Chapter Six: Because I'm Not Myself
When Theodore woke the next morning, Chesh had fallen asleep on top of his blankets, his body curled around him to protect him from the outside world. For a moment, the Rabbit was disoriented—then the memory of that awful touch crawled back across his skin like a pack of spiders and he doubled up, shaking, his stomach wrenching with spasms, the sobs starting again—he couldn't deal with this, he couldn't handle the memory of those hands on his skin—he felt so dirty and unclean and—
He had to wash.
He was so warm and comfortable, and he didn't want to move away from Chesh's touch, but once the idea had occurred to him he couldn't get it out of his head. He hovered in indecision for a moment, but his desire for comfort couldn't win out over his need to be clean, and he started to fight his way out from the blankets, squirming out of Chesh's arms even though moving away from him left him feeling vulnerable and unsafe, but the Caterpillar's touch was crawling over his skin and he couldn't ignore that, no matter how hard he tried, and he had to get out, he had to—
His legs were shaking when he stood up, but he didn't let that stop him, dragging himself along the walls, almost stumbling more than once on his way to the bathroom, collapsing against the bathtub when he finally made it inside. As he started to pull his clothes off, he reached for the taps, scrambling to fill the bath, hardly even caring about the temperature, and when he tumbled in it was too hot, but that didn't even matter because maybe the heat would burn the feeling of that touch from his skin—but it wouldn't be enough, he'd have to clean, so he grabbed a cloth and the bar of soap and set to work, scrubbing and scrubbing until his skin felt raw.
When Chesh found him, almost an hour later, he was sitting in the back end of the tub, curled up in a little ball, staring into space, shivering so violently that he seemed he was going to shake himself apart. The Cat dipped his fingers into the water; it had gone cold.
"Okay, Theo," Chesh said softly. "It's time to come out."
The Rabbit made no response, but Chesh hadn't expected one. He reached into the bath, popping the plug out to let the water drain, and carefully wrapped Theodore up in a fluffy blue towel, covering as much of his body as possible. Then he put his strong arms around him, lifting the shaking Rabbit up against his chest, and carried him back to bed.
Theodore slept fitfully for most of the afternoon, alternating between glassy-eyed shock and shuddering sobs. Every time he awoke, the Cat was there beside him, sometimes appearing out of nowhere just before Theodore opened his eyes; when the Rabbit passed once again into a restless sleep, the Cat would return to the kitchen, sometimes coming back with a plate of hot food, other times with only a mug of tea or a glass of water. He stayed awake all night, watching over the Rabbit's sleeping form. When Theodore awoke once again in the morning light, the Cat was curled up next to him, asleep; he looked like he'd drifted off with his chin propped on his hand.
For a moment, the Rabbit just lay there, studying the Cat's sleeping face. If he ignored the sickening hollowness in his chest, he could almost pretend that this was a typical morning—that Chesh was there because that was the way things were, and not because Theodore had needed saving, again. Then that ghost touch crawled over him again and the illusion was broken. That wasn't going to happen.
Best to just put it out of his mind.
He sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. He felt disgusting again, but this time it was entirely physical, the effects of being wrapped up in warm blankets for most of the previous day and night. A bath, he decided, was certainly in order.
He did his best not to disturb the Cat, but he needn't have bothered; almost as soon as he started wriggling his way out from under the blankets, Chesh blinked and opened his eyes, sitting up with more grace than anyone had a right to at this hour of the morning.
"Morning," he said sleepily, stretching. "How are you feeling?"
That wasn't a question Theodore wanted to contemplate. "Fine," he said.
Chesh frowned, gaze sharpening on his face. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Theodore said stubbornly. "I'm going to have a bath."
"Hiding from your feelings isn't going to help, Theo," the Cat said. His tone was gentle, but the Rabbit didn't want to hear it.
"I don't care!" he snapped. "I'm grateful to you for getting me out of that mess, but I wouldn't have been in it in the first place if you hadn't started meddling with my life! Well, I've had enough—I'm going to deal with my problems my own way, thank you very much. Now, are you going to move out of my way, or do I have to climb over you to get to the bathroom?"
