Masquerade Chapter 7: six: this used to be a funhouse, a naruto fanfic

project: masquerade
disclaimer: i do not own naruto, or the characters in it, or wonderland.
chapter: six: this used to be a funhouse, sings the queen of hearts, but we shan't dwell on the past

notes1: so, here it is! it's been a while, ha. ;)
notes2: i have started way too many new fanfics, i've been neglecting this baby. D:

"we really ought to spiral out of control, alice.
i'm sure you'd

enjoy

it," the (fake) queen murmured, as he gazed out at wonderland, the white queen pressing her fingers together as she peered at him — but he ignored her, choosing instead to open the glass windows and step out onto the balcony, where he stared out at the trees and wondered where they were hiding alice now.

behind him, the white queen thought of how easy it would be just to push him, but she knew she could never quite do it. oh no, that would be truly awful of her, how terrible, and she just couldn't do it, not for her beloved rabbit, oh no, oh no, oh no.

so she let the (fake) queen stand where he was, and she bowed her head in shame, inky-blue hair falling in front of her face, framing her, and her eyes, her eyes, her white white white eyes, as pure as snow, innocent, but not, were troubled. sad. she would betray them all. she had betrayed them all.

oh.

and, in front of her, the (fake) queen sighed.

"Oh, Alice…"

take me out of here, sakura whispers.
and help me

escape.

Elsewhere, the Mad Hatter raised his head, a frown ghosting across his features as he stared in the direction of the White Castle — beside him, the Dormouse looked across at him, an eyebrow raised. They both stood in silence, Sasuke with his hands by his side, Shikamaru perched inside a teacup, where the March Hare had abandoned him before disappearing into the forests around them.

The Hatter's tea party table felt ever so chilling.

"…Hatter — no, Sasuke — is something…" He trailed off, as the other turned his head ever so slightly, stare moving to Shikamaru. "…wrong…"

His eyes were carefully blank, each one empty, as cold as the night. He stood still — too still — like he wasn't even alive anymore, and his eyes certainly seemed to turn that into a fact; and something was bubbling beneath the surface, Shikamaru could feel it prickling his skin. It felt like anger, surging from the still boy in waves, unrelenting and painful and cruel. The Dormouse fell silent, as the Hatter gazed at him — and then his gaze returned to the Castle, and he tilted his head, black hair falling across his face.

"You know," Sasuke spoke, carefully, quietly. "I think I can feel him."

The Dormouse ventured a response. "…who?"

And then, perhaps most frighteningly of all, the Hatter's lips split into a wide, insane grin — lips stretched to an unimaginable length — eyes sparkling with something vibrant and spicy and wrong — and the Dormouse wanted Alice to hurry back, because she was the only one who would be able to stop him, when he became like this — oh, he had seen how they saw each other, he had seen it — and if the Hatter went off on a killing spree now, then it would all go to hell.

The Hatter spoke.

"Brother."

the red brick coffee house

21:39:01

A bell jangled, and the door swung open.

Kiba stepped inside, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather coat; he glanced around, briefly, checking to see if there was any worker still inside, and his eyes fell upon the booth at the very end. A candle was flickering on the table, just like before, and he saw a shadowed figure sitting in the darkness, fingers linked as his hands rested on the table top. He turned, then, beckoning for his companion to follow him in — and Ino stepped in after him, all spotted socks and short skirts and long blonde hair.

She glanced up at him, following his gaze until her eyes rested on Neji, sat in the corner, and she wrinkled her nose slightly. "What kind of weirdo sits in the dark," she murmured, keeping her voice hushed as they made their way over to the other, "I mean, seriously. I bet he's one of those greasy-haired creeps, who spends his time looking up conspiracy theories and jacking off to cartoon porn."

Kiba snickered.

"It's just creepy," Ino continued, before falling silent, as they came to a stop.

Neji glanced up at them, before beckoning for them both to sit — they did so, and Kiba took the opportunity to scan the other's features again. He seemed better, less sickly than last time, and he wore black-framed glasses on the end of his nose — still, the bags beneath his eyes were heavier, darker, and his hand was resting firmly on a brown paper package. He caught sight of a name, and his eyes widened, and then the envelope was swept out of sight, hidden beneath the table — Kiba glanced upwards, eyes meeting Neji's.

"That said Sasuke's name on it."

Neji's eyes were amused. "It did."

There was a moment of silence, in which the pair of them stared at each other. That envelope was related to all of this, Kiba was sure of it — otherwise, why would Neji bring it? No, he had to know. His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, and he was aware of Ino glancing between them, eyebrows raised as her expression turned from one of confusion to that of curiosity. He ignored her, scanning Neji's features for some sort of explanation, but the boy's face was carefully blank.

The Hyuuga stood up.

"Would you like a drink, miss?" Neji murmured, tilting his head towards Ino, but his eyes never left Kiba's face; Ino blinked, eyes widening a fraction, and then her cheeks turned pink and she nodded bashfully, eyelashes fluttering.

Kiba rolled his eyes.

Neji seemed to think nothing of it, as he ducked his head once in reply, before walking away, disappearing through the doors to the kitchen — they heard his footsteps for a moment, and the clatter of cups hitting saucers, and Ino moved her head towards Kiba's, biting her lip slightly, the corner of her lips pulling upwards. "Jeez, Kiba, you never told me he was hot," she murmured, and he was aware of her breath touching his cheek — they were too close.

He moved away, rolling his eyes once again. "You're such a whore."

"Hey, I'm only window shopping, idiot," Ino flashed him a candy-girl grin, before nudging him with her elbow. "If I didn't know you any better — and I don't — I'd say you were jealous."

He didn't even bother replying.

Neji strode back in, carrying two gently steaming cups and a can of something fizzy — he threw the latter to Kiba, under-arm, who caught it easily, and then watched as he placed one of the two cups down in front of Ino. It looked like hot chocolate — light brown, with a thin layer of something creamy — and steam curled up from it in thin wisps. She dipped forwards, murmuring her thanks, before taking a sip, eyes never leaving Neji's face; his lips tugged into a smirk, as she ran her tongue around the rim of the cup, and Kiba snorted again.

"The envelope, Neji," he prompted, and the Hyuuga turned to face him, expression blank for a moment, before the same smirk skirted across his lips.

"Patience, Inuzuka," he replied, easily, "You need to learn to let events play out as they will."

