A/N: Yay! Another chapter, and tons of reviews and subscribes. Thanks guys:)

Disclaimer: I **sniffle sniffle** don't own Alice in Wonderland, and I'm not crying I just have a cold... and something in my eye...

WARNING(S): story may contain and/or be; crack-pot, contain the yuri/femmeslash/lesbian pairing between Mirana of Marmoreal and Alice Kingsleigh, slight use of profanity, a high score on the cliche meter, tons of confusion, reiteration, violence, drama, man sized pigeons, peanuts and/or peanut dust, and talking parrots.

Chapter II

~o~ Alice ~o~

She stood beside Margaret, trying to find words as she watched her older sister observe her children. Alice dully noted that her sister looked much aged since their last parting, and saw the similarities between Margaret's dark eyes and her own. Though Alice knew she was much happier then her sister, who wore an almost constant painful looking expression save for when her son Christopher did something worth smiling for.

"Children age so quickly do they not?" Margaret asked, looking up from her two year old son, and meeting Alice's eyes; the other girl looked down as her sister continued, "It is a pity that you wasted your pretty face and youth-you could've married a lord Alice! A lord!"

"You know that was not my intention, is happiness not worth more then the adoration of a lord?" Alice asked in a rather quiet voice.

"Perhaps, so long as happiness is not tainted with sin," Margaret replied sourly, "Tell me Alice, why have you not settled? And if you intend, then why not allow us to meet the man? We're your family!"

"I intend to settle, but you can not meet the man-there is no man, and there never will be if I have my say," Alice replied simply, a slight quiver to her voice, hope blooming beside the courage pounding in her chest.

"Oh Alice!" Margaret exclaimed softly, disappointment in her eyes, "I had no clue that you were one of... them..."

"Yes," Alice replied, all her hopes nearly crushed but her courage still untouched; foolish pride wouldn't let her backdown from telling her mother, nor would it let her stay.

"All those times..." Margaret continued absently, staring off into space before looking back over at her younger sister, "Please be careful, such things are unlawful and I won't stand to see you imprisoned regardless!"

"Thank you Margaret," Alice replied, a spark of hope growing again and supporting her courage in place of pride.

~•~ Mirana ~•~

The queen gazed about the room which was Hatter's workshop, hats were thrown about and the place looked rather messy. The man she was looking for was, at the time, scurrying around the room in a frenzy. His eyes were dark, and Mirana was unsure of weather she should speak now-with him holding the scissors so near-or try and wait till later.

"Tarrant," She stated, gaining the man's attention and smiling when his eyes returned to their normal light shade.

"Fez?" He asked, wondering why Mirana was there when she so clearly did not need a hat, and had more dire things to look into.

"How well do you know Alice?" The queen asked, wondering if her love had any possible chance of being requited or if Tarrant did not know.

"Hmm... I can't say I know him very well, but he's nice enough-half mad, but all the best are," Tarrant replied cheerfully, "Have you seen him?"

"No, I have not," Mirana replied, a hint of displeasure edging into her voice only to be quickly hidden, she whispered, "I wish I had seen her recently..."

"I wish I'd seen him too," Hatter said, lost in his own world, looking up to gaze at Mirana, "Though not in the way you wish to see Alice, she is my friend and nothing more."

"You are still closer to her then I," Mirana sighed, her dark eyes lost looking, for she knew she loved Alice but did not know if the other loved her and could not know for then.

"You mustn't think so, for she is nearly as close to you as me; surprising considering it was her first meetings with you," Tarrant retorted, finishing a hat and setting it down only to find it floating above.

"Yes, don't be so hard on yourself your majesty," Chess said with a grin splitting on his face, his paws tucked under as he floated there with the hat upon his head, "Alice has love for you- You know it as well as we do."

"One cannot be sure," Mirana replied, emotion seeping into her voice; she'd come for a simple answer, and the talk was trying her emotions, she missed Alice so much.

~o~ Alice ~o~

Her mother did not take kindly to her telling of her tale- For what mother takes kindly to the notion her daughter loves another of the same gender? Certainly not Mrs. Kingsleigh. But, with her mother told and her decision made, Alice had no reason to stay. For the three most important beings to her in the Abovelands have been told, and all know of her intent. While one or more did not accept it, it did not matter. Alice felt all the more better for telling them, though their reactions did pain her.

