Author's Note: Oh, where to begin with the apologies? It has been SOOOO long. I can't even begin to say how sorry I am to everyone who pleaded for more, and how grateful I am to those who just waited. All I can say is that I'm very sorry, but I've been through about six obsessions since I last updated this fic and now I'm back and I plan to actually finish it, or die trying! I hope my writing is still up to scratch and please feel free to constructively criticize ANYTHING that's not. This chapter sees the Hatter get better, get worse, Alice's admission, and we see a little glimpse of something going on in Alice's London. So, without further ado, here it is, chapter four! Finally!

P.S: I have no FREAKING idea how to fix the format of this story. I don't know why it's got no paragraphs or breaks between storylines when I write it that way in Word and just spent fifteen minutes trying to edit it to be that way on this site's editing thing. Anyone with help?

Four: Fear

Alice had made a list of what she needed to make the Hatter believe.

She knew that Haverlock Day was to happen no matter her actions, as she'd learnt with the begrudged slaying on Frabjous Day. However, simply taking the Hatter out for walks and preparing him for a tea party didn't seem enough to make the events of that day definite. So she'd thought more on what might be tormenting him, and how she could set about chasing those demons away. If he could just realise a few important things then maybe it would ease his mind:

He was not a coward for fleeing with the Queen on Horunvendush Day.

There were still things worth living for.

The White Queen would welcome him to Marmoreal, no matter his state of mind.

There was of course another matter needing to be settled, but this was for the both of them to believe:

The Hatter was enough for Alice.

This time, when her sister disappeared, Margaret followed.

Every day the past week Alice had gone for a picnic, wandering in the direction of the Waverly estate. Margaret would watch from the front window as her younger sister hurried along the path until she vanished into the woods. This supposedly normal affair bothered her for a few reasons:

Alice was never gone for more than an hour. She took only the barest necessities for a picnic, like bread and butter, and she always came back either more agitated or happy than before. It was the latter reason that had her hesitant to enquire after Alice's walks, as she was so glad to see a smile on her sister's face. Even if it did fade after a few hours. But now it had been an entire seven days in a row that this had gone on, and her curiosity had to be satisfied. So she waited for her sister to bid her Henry goodbye and start off. The moment Alice's form was shrouded in the shadows of the wood Margaret began to follow quietly in her wake. The path through the forest led on for nearly a quarter of an hour, veering to the north. Then Alice began to slow down, and eventually stop at the base of a large willow tree. Margaret huddled in the shadows, breath caught in her throat, and waited to see what would happen next.

Needless to say, she was astounded at what she saw.

Today was a warm day, and Alice was just a little out of breath as she clambered from the tree trunk and abandoned her bread and butter for something far more interesting. She dropped the picnic foods at the base of the tree and left only a bottle and a cake in the basket, wiping a damp sweat from her brow. Today would be a good day, she'd decided. A positive attitude was needed if she was to ever get the Hatter more than a few feet from that hut. But it would be a good day for more reasons than just her wishful thinking: she'd come up with a fun idea; she'd had a terrible morning and was glad to be rid of London for the day and any day with the Hatter was bound to be more fun than being at home with her mother. She never seemed to venture far from the mansion whenever she was home, and it bored her to tears.

He was not in sight, like she'd expected him to be.

He didn't answer the door when she knocked.

So, like usual, she called out his name and began the hunt.

"Hatter! It's me!"

Her search was quick: the hut was uncomfortably warm, and she wanted to be outside.

Alice inspected the hallway, beginning to wonder if he could have actually left his sanctuary, when she saw the closet door close just a fraction more than it had been.

"Hello?" she called, approaching slowly. "Are you playing hide and seek?"

But he didn't answer. And she heard none of the mad giggling that accompanied him when they played games. "What are you doing in there?" she asked, grasping the door and opening it slowly with a creak. There was not much in the closet save for a cerulean coat, a pair of boots…and a dishevelled, cowering Hatter. He huddled in the corner, teeth chattering with sweat pouring from his brow.

"Why didn't you answer when I called?" Alice asked curiously.

