A/N: I've put the conversations that Lizzie and Fred have between each other in their minds in brackets to make it easier to see.

Also, the timing may seem a little 'off' with Lizzie sleeping and waking while Fred has one conversation, but remember time passes faster in her world than his. Actually, time in Underland is kind of erratic. In the books, Time is sort of a 'being' who can decide to slow down or speed up. (Or not talk to someone entirely, like with the Mad Hatter).

"I know you're out there somewhere...
Somewhere you can hear my voice.
I know I'll find you somehow...
And somehow I'll return again to you."

-The Moody Blues

She was between time and space. A nowhere land in a nowhere place. There was no color, no sound, no light, and no dark. Around her was a uniform grayness and she was one with it. She knew nothing, there was nothing know, there was just...nothing. Gradually she became aware of a tingling sensation (like breathing nitrous oxide at the dentist's office, she would remember later). Then came a faint sound, a soft, meaningless "click -whirrr... ...click -whirrr". She floated there, timeless, merely existing.

["Lizzie..." ] The word cut through the grayness, as loud and clear as though someone was standing beside her. Lizzie - it sounded like a word she might know...

["Lizzie, are you okay?"] And that voice. She knew that voice. It sounded worried. She thought it might have been saying something earlier, before, from out of the nothingness, but she couldn't be sure.

It spoke again - that nameless, formless being. ["Lizzie..." ] That was her. She was sure of it. The voice was calling her. Little by little, her awareness of herself returned, though the grayness continued.

["Snot-face...Wake up!"]

["Fred?"] She felt relief flood through him.

["Don't scare me like that!"]

["I can't see anything. Everything's gray"]

["Open your eyes..."]

She had to think of how to work her eyes. Her brain felt scrambled, like everything had been moved and re-circuited. Finally a slit of light appeared at the bottom of the grayness, then little by little it grew until she found herself staring into a pair of blue eyes. The wrong color of blue. It wasn't Fred staring down at her, it was Mickey.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty!"

She groaned and closed her eyes again. There was no gray nothingness this time, merely the darkness of closed eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

["Fred?"]

["I'm still here."]

A brilliant smile lit her face and she reopened her eyes. Mickey, oblivious to her internal conversation, smiled back.

"Hey," he said, "you must have had sweet dreams to look that happy."

"I did," she tried to say, but her throat felt like someone had shoved a cotton ball down it, and all that came out was a inarticulate whisper.

"Don't try to talk, they just took the tube thingy out."

The 'tube thingy'? Oh, this was bad, she thought. Her other senses continued to wake up - slowly, as though someone had pushed a reset switch. The sterile smell of what could only be a hospital now found it's way to her brain. She tried to sit up.

"Whoa!" Mickey said, putting his hand gently against her shoulder, holding her back down. "I don't think that's a good idea, either."

She tried to speak again, slowly, consciously, forming each sound as she whispered. "What's wrong with me?"

Mickey glanced quickly at the door before answering her as if expecting someone to walk in, "You were in a pretty bad accident. A truck ran the stop sign while you were turning out of the park. You ended up with a broken arm and a pretty bad bump on the head. Actually, it was a really bad bump on the head," he said. "I can't say as much for your car, it's pretty much toast. Natalie had already run ahead of me to the house, so luckily she missed seeing it." Mickey paused a moment, remembering. "They had to cut up the car to get you out," he added, quietly.

Lizzie took a closer look at him. He looked ten years older than she remembered him. There were dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in a while. She tried to calculate how many nights she'd been 'gone'. One night at her mom's house, one at her apartment, one night in Elphyne, then Marmoreal, the Tulgey Woods, two nights at the cave near the cavern, one at the cavern, one at the Crimson Sea, one in Marmoreal. She'd been gone, at least in spirit, for ten nights – but time didn't move the same here as there.

"How...long?" she whispered.

"Two weeks tomorrow. You had a lot of swelling...in your brain. They kept you in a coma until it went down," he said. "They took you off the meds yesterday, but they told us it might be a while before you woke up, so everyone went home to try and get some sleep."

"You should be sleeping, too."

He looked away from her. "I wasn't tired."

"Uh-huh."

"Speaking of tired, you should get some rest. Is there anything I can get you?"

Her eyes really were feeling very heavy. She fell asleep without even answering him and missed the kiss he pressed to her forehead.

