A/N: I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter up. Between exams and traveling and more exams, I have been one busy girl. Hopefully the next chapter won't take forever and a day to write.

Again, thanks to all who have reviewed so far! They really are amazing motivators.

Please review and enjoy this next chapter (finally)!

"Hatter has returned."

Mirana's eyes turned dark at McTwisp's fretful words. Alice felt her stomach lurch a bit at the sight of the White Queen's stone face and cold eyes - such a drastic contrast to the chipper and carefree woman who stood in front of Alice just a few moments before. She no longer carried a bright and airy manner- worry and concern now veiled her usually bright eyes, like a dark cloud that descends to hide the radiant sun from view.

Alice instantly felt nervous to see such a dramatic reaction from the queen. As odd as she was, Mirana had that strange ability to make Alice feel calm with her kind and reassuring smile. With that smile now gone, Alice felt somewhat unprotected. What could have been disturbing enough to rattle the peaceful and nonchalant White Queen?

"McTwisp, please escort Alice to her room," said Mirana, her tone now all seriousness. "I will speak with the Hatter in the meantime. Please send him in after Alice is…alone."

For once, Alice didn't press for information. One look at the queen's face was enough to dissuade her. She hadn't known what to make of this seemingly fancy-free monarch until she saw that dark and misty look in her eye. As kind as Mirana was to her, Alice could easily tell that she wasn't someone you'd want for an enemy.

The white rabbit nodded to the queen (which looked more like a giant twitch due to his shaking), and led Alice through one of the throne room's side doors. He hopped up the marble staircase at twice the speed of Alice, even at her brisk pace. McTwisp then escorted Alice down the hallway and back to her expansive marble room. Whoever had been preparing her room since she came obviously hadn't been expecting her to return just yet. The fire now burned orange and red, and no comforting smell wavered from its flames this time. It was painfully ordinary – unemotional, unfeeling, just like any fireplace back home. To have some magical relaxing aroma in the room would have been a comfort to her troubled mind. For the first time since being in Underland, Alice yearned for something magical and impossible, rather than just ordinary and normal.

"McTwisp," said Alice, turning to face the white rabbit as he hopped towards the door. "Is the Hatter…is he someone I should be afraid of?"

McTwisp's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh no! Not at all. He is honorable and loyal, and a great friend. He's just…ah…" His ears lowered as he struggled to find the appropriate words. "He's just very…sensitive."

Alice's heart gave a tiny twist at his words. "Is it about me?" she whispered, quickly putting together the pieces from what she overheard last night. "Is he upset …about me?"

McTwisp must have seen the worry in her eyes, for he quickly stood tall and puffed out his chest, giving him a look of authority. "It's nothing you need concern yourself about, dear," said the rabbit with more confidence, patting Alice's foot comfortingly (he would have patted her hand if he were the appropriate height, of course). "Just…stay here until I fetch you." McTwisp gave the woman a smile, but as hard as he tried to put on a brave face, anxiety still lingered in the rabbit's blue eyes.

Alice made her way to the balcony once again, feeling overwhelmed without a familiar face by her side. She often felt like this back at home as well. When the world wanted too much from her and gave her too many reminders, she would lock herself in her apartment with only Dinah, her closest and dearest friend. She didn't have anyone to run to or cling on to after her father died – no one human, anyway. But she had always had Dinah, and that had always been enough.

But now she had absolutely nobody. Mirana was busy, McTwisp had run off, and the Bandersnatch was probably back in the stables. Although she hadn't known them for long, Alice felt like she had known them long enough to miss them when they were gone – or at least, miss the security she felt when she was around them.

Alice sighed. She didn't even have her wonderful cat to comfort her now.

She didn't want to think about the Hatter. She tried to think about everything else but him as she sat out on the balcony: the way the sky changed colors, the hoards of unusual animals in the fields below. But her mind (thanks to her damned curiosity) always wandered back to this mysterious and ambiguous Hatter.

Who was he? Was he important to the old-Alice? If so, why was he important? Such questions swirled through her mind, confusion mixing with a dark shade of guilt. She knew she shouldn't feel guilty – it wasn't her fault she couldn't remember anything, was it? But the dormouse's words still echoed in Alice's ears from the night before.