"Ssh," he hissed, grabbing hold of the bottom of her dress and hauling her into the closet with him. "The Jabberwocky." He snapped the cupboard door shut and crouched down into the corner again.

"But there's no –"

"Hush, Alice!"

The space between them was minimal, and it was stifling in there. She could smell the fear on him.

"Hatter, there's nothing out there. I killed the Jabberwocky, don't you remember?"

He shook his head fiercely. "She's still out there, Alice. Still…still out there…still –"

She reached out to place a palm on his cheek, but the movement caught him off guard in the shadows and he jumped violently to his feet, expecting an attack.

Alice tried to step out of the way but there was no more room, and so the Hatter staggered forwards and thumped his head on the roof of the closet.

"Hatter!" she shrieked, "Are you all right?"

The panic in her voice assured him that she too had no clue as to what was happening – therefore she couldn't possibly be his enemy. This time when she reached out, he thought it safe to let her touch him. "Good decision," he whispered to himself at the feel of her hand on his arm. "Clever, bright, good decision."

"What was that?" Her other hand came up to inspect his head.

"What was what?" he replied, in a much weaker voice than the one he'd spoken in years before. Despite the anxiety and the heat and the smell, Alice was smiling at the jest.

Smiling until her fingers came away with blood on them.

She clucked her tongue at him like a mother. "Now look what you've done," she admonished softly, "Come on. Let's clean this up."

He stiffened in her grip. "But the Jabber –"

"Hatter. Look." She lifted her finger up to his face, and he saw the glistening on her fingers. The faint scent of blood seemed to settle his priorities. He nodded and followed her out of the closet.

Alice set him down on the only chair in the little kitchen and rummaged around for a cloth. She was aware of the Hatter's eyes following her movements, from the cabinet to the washing up basin. When she turned around he was focused so anxiously on her face that she felt herself drawing close to him again very quickly. How could he do that with just one look? How could he make her feel as if being a mere three feet away was too far a distance? It was the fear in his eyes, she told herself. She wanted to comfort him and she couldn't do that from across the room.

"Come here," she instructed kindly, gingerly tipping his head down so she could press the damp cloth to his wound. It wasn't too bad, just a slight bump with a cut, but it was enough to sting. The Hatter winced like a child as she applied more pressure, his heightened emotions causing him to overreact to every little action. He was more than a little removed today, Alice noticed. Although he was sitting with his head being held by her at waist height, being tended to calmly, he was still glancing fervently out the doorway every few seconds.

Without being aware of it, she'd cupped his chin with her free hand and was now supporting him close to her waist. She let herself relax into the cradling position, methodically pressing and wiping his wound. "Now, would you care to tell me what you thought hiding in a closet would achieve?"

"The Jabberwocky can smell me," he replied. His accent was different this time: Scottish, but not angry. More so hushed and afraid. "He can find me. I was safe in there." The notion struck him with force. "I was safe in there!" he repeated, and jumped to his feet.

This time Alice was ready, and as he stood she grabbed his shoulders and held him firmly in place.

"You're not going back into hiding," she told him sternly as he gazed desperately beyond her. "Hatter, look at me."

As he did, her hands slid from his shoulders to his jaw. She traced his cheek with her thumb. "There's no Jabberwocky. And even if there was, this would be no way for a brave Hatter to behave."

"Brave?" he repeated, limbs softening in her hold. "There's no' a brave bone left in this poor body. What makes ye think otherwise?"

"Because I know you," she replied, "I've seen you rebelling against the Knave and insulting the Red Queen, and on any number of occasions speaking your mind no matter the consequence. And you've fought the Jabberwocky, Hatter. You stabbed at his tail with your sword like it didn't matter if he turned on you, if only it would help me a little."

"It didn't," the Hatter murmured, his soft voice returning. "It didn't matter what happened to me." He cleared his throat. "But that was all very different. I had nothing worth living for then."

She thought of Mallymkun, of Chessur and the White Rabbit and the March Hare. She wondered just what constituted worth, then, if not all of his friends.

"And what do you have now that makes you so afraid of dying?" she queried, still holding him, still trying to pretend she didn't know.

The Hatter cleared his throat again, eyes melting into green. "You, Alice."