For a moment, the Cat said nothing, eyes searching the Rabbit's face; then something changed in his expression and he looked down, silently moving out of his way. Theodore stalked off to the bathroom without looking back, barely even noticing that that was the first time he had ever managed to talk back to Chesh without breaking down.
Chesh made breakfast while Theodore was in the bath, but he didn't get a chance to enjoy it; as soon as he emerged from the bathroom, wrapped up in a long burgundy bathrobe, the Rabbit shooed him out of the house. "I have to get things back to normal," he said. "You hanging around isn't helping any."
"I'll come by tomorrow, then," Chesh said, as he found himself unexpectedly being prodded out the door.
"That's not necessary, thank you." And then the door was closed in his face.
For a moment, he just stood there, blinking stupidly in the sunlight as he stared at the door. Then he turned, making his way down the path from the Rabbit's front door to his gate, thumbs tucked into his waistband, lost in thought.
He's not acting at all as I expected, he mused. What happened between now and last night? He shook his head. This wasn't like Theodore at all. The Rabbit might have thought he was getting things back to normal, but this was beyond strange.
I might just have to wait and see if he sorts things out, he thought. Though I suppose the least I can do is arrange a break from work.
He nodded, satisfied. That would likely do Theodore some good. Mind made up, he focused, feeling that familiar sensation of incorporeality as Wonderland blurred around him. And I should give him his watch back.
The King of Hearts was sitting in his office, sorting through a towering pile of paperwork. There always seemed to be an excess of it in the Palace; the government of Wonderland took the idea of bureaucracy to entirely new levels of absurdity. The King didn't even notice when Chesh appeared in the room; Chesh watched with increasing amusement as he muttered over his papers, dropping one into one pile, signing and sealing a second, jotting notes on a third. Finally, the Cat grew tired of waiting, clearing his throat softly. The King practically catapulted to his feet, upsetting a three-foot stack of unsorted papers.
"Good grief! Oh, damnation," he added, looking down at the papers now scattered all over the floor with a dejected expression. Then, suddenly remembering his visitor, he looked up, adjusting his monocle. "Oh, Mr. Cat. I'm afraid you gave me quite a turn."
"My apologies, your Majesty," the Cat said, bowing smoothly. "I'm afraid I have a matter I need to discuss with you."
"Can't it wait?" the King pleaded, looking down once again at his floor. "I have rather a bit of a mess to deal with at the moment—good grief!"
This last exclamation was accompanied by a startled jump back as the papers on the floor suddenly lifted themselves up and started flying in all directions, landing neatly on the various piles all over the King's desk. When the King looked up at the Cheshire Cat, he was hardly surprised to see that his eyes were glowing faintly.
"There you go," the Cat said when the last paper had settled into its place and his eyes had gone back to their normal shade. "Everything has been sorted. The ones in front of you need signing, and the ones immediately to your left need to be looked over. The rest can be filed." He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the King, who was still staring at him in surprise. "You have files for croquet?"
"Yes, well," the King muttered, sinking back into his seat. "You had something to discuss with me?"
"Yes, it's about Theodore."
"Theo—oh, you mean Darwin," the King said, carefully catching himself. "What's going on? Does it have anything to do with why he wasn't in yesterday?" He glanced down at his watch; it was nearly noon. "Or why he doesn't seem to be coming in today?"
"I'm afraid it does," Chesh said apologetically. "He won't be coming in for the next few days. He's had some problems in his personal life and he needs to take some time off."
"Oh, please, Mr. Cat!" the King cried. "Must he really? We just got him back, and the Queen needs his help with preparing for the ball—"
"It's just for a few days. Please—as a personal favour."
"Oh, well," the King grumbled, looking down. He might have been the ruler of Wonderland, but they both knew who, of the two of them, was more powerful. "I suppose if you put it like that..."
"I'm grateful," the Cat said, bowing again.
"But listen here, Mr. Cat, you can't just go excusing him from work all the time—" the King began, looking up. The Cat had already vanished.
Despite Theodore's declaration of self-sufficiency, Chesh showed up at his front door the next morning, as usual. He was surprised to hear a flurry of activity going on inside, and, frowning slightly, he knocked. When the door was thrown open, his frown only deepened; Theodore was wearing the Palace livery.
"What is it?" the Rabbit said, a touch impatiently. "I don't really have time for visitors right now, Chesh."