He dipped forwards, glasses slipping down his nose, as he took a sip from his drink; and then, ever so carefully, he slipped the package back onto the table, pushing it over to Kiba. Their eyes met — stark, striking white versus warm, oak brown — and then Kiba's fingers closed around the envelope, and he snatched it towards his chest, ripping it open. Dimly, distantly, he was aware of Neji leaning backwards, eyes closing, a small smile flickering across his lips, before he spoke. "As you are no doubt aware, Tenten was… well, for lack of better words, she was deeply involved — and I am entirely sure Uchiha Sasuke was her murderer, and so I began to… dig around."

He fell silent.

Kiba emptied the contents of the envelope onto the table — mostly papers, he thought, with the occasional photograph, and a small, wrapped package — and his eyes flickered up to scan Neji's features. The boy's expression was blank. His eyes were still closed. But his posture was rigid, tense, and he was too still. He glanced down at the sheets of paper, brow furrowing, and then gazed back up at the Hyuuga.

"If Sasuke truly is a killer, then why the hell are you doing this? Do you even understand who dangerous this is?" He snapped, unable to help himself. "You don't have to be part of this, not like Sakura, not like—"

"—not like you?" Neji quirked an eyebrow, eyes flickering open, lips stretching into an amused smirk. "Stop acting like the righteous hero, Inuzuka — I am every bit a part of this as you are. And if you believe I am not a part of this, then simply turn and have a glance at yourself, Inuzuka, or the girl you've brought with you."

Kiba narrowed his eyes. "You could have walked away. You still have that option."

"As do you," the Hyuuga shot back, before letting out a resigned sigh, "And I cannot do it, for the exact reasons you cannot do it — because that would be betraying her. Your Sakura, my Tenten — it would be a betrayal."

He stood up then, dusting himself down, his drink — tea, from the looks of it; Neji seemed like a tea sort of person — practically full; then he dipped his head down, reaching across the table for Ino's hand. She blinked, eyes widening before blushing bashfully — an act! Kiba's head roared — and shook his hand gently. "It was nice meeting you, miss…?" He trailed off, eyes widening ever so slightly, and then he frowned ever so slightly. "I don't think I ever asked your name. I apologise."

"Apology accepted," Ino practically purred. "You can call me single."

Neji's eyes turned blank, and he pulled his hand back, tucking it into his pocket and turning away ever so slightly. "You can call me not interested," he replied, before waving airily with his other hand, and heading off towards the exit. Ino managed to wait until his footsteps receded, and the door closed gently shut, the bell jingling softly, before exploding.

"He rejected me? Blasphemy, I say! My powers of seduction are unwavering. They cannot be resisted."

Kiba rolled his eyes.

"Apparently, they can."

"No, they can't," Ino snapped, watching as he swept the contents of the envelope back into the packet, straightening his jacket and standing up — she followed, hands followed over her chest as she scowled. "He can't reject me. That's just — ugh, that's just ridiculous."

The other snorted.

"Oh no — a wild Neji appears. Ino uses powers of seduction. It's ineffective. Neji uses rejection. It's a critical hit."

Ino fumed.

"Was that a Pokémon joke?"

buzz.

The Wasp watched, through shielded, shadow-glass eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as he peered down at the people below. He was never part of anything — he was always apart — and he would never be a part of anything. No, he was the watcher; the wasp, buzz-buzz-buzzing around, because they needed a wasp.

The wind tugged at his coat, ferocious, furious — and, from his height, he felt like a superhero, just for a second. He was interwoven with each and every thread of life — he was their informer, their watcher, their helper. Inuzuka Kiba — Hyuuga Neji — Haruno Sakura — Uchiha Sasuke; he watched over them all.

He was the Wasp.

follow me down

wonderland.

"Where are we going?"

Sakura's question was met with silence, and she crossed her arms over her chest, brow furrowing ever so slightly. He was ignoring her, striding along ahead, red hair blowing softly in the wind — and the March Hare glanced back at her once, through turquoise, before turning away. She sighed, wrapping her arms around her chest, and trekking steadily after him; as far as she was aware, the Hatter's tea party was in the opposite direction, and the White Castle was even further away.

It was only when she heard the footsteps behind her that she thought she had an inkling of where she was. She hurried up, ever so slightly, catching up with Gaara, so that they were walking side by side — and she couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder, eyes widening as the figure stepped out from the bushes. His head was bowed, and his silver hair shone in the sunlight, and he was carrying that little orange book in one hand, a pipe in the other. He glanced up at her, smiled, and then waved cheerily.

"Ah, Alice-chan — how nice to see you again," the Caterpillar spoke and, beside her, the March Hare quite abruptly stopped. "And you've brought along a friend, how wonderful. Tell me, are you also stopping by the Duchess' house for soup?"

"No, not this—"

"—yes," Gaara murmured, cutting firmly across her. "In fact, Caterpillar," and he spat the name, as if it were something filthy, to which the Caterpillar merely replied with a little grin, hidden beneath his polo neck jumper, "we'd be much inclined if you could take us there."

"Oh? How odd, little rabbit, that you should want me to help you," the silver-haired man drawled, the grin never leaving his face, as he strode over to them. "But weren't you so certain that I was, in fact, a spy, working for the Red Queen, and will go and report every little thing you say to me now to him? Or perhaps you've realised how paranoid you are."

"I am not a rabbit."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd get hung up on that point."

Turquoise eyes turned to face her, and he tilted his head ever so slightly, messy ears stuck bolt upright as he frowned. "You would not like it if I were to call you Alice, when you are undoubtedly Sakura — and, likewise, Alice would be awfully angry if I were to call her Sakura. As there is a great difference between an Alice and a Sakura, there is also a great difference between a rabbit and a hare."

He snorted.

"Besides," he continued, eyes narrowing further, "I am nothing like that rabbit."

Sakura was about to retort — because really, he was being absolutely silly, and what was wrong with Naruto, might she ask? — but the Caterpillar cleared his throat softly, and Gaara's head swivelled around to face him. There was a moment of silence, in which the two stared at each other — and Sakura could practically see the cogs whirring behind Gaara's sea-green eyes, and she found herself tensing, fingers stretching towards the weapon tucked into the folds of her dress. Then the Caterpillar smiled, chuckling softly, shaking his head.

