A/N: Goddamn it. I need to set an alarm or something.

So the flashbacks took up wayyy more of this chapter than I expected. But my muse really likes writing Wonderland. There are so many colorful characters and lots of possibility. At this time, Alice is seven and Jefferson is ten.

Chapter 3

"Your hair is like meadow grass on the tide

And the raindrops on my window

And the ice in my drink

Baby all I can think of is Alice"

/-*-*-*-\

He remembered it was half-past brilling, and the Dodo had just delivered a fresh supply of treacle the previous morn. March was debating with him the usefulness of butter in fixing watches, when something over Jefferson's shoulder caught his eye. The hare's eyes grew wide and he shouted, "No room!" This, of course, prompted Jefferson to look over his own shoulder. There was a girl standing there who seemed to be only a few years younger than himself. From the looks of the twigs in her hair, she had just emerged from the surrounding woods. Due to March's outburst, she looked about ready to bolt. Jefferson patted him on the head and turned in his seat to fully face the girl.

"Who are you?"

The girl frowned. Obviously this was not the right question to ask. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" she pouted, stomping her foot. "I don't know anymore!"

How peculiar. "Well, who do you think you are?"

March, oblivious to the change in conversation, interjected, "Do you feel cramped?"

The girl cast a wary glance at the hare, but answered, "Well, when I woke up this morning, I was Alice." She frowned again. "But I'm not so sure anymore."

Dormouse chose that point to wake up, violently shouting, "NO ROOM!" She then proceeded to slump back onto the table, already asleep again.

"Booked solid!" March agreed. "No room here!"

"Nonsense, you two," Jefferson scolded, turning to the table. "There's plenty of room for Miss Alice here." Turning back to her, he smiled, "Can I offer you some tea? Perhaps a finger sandwich? I promise they're not actually made of fingers this time." Behind him, he could hear March pick up his butter debate with a loudly snoring Dormouse.

"I'm afraid not," Alice began, taking a nervous step back. "I really must be getting home now."

"Oh? And where do you live?"

She took another step back. "My mother told me not to tell strangers where I live."

"Your mother is a smart woman." He rose up to stand on his chair. Taking a dramatic bow, he said, "My name is Jefferson Andrews, but some have taken to calling me Hatter. My companions here are called March Hare and Dormouse. Now that we're not strangers anymore," he fell into a seated position and leaned towards her, "tell me, Alice. Where do you live?"

A thoughtful look crossed her small features, as if debating internally. She finally shrugged and sat next to him at the table. "I live in London," she started, "and my father's job paid well, so we're in one of the nice neighborhoods."

"How fascinating," he grinned, "you're an Otherlander. I thought I detected a bit of an accent." Alice smiled slightly, and he poured her a cup of tea. "And what does your father do?"

She took a sip and smiled fondly, "He used to work in antiquities."

"Used to?" asked Jefferson, scooping copious amounts of sugar into his own tea. He offered her some, but she shook her head no.

"Yes," something sad appeared in her eyes. "He's dead now."

He reached out and rested his hand over hers. "I'm sorry to hear that. If it's any solace," he continued, removing it to stir his tea with his pointer finger, "my parents are dead, as well."

Alice looked at him strangely from over the rim of her teacup. "Did you know them well?"

"Oh yes," he nodded casually, "they were very dear to me. Shame, really."

"How are you able to talk about it so easily?"

"Well, it wasn't easy at first, believe you me. In the beginning, I was an absolute mess. But then I came to a very simple realization." Here he took a sip of his tea. "We, as humans, are not tied down to rationality. Sadness inflicted by events like the early, unlawful deaths of your parents can just drift away if you lose the one thing that keeps the wound fresh and painful." When asked what, he grinned and said, "Your mind. You should try it sometime, going mad. It's the easiest thing in the world."

"Well, I'd rather not be mad, so perhaps you could show me a way home?"

Thinking for a moment, he set his tea on the table. "Perhaps. What realm are you from?"

Setting her tea down as well, Alice gave a look askance. "I'm sorry, realm? I'm from London."

