Okay, so I have a little confession: I had no idea with where I was taking this story when I started. Please don't throw potatoes at me; they're hard.

But, I have had an epiphany this afternoon! It has all come to me! Hooray for vision! People started looking at me weird in class 'cause I just started grinning all of a sudden. I've worked it out! Hopefully, with a set plot in mind, everything will make a little more sense and the writing will also be better…I hope so… :)

Also, my name is Lewis Carroll. Not.

Plus, there may be some references to other stuff, not just in this chapter, but throughout the story, so obviously I don't own that, either.

On with the story!

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Alice was on her own, standing on a path leading to nowhere in particular. Again. It seemed this odd habit was beginning to cement itself into her routine, here in Wonderland. It seemed all she was capable of doing here was stand on a path without a single clue. That and making enemies who would like to see her dead. Well, at least she was getting somewhere. Better two talents then just the one.

What was the Queen's problem, anyway? The Question angrily pushed itself into Alice's head. Surely it wasn't normal behavior here to simply go around killing people. Even the last time Alice was here, as a small child, the Queen had no singled out hatred for only one person. It was only now.

And now, that one person was Alice.

Alice wished she wasn't so alone on the path.

And now, it seemed she had widened her talent of making enemies to the Hatter himself. She had done nothing, and yet, here she was again; signing herself up for enmity with whomever wanted it with her. What was his problem? She recalled his dark glare from across the table this afternoon; if it hadn't been so malicious, it would have been comical. She tried to shake the thoughts from her head.

There were three things she now knew:

The first was that the Queen was after her. True, the Queen may be fierce and cruel; willing to sacrifice anyone in her Kingdom to the hands of this deadly disease she has created, but Alice knew she was number one on the Queen's agenda. If the Queen wanted anyone at all, it would be Alice. And Alice had no idea why.

The second was that the Queen was not working alone. Alice had to be careful from now on as to whom she trusted. Even the seemingly harmless tea party she had just attended could have been a set-up designed by the Queen herself. Alice remembered how close she had been to that animal, when she first arrived. She had even conversed with it, asked it for directions. A shiver scratched down her back bone as she recalled how close they had been. It could have taken her out. So easily.

The third and final was that she had to find a way out. As charming as it was to be hunted like a dog, she didn't want to stay another minute. You would have to be a fool if you were to stay when death was looking at you right in the face.

"Why hello, miss. What a fool you are to be so alone and deep into the woods all by yourself," came a silken voice from above Alice's head.

She started, glancing around her frantically till an 'up here' brought her chin up toward the branches of the nearest tree. There stretched out luxuriantly along the branch lay the Cheshire cat. Or a Cheshire-cat-impostor, Alice reminded herself firmly.

"Who are you?" Alice was surprised by the simple question that sprang from her lips, as if it itself would coax out the truth of the cat's identity. She felt foolish for saying it; a heated confrontation would have been more fitted, but what was done was done.

The cat grinned lazily at the question. "You shouldn't ask questions you already know the answers to."

So she knew the answer? Alice frowned. "You are the real Cheshire cat?" Skepticism brought her voice one octave higher.

"If I were not, I am sure I would have bagged you already."

Alice considered this carefully. It was true, to a point. And besides, if this animal wasn't the Cheshire cat she knew, what hope did she have against it? Might as well stay and get it over and done with, either way this meeting would turn out in a way that was inescapable.

"I agree."

"Good," the Cheshire cat stretched out on the branch. He was so fat, and the branch was so thin, Alice was frightened it might snap under his heavy weight at any moment. It wobbled and groaned, but it never snapped. "It is a good thing I found you, Alice," the cat said.

"Why is that?" She asked; her voice a little shaky. Alice was still expecting it to lash out at any moment, transforming into the beast she had once seen. But the cat remained the same, much to her relief.

"I have a secret that would benefit you greatly," the cat grinned teasingly, enjoying its private knowledge. It released its fluffy tale from under its paw and teased Alice's nose with the tip of it, making her twitch impatiently.

"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?"