"We were going to see the Duchess, Mr Ra—Mr Hare," he corrected, and Gaara bristled beside her at the obvious, purposeful mistake, "While I am quite certain you'll be able to keep up with my speed — what with your powerful legs, no doubt — I am afraid Alice — no, what was it you called her? Sakura-chan — won't be able to."

The March Hare's eyes narrowed.

"I trust you have a remedy for that, then, oh wise Caterpillar."

"No doubt I do," the Caterpillar retorted, before turning to Sakura, smiling ever so slightly. "Sakura has already rode by back once before. I highly doubt it was as comfortable as riding by hat, but, what can I say? She will have to settle for piggy-back."

Sakura's gaze flickered briefly to Gaara, who nodded his head ever so slightly. She stepped forwards, and the Caterpillar turned away, tucking his book into the waistband of his trousers, and crouching ever so slightly. She laced her arms around his neck, pushed off the ground, and wrapped her legs around his back — he shifted, ever so slightly, so that she was holding on more comfortably, and then he turned to face the March Hare, an eyebrow raised, lips tugged into a smirk behind the bit of jumper he'd pulled over his face. The badges — each pinned carefully onto his tailcoat — glittered in the light.

"Should we begin running, little rabbit?"

Gaara's eyes narrowed, "Call me rabbit again, and you'll be running from me."

There was a soft chuckle — and that was the only warning Sakura received, before they were both tearing through the air, and she found herself pressed flat against the Caterpillar's back, clutching his neck in an attempt to keep hold. Trees and branches and leaves whipped at her face, tugging at her, trying to loosen her grip — and she squeezed her eyes shut, because they were dangerously near to hitting that tree trunk, and she couldn't quite take all of this… movement. The speed was a bit too much.

And, through it all, she heard the soft chuckling of the Caterpillar.

run rabbit run rabbit run run run
gonna get you
get you

run rabbit run rabbit
run
run

run

Naruto pressed his back against the bark of the tree trunk, eyes wide with panic, and he tried to be as still — as small — as possible. His ears, which usually stood ramrod straight, flopped downwards, pressed against his head; but, other than them, he was completely rigid. He slid ever so slowly, ever so carefully, down the tree, into a sitting position, careful not to let his feet rustle any of the leaves across the ground — careful not to snap any sticks, or the like. No, this was awfully dangerous.

He reached gingerly for his pocket watch, with one trembling hand; he flipped it open, checked the time, let out a soft, stifled sigh of relief; he had time. He wasn't late yet. He had been on his way to the Mad Hatter's tea party — as he usually was — when, all of a sudden, he had become quite aware of a group of people crossing his path; usually, he would have continued onwards, passing them with a polite nod — but that was before they'd found Alice, when everything had been relatively safe. Now, though, was a completely different matter, and upon recognising the strained voice of a frustrated Knave, he had frozen.

Like a rabbit caught in headlights.

Oh, the irony.

Above him, the wind changed direction and the leaves rustled — and a barely concealed grin began to fade into view — but Naruto paid no attention. He tilted his head, ever so slightly, towards the left, in an attempt to hear what was going on a bit better. Someone — the Knave or one of his knights, presumably — stepped forwards, slowly, one two three, and the White Rabbit flinched backwards. Oh, he was in quite the awful position.

"The Hatter is around here somewhere," the Knave spoke, and Naruto was quite certain it was the Knave — that misleadingly gentle voice, coupled with something like disgust at having to speak the Hatter's name, "And, with him, undoubtedly, Alice. Be on the lookout for traitors."

"Yes sir," came the chorus of replies — he managed to distinguish three different voices, and possibly a forth, but, still, that was hardly enough; because Naruto felt as if the entire forest around him was filled with those worshiping the Red Queen, those who would rather they remained in Wonderland forever, instead of finally becoming free.

He shuddered.

"We will be meeting the Jabberwocky," and, at this, his blood ran cold and he began to shake and he found it hard to even breathe, "So let's offer him a treat, shall we? Something crunchy — juicy — to feast upon — something which dresses in frilly petticoats and striped socks — something which tastes a lot like Alice."

"Yes sir," they chorused, and then there was the sound of footsteps, of people moving away, and, at that moment, Naruto's breathing grew laboured, and he clambered hastily, but silently, to his feet — it was also at that moment, just by chance, that he happened to look up; that his eyes happened to flicker towards the sky, just at that moment, and he found himself gazing into the mismatched eyes of the Cheshire Cat.

"Boo," the Cat's smile widened, "I see you."

"Ch—Cheshire Cat!" Naruto yelped, before lowering his voice to a whisper, ears twitching frantically, the only way the Cat could see his distress, "I can't — I can't do this, not right now. I need to get away! I need to—"

The Cat quirked his head. He was lying down, one arm draped over the thick tree branch he was resting on, the other placed beneath his head, and his legs were kicking — one, two, three, one, two, three — as he gazed down at the White Rabbit. And as the White Rabbit gazed up at him, he noticed there were certain things different about the Cheshire Cat — the certain things which had caused him to stop rambling and start staring — and they horrified the little Rabbit. The mismatched eyes were filled with nothing — no glimmer, no mischief, just nothing — and his smile was fake — well, perhaps, faker than before; as if he were having to force himself to smile, and the Cheshire Cat very rarely did that.

His face seemed to fall naturally into a smile.

But, perhaps worst of all, was the black collar strapped around the other's neck — with the single silver bell, ironic, positioned directly in the middle of the collar — and that collar forced Naruto's feet into action, and he began to run, as fast as he could.

((behind him, the cheshire cat faded swiftly into nothing))

He ignored it, choosing instead to run — and, almost immediately, there came the shouts, and he was quite certain he was being chased. Still, none had ever managed to catch the White Rabbit; he was the fastest being in all of Wonderland, though, perhaps, definitely not quite the strongest — only the Mad Hatter was able to meet his pace, and he wasn't being chased by the Hatter. No, he was quite certain he could get away, and so he let a smile break out across his face, let his blue eyes sparkle with joy, and let himself enjoy the race — for itself.

He dodged around a tree trunk, his fingers pressing briefly against it as he pushed himself away, and ducked beneath a withered old branch — he leapt over a deer, who was busy lapping water up from a trickling little stream, and he pushed himself up into the air, leaping easily over a fallen tree. Behind him, he heard the shouts grow quieter, heard the footsteps recede — all except one.

And those footsteps were catching up.

