GASP – part of the truth is revealed!!! But not to worry, there are plenty more juicy secrets yet to be spilt!!!!!ha ha – and just when you thought it might be nearing to an end....but there is sooo much still in store.....muah ha ha ha.......eye twitches......

Disclaimer: CAVE MAN DAVE SAY: ME NO OWN. ON WITH STORY. YAH.

p.s: oh yeah, almost forgot, but there may be indirect references to goldfish in there somewhere....c'mon, whats the harm? ;P

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To every truth, there is an element of falsehood in it, and in every lie, there is always in element of truth. This cannot be compromised, and can be applied in every situation you could imagine. For example, I could tell you my goldfish is gold. Then again, I could be lying – as it is more a yellow-ocher color. You see? Truth is always relative. Another example (one that is slightly more relevant to the story) is that of the Queen's double.

Her real name – Veronica – is irrelevant; yet it cannot be overlooked, as it gives us a way to look into her life when she is not being presented as the Queen, but as herself. Once again, you see, fact is relative. What she told Alice on the day of their meeting, is also proof of the earlier statement, as only half of it was true, and what was a lie, would have never been exposed.

So let us take a moment to visit Veronica, and leave Alice for a while to her antics with her two crazy companions, and perhaps this impromptu visit while clear the waters just a little to the maddening mystery that seemed to evolve into Alice's life.

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Veronica had not removed her royal apparel, which was no surprise to any of the guards, as they all felt more comfortable when she was dressed as the Queen – it kept her authority over them valid. She, too, felt at home within the luxurious layers of her gown; it was where she felt she belonged. Yes, it was indisputable – she was born to rule. Her personality, her wealth of knowledge and money, her relentless hunger for power, and her overall dominant being were all tell-tale signs of her superiority. What may surprise people, though, is that she had always kept herself in check; she had always respected her Queen's (even though she was missing) leadership above her own, never stepping over the line and taking orders humbly. She had never felt the need to start her own rule, or turn tyranny into her own hands.

That is, until now.

Now was the time for great change, and a new empire was on the horizon – there for the taking for whomever was worthy. The Queen was weak – why else had she run from her rule? She had also grown old, her skin began to sag like soft clay even before she had disappeared – and that was years ago now. It was time for a change – for a revolution of ruling. It was time for Veronica. She could almost taste it on her own tongue; hear it ring in her ears. She was not a poetic woman, yet she could fantasize on her rule for hours on end. In one word, Veronica was Ambitious.

She made her way down the cold, damp corridors of the castle. She was underground now, the walls paved with gray stone. There were doors on her left and right, but she ignored them mercilessly till she found the one she was looking for. It was not hard – she had been to it so many times before, why, she was the one that invented it for it's new purpose! She pushed through the steel-studded door, which was locked for anyone but herself. In front of her, in that very room, was the key to her success. What she had grown in this room, was the key to becoming Queen of all Wonderland. Was she excited? That would be an understatement.

It was a laboratory. Perhaps one might expect an army of ravenous soldiers, or an atomic weapon that was suited to an ambitious woman like herself. But what need for that was there, when you had a laboratory? No, she did not need the soldiers, or even the cats when she had this. There was a flower – purple and red and green and blue. Yellow, orange, lilac, white, black, brown, tan, olive, pink and aqua. It was an array of colors – the most beautiful flower on could possibly lay eyes on. It sat in the middle of the lab almost in a Beauty and the Beast like fashion, though it had tubes connecting to it, traveling down into cauldrons and burners. They bubbled and crackled, till ingredients were poured in from some of the strangest sources – a pig's eye, cotton, hoofs, mushrooms, cakes with 'eat me' laced over the top, caterpillars and a never-ending black stream of liquid that looked like tar was added to the mix. More tubes wired and connected themselves into vents and tins. A container bubbled. Something whizzed. A huge pot sat in the corner of the room – towering over Veronica – where steam was extracted, till finally, tubes were dispensed and a green mist was contained into separate tubes – all sealed firmly with corks.

Yes, why would she need an army when she had thought of and created this?

The disease.

She was a brilliant woman, and no one knew it better than herself. Who needed an army to fight wars, to protect their people, to threaten their people, to create fear, to promote peace, to take over a kingdom when a single flower could do it all for them? She knew times were changing – control no longer belonged to a man, but to a disease. Execution was no longer varying or compromising, the disease now made it standard. The best of it all, the best of it all was that she had created it, she controlled it. She knew it, and it moved inside her veins and controlled her the same was she controlled it. They were a team now, and it was no longer clear who was master and who was slave. It did not matter to Veronica, though, all that mattered was the power that was now within her reach.

It was a blessing that the townsfolk were convinced the Queen had created the disease before she left, and unleashed it one night in their sleep. Not even the guards knew who was the one behind the sickly mist. With a growing, indisputable hatred toward the Queen becoming predominant, it would be only a matter of time before she could step in and 'save' Wonderland. Only two problems now stood in her way.