"It'll damn near break his heart! A heart she didn't deserve to have in the first place, the way she went off an abandoned him."

"But I didn't abandon him," Alice muttered to the dormouse in her mind, "I don't even know him."

But she didn't want to break his heart. She didn't want to hurt anybody – she never liked seeing anybody upset or in pain, even total strangers. And the fact that this man's pain was apparently her responsibility only made that pesty feeling of guilt grow stronger.

But it's not my fault! She wanted to scream to her conscience, the imaginary dormouse, and to the whole of Underland. Why do you insist that it is?

"A-Alice?"

Alice turned sharply in her seat as a quiet voice interrupted her screaming thoughts. Her eyes widened, and she stood up to meet the man who was standing by the balcony door.

"…Hatter?"

He was really quite a sight to see. His clothing was bright and multi-colored, with a large, satin-wrapped hat atop his mess of electric-orange hair. His face was paler then anyone Alice had ever seen, with sunken red cheeks and bags under his eyes. But the first thing she noticed was his eyes. They were as round and expressive as Dinah's in shape, but much more dramatic in color - the brightest color of green immaginable. His eyes literally glowed like a fluorescent light as they connected with Alice's.

His red lips turned upwards into a smile at the sound of his name. "So you do remember!" he said, his voice now chipper and friendly. "Mirana got me all worried and worked up, spewing some nonsense about old-Alice and the Oraculum – not that Mirana isn't very wise, of course, but even queens make mistakes – but I knew that you would come back, and that you are the one and only Alice, and that –"

"Hatter," said Alice gently, cutting him off in his happy rambling. The Hatter instantly stopped and shook his head.

"Sorry," he muttered,"I'm fine." But a smile quickly lit up his face again as he made is way over to Alice and gently picked up her hand and held it in his own. It was then she noticed how calloused and red the Hatter's hands were, wrapped in bandages and old-colored fabrics. She wondered how he could've gotten his hands in such a terrible state.

"All that matters is, your back," said Hatter happily, "And even though it's been a while, I'm sure Time would be kind enough to slow down for us, if only for a bit –"

"I'm sorry," said Alice finally. She looked down and concentrated hard on the patterns of the marble floor as she spoke, unable to look into this man's eager eyes. "I'm not your Alice."

She could felt her hand slipping from his. She looked up to see the Hatter's eyebrows creased in confusion, his hands hanging limply by his side. "Wh...b-but of course you're the Alice," said the Hatter, the cheerfulness in his voice now sounding forced and false as he attempted to smile again. "I knew you the last time, and I know you now. I'd know you anywhere."

"Maybe I am. Mirana was saying something about how the Alice you knew is a part of me. But I'm afraid I…I just don't remember anything about this place." She gave the Hatter an apologizing glance. "Including you."

Suddenly, the Hatter's eyes turned dark. Literally. Instead of lime green, his eyes faded to shadowy and penetrating amber. Alice was taken aback by both the shade of his eyes, and the dangerous glint that she could see within them, where joviality had been only a minute before.

"But yae promised," whispered the Hatter in a drastically low voice. The words that came out of his mouth were slathered in a Scottish-sounding brogue that he had not been speaking when he first came in.

Alice could feel her heart speed up at these changes in the man. Who had seemed odd but harmless to her at first was now beginning to look threatening. His dark eyes and deep voice unnerved her. She took a cautious step back away from him.

"I'm s-sorry," repeated Alice, her voice stuttering a bit in her worry. "But I just can't remember."

She didn't like the way he was looking at her. McTwisp had told Alice that Hatter was nothing to be afraid of, but the flames that exuded from his amber eyes were telling her otherwise. She took another step backwards, but he came forward, his eyes narrow and piercing in their gaze.

"Yae promised mae yae wouldn' forget," said the Hatter, louder this time, with unmerciful seething fire burning in his eyes.

He was no more than a couple of inches away from her, and Alice now desperately wanted to get away. Her heart was pounding faster than a drum as she pressed herself against the balcony's edge with nowhere left to go.

Cornered and trapped by this man's eyes that burned with rage, Alice was absolutely terrified.

He grabbed her wrist, and she screamed.

"Don't touch me, you madman!"