Fred felt their connection fade as she fell asleep. He'd stayed on the mountain until she'd finally answered him, and he knew she'd woken in her world. Now he slowly made his way back to Marmoreal by moonlight, surprised at how easy it still was after all the years he'd been gone. It was late when he arrived, and he slipped back into the castle and up to his room without meeting anyone other than the footman waiting for him outside his door. He sighed as he greeted the fish and shut the door behind him. Nothing ever seemed to escape notice here. He was sure to be dragged in to see Mirana tomorrow to 'tell her all about it'. Somehow it had always been the same with the two of them – him having all the adventures, and her wanting to hear about them instead of doing any real 'living'. He eyed the bed longingly, tired of sleeping on rocks. He chucked his clothes in a corner and crawled under the covers. For once in his life he actually felt at peace. The ring felt strange on his finger, and he spun it around absently with his other hand. He smiled into the dark – she was his (or would be soon, at least) - bound to him forever. His...he fell asleep.

The next time Lizzie woke, there was a crowd in her room. A nurse was checking something with the IV drip next to the bed, and a doctor scribbling something on a chart. Her mother loomed over her, scowling darkly at the nurse whom she considered to be in her way. Mickey sat in a chair by the door.

["Great...now the fun starts."] she thought to Fred. He was sleepy, she wondered if she had woken him.

["Where are you?"]

["I'm in the hospital. I guess I was in a wreck. Don't worry -" she said hastily as she felt him panic, "I think I'm okay, just a broken arm."] She decided against telling him about the coma, he was worried enough now, anyway.

["You sure?"]

["Yes, I think so, just really tired."]

["Is the Mega-beast there?"]

["Yes."]

["Who else?"]

He would ask that. ["A nurse, a doctor, my mother, Mickey."] She felt his stab of jealousy at the last name. She was surprised Mickey was still there - he wasn't the biggest fan of her mother, either.

["What's Fart-pants doing there?"]

["I don't know, don't worry about it."]

["I don't trust him."] She could tell he wasn't going to drop it anytime soon.

["I love you, quit being jealous."]

Lizzie's voice in his mind was silent then, leaving Fred to consider her situation. Her mother, the original Mega-beast herself, of course would try and drag Lizzie back under her wing. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if the old witch had already moved Lizzie's things back into her old room from her apartment. Wouldn't be surprised at all.

Fart-pants being there was another thing altogether, and he cringed to think that was partially his fault. By helping her see how horrible Charles was and convincing her to leave him, he'd inadvertently steered her to a guy who he knew for a fact was crazy about her. At the time, it had seemed like a magnanimous thing to do, but things had changed considerably since then...at least between him and Lizzie. He seriously doubted anything had changed as far as Fart-pants was concerned, though. That sissy had better just keep his hands off of Lizzie.

The doctor put down the chart and smiled kindly at her. "Hello Elizabeth, I'm Dr. Young. You gave us quite a scare when you came in. How are you feeling?"

Lizzie hadn't had much waking time to check out her physical condition. Nothing hurt, but the slight buzzing in her head tipped her off that she was probably on some sort of painkillers. She shrugged her shoulders at the doctor. "Okay, I guess." her voice was a little louder than the whisper she'd spoken to Mickey in earlier. She wondered how long she'd slept.

"Well, you'll be wanting to take it easy for a while," said the doctor. "Your MRI showed no permanent effects of the swelling in your brain, but your muscles are going to be weak after having been in bed for so long. It will probably be a few days before you're up an around. I think your mother has made arrangements for you." He looked over at Polly Cronin.

She smiled patronizingly, "Yes, I've already taken care of that. I'm sure she'll be feeling better in no time."

"Good, good. Well then, if you have any questions, I've left my office number with you," he said, addressing her mother instead of her. He turned back to Lizzie. "It's good to see you awake, young lady. I'll be checking on you again tomorrow."

"Thank you, doctor," said her mother.

What was she – twelve, thought Lizzie? It was already starting, and she could just bet that she was going to end up living with her mother while she was recovering. At least she had an incentive for getting better. She didn't plan on being around that long if she had anything to say about it.

Her mother leaned over and eyed her critically as though deciding which flaw she should point out first. "I hope you can appreciate how much trouble you've caused," she said.

