Chapter Four: We're All Mad
The riot hadn't calmed at all when Chesh reappeared in the hallway; terrified servants were fleeing or hiding, unstable and blood-drunk soldiers were wrestling back and forth, swinging weapons at each other while the more sensible among them tried to get away, and the Queen was picking up discarded swords and axes at random, chopping at her guards and still shrieking, "Off with their heads! Off with everyone's heads!" The King was watching from the throne room doorway, an unfathomable expression in his eyes as he watched his wife bathe the room in blood.
Chesh, however, paid the danger no mind. As he stalked through the crowds, battling soldiers parted for him, almost forced aside by an invisible presence. Whenever anyone took a swing at him, their weapon clattered to the floor, and they stared in surprise as they tried to figure out how it had got there. He didn't stop moving until he was face to face with the Queen, all of her soldiers having scurried back out of his way. Spotting a new victim, a wide grin broke across her blood-splattered face, and she raised her axe high above her head to bring it down on him. He didn't move.
Many soldiers thought he was done for that morning, but they were mistaken. Something peculiar happened. Rather than slice into him, the axe bounced off several inches shy of his body, and went spinning off down the hall as if thrown violently. The entire room was suddenly silent as the weapon clattered to the floor with a shriek of metal on stone. The Queen stared at him, dumbstruck. He still hadn't moved.
It was the King's voice that broke the silence. "What magic is this?" he snarled, stalking forward.
"No magic," the Cat said, level voice clearly ringing through the hallway. "But it likes me, you see. It won't allow me to be hurt. Leave her," he snapped, as the King made a move to support his Queen. With her weapon ripped from her grasp, her rage had deserted her, and she was beginning to show signs of dizziness.
"If you've done something to her—"
"Are you threatening me, Galen?"
The effect of these simple words on the King was extraordinary. He tensed, suddenly wary, and took an unconscious step back from the Cat. There was real emotion showing on his face for the first time, and it was fear.
"How do you know that name?" he hissed.
"I know whatever name I want to."
"I've never told you—who are you? I feel... I've seen you before, but..." Suddenly at a loss, he trailed off, watching the Cat with a new uncertainty.
"I think you'll find," Chesh said quietly, "that you know me very well, Galen." Slowly, he reached out, stepping forward; the King, shaken and unable to move, simply stared at him. Very gently, the Cat touched the tips of two fingers to his forehead—and then the world broke.
Something vast—incomprehensibly vast—a universe, more than a universe, every idea ever put into thought—
Gasping, the King tore himself away from the Cat's touch; Chesh continued to watch him, his expression blank, calm. Shaking at what he had just experienced, the King sank to his knees. Beside him, the Queen continued gently swaying.
"Listen to me carefully," the Cat said, sinking into a crouch to look into the King's face. "I've been content to give you free reign over Wonderland. I've been content to let you live out your life in your own depravity, as long as it never got out of hand. What you've done has disgusted me, certainly—but it was always contained. I thought it was best to just leave you to your own devices.
"Now, though," Chesh continued, his violet eyes suddenly blazing with fury, "now you've taken it too far. You've fallen prey to a trap of your own making. You've let her—" and here he jerked his head at the dazed, distant Queen, "—escape your control, and start wreaking havoc beyond your walls—"
"There's nothing wrong with her," the King whimpered, his voice strangled. "She gets a little violent sometimes, but what does it matter if she hurts someone, they're all replaceable—"
The Cat's fist came out of nowhere, knocking him back and leaving a throbbing pain in his jaw.
"I told you to listen to me," Chesh said, almost pleasantly, standing up to look down on the now-cowering King. "As I said, you've let her get out of control—and instead of trying to help her, you've enabled her. You sicken me," he spat, "using her instability and the power you have over her to inflate your own sense of self-worth. I've had enough of it. Letting her make a mess of your own people is one thing—but letting her hurt my Theodore is entirely another."
Almost panicking now, the King scrambled back as the Cat stepped forward, catching him easily by the collar and dragging him to his feet. He was smiling, fangs clearly showing in his unnaturally wide grin.
"So, since I've had enough," the Cat continued, "I'm going to do something about it."
"P-please—please have mercy—" the King choked out, clutching weakly at Chesh's wrist. The Cat looked down at him in disgust, shaking him off. Once again, the King collapsed to his knees. Chesh turned away from him, looking around at the silent assembly.