"Yeah, I got that part," he sighed dramatically. "So I take it this 'London' doesn't have magic?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't think so. I thought magic was just make-believe?"

"This realm is magic." Jefferson leveled her with a very serious look. "Does this place seem make-believe to you?"

"Well," she replied softly, "perhaps a bit."

"It isn't," he emphasized. "Keep thinking like that and you might not make it home in time for supper." He leapt from his seat and landed face-first on the ground.

Quickly standing as well, Alice asked, "Wait, so you're going to help me?"

Jefferson was up on his feet at this point, brushing dirt off of his blue and white checkerboard patterned blazer. "I'll do what I can. Since your realm doesn't have magic, that makes things difficult. We won't be able to take the easy way out, but I might know someone who knows of someone who might have an alternative." He pulled a small stick from his hair and flicked it across the lawn. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"Yes," Alice nodded, "I was walking in the park and I saw a white rabbit with a pocket watch and a coat. I followed him into a patch of trees and I fell down a hole."

"That frumious cheat. March!" he called, causing March to look at him with crazed eyes, "Remind me to make your uncle into a hat."

"Got it!" the jack-rabbit shrieked, holding a cinnamon stick as if it were a quill and using it to write on the sleeping Dormouse's back. "Make uncle into hat!"

"Well, it wasn't really his fault," assured Alice, concern in her tone. "I shouldn't have followed him."

"Yes, it was his fault," Jefferson insisted. "But you're right about one thing; you definitely should not have followed him. He frequents various parks in other worlds, trying to lure children to Wonderland."

Alice screwed her face up, naïvely confused. "Why would he do that?"

"Because," he sighed, "that rabbit works for the Red Queen."

The March Hare screamed, causing several nearby birds to flee. "THE QUEEN!?" he shrieked "WHERE!?" He scurried out of his chair and began running around the clearing, screeching loudly and trying to hide behind small patches of mushrooms.

The Dormouse snorted lightly in her sleep and rolled onto a macaroon, which she then snuggled up to her chest like a teddy bear.

Jefferson only sighed, "Not again. March!" He marched over to the nervous hare. "March, the Queen isn't here," he soothed, leading him back to the table. "Calm down. Have some tea."

"Tea," he murmured, taking a sip, "Not here. Calm."

"I'm sorry, but what does, um," Alice looked at March warily, "she want with children?"

After making sure the hare was settled, Jefferson walked back over to her. "Several years ago," he explained, "a child escaped from her executioner with a way to travel between worlds. She's been hunting every realm she has access to for the child ever since."

"That seems a bit extreme."

"Yes, well," he snapped, tense, "she is a very extreme woman." A tortured expression occupied his face before it was quickly replaced by a relaxed grin. "March, Dormouse," he called, causing each to look up at him. "I'm going on a journey. If I'm not home in two day's time, I'm probably dead."

"Feed your head!" Dormouse yawned, lying down on a slice of toast.

March waved a cocktail napkin at him, shouting, "Say what you mean!"

"I'll be sure to do that," he called back. "Now then, shall we?" He offered Alice his arm, which she accepted with a smile, and led them out of the clearing.

The town was waking up around him as he waited outside the pawn shop for its owner, but his mind was focused on more pressing matters. Jefferson watched idly as the streetlights went off and shop fronts came to life. Mrs. Lucas began her daily walk down to the docks to buy fish while her granddaughter the she-wolf tiredly wrote the specials on the board out front, Princess Ella jogged past him, trying to lose baby weight he imagined, the Evil Queen drove by on her way to City Hall, and, right on cue, Rumpelstiltskin hobbled across the street to his shop, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. "Can I help you with something, Mr. Andrews?"

"Of course not," Jefferson shrugged. "I've just been standing here for the past twenty minutes for my health." Stepping to the side to let Mr. Gold unlock the door, he followed him in when he did. "I need a key copied." He set the key to his shop on the counter and put his hands in his jacket pockets.

Gold picked up the key, examining it. "A simple enough request," he said, placing the key back on the counter. "And what have I done to deserve such biting sarcasm?"

"I suspect you already know," Jefferson hissed, his hands balling into fists in his pockets.

