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

Gumshoe

chapter three: Hairpin

Wonderland was a seedy district, a forgotten part of town tucked on the edge of a city too big and too stupid to notice when a good chunk just sectioned itself off and started its own world.

It went as far as Tulgey Wood, a small strip of trees still jokingly referred to as a woods when it had been centuries since more than a handful of skinny, twig-like trees stood there, and split nearly through the whole of the Chessboard, the area in town that was warred over by the White Diamonds and the Red Hearts. There weren't many ways in—or out, for that matter. If you knew how, or you were really that lucky, you might find one of the back entrances, such as the one on the corner of Hole and Rabbit. But, if you were desperate—because, if you were an oyster, you had to be desperate to come to Wonderland—you had to cross over past the Looking Glass.

As far as Hatter knew, and he was pretty sure he knew quite a lot, the Looking Glass was one of the heaviest guarded joints in town. Maybe it was because it was one of the only places that wasn't claimed by the Whites and the Hearts, or maybe because the bar served as an unsaid boundary to the "real world", but there was always a couple of suit-wearing thugs standing right in front around the clock, in the snow and in the rain and in the heat, to make sure that things were kept running smooth. And they were kept running smooth. The head of the Hearts clan saw to that personally.

So, when Hatter, followed closely behind by Alice, left through the back exit of his office and his feet took him in the opposite direction of the Looking Glass, it was the infamous bar that was on his mind. He'd heard rumors of what really went on behind those mirrored doors and, for once, he was more than happy to just take the rumors for what they were worth.

There was a time when he was welcomed in with open arms to the Looking Glass; now, though, those same arms threatened to break his legs if he dared to show his cheeky face inside ever again. Then there were the holding rooms for the unlucky oysters and enemies of the Hearts that he'd heard about. Not even Hatter's trusty right hook would be enough to get him out of those locked cells if he got caught.

Of course, he wasn't about to tell Alice that…

Still, he had to wonder. If that was the path Alice took to sneak—because she had to have snuck in, he figured—into Wonderland, how had she gotten in so far to be able to find Ratty and try to bribe him into helping her without someone catching her first? She was a pretty girl, and, yes, some of the suits were known to let their heads get turned by a quick flash of thigh or a precariously low cut dress from time to time, but something still seemed off to him. Call it instinct if you will, but Hatter had an instinct to survive honed from a life on the streets. Something wasn't right—there had to be more to this, more that Alice was leaving out.

He tucked that thought into the back of his mind, too. It wasn't the right time for his own brand of professional suspicion just yet.

Apart from telling her to keep up when they left, Hatter kept to himself as he methodically processed his thoughts the way only a seasoned private eye can. Too many years in Wonderland told him where he was in the city just by the feel of the cobbles underneath his worn shoes; not even the snow was enough to deter him. He'd taken to this same path countless times before and he could tell how much was left to go. Relying on those senses, he was free to dwell on other matters: like what was going on behind Alice's impassive expression.

He thought about it, realized there was nothing to do but ask and hope like hell he actually got an honest answer for once, and said carefully, without even turning around to look at her, "You're not from Wonderland." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and the same one Hatter had made before.

Okay, he thought. Maybe it wasn't the right time—but he was going to do his best to find out all the same.

Behind him, stepping carefully so she didn't slip in the inch of snow already covering the normally dirty ground, Alice pursed her lips together and shook her head once. "No," she told him again, unsure—or acting like she was unsure—where he was going with this.

"How did you come here, Alice?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm a detective, askin' questions is all part of the job. Can we stop with the suspicion already?" he asked plainly.

"And I told you already," said Alice, stubbornly, "that I followed the white van and kept going."

Hatter shook his head in disagreement. "Now, unlikely as that sounds, you see, that's not what I meant."

Narrowing her eyes shrewdly, Alice managed to put across the impression that she had no idea what he was talking about. Oh, she was really good. "What did you mean?" she asked daringly. Another question, Hatter noticed, and never any real answers.

He shrugged. "Not that many entries to Wonderland," he observed casually, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure she was still following behind him, "or exits, either. You've got me curious. We don't often see oysters, except for the in the casinos maybe. But here you are. And I wonder: how? Which way did you come?"

They had slowed their walk alongside a smoke-stained building, hugging the wall in an attempt to avoid being seen or heard in their discussion. Not that that was something to worry about—the snow was falling heavier than it had earlier that morning and Wonderland was dangerous enough in sunshine. Dip the temperatures and throw some snow and ice in and the normally crowded streets were blissfully empty.

In the still quiet of the midmorning snowfall, Hatter could almost hear the cogs working in Alice's brain, turning and churning as she tried to make something of him and maybe come up with some sort of plausible answer to his question.

