Note: First of all, I apologize for not updating in such a long time! Thank you for your patience (or lack thereof…in a way, that's better, as it prompts me to update faster), and I am sorry. While writing, this story took a u-turn on me, so from this point on, things change rapidly. Don't be surprised, and don't say I didn't warn you.

Chapter VII: Yearning for True Guidance

Nivens McTwisp, the White Rabbit, was – by nature – one of the most panicky characters in Underland. Many things frightened him or made him nervous: being late, an angry Tarrant, Thackery in the month of March, an offended Red Queen, Stayne, a frumnious Bandersnatch, and especially the Jabberwocky.

But the Jabberwocky was slain. The Bandersnatch was far from his home, and sleeping, no less. The Red Queen and her Knave were both in exile. It wasn't March, the Hatter wasn't around, and so far he'd been on time for everything that day.

So, for him to be so frightened that the quantity of cold sweat on his ears caused them to droop, only one creature could be standing before him…

Chessur.

Why Nivens feared him, the Cheshire Cat would never fully know. Rabbits were not on his menu (he'd tried to catch one once, and found their cries to be murder on his ears, to say nothing of the fact they kicked so violently he couldn't really get a good hold), and even if they were, such an upstanding and valued member of the Resistance as McTwisp would be excluded from it.

But the cat never told that to Nivens. He didn't care why the White Rabbit feared him, but the fact he did was really a boon to him: if he ever desired something from the long-eared page, he didn't need bribes or threats or even real charm to get it: the sound of his voice alone and the sight of his ever-lasting smile were enough to scare the Rabbit into submission.

"H-h-h-hello, Ch-Chessur," stammered the Rabbit, peeking out from behind his door and shaking like a leaf.

"Hello, Nivens," Chess greeted in a dark, lilting purr he had come to master whenever he spoke to the time-obsessed rabbit. "How are you, might I ask?"

"W-well."

"Excellent," purred the cat. "And where's Creole?"

"B-B-Bill?"

"Yes."

The White Rabbit gulped.

"He's…he's in the back, practicing -"

Chess vanished. Under normal circumstances, he would have savored the chance to terrify and infuriate McTwisp, but now was not the time for games: promises before pleasure, after all.

In all of Underland, and possibly Overland as well, there was no greater swordmaster than Billnor Creole, or "Bill" as most simply called him. (Except for the Queen, who favored his full first name.) Once Captain of the Palace Guards for Mirana and her sister, Iracebeth's, parents, Bill had never truly retired. Being the Rabbit's neighbor, he would frequently visit and practice his skills with his letter opener-saber on mechanized dummies he had installed in the back yard by an old tool shed.

Bill had taught many soldiers and had many students, but Mallymkun was his best. He had taught almost too well.

But, of course, he never did teach her EVERYTHING.

As Chess rematerialized, he found Bill nearing the end of his practice run. A dummy wielding a battle axe rattled towards the gecko, who had removed his brown coat for the purpose of easier movement. Bill twirled the saber in his claws and practically pounced upon the dummy, cutting off its arms and then kicking it to the ground. Another dummy – this one holding a mace – shot up from behind. The lizard spun around, swinging his blade in a graceful circle about his head, and cut the dummy clean in two. Two more approached from either side, each holding a broadsword. The gecko ducked as one blade whizzed over his head. Before the second could strike, he thrust his miniature saber up and straight through the mechanized mannequin's forehead. Pulling it out, he spun the blade like a buzzsaw, cutting the other's limbs and painted face into ribbons.

Then came the final dummy, holding a scythe in one hand and a spear in the other. Bill stood perfectly still and straight, his blade lowered. His wrist was all that moved as he tapped the point of the sword against his "ankle." The dummy sped forward, spear held out straight, scythe raised high above its head. Bill smiled slightly and flicked his wrist in the direction of the dummy, at the same time releasing the blade from his bony fingers. His saber flew through the air like a shuriken, twirling back in an arc and cutting off the dummy's head before returning to his waiting claw.

He exhaled.

Chessur applauded politely.

"Nice form," purred the cat.

"Terchal."

"Gesundheit."