Her business accomplished, the woman set out across the house grounds. Her destination well known to her, the path leading to it as familiar as the back of her hand. Alice was no stranger to the many rabbit holes which dotted the land of both her father and her former business partner; this time seemed no different. Nivens McTwisp wasn't there to guide her of course, but that was no matter since she knew the way well. She was already upon the rabbit hole and had started falling down it before she realized that something was different. Something had changed, but of what she could not be sure.

~•~ Mirana ~•~

The harsh afternoon rays beat down upon her through the windows of Marmoreal. It was a bright afternoon and the prefect end to a horrible day filled with encounters. The queen could not say that she wasn't missing Alice at the time, for that was truth and she was no liar. She feigned happiness to hide the pain of longing, but only so to keep her servants from worrying as they seemed so prone to.

Mirana could not dwell on her thoughts for too long a time, however, as recent activities regarding Crims had come to light. Lately strange things had been happening all around Underland, but this seemed different. While the other disturbances had no source, and no motive, and all had been remote and silent: this was different. Underlanders passing through the area had reported seeing strange lights emanating from the building, and had reported hearing screams. Mirana could only hope, based on that report and the others, that it was not as she feared and that the traders were not back. That her people were safe from the harvesting of their emotions and memories, the bottling of their thoughts and the use of those to create unspeakable things. Drugs of great potency, poisons enough to kill with one drop, potions which lasted for so long that there were still people sleeping under the effect of them.

As much as Mirana liked to hope it was not the wandering traders, whom combed across Underland every few decades or so, the other option seemed far more dangerous and far more likely. For if it was not the nomadic traders, then it was the Witch of Wastings. A woman her family had suppressed for many years; a woman who's only child had died at the hands of Iracebeth; a woman who had every right reason to want to destroy Underland. The Witch of Wastings was equal to Mirana in power if not above her in such regards, and though the woman had not been seen since before Iracebeth's fall from power, it was likely she was behind the sightings and the problems. For in the few other instances, of the near same kind of what was happening in Crims, the parties involved had come across people of unknown origins. People without names, without memories, without recognition; people without all but life. Such happenings smelt heavily of magic, and while the nomadic traders were known to do such things, even they could not conjure people with such ease. Why the Witch of Wastings would do such a thing, and what her intentions were, Mirana was not sure. But then again, Mirana was not even sure it was the Witch who was behind it.

So the queen paced and thought, dwelled on the matter at hand and resolved to find out what was happening herself. She called for her horse, and set out with a small number of knights for Crims. Making it there well before nightfall, and entering the abandoned castle on foot.

The place had fallen to ruin in the absence of occupation, and not even the most desperate of Underlanders squatted there in refuge. Crims was large, imposing, and most certainly, impossibly silent. The silence peaked Mirana's curiosity, for just moments before when they'd arrived, the place had been letting out the most horrible howls. Much akin to the screams of someone being tortured to death, mingled with the crying sobs of a child. With so much ground to cover, and Mirana intending to return to Marmoreal before nightfall had fallen, the queen decided to have her knights divide up into two groups. One went with her, the other went the opposite way, so as to cover more ground but not divide their strength too much.

She and her group headed through the dusty halls, stopping to search the musty rooms and observe the decaying portraits of Iracebeth and the courtiers of Crims. Occasionally Mirana would pause as memories of her past washed over her in gentle waves, though sometimes it was not her distant past which washed over her but another's past. The past of one she didn't know.