"The Palace is going into stasis," he said, raising his voice until it once again rang around the hallway. "Anyone who has never been caught under the Queen's axe is free to go. Find the rest of the servant and guards and let them know. I suggest you find temporary homes elsewhere until I'm finished here—the farther from the centre of Wonderland, the better." His eyes went hard, sweeping over the crowd, landing unerringly on those soldiers who had been gleefully aiding the Queen in her bloodshed. "The rest of you—anyone who has ever been reanimated or been part of the King's experiments—are to remain here. Do not try to leave. Trust me—I will know if you do. Return to your rooms and stay there until the rest of the Palace has been cleared. Go."
Around him, there was a flurry of activity, but he paid it no mind. He looked down, turning that cold gaze on the King and Queen of Hearts. "You too. Get going."
And with that, he vanished, leaving them behind—the King staring after him in terror for the first time in his life, and the Queen, just as dreamy and dazed as ever as she slowly crumpled to the floor.
When Theodore awoke the next morning, he found himself curled up in a cramped ball at the foot of his bed. His pocket watch was lying a few feet away from him on the floor; fingers stiff and clumsy, he reached for it, frantically checking for damage. It was safe—and only half past six. Painfully, he pulled himself to his feet, wincing at his unresponsive muscles, noting with a vague distaste that he was still in his clothes from yesterday. Well, he thought. A bath was certainly in order.
The bath water was warm, and he almost fell asleep. Unwilling to allow himself the luxury of rest, however, he pushed forward, dragging his tired body back to his bedroom to change into clean clothes. He couldn't afford to be late, not after the fiasco of yesterday, or he'd risk punishment—so, still stumbling tiredly, he made his way down to his kitchen, busying himself with making tea, toast, porridge, anything to keep him from thinking about the day before, and his own attack, and the panic that was threatening to engulf him at the though of either.
Chesh was waiting for him outside, as usual. For the first time that morning, Theodore stopped dead. Hadn't Chesh said he'd be back? Hadn't he promised? Where had he been last night, when Theodore had been curled up on the floor of his room, sobbing? Had he even cared?
How could he just expect to show up the next morning and for everything to go back to normal when he hadn't been there when Theodore had needed him? How could he just stand there so calmly when he had all but abandoned him the night before? Fighting back the overwhelming urge to break into tears, Theodore moved down his front steps and along the garden path towards the Cat, almost trembling. He has no idea if he wanted to collapse in his arms or just stalk right past him.
Chesh, however, allowed him neither. As soon as the Rabbit had reached the gate, he stepped forward, stopping a respectful distance in front of him. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, violet eyes searching Theodore's face. The Rabbit's mood must have been there, easily read in his expression. Rather than face that knowing gaze, he turned away.
"I'm fine," he said shortly. His voice didn't sound convincing even to himself.
"Really," Chesh said, in a tone that implied he hadn't been fooled at all.
"Yes," Theodore replied. His voice hadn't steadied itself at all.
The Cat sighed. "Don't lie to me, Theo, I know when you're upset."
Theodore bristled. "I told you to stop calling me that!" he snapped, turning back to glare at him. "I said I'm fine! I don't have time for this, Cat! I have to get to the Palace!"
"Ah. Yes. That," said Chesh. And suddenly, without reason, his voice was amused.
"Don't laugh! I'm serious, Cat—I have to go!"
"Hm, yes, well," the Cat said, still amused. "I'm afraid there's been a bit of a rearrangement of schedules. You're not going to the Palace today."
That stopped Theodore dead. "I—I what?" He shook his head, bewildered. "But—no—I have to go, I always go to the Palace—"
"You're not going to the Palace today," Chesh repeated. "Nor are you going at any point in the foreseeable future. The Palace has been, ah—temporarily locked down. No one is going in—and no one is coming out—for quite some time."
In the midst of his confused gaping at the Cat, it occurred to Theodore to wonder what the blasted creature had done.
"So, up until everything is sorted out and the Palace is opened up again," Chesh continued cheerfully, "you're on something of an extended holiday, I suppose. Suffice to say no one is expecting you anywhere."
"I—but—th-the—the King—"
"Is otherwise occupied at the moment," Chesh said calmly. "As are the Queen and about half of their soldiers. No one," he added, "Is expecting you anywhere."
Theodore just shook his head, uncomprehending.
Chesh sighed. "Look, Theodore, you know how dangerous it was, going there every day. The King and Queen are both very nasty and badly in need of my help—and while I'm sorting them out, no one is going in or out of the Palace. There's no reason for you to bother, anyway—they're in no condition to give you orders."
Only one part of that had stuck in Theodore's mind. "While you're sorting—"
"I'm the only one who can," Chesh said quietly.
"But—but how—"
"Don't worry about the how. Suffice to say that I'm going to have a lot to do for the next little while. I had rather a busy day yesterday, getting everything set up. It was quite late when I'd finished."
