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

Gumshoe

chapter six: Mad March

"Oh, no," Hatter repeated, murmuring under his breath, "it can't be."

He had to be careful that his voice didn't carry on the wind. Mad March had a pair of amazing ears… and eyes. Hatter grimaced. Stylish and fashionable as his porkpie hat and leather coat may be, the mustard color didn't blend all that well with the white snow or dreary buildings behind him. Flattening his back against the brick wall, taking care not to put any unneeded pressure against his still aching side, he waited and watched to see if March would be the one to move first.

"Hey, what's going on out here?"

Hatter jumped, banging the brim of his hat against the rough brick with the action, thudding his sore left shoulder against the wall. He tried to stifle a curse, almost swallowing his tongue in a desperate attempt to stay silent; tensed and concerned, he whipped his head to the left to find March again. March was still staring obliviously at the snow—or so it seemed—and Hatter whirled to turn on Alice next. Alice, who had followed him out of the alleyway after all.

He didn't dare hush her again. The brunette had recovered her indignity, open curiosity blazing on her wind-whipped face. She didn't know the danger, Hatter reminded himself, she didn't know who was lurking ever so casually—ever so suspiciously—at the far end of the lane. He just wished he didn't know either.

And then the worst—no, not the worst, March spotting them first would be the worst—the second worst thing that could happen: Alice caught sight of Mad March. "Who—" she began but he quickly silenced her with a small, terse, pleading shake of his head.

"Not now, Alice."

Glancing back at March, the man was slowly starting to rise which meant that Hatter should have been long gone already. And if he'd been alone, he would've been. But no matter how it happened, he wasn't alone. He was with an oyster, which put him in as much hot water as her. To make matters worse, their footprints from earlier were all but filled but March had found them anyway. How much longer until he tracked them back? Back to the alley where footsteps out met with footsteps returning, four pairs in all which only confirmed his double quarry?

Damn it! The girl was making him soft—that, or his encounter with Dodo shook him up more than he thought. Either way, it had been a stupid idea to try to take her back to his office with him and he knew it. He'd been sold out, snitched on, given up… there was no other reason for Mad March to be there. The Queen knew and the Queen was angry, certainly angry enough if she was willing to send out her number one guy.

How did this happen? Year after year he watched his back in Wonderland, working a job here, doing a case for the White Diamonds or the Red Hearts—but never both at once in case one got wind of the other—even performing recon for the old mob Underground, working for everyone but watching out only for himself. And now he was a sitting duck, a target for the biggest boss in Wonderland, all because it was cold and snowy outside and he made the wrong choice to slink back to his office.

Of course, the pretty oyster currently breathing down his neck, making his thoughts all muddled up and his roguish instincts run for cover, she wasn't any help at all.

But, perhaps, she could be…

He doubted he would get away with it twice but still he grabbed Alice's hand before she ever had the chance to react and ordered in a meaningful sort of whisper, "Quick, follow me."

Pulling a surprisingly unresisting Alice after him, Hatter refused to glance over his shoulder for fear of what he would see. Pointedly dragging his feet as he moved, he tried to hide his steps before giving up. If March could track half-hidden footprints in the snow, a bumpy trail that kicked aside the freshly fallen snow would be like a great big arrow following them wherever they went.

It wasn't right, he thought as he hurriedly led them away, being chased or even being sent running away from his own office, his tail curled between his legs and his pride wounded. Hatter was the detective, not March—doing that to unsuspecting perps was his job. But he knew when it was worth it to stand up and fight and when it was time to run away. If it meant having legs tomorrow, it was worth it to run today.

He expected March to catch up to them at any moment, actually waited for Alice's stifled cry or a sudden jerk that meant March had wrenched the shivering girl from his grip. For that reason, among certain others, Hatter tightened his hold on Alice's hand and, most surprisingly, she didn't complain or try to pull free. He could hear her panting just behind him and tried to figure out how to explain what had happened. He couldn't, and he couldn't slow either. Hatter knew who—what—they were running from.

