Notes: First of all: I know, she's forgiving him terribly fast, but I'm a sucker, and I think I've drawn things out long enough. For this, and something else in this chapter, to katzsoa I say: PLEASE DON'T KILL ME. Second of all, this chapter contains part of the song Final Lair from Phantom of the Opera. Like most musical things in here, a few lyrics have been revised for story purposes. Third of all, there is a short quote here from an old radio program, The Edgar Bergen Show. I own-eth nothing that is found here. (Ye who can locate the quote from the radio show shall earn a virtual cupcake!)
Moving along…
Chapter XXIII: Let's Try This Again…
He was going to kill himself.
That was utterly and totally decided upon.
The question was how to do it.
He could always go to the windmill…Tarrant would doubtlessly take great delight from impaling him with his claymore and turning him into a bonnet for Alice.
No…death-by-Mad-Hatter sounded far too painful.
Not that he deserved mercy…
He gazed down into the water, the twilight making things all the more depressing. Everything about him seemed to sag; his whiskers and ears were dipped, his head was hung down, his tail was limp and still, and his grin looked more like a grimace. His eyes were watery; he hadn't cried yet, but it wouldn't be long before tears fell. His insides felt like they had sunk into his toes.
Hmm…water. Drowning sounded much more gentle…
No; the irony in feeding fish, rather than feeding on them, was too much.
He was just contemplating how nice and thick the vines on a tree nearby looked when…
"There you are."
He knew that voice…
He LOVED that voice…
He did not want to hear that voice again…
"Go away."
"Oh, right. Like I'd ever listen to an order from you again."
He growled, still refusing to turn and look at her.
"Do you understand English, rodent? Leave."
"Maybe later. Right now, I have no inclination to do so. A third of me wants to stab you."
Chess gulped.
"What does the rest want?"
"Well, a second third wants to feed you to the Bandersnatch."
He winced.
"I don't want to know what the last third wants," he said softly.
"It's the only thing keeping me from doing both," she said.
Silence. For a moment, the Cheshire Cat began to think she had left…
"You've hurt me," she began, her voice cold and angry, but not murderous. "You've manipulated and deceived me. You've broken my heart and you've stabbed me in the back. When we danced, you made me feel the illusion of control, and I believed in that illusion. You ultra-violated my trust, you shuffled me like a deck, you framed me like a picture. Even before this happened, you've hurt me: you toyed with me before we were even friends, you left me to die, and, not so long ago, you tried to kill me. And the worst part? I never once tried to rein you in. I let you hurt me, although I knew, deep down, all of it would lead to disaster…no matter which you I chose in the end."
"I get the point," hissed the cat. "If you are here to murder me, then, please, by all means, end my miserable existence. We've both suffered enough from my crimes."
"Not yet," Mally snarled. "Not until you tell me why you did what you did. Then I'll decide how painfully I'll finish you."
Chessur sighed deeply.
"As if I could deny you," he muttered, and then began. "When you saw me kill that bird, you saw a part of me I hadn't wanted you to see since before we sealed our friendship. My sense of humor has often been dark and rough at times, but I never meant you harm. But then, when you saw me kill the bird…I knew things would never be the same. I grew angry. And, in such a state of mind as I was, anger became bloodlust…you should know how that feels."
"Go on," Mally said, not ready to be taken off track.
"Well…until you came to me personally, after I destroyed that…that pilgar-lickering cat…I didn't know you felt bad about what you said to me before. About my 'nothingness.' Of course, you had said you wanted to apologize before…but I didn't think you meant it."
"I don't lie…unlike some."
"I know that…it was stupid of me. Everything was. I…I thought I understood our relationship…I thought it was a game. A contest. A matter of control…I was right…"
Behind him, unseen, the dormouse lowered her hand toward her blade…
"And wrong: yes, control is part of it, but it isn't one-sided. How could I even HOPE to control you? A creature as deadly as you are beautiful? As powerful as you are delicate? It would be like trying to cage the ocean, or box up the moon."
"Flattery will get you nowhere."
"It isn't flattery; it's fact. Trying to control you would be next to impossible. But I didn't realize that at first…by the time I did, it was too late to try and back out. I was like the fly caught on the frog's tongue, tripped up by my own ignorance. That's why I came up with that dance…that was my idea. I assume you've talked to Creole?"
"Yes."
"Hm. Anyway, that dance was my way of saying that I understood, more to myself than anyone else. You are mine…always. But I belong to you, and shall until my death, which may be soon, just as much as you belong to me."
The cat finished thus; all this time his gaze had been set on the water of the burbling brook. He hadn't turned to look at her once.
"Kill me if you want," he meowed. "I don't deserve life any more than I deserve you. I can't…I won't have you…any hope for…"
He broke off.
