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6

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.

- Lord Byron

Devlyn expected Scarlett's memories to integrate with mine because, after all, Scarlett was me. Occasionally, during those first few weeks of regaining full awareness, I suffered flashes that occurred as painful explosions inside my head – vague remnants of the time during which I'd been trapped inside of my own mind while another consciousness emerged, living for me. Aside from the images the flitted now and again through my mind, I experienced emotions and knew things – such as how to play chess – that I realized I could not have possibly felt or understood prior to collapsing in Devlyn's arms nearly six months earlier. Of course, I attributed both the feelings and the knowledge to Scarlett … which, I continued to remind myself, was actually me.

Perhaps most unsettling of all the emotions that inundated me was my affection for Devlyn … dare I even call it love. Of course, I remembered that curious sensation that had swept over me that day in the Courtyard as I anxiously awaited my appointment with Devlyn. But I could not relate that sensation to anything substantial – certainly not affection or love … or desire.

As I watched Devlyn pace the length of the small room and back, flipping through the pages of a file, it occurred to me that I knew him – the taste of him, the feel of him, the warmth of him. And it should have unnerved me that Scarlett shared such intimacies with him in the privacy of this sterile white room where only Devlyn entered, shielding me from the other doctors and those who would experiment further upon me or banish me to the Great Vault. I understood that Devlyn's value and intellect alone were the reasons for his ability to coerce the others into abiding by his demands – Ballard included. When the Queen's continued satisfaction was at stake, no one at Aberdeen's Gate could afford to lose Devlyn, or displease him, for that matter.

Perhaps it should have troubled me that Devlyn was so irrationally adamant about protecting me – not, of course, that I was ungrateful as I had no wish to end my days in the Great Vault. Still, what did Devlyn's insistence that I stay with him mean, exactly? Was it due to his affection for me … or for Scarlett? And, in fact, was my affection for him mine alone or Scarlett's? Naturally, Scarlett and I were one and the same, and yet we were not.

Finally, Devlyn stopped pacing. "I have checked the formula a hundred times, at least," he said. I heard the frustration evident in his voice. "Something is wrong, but I cannot determine which equation disrupts the whole formula."

"It is for the Great Vault," I said as I knew that Ballard would soon expect results for his compliance concerning me. "You wish to drain fear from people."

"Fear, among other things," Devlyn replied.

"Why would you want to subject people to terror only to extract fear for the Queen?" I asked.

Devlyn studied me for a moment. "Are you calling me a coward again?"

I remembered telling Devlyn that rating his survival higher than his conscience was a cowardly way of rationalizing the world. Yet this time, I did not associate his actions with cowardice. "No," I said. "I am calling you cruel."

The muscle worked in Devlyn's jaw, and I knew my comment stung. "Is it cruel that I value my life? More to the point, is it cruel that I value yours? My work, however you choose to view it, is the only reason you are not rotting in the Great Vault."

"I am only one person compared to the hundreds – perhaps thousands – of people who will suffer because of your work," I replied. "Is my life worth that high a cost?" I paused. "Is yours?"

"While your lessons on morality are quite touching, I assure you that you're wasting your time," Devlyn said. "You have never seen life beyond the walls of this prison, but I'm well aware of what Wonderland's become since the Queen of Hearts took the throne. If I don't give Ballard what he wants so that he can give the Queen what she wants then, eventually, someone else will."

"You can't know that," I pointed out.

"Yes," Devlyn insisted, "I can. I know it because I know Wonderland, and I know the Queen, unlike you. She will never stop grasping at power – knowledge that can subjugate the whole of Wonderland. If I fail to produce the necessary results, someone else will step forward and offer what I denied."

"If everyone views the Queen's tyranny as you do then nothing will ever change." I paused. "Change must begin somewhere, even if it is only with one person."

"Then I am more than happy to let another man play the role of revolutionary," Devlyn returned. "That change can start with someone else."

I could have argued the point further with Devlyn, but I did not. It did, after all, appear little more than a practice in futility, for Devlyn seemed unlikely to accept my opinion on the matter. Besides, he was right. What did I really know of Wonderland anyway? I knew nothing of the Queen except that she was a tyrant. And I knew nothing of the war against the Queen except that my parents had fought for the Resistance. I could discuss morality, the essence of what was right and what was wrong, but I spoke from the perspective of one who did not know – of one who had never lived a life beyond Aberdeen's Gate. I could not honestly say I comprehended the "cost of having morals," as Devlyn once put it.