He waited, only just resisting the urge to tap his foot impatiently. There were limits to his act, after all.

"I might've passed a place called the Looking Glass on my way in," she admitted at last.

"I see."

He thought he did, too.

Alice didn't seem to like the sound of that too much. She strode toward him defensively, overtaking him and stopping right in front of him. "It's a free street," she said, "and I can walk anywhere I want to. Who were they anyway to try and tell me I can't look for my boyfriend in this part of town?"

Hatter was pleased with himself though, with Alice only a foot away from him, he had to work hard to keep a smug, self-satisfied grin from passing across his face. It was for moments like these that he lived for as a detective, moments when the perps or the clients gave away too much. Push them one way, poke them or prod them another, find out what makes them tick, what makes them drive, and you can find out anything… including the fact that Alice had not only come in through the Looking Glass, but that she must have already had some sort of run-in with the suit-wearing bastards outside of it.

Of course, there was one problem with him learning information because someone slipped up and spilled more than they wanted to: they never gave him everything he needed to know. He could assume all he liked but, well, Hatter knew better than anyone what they say about those who assume. Hard facts were worth everything in his line of work; rumors were only something to go on and maybe get by if he needed to. And, unfortunately, shooting straight didn't always yield the results he needed.

Sometimes it took just a little instinct and a whole lot of bluffing.

Hatter met her steely gaze directly, stopping only to reflect what an impressive—and, admittedly, a little scary—woman Alice was for only a few seconds before he allowed a small knowing grin to come to his face. It would take another question, but a more direct one this time:

"How did you get out?"

If she was taken aback by that question, she didn't show it. Wordlessly, ever defiantly, Alice reached behind her and plucked something from the depths of her thick, dark hair. Between her thumb and her forefinger she held a brass hairpin.

Peering through the steady snow, he almost couldn't believe what it was he was seeing. It was a shot in the dark, a guess based on what he knew about the Looking Glass, the Hearts and a Wonderlander's opinion of a nosy oyster. The locked rooms in the back of the bar were common knowledge in the district—so common, in fact, that most people laughed them off. It was rare that a real Wonderlander got trapped inside the bar though, Hatter realized, it was probably only rare because anyone thrown in the cells never came back out through the front door again.

And she'd broken out of the back with a hairpin.

"They really locked you up then, did they?" Hatter asked, trying to hide the surprise—and touch of worry—he felt at the sight of the pin.

"They tried."

His smile slipped right off his face just as the pin slipped out from between her fingers. Probably because it did Hatter good to have something to focus on that wasn't the fact that he was helping a renegade oyster—as far as he knew, the first renegade oyster—try to find her way around a district that wasn't known for its friendliness towards outsiders, he immediately bent down to pick up the hairpin for Alice. But, seeing as how Alice had the same idea as Hatter at the same time, they just missed bumping heads.

The pin had sunk into a good inch of fresh snow, and they both reached for the pin with the result being that, right after they missed touching foreheads—or, rather, his hat missed hitting her forehead—they brushed hands. The hairpin was momentarily forgotten for Hatter. A spark seemed to pass from her hand through his but it was quickly chased by a chill that stung him.

"You're cold," he pointed out needlessly.

Cold, he thought, was quite the understatement. Her fingers were raw, ice cold, even, and probably numb; she was too frozen to the touch for his liking. The maroon overcoat he gave Alice was keeping her from freezing to death but it was nowhere near thick enough to keep her warm all over. He automatically reached for her hand, wrapping it with his. It wasn't much but at least he'd had the sense to keep his fingers warm and out of the chill air.

"It's snowing," Alice retorted, snatching her hand out of from between his fingers. She shoved her hands into the overcoat's pockets, leaving the hairpin where it fell. "It has to be cold out."

Hatter took the hint. Scooping up the hairpin with fingers that were still manageable—he didn't like the cold but he wasn't as affected by it as she was… not yet, at least—he dropped it into the depths of one of his pockets before standing up. "Come on," he said, not so surprised to hear a touch of warmth slip into his voice, "we're almost there."

Alice stood up shakily but refused his hand when he offered it. "Where are you taking me?" she asked instead, gritting her teeth and wrapping her arms around her middle, hugging herself for the body heat. The wind wasn't so bad but the snow was falling and melting against exposed skin almost immediately. Just standing there, waiting alongside the brick wall with very little cover was making her feel the cold—the cold and wet—far more than when they were walking.

Hatter noticed and, both in a bid to get her to start moving again and because he couldn't really explain his motives—hell, he couldn't even say what his motives were yet, though he wasn't too sure they included helping this oyster find her boyfriend without getting her to part with that ring first—he started to walk forward again. "To a friend," he called over his shoulder, hoping his voice would be swallowed up by the eerie quiet that had fallen with the snow over Wonderland.

