Chapter 35: (A/N: And I'm back. Enjoyed the last chapter? I did. :) I forgot to mention it at the time, but in the beginning-ish part of the last chapter that was a direct quote from Alice in Wonderland, so I need to give my thanks to Lewis Carroll. If you'd like to read the actual book it's available online for free here: www . . edu/~rgs /alice-table. html (Just take out the spaces). Umm…what else…sooooooo…hate to sound whiny, but there weren't very many reviews for the last chapter. :( I know it's partially my fault for the long break, but could you guys please drop a few words? Please? But anyway, here are the remaining review replies:

LordofCamels: Hahahahahaha glad you're excited! Wonderland's going to be awesome. You have no idea. I thought that would be interesting for you guys. Glad you enjoyed it. :) Thanks for the review!

Rio: I did, thank you. C: It really was. I managed to avoid the spiders, but even so I was pretty freaked out about the bugs. XD I'm a bit of an insectiphobe. Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :) I hope the break wasn't too long for you, and thank you for the review! Armenian is a language spoken by the Armenian people. It's a super duper old language, I'm not sure if it's still actually spoken anymore.

Panda Bear: Yup! HOORAY FOR PLOT PROGRESSION! Hahahahahaha you can join the angry mob out for Hare's blood. It's grown quite large by now…XD Thank you! Hope you're excited for the next ones! Thanks for the review!

Ihas no clue: Aw, thank you so much! Too kind. :) Hahahahaha that's okay. I overuse emoticons all the time, so feel free to drop them in. XD I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope you continue to like it. C: Yeah…it's going to be…challenging, to say the least. Thanks for the review!

PhantoMNiGHT321: Yup. :) Had to include these bits and clear up the last few plot holes that were left over. It kind of was a repeated chapter, but I gave you a different perspective on the events. I hope it wasn't too redundant. =.=; Hahahaha Probably not…there's going to be some (hopefully, if I can actually not fail) creepy moments. There'll always be a rating at the top of every chapter, so you can judge what you're capable of tolerating and whether you should read at night or not based on that. :) Thanks for the review!

Well…that wraps up the anonymous (and a few signed) reviews. So now, as ever, ON WITH THE CHAPTER.

The internet where I am is majorly suckish so I didn't have time to edit this. Sorry for grammatical/spelling/punctuation errors.

This chapter has been rated T+/M for VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, and DISTURBING IMAGERY.)

Marco was recovering from the surprise of the grisly portrait gallery, and now leaned closer, inspecting the painting that had so shocked him. He could feel his heart still pounding in his chest, and the surge of adrenaline still had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

The painting really was a thing of horrendous, violent beauty. Disregarding the subject material, the artistic talent of its production was remarkable. The brushwork was subtle, and the colors blended so perfectly there was a whole spectrum of shades in just one shadow. Creepy as it may be, the artist had actually done a damn good job of the dead Rabbit's anatomy. The eyes were the perfect amount of shiny and clouded, and lacked that spark of life artists strove for in living models. Based on a certain barely detectable woodenness in the position, it was clear rigor mortis had set in on the body in the painting.

"So…" Thatch spoke hesitantly, regarding the painting. He swallowed. "Did Ace…?" Marco turned away from the painting to face Thatch.

"No. Ace is good, but according to the memories he has no experience with any kind of paint besides watercolor. He couldn't have done something this refined on his first go." Marco's voice was calm. He turned back to the painting, regarding it objectively. "This is damn near Michelangelo as far as anatomical talent goes. But if you'll notice, there's one mistake." He pointed to the place on the painting where the neck of the Rabbit was bent at a horrible angle, clearly broken. "When someone dies via hanging, assuming their neck breaks at all it breaks differently. Here the head is at a 105 degree angle whereas, based on the length of the Rabbit's neck and how heavy I assume he is, it should be closer to 115. This wasn't done using a real model. The Rabbit's still alive."

"…You scare me sometimes." Thatch's voice, though he tried to pass it off as deadpan, actually did contain a touch of fear. Marco snorted.

"Yeah. I know."

"But seriously dude, how the fuck do you know that?"

