Masquerade Chapter 6: cinq: give in to temptations, sinner, a naruto fanfic

project: masquerade
disclaimer: i do not own naruto, or the characters in it, or wonderland.
summary: she will follow the white rabbit. she will fall in love with the mad hatter. she will kill the queen of hearts. but fairytales don't always have a happily ever after and she doesn't believe in once upon a times.
pairings: sasusaku
notes: i'd go into a detailed explanation as to what's going on, but you should be able to figure out the rest from the next chapters, hopefully. i just noted an odd glitch, so i've changed that. :)
chapter: cinq: give in to temptations, sinner, and watch the world burn

Ah, Alice-chan. You're late for tea.

The Gateway is one entity, made up of three people—or, spirits, as they are more often called by the Wonderlanders. They are not alive, but nor are they dead; rather, they live between, acting as a gateway for all things. They were once living; they were once three very different people, with three very different lives. They cannot remember those lives, now; or, they say they cannot remember. It is more likely that they choose not to remember.

Would you want to remember something you cannot ever have?

K —

01:23:64.
The Red Brick Coffee House.
Ask for 'Hyuuga Neji'.

wasp _

Wonderland was alive with activity—it practically hummed with it. It was like an electrical pulse, passing throughout the land, and, because of it, tensions were high. Sakura had not seen a single soul since entering Wonderland—even the Cheshire Cat had not made his usual appearance, and she had not spotted Naruto's familiar fluffy tail and snow white ears. She wandered blindly around, unsure of herself, terrified out of her mind; she was so vulnerable on her own. She was no doubt entirely lost, too; that would be just her luck. She felt young—too young for this drama.

Deep in her heart, she could tell that something big was going down.

She considered calling for someone, but dismissed the idea quickly—after all, she had no idea who would respond to her plea for help. As far as she could tell, the spectral images she usually saw when a Wonderlander came close didn't apply to Wonderland itself. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her body, feeling ridiculously frail; she pursed her lips, her eyes wide as she gazed into the leafy darkness around her. Wonderland seemed to only be made up of trees and forests; she chuckled lowly. A change of scenery would be nice.

A branch cracked to her left, and she span around, her heart thumping in her chest. There was every chance the noise had just been a coincidence, but she could not help but feel eyes on her; she felt hot and cold and suddenly calm.

She slipped her hand into her dress pocket, her fingers wrapping around the handle of her gold pistol; she felt safe holding it. Ever since Sasori, the gun gave her a sense of security. It was a weapon—and, with it, she became a weapon; a cold and calculated killer, ruthless and sadistic, but safe. She couldn't die like that. Not when she was Alice.

Alice was too strong.

The bushes rustled, and her hand snapped out of her pocket, the gun with it. She pointed it into the darkness, feeling ridiculously silly, but that same sense of safety washed over her once again. She tilted her head, listening carefully, and was confronted with only silence—perhaps it had been an animal of some sort? She was close to placing her gun safely back into her pocket and turning away, when a hand gripped her wrist and pulled her backwards, into the darkness.

Branches ripped at her face, and she spluttered, thrashing away; a second hand pinned her arms to her body, wrapping around her waist, and she felt someone press against her. She opened her mouth to scream, and a gloved hand clamped down on her mouth. "Ah, Alice-chan," her captor murmured lowly, and she could hear his mocking smile in his voice; but the voice wasn't familiar to her, so she remained as still as she could. "You need to be more careful."

Her heartbeat began to thump quicker, to the point where she could barely think straight; her weapon had dropped uselessly to the floor, in her struggle, and she was completely defenceless. In fact, her position was far too vulnerable; there was every chance she'd die there. She needed to escape; she needed to get as far away as possible, with or without the gun.

The man cleared his throat, obviously about to talk again, but she didn't give him the chance. She opened her mouth, thrusting her lips backwards and simultaneously biting down on his hand; the man let out a barely-stifled yelp, releasing Sakura as he did so. She shot forwards, pushing off him to give herself extra momentum, scooping up her gun as she did so. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stagger backwards, a figure blending in with the darkness; then she was running, gun in hand, and she had no time to look over her shoulder.

"Alice, wait—!"

He was following her. She could barely hear him—he was stealthy, definitely, and moved almost silently. Only the occasional snap of a branch, and the approaching light footsteps, alerted her of his presence. He was too fast. She could never outrun him. Not as Sakura.

So she would have to fight, then.

She slowed, skidding to a halt, and swung around, aiming her gun and pulling the trigger once; she watched as he ducked through the air; she heard the bullet thud into the tree behind him. She didn't have time to pull the trigger again; he launched himself forwards, his arm outstretched. She barely had time to gasp, before his hand had closed around her throat and she was pinned roughly to the tree behind her.

The two surveyed each other.

He was quite normal, in his pale grey polo-neck jumper, pulled up over half of his face and one eye, and his black suit trousers. He had silver-grey hair, which stuck up at odd angles. He wore a black tailcoat, with a thin pipe and an orange book tucked into the pocket. However, that appeared to be where the normalities ended; his entire tailcoat was covered in badges—entirely covered in them. They appeared to be badges of various different caterpillars; and, as she watched them, the caterpillars squirmed and moved, like they were alive. Her eyes widened.

His visible eye crinkled, and she saw his lips move into a smile underneath the polo-neck; his grip on her neck loosened, before disappearing altogether, and he offered her a mock salute.

"I'm sorry about startling you, Alice," the man said, his smile turning sheepish. "I'm the Caterpillar—part time mercenary and full-time wise guy."

Sakura blinked, her mouth dropping into an 'o' shape; and then she narrowed her eyes, instantly mistrustful. "…what do you mean 'part time' mercenary?" She murmured, crossing her arms and silently cursing the lack of distance between her and the newcomer.

He offered her a little shrug, but made no offer to expand.