"Why are you wearing that?" the Cat asked, eyes on his tunic.
"What?" Theodore asked, glancing down at himself. "It's my uniform. I always wear this to the Palace."
"But you're not going to the Palace," Chesh protested.
The Rabbit gaped at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Let me guess. You've done me another favour and excused me from work for the day—no, I'm sorry. For the week."
"Well, yes," Chesh said, a touch uncertainly. This wasn't the reaction he'd expected. "I thought that you could do with—"
"You thought wrong," Theodore snapped. "I told you yesterday, I'm trying to get things back to normal."
"But you—"
"And 'normal' means I'm going back to work," the Rabbit continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I don't care what—extenuating circumstances there might be. I am not taking a vacation."
"Theodore, I just think—"
"And I'll thank you," Theodore added, jabbing him in the chest, "to stop interfering with my life! I can manage things on my own, Cat. I don't need you to deal with everything for me!"
"Theo, you've had a traumatic experience—"
"I'm fine!" the Rabbit cried. His voice was shaking. Chesh just looked at him. After a moment, Theodore looked away.
"I'm fine," he repeated. "And I'm going to work. If that's all, you can go."
"Actually, there is one more thing," Chesh said. With a moment of concentration, Theodore's pocket watch appeared in his palm, and he held it out, offering it to the surprised Rabbit. "I thought I should give this back to you."
For a moment, Theodore only stared at him. Then he picked it up, smiling wryly, and flipped it open to check the time. The sight of it seemed to calm him a bit, and he smiled faintly before pocketing it, but when he looked back up at the Cat, his expression was on the displeased side of neutral.
"Is that everything?" the Rabbit asked. "Because I really need to get to work."
Chesh bit his lip. "Do you want a lift?"
Theodore hesitated a moment.
"Do you really want to have to walk through the Tulgey Wood?" the Cat pressed.
For a moment, a flash of vulnerability was visible on the Rabbit's face—then his eyes hardened.
"I'll be fine," he said. "Thank you, but no. Good day."
And then he shut the door.
The Palace of Hearts was once again a flurry of activity when the Rabbit arrived; guards were patrolling, servants were occupied, gardeners were slopping red paint on rosebushes and running from the Queen, and the woman herself was romping through the gardens in pursuit, sending brightly coloured hedgehogs flying with a swing of her flamingo mallet with a horde of liveried servants hot on her trail. It was just as ridiculous as it had been on his first day back, but somehow it didn't seem to matter quite so much now. So what if nothing really made sense anymore? It was kind of funny.
The King was once again sitting in his office, muttering to himself as he frantically scribbled out proclamations and signatures on the paperwork scattered all over the desk, the floor, the furniture, and his lap. He looked up at the Rabbit's quick knock, nodding to him, then looked up again, his eyes widening in surprise. "Darwin! What are you doing here? The Cat said—"
"There's been a change of plans," Theodore said quickly. "Or rather, he was mistaken. I'm not taking any time off."
"Oh. Well," the King said, brightening somewhat. "Wonderful! Now that you're here, there's lots to get done, of course, I've just finished drawing up the list of ingredients we'll need for the ball and someone has to oversee the servants in their shopping, and there's the cooks to be notified and duties to be worked out for the guards, and of course the Queen will want to finalize the details of the decoration—have you seen her, Darwin? I'm not sure where she got to."
"She was in the garden as I was arriving, your Majesty," he said, trying not to be overwhelmed by the flood of information.
"Excellent, excellent," the King said, clapping once. "Well, we'll get to that later. For now, the list, please, I'll need you to organize the servants."
He held out a scroll to the Rabbit, and Theodore took it. "I'll get started right away."
"Good, good, off you go, Darwin," the King said, going back to his paperwork. With a short bow, Theodore turned to leave.
"Oh, Darwin?" the King called suddenly.
"What is it, your Majesty?" the Rabbit asked, looking back at him.
"Do you really think we need files for croquet?"
For some reason, that struck Theodore as funny, and he suppressed a smile. "Whatever you think is best, your Majesty."
"Oh, of course. On your way."
"Your Majesty."
