Chapter 8


(A/n) Thank you for the wonderful reviews, favs and alerts everyone. It makes the writing more enjoyable when I know others enjoy reading it. Please forgive the lack of updates.

.oOo.

"Jack be nimble…

Jack be quick…

Jack has dropped the candlestick…

Fire above you, Fire below…

Fire upon you, tears of woe…"

.oOo.

The moment Helen's heart wrenching sobs had ceased to quiet sniffles, the White Queen had ordered everyone, save for the Hatter, out of the room. The Hatter had such a frown on his pale face, never letting the woman go as she began to mutter a new rhyme. Over and over she said this rhyme, her twitching growing worse as her mad and dark thoughts plagued her.

The Queen made sure that the door was closed tightly and locked before she turned to look at the Hatter and Helen. The woman continued to mutter the rhyme as she held onto the Hatter as if for dear life. He was, very awkwardly, running a bandaged hand over her tangled curls, the clarity in his vivid eyes speaking measures of the worry that touched him.

"Tarrant, this isn't natural," said the White Queen as she gathered her skirts and moved back toward the bed. The Hatter had looked up at her in question and the Queen reached out to gently grab Helen's left hand. The woman didn't react to the contact; she simply muttered the rhyme over and over as she stared blankly at the large bow tie of the Hatter's. The Queen studied the raw, pink flesh of her hand and tears welled up in her eyes as she noted the burnt flesh that rose up to the shoulders of Helen's arms. She gently moved the arm out into the morning light that streamed in through the large windows.

Cast on the blankets of the bed, the Queen's shadow could be seen holding onto nothing. Her arm was held aloft, holding Helen's hand, and yet there was no shadow to be seen where Helen's arm was. The Hatter had known that Helen lacked a shadow; he had seen it for himself several times. That was why he and Chessur had made the journey to find out what the cause of it was. They had hoped that Mirana of Marmoreal might know the answer to at least one of the mysteries that surrounded Helen.

The Queen apparently knew exactly what had happened to Helen and she gently squeezed the woman's hand as she looked at the Hatter. "She has been split."

The Hatter frowned in reply, confused as to what the Queen was saying. The White Queen shook her head and gently released Helen's hand, which quickly found its way up and around the Hatter's neck. The Queen rose gracefully to her feet and moved toward the vanity table that rested on the other side of the room. She pulled out a drawer and reached in, grabbing hold of a fairly large hand mirror. Pulling it out, she moved back toward the bed and held up the mirror. "Look, see for yourself."

The Hatter glanced at the hand mirror that the Queen held and the sight nearly made him fall back in surprise. In the mirror's gaze, he could see himself, from his tattered top hat to his worn coat. He could see himself clearly… Yet Helen was no where to be seen. He was holding onto nothing…

He studied the mirror and then glanced down at the woman he held. She was twitching still and muttering her rhyme over and over. He could feel her warmth, feel the wetness of her tears, and feel the strong grip of her hand around his neck. She was there, she was real… He looked at the mirror once more and nearly felt his heart sink. She was here but her reflection was no where to be found.

He stole my reflection…

Those mad words that she had muttered from the moment she had first arrived to the clearing now made sense. Whatever had happened to her, it had caused this madness in her. Who would have stolen such a vital piece of a person?

The Queen noted the realization that flickered past the Hatter's pale features and she set the mirror down on the bed. "This was very dark magic to have split a person from their reflection." She looked down at Helen, her sadness growing at the sight of the marred flesh of her right cheek. "Add that to the fact that her shadow is missing as well, I am surprised she can manage to function as she is."

The Hatter blinked and looked up at the Queen. "Function?" he said, his voice dropping down to the guttural growl of his native accent. "This is not what I would call 'functioning,' your Majesty…"

A touched smile appeared on her dark rouged lips as she noticed the very protective stance his form had taken. He was not twitching anymore and his electric eyes were clear with purpose. "I do understand Tarrant. I had meant to say that for a person who had her soul split thrice, she is still alive and speaking… to a fault."

"How now, no shadows please…" said Helen on cue, her cracked voice wavering as her dark eyes moved away from the sight of the Hatter's garish bowtie. Her dark eyes moved up to look at the White Queen for the first time. A moment of silence past before Helen's hand was slipping from around the Hatter's neck. She reached out, as if hoping to touch the Queen, the tears in her eyes pooling. "The Queen of Spring… I hope to sing… the joy of that Frabjous Day. I look to you O' Queen of Spring… help find where my shadows play…"

The Hatter could only watch in amazement, not understanding this new rhyme that slipped from Helen's lips. The Queen however, was listening intently as she reached forward to take Helen's hand. "Tell me Helen, where does your shadow play?"