"You're on my side, then?" She tried again, feeling vaguely confused; this man emitted a feeling of security and safety, but she didn't trust him. Sasuke had told her time and time again; she could not trust anyone, not even herself. After all, the eyes are easily tricked.

He appeared to be able to answer that question, despite the fact that he gave her another little half-shrug. "I suppose so."

"…you suppose so?"

"Yes," he nodded, his eye crinkling again, showing her that he was smiling beneath his mask. "I suppose so. I am, after all, on the side of whoever pays best—and, right now, that appears to be your side. However, I have been requested by… a friend, that you be taken to her immediately. Will you follow me, Alice-chan?"

She considered her options. The man in front of her was obviously dangerous, although she couldn't see any weapons on him; but there was every chance he had a hidden weapon, much like the Mad Hatter's hat. Without slipping into badass Alice-mode—and she had no idea how to do that willingly—she doubted she could beat him in any kind of combat. It would be in her best interests to just comply. The Caterpillar had also said 'her'; she knew of only one woman, so far, in Wonderland, and she was the White Queen—she wondered, briefly, if the Queen would send a mercenary to pick her up.

No, that was unlikely.

She eyed him curiously, unable to help herself; perhaps if she could just talk her way out of it… "Mr Caterpillar… who are you?"

She watched as his visible eye widened in surprise, and then he smiled. "I'm exactly who I say I am, Alice. And who are you?"

Sakura frowned. "I can't tell you—"

"—ah, of course, but you misunderstand; that's not what I meant, Alice-chan," the Caterpillar murmured, and he took a step forwards, pressing his finger against her chest. "Who are you, inside there?"

She blinked, unsure of what to say.

He chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. "A previous Alice once told me that she did not know who she was. I said, 'what a curious thing. How can you now know who you are?' She replied, rather smartly, 'you see, I knew who I was at breakfast, but I have changed several times since then'. 'Oh, really?' I asked her, 'explain.' She shook her head at me and smiled. 'I cannot explain, because I'm not myself.'"

The Caterpillar gazed at Sakura.

"Are you yourself?"

Confused, she nodded her head.

"Ah, but how can you tell? You've changed so much since breakfast, haven't you? Sometimes you are tall, sometimes you are small, but are you yourself?"

She couldn't respond. The Caterpillar smiled cheerily.

"Now, hop onto my back, Alice-chan."

She let out a resigned sigh, and nodded weakly. The Caterpillar grinned, his posture relaxing—obviously he'd expected more of a fight from her, but she'd given in ridiculously easily. He motioned for her to step forwards, and she did so; he snatched her wrists, turning so that she stood behind him. Then, with a helping jump from her, he tugged her onto his back; instinctively, she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, before, with a gentle poke from him, loosening them slowly.

He glanced back over his shoulder at her, his visible eye concerned. "Ready?"

She nodded.

"Ready."

"Where is she? Oh God, Sasuke, we can't find her anywhere! At first, I thought she might have shrunk herself by accident, but she hasn't—she's here somewhere, and we can't find her! This is awful! Awful!"

Naruto was panicking. He did it sometimes, when he was particularly worried. He paced backwards and forwards, wringing his wrists nervously, every now and then gazing at Sasuke. His ears flicked to and fro, twitching anxiously. The Mad Hatter had been remarkably calm throughout the entire thing, sitting down in his usual chair at the tea-table, after searching for Alice. He had announced, rather loudly, that she was lost and she was an idiot, and if she ended up dead, it was her own fault. Then he had tipped his hat forwards, over his eyes, and proceeded to completely ignore everyone, including the White Rabbit.

Which was, quite frankly, pissing Naruto off.

He glanced briefly at the Dormouse, who simply shrugged in response, and then at the March Hare, who didn't give any response, whatsoever. In fact, Gaara seemed to be thinking of entirely different thing; he was definitely lost in thought. He slammed his hands down on the table in front of the Hatter, disturbing a plate stacked high of bread and causing the contents of a teacup to slosh over the table-cloth. Sasuke still didn't move.

Naruto scowled, biting back the things he really wanted to say, and simply muttering, "What are we going to do?"

At first, the Rabbit was sure the Hatter wouldn't respond; then, finally, unable to take it any longer, he reached out and grabbed the unresponsive boy by the front of his shirt, tugging him forwards. Cups overturned. A fork slid onto the ground. The Dormouse and the March Hare watched on, each vaguely interested as to the outcome.

He ignored them.

Instead, Naruto stared into the Mad Hatter's eyes—there was a glimmer of fury, that much he could see, and then they turned blank again. Sasuke placed both of his hands on top of Naruto's, gripping them with surprising strength. "Let go."

"Answer my question!"

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a mocking smirk. "How should I know? I'm not her babysitter."

The White Rabbit glowered at Sasuke for a moment longer, before throwing him away, the disgust visible on his face. He was angry, but so was the Hatter, and neither of them were good at hiding that. He marched away, muttering lowly beneath his breath, heading towards the forest—no doubt he was going to look for Sakura again. Sasuke, meanwhile, plonked himself back into his seat, heaving a theatrical sigh, watching in amusement as Naruto stopped, his stance rigid and tense.

"If…"

Naruto's voice was dark, filled with a boiling, trembling rage.

"If Sakura dies, I will kill you."

With that, the White Rabbit disappeared into the dark forest of Wonderland.

Sasuke let out a soft sigh, linking his hands together—he was surprised to see that they trembled in rage, and his knuckles were stark white. He closed his eyes, ignoring the Dormouse's questioning glance; it didn't matter. He thought of the White Rabbit and of Sakura and of Alice and of the Monster, and let out a bitter chuckle.

Kill him?

"…I'd like to see you try."