It was when they'd gotten more than four blocks away from his office and they'd turned onto a seedy side street Hatter was familiar with that his brain finally seemed to wake up. In the middle of Wabe Street, there was a short, narrow store that attracted him for no other reason than he knew it to be abandoned. Nestled between a pawn shop and a strip club, Hatter zeroed in on it and, without once stopping to think it might be locked, quickly ushered Alice inside. He didn't follow her, though; searching the lazy snow for any sign of March, he was determined to keep the two of them separated.

As they had been all day, the Wonderland streets were still empty. Hatter was hardly surprised, and not only because the snow and the ice made it treacherous for anyone to chance walking them. Wonderland was always much busier at night, when the dens of debauchery opened up and the lure of the casinos were the strongest. For the first time since Ratty came to him with news of a renegade oyster, Hatter was alone, but he wasn't sure for how long that would be the case.

There was no hint of Mad March anywhere. Not that his absence was any relief to Hatter. It wasn't. He knew March, he knew his methods. Just because he couldn't see him, it didn't mean he wasn't there somewhere, lurking, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

Hatter had no doubt in his mind that March was ready and willing to do just that and he cursed under his breath again. How in the world was he supposed to know a simple kidnapping case could turn into something like this?

He thought he heard something then, a crackle on a sheet of ice, and Hatter returned his attention to the matter at hand. A quick look around revealed that no one else was in sight and, while that didn't make him feel any less on edge, he dared a glance down at his feet. The accumulated snow was coming up halfway to his ankle, stray clumps and flakes clinging to his pants. Past that point on the snow-covered sidewalk there was nothing; behind him, an obvious trail led right to the doorway where he was currently huddled inside.

The abandoned shop promised him warmth and a quiet place to think through the mess he suddenly found himself in the middle of but what good would it be if it turned out to be just the place they waited in for Mad March to find them? No, there had to be another way.

Using skills he hadn't had to rely on in, oh, so many years, Hatter took deliberate steps to the end of that same block, made a sharp right turn that extended six steps past the corner and then, just as carefully, backtracked, turned left and went even further down. Working quickly and in that same sneaky way Hatter laid multiple false trails. It wouldn't be enough to throw March off his scent but, if he was lucky, it might just buy him enough time to figure out what the hell he was going to do next.

He had the sinking suspicion he already knew what he might have to do—he just didn't like it. Alice probably wouldn't either, but she did promise him a favor. Hatter had to wonder if she would pay up even if he failed to hold up his end of the bargain…

Heavy in thought, and admittedly worried that Mad March could still sneak up on him at any moment—and him leaving his lucky pistol Underground with Dodo, too—Hatter made his way back to the shop he left Alice at, going as quick as he could without making it look like he had gone back at all.

It was an old secondhand book store with boarded up windows and a weathered sign that announced it was once called: LC Books, established 1865. It looked it, too. It was drab and dingy to begin with, from both neglect and time; the gaudy trinkets in the pawn shop and the neon lights from the strip club next door only made it look even worse.

Both of the other two businesses were presently closed but Hatter doubted it was because of the snow. Wonderland only really came to life at night and, once the sun went down, the nightlife would start up. But not the book store. It had been abandoned when the pleasure-seeking Red Hearts cornered this part of the district, pushing the White Diamonds back until all they owned was the Chessboard—and even the Queen had infected that part of Wonderland in the last few months.

The door hadn't been locked. There was no need for it to be. To be caught with a book these days meant a quick trip to the back rooms of the Looking Glass if the Hearts found out. When the Queen said knowledge was banned, that only dark pleasures and sin and instant gratification would be the wonders in her Wonderland, she wasn't kidding. Hatter had used the dusty old shop once or twice as a cover or a hide-out when one of his cases went bad and from the musty smell that greeted him, it was easy to see he was the only one to ever set foot inside.

And this, he decided as he eased the door shut behind him, this was as bad as it could ever get…

Or so he thought—until he slipped further inside and came face to face with a grim, glaring Alice.

She had kept the overcoat on and, no surprise, there was no heat on; still, it was much warmer and Hatter felt grateful for the chance to thaw again. Her arms were crossed warningly over her chest and she blocked him from moving any further in, pointedly refusing to allow him to dodge her or her questions.

Hatter closed his eyes for a moment. Somehow, someway, he should've been expecting this.

"Who was that?" she demanded, and he opened his eyes back up.

