Author's note:

An empty room. There's the sound of crickets in the background.

Just when you start to shift uncomfortably, LadyOfThePens comes running up to the screen.

LOTH: *pant pant* I'm sorry I did this to the Hatter! It wasn't even *pant* my fault! It was those damned plot-bunnies! Anyways, read and enjoy! *keeps on running, hunted by upset fans*

8. Things That Begin With the Letter A

Death was much more painful than Tarrant could ever have imagined. It was bright, at first it was calming, and then it grew stronger until it felt like Tarrant's eyes was on fire. He wanted to cover them, to do anything, but he couldn't feel his arms, nor could he feel his face. The only thing he could actually feel was a throbbing ache just behind his burning eyes and a dull pain just above his heart. He'd always thought that, when it was his time to `go, ´ he'd be going to heaven. Apparently, he was wrong. Heaven wouldn't be painful, he was sure of it.

So this is what hell's like?

To be honest, Tarrant had expected hell to be more, well, crowded, so maybe this wasn't hell after all. But then what was it? He hadn't been aware there was a third place one could turn up. Maybe there hadn't been a third place. Maybe it had turned up because he turned up. It may not be a very logical solution to the problem, but Tarrant wasn't known as a logical being. And also, he reasoned, had this been hell, that awful Stayne would be there.

The mere thought of the knave made Tarrant's eyes blaze orange, he could feel it through the burning. But, seeing there was a lack of stains around here, this couldn't be hell. Tarrant laughed at the pointless humour, what did it matter to make jokes when one was dead? But if he really was dead, then why could he know what he was thinking and feeling? Dead people didn't feel nor think, did they? All this thoughts made Tarrant's non-existent head to throb dangerously.

What would it look like if a head that isn't really there blew up?

He'd probably have the answer to that in any minute now, judging by how engorged his brain seemed to be. At this point, Tarrant decided that he didn't like being dead. Thinking of it, there were a lot of things he didn't really like. Cold tea, for example. It was awful when your tea got all cold and you had to warm it up before you could drink it. You could drink it even if it was cold, but no sane person enjoyed it. Thackeray seemed to like it, though. Then again, Thackeray maybe wasn't the sanest there was. But he was a friend, a friend that usually was there when Tarrant was in need of someone. Or when he needed someone to throw an UFP (Unknown, flying projectile) at him…

And they say I'm mad!

Not everyone called him mad, though, his friends never did. Alice never did. Alice was so much more than a friend, and just the fact she'd never called him Mad made Tarrant's heart swell in joy. She'd called him Hatter, or sometimes Tarrant… He loved the way his name sounded coming from Alice's lips. He loved how every word sounded coming from Alice…

Alice. That was a very lovely word that began with the letter A. There were many very lovely words that begun with an A. Angel, because Alice was like an angel. Adorable. Because that's what Alice was. Amazed, because that was how Tarrant felt every time he saw Alice's face. There probably was several more, but these were the only ones Tarrant needed. Was… Had been… Is… Tarrant didn't know how he should be thinking at the moment. Death was being quite difficult to him.

Tarrant realised the light was going out, getting damper, leaving brightly coloured blobs of colour imprinted in his field of vision. Was this what it was like dying? Had the previous events been his last moments in life?

How depressing…

"Tarrant…" an angelic voice whispered as the blobs slowly gained real forms. "Please don't die. I love you."

It was odd how heavy his lips felt. "Alice." he managed to whisper through the numbness.

The angel left him and started talking to someone else nearby. "Is he going to be all right?"

"I think the crisis has passed now, but he still has a long way to go before he is well again." the Other Person replied.

"But he won't die?" the angel asked, more eagerly now.

"No, no he won't."

The angel exhaled, for she had been holding her breath during the short paus before her question was answered. There was a light sensation on Tarrant's lips, the angel kissed him, then he drafted into a darkness, just as black as the light had been white.

The black, strangely enough, hurt Tarrant more than the white had done. He couldn't really figure how this could be working, but he didn't like this either way. But, this time, he figured a way to make the pain, or at least some of it, go away. He could remember things. The good memories, like the first time he met Alice…

Alice sat down in an arm-chair at the end of the table, despite the fact both Tarrant and Thackeray had yelled "No room! No room!" at the top of their lungs.

"Have some wine." Thackeray said in an encouraging tone.

Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea.

"I don't see any wine." she remarked.

"There isn't any." said the March Hare.

Alice had been saying other things, but Tarrant hadn't been paying attention. He had been busy staring at Alice's beautiful blonde hair.

"Your hair needs cutting." he finally said, silently cursing himself for saying such a stupid thing.

"You should learn not to make personal remarks," Alice said with some severity: "it's very rude."

It was? Tarrant's eyes widened in amazement on hearing this, but all he managed to say was "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"

The conversation had carried on for some time, ending with Tarrant and Thackeray trying to stuff Mallyumkun into a teapot for falling asleep all the time. She did this only because she was due to hibernate very soon, Tarrant had learned soon thereafter.

Tarrant figured he could have handled that first meeting in a better way, but it was too late to do something about it now. Ever since then, Tarrant couldn't stop being amazed by Alice, and her hair.

He opened his eyes after what seemed like a whole lifetime, finding himself looking into Alice's azure eyes. Azure, that was another lovely word that begun with an A.

"Your hair needs cutting." he whispered with a crooked grin.

Author's note:

Whoa, I've been writing three chapters within twelve hours! That's cool! It would probably have been more, but I got stuck in hell… TWICE! First the hell known as a car when carsick, then the even worse hell known as IKEA! (insert scary music here)

I'm happy the Hatter didn't die, because, when other girls are waiting for a knight in shining armour, I'm only waiting for my Mad Hatter. 3 And I do not own the bit from Alice in Wonderland, in this case, Charles Dodgson does.