Lizzie fought the urge to roll her eyes. The words 'piss off' came to mind, but she decided it was probably best for now to just remain silent.

"Well," her mother continued, "I suppose there's no sense talking about it now. I've had your things moved over from your apartment and gave your thirty day notice last week, so we'll be all set when they release you here."

"Yes, mother," Lizzie whispered, automatically.

These strange conversations over space and time were pretty amazing, but Fred kept feeling like he was 'on hold' while Lizzie talked with other people. Apparently unless one of them addressed the other specifically, there was nothing to hear. He could feel what she was feeling though, leaving him wonder what was happening right now. She was angry, and from her years as his charge he was able to discern this anger from all others. Her mother was pissing her off.

["What's going on?"] he asked.

["Mommy Dearest has apparently made arrangements for me,"] she replied.

["Don't worry, you won't be there long."]

["I don't plan on it."] A wave of fatigue suddenly engulfed her and she yawned.

["You're tired, you need to sleep."]

["Yeah...love you."]

["I love you, too."]

There was a knock on his door. He hoped it wasn't Tarrant, although he supposed he was going to have to talk to him eventually...and apologize, he thought with a groan. He got out of bed and threw his clothes on before opening the door. It was a courtier and Fred breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but Mirana requests the honor of your presence."

"Of course she does," he said, rolling his eyes. "Tell her I'll meet her in the kitchen and that she doesn't want to see me before I've cleaned up."

The courtier looked at him strangely, unaccustomed to people sending him back with their own orders for the queen. "Um..."

"Trust me," said Fred. "She'll understand. Just tell her, please."

"Certainly, sir."

The courier turned and left and Fred shut the door. He rummaged in the drawers until he found a clean change of clothes and dunked his head in the basin of water. The resources in his room were a bit limited, but they'd have to do. When he was reasonably sure he didn't look and smell as though he'd run all the way from Iplam, he dressed and left to find Mirana.

Lizzie opened her eyes to find that she was all alone. She sighed with relief, now maybe she could check and see what the damage to herself was without someone hovering over her. She tried to sit up and found she could only get about halfway on her own power. She grabbed the railing of the bed with her right hand as tightly as she could and slowly managed to work her way until she was sitting fully upright. Her head swam sickeningly, and blackness crept around the edges of her vision. She sat unmoving for several minutes until the spinning slowly subsided to a slow whirl and she felt as though she at least had a fighting chance of not passing out. Her legs felt like they weighed a ton each and her muscles that moved them like gelatin. Slowly she managed to pull them out of their resting position and swing them around over the edge of the bed so that she was sitting on the edge, holding on to the railing. Her left arm was useless in a cast that stretched from nearly the end of her fingers to past her elbow. There was a metal tray on the table beside the bed and she figured it was the closest thing to a mirror she was going to find right now. She could just barely reach the corner of it with her right hand, but not close enough to grab it. She lay back down on her left side and tried to reach it again. This time she succeeded. Her energy for trying to sit up again was gone so she fumbled with the buttons on the bed until she found the one that raised the head. She looked into the shiny metal of the tray.

"Crap," she whispered, softly. She barely recognized the face that stared back at her. Both her eyes were yellowish black and puffy, the left side noticeably worse than the right. Various other scrapes and scratches adorned her forehead, cheeks, and neck, and her skin was a pallid, sickly hue. The most striking difference though was how gaunt she looked. She wondered how much weight she'd lost being fed presumably through a tube for nearly two weeks. It had to be more than a few pounds. She reached to place the tray back on the table, but missed, and she cringed as it crashed to the floor with a loud 'bang'. She was so tired from her physical exertion it was all she could do to pull her legs back under the covers before she fell asleep again.

Mirana waited in the kitchen. Impatiently. She flitted here and there, checking a potion that didn't need checking, smelling the soup...again. She took a seat at the breakfast table and tapped her nails on the surface, well aware her behavior was far removed from the normal calm and aloof demeanor she usually displayed. But, darn it, this was Freddie. He told the best stories, and she knew this was going to be a good one. Finally he walked into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes when he saw her, but he couldn't hide the smug grin that lit his face. In fact, Mirana was hard pressed to think of a time she'd ever seen him happier.