The Caterpillar finally slowed to a halt, loosening his grip on Sakura's ankles and waiting patiently for her to slide off his back. She blinked, obviously startled—she'd grown quite accustomed to the warmth of his back, and it felt as though the journey had only been a short one. She slipped off his back and steadied herself; she was at a cross-road, of sorts. She glanced back down the path that they had come from, and frowned, before looking in the opposite direction. Then she gazed quizzically at the man, waiting for him to tell her what was going on.

"I'm afraid I can't go any further."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she placed her hands on her hips. "Well, why not? You've taken me this far, and I have no idea where I am. You can't just leave me here!"

He scratched the back of his head, peering warily down the new path; it was the only path without a signpost. He seemed to be considering something, but then he shook his head sadly. "I cannot go down there, Alice, but you can. It is a path wrought with danger, but I believe you are strong enough."

"But why can't you take me?"

He smiled cheerily, "Because we're being followed."

She felt a shiver run down her spine, as she peered back down the path. Followed? She couldn't sense any kind of presence. But, what if it was the Queen of Hearts, or one of their men? She would be killed upon leaving him. She fixed him with a scowl. "All the more reason for you to come with me, then."

"Ah, well, you see…" He seemed sheepish; but then he fixed her with another cheery smile. She found herself shivering again; something sinister lurked behind his grin. "I'm going to go and kill our stalker, Alice-chan."

"But… But I don't know where to go!"

The Caterpillar smiled, pointing at the winding path ahead of her; he gave her a little sheepish half-shrug. "Begin at the beginning and go on until you come to the end," he murmured, before turning and offering her a little wave, strolling back down the way he had come—she watched in disbelief as he slipped his little orange book out of his pocket and began to read. His final words floated back to her.

"Then stop."

Sakura frowned, watching as he disappeared back down the path; she watched his retreating back for a few moments, before turning and heading down her path. She wrapped her arms around her chest, rubbing her shoulders as she walked—it seemed to be getting colder, as she moved further down the path. The trees crowded overhead, blocking out the sunlight and casting shadows across the ground; it grew darker and darker, and she became more wary. She furrowed her brow, slipping her hand into her pocket and wrapping her fingers around her pistol.

She began to walk faster, facing forwards; but her eyes flickered from side to side, checking out the darkness. Everything seemed to be so clear to her—all the noises, all the shapes, all the smells. A branch cracked—a leaf rustled—an owl hooted. Distantly, she could smell soup. She wrinkled her nose, frowning slightly; too much pepper. She blinked, beginning to speed up—actually, that smell of soup was pretty strong.

She broke into a sprint.

The smell of food meant there'd be a house nearby; and a house meant safety. Who knew? Maybe the woman who'd asked for her was there—maybe that house meant security, and an escape from the darkness and danger. A small smile of relief split across her face, and she laughed as she ran; laughed loudly and hysterically, because the noises were getting louder and closer, and she could hear something running in time with her.

The house came into view—a small cottage, with red bricks and a thatched roof; smoke curled from the chimney, and she could see people moving in the window. She flat-out sprinted, wishing she'd tried harder in her sports classes—the thing chasing her let out a low growl, and seemed to put on an extra burst of speed. It was a monster—it had to be a monster—and it was chasing Sakura.

She was clutching her gun.

Blindly, she threw her arm up, knowing full well that her aim wasn't quite right—but she pulled the trigger anyway. There was a yelp of surprise, and the sound of a scuffle—something crashed through the bushes behind her, and fell, sprawled, across the path. She didn't glance over her shoulder. Instead, Sakura let out a shriek of triumph, and put on a final burst of speed. She skidded to a halt, just outside the door, and rapped loudly on the wood, twice.

Behind her, the thing began to stagger to its feet.

She knocked again, this time more urgently, turning so that she was facing the thing; it swayed slightly, and stepped forwards, into a patch of light. His wings unfurled, stretching out and beating at the sky—Sakura's hair whipped backwards and forwards, flying into her eyes. His skin was grey and cracked; his ragged hair fell down over his shoulders, dark in the night, but obviously ginger in the daylight. His eyes were animal-like; he glared at her with such rage and pain, that she felt he would burst at any moment. He swayed again, lurching towards her, and she saw his clawed hands; one clutched at his chest, where blood soaked through the remnants of clothes. He righted himself, let out a roar, and then raced forwards, moving on all fours much like an animal—and she suddenly felt like prey.

She shrieked.

The door flew open and she fell backwards—but the thing was close, and it lifted its clawed hand; a hand grasped her collar and tugged her into safety—the claws raked through the air where she'd been stood just a moment before.

A girl about her age slammed the door shut after her, locking it quickly, easily, and offering Sakura a feeble smile. "Sorry about Juugo, Alice-chan. He gets so excitable."

For a few seconds, she couldn't speak, and the hands which had pulled her to safety had to hold her steady, as well. She glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see a sickly looking boy, with too-long off-white hair, which hung over his face. He flipped his head back, and offered her a sharp-toothed grin. She smiled cautiously back at him, shifting herself so that she was stood up entirely on her own, before turning back to the girl.

She had beautiful hair—red like a rose—and it fell over her shoulders, to midway down her back; she wore glasses, thin plastic-framed spectacles which looked entirely out of place in Wonderland. But she looked out of place, with her short red dress, her red and white candy-striped tights and her numerous white petticoats. She was dressed oddly; it didn't suit her, and yet it suited her down to the chunky black boots she was wearing. Her eyes were red—no, upon a second look, Sakura realised that they were in fact a dark pink.

"You…" Sakura blinked, confused. These people… She had no idea who they were. "I don't know you, but you told me his name. What if I was an enemy?"

The girl rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. "Would it matter? If you were an enemy, we'd toss you back out for Juugo to eat, yum," the girl smacked her lips mockingly, before flashing Sakura a dark smile, filled with sin and temptation, and alluring. So alluring. "But you're not an enemy. You're Alice."

