees wafted sideways in the wind.

There, at the head of the table in his worn old wingback chair, was the Hatter. He was slumped down with his hands hanging limply over the armrests, his head hanging slack and his hat half covering his face. Water was trickling in streams from the brim of his hat, and his hair and clothes were soaked. In front of him was laid out what, a few hours ago, must have been a meticulously arranged spread for a wonderful tea party. The normally chaotic mess of the table had been straightened and cleaned slightly, two unbroken cups placed mouth down on their saucers with spoons on the side, and a long-necked copper teapot resting on a cozy. There was a daisy sticking out of its spout, and a few random odds and ends from the house seemed to have found their way to the table---the chains from three or four pocket watches, a rusty thimble, a garden trowel, a snuffbox filled with buttons and walnuts----but it was still clear that a great deal of effort had gone into making things as presentable as they were. Alice's face fell even further when she saw the plates of biscuits, rolls, and other pastry that had been long since ruined in the rain. A three-layered tier of teacakes had been reduced to pale-colored lumps of mush, and a glass bowl of treacle was overflowing and staining the tablecloth with a thin, syrupy rainwater mixture. Alice came to a halt a few feet from the wingback chair, looking over the heartbreaking scene with parted lips and soft eyes.

"Poor Tarrant," she whispered beneath her breath, the sting of guilt burrowing deep into her heart.

How long has he been waiting out here?

"Hatter?" she said softly, moving closer to his chair and pulling back her hood, not caring about the heavy rain that half-drenched her hair within seconds. "Hatter?"

He didn't move. She noticed that his chest was rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, and as she leaned over him she could hear gentle snoring. He had fallen asleep.

The pangs of guilt pressed her even harder, and she bit her bottom lip as she carefully lifted the brim of his hat to look at his closed eyes, his blank, peaceful face. "Hatter," she whispered. "Wake up. It's Alice."

Gingerly, she put two fingers on his shoulder and prodded him. All at once his eyes popped open and he started, jumping awake so suddenly she gave a small gasp and pulled away. The Hatter bolted upright in the chair, splashes of rainwater falling into his lap from the brim of his hat. He blinked for a moment, peering in confusion down at the table, then at his own hands, lifting them up to eye level and fanning his fingers as if he'd never seen them before.

"Hatter," Alice repeated gently, and he jumped again at the sound of her voice, registering her presence for the first time.

"Alice!" he cried in surprise, rising to his feet so quickly he bumped the table, rattling the tea things. "You've come! Thank goodness, I thought you might have…er, that is….I was starting to worry you hadn't gotten your invitation."

"No, no…I got it, alright," she mumbled, looking down. "Hatter, I'm sorry I didn't….I mean….I overslept, and I didn't….if I'd have known, I would have….how long have you been sitting out here in the rain?"

"Oh, who's to say?" he dismissed her with a careless wave of his hand, pulling the pocket watch from the breast of his shirt and flipping it open. A burgundy liquid that looked like wine came spilling out of it, and he tapped the glass with his fingertip. "Blasted thing's been two days slow for weeks now, can't trust a word it says."

In spite of herself, Alice couldn't help but smile faintly at him. The Hatter caught her expression and grinned in return, hurriedly extricating himself from the chair and the table.

"Come, come now, have a seat," he urged, pulling out a chair for her. Not knowing what else to do, she sat down and let him push her close to the table, quickly resuming his own place. Alice wasn't sure, but there was definitely something about him that was….off. He was just a bit too cheerful. The thunder clapped deafeningly all around them, and he raised his voice to speak over it.

"Normally, I'd insist we have a bit of polite conversation to begin with, but seeing as we're so dreadfully behind schedule, and we already know each other's names quite well, perhaps we'll skip straight to the friendly banter." He leaned close to her and whispered hoarsely, as if there were someone else around to keep a secret from, "Between you and me, I've never much cared for hellos and how do you dos. They sour the cream."

Part of Alice wanted to chuckle, but she couldn't. There was a thick lump in her throat, and it was growing thicker by the second.

