After a shaky story about how they met to try to get that shocked look off of Carol Hamilton's face, Carol shakes her head in confusion and excuses herself to get some tea, which Hatter thinks is just her way of getting some distance from this odd situation to think for a moment.
Alice smiles awkwardly at him, curling her fingers around his as she leads him to the couch. It's weird, he being here after she spent two days almost certain Wonderland was a dream like it was in the book, since her mom claimed only an hour passed, but she's so glad he followed her. "What made you change your mind?" she asks softly, almost afraid to ask-- as if his saying he missed her just moments earlier wasn't answer enough, she just needs to hear it all from his lips.
"I didn't... like how things were back at the Looking Glass," he says with a disturbed look in his eyes that she just wants to smooth away, but refrains, waiting to hear him out. "I, It was weird," he stammers and she finds it cute in a painful way as he runs his fingers over her palm almost subconsciously. "I saw you with Jack and it was like everything we'd been through didn't matter," he admits slowly, as if struggling with the honesty. "Thought maybe it was all in my head or somethin'."
She thinks she understands, especially considering how Jack had treated Hatter when he came to take her to meet Caterpillar-- like he was second rate, even though it was Hatter who had kept her safe the whole time she was in Wonderland, had risked everything to get her back home. She gently pulls her hands from his and he looks wounded a moment, as if thinking he's said something wrong-- or perhaps, too right, as fear takes over the pain in his eyes and she curses herself for her hasty movement. She tries to ease his uncertainty by leaning over and smiling at him. "While we wait for my mom to stop freaking out in the kitchen, do you want to see the rest of the apartment?" In hindsight she thinks it's an odd question to come out with right now, but he accepts immediately, obviously curious by this world.
It's not a huge apartment, just the living room, dining room/kitchen, her mom's room, the bathroom and hers... which, with her mother holed up in the dining room, doesn't leave much to show him, she realizes a second later as she shakes her head, taking him down the hallway. Her own lack of foresight is amazing to even her. "We don't have a lot of room but for the two of us, it's nice enough," she says to him as they walk towards her room and she swallows. No guy's ever made it as far as my room before, she thinks almost uncomfortably, feeling exposed for no real reason. Hatter wouldn't really care about her bedroom after everything they've been through, but it's still a strange thought. Leave it to Hatter to be the first, she thinks with a smile, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
He stops in the doorway, gazing around her room with a fascinated look on his face at the earthly furniture. Things are similar but Wonderland has put a twist on everything, its staples being loud and bright, large and flambouyant. Here, oysters-- people, he reminds himself sternly-- seem to prefer more muted colors, durability against flashiness. "Amazing," he breathes, stepping into the room at her encouragement. The room is simple and small but seems to him like it's vibrating with Alice, her smell, her favorite things, just everything. He thinks he could stay here forever and be perfectly happy, as long as she's watching him with a smile like she is now. He thinks about the tea shop and wonders if his office-- now destroyed, the grass that he cared so intensely for brown and dead, the chair torn apart and the clothes so carefully stored mere strips of torn fabric now-- echoed his essence the way this room does for Alice. It's a sobering thought, in light of everything.
"You like it?" she asks with a smile as she curls up on her bed, seemingly content to watch as he wanders around her room, examining various things she has laying around-- books, papers, the laptop-- which really interests him for a moment, before he carries on.
"Yeah," he says thoughtfully, examining a CD with so much intensity, one would think it carried all the answers to the universe.
She's about to ask what kind of music they have in Wonderland when his shoulders tighten and he jerks away from something. When he shifts, she realizes it's the lava lamp that's attracted his attention with its blue glow as the lumps of lava rise and fall inside of it. "What's wrong?" she asks, standing up to join him as his agitation grows.
He mumbles something quickly that she doesn't catch fully, only grasping onto "torture room" before he's picking the lava lamp up and moving as if he's about to smash it, seemingly unaffected by the heated glass that she's burnt her finger on a time or two in the past.
"Hatter!" she gasps, catching his arm. "Stop it!" Whether it's her touch or voice, she's not sure but he comes back from where he's been, gaping at her.
"Alice... Why do you own this?" he breathes raspily, an anxious look in his eye.
She shakes her head in confusion at his sudden mood change. "It was my parents', they're a common decorative lamp from around the 1980s. What's wrong, Hatter?" His eyes are drifting back to the lamp still clutched tightly in his hand and she nearly hums with frustration but takes a deep breath, wrapping her fingers around his jaw and forcing his gaze back at her. "What is it?"
He releases a shuddering breath and attempts to explain, his eyes boring into hers with the intensity of the memory he's about to relive, "When the suits took us all-- they put me in a room with those twin ... things... who had you when Charlie and I found you. They called it the torture room. It resembled this lamp, except the lava was green," he says, shaking the lava lamp almost angrily, causing the lava to break apart and appear to tint the whole water blue.
She recalls the bruises-- cuts-- burns -- and swallows painfully. "Oh, Hatter," she breathes, gently easing the lamp from his suddenly limp grip and putting it on the bed as far from his line of sight as is possible. His face is now healed but she knows the scars from the burns must still be scattered across his rib cage, tears welling up in her eyes at the thought. "I'm sorry."
At the same moment, he apologizes too and they gaze at each other in confusion before the tension eases slightly and she smiles, his grin following hers. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he says awkwardly, carefully brushing at her cheeks with a tenderness that touches her deep inside.
She cups his hands with hers, still pressed against her face, and shakes her head. "I should've asked-- are you ok?" Her eyes drift down to his shirt, which is hiding the evidence of everything he went through because of her, until he squeezes her hands, regaining her attention.
"I really, really am. I promise." As she sighs in relief, his soft grin turns a little cheeky. "I'll be better once you get rid of that lamp though."
She laughs and nods, finding it no huge sacrifice in comparison to everything he's lost. "Consider it done."