DISCLAIMER:...As follows

Chapter Two: Forgiving

I lay in the hammock bed, one arm in a makeshift sling, swinging gently. Much more comfortable sleeping quarters than I'd had in a long time. Yet I remained awake, as I would often do during my time in the asylum.

I couldn't go to sleep.

Wouldn't.

Restless, I sat up and stepped out, treading carefully away from the two mini-grandfather clocks the hammock hung from.

As I tried to navigate my way about the haphazard arrangement of scraps and forgotten machine parts, a glimmer of light shone in the distance. I peered into the gloom, shielding my eyes and gripping the handle of my knife, not wanting to be the target of a surprise intruder.

Blinking several times, I let my pupils adjust to the bobbing white bulb, making out two long legs, spindly arms…and a distinctive top hat. Noticing me, Tarrant seemed to glide forward ghost-like, knowing the floor like the top of his hat, and was beside me in seconds.

Holding the glowing top of his cane to his face, I could see the half-delighted, semi-snarky smile he used whenever he was amused. "Couldn't sleep," he ventured, a statement and a question.

I smiled shakily in agreement, shrugging. "I thought it would be better if I didn't. There's more fear and terror when my imagination is allowed to run wild than when I'm awake. I mean, wasn't all this mess a result of it romping around crazily in the first place?" I chuckled at my own self-deprecating joke, a manic little laugh that scared even me. It was my fault, that was true, and it was right that I was being made to suffer for it now, being made to—

"Now, now, dear girl, no one's blaming you for it…though maybe there are, but these people fall into two categories: those forgiving you, seeing that you're working hard to make the proper amends, and those who I don't know, so I suppose that's alright…" his voice trailed off, tapping his chin as if he wasn't even really sure about what he had just said. Which, in Tarrant's case, was a (fortunately? unfortunately?) common occurrence.

I pressed my lips at the comforting comment and found myself shrugging again. Couldn't find a proper reply to something so ambiguous anyway.

Tarrant was still looking into empty space. Or, in this case, cluttered, rusted and slightly greasy space. Knowing I probably wasn't going to get a response out of the Mad Hatter in one of his moods, I started to walk around him, but his neck snapped around abruptly, considering me.

Then Tarrant nodded slowly while I was frozen at the sudden attention, drawling, "Mmm…very wise. Go somewhere with me?"

The Clock Tower. Overlooking the Mechanical Altercation Domain, where I and Tarrant had dueled to the death. I looked morosely past the enormous whirring hands at the tiny bloody marks on the ground several feet below, while Tarrant busied himself, brewing the beverage that I had grown to love ever since that party a decade ago.

"So…whatever it is that's causing the insomnia. Would you like to talk about it?"

I blinked, and stared silently at the copper mug of steaming tea. Tarrant stared at me, picking imaginary lint from the red coat that he wore, his version of nervous pacing. Neither of us moved or spole for several long minutes. Then—

"Kill me," I whimpered.

Tarrant's eyebrows nearly disappeared up his hat. Then he chuckled mirthlessly, but I heard the mug rattle as he set it down. A shaking, gloved hand bridged the gap between us and settled on my cheek, turning me to face him.

"What is it really, Alice? It's alright if you don't wish to tell me, but it's not too great if you just…bottle up all those emotions within yourself all the time…you'll explode, more often than not, and my factory might be a messier place because of that." Slight pause. "Also, our messiah might die, and that isn't all good."

His words were playful, jesting, but the voice that spoke them was laced with soft concern, and the hand that touched me felt like satin against skin. I simply couldn't help it anymore, letting the tears flow freely, dripping in a salty pool that mixed in with the tart tea.

"Oh dear—you've quite ruined your tea. Here, let me make you a new cup—"

"No, please don't go!"

"Eh?"

"It's…I can't…Oh, Tarrant, it's all my fault! I couldn't save my parents, I couldn't save my sisters, I couldn't even help to keep Wonderland safe from myself. All those…dead, oppressed and suffering people are all in this state because of me! Rabbit is dead because he helped me! My parents and sisters are dead because they saved me! I don't want to lose you, Tarrant. I don't want you to die because of me; I don't want anyone else to suffer because of me…" I've been saying these words to myself all day and all night, blaming myself every waking hour. And now, in the presence of the man I loved, they all came spilling out.

Tarrant bowed his head, seeming to consider my words, but I couldn't see any expression in his top hat-shadowed eyes through my tears. He turned and emptied the contents of the mug into the nearest sink, then pulled a rug sticking out from between two rusting pipes and began wiping the already shiny cup absentmindedly, his back to me.