"It doesn't matter." Whitebeard's voice was firm. "For now we need to focus." He gestured to the door at the end of the portrait gallery. "That's our first step to finding Ace."

"Are you sure you want to be doing that?" All three turned their heads towards the voice.

The Cheshire Cat was sitting on the low ceiling, completely upside down. He sat next to a floor lamp that was protruding from the soft stone of the ceiling, the rope the painting hung off of tied to the lamppost.

His head, compared to his body, was perfectly inverted, the right way up for the pirates.

It was disturbing, seeing his head affixed the wrong way to his body, long neck contorted in a horrifying way to put the head where it would have been, but in the opposite orientation. As ever, he grinned at them, wide, white teeth shining in the lamplight.

He was unchanged.

He looked exactly as he had the first time Ace encountered him in Wonderland.

Thatch was looking a little green as he addressed the cat. "Now that is just disgusting." Cheshire blinked.

"You don't like it?" He seemed genuinely surprised. "I thought it'd be easier for you to talk to me if at least my head was facing the same way up as the rest of you." Thatch shook his head, looking like he was fighting not to throw up. Cheshire grinned at him. "My mistake. I'll fix it." Thatch's eyes widened.

"No wait, don't-" Cheshire's head twisted clockwise a full 180 degrees, accompanied by sickening pops and snaps. Thatch actually spun away, doubling over, covering his mouth and fighting not to vomit. Cheshire's eyes narrowed slightly as if in amusement as Thatch gagged.

"Oh. I forgot. You have a certain dislike of corpseosis, don't you? Pardon my heinous manners." Cheshire stood and began walking across the ceiling, slowly padding down one of the curved walls and stopping to perch on a gramophone, now perpendicular to the three pirates. Thatch had recovered enough to speak by now and addressed the cat.

"You're an ass." He wiped his face again, still looking pale and a little shaky.

"Actually I'm a cat. But I'm fairly sure the terms are synonymous."

"Cheshire. I was wondering when you'd first show up. You only ever come when you have something to say, so say it." Whitebeard's voice was calm. Coldly so. "I don't appreciate you harassing one of my children, and if you do so again, there will be retribution. Say your piece and let us leave. We're bringing Ace back from here and you're not going to stop us." Cheshire moved with all the speed of a dream, seemingly shifting from his place on the gramophone to resting on a bed protruding from the wall near a dollhouse without any movement on his part. It was instantaneous and a little jarring. He was closer to the pirates and grinned, gaze focused seemingly solely on Whitebeard.

"Oh and I don't mean to. In fact, I'd rather like to aid you as I can in this endeavor. The outcome I'm looking for doesn't end with you dead, at any rate, so I suppose we're on the same side. You weren't very subtle on your entry, coming in the front door like that. And we aren't going to just hand Ace back to you on a silver platter." The pirates' faces had all gone dead serious.

"'We'? So you are going to try to stop us." Whitebeard's voice had resumed its cold tone from before. Cheshire's tail twitched.

"By 'we' I meant the beings of Wonderland." He said, clearly annoyed. "I personally will aid you as I can, but that doesn't hold true for the rest."

"What reasons could the inhabitants possibly have to-"

"Oh darling do pretend you have a brain, for the sake of your sanity at least." Cheshire said. "There's a rather present and viable threat to Ace's life, wellbeing, and mental and physical health aboard your ship. We, as the beings of his subconscious, aren't just about to hand him back over to what we know will end in the ultimate termination of us all. Ace dies and so do we. It's in our best interest to preserve him, and subsequently ourselves, for as long as we can. So no. The others will not just hand you back Ace."

"Edward Hare isn't on our ship anymore." Whitebeard's voice was firm.

"Really?" Cheshire said, tilting his head to the side. His eyes seemed to smolder in his head. The silence stretched. Just as it began to grow strange, Cheshire turned his gaze away. "Hmm. Well, at any rate, good luck explaining that to the Jabberwocky. I'm sure he'll stop to listen while he's doing his best to feed you your own intestines."

"We haven't come to Wonderland looking for a fight." Marco's voice was a touch defensive. Cheshire turned his gaze to him, menacing grin firmly in place.