The lizard scowled over his shoulder.

"It was a joke."

The gecko scoffed and sheathed his saber.

"Terchal is no joke," he grumbled. "It takes nearly a lifetime to master. Not even your precious Mallymkun knows it. I never did get to teach it to…"

Bill fell silent and then, without turning around, asked, "What do you want, feline?"

"It has to do with Mally."

"Really?" hissed Bill. "You don't say. Well, what has happened? What mischief is Mally muddled in this time?"

"I assure you, it's nothing of her doing."

"Then why come to me? Her life is nothing of my business…"

A paw pinned the gecko to the ground. Bill had been expecting this reaction, but he knew better than to say so. He just glared at the cat above him.

"IT IS NOW," snarled the Cheshire Cat. "Don't act like she means nothing to you! You told Patricial she was the daughter you never had, and Mally has always looked up to you like a father! And you know that!"

"Considering her family life, I'll take that as an offense," snapped the reptile.

Chess growled, leaning in a mite closer. Unlike rabbits, lizards always made good snacks.

"I will say this only once Creole, so pay attention: I need your assistance, which is the only reason you still live. I will not tolerate such remarks. Insult my Mally again, and trust me when I say that I will not hesitate to kill you and shove you down my throat. Am I clear?"

Bill looked at the cat long and hard, confused and a bit surprised, but not scared in the least.

Then he smirked.

"Oh, dear God…you've fallen in love with her, haven't you?"

Chessur took a deep breath.

"Yes," he said at length.

To the cat's surprise, the scaly swordsman began to laugh hysterically.

"What's so funny, pray tell?" hissed the cat.

The lizard snickered.

"A Cheshire Cat in love with a dormouse? Why, that's the silliest thing I've ever heard!"

If he could, Chess would have frowned. But as his lips could not curve downwards, he simply glared.

"Silly, Bill?"

"It's the only thing more ludicrous than love itself!"

"You find love to be ludicrous?"

"Romance is utterly ridiculous."

"You didn't always think so, Billnor Creole."

The gecko's smile vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Let me up, you crafty crock."

Chess did so. Bill stood up, dusting off his shirt and straightening his vest.

"Well," he said. "Why don't you tell her you love her?"

"I wanted to, but…"

"But what?"

The Cheshire Cat hesitated.

"Some…complications arose," he said dully. "Too many complications to ignore."

Bill raised an eyebrow.

"Besides," Chess hurried on. "I'm a cat. She wouldn't take me."

"She might."

"No. She won't. So, I'm playing mouse to my own cat. I've disguised myself as one of her species, so that I may get closer to her."

"And you come to me why…?"

"You know things about her I do not, and visa versa. The only other people very close to her are the Hare and the Hatter, and…well…"

"I see. You want me to help you in this little dance of dark deception."

"You might say that," said the cat with a shrug, and turned to leave. The lizard was beginning to get on his nerves. "At any rate, if you won't help me…"

"Ah-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!" chirped Bill, wagging a clawed finger. "I only said that I don't believe in love. I never said I wasn't going to help you!"

Chess cocked his head doubtfully.

"Why would you then, if you don't believe in love?" hissed the cat. "You don't believe I love her, and don't believe she loves me, so what's in it for you?"

"You know, cat, you're starting to sound a lot like the Hatter. At any rate, I have my own reasons."

"Such as?"

Bill shrugged.

"She's happy when she's with you. I won't lie: I wasn't exaggerating when I told Pat she was like my own child to me. I WANT her to be happy. I don't care a dime about people caring about others, but happiness is another matter entirely, and if she lives with you, she'll be happy. I just know it. Understand?"

"Not really…"

"Well, that's fine. No one ever understands you, after all…"

"…But I've got a rough idea," smiled the cat. "So, you WILL help?"

"With whatever I can. As of now, may the judge of this contest for a rodent's heart consider me your accomplice," Bill smiled back.

Chess grinned even wider.

"I've invited her to lunch with me tomorrow. Do you know what she likes? Dormouse diet was a subject I never really took the time to learn."

Bill chuckled.

"Well," he began. "Like most rodents, I believe she is partial to cheese…"