Helen's dark eyes searched the Queen's own, a deep frown touching her olive toned skin. She looked toward the large windows, her wild dark curls brushing against the pale cheek of the Hatter. She studied the windows, which allowed the morning light to spill into her room. "Place a mirror toward the east… There you shall find the fertile land of Queast… Where there lies a massive feast… Lion and Unicorn do fight but a child plays between the beasts…."

The Queen's gaze focused on the sight of the blue sky outside, studying the rays of light that spilled in. Her frown grew thoughtful, a heartbeat of silence passing before she looked at the Hatter. "I will need time to work this out. She speaks in riddles but I have a feeling she knows what is going on. I don't know what to do about her reflection but I can help in finding her shadow. If it is where I think it is, we'll have to find a way of bringing it here." She smiled at Helen and gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. "Don't worry Helen, we'll help you." She looked at the Hatter and took in a breath. "We'll need to get her comfortable. She will need to be bathed, clothed, and also fed. I'm sure she must be starving."

Her smile was a sweet one as she studied the sight of the Hatter still sitting on the bed and holding onto the mad woman. It was a sad and loving sight, two damaged souls and one offering comfort to another. "Tarrant, will you please excuse us? I'm afraid it would be rather improper for you to be here. She is in desperate need of a bath." She finished this comment by pointing to the bits of leaves and twigs that were clinging to Helen's mad, dark tangles.

A touch of color rose up into the Hatter's pale cheeks at the thought and he glanced at Helen, who was staring off into the distance and muttering that rhyme of Jack and the Dropped Candlestick to herself. He noted her dirtied appearance and lack of clothing before looking quickly away. "Of course, your Majesty," he said, his voice reverting back to its well spoken lisp.

He gently began to pull away from Helen, noticing that she had ceased in her twitching and was closing her eyes. She remained sitting up, her cracked voice muttering on and on while Hatter got up from the bed to leave her. It was as he was getting up that a hand reached out to catch his bandaged one. He glanced down in surprise, noting the left hand of Helen clinging tightly to his right. He looked at her in question and noticed the slight clarity in her dark orbs.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" asked Helen, her left hand, which still bore the mark from Erom's beak, twitched only once. The wound had reopened from the contact and fresh blood slowly oozed past the clot.

The Hatter was silent but a small smile played on his lips as he gently brought up Helen's wounded hand and brushed a feather light kiss across her knuckles. "Dark quills, of course…" he said, after a meaningful silence, and a gentle curl of her lips indicated that she had understood.

"Thank you Hatter…" said Helen, her voice now but a whisper as the clarity in her dark eyes slowly slipped back into the madness from whence it came.

.oOo.

The morning had past with little excitement and the early afternoon came swiftly. Time seemed to be in a rush this day. The Hatter had gone off to the gardens to stroll among the flowers and trees. After the Queen had shooed the Hatter from Helen's room, he had gone to seek out the companionship of the cat that had traveled with him thus far. He did not want to be left alone with his thoughts, not after the dream he had had, whatever it had been about… Something about the letter M? Or was it H?

"You look troubled Tarrant."

The Hatter glanced up to catch sight of the Cheshire cat lounging upon the branch of a tree, its leaves stirring gently in the rising breeze. The cat was purring rather loudly, looking content to bask beneath the shadow of the leaves. He watched the Hatter closely, his luminous green eyes studying the man's every move.

The Hatter rubbed the fingers of his right hand, noting the sight of blood upon his bandages. It was not his own, that he knew. He frowned and gently shook his head. "Someone had stolen her reflection…"

Chessur's ears perked up with interest, his grin growing as his purring grew softer. "I could have told you that. She was muttering something about it the moment we met. Something about the raven knowing her reflection I believe…" he trailed off, his grin dimming just a bit. "She said that the raven danced on the mountains with stars. Also something about a dream weaver or some such thing." He let loose a yawn and rolled off the branch, catching himself in the air.

"Mountains?" The Hatter's frown grew deep and he continued to rub his fingers. A heartbeat passed and he looked at the cat, his mad green eyes filled with confusion. "What if she is the reflection? A mere shadow of what was?"

