Disclaimer - I do not own rights to Alice in Wonderland, or any of it's characters. I made no money on this, nor will I ever.

I want to thank those that are so interested in this story, and have been kind enough to write reviews and put this on alert! It's slightly overwhelming, that you would be considerate enough to follow me down this particular rabbit hole, and I am most honored! Once again, thank you kindly. *little bow*

Now

"It's been three months, give or take a day, since you've been kind enough to sit down and talk to me, Tarrant. Are you feeling up to some more conversation? The doctors told me you had a bit of a rough night last evening, I'd completely understand if you'd rather rest and recover."

"It's quite alright, good sir. I am totally embarrassed about my unfortunate outburst at dinner, very uncalled for. That poor gentleman next to me simply didn't know I was saving that seat for Alice, just in case she made a dramatic entrance." Tarrant sighed, then continued. "Is there a possible way that I could apologize to him, and try to make this right again? I've been enjoying my time at this particular institution, not a single electric shock in years. Well, I think it's been years, no one has been considerate enough to place a clock in my room, but if there was a clock it most likely would not work, Time being the kind of person he is, and his total disrespect for me, so my time is a bit off, and that's fine by me..."

"Hatter!"

"I'm fine..." Tarrant sighed, and tried to relax in the restraints. Tyler could not see the squirming, but he could hear it clearly. "It has simply been ages since anyone has been willing to sit down and chat. Please forgive me if I babble a bit."

"That's quite alright by me, I can learn more about you from that. Now, we've been dancing around one the real issues here. You seem to understand that time is not taking it's usual toll on your body. Do you know why?" Tyler stretched back, getting the kink out of his back. "You've made it sound like time is an entity, that can be bribed or coerced. Can you explain?"

Tarrant nodded. "Why, Time and I have been on the outs for a while, quite a while. You see, he was mad at me from before, when I had to kill him for enough time for Alice to return to Underland. He took it quite personally, completely inconsiderate if you ask me, and apparently has decided to ignore me for however it takes for him to get over it." He tilted his head, eyes shimmering blue for a moment. "Perhaps I should offer up some kind of apology, but I'm in need of that ignoring. If Time takes my time back, I might just die before I find her and we can go home."

Tyler frowned, trying to understand. "And this Underland, you can do things like that? How do actually get to Underland?"

"Oh, there are ways. One is the path that Alice has taken twice, you fall down the right rabbit hole. Some mirrors can let people through, that's how I arrived in London looking for her. Tell me, is London still so filthy and smelly? It didn't strike me as the kind of place a Champion would be from, very dirty and crowded, full of people that dressed rather drab." Tarrant's face went blank. "Full of miserable little people that never had muchness to lose. They turned me in, they hauled me away, to that horrid building full of screams and cuts and locked doors and chains and misery and anger and rage..."

How he managed to get free enough from the restraints could only be seen on the recording, and even then it was not very clear to the camera lens. He rose to his feet, straps breaking and buckles bouncing off the floor. Lunging at Father Tyler, he wrapped his hands around the young man's throat and started applying bone crushing pressure, ranting all the way across the room.

"Them bluddy Brits an' their bluddy chains, Ah'll get 'em when Ah can! An' you, yer questions, all yer dammed questions! Yer not gunna take me ta Alice! Ah have ta find her! Yer in mah way, an' that won' do!"

The door flew open and slammed against the wall behind it as several orderlies came running to save the assaulted man. Several syringes were unceremoniously slammed into Tarrant's skin, pumping heavy duty sedatives into his system. Another two were trying desperately to pry the madman's fingers loose, and the sounds of a bone snapping was lost in the chaos of the room.

Finally, inch by inch, the orderlies freed Father Tyler, who slumped to the ground holding his throat and trying to remember how to breathe. Tarrant's eyes slowly glazed, and he was wrestled into a straitjacket. Hauling the now almost comatose madman from the room and back to his cell, the doctor that was still in the room turned to Tyler.

"And that is why he's restrained so severely. Need a hand up? We'll get you to the on-call physician, to check you out." He held out a hand, and after a few tries Tyler found it. Struggling to his feet, he winced as he tried to speak.

