Jack's entire life had been ruled by tea. Its creation had been in place long before his birth, though the Carpenter's efforts had certainly streamlined the system. So it came to reason he would be intimately familiar with every color and flavor, every physical and mental sensation of every tea ever made…even more so than Hatter, who had built his once trivial blackmarket tea trade into a thriving criminal enterprise. It scared Jack that he had been fooled so easily by the clear fluid in the little glass bottle.
Honesty had a particular weight after it left the processing tanks and became distributed in bottled form. To the untrained eye, it would seem as alike and harmless as water, being odorless and tasteless. Jack, however, had recognized the liquid instantly as contraband and labeled it as such within seconds. Or so he thought. The crystalline substance looked like Honesty. Had the same consistency as Honesty. And even brought about a similar dream-like state of mind like Honesty. But it was most definitely not Honesty.
The abundant use of Obedience had rendered Honesty nearly obsolete in his mother's court, though he had been threatened with it a few times in his youth and forced to down a couple drops here and there for quality control purposes. A year ago, he'd swallowed a considerable amount in Duch's presence, which nearly caused him to betray Alice's lineage. That episode had left him in a jarring state of bodily exhaustion, although his mind had been free to wander after the initial haziness disappated. He'd been rendered completely immobile for hours afterward. When he did finally regain control of his limbs, it was all he could do to simply button his shirt and make himself presentable again as prince.
His expectations of Honesty and all other known teas in existence did not – could not – prepare him for the onslaught of pain currently storming his being. Instead of slipping into a leaden heaviness, his body jerked wildly as if trying to rid the poison from the outside. His arms scraped uselessly against the tile floor and his legs kicked solidly into the base of the table. The glass careened to the side and smashed magnificently into a million pieces. Crystal shards scattered through the small room and pelted his clothes and exposed skin. The scratches hardly registered as white heat arced through his head. His hand swept over soft fabric amidst the sharp splinters and he grabbed the object tightly, crushing it to his chest. His fedora.
"Jack! Jack!" The voice came from far away. He struggled to pinpoint its source. "Jack!" His body trembled violently as dread blossomed in his chest. His thoughts spiraled wildly. Duchess was here. She knelt by his side and attempted to subdue his flailing arms. A second figure clad in black also appeared and picked up the now empty bottle. Jack shut his eyes resolutely against the drug's agonizing affects, but he heard her next remark clearly. "Is he poisoned?"
It was the same question. The one she asked of the guard after they found him on the floor of his room in the Happy Hearts Casino. And for a moment he was back there, lying helplessly on his bed, drowning in Honesty although he'd only been given small doses at a time. He heard Duchess continuing to scream his name, but another memory surfaced that caused him to shudder again and shrink away from her touch. "Have another little sip of Honesty, Jack." Her chilling sing-song voice taunted him as the pain flared anew. The dark clothed man placed a hand to the back of Jack's head and gasped. "He's been attacked. He's bleeding. Duchess, we need to get him out of here." Ten. It was Ten. Not some faceless guard. And he was sprawled out on hard tiles, not lush carpet. He willed his mind to hold onto these facts, but the tea was much more potent than any he had conditioned himself against and he was swiftly losing himself within its grasp.
"Go, Ten." Duchess said forcefully. Her slender hands were remarkably strong against his chest as his body continued to shake of its own accord. "Gather the medics. We can't risk moving him in this state. I'll stay here with Jack."
"But—my lady—!"
"Now!" Ten acquiesced without his usual commentary, but not before casting off his cape and bundling the voluminous material under the king's head. In his right mind, Jack would've been highly embarrased about bleeding all over his friend's uniform, but the only emotion he could summon was one of fear. He couldn't be alone with Duchess. Not again.
"Jack, can you hear me?"
Have another
"Everything's going to be fine."
little sip
"We'll figure this out, just stay with me!"
of Honesty,
"Please, Jack. I'm here. I'm right here."
Jack.
Duchess' hand found one of his own, and her grip tightened desperately. His tremors had lessened somewhat, but this only seemed to cause the pounding in his head to increase. He tried to recoil from her touch again, but the blonde held him steadfast. "D-Duchess…please…" His voice came out soft, but discernible. He forced his eyes open and caught his fiancée's blue gaze. "No…more…"
Her forehead crinkled in concern. "No more of what, Jack? What happened? What was in that bottle?" She kept her free hand firmly planted on his chest as his body continued to shiver beyond his control.
"I c-can't…no more Honesty, please…" He didn't even know where he was anymore. Duchess' eyes grew wide with shock and shame.
"I didn't do this to you, Jack. I would never intentionally hurt you." The mocking voice pulsed continuously through his mind. Lies. She always lied. Mother had taught her well. "Stay with me. Ten will be here soon. He's getting help."
The ache in his head reached a fever pitch and he found himself returning Duchess' embrace without thinking. "No more Honesty…" His words slurred into an incoherent mess as the bodily spasms grew stronger.
"You destroyed the teas, Jack. There is no more Honesty." He no longer had the capacity to answer. Ten soon arrived with two medical professionals who took to hovering above his trembling form like a pair of hornets. His thrashing reached a new intensity. There was nothing he could do. She'd make him spill all his secrets. One more drop of Honesty and he'd confess to all his time spent in the Resistance, his wavering self-confidence as King, his fear of Mad March's return, his growing attraction to Duch—
The pain was slowly receding. Darkness obscured his vision like black paint on a canvass. He welcomed the wave of unconsciousness and tumbled through it as effortlessly as stepping through the Looking Glass.