"Hatter," she said softly as he lifted the tea pot, tossed the daisy out over his shoulder, and turned the cups over. "I think we should talk about…last night."

"I do hope you aren't opposed to sunflower," he said brightly, as if he hadn't heard her. "It's in perfect season this time of year. Of course, if you are opposed to flower tea I'm sure I can whip up something a bit dirtier." He poured the amber liquid into her cup, raising the teapot unnecessarily high above his head. When he'd finished, Alice discretely dipped the tip of her finger into the tea when he wasn't looking. It was ice cold.

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked gently. "I said we need to talk about what happened at the party."

"Oh, dear, the music's stopped," the Hatter said, looking up in the direction of the phonograph. He climbed over the table, upsetting plates and pitchers as he went, ignoring Alice's small sounds of protest.

"Hatter, you're not listening to---"

"Trouble with this machine is that it always wants to wax philosophical just when guests arrive," the Hatter complained to her over his shoulder as he fiddled and cranked at the phonograph. "I've told it to stick with more cheerful topics, but will it listen to me? No, of course not…."

"Hatter," Alice snapped, sharply this time, as she rose to her feet and pinned him with a pressing stare. "Listen to what I'm saying."

The Hatter flinched slightly at her voice, hunching over the phonograph. He stood there frozen for a few seconds, his face hidden…then, knocking the box smartly on it's side, he made a small sound of triumph and straightened up, tugging victoriously at his shirt cuffs as the music started up again. He spun around, his face bright with a smile that Alice immediately saw through. The tension was rippling visibly behind his eyes, and he was struggling with all his might to keep it hidden.

"Let's have a dance!" he said, his voice cracking with an almost inaudible twinge of nervousness as he half-skipped back to her and seized her by the arms before she could speak. "You'll do just fine with this one, it's only a simple waltz…."

"Hatter, stop." Alice ordered as he began twirling her in circles. She clung to his arms to keep herself from falling, her eyes narrowing and something almost like anger beginning to well up inside her.

"You're not counting! Count with me….one two three, one two three, one---"

"Hatter…I said STOP!" she shouted. Her voice seemed to echo, even through the raging noise of the storm.

He stopped.

The moment the angry words had left her mouth, Alice wished she could swallow them back up. The forced smile finally melted away from the Hatter's face, and as he looked at her his eyes slowly changed to a pale, faded yellow, his gaze lowering to stare at the ground between them. The rain pounded them fiercely as he gradually loosened his grip on her shoulders, letting her go as his arms fell down to rest at his sides. For what felt like an agonizingly long moment of silence, they stood there together. Alice couldn't tear her eyes from his face. Her mouth moved soundlessly, but she could think of nothing to say. Finally, like opening a great rift between them, he moved away from her, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging low. He collapsed back down in the wingback chair, and leaning forward, heaved a long, harrowing sigh.

Alice blinked, jumping as if breaking from a trance, and immediately ran after him, dropping to her knees beside his chair.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to---"

"I am a fool," the Hatter interrupted her, whispering softly as he lowered his face into his hands. "A fool, a fool, a lump-brained fool….that is what I am."

Alice shook her head, the lump in her throat grown so thick it was nearly choking her. "No you're not," she countered defiantly, raising herself higher and taking him by the shoulder. "Of course you're not."

"Can you forgive me, Alice," he asked quietly, his eyes still hidden in his palms. "….please…please forgive me…for all this nonsense…."

"Stop, please stop," she begged, shaking him once without meaning to. The broken tone of his voice was unbearable. "You've done nothing wrong. I only want to talk to you, Hatter. Why won't you talk to me about what happened?"

"I thought…" he muttered to himself, sinking further forward so that his elbows dropped between his knees. "I only wanted….." but his voice trailed off, and Alice found herself shaking him again almost desperately.

"Talk to me, Tarrant!" she pleaded, raising her voice over a rolling peal of thunder in the distance. "Please, I---I---aaaachoo!" she sneezed suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand and sniffling. She realized all at once that she was shivering with cold.