Regardless, I could still disagree with Devlyn, even if I did not further debate the point with him. And I could still pity him – pity the fact that his life had led him to believe what he believed. It was a poor existence to serve another in such a manner in order to survive.

"Have a look at this," Devlyn said as he dragged me from my thoughts and handed me the file. "Maybe you will see something that I do not."

Though I accepted the file, I thought it was an odd request. After all, how could he expect me to find what he – the genius – could not?

For show, I flipped through the pages, scanning their written contents. Then, I hesitated and frowned as I realized I actually understood what I was seeing. It was, without doubt, the strangest sensation … as if another voice was whispering the answers to me, instructing me.

"You are brilliant – by far a better student than I imagined possible," Devlyn murmured. "Yet, as intelligent as you are, you've failed to realize that you cannot stay like this forever."

"I am her."

"Yes, but you are also a secondary consciousness, Scarlett," Devlyn replied. "You need to give control back to Red."

"Is that really what you want?"

Though Devlyn hesitated, he replied with conviction, "Yes."

I blinked several times, trying to clear my head. When I finally brought my mind back to the present, I looked up at Devlyn. "Is it me that you care for or Scarlett?" I asked bluntly.

He frowned, appearing confused by the question. "What?"

"It should be simple enough to answer."

"You and Scarlett are the same person," Devlyn said. "I care for you, not one or the other."

"You do not know me."

"Yes, I do," Devlyn replied softly. "Scarlett was simply a culmination of everything the serum subdued. Withdraw caused a spontaneous and temporary break, but Scarlett is everything you would have been – and everything you will be – without the serum. You just need to accept that piece of yourself rather than deny it."

I desperately wanted to believe what Devlyn told me, but something within me stubbornly refused to accept it. I could not seem to reconcile myself with Scarlett, especially as I glanced back down at the file of papers I held. I knew – Scarlett knew – precisely where Devlyn erred. Just as I now recalled helping him make dreams, I now recalled helping him with his plans for the Great Vault. Pieces were starting to fall back into place.

But there was a difference between Scarlett and me. She would have given Devlyn the answer without hesitation because she believed what he believed about survival.

But I did not.

I shook my head, handing the file back over to Devlyn. "I'm sorry, but I cannot make sense of anything you've written."

Assuming the role of the grudging hostess, Gretna ushered them into the tiny sitting room before offering to fetch them sandwiches and tea. His mum was, Hatter imagined, only playing nice because of Lily, the Princess of Wonderland. Even Gretna wouldn't chance offending the daughter of a king.

Hatter, Alice, and Lily took seats on the worn and rather dusty furniture while Gretna shuffled away, her gait slow with age. As he watched her depart, he reflected on one very simple fact: he never liked his mum.

Sometimes, Gretna was kind – almost motherly, even. But, in his youth, those glimpses of motherly affection were rare. Then, after his dad died, any trace of warmth Gretna might have occasionally extended toward him vanished. Hatter's conscience had kept him in Lutwidge for a few years following his dad's death. After all, despite Gretna's disdain for him – her own bloody son – her husband was gone, and the guilt of abandoning her had gnawed at Hatter. Despite everything, she was his mum.

Yet the guilt could only dictate his actions for so long, and, when a convenient opportunity presented itself, Hatter seized it without much hesitation, more than happy to bid Lutwidge – and his mum – a less than fond farewell. On that long ago day, he'd never imagined that he would return. Yet, here he was, seated awkwardly in his mum's sitting room. He could hear her in the kitchen, rummaging about as she muttered to herself. Briefly, he wondered if she would spit in their sandwiches … or poison them. Then he reasoned even Gretna wasn't that horrible – to poison them, that was. He did, in fact, think her quite capable of spitting in their food. But, by this point, he was hungry enough to eat just about anything.

Lily sighed with impatience then, drawing Hatter's attention. She stood abruptly and started poking around the tiny room, searching, Hatter guessed, for something that would entertain her until Gretna returned. He didn't figure that Lily would find anything of interest because Gretna and entertainment were two words never uttered in the same sentence.

Since the imperial highness was occupied nosing around, Hatter finally looked over at Alice. He knew Alice was concerned for him, especially following Gretna's greeting. He could see the concern written plainly upon her face, but she was holding her silence and respecting his space to deal as he saw fit. Hatter appreciated that consideration, but he also realized that it was unfair to let her worry.

"Guess you've got a lot of questions."

Alice hesitated. "A few, yes," she finally admitted.

