Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of SyFy and Nick Willing and are only used for fan related purposes.

Gumshoe

chapter two: Pass the Hat

"So, what can I do for you?" Hatter asked, opening the conversation as he retook his seat behind his desk again.

There were two chairs, small and egg-shaped and nothing like the sort of chairs you'd expect in a normal private investigator's office—not that he was a normal private investigator, mind—that were perched opposite of his desk and he gestured for her to take a seat. It was an honor he reserved for his clients and, seeing as how he decided to accept the job before she had even offered it, it was time she took a load off of her—he glanced over the desk—her boot-covered feet.

But she didn't. With a small, curt shake of her head, the girl chose to remain standing. "I'm looking for my boyfriend."

Hatter was a pro. His features barely twitched, disguising his disappointment with professional interest, though some part of him, deep down, had to groan. She had a boyfriend. Of course she did.

Then, right away, he was all business again. "Your boyfriend have a name?"

"Jack Chase."

Jack Chase… Jack Chase. Jack, now, that was a pretty common name around town. Hatter could think of a couple right of the top of his head. There was a Jack who lived on the edge of Tulgey Wood and then there was Jack "the Jabberwock" Collins—oh, he was a piece of work—and wasn't one of the Hearts called Jack?

Either way, he was pretty sure he'd never heard of someone called Jack Chase before. That, he decided, was also very interesting and for two reasons, too. One: Hatter thought he knew almost everyone in Wonderland, and two: why would this girl chance poking around Wonderland if she didn't have a good reason in the first place?

Well, that was simple enough. She had to have a reason. That's logic.

Hatter leaned back comfortably into his seat. "And why would you be looking for him here?"

The girl didn't answer him straight away. Hatter suspected she was torn between telling him what he would need to know to help her and, well, telling him anything at all when he was simply a strange man the smelly old ratcatcher had dragged her to. She would make an excellent poker player, Hatter decided. Just because he was good at reading people, he was pretty sure he knew what was going on behind that pretty face of hers but she wasn't giving him anything other than a suspicious stare and silence for him to work with.

And then she nodded once, a small nod, and began:

"It all started this morning. Jack, he likes to stop at my apartment in the morning before work, we share a pot of coffee and then he heads off while I finish getting ready. Today was the same, except Jack seemed… different. Distant, you could say. He said he could only stop by for a moment and barely had time for half a cup. We talked for a few minutes and he was just leaving my apartment but… I had to go after him, I had to tell him… something," she finished, her voice wavering for just that word before she recovered her resolve.

She stopped there, though, a quick but telling pause. Hatter felt his eyebrow quirk. There was already something she was leaving out, wasn't there? Hmm…

"He was gone," she continued, "by the time I made it to the ground floor. Some man, he threw Jack into a back of a van and then he just drove off, with me yelling at him to stop. He didn't, of course," she said bitterly, only the second hint of emotion he saw cross the girl, "but I recognized the sticker on the back window of the van. It was a decal of a white rabbit so I knew coming here, to this… this place was the only thing I could do."

There was a meaningful look in her eye that Hatter caught and he realized that she was testing him, making sure he was the right man for the job as it were. Because, the look seemed to say, if he couldn't pick up on such a heavy handed clue, what sort of private investigator was he?

"I see…"

Oh, she was a smart one. A handful of minutes alone in Hatter's office and she had already managed to bait the hook and catch him on the lure; all there was left was the final act of reeling him in. He made it somewhat easier for her by playing along. "The White Rabbit is a very famous club here in Wonderland," Hatter said carefully before standing up from his seat again and catching her eye with a glance as meaningful as hers had been. Easier, he thought, but not too easy. "And you're sure you're an oyster?"

"What's an oyster?" she asked dubiously. "And why would I be one?"

"They," Hatter said, waving his hands around to indicate everyone out in Wonderland except for himself, "call you oyster, but it really means outsider. Outsider, oyster, right? You know, say outsider that many times and, well, it begins to sound like oyster, don't it? So, if you're an oyster," he continued, "then you're not from Wonderland. And I'm feelin' the idea that you've never been here before."

He refused to drop his gaze, daringly meeting her wide, staring blue eyes, though he did choose to stay behind his desk. On that side he was Hatter, PI. On the other… well, he could be anyone he wanted, couldn't he? He could be her knight in shining armor—or her worst nightmare.

It all depended on what happened next. On what Hatter decided to do, and what she decided to do first.

She met his glance head-on; he was impressed. "No," she answered in a way that the word but was surely to follow, "but—" see, he was right, "—I think Jack might've been."

"You think?"