"Chessur…"
His heart rose slightly at the sound of her voice; it was softer, gentler now. Not forgiving, by any means, but not as steely as it had been before. He half-turned toward her, still staring at the ground.
"Chessur…what do you really want to say to me?"
Chess bit his lip, and took a deep breath. He turned toward her. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her face unreadable. His eyes held no doubt, and only the tiniest amount of fear, as he spoke the four words that should have been spoken long, long ago…"
"Mally, I love you."
Time slowed. Stopped. Her heart did a double-take. Her stomach flip-flopped. Her white fur became even paler than usual. Again.
And for completely different reasons.
Bill had told her before, but to hear him say it…
Seeing a single tear slide down her cheek, the Cheshire Cat misunderstood completely. Unable to take anymore, he turned away, eyes closed hard to try and stop the tears that were now beginning to fall.
"Take off! Forget me! Forget all of this! Leave me alone…forget everything…"
The dormouse didn't hear a word he said. All she knew was that what he had just said…those four words, three of them the hardest to say in the universe…had been no lie.
For once, in the past…weeks? Months? Did it matter?...he had been honest.
And that honesty, that confession, was all that mattered.
He loves me…he says he really loves me…
Carefully, thinking if she moved too suddenly he'd vanish faster than the March Hare could run, she circled him until she was directly in front of him. He opened his teary, bleary, turquoise eyes briefly, then closed them again, turning them downward.
"Go now…go now, and leave me…"
She ignored him. Heart moving like an elevator in her chest – up in excitement, down in worry – she placed her small, white paws on his own large, gray ones. He sniffled, and opened his eyes, the optical orbs of blue-green pleading with her to leave as she tenderly moved them away from his face.
"Pitiful creature of darkness…what kind of pain have you known?"
He blinked, confused.
Was she…singing? To him?
Why?
She moved even closer, placing her paws against his face, wiping away some of the tears.
"God, give me courage to show you…you are not alone…"
Chessur pulled back slightly as she moved forward. He opened his mouth only a little, intending to ask her what she was trying to say, what she wanted to do…
His eyes widened. His claws sank into the mud. His breath caught fast in his chest. His fur bristled and his muscles, including his tail, all went taut.
She had kissed him.
Just a peck on the lips…at her size it was all she could manage…but it spoke volumes.
He blinked rapidly, bringing a paw to touch the spot where her whiskers had touched his. He looked at her then, too stunned to speak, eyes questioning, hopeful, and utterly overwhelmed.
She smiled wide, and kissed him a second time, this time holding her lips against his for as long as possible, not easy comparing the differences in their size.
This time Chessur melted into the kiss; he exhaled gently through his nose, ruffling her fur, every inch of him relaxing his eyes fluttering closed.
He remained like that, practically unconscious, for about a minute after she broke away. His eyes slowly opened again.
"M-M-Mally…? Wh-what…?"
She chuckled.
"Are you really that dense, or is it just me?"
The cat did not reply; to him the question seemed elementary. Mally smiled, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around as much of his neck as she could. She sighed softly as she felt his paw slowly, gingerly, cup against her.
"I love you, Chess," she whispered. "More than I really care to admit to most people…at least right now. You've done a lot to me…but you've done so much for me, as well. You helped me with my father, you told me where Tarrant was and assisted me in getting to him when the Red Knights captured him, you sprung us both free when we were sentenced for execution…and you've saved my life in other ways more times than I can count."
Here she blushed and added, so quietly even his trained ears barely made out the words, "And you are the most handsome creature I have ever known. Period. So don't EVER try to change for me again."
The cat gulped, barely able to think.
"I…I love you, too, Mally," he said. "So I hope…"
"Hope what?"
He smirked, his infamous grin returning once more.
"So I hope you will permit me one last change."
Without warning, the fur and skin Mally held vanished into blue-gray mist. She stepped back a few paces as the mist condensed and swirled…
Chessur reappeared. He was still in the form of a cat…except that he was now barely a head taller than herself.
"Now this is more like it," he purred, and moved towards her, clasping her paws in his. She inhaled sharply as he pulled her forward, embracing her, nuzzling her neck. "I've wanted to hold you like this for a long, long time…"
"Y-you could have done it long before now…"
"Shrunk? Yes. But not this…"
"Why…why not?"
He grinned even wider, not with mischief, but bashfulness.
"Too nervous," he meowed, and continued to nuzzle her.
She smiled, and leaned against him.
He pulled away from her after a few seconds, and looked into her eyes. Biting his lip, he leaned forward again; if she made any sign of protest or discomfort, he would stop.
She didn't move.
His heart leaped like a panther as she leaned up, and they exchanged a third, full kiss…one of them, or perhaps both of them, moaned softly as his rough tongue touched hers...
SWOOMPH.