"Oh? That's a pity. One's certainly looking for you." That left the three in a moment of quiet. Serpent had said that the beings of Wonderland, while a little less than sane, would be at the very least ambivalent about their presence. Yet here was Cheshire saying they were going to be actively antagonized by them. To be honest, Whitebeard didn't know who to believe. He trusted Serpent more, but Cheshire had spent his entire existence in Wonderland, had observed all the changes that had taken place.

"What reason do we have to trust you? You could be Mr. Savage for all we know."

"When the remarkable turns bizarre 'reason' turns rancid." Cheshire said, "If you've only your wits you have nothing. Wits are useless here. Everything is downside up."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"How many times must I say it before it makes it through that over-developed skull of yours? I don't answer questions." Cheshire said.

"If you can't give us a good reason not to, we can't we be sure it's not in our best interest to ensure you won't interfere later." Cheshire's eyes swept over the pirates, who now stood in subtle positions of combat. His grin, if possible, widened. He neither stood nor moved in any way, remaining seated, relaxed, on the bed.

"And how would you go about it, pray tell? Maybe you'd be able to destroy this construct Ace has sequestered a piece of his mind into and named 'Cheshire Cat', maybe you couldn't. But is it really so easy to kill an idea? And say you did destroy me in my entirety. How much of the Ace you're fighting so desperately to save would go with me? But, if you're willing to take that risk, fine by me. It's your loss, in any case. I can't pretend to know everything but I do know quite a bit, and this new Wonderland isn't kind to beginners. Threats, promises, and good intentions don't amount to action. Kill me, if you like. Or try. But, suffice to say, very often a thing is easier to say than to do, and is the risk you take worth it?" A moment of silence passed. Cheshire remained where he was, relaxed, even his tail remaining still.

Whitebeard weighed the risks, the gains and the losses that were possible. Everything Cheshire had said was true. In all honesty, there was too much they didn't know, both about Wonderland and about what would happen if they did destroy any of Wonderland's inhabitants. And the third variable. What exactly was Cheshire capable of? They'd never seen him engage in combat of any kind. What if he managed to kill the three of them? It seemed infeasible, but Serpent had warned that combat in Wonderland was different. If they ended up dead, what would become of Ace? He'd be left here, comatose, unable to escape, until Mr. Savage finally destroyed him. They couldn't take that risk. Whitebeard exhaled, opening his eyes.

"You win this round, Cheshire." Cheshire's grin remained unchanged.

"You know, it's somewhat of a shame. I was waiting to see your faces when you realized devil fruits don't work here." Thatch blanched in surprise.

"You're kidding." He said, voice deadpan.

"The mind is the birthplace of Haki, yes? Well Ace can't exactly turn it on and off down here like he can upstairs." His eyes shifted between Marco and Whitebeard. "I wonder which of you two will be the most useless." Cheshire's grin widened. "There's someone who'd very much like to meet you, and I don't see any point in further delaying you, we've wasted enough time in that regard already. We're on a hellish schedule here, so I'd get moving, if I were you." Cheshire stood and began walking up the wall lazily, quietly humming to himself. "There once was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile," Marco shook his head in disbelief.

"You're mad." Cheshire spun his head to grin at him.

"I know. I've known for a while now. But it's a much pleasanter existence living with your head on upside down." He spun his head back and continued walking up the wall. "He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile," Thatch, Marco, and Whitebeard turned away, walking towards the door at the end of the hallway. It seemed to stretch oddly as they walked down it, like it didn't want them to reach the end of it. "He bought a crooked cat which caught a crooked mouse," the Dormouse was delicious, by the way. Marco's spine stiffened as the words rang in his head. They were not his own. He could feel Cheshire's gaze burning into his back and didn't turn to look. "and they all died together in a crooked little house." What do phoenixes taste like, Marco? Are they hard to pluck? Marco felt like he couldn't breathe, like there was something constricting about his chest, something strangling his heart.

"Those aren't the words to the rhyme." Marco's voice was breathy. Cheshire's laugh was harsh and jarring.