The first: Where was the Queen, and what on earth was she doing? After all, what good is it to take over a kingdom only to have the real Queen return and clear up the whole misunderstanding. If Veronica only knew where that blastard old hag was, she could silence her forever....

And as to what she had been doing all this time, who knew? She was not dead, and she was not ignorant. The Queen being alive was an apparent obstacle.

The second: Alice.

Petty; a small girl, once in the company of the Queen, gone, and now returned. One small girl who had grown into a young woman would have been hardly a concern, had it not been for the Queen's words to Veronica herself all those years ago...

"..And when I relinquish my rule, I intend for her to take my place..."

It had only been a passing remark – a small, inconsequential matter to the Queen who had uttered it, but it had been a earth-shattering truth to Veronica. She had disregarded it, though; the Queen was growing old and her mind unreliable, and the Alice she had spoken of had not been seen in years, and had no promise of returning. She had almost completely forgotten it.

Until now.

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The household of the Hare was in an uproar. Clothes were being flung about, plates were spinning like discs in the air, the walls were dancing, the stairs were falling apart, the Hatter couldn't find his hat, the Hare was jumpy in a non-rabbit sort of way, Alice was restless, and horror or horrors...the Chinese green tea had run out. Everything seemed disorganized and up-side down (even more than usual), and the worst part of it was Alice had no idea why.

"What is going on?!" She cried, her voice barely reaching levels above the chaos. The room about her was in a mess, and the two madmen were constantly running in and out with all sorts of assorted items in their hands – tea, cake, shoes, gates, even a live pig at one stage, who had been strangely missing one eye came through the room.

The Hare and the Hatter dropped their items (most unfortunately for the pig who gave a squeal in refusal) and faced the girl, their attention diverted momentarily. The Hare looked at the Hatter, as if giving him the responsibility of explaining, and the Hatter did likewise to the Hare, which made the two explode into a fit of hysterical laughing. Alice glared at them till their senses had calmed – relatively - and waited for her explanation.

"It is something we must do from time to time-" the Hatter began, his voice still light and on the verge of another hysterical attack. A giggle escaped his lips, to which he clasped his mouth closed, trying to beat off the roaring laughter that was pressing against his belly.

The Hare grinned, enjoying himself. "Yes, as being insane all the time can turn rather predictable, so-" he too now was beating down giggles, biting down on his lip like a child, snorts freely coming from him, as laughing was no option. He tried to hold it in.

The Hatter, over his recent laughing attack dived to his rescue, "so we must take our insanity to a new level – to keep thing spontaneous-" he could go no further, as his determination broke on the last word, a short, loud laugh escaping him, but muffled by the Hare's hand, making it sound something of a Haugh-mfffbfff.

The two could restrain themselves no longer, and hysterics quickly took over, resuming the house into the prior chaos. They collapsed onto the floor, clutching their bellies, leaving Alice unsure of what to do.

She would love to join them – how happy they looked! But a certain feeling hung over her – not propriety or good-breeding, or even manners – but a dark cloud that seemed to tell her danger was close. It was that feeling you get, that you are being watched, or followed, or schemed upon, or thought of. It makes you want to look over your shoulder – a quick, survival instinct, even though nothing was there but your embarrassment and paranoia. The feeling made Alice want to hide.

The two laughing friends looked so vulnerable, so unprotected in their state of mirth, it seemed to Alice like a perfect opportunity if one was the enemy. She looked over her shoulder once again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.

Again......Mother?

She was there – for the briefest of instants. She was scolding, her face pinched and unpleasant. That was, for the first second. Alice gazed longer, and her Mother's face abruptly shifted to horror, her expression surprised, disgusted, and frightened all at the same time. It haunted Alice long after the mirage-like figure faded. It was there for the shortest moment – Alice blinked, and it was gone.

"What the-"

Alice wasn't sure who said it, but as she turned to the other two, they were still in their laughing fit, not noticing anything. How odd. Had she said it?

An uncomfortable feeling rose in Alice's stomach, as she did not know what to make of her visitor. She did not believe in signs, or any of that sort of thing. Perhaps the Cheshire cat was right all the long - "We're all mad here..."

Was she going mad? Perhaps. It did not seem unlikely, considering her company and current situation. She felt herself, though. She did not feel as though she had changed – but perhaps that was the main downfall of being mad. You do not know it until it is too late. And when would it be too late for Alice? The thought turned her reasoning somewhat morbid, and she shuddered unconsciously.

Did her companions know they were mad? Yes – they had often said it themselves, but could they actually comprehend the meaning and effects of the word? The word probably meant a different thing to her than it did to them. She made a mental note to ask them sometime.

"Alice?" Came the Hatter's voice (it was calm, so obviously the fit was over).

"Huh?" She spun around, disorientated. Her eyes focused in on two pairs of concerned ones.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he told her simply.