The cat laughed; its voice swaying like silk. It smiled down at Alice. "Oh, but why would I tell you when it is so much fun teasing you like this? My secret would help your mystery along. I will give you a hint; it is about the Queen."

Alice's eyes widened momentarily. Curiosity was burning in her throat. Perhaps endearment was the best was to lure this secret out of him. "Dear Cheshire cat, won't you share? I would really like to know. What is it about the Queen that you have to tell me?"

The cat just grinned and shook its head slowly; every move and word coming out as if in slow motion. "If I told you it wouldn't be a secret anymore, now would it? Besides, I could get into big trouble with the Queen for sharing. Big trouble," despite the implication of fear in his words, the cat appeared the least bit concerned toward the idea. If anything, he rather enjoyed it. He swooshed his tail playfully.

"Please," Alice now pleaded, growing impatient, "I really must know."

The Cheshire cat's head snapped up suddenly. Slowly but surely, an evil smile spread broadly across its face. He seemed distracted, as if it was hearing something that Alice's ears could not detect. He turned his attention back to Alice in lightening speed, a stark contrast to all his previous mannerisms.

"I would simply love to stay and chat, but I really must be off. I believe I am wanted elsewhere."

Without anymore ceremony, the cat faded away till there was not even a grin left on the branch.

Alice stood there, gazing at the branch where the cat had been, unsure of what to do next.

Okay, so it was the real Cheshire cat; thankfully. And this real Cheshire cat had a secret for her. She knew he would confess it sooner or later. All his playful joking and foolishness was a show; he wouldn't be able to keep it up forever. She only hoped this confession would come sooner, rather than later.

It was getting dark; the stars already out before the moon was even visible. The air suddenly turned chilly as if on command, causing Alice's breath to turn to condensation every time it passed out of her lips. She looked about her, seeking refuge. The path ahead of her went deeper and deeper into the woods, whereas she could turn around and move back the way she came. But that, of course, would lead her only to the March Hare's house. She weighed her options.

"Lord, give me strength," she muttered to herself. She spun around on her heels and started treading back the way she came.

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"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

They were the Hatter's friendly first words when he spied her at the front gate, looking tired and uncomfortable. Her long blonde hair hung limp about her face, and the bottom of her skirts were damp and muddied, although Alice could not recall how they became that way.

"I suppose you're here to freshen up? Stay the night? Eat a nice, hot meal? Admit that you are an impostor?" The Hatter fired words at her, barely stopping for breath.

"What?" Alice asked, startled.

"Never mind," he muttered quickly, eyeing her rather sheepishly.

At this moment, the Hare came out of his house, armed with a tray of small assorted cakes. He spied Alice instantly, then the Hatter. His eyes darted between the two frantically till he asserted all was safe, and that no one was harmed. He grinned at the two of them, and then spoke directly to Alice:

"Nice evening, isn't it?"

Alice nodded, though amending in her head she would infinitely preferred it if she was spending it at home, by her warm fire.

"That's right. I always say the evenings here are the nicest. In fact, I am sure they are the nicest," the Hare looked up at the stars thoughtfully, unconsciously chewing the inside of his cheek.

"The evenings here are the Nice-iferest," the Hatter added contemplatively.

"Nice-splendiferous," the Hare countered.

"Nice-magnanimous-full."

"Nice-a-licious."

"Yes, yes," Alice cut in with a hasty smile, concerned for the probability of a full-fledged argument arising from this, "I think we all agree that it's nice."

The Hatter nodded wisely. "You know, even though you're not the real Alice and all, you are most certainly right about that." His face was perfectly straight.

The Hare glared daggers at him.

Alice turned to the Hare with shy courtesy.

"Uh, thank you for all this; I don't want to be any-"

The Hare held up one small paw. "None of that; say no more. You must stay here," then he registered the Hatter's hard glance his way, "uh, that is until you have found somewhere more suitable. My place isn't that comfortable, but it does behave itself." He glanced once again at the Hatter.

"Thank you," Alice said, not sure how a house should behave. Oh well, she would soon find out.

She ignored the silent interchange between the Hare and the Hatter. Best not to get involved, she reminded herself.