Her hands dropped from his cheeks.

But you don't, she thought to herself, you can't have me.

She was not reacting very well, he thought. She was silent, and busying herself with putting away the cloth. Perhaps it was his bumped head that had caused him to admit his affection. Perhaps he'd damaged his mind to a far greater degree. No, he thought to himself, this was entirely my doing. I wanted to tell her. And now she wouldn't even look at him. His hopeful expression gave way to disappointment, and he slumped back into the chair to glance fitfully around. Maybe it was all a trick, his mind began to ponder. Maybe she'd lured him out of the closet so that the Jabberwocky could –

"No!" he shouted, causing her to turn, startled, back to face him. He thumped the table. He wouldn't let his wild imagination get the best of him. She didn't want him because he couldn't stop the mad scenarios from raging through his head. There was no Jabberwocky hiding just outside. But that didn't stop the real truth from burning inside him. "I was a coward!" he yelled, "On Horunvendush Day I fled with the Queen and left them all to die!"

Alice approached him very slowly. She shook her head. "How could you?" she asked in a disbelieving voice. "How could you be a coward, when you'd had no thoughts of fear in your mind, only of protecting the Queen from harm?"

She'd just offered him absolution.

What had started out sounding like an accusation had turned out to be a vindication of his selflessness.

"Alice," he murmured, "You really are quite brilliant, you know." He didn't sigh with relief, or cry, or show any great sign that this burden had been lifted from his shoulders. But she could see it nonetheless. He closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair, weaving his fingers together. "No fear," he said, "No coward. Thankyou."

With a smile that was purely to congratulate herself, Alice leaned over him in the chair, staring playfully into his closed eyes.

"What do you say to a long walk then?" she asked.

When his mind returned to her, she was met with an alluring chartreuse gaze.

"That depends," he replied mystically.

"On what?"

He grinned. "On the mood the long walk is in. I shouldn't wish to offend it."

Despite his bright mood, it had taken a few more attempts to draw the Hatter out from the hut. Though he protested anxiously, Alice knew eventually he would agree.

After all, he wasn't the only one with magnetism.

She knew she drew him like a moth to a flame. And maybe it was cruel of her to use his feelings, but it wasn't as if she were using them against him. She was healing him every time she got him to joke, or eat something hearty, or even consider venturing outside.

It wasn't as if she didn't enjoy his company anyway.

She had to face it: they were each one end of a burning candle, destined to meet in the middle. She the flame, Hatter the end patiently waiting to be swallowed in the heat.

Always waiting.

And it wasn't simply her pleading that had convinced him.

Her exciting idea had been deemed too good an opportunity to pass up:

She withdrew from her pocket a small bottle and a little cake.

"This is a rather small afternoon tea, Alice. It will hardly do."

"It's Pishalver and Upelkuchen, silly."

"Oh! Where did you –"

"McTwisp. Now come on, drink up."

"And what of our clothing?"

From another pocket she took out two tiny pairs of trousers and buttoned shirts.

"From my childhood dolls," she explained. "They'll do well enough."

"But…why?"

"Why not? I think Underland is best viewed from close to the ground. You can be absolutely swallowed up by it. And this way, you won't really be leaving the area. We could walk for what seems like miles and it'll only be a small distance."

Still apprehensive, he took the bottle from her. "You think more and more like one of us every day," he said with a trusting smile before taking a swig.

They had been walking for the better part of two hours now, the Hatter trying to suppress his constant fear enough to appreciate the sights. He was doing well enough, arm hooked through Alice's as she kept a watchful eye on him. Every now and then he'd start to quiver, turning sharply behind to see that nobody was following them. All she'd have to do was turn his attention to a singing Bluebell or a buzzing Rocking Horse Fly and he'd relax again. It was a dizzying experience, being only a few inches tall once again. They were isolated in this pocket of the forest, the only humans in a world of grass like trees and rocks like mountains. The colour was overwhelming: there were so many greens and blues and pinks. It reminded Alice of the time she'd been six, finger painting in the back garden, and had decided to coat all the surrounding foliage with paint. Like a rainbow had exploded over the world. The Hatter suddenly pulled away from her and began to run, but before she could cry out for him to stop she realised he was running to catch up with a Bread-and-Butter-Fly that had blown over their heads. Laughing, she lifted up the hem of her baggy trousers and chased after him. The grass flew by in great stalks as they bobbed and weaved through them, kicking up dirt and flicking at the legs of the fly as they ran beneath it.