Hatter nodded, glancing away. He knew exactly which question Alice wanted to ask first. "Well, not much to tell, really," he said. He cleared his throat. "My mum and I never got on well, and I ran away a few years after my dad died. I wasn't close with him either, but he was nice enough. Anyway, I was eleven when I left." Meeting Alice's gaze again, he continued, "It is what it is, Alice, and I don't feel sorry for myself. You shouldn't either. The woman never beat me. She just didn't like me." He paused. "I never expected to come back here, you know."

"But why is she so terrible to you?" Alice asked, and Hatter knew Alice would find it impossible to accept the sad reality that defined his relationship with his mum, especially because Alice was close with Carol. "There has to be a reason," Alice persisted when Hatter did not immediately respond. "Mothers just don't treat their children like that. At least, they shouldn't."

Hatter shrugged. "I was born," he replied. "That's all the more reason she needed, I think." He sighed when Alice gave him a look. "Honestly, Alice, I don't know. It's the way it's always been since before I can remember."

Seeming to understand that she wasn't going to get a more substantial answer than that because it was, after all, the most substantial answer he could offer, Alice switched to another topic besides his mum. "You said you were eleven when you left. What did you do?"

"Travelin' carnival was in Knighton, the next town over," Hatter explained. "So, me and my mates went to have a look. We'd never seen anythin' like it, mostly because of the war with the Resistance. But there was a bit of a break there for a good five or so years, and things were almost normal. Anyway, I went over, and I just never came back."

"You joined a carnival?" Alice asked, sounding somewhat incredulous.

"That surprises you?"

Alice appeared to think it over for a moment before she replied, "Somehow, no, not really." She shook her head, looking vaguely amused. "All right, so you joined the carnival," she said, clearly implying that he continue his story.

"For a few years, yeah," Hatter replied. "It was like havin' a family – a really odd family, but still a family. I learned a few tricks, and I learned how to lie, which served its purpose while the Queen was on the throne. Well, anyway, after a few years, I set out for the city and took a job in the tea shop. I worked my way up 'til it was mine, and you know the rest after that."

Before Alice could respond or question him further, Gretna returned then with a plate of tiny sandwiches. She placed the plate on the tea table, which was centered within the circle of the sitting room's chairs. When she straightened, her glare swept over Alice and Hatter. "I suppose you'll want to stay the night." She sounded far from pleased by the prospect.

Truth be told, Hatter cringed inwardly at the thought of sleeping here, but he could not expect Alice and Lily to venture back out into the cold at this time of night. It went without saying that they did need a warm place to stay, even if that place happened to, unfortunately, be here. Hatter cleared his throat as he met his mum's icy gaze. "It'd be nice of you to put us up for the night." He nearly choked on the word 'nice,' and he was rather shocked that he didn't instantly burst into flames by daring to call his mum nice.

Gretna sniffed indignantly, her face pinched as if she'd just swallowed something foul. "Fine," she bit out. Clearly, she'd been hoping that Hatter would decline the offer. "The lot of you can stay in his old room."

Hatter's childhood room was hardly bigger than a closet, so he wondered how exactly they'd make that work. Still, he supposed, it was better than bedding out in the snow.

"You put that back!" Gretna snapped suddenly, her attention now focused on Lily, who was holding a small figurine carved from wood. "Princess or not, you can't go about poking through other people's belongings."

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's not like I plan to steal the ugly thing."

"Ugly?" Gretna exploded.

"Well, it certainly isn't pretty," Lily returned.

"I'll have you know …" but Gretna's voice trailed off unexpectedly as she inexplicably glanced at Hatter. "Just put it back where you found it," she hissed before exiting the room, muttering curses as she returned to the kitchen in order to, Hatter assumed, retrieve the tea she'd promised.

Once Gretna was gone, Lily walked over to Hatter, still holding the figurine. She held it out for him to see, as if it was supposed to mean something to him. Of course, he recalled that his dad used to like carving, but, otherwise, Hatter couldn't interpret the significance of the boy figurine staring up at him from Lily's hand.

"He was Gretna's son," Lily said. "I remember seeing him."

Hatter guessed that Lily meant she'd seen this boy in her dreams, but failed to add that to her statement. Regardless, he focused on the 'Gretna's son' part. "I don't have any brothers," Hatter said. "I was an only child."

"This one died before you came around," Lily explained. "So, you wouldn't have known him." She studied Hatter for a moment, and he could only imagine what the child was thinking. Finally, she said, "You should just ask her to tell you the truth. That's the only way she'll tell us what we need to know." After another pause, she added, "Trust me."