Theodore stepped out of the King's office, shutting the door firmly behind him, and began unrolling the scroll to get a good look at what he was working with. In disbelief, he watched as it just kept unrolling, finally coming to a halt well after the bottom end had dropped to the floor and bounced off down the hall, trailing almost thirty feet of paper behind it.
He sighed. "This is going to be a long day."
By the time the day was over, Theodore had been run thoroughly ragged, but, overall, he thought, the day had gone well. Yes, the servants had been intractable and brimming with nonsense, but in the end he had organized everyone and sent them off to do their shopping; yes, there were too many things to get done and to buy, but he had set things up so that the servants he had sent out would be communicating directly with the cooks, so hopefully he would be able to stay out of it; yes, the two sides seemed to argue a lot, but it wasn't out of spite—merely their own contrary natures. So that, at least, had been sorted for now, though he had no doubts that he would be pulled back in to settle one dispute or another a good number of times before this circus had drawn to a close.
Once the kitchen business had been concluded, at least for the morning, Theodore had returned to the King's office to discuss the organization of the entire event; several hours and a dozen cups of tea later, they had worked out as much of the schedule as they could with as little nonsense as possible, and the Rabbit's head was buzzing. Then he had run all over the Palace to track the Queen down and get her input on the decorations; despite the nervous fluttering in the pit of his stomach, she had been perfectly pleasant, if a bit silly and easily distracted. He had finally got everything he needed from her, and then it was back up to talk to the King to make sure everything was running smoothly on his end, and then, finally back home to collapse on the sofa while Mary Ann finished making his dinner.
When all was said and done, he felt oddly satisfied. He couldn't remember the last time he had looked forward to going to work the next day.
The next morning, before he had even finished getting dressed, there was a knock on the Rabbit's front door. Muttering irritably as he came down the stairs, only half finished buttoning up his shirt, he was more than ready to snap a scolding at his early visitor—only to have it die on his tongue when he pulled the door open to reveal the Cat, looking thoroughly miserable, with his big striped ears pinned down in distress.
"I'm sorry," Chesh said before Theodore could even open his mouth. "I shouldn't have tried to meddle with your life without asking you. I was just trying to look after you, but obviously that didn't work out too well and it would really be better if I just minded my own business. So I'm sorry—you have no idea how sorry. Taking your watch away from you was probably the worst possible thing I could have done. If it helps you cope with your life, I shouldn't try to get rid, even if I don't understand it. I know that now. And I'm sorry."
For a moment, the Rabbit wasn't sure what to say. He was glad Chesh had apologized—he had been the one in the wrong, after all—but he didn't know how to accept it. He just wanted things to go back to normal...
"Chesh, I—it's all right, really..."
"No, it isn't Theodore," the Cat said, his ears still pinned. "You were right. It was my fault that things started going wrong for you. You know what's best for you. Wanting to look after you shouldn't mean trying to control everything about your life—you're perfectly capable of doing that yourself."
"Then promise me you won't do it again and let's get on with our lives," the Rabbit said, a touch irritably.
"That can't be enough, Theo—"
"Just promise me, Cat!" the Rabbit snapped.
"I promise," Chesh said—but it was clear that he didn't think it nearly adequate.
Theodore ignored him. "It's over and done with now. It doesn't matter."
"But it does," the Cat said, lifting dull eyes to meet the Rabbit's gaze. For a moment, Theodore froze, struck by the guilt in those violet depths; then Chesh looked down again and the spell was broken, leaving the Rabbit to wonder, uncertainly, if he'd imagined it.
"Chesh, it's okay...," he said tentatively.
The Cat said nothing.
Undaunted, Theodore pressed on. "Yes, you made a big mistake, but you saved me, too—and you've promised me you won't do it again, so... I forgive you."
"That doesn't absolve me of anything," Chesh said quietly. "I've done something terrible, Theodore, and I'm sorry. More sorry than you could possibly know."
For another long moment, the Rabbit was silent, not knowing what to say; the way the Cat was talking, he was almost positive that this ran deeper than what had happened between them.
Then the Cat seemed to shake off his misery, looking up at him with a hesitant hope in his eyes.
"But I thought... even if I still have a lot of work to do to make up for what I've done... maybe if I apologized, things could get back to normal between us, at least...?"
And then Theodore was brought up short.