"Oh? My mistake. I'm not Ace's memory, so recalling something like a children's rhyme isn't my forte." Thatch had already opened the door, Whitebeard was already through it. Marco followed Thatch through, hesitating only to look back for a moment.

Through the open doorway he saw Ace running towards him.

His arms were spread wide, and Cheshire's grin split his face. His fingers seemed elongated, the nail at the end of each a deadly claw. He was horribly thin, his vertebrae clearly visible as they stabbed at the skin of his neck and back. His ribs looked as if they were about to tear through his skin like paper, and his eyes shone frigid, icy blue. Cheshire's almost tribal tattoos swirled on his arms and legs, the dull gold hoop hanging from his right ear and his knees bent the wrong way. Time seemed to freeze.

Save me, Marco. Aren't I the Ace you came after? Marco stared in horror at the nightmare-like image of the child. The voice gave an echoing laugh in his head. Or were you looking for the perfected mask he shows you? You're keeping secrets Marco. I don't like secrets. The voice laughed again. But I've already seen one of your secrets. I found it behind your left eye. The door slipped from Marco's hand and began to fall closed. Fine. Leave. But you won't get away. The voice went singsong. I seeeeee you…I seeeeeeee you…The door was almost closed. The voice dropped to a horrendous, deafening roar.

RuN WHiLe YOu cAN, TRaItoR!

The door clicked shut. Marco was left staring at it with wide eyes, unsure of exactly what happened. His heart beat faster, and his breathing was uneven. The wood stood firmly, and there was no thud as if from an impact, though the image he'd seen would have reached the door by then. The handle didn't turn. The nightmare didn't come through.

Thatch's hand landing on Marco's shoulder made him jump.

"Hey, man." He said. He tossed his head, indicating the direction of the Gate. "Let's go." Marco swallowed thickly.

"Y-Yeah." Thatch looked at him strangely.

"You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." Marco shook himself and forced a smile.

"I'm fine." He hesitated a moment. "Hey Thatch…?"

"What's up?"

"Did you see or hear…" Marco shook his head. "Never mind." Thatch clapped him on the shoulder, giving a worried smile.

"You sure you're okay?" Marco shivered.

"This place is just giving me the creeps." It was half truth. "Stuff just gets under your skin, you know?" Thatch looked him in the eye seriously.

"I know. But keep it out of your skin and out of your head, Marco. This place is already crazy enough, and if we don't keep it together Ace is going to be stuck here. It's not real. None of it's real. Even if you aren't really coping, act like it. We need you. Save the mental breakdowns for when we're all back home and safe." He patted his shoulder and smiled jokingly. "If you go crazy, who's going to keep me sane?" Marco laughed and felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders and mind. Thatch was good at that. Making you feel better when everything just sucked.

"Who's to say you were sane in the first place? You've pulled some pretty crazy shit over the years." Marco saw some tension ease from Thatch's shoulders as well, and the smile became a bit less forced. That was also like Thatch. Worry about someone else when he too was just as freaked out and in trouble.

"I take that as a compliment." Marco allowed the smile to last for another moment, then took a deep, steadying breath. He turned towards the Gate, towards where Oyaji was waiting a few feet away. He squared his shoulders and walked towards him, giving a firm nod when Whitebeard asked him if he was alright.

The walk to the gate seemed longer than it had before, and the sand was coarser. The oceans had pulled much further back, and what it had left behind wasn't pretty. The beams of sunken ships stuck out of the sand like ribs and all across the broad, flat expanse of sand were carcasses, bloated and unrecognizable from long exposure to ocean, rotting, leaving brown-yellow stains on the sand and putrefying the air. Flies hummed all around. They fought not to gag on the air as they walked past what once may have been a sort of dolphin, and when Thatch stumbled, accidentally kicking it, its skin burst in a cloud of flies and stagnant, blighted air. Its head came to a stop near his foot, and for an instant he thought he saw its eye move to stare at him. A moment later, though, when the cloudy sphere popped like a pimple, white maggots leaking down its face like tears, Thatch chalked it up to the movements of the tiny insects inside, fighting back the disgust roiling in his stomach.