Lily turned then and practically skipped back toward the shelf, returning the figurine.

Hatter glanced at Alice, looking for some indication from her as to what the hell he should do when all he really wanted to do was leave. But Alice shrugged, shaking her head as if to tell him that he should do as he saw best.

So, trust Lily, Hatter thought. This entire bloody visit had been the girl's idea, despite Hatter's objections. Her damn dreams told her that they just had to come here. Of all the places in Wonderland, Lily's dreams had to show her this little house in Lutwidge. On top of that, Gretna apparently had information that they needed. Well, that was just ridiculous, really. Even if his mum knew something, she wasn't likely to share it, least of all with him.

Feeling the familiar twinge in his head, Hatter briefly squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't yet tell if this was just a normal headache, courtesy of the current situation, or another migraine that would cripple him for a day, at least. He prayed it wasn't a migraine because he couldn't imagine, ill or not, being forced to stay in this house past morning.

Lily jumped back into her chair then just as Gretna rejoined them, balancing a tray that held four full, steaming cups of tea. She scowled at the lot of them before placing the tray on the table next to the sandwiches. Taking a cup for herself, she took the chair furthest from all of them and watched each of them as if she wanted nothing more than to toss them all – Princess included – back out into the cold.

Hatter shifted uncomfortably in his chair while Lily started humming to herself as she stared up at the ceiling. Then, ignoring his mum's glowering, he leaned forward and nipped a sandwich. After all, he was hungry. When he finished, he glanced at his mum and finally decided he should just take Lily's advice. The girl wouldn't let the issue drop anyway until she was satisfied that they'd found what they needed.

"All I want is the truth," Hatter said. Lily stopped humming and turned her undivided attention toward Hatter and Gretna.

Hatter watched Gretna's knuckles turn white as her grip tightened around her tea cup. She took another sip before demanding, "Is that why you darkened my doorstep? You found out, then?" She paused, searching Hatter's face. He raised an eyebrow, more than surprised by her response, but he remained quiet. Gretna continued, "If I tell you what I know, will you leave in the morning and never dare come back?"

"You'll never see me again," Hatter said, quite willing to agree to her terms. If it hadn't been for Lily's insistence, he never would have returned to Lutwidge in the first place.

Gretna set aside her cup. "You've got the ruby, I assume."

Hatter considered the necklace still in his pocket – the very one he'd intended to give to Alice as a gift. "Yes," he replied.

"That belonged to your mother."

Hatter stared at Gretna uncomprehendingly. His brain, it seemed, was incapable of processing that bit of information. "Wait … what?" he asked weakly, stunned.

"Your mother, you idiot," Gretna snapped. "I thought you knew that much, at least. I thought that's why you were here when you asked for the truth just now." She waved a hand dismissively. "Well, no matter, then. I've told you that much now, I might as well tell you the rest." She paused as if gathering her thoughts. "We've not always lived in Lutwidge, as you believed. My husband and I were raised here, it's true. But after we married, he took a job as an officer in a large prison near Liddell. It was the Queen's old prison, you know – the one they called Aberdeen's Gate. I'm sure you've heard the stories."

Yes, Hatter had heard the stories about Aberdeen's Gate. Everyone in Wonderland knew the often unbelievable stories about Aberdeen's Gate, the mysterious prison that had caught fire and burned to nothing not long after Hatter was born. The prison's demise only served to fuel the rumors. Supposedly, Hatter heard that the blackened shell of Aberdeen's Gate remained, untouched since the fire that destroyed it.

"Well," Gretna continued, "while we were there, we were blessed with a child. But my son fell ill and died when he was no more than a boy. I was unable to bear more children, and my husband thought the only solution to my melancholy was another child. So he made a fool's promise to some Doctor at the prison, and you were dumped upon me as if I actually wanted someone else's brat."

Hatter stared at Gretna, utterly dumbfounded. After all, what exactly did one say to such a revelation? How was he even supposed to react when discovering that, suddenly, he didn't even really know who he was?

The only thing Hatter could manage to say was, "Then who's my mum?" And, for that matter … "Who's my dad?"

Gretna shrugged as if what he asked was completely insignificant. "I never asked; I never cared. And my husband never told me. All I know is that you were born to a prisoner at Aberdeen's Gate. You're the son of a criminal."

Author's Note: THANK YOU all again for the wonderful reviews! I truly appreciate it!