He wanted things to go back to normal, he really did—but was that ever going to happen? No matter what he did, he would never be able to forget the feeling of those awful hands crawling over his skin—and no matter what the Cat said about it, Theodore knew Chesh wouldn't forget about it either. The Cat had been willing to save him from that situation, to keep him safe that night and to tend to him the next day, but how much farther would that extend? Would Chesh be able to keep looking at him every day—to keep holding him every day—knowing that anything they could have had had been contaminated by the Caterpillar's touch? The relationship they might have had—and Theodore could admit to himself, now that it didn't matter anymore, that he had wanted it—just wasn't going to happen anymore. There was no way Chesh would want him now. Better just not to try.
"Maybe you should just go," he said quietly.
The shocked look that Chesh gave him quickly turned into what could only be described as heartbreak. For a moment the Rabbit wavered—had he made the right choice?—but then his resolve strengthened. He had to be realistic.
"I have to get to work," Theodore said. The Cat didn't seem to notice.
"I'm sorry, Theo," he whispered. "I'm going to make it up to you, I swear. I'm going to set things right."
"Just go, please," the Rabbit begged. If the Cat didn't leave he was going to lose his nerve.
Without another word, Chesh vanished. Theodore watched him fade away with a lump in his throat, then shut the door. He would get by. Maybe things wouldn't be perfect, but they never had.
He would be okay.
He was not okay at all.
He could lie as much as he wanted—he could tell the King he was just a bit tired, he could pretend he was fine in front of the servants, he could even maintain his composure before the Queen herself—but no matter what he did, he just couldn't lie to himself anymore. And he was not fine.
It wasn't work that was causing him trouble. Life at the Palace of Hearts was as hectic and busy as ever, but he was getting used to that; he even, in a peculiar way, had come to look forward to it. No, it was all the other times, moments in which he used to feel safe, that he could no longer keep himself together. Every night he would lie awake for hours, his mind awhirl with chaotic thoughts that refused to settle; once he finally did drift off, his sleep was restless and plagued by nightmares, and more than once he woke up in a cold sweat from a dream of diseased hands and crackling laughter, and no matter what he did, he couldn't shake the sense of panic that accompanied it. Waking up in the morning became a chore; there were even days that he slept late, something he had never done before, and he took to setting an alarm every night. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to focus on anything, and every day when he walked through the Wood—
He could barely think about the Wood.
He feared it now, in a way that he never had before. Every rustle of the bushes was a dream-drunk denizen on the prowl; every crack of a twig was the Caterpillar coming for him. Every day he would tell himself that today, he would be able to get through it—today, he would be strong. But no matter what he said, every time he approached the Wood, he would start to shake, and by the time he was halfway through it he would be sobbing and fleeing from shadows with his pulse pounding in his ears while his heart screamed at him to run to Chesh, to hide in the safety of the Cat's arms, where he would be protected and safe and everything would be okay. And then his tears would only fall faster, because he knew it would never happen, that the Cat would never hold him like that again—but still his treacherous heart refused to give up hope.
And to make matters worse, the Cat himself had completely disappeared.
Every day, the Rabbit grew less and less sure that he had made the right choice. Everything reminded him of Chesh now—when he was making breakfast he would remember the day that the Cat inexplicably knew he took his tea with a splash of cream and two sugar; when he passed the Duchess's estate he was reminded of the day Chesh laid in front of the fire, purring and drinking cream; when he walked up the Palace steps he recalled the first time the Cat gave him a lift to work, and how strong his arms had felt around the Rabbit's slender frame. When he caught a flash of pink or purple out of the corner of his eye his heart leapt into his throat and he turned, only to be disappointed when it was a design in a tapestry, or a suddenly blooming flowerbed, or the glimpse of a townswoman's dress. And at night, when he was trying to sleep, he would reflect, with a touch of ironic amusement, that he seemed to have simply traded one form of madness for another.
And then suddenly, one day, the Cat was back.
He appeared on Theodore's front step one night about three weeks after the Rabbit had last seen him, just as he was finishing dinner. Theodore peered out the window, eyes widening when he saw who it was, and practically stumbled over himself in his haste to throw open the door—but before he could do anything, before he could collapse into the Cat's arms or demand to know where he had been or start crying, Chesh held up a hand to silence him, taking a deep breath.