The water itself had changed too, no longer a pale, stunning turquoise-blue. The water was grey and an unfelt wind seemed to gust over its surface, unsettling the waves and tossing up spray. Thatch looked out at the water once, but when he saw what looked like a human head poking out of the water, staring at their progress through its eyeless head expressionlessly he looked away, deciding it better not to look back.

The Gate looked almost the same as it had in the original Wonderland.

Almost.

From a distance, the only real difference visible was the color of the water flowing through it. It was much darker than it had been nearly two moths ago, but its current through the carefully formed glass it was still beautiful. As they drew nearer the fish began to grow visible, flitting through the dark water like wraiths. The fish had changed.

No more were the bright colors and quiet wanderings. These fish were dark, mottled with dark grey and black. They stood out starkly against the water, and each moved with a purpose. There was a swarm of them near the top, all congregating in one great mass.

As they drew close, Marco, Thatch, and Whitebeard focused their eyes more at ground level, waiting for the Dodo to make his appearance. There wasn't a doubt in Thatch's mind that they would encounter the Dodo at the Gate. The short trek across the beach had been uninterrupted by the inhabitants of Wonderland, but as Gatekeeper it was probably Dodo's job to keep intruders out and inhabitants in. Dodo would be their first hurdle.

No one was there.

As they drew nearer to the gate, it became clear nobody was there watching it. Thatch was confused. He'd been, they'd all been certain that Dodo would meet them there, friendly or not. Thatch looked around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He stepped under the Gate, looking around.

Drip.

A droplet of liquid landed on the top of his head. Thatch disregarded it. It'd been cloudy, in all likelihood it had just started to rain a little. What was more important was finding the stealth attack or trap he was beginning to believe Dodo must have set up.

Drip.

This landed on his arm, soaking a tiny portion of his sleeve. It was warm. Of all the weirdness here you pick to think about the weather? Prioritize, Thatch. There're more important things right now.

Dripdrip. Drip.

The three droplets hit at nearly the same time, larger than before. The two that fell close to each other, practically on top of each other, landed on his shoulder, the other on the left side of his face, the nearly hot liquid sliding down and into his eye. It stung a bit, and he wiped at it impatiently. As he retracted his hand from his face he froze, staring at it with wide eyes.

Blood.

"Jesus Christ!" He wiped at his face, the sticky red liquid staining his fingers and forehead. "Why the fuck does it rain blood he-" He looked up, meaning to get a look at the cloud, four fat, hot drops landing on his forehead and left cheek. His breath froze in his throat, look of horror on his face.

"I-I found the Dodo, guys."

Dodo's intestines formed a slimy rope that led up to his stomach that led up to his esophagus that disappeared behind the slash in his flesh that had disemboweled him. Tiny rivulets of blood trailed down the grisly display of organs, and it was the drips off the end of his large intestine, the lowest hanging piece of him, that had been falling on Thatch. Blood still pumped sluggishly from his veins. He was alive.

He'd been crucified on the Gate.

His wings were pinned out on either side of his torso, pulled far beyond where they naturally went. It was clear they'd been dislocated, and many of the tendons and muscles had probably been torn as well. Thatch had no idea how it had been done, but his back was actually embedded in and through the glass.

It was the reason the fish were swarming

Blood streamed away from the Dodo and into the cloud of fish. The fish darted towards him, all struggling to be closest. Their backs flashed dull grey in the odd, diffused light of the sky, and the red of the water around them made the occasional shimmer a violent ruby.

They were eating him alive.

The white of his bones were visible beneath the tatters of flesh on his back, the back side of his ribcage and spine visible. It wouldn't be long before the fish got through the muscles and into something vital. They darted in mercilessly, tearing away chunks of flesh. Based on their progress he'd been up there for days.

The Dodo made no sound of pain even though any human in his place would have been screaming in agony. He didn't seem like he felt any of it, and was so still it was easy to believe he was dead but for his barely visibly beating heart.

His head was angled right towards them.

He drew in breath with difficulty, as if it was the first time he'd done it in a long while. "Welcome." His voice was a croak, dry, unpracticed, again like it hadn't been used in a very long time. The edge of his beak seemed to crease up in a smile. "Welcome. Welcome." The smile grew on his face. "Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome. Welcome." The dark crescent, bearing no relation to anything that conveyed joy or love or anything as sane as that, spread like a plague, growing wider and wider. "Welcome. Welcome." Thatch jumped when Whitebeard touched his arm.