"Do you mind?" it shouted, tucking up its legs and soaring higher. "You're tiring me out, and I've not eaten for days!"

The Hatter stumbled as he paused to think. "The March Hare's home is not far!" he shouted, "Bare stang and you'll find it soon enough! Tell him the Hatter sent you!"

The fly gave a starved little moan, and flew ever higher. "Thankyou!" it called, hurrying towards this promise of food. As it disappeared from sight, they both slowed to a walk again, catching their breath.

"What do Bread-and-Butter-Flies eat?" Alice queried. The Hatter shot her a matter of fact look and told her they had weak tea with cream, of course. Alice was glad for the shade that the grass cast on them, and for the light, loose clothes she was wearing instead of the constricting dress.

So was the Hatter.

Without her dress, Alice looked both wrong and right.

She looked so unlike herself without that pretty blue dress, and yet there was definitely a sense of the freed about her. She could move about more easily, stretching that swan neck of hers as she'd run helter-skelter. There was something gold and chinking in the sunlight against her neck, but her movements were too fast and he couldn't catch a proper look at it, so gave up. The loose clothing bared more of her milky skin, too. He could now spot the light freckles that dotted her shoulders, her feet, and a small patch of her abdomen that was revealed whenever she stretched.

Not that he'd ever admit he was looking. It just wasn't appropriate.

He was certain those London people would have a fit if ever they knew of the way Alice Kingsleigh was running about virtually half naked.

And for this reason, the fact he'd seen a side of her that nobody else had, he began to laugh. Loudly, whole heartedly, joyously.

Alice had never heard him make such a sound. It was not the mad giggling she was used to but a richer, more masculine bark of a laugh. It made her feel a little light- headed, watching the way he threw his head back and exposed his ivory throat. The buttoned shirt left most of his shoulders and collarbone free to glow in the sunlight, pure as snow. She'd never seen so much of him. He was completely white from head to toe, as far as she could guess. His strong bare feet barely left an imprint on the earth beneath them. But this colouring was not upsetting. It was mesmerising, perception-altering.

Beautiful.

She was beginning to worry that the definite reason for staying in her own world was becoming a little less so. That maybe she was starting to find far more reasons to stay here. She stared at the Hatter.

One reason in particular.

She turned her face up to the sky to catch the filtering sunlight, safe in the knowledge that she was cocooned by the forest and the Hatter's laugh, and before she knew it her lips were forming the words –

"I hope Henry never sees this."

Alice clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The truth had been spoken. The Hatter froze at her words, catching her eye. Her heart started to race.

"Henry?" he enquired.

"He's nobody," she answered hastily, "Just a friend of mine from London."

Maybe he was so truly naïve…or maybe he just chose desperately to believe her. "Oh. Well, may I ask why you'd want to keep our world from him?"

"Your world," Alice said firmly, unsure of whom she was trying to convince. "This land isn't mine."

The Hatter just nodded in a condescending, knowing sort of way.

"I just…I want to keep this life separate," Alice explained, truthfully enough. "This belongs to us."

She lost her nerve then, having finally recognised the secret that lay between them.

It was well and good to simply not speak of their interactions, but to admit that she had anything with the Hatter she wished to keep from Henry was too much.

"I've just remembered; there's something happening today that I might miss if I stay any longer. You know how hard it is trying to keep track of time down here."

"I'm sure nobody would be the least bit surprised if you were late for anything, Alice," the Hatter said in a soft voice. "You could stay a little while longer."

"No, I'm a grown woman now. I'd better start practising punctuality. Please excuse me, won't you?"

With a slight frown, he nodded. Her pearly smile wasn't the best she'd ever flashed at him, rather a poor imitation of one. Alice gave him a half-hearted little curtsy and began to make her way quickly back toward his hut, no doubt to collect her clothing and be off. She always seemed to be going somewhere else. He elected to stay behind a little longer, although the afternoon now seemed a bit pointless with her gone. His leg soon began to twitch with anxiety as he glanced about the woods that now felt cold and suffocating, rather than cool and comfortable.