His smoldering eyes instantly deflated. In a blink, they had turned a murky dark blue. His face was no longer threatening, but long and heavy with the weight of shock and sorrow. Her heart froze for a split second as she looked upon that face. Then he limply let go of Alice's wrist, and she ran.

She threw shut the balcony doors behind her as she ran into her room and threw herself onto her bed. And she cried. She hadn't cried in a very long time, and she usually hated doing it, but all she wanted to do now was feel those wet tears roll down her cheeks. Too much was happening in too short a time. The world was spinning out of control and she couldn't stop it – just like it had after her father died.

She didn't understand exactly why she was crying at first. Was she so afraid of that man? Did she desperately want to go back home? No, those were only part of the reasons. Inside she knew she was crying because of herself. Her selfish, cruel, unrelenting self. Because Alice knew that she had done just what everyone had feared she would – and because of that, she knew that she had hurt them all.

Alice didn't know how much time had passed once she finally stopped crying and forced herself to think straight. The door to the balcony closed (and the Hatter probably still outside), she couldn't figure out what time of day it was. Not that it matters, she thought, Since time doesn't exist here, apparently. Rubbing her eyes, she sat on the edge of her bed, and thought about how she should go about and set everything in this messed-up story straight.

But why should she? One part of her brain commented bitterly. It wasn't her responsibility to remember a life she never lived.

But then why do I feel like it should be? She asked herself. Nothing makes sense here. Everyone expects me to be someone I'm not, to remember things that never happened to me. She sighed dejectedly. I just want to go home.

But Alice didn't wallow in her unhappiness for long. A small but powerful voice quickly interrupted her.

"I knew that you would do it! No one would listen to me, but I knew you couldn't be trusted!"

The dormouse from the night before stood in the doorway, which Alice guessed must've been kept open after the Hatter walked through to get to her balcony. She didn't notice it before, but the fact that the entire castle probably heard her sobbing like a little girl made her cheeks turn red. But she could only feel embarrassed for a moment, for the dormouse demanded Alice's full attention: her small squeaky voice was filled with enough fury to fill the entire room.

The pin that the dormouse used for a sword was out and pointed straight towards Alice, her beady eyes holding more rage then the Hatter's eyes had, even without the ability to change color. "How could you treat the Hatter that way? You slurvish, no-good, galumping –"

"For God's sake, why can't anyone see that it's not my fault?" shouted Alice, her temper and emotions worn too thin, with the same demands being forced upon her person after creature. She stood up and childishly stomped her foot. "I don't need you scurrying in here to blame me for something I can't control!"

"Do you know what you did to him?" spitted the dormouse, not backing down from Alice's superior size. "You've cut him dead, you wretch!"

Alice felt her heart drop to her stomach. "He's…he didn't…did he?" she whispered, all malice and anger evaporated in her mind.

"At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if he did, the way you sliced his heart in two." Alice winced, knowing that the dormouse's own prophecy for her had come true.

"It'll damn near break his heart!"…

"He's been waiting for so long," said the dormouse, a hint of sadness now invading the anger in her words. "He's made at least ten hats a day to keep himself from going completely bonkers. But as time passed, it only got worse. His grief caused the madness to get too hard to control. After nearly destroying the royal millinery, Mirana thought it best for him to get away for a while…to get away from all the reminders before he completely lost his head."

The reminders…Alice knew exactly what the dormouse meant. She felt like she was going insane back in London because of all of the reminders of him. The world was relentless in its torture, never giving her the peace of mind she longed for and letting her forget her grief for a while. Always, always another damned reminder.

Yes, she knew what the dormouse meant. And her heart fell even lower at the thought - that the Hatter had been suffering the same horrible fate because of her.

"And then you finally return," continued the dormouse, her voice regaining its former fury, "And you go on and scream and insult him, like he was some kind of…some kind of monster!" She was screaming now, waving her pin back and forth threateningly. "He never would have suffered if it weren't for you! After all he's been through to keep you safe – I can't believe you'd have the nerve, the audacity, the…cruelty to do such a thing!"

The dormouse narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Alice like she was some malformed beast. "You're nothing but a cowardly, useless, back-biting snake. You've been nothing but poison to all of us since you've left and come back. You'll kill us all with your venom…you've already kill the Hatter."