Suddenly the reality of his situation crashed back in, and Theodore once again had to fight the urge to cry. He now knew why Chesh hadn't returned the night before, but he couldn't help feeling a little selfish. He had been scared. Wasn't he more important...?
"But you promised...," he whispered, struggling to keep his voice from shaking.
Immediately catching the shift in his mood, Chesh was in front of him before the Rabbit had noticed him moving. "Hey, hey—Theo, what's wrong?" he said, gently tipping Theodore's head up to look at him. As soon as their eyes met, the tears Theodore had been desperately trying to hold back came spilling out over his cheeks. He couldn't pretend anymore.
"You promised," he sobbed, crumpling against the Cat's touch. Surprised, Chesh caught him against his chest, and Theodore clung to him, needing that comfort. "You said I'd be safe and you promised you'd come back, but you didn't and I was scared—and now you're going to go off again and leave me by myself so you can sort out the King and Queen and I'll be all alone again—well, I don't care, I don't want you to go—"
"Theo, Theo, please—it's okay!" Chesh said quickly, stroking his hair in an effort to calm him. "Shh... it's okay... I'm not just going to run off and abandon you."
Theodore said nothing, still crying softly against his chest.
"Yes, I'll be busy for a while," Chesh continued. "But I'll make sure I come see you, I promise... and I'm not just leaving you on your own for no reason..."
"But I don't care about the King and Queen, Chesh, I just want—"
"Shh... it's okay. I know. But please, trust me—I need to do this."
"Why?" Even to his own ears, Theodore's voice sounded pitiful.
"Because it'll keep you safe," Chesh said simply. "That's all that matters to me right now. I know it might seem hard, but you're just going to have to believe me. Okay?"
Theodore hesitated. He didn't like it, but Chesh had never lied to him—and he'd seen him out of every tight spot he'd got himself into lately. He had come to rely on him—more than he'd ever relied on anyone before. So if Chesh said he was keeping him safe...
He nodded softly. "Okay."
He felt Chesh press a gentle kiss to his forehead. It occurred to him that he should shy away, but he was so comfortable in his arms... and so tired...
"I promise you," the Cat whispered. "Everything I'm doing right now is all to keep you safe..."
For the first few days of what he was coming to think of as his holiday, Theodore felt only relief. He could wake up whenever he wanted, have a relaxed morning, and do whatever he pleased for the whole day. He didn't have to go near the King or Queen, or walk through the Tulgey Wood, or talk with any of the denizens who made him nervous. It was something like bliss.
Of course, that only lasted a little while. By the time the week was out, he had grown thoroughly bored. It wasn't that he wanted to get back to work; it was just that without work to fill his days, he didn't know what to do with himself—and without the regular edge of fear he carried with him everywhere, he felt almost empty and restless. Once or twice he even found himself hoping it would come back, but he fought those urges back down every time. That was a mad sort of thing to think.
True to his word, Chesh didn't leave him on his own. He was there at Theodore's gate every morning, somehow contriving to appear just before he stepped out his front door and not a moment before. There were days when he seemed tired, but as he never mentioned it, Theodore took his lead and didn't say anything either. He would keep the Rabbit company throughout the day, talking with him and telling stories, until Theodore would return to his house for his evening meal, laid out every night like clockwork by the ever-surreptitious Mary Ann. At that point, no matter how politely Theodore invited him in for dinner, Chesh would take his leave, presumably off to carry out a night's work on the inhabitants of the Palace. More than once, it occurred to the Rabbit to wonder when he was sleeping, or even whether he was sleeping at all.
By the time three weeks had passed, Theodore had grown used to the even-present sense of restlessness; in fact, the only time when it seemed to recede was when he was talking with Chesh. He would lose himself in conversation, asking endless questions to keep the Cat talking, but no matter how many time he brought it up, Chesh would never tell him anything more about what was going on at the Palace. After another week, resigned, Theodore gave it up in favour of curiosity.
"Chesh, could you explain something for me?" he asked one morning as he and the Cat were wandering along the beach. Chesh, who seemed to be greatly enjoying digging his toes into the wet sand with every step, looked up, distracted.
"Hm?"
"Ugh. I don't understand how you can enjoy that," Theodore said, giving the sand a distasteful look. He was keeping his furry white feet well above the tide line. At least he could brush the dry sand off easily.
"It feels nice," Chesh said, shrugging. "What was it you were saying?"
"Oh, yes," Theodore said, drawing his thoughts back into order. "Why is it that you have an accent when no one else in Wonderland does?"
Unexpectedly, the Cat laughed. "Really, Theodore. I couldn't very well be the Cheshire Cat if I'd never been to Cheshire, now, could I?"