The Hatter looked up at her, his face abruptly steeling into a hard gaze. "Come with me," he said suddenly, rising to his feet and lifting her to hers. Before she could speak, he pulled the hood back over her head, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and began marching her firmly toward the windmill. "Let's get you in where it's warm."

She didn't argue. She bent her head lower beneath the hood to hide her cheeks, which had inexplicably begun to flush brightly. The Hatter led her to the front door of the windmill and ushered her inside, closing the door behind them and shutting out the noise of the still-playing phonograph. The interior of the windmill was nothing like one might have guessed from looking at its broken and poorly kept exterior….the little sitting room in which Alice found herself was, though by no means lavish or richly furnished, one of the coziest places she had ever seen. It was terrifically messy, with what looked like the contents of a dozen or more pawn shops strewn everywhere about the room, cluttering every available surface. The furniture, though old and worn, was charmingly mismatched, and crammed into the oddest of configurations….there were no less than four writing desks in the small room, two stacked upon each other in the corner and two more standing back to back in the middle of the floor, and one of them covered with what looked like an entire uprooted gorse bush, the clods of dirt still hanging from its roots. There were armoires and armchairs and a slew of bookshelves, and more half a dozen oil lamps with colorful glass shades spread throughout the room. There were teacups and trays scattered everywhere, and in almost any given direction one could spot artifacts of the milliner's trade….ribbons and fabric and feathers and sewing things, and all along the walls were hats of all types and colors hanging on picture wire.

Once indoors, the Hatter quickly pulled the wet cloak from Alice's shoulders and propelled her toward a shabby, but remarkably soft settee beside the large red brick hearth and sat her down on it. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat as he whirled a thick patchwork quilt over her head and shoulders, drawing it closed at her neck. She took the edges in her hands, pinning him with a questioning look as he straightened up. He held her gaze for only an instant, then, with an awkward grimace, turned and hurried to the woodbin where he gathered an armful of kindling and laid it in the fireplace. He produced a book of matches from his pockets and fumbled with three of them before he finally got the paper lit. He blew a few times on the crackling sparks, then began muttering to himself as the flames slowly grew to life in the hearth.

"Bloody, stupid….copintank, Gainsborough, muff-box, Papakha….in the rain, no less, make you catch your death of cold….Panama, deerstalker….fool, you bloody fool…."

Alice slid the quilt back from her head, looking at the Hatter's back with a puzzled expression.

"Hatter," she said, softly but firmly. He lingered another moment over the hearth, then sighed and removed his hat, tossing it over his shoulder without looking at it. His wet hair sprayed in every direction, the water dripping from the ends of his clothes and pooling on the floor beneath him. Finally, he turned to look at her, and the turmoil of emotions playing in his eyes was almost enough to make her wince. Sliding over on the settee, she motioned for him to sit down. He rose slowly to his feet, looking at her hesitantly.

"Please," she murmured, pleading quietly with her eyes. After another few seconds, he exhaled in resignation and removed his soaked coat, sitting down stiffly beside her in his peacock blue shirtsleeves, his back ramrod straight, staring down at his hands. Alice carefully reached forward and laid her hand over his. He flinched, hesitated only an instant….then gratefully accepted her touch, grasping tightly onto the ends of her fingers.

"Tell me, Tarrant."

He looked up at her. She kept her mouth pressed into a firm line, forbidding herself to falter or look away. "Tell me what's going on."

A small, sad smile of disbelief appeared on his face, the gap in his teeth almost seeming to wink at her as he slowly shook his head.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked.

Alice stared back at him, her eyes searching for the answer but finding nothing. He gave a small, crumbled laugh and looked back down.

"I thought…" he said lowly, his voice deep and far away. "…I thought, that….instead of dwelling on mean and miserable things….I thought we might make the best of the time we have. I am so….so….tired….of miserable things. I can't bear them any longer. I just thought that…while you're still here….we should try and enjoy ourselves."

Alice narrowed her eyes at him. A light flickered in her mind.

"The tea party?" she breathed, almost inaudibly. He snorted with mocking laughter, nodding.

"I so love holding them in the rain, I sometimes forget that not everyone shares the same…affinity. Can you forgive me, Alice, for dragging you out on such a horrid afternoon?"