Chessur's grin remained as he floated over to his old friend, his tail beginning to twitch. "That would make things easier for us. If she were nothing more than a ghost then we could send her on her way." He stopped in front of the Hatter and shook his feline head. "However, you cannot ignore that fact that she bleeds. No reflection or shadow would bleed as she does." The cat looked down at the stain of blood that touched the Hatter's bandaged right hand. "I do believe we have the true body of the woman. She is simply missing vital pieces of herself."

"Forgotten," the Hatter muttered, recalling a shadow of a feeling about what his dream had been. "She has forgotten herself…"

Chessur said nothing in response, his luminous eyes moving to catch sight of someone making their way up the walkway. The Hatter noticed that his friend was distracted and followed his gaze to catch sight of the Queen gliding her way toward them. Behind her, a familiar form was moving in a skipping dance, a dance that had been amusing to watch throughout the journey here.

It was Helen, now cleaned of all the dirt and grime that had caked her since their initial meeting. Her tangled, dark curls had been tamed into a braid that settled between her shoulder blades, though a few tiny curls still sought their freedom. She was dressed in a pair of dark blue slacks that looked to be made of satin. A corset gave way to the curvy features of her petite form, the front laces reaching all the way up to her chest. A high necked jacket buttoned to her throat, the hemline stopping just short of her bust. The long dark blue sleeves hid the marred flesh of her arms and black gloves hid the raw flesh of her hands from sight. Her boots clicked against the stone walkway, the black and white pinstriped pattern settling well with her outfit.

She looked utterly mad as she followed behind the Queen, dancing away as she hummed the lullaby that sounded like Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat. She then held out her hands in a mocking manner of the Queen and mimicked her walk, her head held up high as she glided behind the monarch. The White Queen seemed to notice but she said nothing, though an amused smile touched her lips.

The Hatter stared at the mad woman as they came to a stop in front of him, noticing that she looked a great deal happier than she had this morning. His mad gaze settled to the top of Helen's dark head and he took in a breath, trying to ignore the sudden pull he felt toward her. "You have a lovely head… so wonderfully round. I would very much like to hat it."

Helen smiled in reply, her dark eyes flicking between the Hatter and Chessur. "A hat for a cat? A hat for a bat? I thought I saw a bat but he had no hat… Neither did the cat."

The Hatter laughed in reply, his dizzying laugh that normally would have made a sane person cringe and walk the other way very quickly. "I can find the bat if you like; I doubt it would like to wear a hat though."

"And the cat?" asked Helen, her gaze traveling to Chessur and smiled at him. "A hat for the cat?"

"I will have to decline Mad Helen. I do not fair well with hats, though I have been taken with one in particular." Chessur's grin grew as he gazed with slight longing to the Hatter's tattered top hat before looking at Helen. He noticed that her madness had been as it had before their arrival to the castle. Terribly sweet and innocent, there were no shadows in her eyes now. It was as if she had forgotten whatever dark thoughts had plagued her from this morning.

The White Queen studied the look that past between the Hatter and Helen, the way that Helen seemed to be drawn to the Hatter. She was happy. From the moment the Queen had stated that they were to find the Hatter, Helen's entire demeanor had perked up with happiness. She felt safe with him…

"Tarrant, I do believe Helen would enjoy wearing one of your hats. I did not have any to give and she would look so much better with one." The Queen clasped her hands to her chest, a pleading look in her dark eyes.

The Hatter glanced at the Queen and gave a bow, his electric gaze quickly finding their way back to Helen. "It would be an honor, your Majesty."

"Wonderful." The Queen's smile grew as she took a step back and sighed. "Feel free to use all of the material in my dressing room. If you need anything specific, call upon Nivens, he will help you."

"A hatty for a batty," said Helen in response as she reached out to take hold of Hatter's bandaged hand. "Nevar more?"

"Nevar more?" The Hatter repeated the question, having been caught of guard by Helen's sudden closeness.

Chessur, who had been watching the entire interaction between the two, found himself grinning with understanding. He floated around the Hatter and moved behind Helen, feeling quite content to drape his tail around her neck as he had several times since their meeting. He rather enjoyed toying with her hair, the curls were so whimsy. "She means the raven, the one named Erom. That is what she calls it when she speaks of it, Nevar more."