His eyes grew wide, and he attempted to glance back over his shoulder — he could see nothing, no one, and he wondered, briefly, if it were the Cheshire Cat, playing games with his mind as he raced for his freedom. But he was uncertain.

Unsure.

It could be anyone.

The Knave.

The Cheshire Cat.

The Ja—

No, it was far too awful to say. He let the thought fade away — although it never quite disappeared — and focused entirely on getting to safety. Naruto realised, blankly, that he had passed the Hatter's tea party — how foolish of him — and had continued running; he'd gotten caught up in the excitement, no doubt, and hadn't quite told his feet to stop. No, his next safe place would be the White Castle, and so he put on a burst of speed, his ears lying flat against his head as he did so, and slid beneath branches and ivy and the like.

Behind him, rather abruptly, the footsteps slowed down.

The White Rabbit let out a whoop of joy, broke through the final ring of trees, and collided with something — someone. His eyes flickered upwards; they widened, and he scrambled backwards, shuffling towards what he hoped was safety — he'd seen red eyes — crimson eyes — the colour of blood — and he had heard of those eyes, time and time and time and time and time again. Oh, he was panicking — panicking — this was insane — insane — and oh God, could he—?

((the jabberwock, the jabberwock, the jib-jab-jib-jab-JABBERWOCKY))

His back bumped into something — legs, from the feel of it, and he glanced backwards, over his shoulder — his eyes met the grey eyes of the Knave of Hearts, dull behind his glasses, and Naruto felt his heart sink.

In front of him, the man — he couldn't say it, no, it was too horrifying to think about — the Jabberwocky — stepped forwards, gesturing briefly to Naruto. "What is this, Knave — this… disturbance?"

"Ah, I apologise," the Knave replied, ducking his head, "If I had realised you were doing business, I wouldn't have chased him all the way to you."

It was at that point — at the mention of business — that Naruto noticed the figure stood just a few feet away from the Jabberwocky, her hands clasped to her chest, her eyes wide and ashamed and sad. His own eyes widened — his mouth fell open — and he gazed at the White Queen — his beloved Queen — and found that he couldn't even think of the words. She mouthed something to him. It might have been the word sorry. A tear trickled down her cheek, white dress and inky-blue hair flowing as she span away, and she turned her back on him.

Turned her back on him.

"If you chased him to me," the Jabberwocky spoke, finally, after much consideration, and the White Rabbit found that he couldn't look up — couldn't do anything — except sit and tremble, "Then you surely must want me to kill him."

"As kind as putting the frightened little rabbit out of his misery would be," the Knave replied, smoothly, "It would be far better for us if we were to take him to the Queen first — weasel out of him what we can — and use him to find Alice. Then, of course, the minute he begins to fade — begins to escape…"

The Knave trailed off.

It was then that a hand closed around his arm, and he was hauled to his feet; absently, his fingers fumbled for his golden pocket watch, and he checked the time. He was late. Awfully late. He was always late. He would be late again. He wondered if Alice would notice — no, if Sakura would notice — if Sasuke would notice. He hoped he wouldn't get worked up into that awful rage he sometimes had; because only the White Rabbit could match the Hatter's cunning and speed. Perhaps not his strength, but he certainly bested him in courage and enthusiasm.

Ha.

What trivial things to be thinking about.

After all, he was being led to his death.

The Caterpillar came to a halt, finally, outside the small cottage — with the red bricks and the thatched roof —, crouching down ever so slightly that Sakura could slip off his back. Beside them, just a moment later, the March Hare skidded to a halt, button-up shirt unruffled as he gazed blankly at them; for a fraction of a second, he remained where he was — then, easily as, he turned and knocked upon the crimson red door, thin scratches slashed into the wood where a beast had tore angrily at the door.

It opened.

A friendly-faced boy, with hair the colour of copper and oranges and sunsets, peered out at them, amber eyes uncomprehending for a fraction of a second, before widening with recognition, and his face split out into a grin. "Oh! Alice-chan! And Kakashi, and the March Hare! What a, uhm, wonderful surprise."

"Tweedle Dee," Gaara responded, nodding once, "May we come in?"

"Of course, of course — it would be rude for me to leave you just standing there. Please," he gestured past him, stepping to the side and holding the door open; it was then that Sakura realised his left arm was in a sling, bandaged with black-and-white striped material, and she bit her lip. Had she done that, with her gun, the last time she'd gone to visit the Duchess — when that monster — that boy, stood holding the door open, like a true gentleman — had torn through the forest after her, snarling and growling and longing for blood?

And the mysterious man behind her — the Caterpillar — his name was Kakashi? He stepped around her, smiling behind his polo-neck jumper, before slipping past Juugo and into the Duchess' cottage. The gentleman holding the door open for her smiled, and her eyes flickered involuntarily to his wound — he glanced down at it as well, before shrugging, still smiling, never stopping. "Things happen, Alice-chan. I should never have snapped at you."

"That's not an excuse—!"

"—ah, but it is. No one should harm Alice; not I, nor Suigetsu, nor Karin, nor that mad Cat — nor the Queen and her followers — nor the dreadful Jabberwocky — nor the Hatter and his merry men — and nor my lost brother, Tweedle Dum."

Juugo seemed to think, for a second.

"If my brother were ever to harm you, Alice, I would be awfully mad. I think I would turn into that beast again. I think I would kill him."

Sakura's eyes widened, and Juugo merely smiled — and although she found his words horrifying, terrifying, awful, she knew he meant only the best. His intentions were pure. He hadn't meant to attack her, oh no, and he didn't mean to scare her — no, he only wanted to hold the door open for her, and smile for her, and keep her as safe as he possibly could. She could tell from his eyes — he was the sort of person who protected — who defended — and she wanted him to protect and defend her, just as he protected the Duchess — just as he defended the Mock Turtle.

He stretched a hand out to her.

She returned his smile.

"Call me Sakura, please."

Their hands met.

His smile widened.

"Do you trust me, Sakura-chan?"

Maybe it was Juugo who finally pushed her over the edge — with his gentlemanly ways and his unfathomable kindness — who finally forced her hand. Perhaps it was him, with his sunset-coloured hair and his gentle features, who finally made her decide — between running around in circles, cowering with her tail tucked between her legs, or standing clear and strong. In fact, when she thought about it, as she gazed at his face, it was only suitable that she finally fought, here in Wonderland — she had already made her move, in a way, back in the real world — she had killed Sasori.