"We should go." He said quietly. He glanced up at Dodo then returned his gaze to Thatch. His eyes were steady, as if he were trying to calm Thatch through the look alone. "There's nothing we can do and there's no telling how long Ace can evade Mr. Savage. The Dodo can't hinder us." Thatch swallowed thickly and nodded. He looked up at the Dodo.

"I just…almost wish we could put him out of his misery. That's not a happy smile." Of course it is. Everyone's happy these days. The words came in Cheshire's voice, inside his mind. He shook his head. I'm imagining things. Whitebeard squeezed his shoulder gently.

"There's nothing we can do for him. Nothing that wouldn't only cause more pain. I hate to abandon him, anyone, like this, but we have no way of helping." He looked up directly at the Dodo. "I'm sorry, friend."

"Welcome. Welcome. Welcome." The three began walking forward again. The smile grew. "Welcome welcome welcome welcome." They were nearly under the Gate. "Welcomewelcomewelcomewelcomewelcomewelcomewelcome welcomewelcomewelcomewelcomewelcomewelcomewelcomew elcomewelcomewelcomewelcomewelcome" The grin was huge now on Dodo's face. His voice grew to a shriek. "WELCOMEWELCOMEWELCOMEWEL-" The voice cut off suddenly, and Thatch jumped back as something fell to the ground in front of him with a thud, blood spattering around it and falling from Dodo with renewed vigor.

Dodo's eye stared at him from the top half of his head from its place near Thatch's feet.

It was no knife or attack that had cut Dodo's head apart, though. Blood dripped from the remainder of the Dodo above as his lower jaw continued to move, no doubt forming that same word again and again and again. Dry air hissed out of the Dodo's throat forming inarticulate sounds and his tongue flapped about uselessly. Dodo's eye remained fixed on Thatch, the edge of his beak reaching past the back of his head.

Dodo's smile had split through his head.

Thatch found his eyes locked with Dodo's, the bird's still clear, living pupil fixing his own to it. He couldn't look away. Dodo's gaze held his own and he couldn't make himself turn away.

He felt like he was being drawn into that pupil, that eye, that immense, unnatural grin that had but hadn't killed the Dodo. He was falling into that golden iris, into that tiny black hole at the center of it, into the madness he saw there, into the madness that had grinned the Dodo to pieces. He saw himself reflected in that eye, saw an unnatural grin splitting his face, saw his own head falling apart. His reflection seemed to look at him and hissed, voice as choked and dry as Dodo's.

"Doomed." They couldn't do it. There was no way. They were all going to die-notdie-die like Dodo. "Doomed." The top half of his reflection's head folded back, the grin nearly through the other side of his head. Thatch's face ached and he could feel the grin, could feel it cutting through his sku-

"Thatch."

Whitebeard's voice was calm, steadying. Thatch's eyes were broken free by that voice, and his gaze snapped up to meet Whitebeard's eyes instead. He realized his breath was bordering on hyperventilation, that he was dizzy from the lack of oxygen. His heartbeat was way too fast, and his eyes were wide.

"Look at me, Thatch. Come here." Whitebeard kept that same even tone, maintaining eye contact with Thatch. "You're okay, son. Come over here." Thatch took a tiny, shaky step to his left. "That's it, you've got it. It's okay. You're okay. Come here." Doomed. His reflection's voice still hissed in his mind. He felt his eyes wandering, felt them being pulled back to Dodo's head. Doomed. "Thatch, look here. Look at me." His eyes locked back on Whitebeard and he took another step, this one carrying him further, further away from the hell in Dodo's eyes.

It seemed like an eternity before he put the Dodo's head behind him, out of sight and out of mind. Whitebeard's strong voice and steady gaze stabilized Thatch. When he came to stand beside him, Whitebeard asked for no explanation, just giving him a firm pat on the back. Thatch felt like he was far away, buried in the furthest recesses of his own mind. Yet, despite the feeling of being barely conscious, everything around him seemed to be in hyper-clarity. The colors seemed brighter, the edges of things sharpened.