In those brief moments, this great pain would resound in her chest and reach out to the other's past. They sympathized though they did not know another, though they were separated by time and space. Like two beings trapped in the dark pit of despair which all those whom have lost love they never had, find themselves in. Two arms reaching into the darkness, one whom's pains had been traversed through ages before, the other's pain which was just beginning. The shadows washed over her and the message was clear. And she'd hear the beating of the ghost's heart, speeding up as if the ghost were reliving it's life, slowing and ending to wash over again and repeat. Frightening though it was, Mirana had no doubt that it was not meant to be a threat but a warning. For in those few fragmented memories of the ghost, she'd seen their meaning to some small part. She'd also seen their fear, recognized that this was recent fear, for the memories began just after her sister's banishment. Something was happening, something terrible and wonderful at the same time. The ghost had warned her, warned her well, of many things. Taught her through more recent memories of what had been happening. Mirana understood the fear of the being, she understood it well, for something was bringing the dead back to life. Filling bodies with the souls of the long dead. But there was something else the ghost was trying to tell her, something she couldn't quite understand. It had to do with a girl and magic. The ghost had done something to protect a wanderer and herself, but there was something there that was missing. Or perhaps there was something there that wasn't supposed to be. In any case, the memories-both new and old-of the ghost led her to the kitchen of her sister's castle. To the hearth where a woman was resting, cold and naked in the cinders of a transformation spell. Tears streamed down from her startling, clear blue eyes.

Upon seeing Mirana the girl bolted up and huddled in the corner of the fireplace, hiding herself well. Not well enough, though, for Mirana found herself flushed as she looked over the body. Tanned skin, not uncommon for those farmers of Snud, and deep ebony hair flowing in long cascades on the bent head of the girl. Mirana rushed to her, grabbing her arm and attempting to pull aside the girl's arms to see the marks written on her chest-resting just along her collar bone. The girl resisted, and Mirana could hear her crying and screaming.

"No, no! No Mirana please!" The girl shouted as the queen backed away, unsure of why the girl was afraid, unsure of how the girl knew her name.

The queen stared at the girl, as did her knights, all were confused by the girl being there. Mirana understood that she would not be allowed to see the glyph on the girl's thin chest, and saw that the girl was not only shaking with fear and tears but because of the cold. She bolted right and grabbed the nearest article of fabric she could find, a discarded tablecloth, and returned to settle it around the girl's shoulders. She didn't know the girl, she didn't think so, but something about her struck Mirana strangely. The girl melted into the small warmth of the cloth and huddled within it, still hiding from the great woman before her. Concern flashed in the queen's eyes.

"Find her some clothing," She instructed her knights, her eyes hard and her expression set, her voice was firm-almost holding a cutting edge, but laced with the same concern in her eyes.

With her knights leaving her, the queen looked back down at the heap of a girl before her. Brown eyes met blue and something stirred in Mirana's memory. Her dream. The memory of her dream was back, nausea welled in her. The girl both scared her and intrigued her. She found herself stepping away while her hands itched to wipe the tears from the girl's sweet face. Mirana stopped, and her hand went forward but moved to adjust the makeshift blanket on the girl before reaching to wipe the tears from her face.

"Who did this to you?" She asked quietly, her eyes searching the depths of the other girl's.

"I don't know," The girl replied, the tears beginning to stop.

"Do you know who you are?" Mirana asked a little bit louder with a little bit more confidence.

"I'd hoped you could tell me," The girl said, her brow furrowing in a way which seemed so familiar to Mirana, her response striking the woman off.

"If you don't know who you are, then why do you still know who I am?" The queen questioned, curious and concerned.

"It hurts!" The girl exclaimed suddenly, her hands flying to her head to hold it as tears began to fall again, "Don't make me try to remember! It hurts too much! Please! No!"

"Hush," Mirana said, attempting to sooth the girl as she grabbed her and held her tightly, feeling the cold body shake in her grasp, "I can't make you try, I won't make you try anymore."

"It hurts!" The girl exclaimed again, trying to push away from the queen as a memory surfaced, the pain accompanying it making her forget immediately, "Please no! It hurts!"

Mirana immediately let the girl go, and the creature scrambled as far away into the corner as she could go. Cowering in the grip of pain brought on by Mirana's embrace induced recollection. The queen pursed her lips, as her knights returned having found clothing for the girl, it was evident she couldn't leave the girl behind but when she caused them such pain it made her wonder if she should leave them behind. No. It was clear that if she left the girl behind no good would ensue. So she took the clothes from her knights and handed it to the girl, who would not take the articles from her, so she was forced to place them on the ashy floor of the hearth. It was only then that the girl would take the clothing and don it, the time it took her lending enough spare for Mirana to read the glyph on the girl's chest. It was written in a deep blood red, and she did not doubt that it had been written in the girl's own blood. Something shimmered beneath it, a color unrecognizable at the time. Mirana did not recognize the glyph unfortunately, but knew that the Witch of Wastings would: for the witch was far older then Mirana and had much more experience in this field.