His eyes still haunted her dreams — tired and broken.

No, Juugo was offering her a decision, whether he realised it or not — turn her back on those who needed her; the Hatter, her darling Rabbit, the March Hare, the Dormouse and all the occupants of Wonderland who were counting on her; or act.

It was time to act.

Her lips pulled into a smile, as she replied, allowing Juugo to steer her inside the cottage, door sliding shut behind them. "Of course. How can I not trust you? Everyone here — everyone I know — is faithfully protecting me; and it is about time I fought in return. After all, you cannot win a war if everyone simply defends — it is high time we attacked."

"Well said, Sakura-chan," came a giggling voice from her right, and both she and Juugo turned — the latter with a huge smile plastered across his face — to gaze into the kitchen; there, at the table, sat Karin, hands laced together as she smiled at Sakura with her crimson lips, "But pretty speeches are one thing — prettier actions are altogether a different matter."

"I'm sure Alice — no, Sakura — is fully aware of that," Kakashi murmured, his eyes half-lidded, a bowl of soup placed directly in front of him — it was orange, this time, and smelt like pumpkins; but there was still that scent of pepper, hanging thickly in the air, like smoke, "The last Alice led us into battle most gloriously. It is merely a shame that she died—"

"—and that you were on the opposing side, perhaps?" Gaara spat.

Kakashi merely hummed his response, choosing instead to close his eyes. The March Hare didn't continue, sneaking instead a sideways glance at the Caterpillar, a scowl smudged across his face — but his eyes soon flickered back to Sakura, watching as she entered the room, Juugo by her side. She noticed Suigetsu leaning against the kitchen counter, and he offered her a dry mock salute as she entered, smiling slightly; he nodded his head slightly towards the only spare chair, and she smiled gratefully, slipping into her seat.

Her eyes met those of the March Hare.

"I'm confused—"

"—and we're off to a brilliant start," the Duchess chimed, cutting across Alice — Sakura shot her a glare, brow furrowed, before she turned back to Gaara, who looked ever so slightly amused.

"I'm confused as to why we're here," she continued, as though Karin had never interrupted, "And as to why the Mad Hatter is not with us."

Gaara seemed to consider her words coolly, before replying instantly. "We are here, Sakura, because the Duchess was the last person to have access to the Queen of Hearts' castle. She and her two comrades, the Mock Turtle and Tweedle Dee, are the only of your loyal followers to have had recent access to the Red Castle — they will most surely know where the Vorpal blade was kept; and I'm sure all three of them would be more than willing to offer their knowledge to us. Of course, Alice, we must not take anything they say as concrete, for not only were they once comrades of the Queen of Hearts', and therefore wore only red, but he has no doubt made many changes to his castle since then, for fear of their… treachery."

"Psh," Karin scoffed, flapping a hand, "Must you be so paranoid?"

"I apologise," Gaara murmured, but his features were blank, and it was quite obvious that he was indifferent to her question, "And to answer your second question, Sakura, the Mad Hatter — Sasuke — was asked to come. In fact, I asked him myself. I feel as though it should be him sat here, discussing this with you — he is, or was, or will be, your right hand man, after all — but he refused. He told me he was waiting for someone. And that the White Rabbit was surprisingly late. If it makes you feel any better, Alice, I shall be informing him of everything we have discussed."

Sakura nodded, once, before her brow furrowed, and she held up a hand. "Woah, hold up. Did you say 'vorpal'?"

Gaara nodded.

"That's not even a word."

"Ah, but it is, Sakura-chan," Kakashi interrupted, just as Gaara opened his mouth to respond — the March Hare frowned, glanced at the bowl of soup as though he'd like nothing more than to fling it across at the wall opposite, and then clasped his hands in his lap, letting the Caterpillar take over. "The Vorpal sword was crafted when the Game first began, no doubt by the Gateway; it is said to be entirely transparent, as if made of glass, with a single pure black jewel welded into the hilt. It is the strongest sword in all of Wonderland. It is said to be the only thing capable of killing the Jabberwocky, who is, for lack of better words, the Queen's personal slave stroke guard — an angry dog, if you ask me, barking frantically at those who wish to stroke it. Or slay it. The Queen of Hearts apparently never lets it leave his grasp; which, I shall confirm, is entirely true. The Queen trusted me to be his right-hand man, second only to the Knave, and I never once saw the Vorpal blade."

"You worked for the Queen of Hearts?"

He nodded. "But don't you just love a good plot twist? After all, the Queen never saw it coming — I suppose I played my part extremely well."

"That is precisely why he cannot be trusted," Gaara said, blankly, the final three words turning into a hiss, and his eyes were filled with a simmering something; it reeked of pandemonium, of chaos, of insanity, and Sakura shuddered, despite the fact his eyes were not looking at her.

Kakashi's expression was calm, relaxed, a small smile hidden beneath his polo neck jumper, a twinkle in his eye. "You know, I agree with Karin. You are paranoid."

Silence fell over the room, briefly, and Sakura bit her lip, frowning down at the table-top; the Vorpal sword seemed pretty important even if, to her, it seemed only slightly more useful than a normal sword. After all, besides all of that, she couldn't use any type of sword, Vorpal or not. No doubt that was a hurdle she would have to pass when she came to it — and no doubt she would pass that hurdle by slipping into her Alice personality. As useful as it was, it felt strangely like cheating.

It was dissatisfying.

Still, it seemed important, especially to the people gathered around her. Her gaze flickered across to Juugo and Suigetsu, silent, simply watching — soldiers, she thought, awaiting their command —, and Juugo offered her a thumbs up. Suigetsu waved. She smiled in return, before she returned to looking at the three people gathered around her. The Duchess, with her crimson hair, and her bright, intelligent eyes, one eyebrow ever so slightly raised — the Caterpillar, a permanent amused expression plastered across his face as his lips tugged upwards into a small smile — and the March Hare, quiet, deadly, turquoise eyes oddly blank, and yet filled with something, reaching out for Sakura.

Begging for her to understand.

She thought she did.

"Alright," her face broke into a smile, and she clapped her hands together. "When do we start?"

Gaara rose to his feet; and so did Karin and Kakashi; and even Juugo and Suigetsu stood ram-rod straight, eyes fixed on her. All of them fell silent — and then their heads turned, one by one by one, to face Gaara, and all eyes were suddenly on him. He closed his own eyes, obviously thinking — carefully considering every little detail, tracing an intricate picture in his head, waiting for something to come to him.