Whitebeard led the way, and Marco followed behind him. Dimly Thatch was aware it was for his benefit, to prevent him from even being able to look back at Dodo. Marco stumbled as a piece of driftwood shattered beneath his foot and caught himself on Thatch's shoulder. Thatch accepted and supported his weight while he rebalanced himself, not even turning to look back at him.

"Thanks." Marco mumbled, regaining his feet. Thatch's head snapped around, neck turning almost to the point of breaking.

"'WELCOME!" He was grinning, eyes wide. Marco stumbled back, releasing his shoulder. As fast as Thatch had spun his head towards Marco he spun it away, continuing to follow Whitebeard. Marco stared after him in shock, unsure of how to respond.

"…Thatch?" Again Thatch turned, this time a little more naturally, grin still nearly splitting his face.

"Hmmmm?" He dragged out the syllable, seeming to taste it.

"Thatch stop smiling like that." Thatch laughed and half-skipped towards Marco.

"Why shouldn't I smile? Everyone's happy these day-"

Thatch flew to the left as if struck by a great force. He was sent flying so far he actually crashed into the grey waters of the sea. Marco stared after him in shock, uncomprehending. He looked to Whitebeard, but he too was staring after Thatch in wonder. Thatch hit the water with a massive splash, the grey closing over him eagerly.

"Blood has power. Don't let it sway you." Marco and Whitebeard's heads snapped towards the voice.

The White Rabbit stood straight, relaxed, his face pulled into its wide grin. He was brushing one gloved hand casually on his jacket, as if trying to rid it of an unpleasant substance, and in his other he loosely clasped his gold pocket-watch, staring at its face absently. Marco looked between the splash where Thatch had hit the water and the Rabbit. He turned towards the sea and began sprinting.

"Jesus, Rabbit, you could've hurt him!" he shouted over his shoulder. Rabbit turned his smile to him, snapping shut his pocket-watch and tugging his gloves on tighter.

"I'm aware how breakable human bones are. He's fine." Thatch's head resurfaced from the water, sputtering and gasping. Marco instantly turned away from Rabbit, sprinting towards his friend instead.

"Thatch! You alright?" Thatch dragged himself out of the water, spluttering and sopping. His hair hung in his face but Marco could see the water had washed away the red stain of Dodo's blood on his forehead and cheek. Long strands of seaweed hung from Thatch's limbs and he flapped his arms impatiently, trying to get rid of them.

"That water's fucking cold, Marco, how the fuck do you think I'm doing?!" He waded through the knee-deep surf, still trying to shake water from his hair, wringing water from his bandana. Marco sighed in relief. If Thatch was complaining about the temperature he couldn't have been in pain, which meant nothing of vital import was broken. Thatch looked more inshore, swiping his dripping hair from his eyes. "Rabbit's the one that hit me?" Marco nodded.

"Yeah. He said something about-" Marco was cut off as an unexpected wave swept over Thatch, sending him sprawling back into the knee-deep water. Thatch rose out of it, gasping and coughing, and made a last mad dash to get out of the water.

"Oh we're having fucking rabbit stew for dinner!" He finally made it out of the sea, trying to shake water from his clothes and shoes. Marco went to meet him, and the two of them headed inland. Rabbit and Whitebeard approached at a more reserved pace, and it wasn't long before Marco and Thatch reached the two of them. Thatch stormed up to the Rabbit.

"What the actual hell? Why'd you hit me?" He was gesturing widely. "Do you have any idea how cold that water is?" Rabbit sighed, leaning away from Thatch. From his pocket he withdrew a handkerchief with a flourish and dabbed at the droplets of water that had hit him from Thatch's angry gesticulations.

"I apologize for any inconvenience." He looked Thatch's sopping frame up and down disapprovingly. "…sir." He spat the word with the same disapproving eyes, like he couldn't believe he was saying it to Thatch. "The young master was rather distressed when he saw the Dodo had gotten inside you. It was either send you for a swim or peel off your skin and pull out your eye. I assumed you would favor the former. Sir."