That night, lying on top of the bed in the Hare's spare room, she watched the clock – that was oddly enough cemented onto the ceiling – tick round. She looked around her. The room was small, but neat, as was every room in the Hare's house. He had guided her in, and she was astounded to the number of rooms there were. Staircases, too – there were dozens of them, some, as the Hare confessed; either leading absolutely no where or leading somewhere he had no idea of. If she wasn't so tired, she may have got up and sneaked around to look about the house and all there was to see. But it wasn't manners that kept her away from the act – only pure exhaustion. Only a few more blinks and Alice was out, dreaming of home and her cats.

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The morning came quickly; just as the night. One moment Alice was enjoying the sleepy dark around her; the next blinding light was streaming through the window. She got up, dressed, and made her way out into the glare of the sun.

The Hatter, unsurprisingly, was already at the tea table. She wondered if he ever went home, or if he had his own home at all. The Hare was not in sight, so Alice made her way rather reluctantly to the other side of the table.

The Hatter barely looked up from his paper to acknowledge her presence.

"It's terrible," the Hatter said suddenly, after a long, awkward pause, "all these civilians going missing." He was obviously referring to the news he was reading, but Alice was so surprised to hear him speak civilly to her she almost missed her teacup as she tipped the teapot, the brown stream of liquid playing at the edges of her cup.

"What do you mean?" The shock still hadn't worn off completely.

The Hatter raised one eyebrow and said nothing. For some reason Alice thought it was more out of concern for her shocked state that he said nothing; to let her have time to collect herself. Silently he turned the paper around, so Alice was looking directly at the front page.

"The Cheshire cat? He's gone?" Alice stared at a rather lousy artist's impression of the cat. There was a scribble that seemed to represent an impish grin, and nothing more. Well, it was the thought that counted. "When?" Alice had seen him just the day before.

"Yesterday; just before nightfall," the Hatter flatly supplied the information.

Just before nightfall? Alice suddenly recalled the strange conversation she had had with the cat – just before nightfall. And now he was gone. The cat's words drifted back into Alice's head:

I could get into big trouble with the Queen for sharing. Big trouble...

And the way it's head had snapped up. What did that strange action indicate?

Was it possible that...

"What happened?" Alice quizzed the Hatter, desperate for more information.

The Hatter looked shocked. "How should I know? Are you implying I did it? Or are you just trying to shift the blame on me so no one suspects you? You are responsible, aren't you?!" The Hatter slammed his two palms down on the surface of the table, making the tea in Alice's cup shake and slurp.

"How on earth can you say something like that?" Alice demanded, horrified.

"Easily; hasn't anyone explained to you the concept of language?"

Alice ignored him, although he was being perfectly serious. How stupid did he think she was? "What do you have against me, anyway? You don't even know me." Alice was surprised at how much of a relief it was to get the words out – they must have burdened her for some time.

The Hatter looked surprised; as if he had thought all-the-long his prejudice was well concealed. He seemed to be thinking through his answer, that is, until the Hare jumped out of the house quickly, running in between the argument.

"Okaaay," he cried garishly, his laughter somewhat forced and patchy, "this is good; this is nice. You guys are talking! How nice! Isn't it nice? Of course it's nice! Everything is okaaaaay," the Hare bounced from one foot to the other in between the arguing pair. It was like he was on speed mode. His words came out hurried and twisted.

"Who wants to go for a walk? I'd like to go for a walk! Walks are nice! How about we all just get along and go for a walk! Who wants to go for a walk? I want to go for a walk, anybody else? IwasjustsayingthatIthinkitwouldbeareallygoodideaifwewentforawalkrightnow!" The Hare drifted off into hyper-speed hysterics.

Alice wasted no time in agreeing; anything just to get the Hare to stop. His eyes were becoming slightly unfocused. Or perhaps they were becoming more focused. Either way, he didn't look good.

"Okay, okay," Alice put a firm hand down on the Hare's shoulder, stilling him slightly. The Hatter only rolled his eyes.

"Come on then – anything for bunny-ears," he muttered.

The two people and one slightly hyper-active Hare stumbled their way out of the front gate.