Alice smiled, her lips pulling apart till she found she was giggling. The sensation was strange, as it was something she rarely did. Her giggles promptly turned to laughter, though there was something terribly unhealthy about it. She laughed uncontrollably, tears swiftly cascading down her cheeks as her laughing turned to painful chokes. The sound of it sent chills down the Hatter's spine. She did not look well, her entire face paled but her cheeks, which were rosy from the aching smile that was plastered on her face. The Hatter did not like this, but at the same time he loved it terribly – like a dark desire that was planted in the depths of his soul. He wanted to increase, though he knew it was wrong. He must be sick to find pleasure in this insanity Alice was indulging herself in.

So be it, he was sick.

It was a wonderful feeling that crawled through him. The pleasure and pride seemed to fuel through his veins as he watched Alice quieten, though still pleased the half-crazed look was still evident in her eyes. Finally; they were equals! He could understand her better now, and best of all, she would understand him, now that they were both mad! While this joy was within him, he also felt sick. How could he have done this to her? Look and see what Wonderland had done to the once innocent, lovely child who was of such a strong character. Look and see! It mangled her, it twisted her, it pulled her inside out till she was no longer Alice, but another crazed, soulless scoundrel in this town. He hated what his kind had done to her, yet he loved it. Then something hit him; hard.

Why did he love it so?

He could understand why he hated it; but love it? What drove him to loving the way the beautiful girl's eyes darted between him and his friend, the way she stared at him for minutes on end, the way she seemed so confused and mad? Did it mean he wanted to see her return to her world twisted and insane, broken and chaotic? It was impossible that he could be so cruel, for they would never except her back into their society – she wouldn't belong...

Oh.

No, she wouldn't belong there. Not if this burst of insanity remained and increased. She would have to stay here, where she would fit in. Where she belonged. Yes, she would have to stay here. With the people of Wonderland. With the March Hare. With the Mad Hatter......with him.

Oh...

So that's why.

He wanted her with him.

Oh.

The Hatter chewed over this puzzling revelation, not knowing what to make of it. He watched Alice, who seemed to be quieting down after her fit. Alice. He wanted Alice to stay with him? It seemed such an odd thing for the Hatter to desire; was Alice his friend? Would he miss her company if she did not stay with him? Perhaps; but there seemed to be something missing. The Hatter made few friends, and for some strange, unfathomable reason he just couldn't place Alice into the same compartment of his heart where he had stored all of his other friends. He wondered at this, baffled. As he wondered, he watched her.

She was now leaning into the couch, her hair falling across her eyes – whether this was strategically done to cover their redness or not, the Hatter couldn't tell – her arms folded in her lap. Her body was slack – exhausted from such a new experience. Fits were tiring – and the Hatter knew that better than anyone. The Hare had sat next to her, once again the fatherly figure in the small room. He, too, was watching Alice – though unlike the Hatter he watched her in more concern than fascination. The then Hatter saw him do something he rarely did – he had lifted up his paws, his arms, and pulled Alice into his arms to give her a kind, affectionate hug.

It hit the Hatter like a bus. The envy; the pure envy for the Hare at that moment. He had never, ever, ever felt anything like this before, he had always been shielded by such emotions; he had always had whatever he wanted, and now, for the first time in his twisted life, he wished for more than anything else in the world that he was the one who had Alice in his arms, wrapping his hands around her protectively, lovingly till she was as warm as he, and their breathing was as melodic as a duet.

But then his imagination carried him further. The Hare had affectionate feelings for Alice, but they were not the same as what the Hatter felt. No, they were nothing compared to the swelling sensation in the Hatter's chest. The Hare would release her from his grasp in a few moments, but the Hatter, if he were so fortunate to be where the Hare was now, he would hold onto her even tighter. He would cradle her against his chest like a priceless artifact, stroking her from the top of her golden head to the small of her back till she shivered, despite the warmth. His hand would memorize the feel of her spine over and over again – marveling at the way it would rise and fall in a pattern. He would stroke her cheeks with the back of his hand – her rosy, pink cheeks – over and over till they turned as red as the blood that would be pulsing wildly through his veins in excitement.

Hatter shook his head, as if to clear it of these new and wonderful thoughts about Alice. He had no idea what had come over him a few moments ago, but whatever it was, it had left his heart racing at a pace that it did not, and never would, slow down from. He wished he had a name for it – a name for this wonderful feeling burning at his throat, and tingling at the toes on his feet. He felt fresh, excited to hear Alice's voice ring across the room, wishing to hear her words sigh something sweet to him, like silken honey dripping in his ears.

And then it came to him - his epiphany:

He loved her.

And then he saw her watching him. He chastised himself momentarily – he hadn't realized he had been staring at her the whole time, but neither broke the gaze. Alice's cheeks began to burn from his unwavering stare, and she looked away, unwilling to imagine what on earth the Hatter could have been possibly thinking about as he had been staring at her all that time.

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