The Hatter was left alone with the daisies and the tulips. Now, if he'd been left alone with the roses, perhaps the next situation would have been missed. Roses were naturally quiet flowers, choosing to observe rather than speak out. That was why they'd been so popular with the Red Queen. They could be trusted to hide the dark goings on of the Red Castle. Tulips and daisies, however, were notoriously nosy. They grew in the same beds so they could gossip and whisper all day long. So when the Hatter stood there helplessly glancing around, they saw fit to start their piteous murmuring.

"Poor dear," they said, "She should have told him. He's never going to know."

Of course, the Hatter pounced on this. "What am I never going to know?"

As if they hadn't been waiting for this all along, the tulip casually replied: "Who Henry is. She should be ashamed, she should. You go ask her, love. Demand to know the truth."

The fact that Alice would keep anything a secret from him was terrifying.

What could be so bad, so dreadful and dark and horrific that she wouldn't tell her Hatter?

Perhaps the Jabberwocky is still alive and the Red Queen has returned from exile with Alice's help; he couldn't help the thoughts as he ran back to the hut. She must be helping them; she must be mocking me behind my back; maybe she's run off because the Jabberwocky is coming for me right now –

"No!" he shouted hoarsely, "Help! Help me! Alice!" The world seemed to be closing in on him as he ran through the undergrowth. Maybe he was shrinking even further? Faces and eyes seemed to loom out at him from the shadows; things began to claw at his legs as if dragging him back.

"Alice!" he shouted, panting, crashing through a wave of tall grass as he at last reached the hut. "Alice! The flowers have told me you're lying. Who's Henry? Tell me you're not hiding something!"

He couldn't see her, until he realised he was standing at the base of her foot. She'd returned to her normal size and was now wrapped up tightly in that dress.

"I thought you were running late for something," he offered cautiously, when she didn't acknowledge him. As if she'd been waiting for him – he liked that she might have been waiting for him – she glanced down and said, "I think you'd better change, Hatter, before I speak with you."

The tone of her voice worried him. He took his time changing back to his proper height and clothes, fearful of the conversation to come. Alice sat with her back turned to him but didn't even jump when he silently came to sit by her.

"Hatter…why did you lose your mind?" she asked tentatively.

He regarded her as if she were stupid. "You left."

"Yes, but none of the others lost their heads over it."

"Well that's because of a rather obvious difference."

"Which is?"

He lost his nerve as quickly as he'd found it, and said nothing.

"Henry isn't just a friend," Alice blurted, because she was a coward and didn't want to think of what his answer might have been.

The Hatter was too calm.

Not even his fingers stirred, which were usually so quick to flutter around.

He didn't say anything.

Alice nervously licked her lips and continued. "He's…well…he's my h-husband." She glanced at him quickly. Still no reaction. "I'm married, Hatter."

He turned to her and said, as if it was the only argument he needed: "But I need you."

"Well yes, but…only until you're feeling yourself again. Then –"

"Then you'll just run off back to Henry and I'll be alone once more."

"For Heaven's sake, Hatter, you're not alone! You've got so many friends just waiting for you to come out and meet them and –"

"Well if they're truly my friends why are they no' here every week coercing me into conversation like you are? Why are you the only one who refuses to give up on me if you're no' even goin' to stay?"

Because I need you to be well so I can live my life without feeling guilty.

Even as she thought it she knew it wasn't quite true. She linked her fingers in her lap and didn't look at him.

"Face it, child, Underland is part of you, and you'll never stop returning. Even if you are…married."

"I thought you were strong enough to handle the news," she murmured, ignoring his last comment. "I thought I'd better tell you now before things…progressed –"

"I understand, lass," he cut across her, voice dangerously quiet and Scottish. "I'm no' as daft as you all might think. I'd like to be on my own now, so if you'll just –"

"Hatter, no. I'm not leaving you while you're in this mood."