Sakura nodded hesitantly in response. The girl flashed her a bright grin, stepping forwards and offering her hand; Sakura shook it slowly, unsure of herself and the situation she was in. The girl's eyes flashed behind her glasses, and she smiled a small, slow smile. "You're awfully pretty, Alice."

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. This was odd. She was oh so confused, and she wasn't entirely sure whether it was better to be inside, than outside. In fact, if this continued for any longer, she would have to excuse herself and make a bid for freedom. She could probably—possibly —do it, too.

"I'm the Duchess," the girl said, before winking. "But you can call me Karin."

The boy behind them scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he did so; Sakura wondered if that counted as multi-tasking. The Duchess—but you can call me Karin—shot the boy a filthy look, her hand still clutching Sakura's, and then she turned back to the pink-haired girl. "That idiot is Suigetsu, the Mock Turtle. He thinks he's so big and clever and better than me, but he isn't. He's a moron. You don't have to talk to him, Alice-chan. You can just talk to me, instead."

She glanced over her shoulder at Suigetsu, who raised both of his eyebrows in a sort of 'what can you do?' manner, before tucking his hands into his pockets and heading into a different room. Sakura turned back to Karin, aware of the fact that the other girl was still touching her hand—she reclaimed the appendage slowly, offering the other girl a hesitant little grin. "Ah, uhm, Miss…"

"Please. Call me Karin-chan."

"…Karin-chan, then; were you making soup? Because I swore I could smell something cooking," Sakura finished, attempting to change the subject; this girl was over-bearing and admiringly confident, and she reminded Sakura of Ino, the candy girl. Sweet to taste, but eat too much and you feel sick.

Karin clapped her hands, nodding once. She then turned away, leading her towards the kitchen, where Suigetsu was slouched across one of the counters, stirring a large pot idly. He glanced at them, as they entered, and frowned as Karin shoved him aside—picking up the spoon, she poured some of the liquid into her throat, seemingly oblivious to the scalding heat. Sakura winced sympathetically. Karin, however, was unaffected. She flashed Sakura a grin. "Come and try a bit, Alice-chan."

Sakura bit her lip, before moving hesitantly forwards—Karin was already ladling soup into a bowl for her, so there was no point in objecting. She glanced across at Suigetsu, he shrugged both of his shoulders, grinning lazily—she'd get no help from him, then. No doubt he was used to the eccentric Duchess. Sakura wasn't, though, and she took the bowl from Karin gingerly, with a small smile.

Steam curled from the bowl, and she stared apprehensively at the liquid. It was frothy and pale milky white. It looked like onion soup, but she couldn't be sure—and it absolutely stank of pepper. The Duchess offered her a pleading look, and she sighed, giving in. She scooped up a small amount of the liquid and placed it in her mouth.

She almost gagged.

The amount of pepper… it was unimaginable! Her tongue felt like it was on fire, and she wanted nothing more than to spit the foul thing out; but she swallowed it all the same, offering Karin a weak smile, once she was finished. Her eyes flickered across to Suigetsu, who was barely stifling his laughter, and then back to the Duchess.

The girl grinned, clapping her hands together. "You like it, don't you? Here, I'll put some in a flask and you can take it home for supper!"

With that, Karin busied herself around the kitchen, shuffling pots and pans. As far as Sakura could tell, the girl seemed trustworthy; as of yet, she hadn't done anything utterly horrid, other than feed Sakura foul-tasting soup—and judging by Suigetsu's laughter, it was obvious that the Duchess couldn't make soup to save her life. However, there was the thing outside to think about—Juugo. Karin definitely knew him. In fact, the way she'd said it made it sound like they were friends.

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you want something, uhm, Karin-chan, or did you just bring me here to eat soup?"

The Duchess stiffened, just momentarily, before continuing as she was, remaining silent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Suigetsu rise and leave the room, gazing at the back of Karin's head with something akin to sorrow… but there was something else there, and Sakura couldn't quite make it out. So she turned back to the Duchess, her brows furrowing, and wondered if this was a normal reaction for her. She tried again. "Ah, Karin-chan…?"

"Alice."

The Duchess finally spoke, but she didn't turn, and her voice had turned dark. Whatever she said, it was going to be deadly serious. Almost by accident, Sakura slipped her hand into her pocket and closed her fingers around her gun.

"Alice," she repeated, before heaving a sigh. "Wonderland is currently at war. It always is, though it becomes most apparent when Alice is found. Before you came, I was the Duchess—a proud and well-respected individual, with social standing and a house to die for. But the Queen of Hearts is a paranoid bastard, and so he sent the Jabberwock after me, when I was undefended. I managed to flee, and I hid here, in this little cottage. I was found by a beautiful man, who told me not to worry; the White Queen would forgive me, and I would be safe again. I went to her, seeking security; she gave me my guards, and told me to stay here."

"One night, Juugo changed. He had never done it before. I'd known him since I was young—he had been both a friend, and a loyal guard. And yet, that night, he struck out at me, and scarred my stomach," she traced a thin diagonal line across herself as she spoke, starting beneath her left breast and ending just to the right of her navel. "Suigetsu only just managed to get him outside. I think it was then that I realised I had been tricked, but I did not know who by; either by the Queen of Hearts, which would have been perfectly normal, or the White Queen. I could not trust anyone. In fact, you can't ever trust anyone."

She pointed at the forgotten bowl of soup, which lay directly in front of Sakura. "For example, that soup is a slow-acting poison. It won't kill you. It drugs you—it makes your movements slow and your vision blurry, and, if you attempt to fight it, it will begin to release a deadly toxin. You wouldn't die instantly. It would take months, even years. But you would always know that you were going to die before your time."

Sakura's blood ran cold. "You… you poisoned me?"

Karin flapped her hand dismissively. "Don't worry. I lied."