"Sit and spill it." There were no pretenses between the two of them, they'd known each other far too long for that. He turned one of the chairs around the other way and sat down, his arms folded on the backrest. Her eyes flicked to the promise ring on his finger, and she smiled at him. "Congratulations."

"And without any of your meddling, Miri," he teased. "Imagine that."

She waved her finger at him. "Ah, ah, ah...I believe it was I who sent you on that journey to the other side of Underland."

He frowned, realizing she had a point. "It would have happened anyway."

"Right," she said, unconvinced. "Start at the beginning...I'm listening."

He ignored her. "You know, you really should have your own adventures. What ever happened to that one guy...you know, the one from Snud?"

Mirana blushed. "It's not appropriate for commoners to court the queen."

"I was under the impression there was a lot more than 'courting' going on," he said, slyly, "but then again, I've been gone awhile."

"That's enough about me," she said cutting off that thread of discussion. "You're here to tell me about you. I can make it an order if you'd rather."

He laughed. "Alright, alright. Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, or do you want to hear what I want to tell you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I think the first one."

The light streaming through the window of the room woke Lizzie. She tried to remember if it had been day or night the last time she had been awake but found she had no idea. Her sleep was so random and dreamless she could have easily been asleep for ten minutes or ten hours. She was starving by the time a nurse came by and brought her breakfast. After eating, she felt much better and found she had enough energy to sit up on the side of the bed without much trouble at all. There was no spinning and blackness this time. Her mother came in at a little past ten o'clock and informed her that the doctor had said that she was free to go home whenever she wanted. Lizzie only wished that were true, but home was Underland and Fred – not her mother's house.

"That doesn't sound like the whole story," grumbled Mirana. "You've left out all the good parts."

"What good parts are you looking for?" Fred asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know," she pressed, "the 'happily-ever-after' parts."

He grinned. "I'm a guy, Mirana, I don't talk about stuff like that. You can ask Lizzie when she gets back," he said as he stood up from the table. "Speaking of which...where's Nivens? I'm not waiting around a month to see if she finds a mirror. I'll go get her myself through the rabbit hole."

Mirana looked away, and Fred sensed her wanting to change the subject.

"What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly serious.

She looked back at him. "The rabbit hole isn't there anymore, Freddie," she said, quietly. "After Alice came through the last time, someone filled it in from the top."

"So dig it out!"

"That's a lot of digging!"

"Okay... so how else am I supposed to get up there? What about the Jabberwock blood?"

"You're not. There's no other way. The blood would only take you there in spirit, you'd be useless to her."

"What if she can't find her way back?"

"I'm sorry, Freddie," she said, gently. "you'll just have to wait."

"That's not acceptable!" he said and stormed out the door.

Lizzie leaned her forehead against the window of passenger's seat as her mother drove them to her house. As the car zoomed past sidewalks and roads, she found herself longing instead for the rocky trails, fields, and forests of Underland. Rain began to spatter softly against the glass, and she watched the drops as they were swept across by the wind, dancing past her out of her sight. Suddenly a wave of anger washed over her.

["What's wrong?"] she asked Fred.

["Nothing,"] he replied.

Though their link, Lizzie now finally understood how Fred could always tell when she was lying. It was as clear as night and day that there was something upsetting him. [Don't lie to me, you're angry. What's wrong?]

There was a pause. [I was hoping to come and get you, but someone filled the damn rabbit hole in. Sorry.]

[Don't worry, I'll find a way back. ]

[I'd like to have a back-up plan.]

[How bad is the rabbit hole?]

[I don't know, I'm on my way to check it out now.]

Lizzie sighed, and her mother looked over at her.

"I want you straight upstairs when we get home, Elizabeth. The doctor said to take it slowly so that's exactly what we're going to do."

"Yes, mother," said Lizzie with as much patience and long-suffering as she could muster.

She had to lean on her mother for support as she slowly made her way from the car to the front door. It made for an awkward moment since Polly Cronin had never been the touchy-feely type of parent. Lizzie's palms grew sweaty as she approached the imposing red door of the place she considered more an immaculate prison than a home. Her mother helped her up the stairs and as they turned the corner into her old pink room, Lizzie's heart raced as she saw the window. Oh, God help her, her mother had seriously gone crazy! Visions of Stephen King's "Misery" flashed through her head as she took in the window she'd smashed to escape with Fred a few months earlier.

There were bars on the widow now.