She shrugged her shoulders and Hatter had to remind himself that this young woman was still a prospective client; she hadn't actually "hired" him yet. He had to keep his mind on the case… but would it hurt for his eyes to watch as she shrugged, her bare shoulders rising and her chest heaving ever-so-slightly? Practiced eyes observed the defensive stance, the way she kept that one hand still balled into a fist and Hatter bit back his sigh. He had a funny feeling that, yes, it might just hurt. A lot, too.

If she noticed the way he was watching (and trying not to watch) her, she didn't say anything about it. Instead, she just shrugged a second time and said somewhat wistfully, "He doesn't talk much about himself."

Hatter tucked that nugget of information away for another time. "But he knew about the White Rabbit."

"He did mention the club to me once. It seemed like a place he'd been to before and I remember him laughing about the logo. They took him," she added, defiant and definite, "and I came here to take him back."

The fierce look of determination she gave him, almost as if she was daring him to disagree, it nearly made Hatter second guess his impression that she wouldn't last in Wonderland. There was something about the girl that told him that Wonderland wouldn't last if she was unleashed on the unsuspecting city. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew what the wars between the Whites and the Hearts were like, he wouldn't even think about taking the case.

Except he already did.

She paused and then, "I can pay you."

"Money? Pieces of paper? Pointless." Hatter shook his head. He would help her but not for money. "The only thing worth anything in my world is favors."

It was the first time she looked rattled; his comment seemed to ruffle her feathers a bit. Hatter, whose office all but served the gutter, did not leave his mind there usually. It took him a second to understand and, when he did, he couldn't keep back the chuckle. "Oh, lighten up, miss. I'm not talkin' about those kinds of favors."

Her face was even redder than it was when she first came out of the snow but, Hatter noticed, she was too stubborn to admit to it. Instead, she changed the subject. "It's Alice."

"Excuse me?"

"My name. It's Alice," she said.

"And what's your last name, Alice?"

"Just."

And he thought Hatter was an odd name. "Your name is Alice Just?"

"No," she answered, a steely glint in her wide blue eyes that all but dared him to argue. "Just Alice."

He let it go.

Alice… now, why did that name sound so familiar? Unlike Jack, he couldn't come up with anyone he knew with that name but, it was definitely something that struck a chord with him. It was like a little niggle in the back of his mind, an itch he couldn't scratch. He knew it from somewhere but he couldn't remember where. Oh, that was going to bother him...

Trying not to dwell on that, he continued with the introduction. "They call me Hatter," he told her, punctuating his statement by picking his trusty mustard-colored porkpie hat, tossing it in the air where it spun three and a quarter turns before settling precisely on top of his messy brown hair. With a confident look and a bit of a show-offy grin, he tapped the crown just enough to keep it in place.

She barely cracked a smile. "I know."

He looked at her, curious, but didn't say anything. Did Ratty tell her? Did she know him? Hatter knew he was quite known in Wonderland but outside? He never went outside if he could help it… but then how?

Alice jutted her chin out defiantly in answer to his unasked question. "Your name's on the door."

He liked her. Probably not the best impression for him to get, considering she was looking for her boyfriend, but still.

"So your Jack is missin' somewhere in Wonderland, you think. Alright. We'll go lookin' for him, me and you."

"You're going to help me?"

Hatter blinked and held out his hands. "Isn't that why you're here? You need help to get your boyfriend, don't you?"

"Why?" she asked suspiciously, ignoring his question.

"Why what?"

"Why would you help me?"

Hatter was used to skepticism, to a certain amount of distrust and uncertainty from his clients. He had a reputation—whether some or most of it was warranted was another matter entirely—as a good private investigator, a man with the answers. Yes, his asking price might be a little steep at times but he was good at his job, and even better at wriggling out of tight spots. Most Wonderlanders he helped were worried he wouldn't come to their aid; the idea that someone would judge him so harshly and be so concerned that he was willing to take their case that they never even stopped to wonder about the why's of it all was new to him.

This girl was different. She was an oyster, that was for sure. She had to be. People from Wonderland didn't ask questions when they got their way.

"Why not? I'm here, I'll help and all you have to do is follow what I say. I'll find your boyfriend—" well, probably, he thought to himself, "—and I'll even get you back past the Looking Glass. All for a simple favor, and all 'cause I'm just that kind of guy."

"I don't believe you."

Oh, yes. He definitely liked this one. Shrugging, he said (almost) honestly, "You should. And, look: I happen to know some people who like helping people like you. Not everyone in Wonderland dislikes oysters and I can get you help. They'll owe me for helpin' you and then you'll owe me and, hey, that's good enough for me."

Alice shook her head royally, thick dark hair swaying with the motion. "That's not good enough for me."

Hatter frowned, just a little stumped. This wasn't going the way it should. Why was she making this so hard? Okay, then. Almost honesty didn't work, but what about brutal honesty?