As soon as the girl had finished clothing herself, Mirana reached for her, and found the young woman a lot less fearful then moments before. Tears still welled in her eyes, and the dried streaks of her past tears could be seen running down her face. The queen could only imagine what the woman was feeling at that moment: being involved in the dark arts was painful enough without losing one's memory and recalling little bits while still in pain. The girl allowed Mirana to hold her wrist, where cloth covered her skin, but pulled away when Mirana moved to hold her hand. It was now clear that the girl knew Mirana somehow, and that touching the queen-bare skin to bare skin-was causing problems regarding painful memories. With the knights surrounding them, the two left Crims and headed back to Marmoreal. Making it back just before nightfall despite the extra rider.

Again, Mirana asked the girl for a name, and again the girl denied having one. The queen was reluctant to pressure the girl any further, but knew the girl would have to remember sometime. In the meantime, however, both needed to eat and so they headed to the supper table to join the nobles of the court of Marmoreal. All the pale faces turned to look at the curious new girl, whom Mirana led by the wrist. The girl's pale eyes, much unlike the other's in the room, were filled with fear. She knew some of these people, she knew she did, but she could not remember their names or how she met them. It perplexed her that the shallow recognition of these people was so much less painful then waking to remember only the queen's name. Even thinking it tugged her so and pained her heart and her head. If only she could remember.

Dinner based quickly, with little conversation between her and Mirana, and with some conversation between her and Nivens. Whom, it seemed, she also knew. Though she could still not, for the life of her, remember where from or how. This too seemed to be boggling Mirana's mind, for the queen had picked up on the girl's recognition immediately upon seeing the fear in the other's eyes soften. Mirana only wished Tarrant, or Chess, could have attended dinner so as to help her solve this mystery. As it was, the two were busy taking care of an infestation of Muglumps in Tarrant's latest creation. Why the silly little sprites were attacking the hat Mirana did not know, but it brought a smile to her face to think of it.

When dinner was finished at last, the queen retired to her chambers after seeing to it that her guest was put away for the night and word had been sent to the Witch of her need. For many hours Mirana lie awake in bed that night, confused over the situation and frightened by it. Something was off, something was amiss and she wished-so very desperately-that Alice could return to her and offer a distraction from the politics of the day. With sleep not coming to her, Mirana stood and walked the halls till she came upon her guest's room and peeked inside with a ginger air about her. She felt wrong, watching the woman, so little more then a girl, sleep. But it offered insight as to what was happening: for Mirana watched as the raven haired woman dreamt. She watched the woman pant with the pain of her dreams, watched as her eyes flicked back and forth rapidly in her sleep. The queen longed to wake the girl, but found that upon touching her she only made the woman worse. So she left, returned to her room, and quietly went to sleep.

~o~

She ran, her chest was burning but not from the running. Her heart her, her head ached, and her thoughts burned her subconscious mind. She was chasing him, chasing the rabbit. Or was it the cat? She did not know. She did not know the cat though she knew she knew the rabbit. Could this be how they met? No. This was a second meeting, her head told her. The world shifted. Where was she now? Heading back to her second home, her chest burning even more then ever before. She'd hit the ground running. Something was chasing her, something or someone. Shadows. She ran into a castle of red and white, tried to hide. But they still found her. They always did and alongside those unknown shadows was the shadow of one known. Their skin touched skin and her chest felt as if it were about to burst. She remembered, remembered everything that had ever happened: then she forgot, she forgot to the pain. When the pain had soothed enough to look down, she found her chest a light with the color blue. Blue as her dress. Blue as her eyes.

But were her eyes blue? Were they truly? She did not know, she was confused. Someone whispered her name, but she forgot it. Someone whispered another name, and she kept it. Her heart holding on to it all the while as the pain increased and she seized in the flames of magic. Were her eyes not brown but moments before? Were her eyes not brown?

A/N: Confusing yes? Tough cookies! Kidding. It's supposed to be confusing. I'm pretty sure some of you have figured it out already though and are just waiting for the details to fill in all the little gaps. Anyway, update soon.