Theodore frowned. "Cheshire? That's a place?"
"Of course it is."
"But I've never heard of it," the Rabbit protested. "Where is it?"
"In England," the Cat said, suppressing laughter.
"England? Oh! You mean... outside?"
"Now you're getting it," Chesh said, approvingly.
"But what were you doing outside?" Theodore said, horrified. "It's not safe for us out there—and there's always a risk of pulling outsiders back with us—"
"I have a great deal of control over whether I bring anyone back with me, I assure you," the Cat said, still smiling. "It's not nearly so dangerous as you seem to think. I've been outside more times than I care to count. I go everywhere, Theodore."
The Rabbit remained unconvinced. "But if anyone sees you—"
"I can disguise myself."
"But—but how can you stand it?" Theodore said, shaking his head. He was almost trembling at the thought of the outside world. "I hate going outside—it's terrifying!"
The look the Cat gave him was best described as perplexed. "What's so bad about it? You face more danger on a daily basis going to work than you ever would on the outside."
Theodore just stared at him, shaking his head again. He couldn't find the words to explain it.
The Cat's frown deepened. "You're really scared of it," he said softly. "I always thought you were just jumpy, but it's more than that, isn't it? You're scared of the outside, you're scared of your work, you're scared of the Wood, you're scared of dealing with people—is there anywhere you feel safe?"
Theodore opened his mouth, about to protest, indignantly, that there certainly was—but the only place that jumped immediately to mind was in Chesh's arms, and, all things considered, that didn't seem to be the best sort of thing to mention. The distant memory of an almost stolen kiss floated to the top of his mind...
"My house," he said limply, when the pause had grown too long to be comfortable. "It—it's small and snug, and I know where everything is, and I can keep it tidy..." Theodore was rather fond of his house. Every room was neatly furnished, kept clean, and proudly displayed a prominent clock face.
"Your house," Chesh said flatly. "That's it? That's the only place in the world that you don't feel scared?"
"Well, I—I mean—everywhere is dangerous if you're not familiar with it," Theodore said, a touch defensively.
"Are you scared right now?"
Caught off guard, the Rabbit could only stare at him, wide-eyed.
"Are you joking?" the Cat said incredulously. "What the bloody hell is there to be scared of here, Theodore? For god's sake, it's just a beach."
"But anything could happen," Theodore said, stammering. "There could be a—a storm, or, or something could come up out of the water, or I might fall in and drown, or—or anything!"
Chesh was watching him evenly, eyes serious. "I have always thought," he said quietly, "that Wonderland's greatest charm lay in the fact that anything could happen."
Wordless, Theodore just shook his head. The very idea of that was terrifying.
"So, you're scared of everywhere that isn't your house," the Cat summarized. "In other words, anywhere that isn't completely under your control. Doesn't that strike you as a bit... odd?"
"No," said Theodore, a touch defensively. Without being aware of it, he found his hand slipping into his waistcoat to close around his pocket watch. "It's sensible to be scared of things that could go wrong at any moment!"
"But most people aren't terrified to set foot outside their own front doors, Theodore!" Chesh snapped, exasperated. "And, more to the point, you shouldn't be terrified to set foot outside your front door!"
"Yes, well, we can't all be as brave as you," the Rabbit said, shaking his head again. He needed his pocket watch...
"That's not what I said, Theodore! It's got nothing to do with me—"
"Just leave me alone, Cat!" Theodore cried, fumbling with his watch as he pulled it out of his pocket, fiddling urgently with the clasp. "You're only making it worse!"
"All right, all right, fine. I didn't mean to—what are you doing?" Chesh said suddenly, taking a step forward, frowning, as Theodore opened his pocket watch, gaze darting towards the watch face.
"I'm looking at my watch," he said, getting defensive again. "What does it look like I'm doing? You're making me nervous, and it's calming."
"Calming?" the Cat said incredulously. "Why the hell should it be calming? It's just a watch!"
Flinching slightly at the abrasive tone, Theodore just shrugged helplessly. "It—it just is. It keeps time so perfectly. It's even and steady and, and—it doesn't do anything unexpected!"
"Oh. I see," Chesh said quietly. "So, in other words, it's another manifestation of your fear of anything that isn't under control."
"No, it's not, it—"
"Yes, it is, Theodore," the Cat said firmly. "You like it because it's a perfect example of order. It makes you feel like you're still in control when everything around you is falling to pieces."