"I know you don't really want to see me," he said, not meeting Theodore's eyes, "but I just thought... you might like to know that I took care of him."
"Took care of who?" the Rabbit asked, bewildered. "Chesh, where have you been?"
"In the Tulgey Wood," the Cat said. Theodore suppressed a shudder, but he didn't seem to notice. "I've set things right, just like I promised."
"What—what are you talking about?" the Rabbit asked, growing more and more confused. What had the Cat been doing?
"The Caterpillar," Chesh said, looking up at him for the first time. "He can't hurt you anymore, Theo. I've fixed it."
"Fixed what? Chesh, what did you do?"
"Locked him up," the Cat said. "His den is surrounded by a ring of impassable forest. Anyone who tries to get through it, in either direction, will find themselves getting turned around and sent back the other way, no matter which way they try to go."
For the second time in his life, Theodore found himself gaping at the Cat, staggered by the sheer, impossible magnitude of what he was saying.
"That's what I've been doing for the last three weeks, Theo," Chesh continued. "I've barely slept. I had to do something to atone for what I put you through. So now it's done, it's fixed, and he's never going to hurt anyone ever again. And now that you know, I'll get out of your life. You'll never have to see me again."
That snapped the Rabbit out of his daze.
"Don't you dare go anywhere!" he yelled. Startled, the Cat looked up. Theodore's red eyes were blazing.
"How can you do this to me? You disappear for three weeks and leave me on my own with nothing—I can't sleep, I'm barely eating, everything I see reminds me of you, and I can't walk through the Tulgey Wood without breaking down, and you weren't there—and now you come back saying that you've fixed it and you're just going to disappear again—well, I won't have it!"
"You told me to go! You said—"
"I don't care what I said! I was scared, I didn't know what to do—I didn't want you to leave forever!"
"I thought you hated me!" Chesh cried.
"Why would I hate you?" Theodore shouted back.
"Because it's my fault, Theodore! Everything you've been through—everything that's happened to you—it's all been because of me, everything that's happened has been my fault—"
"It has not! Chesh, you saved me!"
"But I wouldn't have had to save you if I hadn't put you in that situation in the first place—"
"It's my own stupid fault I went hunting through the Wood for my watch—"
"I'm not talking about the watch!"
"Then what are you talking about?" the Rabbit asked, still confused, still bewildered, and losing ground fast—he had no idea where he stood anymore.
And then Chesh did something that shook his crumbling foundations out from under him and sent him spiralling into an abyss.
He started crying.
"I'm talking about this world, Theodore. Everything about Wonderland is the way it is because of me! Everything that's wrong about this place is wrong because I haven't fixed it yet! I'm the one who left the Caterpillar unattended, I'm the one who didn't root him out when I had the chance—and I've had years to do it, Theo, years, but I just never bothered—so it's my fault, because if I'd fixed him when I should have, if I'd been looking after my responsibilities, he never would have gone after you! I'm supposed to take care of this place, I'm the only one who can, and I haven't been, and you've been hurt because of it—"
"Chesh, no—please, that's ridiculous," Theodore cried. "You can't be expected to look after all of Wonderland—it's not your fault, Chesh, you're being absurd—"
"You think I'm being absurd?" the Cat snarled, looking up. His eyes were glowing with an eerie violet light. "Look at me, Theo! Have you ever seen another denizen with the level of power I have?"
"Chesh, please—"
"Answer me!"
"No—but you're the Cheshire Cat, of course you're the most powerful—"
"Exactly. And why is that, Theo? Why am I the highest ranking denizen when we have a King and Queen? Why is a Cat the strongest force Wonderland has to offer, when by all rights I should just be a cat?"
"I—I don't know," Theodore said, suddenly uncertain. "That's just the way it is—"
"Right again. And you know why that is? Because I'm not just the Cheshire Cat, Theo. I'm more than that."
"What do you mean?"
And suddenly, all the fight seemed to go out of him. "Remember when I told you I didn't have a name?"
"Y-yes," the Rabbit said hesitantly, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. "But why does that have anything to do with...?"
"Because I lied, Theo," the Cat said wearily. "I do have a name. My name is Wonderland."