"Seems I'll be a baritone for a few days. Yeah, a medical doctor sounds like a good idea. What set him off, I don't know what I did wrong this time..."

"With Tarrant, you never know. Sometimes, there's something definite, you can look back and get that glimmer of understanding. Other times, he just goes mad, absolutely bonkers. There's a reason we keep him here."

Then

Mallymkun looked up at Mirana, and pouted. "This is the third day he's gone missing, your Majesty. He sent out invitations to tea, then can't be bothered to make an appearance! I'd thump him one good, if I could find him! The bloody lump!" She huffed, and then seemed to deflate. She continued in a softer voice. "He's even managed to get Thackery upset, us not being able to find him. Well, more upset than usual."

The White Queen raised an eyebrow. "As far as I know, he has not been in the castle in weeks. He informed me that he needed to head home for something, and he would be back as soon as he could return." Mirana rose to her feet, a sudden horrible thought coming to her. Not bothering with her usual floating grace, she quickly headed out of the throne room and down the halls of Marmoreal, one hand holding her dress hem high enough that she would not trip.

Mally ran after her, the look on the White Queen's face being enough to silence any complaint about the woman's speed. Down various hallways they ran, some of the Queen's subjects looking after the duo as they raced by. Finally Mirana came to the door she was heading for, and slipped inside the mirror room, leaving Mally behind for a moment.

She knew exactly where the mirror was, the mirror that had managed to distract her Hatter for over half a year. Mally finally caught up as Mirana pulled the blue cloth from around it's place on the frame.

Only to find sparkling glass shards remaining in the ornate frame. The edge of the cloth now out of the way, scattered bits of glass could be seen scattered on the white marble floor in front of the now broken mirror. Mirana's face fell, and tears threatened. "Oh, no..."

Mally looked at the glittering shards on the floor for a moment, then turned her eyes to the shattered mirror hanging on the wall. "Does that... does that mean what I think it means?" Her eyes also filled with tears, but hers were a bit more willing to slide down her face. "Please, your Majesty, tell me this can all be put back the way it's supposed to be..."

"He stepped through, and the stress was too much for this mirror. Our dear Hatter has found his way to Above. And I have no idea how to get either of them back here to Underland. No idea whatsoever." She absently ran the cloth through her fingers, to get pricked by something rather sharp. Working her hand free of the cloth, Mirana expected to see an errant glass shard in her finger. What she found was a hat pin, with a small note attached to it. Carefully removing both pin and note from the cloth, she read it aloud.

"I'll be just a minute, don't wait up for me at tea, and please forgive me... Oh, Tarrant, what have you done?"

Between One

The icy water splashed over his body, and Tarrant sputtered back to consciousness. People were pulling him this way and that, and he honestly didn't know which set of hands he should be following the direction of. Finally blinking enough of the water out of his eyes, he took a wild look around. Is this room also in London? He did not like the look of this room, not one tiny bit. There were bars, from floor to ceiling, and chains hung from various points above his head. This room fairly reeked of violence and desperation. Where was a door out, a way out? Not considerate for the door to be hiding in a room like this, he quickly figured that he was not the only one that had looked for that pesky door.

Two people were stretching his hands over his head, and he felt the metal when they clapped into place. He could not sit, and the direction those men had bent his arms into was not comfortable in the slightest. Standing straight up helped with the pain in his shoulders a touch, but there really was not much else he could do about the situation. The two men that had manacled him in place stood back, and Tarrant managed to get a better look at them. More white coats, more closed faces. His eyes bled over to grey, his color for fear.

"Well, it's time to get you all fixed up. We have to check you over, and see if we can help you. Remember, all that happens to you here is for your own good. You understand that, correct?"

"I honestly don't understand what is going on here, good sir. I just need to find Alice, and we can leave this stinky London place behind."

The orderly standing off to one side saw the subtle nod from the speaking doctor, and lashed out with a leather strap over Tarrant's back. He let out a loud yelp, swinging from the chains holding his arms captive.

"I find that lying causes our patients pain more often than not. Now, why would you call my hometown a stinky place? This is a wonderful city, full of culture. You have hurt my feelings with your callous words. Apologize."