"Just stop it, Chesh!" the Rabbit cried, his voice rising. "Stop it, stop it—"
But the Cat continued on relentlessly. "But it doesn't actually matter, you know why? Because no matter how many times you check it or how evenly that second hand just keeps on ticking, it's not going to change a thing. It makes you feel better, but it doesn't solve your problems. It just makes you rely on it so you can trick yourself into believing that everything is okay."
"No, that's not true—stop it, just shut up!" Theodore sobbed, almost screaming now, shaking his head—he wasn't going to listen to this, he shouldn't have to listen to it—
"But it doesn't help anything. You know that, deep down. You just won't admit it—and by not admitting it, you're just making your fear worse, and making your reliance on that watch heavier, and running deeper and deeper into denial until one day your problems will swamp you like a tidal wave and your measly little defence won't hold any longer, all because you weren't willing to face your fear in the first place—"
"Enough, Cat! You just don't listen, do you?" the Rabbit cried, tears streaking down his face. "You just keep on going and going and you never stop—I swear, you're going to drive me—" Then Theodore choked. Eyes going wide, he slapped his hands over his mouth, pocket watch falling into the soft beach sand as he rocked back and forth, shaking, breathing heavily as he frantically tried to calm himself.
Chesh was watching him, eyes narrowed. "I'm going to drive you what?" he said finally, studying Theodore's face.
The Rabbit shook his head. "Nothing, it's nothing—I'm going home—"
"I'm going to drive you what, Theodore?" the Cat repeated, voice stronger. Theodore looked up, making the mistake of meeting his gaze. His violet eyes were hard, glittering like drawn blades as they bored into his face. There was no arguing with a gaze like that.
"You're going to drive me mad," Theodore whispered at last, closing his eyes. "It doesn't matter—I'm not mad, I'm not..."
The Cat was silent for a long time before he finally spoke again. "Oh. That's what you're really scared of..."
"I'm not going to go mad," Theodore said, voice still weak, opening his eyes. "I'm not."
Chesh took a deep breath. "We'll see...," he said softly. "The first thing you need to do is get over your dependence on the watch." And he started forward, moving towards where the watch now lay, half buried in the sand. Theodore got there first.
"I'm fine—really—" he protested, snatching it up from under the Cat's reaching fingers. Chesh just looked at him. Theodore looked away, fighting down shivers. "I'm fine," he repeated. "Can we please go home?"
For a moment, he thought the Cat was going to refuse; then his shoulders sagged in defeat and he stepped forwards, holding out his arms for Theodore. "All right."
Grateful, the Rabbit didn't say anything, tucking himself into the Cat's arms, clasping his watch to his chest. When they arrived in front of his front gate, he excused himself, hurrying inside. For the first time in almost a month, he didn't invite the Cat inside for dinner, and Chesh just disappeared without another word.
When Theodore awoke the next morning, it took him a few moments to remember why he felt so distraught; then he remembered his conversation with the Cat the day before and how it had ended with him in tears, protesting that he wasn't going to go mad. At that point, he seriously considered going back to bed, but he knew that there would be no use in it—he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, and he was awake already anyway. Besides, he was a creature who thrived on routine. And so, trying very hard not to think about how similar that simple fact was to what the Cat had told him the day before, he got up and began to get dressed.
It wasn't until he started pulling on his waistcoat that he realized something was missing. He checked his bedside table; he checked his pockets; he checked his dresser; he even checked the floor under his bed in case it had fallen down in the night. Every time, he found nothing. Fighting down a rising sense of panic, he was forced to consider the only alternative. His pocket watch was gone.
His pocket watch was gone.
Abandoning his jacket on the floor in front of the wardrobe, he began wildly tearing apart his bedroom. It had to be here somewhere—he'd had it when he went to bed the night before, he'd pulled it out of his pocket—
But it was nowhere.
Almost frantic now, he stumbled out of his bedroom, hunting through every room in his house, his search growing more and more panicked and less and less systematic with every passing minute. It wasn't anywhere in the kitchen—not on the table, next to the teapot, or in the bread basket. It wasn't on his bookshelf, not even when he pulled every book off of it and sent them tumbling to the floor. It wasn't on his mantel, or in the bathroom, or in the spare bedroom. It wasn't anywhere in his pristine, almost untouched dining room. Practically sobbing, he stumbled out his front door, prepared to search every inch of his garden if he had to—and stopped dead, staring.
Just outside his gate, as he was every morning, was the Cheshire Cat, looking perfectly relaxed and calm. He was stretched out in midair, lounging back comfortably in a sitting position, and he was ignoring the Rabbit. The Cat was smiling slightly, turning something over and over in his palm as he studied it carefully, letting it catch the morning sunlight.
Tangled in his claw-tipped fingers was a long, silver chain—the chain of Theodore's pocket watch.