She was confused—completely terrified, but confused nonetheless. This girl…she couldn't tell if she was a friend or a foe. In fact, she had remained so relaxed throughout all of her story. "If it isn't a poison, why did you—?"

"It is a poison," the Duchess corrected, stirring a pot of soup idly. "But I didn't feed you any. In fact, the poison is here, in this bowl, and I have been feeding it to my two friends every day since they came here."

"…why?"

"I love them, but I cannot trust them."

Karin turned, placing one hand on her hip—her lips twitched upwards, into a cool, mocking smile and her eyes flashed blood-red behind her glasses. She was deadly—she was dangerous. She was a viper, coiled to strike, just waiting for the right moment. And, yet, she was still so beautiful—beautiful in a way the White Queen was not; beautiful in a way Ino could never be. But Sakura recognised that beauty—she had seen it in Sasori's eyes, as he placed his hand over hers and pulled the trigger.

It was the tragic beauty of someone just waiting to die.

The Duchess tilted her head, still smiling. "Surely you have friends like that, right, Alice?"

Unwillingly, her thoughts flickered to Sasuke; but she knew, from his eyes, that he would never hurt her. He could try—he might want to. But he would never be able to. She didn't know why she knew—she didn't know how she knew—but his eyes told her nonetheless.

Sakura met Karin's cool smile with an equally frosty one of her own. "No, I'm afraid I don't. I trust all those who ask me to trust them. I'd trust you, too, if you wanted me to. Because, if I didn't, this world would be lost to misery and deception and cruelty, and I don't want that to happen."

The Duchess' eyes widened in surprise, and then she chuckled softly, shaking her head and closing her eyes. She ran a hand down her face, suddenly tired; she turned back to the stove and switched of the gas; there was a faint popping noise, and then everything seemed to fall silent. She turned back to Sakura.

"Of course. I should have expected as much from you, Alice. But, you see, you seem to have forgotten—this world has always been lost to misery and deception and cruelty and darkness."

Karin laughed.

"And one lost little girl cannot change that."

The Cheshire Cat pressed his hands together, gazing at his fingertips curiously; they were as soft as could be, and, yet, he felt that they should be rough and calloused. He spent much of his time climbing up trees, after all; oh, it didn't make sense, not to him. He shrugged his shoulders, choosing instead to place his hands in his pockets, as Seven escorted him through the palace.

"Ah, Mr Knight," he purred, his lips stretching into his usual tight smile. "You don't seem very happy. You should smile a bit."

The knight shot him a glance—a puzzled frown—before rolling his eyes and shrugging. Seven wasn't usually very talkative, so it confused the Cat when he opened his mouth to respond. "And how would you suggest I smile, Mr Cat? If I smile like you, I'd frighten small children."

"You already do, dickface," another voice piped up, and Five joined them, standing at the Cat's other side. "Hey, did you here? Nine is dead."

"I heard."

"You did?" Five sounded genuinely surprised. "I thought I was the only person who ever spoke to you? Well, I pity that sorry fucker. You killed him afterwards, didn't you?"

Seven frowned again, before nodding. "Of course."

"Jeez, the Queen'll rip your balls off," Five snickered, nudging the Cheshire Cat—he arched his back, surprised, before realising that Five had no doubt said something funny, and he was supposed to laugh. He did so. "He told you not to."

"He was unimportant."

Five blinked, before raising his eyebrows. "Oh really? Tell me, who was he, then?"

Seven remained silent, as they turned a corner—and the Cheshire Cat couldn't help but feel curious as to who it was as well. Ah, it was a habit he would never grow out of—he was, after all, a cat. And what did curiosity kill? He felt his smile stretch, growing wider and wider—and, as it did so, the voice of his brother whispered something, but he ignored it. He ignored it all.

"…it was the Dodo."

There was a moment of silence, as Five comprehended the answer; and then he burst out into fits of laughter, bending over and clutching his stomach. "The Dodo? The Dodo? That's too funny! That poor fucker!"

"He was only trying to be nice."

Five and Seven simultaneously glanced at the Cat, shared a glance, and then Five was laughing again, harder than before, and even Seven let out an approving chuckle. The Cheshire Cat scratched his head, blinking; he didn't understand them at all. He hadn't even made a joke. Even so, he let his face fall back into its usual expression, as they stopped outside of a grand door; Seven reached forwards, rapping briefly on it, before stepping back.

The door swung open.

"The Queen will see you now, Cheshire Cat."

—and
lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from evil
(for thine is the kingdom,
the power,
and the glory;)

forever
(and ever)

snow white lived in a pretty palace
and rose red grew jealous

He lay writhing on the floor, curling and arching his back, hissing and spitting. His tail flew backwards and forwards, and he lashed out with his claws, hoping to injure the one hurting him—but he couldn't. He couldn't reach. He could barely do anything; he was thrashing too wildly for that, and the pain was clouding his mind. He was remembering all over again. He was remembering and realizing. For a few seconds, the pain subsided, and he flung himself onto his hands and knees, glowering up at the man.

"You…" He panted, gasping for breath and trying to speak all at once. "You lied. My brother, he's… I killed him. But you—you made me—it wasn't my fault!"

The Queen of Hearts smiled blankly.

Suddenly the pain was back, and he clutched his head, groaning in agony. It only become worse, and he felt his entire body tremble uncontrollably—he stiffened, throwing his head back and letting out a shout as he smacked against the floor. He tried to move, tried to get away, but found himself unable to—he could barely control his own body. He screamed, with rage and pain and sadness, and tears sprang to his eyes. He saw dimly, through blurred eyes, as the Queen crossed the room and sat down, leaning his cheek on his fist and still smiling.

Then his eyes met the others, and everything began to fade to black. He could hear noises, distantly, like faded memories—he could hear his own screams, mingling with someone else's. When he opened his eyes, his mother lay dead on the floor, in a pool of her own blood, and his father lay sprawled across the bed. He heard sobbing.