"Hold on a second," he answered quite calmly, considering, as he tried to squeeze past her. Having been in here plenty times before, Hatter knew that it wasn't only a bookshop—it was once a thriving, cozy café. Though it had been years since any customers were served at LC's, beyond the narrow rows of books so like the stacks in the Great Library there was a table and a chair that was calling his name.

The café part of LC's Books had never been large, just a handful of round tables and wooden chairs where one-time patrons could sip their drinks and read in peace. Though years of disuse made them dusty and the strength of the wood supporting him was questionable, Hatter wasted no time sinking into the hard chair of the table closest to him.

If they were going to have this conversation—and the look on her face as Alice clomped after him told him that they would—Hatter at least wanted to be comfortable. He leaned back on his good side and removed his trusty hat, letting it settle on the table in a cloud of dust. Running his chilled hands through his hat-flattened hair, he looked up and over at Alice expectantly.

She was more than happy to oblige. "Who was that?" she asked again.

"I think…" he said, because he could maybe fool them both with think, "I think it was my old partner."

"Partner? You mean, he was a detective too?"

"No." His answer was short and he found himself unwilling to understand why her simple question bothered him so much.

"Then who was he?" she persisted.

"Look, Alice, I can't really explain." Hatter ran one of his fingers against the brim of his hat, watching the other trace a circle in the dust. The thing was this: he had his body armor but no gun to defend himself, and Alice was an open target in that tiny blue dress of hers. He sure didn't feel comfortable sitting still when he knew March was after him. If he wanted to get out of this with his head, he needed to stay one step ahead—at least until he could figure out where he'd gone wrong. Starting to stand, he said, "Maybe it would be a better idea if we left. He could be outside right now."

"I'm not going anywhere until you do."

Of course not.

He bit back a groan as he sank back into his seat. Looking through the closest row, he directed a fleeting stare through the cracks of the boarded up window. If Mad March was already coming after him, they were in more trouble than he thought. Still, maybe she was right. Maybe it was the smartest move to stay right where they were, at least until night fell. It would be much easier to get through Wonderland under the cover of neon lights and the clangs from the slot machines. Besides, March would never think he'd do something as stupid as sit tight when a threat was presenting itself.

But, if he was going to have to hide out with her until it was safe—especially since returning to his office was no longer as option—he knew he would also have to tell her what he didn't really care to. He had a strong hunch she wasn't going to let him rest until he did.

Sighing, Hatter decided to just come out with it: "I wasn't always a detective, all right? And… when I wasn't… that guy was my partner."

"Was?"

"Yeah. Trust me, you don't wanna work with that guy, either. He's… he's crazy," Hatter explained. "The last thing we want is him on our tail."

Alice shook her head stubbornly. "Why is he coming after us?"

Hatter could see that she wasn't going to let this go. She needed to, she needed to just accept that that was how things were in Wonderland; only then did she have a chance to get back out again. If she didn't start understanding what a threat he was, there was a good chance March was going to find them and bring her to the Queen before Hatter could stop him. And Hatter wasn't sure he could stop him anymore.

"He was my partner, right? For years, it was Hatter and March. We were a team… we were the best thieves in Wonderland," Hatter admitted, "and then he died."

"Died?" Alice looked horrified. "Then what was—"

"You don't understand. He's not a zombie, walking around feastin' on brains, Alice. It's just that one day he vanished, gone without a trace. I looked for him for months but I was a thief not a detective. I couldn't find him and then… then he found me. But that man out there isn't my partner, not anymore. He's mad and Mad March is vicious. Brutal. I never found out what they did to him but I know he got trapped inside the Looking Glass himself once. He got out and now he'll answer to no one but the Queen."

Alice scowled at the mention of the Queen. "Queen? What queen? The one my ring belonged to? Who is she?"

"The Queen of the Hearts," Hatter said warily. He didn't understand what was going on. He was the detective—he was the one who was supposed to be asking questions. When did everything change?

When Mad March started snooping around the back of his office, that's when. Or maybe when Dodo actually shot him in the chest. And then there was always Alice…

She scoffed, bringing Hatter back to earth. "There's no queen."