That was it. Without a second thought, Alice grabbed the dormouse by the waist and threw her out the door, slamming it behind her in a rage. She had never been unnecessarily violent before in her life, but the dormouse had just driven her to the edge. Her insults only furthered her unquenchable feelings of guilt and shame, and she couldn't stand it anymore.

Her body shook as she leaned against the closed door. She instantly felt guilty about her brash action, with only made her feel worse and more beset. She slid to the floor and put her head on her knees. She had always been sensitive to the extreme as a girl, about herself as well as others. She would often fret about insulting someone she really liked, or even letting a single bad thought cross her mind about a total stranger. Though she tried and usually succeeded to keep a hardened and more stable exterior as an adult, her sensitivity would still often leave her restless. She couldn't stand the thought of someone suffering at her expense – even if she knew that it would hurt her to heal them.

She stood up, smoothed her dress, and took a deep breath. Alice never really liked conflict, and she definitely didn't like hurting. But she knew what she had to do.

It was nightfall. Alice could see that when she opened the balcony door, the remaining light of day framing the Hatter as he looked over the balcony. The shadows of the coming night were overtaking his figure with every second. Like a sandcastle deteriorating with every wave, the Hatter seemed to be disappearing with the fading light.

Alice felt like she was tip-toeing, the way she slowly and silently made her way to the Hatter's side. If he knew that she was coming, he didn't show it. He stood as still as a statue, his eyes not breaking from the focal point of the setting sun. Now standing beside him, she could see that his eyes were still a murky dark blue, the shock gone from his face, but the sorrow lingering still.

She didn't know what to say. She hoped that he would turn around and face her, be the first one to speak. But as seconds passed in silence, Alice knew that wouldn't be the case. So she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the wind soothe her nerves (which had been rankled much too frequently these past few days), and opened them again.

"I'm sorry," she said, speaking in barely more than a whisper. "I'm sorry I hurt you. You just…" She didn't want to say scared, which would probably insult the man even more. "You just startled me, that's all."

Finally acknowledging Alice's presence, he sighed and turned his head to look into her eyes. She instantly wished he hadn't. Those dark blue eyes pierced right through her body and soul, filling every inch of her heart with sorrow and regret for what she had done.

"I wouldn't have hurt you," he whispered back, obviously sensing what Alice had meant to say instead of 'startled'. "I'd never hurt you. I'd die before…"

His words broke and faded into the abyss of the night, leaving Alice alone to deal with their lingering meaning. Seeing this broken man now, she couldn't believe that she had been afraid of him. She didn't understand what had happened before, but now she somehow knew that he wouldn't have hurt her, even in his rage. Something in his voice had told her so. Or maybe something in his eyes…

"And I'm sorry," continued Alice softly, putting a hand between her neck and her chest (as she often inexplicably did when she was nervous or just needed to calm down), "For calling you…a madman. I really am."

His eyes changed hue again at her words, turning a more alert, but just as melancholy, deep emerald. He said nothing for a moment. Then –

"You're not my Alice," he said, not accusingly, but with gloom nevertheless. "My Alice never would have called me that as an insult. She understood madness. She understood me." He smiled weakly, as if remembering a fond but long-passed memory. "And she wouldn't have apologized for it, either."

Alice didn't know what to say. She was tired of protesting and defending who she was and who she wasn't. She couldn't pretend to be who he wanted her to be – who he needed her to be – all she could be was herself.

"Listen," she said, "I maybe can't be your Alice. Maybe I can. But I need help remembering. I need your help." She ran her hand through her short blond hair, another thing she did to calm herself. She never knew why doing such things calmed her down so much. But just then, Alice considered the possibility that all she really needed was the reassurance that she could still feel - that she was alive.

"I'm lost. I'm confused. And I'm as lonely as you are." Hatter seemed to perk his attention at those last words, before looking down and muttering something to himself that was barely comprehendible.

"You know nothing of loneliness."

"Please," Alice said, desperation now evident in her plea, "Can we just start over?"

Hatter said nothing for a moment. Those seconds felt like lifetimes to Alice – and they probably did to him as well. Then he shook his head, and told her in a defeated voice –

"I'm always starting over with you, Alice. No matter how hard I try, nothing ever stays."