A little boy was sprawled across the floor in front of him, a hand raised above his head in an effort to protect himself; his eyes were wide, and he was shaking. His sobs were pitiful. They wrenched at his heart.

He felt his arms raise; he spotted the knife in his hand. He knew what was going to happen, but he couldn't stop himself from crying out.

"No—stop!"

It was too late. The knife moved in a gleaming arch, and then there was a scream and a spray of warm blood. It splattered his face. He held the knife in his trembling hands, before dropping to his knees and keeling over, resting on his brother's dead body. His tears dripped onto the boy's face; and he screamed.

"Brother!"

From behind him, there was a low chuckle.

"Good boy, little brother."

And then the vision faded to black, as his eyes closed—when they opened, his mother lay dead on the floor, in a pool of her own blood, and his father lay sprawled across the bed. He heard sobbing. And it began again.

"…n—no…"

The Cheshire Cat was trapped in a nightmare.

the red brick coffee house.

01:23:64

A bell jangled, as the door swung open.

Kiba stepped inside, his hands shoved into his pockets, ignoring the fact that it was pitch-black outside and that meant that the café was supposed to be closed. Inside, the lights were all off; he could only dimly make out the counter, but he stepped forwards anyway. It no doubt counted as trespassing; briefly, he wished he'd brought Ino along. Granted, she would have whined and complained all the time, but she would have been company, and he was beginning to feel both foolish and lonely, stood in the dark.

He glanced to his left, along the line of café booths, until his gaze fell upon the last one; a candle was flickering on the table. He began to walk forwards, keeping his hands in his pockets—he remained silent, wondering who exactly the Wasp had found. Knowing that guy, it was probably someone creepy or dangerous—after all, Kiba had only met the Wasp after his computer was hacked by the guy. He'd walked upstairs, with the intention of cyber-shopping, when, after switching on his computer, he'd been met with a big CGI wasp. It had been there for a full day; and, in that time, Kiba had used everything in his power to track the person behind it down.

He hadn't found the person, in the end.

The person had found him.

He shrugged away the memory, and stopped, gazing at the booth in front of him—there was a candle, sure, but the booth was entirely empty. A napkin lay discarded on one of the seats; he bent down and picked it up; it was blank. He straightened, letting out a sigh—and felt something cold pressed against the back of his head. He scowled. "Jeez, I wish people would stop pointing guns at me. It gets old."

"Who are you?" The voice asked; it was soft and low, and unmistakeably masculine. So there'd be no sweet-talking his way out of this one, then; and, as that thought occurred to Kiba, so did another.

This had been a bad idea.

"Inuzuka Kiba," he replied, easily.

There was silence, and then—

"…that's not what I meant."

"Then I don't know what you mean," Kiba snapped, folding his arms. "Look, if you're some kind of robber, then back off; but if you're Hyuuga Neji, sit the fuck down and let's talk like men, hm?"

The man chuckled, but made no effort to do what Kiba had suggested; not that he'd actually expected his plan to work, anyway. This wasn't exactly the best situation he could be in, but it wasn't the worst, either. The guy didn't seem like a psycho. Not yet, anyway.

"Which side are you on?"

Ah, questions. But Kiba thought he understood this one; he was pretty sure the guy was Neji, which meant that the man had to have some information on either Sasuke or Wonderland. And, judging from his questions, he guessed it was the latter.

"I'm with Alice."

"Then sit down," the man murmured, and Kiba was sure he was Neji, now. He complied, sitting down hastily, and watching as the man sat down opposite—his face was illuminated, briefly, by the light, and Kiba saw flames flickering in pale white eyes. He placed something on the table, and Kiba promptly scowled.

It was a plastic gun—the kind children played with. He'd been tricked by a man with a plastic cowboy gun. Oh, that was definitely embarrassing. He was glad he hadn't brought Ino along. He met Neji's gaze, and was surprised to see amusement flickering across his otherwise stony features.

"You're not part of the Game," Neji stated, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"No, I'm not," Kiba murmured, confirming his beliefs. "But my friend is—and if she isn't careful, she's going to get herself killed."

Neji said nothing, for a moment, choosing instead to gaze at the flickering candle flame—and Kiba took this as an opportunity to gaze at him, curious. His skin was too pale—deathly pale—and there were bags underneath his eyes. His hair didn't look like it had been cut in a while; although he had tied it back into a messy ponytail, strands hung down over his face. But Kiba's eyes flickered to his forehead, and he bit back a gasp—because there, on the pale skin, was a scar. It was thin and angry—deep enough for Kiba to know that it had probably bled non-stop. The other noticed him staring and smiled coldly, reaching up and tracing the scar gingerly.

He opened his mouth, frowned, and then finally spoke. "I wasn't part of the Game either; I went blissfully unaware throughout a good part of my relationship with… her. But, one day, she came to me, and she was crying. She told me everything she knew. The next time I saw her was in a glass coffin, and she'd never looked more beautiful."

His voice was sad, yes, but filled with something else—a wistfulness that Kiba couldn't quite place. At first, he assumed it could only be due to longing—this girl, whoever she was, had been close to Neji, and she had been taken from him quite suddenly. But, then Kiba wasn't quite sure… When he thought about it, it sounded more like Neji was longing to be included.

In the Game.

In Wonderland.

"Who was she?"

Neji raised an eyebrow, moving his hand away from his forehead and placing it down on the table. "Her name was Hisagia Tenten. She was the White Rabbit, before your White Rabbit. She was murdered. I loved her."

His voice was bitter—cold and cruel, filled with hatred. Kiba furrowed his brow, thinking quickly; this boy was obviously motivated by revenge. He was too attached. If Kiba didn't accept his help, it would be a downfall for both of them—Kiba wouldn't get his information and Neji wouldn't get his chance. But he was curious.