The raven in question appeared in plume of grey black smoke on the branch that Chessur had vacated. It either seemed to know when it was being called or perhaps it never truly left their presence and just simply evaporated as Cheshire tended to do. Whatever its method, it was always there when someone spoke of it. It blinked in response and tilted its head, waiting to see what it was that they had wanted. Of course, with Helen now awake, whatever old spells that kept it bound did not allow it to speak. They all looked at the ebony bird, which had focused its attention on the woman that had called it.

"Little dream," Helen began, her cracking voice wavering slightly as a trace of fear could be seen in her eyes. "Shadow's call… No shadows?"

The bird seemed to understand what she asked because it shook its head in response and pointed a wing up to the sky, where the sun was shining brightly. Its reply wiped the fear from her eyes and she was smiling again, casting her dark eyes to the Hatter. "A hat for the bat?" She pulled on his hand, urging him back toward the castle. "Twinkle, twinkle, little dream…"

"I think she would like to try on your hats Tarrant," said Chessur as he floated away from Helen, who was becoming more insistent with her pulling. His grin had grown thoughtful as the Hatter allowed himself to be swept away by the mad woman, whose voice had begun to sing in a terrible off key tune of one of her rhymes. She had released his hand and was starting to dance around him, that skipping dance that always struck a cord within Chessur's memory.

The Hatter's dizzying laugh rose up as she began to mimic the Queen's gliding walk once again; her hands were arched perfectly up in the air, her slender fingers curled just the right way. The Queen could only smile in response as the two disappeared around the corner, a smile that the Chessur knew well. He floated closer to the Queen, his luminous green eyes moving to look at the raven, which had gone to fly off after the mad couple.

"That was an interesting choice in color your Majesty. I had no idea that you carried such clothing within your possession." He looked at his Queen, noting the uncomfortable look that appeared on her beautiful face.

"I did not either," said the Queen in reply. "Helen had found them buried in a chest in the back of the guest quarters. She seemed quite taken with them and they suit her well..."

"Who did they belong to?"

At this, the Queen's frown grew. It was something she had been trying to recall herself. They might have belonged to a relative, long gone now, or maybe they had belonged to one of the many guests that passed through over the years. She could not be entirely sure. It had bothered her that Helen had known where the chest had been hiding and what had been inside…

"I don't know," said the Queen, her dark rouged lips turned down slightly. "I feel as if I should but… I don't."

That sounded like a familiar tune the Cheshire cat knew all too well and it only added to the mystery that was Mad Helen. The cat's tail twitched in agitation as he looked around at the trees, looking for signs of something that would help them. Of course, the trees saw no reason to speak at the moment. They were enjoying the feel of the sun; it was a beautiful day after all.

"What did the Oraculum say of this day?" He looked back at the Queen, hoping her response would be positive though he knew better.

The Queen took in a breath and shook her head. "Nothing. The Oraculum says nothing of her or her raven. It's as if they don't exist."

Of course, what else was there to expect? The path they had walked so far had been unknown territory. There was something happening and they had no idea what. Maybe that was why the cat was so curious. When had he last felt this curiosity for something that did not involve him?

Ah, but it does. It does involve you and you wish to know… That is why you continue to follow her…

The little nagging voice in the back of his mind spoke the truth of course. He wished it didn't and he would rather not heed it right now. He purred rather loudly to ignore the sound of his own thoughts, wondering if he should just leave and head back to Tulgey Wood. The woman was safe with the White Queen; whatever it was that was involved with her did not require any of his help.

"Chessur," said the White Queen, looking up at the cat with a gentle smile on her face, as if she had been reading his thoughts. "I need your help to find Helen's shadow. I believe it is somewhere here in Underland and we might have a good chance of locating it." She caught his questioning gaze and her smile grew into a grin that rivaled his own. "I need someone with evaporating skills in order to make this work and you are the most talented in all of Witzend…"

The cat looked skeptical but he could not ignore a request from his Queen and he always took well to compliments. His tail swayed from side to side ad his grin grew, his deep voice ever seductive in its feline way. "Tell me what I must do and it will be done…"

The Queen gathered her silvery skirts and gave a nod in gratitude. She knew Chessur well enough and the fact that he was willing to help a perfect stranger spoke measures. He usually avoided doing anything that did not involve him on a personal level. Maybe this entire business with Helen was personal to him in some way.

"Come with me, we must work quickly while they are away." She turned on heel and walked up the pathway, her gliding steps ever graceful. Chessur followed behind her, noting that Helen did have an uncanny way of mimicking Queen Mirana's movements. His grin grew mischievous at the thought and he chuckled to himself as they rounded the corner.