"What do you mean, while I'm still here?" she pressed, ignoring his supplication.

A grim shadow passed over his face, and he hung his head further down, the light seeming to drain away from him. Alice's eyes widened.

"No," she murmured. "You don't believe what that prediction said. You can't."

"I knew, you know," he muttered in reply. "I knew, the moment they told me that you had come back, I knew….it was only a matter of time. Just common sense---you've never stayed with us for very long, why should this time be any different? Just a matter of hours and minutes until you were gone again. I thought that…rather than talk about it, we ought to simply…enjoy the time we had. I've….missed you, Alice." He looked up at her suddenly, catching her in a gaze so sharp and penetrating, it nearly took her breath away…it said what the words could not, expressed to her just how badly missed failed to describe the truth of what he had felt….then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. "One and thirty days until…..until…." his voice faltered, as if he were unable to say the words. He swallowed heavily, his fingers twitching restlessly beneath hers. "…if these are the la…the last days we're going to have together….I just…want them to be happy."

As Alice stared at him, her eyes began to sting. He smiled down at the floor, down into nothingness….a smile so faint it almost wasn't there.

"I want them to be happy, so that….maybe, when you go back, you might….for just a little while….you might remember me."

The stinging threatened to extinguish itself in wave of tears. Alice bit them back, a fiery resolution bursting suddenly inside of her and filling her with a determination she had never known before. With her jaw clenched and her eyes stubbornly refusing to let loose the tears welling behind them, she reached up and took the Hatter's face gently in her hand, forcing him to turn and look at her. When she spoke, her voice was as hard and cold as the teacups still sitting outside.

"Hatter. Listen to me."

He stared back at her, his eyes full of questions and uncertainties. She leaned closer to him, punctuating every word as if trying to drive it into his consciousness.

"I am not leaving you. Not forever."

"But Alice…the Oraculum---"

"I don't care what it says. I decide the path I take, not some magic bit of parchment. And if I decide that I'm not leaving in thirty one days….then I'm not. I'm not leaving you again."

The Hatter shook his head slowly, his eyes filling with a sad, hopeless shadow. "Alice, no one has ever broken a prophecy before. The Oraculum doesn't command the future, it simply sees it….looks at it, as clearly as through a looking glass. It sees what will happen. It is the absolute truth of all Underland, of all things that ever were and ever will be. It has never been wrong."

"It's going to be wrong this time."

"But…how?"

She shook her head, never breaking contact with his searching green eyes. "I don't know how. But I'm going to find out. I'm going to find a way to defy the prophecy."

The Hatter closed his eyes, lowering his head. Alice felt a trace of her steely resolve melting into a warm tenderness, and before she realized what she was doing she softly laid her palm across his forehead, smoothing his hair back and consoling his worried brow. He only shook his head again, sighing hopelessly.

"It's impossible," he whispered.

The words seared in Alice's mind like the licking flames of the chattering fire in the hearth. Lifting his chin up to look at her, she pierced him with an unwavering stare…..then smiled.

"Only if we believe it is," she whispered back.

For another moment longer, he was silent, searching her gaze, pleading, yearning, as if desperately wanting to believe her. She cupped his face with one hand, softly stroking her thumb along the shadow of his cheek bone. He closed his eyes, leaning ever so lightly into her hand. Then, slowly, gradually….he opened them….and smiled back. Alice felt her heart give a great leap inside of her.

"I've just noticed," he said quietly, his eyes traveling back and forth across her face, inspecting her with a knowing gleam. "It's strange, but….for once, you're exactly the size that you should be."

Her smile widened into a grin, and she lowered her hand from his face, reaching instead to wrap her fingers firmly around his.

"I promise you, Hatter….and it's a promise you can hold me to. I am never going to leave Underland forever. I'm going to find a way."

He squeezed her back, and when he spoke again all of the dancing lights of madness she knew and loved so well had finally returned to his flashing green eyes.

"We'd better get started, then."

A/N; Thanks for reading, and remember, reviews make me smile!