It didn't, of course. In fact, it sounded much louder than he intended it to. Hatter dared a quick glance behind him, past Alice and into the thick white whirlwind that was around them. It was hard to tell, but he was pretty sure they were still alone on the street. He hoped it stayed that way.

"What kind of friend?" Alice asked suspiciously when she caught Hatter looking past her.

"Again with the questions." Hatter shook his head. "Won't you just trust me already, Alice?"

He could've sworn he heard her snort but, seeing as how he was purposely keeping his back to her now, it was easy to pretend he imagined it. It made things easier that way. He shrugged, adjusted his hat so that it kept his hair from getting too damp, and started to walk at a brisker pace. The clomping of Alice's boots echoing against the cobblestones only steps away told him she was, for all the front she put up, just as anxious to get out of the cold as he was.

When he told her they were nearly there he hadn't been lying, or even improving the truth. There were only a few more blocks to go but he was entering into a labyrinthine part of Wonderland and, as such, he had to slow regrettably in order to go the right way. Intersections crossed there, alleys met various side streets and Hatter made sure to pay close attention. All of the buildings looked the same here, dark and brooding brick structures that towered over him. Dirty grey doors, once white, were the only thing breaking up the brick, apart from the crisscrossing streets that were lost beneath the still white snow.

There were no numbers on the buildings, no signs, no identification. These were the back entrances in the back alleys that were forgotten even in Wonderland. No one took to these paths unless they knew exactly where they were going. For those Wonderlanders who wandered these alleys, no identifying marks were needed. If you didn't know where you needed to go, the logic ran, then you wouldn't miss it when you missed it.

Hatter knew exactly where he was going and, for the most part, what was hidden behind each and every one of those eerily similar doors. Almost subconsciously, he kept count of them as he passed so that he would know when they got where they were going. At the same time, though, he wondered if this was the best place to bring Alice. If anyone would know anything about her missing boyfriend it would be Dodo—just like Dodo would be the best chance to get an idea of what that ring of Alice's was worth.

He shook his head. That wasn't a good thought. Alice was his client, Hatter reminded himself, and she'd agreed to owing him a favor if he helped her find her boyfriend. And that was exactly what he would do.

For now.

There was nothing to indicate that the door Hatter picked at last was any different from any one of the others that matched it. Still, Hatter marched up to it confidently, knocked twice and waited for an answer. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Alice standing hesitantly a few steps back and he waved her closer. She took one step toward him and stopped. That was as close as she was getting.

Hatter bit back a sigh. The girl had no idea how difficult she was making it for him to want to stick to the straight and narrow and help her. Sometimes he had to wonder why in the world he went straight in the first place. In Wonderland, it was so much easier just to be a crook.

The pair of them didn't have to wait too long in the cold for someone to acknowledge them. In answer to Hatter's knock, a five inch by two inch panel in the center of the door, about hat height, slid open. It was dark inside, impossible to see who was behind the wooden frame, but Hatter already knew who it would be. And he was already expecting the quick question that followed:

"And who are you?"

"I am old father Williams," Hatter recited immediately, just a little bit testy. Alice's head turned sharply to look at him; she wore an expression that said plainly: I thought you were called Hatter. When she opened her mouth to argue, Hatter held up his hand. With a small shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, he stepped on the tips of his boots so that he could peek inside the peephole. "Look," he appealed to the man on the other side, "it's freezin' out here, alright? Do me a favor and let us in."

"How do I know you're who you say?"

Hatter huffed and leaned in. "Because my hair has become very white," he quickly rattled off, his answer a mumble tinged with annoyance. He understood riddles and passwords—he certainly used enough of them himself—but he came this way almost every other week. What was Duck playing at?

There was a moment's pause and then the panel slid back into place. They could hear bolts being undone and locks turned behind the doorway. Hatter muttered, "Finally," his breath visible in the cold air, and stamped his feet, trying to regain some feeling in his toes. He couldn't even look back at Alice. At this rate, if only her lips were as blue as her dress, she'd gotten off lucky.

Duck only kept them waiting another moment or two while he seemed to struggle with the locks on the inside. At last the door swung open, and Hatter and Alice walked gratefully inside—

—and right into the very sharp, very pointed end of a knife.

Author's Note: I hope this chapter kind of set up the world of Wonderland as it will be shown throughout this story. Don't worry if something doesn't make much sense yet -- I hope it will soon. Since I just jumped into this using Hatter as a reference point, there's a lot about Alice he doesn't know yet. He -- and we -- will soon discover quite a bit about her ourselves ;)

-- stress, 01.25.10