"It was you that caused this mood, lass. The best thing would be for you to leave."

"Why? So you can hide away in that hut of yours for another four years?"

She wasn't thinking quickly enough to hold back her words.

The Hatter stiffened, and Alice held her breath. "Fine," he bit out, and he left her side and disappeared into his hut, slamming the door behind him.

"Well, what now, Alice?" she murmured to herself. "This hasn't gone well at all."

Sighing, she walked over to the closed door and held her palm against the grainy wood. "I'm sorry, Hatter," she called softly. "I didn't mean to upset you. But I just…just wanted to tell you the truth." She dipped her forehead against the door and closed her eyes, wishing this could be easier. "I…I'll just go. There's something I have to check anyway. But I'll visit again soon, I promise."

When she could hear no reply, she left.

The forest was quiet in the wake of their argument; she could feel eyes following her as she made her way through it. This was all beginning to feel too hard. How could she go on trying to help him when he knew she was married and therefore never able to stay here with him? Perhaps the Oraculum was wrong? Maybe she wasn't meant to fix him.

The walk to Marmoreal seemed lonely and tiresome. She wished the Bandersnatch would appear and offer a ride.

And then someone did appear.

Not the Bandersnatch, but the White Rabbit.

He came into view at the top of a sun-kissed hill, when she had cleared the forest and was almost at Marmoreal.

"A-Alice!" he stammered, "I was just sent out to find you!"

"Well aren't we lucky then? I was just on my way here, and hoping for some company."

The White Rabbit fell into a slow hop beside her, and Alice was grateful for his appearance.

"I've told Hatter about my marriage," she said glumly, "It didn't go well. He's become unstable again."

This seemed to surprise the rabbit. "That can't be right," he said, more to himself.

"No…it isn't right," she replied, "But it happened. Why can't it be right, anyway? That's a curious thing to say."

He just hopped along and wouldn't meet her gaze.

"I'm starting to think that there's been a mistake, McTwisp," she admitted with a sigh. "What if I'm not the one to fix Hatter? What if that picture in the Oraculum was just a meeting between him and I after someone else helped him?"

"It wasn't," said the rabbit, but upon her questioning said nothing more. This irritated Alice, who was already in a dour mood and now wished she hadn't hoped for company at all.

It was a relief when they finally reached the White Castle. She was tired of conversing with animals and madmen. She wanted to speak with Mirana about all this.

"Alice!" the White Queen exclaimed when she entered the Hall. "I hadn't expected to see you so soon. Thankyou, McTwisp, you did a lovely job of finding her." The beautiful queen seemed even airier than usual, Alice thought. In fact between her fluttering around and the rabbit's pinched expression, she couldn't help but think something strange was going on.

Her bad mood gave way to curiosity. "You two seem to have something to tell me?" she ventured, when the queen began staring out the great glass windows with a smile on her face.

"This way," said McTwisp, hopping in the direction of the Reading Room.

"It's really rather lovely news I think, my dear," said Mirana, waving them down the corridor. Alice cast an anguished look at the person she'd really wanted to talk to and followed the rabbit. What on Earth was going on? She didn't know whether to feel reassured or anxious, as the queen's words were calming but McTwisp seemed to stiffen at them. By the time they reached the Reading Room, she was very confused.

The first thing she heard was the Tweedles arguing as she entered the room. Spread before them on the table was the Oraculum, with Absolem looking concerned as he hovered over a section of the scroll. He glanced in her direction as she came towards them, frowning.

"H-hello Alice…yes….hmmm..." he mumbled, and resumed reading the scroll with difficulty.

Alice looked to the Tweedles jostling for position around the table. "Boys?"

"The picture's changed," said Tweedledee, ignoring her.

"It can't have if it has," said Tweedledum, "It never has, no how."

"Well if it never has then how come it has now?"

"Boys!" cried Alice, her heart hammering, "What's the picture changed to?"

They both agreed on something at last: to turn bright red and be silent.

Curious, Alice sidled in between them and spread out the page so she could see it better. It was the picture of Haverlock Day.

"But that can't be…" she whispered.

She was sitting in the same place at the tea party tables, next to the Hatter.

But this time they were kissing.