"Alright, fine. But if you're thinking of me as the frying pan, Alice, then I gotta yell you that the fire's even worse out there. Wonderland'll burn you if you're not careful." He still wasn't entirely too sure that she couldn't make it out there but it was always better to err on the side of caution. Not to mention, it would be a shame if something happened to her—and he was already too full of ideas regarding what sort of favor she would owe him in the end. "And, anyway," he pointed out, "what choice do you really have?"

Alice opened her mouth to argue but stopped, obviously thinking better of it. She nodded. "You're right."

Her hand flexed, finally relaxing from the threatened fist from earlier—and what was that? The overhead lamp flashed off of something that she kept on her ring finger, catching the corner of his eye and catching his attention. He turned his head slightly and saw quite the rock positioned possessively there. It was a big stone on a gold band and it just reinforced Hatter's decision to help in Alice's case.

Blinded, dazzled, he wondered where she had gotten such a ring and, maybe, if her boyfriend had given it to her. It had to be valuable, the way it shone like that and, goodness, it was big and he already could think of at least three fences who could give him a, if not fair, a good price for it. Working for favors had its benefits, Hatter knew, but there was nothing like having a pocket full of gold and a new hat on his head. And a ring like that… well, it could buy a fella a good amount of hats. And there was that new leather jacket Mock Turtle put up in his shop…

Hatter shook his head then, trying to focus on the matter at hand. He was aware of Alice's curious stare and he offered her an impish grin in return. "Of course I'm right," he said, glossing over his momentary lapse in honest professionalism, "and, trust me, you can trust me. Do you know why they call me Hatter?"

Alice looked at him as if he was asking a trick question. She tried to keep a straight face as she offered, "Because you wear that hat?"

He shook his head again, even more noticeably this time. He was enjoying himself, getting into the act. It had been ages since he had a new client and especially such a pretty one at that. "No," he told her, though the hat did, of course, have something to do with that, "it's 'cause I'm always there when they pass that hat. Philanthropy, that's my middle name. I live to help those I can."

"For favors."

"For favors," he agreed.

"Philanthropy," Alice repeated.

"Pass the hat my way and I'll make sure it gets filled."

"Sure…"

Hatter nodded, choosing to ignore just how disbelieving she sounded. He'd become a private investigator because he wanted to help people—and because he liked the idea of what they could do for him in return. Besides, Alice was a pretty girl who really seemed to need some help; there was a good chance she wouldn't make it out of Wonderland without any. And, he thought, stealing another glimpse of the impressive ring on her finger, maybe this didn't have to be just about her.

Hatter wasn't a bad man—but he was a smart one. You keep your cool in Wonderland, you keep your head.

He didn't want her to catch on to the fact that he'd been ogling the rock on her finger so he turned his attention back to her which, he decided, wasn't all that smart in and of itself. As if he felt his eyes on her, Alice immediately tensed again though she kept her hands loose. She was wary, not too trusting but smart in her own way. He was the only choice she had, the only option, and they both knew that.

Carefully, he took in the short dress, the bare arms and the goose bumps that dotted her fair skin. It was cold in the office but even colder out on the street. The boots she wore were a nice touch—especially if it was still snowing, and the snow turned to ice—but she wouldn't survive out there like that. Anger and determination could only go so far to keep you warm.

He held up one finger. "Hang on a minute," Hatter told her, turning towards his closet in the back of his office. He flung the thin and flimsy wooden door open with more flourish than he intended, winced when it bounced off the equally thin and flimsy plaster wall, then faced the rather interesting contents. He found what he was looking for on the far right and grabbed it.

It was an old maroon overcoat that smelled vaguely of mothballs. He offered it out to her. "You'll fit in better with this," he told her, "and I won't have to worry about you freezin' to death on me, Alice."

Alice took the coat from him but didn't put it on. "I can't wear this."

"Why not? It's warm enough," Hatter said, nodding at her to put on the overcoat while he grabbed his own faded yellow-brown leather jacket and shrugged it on over his shirt, "and it looks like it'll fit."

"Yes, but it's maroon and this dress is blue," she argued, sounding like a teacher pointing out the colors to a class full of students, "it doesn't match. I'll stick out like a sore thumb if I wear this."

Flicking the sleeves of his coat and double-checking that he had everything he needed in his pockets, Hatter laughed lowly at her concern. It was a smirky sort of laugh, the kind that told the other person that, oh, he would deny it if asked but, yes, he was laughing at you. "Not in Wonderland you won't."

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter! I wasn't sure how this was really going to play out but I was really pleased with the initial reception. Hope you like this part, and I'd love to hear what you think so far. I've got some really good ideas for this, too, and I've already got the next chapter cooking. Look out for it soon :)

-- stress, 01.17.09