Either oblivious to his anger or more likely choosing to ignore it, Gold drawled, "That's rather cryptic for this early in the morning. Care to expand?"

"You know," Jefferson snapped, removing his hands from his pockets and placing his elbows on the counter, "you'll never guess who I ran into yesterday." He leaned forward, a scowl forming on his face. "My dead wife."

"Well, if you 'ran into her' as you said," Gold replied, unaffected, "then I would assume that she's very much alive."

"You promised," growled the hatter. "You said that she wouldn't be affected by the curse, so long as she drank the potion. Then you sent her to me, knowing she was still cursed. Why?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"Drop the act, Rumple," he snapped. "We both know the truth."

A tense silence filled the air until Mr. Gold broke it with a light chuckle. "If you insist, Hatter." Gold smiled darkly, looking like more like his fairy-tale counterpart. "It seems that your dear Alice chose not to drink. I figured that the least I could do was to reunite the two of you."

"But she did drink," he insisted. "She recognizes me, but she doesn't know why. You said it would work. It worked for me, why not for her?"

"Yes, well, it does work. But only if you drink the whole thing." When Jefferson looked at him questioningly, he went on, "The potion is only effective if the recipient willingly drinks every last drop. Based on your description, I'd say she drank about two thirds of it."

Jefferson scowled. None of this was making any sense. "If she was willing to drink that much, then why not the rest?"

"Well, perhaps she was interrupted," Gold sighed with a look that said 'how the hell should I know?'

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Jefferson hopefully.

Gold looked ready to say 'no', but paused, a thoughtful expression taking hold. "You say she remembers you?"

He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "Barely."

"That might be enough," the pawnbroker replied. "Your relationship is strong enough that you might be able to pull her from the fog."

Jerking upright and groaning lightly when the sudden motion upset his head, Jefferson asked, "I can bring back her memories?"

"I said might. It may not work."

"I'm willing to take that chance," he said eagerly. "What do I do?"

Gold shrugged, "True Love's kiss breaks any curse. Just get her to fall back in love with you."

"Great," he sighed. "That shouldn't be too difficult."

"Well, with that sparkling personality, it should be simple," smirked Gold. "Besides, you've done it before. Surely you can do it again." Jefferson's key in hand, he limped into the back room of his store.

Hearing the key-copying machine fire to life, Jefferson ran a hand over his face. "You say that like it was easy the first time," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why do we even have to go through these tuggy woods in the first place?" Alice whined, shaking a vine from her foot.

"It's the Tulgey Wood," Jefferson groaned, "and I need to find a friend of mine. He's guarding something of my father's."

Alice pouted, "Why couldn't you just keep it with you?"

"Because it's special, okay? Now, follow me," he snapped in reply, grabbing her hand and dragging her along.

She stopped in her tracks, causing him to jerk back to keep a grip on her hand. "Why do you get to walk in front?"

"Because I'm a boy and you're a girl." He tried to pull her forward, but she yanked her hand out of his.

"That's a stupid reason," she whined. "Where I'm from, gentlemen always let ladies go first."

"Well," he sighed, "I'm older than you."

"That's a stupid reason, too! My older brother holds the door open for me all the time."

Jefferson turned on her, grasping her arm tightly enough to make her cry out in pain. "Well maybe it's because you're stupid enough to come to Wonderland in the first place!" he roared. "This place is terrible! It will ruin your life like it ruined mine! I'm risking my head to help you, so shut your mouth, take my hand, and follow me!" He sobered instantly when Alice began to sob violently, tears streaming down her face. "Oh no. Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please stop crying. You can walk in front if you'd like, just please stop crying."

"I can't!" she sobbed, wiping her face with the backs of her hands.

He looked around nervously. "Well, you're gonna have to," he whispered seriously. "So think lovely thoughts or something. Just stop crying."

Alice sniffled, the tears slowing. "What are you talking about, I have to?"

"I'm talking about Moss Women," he replied, handing her his handkerchief. "They live in the Tulgey Wood and they feed off of misery. If they sense any, they appear to you and grant you a wish."