He smirked.

"What better time to start, Sakura, than now?"

He glanced out of the window, at the fading sky, watching as light blue began to seep into darkness, and he peered in the general direction of the Mad Hatter's tea party. "We ought to get moving," the March Hare spoke, stepping forwards and breaking the stillness completely; his hand closed around Sakura's wrist.

"Or else we shall be terribly late."

run rabbit run rabbit run run run

if you go down to the woods today
watch out for the dreaded jabberwocky

"…it's getting late."

Shikamaru glanced up, ears twitching atop his head, tail flicking from side to side, as his eyes met those of the Mad Hatter. It was rather late — not in a literal sense, as the sun was still up, crawling slowly downwards through the sky — but, rather, where on earth was Sakura? Or Naruto? Or Gaara? His brow furrowed and he pulled himself sluggishly to his feet, still balancing within his tea cup — he took a step forwards, heaved himself out and over the top of the rim of the cup, and then walked slowly towards the Hatter, hands tucked into his pockets. He stared about him as he did so, ears flickering from side to side, searching for any noises, any rustles of movement.

After all, no sound can escape the ears of a mouse.

His eyebrows rose, ever so slightly, and he turned towards the left — he was distantly aware of the Hatter's own gaze flickering towards that direction. He tilted his head. "…how troublesome. I can hear you, Cheshire Cat."

Sasuke's lips tugged into a smile.

"Come out and play, kitty-cat."

Almost as soon as the words had left Sasuke's mouth, a glimmering, shimmering smile began to appear, fading slowly into view, and Shikamaru found himself involuntarily taking a step backwards. Perhaps it was the teeth, but after meeting the Cheshire Cat — and after being shrunk to such a vulnerable size — he had found himself quite terrified of felines. He watched as a flicking tail appeared, as mismatched purple and black eyes seemed to appear out of nothing — he watched as the cunning cat materialized.

"I'd forgotten how clever your ears were, little mouse," the Cat whispered, lips stretching into a thin, wide grin — and he suddenly swiped outwards, snatching Shikamaru's tail in one swift movement and raising him into the air, where he dangled rather helplessly — behind him, the Hatter stiffened, but didn't make any attempt to rescue his friend. "They're such a nuisance. I'd much rather you were rid of them."

"Your humour hasn't changed, cat," Shikamaru replied, rolling his eyes, and he was pulled slightly higher, held up so that the Cheshire Cat was gazing up at him. "And you're still not funny."

"Oh, I resent that."

The Dormouse frowned, gaze flickering briefly to Sasuke — who made no attempt to interject, obviously concluding that the threat was over, since he was leaning back in his chair, his hat tipped over his face — before looking back at the Cheshire Cat. "…what are you doing here?" He squinted, catching sight of a black leather collar and a silver bell. "And what is that?"

The Cheshire Cat quirked an eyebrow.

"What is what, little mouse?"

Shikamaru frowned, eyes meeting purple and black as he attempted to figure out whether the Cat was joking or not; but his eyes betrayed only curiosity, and so Shikamaru pointed down at the little silver bell. Instantly, the Cheshire Cat's fingers flew up to touch it, to fiddle with it, and it jingle-jangled, and his eyes narrowed in frustration and pure, unadulterated fury. Before the Dormouse could even truly comprehend what had happened, he was being flung through the air, tossed easily up above the Cheshire Cat's head and soaring, tumbling, pinwheeling down towards the wide, gaping mouth.

He only just managed to place his palms and feet on either side of the shiny white teeth, breathing heavily, before pushing upwards with his hands into a flip — a clawed, crooked hand snatched at where he had been just a moment before, and then Shikamaru landed with a crouch, on the bridge of the Cat's nose. "Annoying, clambering mouse," the Cat hissed, hands swiping at Shikamaru once again — this time, the Dormouse only just barely managed to dive towards the ground, wishing that the March Hare hadn't stolen his tiny sword from him long ago.

He was free-falling.

Before he could land on the table — or potentially miss the table; oh, how awful that would have been —, a hand hooked beneath him, and he was being raised back up into the air, this time away from the grinning Cat. He turned around, tail twitching from the shock of it all — oh shit, that bastard had tried to eat him! — and gazed up into the eyes of the Mad Hatter; Sasuke peered down at him, blankly, before placing a second hand protectively in front of the boy, as claws swiped at the tiny figure.

"Cat," Sasuke murmured, eyes flickering up then, towards the Cheshire Cat — who was back to looking disinterested, inspecting his tail, bristling frostily, "If you attempt to eat the Dormouse again, I will cut off your tongue and pull out every single one of your shining teeth."

The Cheshire Cat grinned.

"Is that a threat, Hatter?"

"It's a promise."

Shikamaru prised apart the things, pushing the palm of Sasuke's hands upwards, so that he was stood once again facing the Cat — because enclosed spaces made him drowsy and sleepy, and, besides, he needed to know what was going on. He stretched his arms back behind his head, tail curling behind him, before pointing at the bell. "You've become a slave, cat. They've put a collar and a bell on your neck, and you're their slave — their pet," Shikamaru's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here, then, pet of the Red Queen?"

The Cheshire Cat bristled, once again, anger surging through him, "You can mock me all you want, rodent, but I almost dined on rat stew, tonight — and I will most certainly be feasting upon white rabbit. If, of course, you catch my drift."

Shikamaru's eyes widened and, all of a sudden, he was thrown to the ground, where he landed sprawled across the table, crashing into tea cups and kettles; he watched as the Hatter lunged towards the Cat, eyes wide and cruel and angry — but the Cat had already vanished, with a flick of his tail and a sweet smile. He'd disappeared, as easily as that, and all that was left was the jangling of a bell — jingle, jangle, jingle — but he hadn't reappeared, Shikamaru could hear that. No, he was waiting and biding his time, hopping from place to place, far out of his hearing, before reappearing.

"Boo, little mouse."

He sprang backwards, just as claws raked through the air where he had once been — and he was almost certain he was out of danger, when a purple tail suddenly snaked around his waist, and he was hauled into the air, kicking and scratching and cursing the March Hare, because that bastard had stolen his sword. The Hatter, meanwhile, twisted and lunged again — but the only person who is faster than time itself is the Cheshire Cat, and so he merely vanished, with his final words.