Oh so curious.

"…do you know who killed her?"

He nodded, and Kiba's heartbeat quickened.

"Who?"

Neji didn't say anything. Instead, he stood up, his eyes closed and his features blank—Kiba watched him in bewilderment, silent as the other boy scooped up his toy gun. He shifted out of the booth, bowed his head in farewell, and then turned, walking away. For a few seconds, Kiba was frozen where he sat—and then he leapt out of his seat, gritting his teeth and snarling. The Hyuuga paused at the door, obviously waiting.

"God damn it, Neji, tell me who!"

There was silence.

Then—

A murmur.

A whisper.

A terrible truth.

The door slid open, and Neji left.

Kiba sank back in his seat, his features pale, and watched the candle flame flicker. Numb—he felt unmistakeably numb. He reached forwards, unaware of the fact that he was doing so, and pinched the flame between his thumb and forefinger. The killer… the one who had destroyed the old White Rabbit—the one who had extinguished Tenten's life…

"Uchiha Sasuke."

"You never told me why you wanted to see me, Duchess," Sakura murmured, from her seat at the table; after Karin's outburst, the pair had fallen into silence, each thinking of different things—each wondering about the other. She could not help but feel as though the red-headed girl was broken. She wondered who had broken her.

("…I was found by a beautiful man…")

Karin looked up from her poisoned soup, blinking behind her glasses—and it looked as though she were blinking back tears. Then she smiled, and took a step forwards, moving towards Sakura—she remained still, not flinching as the other girl fingered a few pink locks of hair.

"I just wanted to see what you were like, Alice-chan."

She laughed softly, letting go of her hair and stepping backwards.

"And trust me, you definitely don't disappoint. You're as noble and as brilliant as I always hoped Alice would be. You're so naïve and cute, too. Innocent, but not. You've already seen things, but you still have no idea how bad it's going to get. No idea at all."

("…found by a beautiful man…")

Sakura frowned, staring at the girl; she was so bitter. She could see it in the way her eyes flickered everywhere; in the way her grip on the wooden spoon she was holding tightened; in the way her shoulders hunched and tensed; in the way her bottom lip trembled. She could see her sorrow and her anger, and she could see the two emotions battling for control beneath her surface, leaving her bitter and confused. She could see it all. It was all so clear for her.

("…a beautiful man…)

"Karin-chan," she said, her voice sharp and strong. "The man who found you… he broke your heart, didn't he?"

The Duchess stiffened, but made no attempt to reply.

"When Juugo changed, you felt as though the man had betrayed you—because Juugo didn't start changing before the man found you, did he?"

Still there was no reply.

"Who was this man, Karin?"

Sakura watched as the Duchess visibly tensed; she bowed her head, and her expression was hidden by a curtain of dark red hair. She was shaking—either from anger or sadness, but she couldn't tell. She doubted Karin could tell, either. She took a deep, shaky breath, before finally speaking and, when she did, her voice was mocking.

"You already know though, don't you, Alice-chan? You're not stupid. Of course you've realised that that beautiful man, who stole my heart and crushed it between his fingers, was none other than the Mad Hatter," the Duchess hissed, "You've met him, haven't you? He's beautiful, but he's so… he's such an ass."

She blinked, taken aback. "I… I don't really know…"

Karin ignored her, stamping her foot—she was mad; and Sakura was utterly confused. "He's such an ass!" She repeated, scowling. "He was all, 'Hold my hand—you're with friends now,' and I turned into a thirteen year old brat again. He made me fall in love with him! But when I told him, he turned me down; and now I can't fall out of love with him—believe me, I've tried."

Sakura hesitated, unsure of what to say; the Duchess was being cheery, yes—she was stomping and raging and fuming, but the movements were too exaggerated. She was forcing them. Her eyes… her eyes were sad.

((broken))

She paused, pursed her lips, and then nodded. Karin, in the middle of a rant about sexy bad boys with nasty personalities and no idea about feelings, barely noticed her; and when she finally spotted Alice stood upright, her hair shielding her face, she immediately stopped speaking, falling silent instantly. Her hands, which she'd been using to strangle an invisible Mad Hatter, fell to her side, and balled into fists. She waited.

Sakura took a step forwards, staggered, and then placed her hand on the other's shoulder—and Karin sucked in a breath, still waiting.

She'd been waiting a long time.

"Karin…"

Silence.

"The Mad Hatter, he…" She paused, before shaking her head, flashing the Duchess a warm smile. "Never mind. Call me Sakura."

Karin's eyes widened, and then she smiled, meeting Sakura's smile with an equally friendly grin. "Ah, Sakura—"

"—no, that's not right."

The Duchess blinked, her eyes questioning.

Alice giggled.

"Call me Sakura-chan."

The March Hare stared out across Wonderland, from the balcony of the White Castle; he leaned forwards, leaning over the bar and peering down at the ground below him. The wind picked up slightly, ruffling his hair, and he closed his eyes, thinking.

They had not found Alice—the White Rabbit had disappeared off on his own, and the Mad Hatter had vanished not soon after. He had then taken his leave, trapping the Dormouse in a teapot and walking briskly towards the White Castle; the White Queen had not been able to see him, due to the fact that she was entertaining a guest, but that didn't matter. He hadn't wanted to see her. He had bowed and left, climbing up spiralling staircase after staircase, until he had found the highest room.

And now, he had found some sort of peace.

He sighed, thinking of other things; his mind strayed to his siblings, as it usually did. He couldn't remember their faces, not properly—the monster inside of him made their images blurry and distorted. He crossed his arms, straightening and frowning as he did so; he had not heard from them in months. In fact, after the last Alice had died, his siblings had disappeared.

His sister, Temari.

His brother, Kankuro.