"'Course there is. Oh, she's not real royalty or anything but I wouldn't tell her that. She's head of the Hearts gang and the way her law is obeyed, you wouldn't think of her as anything less than Queen."

"And your, um, your old partner works for her?"

"Yes." There was no hiding the bitterness in his tone. He just couldn't be bothered to.

Alice sounded just as accusing when she asked, "Then who do you work for?"

"I work for me."

The pause that followed, heavy and tense and full of meaning, it told Alice that this conversation was suddenly over. Hatter had said everything he would on the matter, and probably more than he ought to have. She knew how to pick her battles and when enough was enough. With a short nod and a small frown, Alice dropped it.

Hatter couldn't deny—or even comprehend—the rush of relief he felt. It had been harder than he expected to relive the past, especially when there was a good chance his past could easily be part of his future. The last time March had cause to come after him he'd only just managed to escape and that was for old debts. He could only imagine what the psycho would have in store if his orders came from the Queen herself.

So, glad the conversation was done and over with, he cleared his throat and gestured at the seat opposite of him. "It'll be dark soon, and then we can go. Might as well take a load off 'til then."

She didn't move. "Why the dark?" Alice asked suspiciously.

"You've never been to Wonderland, you've never seen the city at night. Trust me, if March is out there, even he'll have a hard time picking us out of the crowd."

Hatter saw the way Alice glanced down at the maroon overcoat, the curious way she picked at her sleeve, and he laughed. "I'm tellin' you, Alice, you'll fit in fine."

"He was wearing a suit," she reminded him.

"Well, that's because he's an assassin, isn't it?"

Alice's head shot up. Without her hairpin to keep the strands in place, her hair fell forward but not enough to hide the way her big blue eyes went even wider. "A what?"

"An assassin," Hatter repeated, wondering why he'd opened his mouth in the first place before deciding that it would be for the best at any rate. It wasn't doing either of them any good, trying to pretend Wonderland wasn't as dangerous as it was. "March always had a nose for blood."

Beneath the curtain of her dark hair, Alice paled but she swallowed and regained her composure. When she told him that she was going to look around, maybe see what there was to find in the café, her voice barely cracked.

He could understand why she needed some space. It was hard to believe they'd only just met that afternoon, with her coming to him for help in finding her missing boyfriend, especially after all that had happened to the pair of them, and all that promised to happen. Jack What's-his-face was basically forgotten all because the discovery that the ring Alice wore so brazenly was in actuality the Queen's was so much more pressing of a concern. The Queen, the ring and the sudden appearance of Mad March, that is.

See, now, ever since March disappeared and came back… different Hatter had worked on his own. Yeah, he relied on informants and Dormie was as good a secretary as you could get in Wonderland, but it was strange being out on the street with someone else. Add that to the fact that Alice was a client—an oyster client—and it was no wonder this whole thing left him unsettled. Oh, what he wouldn't give or what favors he wouldn't grant to be sitting back in his office, a steaming cup of oolong tea perched invitingly before him.

And then, as if reading his mind, Alice reappeared. He'd let her go off before, flitting through the rows and stacks of books, barely paying any attention to her as he devoted the time to thinking and, perhaps, talking himself out of leaving. He didn't know how long she'd wandered around for, snooping in the kitchen or scoping out the backroom, but when she finally came back, she didn't come back empty handed.

"What's this?" Hatter asked, nodding at the chipped cup Alice held in her hands.

"I found a couple of tea bags in the kitchen," she explained, "and when I checked the faucet, the water was never shut off, so I thought…" Alice shrugged, very nearly sploshing some of the amber-colored liquid on her sleeve. "I already had some. It's not that bad."

It was a peace offering, a gesture of friendship and an apology for roping him into this mess. Hatter reached for it gratefully. "Thanks, Alice."

She handed the cup over almost hesitantly. "It's not hot or anything," she said, almost daring him to refuse, "and it didn't steep that well, but it's wet. Maybe you could do with some sort of a pick-me-up."

"It's perfect," he assured her, chancing a sip. She was right. The tea was cooler than lukewarm should be and there was no sugar, no lemon, no cream even, but he drank it anyway.

Alice awarded him a small, tentative smile and, at last, took the seat he offered her earlier.

-- stress, 05.06.10