"We'll see you soon, Mr Hatter. The Jabberwocky and I are waiting."

With that, he was gone.

Leaving Sasuke stood at an empty table, breathing heavily, anger and rage and utter fury plastered across his face, because his men were gone — one by one, they had been snatched from him — and he was very unhappy. Oh, he was quite insane with unhappiness.

The White Rabbit was gone.

And now, so was the Dormouse.

They reached the Mad Hatter's tea party after what felt like only minutes of running, but was, in fact, at least an hour — the Caterpillar finished first, letting Sakura climb easily off his back, and then beckoning for her to go on ahead. She waited for just a moment, for the March Hare to arrive — because she was beginning to feel awfully safe, terribly comfortable, around him. When he did so, he glanced briefly at her, and his face suddenly turned stormy.

They could hear smashing glass.

"That's my thing," the March Hare whispered lowly, his blank mask only just managing to betray the storm raging beneath, "They can't throw the tea cups. That's my thing."

Sakura didn't reply because, all of a sudden, a terrible sense of foreboding had filled her; she glanced once behind her, wanting to make certain that her friends were still with her — and she could see that they too were all grim. Kakashi's face was terribly blank, his signature cheery smile slipping away from beneath his mask, and Karin's eyes were dark behind her glasses. Sakura realised, blankly, that both the Mock Turtle and Tweedle Dee had moved in closer to her, on either side, flanking the Duchess and protecting her.

She wondered whether they protected her because of a sense of duty, or because they truly wanted to. Because they loved her.

((the same could be applied to alice))

Sakura turned away, crossing her arms over her chest, and pushed through the last ring of trees, into the clearing. Almost immediately, she had to duck beneath a flying kettle — she was surprised to see that it didn't shatter against the tree bark, and that the March Hare managed, in fact, to catch it — he tugged back his arm and pitched it back, with such terrible force. It shattered upon the back of the Mad Hatter's chair, and she was surprised to see it was Sasuke flinging the tea cups.

Gaara stormed over, almost immediately, face betraying rage. "What are you doing? That's my thing."

"Don't be so petty, March Hare," Sasuke hissed in return, eyes simmering with fury, "Everyone needs to throw tea cups once in a while. Especially, it seems, when they have lost all the guests at their tea party."

Gaara's eyes widened in understanding, and just a smudge of disbelief crossed his face — he swept over to the table, picked up the lid of every kettle and poured the contents onto the white cloth. Some emptied out tea, others murky brown water — some coffee, and the rest nothing. It took Sakura a moment to work out what he was looking for; she crossed the room, placing a hand on Sasuke's shoulder — the other flinched, turning on her almost immediately, hands gripping her shoulders so tightly that she was unsure of what to do, at first.

Her hand moved to cup his cheek, instinctively, and he quietened, the anger ebbing away. "Brave Hatter," she murmured, and Sakura felt as though it were Alice doing all the talking, "Where have my noble knights gone — the knights of this long table? Where is my Dormouse? Where is my White Rabbit? Where is Naruto?"

"…gone." Sasuke replied, and his face fell — in fact, he looked awful, terrible, as if he were about to scream in frustration and sadness and loneliness. "Both gone."

"Where to, Sasuke?" She asked, and it was then that Sakura realised that Alice had never once spoken — it had been her, all along, because she was using their names, "Who took them?"

"The Red Castle," he responded, automatically, "The Cheshire Cat came here and snatched the Dormouse away. He had… He had a bell around his neck. The Queen of Hearts turned him into her domestic pet. And the Rabbit — stupid, stupid Naruto — I think they got him before that, before the meddlesome cat appeared here. Either way, unless we help them escape tonight, they are both dead. The Queen will not let them fade away. He will kill them before they can do so — because, if they can fade away, they can escape the Queen."

Sakura fell silent.

Distantly, she became aware of everything — of the White Rabbit's plight, of the Dormouse's danger; of Sasuke's sorrow, because he just didn't want to lose anyone, not anymore; of the March Hare's desperation, because, despite having heard the truth, he was still searching each and every kettle for a sign of his little Dormouse; of what was being placed on her now. The decisions she had to make, in the next few seconds. She could feel eyes on her back; Karin, watching her closely, seeing if she was truly a worthy person to follow — Juugo, never judging, just silently smiling, urging her onwards — Suigetsu, that same little smile plastered across his face, because he knew.

And Kakashi…

The Caterpillar was smiling.

She was certain of it.

She turned to face them, looking from person to person, and then she smiled. "We're… we're hardly fit for a huge battle. I may have my silver pistol, and the Hatter may have his… well, his hat… but, still, this isn't going to be something huge. We're not rescuing them. We're looking for the Vorpal sword, and…"

She trailed off.

Juugo's eyes were encouraging.

Sakura smiled, "And we're going to save them."

He wore a mask.

A porcelain thing, fragile and pale, with a single splash of crimson paint — or was it blood? — on the left cheek; his hair fell down his back, shagged, black, staining his pure white suit — ironic, really — and making it look oh so messy. Tainted. He step, step, step, stepped through his castle, hands swinging by his side, eyes glittering behind the mask — and he watched, absently, disinterestedly, as his servants bowed — one, two, three, four, like a wave.

He ignored them.

The Queen of Hearts came to a halt outside two large doors, each reaching the ceiling or the sky or something equally as high — and he paused, sorting out his collar, his tie, his sleeves, his shirt, before pushing open the door. He stayed where he was, framed by the light spilling through the doorway, as he gazed upon the scene — the White Rabbit was knelt down at his feet, a single pale hand forced him to bow his head, hands tied behind his back. His gaze flickered across to the other prisoner, imprisoned in a cage usually meant for birds, sat sprawled dejectedly on the floor of the little golden cage.

The Queen's lips split into a grin.

"You've outdone yourself, Knave," he murmured, and he began to walk, step step stepping again, his footsteps echoing throughout the hall as he strode towards the two traitors. "This is particularly… interesting."

He slowed to a halt.

The Knave simply smiled, before jerking the Rabbit's head upwards, fingers laced in golden hair — a thin, steady trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were narrowed, determined. It was admirable, truly it was — this undying loyalty for Alice. He had seen it in the eyes of his beloved Caterpillar, just before he had sliced through the man's cheeks with his sword, letting the traitor live simply because that dratted cat helped him disappear. He had seen it in the eyes of the Duchess, though he had not recognised it for what it was at the time — he had been too blinded by his love for her.