He… he barely remembered their names, let alone their faces. He pressed his hands against his forehead, listening carefully—the thing inside of him was whispering, as usual, but he couldn't quite make out the taunts. He always listened, waiting for it to slip up. Waiting for it to tell him what had happened.

What he'd done.

What had he done?

He let out a low groan of despair. The voice, it had a name—and, once, long before, at the Institute, he had once known its name. He had whispered its name, and it had given him power; because he could then control. If he knew the beast's name, the whisperings would quiet and it would be tamed.

He would win—and he would find his siblings.

("what are you thinking about, kid?")

Gaara frowned, before shrugging one shoulder. It couldn't do any harm—after all, the beast already knew what he was thinking about; what he was remembering. Even so, it was probably lonely. It wanted to talk. If he had been anyone else, he would have found the idea amusing at the least; but he wasn't anyone else. He was the March Hare, and he had to deal with that voice every single day of every single week.

He didn't respond.

("you usually bitch and whine and beg me to tell you about your siblings, don't you, so what's up, what's a-happening, c'mon, tell you old friend.")

"…I was remembering."

("oh, remembering what? no, don't tell me, i know; you're remembering that time, and trust me, it'll never happen again. i control you, gaara, and it will never be the other way around. i choose what you remember, what you forget. you can't beat me.")

"I can't."

("that's right.")

"Of course."

He would have rolled his eyes, but that would have been uncharacteristic of him. Instead, he moved back towards the edge of the balcony, leaning over as far as he could. He peered at the ground below him, gazing at the ink-spots below him—the bushes and the flowers and the people. He stared off to the west, where the tea party was, and wondered if the Dormouse had escaped his teapot prison yet.

He chuckled, despite himself; knowing how lazy the mouse was, the answer was a no.

He balled his fists, watching as his knuckles turned white—and then he smiled. An actual, proper smile; not a smirk, or a sneer. It was a smile.

"I'll find them."

And he knew he would.

His mind strayed to his father, and he chuckled again.

"And I'll kill that bastard."

The Dormouse yawned and stretched, curling up inside the teapot—he would never tell Gaara, but he quite enjoyed being inside the teapot now. It was warm and cosy; a thin stream of light spilled through the spout but, other than that, he was in complete darkness.

It was nice.

His thoughts strayed back to the March Hare, and he frowned, furrowing his brow. He didn't understand; normally, the Hare was entirely impassive; usually, it took him some time to judge whether or not the guy was even happy. But now… Now, he could read the other like a book, and he didn't like it. He could see the disappointment and anger and guilt spilling across the redhead's usually blank mask—and, deep within the turquoise eyes, he could see fear.

That was enough to scare Shikamaru.

He heaved a sigh, burrowing his head in his hands and closing his eyes. Something troublesome was going on…

And it would no doubt affect them all.

The White Queen brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes, watching as the Queen of Hearts paced backwards and forwards; she was breathless stood in front of him. Whenever he visited, she felt things she had never felt around the White Rabbit—it wasn't love. No, she was terrified of him; so scared.

But…

He was beautiful.

He turned, as if sensing her thoughts, and fixed her with a piercing gaze; his eyes were black as the night sky itself, and they seemed to swallow her whole. She had never quite seen eyes like them. She released a breath she did not know she'd been holding, and bowed her head, instantly submissive; he had that affect on her.

"Your Majesty…" He trailed off, reaching a hand out to her. "No, Hinata. You have done well. With your help, I shall restore order to the chaos that is Wonderland."

She accepted his hand, resisting the urge to curtsey—he was so powerful. She felt a shiver run through her body, but she ignored it, letting him lead her towards the window. She opened it, leaning against the bar and gazing out across the land she ruled—no, the land they ruled. She felt him lean over her shoulder; his breath was hot on the back of her neck, and his body was practically pressed against her. She felt thrill surge through her, and heat rise to her cheeks, but she squashed the emotion.

"You'll keep your side of the deal, won't you, Hinata?"

She nodded, and as she opened her mouth to answer, she knew she was going to stutter. "O—of course, your Majesty."

He chuckled lowly, waving a hand. "Please, Hinata—I thought we were past that."

She nodded again, bowing her head in a hasty apology. "I'm sorry, I just f—forget," she mumbled, before pausing, giving herself enough time to regain her composure and clear her head. "I will keep my side of the deal. It is my oath to you…"

She turned, gazing into his eyes—and his lips quirked into a smile, as his arms enveloped her. She pressed herself against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, so irrevocably in love, but thinking only of her blue-eyed, blonde-haired saviour. She quenched the feeling, closing her eyes and feeling her eyelashes against the tops of her cheeks. Her voice was breathy as she spoke his name.

"…Itachi."

(and his eyes looked out over wonderland, as he held her close—but he felt nothing, because he was a monster. he could only be a monster. he had killed his father for this—killed his mother—broken his siblings. he had lost everything for this, but he could not die. and this girl—this fragile feeble girl—she would lead him to alice.

and he would win, again.

he chuckled lowly, breathing in her shampoo but feeling nothing. but he knew how confused he made her, and that was perfect. everything was perfect. that man would not beat him; he would not fall, for that man's gain. he was going to live, and keep on living.

he was going to win.)

just like chess.

The Caterpillar closed his eyes, leaning against the trunk of an old oak tree, and slipped his little orange book back into his pocket. He picked up his pipe and pressed it between his lips, taking a small puff and slipping into a dreamy haze. He opened his eyes then, gazing down at the little cottage—he watched as the door swung open and Alice stepped out, smiling and waving. He watched the Duchess fling her arms around the smaller girl's neck—he watched as she turned and walked back down the path. He watched and he waited, as he always did; he was, after all, just a simple mercenary.

He smiled slowly.

"And all the pieces fall into place."

notes2: please, don't take it as concrete that itachi is really the queen of hearts! he is very good at being evil, after all, so he could just be tricking her (and you guys).