"You know," he finally sighed, so soft I could hardly make out separate words, "I don't have any more right to live than you do."

His words gave me pause, interrupted my wallowing, and I looked up to see him looking defeated, shoulders hunched, gripping the edge of the sink so tightly his gloves were straining.

"I just can't face closing my eyes either. You must know now that I spent half a decade under the Queen's insidious influence, Alice. The true Mad Hatter.

"Under my hands the factory churned out weapons of mass destruction, like the poor Crystal Cyborgs, abominations created at the expense of Wonderlander's lives. My Terminators wiped out hundreds, following my commands to the letter.

"And they remember.

"They look for me when I lose my guard, and lose no chance to remind me of my sins, my atrocious deeds of gunning down the same innocents I had once gave my life and soul for."

I didn't dare to look again, didn't notice him already by my side until the mug was replaced with a nearly soundless rattle on the metal table, while his other hand smoothed my hair. His eyes were slightly red, I noticed—not from the malevolence that had consumed him for the last five years but from the unseen tears he suppressed. Yet I couldn't help myself—

"Do you believe in afterlife, Tarrant? Do you think there's a place to go after you pass from this world, where you reap your just retribution for the deeds you've done?"

With one steady finger he tucked a dark brown strand of hair behind my ears, something he hadn't had the chance to do ever since I was a small girl.

"I don't even dare to think what awaits my type. The killing's I've done, the horrendous crimes…but I'd like to hope that there's a place reserved for those killing fighting in the Resistance, for those who gave their life in the name of helping Wonderland crawl out of this nightmare. And that…it is a paradise, for these people. A paradise they well and truly deserve for giving themselves to saving this one.

"If I can just get…any indication…" here his voice trembled, in…hope? Disbelief? "…that my former comrades are doing well, I'd take any torture gladly, bow down to whatever they dish out without protest."

Had I been in the mood I might have pointed out that such love, while honorable, had doomed them worse than anything Tarrant had done up till the point when he proved it. But his confession had softened me, made me feel even more vulnerable despite knowing I had a kindred spirit.

"Everyone, Tarrant? Even my family? They have to be living a better life, after what I—"

I stop. Not because I want to, but Tarrant's lips are pressed against mine, lightly but held firmly enough against a slender finger between us, that my babble is cut off.

"Ah, love. Shush," he whispers softly into my slightly open mouth. "It's fine, I'm sure they're in a better place, right, and they're so proud of you for correcting your mistakes…"

There's a lump in my throat, so huge I can barely swallow, preventing me from saying the thank you I wanted to express, but he probably sees it in my eyes and his own lime-green irises twinkle in acknowledgement.

Slightly startled by their vividness, my heart thrummed and I tried to breathe. Instantly I caught a whiff of all his smells: heady aroma of a conglomeration of different flavors of tea, the sharp metallic edge of rust and the machines he tinkers with, and also…I am drawn in by his sweet fragrance, and twist my head slightly so our lips slot perfectly into each other.

Time stops; time has stopped in the Tower, for in the dark of the night we are all alone, with no body and none of the cruelties of this warped world to distract us from our moment.

Then something shifts imperceptibly, and I reach out with my uninjured arm to cradle his head closer to mine, while he, equally hesitantly, parts my teeth with his tongue. Hands run themselves up my waist and torso, smooth as silk. I'm not sure when Tarrant had removed his gloves, but he had, and I felt his palm rubbing my shoulders lightly.

In that moment the memory of skin on skin proved too much for me to take and I jerked back, ashamed and afraid at the same time. Tarrant gasps at mu reaction and pulls away swiftly, the magic between us broken.

"What is it, Alice? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I don't—"

"No," I murmured, embarrassed and fearful of my past, of my only horrible, horrible sexual encounter. "Please don't…blame yourself. I was the one who started it. You just…responded…naturally." I shuddered, remembering the haunting words of the Tweedles, Tarrant's recently deceased bodyguards.

Silence between us, until it becomes so uncomfortable both of us open our mouths at the same time to break it and—

"Tarrant Hightopp?" We both jumped sideways apart from each other, as Chessur blinked into existence on the tabletop. "Yes, I thought I heard the both of you. Hope I haven't interrupted anything," he smirked as he continued. "But the Gryphon would like to call a meeting…sooner rather than later, if you catch my drift. Good morning."