He had seen it in the eyes of the Cheshire Cat.

And now, there it was, glimmering in the sky-blue eyes of the White Rabbit. They were awfully pretty eyes, he thought, and he reached forwards with one hand, not quite realising what it was he was doing — his fingers brushed against the boy's cheek. The traitor didn't flinch. No, he stayed tall, upright, proud, bleeding splendidly onto the floor. There was a wound in his shoulder, too, but the Queen didn't ask — no, his gaze flicked to the golden pocket watch looped from the boy's shirt pocket.

"…that's a nice watch," he spoke, coolly, eyes flickering up absently to meet the eyes of the White Rabbit, "Do you mind if I… take a look?"

He didn't wait for a reply.

Before the Rabbit could even protest — or struggle — or do anything —, the Queen's fingers closed around the gold chain, and he tugged it away; he smiled, ever so slightly, holding it up so that the last bit of sunlight reflected of the gold, causing the watch to sparkle and shimmer and almost glow. Oh, how pretty. He tossed it over his shoulder, casually, listening to the shatter of glass and the clatter of the object hitting the floor. Then, ever so slowly, he turned, picking it up — inspected the fine, beautiful crack, zig-zagging through the glass — and then held the watch out, letting it dangle in front of the White Rabbit's face.

"Whoops. I broke it."

He dropped it down into the Rabbit's lap, watching as his face fell at the sight of the broken watch — and then the Queen's own face split into a grin, and he nodded, once, quickly. Yes, the Rabbit would be easy to break. They didn't have long — oh, the sun was a constant reminder of that, as it vanished behind the horizon — and they were running out of time, but the White Rabbit would certainly be easy to twist and taint and destroy. Who knew?

Perhaps the Queen could tell the story of the White Rabbit from before — the girl with the hair like buns and the trusting smile and the pretty, pretty, pretty scream.

Ho, hum.

He had all evening.

All night.

He crossed over to the Dormouse's cage — oh, that rude mouse, he was sleeping! — and frowned, ever so slightly. The Dormouse cracked open an eye, ears twitching, nose wrinkling in distaste, but made no effort to move, to sit up, to stand. Oh, how insolent. The Queen was quite furious. Off with his head. Off with his head!

"Ah, your Majesty," the Dormouse spoke, softly, through tired lips, "It would be wrong of me to say it is nice to meet you, but it is certainly something. Troublesome, I think, best fits the situation."

The Queen didn't reply. Instead, he placed he gripped the cage easily in one hand, using the other to unlock the tiny golden door, and shook the mouse out onto his hand. He fell, head over heels, landing in a little pile in the palm of his hand, and the Queen of Hearts gazed down at him, expression blank. He tilted his head. He stared. He waited, and he thought, and he watched the little mouse tug his legs beneath him and gaze up at him, through lazy, insolent eyes. He watched the tail swing round and round and round, like clockwork, tick-tick-ticking, like the broken pocket watch.

His lips pulled into a grin.

"Perhaps, Sir Mouse, we ought to play a game," the Queen spoke, clearly, proudly, "A game of chess. For every piece you lose, for every false move you make, I'll chop off your tail and feed it to my pretty kitty. For every piece you capture, the White Rabbit will lose bits of his ears. And, heaven forbid you manage to win — for, if you win, I shall kill that rabbit. And if you lose, I shall kill you. Does that sound fair to you?"

The Dormouse shook his head mutely.

"Good."

The Queen of Hearts smiled.

"Shall we begin?"

Elsewhere, in the Castle, the Jabberwocky sat beside the Vorpal blade — the only thing he was afraid of — and stared at his fingers. He traced each and every contour of his hand, with his eyes, seeing the pale skin and imagining red. Everywhere he looked, blood dripped, splattering the table he was sat at, the window he looked through, the food he ate, the wines he drank. He saw it splattering across the mismatched eyes of the cat he vaguely recognised.

The black, hateful eyes of the Hatter he loathed.

He thought back upon the White Queen — the girl who thought he was the Red Queen; what a fool — and let out something akin to a sigh. He thought of the boy with the golden hair and the floppy ears, and wondered what had happened to the startled rabbit — wondered whether he was dead yet; wondered when the Jabberwocky would be called to kill him. He thought upon his duty. To defend the Queen of Hearts.

To die trying.

To die succeeding.

Either way, to die.

He was the Jabberwocky — the false Red Queen — Uchiha Itachi. He had killed many — his parents, his family, his brothers, in a way — to get to where he was; he had forced those he loved to do things they never should have had to do. He had made choices. He had made mistakes. Awful mistakes. They would haunt him forever.

"Do not forget, Jabberwock," he murmured, his voice low and quiet, "That you are not the one who has to pay."

He looked up.

The Queen of Hearts.

He…

He has to pay.

Alice.

She…

She has to pay.

They all have to pay.

The Mad Hatter ran with Alice upon his back. The wind tore through their hair — pink and black, it matched, but it didn't — and their eyes were narrowed with concentration — green and black, it matched, it did. They suited each other, her with her arms wrapped around him, her mismatched stockings, her pretty dresses — him with his arms clutching her legs tightly, his signature hat, his jumbled coat. They suited each other. They completed each other.

Perhaps, possibly, because they were both entirely mad.

Oh yes.

Alice and her Hatter were positively insane.

But Sakura and her Sasuke weren't — they were grim and determined; and although their counterparts thirsted for blood, for revenge, for the Vorpal sword, they wanted nothing more than to have their friends back. He had to complete his party. After all, what was a party with no guests? What was a tea party with no tea? What was a mad tea party with no tea, no quests and no madness?

Where had his oddities gone?

The Queen had captured them.

And so, of course, Alice and the Hatter would bring them back, to where they belonged, by their side. Alice and the Hatter would fight against the Red, because the Red deserved to die for all the pain they'd caused — and they would battle valiantly against the Queen of Hearts, because that was what had to be done. They would fight. Alice and the Hatter.

Alice and her Mad Hatter.

sakura and her sasuke

notes3: just to clear something up — itachi is the jabberwocky. not the red queen. the red queen — queen of hearts, whatever — never leaves the red castle, and instead uses a… fake queen, which is his beloved jabberwock.
notes4: please review! thank you muchly. :)