"I don't think it was entirely necessary!" Rabbit maintained his cool politeness.

"Madness is a communicable disease." A sore on his face ruptured, black pus and brown blood trailing down the side of his head unheeded and his grin seemed to widen. "You wouldn't want to get infected, now would you?" He turned to Whitebeard. "It's best not to linger long in one place. The Jabberwocky knows you're in Wonderland and remaining too long is a guarantee of his finding you."

"Hey! I'm still pissed at you!" Rabbit continued without even blinking.

"It's unfortunate that you couldn't pass this first hurdle unhindered. There isn't exactly a whole lot of time left and the young master's hiding place isn't impenetrable. The game is almost over and if you don't hurry it'll be checkma-"

"Plug that noisy orifice before we both go mad." Rabbit spun to face Cheshire who had synthesized himself behind Whitebeard. Rabbit made no response and for a time they both stared at each other silently, glacial ice-blue meeting steely hazel-grey. Something unspoken hung in the air between them, and Marco looked from Rabbit to Cheshire uncomfortably. Rabbit turned back to them, not even seeming to make note of Cheshire's presence.

"Well. I must be off." He turned his back on the group, consequently facing Cheshire again. "Your route doesn't especially matter. There's more than one way to skin a cat" His voice acquired an intense tone as he spoke, but he dropped it, returning to his former lightness. "So I'm sure you'll find my young master soon." He took a step and was gone.

Once he left silence fell over the group. Thatch watched Cheshire, who was almost glaring at the place Rabbit had occupied a moment before. After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Um…you and Rabbit don't seem exactly…chummy." Cheshire shifted his gaze to Thatch and blinked indolently, all previous spite leaving his eyes.

"Familiarity bred contempt. Proximity may breed violence."

"Violence like Dodo." Cheshire turned his head to look at Marco, wide grin not even twitching.

"A new law reigns in this Wonderland, and it's very rough justice all 'round. Dodo wasn't the first and he won't be the last if you don't hurry." Thatch turned to look out at the expanse of Wonderland visible from where they were. It seemed massive, daunting. Unfamiliar. He ran a hand through his still-wet hair.

"Where do we even start?" Cheshire laughed low and dark in his ear.

"The proper order of things is often a mystery to me. You too? There's no such thing as direction here. Let your need guide your behavior. Suppress your instinct to lead. Ace wants you to find him and his will dictates this place. Follow his lead." Cheshire began to disappear. "Steps to enlightenment brighten the way, but the steps are steep. Take them one at a time."

Silence.

Silence had only one companion here: darkness.

Silence meant solitude. Solitude meant the candles had burnt out a long time ago. Therefore silence meant darkness.

He didn't breathe. Didn't move.

Silence.

Darkness.

Solitude.

His world. Perfectly as it should be, had been.

.

.

.

Light.

His wires rattled against each other like bones and he felt the approaching figure.

"Pour tea. Set a banquet. You'll be having guests." He heard the figure moving about his table, his Midas' feast. He heardfelt them brushing dust off it all, off the tea set, off the tablecloth, off the rotten cake, nearly petrified in its age. He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Made no response. The figure drew near once again, brushing dust off him, off his shoulders, off his arms and jacket. "Oh come now. You need to get ready for another party." He twitched when the figure brushed against the wire near his left hand, instinctively reaching for the figure like a spider. He sawfelt their grin.

"That's more like it." The figure drew back. "I'll leave you to it."

It left.

Silence.

Darkness.

Solitude.

He inhaled, heardfelt the wind whistling through his pipes and into his dried-liver lungs.

"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"

(A/N: Yeah. Semi-fail cliffhanger is semi-fail.

Did you like the chapter? I thought it was pretty good…it actually did a helluva lot of different things than I was planning. But that's cool. I like the final product. :)

What're you guys thinking of Savage Wonderland? Please tell me SOMEONE got the creeps at least once during this chapter. I really did try…things'll heat up even more pretty soon. I've got scenes planned that creep ME out.

Well…gotta go. I'll see you guys in the next chapter! :D Please, please, PLEASE drop a review! Please? ~Mountain97)