"Well, that doesn't sound so bad," she reasoned, blowing her nose into the piece of fabric. "Can't I just wish myself home, then?"

"It doesn't work that way. They're tricksters. They twist your words so you end up worse off than you already were. They make it so the wish makes you even more miserable, so they can feed more. Then, that misery attracts more Moss Women willing to grant you wishes and further your misery. Now, I'm not telling you this to scare you, but if you want to get home, I'm gonna need you to stop crying."

Alice smiled slightly and gave him his handkerchief back. "You seem to know an awful lot about this place"

"Yeah, well," he sighed, folding it and shoving it back into his jacket pocket. "I've only been living here my whole life. Feeling better?" When Alice nodded yes, he smiled, "Great. Let's keep going."

"My dear girl, are you unhappy?"

They turned, and perched on a low-hanging branch was a small creature, no bigger than a crow. She looked like a poorly built bird's nest in the vague shape of a small woman made entirely of twigs and small sticks covered in thick green moss. Two shining yellow eyes peered out from between leaves and a pair of pink lips was visible in the mass of foliage. Jefferson took a wary step back and attempted to pull Alice with him, but she wouldn't budge. She was looking at the moss woman with shining, curious eyes.

"Well, perhaps-"

"No," Jefferson interrupted, "she's not. We're just going for a stroll." He glared at Alice, hoping she would take the hint, but she glared back at him with just as much stubbornness.

The yellow eyes narrowed maliciously. "Jefferson. You of all people should know that people don't just 'go for strolls' in the Tulgey Wood." She smiled warmly, shifting her gaze to Alice. "You are looking for something. I can grant your wish, just name it."

"Well, since you offered so kindly-"

Jefferson snatched Alice's arm and pulled her to him. "Are you mad?" he whispered harshly. "What did I say? We're leaving."

She yanked her arm from his grasp. "Like you're one to talk about madness!" she snapped, glaring at him. "She seems lovely, and not at all tricky."

"Tricksters never seem tricky," he groaned. "That's how they lure you in!"

"You both seem quite distressed," the moss woman interjected with a warm and musical voice. "I can help you. I can grant you whatever you want, so long as you name it."

"No!" insisted Jefferson before Alice could say otherwise. "We're fine. Good day to you, Moss Woman." He turned and walked away, dragging Alice along with him.

The moss woman's eyes suddenly turned a fiery, angry red. "You're not going anywhere." She flicked her wrist and a wall of thorny plants rose up around them, blocking their way. Thick vines emerged from the ground, slowly winding their way up the children's legs, holding them in place and turning them so they faced the Moss Woman.

Jefferson retrieved a stone flask from inside his jacket and quickly uncapped it. "Get ready to run!" He threw the liquid from the flask onto the rapidly approaching creature and she screeched shrilly enough to break glass, causing them to cover their ears. The plants quickly retreated back into the ground and thick green smoke began to pour off of the moss woman. The children ran in the opposite direction and didn't stop until they could no longer hear her screams. As they hunched over, catching their breath, Jefferson panted out, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I think so," panted Alice. "What was that you threw on her?"

Examining his now empty flask, Jefferson stood upright. "Water from the marsh of a boggart," he explained. "Effective against will-o'-the-wisps, lesser goblins, and moss women. Not easy to come by, especially for me."

"Why especially you?"

"When an adult wanders into a marsh, the boggart will usually settle for stealing their things and pulling on their ears and the like. But if a child gets lost in the marsh..." He met her eyes, his mouth set into a grim line. "Well, let's just say that they won't be home for tea." Alice swallowed nervously, new respect forming for the boy next to her. "We should keep moving. A screech like that is bound to attract more of them, and I'm all out of marsh water."

"After you," she said, holding out her hand for him to take. Jefferson looked down at her, smiling, and took her hand.

There isn't a lot of lore on moss women (none, actually), but in the source I got them from, they were actually very helpful and nice and they don't like to see people unhappy.

But, hey, where's the fun in that?

Also, I'm aware the Dormouse never actually says, "Feed your head", but this is my story. It's important.

Song is "Alice" by Tom Waits.