"I will not lie and apologize for the truth. This is a rather nasty city, full of sniffing people and a complete lack of colors other than grey and black. Now, please let me down from here, this is not going to help me find Alice." Tarrant received another lash across his backside, this time on the backs of his knees. He nearly fell, until the wrenching pain in his shoulders and wrists reminded him that he was bound. Trying to balance through the pain, his eyes shimmered amber.

"Ye bluddy twit, Ah've done nuthin' to ya! Lemme down, right this moment!" Trying to reach out with something, anything, Tarrant lashed out with one foot at the doctor, but the man simply stepped out of range. The orderly with the leather strap took that moment to lay a lash across Tarrant's shoulders. Staggering and off balance, he swung on the overhead chains for a moment as he tried to get his feet back under him. Blood seeped from the manacles above, leaving trails of crimson streaking down his arms.

When Tarrant finally stopped panting in pain, the doctor nodded to the orderly once again. "It's plainly obvious that you have a high tolerance for pain, mister Tarrant, or whatever your name might be today. I'm afraid that you need to be... reminded... that you are not in charge here, nor will you ever be. I have other patients to see to this evening, I leave you in very capable hands."

The doctor left the small bar lined room and headed off on his rounds, leaving Tarrant hanging from the ceiling still. Turning his head to say something, Tarrant's words were quickly cut off with yet another lash of the inch wide strap in the orderly's hand. The blows flew fast, first leaving red welts on his powder white skin. All too soon there was blood splattered on that same skin, the welts and cuts giving up the fight to stay whole. He alternately raged and begged, trying to find the right combination of words that would end this torment.

It took several moments for him to realize that the attack had come to an end. He must be in a sorry state, his mind mused. Not even bothering to hold up his weight, he hung from the ceiling chains, fresh blood mingling with the flakes that had already dried. There was a sound, a movement, and he collapsed to the floor, his legs deciding that holding him up was not an option. Drug over the damp floor, he was tossed in another cell in the general direction of a cot. Not bothering with the cot available, Tarrant curled into a whimpering ball of tattered skin on the floor and fell into dreamless sleep.

"That color would look lovely on you!" The seamstress walked around Alice a few times, taking a detailed look at the fabric resting on her customer. "But is it proper to wear such a bright blue? Something a bit more soft would be much more suitable, young lady."

Alice sighed. She had gone through this with the housekeeper, that such bright and vibrant colors were simply not worn by proper ladies. She didn't want to be proper, she wanted to be free of all the little rules and such that were driving her to distraction lately. "I think it's a lovely color. I would like this made as soon as possible, I have to make an appearance for a certain little infant's christening. I will not wear white, that is far too... bridal... for my temperament."

The seamstress sighed once again, then started rolling the bolt of cloth back closed. "I can have it done in a few days, do you want it sent to your home as usual?"

"That would be fine. And don't looks so down. It's a good color, and I have nothing but praise for your work. Its very few that would put up with my choices with so little complaint." She turned in the mirrors around her, examining the lay of the rough draft dress she was sporting at the moment. The dress was suitable, much to Alice's frustration, but it would do no good to argue about the cut of the neckline or the long sleeves. That was one battle she was not ready to go through that morning, no matter how much muchness she was carrying around at the moment.

Then something behind her moved. Turning suddenly, the mirrors around her seemed to shimmer in some unknown light. At first Alice thought it was all in her mind, until the seamstress gasped. "What in the bloody Hell?"

The mirrors were all shimmering, shining out light and colors that had no place in London. Someone moved in the distance, someone that Alice knew. Reaching out, she tried to grasp the hand reaching from the reflection. Just before she could touch the cold surface of the glass, there was a blinding blast of light. Blinking from it, Alice pulled back her hands to cover her eyes.

Every piece of glass and mirror in the seamstress's shop took that hesitation to explode, shards flying through the air with the force of an angry tempest.

Then, nothing. Alice opened her eyes, shocked at the destruction that had surrounded her and the seamstress but left them unharmed from the razor sharp pieces that had for a moment filled the air. She could hear her name, said by the voice she had longed for in her dreams and waking moments.

"Alice..."